#one with kermit and one without

[manatee-rp-memes]

Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas (1977) Sentence Starters

~Feel free to tweak as needed~

"If you pass the hat to a fish, all you get is a wet hat."

"What are we gonna do about Christmas this year?"

"Oh, better lean into that starboard oar."

"Whew, she looks friendly as a polecat today."

"I'd really appreciate it if you'd fall off the dock."

"Sometimes you gotta talk tough to these people."

"Listen, you got anything to barter with today?"

"Well, Pa should've gotten rich on snake oil, but there just aren't enough people who want to oil a snake."

"If they didn't want these things to roll, they should've made them square."

"Gettin' colder every day now. Be walkin' the river soon."

"Don't talk about Christmas all the time. There's no point, is there? We don't have enough for regular days."

"Selling that old piano was one of the saddest things I ever had to do."

"About all I got left is a sense of humor and a washtub."

"Boy, it's cold this morning. The river's frozen up solid."

"Sit down. Mercy! I don't even have water on for tea. Goodness gracious!"

"You do have a mighty fine singin' voice."

"What we should do is organize a jug band."

"I'm home! I cut the Christmas branch."

"You know, sometimes, you even sound like your pa."

"First slide of the year! Whoopee!"

"A person's got to take some chances, or life'll never come to nothin'."

"Though our minds be filled with questions, in our hearts we'll understand, when the river meets the sea."

"In that sweet and final hour, truth and justice will be done."

"Well, if your taste's like mine, you like cider not wine, and your very favorite thing to do is get a purty girl dancing to jug-band music and a mess of Mama's barbeque!"

"Sorry to split you up like that."

"Thank you. I'm very nice to have helped you. Oh! I mean, I'm very nice you... excuse me."

"You're terribly nervous."

"Love can open your eyes."

"Perhaps we're long-lost brothers."

"This family just keeps growing."

"Problems don't worry us when half the fun is guessing."

"We don't wish to learn, but we hate what we don't understand.''

"That's about the nicest present anybody ever tried to give me."

"I guess I should feel pretty bad. But the funny thing is that I don't. I feel pretty good."

"I hadn't thought of that old song in years. But when I did, it just felt right."

"That's fine music, folks."

"I thought you needed something a little extra, but it appears to me that what you needed was each other."

"I sure enjoyed our first night's work."

[liauditore]

i forgot what his ingame name was and had to scrub thru a bunch of videos looking for him like a cryptid and i think that's incredibly joe hills of him

[curiosityschild]

Day 15 - Popular

What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing And what do we think we might see?

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection The lovers, the dreamers and me.

[torgawl]

this is absolutely killing me *bombastic side eye, criminal offensive side eye playing in the background*

[medaart]

Having a long stretch of Baldur's Gate 3 brainrot + lifelong Muppet brainrot resulted in me realizing I'm just RP'ing Tavstarion with the same dynamics as Kermiggy: A short, green-clad person just trying to keep everything together, make sure nobody blows up, while also secretly being smitten with a beautiful attention hog.

[jewishcissiekj]

some low-effort (mostly) referenceless sticky note doodles from a good while ago

[lilliankillthisman]

You could probably get away with having all Academy professors as humans, or all Nobles. I think that would go against the egalitarian ethos of the muppet world, as humans shouldn't be positioned as a superior life form to muppets, but for a darker tone it could work well.

Going for all professors would leave the nature of the Academy very plain from the start, as the force behind the Crown and above the Nobles, but it would make Sylvester's scenes with Professor Ferres all the more shocking.

If you go for all the Nobles, then the ending would play very well thematically with the ending of The Muppets (2011).

Who would be the only human in Muppets Twig

[thoughts-reasons]

Crime scene

[the-muppet-joker]

The funeral will be held tomorrow. 7/31

2:00 pm EST

I do not even have his ashes to bury. Any who wish to attend the service, simply howl loud and long into the wind at 2:00 tomorrow and post a mournful image of Kermit. Tell his story as well, if you desire. I will be doing the same, and crying. OH KERMIT! TAKEN FROM ME SO YOUNG. YOUR SUPPLE WRISTS, YOUR SENSUAL WAIST, YOUR DEMURE SMILE, YOUR BREEDABLE HOLE. Taken from us too soon. Burned in a fire by my loathesome emo roommates. Is there any justice?

Join me in my mourning. Tell your friends to join. Your family. Send off my Kermit plushie's soul to the great beyond with one thousand saddened howls! And mourn the fact that I no longer have any Muppet Hole to contain my cum. A Croaker without his Hole? SAD!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Based off of something I saw on TikTok recently

Hotd characters that I think would be absolutely ecstatic in calling you his spouse(not in any particular order) :

Benjicot Blackwood:

This man is going to think it’s all a dream that you married him but once he finds comfort that it’s not and that you are in fact married, he’ll smile the biggest smile and just acts proud that you chose him out of every possible suitor.

He ain’t looking at anyone else when he’s got you babe, Willem Blackwood and Alysanne brought him up better than that and he knew better himself then to do such a thing.

He’s a simp for you and everyone in the Riverlands knows this, Oscar and Kermit tease him relentlessly for this but Benjicot doesn’t fucking care, he’ll happily let his mind wander to you and talk about you at any given moment if he were to see anything that made him think about you to anyone who could hear him.

Jacaerys Velaryon;

Devote husband who’ll gladly wait on you hand and foot without question.

He loved calling you his spouse, it fills him with joy and happiness in letting everyone know that you are bound to one another for eternity.

Anyone insults you? He’s quick to say ‘have care for what you say in front of my spouse.’ With his hands resting on the pommel of his sword, a silent threat that spoke a million words. He will not allow anyone to mess with you in any regard, as an insult on you might as well be an insult on him too and Jace won’t have that. You deserve respect and by the gods he’ll give you it tenfold.

Aeron Bracken;

He’s gonna be all chivalrous about it and such but you know he’s going to rub in the fact that he got you before a Blackwood could.

He loves that he had something over them now and it was the fact that you married him and he’s on cloud nine the entire time, he belonged to you and he’ll kneel before you often just so he could look up at you with those pretty eyes of his.

He may look like an angel in human form but you were akin to a deity he’d gladly lay his life down for if it meant getting to be the one laying in your arms each and every night. His sword was yours and he’ll cut down anyone you held a dislike towards for a while, just say the word and Aeron will seek them out for you, his beloved spouse.

Gwayne Hightower

Can and will use any opportunity to call you his spouse at any given moment of any day to the point it’s borderline annoying. Not for you and him though, for everyone else that is.

Gwayne will call you his spouse for all of those in court to hear and he’ll be smug about it too because why the fuck would he not! He’s married to the most wonderful person in all the realms; you! You can’t fault him for wanting to remind everyone that he was well and truly taken and happily so.

He says it in front of Criston Cole the most for the reactions that he gets, Criston wore his emotions clear as day on his face that it was obvious to know how he was feeling, so Gwayne abuses this fact to the high heavens.

He loves showing you off because he knows he had gotten extremely lucky in life when you came along.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Only if Jane is played by Miss Piggy herself

A movie adaptation of a classic book, which is as loyal to the source material as possible in everything the source material mentioned, but also throws in whatever weird shit to the backgrounds of the scenes with the argument that well, Jane Austen never mentioned what these two specific characters are doing on the background of this scene while the protagonist and her love interest talk. So of course they're working on constructing a giant mecha furby.

[emo-batboy]

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

[helen--richardson]

ok so the thing about the muppet joker is that it is genuinely one of the most hilarious, compelling, and evocative pieces of unfiction i've ever encountered. Some of the writing is genuinely incredible and the whole thing is incredibly funny. but like, i can't tell anyone in my real life about it because how the fuck do i explain that the line "Have you ever felt that a part of yourself was missing and known, deep within the places where your bones come together, that there is nothing you could ever do to get it back?" is written by someone who canonically fucks a kermit the frog puppet.

this is like finding a hauntingly beautiful carving of a vampire inside of a cloth bag that is embroidered with some of the funniest jokes you've ever read. however the issue is you found it in a garbage bin and it's covered in gross slimy garbage and you can't have people knowing that you were rooting around in the garbage bin and you can't show it to other people without them smelling the garbage.

[lovetique]

a sugary smile stretching in a pearly white one at being called brave and his girl in one sentence. "maybe. but in a car... least i feel like i'm the one in control, even if i might crash anyway. in a plane it's all suffocating and scary, being confined so high up and my life in someone else's hands." she explains, just thinking of it has her brows creasing as she thinks about the stress of it. "but i still wouldn't mind a marcus presentation." a tiny laugh escapes as her features soften, only he has the power do that while so many parts of her body hurts right now and she feels like she survived a tornado. "of course i really want to. just for one night, at least." she pepped, shoulders shrugging. "i think you're forgiven according to the speed of the tail wagging i gathered, regardless how it went the first time," she can laugh about it now, especially remembering how percy and marcus both were a chaotic mixture that night which is hilarious to think on if she ignores the rest of the parts that hurt. "but it would only be proper if you shake his paw. he has to know who his dad is." elena amusingly smiles, the red still stuck to his face continuing her display of amusement etched across olive features.

"not me?" she wonders how come, since she did have some similarities. could've sworn they were getting along from his stories she had to see, like the night he came over right after their date or whatever it was. she looks skeptical about it, but decides she'll pry more about it after her shower. "hmm..." frown deepened hearing this answer, that idea didn't sound great at all. pouting because he doesn't want to talk to her while she's washing her hair. "it doesn't matter at all. i actually like it better with your pepperoni's on display." her cold thumbs pressed into his nipples in gesture what she was calling pepperoni's and to do something spontaneous before hurriedly climbing down off his bed when the adrenaline giggles started bubbling over by reaching out and using his arm to hold on to then scattering off to the bathroom with his shirt once her feet hit the floor.

             there’s  an  internal  fall  from  her  display  of  confusion,  followed  by  a  near  immediate  rise  with  her  answer.  it’s  a  relief  how  obvious  she  makes  it  sound,  that  she  of  course  would  come,  that  she’s  willing  to  make  a  sacrifice  beyond  waiting.    “my  brave  girl,”    words  are  breathy  and  smile  is  soft,  but  there's   feeling  within  his  gaze  that  marcus  knew  he  couldn't  properly  convey  with  words.  finds  himself  stuck  in  a  moment  as  he  simply  takes  her  in,  feeling  like  his  feet  aren’t  on  the  ground  and  unsure  why  her  promise  of  a  transatlantic  flight  felt  like  such  a  touching  gesture.  “flying  is  the  safest  mode  of  transportation  there  is,  you  know.”  a  playful  raise  of  his  brow  before  he  continues,  “it’s  been  a  while,  but  i’d  bet  i  could  still  make  a  mean  powerpoint  presentation  with  some  statistics  if  you  get  cold  feet.”  the  suggestion  of  camping  had  been  nothing  more  than  a  joke,  but  upon  elena’s  excitement,  marcus  resigned  to  the  fact  that  he’d  eventually  be  buying  a  tent.  “if  you  really  want  to,”  mirrors  her  laughter,  “i  probably  need  a  re-introduction  to  percy,  anyway.  i  don’t  think  i  made  a  great  impression  the  first  time  around.”

               “so  i’m  quickly  learning,”  he  comments,  finally  putting  his  grumblings  to  bed  about  it.  it  was  easier  to  hear  the  analogy  now  with  both  of  their  pretenses  slashed,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  marcus  would  never  be  able  to  look  at  a  raccoon  the  same  way.  jaw  subconsciously  tightens  when  she  brings  up  mila,  realizing  that  he  had  practically  ushered  elena  into  this  line  of  questioning.  it  was  an  unavoidable  topic,  something  he  knew  he’d  have  to  answer  for  eventually,  and  he   did   promise  to  go  through  anything  and  everything  she  wanted  tonight  if  she  stayed.   “she  wasn’t  you,”   the  answer  sounds  evasive,  but  it  was  truly  that  simple  in  marcus’  mind.  “i  tried  to  move  on.  i  just  never  thought  we’d  be… here.”  he’d  spent  months  with  mila,  albeit  casually  and  the  time  scattered,  but  he'd  been  consumed  with  guilt  and  confusion  the  whole  time.  elena's  pleading  eyes  has  his  heart  twisting,  solidifying  that   no   one   else   had  this  sort  of  effect  on  him.  a  sly  shrug  rolls  off  his  shoulders,  “ i  could    …    or, ”  he  starts  to  counter,  eyes  briefly  flickering  to  her  finger  pressed  against  his  skin,  “you  take  a  shower  and  i  go  find  a  sleep  shirt  that  impresses  you,  since  it  seems  to  matter  so  much.”  words  are  said  in  jest  when  he  steps  back,  leaving  her  room  to  make  her  way  off  his  bed. 

[trashogram]

He Chose You (P. 7)

Lucifer/Reader: You’ve been chosen to be the Mother of the Antichrist. Rated E.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

Your sleep had become fitful with dreams that, while not full of violence, left you waking in a cold sweat most mornings. You couldn’t remember most of what happened aside from a parade of images and feelings of discomfort. Sometimes, downright fear. 

The blonde woman was still the star, but you couldn’t remember a word she’d say. The sight of her frowning at two men replayed in your head between sleeping and waking. She frowned at you with dewy wide eyes. 

The woman held her arms out to you: beseeching, sheltering, hurriedly hiding but you were able to escape the gaze of one of the men. 

Fear had spirited you away from unconsciousness when the man’s brown eyes sparked into an unnatural gold. They heated with anger at the mere sight of you. 

—

The only equivalent you could come up with for how you awoke was being jump-started like a car. It took a solid moment of gulping in air and eyeing your surroundings before you could calm the beat of your heart.

“Lucifer?”

It took too much energy to turn and look for him, but you saw that the sheets beside you were disturbed, but duck-less. 

You were overly warm, hopelessly reaching out to run your hand down the opposite side of the bed despite what your eyes told you. 

For a while there was nothing to do but lay in the silence of your darkened room. Eventually your hand drifted into your belly. 

It had become a reflex to pet your own tummy, to feel the bump that had formed there, as small as it was. 

—

You faced forward, looking directly at the screen of your TV without really seeing it. Beside you, Lucifer giggled at whatever was happening between Kermit and Gonzo onscreen. 

His bare hand was latched onto yours, fingers entwined, claws digging into your skin just enough to hurt. Not a lot, just a little bit. Strangely, the discomfort kept you grounded and away from the outlandish yet very real fear that you’d float away without it. 

‘Is it dissociating or disassociation?’

You’d gone long enough with it happening multiple times now but you couldn’t even remember what it was called.

You were pregnant. 

Well, you’d been pregnant for about a month and a half. And your partner in crime had been excited. So excited he’d literally exclaimed ‘oh my golly’ at the news. 

Then he’d had a panic attack, complete with big yet shallow gasps for air and arm flailing, hands flapping, short legs in knee-high boots pacing a hole into your carpet.

You were somewhat grateful for his outburst, if only because taking the steps to placate him was placating unto itself. 

— 

The memory made you smile weakly. A memory that seemed so long ago, even if it had technically happened only a few months prior. 

Everything that had happened afterward had made it seem rosier than it should’ve been. Before things soured so thoroughly that you could barely get out of bed. 

Now, you were exhausted day and night, plagued by not-quite-nightmares during your hibernation-like snoozes, and — when awake — eaten at by fears and doubts. 

You’d never thought seriously about having children. 

There was this permanent barrier to the very idea that lingered in the back of your mind. You don’t know when it formed, or if it was merely a protective mechanism of some kind (God knew you had plenty of those already). Nonetheless, you’d stuck to it, never straying… until now. 

You weren’t the motherly type. And technically you weren’t going to be. As much as Lucifer mooned over you, whether for his own entertainment or because he was genuinely fond of your stupid sarcastic comments and bouts of literary trivia, you would not allow yourself to trust him completely. You had no compunctions about raising the Antichrist once you had fulfilled your end of the deal. 

So you told yourself. Especially when you cycled through detachment and guilt about the creature growing in your womb. Especially when Lucifer was curled up with you, basking in your warmth and bringing you little trinkets and laughing with you at whatever was on TV. Especially when he dropped everything to lay down with you in your sickness, and did anything he could to make you smile, be it with magic tricks or stories from lifetimes ago.

Last night he’d held your hair as you threw up, courtesy of the raw beef you’d craved (thank you, you freaky little fetus). Then he entertained you by shape-shifting into cute animals until you’d cuddled up with his duck self and fallen asleep.

The little slope of your stomach quivered with the rest of your body. You felt the sudden urge to cry. 

—

“Lucifer?”

You braced yourself against the wall to get out of your bedroom. Standing was enough to make you dizzy, skin growing clammy and perspiring while you struggled to move. You were winded after five steps through your rather small apartment. 

Your curiosity was the only thing keeping you going after hearing a series of beeps from outside your door. 

“Aw, shit. Shit, shit, shit! Hold on!”  Lucifer called from a few feet away. 

He was here, in your apartment, more often than not. As a matter of fact, you had the feeling that if you didn’t push him to return to his duties, Lucifer would’ve been with you 24/7. 

Speaking of, he appeared from around the corner just as you buckled and slid against the wall. 

The Devil sprang forward, arms out and ready to catch you. Had you been more yourself, you’d have laughed at the absurdity as most of your weight sagged against its surface and he’d more or less landed on top of you from the side. 

“I’m so so sorry!” He cried, jerking away when you winced. 

“Sorry.” He whispered loudly. “I got your tea and I was trying to make it without waking you but the darn thing wouldn’t stop beeping.” 

“Cassie was here?” You let yourself sway to Lucifer’s side instead of the walls. He was practically carrying you into the living room. 

Unnames illness aside, you found an additional slight against your existence that you still had to keep in contact with your weirdo neighbors. They were both their own flavors of bizarre, but Cassie in particular was extroverted and nosy. 

She brought you tea from her kitchen garden — 

“Just bits and bobs from my little spice garden, things I’ve been growing ‘round the house. Pretty basic stuff: you got your chamomile, mint, there’s rosemary in there too, some cinnamon, ya know.” 

— and wanted to brew it for you while having chats at your kitchen table almost every day. 

Even Lucifer was annoyed by her persistence. 

“Here as in ‘at the door’ but not inside. She actually got it through that thick skull that I didn’t want you to be disturbed.” Lucifer said, equal parts irritated and triumphant. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

Your eyes closed to avoid the sudden onslaught of more tears when your companion tensed. He stopped short of the couch to relish in the contact. His wistful sigh made your heart throb painfully as you wondered for the umpteenth time how the fucking King of Hell could be so effortlessly sweet. 

‘Just to make pulling out the rug from under you later a bigger betrayal.’

The intrusive thought brought more tears, from eyes screwed up as you wished it away. 

“… can’t make tea as a duck.” Lucifer had carried on while gently lowering you on the cushions. “I did try though, to be fair.” 

He had yet to notice your tears, but your laugh was wet. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

It was sudden when cold hands cupped your face and turned your gaze up. You were met with deeply worried crimson eyes. 

The cold was so nice that you had to snuggle into that touch. “It’s ok.” 

Lucifer’s maw opened and closed a few times, helplessly. 

“Do—uh… do you want me to do that? I can try it again!” He jumped back, getting ready to shift in a puff of fireworks. 

“No, come sit with me.” You held up a shaking hand, trying to ignore your own ashen skin. 

The blond hesitated. 

“Please, Lou.” 

—

Lucifer melted at your request. He came to you immediately and took great care as he rearranged your frail body against his own. 

He was grateful that he’d thrown on his velvet robe that morning twicefold now — once to avoid his elderly worshipper seeing his dick, and twice to be able to pull it to the side so that you could lay your forehead against his cold chest.

The King’s skin would warm up with time and human contact, but he knew that his natural icy exterior did wonders to help your over-warm skin. 

Lucifer fought to not chuckle at the ticklish feeling of your hair against his neck. You laid there against him for a long time, breathing lightly and letting him hold you close. The silence was easy for once, not awkward or uncomfortable. Just one person relying on another for quiet solace.

When you finally spoke, it nearly scared him. “What’s it like? In Hell?” 

“Wh-why’re you asking?” Lucifer tried to play it cool. “That’s not really a fun o-oo-r relaxing…!… topic.” 

“Mmm,” Your head slowly lifted until he count easily count your individual eyelashes. 

“I don’t know if you know this, but there’s a little guy in here.” You pointed between yourself and him, to the little slope of your stomach. “And they're gonna call Hell their home soon. It might be good to know what that’s like before I ship them off.” 

“Oh!” Well, that was easier. “It’s uh, it’s red… and warm.” Lucifer wracked his brain. “Well, my Ring is. See, there are 7 Rings total, and technically I rule them all, but my brothers each kinda made their own homes out of them.” 

“Mine though — mine is full of Sinners, which is what we call the humans that died and were condemned to it. They’re all kinda packed in there, heh. Like, uh, tiny fish. That reek.” 

Your lips pursed. “But no one is burning in molten lava at all times or anything, right?”

“No-oo! Well, I mean it’s not impossible. But it’s not the norm. Nah, people go about their way like they do up here, but even more selfishly and violently.” 

Lucifer smiled at your frowning face. 

“It’s like on Earth? So people work, sleep, eat?”

“Yep!”

“They pay bills? Go to parties? Fuck?” Your brows were nearly to your hairline.

“Mmmm-hm!” 

“And they do it for all of eternity? Forever?”

“Pretty much! In a nutshell…” Was his jolly reply. He squeezed you to him for extra measure.

It was your turn to look flummoxed by the picture he painted, the words he spoke that sounded both improbable and spot on for what Hell would be if it was real. 

Well, not if. 

At last, you sighed. 

“I guess it couldn’t have been all that bad if… if you’ve been there for so long and you’re still so sweet.” Your words were barely audible, muttered into Lucifer’s chest when you gave up on making sense of anything.

But the Ruler of Hell had to stop the last-minute ejection of his own wings at your words.

***

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[lovebugism]

“oh, if i had known that’s all it would take for you to shut up i would’ve done this ages ag-“ “only finish that sentence if you have a death wish” with steve & punchy? <3

ty for requesting :D — steve makes a stupid joke and figures out what makes you tick (steve x punchy, hurt/comfort-ish, 0.9k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

The argument started as a joke. And honestly, you kinda started it, so you have no reason to be as angry about it as you are now. You’re the one who said you hated Steve’s singing. It was only right he argued playfully back.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffed as he climbed into bed beside you, freshly showered and smelling like your shampoo. “My singing is amazing.”

“Okay, Kermit the Frog,” you quipped, giggling.

“You know who’d like my singing?”

Your eyes narrow when he cuddles into your side. “Who?”

“Tammy Thompson,” he answered with a knowing smile.

He should’ve known he was playing with fire then.

“The girl who sounds like Miss Piggy?”

“Yeah,” Steve hummed, shrugged two freckled shoulders. “Maybe I should be dating her instead.”

You knew he was joking. Steve was a dumbass, but he wasn’t mean. He’d never say something like that with the intent to hurt you. He did anyway, though. His words take you by surprise, and you go silent. And that’s when Steve knows he’s said the wrong thing. Because his oh, so lovely loudmouth Punchy is never silent.

“I’m kidding!” he exclaims when you turn away from him. You cross your arms over your chest and shift softly on the mattress — playfully pouty in your way but meaning every bit of it. “Punchy. C’mon. You know I didn’t mean that.”

He reaches out for you and wraps a golden arm around your shoulder. You shrug, flinching away from him. “Don’t touch me,” you murmur, even though you don’t really mean it. ‘Cause, yeah, you’re a little upset, but you love when he coddles you.

You’re grateful when he only hugs you tighter.

“Why not?” he argues and leans in to kiss your cheek. His plush lips just barely graze your jaw before you duck away from him. He laughs loud in your ear, as golden as honey.

“It’s not funny. Steve! That wasn’t nice!”

“Don’t be like that, babe. It was just a stupid joke.”

You turn your chin to your shoulder to glare at him, just so he can see your unamused pout from head-on. He meets your glower with a grin and tries to peck you. You turn away before he can. “Go kiss Tammy Thompson.”

“Punchy…”

“Steve…” you say in the same low tone.

“If I wanted Tammy Thompson, I’d be with her.”

You know he’s trying to comfort you. He chose you because he wanted to be with you, and he didn’t choose Tammy because he didn’t want to be with Tammy. You know that’s what he means, but it sounds like King Steve is saying it.

“Oh, really?” you squint.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah. She was obsessed with me. You know that. Hell, everyone knew that.”

“Why? ‘Cause everyone was obsessed with you, King Steve?”

He figures you must be calling him that to hit a nerve. He’d hurt your feelings (even though he truly hadn’t meant to), and now you want to hurt his back. And it might’ve worked if the way you said it didn’t turn him on.

He likes you all riled up like this, he quickly realizes. Now he just wants to keep poking at you, make you that tiny bit more mad. So, with a very smug smile on his pink lips, he answers. “Yeah… Kinda.”

His plan works.

“Okay, news flash, just because you’re pretty and you have nice hair doesn’t make you less of an asshole, alright?” you argue without taking a single breath. “Actually, for a long time, you were the biggest asshole I had ever met— and sixteen-year-old me would be gagging if she knew I was in your bed right now.”

“Yeah?” he eggs on, pressing his lips to your warm shoulder where the neck of your too-big sweatshirt had fallen.

“Yeah, actually! I mean, you were boorish and vapid and totally incorrigible—”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” he mumbles against you and continues pressing little kisses to your warming skin.

“—And the fact that Tammy Thompson, let alone anybody, could’ve been obsessed with someone like you back then is totally…” His lips find your pulse point then, wet and sanguine. The words get jumbled up in your head, and you forget how to say them out loud.

You feel Steve’s mouth curl into a smirk against your neck. He knows he’s got you in the palm of his hand now. “Is totally what?” he teases, muffled into your skin.

“Shut up and keep kissing me,” you murmur.

He listens to you, because he always listens to you, but it’s hard to when he’s smiling so wide. His lips sprinkle up the length of your neck and over your jaw. He pulls away with a rosier, softly swollen mouth.

His smile is gentle and lopsided. “If I’d known that’s all it took to get you quiet, I would’ve done it forever a—”

You reach for him suddenly, splaying your palm over his mouth — pinky under his nose and thumb over his stubbly chin. Your eyes narrow. “Only finish that sentence if you have a death wish,” you mutter in a low, threatening tone. “Nod so I know you understand me.”

He nods into your hand.

“If you still want me to be your girlfriend tomorrow, only talk to tell me how much you love me and that you hate Tammy Thompson.”

You feel his smile widen beneath your palm. He nods again.

You pull your hand away. 

“Now kiss me.”

The fucker takes the breath from your lungs.