#how old is gigi even would she be at a bar

[honeylullaby]

I don’t believe in God, but I believe that you’re my saviour. PT1

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Spending your life wrapped in cotton wool, Rupert is determined to continue this treatment…

Title derived from Sailor Song by Gigi Perez.

18+ FANFIC / Protective, soft Rupert, all the good stuff. Reader character aged at 21. PT 1, perhaps?

Majestic hues of indigo and glowing blush pink decorated the horizon over Rutshire and luminous blooms of azaleas and tulips fluttered softly in the early morning Spring breeze. The Orchard, your stately home, Elizabethan and passed down through Daddy’s family for centuries, glowed mauve under the imposing sunrise. From the view of your turreted bedroom, you could faintly make out The Priory to your left, under heaving climbs of bluebells. But, most importantly, over the steep hills ahead of you, Penscombe Court stood, most extravagant and superbly grandiose. It wasn’t the building in particular that enthused you but rather the man who resided there — Rupert Campbell-Black. He had made something of a nuisance of himself recently, spending evenings in your main sitting room, emptying bottles of extortionately-priced whiskey and smoking your father’s best cigars. You had spent so many a drunken night with him that, more often than not nowadays, he was usually lay beside you in the morning, in his birthday suit and with the most tremendous hangover.

As the piercing ivory sunlight began to penetrate through the pearl-grey velveted curtains of the sitting room, you were soon frantic with panic, scurrying along The Orchard’s winding hallways in search of your car keys — your car, a candy red Porsche 911, bought as a 21st birthday gift by Daddy. But the sound of the front door being pushed open, followed by a strident bark from Barnaby, made you jump with terror. Who on Earth would just let themself in, you think to yourself. “Hello, Barney. I bought you a present, old chap. Enjoy.” A familiar voice boomed from the porch. Rupert, looking particularly suave in a sapphire blue suit, had handed Barnaby quite possibly the biggest pork bone one had ever seen. With two impressive ropes of saliva stringing from the corners of his mouth, Barnaby — your gargantuan St. Bernard, sloped off into the kitchen.

It was well established that Rupert loved dogs, but the way in which he treated your gentle giant was enough to turn the coldest heart pure. “Hello, darling. How are we today?” Rupert questioned, instinctively following Barney and pouring himself a glass of Perrier from the cooler. “Good. Can’t find my car keys.” You huff, gliding past him and rooting through the fruit bowl. His libidinous gaze followed you — my Goodness, she looks delicious, he thought. Your golden hair fell in perfectly preened waves down your olive-skinned back, with a leopard print mini dress hugging tightly at your shapely figure, red lace delicately lining the neckline and bottom hem. Both your fingernails and your toenails were painted a deep claret — Rupert’s favourite.

Making himself at home, Rupert sat at the breakfast bar, perched with crossed legs on a tall stool and flicking through The Scorpion. Emblazoned across the front page was a sorrowful image of the Cotchester Dogs Home, they’re being forced to close their doors due to their funding being cut, and it would take an absolute miracle to keep their doors open. Taking a quick glance at it, you mewl forlornly and stop in your tracks. “How hopelessly sad! What about the poor doggies? Where will they go? How can they cut funding for such an important thing?” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you moaned. Sensing your sadness, Barnaby hauled himself up and circled your feet, prompting you to scratch the perfect spot behind his ears through melancholy sniffles.

Sorrow tore through Rupert’s gut like a knife— he couldn’t bear to see you in such a state. To see your eyes filled with tears was close to death, for him. “It’s okay, angel. They’ll work something out.” He groaned, standing from his stool and wrapping a protective arm around you. If only he could protect you from every worldly atrocity, at least then he could relax. “But they won’t! And all the poor doggies will be separated, or-or even left on the street. Oh, I can’t bare it.” You sobbed, throwing yourself into Rupert’s muscular body and only feeling slightly comforted by him raking a soft hand through your golden tresses. After adequately settling you, Rupert knocked back the rest of his Perrier like a shot and began to exit the room, only hesitating to say, “I have to nip out, sweetheart. I’ll call you later.”

-

It was nearing two pm when you heard from Rupert again. Studying your reflection in your hallway mirror, you yelp in delight as the receiver rang beside you. Almost tearing it from the wall to answer it, you hold the phone by your ear and feel your heart melt as your lover’s voice vibrated into your ear. “Hello, princess. I’m terribly sorry about my disappearance earlier.” Twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you speak, “It’s okay. I’m sorry for my outburst. I just can’t believe the injustice.”, you respond. There’s a pause for a moment, and you can hear Rupert shushing something in the background. “If you’re free, come up to me. I have something for you.”

Planting a gentle kiss on Barnaby’s fluffy temple, you finally locate your keys under his colossal leg, and saunter to your Porsche. The drive to Penscombe Court takes approximately forty-seven seconds from The Orchard, and your black kitten heels tremble unsteadily on the gravel driveway. Pushing open the door, you are greeted by a tumultuous cacophony of barking, and Rupert strolling towards you, a rather smug grin tugging at his lips. “Are you ready for your surprise?” He asked, covering your glinting eyes with his palms and walking you towards the garden.

Removing his palms, he revealed a large conglomeration of endearing dogs — whippets, beagles, cocker spaniels & deerhounds. All panting and wagging their tales contentedly. “These, princess, are the twelve former residents of Cotchester Dogs Home. Now residents of Penscombe Court.” The intoxicating man announced, waving his hands in glee. Collapsing in a fit of joyful tears, you throw your arms around Rupert and weep into his shoulder, before subsequently kneeling onto the grass and receiving a barrage of licks from the group of hounds. “So many beautiful pups! And so many friends for Barnaby! Rupert Campbell-Black, you are the best man.” You exclaim. If only that were true, he thought to himself, but it secretly overjoyed him that you were quite possibly the only person that thought so.

-

As the evening drew to a close, the pair of you retired to Rupert’s sitting room. The fire crackled gloriously in the corner, and a herd of tranquil dogs slept soundlessly beside it. Sat upright on the squashy, sepia leather sofa, Rupert delicately traced patterns into your scalp. “You have done a marvellous thing today, Rupert.” You peep drowsily. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t all for you, princess. I can’t bare to see you upset.” He responded, hunching temporarily to kiss your forehead in luscious gentleness. “Nobody’s been this frightfully nice to me since father. All I’ve ever wanted is to be looked after.” You confide, and nuzzle your face deeper into his lap. “Angel, I will make it my life’s work to protect you.” Rupert responds, watching you as you rise from the sofa and sigh.

Slipping on your shoes, you pad to the front door, not needing to look back, knowing this lovesick man will follow you. “I’ll go and collect Barnaby, and we shall stay here tonight. I don’t think I can face a night without you,” You mumble, locking hands with him and shooting him those huge, innocent eyes. Rupert felt his stomach stir in desire. “I don’t mean to scare you, but I feel as though I’m falling for you.” But you needn’t have confessed. For the way Rupert’s cerulean eyes beamed with awe as he looked at you said it all. “Fall away, angel. I’m here to catch you.” He winks as he speaks, and opens the door for you, blowing you a kiss as you trudge to your car.

Knowing you’d be back in a matter of minutes, Rupert sauntered to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Never in his life had he felt this wave of endearment, this sense of responsibility, towards someone. But he was sure, more than he had ever been about anything before, that he wouldn’t let you down.

“I sleep so I can see you, cause I hate to wait so long.” - Sailor Song, Gigi Perez.

[mastomysowner]

Japanese and Italians think alike

I recently finished reading the surreal mystery/horror manga Soil by Atsushi Kaneko, and I must say that I'm fascinated by the concept of foreign bodies. A few quotes from Some Explanations on Soil, written by the translator:

In other words, when people do disgusting, abnormal things, it creates rifts through which SHIT enters our world.

Italian horror writer Luigi Musolino's collection of short stories, Un buio diverso (A Different Darkness), deals with the same theme. It's framed with excerpts from the grimoire of worker-writer Enrico Bedolis (local Abdul Alhazred) The Science of Dead Environments.

To quote the intro: "Certain areas on Earth, due to their location and geometry, are affected by dark forces that bring energies of other dimensions into our world. Because the line between Here and There is very thin and is becoming thinner and thinner due to the unworthy behavior of the human race."

It was mentioned somewhere that Bedolis also wrote about the struggle between light and dark energies, but this is a horror book, so it's about SHIT. Does it get existential? Yeah. I liked the story Where the Lighters Go the most, so here's my translation:

One completely ordinary night, suffering from insomnia and feeling how strongly it was blowing from the old windows, Edo Taverna found out where the lighters go.

At two o'clock he got out of bed to smoke a cigarette - maybe it would help drive away the thoughts about work that were keeping him awake? And for ten minutes he wandered around the rooms looking for a lighter.

It disappeared somewhere. Lighters kept disappearing somewhere.

Edo had no doubt that he had placed the lighter with the stylized skull next to the TV. But it wasn't there.

Maybe in jeans? Not there either.

On the nightstand too...

Standing in the semi-darkness, Edo replayed the past day in his head. Well, of course, Gigi probably stole the lighter from him when, after work in the office, they stopped at the bar to drink a Spritz. Gigi had such a bad habit. But damn, to steal a lighter?..

“It’s not like I did it on purpose, I have something like kleptomania,” he even made excuses, this idiot. Edo mentally told him to piss off and promised that he would personally beat him to a pulp, and then continued the search. There should be more lighters in the apartment - the question is where, of course.

The house hides, but does not steal, his mother liked to repeat, and she knew what she was saying.

Edo rummaged in the corners of the sofa, in the drawers of the desk, even went through a stack of magazines lying on the toilet tank.

Nothing.

You can light a cigarette from the stove in the kitchen, but now this is a matter of principle.

Edo remembered that he had a blue lighter with white patterns - seems like he dropped it over the headboard a month ago, when, after sex with an overweight goth chick he met on Badoo, they shared a cigarette; the girl called herself an expert on Wicca, and spent most of the evening chatting about a strange book written by some Piedmontese worker. Listening to her talk made Edo sad, and he decided to return to the good old masturbation to Pornhub videos.

Deciding to move the heavy sofa away from the wall, Edo, with an unlit cigarette in his teeth, pulled the net on which the mattress lay with all his might. He thought that now he would see rags of dust, dirty napkins, boogers and porn magazines from the nineties.

Overall, he expected to find anything, but not what he found.

His head began spinning, the cigarette slipped out of his mouth and fell onto his leg.

“Oh my God. This is crazy,” he was amazed and squatted down, not knowing whether to laugh at his discovery or pinch his scrotum to wake up faster.

Behind the headboard, in the wall, there was a meter by meter opening. A square of darkness. Trying to find a reasonable explanation, Edo Taverna decided that, most likely, the bricks had simply collapsed - maybe water had accumulated in them, or maybe it was a defect in the building's structure.

Then he saw narrow, shabby steps going steeply down, and all his logical arguments went to waste. Edo hovered at the doorway for about two minutes, thinking about secret passages and medieval castles, and then took out his cell phone and turned on the flashlight. Carefully, from afar, he began to probe the hole with a ray of light, slowly approaching it, as if the opening could close at any second, and the plaster and cement could grasp his hand in a death grip.

Only the steps were visible, nothing more. It looked like they were made of stone, and the surface was covered with some kind of greenish web - either mold or rot. The passage seemed narrow, but there was enough space for one person.

– Hey! – Edo shouted into the darkness, but absolute, frightening silence swallowed his voice, not even returning an echo.

Swallowing sour saliva, Edo sighed, bent his knees and stepped over the threshold. Then he began to descend, bending down and feeling how low the ceiling arches were hanging.

Slowly, carefully, he descended lower and lower, holding his cell phone in front of him. The staircase was completely straight, without turns or landings.

Edo had been walking the steps for what must have been an hour, pausing every now and then to catch his breath and wipe the sweat that had dripped down his eyes.

This is impossible. Impossible because he lives on the fourth floor of a house in Rosella, a residential area of ​​Turin. Edo again tried to find an explanation for what was happening, but, realizing that it was useless, he decided to rely on fate, never ceasing to be amazed at its surprises. Curiosity and the feeling that something important was waiting for him there, at the foot of the stairs, turned out to be stronger than fear and the voice that whispered to Edo: “Go back, where are you going?”

After a couple of hours of descent, the lifeless light of the flashlight encountered a dim yellow glow coming from below. Edo turned off his cell phone.

Gradually the steps became gentler, and when they ended, Edo found himself in a short corridor that led to a huge hall.

The phone dropped out of his hands.

No, the hall was not just huge.

Never in his miserable life had Edo seen such a gigantic room as this butane-scented underground cathedral. The walls and ceiling were lost from sight. And on the shiny floor, as if made of obsidian, which instilled horror in Edo with its blackness, stood in a chain all the lighters that he had lost during twenty-five years of smoking.

Lighters that fell between the seats of the car, stolen from him on crazy teenage drinking sessions, forgotten in clothes taken to the trash heap, bought from a Moroccan in Liguria, the ones he used to open beer, light fires on the beach, from which he lit joints, heated hashish, multi-colored limited edition lighters, and finally those given away and lost - they were countless, especially lost ones.

They were all burning; the flames ran in coils to the center of the hall, merging into one huge, dazzling, yellow-blue fire.

Opening his mouth, Edo walked along the chain, recognizing each lighter, and felt that his eyes were blurring with tears. Each was associated with a certain moment in his life, and these memories floated before his eyes one after another.

Just like before death. Exactly as before death.

Edo walked for a long time until he finally reached the place where the chain originated. He saw a lighter with a stylized skull and extended a trembling hand to take it. But the metal slipped from his sweaty fingers, and the lighter fell right onto another, small one, which - exactly! - was taken from him at Milan airport in two thousand and two.

Domino effect.

Destroying the order, the lighters began to fall one after another and go out.

As if spellbound, Edo watched the play of light and shadow created by the running flames. Finally, the last lighter fell, and darkness reigned.

And at that moment, Edo Taverna suddenly saw that, in addition to lighters, the ghosts of all the losses of his life had gathered here in the dungeon, and he had lost a lot: self-esteem, the only woman he loved, youthful dreams of becoming a football star, buying a house, having children; he was overcome by remorse for lying, for saying too few words of support to his father while he was alive, for forgetting how to enjoy small joys, and for much, much, much more.

Very, very many losses, and all this awaited him here, in the dungeon, and all this had teeth, claws, tongues and eyes - bottomless, black, terrible, bloodshot, you can go crazy looking at them.

They were getting closer.

[canyouplzjust]

Leaving the Nostromo

Dear Diary,

We made it all the way to the airlock, staring (metaphorically) into the space between the ship and the space station before I realized we had no way to get from one structure to another. Maybe we could have orchestrated a space walk, but I never saw any magnetized boots. I don't know how 'Master' Max got from around this place, but we found his fan-made map of the Nostromo on the bridge so I know he was here. Can he track us here? How does he locate us when its time to fuck up our plans? There are a lot of higher level mysteries I'm trying to solve. I guess we are trying to solve them together, but I'll be damned if any of these players get to Max before me. He's mine. Oh, but! In the airlock I "remembered" that I had grabbed a canister of air back on the bridge, in an effort to say One Step Ahead, you might say. The rules say once per session, but I think I'm limited to once per in-game day. Whatever, I'm not going to court over it. Didi the Fool was the best choice to navigate the void of airless space with a lil tank of compressed air, because even though it was my idea, it was a damn foolish thing to do hahaha

We made it to the Center Station, a massive space station, and were greeted at the airlock Les hacked by a squad of security guards. Now, I know these guys aren't technically soldiers, but I know my audience, and I stepped forward to use my Voice to reassure them of our right to be there, and kinda glossed over questions I had no answer to. "Where did you come from," and "What are you doing here," seem forthright enough, but I didn't have a great answer, so I pleaded for these big, strong men to help us, and they sure did! They didn't even report our arrival to the internal security system. Nice.

We got to the main hub by foot, and Gigi somehow correctly guessed that it looked like Dark City, but I don't know what that is. I'm looking now. I looked it up, it looks INTENSE. First order of business is to get to a terminal so Les can get a layout and do some snooping. Seriously, what would I do without him? I used to wish my life was an indie movie, and I used to feel captured in little moments where serendipity would touch my life, and even if I was miserable, I still felt picturesque. Something to take me out of myself, ya know? Its not an internal memory of getting my tongue pierced all by myself, new in town and shit, but I could see it from the outside, and it made me love my hollow little life. Anyway, I felt a familiar disassociation in that moment, my back leaned up against an unfamiliar wall, one knee up - how very Jordan Catalano of me - watching the bottomless determination of a repressed woman manifest as one solitary drop of sweat on the brow of a man cut from marble and silicon. Neos are so fucking cool, seriously. When can I get an augmentation? Is that multi-classing? i'm getting lost here...

We needed some food and drink, so we wandered into a bar to find some. Didi and I put on the ole one-two strut and lo - a pair of men appeared to buy us drinks and mozzarella sticks for our friends. It was like riding a bike, being on a tag team with her. And Rory was jamming a stick into our wheels every chance she got. The guys, Temm and Brock, were understandably interested in her wings, but she wouldn't really take any questions and I know she wasn't scowling on the outside, but inside I think she was imagining all of us with duct tape over our mouths. The guys were cute, but we had to move on, so I got their numbers for later ;) and we found a hostel. We got two rooms.

I had been waiting for my henchman to show up, and I had my fingers crossed that he was here at this station. Les found an old friend of mine on the prison roster he downloaded, so we popped down to the jail to say heeeyyy. Rude awakening number one - the security at the prison had some sort of coin lock for Neos and they openly referred to Didi as "the Fool," how were we clocked by these normal looking NPC's??? And not to like, be a bitch, but I was alarmed that no other party members seemed to be like, alerted to the classist treatment. But that Neo lock was cool as shit, duly noted. Hardy was is good spirits (he's never been that chatty of a guy) and he did warn us about some horrific carnage happening on the Factory level of the space station. His entire faction, The Judges, was apparently wiped out in a mess of otherworldly carnage and human misery. "That's a bummer," I told him, "and don't worry, we'll spring you asap." In the end, it wasn't the kind of spring I had been meaning, and the otherworldly carnage - fuck I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Les and Didi dug up a shitload of data on the Station and found out it was being run by a Dictator named Corvath Kyball. Rory and I went to the market and managed to sell one of her rupees from Hyrule for quite a bit of money. I wasn't around when apparently MORPHEUS called Les again, told him to look for him on The Grid, and then gave Didi some fucking frameless sunglasses, whatever, they don't do anything besides just block the sun. Am I jealous? I think its in my nature to be jealous, especially of her. I think what happened next really illustrated that. I only point out the thematic foreshadowing of myself pouting about Morpheus because I realize the story about what happens in the bar perfectly illustrates it, and I'm not actually writing this, its just what I did.

Bored in our room, Didi and I called those cute guys from the bar and let Les and Rory know we were gonna go meet them. I'm easy, so I chilled a little and let Didi pick which one she wanted - she chose the skinny one with the multi-color mustache, so I focused on Brock, the muscular one, but like, we were all at one table. I don't recall who brought up her band, but the next thing I knew, the bar patrons were staring at Didi, gazing and whispering, and clearing some space on the stage for her to play a song. The boys stood up and pulled her towards the stage. She had been a star here, too, but we were only bandmates in Delray Beach, FL. Here she had been Didi and the Lost Boys, and the Jackrabbits didn't exist. I felt the anger like a fire alarm ringing in my head, and as I lifted my chin to watch her walk away, Didi held her hand out for mine, and motioned for me to go with her. I'm nothing if not a good sport, so I followed her to the stage, swallowing my pride in giant audible gulps, and we both picked up guitars. "I don't know a lot of your songs," I warned her, my tone audibly sullen. She smiled at me, literally beaming, and she said, "No, we're gonna do one of ours. You sing," and she practically bowed out of the way, motioning towards the mic. I've never loved her more. I stepped into the limelight and instantly felt 21 again, for the first time since coming back to DIE. I felt the growl in my throat as I sang lyrics to a song I didn't know I could recall. I felt the sweat building up and sticking to my skin, and I felt my hair come to life under the stage's glow. I don't know if it was DIE or magic or just being in a band with your old best friend again, but in a moment I had been transformed into apowerful creature I was once, in a dream.

I don't know why I needed that and she didn't, and maybe I never will, but I fucking needed it. We brought the house down, and then cut out the side with our dates to find somewhere more private. The Factory level, perhaps? Their badges could get us in, we could snoop around, and then maybe get busy while we're doing it. The night was still young.

[thefallons]

What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?

I am not capable of getting any cuter than this so if the bartender doesn’t look at me in the next minute, I’m out.

[mhdiaries]

SDCC 2015 Djinni “Whisp” Grant Diary

⟡ ⧗ ⟡ ⧗

It’s amazing how different the world looks when you’re the one in charge of it. I don’t mean the whole world, of course, just the one that exists inside the lantern. Now, instead of criticizing - which I used to do a lot of - I have to actually be responsible. I think my first decision will be to return to my original shadow look because I want my unlife to change from the inside out, not the outside in. 

⟡ ⧗ ⟡ ⧗ ⟡ ⧗ ⧗

I think I still have a lot to learn about being a djinni; mostly because when I was “shadowing” Gigi, I didn’t pay very good attention to the things she was telling me about the job. I think my jealousy made me deaf to everything except what I wanted. So, now I have a lot of catching up to do. Good thing there’s an instruction book, and an even better thing that I have a lot of time on my hands since it’s a five thousand-volume set. At least it’s interesting... well, most of it is, anyway. The legal and warning sections are full of fine print that I’m sure would make any monster who needed sleep - which I don’t - go completely comatose. Something that I learned today, which I should have already known, is that the number of wishes a djinni can grant is based upon how many years they have been a servant of the lantern. I’m only allowed three to begin. I hope whoever finds me doesn’t feel like they’ve been ripped off. Hmmm... I wonder if I should say, “You only get three, don’t waste them.” Well, the next volume seems to be full of things a djinni can and cannot say, so I guess I will find out. Just hope it’s not in the fine print.

⃞ ⧗ ⧗

There is a clock and calendar on the wall of a small storeroom deep in the basement of the lantern palace. It is the only place inside the lantern where the passage of time is recorded. I used to go there when I was a shadow and watch the time pass when Gigi was out granting wishes. At first I thought it was fascinating, but over time my fascination turned to resentment as I watched the hours and days go by while Gigi was out seeing the world. Once, when she was gone, I got so angry I tore both the clock and calendar from the wall and destroyed them. I can’t believe I was such a.... brat. Somehow I thought this would make Gigi feel bad about not taking me with her when she left, but when Gigi returned and I led her down to the room so I could gloat over what I’d done, the clock and calendar were back as if I had never touched them. I look foolish, and felt worse. Gigi kindly told me that the clock and calendar used to be in her room, but she moved them to the basement because it made her feel lonely to see the time passing. She said that they were part of the lantern, and even though they could be moved, they could not be destroyed. I think that was the moment when I realized that I was a part of the lantern, too, and I began to wonder if one day Gigi would lock me away as well. That’s when I began plotting to overthrow her, take over the lantern, and then the world. Gigi, of course, would never have done that to me, but I guess that it just shows how much a shadow knows... 

⟡ ⃞ ⧗

I am on volume 1,753. This volume could be titled When Wishes Go Wrong, and in it I found a story about the perils of wishes made in anger called The Princess and the Captain. It’s about a vampire queen who uses her last wish to punish her youngest daughter who has fallen in love with the captain of the guard, a commoner. The queen, whose word was law and tolerated no questioning of it, is displeased by their affections and forbids them to ever be together. The princess argues that the captain is her one true love, but the queen is unmoved and not only strips the captain of his rank but threatens to have him banished from the kingdom forever. So the princess agrees to forsake the love of her unlife... yeah, right... and, of course, that doesn’t last long. They are soon found out and brought to the throne room.

Now the wrath of the queen was great and she ordered her djinni’s lantern be brought to her. He was the oldest and wisest of all the lantern djinn and had been in the queen’s service for a thousand years. 

“Ninety and nine wishes have I granted you oh queen, and there is but one yet left,” said the djinni.

“Listen well, then, servant of the lantern. Since my daughter and my former captain of the guard understand neither the nature of obedience nor the unbridgeable gulf between royalty and those of common birth, I wish them to be forever obedient and forever apart!”

“But my queen....” said the djinni.

“Would you disobey me as well?” she raged.

“Be it then as you wish,” replied the djinni.

The the djinni clapped his hands and there was smoke, a flash of light and the sound of massive iron doors swinging open and then closing with a deafening crash. When the smoke cleared, the princess and the captain were gone, and in their place two lanterns stood... a hand’s width apart from each other. 

“Forever obedient - forever apart,” said the djinni and with those final words, both he and the lanterns disappeared.

The rest of the story tells how the vampire queen, being filled with remorse, leaves the throne and spends her unlife searching for her daughter’s lantern. There are, however, two footnotes at the end of the story. The first reads.

While any djinni old enough and powerful enough to have accumulated 100 wishes could have certainly fulfilled the “letter of the wish” by turning the princess and the captain into djinn, the queen’s wish never specifies whom they should be obedient to or apart from; thus it is just as likely that the princess and captain of the guard were made forever obedient to the love of the other, and forever apart from the queen herself.

The second footnote reads,

If, however, the princess and the captain were indeed both turned into lantern djinn, then the queen herself is probably still looking, because you do not find a lantern. It finds you.

7th of July

Today my lantern was found and I was summoned for the very first time! I thought that I would be ready when it happened, but I was completely taken by surprise. In fact, I had just put my hair up in a towel and was getting ready to apply a beauty mask when a voice thundered through the inside of the lantern, “You are summoned!” Note to self: find preference settings and change voice from an “In a world...” kind of intonation to something less ominous. Anyway, I put on my “game face”, took a deep breath, and hoped the monster I was about to be serving wouldn’t be able to tell that I was nervous. Guess I shouldn’t have worried too much about that, because when I said, “I am the djinni of the lantern, what is your wish?” the monster who summoned me almost fainted. He is a vampire... of sorts... and by his clothes it looks like he’s seen better days. He didn’t wish for anything tonight, so I suppose I’ll have to wait before I am allowed to grant my first wish. Now I’m more excited than nervous.  

8th of July

“You are summoned!” I thought I had it fixed, but now the voice sounds like a zombie using “baby talk”, so instead of ominous it’s just irritating. More importantly, I finally got to talk to the monster who is currently in possession of my lantern. His name is Kieran Valentine, and much like me he is trying to keep his present and future from being defined by his past. We talked for hours and I think that even without wishing for one, I’ve found a friend. It was good to be able to talk about what we’d each done in the past and not feel condemned. I think going forward it will help to know that we’ll both be cheering the other on to succeed. Speaking of wishes, he still hasn’t made one yet... but I’m good with that. 

10th of July

“You are summoned!” Ack! No, I’m right out on it blasting through the lantern like an opera singer. It still needs work, I may not have learned everything I should have from Gigi, but one thing I did pay a lot of attention to was the way that wishes work. When a djinni grants a wish, a force is released: a force so powerful that it can remake the very fabric of reality in order to fulfil its purpose. It is also a force that needs specific instructions or else it will interpret what you’ve wished for, and sometimes the results get lost in translation. Sadly, I am not allowed to give hints or coach monsters in how or what they should wish. It isn’t that I don’t want to: it’s that I physically can’t. Gigi one told me that she tried to tell a monster how to word a wish and her mouth literally closed shut and wouldn’t open until after the wish was granted. So, all that to say, I knew that KV’s first wish was not going to turn out how he hoped it would. I’m just happy that he had a “rescue wish” left, otherwise...

12th of July

I really feel bad for KV. He’s already used up two of his three wishes with nothing to show for it. I tried to tell him how sorry I was but he wouldn’t even listen. He even said it was completely his fault, and that I had nothing to be sorry for. I really hope he thinks hard about his last wish.

1st of August

“You are summoned!” Ooh, I like this version. It sounded like I was being called to the front door to meet an old friend. I’ll keep it. KV used his last wish today. He wished that we could always be friends. I think that would have come true regardless of whether or not he wished for it, but I thought it was so unselfish of him to use his last wish like that. I wasn’t exactly sure how it was going to be fulfilled until I was holding my very own iCoffin with KV’s number programmed into it. The best thing, thought, was that I had full bars everywhere I went inside the lamp! Being able to have a friend to talk to even when I’m inside the lantern is so much more than even I could have wished for.

[ellewritesfix05]

Watch This - Chapter III: Forever Yours

Characters: Demon!Dean x Soulless!Reader

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: basically porn, I mean there’s some plot but SMUT (so 18+ only young’uns!) — oral (male receiving), choking, fingering, p in the v, unprotected sex (duh, protect yourself), language, show-level violence, jealous!dean

A/N: here lies the 3rd and final part to what was supposed to be a 2-part adventure 🤗 

Catch up on this series -> Watch This Masterlist

📸 cred: to rightful owners!

Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️

Your eyes widen in surprise and anticipation. If he’s not done with you, you can’t wait to see what else he has in store.

Two weeks. That's how long it’s been since Dean last touched you.

After your little session in the backseat of dead old Fester’s car, you and Dean headed back to the bar where Crowley was waiting. After hearing you and Dean had killed “the client,” Crowley had a fit and basically broke up with Dean. It was all very dramatic and you couldn’t wait for it to be over, you wanted to get the rest of the punishment Dean had promised.

But after Crowley left with his goons, the Knight had suggested food and drink, to which you begrudgingly agreed, only to return to the bar and have him drink until well past closing time. And that was two fucking weeks ago.

No matter what you had tried in the last 14 days — anything and everything from offering to suck him off to quite literally walking the room around naked — he never gave in. And it’s not like you could force him either. The man is strong, even more so now that he has the Mark of Cain and demon magic coursing through his veins.

So now, on day 15, you decide enough is enough. If Dean doesn’t want you, you’ll find someone who does.

The bar to which Dean decided to drag you tonight is bustling with activity. You pull the short skirt of the skin-tight dress you chose for the occasion down your thighs as you sit on the high stool next to Dean. He’d complimented your figure when he first saw the dress, something about looking pretty for him. Little did he know, you did it as a benefit to whoever would be your next lay, not him. The fact that he rejected your advances after his short compliment only cemented the idea in your mind.

Besides, it’s not like you and Dean were exclusive. If anything, he made sure you understood that whenever he got the chance to shamelessly flirt with every waitress and stripper you’ve come across so far.

Scanning the crowd, you take a sip of the whiskey you ordered. Dean is oblivious as he is clearly making eyes at the bartender. She, of course, is returning that silent desire and you really can’t blame her. As you’re about to give up on your search, your eyes land on him, your perfect target.

Standing on the opposite side of the bar, he catches you checking him out and winks. Perfect, he’s willing to play your little game. Funnily enough, he seems to have a physique that is very similar to Dean’s; tall, broad-shouldered, arms that you could just lay between for ages and never tire. His chocolate-brown eyes bore into yours, beckoning you to him. Looking over to Dean, who’s still sweet-talking Gigi the bartender — ugh, Gigi — just grunts at you when you say you’ll “be right back.”

Fine, Winchester, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.

You sashay your way to the pool tables, looking at the brown-eyed man and motioning for him to follow you. He downs the last of his drink and walks over. You sneak a glance to where Dean is sitting, only to find him gone. Unsurprisingly, so is Gigi.

You roll your eyes, anger and jealousy coursing through your body. He won’t touch you, won’t let you go anywhere without him, won’t even let you leave his side, and still has the nerve to go fuck some random bitch while expecting you to what? Wait for him patiently?

“Anyone ever told you you’re the most beautiful woman in the room?” A pleasantly deep voice interrupts your seething train of thought. You plaster on a smile, fully taking in the man in front of you.

“Heard it once or twice,” you reply. The man chuckles, and grabs a pool cue from the table next to you.

“You play?” he asks.

Grabbing the other cue, you lie, “never have, but I’m open to learning if you’re willing to teach me.”

“It’d be my pleasure… “ he stretches a hand out, silently asking for your name.

“Y/L,” you place your hand in his, “and you are?”

“John.” You like that name. It’s the name of a good man, dependable.

“Nice to meet you, John.” A smile plays at your lips as he places a soft kiss to your knuckles. This will be so much easier than you thought.

John sheds his leather jacket before moving to start the game, sloppily explaining the rules but you don’t care much. He breaks, and when it’s your turn to play, makes himself comfortable behind you. As he places a hand on your hip, and the other on your arm to line up your shot, you feel the warmth of his body pressed up against you. It’s been so long since you had any sort of contact from Dean that this oddly intimate position with John makes your pussy tingle with anticipation.

As his breath moves some strands of your hair, you look up to the spot on the bar from which Dean had left; expecting it to be empty but somewhat startled when you see two dark green orbs staring at you with such intensity, you’re surprised you haven’t spontaneously combusted.

You don’t know how long it’s been since Dean got back from wherever he went, but now he’s back and clearly not happy to find you in the arms of another man.Still, you can’t find it in you to care.

You snooze, you lose, Winchester

The anger and frustration within you burns hot, and you find yourself relishing in the fact that Dean hates what he’s watching — his woman being touched by hands that aren’t his. You smirk up at him, winking to let him know you’re enjoying the feeling of John behind you, and he can’t do anything about it.

Dean’s eyes grow even darker, nearly black, although not because he’s a demon, and the glass containing his precious whiskey shatters in his hold. As John guides your arm, you mess up the shot and pout at your prey in fake disappointment. His hand ventures up to brush against your cheek, you lean into the touch and that’s when everything goes to hell.

John’s hand suddenly disappears from where it had been cradling your face as he is pulled backward by a very strong, very pissed off Dean. He slams John’s face against the pool table, only to turn him over and deliver a punch to the poor guy’s face. And another, and another, and so on until his face is covered in blood. The other patrons scream, some try their best to hold the demon back but they can’t. Dean is a man possessed, he barely notices the other men grabbing at him, all he is focused on is beating the man beneath his grip to a pulp — completely entranced. As are you. Perhaps someone with a soul would feel guilt, some sort of sense of responsibility for the life of the man you’d chosen as prey, but you can’t. All you feel is the need for Dean’s touch. Your body is on fire, every nerve standing at attention, impatiently waiting for him to finish his little tantrum and show you who you belong to. But, being stubborn by nature, you decide not to show it. If Dean was so bothered by you with another man, it means he still wants you; and if he still wants you, he can damn well work for it.

As Dean stops his attack for a second to look over at you, you use the opportunity to wink at another guy that’s watching the scene with no concern. He doesn’t look as good as John did, but it doesn’t matter, you just need a target to make a point to Dean — you don’t care whether he kills John or the next hundred men you flirt with, you’ll just find another.

Looking back at Dean, you see something in him snap, and he throws a barely-breathing John down to the floor. He stalks towards you, his eyes and stance meant to be intimidating but you stand your ground.

“We need to talk,” he whispers and doesn’t wait for an answer before grabbing you by the arm and dragging you out of the bar. His tight grip is painful but you bite your lip to hold back the whimper that threatens to burst out of you. Sirens are heard in the distance and you realize someone must’ve called the authorities in hopes of stopping Dean’s attempted murder. He opens the Impala and throws you in the backseat. You land unceremoniously, shooting daggers his way but secretly more turned on than you’ve ever been. Putting the car in drive, he races out of the parking lot, the tires squealing against the concrete.

You remain silent, as does he, but you can see from the way his jaw clenches and his knuckles whiten from the tightness of his grip on the steering wheel, he is furious with you. He doesn't need to say anything, you already know you fucked up and are going to be paying steeply for it.

Screeching to a halt at the hotel’s parking lot, Dean gets out of the car and you follow. He doesn’t look back to you as he makes his way to your room, but you know he expects you to be right behind him. As soon as you close the door behind you, he sheds his flannel, tossing it to the floor. You stay by the door, waiting for whatever Dean has planned.

Back still facing you, his voice breaks the deafening silence, “what the hell were you thinking?”

You stare at him from where you stand, the way his shoulders heave as he breathes erratically, too upset to control it. This is the part where you should probably make some sort of apology or excuse for your behavior, but you made it this far, what’s a little more?

“What do you care? It’s not like you’ve been paying much attention to me in a while, anyway.”

Dean turns to face you, and if you thought you’d seen him angry earlier, it was nothing compared to now. He stalks toward you, jaw clenched so tightly you’re sure he’s about to break his damn teeth. Stopping just inches before you, he reaches up and places a hand just under your neck, fingers brushing against your collarbone. It’s the first time he’s actually placed a hand on you in 15 days, and your skin immediately responds — goosebumps rising everywhere, the ache and tingle in your cunt back stronger than before.

You look up at him, realizing that if you push just a little bit more, you may just get what you’ve been needing for weeks. The corner of his lip twitches, and you’re so focused on it, you yelp in surprise as his hand wraps around your neck and pushes you backward, slamming you against the hotel room door.

“What the fuck did you just say?” He seethes and you try to regain your breath. His fingers tighten in place, just enough to make it difficult to suck in air as his other hand cups your sex, “you weren’t getting what you wanted so you decided to whore yourself out?”

With every word, his grip on your throat tightens a bit more until it cuts off your air almost completely. Gasping, you claw at his hand, to no avail. The fingers of the hand resting on your cunt begin to move, rubbing your folds through the thin cotton layer of your panties. His forest-green eyes are boring into yours, and your vision starts to fuzz. Your eyelids begin to close as your brain begs for oxygen, and suddenly your throat and pussy are freed. You gasp desperately, landing on the floor as he steps back.

“Fine, you want to be treated like the slut you are, you got it, sweetheart.” As you regain full consciousness, you feel two strong hands wrap around your arms. Dean lifts you harshly, only to drag you to the bed where he throws you back down. You roll over, surprising Dean when you don’t cower in fear, but laugh instead.

“You’re nothing but talk, Winchester. I should’ve known, you never were one to keep your promises.”

Dean smirks, a twinkle in his eye as he walks to the opposite side of the bed. He leans forwards and grabs you by the shoulders, roughly pulling you towards him until your head hangs off the edge of the bed. Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes in line with his crotch. He drags a thumb across your lips before dipping it in your mouth, forcing it open as his other hand removes his belt. Pulling his cock free, he brushes the tip along your lips. You know you should fight him on longer but the truth is, you love everything about this.

Though you can’t see him, you can almost imagine his expression. The way his lips part, tongue dashing out from behind his teeth as he opens your mouth further to push his dick in. He doesn’t do it gradually either, just slams himself in until he feels himself hitting the back of your throat, thrusting in and out repeatedly at his own pace. You gag and salivate uncontrollably, unable to control anything from this position but also unwilling. Your hands travel to your core, which is now screaming for attention. Your own fingers pull at the hem of your dress, moving your ruined panties aside to provide some relief to your throbbing clit.

Dean’s pace quickens, his cock now painfully depriving your body of air. Still, you can’t help the moans fighting their way through.

“That’s it, baby. Choke on my cock, like the good little slut you are.”

His hands find their way to your breasts, kneading and squeezing. His fingers pull at the fabric until it rips right down the center, your tits spilling free as you’d decided to forgo a bra tonight. Your back arches as he pinches your hardened nipples. Your own fingers fasten their pace, making figure-8’s around your sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping into your dripping hole.

Suddenly, Dean’s hand grabs your wrist and he pulls your hand off your core. You whine in protest, but moan in pleasure as his hand quickly replaces yours. Thick fingers enter your pussy, quickly and harshly he pumps them in and out. Soaked in your slick, the sounds of his fingers fucking you and the palm of his hand hitting your clit just the right way are nearly enough to make you come undone.

“So fucking tight for me.”

The elastic in your core stretches, your hands wrap around Dean’s thighs, pulling him further down your throat. His breathing becomes erratic, his hand in your core speeds and the second he groans, the elastic snaps and you’re overwhelmed by the electricity traveling through your veins. Your body convulses with such strength, Dean’s cock flies out of your mouth and you feel hot, thick streams of liquid land on your chest.

You gasp for air, your high slowly dissipating and you barely hear Dean move. You try to lift your head to see where he’s gone but your muscles refuse to listen. You feel the bed dip by your legs and a breathless scream erupts as you get pulled back down to the other side of the bed. Your eyes focus just in time to see Dean tower over you. His forearms cage you as he pushes your legs apart with his own, opening you fully to him. You instinctively try to slide away but he’s far too strong and you’re far too weak.

“Dean, wait,” you huff but it’s useless, that damn smirk returns and he looks you straight in the eye as he slams his still-hard cock into you. You cry out, eyes fluttering shut, breathing hard as you feel his arms move beside you. Suddenly, you feel a strip of leather beneath your neck make its way around. You open your eyes to see Dean put the belt through the buckle. Holding the slack strip in hand, he pulls slightly and you feel the leather tighten around your throat slightly.

“This is what you were begging for, whore. Now shut up and take it,” he hisses as he begins to thrust deeply into you at a brutish pace.

Your over sensitive core begs for a break, but Dean’s pace is unforgiving. You grab onto his shoulders, meaning to push him away but when his head dips to place open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder, pulling on the belt, sucking on your pulse point, you can’t help but pull him closer. Your hands travel to his back, feeling every muscle ripple as his hips snap, fucking you with such ferocity you just know you’re going to feel this for days. Your moans turn to screams restrained screams as the belt tightens and releases. Dean grunts as your nails dig into his back. The familiar coil begins to tighten once more, you hold on to Dean as if he’s your lifeline. He lifts his head to look at you.

“You want to cum, don’t you, sweetheart?” Dean whispers as he slows his pace, yet still maintaining the depth of his thrusts.

“Please!” You nod desperately, tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

“You want to cum so bad you were willing to let some other asshole into this tight,” thrust, “little” thrust, “pussy,” thrust.

He’s teasing you now, barely holding back his own release but still holding his power over you.

“I’m sorry,” you cry out. You need him to speed back up. You need it like you need air in your lungs.

“I shouldn’t even let you, you need to learn that this body is mine, and only mine,” he begins to pick up the pace again. Choosing to take the belt around your neck off, he places a soft kiss just under your earlobe, “say it.”

“I’m yours, baby. Only yours. Forever,” you try to roll your hips up to meet his.

His hand wraps your leg around his waist, the new angle at which his cock hits your cervix making you see stars.

“That’s fucking right,” his hips are snapping against yours. The coil is so tightly wound, you taste metal in your mouth as you bite down on your lip forcefully.

“Now cum on my cock, babygirl.”

With one last vigorous thrust, you come undone. Your eyes roll back, wave after wave of electricity travels through your entire body. Dean quickly follows with a grunt, his hot seed painting your inner walls as his lips suck yet another mark on to the soft flesh of your neck.

He collapses on top of you for a moment, you’re about to wrap your arms around him when he pushes off the bed. Leaning up on your arms, which are shaking as they struggle to hold you up, you watch him get dressed.

“De?” You prompt, “where are you going?”

“Out, and when I get back you better be here. I don’t like repeating myself, try to piss me off again and I’ll rip your fucking throat out. With my teeth.”

He walks out the door and you drop back on the bed. It’s tempting to disobey, but you’re so spent and satisfied all you can do is laugh. Reaching up to brush your fingertips gingerly against every mark on your neck and shoulder he’s left behind, you smile. It’s not the best arrangement, having to do everything he says, yet in this moment you decide — you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

If you’d like to join one of my taglists, let me know here! 💜

Forever Loves Taglist 🖤

@deanwanddamons / @hobby27 / @spnchick1996 / @briagallen / @downanddirtydean / @vicmc624

Dean Sweethearts Taglist ♥️

@lyarr24 / @akshi8278 / @pillowjj / @stoneyggirl / @wiserainbowgirl / @attackonnat / @deanswaywardgirl / @thoughts-and-funnies

[twelve-twelve-eleven]

I’ve Had Enough - Rafe Cameron

caution: rafe x reader, drug addiction, swearing, children, teen pregnancy, yelling, flashbacks on “doing it” with rafe and the aftermath, vomit, kinda toxic relationship??

a/n: OKAY WAIT HIII. This is my first ever writing piece and i literally thought about this idea while i was falling asleep. it will probably be absolute SHAT, so don’t be surpirsed if it is. plus, my spelling and grammar is doo doo.  i dont know that much about cocaine addiction, im trying my best jsyk! lets pretend that rafe isn’t a murderer, and that rafe and you are +18.

Part 2  Part 3

words: 1.1k

outline: rafe and you moved in together after your second child was born. but of course, rafe’s addiction didn’t ease up. in fact, it go worse. you finally broke out after having to deal with it for more than 2 years.

“baby!” you yelled out from you and rafe’s bedroom, holding your head in your hands to try and focus on the schoolwork on your desk. no response came back as marie, your 1 year old daughter, kept on crying. you scoffed and pushed yourself up, walking into the living room where you last saw rafe. as you went through the bedroom door frame, you saw rafe bent down above the coffee table, a snorting sound coming from him. anger filled your body. 

“rafe!” you yelled out, louder to get his attention. he whipped his head up, white powder littering under his nostrils. you stormed up to him as he looked around, getting familiar again with his surroundings. you leaned in and looked into his eyes, recognizing the symptoms. you shook your head and sat up as rafe finally looked at you. you stormed into the crying baby’s room, looking at your 4 year old son, spencer trying to shush her. you leaned over the crib rail and took her into your arms, bobbing her up and down.

rafe was a hook up that you didn’t know would turn into a future relationship because of a child. rafe saw you at the boneyard and immediately took a liking to you. he wanted to get into your pants, see how you moaned and how you screamed his name, he wanted to know every single curve of your body like the back of his hand. what was surprising was that you were a pogue, and he was a kook. to be honest, you were kinda tipsy, so things weren’t registering right. all you remember was a heated make out session behind a tree, then you woke up naked in rafe’s bedroom. rafe didn’t spread about what he did to you, which was new of him. he felt something different about you. he wanted to make a relationship with you, he wanted to know other than how you were in bed.but he never told anyone about it, even you. y’all went on hooking up here and then, from time to time. 

until, you started feeling sick when you went on the HMS Pogue. you didn’t get motion sickness at all, so you just thought that the food that you ate was bad. but then, it started to happen everyday. you running to the bathroom every morning you woke up to spill your guts. you started to get scared, and avoided rafe at all costs. you still hung out with the pogues, but had to sneak away to the bathroom every time you felt it coming. you felt the need to take a test, and so you did. surprise, surprise, it came out positive. you panicked and didn’t tell anyone, still not having any contact with rafe. the first people to find out were the pogues, kiara noticing your baby bump. telling them who the baby daddy was was hard, since y’all didn’t like the kooks at all. they were very disappointed, but said they would support you all the way through.

“calm down baby, you’re okay.” you shushed marie tenderly and walked out her room. rafe now had his arms spread across the back of the couch, slouching in his seat. “you still have kids, rafe.” you said. he grumbled and threw his hand up, bending it. as you went into the kitchen to get formula, you heard a sound come from the living room. you turned around and saw rafe leaning up against the bar, separating the living room from the kitchen and dining room. you huffed and walked over to rafe, helping him to the couch once again. “you need to stop, this is getting out of hand.” you lightly put him down back where he was. “don’t tell me what to do.” he mumbled back. you pulled back, pulling marie close. “what did you say?” your eyes narrowed at rafe. “don’t tell me what to fucking do!” he yelled out, his face turning red.

“i take care of this fucking family while you go to barry’s with our rent money to get more drugs!” you yelled, not holding yourself back. all the anger you built up after multiple times seeing rafe like this finally showed. the continuous screams from both of y’all were drowning out the scared cries of your children. tears were streaming down your face, but you stood still, holding marie closer. as rafe was screaming at you, you felt a grip on your leg. you quickly looked down, a tear dropping onto the carpet. there you found spencer hugging your leg as tight as a 4 year old could. seeing him like that, screaming and crying, tore up a piece of your heart. you knew they shouldn’t have heard this, seen it or be anywhere need it. so, you didn’t let rafe finish what he was talking about. you went into you and rafe’s room and grabbed your phone and your car keys. he stepped into the door way, still expressing his thoughts loudly. your vision was blurry from your tears, but you quickly wiped your eyes with your extremely shaky hands to see what you were doing on your phone. 

“what are you doing?” he asked, cutting off what he was last talking about. “hey baby? whats up?” the female voice said. “who is that?” rafe said, stepping closer to you. “get back, rafe!” you exclaimed out. “y/n, what is happening?” her tone became concerned and worried. “mom, i can’t anymore.” you replied, your voice cracking. “y/n, talk to me!” yelled out rafe. you sniffled, and tried your best to go around rafe’s size. spencer’s hand was in yours, holding onto your finger. “baby, please!” he begged as you slipped past him. “can you please meet me at ihop?” you asked, walking toward the door. “y/n, please don’t do this! we can talk it out, just please!” rafe grabbed your waist, turning you toward him. “don’t touch me!” you cried out, jiggling the front door handle. the expression on his face showed the guilt he had just put on himself by how he acted. “yes, yes i’m on my way right now.” she said before ending the call. you finally got the door to open, and you quickly slipped through. you put the phone in your back pocket, ignoring rafe’s begs. “w-where are we going, mommy?” spencer asked quietly, still crying. “don’t worry about it, baby.” you said, your lip quivering. you pulled him up into your arms, and his tiny head turned around. 

“what about daddy?” he said. “he’ll be fine, but we’re going to see gigi, okay?” you said, looking at him. he looked at you and nodded his head slowly, tear streaks going down his cheeks. a sob left your lips, seeing your child that scared and hurt. he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine.

OMG WAIT IM SCARED. PART 2??? I HOPE THIS IS GOOD IM SORRY IF ITS CRAP <3333

[stclla]

hello loves! my name is bri and i’m so excited to get the chance to write with all of your beautiful muses ♡ i just turned 24 (ew), my pronouns are she/her, and my timezone is est (luckily i live about an hour outside of nyc, and plan to move there permanently in 2021 yay !!!) 

tbh it’s been at least a year since my last rp group and i’m a little rusty, so pls feel free to share your tips and lmk how i’m doing :) my writing style is pretty flexible and i match length, pov, etc. and now !! a little bit of info about my beautiful chaotic bby stella:

ABOUT.

estelle “stella” celestine evans was spotted in the fashion district adorning gucci ankle boots , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to heat waves by glass animals . you may know them as @stella or as that sydney sweeney lookalike . their twenty-second birthday just passed . while living in the upper east side , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be reckless but on the other hand warmhearted . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines .

BASIC INFO.

Full Name: Estelle Celestine Evans

Nickname(s): Stella

Age: 22

Date of Birth: August 4, 1998

Sun Sign: Leo

Moon Sign: Cancer

Rising Sign: Scorpio

Hometown: Beverly Hills, CA

Current Location: Upper East Side, NY

Gender: Cis female

Pronouns: She/her

Orientation: Pansexual

Political Affiliation: Liberal

Occupation: Supermodel, socialite, influencer

Career Highlights: Victoria’s Secret Angel, high fashion runways, print & editorial work, music video appearances, photography, art direction

Goals/Passions: Photography, art direction, fashion design, makeup, social media

Career Claim: Gigi Hadid

BIOGRAPHY.

When your mom’s a legendary supermodel and your dad is a smooth talking Hollywood talent agent, it’s safe to say that you were probably born with a silver spoon in your mouth. But don’t you dare say that shit to Stella Evans. Although she definitely enjoyed the finer things in life growing up and was practically gifted a spot in wealthy elite by her parents, Stella likes to believe that she did it all herself. And underneath it all - the glitz and the glam and the money and the flashing lights - maybe she actually did.

While this blonde haired, blue eyed beauty might be the spitting image of her mother with a few (okay, a lot) more extra curves, Stella tries to distance herself from her family heritage as much as possible. It started in kindergarten when she renamed herself. After all, being named after the notorious Estelle Evans doesn’t make you a lot of friends when you’re five. It makes you the subject of ridicule from your peers, and makes your teachers treat you as if you were the one posing topless in Italian Vogue. And when your mother made you model for a big Baby Guess modeling campaign at the age of 2, kids tended to talk. So she became Stella. Just Stella.

From then on, she did everything she could to separate herself from her parents. If her parents said to stay in, she went out. If they told her to get good grades, she failed her classes in retaliation. Their attention was all consuming, especially her mother’s. After the once popular cover girl had retired, she turned all of her attention to her daughter. Stella’s modeling work had been paused at the suggestion of her talent agent father, Arthur Evans. He wanted her to focus on school and get an education so she could take over the talent agency one day. But when Estelle and Arthur divorced when Stella was 10 years old, all bets were off.

Her mother hopped from loveless marriage to loveless marriage, dragging Stella along for the ride. Her father moved to the Upper East Side, vowing to see her at Christmas each year, while Stella jetted around the world against her will. 6th and 7th grade in Sweden, 8th grade in London, 9th and 10th grade in Paris. It was a long and lonely adolescence, but Stella filled it with booze, bars, and boys and girls to keep her company. Partying was her only escape. And she was damn good at escaping.

She had her first real relationship when she was 16. He was an older French financier who was content to spoil her rotten and show her a good time. Perhaps too good a time. Stella was introduced to the things that would become her vices - namely, drugs and alcohol. Her mother proved to be overbearing but oblivious. She would do things like criticize her daughter’s makeup, clothing, and body, but be completely unaware that Stella was doing things like snorting coke to get thinner. She’d call her trashy for going out to clubs, then look the other way when Stella would wear a short mini skirt when leaving for “study sessions” at the library. With Stella’s clever wit and electric charisma, it really was too easy. The drugs combined with the alcohol made her feel better because she didn’t really feel anything at all. Plus, if her parents hated partying, then Stella would learn to love it.

Shit hit the fan when Stella was arrested in France. Something about being an accomplice to international drug smuggling and being under the influence of a controlled substance - whatever. 16 year old Stella got off with a slap on the wrist due to her connections, promising to move back to New York with her dad until she was 18 and legal. The Upper East Side was her new home, and weirdly enough, she actually kind of liked it. It was easier to start over in New York, where no one cared about her washed up mother. But they did care about money, wealth, and excess, which Stella was more than an expert in, whether she liked it or not. This made her presence in the New York social scene almost magnetic. People would flock to her, drawn in by her ethereal beauty, effortless charm, and “fuck it all” party girl attitude.

Attention was a dangerous drug for a girl like Stella, who had spent her whole life freeing herself from her mother’s tarnished legacy. And when she had finally done it, had finally succeeded in making people call her “Stella Evans” instead of “Baby Estelle”, it made her wild with reckless abandon. All her new friends and lovers wanted to buy her shots and make her feel good any way she wanted, and it was only polite for Stella to let them do it.

The next few years were filled with exclusive clubs, raucous spring breaks, glamorous yacht parties, champagne kisses with boys and girls, social media notoriety, and juicy headlines that cemented her status as an it-girl. Her modeling career resumed with a promise to her father that she would go to college at the same time. Armed with a golden reputation, endless connections, and natural charisma and talent, Stella began to walk all the major runways and was in talks to appear in Sports Illustrated and Victoria’s Secret. Unlike her mother, she proved that she had both high fashion attitude and sex appeal. Stella was unstoppable.

Until she wasn’t. After a night of drinking and an ill-timed bet that she could parallel park her date’s Range Rover (despite the fact that Stella didn’t have a license to speak of), the police charged her with a DUI. This time, she didn’t get off so easy. Her father pulled as many strings as possible to keep her image clean in the press, but word got out anyway. Fucking instagram.

Faced with the threat of losing her big modeling campaigns, Stella agreed to clean up her image. Think rehab, charity work, inspirational interviews. The whole shebang. And it worked - kind of. It’s hard to navigate a world filled with temptation, but Stella doesn’t know how to survive without the glitz and glamour of the wealthy world. She dropped out of college against her dad’s wishes, officially surrendering herself to the New York social scene. Rich girls have more fun, anyway. But sometimes she hates it and wants to be “normal”. Even so, she knows that she never will be and embraces the beautiful chaos that her life of excess brings to her.

As far as rich kids go, Stella is almost down-to-earth. Kind of. She likes to think that she is, but she’s also the kind of girl who would never be caught dead on the subway. Or a taxi. Black cars and private jets only, please. Underneath it all, Stella wants (and frankly, needs) real connections in her life. People who genuinely care about her and have her best interests at heart are extremely rare, so when Stella lets someone get close to her, they’re with her for life. Her reckless, carefree attitude can definitely get her into trouble, so she can be a handful.

But one of her shining traits is that she doesn’t judge, at least not as openly and viciously as her peers. Stella’s life of wealth and status is definitely ingrained in her, but she is also openminded and accepting. Her friends don’t need to be old money. They just need to be real. You can catch her being the talk of the town in her native Upper East Side, but also vibing with the up and comers in Tribeca. Below the layers of superficiality and obsession with the finer things in life, this supermodel has a heart of gold. But don’t fuck with her. Stella is dangerous and defiant when she wants to be, and nothing can get in the way of her getting what she wants. Even if what she wants could destroy her one day.

*** her bio is still a wip and i’m working on some inspo for wanted connections, but definitely lmk if you have any questions or think stella would be a good fit for connections with your muses ! 

[aqpippin]

For things you said: 16 and more jankie pls 😊

16 - things you said with no space between us 

I really am living vicariously through these prompts tbh 🥺 I’m soft and am a huge jankie + crygi simp 🤧🥰✨

 Daisy Goode-Methyd’s first day away from her moms occurred when she was only eight weeks old, with Gigi and Crystal finally succumbing to Jan pressuring them into their first baby-free day since Daisy’s arrival. 

Jackie’s eyes had bulged out of her head when she saw how much ‘essential’ baby equipment was brought into her and Jan’s apartment that morning. 

‘We’re only having her for a few hours, right?’ Jackie had asked, watching as Gigi assembled a portable bassinet in the living room, ‘it’s not like we’re keeping her.’ Jan slapped her arm playfully, shushing her with a low giggle. Judging by the number of bottles Crystal was packing into the fridge, anyone would have thought that the Cox family had a new addition. 

 Jan had all but pushed the new moms out the door, assuring them that they’d be fine and that she would call if she needed anything. Jackie looked down at Daisy, who stared back up at her from the bassinet with wide, brown eyes. Jan was smitten, scooping the tiny brunette up in her arms and breathing in the fresh baby scent. She was in absolute heaven. 

 *** 

Jackie and Jan had gone into the day expecting very different things. Jan had always loved children - she had always been maternal, and she often stated that she was simply ‘born to be a mom’. She would be a platinum blonde PTA wet dream - homemade baked goods and all. Jackie, however, had her reservations. Babies were loud, messy, and terrifying. She had barely held Daisy before, let alone looked after her. Jackie knew that motherhood was something that she would tackle one day, after she had achieved everything on her to-do list (and decided that she was finished unpacking her issues regarding her own mother with her therapist). It was simply something Jackie couldn’t envision happening for at least a few more years. 

Nonetheless, both Jackie and Jan experienced things they did not expect during their day with their favourite (and only) godchild. 

Jackie did not expect to actually find taking care of a baby fun, her motherhood-driven anxiety seemingly disappearing for the majority of the day. If you had asked Jackie at 9am where her expectations for the day sat - she would have told you that the bar was on the floor. Hence her pleasant surprise when she found herself enjoying Daisy’s company. However, she did not have the ability to swallow her pride and admit her contentment to Jan, sneering the occasional ‘shut up’ when Jan caught her smiling or making funny faces at the small child. Daisy didn’t whine the way Jan did when Jackie started watching another episode of Star Trek, and she listened contently to Jackie’s existential dread. She also happened to have a bottle in her mouth on both occasions, but that was something Jackie chose to overlook. 

 *** 

Jan did not expect the 6pm meltdown. Daisy was inconsolable - screaming, fat tears rolling down her red cheeks. Crystal joked about how much of a bitch witching hour was, but Jan always thought she was just being funny. There was a part of the blonde that regretted telling Gigi and Crystal that they would be fine for a few more hours, that they had everything under control. But a bigger part of Jan knew that Gigi and Crystal not only needed this break, they deserved it - and as a result, Jan knew that she and Jackie would just have to work together and sort this out themselves. Daisy was fed, bathed and changed - and yet the girl was screaming as if her aunts had neglected her and her mommies were never coming back. 

“What does Google say?” Jan asked, rocking Daisy in her arms and trying to coax her into taking a pacifier with no avail. Jackie felt like she had scrolled through every mommy blog that existed, and she was yet to find some new information, “Jacks, maybe we should just call them.” 

“No way,” Jackie refused, she was a woman on a mission, and she sighed with relief when she finally found a somewhat reputable help website, “got something. This one says she’s overtired and overstimulated. Also just try holding her against your chest.” Jan nodded to no-one in particular, cradling Daisy closer to her as Jackie turned off all the lights and the television, only the soft pinks and golds of sunset bleeding through the closed blinds. The tiny child in Jan’s arms still refused to settle, Jan humming softly as she stared blankly at Jackie for help. 

“Turn that ugly little white noise thing machine on, I have a plan.” Jackie instructed, pointing to the white, cloud-shaped device sitting on their coffee table.

“Hearing you say that isn’t as comforting as you think it is.” Jan whispered harshly, flicking the switches on and listening as the sound of the traffic on the streets below them was slowly drowned out by the sound of artificial rainfall.

“You’re gonna think this is stupid, and I swear to God if you so much as laugh.” Jackie mused, walking back into the living room in just a sports bra and sleep shorts. She repositioned the soft blue muslin wrap in Daisy’s bassinet, motioning for Jan to bring her over so Jackie could swaddle her. Jan abided wordlessly, watching in silence as Jackie successfully wrapped and pacified the tiny brunette before laying on the couch with Daisy’s head on her chest. The screaming had finally subsided, and if Jan couldn’t hear the white noise machine she would have sworn she’d gone deaf. She stood in awe, looking down at her wife who was softly stroking Daisy’s back with one hand and texting with the other. 

“Come snuggle before she gets too settled.” Jackie sighed, making just enough room between herself and the back of the couch for Jan to cuddle into her side. Jan didn’t need to be asked twice. It was a tight squeeze, but it was so sickeningly domestic Jan didn’t care. Even Jackie found peace in the overwhelming cosiness, long limbs entangled and soft baby breaths making her heart beat just that little bit quicker. 

“She’s so gorgeous. Like a little ray of sunshine. And after all that, she just wanted her auntie Jackie,” Jan cooed, nestling her head into the space between Jackie’s neck and shoulder. The angle was just enough for Jan to be able to see the slight smile resting upon Jackie’s face, “how’d you even think of doing this anyway?” 

“I remember Crystal talking about it once,” Jackie turned her head so she could look down at her wife before pressing a few soft kisses to Jan’s forehead, “apparently your heartbeat is nature’s white noise, and body heat does wonders with babies.” The look of awe on Jan’s face only intensified, and she could feel a swarm of butterflies flapping in her tummy. Ever insightful, Jackie was quick to notice Jan’s gaze. 

“What’s that look for? What’s going on in that pretty blonde head of yours?” 

“I can’t wait to do this for real with you,” Jan sniffled, wiping a few happy tears from her cheeks, “I know you don’t think it’s true, but you’ll be a good mom.” Jackie basked in the glow of Jan’s praise, holding Jan’s hand and squeezing in silent thanks. 

“Let’s have one.” It was said so simply - no fuss, no dramatic and sudden realisation. It just felt right. 

 “Really?” Jan was practically beaming, the words she had been patiently waiting to hear finally being thrown into the universe, “you’re really ready?” 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be 100% ready,” Jackie mused, pausing to coo softly at Daisy as she began to stir, “but I want this. I want our own little piece of heaven. And I know as long as I have you, I can do anything.” 

 “You’re such a softie.” Jan giggled, snuggling further into Jackie’s side. She let her mind run wild, let herself imagine being in the exact same position in a year’s time. She found comfort in the heat radiating off Jackie’s exposed skin, and drifted off to the sound of Jackie’s heartbeat thrumming softly in her ear. 

Jackie laid on the couch in silence, her own imagination running wild at the thought of what the next year would bring. She smiled lazily, eventually shushing Gigi and Crystal as they let themselves into the apartment. 

“Ain’t this a sight for sore eyes?” Crystal giggled, taking photos as Jackie rolled her eyes. 

“Was she a Goode girl?” Gigi asked, scooping her daughter up and cradling her in her arms. 

“The best,” Jan chimed in groggily, rubbing her eyes but not moving from her spot on the couch, “a little slice of heaven.”

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Djinni “Whisp” Grant

Don’t you just wish you could read my diary?

⟡ ⧗ ⟡ ⧗

It’s amazing how different the world looks when you’re the one in charge of it. I don’t mean the whole world, of course, just the one that exists inside the lantern. Now, instead of criticizing - which I used to do a lot of - I have to actually be responsible. I think my first decision will be to return to my original shadow look because I want my unlife to change from the inside out, not the outside in.

⟡ ⧗ ⟡ ⧗ ⟡ ⧗ ⧗

I think I still have a lot to learn about being a djinni; mostly because when I was “shadowing” Gigi, I didn’t pay very good attention to the things she was telling me about the job. I think my jealousy made me deaf to everything except what I wanted. So, now I have a lot of catching up to do. Good thing there’s an instruction book, and an even better thing that I have a lot of time on my hands since it’s a five thousand-volume set. At least it’s interesting... well, most of it is, anyway. The legal and warning sections are full of fine print that I’m sure would make any monster who needed sleep - which I don’t - go completely comatose. Something that I learned today, which I should have already known, is that the number of wishes a djinni can grant is based upon how many years they have been a servant of the lantern. I’m only allowed three to begin. I hope whoever finds me doesn’t feel like they’ve been ripped off. Hmmm... I wonder if I should say, “You only get three, don’t waste them.” Well, the next volume seems to be full of things a djinni can and cannot say, so I guess I will find out. Just hope it’s not in the fine print.

⃞ ⧗ ⧗

There is a clock and calendar on the wall of a small storeroom deep in the basement of the lantern palace. It is the only place inside the lantern where the passage of time is recorded. I used to go there when I was a shadow and watch the time pass when Gigi was out granting wishes. At first I thought it was fascinating, but over time my fascination turned to resentment as I watched the hours and days go by while Gigi was out seeing the world. Once, when she was gone, I got so angry I tore both the clock and calendar from the wall and destroyed them. I can’t believe I was such a.... brat. Somehow I thought this would make Gigi feel bad about not taking me with her when she left, but when Gigi returned and I led her down to the room so I could gloat over what I’d done, the clock and calendar were back as if I had never touched them. I look foolish, and felt worse. Gigi kindly told me that the clock and calendar used to be in her room, but she moved them to the basement because it made her feel lonely to see the time passing. She said that they were part of the lantern, and even though they could be moved, they could not be destroyed. I think that was the moment when I realized that I was a part of the lantern, too, and I began to wonder if one day Gigi would lock me away as well. That’s when I began plotting to overthrow her, take over the lantern, and then the world. Gigi, of course, would never have done that to me, but I guess that it just shows how much a shadow knows...

⟡ ⃞ ⧗

I am on volume 1,753. This volume could be titled When Wishes Go Wrong, and in it I found a story about the perils of wishes made in anger called The Princess and the Captain. It’s about a vampire queen who uses her last wish to punish her youngest daughter who has fallen in love with the captain of the guard, a commoner. The queen, whose word was law and tolerated no questioning of it, is displeased by their affections and forbids them to ever be together. The princess argues that the captain is her one true love, but the queen is unmoved and not only strips the captain of his rank but threatens to have him banished from the kingdom forever. So the princess agrees to forsake the love of her unlife... yeah, right... and, of course, that doesn’t last long. They are soon found out and brought to the throne room.

Now the wrath of the queen was great and she ordered her djinni’s lantern be brought to her. He was the oldest and wisest of all the lantern djinn and had been in the queen’s service for a thousand years.

“Ninety and nine wishes have I granted you oh queen, and there is but one yet left,” said the djinni.

“Listen well, then, servant of the lantern. Since my daughter and my former captain of the guard understand neither the nature of obedience nor the unbridgeable gulf between royalty and those of common birth, I wish them to be forever obedient and forever apart!”

“But my queen....” said the djinni.

“Would you disobey me as well?” she raged.

“Be it then as you wish,” replied the djinni.

The the djinni clapped his hands and there was smoke, a flash of light and the sound of massive iron doors swinging open and then closing with a deafening crash. When the smoke cleared, the princess and the captain were gone, and in their place two lanterns stood... a hand’s width apart from each other.

“Forever obedient - forever apart,” said the djinni and with those final words, both he and the lanterns disappeared.

The rest of the story tells how the vampire queen, being filled with remorse, leaves the throne and spends her unlife searching for her daughter’s lantern. There are, however, two footnotes at the end of the story. The first reads.

While any djinni old enough and powerful enough to have accumulated 100 wishes could have certainly fulfilled the “letter of the wish” by turning the princess and the captain into djinn, the queen’s wish never specifies whom they should be obedient to or apart from; thus it is just as likely that the princess and captain of the guard were made forever obedient to the love of the other, and forever apart from the queen herself.

The second footnote reads,

If, however, the princess and the captain were indeed both turned into lantern djinn, then the queen herself is probably still looking, because you do not find a lantern. It finds you.

7th of July

Today my lantern was found and I was summoned for the very first time! I thought that I would be ready when it happened, but I was completely taken by surprise. In fact, I had just put my hair up in a towel and was getting ready to apply a beauty mask when a voice thundered through the inside of the lantern, “You are summoned!” Note to self: find preference settings and change voice from an “In a world...” kind of intonation to something less ominous. Anyway, I put on my “game face”, took a deep breath, and hoped the monster I was about to be serving wouldn’t be able to tell that I was nervous. Guess I shouldn’t have worried too much about that, because when I said, “I am the djinni of the lantern, what is your wish?” the monster who summoned me almost fainted. He is a vampire... of sorts... and by his clothes it looks like he’s seen better days. He didn’t wish for anything tonight, so I suppose I’ll have to wait before I am allowed to grant my first wish. Now I’m more excited than nervous.  

8th of July

“You are summoned!” I thought I had it fixed, but now the voice sounds like a zombie using “baby talk”, so instead of ominous it’s just irritating. More importantly, I finally got to talk to the monster who is currently in possession of my lantern. His name is Kieran Valentine, and much like me he is trying to keep his present and future from being defined by his past. We talked for hours and I think that even without wishing for one, I’ve found a friend. It was good to be able to talk about what we’d each done in the past and not feel condemned. I think going forward it will help to know that we’ll both be cheering the other on to succeed. Speaking of wishes, he still hasn’t made one yet... but I’m good with that.

10th of July

“You are summoned!” Ack! No, I’m right out on it blasting through the lantern like an opera singer. It still needs work, I may not have learned everything I should have from Gigi, but one thing I did pay a lot of attention to was the way that wishes work. When a djinni grants a wish, a force is released: a force so powerful that it can remake the very fabric of reality in order to fulfil its purpose. It is also a force that needs specific instructions or else it will interpret what you’ve wished for, and sometimes the results get lost in translation. Sadly, I am not allowed to give hints or coach monsters in how or what they should wish. It isn’t that I don’t want to: it’s that I physically can’t. Gigi one told me that she tried to tell a monster how to word a wish and her mouth literally closed shut and wouldn’t open until after the wish was granted. So, all that to say, I knew that KV’s first wish was not going to turn out how he hoped it would. I’m just happy that he had a “rescue wish” left, otherwise...

12th of July

I really feel bad for KV. He’s already used up two of his three wishes with nothing to show for it. I tried to tell him how sorry I was but he wouldn’t even listen. He even said it was completely his fault, and that I had nothing to be sorry for. I really hope he thinks hard about his last wish.

1st of August

“You are summoned!” Ooh, I like this version. It sounded like I was being called to the front door to meet an old friend. I’ll keep it. KV used his last wish today. He wished that we could always be friends. I think that would have come true regardless of whether or not he wished for it, but I thought it was so unselfish of him to use his last wish like that. I wasn’t exactly sure how it was going to be fulfilled until I was holding my very own iCoffin with KV’s number programmed into it. The best thing, thought, was that I had full bars everywhere I went inside the lamp! Being able to have a friend to talk to even when I’m inside the lantern is so much more than even I could have wished for.

[auditionsuggestions]

Audition songs for Women “Of a Certain Age”

This one is specifically for the ladies who are no longer ingenues (or who never really were and are finally growing into their character type...more or less the 40+ crowd)! Not all of these are solos, but I’m fairly certain all can be cut to be a good 16 or 32 bars.

List is under the cut for length

Golden Age:

“The Words” from Anne of Green Gables (1965 Charlottetown Festival)

“June is Bustin’ Out All Over” from Carousel

“You’ll Never Walk Alone” from Carousel

“Do You Love Me” from Fiddler on the Roof

“Sunrise Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof

“Who Taught Her Everything She Knows” from Funny Girl

“If A Girl Isn’t Pretty” from Funny Girl

“Adelaide’s Lament” form Guys and Dolls (overdone, but not so much so that I’d completely discourage its use)

“Everything’s Coming up Roses” from Gypsy

“Rose’s Turn” from Gypsy

“You Gotta Get a Gimmick” from Gypsy

“Before the Parade Passes By” from Hello Dolly

“World Take Me Back” from Hello Dolly

“I Hate Men” from Kiss Me Kate

“So In Love” from Kiss Me Kate

“Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” from Pal Joey

“Somehow I Never Could Believe” from Street Scene

Late 60s through 1980

“Compliments” from 1776

“Little Girls” from Annie

“So What?” from Cabaret

“What Would You Do?” from Cabaret

“The Ladies Who Lunch” from Company

“Could I Leave You” from Follies

“Losing My Mind” from Follies

“One More Kiss” from Follies (This can also be done by a young soprano as it’s a duet between an older performer and her younger self in the show)

“Say A Little Prayer” from Gigi (the time period’s correct, but is more of a 2015 revival thing than from the original production)

“Thank Heaven for Little Girls” from Gigi (This was a man’s song in the original, but the 2015 revival changed it to being a woman’s)

“Liaisons” from A Little Night Music (for a MUCH older actress)

“Send in the Clowns” from A Little Night Music (a bit overdone from my understanding, so if you’re gonna do it, knock the acting out of the park)

“By the Sea” from Sweeney Todd

“Worst Pies in London“ from Sweeney Todd

1980s through 2000

“Patterns” from Baby

“Tale as Old as Time” from Beauty and the Beast

“I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance” from Carrie the Musical

“When There’s No One” from Carrie the Musical

“Memory” from Cats is NOT going on this list cause it’s wayyyyy too overdone (don’t sing it is what I’m saying)

“Some One Else’s Story” from Chess (Sorry belt-y teens, Svetlana should be older)

“Ain’t it Good” from Children of Eden

“Children Will Listen” from Into the Woods

“The Last Midnight” from Into the Woods

“Stay with Me” from Into the Woods

“Perfectly Nice” from Jane Eyre (yes, it was on Broadway in 2000, but it was written in the 90s)

“A Slip of A Girl” from Jane Eyre

“And the Moon Grows Dimmer” from Kiss of the Spider Woman

“I Do Miracles” from Kiss of the Spider Woman

“Mamma Mia” from Mamma Mia

“Like it Was” from Merrily We Roll Along

“The Garden Path to Hell” from The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Puffer’s Confession” from The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“My Husband Makes Movies” from Nine

“I Just Wanna Be A Star” from Nunsense

“A Word from Reverend Mother” from Nunsense

“Mama Will Provide” from Once On This Island (While versions of the show exist that don’t focus on race, the show is set in the Caribbean--specifically on Hispaniola)

“Ti Moune” from Once on This Island

“Back to Before” from Ragtime

“The Stuff” from Reefer Madness

“I Hate Musicals” from Ruthless

“Teaching Third Grade” from Ruthless

“Just One Step” from Songs for A New World

“Stars and the Moon” from Songs for A New World

“Children and Art” from Sunday in the Park with George

“As If We Never Said Goodbye” from Sunset Boulevard

2000 through the Present

“5 to 9″ from 9 to 5

“My Favorite Moment of the Bee” from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

“Lucky” from A Little Princess

“Just Around the Corner” from The Addams Family

“Close the Door” from Anastasia

“Land of Yesterday” from Anastasia

“Omar Sharif” from The Band’s Visit (This is pushing it a little--Dina is like late 30s-ish iirc)

“Everything Happens” from Bandstand

“Always Better” from Bridges of Madison County

“I Hate the Bus” from Caroline or Change (another one where the character’s race should really be considered before you choose to use this piece)

“I’m Here” from The Color Purple (another great piece for a black actress)

“Me and the Sky” from Come From Away

“As We Stumble Along” from The Drowsy Chaperone

“Days and Days” from Fun Home

“The Cake I Had” from Grey Gardens

“Will You” from Grey Gardens

“I Know Where I’ve Been” from Hairspray (you really shouldn’t use this for an audition if you’re white...or even white-passing--I say this as a white-passing POC)

“Miss Baltimore Crabs” from Hairspray

“Always Starting Over” from If/Then

“Enough” from In the Heights (You guys are smart, don’t make me say the thing about racial sensitivity again)

“Paciencia y Fe” from In the Heights

“Forgiven” from Jagged Little Pill

“Smiling” from Jagged Little Pill

“Uninvited” from Jagged Little Pill

“Ireland” from Legally Blonde

“Ireland (Reprise)” from Legally Blonde

“Beautiful Boy” from Lestat

“The Beauty Is (Reprise)” from Light in the Piazza

“Dividing Day” from Light in the Piazza

“Fable” from Light in the Piazza

“I Want the Good Times Back” from The Little Mermaid

“Poor Unfortunate Souls” from The Little Mermaid (putting this in this section because this is when the stage show was created)

“Poor Unfortunate Souls (Reprise)” from The Little Mermaid

“Days of Plenty” from Little Women

“Here Alone” from Little Women

“Feed the Birds” from Mary Poppins

“Brimstone and Treacle” form Mary Poppins

“What’s Wrong With Me (Reprise)” from Mean Girls

“That’s Rich” from Newsies

“I Miss the Mountains” from Next to Normal

“There is Music in You” R+H’s Cinderella

“Haven’t Got a Prayer” from Sister Act

“My Most Beautiful Day” from Tuck Everlasting

“A Privilege to Pee” from Urinetown

“An Old Fashioned Lesbian Love Story” from The Wild Party (Lippa)

[anonil88]

TLW Gen Q Episode 6

Spoilers below

So going into this I saw one meme that spoiled one thing but other than that one thing I am not ready for the drama

Oh this is like that one time when Bette had to throw that shitty lady under the bus and that bitch brought up her and Tina's miscarriage.

I would drop out the race to be honest like what can you salvage at this point

What did I say keeping it from Alice was not the right thing to do

I am sure she is having fun with her lil boo

Uncle Shane for the win

Bette fucking her life up yet again because she can't keep her fingers to her damn self, like a kid in a candy store.

Awwww Tina.

You can totally break up with someone be friendly and still be a sense of support for them. To all you baby gays that does not mean talk to your toxic ass ex.

Tess has to go to a meeting asap she def started the steam train but Finn kept that engine fired all the way up.

Oh so they know, mom's always know and Angie has 2.

Tina Kenard despite all the shit that you have done I still fucking love you.

Oh yea that does affect their relationship when she is a PR manager.

Finn also avoids the actual conversation and yes just a lil touch of stupid.

I want all of Dani's outfits for real, please put them on my body and in my closet and God give me the height for it.

This puts a stain on everyones fucking career and their hopes that is why BETTE SHOULD HAVE ENDED THINGS WHEN THEY FUCKING TOLD HER TOO.

I do not feel sorry for Bette right now and 🖕 Felicity.

Dani, just let her drop out of this race please

Chiara is so damn foine like god 😍.

This throuple dynamic is super sweet the PDA was so fucking natural. Ugh god give me more.

Co-parenting from separate states is probably super fucking hard.

I still love tibette and their tit for tat convos. Petty but not wrong at all, Bette really was the breadwinner and took over every fucking thing in that last season.

Yea Tina you should have been there, that is wrong as hell.

Tess and Finley should not have had sex.

Who swims with glasses???

Another reason Fin should not have had sex with Tess because she is still in her emotions about starting to fall for Rebecca.

Oh she is going to confess her feelings and I oop.

Chiara reminds me of my "wife" aka my bestfriend in terms of outfit and stance.

Can my friends kids call me uncle? Please. I really want that for my future...

Angie's eye liner matches her hair that is great.

Shane said go say it with ya chest.

I love Shane and Chiara no cap, awe Chiara giving Shane them I am so in love with you eyes.

Awwww the "I think I love you" 😭😭😭 awww first kisses.

Exactly Shane you are going to make a great Dad for real.

🤣 this throuple is too cute and Gigi is me angry driving, but I love Alice being the rationale middle ground here. This is too freaking cute.

Alice said you are an awful driver lmao.

👀....nvm I can't be mad I have been angry and said some shit like this about an ex.

Tess is working that bar still I see. Also Tess is a snack.

Yea Finley you are being super weird.

Having sex with friends can be safe and not at all awkward.

Ugh she's still off the wagon completely and yea Finley and her do not need to be buddies.

Sophie is super cute.

This is fucking adorable JUST AS FRIENDS btw ⬇️

The bops.

Oh thank god.

☕ Do NOT make someone else your identity. You are an individual who deserves your own life outside of your partner.

Tell your friends you love them.

Lmfao they really are bickering like an old married throuple. That is too cute. OMG the cards 😭.

So let's communicate these feelings and express them healthily. Alice is a great ass listener to be honest when she needs to be. Alice is in it for the long hall sis, your kids call her malice, your ex wife literally ruined your first hook up, and she has not left yet. Sis is in it for the long haul not the uhaul.

I would have dropped out tbh but I do get why she is not. KIT DESERVED BETTER, also they do ask at some ERs but not all. If you are the family of an addict or you are in recovery do tell the nurses of their/your past drug abuse history because they will prescribe you or them opiate pain killers.

😭😭😭😭 ⬇️

Awwww they are all cuddled up with the munchkins awwwww. Yes thankyou a healthy polyamorous relationship 😭.

Aww they sleeping cuddled up and Dani doesn't even bat an eye. I think it's because she trust her fiance completely but I feel like they are setting up for one of them to cheat or the engagement to be broken off. I hate that.

Lmfao she took a breath.

This is a really good speech.

Can y'all please have a fucking conversation, this is what being in a relationship with someone who is super verbally stunted is like. I have been on both sides of that to be honest.

Oop Tina said 🤔

Preview thoughts: Yes more Mama T and B, ooo a date. So should I tell the story about how I walked in on my ex partner having sex with their ex partner in our room and had 0 heads up and I freaked out. Haha don't do that people. Ughhh Dani Dani Dani. Two more episodes 😩

Kit Porter Deserved Better

[peaches-the-queen]

Pre-adoption (left) vs. post-adoption (right)!

Origin Story

(I apologize about this being so long, I cannot figure out how to put a cut on mobile!)

For the past 3 years, I have owned rats. Over the course of those 3 years, I loved and lost 7 boys who I deeply cared for with all of my heart. I knew going into it that their lives would not be longer than 2-3 years, but still, each death hit me hard and took its toll on me one by one. Although I loved every second I got to spend with them, and I learned a lot about love, loss, and grief, I knew that at some point I would have to take a break.

After losing my last rat, Goomba, very suddenly and being stricken with grief, I waited a few days before looking into local shelters to adopt a cat or a dog. I live alone in an apartment, and it felt too empty without any animals. I visited my first shelter just to look, I did fall in love with a cat and another dog, but the dog was already spoken for and I wanted to think about the cat first.

We decided to check another shelter that I had not ever been to. It was about 7pm (they opened 6-8:30pm) and we went in looking for two puppies listed on the website. While waiting for the puppies to be ready to be seen, I strolled down the aisle of dogs and said hello to everyone. It was deafeningly loud with barking, as shelters usually are, the dogs stressed, scared, or wanting attention. When I came across Peaches, she timidly wagged her tail and approached the kennel bars, licking me as I stuck my fingers through the gap. Her ears were back, and she literally looked at me with the sweetest eyes. I knew she was a poodle; my beloved first dog, Gigi, was a black toy poodle. I didn’t know Peaches name or any information at this point, so we were called back to an introduction room where the puppy was.

Although the puppy was ADORABLE, I knew that he would have no trouble being adopted if I didn’t. He was too scared to investigate and hid in a corner; I felt too bad forcing him to interact, so I decided to look at another dog. They asked who I would like to see, and of course I said, “can I please see the poodle?”

When they brought her in, they put her right into my arms where she settled. She is only about 6.7 pounds so it was no trouble to snuggle her. My mom (who went with me to help) and I were losing our minds over her! She was shaking and probably nervous, but she reminded us of Gigi with her poodle traits and those sweet eyes. I sat on the floor with her where she was reluctant to leave my lap, but eventually a switch must have flipped in her brain because she hopped out of my lap and began prancing around the room! I could tell she had warmed up and was happy to have some attention.

We asked if we could take her on a walk outside, so we got to take her on a small path around the shelter to see how she would do. She pranced right outside with us and was absolutely loving life. I literally knew at this moment that there was no way I could let them put her back into her kennel.

We sat down with one of the volunteers who then told us that her name was Peaches, she was 4 years old, and an ASPCA rescue from New York. They weren’t sure of the specifics, but they do know she was rescued from a very bad situation that the animal cops were involved in, most likely either hoarding or neglect (or even possibly a puppy mill). She also has bilateral luxating patellas, which is something he mentioned I would have to watch.

After lots of back and forth with my mom and I, even though we were both pretty much 100% sure, I adopted her! At this point it was about 8pm so we filled out the paperwork, paid for her, and got our picture taken, and headed home (Which is when I took the photo of her chilling in front of the Christmas tree ❤️). It has been a little over a month since then, and I can tell that she just loves life. I will post more about her quirks and antics but I wanted to introduce her with the full story!

[olliedollie1204]

a running list of my favorite chris fleming jokes

“This guy has a girlfriend?” Yeah, we met on Waze.

Three years ago, a 15 year old girl wanted to seem more mature, so she got into coffee. Three years later, that girl is Bernie Sanders!

What’s happening to me? I used to have dreams and hopes and ambitions, and now look at me! I’m at a poolside bar and I couldn’t name a book if I had to!

If I see a baby in the audience, I swear to God I’m taking that baby on my Delta Airlines flight home and I’m raising it as my own.

“You’re tall, do you vape like Gigi?” ... What did you say to me?

The smile of a father with three sons, all of whom snowboard, is so confrontational, it reads as indecent exposure.

For somebody who believes that musicals are ‘kinda gay’, you’re behaving a lot like the kind of guy that Rodgers and Hammerstein would dream up while 69-ing on a piano.

“This tiny shack might seem like a waste of everybody’s time, but we were blown away at what we found inside: an Irish stepdancing competition!” What? There aren’t even cars in the driveway!

“Can I have a ride?” What about your motorcycle license? “This pig isn’t street legal, you C-section! What do you think we are, Italy?”

Are all y’all still talking to me?

Every time I see a guy with his son, I’m like, “Ew, what are you guys, an improv group?”

Everybody, strike a pose that you’d be comfortable seen in for the next 2,000 years, because this is Pompeii 2014!

In the words of Mark Twain’s wife, Shania Twain, that don’t impress me much.

The legal coffee age should be 21. Otherwise, you just get teens who drink coffee, struttin’ around like they’re Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

“We shouldn’t ever scream or whine/ Gigi voted for Jill Stein!” Okay, why is that... known?

He talks with his eyes closed for so long/ You think I have time to run a quick errand without him noticing?

“I don’t care that we’re at Bertucci’s, Betsy!” (Except I’ll be middle aged so I won’t have any handle on proper nouns.) *rewind noises* “I don’t care that we’re at Terbucci’s, Betsy!”

If your Greg wears a baggy dress shirt and takes you to the Olive Garden immediately after Paint Nite, chances of conceiving a homophobic baby go up by 400%!

Do community acrobatics/ In a very public setting/ Blocking foot traffic access/ To a child’s birthday party!

If people don’t comment ‘Dad Goals’/ I’m gonna fucking lose it.

“The real reason I have you watch Judge Judy with me everyday is for the support. I was briefly married to Judy in the 40s-” That can’t be true. “-And then she left me to wear the robe.”

You know how they say a sneeze is 1/16th of an orgasm? I just sneezed 16 times.

She’s hittin’ her head all over your thighs, and you have to stifle your agony, because she’s small, so she’s unaware of all the damage that she’s capable of doing. Not dissimilar from Lenny.

[theimpossiblescheme]

to burn the castle down before the princess is awake

Here is my (somewhat late) first entry to the Van Helsing installment of @peters-pumpkin-day--I hope everyone enjoys!

“You’re sure you saw her there?  Alone?” Abraham Van Helsing pressed, withdrawing a plate of biscuits like a sharp reflex as his face clouded over.  Marianne knew that look—it was the same look he’d given her when she’d told him of… of her first engagement.  When he’d learned she’d been kissed by a vampire.  It had unsettled her then, almost scared her—that certain sign that something was wrong.  Maybe it should scare her now… maybe if she weren’t still so numb.

The Sexton sitting across the parlor from them nodded grimly.  “She looked exactly the same as she had at the funeral.  Same nightgown, same curls… except her eyes were red.  Poor child looked as though she’d been either bleeding or crying.” He pushed away his plate, mouth contorting as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite, and dabbed at his limp grey mustache with a napkin.  “I can only imagine what Gina’s family would think if they could see her now…”

“I hope they will not have to.”  Marianne hadn’t even realized she’d said it out loud until Abraham and the Sexton turned to look at her, Abraham out of concern, the Sexton out of shock. She paid them no mind or at least tried to, her cheeks burning as she wrung her hands into her skirt.  “It would break their hearts.”  It had been so long, so many years ago that she felt safe putting it all behind her.  Now, for a terrible moment, all she could see was the funeral.  Every time she closed her eyes, she could see it… the weeping family in quiet denial, the confused students begging for answers, the ensuing chaos as it looked like she was about to lose her place in the school forever… as everything seemed to fall apart… and there was Gina, so peaceful in her coffin, wreathed in flowers.  Completely unaware.  

The touch of Abraham’s hand slipping into hers eased her back to the present, and she squeezed it as he turned back to the Sexton.  “And you don’t think she’ll be compelled to leave?”

“I can’t imagine she would.  As soon as we caught wind of her presence, I had the Sisters bar the windows and doors and station a cross in front of them.  Unless she takes it into her head to scratch her way out with her fingernails, she isn’t going anywhere.”  She saw his head tilt for a moment towards her as if to ask something before deciding against it.  “The only trouble will be what to do for service in the morning—”

“You won’t have to worry about that, Sexton.”  Extracting his hand from Marianne’s, Abraham stood up from the sofa and authoritatively  drew himself up to his full height.  “If you’ll take me to the chapel, I’ll make sure she never troubles your parishioners or anyone else ever again.”

The Sexton blanched a bit as the offer sank in.  “You—You mean you’ll—?”

“It’s all the peace I can give the poor girl, and all the promise I can give you that this contagion can be stamped out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Marianne spoke up, standing in turn and causing both men to look at her again with the same expressions.  She had expected them to protest, but it didn’t matter.  This was her Gigi, her student, her confidante. Even if her husband would remind her otherwise now, tell her not to waste her tears on some… she couldn’t even bear to think it.  She simply couldn’t stay here and do nothing.

As expected, the Sexton immediately raised a hand as if to placate her, his mustache bristling in quiet disbelief.  “Oh, I don’t think—this isn’t exactly women’s work—”

“Marianne knows better than most what suffering the undead can both experience and bring about,” Abraham cut him off, his voice mild, but holding no room for debate.  “I trust her with my life.”

A muscle was still twitching in the Sexton’s jaw, but he said nothing this time, drawing his coat further around him and readjusting his scarf.  “In that case, I’ll… I’ll bring the cab back around and wait for you.”  He started for the door before turning around and giving Abraham a wry face.  “It’s such a nasty business, isn’t it?  Vampires and all that…?”

“It’s not a business I relish, but it is a necessary one.  We’ll be with you in a few minutes, Sexton.”  And with that, Abraham closed the door behind him, leaving silence in the house once more.  Marianne busied herself with the abandoned dishes—it was something to do with her hands—while her husband remained frozen at the door for a moment. Even without seeing his face, she could feel the change coming over him, like a cool breeze in late summer.  It was another face she knew very well now, even with his back to her.  His shoulders drooped a bit, but seemed to harden at the same time, and as he stepped away, there was a weary resoluteness in his stride.  A soldier off to battle.  He crossed the sitting room into his tiny study, reached under his desk, and pulled out his weapon—a small leather satchel—before returning and setting it down on the end table to take inventory.

She could finish the dishes later.  Reaching for her coat and hurriedly shrugging it on, Marianne peered into the satchel and picked over a few of the small items: vials of silver and hawthorn shavings, a bottle of Holy Water not disguised in an ordinary drinking flash, a wooden cross that fit perfectly into her hand…  “You will not mind if I take a few of these?” she inquired, tucking them into her coat pocket.  “I don’t want to go into the chapel unarmed—I hate feeling so useless against these things.”

“Please do.”  Upon hearing his wife’s self-deprecation, he looked up at her, and his face softened the tiniest bit.  “You are far from useless, darling, I promise you.  In fact, I’m glad you’re coming with me.  Gina knows you.  She once loved and admired you—she can listen to you.  Besides, I wouldn’t want you to stay here by yourself.”  When she drew a tiny silver crucifix on a delicate chain from one of the satchel’s inside pockets, he motioned for her to turn around with a finger and threaded it under her hair, clasping it at the nape of her neck. His hands were warm and dry, almost cracked in places from years of callouses, so different from the cold, soft hands of her former fiance… stop thinking about him, Marianne.  He isn’t here now—he is just ash now, he can’t hurt you… still, she resolved to keep this crucifx on indefinitely.  Just in case.  Perhaps it, too, would come in handy tonight… God, wasn’t that also a terrible thought?  Using something so beautiful against someone she once called friend…

“…I think she was jealous of me.”

“How’s that?” came Abraham’s voice over her shoulder.

“Of me and the Baron.”  Letting her hair fall back over her shoulder, she turned back around to face him.  “I told her about our engagement the night he asked me.  I was… so happy.”  It seemed so long ago and so far away… like it had happened to someone entirely different. She could remember the ghost of a smile on her face as she shared the secret that night, but it was a hollow thing… no remembered emotion attached to it.  Sometimes her skin tingled where he’d kissed her, but painfully, like a burn that never fully scarred over.  “And she acted as though she was, too.  She was smiling and cheerful and asked me all sorts of questions about him, but… I can’t say how, but it—none of it seemed quite real.  As if she was trying to be happy just because I was happy.”  That was painful, too, in retrospect—the idea that the last conversation she’d ever had with her friend, Gina had not been honest with her.  “And when the Baron found her…”  She swallowed thickly, throat suddenly burning now.  “I cannot imagine what she thought then.  Or what he thought…”

Abraham’s eyes held that same weariness as he nodded, his voice holding a note of pity as he spoke again.  “He thought of her only as an easy prize to win—someone he could make false promises to and then humiliate.”

“But what about her?” Marianne pressed on desperately.  “Do you think… do you think Gina loved him?  Even if he did not—could not love her?”

“I can’t say.”  But why not, Marianne was about to ask.  Help me make sense of this—tell me why Gina would do this, why he would do this, why I had to lose my only friend here, please, love, tell me… but an gently upraised hand quieted her thoughts for a moment.  “I do know that Meinster’s brand of evil can be very seductive. There’s a promise of freedom in it—freedom to love, freedom to do as one pleases… freedom from consequences.  I can imagine that was very attractive to a poor girl like Gina.”

That did make some sense… but Marianne knew the Baron, knew his smiling condescension toward the other girls.  Knew even his condescension toward her, the foolish woman who rescued him, the foreigner who still struggled with English and couldn’t possibly understand. She was a silly girl, and Gina would have seemed even sillier to him… he could do so much worse than humiliate her. Precious Gina, with all her hopes and dreams…  “When I found her that night in the stables… she greeted me like an old friend.  She called me her darling, asked me to kiss her… all with that terrible smile on her face and those horrible teeth…”  She’d seen that same taunting smile on more than one face now.  “I wonder if she learned that from him.”

This time Abraham looked a bit alarmed as he pulled down his coat and shrugged it on, an expression of regret warring in his features as if he wished he could have been there sooner to spare her… Marianne clung to that look. It meant she wasn’t crazy, that he wouldn’t dismiss it as a nightmare… that she might not have been alone, even as she stood there feeling that night’s freezing wind through the slats in the stable walls and glancing back at her friend’s glinting fangs.  “I would not be surprised, darling.”

“And then she—she asked me to forgive her.  For letting him love her.  What—What should I have forgiven her for?”  What had he done to her to make her believe such a thing?  He’d already taken her soul, twisted her body into something evil and perverse like his—what else could he possibly take from her? Tears actually stung at Marianne’s eyes now, and a hot well of shame rose in her chest.  “What did he do to her that I should have forgiven?” He’d never go away, he’d never leave her, that terrible man… even dead, he’d taken so much from them both.  Poor Gina, weeping and defiled, alone on ground that burned her feet.  This is all my fault, Marianne thought bitterly, pressing her hand hard to her mouth, trying to keep the tears away.  This was all her fault… she could have spared Gina this fate.  She should have gone with the Baron, should have agreed to marry him.  Better her soul than Gina’s.  Better for her to have accepted it.  “If I had been there when it happened—if—if I would never have freed him—”  The well in her chest burst, and her words were lost to helpless sobbing.

In a moment, Abraham’s arms were around her, holding her close against the warmth of his coat as she cried.  “It wasn’t your fault, Marianne.  None of it was your fault…”

“What—Wh-What will she say now?  Now that the B-Baron is gone—now that he’s been… been taken away from her… now that we… she wanted me to forgive her…”

“Is that what you fear?”

She shook her head, burrowing against his fur collar

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid… that Gina w-will still hate me so much for it that—that no matter what you do to free her soul… that h-hatred will still…”

“Will keep her from Heaven?”

Hearing it out loud wrenched a new flood of tears from her.  She is going to hell, your friend will be sent to hell… dear, sweet, supportive Gina, who never deserved it.  And the Baron would be waiting for her to torment her again… there was a very small part of her mind that knew such a thought was ridiculous, that knew she had no way to know for sure, but the fear was still there. The fear and the strangling guilt.

“I’m afraid I can promise very little in that respect,” Abraham said softly after a moment.  “What she still feels once her soul is at rest is between her and God.”  Marianne felt his arms withdraw and she tried to cling on, just for that fleeting safety, but to her relief he only pulled far enough away to hold her loosely at arm’s length.  “But I can promise she won’t be suffering any longer, and you will be there to bear witness and help her to the other side.  Besides… our God is a forgiving God.  No matter what she thinks in her final moments, He will see that she was an innocent and accept her regardless.”

She tried to nod, tried to believe him… and she so badly wanted to. But that outcome still seemed so far away.  They had to find Gina first… had to rid her of his contagion.  Abraham had defined vampires as plague-carriers to her once, and it felt easier to think that way.  That Gina was merely sick beyond cure… not that that was any more comforting. “She—She will not be awake when you…” She trailed off and nodded suggestively over at his bag, still unable to say the words.

“Not if I can help it,” Abraham replied, shaking his head.  “If possible, I’ll wait until she goes to sleep before dawn.  And if not… I promise I will still try to make it as painless as I can.”

…That, at least, she could live with.  For the moment.  For Gina’s sake.  “I’m glad for that.  I don’t… I don’t want her to suffer any more than she has…”

“I know, darling.  And she won’t.”  He didn’t have to repeat himself, but the steadfast and solemn warmth in his eyes said, I promise you.

In that moment, the words thank you seemed inadequate, so she leaned forward to kiss him, letting that warmth comfort her all over again.  They would have all night to deal with cold, dead things.  Let her have this now before going to war against them.  Abraham’s hand came up to cradle the back of her head, caressing her hair even as she pulled away and was ashamed to feel tears clinging to her lashes again.  Less out of fear this time and more out of sheer relief… the fear was still there, but it was duller now.  “I’m so sorry for—for falling to pieces like this.”  She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.  “It’s so embarrassing…”

“Don’t apologize, my love.”  His answering smile was thin and tired, but no less sincere.  “Thank you for telling me.  It will help us both tonight.”

The whickering of horses outside the window gave Marianne a start, prompting a wet laugh out of her before composing herself.  “We should not keep the Sexton waiting,” she said, buttoning her coat and patting down her pockets to make sure her borrowed supplies were still there.  “He’s probably wondering what is taking us so long.”  Taking a deep breath and laying a hand over the cross at her throat for a moment, she nodded again to Abraham, who opened the door to the cold black night. Where lay so many of her nightmares newly formed… but this one would fade before morning.  And just this once, she would be safe.  One small victory in their war against the darkness.  Lifting her skirts as the dead leaves wafted by across the threshold, Marianne took a step.

[artificialqueens]

Cause Though the Truth May Vary, This Ship Will Carry (Gigi/Nicky) - Campvanjie

AN: Based on the prompt: “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” - “Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.” A slight AU Gigi/Nicky, little bit of unrequited crushing and a lot of fate, originally posted to my old AO3 account on May 24th, 2020. Edited as well to add non-binary pronouns for Gigi out of drag, as the original used male pronouns. Don’t worry, I’m the original author and only want all of my stories collected under one pen name.

Summary: Nicky and Gigi strike up a friendship online, but just can’t meet until the time’s exactly right.

CW: slight mentions of homophobia.

The sun’s almost setting on an August day when Gigi flicks through the games in their library, bored of sniping enemies from rooftops, set on finding something else that has a competitive mode, kicking underneath the bed to find their headset. It would probably be best to at least try to talk to other people, and maybe even count up all the times people call each other gay without even realizing they’re talking to someone, who’s made sixteen dollars an hour dressing up as a girl and working at the rock climbing wall for all of high school.

There’s gay, and then there’s Gigi Goode; with a closet hanging full of custom couture, not that they’d ever admit to their mom that her work isn’t the worst.

There’s only one player in the team’s group chat, as Gigi adjusts their headset so they can talk into the mic.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hi!”, laughs the voice in his headphones; crackling as Gigi shoots and blows apart a box in the game’s lobby. There’s an accent there he can’t quite place, not that it matters so much, since the guy on the other end easily guides him through the map and even cracks a couple of jokes as one of the other team’s players is booted off a cliff. Maybe he’s Spanish, or Russian, since there are lot of Russian people on the server at this time of almost- night.  

They queue for another round, his player’s character stopping next to a poster of one of the girls in the game.

“I like her, do you?”, he asks, and Gigi cringes a little. Straight guys were fucking exhausting, but this was just embarrassing-

“Like, this coat, with the belt like this, makes her waist look like she is a wasp. The insect, not the white people.”, he keeps talking, and Gigi’s eyes widen a little.

“Yeah, I’d buy those boots.”, they joke, hoping that whoever it is, will take it in stride, and he won’t have to listen to someone who’d been cool for the past half an hour, suddenly start losing their mind over how gay that was to say out loud.

“The boots? I want this hair- I want just Mortal Kombat hair but like this color, and maybe instead of a gun I want the scepter, like Sailor Jupiter. You’ve seen that, yes?”

Gigi blinks a couple of times. He’s serious?

“Like, of course. Yeah.”

“She’s a Mugler bitch. Hm, aren’t you?”, the voice teases on the other end; kicking at one of the boxes in the game.

Gigi is silent, as their queue timer runs out, and their team join another game which is already active when they’re dropped in.

“It’s the Hermes winter collection.”

“What?”

“That jacket is a dupe from the Hermes winter collection. You said Mugler-”, Gigi repeats, blasting through a wall in the game.

“Oh- oh you’re saying- this past winter! Of course! Maybe someone on the design team is also a fan?”

“Maybe.”

The two of them finish the round, and Gigi eagerly hits yes; when a little box pops up to add TheNickyDoll to their friends list.

(Gigi adds him back on Discord, too- because they’re probably not taking the Xbox to college, and then, they can send pictures right away.

He’s not a serial killer, and he’s cute.

Gigi can’t help but wonder if Nicky thinks the same of them.)

They slowly knit together in between Gigi’s first semester, and when Nicky moves into a new apartment in the eleventh arrondissement in Paris, and pops a bottle of champagne against his camera on his phone, propped up in his new kitchen. He plays with the zipper on his hoodie, and Gigi still can’t help but be surprised with how simple his wardrobe is.

Gigi spends hours carefully curating their wardrobe, though they supposed in Europe, there were just better pickings.

“Don’t you have friends?”, Gigi jokes, shirtless against the white brick walls of their dorm.

“Everyone will be over later, but I just wanted to do a toast for your timezone. It will be like three am for you when everyone else gets off work.”

“So this is a private party? Well… okay let me get my card.”

“Seriously? Not that kind of party!”

“Didn’t say it was. Congratulations, by the way. I got you something! Well like, I found it, and it’s so you-“

Gigi flicks the camera to face forwards, swinging to a painting hanging in the closet.

“Aw, well you didn’t have to- what the fuck is that?”

“Putin! I painted him in like the eighth grade. My mom was dropping off some stuff last weekend and I can mail him-“

Nicky’s eyebrows shoot up, pots and pans clattering on the other end of the line.

“Bitch, I am trying to not be the victim of a hate crime.”

Gigi laughs a little bit, flipping the camera back to focus on their face.

“I never asked, what do you even do?”

“What?”

“Like you- you have a job right? What’s your job?”

“Ah, I’m working, well I worked at a makeup store, but now I have some contracts, and maybe, you know- this neighborhood is where all the bars and the clubs are. If there’s no work on the runways maybe some will be looking for new girls.”

Gigi’s cheeks run hot for a moment.

“Wait, you- you’re a girl?”, they ask weakly, hoping it won’t absolutely ruin their entire… whatever it is, when you’d rather have a private housewarming alone in bed, than pretend to enjoy the beers that are flowing through the rest of the hall downstairs.

“Only when I’m being paid. Do you know- well, you have to in America you have RuPaul’s show- it’s like that-“

“You do drag? Wait, really?”

“Shhhh.”, he stops them, pressing a finger between his lips. “It’s like, I haven’t got any bookings yet but some of the clubs are interested- some of the parties, too. I can be a bottle girl.”

Gigi simply blinks repeatedly in the screen.

“What- is that too gay? I thought we were both pretty gay.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Hey-“, Gigi keeps the camera on their face, their eyes flicking up towards the naked mannequin resting against the closet door. Most of Gigi’s things were still at home, but there was a black feathered swimsuit they’d been working on- if they took out the waist just a bit-

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Wow, we are getting deep in, Dr Phil.”

“Seriously, what is it?”

“I’m feeling pink recently. Usually just- something simple. Blue. Black. It’s soothing.”

“Black is not a color.”  

“Then it’s my favorite not-color.” Nicky pours from the bottle into a flute on her counter. “Get something to drink, come on.”

“Uh-“

“Doesn’t matter what. Come on!”

Gigi reaches for Red Bull, yesterday’s alcohol mixed into it, tangy and stale in the metal can.

“Okay.”

“Pace a Salute!”, Nicky cheers, and they clink their drinks against the camera.

-

Two months later, there’s a wrapped package on his stoop, covered in foreign postage, wet at the edges like it’s been through- what Americans would call the ringer, the labels so scratched over he can barely make out the return address, when he cuts the cardboard open on his kitchen counter.

If this was that stupid Putin painting, he was deleting Gigi from his entire life-

Inside, is fabric folded in paper, a little cloth ribbon tied around where a card is tucked in.

“I dont know what your actual skin tone is because you need better lights but merry Christmas if it doesn’t fit or doesn’t match sell it on eBay and get better lights”,

Gigi has written, in neat, large letters.

Nicky carefully unfurls the rest of it, and there’s a blue and pink bodysuit inside, accented with green and yellow panels that glitter like the facets of a diamond, and a yellow jacket, the bottom cut off just below the ribs, hemmed in thick stitches so the fabric won’t roll up.

Had Gigi gone and had this made? Or was it off the rack?, he wondered, digging for price tags and labels in the fabric.

Nothing.

Shit.

He fires off a message to Gigi, who is still showing as offline, given it’s probably six in the morning where he is.

14:17

-

How much is this “gift” you got me? Wtf…

FaceTime me later.

There’s predictably no response, and that night; he paints carefully in the mirror in his bedroom, laying out the little black dress he had chosen for the performance on his bed.

At the very last minute though, it’s that little suit from Gigi that wins out, nude panels sliding over his tights as he shimmies in front of the mirror.

It’s not perfect, but it all looks very nice.

When later comes, Gigi is wearing a red wig with blonde streaks that she runs her long fingers through, winking at the camera.

“My mom’s actually a professional seamstress. It didn’t cost anything, babe.”, she says with a little shrug, a tight yellow dress barely moving around his shoulders. There’s always a party here; and Gigi can’t imagine hating it more, the little college town bigger than he was used to, and yet still- too small for what she really wanted.

“If you want other stuff, I’ll send it. There’s lots of stuff that I don’t really wear anymore and we kind of have the same style. It’s not like anyone can say anything, then they’d have to admit they’ve seen me out in public. Or I could even make you something, I’m bored all the time.”

“Why are you doing this?”, Nicky asks.

“I dunno. It’s not like you’re my competition. You’re my friend.”

19:41

-

Anyway, I’m dropping out of school, getting a nose job and moving out to LA.

Gigi types out on their phone, underneath the table at their family’s annual thanksgiving dinner.

19:41

-

Maybe not all at once.

Nicky’s reply comes lightning fast- making Gigi grin.

“Are you seriously getting nudes right now?”, one of their brothers asks, and their mother glares at the both of them over the table.

“I’m getting some new sketches from my atlier in Paris.”, they seethe, glancing back down at the floor. Nicky’s been trying to teach him French, like it’s something that occupies them so that Gigi doesn’t implode; in between sending him links to his favorite shows to watch, and YouTube links to makeup tutorials.

(He still hasn’t figured out if Nicky means it; or if he’s trying to be shady, and just doesn’t know how.)

“Atlier is where you get the clothes made, dumbass. Mom’s sewing room isn’t Paris.”

“Shut up!”

“All of you just stop-”

19:43

-

It’s a hard time in life in general.

Try not to listen so much to those voices in your head.

Nicky’s text pops up with a loud, mechanical pinging noise, three dots still hovering under the message as Gigi forces looks up from the screen and glowers across the table as they reach for more baby carrots.

19:43

-

Make mistakes, but not too many, haha. You’ll figure it out.

If it makes you feel a little bit better, I’m moving to San Fran

19:43

-

What? For real?

Gigi’s nails frantically tap over the screen.

19:45

-

Yes! I bought a ticket.

And my husband called an immigration lawyer, we’re going to get my green card situation set.

“Lawyer-”, Gigi gasps; and their entire family pauses, glancing over the table at them.

“Jesus Christ. You did it, didn’t you? You got arrested your first semester, and you weren’t even gonna tell us-”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”, they snap, flipping the bird at their oldest brother.

“Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.”

Their whole table erupts in a discussion Gigi can’t pay any attention to.

19:50

-

Cool.

That means I get to see you soon.

It’s gonna be great.

They taps ou, and close the app with a smile.

-

They hadn’t known if Nicky even had a boyfriend, not that it mattered; until it did.

Apparently; he had been married, for almost the whole time they had known each other- a blow Gigi hadn’t quite expected, to leave them as breathless as landing in Los Angeles; the shock not setting in, not in full, anyway- until they are standing in a new apartment, looking down at a menu of instructions on how to set up the wifi in the unit, fingers hovering over everyone in contacts.

They can’t call their mom; not this soon, and their brothers would tell her, and the whole plan would crumble; just like everything had with Nicky; whose calls Gigi had declined for the past solid month; the nights they had spent with their phones propped up behind desks and dressing room mirrors fading into something beyond memory; that they refused to think about any more than they had to, the messages asking if they’re alright answered in curt, short replies.

How could they have been so stupid, thinking that they were talking-talking, teasing that Nicky and they were friends; when Gigi didn’t even know what his real name was.

(Unless it was Nicky?)

Shit.

Gigi waits for their phone to load into the app, and refreshes the friends list a couple of times, until they can see Nicky’s icon at the top, the side of the circle cut through with a little green dot, and taps twice to start a call.

“Hi?”

Nicky’s greeting floats in the air, between a breath and utter silence before Gigi swallows their pride, pressing the phone to the side of their face.

“What do you know about connecting a router to a tower if I live on the…um third floor?”

The line crackles, but soon there’s a tiny, familiar chuckle. “First of all, that is not how you do any of that-”

They talk a little more, every day; in between, Nicky moves to New York and Gigi cuts a tape that they put in the mail with a wink. They’re due for a visit home soon, and carefully proposes- maybe it’s time they meet Nicky. New York isn’t far at all, and a layover would make for a cheaper flight, anyway.

-

Their plans stack up in hours of calls; and Gigi think they’re almost back to normal. Until, three days before the flight is supposed to leave, there’s a call they had forgotten to wait for, and their fingers hover over the message box below Nicky’s name, vibrating with anxiety and excitement all at once.

09:22

-

Hey. I had a family thing come up.

Gigi types, and then erases the text, steeling themselves as they taps out another one that makes a little more sense, and doesn’t seem like such a lie.

09:30

-

I’m so so so so sorry about this

I had some things come up and my trip fell through.

They send this instead, surprised to see Nicky start typing back immediately.

09:35

-

You’re not going to believe this

I have some work things that started recently and so it would have been really shitty to have a guest over now.

09:35

-

No way!

09:37

-

Yeah. :(( But we’re gonna hang out someday, I swear!

09:37

-

Dont worry! You’re definitely gonna see me.

Real real real soon!

-

“-Where do I go?”, Gigi asks, pulling at the bottom hem of the ornate jacket she wore, fiddling with the gold telescope in her hands. The lights behind the set burned brightly, making the thicker bottoms of the outfit feel much warmer than he had remembered them being.

“Go to that green square on the ground, and wait there, when you see the little arrow light up, you can enter the Werk Room and then we’ll have you stop inside, get your opening line, and let you see the other girls.”

“Okay.”

He does as he’s told, prancing in and kicking his boots in front of him as the lights move to capture Gigi’s entrance, his head only snapping to the side when given the signal, so he can see the others who are already crowded around the pink tables he’s only dreamed of seeing for so long.

“Holy Shit…Nicky?!”

In reality; Gigi can see far more of the detail of Nicky’s face; of her eyebrows and carefully painted cheeks and lashes, of all the effort that they had only really talked about, his eternal summer tan and the long fringe of black hair that he’s always nudging across his forehead, or slicked against a beanie, gone behind a platinum blonde veneer that’s so much brighter than Gigi has ever seen. She’s thinner, and taller, careful breaths underneath sequinned shoulder pads, knees knocking together as she gasps.

“Gigi!”

Widow and Crystal glance at each other over the pink table.

“Hold up, you guys know each other?”

In the flesh; Gigi is impossibly small, the sharp angles of her face, and the dark brown hair that sticks up in angles which Nicky traces against the white of his pillows in his bedroom on the screen of his phone in the morning, taped underneath a gold-tipped pirate hat, and lush, wavy curls. She looks like a model on the runways where Nicky used to work; so close to him that he can feel Gigi’s breath on the back of his hand, as he tightens his grip around the epaulets on her shoulder.

“Gigi Goode.”, she repeats, and Gigi giggles a little at that.

“The Nicky Doll.”, she laughs, and her voice sounds so much more solid, than it ever has over every crossed wire.

Gigi’s hand swings, squeezing Nicky’s tightly as they swing around the table; like the others who are there don’t matter at all. She rests her head on Nicky’s padded shoulder, cocking it just slightly, waiting there, as Crystal’s eyes flash at the scene before them.

“…and may the best woman win.”, Gigi whispers, only for Nicky to hear.