#mrs. puff you're fired

[spongebobsoundtrack]

Ivor Slaney - Dramatic Impact 1

Plays in:

Episodes

SpongeBob SquarePants

41b. "SpongeGuard on Duty" 

44a. "Nasty Patty" 

48a. "No Weenies Allowed"

52a. "Chocolate with Nuts"

60a. "SpongeBob Meets the Strangler" 

69b. "Mrs. Puff, You're Fired" 

81. "Friend or Foe" 

94a. "Blackened Sponge" 

101b. "Krabby Road" 

109b. "The Krabby Kronicle"

Kamp Koral: SpongeBob's Under Years

19a. "Painting with Squidward" 

The Patrick Star Show

14b. "FitzPatrick" 

15a. "Uncredible Journey" 

Video games

. "Plankton's Robotic Revenge" 

[benkeibear]

『 You're a mean one Mr. Grinch 』

🎄synopsis: If you could use only two words to describe Sanemi during the holiday season it would be "the grinch". But just like his hairy, green friend, Sanemi does have a heart deep down - and it belongs entirely to you.

🎄character: Sanemi Shinazugawa

🎄reader: female

🎄cw: slightly suggestive for 2 sentences (It's Tengen, I can't help it), otherwise pure fluff

🎄notes: Merry Christmas @awkwardchick87 I am Tinsel the liddol elf for the @pixelcafe-network secret Santa! 🥹🫶 I hope you have a holly jolly season and that Mr. Grinch here shows up under your tree for real hehe. Also a big thank you to @hayatoseyepatch who helped me to make sure that Sanemi was in character!

Snow is falling all around us I fucking hate it, everything is slippery and shoveling snow sucks.

Children playing, having fun I hope they fall and bruise their tailbones.

It's the season, love and understanding you mean materialism and fake love…

The Christmas music was blasting from the kitchen and Sanemi couldn't help but scoff at the pretentious lyrics, adding his thoughts to each and every line.

If you only had two words to describe your husband during Christmas time, you wouldn't even need to ponder for a single second, the two words would come to your mind immediately - The Grinch.

“Nemi?” Your voice called from the kitchen as the songs switched, giving him exactly three seconds before the next one started playing, a moment of peace for his poor ears, he thought, as he slowly made his way to you.

“Can I turn the music down a little?” He asked as he rubbed his temples a little too dramatically, but your face said it all - he can turn the volume down but not entirely off.

Now that the music wasn't blasting through the entire house, the tense feeling seemed to disappear from his shoulders and he looked at you from across the kitchen island, cookie batter stuck on your cheek and flour coating your hair white and he couldn't stifle the smallest chuckle.

“Did you need my help, Mrs. Santa?” He asked teasingly, the flour in your hair aging you rapidly and you threw a freshly cut cookie at his face, the little star sticking perfectly to his forehead.

“You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you quipped back and laughed at the way he ripped that star shaped cookie off his skin.

“What was that for?!” Sanemi sounded quite angry. “I mean… why did you do that?” He repeated his question much calmer, still working on his little outbursts that have become a lot less frequent.

“You called me Mrs. Santa! Do I look that old to you?” You asked amused and threatened to throw another cookie, this time it was shaped like a bell.

Sanemi walked around the counter and took a closer look at you with squinted eyes, studying you as if he really had to think about an answer, which made you puff your cheeks in feigned offense.

“Well… the flour does make you look like Mrs. Santa… But perhaps I just need to grow a beard to be your Santa then?” He asked and gently ruffled your hair in an effort to remove the flour, only making it worse, which did bring a smile to his face.

*plap* The bell shaped cookie got slapped against his cheek with a playful slap of your hand, making you laugh out loudly before running off, knowing he'd chase you to get back at you somehow - and you were right.

Sanemi chased you through the apartment, trying to throw the batter at your face but firing it against the wall and two windows instead before giving up and chasing after you without a makeshift cookie weapon. Neither of you knew how long you'd been at it, but when the smoke detector went off, you ran to the kitchen in an instant, the first batch of Christmas cookies looked more like the coal pieces that Santa leaves for the naughty children.

The next time Sanemi was painfully reminded that this is indeed Christmas season was when he walked into your living room and saw that tree standing there. What an ugly thing he thought to himself as he eyed it up and down - at least the shape was decent and better than the one from last year. With a sigh he went to the storage to get the ornaments ready for you, knowing that you'll want to put them on there sooner than later and he didn't want you to carry all these boxes… Just why did you have so much stuff for a tree??

The first note of the song came on as you decorated the tree and a shiver ran down his spine. He hated Christmas music, but this song was on top of the list of most hated songs - it just sounded so awfully nonconsensual.

Gripping the star that goes on top of the Christmas tree like a microphone, you dramatically got into stance to sing this duet he was sure you made him sing with you. You're so lucky that he loves you…

“I really can't stay,” you started to sing, but he refused to sound like some asshole, so he improvised his own lines.

“No problem, there's the door,” he grumbled and pointed at the door. Sanemi didn't even try to sing this, but he also didn't want to disappoint you - seeing you smile was what made him happy after all and if he had to embarrass himself like this, he would do so. Your smile was brighter than any Christmas star to him and singing a silly duet wasn't too bad after all.

“I've got to go away,” you continued and gave him the puppy eyes to act your part.

“I hear ya, say no more,” he mumbled and twirled you around once.

“This evening has been-” before you were able to finish it, he interrupted you.

“Totally consensual!” He butted in, which made you laugh at how he made his own version of this Christmas classic.

“My mother will start to worry,” you sang through your little giggle fit, already having missed a line, but Sanemi took a step back.

“Here's my phone, give her a call,” he chuckled, making the whole song sound a lot less creepy than it actually is. Both of you ended up laughing by the time the song was over, the Christmas tree only having one ornament hanging on its branches. Gently, Sanemi lifted you up to place the Christmas star on top before handing you various ornaments to decorate the tree, leaving this task entirely in your hands after you complained that he would clutter the tree. Granted, your first Christmas you almost shoved the ornament down his throat after he hung two red ones next to each other, but that is a story of the past…

The last time Sanemi was painfully reminded that it was Christmas Eve was when he sat under the tree like a pouting little child. His arms remained crossed as he waited for you to find him there - a red bow tied to a strand of his hair and if you looked closely, his cheeks were almost the same color from how embarrassed he felt to sit there. Both of you agreed to exchange your gifts on Christmas Eve already and while you got yours to put it under the tree for him, he went to get into position. Oh, how utterly stupid he felt and every second that passed only made him doubt his decisions more.

Sanemi never really celebrated Christmas before he got to know you. Holiday of love and giving… to love who? He had no family and it's not like he could do things like this with Genya. Giving gifts? He thought that was stupid, too materialistic. The white haired man was a firm believer that you should show your love to the right people every day of the year and not only on made-up holidays like Christmas or even Valentine's Day - but this changed once he found out that you're quite sentimental about those little things and that you don't expect anything expensive or lots of presents, just one small thing coming from his heart. So the first Christmas you two spent together, he gifted you his Haori - something too simple in his eyes, but you were so happy because you knew that this was his favorite. Unless it's in the laundry, you still wear it daily until this very day, well past your marriage vows, and you never fail to make his heart skip a beat whenever he sees you wearing it. But this time he had to outdo himself at least a little bit, so he went to none other than Tengen Uzui to ask for guidance. Did he hate every second of this? Very much so. It was almost humiliating to ask for help, yet he reminded himself of the purpose - you.

“That's just ridiculous!” Sanemi stood up, his head bright red at Tengen’s advice, who only shrugged with a smirk on his lips. A smirk that Sanemi wished to punch off his stupidly handsome face in that moment, but something started putting pieces together in his brain. If Tengen had three wives that adored him so much, his idea wouldn't be too bad, given he does it himself. Grumbling, Sanemi sat back down onto the tatami mats and Tengen's smirk grew into an excited one.

“I'm not going to wrap my dick with ribbon or stuff it into a box,” he exclaimed, knowing his friend's mind was running wild after he was the one suggesting these very things.

“Well, my wives do like to have a taste of my… candy cane… when I put a pretty bow on it,” he mused and Sanemi stood up once again, leaving this time. Too much information.

“Yeah, yeah, have fun, you pervert,” he mumbled and left the Uzui estate with a bright red head. Surely his best friend would have a better idea now that he and Mitsuri are together…

“I write poetry for her,” Obanai mumbled, his voice muffled and although he couldn't see him smile, his eyes were shining whenever he was talking of her.

“I can't… I'm not good with words or emotions and that shit,” Sanemi answered, deeply in thought. He could ask Obanai to write one for you, but it wouldn't be from heart. It would be the words of another man and just thinking about another man telling you how much he loves you made his blood boil - even if it's in his name.

“Just try it,” the short man encouraged him and swiftly moved to bring him paper and a pen to write before leaving him alone with his thoughts and a tea, surely he will think of something.

It's been two hours since Obanai checked in on his friend, so when he went to his living room to see how the poet is faring, Sanemi was long gone. The stack of papers was empty, crumpled up pages littered the room, which frustrated the Hashira. Next time they meet, he will have to face the consequences of trashing his estate - although reading these poems out loud to you should serve as enough punishment with how bad they were.

Just as he was about to stop reading them, as they made his skin crawl with how truly bad Sanemi was to express his words, one caught his attention. It surely wasn't a masterpiece, but for what it was, it was sweet and heartfelt. Obanai smiled to himself as he straightened the paper out, intending to send it to you in a secret letter.

“Roses are red, Violets are blue, With every wild wind, I'm thinking of you.

Your laughter's like thunder, In the quiet of night, A spark in my heart, You're my guiding light.

I'm rough around the edges, and my hair's a mess. You see through the storms and love me nonetheless.

So here's to our chaos, and the battles we face, In a world full of danger, you're my favorite place.”

Now Sanemi was sitting under the tree, a bow in his hair and a small box hiding in his pocket. While he went home, frustrated with the poetry session, his engagement ring caught his attention - it shimmered beautifully in the sun, just like your eyes. He made sure to choose a gem that came closest to his favorite color, and you wore an amethyst on yours to represent his eyes.

“The eyes are a window to the soul after all,” Sanemi whispered the words you told him on your first date when he looked everywhere but at you since you made him uncharacteristically nervous.

Although you've been together for all this time, the nerves crept up as he waited for you to return to the living room, hoping you'd like the necklace hiding in the small box, an amethyst placed neatly in the middle of a decorative piece that looked like a whirlwind. And perhaps you'll like the big present even more, as it sat there, waiting and pouting for your return…

Network: @pixelcafe-network

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Devil Wears Armani 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're the CEO's new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

The world stands still for Tony Stark but you run for him. You flit between the bodies on the street, hangers hooked in your fingers as the heavy suit bags bounces on your back. You’re breathless and dizzy as you get to the glass doors, nearly colliding with one as it opens from the other side. You clamour around it and apologise to the stranger that steps through. 

You check your watch as you hurry across the lobby. Ahead, you see the elevator filling up. No way. It’ll take forever with stops at every floor. You divert and head for the stairs. What’s a little more fire in your lungs? 

You burst through the door and scuff towards the first flight, barely keeping from shouldering the brick wall. You huff and puff your way up, feeling around your crossbody bag until you free your phone. Stark’s messages assure you that you’re not fast enough. You were warned about being run through your paces but you haven’t sat down in what feels like weeks. 

‘Suits. My Office. Now.’ 

His last message is fed up. You won’t offer excuses about the traffic or the dry cleaner losing the tags. You will just smile and accept the reprimand. That’s what the job is. Taking shit. You have no misconceptions left, not since Louise told you what happened to the last PA. You hope she’s in good therapy. You should look into some once your benefits kick in. 

You rush across the floor of desk, paying little mind to the paper that flutter in your stead or how the suit bags hit the edge of monitors. You can’t stop. Somehow, he’ll know if you do. 

You enter the hidden lobby where your desk sits guard to the CEO’s office and you gulp down humid breaths as you near his door. You knock furiously but don’t wait for the response. You push the handle with your elbow and lean into the door, scrambling through in victory. 

“Mr. Stark, your suits--” 

You stop short and the hangs fall as your fingers bend back too far and the suit bags slide down to your feet. Your eyes widen as Annabel’s crystal blue eyes roll up to meet yours as she lays across the desk, Mr. Stark’s silver-streaked hair over her chest as he buries his face in her cleavage, her dress pulled down just to the top of her ribcage. 

“Oh, gosh, sorry!” 

You put your hand up to block your view and bend to gather up the mess of dry cleaning. You swipe the bags up by the hooks of the hangers, spinning in a panic and fleeing back through the door. You snap it shut and race over to your desk.  

The round desk sits behind a ledge that hides all but your hairline from the few of visitors and other employees. The chair is set as high as it will go and yes, you can barely see from your perch. You’ve moved the monitor twenty times and it’s not made it any better. 

You sling the suit bags over the back of the desk and drop into the chair. Horror crawls up your chest and neck and threaten to choke you. Your heart continues to pound as your adrenaline slowly recedes. It’s more than just the cross-city sprint that has you out of sorts. 

Shoot! Why did you just go in like that? You knocked but you didn’t wait. You were so set on the finish line you didn’t see the red flag beside the checkered. You groan and slump forward, cradling your head as it throbs. You’re fired. 

You sit up and use your phone camera to fix your addled appearance, your glasses crooked and low on your nose. You did yourself no favours in your excess. You’re even more of a mess than usual. Dang. You put your phone down and untangle your crossbody bag and open the bottom drawer. You hesitate to drop it in, should you bother? You should start packing up. 

You tuck the bag away and use your foot to close the drawer. You don’t know what to do so you do what you always do. Work. 

You roll up to the monitor and login, fingers fluttering over the slender keyboard. You bring up Mr. Stark’s inbox and filter through the endless correspondence. His calendar’s full enough that most of the invites are an automatic ‘no’. 

You hear the door across from your open but don’t look up. Your cheeks blaze as Annabel’s clears her throat and struts away with a tap of heels. Your eyes widen behind your screen and you cough as you focus on your task. 

Mr. Stark doesn’t appear right away but you sense his silhouette in the doorway before he approaches. Your hands shake and your typing turns to gibberish. You still your fingers but keep them hovered over the keys. You bite down on the inside of your lip as you stare at the monitor. 

“My suits belong in my office,” he says. 

“Yes sir,” you reply obediently and stand abruptly, “just let me--” 

You trip around the swiveling chair and scoop up the suit bags. You step down from behind the raises desk and come around, overly aware of his looming shadow. You feel even smaller with your armful. 

He chuckles, “what was the hold up? I got bored.” 

“Sorry, sir,” you answer, “I’ll do better.” 

You scuff over the floor in your flats and into his open office. His desk is still a mess from his playtime. You veer towards the rolling rack against the wall and hang his suits. He steps into the doorway and watches you. 

You go to the desk without a thought and start tidying up. You’re such a busy body when you’re nervous. His soles tap on the floor as he enters and sucks his teeth. 

“She’s a cutie, huh?” Stark snickers, “and her assets are... admirable.” 

You blanch and back up, pushing your hands behind your back as you face him, “I’m sorry, sir. That won’t happen again.” 

“Oh, it will,” he smirks, “there’s enough pretty girls around...” He winks, “maybe next time, you’ll join.” 

You blink and your mouth opens just slightly. You’re speechless. He laughs again. 

“I’m playing with you,” his expression hardens and he crosses his arms, “go, get back to work.” He demands as he shakes his head, “next time don’t be fucking late.” 

[shadowtriovibes]

Hello,

Can you write some shameless pre-relationship Sebastian x mc flirting? Like pining, comparing hand sizes, teasing about height, all that cringe cute stuff! Just go off on that however you like!

hello anon!! here's a quick 1.5k pg-rated words for you because i'd just started a little drabble of MC working at j pippin's for the summer and it turned into two goofy teens in love 🥹

edit: i felt like this deserved a name so i'm calling it "the potioneer's apprentice" and i personally love a potion-loving MC characterization very much so i may return to this 'verse later on xoxo

"I happen to know that you can make a perfectly good batch of Wiggenweld yourself," you point out. Sebastian watches distractedly while you untie your hair, shaking it loose as it falls down to your shoulders. "W-well, yours is better," he insists. "Always has been, even Sharp said so." "It's even better now," you say proudly, pulling one of the bottles out of your bag to hand to him. "...You're not actually hurt, are you?" "No, just bored," he admits. "I wanted to see you."

Staring down at the order slip in your hands, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

Mr. Sebastian Sallow Feldcroft Hamlet

x3 Wiggenweld x1 Focus x1 Felix Felicis

“Simple enough,” Parry Pippin says cheerfully, tucking a knut into the pocket of the postal owl that had just dropped off your latest order. “I’ll put together the Liquid Luck, I know that’s a tricky one.”

Bustling over to his potions station, he adds, “I trust brewing the Wiggenweld and Focus draughts should be no problem for you?”

“Of course,” you say, quickly tying up your hair before lighting a fire beneath the cauldron at your own station.

You’ve been an apprentice at J. Pippin’s Potions for just over a month, refining your potions skills over the summer break – and helping keep an eye on things in Hogsmeade. In that time, your brewing skills have improved significantly, and Parry is more than happy to pass on some of the simpler potions to you.

Attempting to be casual, you ask, “Will this be a delivery?”

“Oh, I should think so,” Parry confirms. “Though it’s not exactly my neck of the woods.”

“Would you like me to drop it off?” you offer hopefully.

“How about this,” Parry offers. “I’ll send you down to the hamlet to drop these off, and then you can call it a day.”

“Thank you, Mister Pippin,” you say with a grin.

Your boss smiles approvingly as you carefully pour some horklump juice into your cauldron, precisely tapping the side of the bottle as he’d taught you.

“Besides,” he says cheekily. “I think this is the third time this month that young mister Sallow has ordered from my shop and requested delivery, even though Fatimah’s shop is much closer.”

You nearly spill the entire bottle.

“Any idea why a Hogwarts student on summer break would need so many potions?” Parry asks, smirking to himself as he pours some lacewing flies into his cauldron.

“W-well, I – I suppose he could be clumsy,” you mumble unconvincingly. “O-or stocking up, perhaps. We’ve got N.E.W.T. classes next term, some of these spells are quite challenging, a-and the beasts, we’ve got Grindylows to examine, you know how they bite…”

You trail off feebly, blushing a bright red. The Wiggenweld potion in your cauldron signals its completion with a puff of smoke, offering a welcome distraction.

“Aye, of course,” Parry murmurs, sounding very much like he doesn’t believe you in the slightest. “In any case, as soon as you finish that Focus potion I’ll send you on your way.”

Quickly ladling three portions of Wiggenweld into Parry's glass vials, you scrub out your cauldron and prepare the last draught, wrinkling your nose at the smell of dugbog tongue. Once it starts to smoke and bubble, you measure out a generous portion and collect the Felix Felicis from your boss, tucking the lot into your satchel.

“Please thank young Sebastian for his order, and tell him I said good day,” Parry tells you with a wink. “And to kindly stop pilfering my apprentice so often.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply sheepishly.

Outside the shop, you trek outside the boundaries of Hogsmeade to hop onto your broom and head south toward Feldcroft. It had been more than a week since you’d seen Sebastian, which felt like an eternity compared to how often you saw him during the school year.

One month into your break and you feel like a simpering wreck.

You miss him like crazy – not that you’d tell him like that, of course. He’s your closest friend, and the two of you have been through so much together in the past two years. You aren’t about to ruin it by confessing that you’re hopelessly in love with him.

—

Sebastian is not moping.

And even if he was, why shouldn’t he mope? He’s alone, it’s swelteringly hot in the hamlet and he hasn’t seen his best friend in a week.

He’s bored, and when Sebastian gets bored, he gets creative.

Really, it’s almost too easy to summon you to Feldcroft. All it took was a quick trip to see the owl post stand and another superfluous order for some potions (with a little bit of Liquid Luck thrown in on a whim), and he knew you’d arrive by the time the heat broke.

He conveniently manages to be tending to his small garden when you touch down beside the Sallow home, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows while he pats some dirt around a sprig of fluxweed.

“Sallow?” You call out teasingly. “I have an order here for Sebastian Sallow?”

“Must be a lazy bloke, ordering all those Wiggenwelds instead of making them himself,” he answers, sitting back on his heels and wiping some sweat away from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Or perhaps just daft.”

“I happen to know that you can make a perfectly good batch of Wiggenweld yourself,” you point out.

Sebastian watches distractedly while you untie your hair, shaking it loose as it falls down to your shoulders.

“W-well, yours is better,” he insists. “Always has been, even Sharp said so.”

“It’s even better now,” you say proudly, pulling one of the bottles out of your bag to hand to him. “...You’re not actually hurt, are you?”

“No, just bored,” he admits. “I wanted to see you.”

If Ominis were here, he’d likely pick up on how those words make your heart race a little faster, but mercifully, Sebastian does not.

“Here I am,” you say. “And I’m all yours for the day, Mister Pippin gave me the rest of the day off.”

“Oh, really?” he replies, brushing some stray dirt off of his trousers as he stands up. “Whatever could we get up to with an entire afternoon?”

You blink in surprise as he stands, realizing for the first time that Sebastian has gotten taller.

“What?” he asks, catching your gaze.

“You’ve grown,” you say dumbly. “I – I mean, you’re tall.”

“Am I?” he asks, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Perhaps you’re just short.”

“I am not short,” you protest, following Sebastian as he leads the way into the old Sallow home.

It feels different now, obviously. Less like a family home and more like a chaotic bachelor pad, Sebastian’s strewn-about books and haphazard notes covering up a distinct lack of coziness.

It’s only for the summer, Sebastian had told you the first time you’d seen it.

(You know he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go anymore, what with the Gaunt household becoming more toxic by the day. You wouldn’t be surprised to find Ominis squatting there as well by the time July rolls around.)

“You’re practically pocket-sized,” Sebastian teases, closing the door behind you to keep some of the midday sun out. “I think it’s why you’re so powerful – it’s concentrated, your magic.”

You scoff and shove at his shoulder, wondering to yourself when he became so broad.

It had only been a few weeks since school had let out, hadn’t it? And suddenly Sebastian was walking around in a man’s body, one you were sure wasn’t there in Charms class in May. Or maybe it was, hiding beneath his suit jacket and his robes…

You blink rapidly to clear your head.

“Um. Your potions,” you mumble, pulling the rest of the bottles out of your satchel and placing them on the front room table.

Then you can’t help but ask, “What’s the Felix Felicis for?”

“Not sure yet,” Sebastian admits. “But I’m sure it will come in handy at some point.”

You hum under your breath, picking up the delicate vial and examining it in the light.

“Hand it over,” Sebastian demands with a laugh. “I don’t like the way you’re looking at that bottle, I know what temptation looks like on your face.”

Blushing, you place the vial in his outstretched hand, letting your own hand linger a beat too long. Sebastian quickly catches your wrist, turning your hand palm-side up.

“Merlin’s beard, your hand is small,” he observes.

“Not this again,” you groan.

“I’m being serious, you hold your wand with this tiny thing?” he jokes. “Poor Ollivander had his work cut out for him.”

“Let’s see yours, then,” you insist, holding your hand up to him. “Go on.”

Sebastian presses his palm against yours and you raise your eyebrows. His hand dwarfs yours to the degree that he could wrap the tips of his fingers overtop yours if he wanted to.

“See?” he says, his voice suddenly much quieter in the empty home. “Tiny.”

“And yet I can still beat you in a duel,” you retort, trying to calm your racing heart.

Just like that, the tension in the room dissolves away and Sebastian lights up.

“A duel, hmm?” he echoes. “Is that an offer?”

“Seriously? That’s what you want to do today?” you laugh. “It’s thirty degrees outside and you want to duel?”

“We could practice on the training dummies,” he offers hopefully. “You know you want to.”

…Damn him, he’s right.

“Fine,” you relent. “But if I sweat through this chemise, it’s your head, Sallow.”

Sebastian tries very hard to not think about you in a sweat-soaked white shirt as you lead him back outside, and if he trips over the doorframe on his way out, he’s happy to let you continue to assume it’s just his clumsy streak.

[supercap2319]

"Y/N! Lane! My office now." Perry White inside voice yelled at them. The bullpen was a hush of whispers and giggles as Lois threw her hair back in a dramatic fashion and walked towards Perry's office, heels clacking against the floor as Y/N followed her.

So many things were going through his mind right now and he was sure he was going to be fired on the spot and Lois was just the witness that could tell everybody when it was over. Y/N stood awkwardly as Perry looked at them. "Y/N. Lane. I just read both your puff pieces on Superman and I had to tell which one is going to end up on the front page of the paper."

Lois smiled victoriously as she shot Y/N a cocky look. Lois was the only person who wrote about Superman. Sure, she wrote about other topics, but writing about Superman was her superpower. She was good at it and no one could challenge her. Or so she thought.

"Lane. As always a solid foundation on the Man of Steel. Some of your best work."

"Thanks, chief."

"However, I like Y/N's better." Perry said.

"What?!" Y/N wasn't sure who was more shocked. Him or Lois.

"But Chief, you said mine was some of my best work." Lois protested.

"And it is, but I ran your stories by some of our sampler readers and they prefer to hear a man's side of it. A male perspective on hanging out with Superman. Or in this case, 'My date with Superman.'"

"Mr. White that's supposed to say, 'My hanging out with Superman.' It's not the title I wrote for my story." Y/N told him.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is you're now on the Superman stories and Lane….. I'll find you another spot. Cool? Dismissed."

Y/N and Lois walked out of the office as they closed the door behind them as she glared at Y/N. "Don't think this is going to last, Y/N. You're a one trick pony. You'll never know Superman like I do." She walked off as Mr. Kent came up to Y/N.

"Did I miss something?"

"Oh, only just Mr. White promoting me to write stories about Superman from now on instead of Lois."

"Ooh, she's not going to be happy for the rest of the day."

"You're telling me."

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY Winter Tales

Witch of the Shadows

Blake walked along the path with her familiar, a shadow cat named Fergus. In the City of Vale, there were rumours of a Demon Knight that would appear during the blizzard and slay any unsuspecting travellers. She couldn't stand monsters like that and she agreed to hunt it down in exchange for a weekend at the Library of Forbidden Tomes. There was a treasure kept inside that was far more valubale than any gold in Remnant. Blake shivered violently as she stumbled in the snow.

Fergus; Are you sure you can handle yourself in this weather, my lady?

Blake: O-Of c-c-course. I-I-I'm perfectly f-f-fine.

For several more minutes, the two of them kept trudging along and all the while, the snow became thicker. Blake started to feel her feet soak with each step and it was making her uncomfortable. Unfortunately, she didn't know any fire spells to warm herself up. Fergus shook his head, disappointed in his mistress' lack of forsight.

Fergus: Tsk tsk tsk.

Blake: S-Shut up. A-Anyway, are we in the r-right area yet?

Fergus: We need to go further left. According the citizens of Vale, the Demon Knight's stronghold should be right over here. *runs*

Blake: What the- Fergus, get back here!

Blake tried to run after her familiar, but the deep snow was restricting her movement. She was struggling to keep up and the snowfall was becoming heavy, obscuring her vision. Suddenly, she tripped over what felt like a loose branch and ended up falling down a steep hill.

Blake: Agh!! Ow! *rubbing her head* Damn it! *turns around* Huh?

Blake was flabbergasted. In front of her was a small, decrepit stone house and on the windows were torn flags of a forked Imp. This couldn't possibly be the home of a demon, could it? Blake tried her best to stand up and, grabbing her wand, carefully walked inside.

It wasn't what she had expected at all. The inside of the house looked like a common living room. There was a table, a few broken chairs and a bookshelf. Sitting on a dusty bench was a young man stroking away at Fergus, who trilled delightfully. He had blonde hair, deep sapphire eyes and wore torn white tunic. His most distinguished feature, however, were his horns. He was a demon. Blake shook her head. She couldn't just attack him. Fergus didn't appear to be in any danger and he didn't look like he was a knight either.

Blake: Um, hello?

Demon boy: Huh? Oh. Hello there, witch. I didn't hear you come in. Why is it that you've come here?

Blake: Um... well, I... *lowers wand* I was sent to investigate the reports of a Demon Knight who was attacking unsuspecting travellers. I-I hate to ask, but do you know anything about it?

Demon boy: *shakes head* No, I don't. I was exiled from the Demon Knights 3 months ago.

Blake: Oh... I'm sorry.

Demon boy: It's okay. To be honest, they were a bunch of dicks anyway. By the way, is this your cait familiar?

Blake: Yeah, his name's Fergus. *snaps fingers* Return to me.

Fergus disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

Blake: Anyway, I know you're not a member of the Demon Knights anymore. But did you at least hear anything about the attacks?

Demon boy; Hmmm, if it was attacks on humans, I think I might know one in particular. His name is Cardin and he's... well, infamous is putting it lightly.

Blake: Why exactly is he infamous?

Demon boy: Put it this way, even among demons, he's quite brutal. No one escapes an encounter with him intact. He truly is a monster.

Blake: I see. *grips wand* I hate to ask, but would you help me in finding him?

Demon boy: Well, my combat skills are a little rusty. *stands up* But if you need my help, then I will gladly lend you my services.

Blake: Thank you, Mr...?

Jaune: Jaune Arc. *smiles*

Blake didn't know why, but seeing him smile made her heart flutter a little.

Jaune: Now then, *stands up* why don't you sit down and I'll get some dinner ready.

Blake: O-Oh no no no no, I couldn't possibly-

Jaune: Don't be silly, you just came in from the cold. A hot meal will do you some good. The kitchen's not perfect, but I can whip up something real nice. Do you like tuna?

Blake: YES! I mean- uh, tuna is good.

Jaune: Two tuna steaks with asparagus and mashed potatoes coming right up. *goes into the kitchen*

Blake's stomach grumbled as she heard the sound of pots, pans and the sizzling of the fish. Drool dripped from her mouth as the buttery scent touched her nose. She smiled excitedly. Maybe she had finally found the one.

[helloliriels]

My Bloody Valentine

by helloliriels

Sherlock dusted his knuckles ... pulled back and struck with all of the force he could muster. Knocking the man on the receiving end into the wall.

The man stumbled further in shock, catching himself, and brushing a streak of blood from his cheek ... then he looked up at Sherlock. Eyes wide with fear.

Sherlock stepped an inch forward, first raised again ...

The man cowered and rose his hands to defend himself from yet another strike!

It was not coming.

.

Sherlock stood.

. Seething.

.

His breath ragged as he glared. Holding himself back.

"You will excuse me ... if I don't take your case," he breathed through flaring nostrils.

The man nodded, agreeing, anything ... to avoid this unexpected wrath. "Apologies Mr. Holmes ... I didn't mean-"

Sherlock glared.

.

The man swallowed.

At least he knew enough to not speak another word ...

Instead, he turned around and flew from the room ... his steps making a frantic departure from 221b.

.

Sherlock turned to the mantle and felt his shoulders hunch. It was getting harder and harder to deal with the innuendo and accusations. No matter what John wrote ... or he himself did ... people were somehow still thinking he and John were together.

He only wished it were true.

He would go to his grave defending his 'not gay' doctor, if that was what it took. But he was afraid ... so afraid ... following the whole Wilde case ... that John would leave him soon.

Or worse ... marry for real.

.

Then he truly would be alone.

It was a cursed existence ... Living where you could not love. Loving where you could not give.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe. Lighting it and taking a puff.

.

He wasn't sure how long he'd stood there ... staring at the flickering light of a dying fire ... before he heard John's footsteps in the stairwell below ...

.

His head did not lift as John entered the room.

He had resigned himself to his only option.

He should leave. Before John did.

.

"Hey?" John called, quietly, as he came over.

Sherlock could hear him removing his overcoat and shoes. Knocking them beside his chair instead of bothering with the coat rack.

John was becoming so comfortable in their joined space ... it usually caused a swell of pride in Sherlock’s heart. That John felt safe and at home around him. Today ... it felt like someone was squeezing his heart ... restricting his lungs from the vital air they needed ...

He followed John with his eyes, keeping himself turned away, so that he could observe from the safety of the mirror. While he was hyperventilating.

.

"You okay?" John was asking. Voice gentle.

Sherlock set the pipe down and attempted to turn away further ... but John caught his arm. Stopping him.

.

He felt the warmth of John's hand travelling down his arm ... raising the goose flesh as he felt every nerve singing with desire to grip John's hands on his own and never let him go ...

Instead ... John was taking his hand?

Soft fingers caressing his as John brushed his palm and splayed his fingers. Feeling each digit of Sherlock's hand against his own?

.

Sherlock turned abruptly, confusion crossing his face as the shorter man looked up at him.

John's eyebrows were knit with worry? ... fear?

"What happened?" He asked.

(continued beneath cut)

His words were not sinking in.

Sherlock was taking in every facet of the man he had come to know and love so dearly. The deep blue eyes. Hard as steel when they needed to be. Sharp as daggers when defending those he loved. Soft and enveloping ... when they had a quiet moment alone ...

All thoughts Sherlock had wanted to express in a million ways ... a thousand different times ...

And yet, never could bring himself to ...

.

How was he to make it without his doctor?

He would not live long. He felt quite certain.

.

"Sherlock?" John asked, true concern seeping into his voice and Sherlock's lack of response ...?

"Sherlock - you're bleeding!"

.

Sherlock blinked.

He looked down at the knicks and cuts on his hand from striking Mr. Harrington - he must have caught on the man's jacket or cuff in defense? He couldn't remember really ...

And shrugged.

"It's nothing, John. Please don't let it bother you."

Then he sighed.

There was so much he was trying to not let bother John ... and here he had added another ...

.

"Sherlock?"

John reached up and brushed Sherlock's brow, trying to stroke away his worried frown ... even so ... he felt himself whimper as he pulled away.

John's hands. Gentle. Adoring. Healing hands.

He wanted to kiss them.

He wanted to confess. To tell him everything.

He wanted to ...

.

How do you explain to the man you've lived with for seven years ...? Seven happy, magnificently wonderful years ...? That you love him ... as more than friends ...

That you want to go on loving him?

That you want him by your side forever.

Even at night.

... without condemning him to a worse fate?

.

"Did i do something wrong?" John was asking.

.

Sherlock whipped around. Startled by the question.

.

. Wrong? No. John.

. You've done nothing wrong.

. It was me. It was all on me.

.

. You never even suspected ...

. And that made it worse. Really.

. Me wanting things that cannot be.

.

"They said something again, didn't they?"

John broke into his thoughts again, stating the obvious.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, reluctantly.

He wouldn't look at John.

John.

Who was going for the medical bag and then tending to his broken skin and bleeding knuckles ...

.

"I hope you got him in the teeth?" John chuckled, looking at the shape of Sherlock's injury.

Now it was Sherlock's turn to grin.

"Cheekbones actually," he corrected.

John smirked in response. "Always knew cheekbones could be dangerous," he huffed, tugging on the bandage and taping it up. "Some more than others ..." he added, looking up.

His voice trailed off as his eyes caught on Sherlock's own sharp features and then lingered on his lips.

John licked his own. Seemingly distracted ...

He caught Sherlock's eyes again. Flitting. But Sherlock would not let him look away.

They locked in a exchange of glances.

The kind only they shared.

John had meant something more in that.

He felt certain ...

.

John cleared his throat and broke eye contact first. Blushing?

.

"John - I," Sherlock started, realising now was a good a time as ever to tell the love of your life that you'll never see them again ... that they'll be safer without you. They'll be ...

"Sherlock - wait - no!" John put a finger to Sherlock's lips and stood wrestling a demon of his own before speaking. "I have something to say first."

Sherlock waited.

The inevitable delayed. Or perhaps hastened.

Not knowing what John's next words would be.

.

"It's Valentine's day," John muttered, not looking up.

Whatever words he was prepared for John to say ... he had not expected that ... ?

"What does-?" he tried to ask, but again - John's finger was on his lips. And there they stayed ...

Sherlock held his breath.

Hoping they would never move, really ...

"It's Valentine's day ... and you're here defending my honour ...," John sighed, heavily, "... when you shouldn't have to be!"

.

He was angry.

Sherlock could tell by his shallow breathing and the fist that balled by his side. Always ready. Always willing to take the fall for him ...

.

Sherlock swallowed.

Fear trickling into the ventricles of his beating, berating heart ...

"I've brought this on you, Sherlock!" John apologized, "and I'm so ... so sorry! It doesn't seem to matter what I do ... ! I can't keep it hidden, you see? If I was really a man of honour, I ... " he rubbed at his neck, "I would never have put you in such a position in the first place! I would have owned up to my feelings sooner and never risked the fate it seems I've laid at your feet!"

"John? Do you mean ... what I think you mean?" Sherlock was eyeing him warily ... too afraid to let his own deductions race ahead of John's actual train of thought ...

What if he was simply ... putting words into John's mouth that he wasn't actually saying?!!

John looked pained as he met his eyes ... and nodded.

.

Sherlock blinked.

.

"You mean ... that you-?" Sherlock allowed John to finish ... needed ... him to finish! More like!

"I'm in love with you, Sherlock Holmes - as you bloody well knOW!" John rumbled. That fist again!

Sherlock blinked. Couldn't stop really ...

His brain had short circuited.

.

Yes.

.

Quite gone.

All thought.

Useless really.

This brain-thinky-thing.

.

John.

. ... John? ... His John??!!!!

Was ... in Love ... ? ......with him?!

.

Sherlock's mouth fell open. He closed it. Blinking back to life as his brain finally caught up with what John was confirming.

"SO I am in fact your ... ?" he managed, at last ...

"The bloody love of my life! You don't have to mock me!" John spun to leave, and it was Sherlock's turn to grab his arm and pull him back.

This time ...

. ... he allowed himself to slip his fingers through John's ...

To caress those knuckles that had been so worth defending. Worth it a thousand times over ...! Even if John had never ever returned a fraction of the affection he felt for him!!!

"And if I tell you ... I'd bruise these knuckles every night ... if you would stay with me ... and be my everything?" Sherlock asked in response. Genuinely awed by the ability to form words ... the chance to speak such unspoken desires ... he kissed John's hand.

John's pained eyes lost their fear and widened, immediately. Dilating with what Sherlock mirrored in his own being!

"Then you would have to take me away from here, with you!" John responded, readily, "for I am of a mind to do unspeakable things ..."

Sherlock took John's face in his hands in a frantic rush of euphoria and kissed him - pressing John as close as he dared, without restricting the man's breathing!

When they surfaced for air ... John smiled.

.

"I think-" Sherlock answered then, softly - his lips not far from John's as he dared offer,

. "-we had better catch a train tonight ... ? For we have a countryside case to attend to ... and some exploring to do first ... it seems?"

His words were stolen by John's mouth pressed against his. Possessively this time. Just the way he imagined it ... in his dreams.

@spooksicl-e @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @cupidford @barachiki @khorazir I blame you all for this!!! 💘Happy Valentines!

tagging @fluffbyday-smutbynight @raina-at @meetinginsamarra @chinike @rhasima @ohlooktheresabee @topsyturvy-turtely does this count as fluff?

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @strandnreyes and @freneticfloetry and @lemonlyman-dotcom❤️

I like this little moment between TK and Owen in Flashback Fic and wanted to share.

By 8 p.m., TK is alone in his bedroom with only the desk lamp shining. He’s over on his bed, back turned on a half-hearted effort at homework. American History. Colonies schmolonies. Blah blah snooze.

He leans with folded arms against his windowsill, chin nested in the crook of his left elbow while he watches the snow clatter and puff against the glass. It’s coming down thick. Busy days and nights await Owen. He'll be cutting open cars to extract people freezing to death inside, and coordinating ice rescues, and inevitably putting out fires started by electric heaters. TK wishes he could be with his dad on those missions – in the teeth of it, doing something practical and useful. He’s no good in school but for that weird string of As in Biology - which is mainly down to Mr. Patel for being great at his job. It’s a drain on society that he has not dropped out. Yet, he can’t bear to suggest it to his parents, who are having an amicable conversation at the kitchen table right now. They can agree on their love for him, and their disappointment in him.

The muffled sound of their voices stops abruptly. He hears footsteps tread the floorboards, heading towards his door.

A single knock. Owen opens up without being invited. “Hey – I’ve got to head off now. I need to be at the firehouse bright and early. You're sitting in the dark?”

“You don’t want to stay on the pull-out?” TK sniffs. They’ve made the spare bed up for him a few times before. “It’s a mess out there, Dad.”

“I don’t want to be caught here tomorrow. It’ll take me too long to get across town.”

TK glances at his wet window, at the snow splattering on impact. “It’s the longest night,” he says, and it does seem unusually dark beyond the white drift.

Owen wanders over to squeeze TK’s shoulders through his purple American Apparel hoodie. “You feel cold. You need to eat – there’s a plate for you in the oven. It’s still warm.”

"I'm just not hungry."

"TK."

"I'll barf."

"You won't."

"I feel nauseous.”

“Because you haven’t eaten. Come on.” Owen tugs lightly at the white drawstring of TK’s hood and then harder at the hood itself. “I’m not going to stop doing this until you come into the kitchen.”

TK tries to brush Owen’s hand away, but Owen only strengthens. “Fine,” TK grunts. He’s in enough trouble as it is.

Tagging: @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @lightningboltreader @ladytessa74 @never-blooms @wandering-night19 @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @chaotictarlos @taralaurel @largepeachicedtea @catanisspicy @chicgeekgirl89 @mikibwrites @irispurpurea @rosedavid @liminalmemories21 @basilsunrise - if you want to share! No pressure! ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

[obsidiancreates]

Icewild (Part 2)

(There should be a Read More link but if it doesn't show up tell me because that's been happening lately and I don't know why.)

The arrival of the newcomers is... interruptive, but not halting. There's still the matters of making sure the ogres don't turn on the humans, of tending to wounds, of having a new day.

Of breakfast.

Barnabos keeps Kremy in the corner of his vision as he works on the monkey bread. The lizardfolk clearly knows his way around a kitchen as he pulls a chef's hat out of a bag of holding, and then a little pencil which he uses to add curls to the ends of his mustache. Then he pulls out a strange belt of some kind, fastening it around his waist.

"Alright Gid. Just light me a little fire here and then hang around in case I need ya."

"Sure thing man." Gideon lights the little fire below the pot and then steps back, crossing his arms and keeping his own eye on Barnabos.

"Not the trusting sort there, Mr. LeCroux?" Barnabos asks. "No need for a bodyguard, as long as ye don't strike first."

"Who said anythin' about a bodyguard? I just like havin' Gid around."

Barnabos sees Gideon puff up a little at that with a smug yet proud smile. Ahhh, well, that makes sense. Always better to have one's lover looking out for them, even when it might not be needed.

"I'll be servin' up a feast myself this morning," Barnabos says, tossing some pork into a pan and deeply inhaling the scent as it sizzles and pops. "All sorts o' fine foods, sweet an' savory alike."

"I'll be cookin' up some Agwe classics myself." Kremy pulls a small bag of flour from his belt, as well as a small glass jar of oil. He measures both out carefully and mixes them together in the pot. "Sausage and chicken gumbo, and maybe a tarte. We'll see, I dunno if I wanna risk a beezleberry infestation here."

"... Did you hit your head when you landed here, lad? I don' understand half the words yer saying."

"Oh. Right, well, a beezleberry is some kinda... horrible Feywild monstrosity. Tastes real fuckin' good! But kind of otherwise really horrible in every other way."

"I thin' I speak for everyone when I say you'd best leave that out."

"Yeah, probably."

"Is Agwe a Feywild city as well?"

"What? No, it's a fuckin' normal city."

"No need to get up in arms, Mr. LeCroux! Was just askin', I don't recognize the name is all."

"I guess it is pretty inland for someone like yourself to visit."

"It's where you wanna go if you're lookin' for a good time," Gideon says, pulling out a cigar and lighting it with his magic. "Gamblin', sleepin' around, scammin'-"

"Sounds like you should tell Mr. Stabbaskotch about it!" Barnabos declares with a grin. "He's the scammin' and gambling sort!"

"Not surprised." Kremy just keeps stirring his flour and oil mixture. "I could taste fiendish magic all around that little fella. Hope he got himself a good deal out of it."

"We may never know." Barnabos pops the bread into the oven. "He's got some sort o' beastie after 'im, but if you ask me he just needs to face it."

Gideon takes a drag from his cigar. "Sounds like he got a shitty fuckin' deal. Hey, how big is this fuckin' breakfast gonna be?"

"I'll be makin' a feast for the whole camp! It'll be plenty to fill up on, don't you worry."

"I'm making enough gumbo for seconds too, Gid." Kremy gestures back at Gideon. "His stomach's made of fire and stuff, he needs extra."

"Well I'm also keepin' up some fuckin' gains." Gideon flexes and grins.

"I'm not so scrawny myself, lads, I know what I'm doin'. ... Speakin' of, Mr. LeCroux, are you ever going to add any food to that there slurry?"

"The rue's barely there! It's only a light caramel, I'm looking for milk chocolate."

"Yer burnin' it on purpose?"

"Cookin' it. Keep your hands away though, this stuff is fuckin' Agwe Napalm."

"... And that's a common dish there? Something that they call napalm?"

"Can find it all over, none's as good as mine though."

"... Maybe don't tell Mr. Stabbaskotch where to find your city, on second thought."

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

The breakfast is a hit.

Kremy made enough gumbo just for his own family and their "hosts", so to speak, while Barnabos fed the rest of the entire camp. Not a single crumb or droplet was left behind of either of their meals, the gumbo being a highlight.

"Holy shit!" Skrimm literally bounces in his set a bit. "How have I never had that before?!"

Jornir places his bowl away. "It was... very good." He nods at Kremy.

"I'll admit, I 'ad my doubts watchin' the process, but it was well worth it." Barnabos sops up the last dregs of it with some bread. "I'll be tryin' to make my own take on it soon enough."

"Lookin' forward to tryin' it." Kremy leans over to Gideon and, less subtly than he thinks it is, whispers, "I saw him fuckin' drown everythin' in that Ancient Estuary shit Duncan had, I'm not fuckin' eatin' that so I'll just give it to you."

Gideon tries to laugh in quiet gleeful agreement. It's also louder than intended. Everyone graciously ignores this little conversation, for the sake of the ogres and their new holiday. Otherwise Barnabos and Skrimm might be rolling for initiative over the slight against Ancient Estuary.

"Oh! By the way, not to uhhhh impose," Gricko says, making a strange hand gesture, "But um, the big fella, there."

"I am called Jornir."

"Jor-nir-aye."

"... N-no."

"Anyway! Um, I noticed you've got a little funny shedding going on," Gricko says, lowering his voice and running his words together at the tail end of his sentence as he tilts his head. "And if I'm not mistaken, my friend Kremy here should have some nice bananyas leftover because he never used them in his pie, and I think it would make a nice, salve." he folds his hands and gives Jornir a funny little smile.

"Oh, yeah, I think you're right." Kremy reaches into his bag and pulls out Bananas.

Daisy gives Kremy and Gricko a look of perplexion and judgement so strong that it's a wonder they don't take psychic damage.

"They're fuckin' magic healin' bananas, alright?" Kremy tosses one at Jornir.

Jornir catches it, and examines it. "This is... infused with magic." He looks at Gricko. "I did not believe you when you said you were a druid."

"Oh, that's fair, I'm not the usual kind." Gricko pats Hootsie on the head as she, with an intelligence more humanoid than animal, pulls a plate of muffins closer and begins eating, picking out any chunks of fruit she finds like a picky child.

"Well... thank you. I will go use this." Jornir stands and leaves the table, and just as pointed out there's a fine dusting of fur on the seat as he leaves.

When he returns, there's sure to be... more visible damage.

But in the meantime, things settle a bit.

"Well," Taishen sighs, "Before all of this happened I'd told Myelin I'd check on an issue with the plumbing system, so I'll be going now. They gave me a wonderful outfit to do it in, too!" He holds up a pair of blue overalls and a fetching red cap.

"Oh, you guys got plumbin?!" Gideon leans in. "Why didn't anyone say so, we're fuckin' filthy!"

"Well, it's not working right now-"

"Oh, I'll get that workin'." Gideon stands up. His chains fall to the floor with a heavy clang! "Just fuckin' watch. Take me to the ogre sewers, dragon guy."

"Oh, company! Excellent news!"

"Go get 'em Gid." Kremy calls after them.

"Jackasses," Skrimm snorts.

Queenie glares. "They're fixin' your water, Skrimm."

"They're also working when they could be relaxing."

"But a hard day's work can be rewarding!" Twig bounces in her seat and holds up a hand. "You get to have things working right, you get to feel all nice after you get cleaned up, you get to lick frogs you find whole cleaning out the cupboards-"

"Lick frogs?" Skrimm's face scrunches.

"Didn't you try snake poison with the ghosts, Mr. Stabbaskotch?"

"Totally different."

"Yeah, snake poison tastes bad." Twig shrugs. "Anyway, I think it's gonna be better once they get the water running."

"Yes, I... am in desperate need of a bath. I'm still... messy, from Julia and Bobby's... acts."

Torbek makes a low sound of both disgust and intrigue. Frost wrinkles his nose and shakes his head.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be returning with good news for us," Barnabos says, leaning back in his chair and puffing on his pipe. "Oh, Mr. Jornir! Lookin' much better. What do you think about all this, sending the fire lads to fix the plumbing."

"I think that it will not work," Jornir says, sliding back into his chair and smelling of smushed bananyas. "And that we will need to have everyone move before we go to take the Armament from the Princess. ... And after the blood sacrifice."

All mouths at the table fall open.

"... Talk about a mood killer," Gricko mumbles.

There's a long silence.

And then Daisy raises her hand and signs, "I nominate Bacon for the sacrifice."

[erisicy]

Phantom Blood Musical: Encounter With Dio Rough Translation

[Jonathan]

Hamon of the sun!

Dio! This is the power that will defeat you!

[Zeppeli]

Dio Brando…

[Dio]

Oh?

[Zeppeli]

I don't know you personally,

But I can say this to the Stone Mask that awakened your brain!

We meet at last…

[Dio]

Don't push your luck!

If I can heal this wound on my stomach, JoJo…

Then the injuries you inflicted on me in that fire will have completely healed…

I'll fumigate this wound… by using your lives

[Zeppeli]

You bastard… How many lives have you sucked away to heal that wound?

[Dio]

*cackling*

Well...

Do YOU remember how many slices of bread you've eaten in your life?

[Zeppeli]

Here's a sound for you…

Hamon of the sun!

POW!

[Dio]

Weakling! Weakling!

[Zeppeli]

I-It's freezing!

[Dio]

I've deduced that your flow of energy is related to your bloodstream!

I can control my own flesh at will!

If your blood vessels are frozen…

You can't use those powers!

[Zeppeli]

Don't let your breathing be disrupted… breathe—

[Dio]

Wryyy…!

[Jonathan]

Mr. Zeppeli!

[Dio]

Useless, useless, useless, useless!

Breathing?

Hamon?

If you're going to huff and puff like that…

Then it would be fitting to blow a fanfare in my name!

*glares at Speedwagon*

It would be especially fitting for a meager comrade such as yourself!

[Jonathan]

What did you say—

[Dio]

Comrade?

That's right…

Do you remember?

That one day. The day your father told us the story about the knights

[Jonathan]

What?

[Dio]

In the 16th century… someone plotted to assassinate Queen Elizabeth I…

The tragic queen who was executed by beheading…

Mary Stuart

It's the story about… the two proud knights who served her

[Jonathan]

Father…

[Dio]

Yes!

We heard it from him together!!

[spongebobsoundtrack]

Sam Spence - Astronauts March

Plays in:

SpongeBob SquarePants

40a. "Squid on Strike"

55a. "The Great Snail Race"

61b. "Shell of a Man"

69b. "Mrs. Puff, You're Fired"

77a. "Driven to Tears"

237. "Goons on the Moon" 

Kamp Koral: SpongeBob's Under Years

4a. "In Search of Camp Noodist"

5b. "Camper Gary"

The Patrick Star Show

5a. "Squidina's Little Helper"

[hrodvitnon]

Shimo's got a title for everyone she regularly interacts with. The only people she doesn't have one for are those few humans she's on a first name basis with that don't have a prefix like 'Dr.' or 'Executive'. For them, she contents herself with their first names until she learns of the human Mr/Mrs/Ms prefixes for everyone (for example Mr. Russell for Mark and Ms. Madison for, well, Maddie). Here are a few off the top of the noggin.

Godzilla: Established she calls him 'Your Majesty', 'My Liege', etc. Alternate (and more dramatic) ones being 'Lord of Land and Sea', 'Cerulean Monarch', 'For Whom The Gods Sing' (( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), and 'Roar of the Land'.

Mothra: Uses similar titles she does for Goji. Additionally: 'Heaven's Radiance', 'Eight-Fold Angel', 'The Deathless Guardian', and 'Song of the Land'.

Rodan: Her default is 'Fire Prince of the Skies'. Alternately: 'The Demon King of Hell', 'The Fiery Dawn', and 'The Red Skies of Ruin'.

Ghidorah: Despite having a little beef, she still treats him with some titles- something that seriously strokes his ego. Shimo doesn't mind- if he gets too big for his britches there's always Frostbite Breath... Anyways: 'Scourge of the Stars', 'The Rumbling Skies of Ruin', and 'Infinite Cataclysm'. She has a special one for San: 'The Devil's Angel'.

Kong: 'The Banished King', 'Earthen Fury', 'Voice of the Land', 'The King's Iron Fist'.

Ozymandias: She obviously gave her best friend the most over the top titles. Her default was, of course, King of Kings. Alternatively: 'The Endless Firestorm', 'The Breaker of Worlds', 'Earth's Eternal Sentinel', 'He for Whom the Heavens Rumble', and finally (sweetly as well) 'My Guiding Sunbeam'.

If you can come up with any more, please do so!

Oh dear, now I'm imagining Ghidorah absolutely ruining Shimo's litany of titles in the filthiest way possible.

"Oh, you dirty bitch, work the shaft!"

"Ex...cuse you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I like the dirty talk when someone's sucking my dicks."

"...you're as juvenile and crass as ever, Lord Popsicle. You think you can embarrass me, Drumsticks Beyond the Stars? You'll have to do better than that or else I might be inclined to huff and puff and put you back on ice, 'O Frostbitten Slug."

"...you're no fun."

I imagine she'd also adhere to the warrior ethos of chivalry; she has the capability and means to go into battle in service of her King who has the highest authority, and so she does.

[psychotrope777]

apparently mr. fitz (the guy from the boating teachers accreditation board in "mrs. puff, you're fired") has appeared one singular other time in the series thus far and thats in the season 10 episode "life insurance" where he appears as an insurance salesman (he's also voiced by rodger bumpass instead of dee bradley baker and has a new york accent)

i think realistically someone probably just dug up his model sheet and decided to just use his model for the role instead of designing a new one for this salesman who will appear in like one scene. he's only referred to as "TV salesman" in the credits which in my mind lends some credence to this theory but i like to imagine that in-universe he ended up getting fired from his job somehow. it's funny to imagine the like department of motor vehicles in bikini bottom is just full of criminals for some reason

[keyblade-knights-blog]

Introducing Tamiel

"What was with the shouting?? That's it! I'm coming in!" Both the Dreamer and Gabriel jump as that voice gives it's final warning, something on the other side turning the door knob. Gabriel looks into the mirror and quickly shushes the alien figure in it. "Don't say anything, I don't want her to worry. Let ME do the talking." ... A moment later, the alien reflection vanishes and Gabriel's is left in it's place. At the same time, the whispers of strange thought quiet in his head.

And when the door opens, a new figure walks in. A young girl about the robot boy's age. Where the boy wore a simple cap to hide most of his hair however, this one let her wiry but somehow full head of blonde hair, dressed in reds similar to the young man, and decked out in steam punk looking gear here and there as well. "Pfft, what's taking so long lazy bum~?" Gabe lets out a fond sigh. "Good Morning Tamiel."

Tamiel? .... Huh. And Gabriel. For whatever reason, the Dreamer was starting to pick up a theme here. "It's Tammy, Gabby! Tammy!" The girl puffs out her cheeks, and the motion looks so fluid and so fleshy, that the dreamer briefly forgets, in spite of the copius amounts of evidence provided, that this girl is made of metal. "You really gotta stop using the full name thing. The only one 'round here who should be saying 'Gabriel' or 'Tamiel' should be dad." The robotic fem huffs and looks around. "BUT, more importantly, I heard shouting. Is everything alright?" "OH UH THAT. UH... Let's see uh...." This poor kid starts to very clearly flounder, and it becomes apparent to the Dreamer that Gabriel has never lied even once in his entire life. There isn't even a single idea tinging up in his brain that could plausibly explain the shout. ... So that's when the Dreamer comes in. "OH RIGHT! Meh, it wasn't anything too serious... Just uh.. Just somehow got grime in a place I didn't know I had." The excuse he fires out? It was clear the Dreamer had been INTENDING to imitate Gabe's voice with a simple impression... And yet it almost FEELS like he had briefly taken control of Gabriel's voice box a few times in there. ... He could TELL Gabe wanted to glare at him. But Tamiel just titters. "Oh is THAT all~? Well I guess that'll teach you not to jump into Ole Mr. Grinder's dump again~." Gabriel takes over from there, "I JUMPED IN TO GET BACK THAT PART YOU DROPPED!!" Ah, the exasperation of a flustered brother~. And the mischievous tittering of a younger sister. It was honestly cute~. "Well WHATEVER Mr. gross~." Tammy continues giggling, fit to burst for a good few seconds before she regains control of herself. "Dad's ready if you are! He wants to give us both a check up before we rush out to do work around town!" With that said, she backs up to the door. "Don't keep us waiting anymore! You've already slept in by a lot!" And with that? Tamiel takes her leave out the door, leaving Gabriel alone in his room. ".... How did you do that?" Gabriel shoots out, sounding terrified at even the POTENTIAL answers. "... Well, honestly, I was just trying to do an impression of you to help you out... And for whatever reason it just... Came out as your voice-?" Gabriel turns to the mirror to give it a flat look.

The young dreamer in the mirror just blushes a bit. "I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean to take over your voice box too~..." ... Gabriel just lets out a groan. "WHATEVER... Well, hopefully my Dad'll be able to make heads or tails of you." His smile becomes wide and victorious. "He's the smartest guy on the Spaceport and he knows everything! I'm sure he can make sense of it~!" ... Spaceport? "Hold on... Gabriel right? Where... Exactly are we?" That causes the robot to look confused. "Wait... You don't know? I thought you might've been some kind of ghost or somethin... But you don't even know that? Weird..." He grumbles as he walks to the window. "Well whatever. You're currently on-" Then he opens the window. -------------------------------------------- ... And Words? Words do not even begin to describe the sight that awaits outside that window.

-------------------- Title Card Reference: [ https://youtu.be/tWDv7ZQ9v8A?si=tzSedq2bRZ4OAOOv ]

[keyblade-wanderer-alex]

Introducing Tamiel

"What was with the shouting?? That's it! I'm coming in!" Both the Dreamer and Gabriel jump as that voice gives it's final warning, something on the other side turning the door knob.

Gabriel looks into the mirror and quickly shushes the alien figure in it. "Don't say anything, I don't want her to worry. Let ME do the talking." ... A moment later, the alien reflection vanishes and Gabriel's is left in it's place. At the same time, the whispers of strange thought quiet in his head.

And when the door opens, a new figure walks in. A young girl about the robot boy's age. Where the boy wore a simple cap to hide most of his hair however, this one let her wiry but somehow full head of blonde hair, dressed in reds similar to the young man, and decked out in steam punk looking gear here and there as well.

"Pfft, what's taking so long lazy bum~?"

Gabe lets out a fond sigh. "Good Morning Tamiel."

Tamiel? .... Huh. And Gabriel. For whatever reason, the Dreamer was starting to pick up a theme here.

"It's Tammy, Gabby! Tammy!" The girl puffs out her cheeks, and the motion looks so fluid and so fleshy, that the dreamer briefly forgets, in spite of the copious amounts of evidence provided, that this girl is made of metal. "You really gotta stop using the full name thing. The only one 'round here who should be saying 'Gabriel' or 'Tamiel' should be dad." The robotic fem huffs and looks around. "BUT, more importantly, I heard shouting. Is everything alright?"

"OH UH THAT. UH... Let's see uh...." This poor kid starts to very clearly flounder, and it becomes apparent to the Dreamer that Gabriel has never lied even once in his entire life. There isn't even a single idea tinging up in his brain that could plausibly explain the shout.

... So that's when the Dreamer comes in, briefly taking control. "OH RIGHT! Meh, it wasn't anything too serious... Just uh.. Just somehow got grime in a place I didn't know I had." The excuse he fires out? It was clear the Dreamer had been INTENDING to imitate Gabe's voice with a simple impression... And yet it almost FEELS like he had briefly taken control of Gabriel's voice box a few times in there.

... He could TELL Gabe wanted to glare at him.

But Tamiel just titters. "Oh is THAT all~? Well I guess that'll teach you not to jump into Ole Mr. Grinder's dump again~."

Gabriel takes over from there, "I JUMPED IN TO GET BACK THAT PART YOU DROPPED!!" Ah, the exasperation of a flustered brother~. And the mischievous tittering of a younger sister. It was honestly cute~.

"Well WHATEVER Mr. gross~." Tammy continues giggling, fit to burst for a good few seconds before she regains control of herself. "Dad's ready if you are! He wants to give us both a check up before we rush out to do work around town!" With that said, she backs up to the door. "Don't keep us waiting anymore! You've already slept in by a lot!"

And with that? Tamiel takes her leave out the door, leaving Gabriel alone in his room.

".... How did you do that?" Gabriel shoots out in anger, though he also sounded terrified at even the POTENTIAL answers.

"... Well, honestly, I was just trying to do an impression of you to help you out... And for whatever reason it just... Came out as your voice-?" Gabriel turns to the mirror to give it a flat look.

The young dreamer in the mirror just blushes a bit. "I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean to take over your voice box too~..."

... Gabriel just lets out a groan. "WHATEVER... Well, hopefully my Dad'll be able to make heads or tails of you." His smile becomes wide and victorious. "He's the smartest guy on the Spaceport and he knows everything! I'm sure he can make sense of it~!"

... Spaceport?

"Hold on... Gabriel right? Where... Exactly are we?"

That causes the robot to look confused. "Wait... You don't know? I thought you might've been some kind of ghost or somethin... But you don't even know that? Weird..." He grumbles as he walks to the window. "Well whatever. You're currently on-" Then he opens the window.

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

... And Words? Words do not even begin to describe the sight that awaits outside said window.

-------------------------------------------------------- Title Card Reference: [ https://youtu.be/tWDv7ZQ9v8A?si=tzSedq2bRZ4OAOOv ]

[cornnick]

January 4th, Neon City Alleys 

In the back alleyways of the Neon city, the lights of the alleyway flickered on and off. a deal was going down between the White Mask's gang and Mr.Flamango thugs, "let's see these drugs are everything White Mask says there are." one of the thugs said, looking at the pile of cocaine. Some of the White Mask thugs gasp at this a bit. "You're calling our queen a liar." A thug asked Mr.Flamangos thug. The thug chuckled nervously. "o-of course not. Just show what you go, ok?" he asked, but soon the lights got cut off. "Ahh damn it. Hey, Henry checked the fuse box." A White Mask thug asked as the thug knew as henry went to check it out. "Why did White Mask even choose this damp place in the first place," Henry asked as he looked at the fuse box opening it but soon got his head smashed in by a figure. "What was that." A thug asked as a Mr.Flamango thug went to check it out with a White Mask thug. The White Mask thug looked around but then saw Henry unconscious. "Oh my god!" the thug yelled before getting a hand around his throat and mouth. He tried to scream for help but couldn't have he fell unconscious. Mr. Flamango Thug came in "Hey what's going-" he gasps as he sees the figure with the White Mask thug. The figure soon tossed the thug he had in his hand at the other thug. The two were now unconscious. The figure soon went to take care of the other thugs. "Hey, when are the others coming back. They have been in there for a while." a Mr.Flamango thug said."Maybe they're trying to kill each other. You gotta remember. White Mask and Mr.Flamingo aren't really friends." a White Mask thugs said."Good thing we're trying to make peace right now since that new gang is coming. And also... that mystery guy." he said,"What mystery guy." a Mr.Flamango thug asked, "Mantisman." the White Mask thug said, but the other thugs laughed."Oh please, there's no such thing as a Mantisman." another White Mask thug said before seeing a dart passing by the thug and it hits a fire extinguisher making a puff of smoke. "AHHH WHAT THE FUCK!!" a thug yelled before everything went black for the thug. Soon the smoke clears as all the thugs were down. Except for one of them as the thug was shaking as he sees the figure come close to him "Tell your boss White Mask that Mantisman was here." the figure said as he took out a liter and soon burned the cocaine as he walked out of the alley. This will definitely get the police's attention. So the figure grappled away to the buildings.