#madonna christmas song

[i-am-trans-gwender]

It's fucking September and there playing Christmas songs already. My old enemy has returned. No not "All I want for Christmas is you". That I can tolerate. What I can't tolerate is "Santa Baby" or as I like to call it "The Horny For Santa Song". Why would anyone want to fuck Santa? (rhetorical question i'm happier not knowing)

[gleesongtournament]

Glee Song Tournament Redemption Round

[adore-laur]

HER

— the moment harry realized he was in love with sawyer. he fell first, but she fell harder 🩶

——

Harry, an eternal optimist and lover of fluttery sensations that made him weak in the knees, knew Sawyer was his soulmate in December of 1987.

In a way, he felt thrilled about it. He adored his friendship with Sawyer, the girl he laughed unabashedly with and could be his complete self around. There was pure contentment swimming in his psyche every time he was with her, but she was taken by another man who had a leash on her heart and dragged her around. At the end of the day, Harry was pacified by how Sawyer always returned to him until a sensation called Jealousy wanted her to never leave his side and made things a bit too obvious.

Enter: Crush on Sawyer. There was no need to reiterate how the physical attraction had transpired in seeing a clementine-colored bikini hugging smooth, golden skin. That day had just been the beginning of Harry's infatuation tipping overboard because, with someone like Sawyer—endearing, angelic, and fun-loving—the more time he spent with her, the deeper he fell.

After only six months of friendship, Harry began fighting fervent urges to kiss her. They occurred unexpectedly—if she had cutely giggled at a joke he made, squished his cheeks together when he was being a ditz, or proudly declared herself as his number one fan, his lips would ache to introduce themselves to hers while whispering, mine, mine, mine. However, he knew better than to give in. Even though his blood pumped hotly and his skin felt a spark whenever Sawyer touched him casually, he was a composed gentleman on the outside. In an alternate universe where she was officially his girl, he hoped she touched him differently—her hand in the back pocket of his low-rise jeans, a tender bite on the tip of his nose, or her thighs wrapped around his waist when she was feeling needy.

Harry's urges had grown stronger whenever he and Sawyer were alone together. When he started getting hard during friendly moments that should never warrant a boner, he knew he had to scold his male brain and squash any hopes of dating his best friend.

Yet in those cherished moments, a nauseating thought confronted his confidence. Would their friendship be tainted by his true feelings? Was there a chance Sawyer would realize he could treat her better than her lousy boyfriend? He would dedicate his whole life to making her smile. He'd spoil her with spontaneous date nights and kiss her all over until she was flushed and breathless. Call her baby. Were his fantasies too far-fetched? Was he a wicked person for wishing her relationship would fall to pieces so he could swoop in and love his girl properly?

A single day in December had left him lovestruck with more questions than answers. It all started with a Madonna song and a gift gone wrong.

——

The annual Christmas Eve bonfire event on Daytona Beach was in full swing. The evening sky was a blend of orange and burgundy clouds drifting close to the horizon. Below, the Atlantic Ocean shimmered, its surging waves a distant spectacle. The shore's white strip of sand was imprinted with an erratic cluster of bare footsteps, the coarse grains cooled by the impending darkness of twilight.

The beach was packed with tourists and locals alike. Celebrating the holiday season without an onslaught of snow and frigid air was a dream Harry had growing up in England. He preferred a Christmas tree in the shape of raging flames crackling with all-embracing warmth, competitive oceanside activities, and an assortment of free booze at his disposal—hard ciders, piña coladas, flavored vodka, and spiked eggnog served in a mason jar.

It seemed like a thousand different parties were going on at once. It was a rambunctious environment, and it wouldn't be surprising if the cops showed up to ruin the fun with their tiny flashlights and handlebar mustaches. Or maybe they would be gracious and let everyone off the hook in favor of the Christmas spirit. At least it wasn't as rowdy as Spring Break, where dozens of teenagers had gotten busted for marijuana possession and disorderly conduct. Harry thankfully skipped out on it this year, and after reading about the incident in the newspaper, he decided to only visit Daytona Beach once a year for the sake of his sanity and liver.

He was lying on the sand, his hands bracing the back of his head as he stared up at the faint crescent moon that awaited its turn to shine brilliantly. He breathed in the aroma of burning hickory wood and toasted marshmallows, which brought forth nostalgic memories of childhood camping trips. As the waves lapped the shore, he felt utterly content, knowing that tomorrow he would visit extended family in Sarasota, see how fast his little nieces and nephews had grown up, and laugh with relatives like no time had passed. Not to mention stuffing his stomach with hearty home-cooked meals and beating all of his cousins at Clue.

While the thought was nice, Harry drank one too many strong apple ciders tonight and was now wondering how he was going to accomplish the hour-long journey home. His throat was warm, and his head was a little dizzy. He had played a game of Horseshoes with a group of guys, and whoever lost had to chug an entire plastic cup of cider. Harry cut himself off after three and abandoned his teammates for, again, the sake of his poor liver. Maybe if he passed out on the shoreline, some good samaritan would drop him off at the closest bus stop.

Music blared from a nearby group's boombox, Eric Carmen's "Hungry Eyes" reverberating into his bones. His foot tapped in time with the drumbeat as he closed his eyes and smiled reminiscently, thinking about last summer when he and Sawyer watched Dirty Dancing at the Silver Moon Drive-In Theater. It had been an arousing experience, thanks to the humid weather making Sawyer's skin glow and the film's sensual scenes that had made him squirm in his seat. Then they tried to recreate the lift scene in his backyard, which ended up with Harry's hands glued to Sawyer's hips many times, the delicate fabric of her skirt brushing his nose. In a completely platonic way, of course.

God, that had only been two months after they met. Harry needed to somehow banish his attraction to Sawyer. He couldn't continue longing for her soft, slender figure to fit perfectly against him. Or wishing she would smile brighter than the sun before leaning in to kiss him through breathy laughter and pretty moans. It had to stop. She was taken, and he would never ruin a good thing for her. She deserved all the romantic feelings life had to offer. She deserved to be loved. And while it killed him that she didn't see him as the best man for the job, he would love her from afar. He'd subdue his unruly heart and appreciate the gift of knowing her at all.

There'd come a time when Harry would accept the fact that she was simply out of his league. However much it ached, he'd survive. Yes, he'd eventually bleed out watching her get married, carry children, and grow old with her lover, but his wounds would be stitched together by getting a glimpse of her newfound happiness.

If she kept him in her life, that is. He feared she'd forget about him one day and haunt his mere existence for eternity.

Harry sighed and took a sip from the lukewarm water in his red solo cup. Being tipsy made him meek. He had to face reality and realize Sawyer saw him only as a friend. And Harry saw Sawyer as a... friend. That he sometimes wanted to make out with. But, in his defense—

Two palms suddenly covered his heavy-lidded eyes for a brief second, tethering him to the present. Then, a gentle breath warmed his ear. "I made it," whispered a familiar voice. Sweet Sawyer.

Harry's body practically melted into the sand as a delightful shiver racked his system. He smelled her jasmine and orange blossom perfume behind him, a spritz that was somehow innocent and erotic at the same time. Butterflies let loose his belly, and when he opened his eyes, they fluttered around his heart. Sawyer's face appeared upside down, her long, wild hair cloaking them in a private moment. Her expression was so radiant that he was almost blinded by its beauty.

"How was the Clemente Christmas?" Harry asked. He knew she had brought her boyfriend home to meet her family today—something she'd been excited about—and the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Had he held her hand under the dinner table, pulled her into an empty room to kiss her supple lips in secret, and lent her his jacket after they left? Curiosity killed the cat, so he blocked those questions from morphing into a green-eyed monster with gnashing teeth.

"It was fun!" she replied happily. "We did the white elephant thing."

Jealousy churned in his gut, but he flashed her a tiny smile and rolled over into his stomach. "Yeah? What'd you end up with?"

Sawyer grinned, sitting cross-legged on the sand and looking so fucking precious in a cream-colored knit sweater and bootcut denim jeans. "A creepy porcelain doll from my grandma's basement," she said.

"Don't tell me you brought it home with you," he replied.

"She's sitting in the backseat of my car."

Harry sputtered out a laugh and said, "How delightful. Totally not possessed and cursing all of your belongings right this very second."

She giggled without reserve, and his heart ached. "Anyway, hi. How was your day?"

He shrugged and hiccupped. "Lame. Didn't do much."

"Well, I'm here now. Let's have fun." She reached forward and hugged him—the tiniest hint of coconut lotion he inhaled from her jawline drove him momentarily insane. She always smelled heavenly, like an angel stepping through the mist of a waterfall.

When Harry reluctantly pulled away, he got a good look at her, noting her subtle makeup and tired brown eyes. She had a long day but still wanted to be in his company before he left to visit family for a week. It meant the world to him. He craved kissing her so badly because of it.

"Have you been drinking cider?" Sawyer asked, her manicured nails lightly scratching the nape of his neck. He nearly purred and nuzzled her like an affectionate feline.

"Maybe."

"Mm, I want some."

Harry gasped theatrically. "That's illegal, Sawyer. Naughty girl."

She cocked her head to the side and said, "Nineteen is basically twenty-one."

"You're such a little rulebreaker." She was quite the opposite of one, but he enjoyed teasing her occasional rebelliousness. He stood and brushed off the sand from his sweatpants before asking, "Are you sure you don't want eggnog?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Yuck. No thanks."

He restrained himself from giving her a noogie and moseyed over to the line of folding tables with coolers and cartons of liquor on them. He grabbed a small glass bottle of hard cider, the ice-cold condensation a welcome distraction. He remained frozen in place, trying to tame his heart from getting too ahead of itself. It palpitated knowing Sawyer was here, and they were technically alone, and he was just tipsy enough to feel like a loose cannon when it came to his urges. She looked extra cozy and kissable tonight, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of her. Touching her too.

Friends could find each other unbelievably pretty, right? It was normal. He could flirt with her without being too forward. He could touch her politely. But she's not yours to admire so blatantly, buddy. Reel it in.

Harry rolled his shoulders back and returned to Sawyer. She was hugging herself while staring at the roaring bonfire a few meters away, slightly shivering. The temperature was in the low fifties, which was the coldest Florida had ever been during the year. He knew Sawyer thrived under the summer sun, so without wasting another minute getting caught up in his tangled web of thoughts, he tossed the bottle next to her and swiftly removed his black UCF pullover.

"Thank you," Sawyer whispered, looking up at him. "I forgot my blanket in the car."

Before he could stop himself, he said, "I'll be your blanket." Damn, what had they put in those apple ciders?

She snorted and put on his pullover. It was large and loose-fitting on her, and Harry hoped traces of her perfume lingered in the threads for weeks afterward.

He sat down beside her and cracked open the bottle with his teeth. "Take one sip of this, Sawyer. I'm serious; that's all you need."

She grinned mischievously and snatched the bottle from his grip before taking a swig. Her plump lips caressing the rim was a sinful sight, as was the way her throat bobbed with a swallow. She winced when the taste registered—the uneven spiced rum to apple juice ratio was obvious. But then she groaned deliciously and took another quick sip before Harry pried it from her fingers.

"You like it?" he murmured with a smirk, feeling warm from head to toe.

Sawyer nodded and wiped the corners of her mouth with her knuckle. "Gosh, I needed that. I couldn't drink at my grandma's because I had to drive my parents home." She rolled her eyes. "They had way too many margaritas.”

"I bet you had fun regardless."

"I did." She watched him drink his water, her eyes lighting up with a question. "What about you? Your family Christmas is tomorrow."

Harry's mouth curved into a smile as he replied, "Yeah, I'm stoked. I haven't seen everyone in a long time."

She nudged him. "Are you bringing a girl home?"

His nerves sparked, exploded, and then disintegrated. Sawyer had never inquired about the potential of other girls in his orbit, so he was thrown off course. His brain short-circuited, trying to compose an intelligible response even though there was only one truthful answer.

Eventually, he mumbled, "Um, no. Not this year." He left it at that.

"Do you see any girls you like here?" she pressed, her twinkling eyes searching the groups of people both near and far.

"What?" Harry stared at the side of her face. He suddenly felt like he was being inspected under a microscope. He didn't want to talk about girls with Sawyer—it felt wrong and unimportant. They didn't matter when she existed. Didn't she know that?

"C'mon, when's the last time you asked a girl out on a date?" Sawyer poked the beauty mark adjacent to his mouth. "Tonight's the perfect opportunity."

"I don't want to date right now," he said a little defensively. But would you say yes if I asked, like the selfish man I am?

"How come? Dating is so electric."

"I'm busy. I've got baseball tryouts next year and can't afford to be distracted." It was true, but fuck if he didn't plan to make time for her.

Sawyer frowned, losing her inquisitive momentum. "Am I a distraction?"

As Harry contemplated the least offensive way to answer her question, the beginning of "True Blue" by Madonna started playing, and he observed people dancing around the bonfire, free-spirited shadows lit by an orange glow. He thought about what a distraction really entailed. He had dated in high school and still managed to graduate with average grades. He'd maintained friendships during the strange period after graduation. He'd met people through baseball tournaments and hung out with them frequently.

Then Sawyer had drifted into his life like a summer breeze—pure, gentle, and invigorating. Everything he had thought he knew and wanted was altered. The scope of his desires instantly shrank when she stood before him on Cocoa Beach and called him out on his flirtatious behavior. All he had seen and cared about was her. He hadn't been the same since.

"You're not the kind of distraction you think you are," Harry said finally. He hoped the semblance of his admission wasn't too vague.

Sawyer tucked her chin into the high neckline of his pullover. Kissable. "What does that mean?" she asked quietly.

"It's..." He sighed, acutely aware that he needed to tread carefully. "It's complicated. You just take up a lot of space in my mind, I guess."

"I don't mean to."

"No, not in a bad way," he said quickly, scooting closer to her. "You're just... inescapable."

"Oh," she said, sounding confused. "I only wanted to hang out and dance with you tonight before you have to leave."

"Sawyer, I invited you here. Trust me, I want to hang out with you." Harry pawed at her hand. "Mi chica fav... favorita."

Her brows caved in before slowly rising toward her hairline. "I think you've had too much cider," she said, amusement making her lips twitch.

Harry was getting drowsy, the settling liquor warming his blood and nearly breaking his self-made promise of staying in platonic territory. There was no predicting what words would slip off his tongue, so he accepted defeat. "Yeah, you're right," he agreed ruefully. "I should head home."

Sawyer whined in protest and looped her arms around his bicep, resting her chin on his shoulder. "But I want to dance with you." Her eyes were pleading, all doe-like and mesmerizing. The last streaks of burgundy light in the sky reflected in them, looking like portals to an ethereal planet. How could he possibly refuse?

"Then we'll dance."

Wordlessly, she led him closer to the bonfire, squeezing past dancing bodies. Her hand gripped his tightly, and she looked back at him every so often. He had half a mind to tug her into his arms and kiss the hell out of her. She was so spellbinding. The way her jeans hugged her legs was some kind of witchcraft. The shape of her smile could heal his deepest wounds. Her sweet soul, bursting with kindness, solicitude, and wisdom beyond her years, was his greatest weakness.

She was one in five billion. And how lucky he was to dance with her under the twilight sky, his heart reaching out to her. I love you, it called out. Please love me back.

"Your cheeks are flushed," Sawyer said, stopping them in the middle of the crowd and draping her arms over his shoulders. They began to sway back and forth to the lighthearted beat. Harry's arms wrapped completely around her waist, and he leaned in, wanting to melt into her like a gooey marshmallow over an open flame. The bonfire warmed his skin, but it was Sawyer that warmed everything underneath.

"I'm happy," Harry murmured in her silky hair. He took pleasure in the fragrant whiff of candy apples.

"Be honest with me, Harry. You seem a little cloudy."

She was so attuned to his weather. He usually emitted a sunny disposition; however, gloom was inherent in even the happiest of people. But the clouds always passed by. They were never perpetual.

"I'm just going to miss you." There were several other reasons as to why he was duller than usual, but they were far too pathetic to speak aloud. Namely, the fact that Sawyer had spent the day establishing her boyfriend as a part of her family. Meanwhile, Harry didn't know what her parents looked like—was her mother responsible for her daughter's devastating beauty? He hadn't gotten to cuddle Sawyer on the couch while everyone opened gifts—would she have minded the display of affection? He hadn't even gotten to hear stories about her childhood from aunts and uncles or flip through baby books—had she been a stubborn wild child with babydoll eyes no one could say no to?

He was wholeheartedly, undeniably gone for her. And it was gutting him.

"It's almost Christmas," Sawyer said, letting him twirl her like a princess before guiding her body close to his again. "You should be ecstatic."

"I am," Harry said with a soft laugh.

"Then what's the matter?"

He moved his lips to her ear and let them linger there for a few seconds before he built up the courage to confess, "Wish I could take you home with me."

Sawyer's dancing slowed, her punctuated exhale ghosting over his collarbone. "Me?"

"You," he said, his clammy hands gripping the fabric covering her back and twisting it nervously. He fought the urge to nip the shell of her ear. "And I have a gift to give you before I leave, but I'm now realizing it's probably stupid."

"Why would it be stupid? What is it?"

Harry stepped away and reached into his back pocket. His fingertips grazed the jewelry box, and he swallowed down anxiety. He had been eager to buy a Christmas gift for Sawyer, but now he feared it was too telling of his fond feelings toward her. There was only one way to find out.

He held it in front of his chest and gently opened the velvet lid, revealing the piece of jewelry he had a goldsmith custom-make. It was a gold chain necklace with an initial pendant—"H" for Harry. The sentiment was simple enough. They were best friends, and he wanted her to remember him when life got tough.

"Harry..." With her eyes downcast, Sawyer ran her thumb over the metal surface. "Harry, I can't accept this."

Her unexpected response brutally stabbed him in the gut. "Why not?" he asked sadly.

Sawyer inhaled deeply, then said, "I don't know how to put this without sounding strait-laced, but... I can't wear another man's first initial around my neck. Imagine my boyfriend seeing that." She crossed her arms, shrinking in on herself. "It'd cause problems."

Harry let everything wash over him and sink into his bones. He had known the gift was a ballsy move, but the true intention and sentiment behind it weren't meant to create an interpersonal plight. He had only wanted to show his appreciation for their friendship. Her boyfriend hadn't even crossed his mind. Why would he?

"You don't like it?" he said, discouraged.

"I do!" Sawyer gripped his forearms and leaned into him. "Harry, it's so beautiful. But please understand where I'm coming from."

Harry silently tugged up the chain hiding under his shirt to show her the "S" pendant he bought for himself. The nearby firelight made it gleam. Sawyer's eyes locked in it, and he swore tears began forming in them, if only for a second.

"I thought we could match," he said. "And, you know, we could always have a part of each other wherever we wander."

Sawyer nodded, but it didn't make him feel any better. She must have thought he was pitiful. "I just think we should wait until we're further into our friendship," she replied.

Wait. He loathed that word. When he felt something, he pounced on it before it could disappear. And what he felt for Sawyer, even if he knew the feeling wouldn't be going away anytime soon, was rare. No girl had left him so enamored. Loving her was easy. It was intoxicating. The lust had grown like a meadow of wildflowers at the peak of spring. Somewhere in between the weeds, seeds of love were planted. They sprouted quicker than expected, and it was his fault for tending to them.

He couldn't control the overgrowth. And he couldn't control the torment leaking out of his voice when he said, "It's okay. I'll wait for you."

Sawyer's hand covered the jewelry box still in his grasp, her fingers brushing against his. "I'll take it home with me and keep it in a special place until I'm ready to wear it. How's that sound?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said hoarsely. He ignored her comment, strictly focusing on patching the holes in the sinking ship that was this conversation. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"Don't feel bad," she assured, shaking her head. "I appreciate the gift so much. You're always so thoughtful."

He tucked the box back in his pocket and embraced her instantly, worried she'd drift away. "Are we good?"

"We're good. Solid as a rock."

He squeezed her frame. "Best friends still?"

"Of course." Sawyer pulled back to lightly kiss his cheek before resuming their swaying, this time to a ballad. "Now let's dance."

Under the December sky, surrounded by strangers, Harry let his emotions run rampant. He knew he would leave the beach wounded, but Sawyer secured him to the present and made him temporarily forget about his failure.

When he stared at Sawyer, he let himself fully feel the flutter in his chest. She was so goddamn gorgeous in any light—it felt unfair to hold such a precious vision in his arms. She was attentive, staring right back at him, her irises dark pools of temptation. It felt like she could see into his soul, his imperfections all on display. But she was gentle with them and never made him feel too fragile or too flawless.

When Sawyer rested her cheek against his chest, right over his thumping heartbeat, the warmth that coursed through his veins confirmed it all. It hit him like a hundred-mile-per-hour baseball pitch to the head: Harry was in love with Sawyer. What scared him the most was that it wasn't just ephemeral young love. This was steady, consuming, and only going to swell over time.

His body had known it before his brain. And his soul, while he didn't know it until today, had been searching for her since he took his first breath.

——

[piratefishmama]

OK, au where Eddie survived,

Its 1990, Steve hears this song and decides to drunkenly serenade Eddie with it

https://youtu.be/wv-34w8kGPM

Steve had had maybe… four beers, maximum, maybe one little fruity cocktail, and a shot of something that tasted like apple but that was it.

He wasnt even thirty yet and already his alcohol tolerance had gone to shit.

It was new year’s though! They’d hit the big Nine-O! The kids were allowed to be there, to celebrate with them as adults! They’d made it to ADULTHOOD, They’d, against literally all odds, survived the eighties and all the horrors that came with them.He was allowed to get a little white girl wasted in his and Robin’s apartment.

He was allowed to be free and silly in his own space surrounded by only his people.

No strangers to be seen in that apartment. Sure there were a few friends of the family, but he knew them, he knew them well enough that they knew him. The new and improved him, not the douchey high school him they once sort of knew. There were no strangers.

The music was loud, the track list riddled with cheesy pop, glam metal, rock, one or two reasonable metal tracks that the CC boys wouldn’t ridicule because Steve had been adamant that he wanted them (Eddie) to enjoy themselves, a few Madonna tracks, Queen, Bowie, plus, Dustin had brought a karaoke machine, in the hopes that Jonathan would capture something stupid on the fancy video camera Hopper got him for Christmas.

Wasted Steve was happy to accommodate as the something stupid.

Happy to be the first person brave enough, or drunk enough, to turn that silly little machine on because he was the only one just drunk enough to not care about embarrassing himself for fun. He was happy to peruse the list of songs Suzie had managed to acquire for it like a wine list at a fine restaurant, feeling excited eyes drawn to him. It was happening. Someone was going for the Karaoke.

Who better than Steve.

Who better than the King?

Who could switch from kegs to karaoke so seamlessly that it felt effortless, Steve. That’s who.

They had a projector screen for the words, but Steve didn’t need them, he’d been humming that damn song under his breath for weeks, having heard it on the radio driving to work. He related to it is all. Having a stupid crush that wouldn’t go away on someone who clearly didn’t seem to feel the same, but he couldn’t get over it.

He didn’t want anyone else.

Who else could say they’d understand the trauma they’d been through? Who else could be woken up in the middle of the night by screaming nightmares and just get it without having to ask? Who could he even talk to without breaking several NDA’s?

That issue alone had lost him a few partners since ’86. Who wanted to be with someone who couldn’t tell them the truth?

He hadn’t gone through a whole goddamn bisexual crisis in ’88 when he REALISED his crush was an actual sexual sort of crush and not a ‘he’s just pretty Robin, it doesn’t have to mean anything!’ appreciation of another man’s ridiculously pretty face. Honestly what the fuck was up with his big doe eyes, his laugh, those lips, he made facial scars look so damn good, and—

The music was starting, he found Eddie’s eyes from across the room and locked on them, laser focus, go big or go broke! Worst case scenario Eddie punched him, he could probably take Eddie in a fight.

Maybe. Eddie was scrappy. But Steve had back up. At least a fight would probably shut his crush up.

“I love myself, I want you to love me When I'm feelin' down, I want you above me—” Jonathan’s camera was ON him.The kids mortified, like they were watching a train wreck in motion, unable to look away. Eddie was just staring at him, wide eyed and flush cheeked. Or was that his usual big ol doe eyed stare and the alcohol hitting his cheeks? Steve was too drunk to know for sure, but he felt seen. He felt warm, full of liquid courage!

“I search myself, I want you to find me I forget myself, I want you to remind me” Eddie wasn’t moving, so Steve, in his infinite white girl wasted wisdom, decided to take a step from centre stage, to cross that distance and hope those pesky bandmates of Eddie’s didn’t get in the way. They didn’t. they moved out of the way actually. Leaving Eddie to gaze up at him from his seat while onlookers stared in amazement.

And maybe a little horror on the kids part, Dustin especially.

Those were his dads. His male role models. His big brothers. His dudes.

One of which was damn near sensually lowering his pretty self down into the other man’s lap, straddling it as if they were the only two people in the room. They were not. Steve didn’t care. “I don't want anybody else, When I think about you, I touch myse—”

“Alrighty that’s enough of that!” And the music was gone. Leaving Steve to awkwardly look over his shoulder at the culprit who’d turned off his thing. Eddie’s hand had landed on his hip to steady him, which was nice. Warm. Big. Grounding. He liked it.

Didn’t mean he was gonna focus on that instead of the culprit. “Dustin you shit! That was my big MOMENT!”

“That was horrifying beyond anything I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen. Some. Shit. No dry humping our DM at the GROUP New Year’s party! Do that in your own private time! In your own room!” At least he wasn’t saying not to do it. just. Not in public. Got it.

“Boy you have no idea what dry humping is, you’re like twelve.”

“I do TOO!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!!”

Robin chose that moment to turn the normal music back on to drown their bickering out so the party could continue around them. It did. There were no strangers at that party. No matter how surprising Steve Harrington serenading Eddie Munson with a sexy song was, there were no strangers at that party. They were family.

Even the other Corroded Coffin boys were family by association. Nobody would start shit in that apartment.

They’d be outnumbered.

That hand was still on his hip. Squeezing to get his attention back from where Dustin had managed to claim it. Whatever words he’d been yelling in a failed attempt to get over the music dying in his throat when he looked down at the man he was still straddling. He knew that look. Recognised it from days long since passed. Want.

Desire, lust, need, Steve swallowed his own saliva, then licked his lips to dampen the drying skin.

“You touch yourself a lot, Harrington?”

“Mmnhm, I’ve been needing a hand with it actually, you offering, Munson?”

“Bedroom, now.”

Nothing quite like bringing in the new year with one hell of a bang.

[hangon-silvergirl]

The HellCheer Holiday Mixtape

OH HEY. I'm a sucker for a festive fandom, so behold my seasonal challenge TO YOU: The Hellcheer Holiday Mixtape!

For 12 days starting December 13th, express your Freak and Cheerleader affections as inspired by holiday music prompts (if one so titillates you), and in whatever medium you please!

Guidelines:

There are no constraints on your level of participation; do it all, do some, do none, doesn't matter; JUST HAVE FUN

Same goes for themes and subject matter; just please respect the rules of content curation and slap on appropriate tags. We observe DLDR in this house

Except, uh, whatever you post should be, you know, festive. And tie back to the prompt at least tenuously

Late posts count!!!

Tag your contributions with #hellcheerholidaymixtape (so I can see them and share them)

Share on any platform you like, but x-post here bc I'm only tumblin'

Don't be shitty (for this quest in particular, but also generally speaking)

All songs are on the Spotify playlist:

If you have thoughts, concerns, or questions, my ask box is open!

Prompts below!

13 December

"Merry Christmas (I Don't Wanna Fight Tonight)" - The Ramones

"Jingle Bell Rock" - Hall & Oates

"Run, Run, Rudolph" - Bryan Adams

14 December

"Hard Candy Christmas" - Dolly Parton

"Another Lonely Christmas" - Prince

"It Must Have Been the Mistletoe (Our First Christmas)" - Barbara Mandrell

15 December

"Do They Know It's Christmas?" - Band Aid

"Christmas in Dixie" - Alabama

"Let's Party" - Jive Bunny & the Master Mixers

16th December

"Christmas In My Heart" - The Jets

"Thank God It's Christmas" - Queen

"Silent Night" - The Hooters

17th December

"Wonderful Christmastime" - Paul McCartney

"Santa's Beard" - They Might Be Giants

"Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" - U2

18th December

"Funky, Funky Xmas" - New Kids On The Block

"Hazy Shade of Winter" - The Bangles

"Merry Christmas, Everyone" - Shakin' Stevens

19th December

"Christmas Wrapping" - The Waitresses

"It's Christmas All Over the World" - Sheena Easton

"2000 Miles" - The Pretenders

20th December

"Fairytale of New York" - The Porgues (ft. Kirsty MacColl)

"Sleigh Ride" - Air Supply

"Put a Little Love in Your Heart" - Al Green & Annie Lennox

21st December

"Christmas in Hollis" - RUN DMC

"Mistletoe & Wine" - Cliff Richard

"Father Christmas" - The Kinks

22nd December

"Driving Home for Christmas" - Chris Rea

"She Won't Be Home" - Erasure

"The Power of Love" - Frankie Goes to Hollywood

23rd December

"Christmas With The Devil" - Spinal Tap

"Things Fall Apart" - Christina

"Peace In Our Time" - Eddie Money

24th December

"Last Christmas" - Wham!

"Merry Christmas, Baby" - Bruce Springsteen

"Santa, Baby" - Madonna

[fleckcmscott]

Frills and Thrills

Summary: A typical night becomes anything but typical.

Words: 1,398

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This piece was inspired by the below behind-the-scenes photo; the cinematography of One From the Heart (thanks, Lawrence Sher!); and this very 80s song. No, I am still not looking forward to the sequel - but I will take a hot Arthur Fleck anytime. 😎 Please enjoy! Special thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for her help and support! A very tardy Christmas piece is on the way!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

"That'll be $43.67."

Arthur counted out the bills in his wallet. Before transferring his three prescriptions to Groves Pharmacy - a brisk nine-minute walk from his Burnley address - he'd called for the beige and blue tablets' prices. With his lack of Gothamcare, he'd hoped they'd be cheaper than at Helms. "Disappointed but not surprised" was that night's journal entry.

He'd try the new insomnia pills first, get a fourteen-day supply of the other two whenever he could. See if a good night's sleep in the bed he was almost used to would encourage positive thoughts, lighten black moods to grey. After all, they'd improved since Y/N. Still there, still a teeter on the edge of an abyss. But with a guide rope in the shape of a woman's hand.

Leaving $2.41 in his pocket, he surrendered exact change. Took the white paper bag with blue lettering. Offered a quiet thanks and sidestepped from the pharmacist's counter.

Y/N waited in the cosmetics section, purse on her shoulder, a passive expression on her face. He recognized the creams on the top shelf, a flicker from when he'd shopped for Penny. The silhouette logo, the black label, the rounded corners of the jar. Anti-wrinkle Oil of Olay, then, when money was too tight, the knock-off poured into her Oil of Olay jar. His subtle subterfuge had gone undetected. Wrinkles continued to form in the usual fashion. He'd continued to save a quarter and make the swap.

As Y/N picked up a pink compact, Arthur slinked behind her to speak in her ear. "You're already pretty."

Giggling, she hung the rouge in its spot between concealer and cream foundation. "You make me blush enough already. Did you get what you needed?"

A crooked half-smile. "I think so." He entwined their fingers and started towards the exit, an attempt to halt any further questions that might lead to med and money talk.

Aisle three's endcap had an Easter display, a thousand plastic wrappers crying out for attention. Jolly Jack chocolate bunnies and Cadbury mini-eggs, pastel baskets and cellophane grass. The plush baby chicks were awfully cute, perfect the kids at the children's clinic. He'd jot a reminder to come back after the holiday, grab some plastic eggs and props at half price.

"My parents used to dress us up and take us to our grandparents for a picnic and Easter egg hunt," Y/N said, crouching to browse a set of die cut decorations. "Do you want to do anything for Easter?"

In spite of his mother watching a televised mass and sharing a bag of jellybeans, the day hadn't ever been personal. The Fleck household was anathema to miracles. Even with the miracle he was currently living, he had no desire to celebrate a victory he didn't believe in. "No. Why?"

"You've got a heavy eye on the Peeps - my little sister likes to put them in cocoa. And I thought you were Catholic. Or at least raised Catholic, with all the prayer candles and icons in your apartment."

The answer came firmer than intended. "Those were Penny's."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. You wouldn't have hung a Madonna over the bed. I bet you weren't responsible for that ugly cat candle, either."

Snorting, he rolled his eyes, recalling all he times he'd dusted his mother's knickknacks. The sculpted candles were the worst. They'd developed a weird film sticker than nicotine stains, and grime stuck in every crevice. On bad days he'd been tempted to throw them out. On good days he'd care for them, because Penny loved them so. Inklings of whimsy in a life of indifference.

The never indifferent woman at his side rose to walk with him. Grove's automatic doors opened and they spilled onto the busy sidewalk.

Two blocks up, a light sprinkling began, lent the pavement a velveteen sheen. With each step that sprinkling grew heavier. From a drizzle to a patter to an outright shower. Puddles formed beneath their feet, threatening shoe seams with leaks. Arthur crumpled his paper bag, shoved it in his tan jacket's pocket, and jerked his hood over his head.

The toe of Y/N's kitten heel skidded past a pool as she hopped to the right. "The weather report didn't mention rain!" she cried, ambles escalating to a jog.

A fierce gust sent sheets of water sideways, whipped the hem of her pleated skirt to flash her thighs. Arthur looped his arm through hers, pulled her into an alley to take refuge under the canary, corner awning of Mott's Spirits. Cigarette smoke drifted from the crowd gathered along the storefront. Her wrinkled nose kept him from lighting up himself.

She gathered the collar of her wool coat. "Well, I'd like us to do something small, if that's all right. It's been years since I've celebrated anything, really. I want to put all that behind me again, like last Christmas. Easter Parade's playing at the Majestic this week. I haven't seen it but the summary sounded like you. A song-and-dance romantic classic."

How could he argue with the sweetness of her reasoning? That he was the reason she wanted to celebrate? He gave a little nod. "I think Tuesdays are half price."

Just then, a bell rang out, crisp and clear despite the downpour. A bicycle messenger sped their way, a dozen plastic bags hanging from the ten-speed's handles. Arthur darted in front of Y/N, sought to protect her from the incoming splash. She yanked him tighter, out of the menace's path.

But it was no use. Muddled water pelted the back of his trousers, liquid ice soaked through white socks. He jolted to his tiptoes, teeth clenched against the stinging cold.

Y/N bent to survey the damage. A groan left her, which quickly became a laugh. "What an asshole," she said, then laughed all the harder. The warmth of it loosened his stance, and he found he had no choice but to join in. She settled back against the shop's window, stuck out her lower lip to blow a damp lock of hair from her forehead. The lock remained in place. "If only I'd had my umbrella."

Neon light from a Gotham Lottery sign spilled across her face. "Winners aren't born. They're made!" was the lotto's slogan, and Arthur had finally found a winning ticket. Orange accentuated the tawny flecks of her irises, rounded the curves of her cheeks. A perfect frame even an imagination as vivid as his couldn't improve.

A drop trickled down his scalp, skimmed the side of his neck, sneaked beneath his collar. He'd caught Easter Parade on television years ago. Studied Astaire's steps, how he'd slipped a diamond ring on the leading lady's finger. What would Y/N look like, Arthur wondered, in a lace bonnet, its ribbons tied under her chin? A hat he could loosen while they kissed, hold as a shield against prying eyes?

A couple of swells like them would make a beautiful pair, better than any Vanderbilt or Wayne.

When his thumb traced her jaw, her full lips parted, as if about to ask for a dance. Dark brows raised, her pupils dilated, full of unquenchable life. The affection in them, the openness. The caring curiosity and eager readiness to accept all of him made him tremble. Her love felt like rain on his skin, and for once he understood why someone might sing in it.

He leaned closer, until her breath brushed his lips. "Kiss me."

Her arms wound about him in an instant, a sudden, welcome pressure on his ribs. He cupped her face. Guiding, following, bracing. Their mouths a messy collision of desire and devotion and dreams. Her frame vibrated against his, the pulse under his fingertips beating to the rhythm of his heart.

At last, a wave of giggles broke them apart. Arthur pushed himself to stretch beyond his shy nature towards the forward, confident instinct he was learning to polish. His eyes flitted between hers, a demure smile adorning his cheeks. "I'd like to make love, if you wouldn't mind."

The blush he caused so easily crept across her face anew. "Last one home is on top," she said, and pressed the tip of her nose to his. "Give me a head start."

With that, Y/N held her purse horizontally above her head and sprinted into the deluge.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this as a part of my 12 days of ficmas, I hope you like it!

It is a young!Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x female!reader imagine.

The prompt is Santa Baby.

Warnings: this is super short but sweet

Madonna’s new song ‘Santa Baby’ was everywhere this Christmas season, and it really made the Christmas spirit.

In great Maverick-fashion Pete had started singing the song to you when you had still contemplated going out with him and his strange stunt had worked.

A year later the song was becoming popular again around that time of year.

It brought memories back that made your eyes gleam like the ring on your finger.

The Christmas movie night you had planned with Pete was going beautifully.

Pete had come home from work early, with a bag of candy canes and some popcorn kernels to make the best snacks to eat while watching tv.

You worked on the popcorn while Pete got comfortable.

When you saw him sitting on the couch wearing Santa’s hat you had to stifle a laugh, setting the bowl of popcorn down and straddling his lap.

You let your hand run through his hair as you listened to the radio that was softly playing in the background.

Pete’s arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed a kiss to your nose, smiling up at you.

Madonna was softly serenading you as you leaned down, your lips grazing his cheek for a kiss before they settled by his ear.

“Well, Santa, we’re going to have a baby soon,” you whispered.

Pete’s eyes shot up to meet yours and an incredulous look ghosted over his face.

You weren’t sure what he was feeling because a million expressions seemed to follow each other closely in his eyes, until excitement and utter joy prevailed.

His eyes were searching yours to see how you felt, but your wide grin was indication enough.

“Fuck me,” Pete replied, a surprised but thoroughly excited laugh falling from his lips.

You had to laugh as well as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, your eyes gleaming with excitement.

“I think I already did that,” you joked, pulling his hat off of his head and his shirt over it.

You were excited for movie night, but it could wait a few minutes.

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @bespinnn @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

[broke-art-girl]

el and max headcanons? (and will too if u want)

Asks!! Cool!!

I have the feeling you're the same anon lol, pick an emoji to be called if you wanna! Thanks for the loyalty!!

(I'ma do Will and El also, but separately)

El:

• She loves it when people call her Jane. It makes her feel like a real person.

• She likes to roller skate but she can't skateboard. Poor girl, she keeps trying to do a kick flip. Max doesn't even know how to do a kick flip.

• She eventually got burnt out on Eggos, but never the syrup.

• She doesn't have great social skills and she talks a bit like Starfire so she doesn't talk much to people she doesn't care alot about. But when Max is over, Hopper and Joyce have to wear ear plugs.

• Total giggle box. Can't stop, won't stop.

Max:

• Kinda like Billy she has a spunkiness that can sometimes come off as mean, sometimes she'll take a playful insult too far and have to apologize. Which she will do.

• She doesn't like her orange hair. She prefers Els dark curls.

• Max sees Steve as her dad. She asks him for advice on the reg which nobody really seems to know. It's not like she's hiding it, she just doesn't go shouting it from rooftops. "He yourself kid, but sometimes dial "yourself" back a little." He once said to her.

• She smokes. She's not a big drinker but I imagine she's picking up cigarettes people left on the sidewalk for later and lightning them up for herself.

As a couple:

• "Like a bad scream."

"What's a good scream."

"Well Max said-"

"-Doesnt Matter!!"

(Max gave El "the talk".)

• Max is top.

• They love to sing and dance together, any song really but mainly Madonna and Kate Bush.

• Max is obsessed with using her powers to lock their door, she thinks it's so sexy saying, "Crap, we didnt lock the door." And hearing it click from across the room.

• El doesn't like to drive. She doesn't like cars much either. So she keeps insisting Max and her get a tandem bike. Which Max refuses. (It's in the garage as a Christmas gift.)

[strangerthings-fandom]

ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ

Description: 17-year-old Mia moves to Hawkins and attends Hawkins High School as a new student. She is bullied by Billy Hargrove, but at the same time, she develops a crush on Eddie Munson. Mia finds herself in a love triangle when Billy confesses his feelings to her. However, things take a dark turn when Vecna starts targeting her while she is grieving over a deceased friend.

𝑴𝒊𝒂’𝒔 𝑷𝑶𝑽

  

As I prepared to move to Hawkins, Indiana, I couldn't help but wonder how I would fit in with the new environment. All I could anticipate was that it would be challenging. Before I knew it, my bags and luggage were already packed.

My father found a higher-paying job in Hawkins, Indiana at the same company where he was working. On the other hand, my stepmom found a sewing job there that she absolutely loved during the week that she and my father visited Hawkins to find their "perfect" home.

My parents have been divorced since I was 14. After the divorce was finalized, my mom moved out of state, and I have been living with my father ever since.

I'm 17 years old, about to turn 18 in a few months. It was difficult for me to leave all my friends behind in North Carolina.

From Peter and Ann to Matt, Jeff, Daniel, and even Shay, they were all my friends here, and I had to say my final goodbyes to them yesterday before the big move to Hawkins.

I promised them all that I would keep in touch through letters, calls, and probably visiting them during Thanksgiving and Christmas break.

We all got into the car and started driving off. With a heavy heart, I softly bid farewell to North Carolina with a sad wave.

The clouds in the clear blue sky looked so beautiful as I looked up. I was going to miss my hometown dearly. I knew things wouldn't be the same.

I wouldn't see my friends at school anymore or be able to hang out with them after school. I wouldn't be able to visit my favorite local vintage store or the nearby bookstore to buy my favorite books.

I would miss going to the local record store and seeing the owners there. They knew me well as I frequently visited. Before leaving North Carolina, I promised them that I would write to them, and they promised me they would send me postcards and write back. They even said that I was their number one favorite customer and that they would miss me so much.

As a goodbye gift, they gave me the Abbey Road album by The Beatles, which I was thrilled to have. It completed my Beatles record collection.

I'm a huge Beatles fan. I love their music as well as Olivia Newton-John, but my preference lies with The Beatles. I do listen to other artists such as Madonna, Prince, Missing Persons, and a lot of 80s singers. I also enjoy 50s and 60s music, but as I mentioned, The Beatles are my favorite. Their music has brought me peace and joy, especially during the challenging process when my dad and stepmom announced that we were moving to Hawkins.

I wish we didn't have to move to Hawkins, I thought to myself, feeling gloomy. I sighed softly and put on my headphones, then started playing "Across the Universe" by The Beatles on my Walkman.

I looked out the window as I listened to the song.

"Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world Nothing's gonna change my world."

I hope to make new friends in Hawkins. I hope everyone is welcoming there. I truly hope it's a nice place to live. Little did I know that moving to Hawkins was going to change my life.

[lookninjas]

It's time.

Please pick a song from a bad description! This time, all the songs on the playlist come from that seminal 90s late night tv commercial classic --

Pure Moods.

Not all songs are from the first cd (I didn't realize how many Pure Moods there were, actually), but they did all come from a version of a Pure Moods CD. So the songs should not be as mysterious as they usually are. For the record, though, you do not have to recognize or guess any of the songs to vote. Just vote for the bad description that appeals most to you.

At the end of a week, I will make a playlist of these songs in order from the song with the least number of votes to the song with the most number of votes. If you would like to hear the playlist when it's dropped but know that you're going to get rid of the notification for the poll as soon as you see it, leave a comment or put it in your reblog and I will tag you in the final post. And if you really want to know what a song is but don't feel like going through four Pure Moods albums and one Pure Moods Celtic album (for obvious reasons I skipped the Christmas one), just shoot me an ask and I will answer.

And that's all! Please reblog!

[it-happened-one-fic]

500 Followers Playlist Starter Pack: The Twisted Wonderland Version!

Thank you so much!!! I'm afraid I don't have time to do a full event (Christmas and all that jazz) but I did want to say thank you to everyone so I came up with this! I have a habit of listening to music while writing so I used few songs (I aimed for four each but didn't always make it) from my playlists to form sort of a starter pack under the cut! Again, thank you so much!!!

(NOTE: The links go to Youtube)

Genshin Impact Playlist Starter Pack

Riddle Rosehearts: 

New Rules - Dua Lipa 

Come Along - Pentatonix 

Oh No! - MARINA 

Black Roses - Charli XCX (includes cursing) 

Trey Clover:

Sugar Sugar - The Archies 

Gambling Man - The Overtones

Home - Philip Philips 

Honey Bee - Blake Shelton 

Cater Diamond:

The Tracks of My Tears - Smokey Robinson and The Miracles  

Call Me - Blondie 

Sweet Nothing - Calvin Harris (feat. Florence Welch)  

Dance the Night - Dua Lipa 

Ace Trappola:

Troublemaker - Olly Murs (feat. Flo Rida) 

Jessie’s Girl - Rick Springfield 

I Think We’re Alone Now - Tiffany 

Fire Alarm - Castlecomer 

Deuce Spade:

Waiting for a Star to Fall - Boy Meets Girl

Somebody to You - The Vamps

Hey Look Ma’ I Made It - Panic! at the Disco

Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley

Leona Kingscholar:

Send Them Off! - Bastille

Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea - Fall Out Boy

We Don’t Have to Dance - Andy Black

Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy

Ruggie Bucchi

Roll To Me - Del Amitri

Two Princes - Spin Doctors

The Way I Are - Timbaland, Keri Hilson, & D.O.E

Follow Me - Uncle Kracker

Jack Howl

Silver Night - The Rasmus

I Really Like You - Carly Rae Jepsen

Right Here Waiting - Richard Marx

I Will Never Let You Down - Rita Ora

Azul Ashengrotto:

Material Girl - Madonna

Stay With Me - Sam Smith

I’d Really Love to See You Tonight - England Dan & John Ford Coley

Diamonds - Sam Smith

Jade Leech:

Curses - The Crane Wives

She Will Be Loved - Maroon 5

Staring At You - Diane Birch

Break the Ice - Britney Spears

Floyd Leech

Out of My League - Fitz and the Tantrums

Bad Word - Panicland

Rag Doll - Aerosmith

I Was Made For Dancin’ - Leif Garrett

Kalim Al-Asim

Golden - Harry Styles

Budapest - George Ezra

Boogie Shoes - KC & The Sunshine Band

I Should Be So Lucky - Kylie Minogue

Jamil Viper:

Can’t Remember to Forget You - Shakira & Rihanna

Power & Control - MARINA

Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy & Foxes

Move Your Body - Sia

Vil Schoenheit:

You Make Me Feel - Cobra Starship (feat. Sabi)

Vogue - Madonna

Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey

Pretty in Pain - Diane Birch

Rook Hunt:

The Look of Love, Pt. 1 - ABC

Come To My Window - Melissa Etheridge

I Will Follow Him - Peggy March

Happy Together - The Turtles

Epel Felmier:

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts (cursing)

Take Me Home, Country Roads - John Denver

Cooler Than Me - Mike Posner

So What - P!nk (cursing)

Idia Shroud:

Something About Us - Daft Punk

Come Inside of My Heart - IV of Spades

He’s So Shy - The Pointer Sisters

Heavy In Your Arms - Florence and the Machine

Ortho Shroud:

Electric Angel - Hatsune Miku

One More Time - Daft Punk

Malleus Draconia:

I Found - Amber Run

Deeper than the Night - Olivia Newton John

Disturbia - Rihanna

Bad Habits - Ed Sheeran

Lilia Vanrouge:

I Love the Nightlife (Disco Round) - Alicia Bridges

Raise Your Glass - P!nk

Saturn - Sleeping at Last

We are Family - Sister Sledge

Silver:

Fireflies - Owl City

(They Long To Be) Close To You - Carpenters

When You Say Nothing At All - Allison Krauss & Union Station

Son Of Man - Phil Collins (From Disney's Tarzan)

Sebek Zigvolt:

The Glory of Love - Peter Cetera

Head Over Heels - Tears for Fears

You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift

Shout - Tears for Fears 

[anonaga]

have any headcanons for Ian and Natalie?

YES. MANY.

Whenever Natalie is sad, she'll refuse to put on her nice clothes and claim she doesn't like them today. This is because Ian will have no choice but to help her find new ones, like a bonding experience, she likes having him involved in her life.

Ian was the first person to know about Natalie's crush on Ted (sorry you guys can't escape tedalie in this), and he RELENTLESSLY made fun of her for it.

Sometimes Vikram sends them extra money out of generosity only because he knows at the end of the day that they are still his kids.

Ian does Natalie's hair a lot, she loves having it braided when they're just staying in the house.

Natalie isn't huge on reading, neither is Ian, but they both will sometimes read together in the same room just to bond over it.

Ian is a horrible cook. That's it. He cannot cook for the life of him.

Natalie hates music most times, but Ian put her on some of the few non-classical artists he likes, so whenever they do listen to music, it's usually that. Ian does have a secret, VERY secretive love for some of Madonna's old songs that he wouldn't tell a soul about.

Despise being posh and rude, they treat their maids/butlers/tailors/workers extraordinarily well. Bossy? Yes, but they pay them well and are polite to them.

Ian spends a lot of time working, so Natalie is always bored and usually has to entertain herself, he feels bad for leaving her so bored most days.

Both really love indulging in staple Indian food sometimes together, they both really like it.

Natalie HATED Cara, Ian and her didn't last long, she stays around as a friend though.

Sometimes Ian and Natalie talk about what would've happened if Vikram married Hope instead of Isabel. They think it would've been better for the family, even if it meant they wouldn't be born or would be related to Amy and Dan.

On all holidays, they always gift people the best gifts. Not just expensive, but for birthday's and Christmas, they spend weeks figuring out what everyone like's if they don't know already. Ian keeps a list of what they all like, and they usually end up getting everyone separate presents from one another.

lmk if you want more :33

[delicatetaylorsversion]

thank you so much for tagging me Tasya @taylorswiftaylor 💖

shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then list 10 songs you really like, each by a different artist. then tag 10 people to do the same thing

on repeat

Taylor Swift - Christmas Tree Farm

Taylor Swift - Bye Bye Baby

Linkin Park - What I've Done

Taylor Swift - my tears ricochet

Taylor Swift - Daylight

Bungie ft. Kronos Quartet - Journey (Destiny 2)

Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell - Ain't No Mountain High Enough

CHVRCHES - Death Stranding

Ed Sheeran - Happier

Nintendo - Staff Roll (Super Mario 64)

10 songs i really like (by different artists)

Taylor Swift ft. Fall Out Boy - Electric Touch

John Legend - All Of Me

Madonna - Hung Up

Alan Walker - Faded

Village People - YMCA

Ellie Goulding - Love Me Like You Do

Wiz Khalifa ft. Charlie Puth - See You Again

The Black Eyed Peas - I Gotta Feeling

P!nk - Raise Your Glass

One Republic - Love Runs Out

tagging @tisthedamnseasns @folklouire @stood-onthecliff @intomymelancholia @thisloveisredx @comeontaylorspeaknow @good-enemy @anyone 💕

[tally-hautism]

Infodump time

ListedBlack is the first tally hall adjacent side project, even predating toy orchestra.

If you wish to read the wiki instead of my words go here

It was a band which features

Rob Cantor - Singing and Guitar

Zubin Sedghi - Drums (wth that's Ross' job)

Zach Krasman - Bass and Real Estate Agent

BJ - probably guitar, little is known about BJ

They had 1 album (EP) named Songs About Girls which featured Passing, Effort & Apathy, Almost Raining, and Yearbook.

There are two more song that ListedBlack is confirmed to have played, being Black or White by Michael Jackson and Like a Prayer my Madonna both of which can be found in the 2021 HITS Christmas dump

Yearbook is the only ListedBlack song which was redone, it was redone for the Pingry EP which was a collection of tally hall songs to show to publishers

You can find the entirety of ListedBlack here

Thanks for reading, see you soon!

[v011d]

FOXY'S COMFORT LIST.

Comfort food(s): Chicken burgers, roast dinners, bacon, egg on toast, cheese crisps, chocolate, lemon cake.

Comfort drink(s): Tea, hot chocolate.

Comfort movie(s): All of the X-men movies, Deadpool and Wolverine, Guardians of the galaxy, superhero movies, Nightmare before Christmas, The Grinch, Lion King, Adams family, The mask,.

Comfort show(s): Umbrella academy, Lucifer, Ghost adventures, Supernatural, Gotham, Expedition Unknown, Expedition X, Willam Shatner The Unexplained., Curse of Skinwalker ranch, Chilling adventures of Sabrina, Doctor who, Torchwood, The Flash, Good omens, The sandman.

Comfort clothing: Red or black cardigans, hoodies, tracksuit trousers, trench coats, boots, my blue jumper with stitch from disney on it.

Comfort song(s: Running up that hill (Kate bush) Living on a prayer (Madonna) The pretender (Foo fighters) Smells like teen spirit (Nirvana) Hot and cold (Katy perry) I'm still standing (Elton John) Another one bites the dust (Queen) Anti hero (Taylor Swift) Headlong (Queen) Rebel rebel (David Bowie) Message in a bottle (The Police) I'm not ok (My chemical romance) Money money (Billy Idol) Ride (Lana del Rey) Ashes (Celine Dion) Once upon a dream (Lana del rey) Music of the night (Phantom of the opera sung by Ramin Karimloo) Rise like a phoenix (Conchita Wurst) Be prepared (Jeremy Irons)

Comfort book(s): Dracula, wolverine and deadpool comic books, the vampire chronicles, Terry Pratchett disc world collection, good omens.

Comfort game(s): Assassin creed franchise (I am currently replaying the Egyptian one) Mass Effect, Dragon Age, The Witcher wild hunt.

TAGGED BY. @chrislaplante (thank you!)

TAGGING. @ripgray @wickedslip @lovedying @auntiezelda @magaprima @iisoldmysoulxx @frostise @handgiven @notwithoutsins @roznrot and everyone else who sees this.