#alice cooper imagines

[sysig]

Dance, fucker, dance (Patreon)

[lgorstheme]

ellis being a rock fan is so beautiful to me because i know at least 200 dad rock songs and i can imagine him going apeshit on a horde of zombies to so many of them ahhhh my beautiful mindspace

[softest-butch]

watched imagine me and you as my special birthday favourite film

and now i am desperately rotating the idea of a devil's minion imagine me and you au in my head

[lemongrablothbrok]

So fucking endearing. Singing show tunes. Sweet baby.

I think the mullet is starting to grow on me. Slowly. I still prefer him with the long hair. But he still looks super cute with the mullet.

Sun God being adorable.

His smile gives me pure happiness and comfort.

I also kinda love Mullet Plant 🫣

[neverendingparable]

I was going to say I’ll just kill Alice because there are some AUs where Alice and Bradley grew up together but then I realized the amazing potential of having Alice play woe.begone too.

I’d have to kill one of her brothers - probably Stanley. Fuck. Yeah, Stanley is going to die a few years before she finds out about WBG. It’ll have been her father’s fault (drunk driving maybe)

Alice’s younger brother dies

She blames her father for it

Finds out about woe.begone

Her first challenge is to call her father and leave a voicemail. It goes as expected (really really horribly)

She gets Stanley back

Does everything she can to keep him alive

Thinks she’s in the clear

4th challenge comes around

Suffering™

It breaks her completely

(She chooses strangling, btw)

Works at OVER

She’s going to get Stanley back no matter what

If Bradley & co start a Base (they’ll have a better name) she’d join

[doctorcurdlejr]

Worst mom in riverdale?

INNOCENT MOTHERS

Toni Topaz - Baby Anthony wanted to do all that stuff

Mary Andrews - Not her fault she was having gay sex in the city while her ex husband instilled The Cycles in their son. In fact she wanted Archie with her in Chicago (if memory serves)

FORGIVEN MOTHERS, EXCUSED OF THEIR CRIMES

Gladys Jones - Called Archie and Jughead gay to their faces while wearing leather (Bound 1996 reference)

Hermione Lodge - Became a Real Housewife of New York, bringing joy to thousands if not millions

Alice Cooper - She was literally born on the wrong side of the tracks and then saved an entire plane of people by taking over the controls after the pilot fell ill... So you literally can't hold the manslaughter, aiding, abetting, libel, undercover cult indoctrination, or bad parenting against her she looked HOT while she did it all. Like, CHRIST, can't a woman be IMPERFECT?

Polly Cooper - She had at least ten lobotomies, was the victim of like every crime imaginable, and still managed to build a huge support system for her children. That her kids were attacking classmates with a rock is evidence that she was preparing them to be self sufficient citizens of Riverdale, frankly.

WORST MOTHER, BY ORDER OF ELIMINATION

Penelope Blossom - Unlike other criminal entrepreneurs, such as cloth mother (Hermione Lodge) and wire mother (Gladys Jones), her child was forced to repeatedly put her down like a rabid dog. Then she became a lesbian nun, which is kind of a step down for somebody who used to wear what bordered on full drag to run a brothel. In my opinion.

[gardenschedule]

Beatles defending each other ❤️

In 1965 [the Byrds] toured England and Paul invited us to his club, the Scotch of St James’s [sic]. He sent a limo to pick us up. He said he had been listening to our music. We were blown away. He took us for a ride through London in his Aston Martin, at great speed. He was really hip, he and John were so tight it was like one person at times. Unlike the Byrds, [where] Crosby would just leave you out to dry, the Beatles all defended each other to the hilt. If you criticised, say, George then they would all respond.

Roger McGuinn, in Paul McCartney: Now & Then, Tony Barrow and Robin Bextor

“They’re four very different people who together form a unit that is virtually impregnable. If, for instance, someone should find fault with anything one of them has done, the others rush to his defence. They close their ranks. They’re very close indeed. A lot closer than people think.”

George Martin, Disc and Music Echo (1967)

And actually, we’ve got the image of him all these years about criticising Paul – yeah, he did, but it’s like [when] you criticise your wife. “I can criticise her, but you can’t.” I was there once when some guy was saying that he didn’t think ‘Let It Be’ was such a great record, and he thought John would agree, and he didn’t.

November 10th, 2009: Journalist Ray Connolly

Q: How did Paul react [to “How Do You Sleep”]?

John: I don’t know because I never saw him, but I think he made a comment last year which was pretty spot-on which was ‘whatever I’m saying about him is my problem, or vice versa.’ The only regret I have about it is that it should never have been about Paul because everybody’s so bothered with who’s it about that they missed the track. That’s what bugged me. I’m entitled to call him what I want to, and vice versa. It’s in our family, but if somebody else calls him names I won’t take it. It’s our own business. And anyway, it’s like Dylan said about his stuff when he looked back on it, it was all about him.

Patrick Synder-Scrumpy with Jack Breschard, “Sometime in L.A., Lennon Plays It as It Lays.” Crawdaddy [March 1974]

"When John did 'How Do You Sleep?' I didn't want to get into a slinging match. Part of it was cowardice. John was a great wit, and I didn't want to go fencing with the rapier champion of East Cheam-- But it meant that I had to take shit--It meant that I had to take lines like 'All you ever did was Yesterday.' I always find myself wanting to excuse John's behavior, just because I loved him. It's like a child, sure he was a naughty child, but don't you call my child naughty. Even if it's me he's shitting on, don't you call him naughty. That's how I felt about this and still do. I don't have a grudge whatsoever against John. I think he knew exactly what he was doing, and, because we had been so intimate, he knew what would hurt me and used it to great effect. I thought, 'Keep your head down and time will tell,' and it did because in the 'Imagine' film (Imagine John Lennon, documentary), he says it was really all about himself."

Barry Miles, Many Years From Now, 1997

“Well the deal was, he could say that, but if you said that, if anybody said anything bad about Paul, John’d take a swing at you. He’d say “you can’t talk about Paul like that”, Paul was his best buddy. If you were talking to Paul and you said something derogatory about John, he’d get up and leave. Paul was more of a peaceful guy, but John had that hot head, and he’d say “you wanna talk about Paul? Let’s go”. You weren’t allowed to say anything bad about John or Paul to each one of them because they would defend each other to the nth degree, which I liked, because you could tell they were attached at the hip.

Alice Cooper Live and Uncut on the Kim Mitchell Show

You know, John loved Paul. No doubt about it. I remember once he said to me, “I’m the only person who’s allowed to say things like that about Paul. I don’t like it when other people do.” He didn’t like if other people said nasty things about Paul. And he always referred to Paul as his estranged fiancé and things like that, like he did on that [live] record ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ with Elton in Madison Square Garden. And he knew that his relationship with Paul was very important to him. But you know, like all great friendships, they’d grown apart and married different people and had different lives. He knew what he didn’t like about Paul, but he also knew what he liked about Paul.

1990: Former Beatles publicist Tony King

George didn’t mind slagging Paul off. But he HATED other people doing it.

Tom Petty

When I talk about George, sometimes I feel like I’m making him sound too much like he was a saint. By no means was the man a saint! Over the years with him and John, they could both be really brutal with Paul. I learned very early on that I couldn’t join them. They both on different occasions said, “We can say that, but you shouldn’t.” They were truly brothers who loved taking the piss out of each other, but they didn’t want anybody else doing it.

Jim Keltner on George Harrison

[odilelajolie]

Hunted, Ch. 2: Dream A Little Dream of Me (18+)

Alice misses Cooper. Cooper misses his little girl even more.

Perhaps she should have found it disturbing, just how quickly the mysterious man from Tuesday night seemed to consume her thoughts at every level of consciousness, from the hyperactive peaks of wakefulness all the way down to the quietest depths of slumber. 

Call me Cooper.

He’d spent barely an hour at the diner, and yet he was all Alice could think about when she returned home to her tiny apartment well after midnight—giggling. And twirling. When she finally settled down enough to sleep after a long shower, she’d dreamt about him in a series of innocent, nonlinear fancies, all involving shamelessly basking in Cooper’s undivided attention. To be looked at by Cooper, to be talked to by Cooper—to have Cooper smile at her—was the kind of benevolent, life-affirming regard so bright and balmy it was like he was the sun beaming down on her bare skin. He was a knight in truly shining armor, rescuing her from the cold darkness of the lonely shadows she called home.   

Alice couldn’t wait until she saw him again. 

Excellent recommendation, sweetheart—

She replayed their short dialogue on a near endless loop as she ran errands the following day, blushing each time she returned to the moment he called her sweetheart. His deep, stimulating voice reverberated in her ears so powerfully she actually shivered in pleasure, right in the middle of the check-out line at the grocery store. 

Alice was in such a good mood daydreaming about Cooper that she barely even noticed the hushed whispers of what the hell is wrong with her now? and looks like crazy girl is about to have another nervous fucking breakdown.

There were so many things she wished she’d asked him, and Alice promised herself that the next time he came into the diner, she would be brave and get to know him a bit better. Maybe she’d even personally treat him to his next meal as a thank-you. He’d left her a thirty-dollar tip on his twenty-dollar tab, and while Alice appreciated his generosity, she wanted to prove to him that his attention was infinitely more meaningful to her than his money. 

But Wednesday came and went, followed by Thursday, with absolutely no sign of the captivating newcomer. He was nowhere to be seen around town, nor did he make any appearances at the diner. Alice waited on her tables like she always did—docile and silent, while pretending she was invisible—and as she gazed longingly at the door during those slow hours of emptiness before closing, she began to question if she ever would see him again.

By Friday night, Alice was anxious.

By Saturday night, Alice was crushed. 

As she dejectedly restocked the beverage station next to the bar just after eleven, all hope of seeing Cooper walking through the door officially lost, Alice was forced to accept the strong possibility that she’d let her overactive imagination get carried away.

She was crazy, after all. And the whole town knew it.

Cooper was just a friendly tourist passing through, likely a hiker on his way to the nearby national forest given his obvious athleticism, and Alice had unhealthily clung to the idea of him out of sheer desperation for someone—anyone—to acknowledge her existence as more than just the town lunatic. A man as handsome and kind as Cooper probably even had a family waiting for him in one of the big cities, like Boston or New York or Philadelphia. He probably had a beautiful, perfect wife and beautiful, perfect children, and a myriad of beautiful, perfect friends.

One thing was certain—their short interaction had meant far more to Alice than it had meant to Cooper. 

He’d likely already forgotten all about her the second he walked out the door on Tuesday—

“Why do you look like you’re about to cry, sweetheart?”

Startled by the intrusion, Alice jumped several feet back with a high shriek, but her heart rate instantly began to settle when her eyes finally landed on the very object of her inapt hopefulness. 

“Hey…easy there, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Cooper intoned tenderly, slowly raising his huge hands as if attempting to calm an untamed, fearful mare. Gesturing to his broad torso, he added, “I was just here the other night. Cooper. Don’t you remember me? I ordered the deluxe cheeseburger you recommended…”

For several seconds, Alice was paralyzed from her vocal box all the way to her feet, the gears in her mind stuck somewhere between humiliation and delight. But soon, her joy and relief at seeing Cooper again obliterated her sense of embarrassment—even her sense of shame—and it wasn’t long before she was grinning and nodding like a bobblehead.

“Of c-course I remember you!” Alice squeaked, dizzy with happiness. She was so excited she couldn’t remain still, her entire body vibrating as she reflexively shifted her weight onto her toes, down, and up again, almost as if she were back in a pair of pointe shoes. “H-Hi! You’re…you’re back!”

“Well I couldn’t stay away from my new favorite restaurant.” Cooper took a few languid steps closer and leaned against the bar counter. “Or my new favorite waitress.”

He winked at her, and Alice giggled, blushing so intensely she grew even more lightheaded from the sudden rush of blood circulating through her cheeks.  

“I bet you say that to everyone who serves you,” Alice remarked sheepishly. Cooper shook his head, his dark gaze unblinking. “Just you, sweet girl.”

Alice’s heart fluttered.

She liked hearing him call her sweet girl even more than when he called her sweetheart.

“Am I too late to grab a bite?” Cooper prompted when Alice once more forgot her words, not to mention her job—too dazzled by the sight of him. “I tried to get here sooner, but work kind of got away from me.”

Alice moistened her lips and wiped her palms on her apron. “Absolutely—you can have any table you’d like!”

“Can I sit right here?” Cooper asked, already deftly easing his large body onto the nearest bar chair. “I know you can’t go behind the bar, but clearly you’re allowed to be next to it.”

Alice darted to the host stand for a menu and presented it to Cooper, and reached into her pocket for her notepad and pen. “Here is perfect. Do you know what you’d like to dri—”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You were just on the verge of tears,” Cooper clarified. “I called out to you when I walked in, but I don’t think you heard me. Is everything okay?”

Something…flickered in his impossibly dark eyes, like a shooting star reflecting upon still nighttime water.

Or perhaps a strike of lightning. 

“I…umm…”

“You can tell me, Alice,” he murmured lowly. “You can tell me anything.”

Alice nervously shifted from side to side, but was spurred into action by his gentle words. His warmth. 

“Umm…you’re going to think it’s stupid. Or crazy, probably—”

“Tell me.”

Before she could cower and hide in a last ditch attempt to preserve what little remained of her dignity, Cooper softly placed his hand on her chin, keeping her gaze focused on him in a gentle snare.

There was nowhere for her to escape. 

“Tell me why you were about to cry.”

His voice, rich and dark and velvety smooth, seemed to settle over her body like a hypnotic, drugging her into suggestion with ease. Cooper was simply irresistible, and Alice found herself confessing the humiliating truth before she could even think to stop herself. 

“I really missed you,” she whispered meekly. “People…people around here don’t like me very much—they think I’m…they think I’m…umm…weird—and you…you were so nice, and you talked to me…nobody talks to me, and…I was really hoping to see you again, but then you didn’t come back, and I wasn’t sure…oh God, what have I done…”

Alice took several slow steps backward, horrified with herself. 

She sounded just as crazy as everyone said she was. More than crazy.

She sounded obsessed. 

Cooper stared at her in silence, an inscrutable expression on his face. Alice rocked onto her heels, clutching her notepad for dear life as she anxiously waited for him to storm off and leave. 

Or, perhaps even call the police. 

Instead, he extended his long arm on a slow exhale and plucked her notepad and pen right out of her sweaty palm, and Alice’s jaw fell open as he rapidly wrote something onto the pad, and returned it to her.

“What…what is this?” Alice asked, dumbly. 

“That’s my cell phone number,” Cooper answered with a smile before Alice could even process the meaning of the ten orderly digits in front of her. “So if you miss me, if you want to see me, or even if you just want to talk—all you have to do is tell me…and I’ll be right there for you, sweet girl.”

It was far easier tonight to persuade his sweet little Alice to abandon her side work entirely, and focus entirely on him. By keeping his distance this week after giving her a small taste of the attention she so desperately craved—thereby provoking the tender girl’s pronounced fear of abandonment—he’d succeeded in breaking down what minimal defenses she had left for protecting herself.

Her loneliness made her anxious, her anxiousness made her needy, and her neediness made her pliable—complete putty in his hands. 

He wasn’t looking forward to repeating the behavior—he truly didn’t want his little girl to ever question just how much she meant to him—but it was a necessary manipulation, at least for now, to secure her devotion long-term. 

Cooper needed to make an addict out of Alice, to make his pretty little girl depend on her Daddy just as much as he already depended on her—his sweet little narcotic. To guarantee Alice’s lasting attachment, he had to expose the innocent girl to what she wanted most, and then take it away, before giving it back to her in constant, progressively stronger doses until she was so blissed out on his love and adoration she’d never even think about looking elsewhere for her needs. 

With her natural sweetness and excitability, Alice’s little side was undeniable, though the exact developmental stage she regressed to was a bit more difficult to determine. Regardless, Alice was a very…young eighteen, her highest education a GED, her worldliness limited to the  boundaries of this forgotten New England town inhabited by only a few thousand people.

Soon, he would be her entire world—

“I had to make this myself—Ted is already closing down the kitchen, but I’ve made this before, I promise—all of the ingredients and portions are written down,” Alice said in a timid rush as she shakily placed his dinner order on the bar counter. “I really hope you like it.”

Alice’s laughable attempt at preparing a harvest salad was almost as unappetizing as the cheeseburger he’d ordered on Tuesday—and Cooper already had the low-bar bias of not only being a former fireman, but also a fugitive, more than accustomed to eating cheap garbage when pressed for time and circumstance. But his little girl had clearly tried so hard to make his dinner tonight, putting her best effort in a role that was unfamiliar to her, and Cooper would not crush her spirit with criticism. 

He’d denied her—and himself, really—affection all week, which meant tonight was not a night for withholding. 

Cooper would give his little girl all of the praise she craved, until they were both satisfied. 

“Oh, this looks delicious, Alice,” Cooper complimented with enthusiasm. “And is that…wow! You added tri-tip, too? What a treat.”

The meat was much closer to well-done than Cooper would have preferred, but it looked edible enough. 

“It normally comes with grilled chicken breast, but I thought you might enjoy the beef upgrade,” Alice replied brightly. “Since you’re…umm…you’re so…umm…so…”

Alice’s shyness, combined with her complete lack of a filter, was one of the most adorable things about her. When she felt comfortable enough to actually use her cute honeyed voice, his little girl said exactly what was on her mind. 

“Since I’m what?” Cooper asked innocently. He could easily deduce just where her thoughts were headed, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

Alice chewed her lower lip, her long eyelashes fluttering. “Since you’re…so…muscular. Big muscles like yours need lots of protein, right?”

It was the first outright commentary she’d made about his appearance, though he’d certainly followed the direction of her girlish gaze on his body when she thought she was being discreet. Alice may have been profoundly inexperienced, but she still had the hormones of an eighteen-year-old girl, which meant her nubile body was craving sex—whether she realized it or not. 

Alice’s eyes widened and appeared slightly glassy as her gaze briefly slipped below his neck—was she looking at his pecs?—pupils dilating like a wobbly kitten on her first hunt. 

Good girl. 

Always keep those pretty eyes on Daddy—

“Well not just the protein—I need the veggies too,” Cooper said on a chuckle, startling the adorably distracted little girl. “It takes a lot more effort to stay fit at my age. My metabolism isn’t quite what it used to be.”

Cooper had been well aware of his physical appeal ever since he hit puberty, and had diligently maintained it ever since due to the fallacy of human nature to associate attractiveness with trustworthiness. Or even more laughably, safety. He may have been a monster, but that wasn’t what people saw when they looked at him. Instead, they saw height. A strong build. A symmetrical face.

And while Cooper was personally ambivalent about his looks, he fully intended to use any and every physical advantage in his arsenal in order to seduce Alice. She was already highly affected by him, her body language and nonverbal cues revealing far more than her words.

He was willing to bet that he could drop his voice, call her a good girl, and tell her to take off her panties and hop up on the counter so that he could bury his tongue in her sweet little cunt for dessert, and his timid little Alice would immediately obey. 

Whether she truly wanted to or not.

“Umm…I was wondering…how old are you?” Alice asked as he speared a large serving of  mixed greens, sweet potato, apple, and beef onto his fork. He took the bite and was relieved to find the salad tasted much better than it looked, but what he truly savored was the way Alice squirmed as she visibly second-guessed her question, wondering if she’d offended him.

Cooper swallowed and smiled. 

He’d give her the truth for this one.“Forty-six.”

Alice didn’t react in any significant way—no surprise or revulsion—confirming that whatever guess she may have been harboring must have been fairly close to his actual age. 

She already knew he had decades over her. Knew he was old enough to be her father.

And she was unbothered. 

“And do you…umm—if it’s okay to ask—do you…are you married? Do you have a family?”

Cooper had been anticipating this question, and had long rehearsed his response. 

With muted affectation, he lowered his head and paused all movements, his fork hovering above the salad in static suspension as he assumed a faraway look. 

He needed to appear somber.

He could see Alice fidgeting in his peripherals, her panic over his sudden despondency growing more overt by the moment, so he held the pose a few seconds longer before putting her out of her misery. 

“I’m a widower,” Cooper answered quietly. “And…I’m no longer a father.” Alice gasped, her delicate face softening with sympathy. “My family…they were in a car accident several years ago.”

“Oh, Cooper, I—I’m so sorry.” Alice placed her tiny hand on his shoulder, and Cooper had to tighten his jaw to keep himself from grabbing her and pulling her into his lap—right where she belonged. “I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better, but please know…I’m…I’m so sorry…”

Cooper turned towards her while slowly covering her hand on his shoulder with his grasp, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. The way her small fingers completely disappeared beneath his palm.

How easy it would be to gather both of her hands in just one of his, bruising her fragile little wrists as he pinned her down and fucked her hard from behind—

“…and I know we don’t know each other very well, but…is there…is there anything you need?” Alice asked, her delicate voice practically bleeding compassion. “Anything I can do to for you?”

You can spread your legs and let Daddy inside your pussy, baby girl—

Cooper cleared his throat and took a sip of iced tea to cool off. “That’s very kind of you to offer, but you’re already doing plenty—just by being yourself. I’m new here, and I don’t really know anyone…honestly, you’ve been the highlight of my entire week.”

Alice gazed up at him with hopeful eyes.“R-really?”

Such a needy baby girl—

“Really,” Cooper affirmed. “Thank you, Alice. For your sympathy. And for your company. It means a lot to a lonely old man like me.”

He gave her hand a final longing squeeze before continuing to eat his dinner, and the two fell into a companionable silence, sharing secret smiles every time they made eye contact. 

“So…you said you’re new here,” the girl mentioned tentatively as she refilled his glass once he’d emptied his plate. “Does that mean…you’re here to…to stay?”

Cooper carefully wiped the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin before responding. He was pleased that she was continuing to ask personal questions. Not only did it mean she was curious, but it also meant she was getting comfortable around him. 

Familiar. 

“I am,” Cooper confirmed. “After…everything…I thought it was about time for a change of scenery. Some peace and quiet. I recently closed on a nice forest property about thirty minutes north of here.”

“That sounds wonderful—congratulations on your new home!” Alice chirped. “Are you already all moved in?”

“I still have a few dozen boxes to unpack, but yeah,” Cooper replied. “I get to those in-between work calls as best as I can.”

“What do you do for work?” Alice asked. 

This was the part of the narrative Cooper had needed to embellish the most. Alice was painfully gullible—but she wasn’t stupid. Anyone would be suspicious of the luxury SUV he was driving and six-bedroom home he was currently living in if he said he was a former firefighter. 

“I was an emergency physician in Boston,” Cooper answered. 

It was a logical fake job—he possessed a well-above average understanding of the human body. 

Particularly the human body under trauma.

Cooper continued, “But now, I work part-time from home with a small network of private hospitals and concierge practices providing telehealth services for patients with non-emergency medical needs.”

Alice’s eyes widened, but not with the wonderment he was anticipating. He’d expected her to be impressed by his story, but strangely, Alice seemed more and more nervous by the moment. 

“Wow—so you must be…you must be super smart,” she eventually said in a small voice.

It dawned on him that his fake credentials likely made Alice feel insecure about her own limited education, so Cooper shook his head and released a self-deprecating laugh to put her at ease. “When it comes to medicine, sure. But that’s about it. I’m a simple man, really. I couldn’t help you if you were to ask me about something like…oh, I don’t know…” Cooper paused for a few moments and brought his hand to his chin, feigning consideration. “Literature. Art. Classical music.”

Alice immediately perked up—just as he knew she would—that irresistible, girlishly cheerful gleam restored in her eyes. “Oh, I could tell you all about those! Especially classical music!” 

Of course, Cooper had already learned within days of seeing her for the first time that these were Alice’s areas of interest and strength. 

She was an avid reader, visiting the local library every Wednesday at ten a.m. to check out books before she did her grocery shopping, defaulting most often to 19th and early 20th-century British literature. Currently, she was reading Northanger Abbey, though her favorite book of all time was The Hobbit. She typically finished a chapter each day a few hours before her evening shift at the diner, when she’d arrange a little tea party for herself in her apartment.  

She was also an amateur artist, and brought a sketchbook and colored pencils to the lakefront park every Sunday at noon to draw wildlife. For the last several weeks, she’d been working on a drawing of a family of white-tailed deer. It was clear she had no formal art instruction, but Cooper found her whimsical doodles to be endearing. 

He couldn’t wait to cover the walls of his new home—their home—with pictures she made especially for Daddy.

But the area where his little girl held true mastery was with classical music, and the elite form of athletic art that came with it.

Alice was a ballerina. 

“Well I look forward to learning all that I can from you,” Cooper replied sincerely. “Do you play an instrument?”

Alice shook her head, cheeks reddening. “Well, no…but I studied ballet pretty seriously from when I was three up until a couple of years ago. Learning about classical music kind of comes with it.”

“Now that is what I call impressive,” Cooper praised. “What’s your favorite ballet?”

Alice was on the verge of bouncing up and down, the girl was so clearly excited to talk about her favorite thing. “Well it’s definitely a three-way tie between—”

“I’m going home,” a new voice suddenly announced, and Cooper’s spine stiffened, all of his senses electrified to high alert. 

Always in the habit of constantly surveying his surroundings, it was a very rare occurrence when Cooper was unable to detect the arrival of a new person. And when it did happen, it…unnerved him.

The fry cook who had snuck up on them like a ghost was probably fifteen or twenty years older than Cooper was, tall with a gangly build, though there was a haggard weariness lining his gray face that made him appear much older. The man stepped fully into the fluorescents, and Cooper noticed that about a third of his face was violently scarred from a poorly-healed chemical burn. He also had a collection of dog tags around his neck. 

This man was ex-military.

“It’s okay, Ted, I can lock up,” Alice said timidly to the new arrival, but the cook shook his head. “I have it handled—”

“I lock up,” the man called Ted interrupted gruffly. “Take his plates to the dishwasher. Tell him the diner is closed.”

Alice offered Cooper an apologetic smile before completing her duties as she’d been instructed, briefly disappearing in the kitchens with Ted, who Cooper found himself hating more and more by the moment.

The ways he could dismember and mutilate the intrusive fuck who dared to interrupt his time with his little girl—

“Sorry about that,” Alice said breathlessly when she finally emerged. She’d let her lovely hair down—pretty, pretty girl—and was tying an oversized coat around her tiny waist. “Do you think you might want to come back soon—”

“Don’t I have a bill to pay?”

Alice shook her head with a self-satisfied smile as she reached for a spray bottle and towel, giving a final wipe-down to the countertop where Cooper had been dining. “Tonight’s on me. Your tip last time was way too generous.”

Cooper gritted his teeth and balled his fists in an effort to suppress the spark of rage her little stunt instigated. He reminded himself that Alice wasn’t insulting him on purpose—he highly doubted she possessed a single brat bone within her small body. She didn’t know she’d broken one of his rules, because she didn’t know his rules yet.

As much as he wanted to bend her over his knee, tear off her panties, and beat her ass so hard she wouldn’t be able to sit for weeks without crying in pain, he couldn’t punish her for not yet knowing that Daddy always paid for all expenses. But soon, Alice would learn that it was Daddy’s job to take care of her, and a sweet little girl like her never needed to worry about big things like money, no matter the amount.

“Thank you, Alice,” Cooper forced himself to say. 

He shrugged into his jacket and followed her out of the restaurant, standing patiently with his hands in his pockets as Alice demurely fidgeted beneath his gaze.

“I…umm…I guess I’d better head home,” Alice announced with apparent reluctance. “My apartment’s just a quick walk that way.”

“Would you like a ride?” Cooper offered. Her apartment really wasn’t far, but Cooper was highly uncomfortable with her walking alone at night. 

It was why he’d been following her on nearly all of her walks since he’d first laid eyes on her, to make sure she always stayed safe.

“I’ll be okay—thank you, Cooper,” Alice twinkled sweetly. “And…I really, really hope to see you again soon.”

They said their goodbyes, and Cooper waited an appropriate amount of time before climbing into his car and picking up Alice’s trail. He followed her unseen as she walked down Main Street, and then turned onto Briar Lane to the dilapidated walk-up at the end of the otherwise deserted road. Killing the headlights, Cooper carefully maneuvered the car off-road, parking behind the dense collection of trees with a direct view of Alice’s third-floor bedroom window.

His heart rate jumpstarted when, right on schedule, her bedroom lights came on exactly four minutes later, and Alice finally stepped into the frame. 

Cooper was pleased to see that Alice was back to dreamily twirling around on her toes and smiling. Seeing her Daddy again had clearly put his little girl back in her happy mood. 

And Cooper wanted nothing more than to preserve her happiness and innocence, to keep her safely locked up in that bubble of bliss and pleasure forever.

Nothing and no one would ever harm her ever again—so long as she remained under Daddy’s protection.

He watched with interest as Alice reached into her antique dresser to select her pajamas for the night. During the spring and summer months when the weather was warmer, Alice had most often slept in nothing more than a tank top with a cheeky pair of panties. Cooper had certainly enjoyed the sight of her tight body in such skimpy items, but now that winter was fast approaching and the temperatures were plummeting by the hour, he found he also appreciated Alice’s preference for oversized fleece sets with whimsical patterns. Tonight, she picked a baby blue set patterned with ice cream cones and cupcakes. 

She couldn’t be more adorable.

Alice disappeared into her bathroom for her nighttime shower, so Cooper took this interruption in his surveillance of his little girl to check in on his surveillance at home. He pulled out his phone and opened the app for the security system, swiping through various camera feeds until he landed on the basement of the guest house. 

His captive had barely moved an inch from the position he’d been in when Cooper had last checked the feed, slumped against a far corner of the largely barren room. Granted, the shackles around his ankles and duct-tape binding his wrists prohibited extensive movement—and yes, he was blindfolded—but the man could still easily sniff and fumble his way to the water dish and food bowl Cooper had left for him on the floor the night before. 

But apparently, the man had decided to conduct yet another hunger strike, for the food remained untouched. 

Cooper pressed the microphone button. “We’ve been over this, buddy. Either you eat on your own, or I’ll force you to eat. What’s it gonna be?”

It had been several weeks since Cooper had shoved a feeding tube down the man’s throat, and while he wasn’t particularly squeamish about the act itself, the subsequent clean-up was a rather inconvenient hassle. 

The man slowly raised his head, orienting himself in the general direction of the camera and speaker. “Fuck you, you goddamn psychopath.”

Cooper softly chuckled and closed out of the app, and was pleasantly surprised to find a new text message waiting for him.

Cooper glanced up at Alice’s window, and was instantly taken aback by how breathtaking his little girl was. Her years of ballet training were far more obvious now as she sat wrapped in a towel at the edge of her bed with her toned legs crossed, her posture perfect and elegant from her slender neck all the way down to her lower back.

She was…jumpy as she waited on his reply, chewing her lower lip in anticipation as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, looking between her phone and the direction of her bathroom and back again. He could tell she was debating whether or not to go ahead and take her shower, but his sweet girl was simply too excited to see if he would reply. 

Cooper waited for a few more minutes—just let Daddy look at you, sweetheart—but when it became obvious her anxiety was beginning to climb, her brow furrowing with worry, Cooper quickly typed a response and hit send.

[yaoyaobae]

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for following me, its my first time sharing about my twst ocs so I’ll give it a shot ✊

Warning: Hallucinations 🙇‍♀️

Alison Wondre

School: Royal Sword Academy

Favourite food: Cookies

Pastime: Reading children’s books, Daydreaming

Family: Mother, Father, Older sister

Role: Head of Alice/Wonderland dorm

Alison is a second year student at RSA and dorm head. Unlike Riddle who upholds rules, Alison is the polar opposite of him in every way.

Alison adopts a carefree and playful attitude, he enjoys teasing uptight people until they blow (like Riddle).

He tends to mention strange things like how he saw some singing flowers the other day or his craving to take a bite out of a bread-and-butter-fly. From the way he dresses to his wild, childish imagination its no surprise that many students believe he’s gone mad. But it is agreeably fitting for someone who is head of the Alice/Wonderland dorm.

Backstory:

Alison has an older sister whom he adores greatly and spends most of his time with. When he was a young boy, he didn’t listen to his sister’s heeding to not stray off from the path and ended up falling into a deep hole in a forest. He slowly started hallucinating monsters and cried himself to sleep, wishing he had listened to his sister. Thankfully, the authorities found him a few days later and he was sent to a hospital.

However, it was clear that Alison became an entirely different person after the incident. He began telling his sister stories about funny creatures he had met during his “adventure” which was rather worrying to her. While Alison was in the hospital for a few months,he picked up several children’s picture books which he still brings around with him in school till this day. As he grew older his imagination became wilder as he forgets the fine line between reality and his “wonderland”. He takes afternoon naps to “meet his friends”. Its a given rule to never wake him up.

Of course despite his eccentric character, Alison is still a caring and reliable leader when he needs to be(just that he conveys it in his own ways). He will not hesitate to listen to a fellow dorm mate’s worries and give vague advice, hoping they can figure out the riddle. He encourages them to “stay curiouser and curiouser” as life becomes a little more colourful that way when you experience new things. When it comes to thinking out of the box, no one can beat Alison to it.

Relationships

Riddle

Alison finds joy in teasing serious individuals, namely Riddle, until they throw a tantrum. He doesn’t mind getting the magic collar so as long as he can poke fun at the red haired queen. In serious situation, Alison would cooperate with Riddle and provide creative solutions.

If both of them share a similarity, it would be the fear of being held back and stuck in a dark place alone. Like Riddle who grew up having to follow his mother’s rules and forbidden to see his friends, Alison can somewhat share the same pain as he is still afraid of not waking up and/or seeing his sister again because of his ignorance in the past.

Chenya

Alison is generally carefree around others, but when it comes to this cunning cheshire cat he will not waste a single second to curse him. Many students find it strange how two eccentrics from the same dorm can never get along. Alison finds Chenya a nuisance who disrupts his afternoon naps, often pestering him. In addition, Chenya always gives Alison close-to-useless advice even when the latter didn’t ask for any. Guess its like a taste of his own medicine 😂

While the two do not get along, they are always seen together in school bickering nonsense. Sometimes Chenya would purposely wake Alison up from his nap to share about the strawberry tart he stole from his two childhood friends, the sleepy blonde would just doze off back to dreamland while nodding his head.

End

Well, I think that is all I can share about Alison! I hope you will like him too, thank you to those who have loved him since the beginning!! Talking about my children is fun ☺️

Until next time!

[silverzoomies]

hello !!! i was just wondering if you think there are any other bands peter would like besides nirvana, pink floyd, and rush ?? he gives me classic rock (& just rock in general) vibes tbh !!

anon you just opened up a can of worms !!

i once did extensive research into this. way more than anyone should for a character way past his relevance. and i'm still discovering new tunes i think he'd be into all the time !! i'll try not make this long winded (it will be). but for now...

🎶👾 peter maximoff's (potential) favorite tunes 👾🎶

we already know pink floyd, rush, and nirvana are included. they're shown through the shirts he wears !!

rush is a major one. because unlike the other two, apocalypse era peter has rush all around him !! the rush posters in his basement. the leg cast with "i luv rush." it's safe to say he's kind of a rush fanboy (and he's so real for that because rush is rad as hell).

i have a list of bands/artists i can confirm he canonically likes, as they've been referenced before. whether it be through background clues (posters, background music, etc), or because they were explicitly mentioned by people involved in making the films.

🎶 yardbirds 🎶 the doors 🎶 led zeppelin 🎶 buffalo springfield 🎶 alice cooper 🎶 jim croce 🎶 neil diamond

and while we know he listens to eurythmics (sweet dreams), i don't necessarily include them as a band. just because i personally feel this has less to do with the artist, and more about whatever was mainstream in 1983 (but you can choose to include them if you want !! after all, people mostly listened to whole albums back then).

peter definitely enjoys rock overall. but he doesn't seem averse to mainstream pop either. so we can probably assume he'll listen to anything, as long as it's catchy !!

here's some bands/artists we can assume he likes based on what we already know:

🎶 jimi hendrix 🎶 cream 🎶 the beatles 🎶 fleetwood mac 🎶 queen 🎶 david bowie 🎶 tom petty 🎶 ac/dc 🎶 bon jovi 🎶 journey 🎶 guns n roses 🎶 the eagles 🎶 joan jett & the blackhearts 🎶 deff leppard 🎶 tears for fears 🎶 michael jackson

and if there's some other classics i missed (from the 60's/70's/80's) you think he might like - please feel free to drop me an ask !! i'd love to add more to the list !!

lastly, i'm gonna drop some bands/artists i personally like to think he might listen to. mostly because it's fun to imagine so:

🎶 iggy pop 🎶 bee gees 🎶 thin lizzy 🎶 toto 🎶 a flock of seagulls 🎶 elton john 🎶 u2 🎶 redbone 🎶 madonna (i 100% believe it, you can't convince me otherwise) 🎶 pearl jam 🎶 radiohead 🎶 red hot chili peppers 🎶 green day 🎶 my chemical romance 🎶 beastie boys 🎶 smash mouth 🎶 nickelback (fight me, i dare you)

if you're looking for any specific songs, there's a really awesome playlist i listen to religiously. chai_vibes's "songs peter maximoff would unironically listen to" is so peak !! and i'll go ahead and drop my own peter maximoff playlist too, just because i worked really hard on it !! lol

happy listening !! thanks for hearin' me out !!

[victusinveritas]

Hollywood's quirkiest friendship blossomed between Groucho Marx and Alice Cooper, an unlikely pair who met during a Frank Sinatra birthday bash while performing "Lydia the Tattooed Lady." Their bond solidified in Beverly Hills, where Groucho’s insomnia led to midnight rendezvous with Cooper.

Cooper recalls the late-night hangouts with a grin:

“He had a chair next to his bed with a six-pack of Budweiser, and we’d sit and watch old movies. After about two films, I’d glance over and find him in his beret, cigar in hand, fast asleep. I'd put out his cigar, turn off the lights, and head home. The next night, same routine: ‘Hey Coop, can’t sleep, come on over.’”

Groucho wasn’t just a late-night buddy; he was a showbiz icon who’d bring his friends—like George Burns, Jack Benny, and Mae West—to Cooper’s concerts. Imagine ballet dancers dressed as skeletons spotting Fred Astaire in the wings!

It was Groucho who dubbed Alice’s horror-comedy performances “vaudeville,” a label Cooper embraced wholeheartedly.

“Before that, people called it ‘shock rock’ or ‘glam rock,’” Cooper said. “When Groucho called it ‘vaudeville,’ I thought, ‘Exactly! That’s it!’”

[skyfallscotland]

You should all be grateful (or truly disappointed) I'm not working on Amazon's Empyrean series, because if I were...the song choices 😭

Like, imagine the mountain coming down on Jack's dumb ass and this playing in the background like "you've been—THUNDERSTRUCK YEAH YEAH YEAH THUNDERSTRUCK" And the fade out as Vi tumbles off Tairn and vomits? Art.

And like Iron Flame? Don't even start me, Vi's flying outta that quadrant with her little riot like SCHOOOOL'S OUT FOR SUMMER, SCHOOL'S OUT FOR EVER

Hey, if anyone knows someone at Amazon I'm available for a free consult anytime 👌🏻

[aspartame-parent]

Random X-Men Headcanons!

Me and my friend have compiled a lot of headcanons for the X-Men (mainly formulated from jokes) so I wanted to put some here! A few of these are headcanons, most are jokes lol

Kurt listens to really peppy music when he's upset, the main one being the Beach Boys. Just imagine him, poor little German boy, singing Surfin' USA tiredly, trying to turn his mood around.

Erik listens to girly pop music, mainly Katy Perry and Ke$ha. Why? Because it's funny. Let him be girly pop.

Scott tells a lot of jokes but he's deadpan so people can never really tell. Like sometimes he'll just say some insane shit, plain faced, and see how the others react.

Dancing headcanons! Remy is a very good dancer, being particularly prolific in swing dancing. Logan somewhat refuses to dance, but he can line dance. Morph doesn't know how to dance, but they act like they can, dancing like a drunk white girl. Scott and Jean like to dance in private, but Scott gets nervous to dance in front of others. Ororo can bust that shit down.

Scott tries not to laugh when he, or someone else, is doing a bit. Like he tries not to break as he jokes along, to the point where he has to stop talking to not smile, biting inside of his mouth.

Furthermore! He also has a loud laugh, and people get a little caught off guard when they hear it. Me and my friend have described his laugh as a goose honk sound.

Kurt gaslights for fun, and he can get everybody pretty good, except Scott and Jean. You may think "oh because Jean's a telepath, right?" No, because--

Scott and Jean gaslight each other for fun, and they formulate these fake, big arguments, just as a bit. So, they're very familiar with gaslighting tactics, being they lie to each other as a joke, so when Kurt tries to, they immediately meet him-- A little too well, because Kurt is used to just messing with people.

Scott will occasionally freak people out by lowering his glasses (keeping his eyes closed of course). Like someone says "Hey, take a look at that." and he'll lower his glasses and go "Where?!" as a joke.

Everyone loves Kurt. Like, everyone. If Kurt doesn't like someone, everyone has a distaste for them as well.

Jean refers to her own psychic abilities as her "Jedi Mind Tricks"

This one isn't really a headcanon, just a running gag me and my friend do, but something bad will happen, or something inconvenient, and Remy will go "Don't worry.", insistently. Like a loud explosion can go off, and Remy will just say "Don't Worry." Occasionally this will be lengthened to "Don't what? Worry!"

We don't call Leech by his name. We call him Gneep Gnorp. That's it.

Kurt and Remy are super close (as pseudo brother in laws) and they hang out a lot, also doing that guy thing where they flirt with each other as a joke.

No one likes Emma. That's it.

Scott is autistic.

Warren is well manicured. He always has his hair just as he likes it, his wings always preened, his clothes always ironed. He'll a snazzy lookin' fella.

Rogue is a great singer. This barely a headcanon, her voice actress literally put out a song "Mojo Man (Ode to Remy LeBeau)", go listen to it.

Kurt's very coy and playful. Like, "Staaahhppp, hehe!" He also laughs at his own jokes all the time, like he cracks himself up.

Music headcanons! Here's just a few of the ones we made-- Scott likes dad rock obviously, mainly soft rock and folk rock (The Beatles, Hall & Oates, The Beach Boys, CSNY), Logan likes harder rock (Metallica, Alice Cooper, Motley Crue, Iron Maiden), Morph likes new wave and glam rock (Oingo Boingo, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Tears For Fears), Remy likes a fun mix of jazz, country, and soul, with a little rock sprinkled in (Johnny Cash, Ray Charles, Billie Holiday, Queen), Jubilee likes a lot of pop, pop-rock, that sorta thing (Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, ABBA, Wham!)

Kurt has a lil hyperfixation on pirates and ships-- this is kinda canon in the comics. But he loves talking about pirate history and ships and misconceptions.

I'm sure there's a bunch of ones I can't remember but there ya go lol

thanks to @the-death-defying-night-crawler for being funny and making these with me lol

[tyrs-right-hand]

Alice has watched someone die. Alice’s parents died while she was dating Sam in uni. Alice likely watched her parents die. But who, or what, killed them?

I was thinking - what if they were killed by an OIAR external? I highly doubt the OIAR ordered a hit on them, but the externals (like Lady Mowbray) are still just going out and killing on their own agenda. Imagine Alice finding out that the office she has worked in for so long (as well as Lena and Gwen!!) have been working in direct cooperation with the monster that killed her parents. Peak workplace drama

[hairscare]

one of the things i have super mixed feelings on about my job is the playlist. at a spirit halloween youd think itd be all spooky gothy music but apparently the normie who made it doesnt know a lot of spooky songs bc its like 35% spooky halloween music and 65% pop songs. so much imagine dragons. but then even some of the spooky songs arent even spooky. like tell me why Feed My Frankenstein by Alice Cooper was playing, which, if you look at the lyrics, is about eating someone out. barely even commits to any spooky imagery. the frankenstein is his dick spirit. the frankenstein is his dick.

[devilslamb]

I want to know if Dale decided to hire an assistant, besides Ruth, one who was actually on a payroll and would just help him make the dolls, what would their first day of working for him look like? I want to know how that man would welcome someone completely new to his Satan cave.

ouuu, this would be so interesting. hmmm,, id imagine him probably getting ruth to put in ads in the paper, waiting for someone to call the house number. waiting by the phone all day when he hasn't anything to do (and lets be honest, he doesn't do much other than make dolls now that ruth is his accomplice LOL)

i think it'd be pretty uneventful just because i think dale is dutiful, no shenanigans on the job type of guy, especially with such gruesome work.

their first day... slinking into a crowded house and down into the basement isnt at all what they expected when they called in for the ad. the stairs are steep, and the basement is so cluttered yet so.. organized? it's quite odd how the room is so put together yet so clunky with books and blankets and handmade quilts.

he makes his presence known by giving a high pitched "oh!" you know how. he's suddenly behind you with his hands politely crossed in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers. probably scaring the shit out of you. he doesnt really introduce himself. rather, he tells you to sit down at the bench so you can get started

most of the work is in making the dolls, so you'd be sharing the workload with him, if you're quick to learn

dale is a very hands-on teacher. not in that way, either. i dont think he's a man of many words, so trying to explain stuff would be so frustrating for him when he could just show you how to do it

you're seated at his work bench and he's so uncomfortably close behind you, shoulders practically caging you in between him and the bench. you can smell him, he's so close.

hes watching you carefully, raggedy breaths in your ear. it's so uncomfortable and tense for no reason. like something bad is about to happen. but nothing ever does.

all you hear is the occasional footsteps above you, eerie whispering, and his heavy breathing. no music or white noise to avoid any distractions. just him and the devil keeping you company.

he hands you the tools and gives you the name along with it. short little "brush" or "glue" in his sluggish voice. he doesn't say much else.

when you're making a mistake, he grabs your wrist in a sluggish motion but with a firm grip and redirects the tool in your hand. he's extremely picky but spares the patience for you.

though after a couple of hours of things not going right, he twitches, shoulders curled up like a threatened cat. he's huffing and puffing a bit, burning holes in the back of your head with his stare. hes grinding his teeth a bit too.

if you do something right, he gives your shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze (though it unnerves you) accompanied by a low, gravelly "mm good". he doesn't spare the praises either, making sure to let you know well you're doing.

once he's a little more confident in you doing each task right, he'd probably pop a record on. maybe one of his own, or maybe one he favors. something old and classic, maybe some alice cooper. just light listening to offer a much-needed buffer from the silence.

before you know it, you're there through some of the night, and it seems time has flown by when doing the devil's work, but he lets you know to come back tomorrow depending on how well you've done.

sorry this is a little boring, but i cant imagine him getting someone to help. hes such an insular person to me that hed rather do it himself to ensure it gets done right, but yk i dont think he'd be too terrible at training someone to help him. he'd probably very much appreciate it.