#Champagne For Ceasar

[mimanimum]

Roses And Champagne - Zig

(U) Lee Won x (S) Caesar

#Roses And Champagne #Zig #Lee Won #Ceasar #manhwa

[webtoon97151]

Caesar ⌐╦╦═─

Webtoon name: Roses and champagne (장미와 샴페인)

#webtoon #korean webtoon #manhwa #ceasar #roses and champagne #장미와 샴페인 #yaoi #top #seme #big boss #mafia #handsome #smirk #smile #he big

[suprememysticalbeing]

#roses and champagne #side stories #ceasar #jung leewoon #manhwa

[melie0-vla-0]

#ceasar #roses and champagne #yaoi love

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

you're the best!! i mean like a written list and yet you went ahead and did all that 🥺💕💕 thank you sweetheart 💋 your blog is my holy grail

Of course! And it was my pleasure, entirely! You're most welcome and I hope you have a wonderful day and feel better real soon!!! Thanks for the compliment! You're so sweet. ☺️🖤🥺

Some of his comedic roles are...

The Comedy of terror

The raven

Champagne for ceasar

His kind of woman

Red skeleton: he who steals my robot steals trash

Red skeleton: climb upon my knee dummy boy

Red skelton Christmas special

Red skeleton: An original divinci

Red skeleton: cauliflower goes to hollywood

Dr goldfoot and the Bikini Machine

Dr goldfoot and the girl bombs

Bloodbath at the House of death

The great mouse detective

[thepandemix]

“seize the day” 25 songs / 1h38min.

TRACKLIST:

“Getting Older” - Billie Eilish “Peaches” - Justin Bieber, Daniel Ceasar, Giveon  “Before You Gotta Go” - Courtney Barnett “Demasiadas Mujeres” - C. Tangana “Quiet Town” - The Killers “I Bet You Think About Me (feat. Chris Stapleton)” - Taylor Swift “Favorite Crime” - Olivia Rodrigo “Oh! Pardon, tu dormais...” - Jane Birkin & Etienne Daho “All Eyes On Me” - Bo Burnham “For Em” - Devendra Banhart & Noah Georgeson “Reach Out” - Sufjan Stevens & Angelo De Augustine “Bruxelles je t’aime” - Angèle “Seize The Day” - Paul McCartney & Phoebe Bridgers “Lo Siento BB :/” - Tainy, Bad Bunny, Julieta Venegas “Alma Mía/Tú Me Acostumbraste/Soledad Y El Mar” - Natalia Lafourcade “I Drink Wine” - Adele “Meu Pisêro” - Duda Beat “Arcadia” - Lana Del Rey “All My Favorite Songs” - Weezer “Dancing In The Dark” - Juanes “Vidalita” - Maria Bethânia “Aline” - Jarvis Cocker “Champagne Poetry” - Drake “Green Grass” - Ellie Dixon “Right On Time” - Brandi Carlile [LINK]

#billie eilish #Justin bieber #duda beat #c tangana #the killers #Taylor swift #Jane birkin #drake #bo burnham #Ellie dixon #angele #bad bunny #adele #weezer #Natalia lafourcade #Phoebe bridgers #Courtney barnett #lana del rey #Paul mccartney #juanes #Maria methania #Jarvis cocker #Olivia rodrigo #devendra banhart #sufjan stevens #brandi carlile #Julieta venegas

[blockheadjnr]

For my birthday we’re having champagne, creamy sundried tomato pasta, ceasar salad and then a Pina colada rum cake for dessert

[browsethestacks]

Champagne For Ceasar (1950)

Burnbridge Waters (Vincent Price) And Ceasar (Voice of Mel Blanc)

#Film #Photography #Champagne For Ceasar #Vincent Price #Parrots #Vintage #Comedy #Horror #Black And White #1950 #1950s #50s #Mel Blanc #Horror Films

[krystal-prisms]

For a fun time, Google slang from where you live and see what you thought everyone does but it's really just you locally

Canadian slang and stuff that is apparently just Canadian

Double double - 2 sugar and 2 cream in your coffee. Like, what else do you say, it's so much easier to say this

Pencil crayons- everyone else calls them coloured pencils??? Why???

Runners- that's what we call sneakers or tennis shoes

Pop- why the fuck would you call it soda, that's dumb

Mickey- a measurement of alcohol. Hey can you get me a Mickey of vodka? Etc

To boot- buy an underage person alcohol

Toque- it's not a fucking beanie fuck off

Bucks (apparently???) - dollars, I can't believe other places don't say this according to google

Eh - ok we do actually say this often, but not in the way Americans think we do

Washroom - restroom sounds too formal, man

Chocolate bar - apparently Americans say candy bars? Why? They're made of chocolate, candy is other things not just ch

Freezies - they're not fucking otter pops that's dumb

Tap- tap water. That's much easier than faucet

We say 'for sure' instead of "definitely"

Ceasar drinks - clamato juice and vodka, and some other shit, I actually don't like them but you can get them absolutely everywhere here

Bagged milk - yes that exists but it's only in the east not in normal provinces

KD - kraft dinner??? Y'all call it macaroni? It's not just macaroni it's specific macaroni. KD is specifically kraft dinner macaroni

Champagne birthday - when you turn the same age as your day of birth. Like if you were born on the second of a month, your Champagne birthday is your second Birthday

Poutine is amazing fuck you

Tim's is actually as popular as you think, everyone loves it

We measure distance in time not kilometers like saying "I'm 15 minutes away" instead of like "I'm 15 kilometers away"

Canadian smarties are superior

You don't have Hickory Sticks or All Dressed Chips??

This is so weird guys

#my bs #canada #canadian #oh canada

[thealmightyemprex]

Top 5 favorite movies of 1950

I want to go over my fave movies of the 50's and I have decided to do so by year......Turns out I have only seen a handful of films from 1950

5.Champagne for Ceasar

Fun satirical comedy with Vincent Price

4,Cinderella

Not my favorite Disney film but definately a animated classic

3.Treasure Island

Robert Newton literally DEFINED how we perceive pirates

2.Sunset Boulevard

A dark and very intelligent film,with on hell of a performance by Gloria Stuart .....Also best use of the "You might be wondering how I got here " trope ever

1.Rashomon

A film with a clever story telling device :One event told from 4 diffrent perspectives and we dont find the truth

Share your fave film from 1950

@ariel-seagull-wings @amalthea9 @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @princesssarisa @lord-antihero @marquisedemasque @filmcityworld1

[mywifeslasagne]

tagged by the wonderful @ohboywonder took me a while to get around to this sorry

>> 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 9/20

baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

>> 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀 11/20

neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

>> 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐘 11/20

closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

>> 𝟕𝟎’𝐒 9/20

colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

>> 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 4/20

collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colourful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairylights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details |

No pressure tag: @juulius-ceasar @modernlittlefoot @bread-making-vikings

#tag game #my style is very not consistent as you can see lol

[maple-writes]

WHG 14: Post Games 1

whg tag list: @ratracechronicler (Rebecca and Elvira) @concealeddarkness13 (Nesri, Lynne, Shine), @nightskywriter , @rhikasa-archive , @the-moving-finger-writes , @aeslin-writes @knmartinshouldbewriting , @pen-of-roses (Rowan, Lynn) @timefirewrites 

this was really run to work on together :D 

###

According to Nesri who’d heard it from someone else who’s name I couldn’t remember, there was going to be a special, extra, interview put on by the capitol to celebrate the ending of the games. As much as I wanted to stay in bed, to curl up and go back to sleep, curiosity got the best of me. Most of the others were already gathered around the TV set. Cirrus got up when he noticed me and ushered me to take his seat in the corner of the couch. He disappeared somewhere, but I didn’t think to look where he’d gone.

The interview didn’t look like it was on yet, still playing reruns of the highlights from the games. It was strange, and made my stomach turned when I recognized some of the faces from training. A lot of them hadn’t made it. They were gone now. I had to look down when footage of the deaths started to play. I knew what it felt like to die. Countless times I’d relived someone’s last moments, their last breaths as I tried to help them move on, to give the recognition and acknowledgement they needed. I knew what it felt like to die and I didn’t need to see it like this. Not so soon. Not when it could have been me.

Cirrus reappeared by my shoulder, holding out a gently steaming mug. “Here. It’s hot.” He made sure I had it before taking his hand back and leaning against the back of the couch, his head by mine.

I mumbled a thank you and held the mug between my hands. It smelled nice, like some kind of tea. The reruns ended and the interview started with the traditional music and overdone images and Ceasar’s overhyped smile. I swallowed. I could almost feel it on my own face, pulling unnaturally at my cheeks until Nesri threw a piece of popcorn straight to his teeth.

"This Hunger Games was full of surprises. It was one of the longest Hunger Games ever, and the excitement was spread out to keep the tension high! We were so disappointed to see some favorites go, but we don't have to say goodbye to all of them yet..." Nesri threw a second popcorn, this time smack between his eyes. "We have a surprise for you, one that the Capitol made happen to make everyone happy! Two tributes have miraculously survived, and here they are!"

Lynne and Lynn walked on stage, dressed up and acting like it was the pre-games interviews all over again. I stole a glance at Rowan, stiff and scowling at the wall. They held their arm too tight. Lynn was their friend. Their friend. My heart fell. This couldn’t be easy to watch.

Sprawled out in every direction on one of the other chairs, Rebecca growled. “Disrespect. If he starts making jokes about their names, I’m kicking his kneecaps up to his throat.”

Cirrus grinned in the corner of my eye, mirrored by Nesri as she gave a thumbs up.

“I would gladly help.” Rowan agreed with a half-hearted laugh.

On the screen, the two of them sat down on stage as Ceasar begun his interview. “So, could you describe how the Capitol so graciously saved you from the arena?”

Lynne smiled, almost as fake as Ceasar. “I was about to freeze, abandoned in the cold of the arena, but the Capitol graciously came and saved me, pulling me out from the hell of the arena and into the lesser hell of the--" She grimaced.

“I believe I was in almost the same situation, near death in the snow, such fond memories,” Lynn took over. “And of all people, my dear sister appears to, as you said, ‘graciously come and save me.”

“She stopped.” Elivra, one of the ones who’d joined us after we’d left the arena, pointed out. “Why so sudden? Why the face?” Good point.

Rowan’s eyes stayed glued to the screen. “If Lynn’s sister is involved, I can only imagine where exactly they were taken after being pulled out.”

Nesri looked down at her phone. “Shine says they’re both wearing shockers, and that’s how the Capitol is policing what they say.”

“Electric shockers?” Cirrus frowned. “Seems like overkill to me.”

Shockers? I hadn’t heard of anything like that before, but I ignored the questions that were slowly starting to come up and twisted around to look at Rowan. “Wait, you know where they are?”

“Not exactly, more just, from what Lynn’s said in the past. He was involved in something that we thought was only in our district that was hurting people.” Rowan sighed, running a hand through already wild hair.

“Oh.” My shoulders fell. “That’s too bad.” So much for that route.

Rebecca made a face. “The Capitol’s adherence to human rights knows no bounds. So they get shocked if they say something Snow or Caesar don’t like?”

Shine, one of the pirates I think, nodded, and Nesri shrugged. “I guess so. Shine’s the one who knows about this mechanical stuff.”

Ceasar carried on. “What did you think about leaving behind those you cared so much about when you went into the arena?”

“I had to.” Lynne looked straight into the cameras, straight at us. “I didn’t want to, but I had no choice. I’m sorry.”

Rebecca pointed at the screen. “She’s talking about us.”

Lynn spoke next. “Well, I had hoped they would understand when I volunteered for someone so young. Of course, never dreamed one would follow me in there.” His face twisted in pain and I grit my teeth. “I hope they’re okay.”

I gripped the edges of my mug harder, knuckles turning white as I glared at the screen. They were hurting him. Hurting him and putting him through hell for what? For what? To parade them around like broken trophies? To show them off to anyone who’d hear them and put them out to rust? Hadn’t they put everyone though enough? Enough? Anger flared hot from the center of my chest. And in front of Rowan. In front of Rowan and everyone else who’d ever cared about him, who wouldn’t, who couldn’t, who couldn’t do anything to save them. Could only watch. Watch as, as…

“How dare he.” I snarled. How dare he put them through this with a smile and a laugh like it was nothing, like they were worthless, like they were both nothing. Nothing. Nothing. “I should have killed him.” Should have bitten through the thin edge of his soul right there on his exploitative stage and put and end to it. Should have gone through with my threat, should have spilled his overrated blood. “I should have…”

Cirrus shot me a look with quick tap on my arm, slight enough I wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed but enough. Enough. I shook my head out, letting my eyes drop down to my tired reflection in what was left of the tea. Not now. Not now.

“As much as I agree with the thought,” Rowan spoke quietly. “I’m afraid of how much worse the games could have been after if you had, on top of it you wouldn’t have survived the interview, and personally I’m glad we’ve all made it this far.”

Nesri held her bowl up like a champagne glass toast. “Cheers, I’ll eat to that.”

“It gives us all a chance to right what they’ve wronged.” Elvira added.

I nodded down at my reflection. They were right. They were all right. Even if I had, even if I hadn’t held back, and if they’d let me survive I didn’t know how I would have lived with it. To do away with a demon was one thing, but a human? A person, no matter how hated, that was different. That was different.

Ceaser’s stupid laugh through the speakers brought my attention back to the interview. “We have a surprise for you as well!” He gestured at something out of the frame, and two people I didn’t recognize entered the stage to a whispered curse from Nesri. “Alastair and Laurel! Two people close to Evelynne and Lynn!” The crowed cheered as Lynne and Alastair embraced and Lynn didn’t seem to know what to think. “We’re going to let them have some time alone…” He winked at the crowd still in hysterics. “But look forward to more surprises throughout the week, with a big surprise being announced at an interview at the end of this week! Have a good night and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

And that was it. The tributes were corralled off the screen and were quickly replaced the usual outro. Gone.

Nesri devoured the last of her popcorn and leaned back. “So, what are we going to do about this?”

I swallowed. Do about it? Was there anything we could do about it?

“I’ve seen enough.” Rebecca stood, grabbing the sword she’d refused to be separated from since leaving the arena. “I’m ready to go get ‘em now.”

Cirrus eyed up the sword in her hand. “Where the fuck did she get that? I want one.”

“You don’t even know how to use it.” I whispered back.

He blinked, half surprised and half embarrassed that I’d heard him, like he hadn’t meant to actually say any of that out loud.

Nesri got up with a laugh, blocking her path. “As much as I’d like to say I’m with you, it would be suicide to get them now.” As if it wouldn’t be any other time? “We’ll have to figure out a time when they’re under less security.” She glanced down at her phone, then at Shine with a quick nod. “The most pressing thing right now is figuring out how to get rid of the trackers.”

Rowan took a deep breath, seeming to force their eyes open. “Alright, does anyone actually know how those things work or could possibly make them not work?” Even from the couch I thought I could see them shaking, shaking and trying their best to hide it.

Cirrus clearly did not. He shrugged. “Take the battery out?”

Shine rolled his eyes and started to type something into his phone. Cirrus scowled but thankfully kept his mouth shut.

Rebecca sat down again. “Maybe we can just slice them out like we did with our trackers?”

“That would require getting close to the person without raising suspicious, and it sounds potentially harmful,” Elvira pointed out. “They’re likely wired differently than the trackers. They must be controlled remotely. If we can destroy or steal whatever triggers the shocks, those who should be safe. Well. Safe-er.”

Nesri looked down at her phone, reading off Shine’s text. “I can figure out how they work and how to make them stop working, but someone’s going to have to s teal one for me. I don’t know what the Capitol would have put in for security measures. I’m not sure where they would be keeping them, however.”

Rebecca jumped in. “I know a guy who might be able to help us narrow that down for you—he’s a sucker for a good cause. Which is why he quit. And I’m sure more than one of us are good for sneaking into places we shouldn’t get to.” She cast a pointed look towards Nesri and I faintly remembered some disturbances back at the training center that I’d done my best to avoid at the time.

Nesri gave her wink. “I’ll totally back you up.”

But that was the training center, and this was different. We didn’t know what we were up against. What kind of place they’d be keeping their technology, what kind of security measures they’d be putting in place. Surely they had to know that we weren’t dead, they had to with no bodies, and they’d be afraid of us finding out what they were doing. It might not be so simple this time. Might not be so harmless.

I took a deep breath and looked up from my tea before I could think twice about what I was about to say. “We might not have to do much sneaking.” I glanced at the others. “If we can get close enough to someone who works there I could swap them with one of us. Take their soul our and put someone else’s in the body and you could use it like your own.” They could just walk right in like nothing was wrong, putting aside how it would break every ethical guideline there was. But Ginger would never have to know, right? And besides. She did tell me I could do whatever I needed to before I left, didn’t she?

Rowan shifted uncomfortably, grimacing. “I’ve had an experience a little too similar I the past to be the one for you to do that with, sorry.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” I nodded. “It’s a lot if you’re not ready for it.” To say the least anyway. “If we don’t need to do it all the better, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they have this stuff under a lot of security.”

“That works too!” Nesri grinned. “That’ll be our sub-heist!”

“So that takes care of the trackers, but what about actually getting both of them out?” Cirrus stood up straight and crossed his arms. “Sure you’ll have a field day dissecting some overcharged computer but that doesn’t do anything if we can’t get them free.”

Rowan glanced from Cirrus to the others. “Are we including the two they brought out on stage as well in this recue or do you think they were just there as a way to show the Capitol’s power to those two during the interview, if it could even be called that?”

Nesri shrugged. “Why not? More of a challenge and more of a ‘screw you’ to the Capitol.”

"Are they innocent? They're not working with Caesar, are they?" Elvira asked. "It seems like they were being used as a threat. If we abscond with Lynn and Lynne, Snow will have no use for the other two. I, for one, would rather not have that on my conscience if we can help it."

I tried to keep up, the fuzzy edge starting to creep back into my head and slowing my thoughts.

“I can’t say anything about the other, but Laurel is innocent, she’s family or as close as myself or Lynn have.” Rowan sounded certain.

Nesri shook her head. "Alastair was working with us to begin with, so he won't be working with Snow. He's offered to help us get into exclusive events if it will help us get them out."

Rebecca perked up. “Exclusive events? Like what?”

"His father is a close Snow advisor, but he's not infatuated with Snow like his family is. Triel made sure," Nesri said quickly. "He has access to tickets to parties and other events that are exclusive to high-ranking officials."

Cirrus raised his eyebrows. “Sounds fun.”

Of course he’d like that. He’d probably feel right at home at one of their fancy parties.

Nesri grinned along with him. “And Triel has the best disguises, if we need them.”

"So, we wait for the Capitol to host something flashy to show off their new trophies, find ourselves with invitations, and leave with these four in tow, shockless and safe?" Elvira asked

I nodded, buying time to pick out my words. “I’m in.” So far it made sense. So far it sounded doable.

"It'll be so much more dramatic!" Nesri’s phone buzzed and she read something off of the screen. "So, it turns out the Capitol stole all of the tributes. If we can find a way to steal all of them from under the Capitol's nose, we can show how little the Capitol can control." She looked up at the rest of us. "And just when we were getting things accomplished. How about we save that conversation for later when Triel's back, so she can explain more about what she learned?"

Agreement rippled through the others, and I leaned back into the plush of the couch. Good, I didn’t know how much longer it would be before I’d start falling asleep again. The others started going their own ways, talking in smaller groups or going off alone. I stayed put, setting my cup down on the table and stretching out on the now empty couch. How long had we been here? A few days? I curled up, wrapping the blanket around me a little tighter. Hopefully it wouldn’t be much longer before I’d be back at least partway alert. Partway coherent. At least it was warm. We were inside. We were safe enough. We were out and I hadn’t hurt anyone. Now I just had to rest. I could figure things out later, like whether or not I bit Zenith and whether or not I owed him an apology.

I opened my eyes and propped myself up enough to look around the now near empty room. Where was Zenith? He’d made it out hadn’t he? For a moment I thought of getting up, trying to find him, but the weight in my limbs and the sleepiness behind my eyes changed my mind. If something had happened someone would have told me by now, that or I would have noticed something wrong.

#whg 14 #writeblr hunger games #asher #cirrus #here we are again with the inconsistant spelligns of ceasersa name

[messwriting]

What do u listen to when u write and what particular song really boosts ur creativity?

For me evermore and folklore draw out some pretty cool creativity and feels for writing, but I’d love to know what music u listen to for writing and if it impacts the mood or events in your stories

ooooh! hi nonnie! good question!!! okay, so there are two asks about my (doubtable) music tastes but they’re different so i’m starting with this one.

this is.....HUGE. iasjiasjiasj i am so sorry, i went full out oversharing about myself here???? hope you don’t mind me. 

i love evermore and folklore!!! they’re really good for me when i’m writing plot or feelings and i’ve tried and failed once to write a song fic about it. but sara has a perfect, sad and loving one about champagne problems with bakugou.

to be very honest me with music is like this: i find a single music I love as fuck. them i hear it on repeat for ages. then i go to either spotify or youtube and hear the music/author playlist and then the cycle goes until i stop hearing it and move on. iajsiasjaijiaj the latest ones i had this going on was sam smith’s lighthouse keeper (i made a whole iwa/lee small angst/confort fic on dymph’s dms to this music) and vilain from kda (THIS IS OSAMU’S READER SONG AISJAISJ). i’m in a free-music moment right now so rec me songs!!! <3 

lately my go-to playlist was a playlist mix I had on youtube from love goes by sam smith, with names as paper kites, noah karran, jeremy zucker, kevin garret, finneas, ariana, daniel ceasar, john legend, more sam smith, taylor and also the occasional billie eilish. it was just a soft, loving playlist and it helped me because it didn’t disturb my thoughts as I wrote. that was the one I was on when writing the last fics since golden eyes, especially when I was trying to do plot and not smut. but overall I can also write smut with them if i’m on the right mind/inspired. 

lately i’m kinda struggling to find the right music to write and i’ve been on lots of lo-fi, slowed down r&b (which i already listen A. LOT) to focus. 

the way they impact me would be in getting me to feel /emotional/ when i’m writing. when i was listening to folklore, exile and this is me trying were definitely playing when i was writing p and p and it was such strong lyrics vibes there. the misunderstanding, the feelings. it helped me focus on the same things going on in p and p.  as for events, sometimes!!! but honestly it happens more on the smut than on the plot side.

so to make this shorter because i’ll write about the smut on the other ask AISJAISJIASJ what i mean is: soft, with low-beatings, loving songs are normally where i go when i’m writing. loud music can end up doing the contrary and like taking my mind off the groove, that's why i go for slow-down, lo-fi, soft pop musics, slowed r&b and stuff. 

hope you don't mind the long answer nonnie. i enjoyed breaking this down aisjaisjiasj <3 

#lee answers #nonnies with the great questions #sorry i really went full off omg #but for real drop me some nice recs #i'm between fics right now so it may throw me in the groove!!! #lee doubtable music tastes

[simba-bonfamille-lyons]

Let’s Get Married: Part Two /./ [Simber]

In which Simba and Berlioz get married 🥺🥺...[takes place: February 29, 2020]

@ber-bonfamille-lyons

[tw -- none]

BERLIOZ: The plane touched down back in time-- Simba and Berlioz five hours ago, or maybe two years ago, or maybe a whole other timeline entirely. Ber didn’t know, only knew that it was still the 29th, and the Vegas sun was winking at him through the window, though on its way down into a fruit-punch red sky. T-minus only a couple of hours for them to get married. This time, for real. This time, it would stick.

They clambered out, dragging their already packed suitcases (because they’d been ready to go on a trip just like this soon as the wedding was done) through the skinny plane aisle and out into the airport. Simba took Ber’s hand and they ran. Ber laughed, nearly tripped a few times, his suitcases wheels catching. They got on one of those airport treadmill walkways and kissed in the middle, till some douche with an apple watch barked at them to pick a side.

“We’re getting married,” Ber shouted after him.

The bloke threw a middle finger up at them.

They managed to snag a taxi soon after without too much wait, got to their hotel, tossed their shit in, and then were out again: heading back to the strip. As they drove, all the lights began to draw Ber’s memories out of hiding. “I so remember this…” Ber said, glancing out the window. His eyes bounced all over. “We should-- We should try to find the exact chapel, yeah? We could go back to the Palace first?”

SIMBA: Simba had been buzzing in his seat all the way from England. He didn't think he'd sat still. Not for one second. If he wasn't tapping his foot to music, he was bothering Ber, or bothering the steward(ess)es. At one point, he'd disappeared for an entire hour--distracted showing the steward(ess)es pictures of Berlioz and their dogs and all the wedding preparations they'd done and had basically told them his entire life story.

Part of this was nerves. There was still a part of him that knew Berlioz could back out. Was kind of glad they spent the whole time on an airplane where Ber couldn't run from him.

Part of it--most of it--was excitement. He'd even considered badgering Ber into joining the mile high club but he'd already made too big of a scene--no way they were getting away with that. So, he satisfied himself with writing edit after edit of his vows while Ber was distracted watching movies. Yeah, he hadn't written his vows yet.

When they got off the plane, they were off like a shot, weaving through the crowd. Simba felt like he was racing some kind of clock of fate or destiny. By the time the strip lights sparkled and winked at him, the sun disappearing over the horizon, Simba could see the hour glass turning over.

"Oh, yeah--definitely. The exact one," he agreed and told the driver. When they got to Ceasar's Palace, he stepped out and turned around on the spot, his head going every which way. "Was it--to the right or...the left? Fuck me, I was so blasted.”

BERLIOZ: Berlioz also clambered out, giving a slow spin around, face angled toward the sky. Of course, there were no stars here. You'd have to take a trip out into the desert of Nevada to see the stars. They'd see those plenty in the after-- when they did rent a car, and drive, and camp out. But before they could honeymoon, turn an American desert into a moon landing, they had to. Y'know. Get married first.

And no, Ber didn't have cold feet. He wanted this. He was all jitters, the best kind, like he was about to jump into an ocean. He wasn't afraid.

"Shit... me too. We had those weird pineapple twister things, you remember? Maybe we should get some, jog our memory." He giggled a little and reached for Simba's hand. "I think you were pullin' me this way. Or was I pullin' you?"

SIMBA: Simba laughed, but he didn't agree--because he wanted to be entirely, cold stone sober. (Okay, he'd had a glass of champagne on the plane but that had been like uhhhhh 8 hours ago? It was blurry. Airplane time wasn't real time. It was a space ship, a time capsule, giving them more time. An extra long leap day year--that had to be lucky, didn't it? Simba felt lucky, like the luckiest person in the world.

"I dunno," he said, and then--turn to the right confidently.

"I think it's this way," he announced, turning to smile wide at Berlioz. "I'm feelin' lucky."

BERLIOZ: Berlioz remembered the music most of all.

That's what was pushing back into his mind as he took Simba's hand, let himself get tugged. He remembered Elton of course-- he remembered singing at the top of his lungs, and he remembered Burning Love, how that song had snuck into their playlist and called to the both of them. The night was different now-- it was all radio play bumping out of the speakers, because Vegas hadn't fully woken up. Not yet. But soon.

"Yeah this...this kinda looks familiar." He snorted at himself, not sure if he was just telling himself that or not. "We gotta find an Elvis Impersonator, maybe they'll know the way."

SIMBA: "Yeah, cuz we're just gonna stumble on an Elvis Impersonator. We could just Google maps it," he pointed out, but he didn't move to take his phone out of his pocket. Nah, they were gonna find this place the way they'd found it the first time. "We didn't go far, did we? Or--am I just thinking that because time went backwards? No, we totally heard the music right down the street. It's gotta be around here somewhere," he said confidently, readjusting his grip on Ber's hand. It was kind of sweaty. His, not Ber's. Well--maybe Ber's too. He didn't actually know, not that it really mattered. His heart was pounding in his ears and he couldn't stop smiling.

"You think they'll be open? It's still kinda early. Oh--do you think they'll remember us?"

BERLIOZ: Berlioz laughed.

It was just. The most Simba thing to say in the world.

Because no, there was no way that some place was gonna remember two drunk tourists among the hundreds of thousands of drunk tourists they saw every single year. They weren't the only couple out there lookin' to get married at the drop of a pin. Maybe they were the first to get married, get that annulled, stay together, get engaged, ditch their own wedding, and return back to the same spot where they first got married--

But of course only Ber and Simba knew that history. The only two in all of Las Vegas, a secret, for them.

"Y'know. Anything's possible. Is that what they say about Vegas?" Ber pursed his lips, quirked his eyebrows. "Maybe not, but-- well, they gotta be open at least. Feel like these places should be 24/7, y'know? Love doesn't have a curfew."

SIMBA: Simba laughed at that, because it was a very Berlioz thing to say. He said it with a sure nod, as if this was a fact. As if it was really the only thing that made sense at all. And--well, Simba did agree with him. Love didn't have a curfew. But it did have a deadline. They had to be married by midnight tonight. It was destiny. It was fate. It was--gonna be really, really shitty if they missed this one day that only came every four years.

"You're absolutely right. Isn't this the place that never sleeps anyway? Oh, wait--no, that's New York. Whatever, we will convince them to open early, yeah? How could they say no to us. How many people get married twice in an Elvis chapel?”

BERLIOZ: Berlioz grinned. He could already see it, eh? Simba knocking down an Elvis-Chapel's door, demanding an audience with...uh... an Elvis-Pastor. Was Elvis the pastor? Was Elvis the witness? Was Elvis just the wedding band?

Wow, he really didn't remember anything about his last wedding, did he?

"I believe in you," he hummed lightly-- then stopped. "Wait. This..." A memory half-formed rose in his brain. "I think... I think maybe it was down that street? Maybe?" He pointed, watching the light turn from green to red. "Yeah, I think I remember cuz I heard the music. I heard Burning Love, do you remember that?"

SIMBA: "Definitely," Simba said in a way that meant: absolutely not.

Simba had tried really hard, several times, over the course of the last few years (had it really been years? Why had he tried to marry Berlioz two years into dating?! What was wrong with him?! I mean, obviously because he loved him and would've married him that first night, four years ago, if he could've. Maybe they would've saved each other a lot of heartbreak.)

"Let's go that way." And off they went again, Simba's heart pounding in his ears and in his feet, beating a drum that sounded like--like--

You're kisses lift me higher--

"Oi, shit! Do you hear that?" Simba almost tripped on himself in the middle of the crosswalk in his excitement. "Do you hear that?!"

BERLIOZ: Berlioz did hear it. He heard it and he grabbed Simba's hand tighter and pulled him along even faster-- which not a good move, considering their gangly legs, neither of 'em particularly graceful. But it was really coming back now. Ber remembered.

"Over here, over here! Yeah, this was where--!"

He stumbled to a stop and across the street was the chapel. Ber laughed and pointed at it. "Wow, do they only play Elvis's Burning Love, like, on a loop? He has other love songs," Ber said, which was definitely not the point.

The point was they'd gotten married there, once. Ber stared, and his grin grew softer, lips closing. "It's not changed at all."

SIMBA: Simba came up beside Berlioz, looking up at the bright pink sign. "If you say so, I honestly don't remember this at all." He smiled softly too, his heart feeling like it was going to burst out of his chest. Then, suddenly, the oversized Elvis on the sign gave a jerky movement.

"Holy shit! It's animatronic." Simba doubled over laughing. "That's bloody terrifying. Quick, let's get inside before we get cursed or something."

They burst into the very empty chapel. The front office-area thing that looked like a cross between one of those rock-n-roll memorabilia restaurants and a dentist waiting room. There was no one at the desk.

"Helllooooooo!" Simba called, "we would like to get married!"

BERLIOZ: Berlioz was still trying to place the rest of the memory. He really had a feeling he could do it. It was knock-knock-knocking away. He and Simba running down here... maybe there had been a tourist couple...and then... one of them had said...

Before he could figure it out, Simba yanked him and across the street they went, Ber giggling the whole way. When he entered, all the recollection swept away. He didn't remember this at all. Shouldn't he remember this part?

"Wait check the time. I mean, it's gotta be open, it was-- open-open." Ber said, shrugging, but he peeled away to check the window anyway. But he got distracted by a corkboard...

"Oi, Simba, there are pictures!" he said and pointed. "These are all couples who got married here, I guess?"

SIMBA: "Hm? Oh, shit--are we on there?" he asked, getting immediately distracted as he started searching through all the faces. Wow, this was brilliant. He loved this. Look at all these lovely people in love. It made him smile.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Simba whirled around and smiled bright. "We're gonna get married!"

"I assumed so," the receptionist(?) said, nodding to the matching outfits with a little smile. "Do you have rings? We sel--"

"No, we have rings. We've got the rings, right Ber?" Lou had left them for them and Simba had given them to Ber, not trustin' himself with them.

BERLIOZ: There were only a few things that Ber could really keep track of. He probably capped out around...three. Five, when trying. Those three were-- phone, wallet, keys. He'd put both the rings on his keys just to make sure they weren't gonna get lost, and now he dug his hand into his jacket pocket to pull 'em out. They glinted under the light, along with all of his keys too-- keys to his studio, to the radio, to Bonfamille Manor, but most importantly--their key. To their home.

It was a million miles away but it didnt feel that way. This Elvis Chapel was as good as home. he snagged the rings off. "These work?" Ber said.

The receptionist pursed their lips. "Sure. Will you be needing a witness?"

"Is Elvis gonna be our witness?"

"Usually Elvis does the marrying."

"Ah, okay. Whoever. You. What's your name?" Ber grinned, feeling-- cheeky and-- confident. He felt confident. What the hell was that about?

"JoAnne," deadpanned JoAnne.

SIMBA: "JoAnne, perfect. I love that. Do people call you Jo?"

"No."

"Can I call you Jo?"

That--he could tell--caught her off guard. He smiled cheekily at her as she laughed. "No," she finally said, trying to keep her expression straight. "Alright, is there--anything else you need? Music or a specific religious..."

"Nonreligious, please. Unless your Elvis is also an imam."

"Er, no," JoAnne said with an apologetic little smile.

Simba nodded once solemnly. "That's alright, Allah will be here anyway. Oh--do you have any Magicks on staff? I'd like to a Magick to be there. If they want. We're both Mundus but--I dunno. Would be nice."

"Rosie our janitor is half-fairy, I think?"

"Sure! Bring her along! We need two anyway. Babe--music requests?"

BERLIOZ: It was really happening.

Course it was happening. He knew it was happening. He wanted it to happen. But now his stomach swooped with a new kinda excitement-- the nervous kind. And there was no turning back, though Berlioz didn't want to. This was just...it. Every moment had led to Simba, Berlioz, this chapel-- Rosie the half-fairy janitor.

Oh. And they needed a song.

His eyes flicked up. "Um. Should we do Book of Love?" They had agreed on it after all. It was supposed to be their song so-- why not?

SIMBA: "Oh, yeah--Book of Love. And we'll just--we'll walk down the aisle together, yeah?" Simba didn't want to leave Berlioz's side for even a moment.

"Great," JoAnne said, a little enthusiasm seeping into her voice, though Simba wasn't sure if it was feigned or not. He didn't care. He only had eyes and ears for Berlioz anyway. "I'll go get Rosie, queue up the song and we'll be ready. You can just wait outside those doors over there." She pointed to double doors at the end of the hall and then disappeared again.

When she was gone, Simba turned to Ber, his stomach swooping and fluttering. "You ready?"

BERLIOZ: Berlioz turned to Simba at the same time. They faced each other, wide-eyed and a little amazed, like they couldn't believe they were doing this either. At least, that's what Ber saw. And he also saw the same face he woke up to every single morning, and the small cut on Simba's lip where he'd accidentally nicked himself with a razor. And he saw echoes of the laugh that Ber fell in love with the day they met.

Ber stroked Simba's face just once-- his thumb over Simba's cheekbone. And he said, "I definitely forgot my vows in the hotel."

But then he grinned and kissed Simba once on the lips, even though, y'know, probably should save it. When did he ever listen? "But yeah. I'm-- I'm ready."

SIMBA: Simba smiled so that Ber kissed his teeth. "Good, because I didn't even write mine."

He raised his eyebrows but before he could reply--

The doors opened and the beginning refrain of the Book of Love started playing. Simba's breath caught in his throat and he swallowed it down, trying to remember how to make his legs work. They couldn't fail him now, he was about to take the most important steps of his whole fuckin' life. He'd drag himself to that altar if he needed to. And this time--he was going to commit it all to memory.

How it smelled kind of musty and under the sound of the music there was a hum of a really old air conditioner. The whole thing was white--actually, kind of pretty. He glanced around as they walked down the aisle. And then--there they were.

"Alright," said Elvis, standing with a microphone. He did a signature little Elvis leg wiggle thing. "Let's get this wedding on! Now, handsome groom and groom, can I--uh--have your names?"

"Sim--wait, no--O-Onyango Lyons, yeah," Simba nodded once and glanced at Elvis before looking back at Ber and adjusting his grip on his hand.

BERLIOZ: This was all a little ridiculous. When you look at all the elements separately, it wasn't so ridiculous (okay, Elvis Chapel would never not be) but when you put it together-- Simba, Berlioz, Janitor, and now fucking Book of Love, Peter Gabriel blaring down the speakers...

Berlioz was never going to forget this.

There was no way. He didn't need a thousand eye witnesses. He didn't need their fancy wedding photographer. What he needed was exactly this.

Arm-in-arm they marched down the aisle, Ber casting Simba excited glance after excited glance, seconds away from either crying or laughing or both. When they were up front, his eyes were definitely shining-- heart so loud, he couldn't even hear the music all that properly. (But he knew this song by heart. Just as he knew he would remember and replay this wedding. On loop. Forever.)

"And yours, young man?"

"Um-- Berlioz. Bonfamille," he said.

"Alright alright alright. Well! We are gathered here today-- and by we, I mean myself and the delightful Rosie, hey Rosie-- to join Onyango Lyons and Berlioz Bonfamille in holy matrimony. If there are ANY objections to these two gentlemen and their burning love, please stand up and say so."

Nothing but blissful silence. Well. Peter Gabriel.

"Alright. Are we doing the traditional vows today, fellas?"

SIMBA: Simba wasn't crying. Why wasn't he crying? Simba cried watching those videos where dogs got excited about seeing their human come home after being away for a really long time. His heart would get so full, he wouldn't be able to do anything else but cry. Simba cried when he ate really good ugali. Sometimes, he cried after sex, because he just loved Ber so much he wanted to crawl inside his heart.

But right now? He didn't feel like crying, even as he saw the sheen in Ber's eyes. Instead, he just wanted to pull him closer and wrap him up in a hug. He wanted to jump up and down like they were back in Swynlake, in their bouncy castle or on their bed. Instead, he just, adjusted his hands, which were gripping Ber's. Took a breath and shook his head.

"No, I--I think we're gonna say our own."

"Alright, alright, alright--go for it, boys.”

Right.

“I love you,” Simba said first—which was stupid and also obvious. “Sorry, I—I tried to write a bunch of stuff down when we were—well, a lot, actually. Over and over. Even on the plane, on the way here. I was writing on cocktail napkins. Do you—do you remember when I used to do that? Uhm, anyway, sorry. I just—nothing felt right but music, y’know? Like—sometimes, I could listen to a song and it felt exactly like what I wanted to say, but that felt like cheating. Also, some of them don’t even have lyrics, like that one you showed me—” he hummed, badly, a few notes of it. “Like that.”

A beat. He laughed again.

“Sorry—that’s not what I wanted to say.” He shook his head. “I guess I just—you’re amazing and you make me really fucking happy. I’ve never met someone who just makes me happy even when you’re sitting there doing nothing at all. And I want to spend my whole life being happy with you. I want to tell you all my secrets, even the ones that I don’t know yet. I want to watch you get wrinkles and liverspots. I want to buy you flowers forever. I want to be right by your side in this life and in the next one because no one will ever love me like you do and I’m selfish like that. You’re my best friend. You are—the gentlest, smartest person I know, and I think you’re lovely. Allah blessed my life when He brought you into it. I’m really glad we’ve come this far and I’m really glad we have so far to go together. Nothing makes me more excited for the future than knowing you’re going to be in it with me.

I would’ve waited a hundred years to marry you, but thank Allah we’re doing it now, because I can’t wait another second. I’m going to be the best husband, in the whole world, I promise. I will always love you and I will always be patient and kind. I will listen to you and I will take care of you and be with you in the dark. I will kiss you every night and every morning. I will always be there for you. I promise.”

BERLIOZ: Simba wasn’t crying, but Berlioz was.

The first word. The second. Ber started to giggle and nod along with Simba, like they really were just having another conversation. A conversation over pancakes in the morning, a conversation while trapped in the queue at the Market, a conversation over folding laundry or snickered between them at Town Hall Meetings. Maybe that’s why a couple of tears slipped down his cheeks, even though he was grinning. He couldn’t help but feel so much bigger than he was-- a thousand different versions of himself here, each one in love with Simba in different ways.

He didn’t even want to say his own vows, y’know. They didn’t feel right, or enough, like how Simba said. It had always been music between them. Could he steal a guitar? Could he try to remember those silly chords he’d messed around with on the day they met? Serenade Simba on one knee, propose all over again, get married, all in two seconds flat?

No, he had to try. Funny that he’d been so bloody nervous about the vows. It was the vows more than anything else that had sent him across the world. And now he didn’t even have them.

Turns out he didn’t need the little paper after all, though. He’d just needed… this. To hear Simba tell him, not for the last time, exactly what their love was gonna mean.

“I promise too,” Berlioz started, quickly. “I promise...wait, wait. I’m gonna start over.” He waved his hand in the air and then quickly grasped Simba’s again.

“When we met, I was already in love with you. I think that was so, so obvious.” He shook his head, but was grinning at that memory of the old him. “But it’s not cuz you think. I mean, I didn’t even realize either. I had no idea…there was so much about myself that I didn’t understand, or like, but I knew that I liked you. And liking you-- falling in love with you-- it made me-- it really made me like me.” Now he really couldn’t see. Simba was a giant blur in front of him.

“And it’s cuz you were always you. You showed me how to just...be myself, and live like we were the main characters of our own lives. You made it so much easier. I’m brave with you, Simba. I really am. And that’s what I wanna be for you too. If I’m gonna promise anything to you, I wanna promise to be--  myself, all the time, even when I don’t like myself. And to help you be yourself too, even if that means letting you wear horrid socks with our dogs’ faces on them. I’m kidding, you know I love your socks, I love those socks--”

He was giggling again, shaking his head, and ah, he just wanted to kiss him. What else could he say?

“I promise to always love your stupid socks. And to hang out with you every day. And tell you when shit get’s hard and-- and be there for you when it gets hard for you too. Oh, and to love you. Did I say that? To love you. And one day, maybe to write the perfect song for you-- even if it takes till we’re so old I got arthritis in all my fingers, I’ll still hum it for you. I’ll spend the rest of my life finding that song for you. Okay, I’m done. Please, kiss me or something so I shut up--”

Elvis broke in. “Well do it then! I pronounce you two husbands!”

And Berlioz stepped forward, closing the space between them, until their lips were pressed together.

SIMBA: Simba wanted to reach up and start wiping at Berlioz’s tears before Ber even started on his vows, because it was just instinct, these days. It was his job to always wipe Berlioz’s tears. Shit. He should’ve added that to his vows.

That was okay. They were going to have forever to promise each other a hundred, a million things and even if they broke those promises, or forgot them sometimes, that’d be okay. Because they’d have forever to make it up to each other and try again and remember and add on and change. Simba couldn’t wait for all of it.

He was smiling so much his cheeks hurt and he couldn’t let go to wipe the tears from Ber’s eyes because he thought he’d fly up into the air and get stuck to the ceiling or something if he let go. Instead, he was probably squeezing Ber’s hands way too tight. The way you held someone’s hands when spinning around a dance floor or when pulling someone across the street. He loved those hands. He was gonna love them even more with a wedding ring on one of their fingers.

It felt impossible, to love Ber more than he already did, but he was constantly surprised by this love of his. The way it grew and grew, like one of those plants that covered literally every surface it touched and got bigger and bigger without stopping if you left it to its own devices. Maybe it was bad to compare his love to a hostile invasive species, but he didn’t care, let his whole body be consumed by it until him and Berlioz were covered in the earth.

I pronounce you two husbands!

Simba jumped, like someone had shocked him—he didn’t know why. It felt like it too, his heart double-timing as Ber leaned in to kiss him. And it was every kiss they’d ever had before, like time had folded in on itself, pinching its fingers together and sprinkling magic onto them. He kissed back, unable to stop from smiling, the whole thing mostly teeth and Simba snorting into Ber’s face.

“Wait!” he said, breaking the kiss and reaching into Ber’s pocket roughly.

“Woah now, fellas!” went Elvis.

Simba pulled out Ber’s keys and tried to get the rings off—but his fingers were shaking.

“Fuck.”

“Here, let me,” offered Elvis—taking it from him and then handing them back to Simba.

One. Then the other.

Simba squinted at them for a second and then looked up at Ber. “Uh—do you know which one’s yours?” he snorted. “They’re like—almost the same size.” He was blushing, his whole body hot with excitement.

#swynberlioz #let's get married #otp: cuddle if you'd like #otp: someday #otp: climbing over walls #otp: stupid beautiful boy #otp: i think you're lovely #otp: socked feet and ALL #otp: true love's kiss #otp: i wanna make plans with you #otp: let's go to vegas #had to put alllll the otp tags on this one #;;-;; #yes im posting this almost a year after the fact #yes you all are just gonna accept it

[jjba-arni-reblog]

Special morning

ay @lostinthe-jojos , late happy birthday from ya boi. Uni stuff got me dead but you make me slightly alive so.....enjoy ;)

Oh, what a lovely day arrived, your birthday. You were rather excited for it, hoping to spend it with your boyfriend. However, hearing the rumbling in the kitchen made you question the calmness of the upcoming day. Hearing two men argue made you roll your eyes. Sighing, you changed, leaving the shared room to come to the kitchen.

However, almost if hearing your rather quiet steps, you found yourself suddenly in Jojo’s strong hold as the man carried you back to the room.

“What the hell, Joseph?” you asked, eyes widening at his action.

“Not yet” he mumbled, as if to himself “can you sleep for a bit, my love?” he chuckled as you struggle in his muscular arms.

“What do you mean, sleep for a bit?” you asked as he put you down on the bed, his eyes full of mischief, smirk plastered across Jojo’s face.

“Well, we need to finish something there. It was going all well and good until Shiza-chan ruined everything”

“Shut up, it was you who fucked up” came the more gentle voice as your favourite blonde appeared, eyeing you two “Jojo” he made a quite threat as Joseph rolled his eyes and exited the room but not before stealing a kiss.

As minutes pass, you heard less arguing, instead a rather pleasant smell caught your attention. Chocolate. Now you were eager to see what the two men planned on making in the kitchen.

“5 more minutes, you better look decent, sleepyhead” Joseph called from the kitchen making you grunt a little.

“She is not you, Jojo” Ceasar noted. You could almost feel the smirk in his tone.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you head the offended voice and a light smack coming from the kitchen as you brushed your curly hair. You hoped that they won’t kill each other before they would actually come back to the room.

You heard a knock.

“Naked or not, here we come. I hope it is the first option~” Joseph’s silky voice carried through the house, your cheeks warming up at his cheeky comment. You heard Cae’s sight of disappointment.

“Close your eyes, sunflower” the voice of the blonde man asked you. Eagerly closing your eyes, you were anticipating the ‘surprise.’

You heard the two men enter, approaching you slowly as you now sat on the bed. You could smell something…burning?...and chocolate?

“Open” Jojo excitedly said.

Before you could even process what was going on, the two men said in unison “Happy birthday!”

Before you was what seemed to be a homemade chocolate cake, decorated with multiple birthday candles. Jojo was the one holding the cake while Caesar held a bottle of champagne and 3 glasses.

Celebration has begun. But first you had to get your birthday kisses. From each of your lovely boyfriends.

#it feels really rushed but I hope it is okay and worthy of your attention my dude

[finnofhudson]

Headcanon:

An early Valentine’s celebration for @msjackierose and @hollywoodcooper.

Tuesday night, on the beach.  A picnic dinner (cheesy heart shaped pizza with an easy ceasar salad, champagne, and left over baking from the family dinner the night before and a couple of chocolate dipped strawberries), followed by moonlit dancing on the beach to a playlist Cooper made for them. Cooper’s last night in Doveport, before leaving for LA in the morning.

And a small token.

#hcooper inspo #hcooper:headcanon #all:jackie #headcanon:st valentines day