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so trueee!

i get so so pressed about writing my blorbos right and aaaaaaaaaaaaa

I have a lot of feelings about the rise of he would not fucking say that attitudes in fandom spaces and the paralysing effect it can have on creators. As a writer i think it’s important to just write what feels true to you and not what you think others will “approve” of. Like even as a reader i have enjoyed a variety of different characterisations that all work because the writer makes them work for a particular story. And a fic that’s written out of character to some will be in character to others. Writing fic is not your job you’re not being paid it’s your hobby please. Make them as close to canon as possible. Make them completely different. Who cares! Have fun! Have so much fun! There is an audience for every kind of fic and every kind of character interpretation i promise

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LMAOOO WHAT

Noelani and Pamela putting together the doorbell camera montage for the wedding causing both cove and MC to die in their seats while watching lol.

OH MY FUCKING GOD WAIT. THE DOORBELL CAM CATCHING COVE N MC SNEAKING AROUND TO EACH OTHERS ROOMS...

ofc they didn't catch him all the time, most the time he remembered the camera n took the long way around, but the few times they did catch him swinging around the back to your window, he would sooo scream because they put a fucking COUNTER at the bottom of the screen n it goes up every time cove is seen going to or coming from your room. catches the one time you sneak out too 💀

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I am no bird and no net ensnares me

toby + johanna

22nd October. The fog has thickened this morning, as has the ache in my temples. When I gazed out of the window overlooking the streets, there was a woman in ragged cloth, staring up at me from behind sullied-looking hair.

She procures to me the strangest of familiarities, as though I have spent my smallest years in her company, nestled snugly in the crook of her robes as she rocks me to sleep gently, all of the horrors that this street has seen nothing but a nightmare.

Perhaps she used to possess yellow hair, as I do.

Perhaps she is lost, or seeking help that will never arrive, as I am.

At least, until the young boy that was carrying scraps of something in his small hands crashed into her.

The songbirds and their melodic cries are still absent. I pray they will return, maybe with the clearing of the skies, akin to that of a fairytale's ending.

....

22nd October-

Signor Pirelli had me run some around the district to advertise for his parlor in the weather that was, if I'm being honest, bloody horrible. Couldn't see naught- almost bowled over a woman looking up to the upper levels of the buildings. Looked in a right state, she did, so I gave her 4 coppers and a pat on the head, to which the darks of her eyes went wide and she wept a bit.

When I looped back around the road to my master's shop, he was mighty chuffed to see how many papers were missing from my stack, and I saw his moustache moving up, down, around as he praised me loudly, messing me wig about so much that it fell onto the cobbles of the street.

I've been told many a time I should be grateful of what I've got in life. And I am. My mum and dad are both dead, but unlike the deceased around Fleet Street, they tend not to hang around.

fin

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wake up!!!!!

its the first of da month!!!!!

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basking in my pride from the fic i wrote

also they just having a hug!! everythings happy

also sending love to all affected by the tornadoes in the USA ❤️

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mood rn (i have three or four performances this week)

i might disappear off of the face of the earth, they take our phones : (

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look at them, your honor.

LOOK AT THEM 😭

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tysm everyone who got me to ten reblogs! this shit is insane!!! i hope you guys have a great week!

...literally

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Call Me Nellie, Will You?

summary:

nellie pov fic for y'all *big smooch* After Mr. Barker is taken, Nellie makes a rushed decision to aid the family he leaves behind and protect them.

Mrs. Lovett stared out of the little window that overlooked the cobbled road of Fleet Street, her head in her hands as she halfheartedly watched the engorged droplets of rain speed down the worn panes of glass, the dark clouds racing the other way as if to escape.

The faint fussing of a baby caught her attention again, and her eyes widened in alarm as she whipped around, her grip on the countertop turning her pale knuckles white. That bloody judge had been poking around again recently, and to Nellie, it was the doings of a guardian angel of some sort that all the days of crying hadn't reeled him in again like flies to a rotting corpse.

She suspected it was evening now, from the pale orange-black sky she spied through her front door's peephole. After touching down carefully onto steady ground from her makeshift plywood step, Mrs. Lovett quickly kicked it under the row of cabinets that served as her worktop, turning on her heel and descending the basement stairs to check on Lucy and the infant that seemingly couldn't keep its cavernous gob shut to save a life.

By God, Nellie. Have a heart for the poor things, will you? It's only been a week or so! Her inner voice needled painfully as the jingle of the bakehouse keys sounded in her grip, just as grating as every other noise she'd heard in this bloody shop.

The padlock fell from its perch as the key was turned, and Mrs. Lovett bit back a yelp, fumbling as she caught it in her cold hands. If the lock had hit the tiles, it would've meant exposure to danger that was very, very likely, what with the absence of the daytime's clamor in the streets around them.

Mrs. Lovett straightened back up as the padlock was placed on the latch, and she steeled herself to be nice, for Chrissake to the woman she felt she was always going to be second fiddle to in Benjamin's gaze. But honestly, it felt like the right thing to do. She hadn't done anything 'right' since she married Albert almost a decade ago. And now he was dead, so that said a lot about what kind of person Mrs. Lovett was.

"Everything decent down 'ere?" She called out softly to the darkness, and soon after her voice was answered when a trembling figure appeared, Johanna now asleep in her embrace. Nellie's face fell with dismay, and she strode to Lucy's side, gently dusting the shivering young mother off.

"If I may say anything, Mrs. Lovett, thank you dearly for your generosity." The distressed-looking woman replied quietly with a curtsy, her dress bobbing as she moved.

"Just call me Nellie, will you." She threw up her hands absently, her attention on a ripped seam on the front of Lucy's dress, looking back up at her with a twinge of irritation flaring up in her gut as Lucy frantically burst into another panicked flurry of words.

"How is it you act so placid and unscathed when those horrible men are sure to be listening by the door as we speak? I saw they harmed you dreadfully, what he did to you, if your monthlies are absent--"

"Don't worry about me, love. Look, I've been checkin' for days, neither the judge nor the beadle have shown their 'ideous mugs round the city. So why don't we take what time we have, and I'll clean you up all good, you and the babe." Nellie sighed, chewing on her already curled lip before eventually ambling up to the front window again to check the street.

Clear.

Lucy carefully passed Johanna over fearfully, her eyes flitting between Johanna and the window, where she ducked her head beneath the sill as she crouch-walked to the next door, following timidly behind Mrs. Lovett, who turned around incredulously with Johanna in arms, her eyebrows raised.

"Oh get up, nobody's even on the street, and I can handle it if anything goes amiss." She snapped, ushering the terrified girl over until the door was shut securely.

"Now, I have a feeling you'll try something daft, and that wouldn't be very good for you or the little bugger, so I'll have to be around all of the time, got it?" Nellie instructed as she placed the baby back into her mother's arms when she had leaned back on the edge of the little tub that called her above average sized slum home.

"Is this how the both of us will spend the rest of our days? Never going outside?" Lucy faltered, her eyes misting over as she gazed at her infant daughter, then back to her caretaker with a dismayed lilt to her hushed voice.

Sighing again, Mrs. Lovett emptied out her handmade rope basket onto the tiled floor, the garments that were in it moved aside with a flick of her ankle.

She'd ignored Lucy's question.

"I think I still 'ave a few things lying around in this place that you could use for Johanna," Nellie muttered as she hefted a pail of water to the inside of the tub, grimacing as it spilled partially.

At least this time, it ended up where it's meant to be. She thought with a huff, gesturing to the bath with one waved hand. "Now then, are you fit to lift the pails before I help clean you up?"

A nod followed Nellie's request, and exhales of relief were released as Mrs. Barker lowered herself into the tepid water, shivering as her bare skin prickled all over in response to the new situation.

"You've been so charitable towards me, friend." Lucy mused in a timid smile, her voice still quavering as Johanna splashed her tiny arms about, being held on her mother's knee firmly. "I am sorry you've had to face London alone, and though I do not relate to you currently, I feel for you with all of my soul."

Mrs. Lovett turned her face away, blissfully pretending to respect Lucy's privacy.

Should I let her know about how I feel towards Benjamin?

Who needs secrets anymore? Everything's gone to hell, anyways, and before the year is up, I bet an ass that we'll either both be in Turpin's pit or the looneybin.

"I used to hate you. I was jealous, I s'pose. Perfect hair, eyes, face, and, perfect...something else.." Nellie trailed off, now thinking about cutting her tongue out as soon as she was alone.

Lucy's face changed dramatically, still processing what she'd been told but the gist of it revealed. She had that look in her eyes where someone knew more than they were letting on, and she hoped that her bias for the barber hadn't been that obvious.

"If I am correct, I assume you are referring to how you've fawned over poor Benjamin time and time again," she spoke up, clearing her throat with the smallest of smiles tugging on her lips.

Mrs. Lovett sniffed, frowning. "Rub the salt in a bit more, why don't you? I've been a widow for almost ten stinkin' years, it'd be about time I was bedded by now."

"Had I not been pursued by Judge Turpin, I would have handed you in myself." Lucy retorted, gently prying the scrubbing brush off of its owner despite her slicing tone.

"Alright, alright. I don't want to ruffle any feathers, just dip your head under nice and quickly, I'll hold pretty little Jo."

And just like that, the small one-year old was nestled back into the crook of Nellie's elbow (with a sighed thank you from Lucy), no doubt confused as to why there was a bootleg copy of her mother glancing down with wide brown eyes instead of Lucy's blue-tinged ones, wild curls instead of long wisps.

Albert hadn't wanted a child, much less had he wanted to pleasure her in any way shape or form.

And even if it hurt to make countless trip after trip to the back door of the physicist's, Nellie liked to stroll back lazily, dreaming up names, scratching out little dresses on the road with a rusty nail, sitting on the cobbles a few streets away until she was sure he'd gone for work with his dusty brown leather suitcase.

She'd liked the idea of having a child, and the moment of Mr. Lovett's death wasn't really as joyous of an occasion as the newly-widowed Mrs. Lovett had thought it to be.

But she now owned his entire family's items and the pie shop too, so she had to thank him for something.

"Y'know, you're very lucky to have a mum who loves and values you, so don't you go causing any trouble for her, or you'll be the secret ingredient in my pies, alright?" Mrs. Lovett murmured out of earshot of the child's mother, picking her way around to her small dresser to locate a towel for Lucy, and maybe, just maybe, she could find that blanket she'd hoarded for years.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

"A-are you sure, Mrs. Lovett? Where on earth are you going to go?"

"Now, now, I just want to make sure you two are comfy, and you need an actual bed to sleep on more than I do, you're still nursing! No objections." Mrs. Lovett quipped, her robe pooling around her knees as she sat on the bed, tucking Johanna in with Lucy.

"I'm not much a singer, but 'ere goes, it's the only one I know, really." Nellie stretched, rolling over onto her back, letting her hair down from its usual high perch.

Sweet Polly Plunkett lay in the grass,

She turned 'er eyes heavenward, sighing,

As the next lyrics approached, she put on a high voice, while still staying as quiet as she possibly could, not wanting the neighbours snooping in on her again.

"I am a lass, who alas loves a lad;"

"Who alas has a lass in Canterbury," Nellie grinned a little as she rolled her tongue along the roof of her mouth, listening to Lucy applaud softly.

Soon enough, she could hear rhythmic breathing, and smiled faintly to herself.

I won't ever let your family suffer again, Mr. Barker, I swear on my life.

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...literally

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take my money now

Muppets Sweeney Todd Cast

This idea has been rotting my brain for so long I thought I'd put it together and share some ideas for the production:

• So I wanted Kermit to be in this somewhere so I thought a running gag could be that Mrs.Lovett's husband is still alive but Piggy keeps slamming doors on him, and trying to hide him. (Kermit welcomes Sweeney into the store, Piggy shoves him under the counter "A customer!!" like nothing happened)

• Mrs. Mooney (Helena) could walk by with 3 muppet cats sticking out of pies.

• Beaker as Lucy, I swear. In the flash backs, Beaker's hair isn't sticking up or he has a wig or something, but because he took poison, his hair sticks up, and Sweeney doesn't recognize him because of it.

• Most of Sweeney's victims could be the muppet vegetables, that he "peels" and secretly CHOPS. Or we could go a step further and have his victims be Muppet pigs (piggy cannibalism).

• I was thinking Sam Eagle for Turpin, but ultimately Deadly is the better choice, so I think it'd be funny if Sam was also a judge, disapproves of Turpin, and Sweeney says that he wants to shave the judge and Sam is like "I'M A JUDGE" "Not you!"

• Fozzy is Mrs. Lovett's customer and THINK OF THE PUNS!!!!

• Joanna is played by Camilla, so when the Judge sends her to the Asylum, it's just a chicken coop, and the chickens attack Sweetums (the Asylum Owner).

• ALSO PRETTY WOMEN BEING CHANGED TO PRETTY CHICKEN(S) I WOULD DIE.

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50 likessss this is nuts???

thank yall so much for starting this lil journey with me! more content comin soon!

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man i wonder how much i'd have to pay netflix to start it up again because : (

Monica Barbaro as Cora Vasquez in The Good Cop Netflix (2018).

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more Sweeney Todd notes (sweenett edition ft. nellie's horny ass)

for the two versions of 'The Barber And His Wife', sung by Sweeney and Lovett respectively, they have slightly tweaked lyrics, to give the sense of who the singer feels more sorry for maybe. e.g: in Nellie's adaptation, she sings "and he was beautiful" rather than Sweeney's "and she was beautiful", paying homage to the fact that;

A: Mrs. Lovett is a massive simp for Mr. Benjamin barker (i mean can we blame her though, look at the man)

B: sweeney was most likely oblivious (or politely ignorant) to his landlady's uh...advances. He was never interested in her and quite frankly, wasn't really that interested either after his return 15 years later to Fleet Street.

Take it as a sort of marriage of convenience thing Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd had going for them. She did something for him by keeping the razors and SURE AS HELL, the bedding was rumpled, meaning the favor had been paid off.

Also, take it in mind to know that even if it is quite obvious, Sweeney comes back from Australia as an individual who is extremely stuck in his own thoughts, so I can probably assume he wouldn't have been paying attention most of the times that we see him and her on the oh-so infamous sofa.

Not to mention, his bored-sounding responses in 'By The Sea' kind of give off an "auto-pilot" feeling.

But yall know even if it's not canon I'm gonna make brainrot of these guys anyway. They silly

Rant over : D

s

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The One Time I Wasn't There - FINALE -

(Part 4!! You guys are amazing!)

Hearing the soft but clear tinkling of a bell, Cora bristled with confusion, and sat up.

The sheets now rested at her hip as she caught sight of the mute nurse who'd made the noise, who was now holding up a whiteboard to her patiently.

"Um... I really appreciate your message, but I can't read it. Can you turn the lights on, if that's possible?" her patient replied with a slight irritated flare of her nostrils, flicking her gaze around the room once more

Callie gestured to the lights with a tilted head, and following Cora's reluctant approval, the dimmer lights were switched on and the writing on the nurse's board was visible without it being too bright.

Frieda said a visitor was here for you. Do you mind if they come in?

Her eyes flashing with surprise, she stilled. It might be him, and then what? Her throat was closing up just at the thought of him, accompanied by the familiar bittersweet pang of longing that showed itself simultaneously.

But she nodded despite her reservations, and the freckled nurse disappeared behind the door where the lights were too bright to look at for long. Soon after, Cora looked up from a loose thread in her gown when she heard the sharp click of the metal door, and she saw him, and he saw her, and his eyes glimmered with what she thought was relief, before he quickly came to her side, holding her face in his hands where he stood.

"I need to tell you something," she blurted out, her hands firmly on his

At Cora's outburst, he took that as a sign to step back from the hospital bed, his face going back into Squeaky Mode, amicable terror no doubt wreaking havoc in his mind again, like it always did.

She couldn't always tell what he was thinking, but often, now more than not, Cora was able to read her friend like a grade-school book.

"A-are you alright?" he managed, trembling visibly until she stroked his face reassuringly, tucking his hair behind his ears gently.

"I missed you," he breathed out shakily, finally.

He offered a timid TJ-style smile, and she cracked, unable to stop herself from reaching up and closing the distance between her and him with a emotion-filled hug, and she whispered in his ear quietly, so quiet she didn't know if he heard it, while her fingers raked through his hair;

"I love you too damn much, Anthony Caruso."

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