#maybe he made like a medley of the two

[sugarsnappeases]

WAIT!!!! i’ve changed my mind!!!! it was actually boyfriend by big time rush

barty seduced evan by serenading him with everyone’s fave romantic love song - boyfriend by justin bieber

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 2.9 | Jake Seresin x Reader

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Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents, grief and manipulation, lying, distressing themes throughout but especially towards the end of the chapter. Graphic violence, dangerous situations, revenge, wc: 3.5k

…

Jake doesn’t sleep well anymore. This seems to be a settled fact. From the day that Dani died, he just doesn’t rest like he used to. When he was with you, things got better, for a bit. They’re bad again now.

Now, he spends his nights tossing and turning and wandering to the bathroom of his hotel room to splash water on his face to remind himself that his nightmares aren’t real. It’s been two days since he heard your voice, and growing harder to convince himself of reality.

Allen promised to check in in the morning. It’s technically morning now, as the breaching sun threatens the skyline. Morning. It’s too fucking vague. Dawn and 11:59 leaves Jake a lot of time to pace the San Diego shore.

Nothing settles him these days.

He leans his palms forwards on the bathroom counter, and cocks his head to the side. His therapist had once told him that it wasn’t helpful to try to remember the day Dani had died. It always ate at him that he couldn’t really remember receiving the news. He remembered the before, and god, he wishes he didn’t remember the after — but he could never remember hearing the news for the first time.

He remembers the abruptness of it all.

Convincing himself that her voice was still fresh in his mind in the evenings was the only way he could keep her alive. It hadn’t worked much. He doesn’t think of her in the evenings much anymore, and she’s still dead.

When your voice echoed in his ear a few minutes ago, it’s the first thing he thought of — that her voice outlived her.

The cold water drips down his chin, saturating days old stubble, falling in thin droplets onto his naked chest. His eyes are narrowed, smaller than normal and heavy with sleep. His shoulders are hunched. His skin looks barren without the trace of your touch.

His bed is unmade and the sheets are wrinkled from the sleepless night he’s leaving behind. He inhales deeply and considers just taking a shower and starting his day before the morning sun.

Then, his night-morning medley is interrupted. Three calm knocks on the door. He closes his eyes, shutting out his reflection and the fluorescent noise of the bathroom, and tries to reason with himself.

Two further knocks confirm to him that the sound is real. It’s not part of another one of his bad dreams.

Jake walks barefooted out of the bathroom, and leans up to the peephole. He’s unsure, really, of who he is expecting to see outside of the door at five in the morning, but the sight of two secret service agents standing there makes his blood run cold and his mind fill with thoughts of the first woman that he loved.

Though he can’t remember that day, he knows it was less of a formal affair. He can’t take more bad news. He pulls back the chain and turns the lock with little thought about what they could be there for, not wanting to let his mind linger on the worst possibility.

“Agent Seresin,” The taller one says, his thin lips stretching into a tighter line as he looks the man before him up and down. If Jake had been sleeping better, maybe he would have gotten dressed before answering the door. The morning air chills his bare chest and thighs, his underwear doing little in terms of providing warmth. “You’ll have to come with us, sir.”

Sir. The word makes the hair at the back of Jake’s neck prickle, and his stomach tighten. Sir, please calm down. He remembers hearing that on the day Dani died.

“Where is she?” Jake asks.

“We can’t say.” The shorter, dark-haired one won’t meet Jake’s gaze. That’s good. They would have told him if you were dead. “But we need you to come with us. Now.”

The entire West Coast network is abuzz as Jake is driven up to the house in the hills. As the count ticks over into seventeen hours since you were last seen, and four hours since that video was received, everybody who is anybody is working on your disappearance.

Allen was the first to report it yesterday. You had been gone for two hours already by the time he came to check on you, and found Jake’s bed empty. It’s his fault. He had assumed you were finally sleeping, and he had waited too long to check on you.

By the time he realised, you could have already been out of the country for all he knew. His experience in this field told him a lot of things — not a single one of them reassuring.

He first alerted the West Coast liaison. After confirming there were no active hits on your location in a six mile radius of the house, things went nationwide. He considered calling Jake then, but there were too many eyes on him to sneak a call.

Once nationwide, your parents had been alerted. Matthew landed on a private airstrip just after midnight, thirty-five minutes before the video footage was received. A dark, grainy two-minute long video with no timestamp.

The first thirty seconds is almost silent. The camera is focused, unmoving on your face. You’re staring at something above the lens, the man behind it, with pure venom in your eyes. You’re already hurt, bleeding from your nose and your hairline, your eye sore looking and swollen.

From the second that the voice first rings out, Matthew recognises exactly who it is. It’s the first question they ask of him — if he knows who could have wanted to hurt you. The answer is more complicated, because it’s not that Ellis would have wanted to hurt you specifically. Ellis would have wanted to hurt Matthew.

But, Ellis hurts all kinds of people every day, for reasons that span far beyond simple dislike. It’s why the debt between the two of them is something far beyond what money can settle.

The instructions on the video are clear.

Shadows dance across cracked concrete walls, the lone lightbulb wobbles on its wire above your head. Your wrists itch and burn, your arms stiff and your neck aching. You lost the feeling in your legs a while ago. The blood from your nose has dried around your mouth and chin, your eye has started to swell. Your head throbs.

You have been alone for two hours.

Occasionally, someone will pass by the door. No one seems to care much about checking on you. As the hours have dragged on, you’ve stopped moving so much. Getting out of your restraints is decidedly impossible. Your eyelids feel heavier and heavier with each slow blink.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

Your eyelids flutter, your vision blurred and unsteady as you search the shadows of the room for the voice. For his voice; Jake’s voice. Even like this, you know what he sounds like.

“Come on, honey,” Fingers brush across your hair, soft, unbothered by the blood crusted into your hairline. “Keep your eyes open. I know it hurts.”

It does hurt. You’ve never hurt like this before. Wrapped in bubble-wrap, hidden behind thick walls and tall fences — maybe if they hadn’t kept you so safe, it wouldn’t all hurt so bad now.

“Jake?” Your throat is dry, your voice is hoarse, the rag cuts into the corners of your lips.

“I’m here.” He isn’t, and the realisation makes you want to cry. You can pretend he’s here, and pretend he’s telling you to fight all you want. He isn’t here, and you’re tired.

Ellis’ terms have been circling your mind for all of the hours you have been alone. You, for her. Your father, in exchange for you, as to be delivered by Jake.

The government would never let it happen. Jake would never let it go. Your heavy eyelids droop shut and you leave them that way.

When they’re closed, you’re not here either. You’re at home, and in Jake’s bed. Your cheek is on his chest and he’s asleep, you rise and fall with each one of his breaths, your fingers smooth across the heart-shaped, thumb-sized birthmark on his hip.

The morning sun is shining, the bedroom walls are white and the mattress is soft. Jake’s right arm is draped around your shoulders, cradling you to his chest. There, it’s safe to fall asleep.

A little after nine, the bright sunlight spills into the living room. Another sunny morning, like the world hadn’t been turned upside down overnight. Jake has never felt quite so out of place in this house. It feels colder without you here. He stares at the dark, blank screen in front of him, sick to his stomach.

Your picture is gone, but the image is burned in his mind. Your bloodied, bruised face staring right at the lens, your lips pressed into line, adamantly refusing to speak. God, just speak. Do what they tell you to do. Please.

Slowly, he leans forwards and hits the button to replay the video. It’s his fourth time watching it, now. There it is again, your tear-filled eyes and the stubborn scowl on your exhausted face, the long fingers curled around your chin, angling your face towards the lens.

Jake has been filled in with some need-to-know information. Ellis Armstrong was an associate, and informant and a business partner of Matthew’s from before the elections. He’s a bad, bad man.

Outside of the need to know — Matthew is the only one who really knows the extent of what this guy will do, of what he has done on behalf of Matthew himself in the past. Of how far this debt reaches.

Matthew, I know that you’re far too much of a coward to face me in person. You have done an excellent job of avoiding me so far. How lucky I was that your clever little girl sought me out.

Jake turns his head. He studies the skulking man in the corner of the room, his head turned toward the ground and his fingers trembling as his hands wring together in front of him.

Things hadn’t ever seemed this serious back then. At the start of it all, it was just a little maintenance, making a little indiscretion disappear. Then, the favours had gotten bigger — and then they had stopped being favours at all.

Jake and Matthew are far from alone in this living room. They’re surrounded by agents with years of combined experience, government advisors and White House big-wigs. And yet, Jake is the only one that Matthew can’t bring himself to look at.

I know you won’t come to me yourself. That’s why she’s so perfect. We’ve all seen the news. If you won’t come to me yourself, the bodyguard will bring you to me. You, for her.

Apparently the message was supposed to reach Jake privately, which is why he was intercepted. He sits with the thought for a moment as he stares down the man who raised you; he would trade him in to keep you safe in a heartbeat.

That’s why the first point of call was to bring him here. Here, they have an eye on him. They can’t risk him trying anything stupid.

You have twenty-four hours to reach the location provided. Say goodbye, sweetheart. The faceless fingers curl into the hollows of your cheeks and Jake grits his teeth. His gaze flickers up, and this time Matthew is watching him.

“You’re going.” Jake tells him, from the spot on the couch where he had kissed you for the first time. Everything had unfurled here, in this house, up until Jake had taken you home.

It’s a shell of a home and it always was. Cold and white, almost clinical in its modernity. It’s the place you met but it’s not your home, and it’s not Jake’s. He just decided that. The two of you will have a real home.

His gaze is a cold green, steely and serious. There’s a movement around the room, uncomfortable murmurs of disagreement as the crowd prepares to stop the bodyguard. “This is your fault. You didn’t protect her, and she’s in danger. You’re going to fix this.”

“No, Agent, that’s not how we’re going to—” The serious looking man in the Armani suit, who considers himself responsible for Matthew’s safety here, doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

“I’m done with the plans.” Jake decides, pushing himself up from the couch. He makes no efforts to step towards the president, this isn’t a threatening motion, it’s merely a man who won’t stand back idly once again. He gives a cool shake of his head. “The plans are what got us here. You… deserve this. You fucking owe her this.”

Matthew swallows dryly, loosening his tie.

“Jake,” Allen steps up from his perch by the wall, giving a soft shake of his head as he reaches out to rest a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “We’ve got to keep our heads about this.”

It’s not a sudden thing, that the attitude in the room is that Jake is the crazy one here, but the mood shifts nonetheless as he rounds on the older man and points a finger squarely at him.

”Don’t. Don’t say a damn word to me — where were you?” he spits.

“I… she promised me—” Allen shakes his head dumbly, blaming himself more for this than your own father does. He’s blind with worry, that image of your bloodied face just won’t leave his mind.

“You promised me.” Jake bites.

Silence falls across the room for a beat. Manny wipes his nose with the back of his hand, squeezing his eyes shut as tears spill silently down his cheeks.

When he had gotten into this business, he had first felt invincible. A background in Tactical Ops and a pristine track record, he told everyone that he was perfect for the job. Then, he had met you and he had realised quickly he was out of his depth — but he liked you, and you reminded him that there was more to this line of work than the rules.

He hadn’t ever thought he would let you down like this.

“I’ll go.”

Jake turns his head. He isn’t impressed. He isn’t pleased. It’s barely enough, after what he has put you through. Looking at Jake, your father knows that.

“Mr. President—“

“Those were his terms,” His eyes are shut now. He can’t bare to look at the man before him, knowing that this wouldn’t be a difficult decision for him to make in the slightest. Jake would put his life on the line for you without thought. He shivers through an inhale, “We come up with a plan around them, and we get her out of there.”

“But, sir—“

“Figure it out. You can keep both of us safe. That’s your job.” Matthew exhales finally. Opening his eyes, he finds Jake once more and finds himself chilled to the core. The look on Jake’s face is finally, wholly sincere. If it came down to it, Jake wouldn’t give a fuck about keeping Matthew safe.

“Sir—“

“Figure it out, god damnit, or I’ll take myself.” Matthew bites out finally. It’s not like he has much of a choice in walking away from this, anyway.

When Jake closes his eyes, and thinks of you afraid and alone, it makes his choice easy.

Matthew feels like a clock within him has started ticking. As the men and women around him scramble to draw together a plan that will keep him and his daughter alive, he feels it counting down his last moments.

He tries not to look up, because when he does he finds Jake looking at him every time.

It’s like Jake can hear it too, that awful ticking. Time passing by. Counting down the moments.

“Catherine?” Matthew calls weakly, rubbing two fingers against his temple from his spot in the corner of the living room. His secretary turns attentively and graces him with her full attention. “I’d like to make a statement, and I’d like you to write it down. Do you understand?”

Jake can’t sit and listen to them anymore, but that’s not what makes go wandering. He starts out in the kitchen, looking out over the pool. The place he had first seen you. Then, he takes the stairs and winds up in his room. His bed is unmade here, as it was in his hotel.

His shoes are quiet against the floor as he walks over to the bed and lowers himself to the edge of it. His fingers smooth over the faint dips in the pillow, where your head had last laid.

Jake has money from his time in the Navy. From his work in the service. He hasn’t had much to spend it on. The job involves living with clients, expenses are usually covered, and his sisters won’t let him spoil his nieces too much. Enough for a house. One with a big bed, so you can stretch out all you want and still wind up draped across his chest.

The thought almost makes him smile, and then a lump in his throat threatens to make that smile spill into tears.

He hopes he gets that.

He can only imagine what you’re doing now. If you’re still stuck to that chair, if your eye is hurting you, if they have touched you again since. He’s not even sure if you have water. The one thing he does know is that you’ll be waiting for him. You’ll know that he’ll get you out of this.

A little after noon, the plan is as good as it is going to get. Twenty four hours since your disappearance, sixteen hours until Ellis’ imposed deadline.

Jake stands with his back to the front door as the President listens to the briefing once more. There are back-up plans on backup plans and protocols coming out of his ears, and Jake doesn’t care one bit.

Allen doesn’t like the look on his face.

“Jake,” The older man broaches the topic softly, trying not to alarm the already flighty ex-pilot. “I know you’re going to do what you need to do. I can’t stop you. But, if this goes south — and you’re responsible, you’ll never see her again.”

Jake knows what he’s trying to say. If he lets the President go, he’ll suffer the consequences. As much as he wants that house, and those lazy mornings in that big bed with you, he would let it all go if he could know that you would never be in danger because of this man again.

“I know the plan.” Jake tells him calmly.

Ellis isn’t an unintelligent man; he knows that if Jake was going to be able to deliver Matthew successfully, it wouldn’t be alone. That makes things a little easier — they don’t have to be as sneaky.

But, if Ellis has a feeling that the trade is a set up, they’ll both be dead. Jake won’t let that happen.

It’s just himself, and your father for the journey there. It’s two hours from your place, and there’s practically a motorcade escort most of the way. Once they hit the five mile out mark, security drops back, and for the first time — they feel alone.

“So, what did you actually do?” Jake squeezes his hands around the leather of the wheel, with no real interest in small talk. He shoots a look towards the cars in his peripheral, and then at each mirror. Last, comes his scope of the skyline. Habit. He was a good agent.

There’s no point lying anymore.

“You’ve got to understand, Ellis is a powerful man.”

“More powerful than the president?” Jake scoffs.

Matthew makes an uncomfortable sound of consideration. He wouldn’t expect Jake to understand.

“Having powerful friends makes him more powerful. You know?” He tries to explain it anyway, it beats listening to the silent radio and the tyres rolling. “I let him do me a lot of favors. Money, marketing, making people go away.”

He looks across and studies Matthew’s face for a moment.

“Not with money.” He realises, watching the stretch of road. There’s one turning, the only one Jake can see. That’s it.

Matthew looks ahead of him, colourless as he gives a weak shake of his head. “No. Not with money.”

It’s already in his head that your father is a scumbag, but it stings Matthew to realise that Jake isn’t surprised by this. It shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care about what someone like Jake thinks — and he supposes he wouldn’t, if it wasn’t for you.

“So what’d you do to him?” Jake prompts.

“I tried to get away.” Matthew says quietly. The wheels turn and the car pulls into an empty parking lot at the rear side of an old hangar. “Put some distance between the two of us — between him and my family, my career. It’s not the kind of thing he was willing to let go.”

“Go figure.” Jake answers bitterly. The car pulls to a stop and the ticking rings out loudly in Matthew’s ears. Jake turns his head, green eyes colder than ever. “You ready?”

…

tags: @alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

[storydays]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write this scenario with John dory and pop/rock troll reader?

I've had this one scenario playing in my head for days! Poppy and the other rulers, wanting a day of celebrating each other's music, made a contest where a troll/Bergen/(whatever Vaneer and velvet are?) can come and sings for a crowd and the rulers as the judges decided who win. Brozone (mostly John) decided to participate for fun. After brozones song, John and the others join the crowd to watch the next singer, which is the pop/rock troll. John knows her from his adventuring days, she’s the one who got away, aka his true love. (idk why we might've left, maybe they were separated somehow)

John is immediately dumbfounded - because she's right there! After all these years! His brothers, not knowing their past, immediately start making fun of him for liking her as she began to sing on stage. Immediately, even alone, she's seems to wow the crowd even more than any of the previous songs.

As soon as she's done, John rushes back behindstage to meet her, his brothers + Poppy and Viva, all rushing after him. Reader greets John so happily, all the others are kinda… shocked? Even more so if reader decides to kiss John in greeting.

OOH I abosolutely LOVE the cliche sceanrios!!!!!!! LET"S DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

John Dory X Fem! Pop Star! True Love! Reader

Small World

-------------------------------------------------------------------

John Dory was ecstatic!

For a Hatchday surprise, his siblings' signed BroZone up for Trollstopia's 3rd Annual Cultural Fair. Anyone and everyone could sign up to perform in the talent show, but everything else was a totally free for all: The games, the different events, even the food(honestly, John Dory had no idea how Pop Trolls survive strictly on sweets, there was such a thing as too much sweets.) BroZone and the two Queens laughed and enjoyed each other as they tried different foods...although, John wasn't amused at the Rock Trolls' tiny replica of volcanic dumplings...wayy too hot.

Unfortunately the band couldn't decide on a song as usual, so they each picked a song from the year 2012, and decided to do a medley.

The siblings' cheered and clapped themselves on their back as they walked off stage from the cheering crowd when John Dory heard her.

Not his sunshine.

Pausing from where he was walking, the teal haired Troll turned around sharply as he watched a Troll wearing a midnight blue sundress dance around on stage, he could even see a yellow sunflower tucked behind her left ear.

"Come on, baby, let me see your face." He pleaded softly, staring intensely, not noticing his siblings', and the magenta eyed Trolls then walked over to where John was still frozen watching the performer dance.

"Oooh, JD's got a crush on (Y/N)!" Poppy teased, the other Trolls snickering, as they then started to make teasing remarks.

"When's the wedding?" Clay cackled as the others' made varying kissy faces and lewd gestures.

"It can't be her....it's not possible." John muttered softly, making the others' stop and closely watch him. "John?" Branch asked softly, as the Troll on stage then turned in their dance routine, bangs blowing in the wind, and slowly made eye contact with John Dory.

Blue eyes met (e/c).

You tripped slightly during your performance but quickly shook your head and smiled brighter before continuing your routine with a flourish.

YOU were there alive! But...you looked so sad even while performing.

As soon as you were off to the other side of the stage, you rushed to look for him as he for you, as he ignored his family's protest.

You rounded the corner, and stopped seeing him down the hall, and panted heavily as you both caught your breath.

After a moment of quite breathing, and wide eyed stares, you both observed the other. John looked so tired, and was sporting a new look, his hair shorter and he was wearing that brown coat you'd got him for a Christmas present one year, and there were more stress lines then last time you saw him.

John eyed the heavy bags under your eyes, and saw the sad gleam in your eyes. You didn't have that last time. You still wore the flower behind your left ear...that was one of the Valentine's present he gave you one year...it was a crystallized sunflower that you could wear forever without fear of it dying.

The world faded to the two of you as you took in the other's presence.

"Hey, sunshine."

Sobbing to yourself, you rushed into his waiting arms, kissing him as if you'd never kissed before, holding him as if he might fade away again.

"I've got you, and I'm never letting go again." He murmured softly, holding you tightly, rubbing soothing circles on your back, as he sobbed/laughed a

You both sat on the floor, holding each other tight and whispering sweet promises to each other.

John's family stood speechless, with a varitey of emotions on their faces, and they went to ask what the hell was going on, when Floyd stopped them, wiping a tear away. "Wait, guys..Clearly, they've been waiting for a long time. Let's give them a moment."

It really was a small world.

P2 or headcanons or both next? Hope I did you justice!

@vacayisland

[wonkawinka]

we’ll meet again

“we’ll meet again… don’t know where, don’t know when…”

alastor x angel!daughter!reader

CHAPTER TWO: smile like you mean it!

— — CHAPTER THREE: weak ankles!

warnings/notes: EPISODE 6 SPOILERS! not proof read, no use of y/n, used she/her pronouns, reader is on the fem side, maybe vaggie x reader and maybe emily x reader if you squint but its all platonic

chère- french for dear

remercier dieu- french for thank god

court reporter- someone who transcribes everything said during a court meeting

wc: 2336

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

ROLLER skates. flashy lights. bursting colors. street jazz at every corner. twists and turns.

NEW ORLEANS had it all. all you could need in your heart. soft, live jazz rung through the tiny diner that everyone got their morning coffee from. skating through the diner, you tipped your hat from one couple to another. there was the occasional (and by occasional you mean somewhat often) jerk who flirts with you, a teenager, but you brush it off.

ever since the stock market crash of 1929, people have been living off the hook ‘round these parts. you were lucky enough to snag a job, let alone have a father that's able to put food on the table for you.

the bell of the door rings exactly at 9:01 am, you don’t even need to turn around to check who it is.

“good mornin’ ladies! fine morning today, isn’t it?” alastor’s voice rang through the diner, sound waves bouncing the walls and into your ears. his presence was certainly not something anyone would miss. your coworkers nodded in agreement, saying their tiny welcomes, the occasional giggle for one of them.

pouring out straight black coffee into a medium sized cup, you skated towards the counter and slipped your dad a napkin and his cup.

“mornin’ papa.” you said with a smile, taking his coins and filing it into the register.

“good morning, my dear!” he said with his chipper smile, one that made the men grumble and ladies swoon, but it just made you happy to see your father happy. “day treating you well, i hope.”

he took the coffee and took a sip. a sound of satisfaction left his lips “perfection! you know me so well, chère.”

“pa, you drink the blackest coffee on earth. it’s not hard to mess up, dontcha think?”

“ah, don’t sass me now, little miss. i’ll have you know this is the best coffee i’ve had since yesterday mornin’!”

“i made that coffee yesterday morning.”

“hmmm, did you now? seems i dont remember…” he grinned teasingly, pushing up his glasses in ‘thought’.

“yeah, course ya’ dont, ya old man.” teasing back, slipping him a slice of pie “i know you didnt eat, pops, cant have ya flopping dead during your morning show. who knows, maybe the cannibal will getcha. then i’ll have to take over the show.”

he smirked at her words, ha, if only she knew.

“well, aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” he said, taking the to-go box from her hands.

“well, you raised me, so you tell me.” you smiled brightly

his laughter rang through the diner, and soon yours as their vocals mixed together in a medley of sounds. they nearly mixed together perfectly. nearly.

some people looked at you weirdly, but you both never really minded. everyone in town knew you were his daughter and everyone in town knew he was your father. the talk of the town, especially when people found out your father of all people adopted you all those years ago.

he smiled at you wholeheartedly, something you only get to receive from him. “thats my girl.” his hand cupped your face, thumb brushing against the skin.

you placed your hand on top of his and smiled. “love ya’, pa.”

“love you more, my dear.”

you patted his hand, signing him to let go. “now shoo, before you’re actually late. you got an audience waiting for you all ‘round the area. can’t have them sitting for too long, hm?”

with a tip of his head, he bidded you and the ladies of the diner farewell, grabbing his coffee and pie, slipping out the door.

one of your coworkers called out your name “hunny, you better help a girl out! is your fatha’ up for grabs?” she giggled, winking at you.

“oh hush, lonnie! that's my dad..!”

——————— PRESENT.

“OH, don’t worry, it’s really not that hard! you just flip the book and let them in! see? simple.” st. peter directed you to the golden podium of the pearly white gates.

“are you sure i’m even allowed to do this? look.. i’m happy to help. i just don’t wantcha to get in trouble with the Seraphims.” you floated down onto the podium, scanning the big book of entries.

“it wouldn’t be for long! thank you so much, by the way. you really are heaven’s little helper, huh?” he elbowed you and gave that big smile he had. it was almost blinding. literally.

“haha, yeahhh… if you say so.” you turned and flipped through the pages for what seemed to endlessly go on.

“who names their kid breakfast?”

“now, now, we dont go and judge what those humans name their offspring!” he placed his two hands on your shoulders in reassurance. you cock an eyebrow at his word choice, but next thing you know hes already flying off to do who knows what. ‘saintly duties.’

“huh.” you continued to flip through the pages to examine the very odd name choices, nodding at some and… skipping through others.

minutes, maybe even hours went by until sudden echoes from down the golden pathway filled your ears. they shoot up in reaction to the newfound sound.

“uhhh, heelloooo? helloooo!” the blonde hair girl called out

“hiya!,” you call out , “how may i help ya’? well, getting into heaven i guess, huh?” you laughed at yourself, watching the girl’s nerves calm down a bit. behind her was a recognizable individual. you know, it nearly looked like vagg—

“OH— uh, uh, uh— hello! my name is charlie morningstar. heh.”

“alright, lets see…” you flipped through the alphabetized record only to find every name known to man BUT a charlie morningstar.

panic fills your core when you cant find it, scanning the page over and over and over again to no avail.

“uhhhh, you see, slight problem, hun...” you start, throwing in a name to ease her name. “i, uhm, can’t find your name… but you know! the trek all the way to the uh, other place, is a long way. maybe i can like… sneak ya’ in—”

“OH, no, no, THAT won’t be necessary. uh— see, my dad got me this meeting, so maybe try lucifer… morningstar..”

THAT CERTAINLY RANG A BELL.

“OH, uh.. uhuh.” you nod “i see.” you nod quicker. your eyes darted to the gray haired girl who looked at you with the same tense expression.

“i think there may have been a, um..” you put your hands together “mishap… but i am SURE it is a just BIG misunderstanding, haha!”

a mighty voice called out to you, one that could shake all of heaven’s foundation.

“remercier dieu…” you say, quite literally.

“don’t worry, we can take it from here.” sera’s voice reassured, the normal call smile present on her face. you bowed your head in respect which she kindly returns.

behind her was an excited emily which shot you an ecstatic wave. her smile was about to explode with happiness which only grew more as she approached charlie, the princess of hell.

st. peter pops out of nowhere and of course, starts singing his welcome song.

see, you didnt think it was bad, it was quite good, but hearing it over and over again for the past century really takes a toll on your ears.

after his musical number, em is basically ready to explode into a pile of rainbows and sparkles. “oh, oh! i gotta show you! the zoo, the petting zoo, the aquarium, the- the EVERYTHING!”

her and charlie jump for joy as they start running off.

“oh come on, do we need to ru— yEUP okay.” you’re dragged along the crossfire, em tugging on your wrist.

you catch a glimpse of adam and lute. they did not seem… very ecstatic.

hm.

“em. emily. emmy. e.” you bring her to the stop. her happiness was contagious, a sickness, her happiness basically flooding into your veins.

“i know you’re excited, sugar,” you start, “but maybe, i show them their room first. how's that sound?”

with some reluctance, emily allows you to guide the two girls to their temporary room.

“here, let me get that—” with an easy spell you learned, you pick up their bags weightlessly.

“follow me, i’ll show ya your room.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

on the way there, you’re bombarded with questions from the princess. not that you were complaining of course, you found it quite endearing.

“wow, your sprinkles have RAINBOWS in them?!”

“yup, those are just rainbow sprinkles,” you chuckle lightly at her innocent excitement, “so.. about this hazbin hotel you were talkin’ about, mrs. morningstar…”

“oh, please, call me charlie!”

“charlie,” you smiled ,”i really do love the idea. quite innovative! you have my support. do you already have people staying?”

“oh, we only have.. two residents. but we do have lovelt staff! we have a maid.. nifty, she’s harmless, most of the time.. and a bar-tender, husker, he’s great, grumpy, but great! vaggie, my lovely girlfriend keeps the hotel safe,” she smiles brightly at her partner, “oh, and our host, alastor! he’s uh.. the radio demon, BUT HE MEANS WELL! i think.”

the name rung in your mind, bouncing off the walls and causing them to shoot jolts through your head. it was like a migraine, but worse. radio demon. it was strikingly familiar resemblance to your father (father?), but who knows! there are probably many alastors that loved radio.

“i see,” you nod, “well i wish you luck on the growth of your hotel.” you opened the entrance of there room and landed their bags perfectly in the corner.

“wow, okay, i LOVE heaven! everythings so clean and nice! AHH, and emilys going to bring me to a zoo where everythings fluffy and soft!” you zone out the rest of their conversation before charlie bids her goodbye.

“safe travels, charlie.” you bow your head in respect, earning a giggle from the princess.

“thank you sososososo much for your help! heh, alright SEE YOU LATER!”

silence filled the room.

“vaggie.” you started, not bothering to around and fully face her. “knew that was you, cant hide from me under all that hair. looks good, though.”

“uhhhhhhhhhhh—” she says your name in a frantic manner, causing you to cock your eyebrow “ah, fuck, i can’t think of an excuse.”

“look, vaggie, i dont know.” you sigh “you disappear for your ‘yearly outing’ to god knows where then you go missing for years, now you come back to be dating lucifer’s daughter.”

“i know, i’m so—“

“no no, don’t apologize. i get it. im happy for ya, vags, but damn, years. i dont know what you do on that one day, but adam and lute didnt seem very happy when they saw ya today.” pinching the bridge of your nose, you turned to her.

“look, adam tried recruiting me to god knows what when you went missing. said i got good aim or something. im just telling ya to be smart. i got no idea what he was trying to do with me, so im telling ya’ to not give in to that prick. i’ll be at todays meeting; i work as the court reporter.”

she pondered your statement for a bit, snapping out of her thoughts once you handed her the room key. you offered her a smile, which she hesitantly returned.

“ah, come on, smile like you mean it! though a smile may not mean everything, you’re never fully dressed without one.” that phrase rang in vaggie’s ears. that was oddly familiar.

a little too familiar.

it was your time to bid farewell, but before you did, she called out to you.

“thank you.”

“ah, don’t mention it. we’re friends, arent we?”

and with that you shut the door.

— — — — — — — — — — —

SCRIBBLING. writing. swirls of ink as you titled the paper in preparation. COURT ISSUE 36789127. it made you think, whos counting all these issues?

“WHAT’S UUUP, BA-BY!” the annoying ring of adam’s voice filled the court room. he was like a toddler, ironic as he is the oldest human soul known to mankind. he was mankind. a sick joke for it too.

every little thing he said you were required to write down, even if it was a dumb, immature response.

“we are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell, can be redeemed into heavenly realm by the means of this Hazbin Hotel… Princess Morningstar?”

the blonde takes a stand and clears her throat,

“Webster’s Dictionary defined redemption as—”

you scribbled that down.

“..incredible progress..”

scribble.

“… the porn demon …!”

scribble.

“well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into Heaven?”

that puts a halt in the discussion, causing you to lift your head and wait for an answer. she had a point. how did you get here in the first place?

a copy of adam’s terms were presented to your table: act selfless, don’t steal, stick it to the man.

well damn, if those were the terms, even your father (father?) would be in heaven, right now.

evidence was presented, words have been thrown, objections were made. the endless back and forth of right and wrong being thrown around the courtroom. not even the written word could convey the thick tension lathering the walls of the heavenly court.

all the evidence weights to charlie’s side, and yet, the judges say otherwise.

“wait, none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?”

this sparks a musical entrance from emily which you would say was surprising, but you would be lying to yourself.

good thing i took band and choir you thought. perfect pitch came in handy as you noted every chord and pitch in your work.

at this point, you were ready to combust. it was clear who won but the rulers of heaven seemed adamant to keep it from happening. it was suspicious, ironic even.

“..don’t you care, sera…”

scribble.

“..just because someone was dead..”

scribble.

“he blew the shot like the cocks in his…”

scribble.

“..come down and exterminate you..”

your quill snaps in half as you look up from your paper. extermination.

murder.

genocide.

from heaven itself.

[misc-obeyme]

prompt: Simeon & Michael

a/n: I'm back! Did you miss me?? I still have a bandage that makes typing annoying, but I'm pushing through it because I can't go this long without writing and the ideas plague me so. Anyway, here's what the wheel gave me today! Michael is only mentioned. I'm also not caught up on the latest lessons, so I consider this to be taking place somewhere in seasons one or two of OG. @om-adventcalendar

Simeon x GN!MC

Warnings: none!

You made your way through the Christmas market, a thing that had popped up unexpectedly when the denizens of the Devildom had gotten into the swing of celebrating. It was set up with booths and stalls in the street, some food vendors and others selling trinkets for last minute gift giving. It was cold, with a light snow just beginning to fall through the darkness.

The lights and sounds of the market were all around you, festive colors and cheerful music creating a joyful atmosphere. You would never really get used to the idea of demons celebrating Christmas like this, but you appreciated that they were getting into the spirit of it.

And then you spotted him. He was always impossible to miss with that soft brown hair, the white of his outfit, and the unmistakable glow that seemed to surround him. He stood in the snow, the flakes melting as soon as they touched him, his eyes focused on a stall nearby.

You hastened to his side. "Simeon?"

Simeon turned to you and smiled. It was like a beam of warmth penetrating your soul. "There you are, MC," he said.

"Sorry," you said. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Not at all," Simeon said.

He offered you his arm and you immediately linked yours with his.

"Were you looking for something specific?" you asked, eyeing the booth that Simeon had been staring at.

Simeon guided you down the street. "I was thinking about buying some Devildom sweets to send back to Michael."

You were used to hearing this. It was something that Luke was often concerned with too. "What did you have in mind?"

Simeon paused at a booth. "I don't know," he admitted. "A lot of this appears to be the Devildom's attempt at creating human world holiday treats. Do you have any suggestions for something traditional?"

You considered the question, your eyes roaming over the display cases in front of you. It was a bakery booth, full of various pastries that were likely stuffed to the brim with weird Devildom ingredients.

Then your eyes fell upon what looked suspiciously like a fruit cake. That could certainly be considered a classic dessert. Everyone you knew either loved it or hated it.

You pointed it out to Simeon. "That looks like a fruit cake," you said. "It's pretty traditional."

When you stepped up to the counter, the demon behind it asked if they could help you.

"What kind of fruit is in this?" Simeon asked, gesturing to the fruit cake.

"Oh, only the highest quality bloodberries, devil crush mangoes, shadow oranges, and of course snowman's sigh!" the demon said enthusiastically.

It wasn't exactly the human world medley of fruits, but that was to be expected. You didn't think it sounded terrible.

"You know, I think this might work," Simeon said. "Can I get a box of them, please?"

Simeon carried a bag away from the booth as the two of you went back to wandering the market. It was a pleasant evening. You stopped for hot chocolate, sitting together under an awning and watching the snow fall. You loved the way Simeon's eyes brightened at the first sip of the sweet drink.

"Do you miss the Celestial Realm?" you asked.

Simeon seemed surprised by your question. "A little," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"You're always thinking about things to get for Michael," you said. "I thought maybe it was because you miss him and your home."

Simeon chuckled. "I do miss them," he said. "But not enough to leave you here in the Devildom without me."

You met his gaze at that and noted the playful look in his eyes. You couldn't help smiling, even as you felt the heat in your cheeks. "You wouldn't miss me that much, would you?"

Simeon reached out and brushed his gloved fingers against your temple. "MC, I would miss you like angels miss the stars."

Your heart skipped a beat. You put your hand over his and leaned your face into his warm touch. "Then I suppose you'll just have to stay here, with me."

Simeon kissed your cheek, spreading warmth throughout you. "Happily."

You leaned back, trying to get your pulse to settle a bit. You took a sip of your hot chocolate and changed the subject. "You'll have to let me know how Michael likes that fruit cake," you said.

Simeon smiled. "I'll be sure to report back."

You couldn't help imagining Michael in the Celestial Realm, whatever he even looked like, taking a big bite of a Devildom style fruit cake. For some reason, you found this to be a very entertaining vision.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[davenswitcher]

Mortal Delights

Word Count: 990

Ship: Astarion x Tav

Tags: Cured Astarion, experiencing food after 200 years

Rating: No warnings, General Audiences

Originally posted on AO3

A/N:

Ram Berries: Small, succulent purple berries.

Davalsa: Grape like berrys

Sortani: A rinded fruit; served sliced with melted cheese and nutmeg.

Aaaand you know me! Gotta squeeze that lovely elvish in there ❤️❤️ Sal aestar - I love you

His first meal as a mortal was something simple. Nothing too fancy to not overwhelm his taste buds. On the other hand, after two hundred years even asparagus would taste as if the gods themselves made love to you. Luckily it's just the entrée, so plenty of food left to savour and commit to memory. 

The entrée consists of a red beet carpaccio with goat crème cheese and balsamic crème-sauce. Sprinkled over the carpaccio are pomegranate kernels. 

Astarion is blindfolded to intensify his experience, but also so that he wouldn’t judge the food before tasting it. Because the gods know he would judge the food if it looked like something from a dingy tavern. They hired a private cook, but you never know.

The first bite is a mix of everything. Red beet, goat crème cheese, pomegranate kernels and balsamic. It’s a symphony. The rich and heady balsamic paired with the sweet pomegranate, topped off with the sweet and earthy red beet and heavy taste of goat crème cheese. It’s extraordinary. A combination rarely thought of but works well in a divine way. It feels like an explosion of flavours. Like firecrackers on New Year's Eve.

Astarion hums in satisfaction. “Good gods, I forgot how divine food can be.”

“Not getting religious on me, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my darling. The only religion I subscribe to is you and your delicious self.”

“I thought we were over this, Astarion,” Cecillé giggles.

“Never,” Astarion grins.

“Shall we get to the main course? Or do you want to have more of the carpaccio?”

“I want to try everything the cook has in store, it’s a long evening after all! Let’s get to the main course, my sweet.”

The main course is a variety of grilled vegetables sprinkled with honey, a small cut of elk steak and salmon filet, a green pepper sauce for the steak and a honey mustard sauce for the fish. The fish and elk steak lay separate on the plate, so the sauces don’t mix. As a side dish, the cook chose a fruit salad. A mix of apples, ram berries, davalsa, kiwi and red grapes. Another side dish they prepared is Sortani. The fruit is sliced, served with melted cheese and nutmeg. As drinks, they have sparkling water from the mountains and Saerloonian Glowfire.

The blend of bitter, slightly sour and sweet is exquisite. The combination of the steak with the pepper sauce and a slice of grilled vegetable are in perfect harmony. The Sortani side dish is perfectly sweet and savoury at the same time. The cheese and the sweet nectar of the fruit complete each other. The nutmeg gives it the needed spice. The flavours dancing on his tongue.

Saerloonian Glowfire is a fairly sweet white wine. The taste reminding of pears. A tasteful medley to the dish.

The salmon is rich in buttery flavour, the sauce complementing it and enhancing the taste. The grilled vegetables are a contrast to it. Bitter and sweet, yet with a hint of a light earthiness. Overall delightful.

“My compliments to the chef, darling. Who would’ve thought I’d turn into a connoisseur. Although, I’m sure my taste before was just as exquisite. I remember the calamari at Elfsong. Odd, isn’t it? Remembering something so…mundane?”

“Not odd, no. Taste is a very important factor in memory, Star. And who knows, maybe the chef that worked there back then made it his life's work to serve the best dish he can make for each customer.”

“Novel, really. So, after all this delicious food there must be a dessert or is it you, my sweet?” Astarion takes the blindfold off, getting tired not to see his love.

“You won’t give up, will you?” Cecillé laughs.

“Nope, never. Being mortal means not just feeding my body with this exquisite sustenance, but also filling my soul with your love.”

“Gods, Astarion. You should’ve become a bard, not a politician.”

“Hmm, maybe. But those words are reserved just for you. Making you quiver, and therefore make me eat you right up,” he delights in her face and ears getting redder by the second.

“Chef! It’s time for dessert!” Cecillé squeaks and Astarion laughs unapologetic.

The final course, the dessert, is a rich chocolate mousse with two slices of orange on top. There are different bowls to choose from: dark chocolate, milk chocolate and the very exotic white chocolate. The white chocolate mousse is topped with strawberries instead of orange, to complement the sweet, slightly buttery with a touch of vanilla composition.

The taste of the dark chocolate is rich in flavour, heavy even. The orange brings a fruity, lightly sour and sweet balance into it. The taste is one word: divine. The mousse itself is light despite the heavy aroma.

Astarion moans at the taste and hastily corrects himself with a cough.

“Pardon me,” he says, a little embarrassed.

“Better than sex?” Cecillé teases.

“Gods no, woman, but close I admit,” he chuckles. “The chef did a wonderful job.”

“Glad I was correct with the assumption you’ll love it.”

The next bowl is the milk chocolate version of the mousse. Not as heavy as the dark chocolate. It’s sweet, notes of vanilla and caramelized sugar. The milk being more at the foreground in the taste. The orange slices counterbalance the sweetness with their fruity flavour.

Lastly, the white chocolate mousse. Very sweet, hints of vanilla and a buttery aftertaste. The strawberries bring a lightness to it and enrich the slightly buttery aftertaste. It has a “summer-esque” feel to it. 

“And? How’re you feeling?”

“Full and happy and I cannot believe still that it’s real.”

Cecillé gets up and sits down in his lap. Kissing the crown of his head. 

“You deserve it, Star. And I am so happy for you. Truly.”

She kisses his lips, the taste of chocolate still prominent.

“You’re strong and brave, Star. Sal aestar.”

He nuzzles her neck, “Sal aestar.”

[helianskies]

NedPort, 5 >:3

i see your >:3 and raise you a :3x

Celebration

All day, the drinks have flowed, mountains of food have been enjoyed, laughs have been had, and it feels like the first Christmas spent with new friends (and people closer than friends) has been a real success.

João is glad. It was hard to tell his parents he wanted to do something else for the holidays, but Antonio had agreed, and their parents had made no fuss; rather, they had displayed some relief, now able to spend the day how they wished as well. 

Now that Christmas Day is nearly over, João has no regrets.

In the living room, Antonio is busy entertaining a few guests. Those guests include (and are, in fact, limited to:) Arthur, a somewhat new ‘friend’ of Antonio’s, Francis (an old, regular friend of Antonio’s), and Emmeline, Noah and Abel, who are family friends. 

Abel is in the kitchen with João at this moment in time. Arthur decided to start a game of charades over a bottle or two of Buck’s fizz (whatever that is!) and, well, Abel may not be a man of many words, but he’s also not a man of frantic gestures and party games, so…

…Abel is also a ‘friend’ of João’s. They were ordinary friends at first, for a while, but in February they both came to a mutual realisation, or whatever, and since then… 

That’s why they’re spending Christmas the way they are, though. Abel and his siblings and João and his sibling, and… two others, of course. A merry medley! A merry medley entertaining themselves with parlour games while João and Abel restock platters of nibbles as the evening rolls on.

“Did you want more cheese?” João asks over his shoulder as he stares at the contents of the busy fridge, deciding what more they could possibly eat.

“Silly question,” Abel replies.

Satisfied by the straightforward answer, João retrieves a few options—the cheddar, the brie, the wensleydale (Arthur’s choice)—and sets them down on the counter next to the empty board. The selection is soon joined by some German-style salami, serrano ham, and a bowl of olives. 

“Anything else you think we need?” Abel questions. It seems he’s found the breadsticks and crackers in the meantime.

João reckons they’ve got enough. They had a rather plentiful lunch—the main event of the day—so he doesn’t want to overdo it, even if that is the nature of the season!

As he goes to tell Abel that, really, maybe just another bottle of wine would be good, a round of laughter erupts from the other side of the house.

Through the kitchen window, João can just about see into the living room, and he gains a smile as he sees Arthur celebrating a victory as he’s managed to crack open another bottle of fizz (he couldn’t earlier; Ned had to ‘loosen it’ for him!). Antonio appears with two glasses to fill, and Emmeline appears to be taking to the stage for her turn at charades, Francis and Noah hankering down to begin guessing. 

“Seems they’re having fun,” Abel muses as he comes to stand at João’s side.

“They certainly are,” the brunet concurs. He stands back up straight, his eyes fixed on the scene playing in the other room. 

“Do you want to go and join in?” Abel wonders all the while, to which João shakes his head.

“No, no… It’s not that,” he responds, somewhat distant. 

The laughter fades away, but the joy is still there. The joy of good company. It’s a very different Christmas to the ones he’s known in the past, and he just wants to savour it for a bit. To commit to memory the warmth he feels inside, spending time with people he cares about.

It seems Noah manages to guess what Emmeline is miming out. There’s another cheer, a round of applause, and he duly takes her place in front of the fire.

“You’re thinking quite hard,” Abel muses. His voice is a lifeline back to the present. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” João says. “I just… Today has been such a good day. An amazing day. And now I just kind of wish that… Well… I wish every Christmas were like this one…”

He isn’t sure what reaction he expects. Maybe something along the lines of an ‘aww’ (although Abel isn’t an ‘aww’-ing sort of person) or a heartfelt hug. Yet, instead, Abel stays silent for a moment, rummaging for something in João’s peripheral as he gazes through windows.

“They can be, if you want them to be,” is Abel’s eventual, hushed, gentle response. 

João looks at him to find the slightest of smiles on his face—a wonderful sight that only added to the day’s beauty—and he smiles back at him. In fact, he goes to make the most of their privacy and hopes to kiss him, but a little nudge and a flitting gaze make him look downwards, too, where a small navy-blue box rests in Abel’s hand. 

His face falls.

He starts to feel like he’s floating. 

“Abe, are you—?”

“I thought you might prefer me to ask in private,” the other claims, a bold move, and the right one at that.

João doesn’t have the words. He’s light as air, his hands come to his mouth, he fears he might start to cry, his heart leaps, his day has gone amazing to… unimaginably indescribable, all in the span of a few seconds.

He has to take a deep breath.

“Abe…”

“João.”

“Fifteen years of knowing you…”

“And a lifetime left to get to know you better,” the other replies. “If you’ll have me.”

“There’s no ‘if’ about it,” João tells him, his smile returned and barely composed. He steps up on the balls of his feet so he can reach his arms around Abel’s neck, pulling him into an embrace that is quickly returned and shared. “You,” he says, “are all I could ever ask for…”

[ winter prompts here! ] [ ficlet collection on ao3! ]

[feartoxinjelloshot]

MOLLY RANDALL was a young student at the high school where Jonathan Crane taught chemistry. Like him, she dealt with a medley of chronic health issues, and like him, her parents were neglectful and unsupportive. Over time he got to know her and took a (repressed) liking to her; she was of course ecstatic to have an adult pay her positive attention and latched onto him immediately. Due to her parents' neglect they often left her to get home from school on her own, and this eventually led to her spending some afternoons at Jonathan's apartment, where he would help her with her homework or simply offer her company that her parents did not (as she was not well liked by her peers and had no friends her age). This is where she met Edward Nygma, as he lived in the same apartment building as Jonathan -- upon finding out about her devoted passion for journaling and blogging, he quickly developed a fondness for her as well. With his and Jonathan's encouragement she set up an online blog where she published a home-written newsletter under the screen name Miss Tuesday: it was mostly benign local news, but her willful proximity to two of Gotham's more well-known supervillains sometimes let her publish things she wouldn't otherwise have known about. (The subject of the Riddler and the Scarecrow was an uncertain subject among them, moreso the latter as dictated by Jonathan's ever-present neuroses. They never told her outright, but they felt strongly that she knew, and she did nothing to prove or disprove her knowledge either way.)

The Joker, meanwhile, long after the loss of his wayward Harlequin, was getting lonely and bored with his own tricks. As time passed he began to slowly notice Molly's presence and association with Ed and Jon, and the more he thought of it the more jealous he became. She followed them around like a little puppydog! She revered them! The Joker had never been much for children, but, he figured, he'd never taken a crack at making one. Maybe it could be the key to all that he had wished for. A sidekick of his own! So he went down, very far down, into the depths of the sewers underneath Gotham, and he found a particular green lake, and with a drop of the water he forged his own rotten flesh, and a short strand of blonde hair, and sugar and snails and puppy dog's tails, and all the things little girls are made of...

[mossmittens]

3, 5, 12, 13 14 for the Ask Game

This one is LONG, sorry all

3. Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

I'd heard RAYE and Escapism before this year, but I finally started digging into her music for real and was so pleased. Her live performances are magical. Highly recommend her medley at the Brits — the bridge from Ice Cream Man is an earworm that puts me on the floor and the CHOIR for Prada and Escapism. I want to live in it. Maybe I relate to this album too much to be healthy sjkhgfkjgd

Other songs I loved: Josephine Oniyama - House of Mirrors, Labi Siffre - Bless the Telephone, Kacey Musgraves - camera roll, Bob Dylan - Knocking on Heaven's Door, Troye Sivan - Rager teenager!, Sufjan Stevens - Will Anybody Ever Love Me?

5. TV show of the year?

I mean, the Delicious in Dungeon anime coming out this year defined the year for me, so it must be that. I wouldn't have read the manga if the show hadn't swept me away. Genuinely, it is impossible to guess the person I would be today if I hadn't seen it, which feels crazy.

12. Talk about a new friend you made this year

This is like a part 2 to the previous question djghfhjd. I absolutely refuse to choose just one, though. I found a core group of fandom friends that I really adore. Pompoms, making stupid emojis and edits just to make them laugh, forcing them to stream video games for my amusement while I very loudly eat sandwiches into the mic, stupid in-jokes we can't possibly explain without sounding insane. It's a complete pleasure to know them 💞 mwah mwah mwah to you all

But that's not all! I started talking to mutuals I've had for years and made some new ones. I've never really talked to people here before and I always felt like I was shouting into the void. It's been a nice change of pace and I love my little circle to bits.

Sorry for the long-winded answer, but I have so many warm feelings rn!

FYI: My backup accounts are @moss-mittens or @mossmittens2 (for dunmeshi stuff), if you would like to follow them. Won't be posting there unless I get nuked again, so don't worry about double posting. Also happy to share my Discord with moots :)

13. How was your birthday this year?

It was actually a shit day in the moment, but it turned out to be a really special memory. My whole family visited my grandpa, who I share a birthday with. He had a big health scare last December, so we were worried about him not making it to his birthday but he did!!

What makes it special is that he winded up passing two weeks ago. He was my favorite out of an army of grandparents, step-grandparents, ex-step-grandparents. I'm so lucky that I got to spend one last birthday with him, so I'm gonna treasure that stupid, awful day forever.

14. Favorite book you read this year?

A Curious History of Sex by Kate Lister is a complete joy, though I admit I haven't finished it. It's more of a collection of essays on selected parts of sex history than a wide-ranging deep dive, but the writing is easy to get through. It's very sex positive and sex work positive.

On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, I reread The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin. It's a mystery written for children and you can probably get through it in an afternoon. It's just a wonderful and well-constructed story. Highly recommend to people who like to read a mystery and don't try to solve it haha

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay Visuals - Mission: Jingle Bells

(This post almost definitely won't be super long, but there was no way I was not gonna make a post for this video!)

Mission Jingle Bells was released on the 22nd of December, 2018, and as you all obviously know, it's a fusion between the Mission Impossible theme music and the song Jingle Bells, and it was legit sponsored by Paramount Pictures! Good for you, VoicePlay! The music was arranged by Layne, but we're not here to talk about that, we're here for the video! (Which was done by both Layne and Eli). So let's get into this!

'Hey you know how we got kidnapped for the Panic Medley videos? What if we got kidnapped again?' 😂

(Seriously, the Panic Medley videos were released just 5 months earlier, in July, and the Queen medley video, where Earl had to take on deities of death to get the chance to live again, was in November! 2018 was A Year)

Also I like that the camera feed says that the date and time is two minutes to midnight on Christmas eve, it's a nice touch.

Get that sponsorship money! Get that exposure! (Also it's kinda funny how VoicePlay has had ties with Disney, Paramount, and Universal! Getting a whole variety of connections there!)

Obligatory "man he looks so good here" 💜

Fun fact: The voice of "Creepy Evil Santa" was actually done by Eli! As for who actually physically portrayed him, I'm not entirely sure. I think I've seen people saying it was Kathy? But I can't remember if they were joking or not

A small thing, but I like how before Villain Santa tells you that the collar things actually control the guys' voices/vocalisations, the video actually kinda shows you! Villain Santa's presses a button on his device panel thing (see previous image), and then Geoff suddenly "kicks into gear", like starts doing exactly what is requested, no hesitation, as if he really is being controlled! It's neat!

(Follow me for more overexplanation of miniscule details /j)

And yes of course I am going to mention the bow in Earl's beard. It's hilarious and adorable, 10/10, no notes

And yes, their hands/wrists are all bound to the chairs with wrapping paper, with bows on top!

(Also I thought Geoff was the only one not wearing a tie but Eli isn't either!)

I am kinda interested to know what the collars were made from actually (there isn't any BTS stuff for this video sadly - I checked)

"What fun it is to ride and sing a-"

"-sleighing song toniiight"

*grabby hands* Gimme the controls, GIVE ME THE CONTROLS! 😂

(Seriously Evil Santa dude, you could've done so much more!!!)

J killed it with the rap part of course! (Who wrote that bit? Was it the same dude who wrote bits for VoicePlay's covers of Superstition and Valhalla Calling?)

Kinda looks like J is giving Layne hope/encouragement/reassurance here and it's kinda sweet!

Geoff! You're not supposed to be enjoying this! 🤣

(But also his head bobbing is kinda fun/amusing - I guess when he can't sing with his hands like he usually does, moving his head will just have to do!)

Now there's a freeze-frame bonus for sure! 😍

Also just noticed Geoff is moving his fingers a little bit in this part! He cannot be fully stopped! XD

(Also hey are Eli's shoes the same ones that he wore in Creep and In The Air Tonight and maybe one or two other videos? He seems to like black sneakers with thick white soles on them)

When the video started, the time on the camera feed was two minutes before midnight, and two minutes later... it's still two minutes before midnight! What kinda Polar Express time nonsense is this? 😂

"I'm so pleased, you may leave now! Merry Christmas, VoicePlay!"

"Thank you, mister evil... supervillain guy... but can you untie us now? ...Someone's coming to untie us right?"

(Lol rip)

I remember this was one of the videos I watched not too long after I first discovered VoicePlay in 2019, and I'm pretty sure that I wasn't entirely certain who was speaking at the end, but of course now I know it's Geoff! (Though his typical speaking voice nowadays is an octave or so lower, lol)

Okay so not too short of a post after all (3 more images than my post for Baby Its Cold Outside, actually!), and definitely well worth it! But the next post I have in store? Well, there might be a solid chance of me hitting the image limit on that one, lol. See you again soon!

[oros-ash3s]

｡ ˚₊ ˚ ‧ ✶ ⋆.﹒ ★ “Hollow” ★﹒₊‧ 𖥔･˚₊ ⋆ ｡

Masterlist ✧ Characters: Wren (they/them), Atlas (he/him)

My heart feels so still, as I try to find the will to forget her somehow / Oh, I think I’ve forgotten her now || Forget Her — Jeff Buckley

TW: References to drugs and alcohol, references to sex and hypersexuality

“So what was it this time?” 

Wren tilted their head lazily towards Atlas, the statement more an accusation than anything else, the real question they wanted to ask going unspoken, hanging in the air between the two, both of them in an understanding. 

Atlas felt nauseous. And for once it didn’t have to do with the drugs coursing through his veins, blurring his surroundings and leaving him soft around the edges — more tolerable. No, the way Wren was staring at him, the conversation they were trying to force him into, that was more sickening than any hangover he’d ever experienced. 

“What was what,” he mumbled thickly, letting his head fall with a thunk down on his mattress. The world felt distinctly wavy, bending around him in gentle ripples. His limbs were heavy, head hollow, all his unruly emotions dulled. 

He wished he could stay like this forever. 

“Oh, you fucking know what I’m talking about.” Wren huffed, sitting up straight, their words coming out a bit sharper than they had intended. But then again, maybe it was what he needed. “Your girlfriend. Whatsherface, or whatever. What was her name again?” 

Atlas knew fully well they remembered her name. They had complained about her enough times during the short two weeks of their relationship that it would’ve been impossible for them to forget now. 

No, they were fucking with him. Their little way of telling him what they thought without actually saying it out loud, without causing a fight. Telling him that he’d had too many girlfriends to count, telling him that he slept around too much to keep track of who he was seeing, much less their names. That’s what they were really doing. 

They were calling him a slut. 

He was sure that was what everyone thought of him now. He could see their gazes, could see the little whispers behind cupped hands. Knew who they were talking about. Knew after the tenth time someone had found him passed out in the bathroom, or the couch, or the kitchen, that word would get around. He was a fuck-up. A disappointment. A waste of space. 

Nothing more than ruined potential. 

Whatever, it wasn’t like they mattered — wasn’t like anyone mattered. They could think whatever they wanted about him, could call him a fuck-up behind his back as many times as they wanted, could judge him and sneer at him and spread rumours. Who gave a shit? He sure didn’t. 

He didn’t care. 

“You know her name.” He said after a beat of silence, allowing his eyes to fall half-closed. Anything to avoid Wren’s gaze on him, accusatory and demanding, trying to force him to acknowledge the feelings that he’d rather run from for the rest of his life. 

“Just answer the question, dummy.” 

Atlas hummed. This time the girl hadn’t been so bad. A little older, not that he ever cared about that, but not too old that he’d get those pitying looks from the others, eyes flashing with that stupid, unspoken word that made his skin crawl: Victim. 

But this girl had been good enough that he didn’t get those looks. Good enough he didn’t feel the embarrassment when she grabbed at his waist and pulled him in close, giggling sweet nothings into his ear. He wasn’t sure why she liked him so much anyway, they weren’t even friends. They’d hooked up a few times in the past. Nights that were blurry and hard to place, the bad parts easy to ignore with the medley of pills and powders running through his bloodstream. He’d seen her around one of the bars he liked to frequent more than he liked to admit, and one night she’d bought him a couple drinks. 

Then one thing led to another, and then their one-night stands weren’t just one-night stands. And then she was in his room almost every night. And then during the day. And then she was sleeping over. 

By then everyone else had already decided that they were dating. 

Atlas hated every part of it. 

It wasn’t like they were proper boyfriend-and-girlfriend anyway. Not like the movies, with romantic, luxurious dates and gentle kisses under the moonlight, whispered jokes told between just the two. No, Atlas was sure a love like that didn’t exist. And if it did, it definitely wasn’t meant for someone like him. 

They’d mostly just hooked up in his room. Gone out to a club once or twice. All dumb, meaningless shit. They weren’t even really official — he’d seen her out with other people. She didn’t actually mean anything, in the grand scheme of things. Just another girl that would blend into the faces of all those that came before her. And he was sure he didn’t mean anything to her, either. How could he? 

He’d been the one to break things off, this time. He had been sober, for once; the drugs that muddled his thoughts, that made living a bit more bearable, finally having worn off. Her touch against his skin had suddenly felt like poison, the fingers tracing the curvature of his torso leaving him burning in shame, and no longer could he force himself to go along with it — not when he felt so nauseous he was sure he was going to puke. He just pushed her off of himself, sitting on the edge of the bed and telling her to get out. Please. 

She’d left without so much of a complaint. He’d been right, afterall. She didn’t care. Not when she saw the look on his face, saw all of the damage that hung underneath his pretty looks. Saw what he really, truly was. 

Just a dirty, broken mutt. 

But he couldn’t admit that to Wren. He could already feel the judgement oozing off of them, the disgust. How could he possibly tell them the real reason they broke up? The real reason he couldn’t stand to sleep next to her anymore? The real reason he couldn’t keep a relationship for more than a couple weeks? Who, in their right mind, said that? Thought that? 

So no. He would never admit that. He would drown out all of his guilt with alcohol, and avoid his friends — the only people who actually cared about him at this point, and sleep with any person that would take him, even if he ended up hurt in the end. But he would never, ever, admit his true feelings. 

So instead, he went with the best excuse he could muster up in his foggy, drug-addled brain: “She was boring.” 

“Oh really.” Wren said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He could still feel their gaze, piercing into him like the pointed tip of a blade. “Hmm, where have I heard that before?” 

Atlas bristled at the reminder, turning his head away. “Shut up.”

“Don’t try and think I don’t know what really happened.” 

He was silent. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re really doing. What you’re running from.” 

“I’m not running from anything.” He muttered, tensing up. 

“Sure. That’s why you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. That’s why I have to drag you home every night because you’re so fucking wasted you can’t see straight. That’s why you haven’t been sober for months.” Wren snapped, their voice cutting through the tense atmosphere sharper than a knife. “But not running from anything, right?” 

“This isn’t about him.” 

Wren snorted. “And I’m the Queen of fucking England!” They jeered, throwing their arms up in the air. “Jesus, you really think I’m gonna believe that bullshit? You know as well as I do that this is all about him.” 

Atlas grunted, narrowing his eyes but refusing to turn and face them head-on. It was easier that way. Then he wouldn’t have to see the look in their eyes. Then, maybe, he could cling on to the little sliver of dignity that he had left. 

This was not about Al….

Him. 

He didn’t care what he thought. If he didn’t want to be around him anymore, if he thought he was suddenly too good for Atlas’ company, then so be it. He was completely and absolutely fine with that. But he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life chasing a boy who wanted nothing to do with him. Who he knew was disgusted by him. 

He wasn’t going to waste anymore time on someone who flinched back whenever he got more than two feet near him. Who couldn’t even meet his eyes. No, he wasn’t going to try at all. 

“I see the way you look at him.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Atlas mumbled, his ears flushing pink. He’d been sure it hadn’t been noticeable, the staring, but he should’ve known better. The little glances, when he thought nobody was watching, the spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, those beautiful multi-coloured eyes would turn to him, if only for a moment. That the words “stay with me” would fall from his lips.

They never did. 

“I know you’re in love with him.” Wren continued, unwavering. “Just admit it. Admit that you’re in love with—”

“I am not in love with anyone.” He snapped, voice rising. He didn’t move, didn’t think he could, but what he couldn’t stand was hearing that name spoken out loud. He wasn’t sure he would survive if Wren finished their sentence. 

He wasn’t in love. Not when the one person he really wished to have at his side would never be able to look at him like that. Who would turn him away in an instant. Who would hate him for even asking. 

Maybe he couldn’t stand his partners sober. Maybe he was purposely doing this, a small part of him waiting for him to notice. Maybe he was drinking more than he should. Maybe it hurt more than he liked to admit, maybe he had bruises he wasn’t sure how he’d received. Maybe he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror anymore, after what he had become. What he had turned himself into. But was all that really so bad?  

He was not in love. And he never would be.

“Why do you have to be so impossible? Why can’t you stop being so stubborn for one goddamned second and just admit to yourself what this all is really about? Why can’t you get over yourself for one minute and just tell the truth?” 

“Oh, so sorry we’re not all as perfect as you are, Wren. Sorry I’m trying to move on with my life, instead of live in the past like you do.” He spat, pressing his face down into the side of the mattress. He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore, laced with a sort of venom that he would never previously have directed towards Wren, but in this moment, he couldn’t force himself to care. “Go find someone else to bother. Someone who actually wants to hear it.”

Wren just huffed. “Whatever Atlas,” they said with a frustrated grunt, lips pulled taut. They pushed themself up to their feet, giving him one more sideways look, eyes flashing with some unrecognizable emotion, one Atlas couldn’t exactly place. Not anger, but not pity either — something harsher. Almost… resignation. “Be my guest. Keep fucking yourself up. You’re the one that’s going to get hurt.”

They turned sharply on their heels, only stopping to pause at the door. “But don’t expect me to keep picking up all of your messes.” 

The door slammed shut behind them. 

The silence was suffocating. As soon as they were gone, he regretted it, regretted turning his back to them. Regretted pushing them away. Like most things, these days. He couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t been drowning in regrets. When he hadn’t wished he’d done something different — been someone different. 

Slowly, he pulled the small silver flask out of the pocket of his jacket, letting his head tip back as he brought the drink up to his lips. The pale liquid burned his throat as it went down, slowly spreading warmth though his core, filling the gaping emptiness of his being. 

He relished in it. The familiar, soothing feeling as the alcohol entered his system, burning away all thoughts of him, all his stupid, insignificant ideas of what could’ve been. Dulling the pitiful shame coursing through his veins, for only a moment. 

All thoughts of Wren, of his fuck-ups, of his secret, desperate longing, faded into the background. He let out a contented sigh, allowing his eyes to fall shut. 

Silence. 

Wren is co-owned with @ohagi505 ᰈ ﾟ⋆.˚

Taglist: @seastarblue @vesanal @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @bioniclechronicles @lancedoncrimsonwings @blackboxwarrior-mkultra @whump-till-ya-jump @sharkblizzardblogs @scoundrelwithboba

[loosesodamarble]

Welcome to the Black Bird Part 10: Christian the Sinister

Summary: Introducing Zora as Christian, Black Bird's sassy and sadistic butler. Watch out, he bites. Genre: general Word count: ~850 A/N: @cringeyvanillamilk is to thank for the commission of Zora.

..........

“I’ve got it!” Zara laughed when he burst into the kitchen. “I’ve got a name for the business! ‘The Ideale Place’!”

Zora blinked a couple times before sarcastically remarking, “That sounds like home realty and not a restaurant, Dad. Maybe you should change it to ‘The Ideale Plate’ instead.”

“Ha! That’s genius!” Zara dashed up to where Zora sat and ruffled his hair against Zora’s protests. “What would I do without you, little man?”

The man in Zora’s memories and the man passed out on the living room couch seemed like two different people. But Zora knew they were the same, mostly. One still had a dream burning in his soul. The other had the dream stamped on and snuffed.

“Hey Dad…” Zora set a plate of food—oven-roasted vegetables and a pan-fried chicken breast— on the coffee table. He nudged Zara’s shoulder.

“Huh…” Zara groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah? Wassup, Zora?”

“I made dinner.”

“Aw, thanks.” Zara sat up, grunting as he did so. While by no means an old man, his body must’ve ached from being overworked. He smiled and nudged Zora’s arm. “What would I do without you?”

“Dunno…” Zora rubbed the back of his neck. Then, he shuffled back to the kitchen. Maybe if I wasn’t around… Zora’s eyes drifted from his own serving of dinner on the counter to a thick binder, a cookbook compiled by Zara, from which the recipe for dinner came from. Then you would’ve been able to live your dream instead.

…..

If there was one thing that Zora enjoyed about his job, it was that he didn’t have to worry about his customer service skills. At least, not as much as other people in the industry had to worry.

Zora sauntered up to the table he would be serving while tapping his server booklet against his shoulder. A familiar woman with coffee brown hair sat with a man with dark auburn hair and an eyepatch over his left eye. They looked to be dressed for a date, wearing clothes that would’ve been too nice for a casual outing between friends.

“Oh? You’re back again?” Zora asked while eyeing the woman up and down. “What a persistent little insect you are, Mistress Erika.” He sneered at her, making Erika giggle behind her hand.

“Sorry, Christian, I can’t help but find my way back here,” Erika remarked bashfully. “Plus, I promised Gilbert that I’d bring him here for our date.”

“Tch. I don’t need your excuses. Just apologize and get it over with,” Zora said brusquely.

“Better stop it right there, buddy,” the man, Gilbert, finally spoke up, a sharp gleam in his eye. “I know she’s playing along, but I’d never forgive myself if I let you torment my cute date.”

Erika’s eyes went wide and she blushed redder than a tomato. “G-Gilbert…”

“Don’t be so surprised,” Gilbert chuckled then grinned softly at Erika. “And I keep telling you just ‘Gil’ is fine.” To his reminder, Erika squeaked and nodded.

“Hnn… Right. If we’re done with the mush…” Zora sighed. “Christian’s the name and I’ll be your butler this evening. Better be good little customers, Master Gilbert and Mistress Erika, or I’ll make you regret my service,” he said with a practiced smirk.

Gilbert raised his brow and his own grin seemed to challenge Zora. Good to know that even if he wasn’t the target audience, this Gilbert fellow was able to go with the flow of the cafe. Because as much as he liked his freedom to throw typical customer service out the window, he still prided himself with entertaining the cafe’s guests.

…..

Fiend’s Firework Stew. Beef stew with a punishingly strong spice to it. The heat is thanks to being made with the country's spiciest pepper.

It was a dish that Zora adapted from one of Zara’s recipes. Zara used a combination of jalapeno, sweet heat, Korean chili peppers, and cayenne to give his pepper stew a medley of vegetal, smokey, and lightly sweet tastes. He would swap in other peppers for different flavors, such as cascabella for nuttiness or firecracker peppers if he was looking for fruitiness.

For the stew served at the Black Bird, Zora knew he had to turn the level up as the cafe’s sadist butler. There was cayenne and habanero used in the new recipe. The real star of the stew, though, was the shinigami pepper, a new breed of pepper cultivated by a farm right outside of the city.

I wonder what Dad would think of the stew, Zora mused as he de-seeded a pile of peppers to turn into a paste for the stew. While he mainly served as a butler, he did work in the cafe’s kitchen too. I wonder what he’d think of all this. I hope he’s happy, that he’s proud.

All of Zara’s skill, knowledge, and passion, Zora learned from them and built off them. He did it to honor his dad, to give back to the man that gave Zora everything. 

Zara’s dream would come true.

Zora swore to himself that he’d make it so.

His vow was all that kept him going.

[practically-an-x-man]

Whatever Keeps You Around (Rick Flag x Eris)

Summary: Based on this prompt, Eris runs into an immortal surprise in a very mundane place. (Title from First Time by Hozier)

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Mild jealousy, mild possessive themes, some mentions of violence.

____

"Go see if they have any bread you like, hon."

Eris nodded, ducking past him and half-jogging up to the shelf of artisanal bread in the corner of the store. This was why he'd picked this store, even though it was small and pricey and overly-organic: Eris claimed it was the only place in New Orleans that made bread the right way, whatever they in their mind deemed the right way.

All Rick knew was that it cost about eight dollars a pop and was loaded with spices he couldn't identify, and that Eris could go through three loaves a week if he let them. Usually he did. The one perk to working for Amanda Waller was the paycheck, and that allowed him at least enough wiggle room to buy the right kind of bread.

She jogged back up to him, two loaves wrapped in paper in her arms, just as Rick had finished thanking the deli clerk for his cold cuts and cheeses. Eris tucked the bread into the shopping cart almost delicately and promptly plucked the deli bags from his hands to inspect his selections.

"Oven-roasted turkey? Not the herb kind?"

"Outta stock. I've got thyme and stuff back at the house if it really bothers you," Rick replied, "What kind of bread did you pick out?"

"Honey-rosemary and something they call rustic medley," Eris muttered, "I'll be the judge of that."

"Sounds pretty good," he agreed, "Maybe we can make butter to go with it."

Eris tilted his head, something Rick stupidly misinterpreted as a lack of understanding.

"I saw it online, you just put heavy cream and a little salt in a mason jar, shake it u-"

"I'd be willing to bet I'm more familiar with making butter than you are, Flag." Eris cut him off, sharp as always, "But why?"

"I dunno. Seems like fun."

"You have a real strange idea of fun. And this is coming from someone who lived through tapestry being the popular hobby." they jeered, but tossed a carton of heavy cream into the cart as they passed the dairy case. Rick tried to hide his smile. If anyone was the definition of 'actions speak louder than words', it was Eris.

He stayed close to Rick's side as they wandered the store, occasionally tossing things into the cart on what looked like pure whim. Cans of tomato soup, the ones Rick remembered mentioning were his favorite because they reminded him of his childhood, made their way in alongside pretzels and peanut butter and bars of high-cacao baking chocolate. It was far too bitter for his tastes, at least in anything other than baked goods, but Eris could snack on it like a Hershey bar. She liked it for the same reason she liked the artisanal bread, he thought. Nostalgia, or the closest thing to nostalgia they could find.

"Lasagna tonight? Or should we just find something to stick in the oven?" Rick asked, frowning at the prices of the pasta boxes on the shelves. Eris was back at his side in a moment, moving so quickly and silently that he would have jumped if he wasn't used to it.

"Hm. Neither. Make your pot pie." he decided, and Rick felt him lean in against his side, "I have a taste for it."

His mother's recipe, the one he'd tried so hard to get right after her death, now lived on as a favorite in the mind of a centuries-old metahuman.

That one made him feel good.

He knew Eris wasn't one for public affection, but he still couldn't resist wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of their head. He pulled back quickly, before Eris could wriggle away or complain about looking soft, and waved a hand at the produce aisle they'd left in their wake.

"Go grab me a bag of baby carrots and some green beans, then," he said, then paused and corrected, "In a bag. Not just loose green beans."

"I know that, smartass." Eris huffed, rolling her eyes at him as she walked away. Rick suppressed a chuckle.

There was someone else in the produce aisle, apparently trying to decide between a starfruit and a cherimoya. They were half a head taller than Eris, with wavy brown hair halfway down their back and a flowing blue sundress swishing around their knees.

Rick didn't pay them much mind, and was about to turn and grab a can of biscuits when Eris froze in his tracks.

"Julius?"

The taller figure whipped around so fast it must have given them whiplash, and their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Rick could see, even from afar, that their features had the same strangely archaic look as Eris' own, though perhaps a continent and a few centuries apart.

"Oh my- Eris?" they stammered, then gestured vaguely at themself, "And it's- er, Wisteria now. Wisty."

"Wisty." Eris repeated, as if testing out the name, "You're... very not dead, for someone three hundred years old."

"Made a deal with a witch a while back. And you're... very tame for how I remember you."

That made a grin flash across Eris' face, quick and sharp and promising only dark things.

"Try me."

But Wisty didn't flinch. She just smiled right back, though this one was nostalgic, almost soft.

The thought struck Rick like a bolt of lightning.

Eris had a type.

Underneath the flowing fabric of her dress, Wisty had to be at least as tall as Rick himself was, and just as stacked with muscle. Old scars littered what bare skin was visible around her clothing, like she'd been a fighter in a past life- or perhaps still was. And she knew not to flinch at those shark-smiles Eris threw at her. Just like Rick did.

The thought made something strange bubble up inside him. He wasn't sure he liked it. As strange and twisted as Eris' affections could be, he'd never before had competition for those affections. It was actually one of the best things about being with them, knowing they'd always drift back to him at the end of all the chaos.

It wasn't Wisteria's arrival alone that had him so tense. What really got him was the set of Eris' posture as he spoke to her: leaned back slightly on his heels, shoulders loose, head tilted ever-so-slightly in curiosity. Casual. Relaxed. The only time he'd ever seen Eris truly relaxed was when they were alone with him.

"We should catch back up." Wisty decided, a smile slowly growing on her face, "Go... spar like the old times or something. I'm a lot tougher than I used to be."

"I don't doubt it." Eris said, their spine automatically straightening at the promise of a good challenge.

He deserved this, Rick thought. This was some sort of cosmic payback for those two years he spent pushing her aside in favor of June, for snapping at all the times they suggested making him into a metahuman like them - it was all to keep him safe, to keep him around.

Well, here was someone who'd stuck around. Who'd played the long game, the centuries-long game, the way Rick was always so afraid to commit to. Who could hold their own against Eris, when she still had to pull her punches against him.

"What do you think? My lance and your spear, or hand-to-hand?" Wisty asked, playfully throwing up her fists with a broad grin. Eris returned the gesture, bouncing on his toes a little.

It was like he'd forgotten Rick was there, just ten feet back. And even as much as he wanted to call out, to remind them... he couldn't move. All he could do was watch it all unravel before him, the can of biscuits still held tight in one hand. Suddenly his mom's old recipe didn't seem to matter much.

"It'll be like before. You and me," Wisty said, "The old war god and the king's footsoldier."

Then there was a different kind of tension in Eris' posture. The shift was sudden, her chin lifted and her shoulders drawn back, all joviality transformed into something more guarded.

"I'm with someone." he said, each word crisply spaced, and brushed past Wisty with smooth, disciplined steps. They grabbed a plastic bag and shoved a handful of green beans into it, pausing only to pluck a few wrinkled and undesirable vegetables from the lot and toss them back. Wisteria turned, fixing them with a tilted expression.

"You told me you wouldn't love another. You told me love was too painful. You told me... that I was the last one."

Eris snatched a bag of baby carrots, holding them tight in her hand as she turned.

"I was wrong." they said, chin set and eyes blazing, "And if you do a damn thing to him, if you hurt him thinking that'll bring me back to you, I'll kill you where you stand. And I will feel no remorse."

With that, he stormed his way back to Rick and tossed the vegetables into the shopping cart.

"You were staring." they muttered, taking the can of biscuits from his hand and dropping it into the cart alongside the rest of the groceries. Then, to his surprise, they folded their fingers into his own. For Eris, that was the equivalent of a public strip tease. Rick gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, I know. Couldn't help it." he admitted, knowing better than to try and duck around it, "First time I've ever seen one of your old friends. Didn't realize there was anyone else... like me."

"She wasn't like you." Eris huffed, ducking around his arm to give the cart a brisk shove, "Nobody's like you."

"It's alright if she was." Rick argued, "I know I'm not the only person you've loved, doll. That's okay."

Eris opened his mouth to respond, then reconsidered and shook his head. It must've been a lot to explain, or something they couldn't bear to speak in such public company. Their posture was still tense, shoulders stony, and they didn't spare so much as a single glance back at the produce aisle.

"Nobody's like you." she just repeated, even more set and sullen. Rick decided there were two ways he could take that: a sign that this love was real, or a sign that the pattern would end up repeating itself in a few years. He decided to take it as the former. The latter, true as it might be, felt far too pessimistic.

"Rome!" a voice called from behind them, and finally Eris turned. Wisteria had caught up, and fire a glance between the two of them. Rick met her eyes calmly, and found something strange swimming there. She returned her gaze to Eris, unflinching. "A hundred years. Rome. Then we'll have our fight."

Rick could hear the other half of her words: because he won't be around by then. Maybe he should have been offended by the implications. He didn't bother. He'd always known there would be someone after him. He didn't expect to meet that someone, but... this was life with Eris. He'd learned to get used to things like this.

"Fine." Eris agreed, though the firm look never left her eyes, "I will meet you on the steps of the Colosseum in one hundred years exactly. We will have our fight."

Their grip tightened on his hand unexpectedly, right on the verge of being painful. Wisteria's eyes fell straight to it, and she frowned a little. Eris must not have been any more affectionate in their prior life.

"But you will get no love from me then." they concluded, "They will bury my heart when they bury him."

Rick saw hurt bloom across Wisty's face, a shocked and helpless sort of pain, but Eris just spun and gave the cart another brutal shove towards the checkout lanes. Rick found himself pausing an extra moment, looking into Wisty's shockingly crestfallen eyes and debating an apology.

In the end, he just shut his mouth and trailed after Eris, leaving Wisty where she stood. He had a sense that speaking to her would only make things worse. It was better just for him to be, in her mind, some speechless nameless thing at Eris' heels. It was probably safer for the both of them.

He caught up to Eris just shy of the checkout lanes, right as they set a rotisserie chicken in the front basket of the cart. She glanced up at him as he approached and offered him something like a smile. It was a little pointed, a little irritated, but he didn't mind that too much.

"You're mine." she muttered, possessive like a wolf to its mate, "Until they put you in the ground, you're mine."

"I love you too, wartime."

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Musical Ramble Part 3: Jukebox Musical

yes I'm back on this MWAHAHAHAHAHA

I’m also wondering if RWRB would work as a Jukebox musical (a musical using pop songs instead of original songs, our darling Nicholas has already starred in a, with all due respect, not that good one: Cinderella 2021)

That way we can keep some of the amazing song choices in the movie: If I Loved You, Get Low, Can’t Help Falling in Love With You. Plus with RWRB being a modern fairy tale and stuff maybe straight-up using pop songs would work better with the entire tone of the show/movie

But like, certain scenes/moments/songs from & Juliet and Moulin Rouge (ok these are the only two jukebox musicals I’ve listen to so far) could work for RWRB (yes I’m realizing this is more me finding musical songs that work for RWRB than anything but sue me)

“I Kissed a Girl/Boy” from & Juliet/ Katy Perry would work well for the entire Red Room -> Hook Up -> Polo Scene, granted RWRB would be more intense than what’s in & Juliet since our boys are doing… a little more than kissing :)

“Whataya want from me” also from & Juliet/ Adam Lambert, even from the same ship, can work for the Kensington Confrontation

This is less direct, but parts of “Elephant Love Medley” from Mouline Rouge, more distinctly in the Broadway show version, Santine sings about how love is not something she believes in while Christian sings about how he wants love with her. The idea of a love medley can work with Firstprince too, maybe during the Paris date or the lake scene: Henry not believing he can have love while Alex wanting to tell Henry that he’s in love with him. Plus Your Song (and Can't Help Falling in Love, briefly, in the broadway show version) makes an appearance :D (Even though personally I think Can't Help Falling in Love fits Firstprince more)

A lot of us talk about how Taylor Swift-coded Firstprince is, and it’s true (and I personally love it), but in a jukebox musical, the TS songs can be directly used: personally think Labyrinth would be fitting for where If I Love you is in the film, but having Henry sing it, especially since the first verse fits the imagery of Henry holding his aching heart under the water so well (sorry I can't find the freaking gif) :

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

And my other otp Malec kind of owns this song, but Ruelle’s War of Hearts at the very least lyrically suits Firstprince as well:

I can't help but love you

Even though I try not to

I can't help but want you

I know that I'd die without you

And Nick’s song Comfort (which I have been listening to on loop, its amazing please go check it out) actually suits Henry’s mentality really well:

Wanna stay, wanna run, wanna disappear

I keep biting my tongue just to keep you here

Made you wait for someone I could never be

And it's killing me

I’ll be the first to admit I don’t actually listen to that much pop music, so please please please feel free to add more, but so far this is what I got in terms of jukebox musical and narrative pop songs

Part 1 / Part 2

[stormyoceans]

MONICA!!!!!! The concert was so good!!!! 😭😭😭 I’m assuming you’re ok with spoilers so here goes 😬

The first half of the show was them playing and recreating the key scenes and singing in them which I thought would trigger me tbh but instead I think it did me good to see the scenes I loved again 🥹 and Jimmy, Mark and Sea were so freaking good they cried in some scenes and I cried seeing them cry and it was so emotional again!!! I really wanna go back and rewatch all the good parts now, it’s still 80% a really good series!!

And they did Blame the Stars together!!! And you saw they did the “can I have my shirt back” scene!!! 😵🫠

(They played the breakup scene but not the reconciliation, it kinda just skipped to “happy ending” and I’m actually glad that we don’t have to rehash all of that)

They did full group songs and unit songs and what got to me was that MarkNamtan and OhmFilm did songs but so did NamtanFilm and MarkOhm!!! The NamtanFilm song was 😙👌

They did a whole Vice Versa medley!!! They did it for me!!! 😄 I was so happy and excited to see it!!! I hope that gets more of the newer fans to go watch it!!!

Jimmy, Mark and Sea had solo moments too, love that for them!!

They were surprised with a fan made video in support of them!! 🥰

Their speeches at the end were emotional and everyone cried, including me 🥹 Sea went second to last and Jimmy went last and he spoke the most 😁

It was just under 4 hours long, it started a little late (as all GMM concerts do tbh) but it was so good and worth only getting 4 hours of sleep 😅 I really hope you get to see it and enjoy it too!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING YOUR LIVE STREAMING EXPERIENCE OF THE LAST TWILIGHT CONCERT WITH ME KAREN!!!!!!!!

ngl reading this and seeing all the clips on twitter is making me want to buy the ticket for the rerun so badly like i always knew it was gonna be great and that everyone was gonna give their all but damn. the concert actually felt so well organized and thought out, i love that they basically turned the show into a musical and gave space for all kind of performances and pairings!!!!!! i've always wanted a duet version of blame the stars and im so happy they finally gave it to us!!!!!! and seeing namtanfilm and markohm slow dance alongside jimmysea was such a blessing THEY TRULY SAID THERE AIN'T NO STRAIGHT PEOPLE LEFT IN THIS SHOW

i really wasn't expecting it, but tbh i feel the same way as you. i think this did me good. maybe im just saying this because i haven't seen any videos of the break up scene so i can just keep pretending it never happened, but the parts i did see are kind of healing the hurt i've been feeling over the last three episodes of the show and bringing back all the love and excitement i used to have for morkday

ALSO NOT TO BE DRAMATIC BUT JIMMYSEA SINGING THE ENTIRETY OF THE VICE VERSA OST WITH A BRIGHT PINK STAGE SURROUNDING THEM MADE ME CRY LIKE A BABY like i truly did not expect them to bring vice versa up because last twilight is what brought them the popularity they always deserved so i was afraid they would kinda forget about vice versa, but im honestly just so ridiculously happy and emotional to know that it's still in their heart. or at least that they know it's still in ours, even if we may be a minority in the fandom now

i already had a meltdown over jimmysea this morning and i really can't afford another one and i don't think i would even have the words to express everything i feel but. im just so proud of them. it's honestly insane to me that they were able to pull off a performance like this in such a short period of time and with such a busy schedule. their dedication, their hard work, their kindness..... I DON'T CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS THESE TWO BOYS DESERVES ALL THE LOVE AND RECOGNITION IN THE WORLD

[my-taelicious-kookie]

(ch.4) NORMALITY | jjk high school AU

preview: jungkook did not join the dance club.

"Why?? What's so important that you'd rather do something else on Tuesday evening?" Maria asked, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and disappointment.

"Taekwondo," he replied simply. "I gotta do it, man. I need to learn how to defend myself." Jungkook's tone was matter-of-fact, and there was a determination in his eyes that Maria couldn't argue with.

She was disappointed but managed a small nod. Self-defense indeed was more important than dancing. Perhaps she should try it, too? The idea flashed through her mind, but she dismissed it just as quickly. Nah, she was hardly built for martial arts, and the thought of kicking and punching wasn't nearly as appealing as dance.

"Don't be sad," he said, noticing her expression. "I'd still love to dance with you sometime! Just... maybe not every week."

Maria brightened up at this, however still disappointed . She let out a faked excited "Okay!" before they parted ways. She walked to her assigned seat, casting a glance back at him. Assigned seats in high school? Yeah right, she literally had more freedom in junior high. But here she was, seated in the back corner of the class as the tallest girl in 10D, with Jungkook, being the tallest guy, sadly on the opposite side of the room, also at the back.

"It's fine," she thought optimistically. "I'll still get a chance to dance with him sometime."

October 2018

Semester 1 came and went, and Maria still hadn't danced with Jungkook. She was frustrated, but over time, that frustration faded, and she refocused on her own dance team. She was no longer holding out for that one magical moment with him and had invested her energy in her team instead. Jayda, Brenda, Delilah, and Dina made up her core group—some of her now closest friends. Some, however, was a different story - like Angela.

From day one, she seemed cold toward Maria, and no amount of friendliness could break through. Was it Maria's loud personality? The fact that she was considered second-best next to Jayda? Or maybe Angela's short-bitch-syndrome had something to do with it? Maria had no clue—and frankly, she didn't care. She put her energy where it mattered: toward the people she actually cared about.

During one rehearsal, Coach Carlo clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone, listen up! We're in a bit of a time crunch here," he began. "We've got just three weeks left of rehearsals. Then it's finals week. And then comes the performance."

The class nodded, some looking more anxious than others.

"So, realistically, you've got two weeks of rehearsal," Carlo continued. "I expect you all to use that third week to prepare for exams."

Maria knew she should have cared more about exams—her grades were important, and her mom, Ana, certainly wouldn't let her forget that. But, honestly, it was hard to focus on studying. All she wanted was to nail her performance, to make an impression on Jungkook, that is if he decided to show up. Her motivation for academics was sinking fast, a fact that would definitely not sit well with Ana. Still, she pushed those thoughts aside, driven by the anticipation of the performance.

November 2018

The day of the Myshuno Showcase, part of the school's open day activities, arrived. The school was buzzing with energy and everyone seemed so excited, excited to have no class for the day—except Maria. She couldn't shake the feeling that the team's piece was outdated. A Michael Jackson medley? Sure, he was a legend, but would a crowd of teenagers and young kids even appreciate it, let alone convince them to choose to study here? She bit her lip, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as the MC took the stage.

"Give it up for Myshuno High's own dance team, The Floor Breakers!"

"Eugh, cringe," Brenda muttered under her breath, standing just behind Maria.

"I know, right? I hate the Michael Jackson concept," Maria whispered back.

"Oh, that too. But I was talking about our team name."

Maria's eyes widened. "What? You little shit, I picked that-!"

"MARIA! BRENDA! FOCUS!" Carlo's voice boomed from behind the curtains, and the girls stifled their giggles, glancing at each other sheepishly.

Brenda had little to no love for Carlo, finding him pompous and snobbish—his teaching style full of contradictions that drove her nuts. He was basically a little bratty boy trapped in a man's body in Brenda's eyes. Maria, though, was more neutral. Sure, Carlo could be a little... odd. Like the time he'd wrapped his arm around her waist while they walked to the principal's office to get some paperwork approved for the showcase. At first, she'd thought it was a little strange, but he'd treated her like a favorite student, so she brushed it off as a harmless fatherly gesture... right? She was his favourite after all.

Finally, the music started. Don't Stop Til You Get Enough blared from the speakers, and Maria did what she did best: she danced her heart out. She didn't love the piece, but she was a performer, and no matter what, she'd put in her full effort. As she moved through the choreography, though, she couldn't help but feel let down by her teammates. The energy was low, their movements sluggish, and the overall vibe was flat. She knew she was giving it her all, but she felt like she was carrying the whole team.

And the crowd is... confused? Mixed expressions and mild claps followed each move, and Maria felt the weight of her disappointment settle heavier with each step. Her mind flicked back to Jungkook—whether he was watching or not—and her motivation faltered.

As the piece came to a close, Maria forced herself to finish strong, holding her final pose with a bright smile, even if her spirit wasn't in it. She glanced around the crowd, but to her relief—and her disappointment—she couldn't spot Jungkook. In a way, she was grateful he hadn't seen the lackluster performance. At least she'd been spared the embarrassment. Still, the whole experience left a sour taste in her mouth.

Backstage, as they came off, Maria turned to Brenda. "Well, that was... something."

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Literally, I'm gonna pretend this shit never happened."

"So real," Maria said, nodding as she mentally ticked off the performance from her list of "most awkward experiences."

Brenda couldn't help but notice that Maria's expression wasn't just disappointment—it was closer to devastation. She leaned in, her voice softer than usual.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Maria snapped out of her daze, pretending she hadn't heard her.

"I don't know, you look sad," Brenda pressed.

"Oh, yeah, no... it's just the dance," Maria muttered, her voice unconvincing.

"Don't lie to me. I saw you—your eyes were wandering just now." Brenda gave her a look, and Maria sighed.

"It's just... Jungkook," Maria admitted, her voice barely audible.

Brenda raised an eyebrow. "Oh my god, you're still hung up on that? It's been months, Maria. He's not joining the team."

Maria stared blankly, unable to hide her sadness. She didn't want to admit it, but Brenda's words hit a nerve.

Brenda smirked. "Erm... have you got a thing for him or something?"

Maria's eyes widened. She quickly shushed her, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear. It wasn't like she was ashamed, but she preferred to keep it quiet, to play things cool.

"Tch, should've known you love going outside your league," came a familiar, bitter voice. Angela. She'd been standing close enough to catch the last part of their conversation, her arms crossed and her expression smug. "Jungkook's dating a senior in my class, by the way. 11A. That's why he wasn't in the audience today. He's busy taking care of someone that actually matters to him."

"Bugger off, dickhead!"

With that, Angela spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Maria feeling like she'd just been punched in the stomach. She wished she was less of a people pleaser to speak up for herself more often.

"Could that be true?" Maria whispered to Brenda, her face etched with disbelief.

Brenda shrugged. "I dunno, I'm not exactly social enough to know that stuff."

"Yeah, but... who could it be? And why does it have to be one of our seniors?" Maria let out an annoyed sigh.

"Who cares, bruh. He's not all that," Brenda replied, trying to brush it off.

"Not all that?" Maria raised an eyebrow. "Who would you even prefer to go after?"

"Easy. Chris Hemsworth."

Maria laughed. "Uh-huh, you do realize he's, like, 35?"

"So?" Brenda grinned, completely unbothered.

"So... not very attainable."

Brenda shot her a mischievous look. "Pfft, like you didn't attain Carlo just fine."

Maria's eyes went wide as she realized what Brenda was referring to. That one time Carlo had wrapped his arm around her waist on the way to the principal's office had apparently not gone unnoticed. Brenda definitely didn't know the context.

"Oh my god, Brenda, no! You don't get it, that was nothing!"

"Uh-huh," Brenda teased, nudging her... not so playfully.

Maria let out an exasperated sigh, but she couldn't help laughing. The whole situation with Jungkook, the weirdness of Carlo, even Angela's sharp remarks—it all felt a little less heavy when she had Brenda by her side, at least Maria thought. Maybe she should let go of some of the things she couldn't control.

"No seriously, it's hella creepy. You need to stop that man-child before he does anything worse." Brenda sternly said, gasping on Maria's shoulders firmly.

Maria laughed it off, not realising how manipulated she had been. And unfortunately for her, this is enough information for Angela.

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