Soda and Water Never Mixed Well (Yet We Tried Anyways)
Characters: Baby Saja(kpop demon hunters) & Percy Jackson
"Look I know you're a demon and all but you literally have one chore to do in the house and it's to water the plants, so pleaaase, do it!"
This exact sentence had been uttered by Percy's mouth so many times he could say it with his eyes closed and in almost every language he knew (which was English, bad Spanish and Sarcasm). And similarly, like every single time, Baby Saja answered with the same string of words.
"Aren't you a water spirit or something? Shouldn't you be the one to water the plants?"
"I am a demi-god for fuc-"
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"Watch your words!" Baby Saja tutted, "Wouldn't want to swear around a bwabwy~"
Percy threw his hands in the air. He was done. DONE. with the newcomer's bullshit. The Hermes Cabin better get their bed space situation sorted stat. Or Poseidon better not claim a new son any time soon. One more day of this whole roommate situation and Camp Half-Blood was going to turn into a murder scene.
And as often when it came to Percy and the Gods, it all went terribly when the next day, at breakfast, Baby Saja stood in the middle of the room with
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a glittering symbol above his head. He was a son of… Apollo. That explained why he was such a dumbfuck of a shithead.
Baby Saja looked up at the lyre symbol and tutted.
"At least I know where I got the singing voice from… Huh, Jackson?" he said with a smile that promised only bad, bad things.
Percy braced himself, as Baby Saja stalked closer, his mint hair gently covering his forehead.
"You're my soda pop! my little soda pop! pop!"
the fucker started serenading Percy with a really, really bad pop song… about soda.
Louis was playing in a small club on a Aaloth, singing his hit song, High in california. He then went on to sing Habit, thinking about his ex, Harry styles, that he left on another planet. Just as he was singing his eyes scanned the room, landing on a beautiful young man with blue orbs and a sexy golden outfit. As he sang to the complete stranger he couldn't help noting the warmth in those blue eyes, and how different they were from the green he'd left on earth
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It had been what, seconds, possibly minutes, when he had gay thoughts regarding a man and boom- here he was again, pondering about the way the man's hair would feel around his hand. What shampoo did the blue-eyed man use? For all he knew about this planet -on which he had landed approximately seven minutes ago-, hair hygiene was definitely not a well-known art.
He noticed the man was staring at him as well. Except there was no love nor a hint of interest in his cerualen orbs.
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Louis raised his guitar and spoke into the mic.
"This next song is dedicated to handsome strangers. I call it 'Lost in your Cerulean Orbit'."
There, the stranger looked at him and their eyes crossed. Louis was no stranger to love, it was the primary drive behind his every creations. But this? Now? The spark shared between the two of them was special. Both he and the strangers had felt it, he knew it.
Zuko put his all into his firebending practise, throwing flames and into the foliage around him. He'd been in the Earthkingdom so long, it was freeing to bend safely, hidden in the woods, and let himself feel all his emotions. His father didn't want him, Azula betrayed him and his honour - that was a bitter ex.
He kicked a ball of flame into the trees and screamed with rage. He fell and began beating the ground, but heard a rustling from the scorch marks
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The shape that appeared was a catterpillar, a very large one. It's green skin had blended in well with the leaves, but the red face stood out in dark contrast with the burnt ash. Zuko bent down, looking at the little animal lost in the warm ash, how hadn't it burnt to a crisp? Just then, the catterpillar opened it's mouth like a snake, it's jaws unhinging to eat the hot embers. The catterpillar was very clearly extremely hungry.
Unsettled by this weird animal, Zuko sent another burst of flame in its direction, if it had managed to eat hot coals, what else could it do, where would it stop… was it the avatar? The insect didn't spare him a glance, devouring the flames as they licked up it's sides in reds and oran
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hues. What frightened Zuko the most was the eerie silence the beast was surrounded in. There was no reaction or noise that came from the creature as it slowly approached him. It was moving, tantalizingly slow and Zuko could hear Azula's laugh and how she would have probably already burnt it to a crisp by now.
At least I would die doing what I am good at: firebending and being a loser, thought the emo ass teenager, already picturing his mom waiting for him on the other side with the turtle-duck his sister had killed.
Silence followed.
Zuko was still breathing and thus, he deduced, very much alive.
Arthur thought he knew everything about humanity. Plus as a gay person, he prided himself to be the most knowledgeable about men especially. Yet when he saw a blue-eyed man who ALSO couldn't walk, he was shocked- How could one be so unloved by the red threads of fate to be simultaneously disabled AND cursed with blue shimmering orbs… The man,
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with his shiny, beautiful, sexy bald little head, was unfortunately irresistible. Blue orbs be damned.
They met as all good pairings of this kind do. No matter where you head, you will find a coffee shops. Yes, even in vaguely medieval fantasy settings. (See, Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldtree!) How Charles had found himself there, there's no way to tell. Probably some Otherworld bullshit. Blame Betsy Braddock.
Whatever it may be, Arthur could not tear his eyes as he strolled (rolled?) into the room with the grace of a man who really did NOT look as though he should have been born with blue orbs. Or natural blonde hair, for that matter. At the very least THAT ick had managed to fall away with the years.
It was fate. It had to be.
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There was no other option to explain this feeling which sprouted in Arthur's muscular chest. He wanted to say something, anything, but no word was coming out of his throat, his voice wholly stolen by the beautiful man.
The man who was looking at him, as if waiting for something.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" he asked, trying to ignore his beating heart.
"I'm…looking. For someone," the man said, as if searching for the right words.
"Many people pass through here. Maybe whoever you're looking for has too. What's his name?"
Geralt observed the room, searching for his new informant. It's been a few days since he started tracking the one man who could tell him anything. According to his information, the man he was looking for had an intriguing sense of style, a strange accent and would break into song once in a while. He surely wasn't looking forward to the songs.
A man with chestnut tussled locks drew his eyes. He sat hunched at a table.
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The Witcher almost left out a grunt of exasperation. This man could either be the worst creature he had to face yet: a British man. British men were not to be confused with British women, who were, as everyone knew -especially the Dandelion- could be compared to goddesses of charisma. As for the British men… to explain it simply, they were the total opposite. A true failure of humanity with their pompous accent and malevolent rizz that could turn even the most thirsty of succubus.
But Geralt needed a contract. Needed the money to prepare for winter and so, he approached the monster, not without touching his
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sword, just in case (what did you think that was going to say, pervert?)
"'ello luv. lovely day 'ere having."
Geralt wanted to vomit.
"I'm looking for information."
"Well, for a lovely lady like yourself, anythin'"
He must have been drunk. VERY drunk. He started reaching for his guitar, so Geralt slapped his arm on the table to stop him.
"Cease, minstrel."
"Is that some kind of slur?"
"I do not care enough to call you a slur."
Harry looked away. Dejectedly.
"I like when men like you are a little mean."
Geralt had to admit, he had a soft spot for singing twinks of this kind. But he couldn't cave. Not here, not now. He had a job to do and he would do it, damn it.
i'm out of time uhhhh they bickered a bit more and then fucked. love is love gay rights happy pride
Characters: UCD's very own Newman Building & Thomas the Tank Engine
Thomas sought purpose. He had spent what felt like eternity (which you could say the limbo of being a children's entertainment mascot is akin to) moving forward, forward, forward without any goal in mind. He needed somewhere to head to. A track to follow.
After soul-searching, Thomas finally understood - what he sought, was love.
But a train engine can't love a human. At the very least, Thomas was not interested in a human romance. So he wandered. He rode on and on, an ache in his heart. And after what felt like a thousand days and nights, he saw it.
UCD's very own Newman Building. Perhaps the most conventionally attractive building Thomas had ever glimpsed. And that's when he knew he had finally found something he could truly love.
But loving Newman would not be easy.
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It started with trying to strike up a conversation. Thomas was not used to saying much, and inside his blue metallic shape, there was little room for anything other than a simple hello.
But there was no reply. Only the wind around this striking, leaking building howled around to the accompaniment of seagull cries.
Newman stood, unmoving.
This made it even more alluring.
Thomas decided he would try a different tactic.
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They were many doors to the Newman Building yet Thomas knew only one could lead to the cold heart of his true love. After much pondering whether where he should start to make his entrance, he decided on an even bolder approach: drowning himself.
The cold water was… cold as fuck. This was clearly the worst idea and God knows he had been allowed many as a literal servant for kids all around the world. He could feel his wheels getting heavier, and his eyes were beginning to close when he felt it. Something, as light as a feather, stroked his grey face.
Forcing himself to open his eyes again, he saw no one else than Stacy, the messenger of Newman smiling at him. He knew he had succeeded
It was supposed to be a regular day. The last thing Adora wanted was to be met face-to-face with someone claiming to be a "god".
"Sorry sir, you're gonna have to repeat your name to me."
The man with the floral print shirt looked at her as if she had two heads. He seemed so confused that he didn't notice the waves reaching his trousers.
"Poseidon." he said slowly. "And my fancy glasses have been stolen."
She nodded, as if knowing exactly who this man was.
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She had seen him before. Or at least, she thought so, given she hadn't stopped dreaming of a weird ass junkie with the fanciest, weirdest glasses she could ever gaze upon.
As a matter of fact, she saw them everywhere. When she woke up next to Catra, she no longer saw magnificent heterochromia orbs staring back at her but two azure flamingos glaring back at her. And when she had the misfortune to meet her own reflection, it wasn't two but eight flamingos -still blue- piercing, challenging her.
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She startled awake that morning, later than usual to the point where she barely made it in time for breakfast. There, Chiron called her aside.
"Adora," the centaur started, the air felt heavy and solemn. "You know the history of your father and his brother. How petty feuds have been at the center of some of Earth's worst periods."
Adora nodded, curious but anxious.
"It seems the Oracle has spoken. There is a new quest, and it befalls upon you."
"Poseidon's fancy glasses," Adora gasped.
"You know already?" Chiron asked, surprised.
"I've dreamed of it, I think."
"Indeed. It seems, Poseidon's fancy glasses have been stolen and he is accusing your dad, Zeus, of being at the root of this crime. You have until the Winter Solstice to find them."
"The Winter Solstice? But that is barely two weeks away!"
"That is why you need to get ready and decide on your questmates as soon as possible." Chiron said.
Adora did not need time to decide. She already knew who she needed on her quest. Her friend Bow, a child of Hephaestus known for his inventions, and Glimmer, a daughter of Iris more than able of holding her own in a fight. This would be her team to save the world.
"Happy new year!" the cheer echoed around the cramped walls of Bilbo's home. The stench of dwarves all around making the neighbour's cheese press smell like rose perfume. Still, the merriment brought life to the place Bilbo was happy to have.
After the initial hullabaloo died down -- Gandalf rose from his chair and took the eternally present pipe from his mouth.
"A happy new year to you all. I think I can speak for us all when I say that Bilbo here is deserving of a present for putting us up this fine winter's evening?" he asked -- drawing forth another round of cheering. Bilbo's eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed toward the wizard's bag -- and the green figure emerging from it.
"Heya everybody -- it's me, Kermit the Frog!" came the light voice. Bilbo's heart jumped -- Gandalf knew his favourite character.
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Kermit's black orbs glowed under the firelight, and Bilbo grinned at the character. The hobbit turned backt to the wizard in awe, everyone knew that Gandalf the Grey made marvelous fireworks. Somehow, no one knew about his puppet making skills.
Suddenly the puppet started singing, and all those in attendance turned to hear it.
"am i a maaaaan?
Or am i a muppet??
If I'm a muppet then I'm a very manly muppet
Am I a muppet or am I a man
If I'm a man that makes me a muppet of a man"
The simple song brought the audience to tears, as all of them knew the struggle of identity
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Sensing the stirring change in the atmosphere he had caused, Gandalf gently stopped moving the puppet manually, instead using magic to make it alive (in appearance only). If anyone sensed the swap, no one voiced it.
As a matter of fact, a deep, solemn silence had fallen upon the assembly. The tears had dried, Gandalf noticed, but the hearts, the very souls of the drawves and the Hobbit -especially the Hobbit- were still crying.
The wizard was about to take his leave and turning off the lights when he saw something more warm than the hearth fire: Biblo, Thorin and Kermit cuddling on the couch.
