#saint nick verse

[vampire-biter]

I met my younger sisters (I’ll refer to my irl siblings as either R or H) ((R is 13 and H is 7 just for future reference)) math teacher yesterday and I kid you not.

This man is so Lasko Moore coded it’s not even funny??

Mr L if you see this just know i love you/P

He’s so autism creature… I actually cannot with him..

The stimming, the vocal stims, the way he talks, the random anxiety rants, the way he talks to fast and stutters because of it…

Lasko Moore.

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and The Saint Ch 5

Pairings: Slow Burn Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, fake names (for now), reader is referred to by her stage name, reader still thinks Bucky’s name is Nick, everybody has secrets, reader says unkind things about herself/is insecure, reader is an exotic and extremely flexible dancer, explicit NSFW thoughts/language/conversations, subtle D/S moments, slow burn relationship. There will be many, many more warnings for future chapters including mafia and all the stuff that comes with that, kinks, and smut.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NSFW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated. 

Previous- Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The music started. You looked up slowly. Right into those blue eyes. Your lips twisted into a devilish smile. 

Sympathy for the Duke from Moulin Rouge the B’way Musical

The music started with just a simple drum beat. You were pretty sure your heart was beating the same rhythm. 

Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste....

You took slow, calculated steps forward in time. You let your mind flood with images of the man of wealth and taste that you had just been introduced to yesterday. You brought your right hand up towards the black silk top hat you were wearing. You pinched the brim with your thumb and first finger, spreading the others so wide and strong you were pretty sure you made Fosse nod in approval from beyond. You slinkily stepped down the runway, as if you had all the time in the world, making sure to toss your impish smile out at just the right moments. Then you stopped in your tracks and looked right back into those gorgeous blue eyes. 

Pleased to meet you; hope you guess my name...

You extended your left hand in his direction as if you were presenting it for a kiss. On the word ‘name’ though, you flicked the brim of your top hat with a sassy smile. You watched as a grin cracked across his face at the irony of the song lyrics and maybe your sass.

But what’s puzzling you is the nature of my game...

You crossed your right foot over your left, slowly twisting away from the crowd as if you weren’t quite ready to give up the secrets to the game just yet. 

The song continued, morphing into a verse from You Can’t Always Get What You Want. As the orchestra grew underneath the vocals, you began to glide a bit more over the stage, back up the runway and along the mylar curtain line, just really feeling the fun and attitude of the moment. 

You can’t always get what you want; you can’t always get what you want; you can’t always get what you want....

With your back to the audience, you seductively lowered the shoulder of the silky mesh cover you were wearing, raising it back prudishly on the lyrics ‘what you want’. Then you turned to the other side of the audience and repeated the gesture. The crowd started getting more rowdy the more you teased them. 

But if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.

You looked over your shoulder, right at Nick, shot him your sassiest grin, and on the word ‘need’, you pulled the top apart. The hidden break away seams along the back and the front made it look as if the clothes were exploding off of you. The crowd lost their damn minds and were eating out of the palm of your hand. Just the way you liked it. 

And that’s when the beat dropped in the song. And you went for broke. 

You pranced around the stage boldly, owning the moment and absolutely everything about every note. It was like putting on music and just dancing around your place just for the fun of it- you lost yourself in the joy of the rhythm. Your hips rolled deliciously on the trumpet riffs as your hands trailed seductively down your form. You tore off the wrap sequined skirt in time to the music. You felt like a goddamn rockstar; that didn’t always happen so you reveled in the moment right now. You made sure to flick your eyes up to Nick’s every now and then, just to watch his reactions. A couple lines apparently intrigued him...

I’ll lay traps for troubadours who’ll get killed if they come your way....

Use all your well-earned politesse, or I’ll lay your soul to waste....

He seemed to find something to smirk or chuckle about on each of those lines. Hmm. What was intriguing about them? Maybe he was the possessive type? Or he just found them funny? You didn’t really have time to think about that now- you surrendered to the moment, grinding your heart out and just having a fucking blast in a thong, pasties, fuck me heels, and a black silk top hat. 

Love, sister, it’s just a kiss away....

Pleased to meet you....

It’s just a kiss away....

As much as you didn’t want them to, the negative thoughts started flooding your brain. You were crazy. You had no right to think these things about a man you just met, let alone a client....but the lingering feel of his finger brushing your cheek and the nearness of those lips would not leave the forefront of your mind. It was a heady mix of wanting to back down versus willing to fight for what you wanted. Which way were you supposed to go? 

In response, and partially to reclaim your power, you had to throw your infamous leg move in the mix, making the crowd scream. Right before the last lyric, you positioned yourself in the dead center of the runway, flung your hat offstage, and looked boldly and deliberately right into Nick’s eyes, the devilish grin returning. 

Baby, what’s my name?

And you finished with a jump split, throwing your hand up in the air on the button. The crowd went absolutely berserk, but you only had eyes for one. Everyone around him was hooting and hollering, but he took a deep breath, returned the devilish smile, brought his fingers to his lips to give you a chef’s kiss, and tossed the rest of his drink into his mouth. His deep blue eyes never left yours. 

“That was our own darling Angel! And I’ll have Sympathy for any Devil that tries to take her out of Heaven,” Rhodey announced playfully over the PA system, making you giggle as you stood up, flicking your fingers goodbye, and exited. To your surprise, most of the other girls were backstage- apparently they’d come out to watch. They hadn’t done that since you very first started. 

“BABE that was FIRE!!!” Gamora moaned, snatching your robe and holding it out for you as Sprite hustled onstage to gather your things. “Shit, you’re gonna make ‘em run outta money before we even get out there,” she giggled, teasing you, as the other girls cheered and congratulated you in turn. You were even feeling a little proud of yourself- until you saw Nebula’s haughty, unimpressed face. 

“I don’t know,” she said nonchalantly to the crowd around you all. “I think it’s just because she’s new blood.” Nebula turned and smiled nastily at you. “Some people have a tendency to lose interest quickly once that ‘new car smell’ wears off.” You felt the color drain from your face as you suddenly felt like a worthless cast-off. 

Gamora, however, wasn’t having it. She turned and slugged Nebula on the arm as hard as she could. “Jesus Christ, why are you such a bitch?” she snarled as Nebula yelled in pain. “How the hell could I have turned out so fabulous when my own damn sister is such a raging cu-”

“Okay, that’s enough ladies,” Natasha interrupted suddenly, appearing out of nowhere. “Nebula, lose the attitude, watch your mouth, and get on deck. Gamora, quit punching your way into- and out- of arguments,” she commanded both of them. “Angel,” she said, turning to you with a much kinder tone. “Nice job tonight, sweetheart. Go back to the dressing room and get ready. I’ll have Sprite bring your stuff to you in a moment.” You nodded, still a little embarrassed, and turned to obey. You mouthed ‘thank you’ at Gamora, who gave you a saucy grin. You saw her glare at her sister again, but didn’t stick around to see the aftermath. You didn’t have time- you had to get ready. You were going to see him. 

27 deep breaths later, you were outside the Champagne Room, freshened up and in the outfit you’d obsessed over all day. Your insides buzzed with nerves, excitement, and adrenaline. You took your 28th deep breath and opened the door. And there he was, waiting for you. 

Nick was sitting in the same location you had first seen him last night- only this time he was holding a glass of champagne instead of a tumbler of bourbon. His black-on-black ensemble made your mouth water for some reason; he was too handsome for his own good. You watched with secret delight as he desperately tried not to let his eyes rake up and down your body; it was obvious he really wanted to. You tried to keep that compliment close in your mind and not let it twist into another self-insult. He spoke first. 

“Bravo on a fantastic performance, Miss Angel,” Nick said, standing up and waltzing over to the bar, his eyes never leaving yours. He began pouring you a flute as he continued speaking. “Gotta say, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen someone strip to the Rolling Stones.” You giggled at that, blushing and ducking your head at his compliment. He strode back to you, his very steps echoing the power you felt him emitting. He gave you the glass, then clinked his own against yours. “Cheers,” he said. 

“Cheers,” you replied, biting your lip and looking down, trying to contain your stupid wide grin. 

“Uh uh,” he said sternly, shaking his head. He put a finger under your chin and raised your eyes to his. “Look me in the eye when you say ‘cheers’,” he said firmly but not unkindly. 

Something in your very soul instantly responded to him, drawing you like a moth to a flame. You wanted to do whatever he told you to. Almost before you realized it, your eyes had locked back onto his. “That’s better,” he almost purred. He clinked your glasses again. “NOW cheers,” he said, with that mischievous grin. 

“Now cheers,” you agreed, your heart rapidly beating its new rhythm, trying to make up for the beats it had just lost. You hastily took a huge swallow just as he finished his. 

“You have to look people in the eyes when you cheers,” Nick explained, a hint of the devil in his smile. “Otherwise it’s seven years’ bad sex.”

You choked on your champagne. 

Nick carefully patted you on the back as you spluttered, not even trying to hide his puckish grin. Once you could breath again without fear of champagne splurting out of your nose, you glared at him. He just chuckled evilly before returning to the couch and sitting down. 

“I’ve never heard that medley of Stones’ songs before,” he said, back to his charming self. He seemed to hide a bit of a smile as you sat down next to him- no hesitation this time like yesterday. “Where’s it from?”

“It’s from the same musical as the song that I...” you suddenly stuttered a bit. The idea of saying ‘danced to for you’ last night seemed indecently intimate for some reason (which was ridiculous as you WORKED IN A STRIP CLUB, you internally yelled at yourself), and you just couldn’t make those words come out of your mouth. “...performed last night in here,” you cobbled out lamely ugh loser. 

Nick nodded, choosing not to comment on the moment. “You like that musical,” he said as if he were observing something about you. “You a theater fan?”

“Big time. You?”

“I might have to become one, if those are the kind of songs they’re doing nowadays.”

The next two hours flew by as the two of you talked and talked and talked. You were only supposed to spend one hour with him, but when Fury poked his head in to tell you time was up, Nick just waved a hand at him. Normally, that would have made Fury toss any other patron out on his ear, but this time he just nodded back and carefully shut the door. Who was this guy, to hold that kind of power over Fury?

Thinking quickly, you tilted your head to the now-closed door. “You paying for the second hour, then?” you asked boldly, feeling a lot more loose after the fantastic conversation you’d been having. 

“Something like that.”

“You must be running up quite a tab here.”

“Don’t worry. Natasha will track me down when the check comes.”

“Do you...often run up a tab here?” you asked, your steel persona slipping a bit, afraid of the answer. Nick seemed to understand that. He leaned forward, tilting his head at you and letting those blue eyes twinkle. 

“Not like this,” he said softly. “Never like this.”

You were so delighted at that you couldn’t speak for a moment. He seemed to enjoy you getting flustered, but took pity on you and changed the subject. In fact, he seemed to do that a lot. Any time you tried to steer the conversation towards his job or why he was such a high-roller at the club, or even his name, he masterfully swung back around to something that would distract you just enough to get off the subject. You knew better than to push in a direction he didn’t want to go...but you definitely noticed he was doing it. And it made you curious. Very curious. Two could play at that game. 

Despite his best teasing efforts, you refused to give up your real name until he did- which he was not about to do in the slightest. It often resulted in a spirited and creative verbal battle that, more often than not, left you both in tears of laughter. 

Finally, when it was getting clear that the night had to come to an end, he stood up and offered you his hand. You took it, feeling like a rockstar again. This man made you feel like a rockstar. That had never happened...in this way...before....

He escorted you to the door, then kissed your hand reverently. You wished with all your might he’d take off those gloves and touch your skin again, or even more you wished he’d just lean forward and kiss you. It’s just a kiss away...But he straightened up, smiling handsomely at you. 

“Bravo again on your performance tonight. I look forward to tomorrow’s,” he said chivalrously. 

“‘Pleased to meet you’,” you quoted to him sassily, with a grin. He responded with his own. “‘Hope you guess my name’,” you teased with the lyrics that you had known would capture his attention.

His grin morphed in that heady combination of sex appeal and power, making you instantly melt. And he noticed it, closing the already-small gap between the two of you. 

“‘But what’s puzzling YOU is the nature of MY game’,” he whispered wickedly in your ear. “Until tomorrow, Miss Angel.”

Chapter 6

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

Every Mobian on Mobius liked Christmas a lot. But King Scourge, in the 'verse next to Mobius, did not. As for the reason, well, it's my contention That Scourge's grievance was the lack of attention....

"Bah humbug!" was the grouchy hedgehog's complaint. "What the hell's the old fat man got that I ain't?" Then he got an idea! An awful idea! Yes, Scourge got an awful, wonderful idea!

"I know just what to do!" The king laughed in his throat. And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat.

And he chuckled and clucked, "What a slick fuckin' trick!" "With this coat and this hat, I look just like Saint Nick...."

[palewonderlandsheep]

I don't know if anyone has done this before but anyone wanna challenge themselves to complete Jupiter's Responsible Sleigh Maintenance Christmas carol?

We could all make a verse or two each and combine them??

-------

Oh...

He took up his bag with the toys inside

And he snapped at the reigns of his magical ride

And the reindeer took to the sky with pride

And the elves sat right by saint nicks side

And the flight was...[insert Jupiterisms here!!]

But the chimney was narrow and Nick was wide

And the elves couldn't help him although they tried

All round the realm in just one night

In his smart red suit what a splendid sight

Suzy got a truck and Milly got a kite

and the elves got into a big fist fight.

[Insert further Jupiterisms and a verse about sleigh maintenance!!]

[colordarkwords]

"Photographs" A song inspired by Nick and Boston's story from Only Friends

Their complex and chaotic relationship really inspired me to write something from a more neutral point of view that portrays the characters the way they are, with their flaws and imperfections and that shows that both of them are responsible for their actions. They are both guilty and messy. This was my perception of their story at least. It's essentially a song about two people trapped in a toxic relationship.

Verse 1 We ended up loving our flaws a little bit too much We ended up losing ourselves in each other's arms Until chaos occured A natural disaster Knew it was meant to end right from the start

Some might say one is nice the other is bad Truth is none of us is a Saint There's a warning sign Shining with bright red lights But what can stop a delusional mind ?

Pre chorus Aware it will burn We jump in the fire Of broken promises And endless desire A feast of temptations You can't resist And even though it's not what you need (fuck it) You still go with it

Chorus You are the artist You're starving for lust And I am your muse I'm obsessed with you Help me I'm down bad It's not just a crush Feels like a knife in my chest Knowing I'm not the only one

Verse 2 Sleepwalking in the fog One of us can see everything Daydreamer but at night They won't hesitate to invade A frozen heart That doesn't know what it wants Our story's an illusion made for entertainment Pre chorus Aware it will burn We jump in the fire Of broken promises And endless desire A feast of temptations You can't resist And even though it's not what you need (fuck it) You still go with it Chorus You are the artist You're starving for lust And I am your muse I'm obsessed with you Help me I'm down bad It's not just a crush Feels like a knife in my chest Knowing I'm not the only one

Bridge Oh, what a mess we are Together we're a perfect nasty match Oh, what a curse we are I'll pose for you with tears in my eyes Oh, what a mess we are Let's stop pretending that we're someone we're not Oh, what a curse we are A painting with no sense Our "ugly art" Our time should stop inside your photographs Chorus You are the artist You're starving for lust And I am your muse I'm obsessed with you Help me I'm down bad It's not just a crush Feels like a knife in my chest Knowing I'm not the only one

Written by Colorful Darkness 🦋

Some other scenes that inspired me for the lyrics :

Mainly the color red for the lust aspect, Boston's photography room and the scene where Nick posed for him, as well as their very last scene.

[rabbit-heart4]

seeing parallels between heaven help us (mcr) and hell followed with us (aj white)

so i started rereading hfwu and im already insane about it. and i was listening to my hfwu playlist while i worked on a painting of benji, and heaven help us came on. and then i realized, the line, "mostly i've been sprawled on these cathedral steps while spitting out the blood and screaming, someone save us now" parallels PERFECTLY with benji's begging god/something to save him from new nazareth AND how he vomits up the flood rot/organs for the "spitting blood" part. then i realized the entire song narratively represents the book. lets go one verse at a time.

hear the sound, the angels come screaming / down your voice / i hear you've been bleeding / make your choice / they say you've been pleading: someone save us!

okay, well here the angels represents...the angels... the sound could either be their prayer or gunshots. and i think the next part matches up with how nick recognizes the flood rot benji spits up and knows that benji is the seraph from the first time they meet. the choice nick makes is to take benji into the ALC and to not say anything. the pleading is how benji frequently begs god to save him from new nazareth

and out of this old hotel / but i can't tell if i've been breathing or sleeping or screaming or waiting for the man to call / or all the above / cause mostly i've been sprawled on these cathedral steps while spitting out the blood and screaming, someone save us

"this old hotel" is the ALC, and benji "waiting for the man to call" could refer to how he's just waiting for the angels to come capture him again OR for the seraph to take him. then the spitting blood part is the flood rot organs vomit thing. yeah.

as you're falling down / and will you pray for me? / or make a saint of me? / and will you lay for me? / or make a saint of me? / cause i'll give you all the nails you need / cover me in gasoline / wipe away those tears of blood again

this part goes with the devasting part towards the end when benji is in new nazareth again and how the angels all praise and worship him. i'm not sure about the nails and gasoline part, this book doesn't deal much with themes of crucifixion. HOWEVER, the gasoline COULD be with the ALC fire scene.

and the punchline to the joke is asking: someone save us now / come crashing down / we'll hear the sound / as you fall

this part matches a little too perfectly. at the ending of the book, it's the IRONY. that benji uses the weapon the angels made of him to destroy the angels. the punchline to the joke is that benji uses all of his manipulation and trauma to fight back. the ALC group will witness benji take down this group that has killed lord knows how many people.

final thoughts:

im not accusing aj white of plagarism or anything, it's probably a coincidence. i genuinely just found this super fucking cool. i'm posting this so that i can look back on it and possibly make an animatic one day. also sorry if any of this is off or anything i haven't gotten past page 40 and i don't remember a whole lot of details

[me-uglypretty]

believe me

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Reader

Summary: Leigh finds herself enjoying a festive night with someone than being alone, where believing doesn’t feel like false tale of hope.

Warning: (18+), fluff | 5k words

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A festive holiday bloom cheers around, thrusting shades of Christmas merriments unto faces and places, pestering some into spitting verses that wakes their spirits than leave them in their own tranquillity. Jiggle bells chimes piercingly, overplayed music made jaded by radios and people striving in their festive cheers.

And Leigh Shaw, who ironically, doesn’t hate the holiday, but rather preferred the tranquillity aspect of it.

The fragments where she was left alone in her own space, without anyone ushering her into sampling Christmas cookies or festive themed perfumes, without her mother urging her to try on another ugly sweater while her sister slips pass easily with an excuse of work, without pretending that she wasn’t still dodging the idea of Christmas after the last was spend without him, and another year marks that loneliness in her chest.

Though, she had moved on—but festive seasons left her in an indistinguishable state.

Despite that, she had accepted Drew’s invitation for his annual white elephant party. Her friend insisted her attendance as compulsory which left her scowling at the small Christmas themed paper bag that held a large scented candle.

It most definitely wasn’t taken from her mother’s vast collection of candles.

Thus, she found an escape in the kitchen. Hope bubbling in her chest that peace would remain in her own vacant space, and she could for few hours, ignore her required attendance for Drew’s party.

“Honey, can you grab those papers for me?” her mother’s voice resonates from somewhere in the house.

Leigh’s eyes darts around the kitchen and fell upon the stack of papers. “Are you leaving now?” she asked, already taking the steps ahead to take those papers to her mother.

Amy appeared by the kitchen entrance with a large beige tote bag hanging from her shoulder. “Yes, those children have long wishes for Santa Clause this year.”

While she was wallowing in her own pity, her mother had volunteer at a Christmas event made for an orphanage which became a reoccurrence deed after her parents’ divorce.

“And who’s breaking the news to them that Santa isn’t real?” her nose scrunches at that.

Amy crossed her arms with an offended look on her face at the supposed dreadful words of her daughter. “Maybe you could write a letter to Santa to help with that attitude.”

Thus, her mother snatched the stack of papers from her with a victorious smile plastered on her face at her daughter’s shocked face. Leigh doesn’t budge from where she stood, staring at her mother’s form leaving their shared house.

In the silence of her home, Leigh contemplated the idea. Those youthful Christmas evenings which were pleasant and calm. She was seven then, always rousing in anticipation at every sound of bells, aiding herself into being good as naughty children aren’t allowed to enjoy their gift. Though, the spark of mischief does flutter about.

Amy conceived the idea of writing to Jolly Saint Nick as a fun activity for their family. Leigh was beyond trilled at that young age, unaware of fictional versus reality, and only relishing in sheer innocence.

Of course, the sparks of such glee faded after her parents’ separation.

“Oh, fuck it,” she expressed bitterly. The heavy stump of her feet reverberates throughout their typical American home’s agile wooden frame.

Leigh asserted herself an unpredicted task. The white paper she found on her work desk, a pen that was laid on the floor, and an old envelope with a strange yellow tinge. And there, in the comfort of her room, she sat by her desk, tongue peak at the edge of her mouth as she wrote with an undeniable fury in mind.

The letter was written with an imaginal speed, alternating between glaring out the window at someone’s hired Santa Claus, then at the messily laid items on her desk and settling on the piece of paper again. She knew exactly what she wanted to inform the jolly man, from what she had seen in the recent years to that of a folk tale not granting the worthiest wishes.

“Yeah, we’ll see what you think after this!” she was certain at that hour, he would read the fury filled confessional letter and would understand the utmost fury in her chest.

By the time she was slipping the letter inside the enveloped, and gluing it shut, her phone vibrates with a text. It diverted her sheer focus on the significant task which wakes a frown on her face, eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed tightly.

Leigh was pained at every night glowing from faux light and the morning brighten by the sunrise, and atmosphere so optimistic, that she approached it as the worst symptom. But the envelope holding a letter to a fictional person, those were the seconds where she wasn’t in utter sorrow.

She persevered her clear avoidance for a second longer, then reluctantly checks her phone. A message indicating as a friendly reminder for the party in an hour. The reminder itself fuel annoyance from within, as she sighed, grumbled under her breath and pushed away the mess on her desk out of frustration.

Unbeknownst to her, the letter written in her own privacy and encompassed with a fiery anger, and perfectly folded in a stained yellow envelope, had miraculously fell into the Christmas themed paper bag which was untidily tossed on the floor. It daunts her silently for whatever truth it might carry or perhaps, a letter written in spirits of silliness than sheer hatred.

Leigh monotonous movement paid no mind to the fallen items nor the thought of ensuring her white elephant gift was in perfect condition. She wanted—needed the obscurity of a celebration to end before other requests for her labour were made.

The evening was essentially meant for relaxing, but here she was, mingling as her friend said, and meeting acquaintances to inform of her very much alive state. Despite the whispers observing her sadly, as though her mild happy mask might fall and they would expect to witness the bite of a widow.

Leigh couldn’t place herself in that head space. At least. not for that night. She was uncomfortable herself, and still, she vetted the best way to converse with others and hope the night ends sooner.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” the teasing voice of her friend appeared at her side, and a large arm fell over her shoulder. “I told you. It’ll be fun!”

She held herself from spewing filthy phrases at Drew. “Hmm, very nice. I’m loving the attention for this month’s widow, by the way.”

Drew muffled a laughter, his hand failing at this attempt as he releases the amused sound. “Oh god, Leigh, even death can’t stop your humour.”

“Because death doesn’t stop people from talking, Drew,” Leigh pointed out. “Anyway, when are we starting this? I have the house to myself and I would like some peace before chaos break loose.”

And with that—a loud voice echoes through the hall room, interrupting heaps of conversation, and those snacking to their stomach’s content.

“I’m sorry! Traffic was shit and I’m exhausted. I really need a drink and we can start this.”

In the blooming sound, mixes of cheers and greetings, Leigh’s attention was drawn to their recently arrived guest. There was a certain flair, appearing so out of breath and tired, but carrying the conversation around in such a tranquillity. She wasn’t aware of who had roused such attention, but she was curious to know why.

“Hey, you’re late again,” Drew exclaimed, and hauls Leigh to where their mysterious guest was chatting away. “I told you what time and look at you, arriving fashionably late.”

An excused smile traces the curves of your lips. “Traffic, Drew. It’s horrible and I don’t get how any of you haven’t lost your mind yet,” you explained, then your gaze fell upon those narrowed eyes, a chartreuse shade that seemingly drew your attention closer.

“Leigh, meet my business partner—”

You interrupted Drew as your hand extended coyly in greeting, followed by, “Hi Leigh, I’m Y/n.”

There seemed to be a decided difference between you and Leigh, only kept obvious as she stared at your hand, then meet the gaze of her friend and nodded her head.

“Are we starting this?”

Drew doesn’t prolong the greeting. He understood from very early on that her friend’s patience wasn’t something to tease. Instead, he smoothly led his friend to the empty space on the couch. The party attendees crowd around the same area, eagerly awaiting to exchange their gifts with another.

Leigh situated herself among festive cheers. The overplayed Christmas songs in the background and shameless voices singing off-key, entirely buzzing from the holiday that she wanted to barf in her absolute angst phase.

An announced was made in commence of white elephant. The brief explanation consisted of;

“On this beautiful evening, we are gathered here together. To share our warm embrace, our love and our appreciate. We have our special gifts under the tree. My handsome husband would pass the hat filled with number chits, so everyone picks one. Just one, don’t get greedy! Once that’s done, we’ll start calling out the numbers and you would get your amazing white elephant gift.”

Murmurs around enlightened her, the transparency of those only arousing for gifts more than the celebration of being together. It irks her as they chatted about a thousand different topics, incidents that had occurred which surely wake a glance at her direction, then the hope for those outside to have an equally pleasant Christmas.

After the hat had arrived at her side of the wide maroon couch which neither strangers nor acquittances decided on sitting beside her, only Drew and his husband weren’t treating her like an outcast—she forced a smile, picking a number chit out, and crossing her arms on her lap as they continued.

On the opposite, beneath the pale amber shine from a lamp, you were seated with an amused smile and waiting—then, you met her gaze, the sight of your smiling face made her shift her gaze to the table. Her chest felt unnerving under your gaze, like were people truly that drawn to your charm and were you truly thrilled by such obscurity?

Leigh remained with her riveted facade as the activity continued, regarding the knowing feeling of your firm gaze. She resumed a placid expression on her face while a gloomy calm whirl from within. She nodded her head when her number was announced, muttering her thanks, and cradling her square shaped gift.

Just few more minutes, she had reminded herself with the flickering hope that her freedom would be granted soon enough. And she wouldn’t have to contemplate you for whatever reasons she couldn’t rationalise nor be known to.

So, she waited, burrowing her mind into the miniature decorations on the table, some grazed by her fingers in sheer interest. At some point, she had completely redrawn herself from the happening around, and absentmindedly picked at the wrapping paper layered over her gift.

“And number 22! Oh look, it’s our late comer.”

The laughter that erupts, nudged Leigh’s attention ahead and where her gaze fell upon you. An apologetic expression displayed on your face as you muttered several excuses before receiving your gift. Unlike the rest, voices were ushering you into opening your gift with the reasoning of your recent arrival in town.

The small gift that was handed to you—in what miraculous way—was the same brilliantly considered gift by Leigh. The unmissable Christmas themed paper bag that she could perceived among cluster of people, as it was the same paper bag gifted to her by her estranged father, two years back.

It wasn’t anything—and yet, she was anxious. Her eyes widening by seconds that pass, and her gaze fixed on you. The motion of your hand removing the extra crumpled coloured papers inside, how your fingers twitches and the subtle reaction on your face at what you saw. It was confusion at first, till a grin appeared heartily.

A white candle, it was short but wide in size, entirely held by your hand as the other grips the Christmas themed paper bag. It was considered favourable in your gleaming eyes, inspecting it, and sniffing the scent with a satisfied smile.

Among the scene of your contented appearance and her face pulling in a smile, the murmurs wake in disdain sounds. Questions rose of the cost, sneering judgment at the gifted object, and condemning eyes assessing for the culprit on their cheap gift.

Their criticism had only ceased by the sound of your whistle, mockingly at those convicting faces. “A candle,” you muttered, tilting the supposedly offending object in your hand. “It’s funny. I was considering buying one of this, but I was quite busy and now…” you motioned toward the candle, “I have this.”

It was faint, the jiggle melodies drifting in the air and the grumbles of some. Rude, she heard one said. Someone else muttered, boring.

“I’m reading the room and it’s telling me,” you paused, fluttering your eyes for affect before staring absently at the Christmas tree. “It’s telling me that some people love showing off which is weird…isn’t Christmas about being grateful with what you have? Or I’m missing the whole point.”

A blanket of silence made your statement more thrilling, at least, for the captivated mind of Leigh. Perhaps, she wasn’t regretting the idea of attending her friend’s Christmas party. If drama was promised among self-praised and rich brats, she would had happily skipped her way into the party.

You were stunning at that, alluring them into your trajectory and waking the worse of their nightmares. To be called out in front of many, and your triumphant smile stirred a fuming crowd.

“Okay! We all love candles! Don’t we just love them? Let’s move on!” Drew exclaimed, diverting the attention from your outburst and hollering for his husband to announce the next number.

The attention on your form declined as the next number was revealed. Leigh watches warily as you slipped out from their mind and away from the room, without attracting the slightest attention. It propelled her curiosity, blooming furiously to know who and why you had reacted so differently than most, and why she was persuaded into needing to know you.

Leigh stood up with impatience. If the night was to end, it must end by her own preference. By that, the curiosity of which she followed, wide steps and poised body. Her eyes observantly tracked your whereabouts.

It seemed impractical. “I just have to thank this kind person for appreciating a scented candle,” she spoke to herself, the feeble attempt of steering away from her true intention in replace for deception.

A thud from a closed door, directed her towards the sound. Her wanted exit, and where you lingered outside, ignoring the cold wind and clutching the Christmas themed paper bag in your hand. An additional jacket was draped over your shoulder. You were making a desired exit from the party, the same way she desired.

Leigh announced her presence, the same way she would when she leaves them stunned.

“Hey, you,” she uttered with utmost irritation. “What— hey, why are you laughing?”

Leigh furrowed her eyebrows and her mouth gaped, she looked perplexed at the laughter that left your mouth. It does nothing, but made her stomach uneasy, dotting down the unfamiliar sensation in her chest as she approached you. Her ardent gaze fixed on you and gift you clutched to your chest, and the shake of your head, as if, you had changed your mind over something.

“I’m assuming you want this back?” you inquired, without irritation laced in your tone, but something softer and kind. A pointed gaze fixed on the Christmas themed paper bag.

She appeared surprised at your revelation. “How did you know?

“I have my ways,” you teased, straightforwardly extending your hand towards her direction. “Nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your articles,” you praised her, then squinting your eyes, “You’re not wearing that magical eyeliner, are you?”

This wasn’t the expected conversation she formed in her head. It brooded her mind to what she assumed and what made her need to meet you. While the soft humming of a familiar Christmas song wobbles her heart, the muscle of your throat bobs with that, and it feels like a stroke of youth, the innocence and untainted joy.

There’s a certain spark in your posture, seemingly free from the world’s burden, and vibrant, so alive than the image of herself, reflected on a foggy mirror. And you smiled, mindful to her attentive eyes.

Leigh’s eyes dart the width of your face and hindered on your mouth, where your lips move, talking to her of something she hasn’t registered in her mind. “What are you?” she asked, taking another step closer and clasping your hand in hers.

It's strange—the warmth of your palm, the cold that seeps at the tips of your fingers, the softness of your skin, and the lines in between where she felt a little roughness.

You squeezed her hand, a split second, your gaze fell on linked hands before meeting her ardent eyes and drawing your hand back. “Drew’s business partner for his new gay bar or something, he hasn’t decided yet. So, eyeliner?”

It's even stranger, more so, when her lips curves with smile and her cheeks felt the unfamiliar stretch of skin. “Drew is always changing. He’s very indecisive,” she shared, her body relaxing as the hand that touched yours, pressed on her arm, a palpable itch surfaced. It’s nothing, she convinced herself in blunt falsehood.

Opposite her, contemplation rouse in your mind. “Want to get out of here? I think I saw a hot chocolate booth somewhere down the street,” you spoke with delight in your voice. “We don’t have to, but I think we could use something more exciting than this,” and you vaguely gestured towards where the sound of cheers could be heard.

Leigh played an indifference facade at the offer. “Sure, whatever,” she shrugged.

When the offer was accepted, you grinned, then shake your head, like a silent joke was made and you knew it better than her. But it doesn’t irritate her as most do, as it only increased her curiosity, and she undoubtedly followed your exit from the party she dreaded.

The night breathes a whiff of brilliance and a frosty touch which left throats drought, and thirsty for something warm. Leigh felt that dryness spread from her mouth to throat, and her hands, one holding the gift while the other grasped by the wind. Silence was conveyed between two with something in between, the impulse to speak and the warning to wait.

As soon as the hot chocolate booth appeared in your line of sight, the flair of excitement which she perceived as endearing, appeared with a thumb pointed at said direction while the distinguish warmth latched to her hand, made her motionless. Leigh doesn’t comprehend the touch of your hand over hers, neither did your consciousness reminded you the grasps of strangers.

The childlike manner in which you dragged her towards the booth, establishing a wordy thought of not missing out on something warm, and the soft chuckles that send waves of a new song to her heart.

An elderly couple greeted their new customers. The clasps of hands tighten as the order was made with clear description for the most favourable cup of chocolate drink. Neither Leigh or you, had acknowledged the differences in the night air. Not after ordering and paying while still holding a stranger’s hand, not after sharing a brief conversation about the weather, and only after a comment passed jovial faces, did she realise the unknown, and similarly, so did you.

“Aren’t they a lovely couple?” one voice claimed, sharing years of wisdom in an elderly tone, and the other returned with a soft hum. “Merry Christmas, and we hope you have many more Christmas together.”

The faithful event diverted Leigh’s gaze from the steaming cups to where her hand was linked with yours, the firm touch of something so different, the same that lifts the air she breathes, and upwards where a bemused expression settled on your face. Upon noticing her eyes gazing directly at yours, almost instantly, your hand fell from hers and an obligatory distance was made between two.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassment spread your cheeks with warmth. “Got a little carried away. You know, hot chocolate,” you nodded your head towards the brown recyclable cups on the counter, before taking one of them in the same hand that once held hers.

Leigh mirrored your action, grasping the cup with her free hand and taking a short sip. She smacks her mouth, tasting the sweetness that tickles her tastebuds, and played on her known unbothered facade. To further push her narrative, she waves her hand with the gift, dismissing the mistake, and nudged her head towards a vacant bench.

However, she found herself deeply invested in your bashful appearance, a vast difference than the peak confidence that woke annoyance within some. Your round eyes, curious and warm, gazed at everything that wasn’t remotely entertaining, while maintaining a clear distance and avoiding eye contact.

“So, you’re new here?” Leigh questioned, adjusting her body to the wooden bench, as you sat contentedly and take mouthful sips of your drink.

Your eyebrows knitted, “Is it obvious?” and the cup was set aside. “Well, I’ve been around,” you briefly explained before crossing your legs on the bench and turning to face her.

Leigh followed your movement, both sitting crossed legs on the bench and facing the other. A smile drew on her face at your antics. The anguish that enveloped her, cease to exist in that hour. It’s almost charming, she thought. The way words flew from your mouth in haste and settled in a heartily laughter, the kind that made her chest feel contented. Despite the look of disbelief on her face.

“Hmm, you’re definitely going to be the talk for weeks,” she enlightened, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly.

You winced at the reminder. “God, what was I thinking?” you murmured, shaking your head.

At the same time, two phares caught between two voices; you weren’t and I wasn’t.

It made Leigh amused. “You’re so cancelled,” she drew out each word slowly, and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I don’t care,” you shrugged, gaze lingering on her mouth then meeting her eyes. “Plus, I got a candle, a delicious cup of hot chocolate, and a pretty girl by my side. What about them? They have nothing but their prestigious party and pretending. So, I’m obviously the winner here,” you declared, straightening your back as you did.

“Obviously,” Leigh repeated, purposely ignore the compliment that made her cheeks warm, and you, seemingly grasping her teasing tone, repeated the same word. “Obviously,” you said with a fond smile.

Leigh had barely, for the longest time, looked at someone in such captivation. But you were sat opposite her, beaming at the shared conversation, gazing into verdant eyes, so perfect beneath the pale street lights and flickers of faux amber light from stores close by.

“I want to show you something,” she uttered in a whim. “I think you would like it,” she added, the whispers of her heart claimed for more; I think I like you too.

The suggestion left you no room for denial as you nod your head, overcome with excitement for her outstretched hand and the warmth that resurfaced when skins touch.

“I have a feeling,” you whispered, a childlike tone in your voice as she leans closer. “It might snow in California,” the sheer optimism in your voice, almost made her melt.

She doesn’t stop the brief chuckle that fell from her mouth. “You’re silly,” she indicated, squeezing your hand in hers.

And it’s right—the warmth that tickles her chest and yours, the blow of wind that whispers of something so sweet, the glaze of a festive holiday they speak so heavenly of, everything felt right.

The ocean whooshed a song, each wave resonating peace, and tranquillity carried forward to those stood by the structure raised above body of cold water—where Leigh breathes the air of salty and sweet, where your shoulder touched hers, and the pier buzzed for the encounter of two strangers.

Leigh always preferred to remain composed, and exercise her irritation in the privacy of her mind, unless provoked beyond concealing her genuine emotion. However, the feelings that woke with her each morning, and slept with her through the night, seemed like a feeble memory in her mind.

Why did she dread the holidays? Why was she happily immersing herself in your company?

“Aren’t you curious?” the sudden question in the air, made her shift her attention to you. “What’s in that box?” you pointed at the square gift still in her grasps.

Leigh squints her eyes, “Really? Don’t you have your own gift?”

“Ouch, sorry,” you huffed, appearing offended, while the round of your eyes remained with a glint that made her smile wider.

It never happened, it shouldn’t, but she passed the gift to you. “Open it, and I’ll hold this,” she takes the Christmas themed paper bag from you, but the tug from your hand hindered her attempt.

“No, what if you take back my candle?” you asked. “I mean, that’s why you came after me, didn’t you?”

Leigh pondered the question prodding through her mind. There was a liable reason on her intention that led to her tracking you down, accepting your offer and allowing you to lead her away from the dreaded party, and here, where the moon shone an enchanting glow across the night sky and reflecting flawlessly on the ocean.

Leigh takes a step back, her hand spread out on the wooden railing. She felt the coarse texture of worn timber, and the pulsing of her heart through her ears, but she hears the song of a peaceful ocean, and she thinks, this has been the most bliss she had felt in months, years, and just too long.

“I guess, you’re interesting,” she spoke with significance. “A new face, someone who’s not expecting something from me, I don’t know— it happens. Heck, maybe it was something in the drink,” she added the latter part impulsively, fearing a more in-depth confession to leave her heart.

Silence emits between two, and she glance at you, still staring ahead into the endless ocean. There was a quirk of your lips, like a smile teasing to curl and for her heart to drop, entirely surrendering to whatever made her feel better.

“I’m trying to play it cool,” you voiced out, Leigh’s gift placed on the railing while yours daggles from your hand. “But it’s really hard,” you paused, shifting your gaze to meet her.

The penetrating gaze troubled Leigh, but she forced a smile on her face, and for what unknown reasons, she felt the ache of rejection and feared it.

You slanted into her space. “I think you’re pretty,” you whispered. “Maybe, just maybe, I asked Drew if you were coming and…that was the only reason I went to that tedious party,” you confessed shyly, still maintaining eye contact.

Leigh looked at you, as though, the most unbelievable information was thrown her way and she forced to believe it—not that her heart gnawing for those words to escape, for the lump in her throat to fade, for you to come closer and for her to feel you, like how she wishes to know you.

She doesn’t know why, but the first start of it, seemed like the best as she uttered, “Just maybe?” and your smile widens to your round cheeks. “Just maybe,” you replied.

When eyes stayed gazing into each other, heart beats raised to the wondrous occasion.

“And how I can trust you?” she questioned, moving inches closer that she could almost feel your breath fanning over her face.

Then, she felt the familiar and wanting warmth that spread her hand, the same place where your hand rest.

“Like I said, I’m a fan of your articles, and I saw you at the office few days ago, kind of changed my life,” you admitted, “But of course, I tried not being weird about it— and here we are,” you lifted the Christmas themed paper bag.

Leigh doesn’t believe in faith or the universe’s mystical ways of working things out as her mother profusely believed. But a plague of hope pushes her further into your realm.

“Hmm, is this some Christmas hallmark movie?” Leigh turns her hand over, pressing her palm firmly against yours.

“Believe me,” you whispered, a sense of promise laced with your voice, and she fell for it—she believed you. “This is so much better.”

The most unexpected trust merged with a stranger, with you.

She takes a deep breath, and exhaled her worries. Then, the swift grasps of her hand in yours, pulling your body closer. The next act, an impulse press of lips, and she feels your surprised gasp, before your mouth surrendered and you were kissing her back.

She found solace there, without isolation or running off to another temporary escape, and it was you, the stranger who held her close and pressed bodies together.

“A Christmas miracle,” you claimed, slightly winded by the shared kiss. “Or whatever they say.”

The night continued from a fond encounter, an even sweeter kiss, and the touch that left her aching for days to come. A memory made for Christmases to come, better than the last, and perhaps, more beautiful than those fading images in her mind.

“Yes,” Leigh murmured, her hand that found space on your cheek, caress the skin beneath her touch.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion swirling in your mind for the answer of an unknown question. “What?”

It doesn’t feel embarrassing or sad, as she answered, “I am wearing that eyeliner.”

Confusion dissolved in your feature as the corner of your lips curls, not knowing to smile or to laugh at the sudden respond.

“Well,” you paused, feeling something wet dribble on your face as you lifted your head to face the sky. “It’s snowing…in California?”

The bewildered expression on your face made her laugh wholeheartedly to the extent of feeling the almost unknown ache in her stomach from laughing so hard.

“It’s rain, silly,” she teased, and kissed you with the utmost desire to feel you, every part of you.

There, where rain fell upon two, an unexpected weather forecast and an unexpected shower of love, where mutual feelings manifest for years to come.

Leigh observes your expression at that hour, for the next, till the morning came, and she felt the same. A growing sense of comfort and love. It fuels her chest to bring you closer with a promise to allow her heart to feel everything she dreaded, and to believe in love again.

And Leigh Shaw, who ironically, despised the idea of celebrating such festive things—found herself wrapped in your arms the following year, her chest bubbling with laughter from a joke shared as her family joined. The festive occasion marked the first year of a beautiful relationship.

“Of course, Leigh had a huge crush on me,” you murmured, pressing a haste kiss on her head.

Leigh doesn’t shift from her comfortable position. “Of course,” she repeated, teasingly slapping your thigh as you purposely conveyed the partly false narrative of your first encounter. “Of course,” you said,and when eyes meet, the love that blooms were promised forevermore.

And where love was found, still unknown to them was a letter hidden inside a paper bag—unopen and forgotten.

But the universe, majestic and all, works in mysterious ways.

Bonus: Leigh Shaw’s letter to Santa Claus—

Dear Satan Santa Claus,

What the fuck is up man?

Everyone’s so excited for you. Don’t people go lay in the snow or go ice skating anymore? I know, I’m from California, but what’s the fuck is up that you have everyone under you spell? I literally saw a mom fight off another mom for the last Santa statue.

You’re fiction. But people believe you more than the news.

I think people believe in fiction more than reality. It’ll be easier to cope, right?

If I pretend that I’m not miserable, then I would be okay. Maybe I can pretend that my life isn’t cursed. My husband, still dead, can’t bring him back, but maybe, there’s this stupid love that latch on to me and I’m happy. Maybe it’ll snow and someone will hold my hand.

I just want to believe in something or someone without breaking my heart again.

New flash; I’m still a widow in my thirties, without a purpose in life.

Tell me, old man, why are people so confident that you would grant their wishes?

You didn’t give me my parents back for that shitty Christmas. A fiction tale, that’s you.

Honestly, fuck everyone for thinking that I shouldn’t feel shit during this time and that I should wake up feeling happy.

And fuck you, Santa Claus. I will never forget the worse Christmases that everyone swore will get better after you came at midnight.

I don’t want gifts. I want to be happy for once without feeling like something bad will happen.

Okay. I’m done.

Yours truly,

Leigh Shaw.

(p.s. i never wanted a ken doll, i wanted two barbies)

[saintnicklaus]

About Me

~intro post~ because how else are cool trans people going to know they can message me?! //frequently updated//

I’m 18 y/o trans guy, (he/him), mostly prefer to sub & bottom but I can occasionally sub and top as well so I would say I’m verse.

Pre-Testosterone(for now) , Pre-any surgeries

Feel free to send DM’s or asks! I’m strictly T4T and I’m bisexual so only trans women & trans men interest me. Non binary/Genderfluid are included in that as well 😇

I’m 5’2( 5’5 if I’m lying) if you’re expecting a massive ass you have come to the wrong place unfortunately..

Im training so I can be stronger and have the body I want but right now I have noodle arms.

If I get a bad vibe from you I’m blocking you.

I’m from Texas! No, I don’t sound like a southern boy because I’m from the city not the country side.

I just turned 18 early October so I’m new to anything sexual.

Age limit for pervy DMs/Asks: 18-25

If you want to just be friends/no pervy talk then the age limit for friends is 17-20

✨ I’m into

- tattoos

- thigh riding

- pet/puppy roleplay

- breeding(NOT PREGNANCY)

- forcemasc

-forcefem (only occasionally)

- size kink

- strength kink

- dumbification

-humiliation

Royalty kink

(I have a feeling I’ll get judged for some of these so if you kink shame GO AWAY)

- somno/cnc/freeuse/ “drugged”

-intox kink(alcohol/weed)

- light fauxcest (older brother or dad type roleplay)

- overstim

- slight hypno(idk I’ve never tried it but the p*rn is hot)

- orgasm control/denial/forced orgasm

- bondage

- praise kink

Weary of but willing to try:

- spanking

-choking

- piss kink/desperation(omorashi)

- scent kink

- corruption

- degradation

Hard limits/DNI:

- blood kink

- scat

- vomit

- feederism

- anything involving food during s*x is a hard no for me

- raceplay(I’m mixed. Don’t be weird about it)

- Eating disorder blogs/Sh blogs

- bigotry/racism, just DNI

- detrans

-hard/brutal cnc

- cis men go away

I don’t want to reveal my name on social media so just call me Nick/Saint nick(tis the season I started this account) it’s not my real name but it’s my social media persona name I suppose :)

What to call me:

Pet, baby boy, baby, good boy, puppy, mutt, prince, slut, kitty/kitten, fag(got), for other mean names just ask

Words im comfortable with being used for my private parts; boycunt/boypussy, cunt, dick, t-dick, cock, chest, hole, puppy parts, prince parts, for other names just ask.

Compliments: masc compliments, only fem terms I accept are pretty/beautiful. Other than that stick to masculine compliments

[allwaswell16]

hello lovely, hope you’re doing well! I was just wondering if you’d know (bc you nearly always know the answers to these questions) of any new ish tomlinshaw?? i feel like I’m starved of them, and am currently rereading all the old fics i can find! By new I mean like 2019 on, or even if you know of anyone writing tomlinshaw atm!! thank you thank you

Hi! So first of all, yes writers are still writing Tomlinshaw! Definitely not as many as there used to be, but it's still a pairing that gets written! Here are all the ones I've read and enjoyed since 2019! Happy reading!

—Recent Tomlinshaw Fics—

You and Me (Got a Whole Lot of History) by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

Nick loves the crush and fever of being right in the thick of things, but just the thought of Louis looking down and spotting him makes him feel a little queasy.

It hadn’t been a proper thing. It wasn’t a relationship.

here with me by haveufoundwhaturlookingfor / @sup3rbloom

Louis has been secretly dating Nick, and things were going so smoothly, but then Nick finds out that he's pregnant and they have no choice but to tell everyone about their relationship.

Particular by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

Nick is very particular about the upkeep of his hallway's Brazilian hardwood floor. He is very particular about the cleaning of his kitchen's fine Wedgewood china.

He is less particular in his bedroom.

You know I love you, babe by @lululawrence

Nick sighed happily to himself. Yet another wonderful decision by Past Nick was stocking the fridge with the cheesecake. He honestly had no recollection of purchasing it, but it was the best thing he’d eaten all day. There was something so perfectly satisfying about a piece of cheesecake.

He should wax poetic to Louis about it. Tell him how he didn’t miss him at all because the cheesecake was all he would ever need.

Or the one where Nick fucks up and scrambles to make it right. Too bad that just makes things worse.

Food Fight by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

It’s Louis’ famed cooking skills against Nick’s more cultured palate.

Fight.

Little Saint Nick by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

Nick meets a stranger in a bar and is told this Christmas season, he needs to 'learn to be nice'.

Costumes Must Be Sexy, Slutty and/or Stupid by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

It's a bit of a blast from the past to get an invite to Nick Grimshaw's fancy dress housewarming.

Shape of You by @reminiscingintherain

Ed goes onto BBC Breakfast to promote Divide. Nick flirts. Louis isn't impressed.

the next bit was spanners to my plan by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

The first time was an accident. The second time was an accident too.

Or: Louis and Nick end up shagging on the sly, everyone sends far too many emojis and far too few words, and eventually they're going to have to sort themselves out.

Use You As A Focal Point by Jiksa / @jiksax

“What am I, the fucking twink whisperer? You’ve been nothing but horrible to me. Last time I tried to kiss you, you lobbed a Chelsea boot at my head.”

Louis shows up at Nick's front door on the wrong side of midnight, asking for... things. Part 2 of I Found 'verse

if you should try to kiss her by @disgruntledkittenface

It’s kind of their thing now. They make relentless snarky comments to and about each other and exchange meaningful eye contact every time they think no one is looking. At least, that’s what Louis thinks they’re doing, like their own extended lesbian mating ritual. It seems obvious to her that they’re inevitable in some kind of cosmic, grand design type of way; they’re eventually going to end up together and fix up an old house and Nick will build a chicken coop for the backyard (or hire someone to build it, probably) and then they’ll live happily ever after, bickering the whole time.

If only she could be sure that’s what Nick thinks they’re doing.

Harry's annual Christmas party gives Louis her chance to be brave and tell Nick how she feels.

I'mma Give You A Promotion by @lululawrence

Nick: We should move in together

Louis stared at the phone, blinking in confusion. Maybe he really had already fallen asleep. There was no way in hell that Nick would be asking him to move in with him in their actual reality.

Louis swiped open his phone and was still staring at the text when Nick’s face took over his screen.

"What are you on about with moving in together?”

“Well, we can either not see each other at all during the stay at home order, or we can move in together,” Nick explained.

“And you figured we should just move in together?” Louis asked, shocked.

Or the one where Louis and Nick have had a bit of a thing, but it was never meant to be permanent. They hadn't even defined it. Then COVID happened and changed everything.

A Fist Full of Glitter by @reminiscingintherain

Nick G: Fancy going to the BRITs tonight? Got a ticket with your name on.Louis: Is there any universe in which I’d say no to this? I think not.Nick G: I’ll pick you up at 6:30pm. Suit’s being messengered over now.Louis: You spoil me. <3 xx

Or: Louis' a Sugar Baby, Nick's his proper and formal Sugar Daddy. What could possibly happen to make that change?

The Colors Are Different by orphan_account

“I didn't know you'd be here Grim!” Harry says happily. Nick looks equally peeved as he catches sight of Louis right there, wearing the exact same shirt as he is. Louis really should’ve gone over to Ed – he could’ve spared both of them this traumatic experience.

‘Didn’t know you would be here either.’

It’s clear Nick mostly means Louis.

It’s not like there’s some sort of rule about the host of Capital’s morning show and the host of Radio 1’s breakfast show not being at the same events, but – they kind of pretend there is anyways.

or the one where Nick and Louis are opposites in every way, except maybe they aren't after all.

With Your Hand In Mine by @lululawrence

Louis reached out and latched his hand onto Nick’s arm. “What was that?”

“One of the previous inmates that mysteriously died here, I’d imagine,” Nick whispered into Louis’ ear.

Louis shivered, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Nick being so close or the fact he was growing more and more concerned that he was going to pee his pants during this.

Okay, it was the latter if the shot of anxiety currently running through him was any indication, but he did have goosebumps from Nick’s breath grazing Louis’ neck as well.

Or the one where Louis hates haunted houses, Nick likes them, and Louis likes Nick. Things end better than Louis expects.

Swerve the Handshake by @lululawrence

There's a pandemic afoot and social distancing is being recommended for everyone, but what is to be done to still greet people with respect whilst avoiding the handshake?

Scott and Chris have ideas, and Grimmy becomes attached to a particular suggestion.

Brighter This Time by Jiksa / @jiksax

Louis’s a little lost, a little heartbroken, and maybe a little… something else. Nick’s just a shit bartender.

burning our pretty little hearts by icarusinflight

Nick's twenty-nine, and still not the least bit ready for it, when he finds his soulmate.

Can't Forget You by @writcraft

Nick wakes up in hospital and discovers he's lost several years of memories, including getting together—and breaking up—with Louis Tomlinson, the owner of the local café that Nick's being trying to pull for ages.

As he tries to work out what went wrong, Nick falls in love with Louis all over again.

To Fall Down At Your Door by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

Nick has failed to pay attention in any of the meetings leading up to him filming a documentary in the Scottish Highlands, mostly because he's just been dumped and he's in the middle of some very important wallowing. This does not entirely explain what Louis Tomlinson is doing there filming in the Highlands with him, and it absolutely does not explain why the world's press seems to think that they've just got married without telling anyone.

He's fairly certain none of this is actually his fault, but it doesn't change the fact that everything has suddenly got a little bit weird.

You're a Nightmare, I'm a Disaster by @lululawrence

As Nick scanned the shelves, his eyes caught on a bright blue binding. Snooki, it read, A Shore Thing.

“Oh my God,” Nick mumbled, trying not to laugh as he picked it up. He’d watched bits and pieces of Jersey Shore way back in the day.

Without bothering to look any further around the store, he headed up to the counter where Blue eyes was watching him. Nick cleared his throat nervously and set the book on the counter and the man immediately flashed him a look of disdain.

“Seriously? Out of everything we have available, you chose the book we special ordered for a customer?”

“Well, it can’t be that bad if someone specifically requested it, right?” Nick said, trying to keep a teasing tone.

“Why do you think we still have it if it was a special order?” the man asked with a scoff. “They returned it after reading something like three pages.”

Nick frowned at the book. “Well that doesn’t seem very fair.”

Or the one where Nick is a writer, Louis works in a bookshop, and things don't exactly start off on the right foot, but they might just end on it.

You are the feeling of drugs, pulling the chain of my love by WeAreTheLuckyOnes 

Louis gets bored with all the questions by the next week and tells everyone, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off, in a Facebook post he subsequently deletes the next day. Instead, he chooses to ignore all his friends.

And text Nick.

Kind of Tough to Tell a Scruff (Stand and Deliver) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

There must be one good thing about your new place.

Nick considers for a while. There's a fit bloke lives down my hall, he types finally.

In which Nick moves north and Louis lives next door.

A Reckless Hallelujah by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

You're too short to be a dancer, they'd said. Competition's really tough. You should have applied when you were 11. You can't commute to the Royal Ballet School from Doncaster, they'd said. Why would you even try?

The Million Reasons Why by @reminiscingintherain

When closeted Manchester United striker Louis Tomlinson visits his secret boyfriend Nick Grimshaw on the Radio 1 Drivetime Show to promote his charity work, how long can secrets remain secret?

Taking The Plunge by @writcraft

The one with lots of diving metaphors.

Or: Nick and Louis agree to be boyfriends. Eventually.

Leo season by @disgruntledkittenface 

“Didn’t catch your name earlier?” he asks, tilting his head to go along with his lilting voice.

“Nnrg,” Nick replies smoothly, failing to meet Louis’ hand with his own as he realizes just how garbled his smooth reply actually was. He overcorrects and vaguely slaps Louis’ hand before managing to wring it in his own, much to Louis’ apparent amusement.

Carefree. Confident. Over the top. Nick may be a bit of a disaster, but no one can deny the mood for Leo season suits him.

Like Honey to the Bee by @lululawrence

Nick didn’t even remember knocking, but suddenly the door he also didn’t realise he was leaning on opened and he started falling inside Louis and Harry’s flat.

“Fuck,” Nick blurted as he tried to right himself. He was caught by Louis, which was great because he was exactly who he wanted to see and he didn’t really fancy dropping a massive jar of honey on his doorstep.

“Nicholas?” Louis asked.

Nick couldn’t help it. Hearing Louis call him by his full name made him shiver. He usually hated it, but there was something magical about Louis Tomlinson that made the usual negative association suddenly become an incredibly positive one.

“I brought you honey,” Nick blurted as he handed Louis the jar.

“I can see that,” Louis said, sounding confused. “Thanks?”

“Of course! It’s what friends do, yeah?”

Or the one where Nick has been trying to find a way to get past the banter stage with Louis for ages, and honey might be just what he needs to finally do so.

That's My Thing by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

“Suppose I did it on purpose.” 

And Louis’ eyebrow jumps again, just for a moment.

“Did you now?” His eyes flash, an underlying playfulness belying the anger painted across his, fuck, absolutely sharp as knives cheekbones. “Wanted a bit of trouble, maybe?”

All Nick can do is nod, tightly and rapidly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eager for Louis to demand he put them to work.

Nick comes home to find Louis inexplicably primed for a fight...or perhaps something a bit more interesting.

You Don't Care About Me (One More Night) by @lululawrence

“Nick. You’re into guys. What should I do?”

Nick snorted. “You think just ‘cause I’m gay, I know what you should do?”

Louis blinked at him and Nick admired his eyelashes against his will. “Well. Kind of, yeah.”

“That is not how this works,” Nick said. “Besides, it’s not like you can just go and suck someone’s dick to be sure you like it the way I did. You’re too famous to try it my way.”

Louis’ expression changed to one of awe. “That’s how you figured it out? You sucked some random’s dick?”

Nick shrugged. “Yeah. Basically. I mean, I knew for pretty damn sure before that, mind you, but that did solidify the matter for me.”

“I need to suck a dick,” Louis said, turning to look at the wall of Nick’s room.

“You could suck mine, if it would help,” Nick offered before he could stop himself.

Or the one where Louis pines for Harry and Nick helps ease his way into figuring himself out through a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Things quickly turn complicated.

pas de deux by @turnyourankle

Nick has been teasing Louis for a long time.

walk, walk fashion baby by @disgruntledkittenface

He couldn’t give a fuck about impressing these people, he’s only there to play the supportive boyfriend. But as he searches high and low for said boyfriend, one thought keeps gnawing at him, the sinking suspicion that Nick had dressed him up not so that Louis would feel more comfortable at the event, but so that Nick would feel more comfortable with Louis at the event.

Maybe this assignment is starting to fuck with his head. 

Louis loves his supportive boyfriend, his passionate and interesting band of friends and coworkers, and his pair of quirky and dedicated dogs. What he doesn’t love is his job as co-editor of the Lifestyle section at a popular site aimed at millennials. But he was getting by until a new assignment landed in his lap: Let Your Boyfriend Dress You For A Week. His best mate Harry assured him it’d be a laugh, a bit of fun, but Louis was sure that Nick would dress him like an utter knob and his mates would take the piss all week.

He didn’t expect to actually learn something about himself.

regular touch by icarusinflight

Shoes for sale Paid £110 Looking for £80 Will sell for £50 and a good story

or Nick makes an impulse shoe purchase, and gets more than she’d bargained for when she puts them up for sale.

London Rain by @writcraft

Anonymous online encounters seem like a good way for Louis to explore his growing interest in men. Having phone sex with Nick Grimshaw was not part of the plan.

[muppetydyke]

Muppet Mainstage, December 22nd, 2023

“Little Saint Nick” was written by Brian Wilson and Mike Love in 1963. The song is performed by the Electric Mayhem on the 1979 album, John Denver and The Muppets: A Christmas Together. The song starts with Janice (Richard Hunt) singing, then Floyd (Jerry Nelson), with Dr Teeth (Jim Henson) singing the last verse, and Animal (Frank Oz) joining in on the chorus. The song has a lot of saxophone too, which is likely Zoot’s (Dave Goelz) inclusion in the song.

[dear-indies]

Hi you two! I was hoping to rp as Kol Mikaelson but I don't want to use zionist N*thaniel B*zolic for vampire verse Kol, not to mention that his resources aren't that much so I would love some alts for him, please! Someone in their early twenties with similar vibes if at all possible, please!

Aidan Turner (1983)

Iko Uwais (1983) Betawi.

Utkarsh Ambudkar (1983) Marathi / Tamil.

Theo James (1984)

Burak Özçivit (1984) Turkish - has spoken up for Palestine!

Rahul Kohli (1985) Indian - has spoken up for Palestine!

François Arnaud (1985) - is bisexual.

Penn Badgley (1986)

Jason Ralph (1986)

Daniel Sharman (1986)

Karim Kassem (1986) Egyptian / Egyptian Jewish - has spoken up for Palestine!

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (1986) African-American.

Casey Deidrick (1987)

Ismael Cruz Cordova (1987) Afro Puerto Rican.

Michael B. Jordan (1987) African-American.

Varun Saranga (1990) Indian.

Douglas Booth (1992)

RJ Mitte (1992) - has cerebral palsy.

Fabien Frankel (1994) Ashkenazi Jewish, Indian Jewish, Iraqi Jewish / French and Italian.

Nicholas Galitzine (1994)

Kofi Siriboe (1994) Ghanaian.

Apo Nattawin Wattanagitiphat (1994) Thai.

Algee Smith (1994) African-American.

Nick Robinson (1995)

Cody Christian (1995) Penobscot, Passamaquody, French / English.

Charlie Rowe (1996)

Elliot Fletcher (1996) - is a trans man - has spoken up for Palestine!

Aria Shahghasemi (1996) Iranian.

Michael Evans Behling (1996) Nigerian / White.

Jacob Elordi (1997)

Archie Renaux (1997) Indian and White.

George Sear (1997)

Asa Butterfield (1997) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Emre Bey (1997) Turkish.

Corey Mylchreest (1998)

Felix Mallard (1998)

Christopher Briney (1998)

Bilal Hasna (1999) Punjabi and Palestinian.

Saint Levant (2000) Palestinian, Serbian / Algerian, French.

Jonathan Daviss (2000) African-American, including Haitian.

Here are some general alts too - bonus points to anyone who replaces him with a black and/or Palestinian suggestion because fuck that man and his dangerous views.

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

All I Want for Christmas Is You

Written By: Mariah Carey & Walter Afanasieff

Artist: Mariah Carey

Released: 1994

“All I Want For Christmas Is You” is a holiday classic, and an uptempo love song. Its narrator declares she doesn’t care about Christmas presents or lights; the best holiday present she can have is to be with the one she loves. Released in 1994 as the lead single from Mariah Carey’s first holiday album and fourth studio album, Merry Christmas, the song has since become the Christmas standard. It has sold more than 14 million copies globally since its debut, making it one of the best-selling singles ever. In 2015, Carey released a book with the same title as her holiday staple, acknowledging the song’s longevity: “When I wrote ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ it was my dream for it to become a classic Christmas song. I am so proud of the song’s impact as it continues to create memories for fans each year.” The song’s legacy remains unparalleled. It charts every holiday season since its original release, and is estimated to have earned Carey $60 million in royalties. The song is also referred to as “the biggest Christmas song of all time”, and was named the #1 holiday song of all time by Billboard. After 25 years, the track finally reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 2018, becoming Mariah’s 19th song to do so and making the singer the solo artist with most Billboard Hot 100 chart-toppers. It also sets a new record of the longest run to No. 1 on the chart, surpassing Elton John’s re-recording of “Candle in the Wind.” It has since returned to the top of the charts in 2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022, making Mariah the first artist to ever have a number one song in four different decades.

[Intro] I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need I don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you, yeah [Verse 1] I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need (And I) Don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree I don't need to hang my stocking There upon the fireplace (Ah) Santa Claus won't make me happy With a toy on Christmas Day [Chorus] I just want you for my own (Ooh) More than you could ever know (Ooh) Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you You, baby [Verse 2] Oh, I won't ask for much this Christmas I won't even wish for snow (And I) I'm just gonna keep on waiting Underneath the mistletoe I won't make a list and send it To the North Pole for Saint Nick (Ah) I won't even stay awake to Hear those magic reindeer click [Chorus] 'Cause I just want you here tonight (Ooh) Holding on to me so tight (Ooh) What more can I do? Oh baby, all I want for Christmas is you You, baby [Bridge] Oh, all the lights are shining So brightly everywhere (So brightly, baby) And the sound of children's Laughter fills the air (Oh, oh yeah) And everyone is singing (Oh yeah) I hear those sleigh bells ringing (Oh) Santa, won't you bring me the one I really need? (Yeah, oh, oh) Won't you please bring my baby to me? [Verse 3] Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas This is all I'm asking for (Ah) I just wanna see my baby Standing right outside my door [Chorus] Oh, I just want you for my own (Ooh) More than you could ever know (Ooh) Make my wish come true Oh baby, all I want for Christmas is you [Outro] You, baby All I want for Christmas is you, baby (You) All I want for Christmas is you, baby (Ah, oh, ah, oh) All I want for Christmas is you, baby (You) All I want for Christmas is you, baby (All I really want, baby, ooh) All I want for Christmas is you, baby (All I want, all I really want is you)

Lovefool

Written By: Peter Svensson & Nina Persson

Artist: The Cardigans

Released: 1996

“Lovefool” is track #7 on The Cardigans’s third album First Band on the Moon. “Lovefool” was the song that propelled The Cardigans to international stardom. US listeners took notice when it was featured on the soundtrack to Baz Luhrmann’s William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. The song topped the Billboard Hot 100 Airplay and Top 40 Mainstream, but was kept from the Hot 100 because it was not issued as a commercial single (until December 1998, songs were not eligible to chart on the Hot 100 until they got released as single in the US). Nina Persson penned the lyrics for this song, while Peter Svensson wrote the music. Nina was sitting in an airport waiting for a plane when she was inspired to write the song and thought it would have a “slow bossa nova feel.” She told The Swedish Performing Rights Society: “I do find that the biggest hits are the ones that are the easiest to write”. Peter recalled writing the music for this song in an interview with The Independent: “To me, that song is still that moment when I wrote it in a small room, sitting on my bed in our home town. It was supposed to be some kind of a bossa nova: a totally different song, slow and mellow and sad. The production on it, though, and the disco drums made it all shinier."

[Verse 1] Dear, I fear we're facing a problem You love me no longer, I know and Maybe there is nothing that I can do To make you do Mama tells me I shouldn't bother That I ought just stick to another man A man that surely deserves me But I think you do [Pre-Chorus] So I cry, and I pray, and I beg [Chorus] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me Pretend that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me So I cry and I beg for you to Love me, love me Say that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you [Verse 2] Lately I have desperately pondered Spent my nights awake and I wonder What I could have done in another way To make you stay Reason will not reach a solution I will end up lost in confusion I don't care if you really care As long as you don't go [Pre-Chorus] So I cry, and I pray, and I beg [Chorus] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me Pretend that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me So I cry and I beg for you to Love me, love me Say that you love me Leave me, leave me Just say that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you (Anything but you) [Outro] Love me, love me Say that you love me Fool me, fool me Go on and fool me Love me, love me I know that you need me I can't care 'bout anything but you

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Val's December Drabbles Day 15/25

Can y'all believe there are only TEN days left?! Because I surely can't. The random Christmas word generator decided a few days' break was enough, and we're back with more reindeer. Today's word is Blitzen.

“Did you know,” Henry begins, “that Donner and Blitzen are derived from the Dutch words for thunder and lightning?” “Nope,” Alex confirms, settling into the couch and preparing for a deep dive into fictional reindeer lore. Which is how Alex soon finds himself in the New-York Historical Society, watching as Henry gazes down at a handwritten copy of the original poem. “Said to be ‘the best known verses ever written by an American,’” Henry explains, his fingertips pressed against the glass. “Once you get your citizenship, it’s over for ol’ Saint Nick,” Alex says, planting a kiss on Henry’s cheek.

The series collection lives beneath the cut!

Day 1: Merry Day 2: Punch Day 3: Prancer Day 4: Comet Day 5: Poinsettia Day 6: Happy Day 7: Crowds Day 8: Dasher Day 9: Wreath Day 10: Holiday Day 11: Tradition Day 12: Greetings Day 13: Advent Day 14: Holly

And you find the entire series here on AO3!

[marine-indie-gal]

Even though I already did Krampus in the SB Universe for One of My AUs, here is My TRUE Depiction of the Anti-Santa for My Adaptation of Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer as the Main Antagonist.

Unlike the backstory of Him in the SB-Verse, My Krampus has a very different backstory compare to his Other Counterpart.

Krampus was once a Man named "Christopher Von Golf" as he was once a Good Friend towards Saint Nicholas (who would then go on to become Santa Claus). Chris and Nick were once Two Close Friends of Opposites, but as they grew older, they decided to work at a Church for each and every of their Former Town's National Holiday in which at Church, Nick would give gifts for the Children who have been good while Chris would punish the Bad Children who have not been good this year by whipping them.

Although as time passed for the Two, Saint Nick was often recognized by the Town more often since he was a Good Saint which leaves Chris being overshadowed by his own Best Friend (mostly because of how all the Children feared him as Chris never receive any Naughty Children to punish as his population in the Church grew less). However, this made Christopher even more jealous than before and ever since the One Accident that when he spotted a Child stealing something from Someone outside of Church, he was arrested for Child Abuse.

But knowing that his life would change however when one faithful night at Prison, Chris escaped after manipulating a Guard that he killed, he went out of his way to find an Old Public Library in which he found a Magic Spell Book on how to summon a Deity from Ancient Times. Chris chose to possessed Hel so that he can recover from his own sins but as Chris made the most biggest mistake of his entire life that he cannot ever forget, The Norse Death Goddess, Hel possessed Christopher upon his own hatred and became what children truly saw within him...A Monster. Thus becoming "Krampus".

When former Christopher Von Golf has abandoned his own Humanity, he kidnapped every child during the night to feast upon them at Church as when his Former Friend (Nicholas) saw on what was happening during the night, he felt horrified, seeing his own Best Friend feasting on the Dead Kids which lead the Two Ex-Partners into a Gigantic Fight at Church. But when Nicholas however had summoned God, the Angels that God sent blasted Krampus far far away in a Cold Place (which would later become the North Pole) as he was lost through the foggy cold weather.

With Nick and Chris' former days of Morality have left behind, they went to become the World's famous Two Holiday Mascots. Of course, Krampus desires revenge upon his Former Partner now Arch-Nemesis as in My Rudolph story, Krampus plans to take over the Entire North Pole to kidnapped and enslave every Child (no matter if the One could be either Naughty or Nice) to take them to Yule Hell and even overthrow his Arch-Enemy for Good. Only for his defeat, Rudolph shines his Nose so bright, it causes the entire Northen Lights to shine over Krampus to lose all of his power (since Rudolph is actually the Descendant of a Powerful Reindeer with Light named "Sol".)

Krampus (c) Christmas Folklore Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer (c) Robert L. May

[univsolmc]

Lyrics:

You need to check me in

And strap me up,

'cause I'm crazier than a

mother*ck

You need to check me in

And strap me up,

'cause I'm crazier than a

mother*ck

Verse 1:

Don't f*ck with my radio

They keep telling me I need to play it low

Can't be letting them suckas mess up my flow

Turn that muthafucka up and let the speakers blow

Let the speakers blow?

Yeah let the speakers blow!

Its unfortunate but its all I own

They took everything else, except my soul

Trying to control my every move, so I hover below

Hook:

Can't f*ck with my style

Verse:

This the sound of the underground, the misused, the mislead, the misunderstood and the misrepresented

5 attributes can't define I,

Not when the most High carry atleast 99

And counting, we can go til infinity

Light years and beyond, until your just thoughts a memory

Get the picture, hope you see this clear

Its electric! Boogie-woogie sittin in that chair

Murderous verses, usher them off some hearses

Lyrics from the criminally insane, sissy's hide your purses

Infectious rap minus the rash

A bareing more than gifts when I reach in my bag

Like o saint nick, get it prick I am that bad

I'll smoke ya, go ahead take a drag

Of some hot lead all up in that aSs.

(Keep bouncing)

Ask yourself do you really want it that bad

CREDITS

Music produced by L. Beasley

Performed by Uni V. Sol and DJ Stylus

Written by U. Sol

[sinceileftyoublog]

Waxahatchee Album Review: Tigers Blood

(ANTI-); Album art credit: Molly Matalon

BY JORDAN MAINZER

On Tigers Blood, Waxahatchee's long-awaited follow-up to 2020's career-best Saint Cloud, Katie Crutchfield trusts her gut and doubles down on the styles of music she grew up listening to. Written while on tour in 2022, during which Waxahatchee opened for many of her musical heroes like Lucinda Williams, Sheryl Crow, and Jason Isbell, Tigers Blood is an album at ease with general unease. Saint Cloud was the first album Crutchfield wrote newly sober and in love with her current partner Kevin Morby, and it glowed. Tigers Blood, then, sees her fully entering a new phase, channeling life's trials and tribulations into poetry, finding new ways to appreciate old things.

Perhaps it's hindsight, but "Right Back to It", the lead single from Tigers Blood, exemplifies what the album does best. Crutchfield considers it the first love song she's ever written, and it's one of her strongest, both in terms of vocal delivery and lyricism. She's able to subvert traditional rhyme schemes by unexpectedly bending syllables, packing in just as many words as emotional punches when setting the scene. "Photograph of us / in a spotlight / on a hot night / I was drifting in and out / Reticent on the off chant / I'm blunter than a bullseye / Begging for peace of mind," she sings over Phil Cook's circular banjo and Spencer Tweedy's gentle drums. The chorus, then, is simply classic, a paean to rediscovering intimacy in a relationship. "I've been yours for so long / We come right back to it," Crutchfield sings in harmony with guitarist MJ Lenderman, her coo in perfect contrast with his nasal twang. "But you just settle in / Like a song with no end," they continue. That many of the songs on Tigers Blood employ a certain breeze, free of time and place, is a feature, not a bug.

More than ever, Waxahatchee's songs are easy to sing along to; despite complex turns of phrase, Crutchfield keeps her words metaphorical enough to stand out, abstract enough to be relatable, direct enough to be iconic. The qualities, in conjunction with her and her backing band's performance, lead to some breathtaking moments. "You drive like you're wanted in four states / In a busted truck in Opelika," she sings over Tweedy's drum roll on the rolling "3 Sisters", right before the song's forbearing beat drops. On "Bored", she belts the song's chorus--"I can get along / My spine’s a rotted two by four / Barely hanging on / My benevolence just hits the floor / I get bored"--alongside Lenderman's sharp riffs, Tweedy's pummeling drums, and Nick Bockrath's wincing pedal steel. In context of the song's inspiration--a friendship that ended badly--Crutchfield's admissions hit harder. "Lone Star Lake", meanwhile, has no chorus: It just choogles along between verses as Crutchfield reflects on her faults with wry humor: "Shirk every rule of thumb / I got more where that came from."

Crutchfield's voice, too, has never been more expressive. For every song like "Right Back To It" or "Crimes of the Heart", where her flow is deft enough to rival your favorite rapper's, there's a song like "Crowbar", where she stretches out "I" into so many syllables you can feel the shaking vulnerability. "365", a song about codependency and addiction, places her falsetto high in the mix, emphasizing her susceptibility: "I catch your poison arrow / I catch your same disease / Bow like a weeping willow / Buckling at the knees." Fittingly, Tigers Blood ends with everybody in the recording studio--even assistant engineer Natalia Chernitsky--singing the chorus, suggestive of the universality of Crutchfield's prose. Ultimately, she knows that there's strength in numbers. When she tries to take shortcuts alone, the chickens come home to roost. "Throw a brick through the window, leave your mess at my door," she sings on "Tigers Blood", "Lord knows sooner or later it'd wash up to shore." Tigers Blood lays it all bare.