#without pulling a weird 'singer accent'

[ophanim-vesper]

outside: I like yfm bc their songs r bopping

inside: I like yfm bc the main vocalist, Puff Puff, sings in an articulate voice that I can actually understand. I'm not kidding this is the first band I've liked where I never have to search up a lyric video because I can understand their music so clearly, even without headphones.

You don't understand as someone who struggles to understand dialogue with the tiniest bit of background noise this is literally revolutionary for me, the inflections in his voice and how clear it is is also very satisfying for me. Even with lyrics I couldn't understand just by audio I'm able to understand by the visuals of the animation, allowing me to infer what the lyrics were without me having to open captions. And that's another thing, the animated music videos help keep my attention if the sick beats didn't already do that for me. It helps that the videos often visualize the lyrics almost literally, which further helps in understanding what the song is about.

[ask-narratordoe]

Starlet's Aside

Chapter 2: Preset [Word Count: 860]

Star woke up in a daze. Dumb magical hangover. What did that cube thing DO to her? She feels... Lighter? Is lighter the word for it? Lighter, and a little numb, and pretty cold. Did the cube fling her into the void?! Is she dead?? She couldn’t move, the room was so dark!

Ah.

It would probably help if she opened her eyes.

Her sense of sight. Star’s vision returned to her, blurry and unfocused. Everything was just colors... mostly shades of purple. Still unmoving, she mustered the energy to gaze around the space she was in. She laid before a tall wooden door, ajar, its ridges familiar in shape.

Her sense of touch. The weight of the world seeped back into her limbs as her eyes made an attempt at focusing on where she was. It was good to not be completely float-y anymore, but alongside her fading numbness came the influence of panic. Her body tingled with energy, yet not enough to fight gravity’s strength.

Her sense of taste. Star’s first attempt to get up left her grimacing, when she noticed an odd taste on her tongue. It was something citrus-adjacent; not quite like she’d eaten a lemon, but still a familiar sensation- aha! A lemon flavored lozenge. Baby Star practically guzzled lemon-flavor lozenges like she’d die without them. And as an overexerted singer, she just might have.

Her sense of smell. The second attempt at standing fared better, with Star being able to balance on all four hooves. The scent of various different perfumes, notes of dry woods and marine mists mixing together: her favorites from middle school. There was something so utterly wrong yet so familiar with the room that Star’s head spun.

Her sense of hearing. The whirr of her ceiling fan buzzed above her head, and she could recognize the end credits of her old favorite show. Its pop punk melody crackled in a manner only one device ever did, but Star’s parents chucked that speaker system out years ago. This could only mean one thing. She’s back in her room.

But something was wrong. Actually, a LOT of things were wrong. The walls looked more vivid than they did earlier, and she was sure the TV was off when she left, and as previously mentioned, the old speaker system was trashed. Maybe this was a room remodel, like a surprise gift for her that her parents set up to welcome her back home, so she would feel more comfortable in her old room! ...Okay, probably not. She had only really given them a day’s notice. Is this some sort of weird prank? What about the dice, then? Maybe its ability was to send the user to a random location they’ve visited before, or recreate any room from 10 years ago, and rolling one meant it recreated her bedroom! Alright, that’s pushing it. What in the world is going on, then-? It’ll be easier to figure out when that mind-numbing noise on the TV gets shut off.

Star glanced around, looking for the remote. Guitar, no, alarm clock, no, blankets, no, old perfume, no-. While searching, she noticed that not only was she in her old room, the room was strangely larger, like everything had been scaled up just a tad bit. Whatever, weird room magic. Star went to just turn off the TV by hoof, sick of the scavenger hunt, and her eyes caught her reflection’s gaze in the fading picture. She was a foal!

Okay. O~kay. Do not freak out. Do NOT freak out, Star. Maybe the dice just chooses to teleport its users randomly back in time, and also age you down, maybe! And-? Give you accessories?? That was a new one. Star rushed over to her side room, pulling on the light and cursing the sun for setting already, depriving her of natural light. At least the backup light still allowed her to see herself properly at night.

Just as she was in her youth, Star was a relatively tall filly. Somehow, the dice had chosen to give her a “themed” look. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail, accented by a trio of red, fluffy feathers. Her makeup- well, just liquid eyeshadow at this stage, was a matching scarlet, her earrings appeared to be a set of black and red poker chips, and she was wearing a black choker. On the floor next to her, which Star hadn’t even noticed, was a vibrant feather boa- in red, of course. Looking good! Now she could freak out.

Star fell backwards as her front hooves ran themselves across her features. How did this happen? How could a little black dice do all of this? And why was that thing on their coffee table?? Outer-lumerdian magic was odd, sure, but Star didn’t know it could do THIS! A scream bubbled up from underneath her, burning to be released. Her breathing quickened; she could NOT be twelve again! Starting her career from scratch? Starting high school from scratch? This had to be some sort of nightmare dice... until she heard something.

It came from the room next to hers. Doe’s room.

[Prologue] [<<Previous] [Next>>]

Event held by @theblindfoldedprince.

[deep-hearts-core]

2006 - final

originally posted 7/20/20

Switzerland Not entirely a bad way to start off. Strong vocals here, and even though this is a Ralph Siegel song it feels much less out of place than his entries in the late-teen years. It does lack a certain cohesiveness, though, in vocal style and in the styling. Moldova This one is repetitive as fuck, in such a way that I know I'm not going to be getting the chorus out of my head for a couple days. That's good, it stands out. Vocals are rough here though, not gonna lie. Natalia and Arsenium are somehow not singing into their mics, which should be impossible because they are literally wearing their microphones. I also could have done without Natalia in the swimsuit. Overall, though, it wasn't as bad as I was expecting from the clip, if that counts for anything. Israel Apparently people don't like this? I don't get why... it's a perfectly nice song, and Eddie and his backing singers have nice voices. There's a subtlety to this presentation that most aughts Eurovision, for lack of a better word, well, lacks. It's not really something I'd qualify as one of my favorites, but I can see it ending up midtable in my ranking.

Latvia A Cappella in Eurovision is always a little weird. While this is better than Belgium 2011, it nevertheless takes quite a while to get going - it's not until all six of them are singing that I actually know the form of the song. That beginning was super weird. As was the puppet? Robot? Whatever it was that the beatboxer was kicking around onstage for the latter half of the song. They are all good singers, though, which helps. Norway I like it. I enjoy entries that try to be mystical/magical and can actually pull it off. That chorus is especially good - like yeah she's not singing words or whatever but Christine sounds so gorgeous in her high range. The verses aren't as good though. It feels like she gets drowned out by the instrumental at times.

Spain I mean, it's okay. It's better than some of the other songs. The girls are relatively unified in pitch and in movement - but that staging was just weird. The office chairs thing as a whole is like... what???... and there are parts where it looks like they're at the hairdresser's about to get their hair washed. Malta  Fabrizio is not the most on pitch guy ever, but his song is better than his sister's by MILES. The chorus is catchy here. I can see how this placed 24th, though - Fabrizio might have an OK song, but his vocals aren't really up to par. That's the difference between him and Claudia, I think - Claudia has a good voice but got a shitty song, whereas Fabrizio's song was better but he just didn't have the voice for it. Germany Wait, I super like this actually. The whole staging has the vibe of, like, a Texas theme park glorifying the Wild West, but it actually kinda works. The chorus is super fun, and I think the lead singer here has a voice that really works with the song. I'm eh on the verses, but not enough so for me to not really enjoy this performance. A+, Germany!

Denmark Aughts ESC is truly the era of Western countries singing in genres that make no sense for them. I like the vibe of this song though. Sidsel has a good voice for this genre, and she keeps the energy high throughout the entire performance. I like early rock as a genre, so I enjoy this one. Romania Tornero, as a song itself, is I think one of my favorites from the year. Mihai has an awesome voice for this, too - that key change is epic. The staging is for the most part pretty cool, but I don't understand the "plot" part of it where the ballet dancer is sitting around looking sour, and I do have my issues with the styling - especially Mihai's hair. United Kingdom Another one going the "hello, fellow kids" route. This could have been a lot worse, I think? I'm bothered by the way Daz goes about his rap and the annoying accents of the background singers, but like... I can kind of see why people liked this. Greece A nice solid host entry. This song is so delightfully angry and sad, and Anna has the perfect voice for it - melancholy in her lower range, but also good for belting the more furious parts of the song. This song (and its styling, shockingly!) holds up even fourteen years later. France  This is nice. Virginie is a good (albeit a little sharp) singer, but there's absolutely nothing happening onstage. It's a level of plain that even I can't appreciate. Croatia This is apparently popular. I don't see it. The song... there's no mincing words here. I hate it. That chorus is especially irritating. The performance does salvage it a little - mostly Severina herself. She has a lot of energy and a good voice, she's styled well, she's just really fun to watch in a way that makes me hate the song just that much less. My top 37

Belgium

Turkey

Lithuania

Germany

Denmark

Norway

Romania

Greece

Estonia

Cyprus

Sweden

Armenia

Finland

Albania

Ireland

Bosnia & Herzegovina

Switzerland

Ukraine

Iceland

France

Israel

Malta

Andorra

Spain

Bulgaria

Portugal

Croatia

Latvia

United Kingdom

Netherlands

Slovenia

Belarus

Russia

Moldova

North Macedonia

Poland

Monaco

Seriously, it was so hard to choose between Belgium, Turkey, and Lithuania for my top three. It seriously could have been any of them - like, I sat and stared at my computer screen for AGES trying to decide. 

Voting/intervals Wow, so Greece really went all the fuck out on this opening act. It sure is memorable, but who the fuck is that soprano that they were showcasing? That interval was pretty cool though. I do love me some music history. Ok can someone explain to me why the fuck Serbia and Montenegro was allowed to vote in 2006 despite NOT FUCKING PARTICIPATING? Like I understand the mechanics of "late withdrawal, EBU made a decision on the matter" but why the fuck did the EU make the decision they did... smh. This Dutch presenter seems like such an asshole... what the fuck is he doing offering to give Sakis his number and actually doing that onscreen......... Thoughts after watching I sincerely enjoy Maria and Sakis as hosts. Maria's very funny to watch because she's never interacted with Eurovision before, so she's a little confused, but she's got the spirit. She's also very honest whenever technical difficulties happen lol. I... hate this stage? I like how parts of the floor can rise up, that was used to people's advantage a lot, but also the stadium walls sucked. And the way that artists could move them and reshape them... idk it made the stage look weird.

[anyoneseenadam]

Hey! I love your writing so much! Would you be open to write something about Azriel with a fae in Velaris who his shadows actively seek out and he has no idea why. I imagine that she works at a large library and that's where they meet because Azriel would go to figure out what was so special about her. Thanks!

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: implied smut, drinking, men being gross at bars (doesn’t go into detail), mainly just fluff and awkwardness though :)))

a/n: I rlly like this one so I hope you do to!! comments are always appreciated, hope you enjoy <3

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

 Azriel was standing with Cassian in a small street in Velaris. The ground beneath him was cobbled and all the houses in this area were brightly coloured, the sun seeming to shine brighter over them. They were waiting for Mor as she demanded they help her buy Rhysand a birthday present, desperate to get someone, anyone a good present. She was in a small local shop after Cassian suggested that he would love something from any small business and Cassian let out a groan as he realised she had wandered deeper into the shop. They had already been waiting twenty minutes for her.

“I’m going to drag her out,” Cassian said pushing off the wall and Azriel huffed a breath through his nose.

“Please be quick, don’t let her scare you into staying.” Cassian threw a rude symbol over his shoulder and Azriel grinned reservedly.

He let his gaze travel over more of the houses, his gaze catching on a white house with blue accents, and a blue balcony where a girl sat sipping an orange drink from a large glass and reading a book. He observed her for a while, she was sat curled in a straw chair with a colourful cushion and there was soft music coming from her house, her hair was down and natural and her face was clear of makeup as she soaked in the sun, wearing a males oversized shirt and some knee high socks.

Feeling his stare on her she looked up, grinning cheekily at him when he flushed red and lifting her glass to him in greeting. He was saved from further embarrassment though when Cassian came out, dragging a triumphant Mor who was holding up a purple, silk shirt and bottle of wine. Cassian made a gagging face behind her back as she linked arms with both of them, dragging them down the road and chatting their ears off about the kind old lady from the shop.

As they left Azriel dared a final glance over his shoulder to the girl from the balcony who was still watching him, cocking her head, and waving as he left. As they walked home, choosing to enjoy the sun, he heard nothing of what Mor said, completely focused on the girl from the balcony.

--

When they got home Mor winnowed away to hide her present and Cassian made a comment about Mor’s unique ability to always get horrendous presents. They walked through the door and Feyre instantly looked up from her spot of the sofa, gaze narrowing at Azriel.

“You look different.” She said and Rhys looked up too, frowning when he saw Feyre was right.

“What did you change?” he asked as Amren walked into the room, her head tilting.

“Nothing.” He said defensively as everyone stared at him, not enjoying the way everyone was looking at him now and wishing he could be alone to daydream about the pretty girl he had seen.

“Haircut?” suggested Nesta but he shook his head.

“I haven’t changed anything!” Mor was back now too and had joined in staring, gasping when she realised.

“Where are your shadows?!”

“Ohhhhhhh, that’s it,” Cassian said, sitting down next to his mate as Azriel felt for the shadows that followed him, feeling a rush of white-hot panic shoot through him when he couldn’t feel them.

“Wait what? Where are they then?” Rhys asked and he shook his head, searching for them and frowning when he felt them far away.

“They’re still in Velaris, they must have just stayed somewhere,” he tried to explain.

“Is there another shadow singer in Velaris?” Amren asked and Rhys shook his head.

“Not that we know of,” Azriel felt a flood of relief as his shadows flew back in, almost sheepishly and settled around him, whispering complaints and apologies, as he wondered what had kept them.

--

You had frowned when the handsome, winged male had left, rather enjoying the eye candy. Your friend walked back outside and took her seat opposite you, as you placed down your book and picked up your Apperol Spritz.

“You just missed the hottest male I’ve ever seen.” You said, laughing at her as her face fell completely.

“Why didn’t you shout for me!” she screeched, and you flung an olive pit at her head,

“He would have heard me idiot!”

“Well did you at least get a name?”

“No but I made prolonged eye contact and I think he got the message.”

“The message being?”

“That I would like to marry him and have his babies.”

“Ah makes sense,” you were laughing together as she carried on with the story she had been telling you about the cute Faerie at her work when you felt a cold feeling settle around you, strange given you were still sat in the sun. She stopped talking, giving you a weird look.

“How are you doing that?” she asked as you shrugged.

“I’m not,” the feeling moved, and you realised you were surrounded by shadows, alike the handsome man you had just seen. Your initial anxiety slipped away as they started playing with your hair and caressing your skin alike a lover would. “Hot boy had shadows like this,” you commented, and your friend gasped, eyes wide and a hand over her heart as she sighed.

“Maybe you’re mates!” you rolled your eyes, relaxing into the shadows touch.

“I don’t think my commitment issues can take that,” you joked, and it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“That cynicism is going to be the death of you,” she said in a singsong voice before downing her gin, “Now onto important matters, Rita’s or The Marine?”

--

Two hours later you were completely dolled up, lips red and eyeliner smudged, heeled boots elongating your legs and your all-black outfit making you look intimidating enough that you wouldn’t be bothered by gross men.

“We’re fae, why do you dress like a vampire,” your friend asked, the two of you already slightly buzzed from pre’s.

“Cause vampires are hot and I’m hot so it’s a match made in heaven.”

“Also she has a blood kink!” your roommate shouted from the bathroom and you threw a shoe at her.

“Bitch.” You said, laughing as she came out and the three of you stood to leave.

“Am I wrong?” she asked, and you shoved her, muttering a small no under your breath.

The three of you made your way to Rita’s and got in the queue. You leaned against the cold, brick wall when you saw him again, similarly dressed in all black and somehow looking even better under the light of the moon, his tanned skin glowing in the pale light. He caught your eyes, his face barely changing as he lifted his hand in a half wave, you nodded your head up with a smirk. Your friends followed your gaze, both gasping slightly as they caught sight of him at the end of the queue with his friends.

“Is that hot boy?!”

“Uh huh,” you smiled cheekily at her, “And I call dibs.”

“I get why you want to have his babies,”

“Wait you know him?” your roommate asked, and you shrugged with a smile. “How the fuck do you know the high lords shadow singer?”

“I get around,”

“He was outside earlier today,” your friend translated as the three of you moved into the club, instantly heading to the bar for more drinks.

“That too I guess, shots?” the three of you ordered six vodka shots and you laughed at your friends’ reactions to them.

“How do you enjoy this,” your roommate squealed as you tipped your head back, smiling at the familiar burn.

“Feels good,” you said, taking your second.

“Sadist.”

--

Azriel couldn’t believe his eyes. There you were again, your bare face swapped for dark makeup, and loose clothes swapped for a dress he desperately wanted to see on his floor. At first he wasn’t even sure it was the same girl, your style so different, but it was. And he had waved. No cool head tilt like the one you gave him, no sultry eyes, and pouting lips, just a stupid wave. And then you had laughed with your friends and he decided he needed the sound bottled, something to keep with him at all times.

You had walked inside without so much as a second glance and Azriel had to refrain himself from slamming his head against the wall.

“Who were you waving at?” Amren asked, the small women appearing next to him.

“Just someone I met earlier.” He didn’t want to get into the details, especially not around Cassian who would tease him relentlessly if he heard. Amren, thankfully, dropped it as they moved into Rita’s, his eyes instantly finding you at the bar, two empty shot glasses next to you as you laughed with your friends.

He moved with his family to a table that pretty remained reserved for them as Rita came to get them some drinks and see if they wanted food. He only half listened, ordering a Scotch as he watched you as you and your friends moved to dance together, completely enamoured by you despite not having said anything to you.

Eventually he pulled his eyes away and focused on his friends and his drink as they laughed into the small hours of the night. He kept stealing glances at you, his grip on his glass tightening when he saw you leaning against the bar waiting for drinks as a male leaned too close to you. He almost stood to intervene when saw you lean in close to the man, meeting Azriel’s eyes over his shoulder and whispering in his ear. Azriel wished he could hear what you said but you were too far away, and the music was too loud, but whatever it was, the male turned white and scampered away, almost tripping over his feet as you giggled.

When it happened this time he noticed, feeling the coolness of his shadows leave and he watched as they travelled over to you, wrapping around you, and making you look like an angel of death. You turned and caught his eyes, winking at him before grabbing the tray of drinks the bartender had laid out for you and sauntering over to your friends.

“Is she a shadow singer?” Feyre asked, following his gaze and he shook his head, feeling a smile come over his face as he watched you interact with your drunk friends.

“No I think they just like her,” his high lady smiled at him,

“You mean you like her,”

“I haven’t even spoken to her.” He said drily and Nesta leaned over,

“Love at first sight,” she said in a singsong voice making him roll his eyes.

“This isn’t a romance book,” he said, huffing as a crowd moved in front of you and he couldn’t see you anymore.

“You tell yourself that,” Feyre said, patting his knee.

An hour later, when most the club was empty, you were standing, swaying slightly with your friend leaning on you.

“No baby, no more you’ll throw up again,” he heard you coo as she reached for a drink that was left on someone table. She huffed but you passed her into the arms of your other friend, and he sat up straight when he realised you were coming over to him.

You bowed your head slightly at Rhys and Feyre as all his friends turned to stare at you, your gaze unfaltering and your back straight as you looked at him.

“I think these belong to you,” you said, gesturing to the shadows swirling around your arms.

He tried to fight his blush, pulling them back in, “Yeah, thanks..?” he trailed off and you finished for him.

“(y/n).”

“Azriel.”

“Well Azriel,” his name sounded divine on your tongue, and you shot him another half-smile, “see you around.”

--

The next day, he was up only three hours after he fell asleep, desperate to find you. He wandered into town, usual leathers swapped for a white shirt collar peeking out of a dark sweater, his hands tucked into his pockets as he found himself wandering down your cobblestoned street. He looked up to your balcony and considered throwing rocks at the glass doors like in one of Nesta’s romance novels but paused when he saw all the lights were turned off.

Instead he chose to wander into the shop Mor had been in the previous day. The room smelt old, and he could see the dust moving in the morning light as he walked in. An old lady was behind the counter and she smiled as she recognised him.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked as he came to stand in front of her.

“I actually had a question,” she motioned for him to continue, “Do you know where I could find (y/n)?” he asked, and she smiled a knowing smile.

“Interested in my granddaughter are you?” she asked, eyes sparkling and Azriel rubbed the back of his neck, smiling nervously, “She works at the library in the square, I’m sure you’ll find her there.”

He thanked her and she waved him away, knowing she would get to hear all the details next Wednesday when the two of you met for tea. But until then she was happy to watch the handsome man leave to find you.

He flew to the library that your grandmother had mentioned and walked in. This was always one of his favourite places to come in the city. The bookshelves were tall and overflowing, candles covered the room, and there were huge glass windows on the far wall that cast the room in planes of light. He walked around for a while, letting his shadows lead him until he found you with a pile of books in your arms that you were going to return.

You smiled when you saw him, dressed in a black dress with lots of daisies on it that went halfway down your calf, a black cardigan, and black boots. Your hair was held back in a low bun, but you had strands falling out making you look impossibly cute, and he almost said as much as he moved to take some books from your arms.

“So are you stalking me now?” you had asked cheekily, and he stammered when he realised just how weird he looked.

“No, no I…”

“Relax I’m teasing, I’m glad you’re here actually.”

“You are?” he asked, relaxing slightly as you stood on your tiptoes to put a book on a shelf.

“Yes, you’re very pretty,” he laughed, and you smiled at him, your eyes creasing.

“Well so are you,” he replied as you turned to face him, “But you do keep stealing my shadows and I’m wondering why that is?”

“I’m stealing them am I? I just presumed that you were very mean to them and they wanted someone else,”

“They’re spoiled,” he joked, watching as they trailed up your arms and you giggled,

“You speak about them like they’re pets.”

“You’d be surprised how accurate that actually is,” he muttered as you moved to the next aisle and your laughter bounced of the walls, wincing slightly due to your drinking induced headache.

He went to help you with more books when his fingers touched your hand and the word hit him, mate. You looked up at him shocked before giggling.

“I guess that’s what the shadows meant,” you let out an ‘oomph’ as suddenly the shadows shot forward, pushing you into his chest and Azriel looked at you.

“I have a mate.” He repeated to himself.

“And I have commitment issues so this might be rough,”

“It’s fine I have attachment issues,” he replied, unable to stop the smile forming on his face, “Match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you joked as he leaned down to you.

“Can I kiss you?” he practically whispered, lips almost touching yours as his wings circled the two of you. You nodded slightly and the two of you stumbled back from the force of the kiss, his hands gripping your waist tightly as yours wove into his hair, grinning against his mouth.

“Azriel,” you muttered between kisses, pulling back slightly only to just be pulled right back in. You repeated his name again, successfully pulling away this time as his lips attached to your neck.

“Az, we’re in a public library.”

“So?”

“So we can continue this when I’m off work,” you shoved him off with a laugh as he grumbled, before pulling you in for a final kiss.

“What time?” he asked.

“My shift ends at three,” you smiled as he looked at the clock.

“It’s only eight,”

“Maybe wait at your house,” you laughed at his expression, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth before walking off, shooting him a smirk over you shoulder.

Only six hours, fifty-nine minutes left.

[adaodinson]

I didn´t call you babe, I was asking what it meant

It’s been a while since I posted a story, I apologize, I´ve been like crazy cause I’m starting college this year and well, I haven´t had time.

I finally watched Bill and Ted´s trilogy and of course I now adore them and have the biggest crush on Ted. I thought of this while rewatching the first movie today so here it is. In this story Lizzie and Joanna are saved by Rufus like in the movie, but they don´t stay with Bill an Ted (they can still be a part of the band though).

Summary: When the guys go to London in the XV century, they encounter someone else who needs a hand.

Relationship: Ted x femreader, Bill x platonic!femreader

Warnings: none.

Oh you did it this time, you certainly did it. There was no way you would get away from this execution. You were being dragged by the guards, not that you would try to fight them at this point, you knew it was hopeless, but you weren´t going to make it easy for them either.

The wooden door opened with a loud creak as the light from the outside blinded you. You could feel the change in the floor, from cold stone to dirt. You weren´t precisely scared, you were hoping you would get out of this just like the past times but now they took you by surprise, and unlike the others, you didn´t have an escape plan now.

You felt dozens of eyes on you, looking in disgust. Everyone here knew you at this point: the young girl with the weird accent that had no family and only knew how to steal. It was partially true, but of course there was more to you. You didn´t bother trying to change their minds about you anymore, though.

-Aha! I encounter you again- yelled the king from his seat. You rolled your eyes at him and at the look of victory in his eyes. You really didn´t want to give him the satisfaction of killing you, and you didn´t want to die either.

As the guards settled you in place, you realized they were dragging two weird looking guys and tying them up next to you. They had clothes you had never seen before, and they looked funnily scared. The blonde one had a kind aura, he seemed sweet, and the dark haired one, as foolish as he looked, you had to admit was rather handsome. Well, you were clearly lying to yourself, he was beautiful.

-First time here, boys?- You asked with a giggle, still refusing to believe you were going to die.

-You’ve been in this situation before? Are you a ghost?- they asked at the same time.

-I’ve indeed been in this situation before, but I can guarantee I´m not a ghost- you stated.

-Well, how did you get out? We could use some help ya know, babe- The dark haired said with a cute and confused look in his eyes. You flinched at the nickname, you certainly hadn´t heard that before and didn´t know what to think about it.

-Babe?- you asked.

-Yeah?- The same guy asked, waiting for you to say something else. His expression suddenly changed as if he had realized something- Wait, did you just call ME babe?- You swore he was blushing.

-No, I was asking you what it meant…ARGH- you were interrupted by the burning sensation of rope around your neck. They were putting you all in position for the execution.

Behind you, you heard a man screaming nonsense “They fell from the sky!!” “This devilish red box!!”. He was being carried by a cart and was hugging the weirdest thing you had ever seen.

-This is it. Lord, I can´t believe this- You were getting ready to face your destiny when you noticed there where only two executioners. Before you could even realize what was happening, the executioners cut the ropes that were holding you.

-Billy! Socrates!- The guys yelled while hugging the men. You then felt a hand on your shoulder and quickly turned, ready to punch who you thought was a guard.

-DON´T- The cute boy said while covering his face.

-Come on, babe! Come with us, we can get you out of here- You didn’t even stop to think about it, you just jumped to the cart and screamed your way through the town. You were speeding up more and more, and you were not feeling ready to die again, so as you passed a bridge, you managed to grab a rope that was tight to a wooden structure and pulled so it would block your persecutor´s way.

-WOW That was excellent! - both boys said at the same time and then did a strange movement with their hands in the air while shacking their heads happily. They were definitely the weirdest people you had ever met, but you liked that.

As you reached the woods, the guys hurried all of you to get into the red rectangle. You saw the blonde guy going through a book and pressing some metallic thingies.

-Oh I´m Ted by the way, and that is Bill, Socrates and Billy- Ted said while pointing at each of them. You blushed at his attention.

-I´m Y/N- you said with a worried smile since the guards were getting closer.

-Y/N- Ted repeated proudly- Beautiful name for a beautiful lady- That made you blush even more, especially since you were pretty close to him because of the small space inside the red rectangle.

Suddenly all your surrounding changed and you could only see what seemed like infinite. You closed your eyes while screaming and hang on to the shirt of whoever was next to you. Spoiler alert, it was Ted. He didn’t even scream through the time tunnels since he was too busy looking at you.

The red thing finally stopped and Bill asked you to stay inside. You didn´t see much of what happened out there, you just heard Bill and Ted say: “Be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes!”. You didn´t know what that meant, but they said it with such conviction you assumed they were wise words.

After the guys returned, you made more travels to who knows where and then finally arrived to what Bill and Ted called home. You saw Ted´s house and your head was now hurting with questions, but you understood Ted and Bill needed your help so you would ask everything after that.

They took you to a place called The Mall. It was huge and filled with people. You were looked at weirdly, but to you, the weird ones were all of them. Bill explained what The Mall was and Ted never left your side, he was at the end of the line, guarding all your new friends, but always made sure you were feeling safe.

They gave you a Slursy? Slusfy? Oh whatever, it was the most delicious thing you had ever tried, and Ted smiled so widely just by seeing how happy you were with it. He mentioned they would have to go get another historical figure that they had brought before, and you didn´t want to be without them so you asked if you could go with them. They agreed happily.

You then met Deacon, Ted´s little brother, and before you knew you were at a place called a water park? You didn´t understand so Ted took you to take a look and explain while Bill went looking for Napoleon. You got lost in Ted´s explanation by looking into his eyes, and he realized you weren´t paying attention. He thought you were making fun of him in your head or that you thought he was an idiot. But what you blurted out (according to you, you said it in your head, apparently you didn´t) made him see that wasn´t at all what you were thinking.

-How can you be so cute and pretty?- The question was out before you could even think. You turned a bright red and looked at the floor, but Ted softly grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

-You really think that, Y/N?- His eyes were filled with so much joy, hope and a beautiful spark that you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him.

-Well, yes, of course I do. I mean, you literally saved me and…- You weren´t allowed to finish, a pair of soft lips in yours interrupted you midsentence, but of course you didn´t care. You tasted and enjoyed every bit of it, just like Ted did.

-Okay guys, I found him… WOAH- Bill was carrying a man covered in a towel and was smirking at you both.

-DUDE- Ted said looking happier than you had ever seen him (and that was a lot to say).

-Awesome!- They both said and did what you now knew was an air guitar movement.

You headed back to the Mall and soon realized your historical friends had been taken to prison by Ted’s father. You didn’t really understand what was going on, everything was new for you and Bill had to drag you as you stood astonished looking at a bicycle (not to mention how many questions you asked about the car). The guys decided it would be best if you stayed with Missy and Napoleon in the car, Ted specified he didn’t want you to get hurt.

Missy asked you tons of questions and answered yours. She was really nice, and even though Napoleon was weird, he was really funny (because he didn’t understand anything).

Finally Bill and Ted returned with the others and you headed back to the Mall.

You weren’t a historical figure, so you got to watch the guy’s complete presentation from behind the stage and to clap like crazy when they finished. Ted had gotten you some clothes when you returned to the Mall, and you were the most comfortable you had ever been.

You decided to stay with them, but you did accompany the guys to leave the historical figures at their times, they ended up being your friends after all.

When you returned, Ted wanted to offer you to stay in his house, but he knew his dad wouldn´t allow it, so you stayed with Bill instead. You saw Ted all the time though, and when they discovered that you could sing they immediately asked you to join their band and be the lead singer. You couldn´t say no to Ted´s beautiful face, so you agreed, and of course their love for music was contagious and you were loving every new song they showed you. Rufus then confirmed you were a part of the band in the future, and so, that´s how your life in a different time began, and you couldn´t love it more.

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

I've had a really hard day today and I saw someone wanted more Jimary crack, so I decided to write it to cheer myself up. I hope three fics in a row isn't too excessive. (All credit goes to the anon who suggested this.)

--

‘She’s drunk.’ Joe said very matter-of-factly, lifting his wine glass to his lips, only to discover there was nothing left in it.

‘Very drunk.’ Replied Phoebe, reaching for the bottle nearby and giving them both a refill.

It wasn’t as though they had never seen Mary drunk before. She was usually all giggly and bouncy after a few drinks, perhaps more talkative than usual and, in Joe’s opinion, far less uptight. But they had never seen her like this; her eyes heavy lidded, downing her wine like it was water and clumsily swaying to the music that filled the busy lounge, stumbling every now and again to keep her balance. She was clearly taking her break up with Piers very badly.

‘Freddie’s livid.’ Joe murmured, glancing over at the singer who appeared to be deep in conversation with Peter Straker, but kept glancing over at the intoxicated woman who was trying to coax Brian into dancing with her, much to the displeasure of Anita. ‘Prepare yourself for a screaming match later on.’

‘I already have the popcorn ready.’

Mary eventually gave up on Brian and loudly announced she was heading into the kitchen for another bottle of rosé, almost stepping on Delilah as she staggered through the door. She surveyed the kitchen a moment, the room spinning as her alcohol consumption finally caught up with her, before she noticed Jim sitting alone at the kitchen table, trying unsuccessfully to uncork a large bottle of champagne between his knees.

She had always been a little jealous of Jim. Before he came along, she had always held out hope that Freddie might return to her one day, discover he wasn’t actually into men or something daft like that. But then this Irishman appeared, who wasn’t like Freddie’s other boyfriends; for the first time, it seemed like Freddie was in love and ready to settle down, happy in a way she had never seen him before. It had been hard for her to accept; but when Piers had finally had enough of her obsession and left her, she realised that she would never be able to properly move on with her life if she kept latching on to the past. She had to let Freddie go. She had to accept that, while they would always be friends, Freddie was gay and what they had all those years ago was over.

Jim noticed her hovering and looked up, giving her a small smile. ‘Enjoying the party?’

Mary hummed in response, going to the cupboard where the booze was kept and digging around until she found the rosé she was looking for. When she looked back at Jim, he still hadn’t managed to remove the cork and was quietly cursing under his breath in his thick Irish accent.

It was quite a nice voice, her inebriated mind told her.

‘You have a lovely voice.’ She suddenly said aloud, her words slurred. She wobbled up to him, heels clinking against the kitchen tiles as she unscrewed the top of the rosé bottle. ‘Where is it you’re from again?’

Jim blinked at her dumbly. He wasn’t used to Mary initiating conversation like this; she was usually so reserved. ‘Um, a town called Carlow. It’s near Dublin.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Mary drawled and without any warning, she suddenly plopped herself down in Jim's lap, making him jump in surprise. ‘Ireland is sss-such a lovely place. Lots of sheep there.’

Jim’s face went red, and he carefully set the champagne bottle down on the table. ‘Yeah, I suppose there are.’

Much to his horror, Mary put the bottle of rosé to her lips and began downing the drink ruthlessly, not stopping until it was almost half empty. When she finally stopped, she carelessly abandoned the bottle next to the champagne and turned around to stare Jim directly in the eyes, her smile disturbingly wide.

‘You have beautiful eyes.’ She garbled, moving her finger as if she was going to poke them out, but she instead ended up giving him a weird boop on the nose. ‘And your arms are so big.’ She reached down to squeeze his bicep, giggling like a schoolgirl. ‘I bet you’re really strong. Remember when you lifted me up at Freddie’s birthday party?’

Jim remembered. He was so plastered that night he had almost dropped her on her head.

‘Are you feeling alright, Mary?’ he asked warily, not comfortable with how close their faces were.

‘I’m wonderful, Jim.’ Mary giggled again, though it sounded a little manic. ‘I really, really want to dance. Will you dance with me, Jim?’

‘I’m not much of a dancer, Mary.’ Jim coughed, glancing over his shoulder in hope that someone might come through the kitchen door and save him.

‘That’s not true! I’ve seen you dance!’ Mary insisted, pulling at his hands, ‘come on.’

Jim didn’t have the energy to argue with her, already a little tipsy himself, and he allowed her to drag him into the middle of the kitchen, face filling with colour as Mary threw her arms around his neck and sagged all of her body weight against him. He realised rather quickly that if he let her go, she’d probably fall face first onto the floor and never get up again.

The next five minutes had to be the most uncomfortable of his entire life, as he swayed in awkward circles with his husband’s ex-girlfriend, mindfully trying to keep his hands off her waist. He wasn’t a religious man, but in that moment, he prayed to every God in existence that someone would call him from the lounge and rescue him from this predicament.

Mary suddenly lifted her head from his shoulder and whispered in his ear. ‘Marry me, Jim.’

The Irishman stared down at her, eyes comically wide. ‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Marry me.’ Mary grinned at him, leaning so close that for one horrible moment he thought she might try to kiss him. ‘We can have lots of beautiful Irish babies together.’

Jim sighed. Next time they had a party, he was going to replace Mary’s wine with Ribena. ‘I’m very flattered by your offer, but there are two problems; I’m gay and I’m married to Freddie.’

‘Oh bugger.’ Said Mary, as if she had forgotten that detail. ‘You can still marry me though. We can run away to Cardiff together.’

‘Carlow, Mary.’

Her face suddenly fell and she stepped away from him, looking betrayed. 'Is it because of the cats?'

'The what?'

‘That's why you don't want to marry me, isn't it?’ Mary's lip trembled as if she was about to cry. ‘Freddie has cats and I don't!'

‘Mary, I’m going to get you some water.’ Jim replied, making a beeline for the sink.

‘No, don’t leave!’ Mary grabbed his sleeve, trying to tug him back. ‘Stay with me, Jim. I'll buy you all the cats you want!’

‘You’ll feel much better after drinking this.’ Jim said firmly, pouring a glass of water and turning around to hand it to her. As soon as he did, her lips were suddenly pressed against his own, arms locked around his neck so there was no escape as he yelled against her mouth in surprise.

‘Mary!’ he roared, as soon as she released him, half the water having spilled onto the floor during the struggle. ‘What the bloody hell are you playing at?!’

Mary grinned; lipstick smudged across her face, so she looked like the Joker. ‘I’ve never kissed an Irishman before. Does that make me Irish now?’

Before Jim could even answer, she suddenly dry heaved; he grabbed her and stuck her head into the sink as she vomited up the contents of her stomach.

--

‘What the fuck happened?’ Freddie demanded, as Jim walked into the lounge, his shirt ruffled, a smear of red lipstick on his mouth and a very drunk Mary giggling uncontrollably in his arms.

‘Your ex-girlfriend asked me to marry her, then threw up.’ Jim replied, as if this was a normal occurrence. ‘I’m going to put her in one of the guest rooms so she can sleep it off.’

He turned and walked out of the lounge before anyone could respond. Freddie clenched his glass so hard it was a miracle it didn’t shatter in his hand.

‘I’m going to murder her!’ he growled, lunging towards the door, only for Phoebe to grab him from behind and hoist him up. ‘Let me go! That backstabbing homewrecker is trying to abscond with my husband!’

‘Take it easy, Fred.’ Phoebe said calmly, holding onto the man effortlessly. ‘You can kill her tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, we haven’t even had dessert yet.’ Said Joe, holding onto Freddie's legs to stop him from kicking. ‘I spent all fucking day slaving over that baked Alaska, you’re eating it whether you like it or not!’

Firstly, I am so sorry you are having a hard day. I feel terrible that whilst you are doing so much to entertain us with this outrageous crackship, you are not having a good time. I can just hope that writing these stories bring you as much joy as they bring us.

And now, the fic. I AM WHEEZING. First of all, I fucking love Joe. Even though we've never heard him speak, or ever listened to his words through his own perspective, I feel that your characterisation is so realistic. His dessert comment slayed me lmao.

And oof, Mary being drunk off her ass is my new favourite trope. And lmao her thinking that Jim doesnt want to marry her because she doesn't have cats😂😂😂 Leave him alone, Mary. He doesn't want to have irish babies with you.

And hahahahaha Freddie's reaction is as epic as I had envisioned. And god, this is another nightmare that Jim isn't going to recover from soon.

This is such a fantastic crackship, omg. I absolutely loved this💙💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

Also anon, if you ever want to talk, you can always dm me, if you are comfortable of course🧡

[elejahfanfic]

FANFICTION

Part 2

A Joel Goran x Elena Gilbert

_a crossover fanfic, but still tvd

_AU of course

a/n: Elena leaves Mystic Falls to live in Toronto. There she meets Joel, who if course us Elijah's doppelganger...

_song is I just Wait by Paloma Faith

link to part 1

tag_ @eternityunicorn @beautyandwords @elejahforever @bulldozed88

*

Toronto, Canada

Hope Zion

"I don't know if I could describe it as love at first sight. I think there’s an energy that some people have where they elicit all of the stuff from you and you suddenly become the best version of yourself around them. It’s as terrifying as it is magical." Joel said to Alex as they were discussing his recent great interest in one particular woman that seemed to have changed his behaviour, finding him ordering flowers for that special someone.

"Where have you read that?! There is something so strange about you lately. It's like you have become this calm and colkected and soulful person. No flirtations. The nurses are bewildered. It can't be that this woman out of nowhere just changed everything... and you are actually dating her the old-fashioned way?! That is so not your style?!" Alex said.

"Maybe I will start believing that some women do possess the gift of witchcraft. I have to prepare for the OR!" Joel  his fellow collegue behind the OR prep.

Whatever it was Joel Goran was mesmerized by Elena Gilbert. They had a lenghtly talk in the cafe and asked her out for lunch straight out. And they did have lunch, as well as dinner and they didn't even kiss let alone end up in bed, which for him was like eating breakfast. And he sent her flowers, big bunch of red tulips.

"Maybe she has just awaken the gentleman in him!" another nurse remarked to Meg. The gossip wouldn't stop and everyone was eager to meet her.

*

In Elena's apartment, Elena answered Bonnie's call.

"So, what have you found out? He can't be a doppelganger, can he?!" Elena said.

"We have resurrected old witches, and you saw your own doppelganger, why is it weird to believe that Elijah couldn't have a doppelganger?!" Bonnie said.

"He is - yeah- totally looks like Elijah, but he is different. I made a mistake and aaid Elij...oel to him."

"Elijoel, ha?!"Bonnie remarked.

"Oh, I will take a photo of him and send it tonight. He is taking me out to a jazz club! Figure that." Elena said,

"I wanted to say no... and just leave Toronto, all this is too much, and then, I just can't. I find myself in this weird moment when I look at him and he is so normal and I want to tell him about Elijah, but then I see him run a mile if I tell him that witches and vampires exist."

"You don't have to tell him anything. You are free of Klaus and you only now have a witch friend and a vampire friend." Bonnie exclaimed.

"Just one vampire friend." Elena said.

"I thought Stefan left?!" Bonnie asked.

"Yes, but we still kinda speak," Elena confirmed,"why does everything always have to be complicated?!"

"Nothing is complicated. Just go out with Elijoel and... have fun! I will call you if something weird happens!

"Ok. Talk to you later." Elena said and hung up.

She looked at the flowers. It screamed Elijah to her.

"Huh" Elena huffed a little. It felt like fate played a trick on her and the tables were turned. 

Hours later, Joel was in his office, the night had fallen and he just finished with his daily paperwork. He turned to look outside the window. It was a supermoon night. 

"Hey. mate!" Joel said jokingly to the moon," are you going to cause havoc tonight?!" 

As he turned away his eyes caught a reflection on the window of himself but something was unusual. It was as if he saw himself in a suit and yet he was wearing a T-shirt. He looked back and then shook his head.

"I am too tired!" he said picking up his phone, pressing the speedial with Elena's number.

"E-Joel?!" Elena said as she picked up the call.

"Elena- are we still on for tonight?"Joel said.

"We are." Elena replied.

"Good. Shall we grab something to eat, first?!" Joel suggested.

Elena agreed with all and they soon met in a bistro to Joel's liking. The place or the time was not important to Elena. She wanted to get to know him. And he was pleased to tell her some of his life story. Elijah with a New Zealand accent and so cool- Elena thought. And the mannerisms were all Elijah. Elena flashed back to a day ago when she followed him to the hospital. He was wearing a suit and she watched him talk to a hub nurse, explaining something official. 

It was so Elijah. When it came to her to tell how she came to travel the US and Canada for two years, Elena found herself masking the truth, telling white lies and omitting the supernatural part of her life.

At one point her looks swayed to the supermoon outside. He noticed some strange longing in her gaze.

"Don't tell me you believe in all the crazy superstitions about the moon?!"

"Ha?" Elena looked back at the surgeon, "sorry-uhm- it looks beautiful -superstitions?! Me?! But I believe in vampires, werewolves-I am only joking," she said chuckling a bit and then thought, "if only you knew."

"A friend of mine has a theory that moon does affect some people deeply. She said something about the blood moon after the harvest- anyway, I have nothing against folklore and myths. The stories are deep and carry  great morals." Joel said.

The waiter came to offer desserts but they declined. Soon they were on their way to the club.

They were ushered to their table as they got in. They  ordered their drinks. The show had already started. The singer was introducing the next song. 

"Oh, I've seen her in Chicago!" Elena remembered.

"She is really good, I heard- from the nurses!" Joel smirked cutely.

Elena laughed a little now, " so, this date thing was the idea of the nurses?!"

"No. I just heard them talk about Paloma Faith and..."

"It's fine. I will tell you something you probably wouldn't believe" Elena said but Joel cut her off midsentence.

"Oh, don't tell me- your ex was a werewolf and I should actually be beware of him because we have a supermoon outside"

"Yeah!" Elena chuckled a little,"no-it's- I can't remember when I was on a date the last time?!"

"Ok. Let's then do the whole date thing- do you want to dance?" Joel offered his hand.

Elena nodded. They walked to the dance floor.

.....The twinkling in your eyes makes me wonder if I’m dead or alive,

And I, I just wait.

How many clues you need me to leave you?

I feel like I leave ‘em all the time.

Spending days together, I just,

Can’t help wondering when you’ll be mine.

If I could hold your hand, yes I would,

Be with you every day, if I could ....

Joel looked at Elena as if she was this mysterious woman, as he thought. There was something magical about her and although he kept denying it, his soul knew it was love at first sight, the moment she turned and looked at him at the cafe. Again, she was looking at him with familiar eyes that twinkled with a strange invitation making him wonder if he was dead or alive and he now pulled Elena into a gentle kiss as his hand glid up her neck feeling her skin tremble with sweet sensation of the union.

When you gonna open up your eyes and see,

That you and I could always be.

Put your palm into mine,

And stop wasting time.

My heart is breaking, without you,

I don’t wana live another day.

And tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, I’m waiting.

[brooklynislandgirl]

📝 for the answering of applicable questions, please!

~Quietly, in the Lower Garden District~

~Colour~

The man behind the counter is ready to reach over and strangle her. She can see it in his expression, so put upon by each time she shakes her head and asks if she can have another sample made. She almost wishes he would try, he'd lose more than the hour that she's been at this. That might be uncharitable of her but the man reminds her of the kind of person who, when not wearing his little vest, is exactly the kind of person who sees Beth and Anakin walking down the street together and curls a lip, makes passing commentary to other middle-age white guys. Too poor, too weird, too questionably ethnic to suit them. The kind of person who would walk faster when it got dark, or would lock up before they could make it to a door. There's more of those than either one of them care to acknowledge, and the irony is almost delicious. Except that sometimes Anakin cannot help but to be very aware of that kind of prejudice and it really takes another chunk out of his self-confidence.

"Allow me to explain again," she says softly, in crisp and enunciated haole. "I said I want a very specific shade of blue. A hint of royal with a tinge of cadet number five. Then mix at the edges a touch of Prussian and just enough Turkish Steel to give that depth soft edges. Then overly sky atop it all. Or better yet, please find me a customer service specialist who can, in fact, understand what I am looking for because clearly? You're not it." That might be her fault, she does want to paint the living room the exact shade of Anakin's eyes.

~Song~

She doesn't play as well as Andy could, and she would never be a singer though she enjoyed it maybe because it was more about intent than execution, one of the few things that held true in absolute. And sometimes neither one really mattered when he folded himself up like an envelope just so he could rest his head against her chest and instead of plucking strings, she only ran fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and she focuses hers across the back yard. Beyond the pool and past the grass. Colours blur and fade and there's a ripple of dissonance within the Tapestry to make a boundary between what is solid and inflexible and what is hidden in a space outside of the Tellurian. Words they don't use in every day conversation. She isn't quite singing now instead humming a tune that would reveal more than maybe they're ready to dive into. Other words they don't use, either. Her palm comes to rest on his brow as tender as she knows how. The other reaches around him to tuck one of the knitted blankets around him. He doesn't seem to mind the combination of warmth between herself and the acrylic, is maybe the only other person who could be cold in anything else less than 80 degrees and 90% humidity. It takes an infinite amount of patience, skill, and mana to redirect the rain to a different part of the city. He'll forgive her weariness even if he doesn't understand why she will go to bed early, sleep in late. And that's okay. He doesn't need to know. It's better if he doesn't, it would spoil the gift. 'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home.

~Scent~ The balcony door is open letting muggy air move sluggishly in through the French doors. Beneath her the bed is a little too stiff for comfort. Her laptop almost too warm as it rests on her thighs and only serves to remind her that she should probably get out of the charcoal grey suit she's wearing. She closes the screen and pulls her glasses off, raising them so they rest in her hair. Takes a sip of the wine she'd bought at...some store she won't remember the name of... but that came recommended by the bellhop.

She didn't have the forethought before leaving for Baton Rouge to steal borrow something to bring along. For reasons that she didn't want to explain because there's no very polite way to explain she's grown used to having him sleep beside her. That there's something soothing that comes wafting up from his skin the closer he gets, arm wrapped around her, leg half thrown over. At the end of a day there's his natural chemistry that mixes with clean laundry and cigarette smoke, something sweet and spicy from his preferred night cap. Sometimes there's blood. Sometimes the distinct smell of wood or metal from something he's working on for himself, the kind of tinkering that seems to bring him peace like nothing else can. There isn't an exact name for it but she can recognise it at a thousand paces. It makes her want to burrow furtively into his chest cavity and find some way to live inside of that newly hollowed out space. Maybe just thinking about it was all she needed. Maybe it's some new kind of magick trick. Regardless, she'd managed to doze off just long enough to be startled when the door of her hotel room clicks shut and he's there. Pulled out of her day dreams and turned into flesh. With exactly the kind of apologetic grin she's become as familiar with as she is the smell of him. "Guess, I jus' couldn't sleep." And she knows there's more going on behind the sheepish look, and the way he stands at a polite distance away, maybe waiting for permission. She doesn't say a word. Only turns down the previously pristine other side of the bed before slipping from hers. The white silk blouse hits the floor seconds before she disappears into the bathroom.

~Meme~ She eyes Anakin. Looks at her phone. Back and forth for five solid minutes before she just starts giggling. Which turns into a laugh.

~Sound~ It's those little sub-vocalisations that get her. Every near guttural groan, every single one of those breathless whimpers that cling to the edges of her senses soft as cobwebs or hard as thunder. There are so many layers between them, so much context to be drawn from even a half of a sigh. They are a siren song even if she doesn't know what rocks he wants her to dash herself on.

~Setting~

She cringes. "I don' wanna tell ya." He's helping her work on a psychological profiling assessment that's required of her continuing education class, which is all part of her professional development. But she's worried because it's going to sound incredibly racist, coming as it is not from a white-passing woman of colour but one of incredible privilege who absolutely knows what it's going to sound like. But she cannot resist the look of self-accusation and anxiety that creeps into his micro-expressions and doing anything else would feel incredibly dishonest. Something she doesn't want to foster in him. "Somewhere 'round sunset. Da bayou waddah look like it on fire. Dere's some soft Zydeco music goin' on in da backdrop. Air's hot an' heavy like steam 'tween lovers an' if ya real quiet, can hear da bayou jus' come alive wi' oddah souls. Dere's pirogues bobbin' along, an' you can smell some ono grindz cookin' somewhere. Spanish moss all hangin' down from cypress an' willow trees. A mixture of old spirituals an' dat beautiful, melodic pidgin dat get spoke down dere...I know is nevah really li'dat.... also make me t'ink of witch blood an' Mokole dat pass as gators... all dem ghosts an' da kine ya nevah can put ya finger on but dat give ya chicken skin jus' t'inkin' 'bout..." ~Fashion Style~

Clothes litter her floor. Flung without a care to their resting places. Some on the edge of her bed or the arm of a chair. Suits and jeans and tee-shirts. Undergarments and socks. Like some small hurricane exploded out of the closet, just with less water. There's sarongs too. Luau shirts that just aren't him. Shoes too. Finally, she steps back and examines her handiwork. A frame work of satin boxers that will caress the most delicate parts of him without bunching or pinching. An accent of which are picked up in the suit lapels and bow tie. White shirt, black buttons. Silver cuff-links. Socks that are thin as a Friday night prayer, and absolutely voluptuous Paolo Scafora oxfords in a blue so dark they look black at first glance, polished to a mirror gloss. Dior and Stefano Ricci. Famous labels from famous houses of style.

If the gala wasn't required...Anakin wouldn't be seeing the light of day and there'd be very different reasons the clothes would be laying scattered about.

But she kind of also misses that scruffy plain, slightly tattered tee-shirt and skinny jeans even she would have a hard time getting up past her own hips, and questionably aged converse. Aesthetically speakin, Anakin is ever clothing designer's wet dream and she has never wanted to be a circular scarf more in her life. "Wow. Jus'....wow." ~Feeling~

"Belonging."

It's all she says before she kisses him. Softly and sweetly, a little wet from a stray tear that slips down between their lips. Admitting this is admitting that maybe, just maybe, she loves him, too. Which puts a countdown on everything. Which means that he's going to find the wherewithal to leave her and to take with him every that makes her feel even the littlest bit real. She doesn't know if she'll survive the loss, so it's best that she make the most of it before he goes. ~Animal~ "If you were one dem changing breeds? You'd be a were-fossa. Dey are dese medium sized ....well. Dey kinda look like cats, but also...dey don't. Related to da civet but also like...mongooses. Mongeese? Wha'evah. Dey from Madagascar. Da Malagasy got kapu of a kind an' actually are sorta afraid of dem, an' wi' good reason...dey carnivorous ay-eff." She glances over. "Don' laugh! Dey beautiful an' rare an' I really like dem a lot. An' I'm not gonna tell ya any more about dem. Gonna make a new animal, an' call it a' Anakin." There is every possibility that she will do this. Some day.

~Holiday~ Christmas. It will always be Christmas. Not the lights and snow and carollers, though there's plenty of that to go around. Not the chill and dank air, not the interminably long night, not even because of gifts. It's not a childhood of Santa surfing or canoeing, and it isn't sandcastles and malasadas left by the lanai doors from Hawai'i, either. Maybe it's a touch of the peace and goodwill often associated with the season, and how he came to find her when he needed her the most. But if she had to give just one reason, it's that he brought her back a sense of wonder that she'd thought was lost when her world had shattered. He took something terrible and turned it into something beautiful. That isn't an ordinary, every day kind of magick and she doesn't know how she will ever be able to express her love and gratitude for him.

"Wha'ya t'ink about mebbe da Bahamas dis year? Get out of da city for a lil while, I promise I won' make ya go for da beach."

~Season~

When Beth thinks of seasons, she thinks of it being a mainland phenomenon. Her own islands only really have two: Kau from May to October, where everything is beautiful and averages about 85 degrees give or take, and Ho'oilo from November to April when the best tides bring in the biggest waves. It's only cooler by about ten degrees. Which is maybe why she always feels so cold so far away from home. And why she likes it here so much. She knows other places have as many as six seasons, broken up into more agricultural and solar tied patterns of weather and climate and sometimes even just spiritual nature. But taking all of Anakin into account, she would have to say... "Monsoon. It's da time of life-giving rains. But also it can be dangerous for the same reason. Cool but lingers along your skin. An' it's somet'ing I keep wi' me always, waitin' for it."

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Capital Centre in Landover, MD, USA - November 29, 1977

(x)

A fan filmed the first couple minutes of the show on a silent Super 8 camera, but he was caught by a security guard and the film was confiscated.

Another fan recalls the band took a 30 minute break in the middle of the show, and started the second half of the show with Tie Your Mother Down. He also says they performed both Spread Your Wings and It's Late.

Here is a review of the show from the next day's Washington Post. It reveals that the band have swapped Keep Yourself Alive with Now I'm Here. The former now follows Bohemian Rhapsody in the setlist, as it had earlier in the year.

There is a great story on Brian May's website by Tracy Chevalier, who attended the show as a youngster:

It started with a champagne toast and ended with a limo pulling away into the night. In between these two gestures symbolising glamour and sophistication, I lost my virginity. Not in the technical sense (that would take another few years), but in other ways. At my first ever rock concert — going with four friends to see Queen at the Capital Centre in November 1977 — I got an eye-opening peek at elements of the adult world, with its power and its limitations, its glittering artifice and dirty reality, and it demonstrated how little I knew and how much I had yet to learn about life.

I was ripe for it; overdue, really. I had turned 15 the month before the concert, and though people thought I looked older than I was, I was remarkably naive and unworldly at that age. Despite a few character-building events in my childhood — the death of my mother when I was almost 8, the experience of being a minority in DC public schools — I was so unsophisticated, so unaware of the world, that I didn’t even realise Queen was an English band until the lead singer Freddie Mercury appeared in a tight white catsuit on stage at the Capital Centre, raised a glass of champagne at 18,000 screaming fans, and toasted us with “Good evening, Washington” in a fruity English accent. I was stunned. Then I started screaming.

I had been a Queen fan for a couple of years by then. A Night at the Opera was the first LP I bought, and I could sing every word of every song. I don’t remember how I was introduced to Queen — though I do remember hearing their biggest hit, Bohemian Rhapsody, on the radio and being impressed by its audacity. It sure beat the hell out of the Beatles, Bob Dylan and Neil Young, which had been my older sister’s staple music diet. By 14, I was writing Queen lyrics on the desk where I sat for algebra class, swapping them back and forth with a boy I had a crush on, and daydreaming of guitarist Brian May kissing me.

The concert was part of Queen’s News of the World tour. While not a great album, especially after the double whammy of A Night at the Opera and its follow-up, A Day at the Races, it did produce two of their best-known songs, We Will Rock You and We are the Champions, which drop-kicked them firmly into stadium anthem territory. Appropriately, the concert began with the lights going down and the primitive, effective, impossible-not-to-join-in-with BOOM- BOOM-CHI, BOOM-BOOM-CHI, BOOM-BOOM-CHI intro to We Will Rock You rolling over the audience. Everyone immediately jumped up out of their seats and began to stomp and clap along. I, too, stood and stomped and clapped, watching in awe as people began flicking their Bic lighters, a gesture I had never seen before. What, were they going to set light to something? I had tried not to act surprised earlier when people nearby started smoking grass in public, but now was there going to be a riot? What other illegal things would go on that night? Then a spotlight picked out Freddie Mercury, who began to sing, “Buddy you’re a boy, make a big noise, playin’ in the street, gonna be a big man someday . . .” and I thought, “Jesus H. Christ, that is the loudest noise I’ve ever heard! Is that legal?” The wall of sound terrified me, and I wanted to cover my ears, but I didn’t dare, as it would have been a very uncool thing to do. I think I looked around for the exit, wondering how many people I would have to climb over to escape the sound. It was just so goddamned loud — exhilarating, yes, but painful, too, dangerous and overwhelming. I wavered between loving it and hating it, but knew it would be uncool to hate it, so I’d better try to love it.

Towards the end of the song the single note of an electric guitar began to hum louder and louder under the chorus we were all singing and shouting, and Brian May stepped into the light to add his distinctive sound, ending We Will Rock You with low, long-sustain, three-part harmony chords, overlaid with a high melody he made fuzzy and metallic by using a coin as a guitar pick. I adored Brian May. He was the reserved, straight guy (literally) to Freddie Mercury’s camp high jinks — tall, dark, good-looking, with long curly hair and a melancholy pensiveness that made every teenage girl want to comfort him. At this concert he was wearing a silvery white jacket with long, pleated wing sleeves; that combined with his mop of curls should have made him look effeminate, but instead he was deeply sexy.

I loved Freddie, too, for his outrageous antics, his riskiness, his joy at performing and glorious indifference to how ridiculous he looked wearing glittery leotard jumpsuits, eyeliner and a mullet, prancing and strutting and posing, twitching his hips, smacking his lips and otherwise hamming it up. But even without being conscious of Freddie’s sexual preference — I hadn’t yet met anyone who was openly gay — I instinctively sensed he was not to be lusted after. For all his extrovert, welcoming stage presence, he was clearly playing a part, which served to hold us at arm’s length; whereas Brian May’s taciturn moodiness was clearly himself served up raw.

Thank God for Freddie, though. Without him, no one would have moved on stage: Brian May was not a dancer, John Deacon, in time-honoured bassist tradition, stood solidly in one place throughout, and Roger Taylor was trapped by his drum kit.

To set us at our ease, after We Will Rock You Freddie toasted us with a glass of champagne — “Moët et Chandon, of course,” after the reference in the hit Killer Queen. My friends and I heard this and screamed and clutched one another. He mentioned Moët et Chandon! That was our champagne! He was acknowledging us! I swear he made eye contact with me, 200 yards away and over the heads of thousands.

For we had done what we thought was the most original and extravagant gesture (for 15-year-olds) a fan could make: we had sent a bottle of champagne backstage. We’d pooled our money and gotten an older sister to buy it for us — the same sister who had been obliged to drive us all the way to the Capital Centre, smirking at our overexcited fandom. We’d even made our way to the stage door down a loading dock at the back of the arena and reluctantly handed over the precious bottle to a bored roadie, who said he would take it to the band. We’d had our doubts about his reliability, and his jadedness had dampened our enthusiasm a bit: had we really blown all that money — $20, which in those days meant 20 hours of babysitting — to have some unshaven jerk with a beer belly swill the precious liquid? But clearly the roadie had pulled through for us, for there was our champagne in Freddie Mercury’s hand, and he was referring to Moët et Chandon in his pretty cabinet, the lyrics we had so cleverly quoted in the note we sent along with the bottle. We were sure we — among the many thousands — had managed to get through to the band.

If we had bothered to look around rather than feast our eyes on Brian and Freddie (I’m afraid John Deacon and Roger Taylor never got a look-in from me), we probably would have seen other clusters of fans also screaming and clutching one another during Freddie’s toast. But we didn’t look around or harbour doubts, or we ignored them. It was only much later that I allowed myself to consider the veritable champagne lake that must have existed backstage at every Queen concert. Tip to rock stars: want a free truckload of champagne wherever you go? Sing a song that mentions some — preferably name-checking a more expensive brand to ensure better quality — and watch it pour in backstage every night from adoring fans. There must have been a hundred bottles from fans back there, not counting the stash the band may well have brought with them in case Portland or Houston or Detroit weren’t so generous. No wonder that roadie looked so bored — he’d probably been put on champagne duty that night.

Freddie’s toast worked its magic, though, giving me the connection I needed to negotiate a place within the strangeness of the concertgoing experience itself: the weird, scary power of a crowd; the mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment at collective participation; the physical discomfort of standing for two hours when there’s a perfectly comfortable seat behind you. It is one of those tricky, unresolved tensions at concerts: are we there to listen to the music or actively respond to it, participate as a group or answer our needs as individuals? It’s an issue I’ve never entirely resolved — from Queen onwards I have spent concerts going in and out of myself, losing myself to the music and spectacle one minute, the next minute overly conscious of myself clapping or singing or screaming, and wondering why concerts have to be such an uncomfortable physical ordeal.

I was taken aback by the sound of Queen’s music live: not just the volume, but the familiarity and also the strange rawness of the songs. Studio albums have all the mistakes airbrushed out, the layers added in, the balance between players carefully calibrated, like clever dialogue in a play without the awkward pauses and unfinished conversations you get in real life. Queen albums were highly produced, multi-layered affairs. Live, the music was necessarily stripped of a lot of the choral mixing, more raucous, simpler and much messier.

The band wisely didn’t dare attempt to reproduce in its entirety the long, baroque confection that is Bohemian Rhapsody. For the infamous operatic middle section, the band members left the stage as the studio recording played. Freddie and Brian then changed costume, and, at the word “Beelzebub”, all four men popped out of a door in the stage floor and joined live again for the heavy metal section, fireworks going off, dry ice pouring out, everyone going berserk, me in tears of excitement. It was one of the best live moments I’ve ever witnessed. Indeed, I was spoiled by seeing Queen play live before anyone else; for sheer exuberant theatricality, no one else has come close.

The concert ended with an instrumental version of God Save the Queen and once more the flicking of the Bics, which, no longer the virgin concertgoer, I understood now as a gesture of tribute. My friends and I weren’t finished, though. Emboldened by Freddie’s toast, we decided to go to the stage entrance again and say hello. I still choke with embarrassment when I think of it. When we got there, a black limousine was pulling away, our heroes and their entourage inside, and we were left with the detritus: older, dolled-up, hard-bitten groupies who had followed the band around and not made this night’s cut. I stared at one, at her long, bleach-blond hair, her miniskirt, her bright red lipstick. She glared at me briefly; then her face went slack as she dismissed the idea of me being any sort of competition. In fact, I had not really taken in that there was a competition, that the girls (and I?) were here to spread our wares and catch the attention of one of the men, and then . . . And then? I hadn’t thought it through at all. I wouldn’t have known what to do with such a man as Brian May if he even so much as looked at me. All I knew was that I was way, way out of my depth, that even if I had eluded the roadie minding the door, there was no way I was ever going to get past a woman like this.

The contrast between the sparkling theatricality of the concert and the gritty reality of the backstage, with its dirty concrete, anonymous faces and unfulfilled dreams turned my stomach, and almost ruined the night. I wished I hadn’t seen it, because it reminded me that the show was a fantasy, while it was my aching feet and the roadies’ boredom and the groupies’ hard desperation that constituted real life. As I stood watching the limo pull away and the unsexy women stand about, licking their wounds, looking for a ride to the next city and another chance, I felt as if a door had been kicked open a crack on to a world I knew nothing about: the seamy underbelly of the concertgoing experience, a mix of sex and power and exploitation, of cigarettes and poorly applied make-up and long, cold nights waiting to be noticed and defining yourself by someone else’s attention. If that was grown-up life, I didn’t want to know about it. I wanted the champagne toast, but not the limo. Not yet.

Fan Stories

“I had just turned 16 a few weeks earlier. I was absolutely 100% in love with Queen (since age 13 when first hearing Killer Queen on the radio) and therefore could hardly believe my sister's friend, who worked with her at the Roy Rogers restaurant at the mall, who said she knew Freddie Mercury's girlfriend, Mary, and that she was going to get a backstage pass and would try to get one for us as well. Well, just before the concert she met my sister at a pre-arranged point (inside the venue) and said that she was unable to get us the backstage passes. You can imagine my disappointment and my thinking at this point that this girl was not telling the truth about knowing Freddie's girlfriend (it seemed too good to be true to me to begin with). Then after the concert, which was great of course, we were depressed (my sister and I - but especially me) at not getting to meet them, so we decided to wait for their limo to come out of the underground parking area at the Capital Centre. When it emerged we got so excited we decided to sprint to our big blue station wagon and follow them. With my learner's permit only, I followed them at probably over 80 miles per hour - I remember it being the fastest I had ever driven but I was determined not to lose them - to a restaurant somewhere in DC. At that age, I didn't have my bearings around the city. We didn't want to freak them out so I think we just watched them go inside from our car. Then we ended up waiting outside in the cold air for I think around 2 hours - anyway - enough to turn my nose red and make my lips and toes numb. We weren't allowed in the restaurant - and there was a bouncer from Liverpool out front that prevented us from even going in the lobby to warm up. At one point Roger came down the stairs into the lobby and I smiled at him and he smiled back and started over to the door - but was stopped by another man who grabbed his arm. So then he just continued downstairs to the bathroom, and ignored us when he went back up the stairs. When they finally emerged from the restaurant, I was frozen in more ways than just the temp. Brian said, "It's a bit cold out here". One of them (I don't know who because I think I was in shock) said, "So, were you at the concert?" And we said yes. My friend who was hardly a Queen fan grabbed the attention for herself by shouting "That was the best concert I've ever seen!" or some such thing. I was so embarrassed not being able to think of anything to say in my stunned condition. Freddie looked at me briefly then looked over at my sister. He nodded at my sister but he never stopped walking to the limo. Brian walked over to me and said something like, "Did you enjoy the concert?" and I think I mumbled something like, "Yes. It was fantastic." Then all I could think to say was "Can I have your autograph?" He said "Sure" and ended up giving me the autograph and his pen. So I had to tap him on the arm to get his attention to give him his pen back. "Here's your pen." Can you imagine - here I am meeting my idols and all I can say is this? This all happened within about 20 or 30 seconds it seemed, and they all got into the limo quickly - they seemed pretty tired. I can't remember if they had one or two limos. All four of the members were there and I think a couple of other men - probably manager and driver(s). Freddie didn't say anything, just acknowledged us without a smile and got into the limo. John did the same. I remember thinking Brian was pretty tall. I stood very close to him. I am almost 5 foot 9 and he towered above me it seemed. Of course the hair probably added several inches! The best part of the story I guess is that my sister's friend, the one who knew Mary, said that when the band got back to the hotel they said there were some "nice working girls" waiting outside the restaurant. I guess they thought we were older - we were only 16 and 17 and still in high school of course. We were dressed very conservatively and with long coats.

My sister's co-worker said that she was good friends with Mary, because their families had been neighbors, and so was happy to get to visit with her. Also she said she thought that Freddie was the nicest member of the group, but very shy.” - Donna13

[dannifielding]

Demon!Dean/Amelia Snippet

Just because I keep thinking about this scene over and over again, feel free to read it too :D

“Do you think it’d be alright, if I could just stay here tonight?” Amelia sang softly, stroking her hand through Dean’s hair. “You can see I'm in no shape for driving, and anyway I've got no place to go.”

She didn’t know the song, she didn’t know the singer, and she wasn’t even sure if the song was out yet. She’d not even thought of singing at all, but as always sometimes she just couldn’t help it.

There was a time that when she was this heartbroken, she wouldn’t have sat and sobbed, instead she would have taken a moment to calm herself down, then headed out to get insanely drunk and find a couple of people to take back to her room. She’d rinse and repeat until she could come out of the other side feeling a least a little less sad.

That wasn’t going to work this time. She stroked Dean’s hair again, looking at his broken skin and his closed eyes. No matter who it was that just wasn’t going to work. Nothing was going to make her feel better because nothing was going to bring him back. She didn’t even want to chase after Metatron. She didn’t care that he was out there. She didn’t care that she looked like shit. She didn’t care about anything other than Dean Winchester, who Sam had laid out perfectly on his bed.

“Tomorrow we can travel around this town, and let the cops chase us around. The past is gone, but something might be found to take its place…” She sniffed, wiping her eyes. He looked so peaceful. Hopefully he was somewhere nice. Hopefully he would be okay.

She was just thinking about lying down next to his body when someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned and saw Crowley stood there, barely any expression on his face. She knew she should have jumped up ready to fight the King of Hell who had ultimately led Dean down the path to his death. Instead she just sighed heavily, unable to even find her anger. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“What, no screaming, no punching?” he asked in reply. “No calling for Moose or your little angel pet?”

She just shot him a look. “What are you doing here?” she asked again. “Unless you want me to call Sam, I don’t think you came here for a viewing.”

She wasn’t wrong. “If I wanted to see a dead body then I have plenty of ways to do so,” he replied. “No, actually, I’m here to return a favour.” He walked closer to the bed and her arm shot out, as if she could stop him. He shot her a look of his own, knowing she had very little power if he wanted to harm her. “I’m here to bring your boyfriend back to life. Are you really going to try and stop me?”

She regarded him for a moment. “Why?”

“Because I have such a big heart,” he replied sarcastically. “And it’s not exactly back to life, but that’s just semantics, isn’t it?”

Again, she regarded him, trying to see his angle. If Crowley was here then it couldn’t be good, could it? Like he said, he never did anything out of the goodness of his heart. There had to be some ulterior motive to him coming back for Dean after he’d died.

She lowered her arm. She was sure she was going to regret this soon enough, but right now she couldn’t think of another option. “Do it.”

Even he looked a little surprised at how quickly she had given in, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He moved a little closer, still keeping an eye on her, before taking a breath and just speaking to Dean. Soft, enticing words that Amelia didn’t listen to. She shifted closer on the edge of her seat, trying not to breathe too loudly in case it interrupted whatever Crowley was doing.

Dean’s eyes opened, showing nothing but black on the other side and she realised what he’d meant by ‘not exactly back to life’. She jolted back slightly in surprise, a feeling of dread filling her up. Had she just let Crowley put a demon into Dean’s body? Had she just sat back and watched him be possessed without even moving a muscle to stop it happening?

He sat up slowly, watching his flexing fingers as feeling came back to them. It was a weird sensation – coming back to life – and it made her all the more certain that there was nobody in his body but Dean himself. That perhaps he was the demon inside of the meatsuit and that Crowley had just tempted him over the dark side with his calm, British accent.

He looked up at Crowley. “Welcome back,” the King greeted and Dean smirked, his eyes going back to their natural green.

“Where are we going?” Dean asked.

“Wherever the moon takes us,” he replied. “However, we do have something a little delicate to deal with.”

With a nod of his head he motioned to Amelia, and Dean’s head turned as he saw her sat there for the first time. He turned on the bed until he was sat up in front of her, legs off the side. His gaze was hard, and somehow a little unforgiving, and she almost shrank away from it. “Dean?” she asked timidly, hoping for some confirmation of any of her theories.

He reached forward and yanked her out of the chair, pulling her in for a kiss that surprised her enough to gasp against him. He deepened it with no thought for the audience they had. For a moment she agreed with that, surprised that he didn’t taste absolutely awful, but a relief filled her that lasted only until her embarrassment at Crowley being there has her pulling back.

“It’s really you?”

He nodded, smirking again. “You expect death to keep me down?” he replied. She shook her head, her smile growing wider. She knew there was a lot to deal with, but for now she was just so happy to hear his voice again none of it really seemed to matter.

She hugged him tightly, almost shaking with the strength she was using. He didn’t hug back right away, and when he did it felt almost like he was uncomfortable doing so. As she started to settle down, she started to feel like something was really off with him, so she pulled back.

“We should get Sam. And Cas,” she told him.

That was obviously the wrong thing to say. For a moment he looked mad, then it faded away into exasperation. “Not a chance,” he told her before standing up, causing her to quickly shift back onto the chair to not be hit by him. “They’re just going to hold me back.” His face scrunched up slightly. “Sammy and the Fallen Angel. Always fighting for the good of the world, and always failing. It’s so… tiring.”

“You don’t mean that,” Amelia said, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Either that or he just didn’t care.

“There’s an open road, a sea of bars and some absolutely amazing tunes out there,” he continued. “Isn’t that what you promised me?” he asked Crowley, who nodded.

“And so much more.”

Dean looked at Amelia. “You can stay here if you want,” he told her. “And I don’t care if you tell Sam, or Cas, or anyone. I’m going, sugar. Where do you want to be?”

She swallowed, biting her lip as she glanced at the doorway. One shout and Sam would be there, armed and ready to help her catch Dean and keep him safe. She should stand up, fight for Dean to stay, after all they knew how to cure demons now and it might actually work on him. It had almost worked on Crowley, after all. And he was the King of Hell. Something told her, though, that Dean wouldn’t be easily swayed. He hadn’t woken up to Sam’s begging, or to her crying over him. It had been the promise of freedom that he had come back to.

She stood up from the chair and pulled out her cell. Then, without another thought, threw it onto the bed where it bounced in the middle. Dean’s grin made her smirk as well. He knew exactly what she was saying and he grabbed her by the hip, pulling her up against him firmly.

“We’ll leave in ten minutes,” he told them both, looking at her hungrily. Her heart quickened and she had to wonder yet again if she was in over her head.

“Dean, I know you’re eager to get back on the horse, but…” Crowley tried, only to be cut off by Dean’s glare.

“Ten minutes,” he snarled, eyes flashing black. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Yes sir,” he muttered before heading out of the door. “I’ll meet you outside. Try and keep the noise to a minimum, hmm?”

He didn’t wait for a reply, he just shut the door behind him.

[clefdefah]

Sing with Me

Hello my fellows DamiRae stans. I would like to share this fic totally inspired by NANA. It’s the first time I’m writing on tumblr, and also english it’s not my first language, so be patient to me lol. Hope you like this AU

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

“C’mon, it’s gonna be fun!”

Gar’s words were still fresh in her mind. Although they have been friends for a long time, she had never watched one of his band concerts before.  She doesn’t like crowds. She even barely knows the others band members, while always heard stories about them.

But tonight was special; being the first time they would open for another famous group. Gar had been bragging about for days about getting a bigger place to play, so she couldn’t simply ignore him.

When the gate opened, there’s already a big crowd waiting like crazy to enter, what pissed her off.

It’s okay; it’s only a few minutes. Just listen to Gar’s band and go away. She thought as the place was getting more and more crowded. She could feel a headache coming.

The audience got excited when they took the stage. Gar waved at them with the bass on his hands, showing his tongue like the good goof he was. The drummer, Jaime was his name if she remembered well, spun the drumsticks in preparation. So there was the singer, Damian, the problem guy. She heard stories about him, that he was even arrested once, and he had the profile of someone that would. How he was friends with Gar, was a mystery.

Damian got near the microphone with a very sharp gaze as he adjusted the guitar over his shoulders.

“We are the Urban Titans!” He shouted at the sound of cymbal beatings and guitar howls.

The audience went crazy with the chords and beats coming from the stage. The energy they emanate to the people was insane. Punk rock was didn’t exactly make her style, but she was unable to take her eyes from the stage. Damian singing gave a different impression of the rebel stories she heard about him, at the same time it only confirmed them.

He had a very peculiar voice, with a kind of strong accent. His fingers ran though his guitar’s strings like himself would like to run. She could see the tense muscles of his neck every time song got intense. The iron chain swayed over the bare chest as he’s dressing only a leather jacket.

She had the impression their eyes met for a brief moment, a moment it seemed to last several minutes, with none of them wanting to look away. But that could be. There’s no way he could look just at her in a dark and crowded space like that. That was a good thing. She wouldn’t be able to maintain eye contact if it was the case.

If she had a headache, she forgot about it.

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

After the show, she was at the back alley, like some other fans, waiting for the group to leave. They talk a little with the fans, and when Gar saw her, jumped onto her completely electric.  

“Did you saw us? Did you saw us? I told you that would be cool!”

“Yeah, yeah…” She responded as she trying to get rid of him.

“That was awesome! We need to celebrate!” Jaime yelled.

“That’s right! Come with us, Rachel!” Gar pulled her arm toward his friends.

“It’s better not… I need to go…”

“Nooo it’s gonna be fun! And it’s not like I gonna just let you come back alone so late in the night!”

She tried to protest, but it was hard to her just say “no” to her friend, especially when he’s so cheerful. Her gaze fell onto Damian for a second time, still looking at her with those sharp eyes, and she turned her head away before she gets flushed.

When she realized, she was with the guys at a local pub, with snacks and drinks lifting the mood even more. Just a shot of brandy was enough to her at the moment, once she didn’t want to overdo the drink again. They stayed there for more a few hours until Gar needed to be dragged out for not being able to stand. He always was weak to alcohol.

Everyone walked to the little apartment where Gar lived and Rachel tried to say goodbye again, just to have her friend interrupt her.

“No way…” He said, barely understandable “You can come inside… There’s place for everyone…”

“I don’t want to bother…”

“Bother who…? I bet there’s no even a working bus at this time anyway…”

She sighed, once more unable to deny something to him.

Even though he invited her to stay, it was her who put him to sleep, like a babysitter. Jaime thanked her and said she could sleep on his bed as he dragged himself with a blanket to sleep on the couch.

Even with the silence and privacy she waited for so long after some very noisy hours, she couldn’t sleep. She opened the door, tip toeing through the room where Jaime snore deeply and opened the door to the balcony carefully so she doesn’t wake anyone.

The morning will come soon and she couldn’t bring herself to sleep. That was a mess. Looking at the buildings outside, the cigarette smell came before his voice.

“Can’t you sleep?”

She looked surprised beside her and saw Damian sitting at the balcony floor. A cigarette between his fingers, supported on his knees; looking at her with the same sharp eyes.

“Yeah… Kinda…” She responded shyly, looking away to gaze at the skyline full of buildings.

Damian arched one eyebrow, intrigued. Put his cigarette between his lips and got up, standing by her side with his back turned to the city.

Her heart jumped at his nearness. She could feel his gaze upon her.

“That must have been boring to you huh…” He said.

“What?”

“The show… I have never seen someone so stiff during one of ours concerts…”

So he was indeed staring at her at that moment. She was cursing herself internally for looking like a fool, standing still like a statue during a rock concert.

“It’s not like that… I was just surprised, and it was my first time at a concert. Also, moshing it’s not my style…”

“Surprised positively?”

“Yeah… I couldn’t imagine that Gar’s delinquent friend had so much talent…”

Why did she say that? It’s gonna make her sound condescending to him, or a weird flirt. None of these opinions are any good. At least, it didn’t look like he took as offense. Almost could see a trace of a smile.

“I guess talent comes with the anger…” He said, without elaborating. She wanted to know more, but didn’t want to sound too nosy.

“Anger…?” She asked.

He didn’t answer. Not immediately. With his back turned to the city, he looking at nowhere, enigmatic. She looked at his face with attention. The cigarette delicately between his lips, the smoking being blowing away by the breeze. It was like his eyes were searching for something, far away. His eyes were green? She didn’t even notice before.

“I’m the bastard of the Wayne Al’ Ghul” He said after a long silence.

“That’s not funny…” There’s no way the singer of a backyard rock band would be related to the two most powerful families in the world, she though.

“It’s true…” He turned, leaning on the balcony, looking at the immensity of buildings. She noticed how he got closer to her as doing this.

“I was conceived to unite the two companies, but disagreements between my father and grandfather led to a dispute over which business I will inherit… I refuse to be a tool”. He said as he throws the cigarette tip far away; little ashes dancing at the breeze until disappearing.

“Parents, am I right?” She said with a trace of sadness in her voice “You can’t live with them, can’t live without them…”

“Controlling?”

“Abusive” She responded. “My father was everything I had; so when he died, I had no place to go. I jumped to foster house to foster house until I was eighteen and get kicked out the orphanage. A friend welcomed me at her coffee shop. I have been living there ever since.”

They shared a respectful silence that last for several minutes while both just looked at the city.

“So… Do you sing…?”

That sudden question caught her off guard.

“W-what?”

“Gar talked about you before. You two went to a karaoke once, right? He said you have a lovely voice.”

“I’m gonna kill him…” She said under her breath. She could clearly feel the blush growing on her face.

“So…?”

“He was exaggerating! It was his birthday and I was drunk. Otherwise I would never do such a thing with so many people staring at me!”

“Oh, you’re shy?” He showed a faint smile at her reaction.

She was obviously too embarrassed to respond like she wanted, or even looking at his eyes. When she tried, he put his hand carefully over her face, covering her sight.

“Now you can’t see anyone looking at you. Sing to me.”

Her heart race inside her chest, willing to jump out her mouth. His hand was kind of cold and just imagining her flustered face warming his skin make her even more embarrassed. Would be better just end this already, but she couldn’t bring herself to think in something to sing. Just though the first song it came in her mind, one that her Friend Kori liked to listen over and over, so she began to sing Heart of Glass.

Her voice was particularly harsh and the nervousness didn’t help her. She avoided imagining what he was thinking of her singing, especially after knowing how he sounded like.

When she finished, Damian took his hand over her face but she was still had her eyes closed, waiting for his judgment or mockery. She didn’t get any of these. Opening her eyes again, he was looking at her, intensely. She didn’t even realize how close they were to each other. Those intense green eyes were just staring at her, oddly, not as sharp as before.

“It sounded like an angel…” He said in a deep and low voice, barely listenable.

“What?” She asked softly.

“That’s was what Gar had said…” He muffled a laugh.

She turned her head, bitter. He was mocking her, she could tell. She would respond something snarky when Damian touched her chin, making her look directly at him. They were so close that they could feel the warm of each other. She repressed the urge to touch his bare chest.

“I’m looking for a new singer, did you knew? How about you sing with us?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to respond while hypnotized by his green eyes and the absurd idea of joining his band. Why this all of sudden? What was he thinking?

He brushed his thumb over her lip so softly that she could barely feel it. He stroked her face as he walked away, giving her a final look before opening the balcony door again.

“Think about it” He said and he was gone.

She finally came out of what looked like a trance. She should accept? Why was he asking her that? She wanted to accept that. She felt like she wanted that more than anything.

She looked back at the skyline. Since when had it dawn?

[allsassnoclass]

M, I am soft for prompt #1 from the kiss list and if you give me this content I will love you forever. not to say I don't already love you forever cos I DO but you get it. from bella

anything for you bella light of my life joy of my heart

malum: breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths

They're almost done with dishes by the time "You're Still the One" comes on.  They've been listening to Calum's music library on shuffle all evening, which means there's been an absurd variety of songs, but this is the first of Shania's to show up.  Michael is just drying the last weird utensil used to make dinner and Calum is wiping off the table when he immediately straightens at the sound of the piano.

"Michael!  It's our song!"

"It's not our song yet," he says, but he lets Calum take his hands and lead him to the middle of the kitchen without protest.

"It could be," Calum says.  His engagement ring glints in the evening light coming through the window as he arranges them how he wants and gets started in an easy dance.  His hand is a steady presence at Michael's lower back, guiding him in their gentle sway and keeping him close.  "You haven't come up with any better first dance suggestions."

"I've still got time," he says, but it's a halfhearted argument.  Calum likes the song, and Michael likes Calum.  As cheesy as it is, Michael probably would be content to dance to anything as long as he was doing it as Mr. Clifford-Hood, and there are far worse options.

Calum hums along as they dance, then gently sings as they get to the chorus.  Michael is horribly endeared by the slightly southern accent he puts on for it, even though there are much more country songs hiding on his phone.  Calum catches him watching and a smile splits his face.  Calum has the most dazzling smile, and it knocks him off his feet every time.

"You should be a country singer," he says, a little breathless.

"Only if you do it with me," Calum says.  Michael snorts.

"The Summer Brothers, back at it again."

"Just look at us holding on," Calum sings.  "We're still together, still going strong."

"You're so cheesy," he laughs.  Calum continues to serenade him, and they dance in the kitchen in the fading light like a cliche.

Michael used to dream about stuff like this.  He never told anyone, not even Calum, because they were kids and this type of easy love seemed more chick flick than punk rock.  Still, he could never help  but fantasize about finding someone who would take him on dates to the beach, or buy him chocolates on Valentine's Day, or serenade him with a cheesy love song.  Calum has managed to fulfill all of those dreams and more.  Sometimes it feels like a competition to out-woo each other, and Michael would say that Calum is winning had he not absolutely blown it out of the park with the proposal.

Calum cried.  Michael did too, because he was asking the love of his life to marry him, but he's pretty sure he exceeded all of Calum's expectations and made him fully realize how deep this love goes.

"Hey," Michael says.  "I love you."

"I know."  Calum smiles softly, and Michael's only option here is to kiss him.

Kissing Calum is like... it's like something else entirely.  Michael could be the best lyricist in the world and never be able to accurately describe the way everything slots into place when their lips meet.  Calum feels like home, but he also feels like the past and the future and promises and laughter and the swoop in his stomach when an airplane finally touches down at the end of a long flight.  Michael hums and savors it like it's the last kiss he'll ever get, even though he knows that he'll kiss Calum again before bed and then in the morning and for the rest of their lives.

By the time they have to part for air, the song has changed to some obnoxious Bach piece Calum downloaded when he was going through his classical music phase a few years ago.

"Not exactly mood music," Michael whispers, close enough still that their lips brush.  

"Do you really want me to change it?" Calum murmurs.  His voice dips low, and Michael reflexively tightens his grip.  One of his hands had moved up to Calum's hair without him noticing while they were kissing, like his hands have their own agenda when it comes to touching as much of Calum as possible.  It's getting long again, and the gentle tug on his curls makes Calum laugh and pull him impossibly closer.  When they kiss again, Michael's entire world narrows down to the man in front of him, and he thinks it's a world he wants to live in forever.

[aweirdkindofyellow]

The Royal Invitation, Pt.15

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin.

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do.

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band.

Co-written story with @scream-tears.

Chapter 15

Winny’s POV:

I stared at Alex for a while. His eyes were shut and he looked asleep, I just needed to be sure that he actually was. When he didn’t even twitch after a few more minutes, I carefully slipped out of my bunk. As soon as I was standing on the floor, I checked up on Alex again, gladly seeing that he still hadn’t moved. I tiptoed over and gently closed the curtain so he could no longer be distrubed by anything that happened in the corridor.

I turned around and went to the next bottom bunk, squatting down so I was face to face with its curtain. As I learned to do, I softly knocked on the plastic board to get the attention of whoever was on the other side. However, I got no response. I rolled my eyes a little and knocked again, a bit louder, but still trying my best not to wake up anybody else around.

When I still didn’t get a response, I sighed and just yanked open the curtain a little. Jack stared back at me like a deer caught in headlights. The only light illuminating his face was coming from his laptop and he was wearing huge headphones. I raised an eyebrow at him, still waiting to get some kind of reaction. When his initial shock wore off, he moved his headphones to free one ear to listen to me.

“Everybody’s asleep!” I whispered.

He didn’t make a sound when he put away his laptop and headphones, only to poke his head out of the bunk and look left and right to see if I was correct. When he saw that I was indeed not lying, he pulled me into his bunk. I was immediately straddling him and I quickly closed the curtain before anybody would wake up and walk past.

“Come here,” he groaned and pulled me down to start a fiery kiss, immediately already tugging at my shirt.

We did our best to be as silent as possible. However, it was inevitable that occasionally a limb or another body part smacked into a wall. That bunk was barely big enough for two people to squish in, let alone to people to get it on. We managed to make it work. And it seemed like nobody had noticed anything. Or at least nobody said anything or gave us any weird looks. Not even Alex seemed to suspect a thing. He just showed up excitedly for our morning walks every day, always expecting me in my bunk.

I couldn’t believe I was saying it, but it was quite a difficult and tiring secret to keep up. Staying up late with Jack just to have to leave before I fell asleep only to have to wake up early-ish in the morning for Alex? Exhausting.

But I was having fun. I was still forever grateful that Alex had made the decision to let me come with him. Even if I was alone for a little while. There were no pressures on me here. I got to do anything I wanted. Rather than jobs being piled on jobs, I now had to actively seek if I could help out anywhere. It was absolutely magnificent.

I was wandering around the backstage area of the arena for the night while world famous rock stars All Time Low were busy doing a whole list of different interviews. You’d be surprised how many interesting things you can find in the deep dark crevices of arenas. Or they were just plain boring. There really wasn’t much of an in between.

I was walking through a hallway and past one of the dressing rooms when my name was called out. “Aerowyn!”

Without thinking twice, I turned around and entered the room, looking up to see Mark Hoppus staring right back at me. It seemed like I had just randomly and rudely walked in. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard my name.”

“Aerowyn,” he repeated.

I shook my head, realising just how big my mistake had been. I tried to act oblivious, like he was saying a word that I didn’t know. “I’m sorry, what?

“You might have been able to fool the others, but you can’t fool me,” he laughed lightly and warmly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I continued to try and play it off.

If my identity came out, things could go horribly wrong. Maybe not necessarily in the circle of the bands on tour. But it was bound to get out. And if my behaviour or drinking and casually sleeping with Jack came out, it would be a scandal. They were pretty chill in Dalewin, but that didn’t mean everything was suddenly acceptable.

“Oh, come on, I’m not an idiot!” Mark rebutted. “A quick google search into Dalewin was all I needed. I hear about a country I never knew existed, I take time to learn about it.”

He pulled out his phone from his back pocket and tapped a few times on the screen before handing it to me. I looked down at it in my hands and saw a photo of ‘The Royal Family of The Kingdom of Dalewin’. It was a relatively old picture. I was about 16 and looked a lot younger. It was taken for my grandfather’s birthday that year. There was also a picture of the entire family, but this one was just my grandpa, my parents, Gus-Gus, and me. I was wearing some light pink dress that I could still remember to this day. My mom had refused to let me wear it, but my grandpa somehow managed to change her mind. Everybody else was wearing much more sophisticated colours.

I shrugged and went to give the phone back. “I look a bit like her, but that isn’t me.”

“Swipe to the next photo.”

I did as instructed and went to the next photo he had prepared for me. It was one of the photos taken for my dad’s coronation. Specifically one that consisted of just me and Augustus. I couldn’t even try to hide behind the fact that it just looked like me. This was a close up of us. Even the birthmark on my neck was visible.

“Okay…” I nodded. I couldn’t deny it anymore. “That is me.”

“Pretty foolproof cover,” he chuckled as I defeatedly handed his phone back.

“Well, usually it works better when I’m just Matilde George from New York with a funny accent, not Matilde from Dalewin.”

“So hiding your identity is a common occurrence, then?”

“Only when I’m in New York,” I explained and looked behind me when I heard footsteps, but it was just somebody walking past. “It makes studying there just a little easier. Nobody constantly reporting on my every move, or hoping to blackmail me.”

“You seem pretty serious about keeping it a secret.” He frowned, also briefly glancing at the door.

“If Alex were to know that you knew, he’d start forcing me to act normal again.” I sighed and tugged on my hair. “I was hoping to get away from that.”

“Normal?” He raised an eyebrow at me in amusement. “You mean to tell me you don’t usually chug beer after beer?”

“Art student Matilde does, Princess Aerowyn does not.”

“I’m assuming Aerowyn also can’t have that thing going on with Jack and Alex.”

“Thing going on?” I questioned with confusion.

“Don’t act oblivious again.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” I laughed awkwardly.

I didn’t consider whatever I was doing with Jack a ‘thing’. A ‘thing’ sounded way more serious. Jack and I were only having sex when it suited us, nothing else. And Alex? There definitely wasn’t anything going on there. He was one of the only good friends I had made as Aerowyn in ages. All my friends back in New York loved fun Matilde, not responsible Aerowyn.

“Alright… if you say so.” Mark gave me a very suspicious look.

Before I could assure him there was really nothing going on, Alex came rushing into the room.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the place for you!!” He exclaimed in relief, coming up behind me.

I looked at Mark with a hint of fear. He had the power in his hands. With just a word, he could ruin it all. Usually, my fate didn’t depend on one person so much. I was very used to having at least a little control. People did help me make choices, and I often did follow them, but I did always have the last word. Unless it was towards my parents or higher ranking royals, of course.

“Matilde and I were just discussing gardening tips with each other,” Mark quickly made up.

“Gardening tips?” Alex looked as puzzled as I tried to be earlier.

“Yep, you know, since she works with horses and stuff…”

“Ah! Right, yes.” He nodded in understanding before directing his next part to me. “I was going to go out for coffee and you’re coming with me!”

“I’m coming with you?” I challenged.

“Yeah, live a little,” he scoffed and pulled on my arm to drag me out of the room.

I made eye contact with Mark one more time and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. He responded with a wink and a smile as Alex continued to force me to join him.

[finalgirlfae]

Teenage Idol - Chapter One

For my sake, when Rosemary shifts she shifts to a reality where racism, misogyny, homophobia and all that bad stuff doesn’t exist. Doris is born in 1939 and Connie is born in 1940 for book purposes.

hey nonny ding dong, alang alang alang boom ba-doh, ba-doo ba-doodle-ay

“ROSIE!”

Rosemary woke up nearly frightened, low music played in the distance and the room smelled of tobacco and flowers. She looked down at the fancy sofa she had woken up on, now realizing it was not the queen size bed she had laid down on a nap for. 

“Where.. where am I?” Rosemary asked, looking around frantically and a bit panicked.

“Geez.. how hard did you hit your head?” The woman laughed. Rosemary looked at her with wide eyes, this was Doris fucking Day.

“Doris?”

Doris titled her head and laughed. “Rosie? You okay?”

This has to be a dream.

“There you two are! We go on in 5!” Another voice called out. A woman with short brown hair, fair skin and red lips rounded the corner. She wore an off the shoulder black dress that hugged her waist tightly and poofed a bit at the bottom.

(like this)

“Well I was just wakin up Rosie.” Doris said, standing up and smoothing out her identical dress. They both had white gloves on, Rosie looked down to see she was wearing the same thing.

“What year is it?”

Connie raised a brow, “Rosie stop goofing off. It’s 1958, you know that.”

Oh shit.

“Next up we have a few special ladies.” A voice from front stage spoke, Doris grabbed Rosie’s hand and pulled her up a bit harshly. She was then dragged to a curtain where she stood in the middle of the girls, confused as ever.

“Please welcome to the stage Rosie Valentine, Doris Day and Connie Francis with their new hit single, Be My Baby!”

The large audience clapped as the curtain was pulled revealing the three girls, they walked out to center stage. Rosie in the middle and Doris and Connie behind her like they were to sing backup.

What do I do?

Music began to play, the song sounded very familiar to Rosie but she couldn’t quite place a finger on it, in her conscious mind at least. Body moving before mind, Rosie gently took hold of the mic and began to sing.

The night we met I knew I needed you so And if I had the chance I'd never let you go So won't you say you love me I'll make you so proud of me We'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go

So won’t you please-

Doris and Connie began to sing back up, the three ladies moved in sync with each other to a little sway dance that went with the song.

(Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby (My one and only baby) Say you'll be my darlin' (Be my, be my baby) Be my baby now Wha-oh-oh-oh

I'll make you happy, baby, just wait and see For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three Oh, since the day I saw you I have been waiting for you You know I will adore you 'til eternity Rosie noticed how the faces in the crowd looked at her with adoration instead of hatred, and this was weird. Even the white men in the crowd seemed to enjoy themselves, some even having a bit of love in their eyes. So won't you, please (Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby (My one and only baby) Say you'll be my darlin' (Be my, be my baby) Be my baby now Wha-oh-oh-oh-oh So come on and please (Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby (My one and only baby) Say you'll be my darlin' (Be my, be my baby) Be my baby now Wha-oh-oh-oh (Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby (My one and only baby) Oh (Be my, be my baby) Oh Wha-oh-oh-oh-oh

When the song was over the crowd went wild which was even more confusing. Black and white alike, sitting in this theatre looking happy and clapping for the group. And even more strange, a black lead singer with two white women as backup?? This can’t be 1958.

A man walked on to the stage, Rosie instantly recognized him. He was Dick Clark, the host of the Saturday Night Beech-Nut Show otherwise known as The Dick Clark Show.

“Say, Rosie.” Dick said, coming over with a mic in one hand and wrapping his arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Was that song for any special someone in the crowd? Maybe a certain guy or gal?”

Rosie’s body again, moved without her mind. She smiled and shook her head no, “I’m not dropping any names, Dick.”

Dick laughed and let go of her, snapping his fingers. “Aw dang it, I was really hoping to see who had stolen the heart of our teenage idol. Anyways folks give it up one more time for Rosie Valentine, Doris Day, and Connie Francis for their new single; Be My Baby. You heard it first here folks.”

The girls all took a bow before walking backstage, Rosie was slowly starting to understand where she was but not why she was there. The last thing she remembered was listening to a crew cuts song on her laptop before falling asleep. The year was 2021, so how did she go back 63 years. Maybe this was just a realistic dream?

“You sounded great Rosie.” Doris complimented, removing the long black gloves she had on.

Connie’s smile turned into a sly smirk when she saw who was walking towards them. “Don’t look now girls, but David is coming our way.”

David,, as in David Nelson?

“Ladies,” David greeted, walking over to the three girls who smiled back at him. He hugged both Connie and Doris before turning to Rosie.

“Gee Rosie, I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is David, David Nelson.”

Rosie laughed a bit to hid how much she was freaking out on the inside. She binged his parent’s show on YouTube everyday. But this isn’t real right? 

“I know, I watch the show. Rosemary Valentine.” She spoke, shaking his hand.

He smiled at her, “Well the real reason I came over here was well one, to meet you and two, my brother is too afraid to.”

His brother,, as in Ricky mother fucking Nelson,, is afraid to meet me?

Connie giggled, “You think he knows that song is about him Rosie?” 

Rosie and Doris scoffed, both sending Connie glares. She faked coy with a hand over her mouth and giggled even more.

David raised an eyebrow, “So it is about Rick? Say, he should be coming back here right now, about time you’ve met.”

And just on que he rounded the corner to the backstage, sighing when he saw his brother.”

“Geez David, at least let a fella know before you go wandering off. You’re my ride back after all.”

“I’m sorry Rick, I was just talkin to Rosie.”

Ricky’s eyes travelled to Rosie who looked a bit dumbfounded, or at least felt. He broke into a soft smile at the dark skin girl who he had been geeked over since she made her debut last year.

“Rosemary Valentine, we meet at last, How do you do?”

Rosie could feel Connie and Doris’ eyes looking at the two of them and practically hear the giggles.

“Why, I’m alright. You?” She spoke, not knowing where her transatlantic accent suddenly came from. She stuck her hand out for a shake and Ricky took it gently.

“With you here? Never better.” He said softly, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

oh my fucking god ricky nelson just kissed my hand

David laughed a bit at Rosie’s now flustered expression. “Say, would you ladies like to go get something to eat? I know a lovely place by Times Square. The girls looked at each other an nodded.

“We’ll change and meet you right here. Excuse us.” Doris said, giving her charming smile and leading her two friends to their dressing room for the night. When Doris closed the door Connie freaked.

“You have to dance with Rick!” She exclaimed, shuffling over to the rack of dresses as she tried to find the perfect one for Rosie.

“Wha- why?”

Doris shook her head, “Everyone knows when a guy and girl dance it’s the first step to going steady. I know where David is taking us, it’s a nice little diner with a jukebox and tiled floor perfect for dancing.”

Rosie took a deep breath, just last night she had been reading a fanfic and now she seemed to be living in one. Or, until she woke up that is.

“Fine, get me dolled up ladies.”

The girls squealed and pushed her down into the chair, giving their friend the perfect date night look.

Is this really a dream?

unedited

[lyssismagical]

you were my fairy tale, my dream when I’m not sleeping

Parkner Febufluff  Day 11 & 12 – Proposal & Sung to Sleep

Read on AO3

*

It was a quiet night, as most nights were for Harley and Peter. When the latter got home from patrolling, he was always tired, always worn out.

They had a system where Peter would text Harley when he was wrapping up with patrol, normally around one in the morning, sometimes earlier, something a lot later. Whenever it was, Harley was always waiting up without question. He’d make some food, whether it be reheated leftovers from dinner before Peter left for patrolling, or a nutrition-dense snack of some sort.

Peter would get home, always right on time, and they would eat their late night snack, or meal in Peter’s case with his crazy metabolism.

They would curl up on the couch together and put on some TV, alternating between Harley’s choice and Peter’s choice of a TV show.

Later, if something went wrong on patrol or if something was weighing particularly heavy on Peter, they’d have the opportunity for quiet conversations in the dim light. Either Peter would explain what was happening in his head, or Harley would fill the space with distractions of what he’d done while Peter was out. Normally, it wasn’t too exciting, Harley’s evenings alone, but he sometimes twisted his dreams during his naps after Peter left into extravagant tales just to pass the time.

And then they’d head to bed, curling up in each other’s arms, a perfect contrast of Harley’s frigid body, somehow still not used to the difference in New York to Tennessee temperature, and Peter’s warmth, always running high with his mutations.

Nightmares were frequent, no matter how many times they offered comfort and tried to protect the other from the horrors of their dreams.

Nights were long and quiet. Filled with dim lighting because Peter’s afraid of the dark, and a running fan because Harley needs white noise, and silent tears streaking down their faces when nightmares inevitably tear them from their sleep, and even quieter reassurances and comfort.

Tonight was no different, Harley pressing kisses to Peter’s temple and holding him close, watching the time tick past four in the morning, barely a few hours of sleep.

“It’s okay, love. We’re okay, I’ve got you,” Harley’s saying, voice barely above a whisper, rough with sleep and exhaustion. His arms are tight around Peter’s shoulders, drawing the younger boy against his chest with care and caution.

And Peter cries, tears hot on Harley’s bare shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of Harley’s old grey sweatpants.

It’s the same song and dance as it always is. Soft comforting words attempting to overpower the anguish playing out in nightmares.

“It’s our five-year-anniversary in a few weeks,” Harley says, voice lilting softly, exhaustion making his southern accent more noticeable. “I keep trying to plan something, because it’s gotta be special, right? And I’ve already pulled out just about every stop in trying to make every day the best for you as it can be.”

Peter’s words are muffled against Harley’s shoulder. “Ten years, technically.”

Harley rolls his eyes, pressing a few more kisses to his darling’s pale skin. It brings back some scary, unwanted memories. Watching Tony stumble off the plane, falling into Steve and Pepper’s arms. I lost the kid.

Peter had been two years older then Harley, seventeen to Harley’s fifteen when the snap had happened. But Harley hadn’t been snapped. He had to live in a world without his boyfriend for five years. And when Peter got back, suddenly the scales weren’t balanced. Peter was still seventeen, but Harley was twenty.

It was weird and they danced on eggshells around each other, unsure how to be with the other after being apart for so long.

But now Harley’s twenty-five, and Peter’s twenty-two, and the age difference doesn’t feel so wide anymore.

Those five years were the worst years of Harley’s life though.

“Ten year anniversary, then,” Harley agrees. “I asked Tony, Pepper, May, everyone, I could think of to give me some advice for what to do. And then I was in the mall one day, and I passed by a jewelry store and I just kinda stopped.”

Peter’s tears have slowed now, at least. He pulls away to look up at Harley, eyes wide and sparkling in the soft light of the lamp.

“I remember that day where we went into the same store, what must’ve been like four years ago, and you jokingly tried on every piece of jewelry you could before we were kicked out because they thought we were going to steal everything,” Harley continues, ignoring his pounding heart and the way his hands shake when he cups Peter’s cheeks, swiping away the tears.

“I remember,” Peter says, offering a smile.

“Yeah, and I guess I started thinking and it’s been ten years, darling. I don’t want to be with anyone but you. I started writing this whole piece that I was going to use on our anniversary, I thought it would be special, but I wanna say it now, without the whole I Love You bullshit because you know that.”

Peter nods again, smiling a little wider because not even the most oblivious person in the world could miss what Harley was hinting at.

“I wanna marry you, Peter,” Harley says, voice softer than ever. “I wanna be with you for the rest of my life.”

“Even if I’m difficult?” Peter says, gesturing vaguely at his head with a lopsided smile and a laugh.

“Even if you have nightmares every night for the next fifty years, I wanna be there with you. Even if you get home from patrol at five am and I have to stay up all night every night for you, I wanna be with you. Even if you decide that I’m fucked up and you decide to leave, I wanna take that chance. Nothing could ever change the way I feel about you, Parker.”

Peter laughs then, no self-consciousness, no self-deprecation. “Never really took you for the sappy type, Keener.”

“Just wanna make sure you know I love you.”

“I love you too, babe. And yes, I’ll marry you. Fuck, Harley, I wanna marry you.”

Harley grins, tears springing to his eyes as well and he laughs, pulling Peter in for a messy kiss. He fumbles for the nightstand drawer, tugging it open and grabbing the little box, pulling it open to reveal a simple silver band.

Harley lifts it out of the box and on the inside of the ring, hidden from view, is a simple Forever.

“I love you, darling. Forever.”

The ring is slipped onto Peter’s finger and he smiles wider, kissing Harley again.

Harley still wants to do the dramatic, down-on-one-knee, sappy speech, hugging Peter and spinning him around as they cry, everyone around them clapping for their excitement of the engagement. He still wants the “Proper Engagement” but he doesn’t mind the quietness of this version.

“Go to sleep, love.”

They slide down in the bed, tugging their thick comforters around their bodies, unable to stop smiling, Peter’s nightmare long forgotten.

It’s not quite a song, but Harley murmurs I Love You and hums the tune to Peter’s favourite song, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He’s not a good singer, so he doesn’t want to try, worried it’ll ruin the gentle peace of their room, but he knows (because he knows Peter better than anyone) that the white noise and the rumbling of his chest beneath his head will put him right to sleep.

And it does, before he even finishes the song, Peter’s breaths have evened out and his eyes have fluttered shut.

Harley gently presses a kiss to the silver band now sitting around Peter’s finger, and smiles up to the ceiling. That night, they dream about the possibilities of the future, no nightmares plaguing their sleep.

[stuckasmain]

I still don’t think your ready for it, but here’s my Batb Cruise show review:

Yes you read the title completely right, I was made aware of this a day or two ago but apparently one of the Disney Cruises is doing/did beauty and the beast the musical but based upon the live action movie. So naturally a massive fan of the live action I was both shocked and wildly confused, lucky for me I found a video on the entire performance(likely taken from a cruise tv.) from what I skimmed over it looks like instead of full body suits to look like they are it’s going to be regular (human outfits.) and then puppets, so I am Really really interested to see how this goes.

The timing is a little off we skip the prologue (Aria etc.) and start straight in How does a moment last forever... are they placing Belle after it? It was before in the movie. Wait oh my god he’s also narrator- it is the prologue! Pulled a sneaky one on ya.

•Adams dramatic sassy hand movements are my entire life (no dance just this art right here.)

•The enchantress looks straight outa Atlantis but I LOVE the effects used omllll

• MARIE THE BAGUETTES.

•who needs her when you’ve got us (LE DUO OMG- it’s the thing.)

•from what I’m seeing it’s a combination of both the animated and live action, as some lyrics/moments are the animated , like Lefou reverted back to his original sorta idiot phase.

•met HER saw HER *kick* we stan.

•Lefou just waving his bag in the girls face. Legend lmao.

•a LOT more comedy then the movie. When Gaston drops the Boquet Lefou picks it up and smells it and just melts all cute like. My heart?

•”keep moving old legs.”

•Gaston is also a lot more like the animated, more dumbed down for comedic effect.

•so there’s no Philippe so some dudes took her dads wagon. That’s how jumanji started you know smh.

•PUPPETS IM SCREAMING.

Lumire looks like he’s absolutely losing his mind I’m deadddd. Also Cogsworth’s wig is my entire life.

• ok so the beasts voice- he sounds like a Pirate I’m crying “ee stole me rose matey.”

•belle straight up using the stick like a musket

•OML SO I NOW SEE THE EYES ON THE PUPPET AND IM LOSING MY DAMN MIND.

•storage space! Storage space! For all of Lumiere’s shoes! His shoes yes he had a feel large collection of shoes- he rather likes Heels-

Cogsworth.

What?

Stop talking.

•while my love massages my tight caves.

I’ll massage your caves Gaston!

Who has no one snatched you up yet? (He didn’t say girl :0)

•everyones awed and inspired by au

Gaston placing a hand to his chest.

•Gaston kissing his own portait, no bimbettes Lefou sings their line, no Tom , Dick or stanley that I can see either

•they all start russian dancing instead of the stopping/sword fight. Weird flex but ok.

Now the girls are... is that the cancan?

•Fun cult activity’s with friends

•lefou dreamily gasping over gaston along with the women.

•WHERED THE UKALELE COME FROM?!

• they kept my favorite line :)

•So Gaston has the French flag now? Also Maurice runs in automatically? Damn there goes pacing i guess- like aren’t they supposed to be together for at least awhile before going after her jeez

•why’s every single woman in this show use a super high pitched cutesy voice “YeAaA!” Is the audience one year olds and dogs???

•Gaston was a captain :0 Damn high rank.

•or a Budae *laughing* *distant roar* *s c r e a m *

•Madame de Garderobe has me screaming lmaoooo

•Mrs.Potts was a governess? Wack.

•ok so I cant describe the noise i made

L: OH YES! Darling

P: high pitched giggling.

The stage is still black and I can’t breathe-

They were definitely- whatever the equivalent would be of making out

•This plan is uh Dangerous~

I’m-I’m gay for the featherduster. This is not allowed. THEY ARE SO CUTE I CANNOT FUNCTION.

*more adorable couple giggling*

Cogsworth coughing

•food fashion show.. I cannot... I can’t function.

•Lumiere being dramatic:

Coggsworth: if i had hands, I’d slap you.

•*Whispers*Skin.

That’s- that’s not creepy at all lmao.

C’Est LA SALADE I CANT BREATHE WHATS HAPPENING.

•you lost me 2 verses ago now there’s cheese

•no one:

Plumette giggling and calling out everything:

•HOW IS MADAME DOWNSTAIRS IM SO CONFUSED

•OWWWWWWWWEWWWWWWWWWWW.

That hurts.

•ok so Mrs. Potts being a governess in this version now makes sense as she’s the one to start days in the sun instead of the queen/little Adam

•So Candenza is completely gone from this version????? So Lumierè and Plumette get both love lines from the song. Their still busy being cute as hell tho. (Does this imply their also singers? Pretty sure their still just footman/maid.)

•cogsworth now has Mrs.Potts lines but his voice is great.

•instead of soup it’s tea he I N H A L E and belle looks SO done lmao. Also no library?

•oh jeez yea no library just straight into something there.

•oh so the library is now IN something there, alright.

•Adam just DECKS Lumiere. Idk what that was about lmao - showing he’s nice now by uppercutting a candlestick across the room.

• BELLE:D this dork-

•Hes making jokes now.

•SWORDS. FIGHTING.

•”we love you.” But... everyone is still all-

Ok so either Mrs.Potts is a massive liar or they don’t count

•the dress is low key just as underwhelming as in the film

• Adam is trying *SHOVES CHAMPAGNE IN FACE*

•Plumette keeps running on and off stage idk what that’s about.

•the danceeeee

•Adam keeps talking about his mom

•no evermore ;-; my favorite song and it’s gone for a 5 second day’s in the sun reprise.

I’m wounded.

•belle casually taking a dudes knife to cut them free

•I feel like the mob song is cute down a lot, also Lumiere comes in sliding on his knees. Respect.

•”Gaston help.” Is kinda like nothing now as they have been so comedic. I feel nothing.

•i like the way they executed the final fight (beast/Gaston as servents vs the villages was literally nothing.)

•Lumiere sliding in on his knees again *French accent*YAAAAAAS

•ok so the death scene still hurts me like a truck.

Lumire: guys we did it :)

*literally watches the love of his life, his best friend and other friends die(yes it’s technically death.)*

Everyone steps away from the puppet and turns around, the lighting goes dark I’m - ;-;

•the prince is low key better in the suit the guy playing him is uhhhhhhhh I know the whole point is to look past Appearance but who’s dad is this?

•I’m absolutely SCREAMING. Instead of the dramatic one by one they all pop up together and collectively go :00000 what?! Whoa!

•Lumiere and Plumette low key not even a “hi.” Just kiss and start dancing. Mood.

•Ballet attack part 2 and middle aged prince returns.

•No chip or Madame at the end either! :0

•oh wait here’s chip!

Cogsworth melting in the background is me

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐏𝗼𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐬

so as I’ve said it’s like a mash up of the original and the remake with some of the choices it makes, I think it really makes or breaks some of the characters.

Lefou/Gaston-

Both of them fell back more into their Cartoon counterparts of : here to be the bad guy, here to be funny. Both of them become so overly comedic that you wouldn’t be able to tell who’s line was whos if you were shown them without being told. I think , funny as they were it negatively effected their character’s. Same case with the beast he definitely became more comedic if anything at all.

Lumierè/Cogsworth/Plumette-

These guys I think are the opposite. I think having a slight bit more of the animated made both banter and flirting hike it’s way up. Cogsworth and Lumierè were more showy in their banter , while Lumierè and Plumette were much more loud and showy with banter. Also the accents are art. Mrs. Potts was there to be the mother like figure and not given much of herself

Rip to chip who had like 4 lines and didn’t even show up to seconds before curtain. Also Madame de Garderobe who was there to be a good singer and nothing more as she lost her whole arc.Rip to Cadenza, Frou frou , Chapu and Philippe for being written out all together.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬/𝐭𝐡𝗼𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

As I’ve said the changes either make or break some moments, like adding a overwhelming amount of comedy like the og movie. As funny as it was it did not have that same weight/gravity the remake did in its more serious/emotional scenes like the death/human again scenes I felt little here and Gaston betraying Lefou. As well as having the more serious/soft songs as the remake really backfired with so much comedy, and not even the more Witty subtle humor of the movie. Funny, but odd as character choice

So I know you had to cut it down a lot in order to fit it on stage however, nessisary parts or songs (evermore ;-;) were completely excluded likely do to the slightly unessisary over extension of dance numbers in Gaston(that didn’t need it) and Be our guest. Which could have been time better spent.

The servants are the absolute saving grace of this musical. The costumes! Oh!(again cogsworths wig is my life.) the humor! The acting, the singing, the relationships- all of it- all of it. They carry the entire thing, and if I’m honest it’s mainly Lumierè, Cogsworth and Plumette, occasionally Mrs. Potts if you stretch.