#Listen To Your Hart

[justmoreocs-writing]

Listen To Your Hart Introduction

Getting caught hacking into an organisation that prides itself on secrecy probably wasn’t Lily’s best idea, even if in her eyes there was a good reason for it. She’d heard rumours of people being recruited after that kind of thing, but she never expected it to come true for her. Only after joining did she realise that perhaps that wasn’t exactly the thing she’d needed to do. But, while she loves being part of the tech team, part of her longs to be doing something more. To become an agent even if somebody blocks her way every time.

Being recruited for the Kingsman tests wasn’t something that had ever been on Eggsy’s radar; even after his meeting with Harry, he wondered if perhaps the whole thing hadn’t been a dream. And yet, as he starts the training with other candidates, Eggsy realises that perhaps actually getting the coveted place with Kingsman wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, he might miss some of the other candidates come the end, but he’d be doing something good. Something that would make his parents proud and help him make sure his family was safe. And that was important.

Story Tag

Lily Tag

Eggsy Tag

[justmoreocs-edits]

Listen To Your Hart Introduction

Getting caught hacking into an organisation that prides itself on secrecy probably wasn’t Lily’s best idea, even if in her eyes there was a good reason for it. She’d heard rumours of people being recruited after that kind of thing, but she never expected it to come true for her. Only after joining did she realise that perhaps that wasn’t exactly the thing she’d needed to do. But, while she loves being part of the tech team, part of her longs to be doing something more. To become an agent even if somebody blocks her way every time.

Being recruited for the Kingsman tests wasn’t something that had ever been on Eggsy’s radar; even after his meeting with Harry, he wondered if perhaps the whole thing hadn’t been a dream. And yet, as he starts the training with other candidates, Eggsy realises that perhaps actually getting the coveted place with Kingsman wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, he might miss some of the other candidates come the end, but he’d be doing something good. Something that would make his parents proud and help him make sure his family was safe. And that was important.

Story Tag

Lily Tag

Eggsy Tag

[kingsmint]

No thoughts just a scenario where Harry Hart dances with a villain but it’s an up beat song and the song/fight is just a bunch of twirls and kicks and blocks

[harteofthehart-ayyy]

Ok actually since it was brought up don’t make fun of people for going bald. Not their fault. That’s mean.

HOWEVER you can make fun of them for making bad style choices with their hair. I endorse that. Being bald isn’t funny or worthy of being made fun of for but trying to rock a skullet when you can’t is. There’s a DIFFERENCE.

[absolute-lithops-emotion]

reading a bunch of articles on phonics and whole word reading and listening to old vi hart videos in the background and realizing that if there's an equivalent to phonics for math, i don't think we get taught it

[calinaannehart]

Genuine question…

Why are people so much more reluctant to reblog posts these days? Don’t get me wrong I love any interaction I get in my posts, especially when I’m sharing fanfics I’ve written.

But it’s frustrating sometimes when you’ve worked so hard on something and you get a tonne of likes but only a handful of reblogs.

Rebloging something to your timeline is the most effective way for content to get seen, so for writers like myself who want to reach a wider audience it’s disheartening when only a few people do.

I get that some people use tumblr likes as a bookmarking system, but if you like something enough to bookmark it all I ask is that you reblog it too.

[azaleasallalong]

this is my fav still of agatha btw if u even care

like look at her fucking smile how could you not believe every dirty lie that comes out of that cute little mouth she's literally bathed in a halo of light and the smile with her eyes?? like girl why are you wasting that smile on mrs hart (rip) smile at your WIFE like that

her hair looks incredible her makeup is on point i would listen to everything she says

[puck-luck]

luke x older reader anon again! congrats on 1k! submitting the same request, with hearts and prompt 25 🫶🏻

warnings: unprotected p in v, age gap (not major.), religious themes & motifs, pining, childhood friends to lovers vibes, best friend's brother ofc, jealousy, occasionally insecure statements from luke, really just the sweetest sex you can imagine. i LOVED writing this. hence... the length.

WC: 4,351

You’ve been friends with the Hughes boys as long as you can remember. The first time you met Quinn, it was during your first pee-wee skate. 

Your dad was a big hockey fan, so he wanted to teach you how to skate. The debate had been between figure skating and hockey– your mom loved gymnastics, dance, and figure skating, having been an artistic athlete herself. Your dad wanted you to skate regardless, but hockey felt more suited for your talents. You were a competitive child– and territorial over your toys– so your dad thought it would translate well into a hockey environment. 

He took you to the Olympics in Salt Lake when you were three years old. You went to see figure skating and two of the United States hockey games– one for the men and one for the women. To your dad, it wasn’t a surprise how your eyes grew into saucers when you watched your first live hockey game.

He’d enrolled you in peewee skate the following week. There were no girls-only leagues, so you were put into a coed league. Quinn was in the same league. You became very fast friends– you liked to talk, your new little buddy liked to listen, and then you finally got him out of his shell midway through the season and your friendship was fully cemented. Actually, the second you learned his last name was Hughes– like Sarah Hughes, who won the Olympic Gold in single’s figure skating when you were in Utah– he was stuck with you. Just because you’d preferred hockey didn’t mean you didn’t love ice skating, too. It just wasn’t your passion.

You and Quinn stayed in touch after that peewee hockey season, enrolling in the same league and requesting to be on the same team until you both graduated into the boys- and girls-only leagues. You still remained friends, staying in contact as best you could when he moved to Toronto. You’d send letters back and forth and you became a pro at interpreting Quinn’s boyishly terrible handwriting. He’d tell you about his brothers, his parents, his school, and his hockey teams. You’d keep him updated on home, but then it stopped being home to Quinn. Soon enough, you were only talking about hockey and family. ‘Did you see that Crosby won the Hart Trophy?’ ‘Yeah! Ovi got the Calder though, so we’re still on even playing field. Canadian boy.’ ‘Hey, Ovi is Russian. Choose a real American and get back to me.’

It wasn’t long until you secured an invitation to visit the Hughes during the summer. You and your family went up to Toronto to visit them and you got to play with the Hughes boys for a whole week. It was so much fun, so the next summer, you begged to invite them to your place for a week.

The tradition continued for years, alternating houses and hometowns. You and Quinn both applied to Michigan– he played hockey, you did not. You were a good player, but you’re more of a beer league girl. You weren’t recruited to play college hockey– which, for a while, you thought was weird, because there are so few female hockey players in America. You’re hoping that your lack of recruitment means that there are hundreds of amazing women who are better than you at the sport, and that helped you accept your fate. After all, Quinn would sometimes bring you to the rink when it was empty. You’d get to play for a little while– and it was nice, in college, to have someone who knew you so well.

A lot of people assumed that you and Quinn were together, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Quinn was like your brother. There was that weird month when you were thirteen and you’d gone to visit him over the summer and you’d thought, maybe… but it turned out that you were just thirteen and confused because of your rampant hormones and puberty. Quinn is just your friend, your best friend. 

All of the brothers were pretty off-limits. You’d seen the way girls had started flirting with Jack as he’d entered his teens. You’re able to admit that he’s a cute boy. Luke was an absolute sweetheart, always trying to play with Quinn (and, by extension, you) as you’d grown up. You felt so fond of Luke in a ‘look at how precious he is, I need to protect him’ sort of way.

And then, last night at the lake house, he’d helped you line up a shot in pool and kept his hand on the small of your back when you bent over the table, and your mind had been spinning ever since. 

You can’t tell Quinn, obviously. That’s his baby brother. You’re not even sure how you feel about it– Luke’s always been your little buddy. Now, he’s over half a foot taller than you, so he’s not so little anymore. Still– he’s four years younger than you and Quinn. It’s the equivalent of a freshman hooking up with a senior and you feel icky. 

Regardless, you can’t keep your eyes off of him. He likes to twirl his fork between his fingers when he’s done eating dinner. He’ll spread his legs and sit forward when he’s playing video games with his brothers. An absent-minded, crooked smile falls on his mouth every time he’s only half-listening to you or the other boys. It’s paired with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as warm and content. In twenty-four hours, you’ve noticed more things about Luke than you’ve ever seen before. 

He’s grown up. It’s still a little weird to you, but he’s 21. You’re still 24, even though your 25th birthday is slowly creeping forward. You find yourself justifying the three year age gap, persuading yourself that it’s fine to look at Luke like that, but then you catch yourself and look away. You’re pushing the idea out of your brain.

But he’s goofy, and cute, and so sweet. He’s the same Luke as always, but you’re seeing him in a brand new way.

You’re able to keep yourself at bay for over a week. The boys throw a party and invite some girls over. Normally, you’re not jealous. You’re calm. You don’t care. 

Across the room, there’s a girl flirting with Luke. She’s got a hand on his arm and you’re nursing a drink, seeing red. You’re using Jack as a shield, but you’re still able to look over his shoulder. You think you’re being slick, but it turns out… you’re not.

“What are you looking at?” Jack laughs, tilting his head at you exaggeratedly before turning.

Unfortunately, you know you’ve been found out. There’s only one thing that would have you glowering in such a way. Nothing else in sight is nearly as interesting as Luke and the girl beside him. Jack clocks it right away.

He turns back to you with a tight, knowing smile, like he’s trying to hold back laughter. He pushes his tongue into his cheek and quirks his eyebrows at you. 

“Interesting,” Jack says, swirling his drink in his solo cup and then bringing the rim to his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he sips. 

You pop the bottom of the cup, making the drink splash into Jack’s face. “Fuck off.”

He wipes his mouth and crosses his arms, cradling the drink in the pocket of his elbow. “You and little Lukey?”

You grind your teeth and glare at him in the most menacing way you can. Jack has known you for too long to be intimidated by your glares. He also never really cared that much in the first place– he’s too shit-eating to be concerned about the repercussions of his words.

Jack smirks some more. “Don’t worry,” he says, popping his jaw like he’s turning a piece of gum over in his mouth. “Your secret is safe with me.”

You clench your teeth and continue glaring. You suck your cheeks in and bite down on the inside of your mouth, lips curling with annoyance. 

“You know, he wouldn’t mind if you went over there and staked your claim,” Jack says with a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t think he’d be upset at all.”

“Fuck off,” you repeat again. 

“C’mon, Y/N.” Jack pushes your shoulder lightly, jokingly. “You’re being obvious.”

“Quinn’ll kill me. And– it’s Luke, Jack.”

“So what? It’s not weird. We all grew up together. We’re all around the same age. It’s not a big deal. He’s had a crush on you forever.”

“It’s different,” you sing-song. “He’s younger than me.”

“Let’s go, Cougar,” Jack teases, reaching up to high-five you. 

You don’t take it, instead deciding to punch his stomach. 

Jack doubles over like you actually wounded him, but straightens up smiling. “You oughta go make him jealous.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Dude, I’m serious. Let’s go flirt with Trevor or something. Someone who Luke thinks you’re better than– I guarantee he’ll be over here in a second.”

Jack actually tugs you toward Trevor and explains the plan before you can even get a word in. So much for keeping your secret. Trevor, to his credit, is a very willing subject. He keeps a hand on your waist during the whole conversation and you do your best to ignore the niggling desire to look over your shoulder at Luke. 

Turns out, you should’ve been worried about Quinn.

“Get your hands off her, Zegras,” Quinn snaps, pushing Trevor’s hand off of your waist and stepping between you. “You’re not allowed to fuck my friend.”

If that’s how he feels about one of his friends touching you, then you feel a bit faint at the idea of Quinn’s reaction to Luke getting together with you. That might seal the deal– you really can’t fuck Luke.

“I’m not fucking her,” Trevor says. “We’re working an angle here, Quinn.”

Quinn scoffs. “Yeah? What angle is that, Trevor?”

“We’re trying to make Luke jealous, hello?” Trevor says like it’s obvious. 

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face in your hands. “Trevor, you fucking moron.”

“What?” Quinn demands, but his look turns into sheer bewilderment. “You’re doing this for Luke?”

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, stomping away. 

Trevor, somehow, is free to follow after you. Quinn hasn’t stepped in to stop him. You wish he would. He’s probably too confused. “This is good,” he says. “He’s definitely going to see us going upstairs together. Hold my hand.”

“No.”

“Dude, it was working. Luke was looking over at us the whole time.”

“I don’t care, Trevor.”

“Don’t you want him?”

“Not like that,” you hiss between your teeth. “I don’t want to make Luke jealous. I want him to come to me because he wants to, okay? Go downstairs. I don’t want to be with you right now.”

Trevor holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll go. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You disappear into your bedroom, changing into pajamas and climbing into bed. It’s nice to have your own bedroom in the lake house that Jack and Quinn bought with their NHL salaries, but tonight it’s bittersweet to be able to hear the party going on as you lay in bed. It’s not at all like when you fall asleep during a holiday party and your parents put you to bed, and you can still hear the laughter of the guests in your dreams. Now each bout of laughter reminds you of her, the girl whose hand was on Luke like she already owned him, and you wonder if he’s making her giggle with his stupid corny jokes.

God, last week you didn’t even like Luke. Now you’re burning with jealousy– or maybe it’s the fires from Hell, because you’ve got a completely inappropriate crush on your best friend’s little brother. You can never come back to the lake house like this, at least not until you’ve gotten over this shit. Why are you so affected? It’s Luke, for fuck’s sake.

It’s Luke again when someone comes knocking at your door. You thought it would be Quinn, ready to chew you out or question you extensively about this crush. To your surprise, the problem himself appears. 

“You okay?” Luke asks, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. His silhouette is burly and big and you have to close your eyes to shake the pang of emotion that penetrates your chest.

“Just tired,” you reply quietly. “Couldn’t stomach the party anymore.”

“Did Trevor say something to upset you?”

Quieter: “No, Luke.”

He hovers silently. You can hear the cogs in his brain turning. His pitch matches yours when he speaks next, although his tone is much more melancholic than despondent. “Are you mad at me?”

You hesitate for a second too long. You’re not mad, but you’re certainly taken aback by the uncertainty in his words. “No, Luke,” you say again, but this time the pang that goes through your chest is more familiar. You don’t want to upset him. You’ve always wanted to protect Luke from the world, but now you’ve made him unsure and insecure. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Luke asks, and you have to take a shaky breath. He sounds so small. It’s like the time that you didn’t let him ride bikes with you and Quinn to the store, even though he begged, and then he cried and ran to his mom. After seeing Luke’s puffy red eyes and resolute determination to ignore you for the rest of the night, your soda and candy bar didn’t taste as good. In fact, they tasted a bit like cardboard. You ended up throwing half of the bar away and going home early. You swore you’d never make sweet little Luke feel that way again.

“You wouldn’t get it, I don’t think,” you tell him quietly, pushing yourself up in bed and resting on your elbows. You take a deep breath and look at him, sure that he can see the way your chest rises and falls. 

Your eyes have adjusted enough that you can see the way Luke’s mouth opens, as if to say something, then closes with a shake of his head. You notice his eyes fluttering towards the corner of your room, removing you from his line of vision. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me,” Luke says, biting his lower lip in a dejected and heartbreaking way. “I get it. I’ll go.”

“Luke,” you sigh. “Don’t be like that.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t wanna talk to me,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not friends like that. I’m not Quinn.”

“Luke.” You push yourself up further, pushing the covers down and criss-crossing your legs. “It’s not that.”

“It’s always that. And if it’s not that, then it’s that I’m not Jack. I just– I don’t want to hear that from you.” Luke shrugs again, always defaulting to that motion when he’s deflecting because he’s big and awkward and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. As if he’s thinking the same thing, you watch him shove his fists in his pockets and keep his shoulders tense.

“Come here,” you request, head tilted and mouth turned down with sadness. You shift your position so that both of your knees are under you and you’re sitting back on your heels. “Luke, please.”

You hold your arms out for a hug, not for the first time in your life, and Luke shuffles over. He takes his time and he refuses to meet your eyes, just stooping down so that he can wrap his arms around your middle. It’s a weird position, given that you’re kneeling on the bed and he’s half-bent over. You can feel the pout and doubt all over Luke’s face, so you reach a hand up to his curls and run your thumb over one of his more perfect spirals. He’s letting it grow out a bit and you like how messy it looks.

“Jack told me something,” you reveal softly, still petting through his hair. Luke stiffens in your arms, but doesn’t pull away. “He said you like me.”

Luke groans and struggles in your grip, even sinking to his knees to try and get out of your grasp. He’s kneeling beside the bed, and you bring your legs around so that he’s situated between them. You keep a hand on his shoulder, the other still playing with his hair. He’s evading your eyes again, looking stoutly at the floor.

“I have feelings for you, too,” you whisper, the admission feeling heavy and wrong and like a knife to the gut. Admittance is the first step, but you just feel silly. “And I don’t really know how to deal with those. You’re– I’ve known you since we were so little, Luke.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Luke says bluntly, a hint of a complaint in his sentence. “You’ve been acting weird because you like me, too?”

“I was upset that there was a pretty girl talking to you,” you say sheepishly. “And I just didn’t want to go along with Jack’s plan. He wanted to make you jealous. Thought that would work.”

“I’m always jealous when you talk to another guy,” Luke tells you like it’s obvious. “I just, kind of, gave up. I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me. I thought I’d get over it. Stupid childhood crush, you know.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding that you yourself just experienced a similar line of thinking. You said you’d get over it, but you don’t really want to. Not right now, at least, when Luke’s sitting in front of you and he’s got a tentative hand on your calf, rubbing his thumb over the muscle and staring up at you with big eyes. You bite your lip, trying to think logically about this, but all you can do is examine Luke’s features like you’ll never get to see them again. Maybe you won’t– not like this. Not in this liminal space between something and nothing. This is one of those moments that you know won’t last– because the next one will change everything. So, for a moment longer, you just reach out and run your thumb along Luke’s cheekbone, eyes flickering between his cheek, his lips, and his eyes. 

“What do we–” Luke loses his words and presses his lips together, looking up at you, expression completely tortured. He turns his head and kisses the side of your knee, which makes your heart split a bit more.

“I don’t know,” you admit. You wish you had a better answer for him. You truly aren’t sure what you can do from here. There are too many things to consider– so you won’t consider them at all.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Luke asks. 

A fond burst of laughter escapes from your chest. “Lukey, this is a twin bed. We can’t both fit.”

A pout comes over Luke’s face again. “We can too,” he insists, furrowing his brow a bit. “I’ll prove it. Move over.”

He’s climbing into your bed before you can tell him no. His long and spindly limbs are coaxing you to lay back, then warming you as he holds you tight. It’s a tight squeeze, but that just means that you’re touching him everywhere. It’s nice and you suddenly wish you were facing him, so you roll awkwardly in his arms until you’re face to face. Your noses are nearly touching and Luke is staring at you, really taking you in. 

Your eyes find his lips… and then he’s leaning in.

It’s charged with tension and electricity, but it’s soft and hesitant. Neither of you want to test the boundaries and you don’t think this feels quite real. Your stomach is swooping with bats, not butterflies, and it’s exactly what you wanted. This is what you expected when you found yourself imagining kissing Luke this past week, even if you shook yourself out of it because it felt inappropriate. Here, it feels so right that you swear you could start crying from relief. You’ve never felt that way before from just a kiss. Your chest could burst.

When he pulls away, you feel frozen in time. Your eyes are closed and his lips are right there, a hair’s breadth away. You swallow, touching his chest, palm flat. 

“Was that okay?” Luke asks.

You nod, then slide your lips over his again. 

You come together in a way that can’t be described as anything other than desperate. Your hands touch him in any way they can and Luke’s do the same. You move in tandem like you’ve got a language of your own– an indignant hum from you followed by a sweet “I know” from Luke before he touches you exactly the way you want.

Kissing the whole time, Luke gets you on your back. Your lips only part to remove your shirt, then his. Luke’s big hand cradles your jaw and neck, keeping your head and mouth exactly where he wants them. He guides you with a surprising amount of experience and sureness, although maybe he’s fueled by the same feeling of rightness as you are.

He opens you on his other hand, snaking his hand into your pajamas shorts because he can’t be bothered to remove them. His hips roll against your thigh, his long torso displacing your pelvis from his as he kisses you. He’s big– you knew it height-wise, but now you can feel him against your leg, and you want him to fill you. You want him to claim you, to take you– you want to give all of yourself to Luke. It’s madness and though you’re sure you’ve lost your mind, the crack in your chest that pours out love for Luke has taken control of your body.

After three fingers and a lot of whimpering from you, clutches at Luke’s hair and bruising kisses working in tandem with your noises, Luke works your shorts down. He breaks from your lips so that he can take you in beneath him. He touches your waist and the curve of your stomach, the one that you cringed at for so many years as a teen but finally accepted in your grown age. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, eyes portraying nothing but sincerity.

You can’t say anything to that, nothing that can match his utterly genuine sentiment or portray how grateful you are that he took the time to say those words, so you kiss him again. You muster up an embarrassingly wanton ‘please,’ which you draw across his lips like a paintbrush. 

You can’t get enough of saying his name as he presses into you, his heavy body blanketing yours. You can feel his every muscle move as he works into you and you’ve never felt more like a masterpiece. There were times when you made fun of the phrase ‘making love,’ but sex with Luke feels intensely like you’re creating something tangible by coming together in this way. 

The moans and cries that you’re trying to stifle so that no one comes barging in should be enough to convince Luke that this is everything to you. Sweet, sweet Luke– he seems choked up when he says, “They can’t fuck you like I can.” He says the sentence like he has to prove it to you, like you’re not falling apart under his touch. He pleads with you between the words, in the spaces where you can see his breath hitch in his throat.

You’re still not sure where this night will leave you tomorrow morning. Everything, everything has turned on its head. Somehow, you feel a bit like you’ve been leading up to this for a while, not just in the past week. Luke knew it before you did.

“No,” you agree, touching his cheeks and keeping his eyes on yours. “They can’t.” You kiss him briefly, feeling his tongue swipe into your mouth before you pull away. “I’m yours.”

Luke actually keens at that, his arms straining as he shifts his weight to fuck into you harder. Because you’re so close, the bed isn’t moving enough to bang against the walls or creak on its boxsprings, and you’re glad. This is a moment for just you and Luke– you don’t want anyone hearing. You don’t want anyone to be around. You hope that they’ve all miraculously disappeared and you and Luke are the last people in the house, maybe even on Earth.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Luke repeats, his forehead meeting yours. You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale, his breath automatically syncing with yours. You’re overwhelmed, but deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice reminding you about an ancient tradition in Polynesian culture where forehead-to-forehead contact and breathing together is sacred, like you’re sharing the breath of life– like there’s some power in the universe, a god or many, clicking things into place.

He unravels first, fucking you through his release with urgence akin to the sentence he said before. Always trying to prove himself– but Luke has always been enough for you. Maybe not always in this way, but now, there’s nothing he can do to shake your favor. All of the feelings in your heart have been poured out, shared and mixed with his own, and it’s created a puddle– or a bubble– around the pair of you. 

It’s been written that sex is when two people come together as one. You finally understand what they mean, joining Luke in the seas of ecstasy.

Sweet nothings and touches like worship follow. Your hands can’t get enough of Luke’s strong figure. He runs his fingertips along your body like he’s in awe of your figure, like he gets to touch a statue so lifelike and beautiful that he can’t believe it was ever a block of marble at all. 

The concerns about what will happen tomorrow don’t exist here, in your dark bedroom with Luke stuck to you like glue. For now, it’s just you. Together, breathing, touching, loving– there’s nothing else that could matter. This is it.

note: i have to work on my grad school app in the coming days, so this will probably be the last blurb/oneshot until i finish the application. but, i might get bored of writing that and could pop in to do another smut piece here and there ;) hopefully i'll chat with y'all soon! but i don't want to rush this grad school app LOL

[howlinghunters]

Lmao this is gonna be a part two reblog 'cause brain is giving me permission to Yell™️ and also because this is entirely AEW and BCC inspired. 😽

Reblog and write in the tags who is your favorite wrestler and what song you associate with them.

[justmoreocs-writing]

‘Third from the right,’ Lily’s voice whispered through the earpiece. Eggsy forced himself to wait a moment before glancing over his shoulder and towards the counter. His attention skimmed over the vast array of patisseries there before sliding to the table she’d pointed out. It looked like a young family, but he had to admit, the mother seemed far more engaged with the kids.

‘Could be bad parentin’,’ he reasoned, covering his words by covering his mouth as if yawning.

Lily’s soft scoff brought an ever so slight smile to his lips. ‘Yeah, he’s also been scanning the café, and I hacked his phone.’

Eggsy scoffed before he could stop himself, but quickly smothered it by taking a sip of his coffee. He dared a quick glance at her; Lily sat in one corner, headphones firmly over her ears, laptop and notes on the table. To all the world she looked like a harried University student.

‘Nobody said I couldn’t,’ she reminded him simply. ‘Also, people really need to stop jumping on every free Wi-Fi that they can.’

‘Noted,’ Eggsy whispered, barely moving his lips.

‘Yeah, Dais’ll love that pres –’

‘Lillian!’ he hissed, pressing the back of his hand over his lips.

‘You’re easier to read than your phone, Unwin,’ she teased.

Eggsy rolled his eyes, grateful that it seemed she hadn’t really hacked into his phone. It did remind him, though, that he needed to be more careful with it all around her in future.

[justmoreocs-edits]

Listen To Your Hart Perspective [Canon] Character Introduction: Eggsy

Name: Gary Edward Unwin

Nickname(s): Eggsy / AKA Galahad

Birthday: 3rd of June

Age: 22 years old

Height: 175cm / 5’8’’

Dominant Hand: Right

Occupation: Kingsman Candidate

Species: Human

Canon Character Faceclaim is Taron Egerton

Character Tag

Story Tag

[ariascoven]

⟡ INSOMNIA PILLS

PAIRING : agatha harkness x reader

CONTENT / WARNINGS : established relationship, agatha is reader’s wife. gender neutral reader. pure fluff. whiny agatha.

WORD COUNT : 732

MY MASTERLIST | REQUESTED

You were sleeping peacefully, having the same nonsense dreams as always — for some reason, the Gods above decided that you would never have a coherent dream in your life. That is, until Agatha’s shuffling and groaning awakened you. You squinted your eyes and looked out the window, groaning when you saw nothing but pure darkness, the stars sparkling faintly. You turned your head to glance at the bedside clock, marking 2am. Agatha let out an annoyed grunt that almost made her sound like a spoiled child rather than a powerful, centuries old witch. You sat up slowly, rubbing your dizzy head. “Is something wrong, my love?” You were still half asleep, the simple task of speaking becoming a nightmare as your words slurred out in an almost incoherent blabber. Your wife turned around to face you, a childish pout lingering on her lips and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “Can't sleep, honey?” She nodded, her expression softening slightly at the concern and affection in your voice. “Come here.”

You shuffled in bed, sitting against the headboard and getting comfortable, arms opening wide in invitation and leaving no room for an answer. Agatha accepted the offer without a second thought, snuggling against you like you're her own personal pillow — not that it wasn't true. Her arms snaked around you to keep you close as she laid her head on your chest, her dark hair tickling your neck. She whined, making you giggle. “What?” She said grumpily, moving her head to glance up at you, that adorable pout still on her lips. You couldn't resist the temptation, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. You felt the annoyance slipping away from her body with a contented sigh the second your lips touched. You pulled back to look into her eyes, causing her to smile. You gently made her lay back down on your chest, your fingers combing through her thick hair softly as you hummed a calming tune, watching as she closed her eyes. Your lips joined the fingers that were tangled in her hair, peppering the top of her head with kisses, your free hand rubbing her arms soothingly.

Feeling your lover’s heartbeat, you smiled as she snuggled even closer to you, seeking the affection and comfort that only you could provide. Your legs were entangled with hers and you noticed her feet were cold — stubborn the way that she is, Agatha refused to put on socks before bed, even though you practically begged her to, saying the air was getting cold and you didn't want her to get sick. ‘I’m a witch, I’ll be fine. Agatha Harkness doesn't need socks,’ she claimed. The woman drove you crazy with her tantrums, but you loved her dearly. And she loved you, too. You knew it. And so did everyone that spent 5 minutes watching the way she treated you and acted around you. Her caring and affectionate side was reserved to you only, and you would be lying if you said you didn't like that. Even though you often had to reprimand her like a toddler when she acted up in public by starting an argument with a stranger or giving weird looks to random people on the street, your heart grew oddly warm knowing you were the only person that she would actually listen to. Sharon Davis — also known as Mrs. Hart, the name Agatha refused to stop calling her — told the witch to ‘stop staring, it's rude!’ once, which ended up in Agatha ruining the poor lady’s garden. Of course, you made her fix it.

“I love you.” Agatha muttered groggily before drifting off to sleep on top of you. You don't know exactly how much time you spent just admiring your sleeping wife’s features that night, giggling at the way she looked grumpy even as she snored peacefully. You waited to make sure that Agatha was in a deep sleep and there were no risks of accidentally waking her up and unleashing a tired, angry beast before reaching your arm out to turn off the lamp you don't even remember turning on. Probably did that when you were still half asleep, you think, shrugging it off. You found a bit of difficulty to lay back down with the weight of Agatha’s body on top of you, but you managed. You hugged her tightly before whispering in her ear. “Thank you for being mine.”

[moonlight-prose]

THE WAY YOU SAY GOODBYE

a/n: i have been watching way too much hart of dixie lately and well wade is basically just hangman in a different font. don't try to argue cause you know i'm absolutely right. so i spawned this drabble out of my head as if i were summoning a demon. enjoy my hangman girlies.

summary: if there's a way to say goodbye that has been noted in the history books, hangman will find a way to master it.

word count: 1k+

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

warnings: semi-explicit, kissing that borders on tongue fucking, he's nasty with it, cocky hangman, spit, again i say he's nasty with it.

Looking up the definition of the word goodbye would come with an endless amount of definitions and explanations. All in varying languages, with meanings so deep they grew like the roots of a tree. Embedding themselves in the earth with life of its own.

The way Hangman said goodbye wasn’t one of those.

He was assured, cocky, and genuinely believed he was God’s gift to this earth. You could see it with how he leaned against the pool table, his legs spread, lips pulled into a you know you want to fuck me smile. And the thing was…you couldn’t deny it. You did in fact want that. You had that. Four hours ago at the crack of dawn when he found his way back into your bed after a run and a shower.

Of course the others around would voice their displeasure and intense disgust if either of you brought it up. So you stayed silent. Sipping a coffee as he argued with Rooster over who had the bigger dick. Or something of that manner. You weren’t entirely focused on the conversation, your eyes fixated on the way his uniform pulled taut across his shoulders.

You were pretty sure that if you peeled the layers of fabric away, you’d find the imprint of your teeth in the muscle of his right shoulder.

Part of you was tempted to search for it. The other part had yet to notice he had stopped talking altogether, his attention on the only thing that mattered. You and your dreamy haze of love.

If he had the time he’d drag you to the bathroom, but everyone was already starting to pack it in for the morning. It would be a long day of training, of listening to the same orders over and over, of picking fights with one another until their patience ran thin. And all he wanted was to say goodbye to you properly. In a way that he’d feel each time you crossed his mind.

“You want a ride?” Fanboy asked, digging his keys out of his pocket.

He nodded. “Yeah thanks.”

“Let’s head out boys.” Phoenix shoved her arms into the leather jacket she’d brought even though the weather outside was warm enough to sunbathe.

He found his mind wandering to the image of you doing just that.

“Alright,” he sighed, standing tall as he reached for the jacket on the back of his chair.

You smiled as he sauntered over to you, his hand gripping your waist as he tugged you to stand up. “You’re going?”

He sighed as if you’d asked him the hardest question to exist. “Yeah. I’ve gotta go baby.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

The soft smile that crossed his lips was enough to have your heart racing. “I’ve got a new bottle of wine, some new desserts to try out.”

He smiled, his hand sliding lower as you listed out a few other things. Some which you had to say softly, lest you bring the wrath of the others. You’d been in that predicament before; you didn’t necessarily want to go back. At least not for a few months. Getting caught at the rocks by the beach was bad enough. Getting caught by Rooster, Phoenix, and Coyote was worse.

Although they couldn’t deny it, they were much happier seeing Hangman in a relationship than out of one.

“We got to go man,” Fanboy said, nudging Payback to get up from where he sat. “I don’t want to get stuck doing extra push ups when your asses make me late.”

Jake chuckled, his eyes dropping to the way your tongue slid along your bottom lip. The idea of dropping in when he got lunch was appealing enough to hold him over for a few hours. At least then he could show you what he’d been craving to eat since this morning.

“Gentlemen. Phoenix. You might want to avert your eyes. I’m about to kiss my woman goodbye.” The groan from behind was enough to set you off in a fit of giggles, your hand sliding into the base of his hair. “C’mere sugar,” he mumbled, grasping the nape of your neck.

To say Jake Seresin invented the art of saying goodbye was an understatement. He made bidding farewell dirty, debauched, and so filthy so as to solidify that moment in your mind for the rest of the day. His tongue slid into your mouth, a soft moan at the taste of your coffee being pressed into the searing kiss, as he tugged you even closer. The breath was knocked from your lungs with each lick into you and you began to wonder if maybe he was thinking of something else entirely.

That only made you grip onto his hair tighter, pulling him close enough to feel the way his hips shifted forward. Not enough to draw attention from the others. Yet you felt as if he was grinding into you without a single item of clothing on.

“That’s disgusting!” Rooster shouted from across the bar.

Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away. Spit spread slightly down your chin, his teeth digging into the plush skin of your bottom lip, and you felt your knees begin to buckle. Even as he gripped your ass tight enough to leave a phantom touch behind.

He made sure you’d feel him all fucking day.

“Mm,” he hummed, his grip growing tighter. “Your coffee tastes delicious baby.”

You laughed. “You want some?”

“I gotta go,” he mumbled, kissing you again as he licked even deeper into your mouth. His sharp inhale the cause of your heart stuttering.

“So go,” you breathed. “I’m not stopping you.”

He smiled. “Liar.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“Or what?”

Twisting his hair between your fingers, you tugged his head back slightly. Earning you a soft grunt you felt in the base of your stomach.

“Or I find something else to occupy my night.”

“Noted Mrs. Seresin.” He snuck your mug out from behind you, stealing a sip as you hung on him—addicted to his mere presence.

You smiled, biting into your bottom lip as he cleaned you up with his thumb. “I’ll see you later Mr. Seresin.”

“Oh yes you will,” he murmured, stealing a chaste kiss as he swung his jacket over his shoulder. “You can count on it sugar!”

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

A/N: Don’t mind me, just tryna make Henry Hart fics for all you out there. This one is sad and I think a bit on the angst side.

Might be typos, be warned, but enjoy!

Pairing: Henry Hart x Reader

‼️PART TWO IS OUT‼️

Ring…

Ring…..

Ring…Ring….

‘Please leave your message after the beep..’

I sighed and clutched the phone tightly in my hand, as I spoke into the speaker phone. “Hey Henry, it’s me again. Where are you this is the third time your phone went to voicemail, just please call me.” I said, before hanging up and sat on my bed.

A soft knock could be heard on my bedroom door, before the person walks in, that person being my mother. “Still nothing?” She asked standing in the doorway. “Not even Charlotte? Jasper?”

I shook my head no, and she put a hand on my back. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t want to but since he’s not answering his phone why not go over to his house? Ask his parents where he could be?”

“I would, but I don’t want to sound like a bother.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, you just want to check on him. It’s a very special day for you too.” I nod in understanding, and stood up from my bed.

I have my mom a hug and thanked her, before grabbing my phone and left the house, heading over to his.

Not too long after I stood in-front of his house, and knocked on the door. To which his mom answered the door, “Sorry to bother, but do you know where Henry is?”

She shook her head ‘no,’ in response. “I thought he was with you.”

“No, he isn’t, I’ve been calling and texting. Nothing.” She furrowed her brows in confusion, before inviting me inside, calling her husband downstairs. “Have you seen Henry?”

“No, I thought he was with (Y/N).” He replied not having noticed me yet, until Siren pointed at me. “Oh… that’s not good, is it?”

She rolled her eyes before asking, if he could check Henry’s room for her. We sat in an uncomfortable silence, before he came downstairs. “He’s not here, but his window was open.”

‘His window?’ I thought, before standing up making a beeline to the front door.

“I think, I might know where he might be. I’ll give you guys a call.” They didn’t have a chance to respond, with how quickly I left the room.

It took a while, but I walked all the way to his job, ‘Junk n’ Stuff.’ I looked inside the window and it looked empty, it didn’t look like anyone was inside.

I tried opening the front door, and to my surprise, it was actually unlocked. I walked further into the store calling out Henry’s name. “Henry? Henry?? Are you here?”

No one was in the front of the store, so I walked behind the counter and obviously no one was there, but I looked away.

When I was just about to give up, I found something..

‘An evaluator behind the counter?’ I thought to myself. I didn’t know where it went or if it was even stable, but I was going to take my chances.

I pressed the button and waited for the elevator doors to open, and stepped in. I was pressed the down button it rapidly went down at an alarming rate and I fell to the elevator floor.

The elevator came to an abrupt stop, and I groaned.

‘This elevator definitely isn’t up to code.’ I sigh and stood up slowly, waiting for the doors to open.

I walk in and see a place, that I have never seen before. I scan the room, and to my surprise no one was here. I walked over to the camera/computer type thing, and reached down to press a button before I heard someone walking in.

I ran to hide behind the couch and waited.

“Come on, Schwoz. Do you really this’ll work?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“This is your third time trying to time travel, what makes you think this toaster with the antennas and tinfoil going to do?”

“It could, you just need to believe.”

“Keep trying, buddy.”

I listened in on their conversation, the guy I didn’t recognize, but the girl sounded a lot like Charlotte.

“Uhh..hello?” The guy said from behind clearly noticing that I was hiding.

“Who are you talking to?”

“This girl hiding behind the couch.” He said, and Char immediately went to check behind the couch and saw me crouched down.

“(Y/N)?” She asked and I stood up. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, I’ve been texting you, Jasper and Henry. What is going on? And where is he?”

“We’re back! You’ll never believe it, that movie was so good… oh man..” I seen Henry and Ray walk in from another exit in the room with buckets of popcorn and soda.

“Henry..” I exclaimed, furrowing my brows and folded my arms.

“It’s not me you’re sleepwalking and this is all a dream,” He says and started moving his hands in front of my face and I smacked his hands away.

“Henry!”

“Alright, I can explain.” He sighs, looking me in the eyes. “This a traveling circus and Schwoz is our Dumbo!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, at least let me be the clown, I have the outfit and everything!”

“Henry! The truth!”

“Okay! Okay. Truth is Ray and I, we’re Captain Man and Kid Danger.” He says.

“I already know that, Hen.” I replied and everyone had their eyes wide.

“You knew?!” They already screamed in unison, and I look at them as if they’re crazy.

“How could I not know?! You sound like Kid Danger, look like Kid Danger. Let’s not forget that you happen to disappear when they’re both in any form of Danger.” I replied watching as the others sat down at the table watching me and Henry over some half eaten popcorn.

“So, if you already know, then what did you want me to tell you?”

“You really don’t remember do you?” I asked, watching him scour his brain trying to figure out what today way. I take out my phone and show him a video of us when we made it official, a year ago.

“It’s our one year…” He mumbled, looking up from my phone, as Ray audibly went ‘oooo,’ as if he was watching a telenovela.

“And you ditched me for a movie? One you can see when it comes out on dvd and blu-ray?” I exclaimed.

“No!”

“Oh, yes he did, girl.” Ray said shoving popcorn in his mouth, as if it was more entertaining than the movie they watched.

“Not on purpose! I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

“You can’t just make up a first year. You only get one of those, and we didn’t get to celebrate it!”

“You tell him, girl.” Ray said, and Henry looked him trying to get him to stop. “Ray!”

I shake my head taking my phone from him, going back to the elevator, and stepped inside. “(Y/N) wait, please.”

“Not right now, please? I just want to go home.”

“Want me to walk you home?”

“I’ll be fine, I just need to be alone right now. I’ll let your parents know you’re okay.” I press the buttons to close the doors and rested my back again the one of the walls and took a deep breath.

I called Henry’s parents on the way home and let them know he was fine. As soon as I got to my home, I laid down on my bed. Ignoring anyone that tried talking with me, just waiting for sleep to overtake me.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

heyy! so this might be so random but i saw something on tiktok that made me think of it. how do you think dad!rafe would react to seeing that creepy shit on baby monitors? like when it looks like the baby’s being pulled or something that looks like a ghost? or it could be totally different and be some stupid kid hacking it and saying shit through its speaker.. i’d write it myself but don’t think i’d do it justice😅

hacked

A/n: IM CRYING THIS IS SO AMSING 😭.

Warnings: mentions of creeps once… that’s it rlly

MASTERLIST

It was an easy night, with your baby girl being surprisingly calm all day, it was like a breeze to put her to sleep in her cradle.

He got underneath the covers with you, you already fast asleep next to him. He had a small smile on his face, going to wrap his arms around you at the same time he glanced at the baby monitor next to you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, his arms stopping mid-air as he heard the baby monitor with concern on his face.

It sounded like a heavy breathing, along with a scratching noise.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled to himself, quickly sitting up in the bed.

“Babe, babe,” he whispered, shaking your resting body in an attempt to wake you up.

“What…?” You groaned out, your eyes still shut as you stretched.

“There’s some weird ass noise coming from the monitor-“

“What?” You sat up quickly, listening along with him. You heard it as well, when you suddenly heard a womans voice whisper incoherent words, along with a boy making some sort of whale… noises? You couldn’t place it.

You and Rafe practically shot up, Rafe grabbing the nearest thing he could use as a weapon, which was really just a glass bottle, before he bolted to the room.

He turned on the light, stepping into the room first, you following behind him.

Your baby was still asleep, thankfully. You and Rafe looked around, practically turning the entire place upside down, making sure that no one or nothing was here.

Rafe checked the windows, still locked. He also checked the alarm system, which was still working perfectly fine, and looked as if nothing had happened.

Still, Rafe had told you to stay in the nursery with her until he could finish checking the entire house. You slumped into the chair, rubbing your eyes and yawning quietly.

You waited for what felt like eternity, Rafe finally coming back into the room. “Nothing.” He spoke, shaking his head.

It finally clicked in your head, you moving over to unplug the baby monitor quickly.

He furrowed his eyebrow at you, before you explained to him.

“I’ve seen videos where this happened and I guess they can get hacked if they’re connected to your WiFi.” You explained, him narrowing his eyebrows.

“Wait- so someone hacked into the WiFi?”

You nodded, glancing at your baby in the crib and the monitor on her stand.

“Does that mean someone could have like- been watching her?” He asked, the mere thought of it enough to make him angry.

“Or us.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s probably just some dumbass teenager playing some prank on us, okay?” You mumbled, putting your hand on his shoulder, “Let’s just… go to sleep, yeah?”

The next morning, the neighbors were knocking at the door, their teenage son and younger daughter standing with guilty looks on their faces.

“Hey, Mr and Mrs Hart, what can we do for you?” Rafe asked with a tired smile on his face, his voice raspy with sleep.

You stood next to him with your baby girl on your hips, giving them both smiles and greeting them.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m afraid we caught our children playing a prank on you last night, and they had something to say.”

“We’re sorry, Mr and Mrs Cameron. It won’t happen again.” They both murmured in unison, you and Rafe looking at them with confusion on your faces.

“Wait… the baby monitor, that was you guys?” You asked.

The boy nodded sheepishly, his hands going to the back of his neck.

“Well, thank you, kids.” Rafe said with a chuckle. “I’m glad you told us. I was one more thing away from calling the police.”

They both looked up at him now, mouths agape.

“We’re so sorry, again, guys. I’ll make sure that they get punished for this.” Their dad spoke, you and Rafe waving goodbye. Rafe shut the door, raising his eyebrows.

“Honestly, I’m relieved it’s them and not some weirdo.” You spoke, him letting out a chuckle, nodding in agreement.

[marybeatriceofmodena]

What did Andrew Lloyd Webber do to make Patti Lupone upset? Sorry, saw your tags and i was curious

Oh.

Oh honey.

You sweet child.

Anyway, get ready for one of the most infamous showdowns in all musical theatre history, with the guy who writes the straightest musicals on Broadway (derogatory) and the one and only, the matriarch, the queen, two three-time Tony award winner Patti LuPone.

So, Andrew Lloyd Webber was basically kind of a boy genius in his prime - he met his future collaborator Tim Rice when they were 17 and 20 respectively, he wrote his first big hit, Jesus Christ Superstar, at 22, with Tim Rice writing the lyrics. And it was kind of a big deal at the time because the topic was controversial (you know, the Passion with rock music), but also because Broadway wasn't that far off from its golden age and let's just say the music and style were very different from, say, My Fair Lady. Or The Sound of Music. Or Funny Girl. It was basically the Rent/Hamilton of its time. (Yeah, Stephen Sondheim was around at that time, he worked on West Side Story which was revolutionary in of itself, but he's kind of an oddball in this case. You'll understand why later.)

Their real follow up (I'm not counting Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for a variety of reasons) was a little musical called Evita, which you might know mainly because of a song called Don't Cry For Me Argentina. Or at least, your mom has probably heard it once at the very least. It's that song that's oversung from a musical while being out of context along with I Dreamed a Dream for Les Misérables. Or Memory from Cats.

Evita tells the story of Eva Peron, the wife of an Argentinian dictator, who basically screws her way to the top and ends up becoming the mistress of Juan Peron and the most beloved woman in her country through guile and deceit. Yes, I know the historical accuracy is very much debated but I know jackshit about Argentina's history except the bare basics so don't come at me. It was first produced in the West End in London, with Elaine Paige in the role, but because of Equity issues, she couldn't reprise her role for the Broadway production. So a Julliard graduate who was mostly starring in David Mamet plays got the part instead, and that was Patti LuPone.

Patti... did not have a good time during Evita, because the part is basically the kind of score where you can tell the composer is used to writing male parts, but most female singers have a two-octave range (yes, you got Julie Andrews who used to have a three-octave range, and many others, but they're exceptions), so she struggled a lot. That being said, if you listen to live recordings of her, you wouldn't be able to tell, and it got a lot easier later on. But she had this to say:

"Evita was the worst experience of my life. I was screaming my way through a part that could only have been written by a man who hates women. And I had no support from the producers, who wanted a star performance onstage but treated me as an unknown backstage. It was like Beirut, and I fought like a banshee."

This is from Patti's autobiography, which she wrote in 2007 - 8 years after shit with ALW went down. With all that said, she won a Tony Award for Evita, and she pretty much became a musical theatre household name from then on. She played Fantine in Les Misérables, Nancy in Oliver!, Reno Sweeney in Anything Goes. Meanwhile, ALW's next big hits were Cats (I'm not even kidding, Cats was a hit), and, you guessed it, The Phantom of the Opera, which he wrote in part to showcase his then wife Sarah Brightman's triple threat talents.

So, you need to understand before I continue that ALW, from my perspective, has always had a bit of an inferiority complex. He's basically associated to writing these commercially successful musicals that show a big spectacle but aren't ultimately substantial. I'm not sure I entirely agree with that, but I do think that if he didn't have Hal Prince, Maria Bjornson, Charles Hart and Gillian Lynne backing him up for Phantom, it would have probably been a Rocky Horror Picture Show knockoff people would have forgotten about pretty quickly. This is what I mean:

Yep, that was Phantom before any of the people I mentioned above (and Michael Crawford) were really involved.

Remember how I said Stephen Sondheim was an oddball? The thing with him is that his musicals weren't always commercially successful, but in general, in part thanks to being Leonard Bernstein's protégé, he was generally pretty well-respected and it was considered that his work was bringing musicals to a whole other level. Without Sondheim, you wouldn't have Jonathan Larson, and you wouldn't have Lin-Manuel Miranda. I am convinced ALW is resentful of that, and when you stop and think about it for more than 10 seconds, it's so obvious he REALLY wants to be Sondheim or at least command the same level of respect, but that's a story for another day.

So, after Phantom, ALW had other musicals that followed that either got a meh reception or outright flopped. Then there was Sunset Boulevard, which is based on the movie of the same name with Gloria Swanson. Despite all of her griefs for Evita, Patti LuPone agreed to partake in the musical as Norma Desmond, for its production in London, with the promise that she would transfer to Broadway once that production would open. And overall, after a string of flops, Sunset was actually doing pretty well.

HOWEVER. One day, while reading the gossip column of a newspaper, Patti found out that contrary to what she was promised, Glenn Close, who was meanwhile starring as Norma in the Los Angeles production, was to play Norma on Broadway. That was a complete surprise for her since no one on the production team had bothered to tell her it was happening - and keep in mind that for the news to come up the way it did in a gossip column, it probably would have necessitated a delay of a few weeks between the producers and the newspaper, which would have given them plenty of time to break the news to Patti. And Patti kind of needed the leg up because she was pretty bitter that a) Madonna was cast in the Evita adaptation instead of her; b) they actually lowered the key to fit Madonna's voice range, and she still had to expand her own to be able to sing the (lowered) score. And trust me, Patti is mad about it to this day.

So of course, she trashed her dressing room, the cast and crew weren't even mad about it because they were as shocked and angered as she was by the news. Patti sued Andrew Lloyd Webber for breach of contract, namely for 1 MILLION DOLLARS (yup, those are the real numbers), won, used the money she got from the lawsuit to get a swimming pool, which she called (and I SHIT YOU NOT) the Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool. Since then, Webber is dead to her, to the point rumor has it she had part of a building blocked during an event so she could get out of it without coming across Webber, because she hates him so flipping much she doesn't even want to be in the same building as the guy.

(There's also drama that happened with Faye Dunaway who was supposed to replace Glenn Close after she went from Los Angeles to Broadway, except they abruptly closed the show down after Close left, but that's a story for another day)

So with all the bad press, and with ALW forced to pay 1 million dollars for Patti's lawsuit, that led Sunset's productions to close earlier than expected. ALW has stayed around since, with... mitigated output, so to say. The lowest point for a lot of people is Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom, which some people love, and that's fine, but it didn't do well with either critics nor fans of the original show, which ALW is EXTREMELY BUTTHURT ABOUT. And like, there are so many stories I could tell about LND alone, but I will share my own crack theory about it, since it does relate to the ask.

Anyway, buckle up.

So. There have been jokes going around for years that the Phantom in LND is basically ALW's self-insert, where he displays to the world that he's totally not over Sarah Brightman leaving him (in part because making Phantom kinda ruined their marriage lmao), despite, you know, having married since. (Aaaaaakward.) So LND basically becomes this really uncomfortable therapy session where a man writes a self-insert musical about how his ex-wife made a big mistake of leaving a sensitive artistic soul such as himself. The characters from Phantom who appear in LND are all more or less unrecognizable as a result, and one who gets it worse (in my humble opinion) is Meg Giry, who was basically Christine's sweet and loyal ballerina friend who basically went into the Phantom's lair on her own to save her friend despite the danger. In LND, she's basically a bitter hag (because ALW hates women, guess Patti was right about that), who really likes the swim and even has a stripping vaudeville number about it, written in universe by the Phantom, no less.

For comparison, here's Don Juan Triumphant (the Phantom's opera in the original):

And here's Bathing Beauty (the vaudeville number):

Yeah, so... do you see why people hate LND already?

And that's not the only thing with Meg! She's also pining for the Phantom to pay attention to her and threatens to drown the Phantom and Christine's secret love child when he makes it clear that he's gonna love Christine for EVA AND EVA.

So, with everything we learned today about ALW, would someone like him view someone like Patti LuPone as some sort of crazy, bitter diva who's obsessed with him for whatever reason? Absolutely. Would he be petty enough to insert Patti LuPone into his self-insert musical, which gave us the version of Meg Giry we got in LND? Of course. Why does Meg love to swim so much and why does she drag Gustave out ostensibly for a swim? Is it a dig at Patti's Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool? Maybe.

I kind of hope we find out one day if that theory is true. And maybe start a kickstarter so Patti can add this painting from the 2004 movie in her collection.

Fun fact: during the process of casting for the 2004 movie adaptation of POTO, ALW allegedly suggested Patti LuPone to play Carlotta... only for Joel Schumacher to have to awkwardly remind him that they were not on speaking terms. The idea was therefore promptly dropped.