#Jukebox dc oc

[blinding-shining-star]

As you walked, the sun set further and further. Only street lamps illuminated your path now. You kept sneaking glances at the girl next to you, her features, her dyed hair. You were filled with a certain excitement.

I'm heading in the direction of where I live by the way, you could come inside if you'd like.

@duchess-of-dilemma

If it means meeting this Artem you speak so highly of.

She chuckled, feeling comfy and reunited with her girlfriend.

[xxc0nundrumzzxx]

🐦‍⬛ "Do you like singing? Are you a "only sings in a shower if ever decides to sing" person or "fine with singing when others are present" person?"

I don’t normally sing. Jubilee has tried to teach me, I’m not terrible, but I don’t have interest in continuing.

[3n1gm4blogs]

Its the neice of one of your exes. History repeats itself!

*niece

Oh god, I already know. Please tell me she at least has earplugs!

[angelickks]

castiel's playlist (max gifts him one of her ipods to indulge in)

synopsis. a playlist curated by the trench coated angel who fell for a reckoning in boots and blood - who learned love the hard way and never forgot the sound of it. a love letter to humanity. echoes of heaven, motel nights, and the people who taught him how to stay.

#NAV.ᐟ supernatural mlist ⋆.˚ oc! max winchester

I. "clair de lune" - debussy

he doesn’t admit it, but this one makes him think of max asleep beside a motel window, moonlight on her scars. it’s the tenderness of her she doesn’t let anyone see.

II. "man in the long black coat" - bob dylan

he doesn’t say it out loud, but he hears himself in this. and sometimes, max.

III. "don't let the sun catch you crying" - gerry & the pacemakers

dean played it on an old jukebox once. castiel didn’t say anything, but he memorized every word.

IV. "lacrimosa" - mozarts requiem

for the souls he couldn’t save. for the ones max had to kill. she never talks about them, but he knows she hears this in her bones too.

V. "boulevard of broken dreams" - green day

max raises an eyebrow at cas for this song. "this song captures...solitude" max huffs, "it captures emo middle school." dean barks out a, "you walking alone in the rain in a trench coat—checks out."

VI. "highway to hell" - ac/dc

this is pure dean influence. "anthem for every hunt. banger." castiel gives him a confused stare, "This is not an accurate depiction of hell’s geography." max gives him a gentle nod, "cas, it's not a map"

VII. "angel" - massive attack

castiel doesn’t remember the first time he heard it. it was probably background noise in some half-lit motel while the others were asleep. it reminds him of max, the way she walks into a room and everything goes quiet. the way she fights—like something divine trying to be human, and failing beautifully.

VIII. "come thou font every blessing" - instrumental version

a memory of Heaven. not the real one. the one he wanted to believe in. he keeps it for the nights when he’s unsure if he’s still an angel, or just a man with wings that don’t work anymore.

IX. "the partisan" - leonard cohen

his rebellion song. about loss, resistance, and quiet endurance. sam showed it to him once after a hard case. cas never forgot it.

X. "bad moon rising" - creendence clearwater revival

"Is this a warning?" Max shakes her head trying to stifle a laugh, "this is your theme music every time you show up bloody in a doorway."

XI. "renegade" - styx

again, major dean influence. "for when you're running from heaven and the law" cas purses his lips, "this song is unnecessarily stressful." max smirks, "that's cas approved deanie"

XII. "highway star" - deep purple

"this is what baby sounds like at 110" max yells over the loud speakers and dean's drumming on the steering wheel. cas yells back "the car is not alive!"

XIII. "the sound of silence" - simon & garfunkel

this one was sam. "i understand the sentiment" sam nods, "it's about disconnection. and trying to be heard." max overhears the conversation adding, "itʻs a meme now, which is tragic"

bonus track!

XIV. "sympathy for the devil" - the rolling stones

cas grimaces at this song. "this one is...complicated"

"yeah, but it rocks" dean replies. max snatches the ipod out of cas' hands, "lucifer would hate it, add it twice"

[bbeelzemon]

okay first of all was anyone going to tell me that ac/dc is an australian band. and second of all was anyone else going to tell me that they're apparently colloquially referred to as "acca dacca" in australia

[rayslittlekitten]

Can't Take My Eyes Off You

“Dad Will” Masterlist

A/N: So I've been thinking about how Will and his wife met and had heard "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" by Frankie Vallie (YT link below) and it sparked something.

Thank you @lovebarefootblonde and @carni-val for beta reading! Y'all are the best!

Word Count: ~1.9k

Pairing: Dad!Will x Wife F!Reader, Dad!Will & Daughter OC (Lucy)

Plot: Memory of when Will fell in love with you.

Contains: fluff, a squint of angst, the TF boys being goofy

Will was just hanging out with the boys at the local bar, having some drinks and shooting the shit. It was a rare time that all five of them were in town at the same time with Santiago and Frankie always traveling or working overseas. The group was hanging out by the end of the bar and Benny was eyeing a group of women at a nearby table. Santi made a bet to see who could take a girl home, or at the very least get a number. Benny and Santi were always so competitive and the beer and whiskey coursing through their blood just encouraged it. Meanwhile, Tom kept quiet and just watched. He's married with children but he felt confident he could still charm the ladies if he really wanted to. Frankie minded his own business shuffling through the jukebox to find a song after Benny hoarded it for an hour.

"I call the blonde," Benny said.

"I got the tall one," Santi followed.

"No way you can get the tall one," Tom scoffed. "She's way out of your league."

"Is that a challenge, Tom?" Santi asked.

"No, I'm just saying. Look at her," he gestured in the general direction of the group of women.

"Obviously, I am looking at her."

They noticed the women glancing over in their direction.

"You guys are so not subtle at all," Frankie chuckled as he made his way back to the group.

"What the hell is this shit?" Benny asked, pointing to the ceiling, as the sound of horns started filling the bar.

"It's called music, Benjamin," Frankie replied. "Frankie Valli is classic."

"So is Pantera and AC/DC!"

“I’m betting on Benny,” Will added, wagering on his brother. That was as far as he was participating. He could be competitive and would take up a challenge, but he didn't like to do it at the expense of a stranger, especially in situations like these. He didn't need to prove himself.

Will shifted his weight and took a step back to reposition himself and bumped into the person unknowingly standing behind him.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry," he quickly turned around to properly apologize.

“Smooth,” one of the other guys threw out.

Will saw you holding two full drinks that had spilled on you. He immediately grabbed some cocktail napkins as you put the glasses down back on the bar top and offered them to you.

"It's alright. It's just a small spill," you huffed. You took the napkins he offered and started cleaning your hands and dabbed your shirt.

"Thank you," you flipped your hair away from your face and looked up at him.

"You're–" Will stopped mid-sentence as soon as he locked eyes with you.

♪ You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off you ♪

He just continued to stare at you with his mouth still open, unable to speak. Probably not even breathing. He noticed the way the giant TV screen behind the bar highlighted your face.

"You're welcome," Santi jumped in. "Sorry about my friend here. He gets really shy around beautiful women," he winked at you and patted Will on the shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Santi and my friend here is William, but you can call him Will. Can he buy you another drink?” Santi asked.

"Thank you, but it's all good," you flashed them a smirk.

Will was still stunned. The corners of his lips turned up, copying yours.

♪ Pardon the way that I stare There's nothing else to compare The sight of you leaves me weak There are no words left to speak ♪

Santi nudged Will and he remembered to breathe. The other guys were snickering in the back.

"I-I'm sorry for being so rude," Will finally spat out. “I’m Will.” He placed his hand over his heart.

"I know. Your friend here introduced you," you chuckled. "I'm--" As you were about to introduce yourself, your friend joined in next to you.

"Hey! What's taking so long?" she asked and then glanced over at the group of men. "Are these guys bothering you?" she whispered to you.

"No, Will here just accidentally bumped into me and spilled a little bit of the drinks, but all is good," you told her.

“Nikki!" Frankie popped out from behind Will and Santi.

“Franklin! Oh my god! When did you get back?” your friend asked.

“Franklin?” Benny asked from the back.

The other guys turned to look at Frankie, with the exception of Will. His eyes and goofy smile remained on you, as yours did on him.

♪ But if you feel like I feel Please let me know that it's real You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you ♪

“It’s a nickname,” Frankie explained. “Why don't you two join us? We can catch up. Drinks are on him," he winked and pointed to Tom.

“Wait, what?” Tom panicked.

“Relax! I’m joking.” Frankie patted Tom’s shoulder.

Throughout the night, you and Will stole glances at each other. Not many words were exchanged except for awkward small talk. He wanted to say so many things to you though. For a man who had spoken to hundreds, maybe even thousands of strangers, he had a hard time holding a conversation with one person - you.

He hadn’t dated anyone in a while, not since he and his ex-fiance broke up. He took the time to work on himself and his PTSD. He didn’t want to put anyone else through what he did the last, and hopefully, the final time when he got triggered. It had been quite a few years, and he’d had a few female companions since then, but nothing serious. He wasn’t ready to bring someone new into his world, into what his mind went through and all the emotional baggage that came with him. He was still scared - or so he thought. One look at you and all those feelings instantly melted away.

It seemed very shallow going by looks alone, but he also believed in gut instincts and it told him you were someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Will was usually a very logical person, but he remembered when he asked Tom how he knew that Molly was the one right before Will proposed to his ex-fiance, Tom had simply told him, “You just know when you know. It’s just a feeling and you’ll know if she’s the right one.”

Despite having met you only a few hours ago, he just knew.

He needed to make a real move before the end of the night. He was used to rejection and wasn’t fazed by it, but a tiny part of him was more afraid of him messing it up if things went well. He had to try though or you’d become the one who got away.

Will noticed your drink was nearly done and asked if he could get you another.

“No, thanks. I’m good for the night. I’m actually Nikki’s ride so it’s best I stop here,” you replied.

“How about coffee? Do you like coffee?” Will asked.

“Yeah, I like coffee,” you tilted your head curiously. “But it’s not something I normally drink at night. I’m not even sure this place serves any.”

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee one day? I’m free tomorrow morning.” Will held his breath, waiting for you to answer.

“I’m so sorry, I'm actually not available,” you told him, slightly wincing.

“Oh…” Will’s disappointment showed on his face as it softened and his body slouched.

“But I’m available next weekend,” you added with a slight smirk.

Will’s frown instantly turned up after realizing what you did. He couldn’t hide how happy he was even if he tried.

♪ At long last, love has arrived And I thank God I'm alive You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off you ♪

******

There was a time where you couldn’t wait to get home to your family, but that had changed thanks to Will. You had to work late today and you hate doing that especially since it takes time away from spending it with Lucy, but honestly after you let Will back home, things are still tense so there’s a silver lining to working a few hours of overtime other than the extra money. As for Lucy, you know she’s in good hands with Will. You and Will may be working on your marriage, but you know Will is an excellent father. He loves and adores Lucy with all his heart and there is no one else you trust more to look after her.

You’re happy you finally made it home. You are so exhausted, it takes you a few tries to get the key into the lock. When you finally get the front door open, you can hear Lucy having a giggle fit and music playing. You kick your shoes off and leave your purse on the table nearby. You then head over to the living room where the music is coming from. When you reach it, you find Will holding Lucy at his hips and dancing with her, spinning around and dipping her. Lucy is laughing so hard and singing along to the song with Will where she knows the lyrics as he serenades her.

“I love you, baby!”

“I need you, baby!”

“I love you, baby!”

“Oh, pretty baby!”

“Baby, let me love youuuuu!”

That song always reminds you of the tall, blue-eyed goofy man you met at a random bar your friend dragged you to that one night. If anyone told you that night that you’re going to marry him and have his daughter one day, you would have laughed.

You can’t help but smile at the sight of them. Lucy’s laugh fills your heart with so much joy. You hate to admit that you also miss Will, but still resent him for what he’s put this family through. You know he’s really trying hard to fix everything, but you know it’s going to take effort from the both of you to do that.

“Mommy!” Lucy shouts when she spots you.

Will puts her down and she runs over to you.

“Hi, baby!” you greet her and she hugs you, wrapping her arms around your hips and pressing her face against your belly.

“Me and daddy saved you some fajitas,” she looks up at you.

“Thank you,” you lean down and kiss her forehead.

Will shuts the music off and walks over to you and Lucy.

“I’ll heat it up for you,” Will says.

“You don’t have to–” you start.

“You look like you had a long day. I’ll pour you a glass of wine too.” When Will walks up to you and kisses your temple, you instinctively lean into him. “Why don’t you get settled in?”

“Thank you,” you tell him.

Will simply smiles at you before heading off to the kitchen.

“Mommy, can I show you what I drew in class today?” Lucy pulls your attention back to her.

“Yes! I would love to see it!” you tell her and then she takes your hand to guide you to the living room.

[lyonrhodes]

One Bad Day #9: Speakeasy

Red Hood x OC, Batman/DC Fan Fic

Summary: Dora has lived in Gotham her whole life and is accustomed to the rampant crime and corruption. Her life gets worse when Black Mask takes over the city. She thinks all hope is lost but a new vigilante appears, calling himself the Red Hood. However, he’s not your typical knight in shining armor. Dora must decide: does she dare fall in love with a revenge-driven killer? (Romance, Crime, Action)

Chapter 9: Speakeasy

Dora unlocked the back door. It swung open, but no one was there. The alley was empty; dark except for a lone humming and flickering lamp overhead. She gripped the crowbar in her hand tightly.

“Holly? I’m here,” Dora called out, taking a few steps outside. “Hello?”

The gravel crunched behind her. She wasn’t alone.

Without stopping to think, Dora turned around and swung the crowbar.

Red Hood caught it, inches from his head. The force of the catch reverberated through the iron back into Dora’s hand, causing her to hiss in pain and let go.

He gripped the crowbar tightly for a few seconds—she could hear the leather of his gloves strain. Although not able to see his face, Dora still sensed... was it anger? It radiated off him like heat from a furnace. She was about to apologize when he tossed the crowbar aside. “Kept me waiting long enough. I was about to leave,” he said, his stance relaxing. Whatever tension had been there dissipated. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

Her heartbeat was rapid. She had broken into a sweat, but Dora wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “Yeah, dude. I thought you were another one of those thugs.” A look up and down the alley confirmed he was alone. No bodies. No blood. No thugs.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, get in here.” Dora pulled him inside. She was paranoid. The cops were likely staking out the Alibi, watching her like hawks. The last thing she needed was camera footage that would corroborate Bullock’s asinine theory. “What’s up? Why are you here?” She already had an inkling why.

“Checking in. Did the GCPD give you any trouble after I left?”

Frowning, Dora wondered how much to tell him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, except...” It wouldn’t do him any good to know about the detectives’ suspicions, so she just said, “We made a real mess that night, and the GCPD thought the best way to clean it up was to tear up the place.”

She led him out of the kitchen into the main barroom. Red Hood whistled, taking it all in. “Yeah, you’re not kidding.” He walked over to the corner with the jukebox. “Hey, at least they left this old thing.” He wiped some sawdust off the machine. “Oh, what’s this? That’s unusual...”

“What?”

He jabbed at some buttons, flipping through the CDs loaded inside. “Silverstein, Underoath, Saosin, Dead Poetic, Deftones... This isn’t the typical dive-bar playlist. You like hardcore metal?”

Dora was impressed that he even knew the proper name of the genre. “Oh, yeah. Nobody ever uses that thing, so my dad let me put my own CDs in there. For whenever we’d hang out after hours. He actually closed down the bar for my quinceañera.”

Red Hood scoffed. “You don’t seem like the party type of girl.”

“I’m not, but it wasn’t your typical party. We rounded up the local hardcore kids to jam, mosh, and headbang. And gorge ourselves on cake and pop. That’s how the scene is in Crime Alley.”

“Very cool of your dad. Not many parents condone that kind of music.”

“Yeah, my dad was a great guy.” Saying so prodded a dull ache in her chest. “I want to do the same for my little sisters when they turn fifteen. My dad would’ve wanted that.”

Red Hood took a look around. “So I take it you’re going to rebuild the place, then? That’s going to cost a shit load of money. How much was the insurance payout?”

I fucking knew it, he wants a cut. “Yeah, about that... Look, Red Hood, I... I don’t know how to say this, but... I’m sorry, I can’t...”

Red Hood put his hand on her shoulder; she immediately stopped stammering. “Yeah, I guessed money would be tight, so don’t sweat it. You know that coke your little sister almost got you killed over? I sold it.”

“Yeah, I know. A friend told me.” Dora knew the gesture was meant to be soothing, but she stiffened at his touch.

Red Hood had read her reluctance. “What else was I supposed to do with it?”

Throw it away, that’s what any sane law-abiding person would do. It then occurred to her that Red Hood didn’t abide the law. And it was hard to gage morality in a city like Gotham.

“It brought in some decent cash, so consider us even for a while,” he said. He withdrew his hand, but not without letting it run down arm to her elbow. “That should let you get back on your feet, right?”

Dora was extremely conscious of his touch. It felt like electricity was surging through their contact; her heart thumped loudly. “What, really? You’ll let us... Um... wow. How much was it all worth?”

“About $250,000, give or take.”

“What? Carla was running around Crime Alley with a quarter million dollars on her back? Her crew might as well have painted a target on her!”

Red Hood made a frustrated noise, something between a groan and a growl. “Yeah, I know. The LU likes using kids as runners. Black Mask’s crew is no different. That’s the kind of crap I’m trying to stop. People will always want drugs, but they should at least have enough decency to keep kids out of it.” He took a few deep breaths, collecting himself. The eye-slits in his mask seemed to glow brighter. “Crime isn’t a disease, Dora, you can’t cure it. You can’t abolish it. It’s human nature. But you can control it, keep it in check, and keep it safe. I want to put an end to the darkest parts of Gotham, so that people who want to ruin their own lives don’t ruin anyone else's.”

“How are you so sure that will even work?”

“Look at Las Vegas, Atlantic City, and New Orleans. Gambling is legal there. Heck, look at Prohibition a hundred years ago. You could argue that gambling and alcoholism can lead to addiction and financially ruin someone’s life, but those cities’ economies benefit from it. They turned it into an industry, and their citizens have jobs because of it. All over the world, some type of drugs and prostitution are legal and regulated, so it keeps even the workers and consumers in those industries safe.”

Dora had never thought of it that way. She began to ponder the implications when she noticed Red Hood removing his jacket. “What are you doing?”

“I’m assuming since you’re here by yourself in the middle of the night, you have work to do that can’t wait for tomorrow. I’ll give you a hand. So you get it done quicker. Is that alright?”

“No, it’s okay, but you don’t have to—um...” She would have argued, but Red Hood was undressing in front of her and she really didn’t want to stop him.

The leather motorcycle jacket had hidden a light flak jacket with a varied assortment of pockets and straps for guns, magazines, knives, and all kinds of other tactical military gear. It must have had some type of deceptively hidden armor plating in it because it made a heavy thump when he dropped it on the floor. His utility belt and thigh holsters came off next.

“Whoa,” was all Dora could say.

“Yeah, I know. My gear’s pretty bulky.” He twisted his waist and popped the kinks out of his back.

But that wasn’t what Dora had “whoa-ed” about. Holy crap, he’s fit as fuck…

Without the jacket and vest, Red Hood seemed to lose a hundred pounds (though his gear probably did weigh that much for all she knew). The armor had made him appear bulkier than he actually was. Without it, it revealed that he had a slim lean build, and the clever stitching of his skin-tight black shirt accentuated his three-dimensional torso. The contours of his sculpted shoulders, chest, and stomach were not hidden by the fabric.

“So where do I start?” he asked, stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles.

It was suddenly unbearably hot in the room. “I was, um... tiling the floors. The stuff is there. I’ll show you how to do it in a sec, but would you, um, excuse me?” Before he could reply, Dora hurried into the bathroom. She went to the sink and splashed her face with water, willing herself not to think the things she was thinking. He’s a criminal, don’t forget that. You’ve got work to do, so focus. She flushed a toilet for appearances.

When she came back out, Dora noticed that Red Hood had removed his gloves and rolled up his sleeves. This was the first time she had ever seen his bare skin... and it was relatively fair, lighter than her own dark olive skin. He had large hands and muscular forearms. They were clean, but he had callouses all over his palms and knuckles—some were red, suggesting that he had given someone a pounding recently.

Dora set to work, showing Red Hood how she wanted the tiles done while trying to look at him as little as possible. She instructed him to take the pool and darts area, just so she wouldn’t feel the electricity buzzing on her skin when he was nearby.

The task flew by quickly, aided by Red Hood turning on the jukebox. He hammered, plastered, cut, and drilled to the rhythm, something Dora thought was cool. He knew the lyrics to some of the songs she liked, too. Fortunately, it wasn’t endearing because he was a poor singer. Not to mention the fact that a man in a red helmet/mask laying down floor tiles looked kind of ridiculous, no matter how fit he was.

悪

Dora hammered in the last strip of molding and tossed the mallet aside. Rolling onto her back, she shouted, “Finally!” She pushed off her fogged up glasses and wiped the sweat from her face. “Hey, you done?” she called out to Red Hood, wherever he was.

“Yeah, all done. Need a hand?” He was closer than Dora had thought. When she wiped her glasses clean and put them back on, he was standing above her, offering her his hand.

“Sure.” She took it, and he pulled her up so quickly she got dizzy. She held onto his arm to prevent herself stumbling. When the world stopped spinning, she realized she was only inches away from him, her eyes level with his chest. She looked up. He’s so tall; he’s got over a foot on me, she marveled, remembering Holly telling her how Red Hood picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

Red Hood grabbed her other hand to steady her, but she winced, pulling it back.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” he asked.

Dora looked down at her hand, the skin still red and raw from the Molotov cocktail she had improvised the last time he was here. She took a big step back. “Hey, listen…” She went around tidying up tools and trash to hide her reddening face. “Thanks for helping me out. I owe you. For the trouble.”

“How about a drink and we call it even?” he offered, putting his gear back on. Unbuckled, it hung loosely on his lean frame.

A drink? If he wants a drink, he has to...  “Yeah, sure.”

As she led Red Hood into the kitchen, he took the tool bag away from her so she wouldn’t have to lug it there. For a moment, she questioned if it was chauvinist or chivalrous, but decided on the latter. At the refrigerator, she pulled out a water bottle and tossed it to him. Feeling anxious as she took a sip from her own bottle, she couldn’t help but stare at him. He had to take off his helmet to drink something, but after everything Montoya said… Was it really a good idea to see his face?

“Thanks,” he said—but he placed the bottle on the counter. “I was actually thinking about something stronger. Maybe when the Alibi is up and running again, I can open a tab.”

“Oh, you meant… Right, yeah. No, don’t worry about a tab.” Dora scoffed, feigning nonchalance to hide her disappointment. “After all you’ve done for me and this place, all your drinks are on the house, for life. It’s the least I can do.”

“Cool. See you around, then. I guess I don’t have to tell you to keep out of trouble. Take care, Dora.”

Nervously tapping the counter, she watched Red Hood walk toward the door, wondering when she would see him again.

“Oh. Before I forget.” Red Hood stopped at the door, drawing a gun. Dora’s heart skipped a beat, but he deftly twirled it so the muzzle was in his palm. “Here.” He held it out for her.

It was her father’s Colt. She took it, gripping it tightly in one hand while running her fingers along the smooth metal with the other. She didn’t have to release the magazine—she could tell it was loaded by its weight. What would Dad think of everything that’s been happening? His little girl had killed a man; she had become friends with a vigilante in a red helmet that cut off people’s heads like a serial killer and blew up buildings like a terrorist. Did she really want to know what was behind his mask?

Then she thought, Fuck it, why not. The cops are already convinced I know what he looks like. It can’t hurt to peek. “Hey, do you like whiskey?” she blurted out, before her conscience could kick in.

Red Hood paused with his hand on the back-door’s handle. “Yeah, actually. Love the stuff.”

“My dad loved it, too. He’s got a few good vintages.”

“Really?”

“Do you have to be anywhere right now? How about a nightcap?” Her face was red. She couldn’t believe she had just said that. She hoped he didn’t notice.

Red Hood turned around and stood there for a moment. The shape of his helmet’s glowing eye slits made it look like his brow was furrowed. For a second, he looked like he had in the alley a few hours earlier. Dora could imagine what criminals felt when he stared them down. Afraid, vulnerable, and very small.

“Sure, that sounds good,” he finally said; the sudden nonchalance in his voice didn’t match the serious expression frozen on his mask.

Dora nodded awkwardly. “Follow me, then.” She holstered her father’s gun into her waistband as she went over to the pantry. Flipping a switch inside the room revealed boxes of liquor stacked on shelves as high as the ceiling. She had always thought the room was quite large, but with a six-foot man inside with her, it suddenly felt cramped.

“So this is where you stash all the good stuff?”

“Not quite.” Dora went to the back of the room and shoved aside a large crate of vodka that had been blocking a door. It wasn’t exactly hidden, but being the same color as the walls, the door was difficult to notice under the dim lighting and all the clutter. She picked a key from of her ring and unlocked it.

“It’s pretty obvious, but this is a really old building,” she said, walking down a flight of concrete stairs. “It’s been in my family for generations. Hard to believe now, but my father’s side of the family was actually really well off at the start of the 1900s. After my great-grandparents hopped off the boat from England, they fell in with the Italian and the Irish mobs during Prohibition. They started a few speakeasies and made a killing. My family has lived in this building for generations, but my grandfather didn’t buy it off the original owners until the fifties or sixties or something. When the Cold War started to get real bad, my grandpa made the building earthquake-proof and converted the old basement speakeasy into a bunker.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Red Hood said, running his hand along the concrete wall as they descended, as if he could feel the history in the bricks.

“Yeah, it helped us survive the quake that hit Gotham a few years ago, but my dad said the renovation nearly bankrupted the family before it even hit. Seems like it’s the family curse. Each generation gets us poorer and poorer.” Dora reached another door at the bottom of the stairs, made of iron with a hatch wheel.

“What do you mean?”

Dora turned the wheel with a heave. The rusted metal screeched and groaned. “Ten years ago, my dad spent a ton of money he didn’t have renovating the bar, and when he did that, he also converted the bunker into a cellar for high-shelf liquor and wine. And then I go and do it again now, trying to rebuild this place and keep it afloat with half a dozen loans I might never be able to pay off. My mother warned me, but I wouldn’t listen.” The wheel stopped with a clank. Dora pulled the door open. “At least I didn’t use a loan shark like my dad. ... Although, sometimes I wish I did. Banks can be crooks too.”

“Who else knows about this place?” Red Hood followed her inside the dark room.

“It’s not really a secret, but I guess… only my family, the other bartender Rochelle, and my friend Holly.” Dora fumbled around the wall until she found a lever. She pushed it up and the room lit up in a chorus of hums and snaps.

“This doesn’t look like a liquor cellar,” Red Hood observed. The basement was a wide open space with concrete walls and floors, dimly lit by hanging incandescent light bulbs. Boxes and shelves of liquor dominated one wall, but the opposite side of the room had a sofa, coffee table, a desk, TV, stereo, and a small bed. There was even a microwave oven and a hot plate next to a sink and mini-fridge, making a little kitchenette. “Looks like someone’s dingy apartment. Better than what most people get in this town.”

Dora smirked at the irony. “Yeah, it was my dad’s.” She went over to the sink and rinsed off a few glasses. “When my mom dumped him, he started living here. He had no other place to go. It was during the crisis after the earthquake. No Man’s Land.”

“But your family owns a dozen apartments upstairs...” Red Hood put down his gear again and reclined on the sofa. The way he sank into the cushions made it clear he was as tired as she was.

“In the divorce, my mom and dad split the building in half. She got the apartments, he got the bar. She didn’t want anything to do with my dad, and that included leasing him a place to stay.”

“Wow, your mom’s kind of...”

“A bitch?” Dora chuckled. “Yeah, she can be. She eventually eased up and let him move upstairs, but she made him stew down here for well over a year after the quake.” She shook the two glasses dry and placed them on the coffee table. “Sorry, no ice,” she said, checking the mini-fridge.

“That’s okay, I like my whiskey neat.”

Dora went to the crates of liquor and perused the dusty labels. She pulled out a bottle. “So what would you like? Glenkinchie? Lagavulin?”

“You’ve got Lagavulin? A shot of that would be awesome.”

She blew the dust off the bottle as she walked over to the sofa. Red Hood took the bottle from her as she sat down. “Wow, this scotch is older than I am...” He brought the label close to his mask... and his eyes glowed blue for a second. “It’s legit.”

Dora ignored that Red Hood had some type of high-tech scanning equipment in his helmet, concentrating instead on the fact that he must be in his twenties—because she already knew that the bottle of whiskey was thirty years old. But she wanted a more exact number. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking... how old are you?”

He put the bottle down. “Not much older than you, actually.”

So twenty-two-ish? Dora thought.

Red Hood touched something on the back of his helmet. Dora heard a click and the light glowing from the mask’s eyes shut off.

She held her breath. The moment had finally come.

There was a pneumatic hiss as panels spread apart at the helmet’s chin, sides, and back. Red Hood took it off and Dora finally saw his face.

Most of it.

To her disappointment, underneath the helmet, Red Hood had another mask. A small red one that only covered his eyes, like the ones she had seen on Nightwing, Robin, and many other vigilantes and villains on the news. She had always wondered what was the point of such a small mask, but even though she was sitting right next to him, she couldn’t see the full shape of his nose, his eyebrows, nor the color of his eyes; the mask had a mold and glowing white lenses that concealed them. It covered no more than what a large pair of sunglasses would, but it was enough to make her uncertain whether he was Caucasian, Hispanic, Arabic, Asian... or even a mix of any race.

However, she could clearly see Red Hood had a fair complexion with shaggy coal-black hair. He had some stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the jaw underneath was well-defined. He kinda looks like Nightwing... but younger. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than she was. He might even be younger for all she knew.

Pero que guapo, she couldn’t help but think. On top of being a badass vigilante and fit as hell, he was also pretty damn cute. For fuck’s sake, why are some people so damn lucky? Dora’s genetic lottery bid had awarded her a short stature, large hips, flat feet, and astigmatism.

Red Hood noticed her staring and cracked a charming smile. “Yeah, this thing,” he said, touching his domino mask. “You can never be too careful.”

“I agree.”

It was Red Hood’s turn to feel awkward, so he broke eye contact to pour the whiskey. He gave Dora her tumbler and took a moment to smell his drink. “You know, such good scotch deserves a toast.”

Dora finally stopped staring at him and looked down at the swirling golden liquid in her own cup. “Yeah, but to what?”

“How about... to Monty.” He raised his glass. “Despite his flaws, he was a good man.”

That struck Dora’s heartstrings, resonating with all the bittersweet memories she had of her father over the years. “Yeah. To Monty.” The sum total was more sweet than bitter, she told herself. They clinked cups and swallowed their drinks. “Wow, that’s really smooth,” she marveled, looking at the dregs in amazement. It didn’t burn much going down and it tasted good.

“Yeah, that’s damn good scotch,” Red Hood said, having the same reaction. “I guess that’s why this stuff is expensive. You didn’t have to waste some on me.”

“No, it’s okay.” Dora grabbed the bottle and poured another round. “It’s been sitting down here for years, that’s the real waste. One of my dad’s mistakes, buying vintage high-shelf stuff. Our customers aren’t exactly the type to care enough about what they’re drinking to shell out the big bucks. As good as it is, we can’t sell this stuff.”

“Why didn’t he just sell it back to his liquor vendor?”

Dora scoffed bitterly. “My dad didn’t get all this booze above board. He got it all from the Odessa Mob, who smuggled it from overseas… and they don’t do refunds. Occasionally, the mob’s enforcers would ask for the primo stuff—for free of course—but they all died in the gang war.”

“Wow, your dad was… an interesting man.” Red Hood sipped slowly at the whiskey this time, pausing to savor the taste.

“Hey, um...” Dora pulled her feet up on the couch. “What did you mean earlier by my dad’s flaws?”

“Oh. You know. His, uh... drinking problem.”

Dora’s brow tightened. “How do you know about his drinking problem?”

Red Hood hesitated. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could tell he was trying to avoid looking at her. “No offense, Dora, but people talk. Everyone in Crime Alley knew about your dad was an alcoholic.”

She knew that, but it surprised her that Red Hood did. “But he was sober for years, up until he died. How’d you know about that?”

“You assume I’m new to town, but I grew up here.”

“In Gotham? I guessed as much, so give me some credit.”

“Yeah, but I mean I was born and raised here, in Crime Alley. On Park Row. Same as you. Why do you think I’m sticking my neck out for this place? It’s my home too, Dora. It’s in my blood as much as it’s in yours.”

Impressed, Dora toasted to that. As the shot went down her throat, it occurred to her that if they were near the same age, she likely went to school with Red Hood, whoever he was. She sifted through her memories, trying to remember a classmate or boy from the block that could have turned out to become the most violent vigilante Gotham has ever seen… but almost every boy that lived on Park Row ended up a convict, a deadbeat, or… dead.

But she refocused on something he said earlier. “So, wait, you knew my father?”

“No, I knew about Monty. Met him a few times while I was a kid. But I never knew him personally. You know how word travels up and down this neighborhood. I don’t know the fact from fiction, though. Tell me about him.”

“You really want to listen to me talk about my dad?”

Red Hood poured himself another shot and reclined back on the sofa. “Word of mouth had Monty as a sleazy guy, a drunk and a deadbeat dad. But I can clearly tell you loved him very much, so I want to know what you thought of him.”

“Um... sure.” Dora took a sip of her drink for courage. Then she told Red Hood about her father, Philip Montgomery.

He wasn’t always a drunk. What made him crawl into the bottle was the pressure he was facing from Vasily Kosov and the Odessa Mob to pay back the debt he owed to them for rebuilding the Alibi, on top of the extortion money. It was a slow and steady decline, but the alcoholism eventually got so bad, he got into an accident while driving drunk—with Carla and Mercy in the backseat. Both Dora’s sisters were hurt in the accident, especially Mercy, who’s Asperger’s made the incident all the more traumatizing. Disgusted and fed up, their mother didn’t bother to post Monty’s bail, or hire him a lawyer. Instead, she let him stew in jail while she filed for divorce and took full custody of their three daughters.

At first, Dora was just as angry at him as her mother was, but she finally understood his remorse when he attempted to kill himself by jumping off the top of the Montgomery building. He would have succeeded if not for the dumpster he landed in. “I’ve had too many friends eat a bullet to go out the same way,” Dora remembered him saying when she found him.

Her mother still had no sympathy, so Dora took it upon herself to help her father recover. She took him to therapy, Alcoholics Anonymous, made sure he abided his parole—even stayed in Gotham after the earthquake to help him protect and rebuild the building. Over the years, her parents began to reconcile their differences, enough to co-parent and even date a while, but not quite enough to remarry. Carla and Mercy were beginning to trust him again... to love him again.

Then Black Mask and his men killed him.

Dora tossed back one last shot and put her cup down. “I... watched Black Mask kill my father. I couldn’t do anything, Sergei was holding me back, while his boys just stood there. They just fucking stood there and watched a good man get beaten to a pulp, passing around a bottle of vodka, egging on Black Mask like they were watching a boxing match.” She willed her tears to stay inside and looked at Red Hood. “They left him barely alive and he died before the ambulance arrived. I tried everything I had learned in school, but I couldn’t save him. He needed me and I let him down…”

Red Hood scooted closer to her. “I don’t know what you’re feeling so guilty about, Dora. You tried and that’s what matters. What more could you have done?”

Dora pushed him away, angry. He didn’t understand. “But I could have done something—should have done something. Sergei and his boys all had their hands in wetwork. They fucking bragged about it at my bar, right in front of me, all the fucking time... Escaping run-ins with Batman, and getting released from Blackgate on early parole because of fucking overcrowding. Can you believe it?” Dora pulled out her father’s gun and gripped it tight, the anger inside her boiling. “My father’s killers drank at my bar, for months. Dad’s gun was right there under the counter, for months. I could’ve avenged him myself, I had a thousand chances... but I never did. I was too much of a coward. I... just couldn’t... I... Argh!”

She jumped up suddenly and fired the gun. Again and again, at the liquor on the shelves—bottles exploded until the magazine was empty. “Fuck!” she screamed and kicked the coffee table. “Fucking fuck!”

Red Hood didn’t so much as flinch. He only stood up and pried the gun out of her hand. “Calm down.”

“Get the fuck off me!” she shouted, pushing him away.

“Hey! Chill!” Red Hood grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip too strong for her to escape. “I saw you fight back that night we met in the alley. And last week, in the bar, you protected your loved ones. You saved them. I didn’t. You did. You did what you had to do and you didn’t hesitate. Months ago, you saved dozens of lives in the gang war. People still talk about it.” He took her hand, being careful of the burn. “I’m looking at you right now, Dora, and I can see the fight in you—the defiance. You don’t need a mask to be a hero. You just need to care about other people and be willing to get off your ass to do it. From what I’ve seen and heard, you risk your own safety for the sake of others all the time. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re braver than you think. Your father would be proud of you.”

Dora’s heart was racing, and her insides were burning so hot she wanted to scream again. Red Hood’s eyes were hidden behind a mask, but he was looking straight at her, into her—so she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Not after what he just said.

So she kissed him.

She grabbed the back of his neck, but whether she pulled him down or herself up, she didn’t know because his lips were on hers and nothing else mattered—it felt good, it felt right.

It was only when she pulled away for a breath that she realized he wasn’t kissing her back. His mouth was closed, his nostrils were flared, and his masked eyes were impossible to read. Her heart sank. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.” She looked down at the half-empty bottle on the coffee table. “I... I’m drunk, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

This time Dora was on the receiving end of an unexpected kiss, one that took her breath away and made her knees weak. Luckily, she didn’t need to stand because Red Hood grabbed her behind the hips and lifted her up. Suddenly, she was weightless, only tethered to reality by his lips. She locked her ankles behind him so she wouldn’t float away.

And then she was falling. Her back hit something soft and she felt Red Hood’s weight land on top of her. She was laying on her back, whether if it was on the sofa, the bed, or the floor, she didn't know and didn’t care.

Their lips mashed together, exchanging breath; their bodies rubbed together, exchanging heat and pleasure. Dora dug her nails into Red Hood’s back and clawed off his shirt. When she brought her lips to his skin again, she felt the rough texture of his chest hair and the firmness of his muscles. She latched onto the crook of his neck and sucked and bit.

But Red Hood wouldn’t allow it. He grabbed her jaw and pulled it away, her mouth detaching with a gasp, one that turned into a moan when he put his own lips on her neck—right underneath her ear. Dora’s body went limp, and the next thing she knew her t-shirt and bra were suddenly gone. Red Hood pinned her arms above her head with one hand, while the other was on her breast. They kissed again, and Dora felt like he was sucking the breath right out of her.

When he dragged his mouth to her collarbone, some sense returned to her. “Stop,” she said. Red Hood didn’t listen, his mouth inched closer to her breast, his lips and breath hot on her skin. “Ooooh... Wait, stop... Stop, please... Hey! Stop!”

She hit him on the shoulder a few times, and when he wouldn’t let off, she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back. “I said stop!”

Red Hood finally listened. He pulled away and sat back, breathless. He seemed surprised with himself. “Sorry. I... You’re hard to resist.”

Although she was frightened at first, Dora could tell he was telling the truth. She felt his erection poking her through only a few layers of fabric. He was hard to resist too—she wouldn’t be lying bare-breasted in front of him if he wasn’t. She had to slow down and think, but it was difficult to do with her brain soaked in alcohol and Red Hood sitting topless in front of her.

He slouched and fidgeted with his coal black hair, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, I know. I’m pretty fucked up.”

Fucked up? Dora got up on her elbows and wiped the fog from her glasses to get a proper look at him. His impeccably toned stomach muscles flexed loose and taut rapidly, still breathing heavily. The fair skin on his chest had a light smattering of hair, but it was blemished by bumpy red scars that marred his whole torso. Having treated those types of wounds in the gang war, Dora recognized multiple bullet wounds, stab wounds, cuts, abrasions, and a burn that extended from his shoulder to the center of his chest. He was even missing a nipple.

His body was a battlefield.

But her own body didn’t care how broken he was. She wanted to do exactly what Bullock and Montoya wanted to arrest her for—and she was finding it difficult to care. You’re about to fuck a killer, she reminded herself.

But I’m a killer too, another side of herself said. The cops never have to know. Who I sleep with is none of their business. It can’t be too hard to keep this a secret.

“What’s wrong?” Red Hood asked.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“... Us. What are we doing?”

“I was hoping we were about to have sex.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up, so that she was straddling his lap—and his erection.

“I know...” She shuddered, feeling his manhood poking her. “... but we’re both drunk. We have to slow down.”

“Why? You started this.”

“What?”

“You kissed me,” Red Hood said with a sly smile. “You served me the drink.”

“Yeah, but... Look, we barely know each other. I don’t know your real name. I don’t even know what you really look like.”

“What? Is this still too much?” He tapped his red domino mask.

“Yeah, I won’t have sex with you with that thing on. I may be a Park Row girl, but I draw the line at sleeping with a guy whose name and face I don’t even know.”

Red Hood didn’t say anything for several moments. He just looked at her through the white lenses of his mask. Dora’s breathing fell in time with his. Finally, he said, “Can I trust you?”

She was almost offended. “I’m not a criminal like half the people in this borough, but I’m not a snitch either. Can I trust you? I know you’re just trying to do the right thing, but... you blow up buildings and kill people. They call you a terrorist on the news.”

In response, Red Hood slid her glasses up, her bangs too, exposing her full face. He ran a thumb over her bottom lip. “You’re a beautiful person, Dora. Inside and out. I’m out there, every night, fighting the worst Gotham has to offer, so sometimes it’s hard to remember that people like you still exist here. You have to know that I’d never hurt you. You remind me of what I’m fighting for.”

That satisfied her, so she kissed him again. As she caressed his lips with hers, she thought, If I get this mask off, I don’t care what he looks like, we’ll do it. I just want to see his eyes. Let’s make love like normal people, not fuck like strangers.

Pulling away, she found her hands on Red Hood’s face. She was touching his mask, and her fingers were already peeling it off. He wasn’t stopping her.

A gasp broke through the silence, but it didn’t come from Dora or Red Hood. They both looked at the door.

Holly stood there, eyes wide, hand over her mouth. “Holy. Shit.”

[v0.3.15.1]

[blinding-shining-star]

Signed my first autograph today post-performance today! I’m open to do more if y’all are down for it 🌟

[charleewritesabook]

OC Music Playlist

Thanks @boredwriter-16 for tagging me! I also spent way too much time on this.

This is not a playlist that you, the writer, relate to your characters or WIPs. This is a list of songs that your OC in the novel listens to regularly (or would, if they do not have access to modern day songs/tech).

Rules: Compile a list of songs that you believe your characters listen to or perhaps keep in their phones. Format the lists in any way you see fit for as many characters as you can and briefly explain why the character likes the song or what they relate the song(s) to.

I'm going to do Ryan (as requested lol) and then George and Hailey for now.

George's favorite song:

- Enter Sandman by Metallica

George's other preferred songs:

Classic Rock:

- King Nothing by Metallica

- Bad to the Bone by AC/DC

- Highway to Hell by AC/DC

- Separate Ways by Journey

- Every Rose has its Thorn by Poison

Country:

- Swing by Trace Adkins

- For You by Keith Urban

- God Bless th USA by Lee Greenwood

Hailey's favorite Song:

- (changes regularly) Castle by Halsey

Hailey's other preferred songs:

Country:

- Sangria by Blake Shelton

- Hurricane by Luke Combs

- Strip it down by Luke Bryan

- Gunpowder & Lead by Miranda Lambert

- Chainsaw by The Band Perry

Other:

- Never Stop by SafetySuit

- Control by Halsey

- Closer by Chainsmokers

Hailey and George's Song:

- Over and Over Again by Nathan Sykes

Ryan's favorite song:

- Natural by Imagine Dragons

Ryan's other preferred songs:

Classic Rock:

- King Nothing by Metallica

- Master of Puppets by Metallica

- Sanitarium by Metallica

- (basically anything by Metallica)

- Jukebox Hero by Foreigner

Other:

- High Hopes by Panic! At the Disco

- Believer by Imagine Dragons

- Control by Halsey

- Sad Song by We The Kings

I'll tag @pheita @writings-of-a-narwhal and @girlnovels

[xxc0nundrumzzxx]

Heyyyy

So you’re going to ask Finn out?? OMGIMSOHYPEDDDD

I overheard you while I was visiting and decided we need to talk about your game plan. That and a makeover, it’s the Jukebox ™️ matchmaking package!

She sat on his bed, with a determined yet giddy expression.

@blinding-shining-star

I think we should keep it simple. I don’t want to scare him away by doing something too crazy and big. I don’t want him to immediately discover that I have romantic intentions.

[hillnerd-art]

REPOST, AS I’M TRYING TO CLEAN UP MY PAGE- AND TEXT POSTS MAKE IT HARDER TO NAVIGATE. :)

Tagged by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves (thanks for thinking of me! Hope all your studies have gone well!)

Nickname(s): hilly, pillbug, little bean, mustela, hill

Gender: female

Sign: Virgo (sun sign)

Height: 5 foot 1

Time: 4:33pm

Birthday: the first day of fall! :D

Favorite Bands: Postmodern Jukebox, Pentatonix, Beatles, Queen, Panic at the Disco, The Clash, My Chemical Romance, Redbone, Foxy Shazam, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, Tenacious D, Led Zeppelin, flight of the conchords and more...

Favorite Solo Artists: Ed Sheeran, Sia, Little Wayne, Elton John, Billy Joel, Taylor Swift, Regina Spektor, David Bowie, Barbra Straisand, Ciara, Marvin Gaye, Mika and way more

Song stuck in my head: Breezeblocks, by Alt-j

Last movie I watched: Oddball- the heartwarming tale of penguins being saved from foxes by a shepherding dog. Had to check doesthedogdie.com before watching, as I don’t watch movies where the dog dies, as it makes me sob when animals are hurt. (This is why, I generally avoid horse movies, as the horses are ALWAYS mistreated at some point.)

Last show I watched: The Great British Bake-off Masterclass (Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood are life)

When did I create this blog: July 2015 apparently. I didn't post much, though.

What do I post: Well, this is my art blog- so that's all I post here, besides responses to people. It's definitely heavy on the Harry Potter, as it's my jam. Got others for other stuff though!

What did I last google: Harry Potter and the prisoner of azkaban pdf

Other blogs: My blog with random stuff, rants, fics, HP stuff, memes, funny stuff etc. is @hillnerd. My blog for political stuff is @suffrajett.

Do I get asks: Recently, I have gotten some. :) I like em, as I'm social, but am shy about contacting others- so it's nice to have the interaction!

Why did I choose this URL: Lol. It's just my name. :P

Following: I don't know where to find that number. Basically all illustration/art and HP blogs, with a few other things mixed in at random.

Followers: 570 +/-

Average hours of sleep: Never enough. Like 6 is the average, I guess.

Lucky number: Never really had one. I like the number 24 for no real reason.

Instruments: singing is my main one. I dabble in piano, and recorder (the most annoying instrument.)

What am I wearing: grey sweater and black tights, and green fingerless gloves

Dream job: Developmental artist

Favourite food: I love carbs, and chocolate.

Last book I read: 'Darcy by Any Other Name'- I love Pride and Prejudice spinoffs and AUs- this one is a particularly silly premise, but I genuinely enjoyed it. After the netherfield ball Darcy and Collins are struck by lightning and switch bodies. It's cute to see Elizabeth fall in love with Darcy in the body of Collins- thinking he IS Collins- so there's no 'maybe it's just because he's rich and goodlooking' for why she likes him. Very cute.

3 favourite fandoms: Harry Potter is the only fandom I'm active in right now. That being said, I'm into a ton of other nerdy stuff. :)  (Heathers, Pride & Prejudice, Jane Austen in general, Game of Thrones, Heathers: The musical, Marvel, old musicals, Hunger Games, Anne of Green Gables, Redwall series, Star Wars, Sailor Moon, Star Trek (oc, tng, & current films), Disney, Man from UNCLE (new movie), The Secret Garden, Hamilton, Wicked, DC, Avatar the Last airbender, Little Women, ReBoot, Fruits Basket and more. )

I get nervous tagging people (is it social anxiety if it's social media?) Lol.

Erm, I like you all, and hope to see your answers- so just tag me back if you fill it out, cause I wanna see! :D

[undesirablenumberone]

18, 19 e 22?

your favorite rp universe/world

é difícil decidir, honestamente. dois dos rps que eu mais amei criar e administrar se passaram no universo de gossip girl, mas eu sou perdidamente apaixonada pela dc comics e por rps de superheróis, a personagem com quem eu mais amei jogar é uma heroína e eu tenho alguns dos ocs a quem sou mais apegada neste universo. posso declarar um empate?

your favorite non-playable character

essa vai ser um throwback. alguém lembra do @thejukebox-rp​? o plot era construído ao redor de uma lanchonete, o pizza planet, cuja dona se chamava sra. lovelace. tem um trecho do plot que até hoje é um xodó meu: “(...) a sra. lovelace, proprietária do estabelecimento, costumava recompensar os bem-sucedidos com o que para eles era a maior honra possível: ao fim de cada dia, aquele que melhor representasse os esforços para, nas palavras dela, alcançar o nirvana, ganhava uma ficha e o direito de escolher qualquer música na jukebox para fechar a noite.” além dela, eu lembro do fatídico rp crossover de the vampire diaries/teen wolf/the secret circle da @romeoplots​ em que eu fiz tipo, umas 30 pessoas spammearem a inbox pedindo pra que fizessem ficha canon em aberto do famigerado greenberg. infelizmente meus pedidos não foram atendidos e ela permaneceu sendo um npc.

a plot that you’d like to play out

eu tenho um plot antigaço (tw: câncer, morte de personagem) que parece até que é amaldiçoado, toda vez que tento jogá-lo algo dá errado. eu só queria poder desenvolver o ultimate angst em paz aaaaaaaa!!

[blinding-shining-star]

Juju

-🍂

Autumn! <3

@duchess-of-dilemma

[blinding-shining-star]

What the world needs is people like me!

Salutations, my beautiful audience! Lovely to see you all. It’s your girl, Jubilee! Or Jukebox, who cares?

Anywho, I thought it was about time I made an account here. As for what I have up my sleeve- wouldn’t you like to know?

Standard DNI applies (mod and character are minors)

Star banner by @k1ssyoursister

[blinding-shining-star]

@ebb-and-f10w drew me today! Where was this guy at Homecoming photos?

[blinding-shining-star]

Short and Sweet!

Officially releasing on 1/24/20XX!