#Hottest Songs of Helen

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Irene Papas (Tribute to a Bad Man, Electra, Zorba the Greek)— "From the opening shot of Michael Cacoyannis's Electra, as the proud, implacable face emerges from encroaching shadows, it becomes impossible to imagine anyone else as Euripides's heroine. Erect, immutably dignified, dark eyes burning fiercely beneath heavy black brows, Irene Papas visibly embodies the sublimity of classical Greece, tragic yet serene." -Philip Kemp (film critic) Also she's a a badass.

Jeanne Crain (State Fair, Apartment for Peggy, Leave Her to Heaven)— shes,....pretty....ougj....

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Irene Papas:

An amazing actress and singer, some may say a literal Greek goddess. Fought against military dictatorship in her home country and had an affair with Marlon Brando.

She literally played Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world in Greek mythology, what more could you want

Jeanne Crain:

here's her in literal disney princess mode, singing her "i want" song from the (very bad don't watch it) "State Fair":

#jeanne crain #irene papas #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1 #Youtube

[markwatkinsreviews]

ALBUM REVIEW: BRICK BRISCOE ~ Bliss Kit (2024)

“Briscoe approaches creating music from a fan-first perspective, and the results of that are a raw honestly and intimacy of sound”.

Released 25 April, 2024 on French Fries Records, Brick Briscoe gives us 13 hot chips!

The hottest being the slap-slap-sound of 'For A Canadian Border Guard', 'commercially-breezy '12 x 12' and the supreme heavy weight, 'Gold Medal Uphill'.

The re-worked music is in the Bob Mould (Sugar) / REM ballpark and the album in its entirety sounds as if it's catching fire, such is the igniting energy of the playing and singing.

The (fire) man himself on the album :  “It’s strange to focus on some of these songs again, but rewarding to have the guys in the bad dig into material we’d never played before as a group, and hearing new approaches. It’s actually inspired me to write a bunch of new songs, but I can’t wait to get out there and play Bliss Kit, live!”

Yes, Indiana born, and Indiana wants him, and now the rest of the world, to "burn" (A)LIVE!

Rating: 8/10

Mark Watkins, Dare radio, 2 May, 2024.

(Thanks to Helen Robinson @ Atomik PR for supplying the music!)

[mywifeleftme]

2: The Vulgar Boatmen // Please Panic

Please Panic The Vulgar Boatmen 1992, Rough Trade

There’s an anecdote in Gina Arnold’s Route 666: On the Road to Nirvana, a survey of '80s indie rock, about the 1992 Lollapalooza tour. At the time, Lolla was the biggest event in alternative music, and wrangling a lineup of heavyweights like Red Hot Chili Peppers, Ministry, Ice Cube, and Soundgarden meant the contracts had to be locked in well in advance. For logistical and egotistical reasons, these contracts also locked in the order in which the bands would perform. When the Lolla ‘92 contracts were negotiated back in 1991, Pearl Jam, whose debut album Ten was selling slowly, were booked to play a modest mid-afternoon slot. Of course, by the time Lollapalooza hit the road in the summer of 1992, Pearl Jam were the hottest rock band in the world.

Across from the main stage, Lollapalooza also had a second “side stage” filled out with local and up-and-coming acts. Arnold covered one of Lolla’s stops in the Midwest for Spin, and while Pearl Jam played their early afternoon set in front of an immense crowd of fervent believers, she wandered over to the side stage, where a band called The Vulgar Boatmen was performing to an equally vast, empty field.

“We thought it was going to be the biggest show we ever played,” she quotes singer/guitar Dale Lawrence saying afterward. “It turned out to be one of our smallest.”*

The poignancy of the anecdote, and Arnold’s positive but passing description of their jangly, heartbroken music, made me determined to hunt down their records when I read the book ten years ago. Sometimes as a fan, your love for an artist draws its ardour from the sense that you can rescue them from an undeserved obscurity—even though that obscurity is part of what makes them appealing in the first place. I’m certainly not alone in this when it comes to the Boatmen, the folky Indianapolis/Gainesville jangle pop band with a terrible name who released three sublime LPs between 1989 and 1995. It’s just that the archipelago of their fandom is sufficiently dispersed that I’m not convinced any two Boatmen aficionados actually know each other. That’s okay though—it’s earwormy pop music that might be at its best when you’re alone. The major musical touchstones here are probably Buddy Holly’s hotel demos and the Velvet Underground’s self-titled, but the twist is that singer-songwriters Robert Ray and Dale Lawrence were both already older in ‘92 than either of those artists were when they cut their classics. There’s an intuitive minimalism to the arrangements, Ray and Lawrence’s high, clear harmonies over clean, blue electric guitars and a crack rhythm section. Yet the grooves are tense, urgent, nervy in that Feelies way that keeps things from feeling quite settled. And there is always the hint of Helen Kirklin’s viola, sawing away at the margins, sometimes sweeping in to pull the song to an ecstatic release. It’s that rarest of things: great rock music that sounds like it’s being produced by relatively stable adults. And for my money it is great rock music. The songs on Please Panic, their second** record and probably my favourite, evoke a specific feeling that there isn’t an exact word for. It’s the feeling of moving toward a decision about something important. This decision hasn’t been made yet, but maybe your gut already knows what you have to do. So, you spend a lot of time by yourself, walking or driving, listening to bygone music, waiting till you realize you’re going to say, “Okay,” to whatever it is that’s hanging on your word.

Here are the lyrics to “You Don’t Love Me Yet”:

I don’t wanna stay one extra hour, I didn’t wanna be here at all. Turn off the light, make some excuse, Say you’ve somewhere to go. She has to stay, I get to leave, I guess that’s what friends are for. Just now it’s dark, radio’s on, There’s a pillow in the back of the car.

I go home And spend the night. Wake up tomorrow And be alright.

Lauren’s got friends, Lauren’s got sense Johnny’s going back to New York. I know it’s okay to wait, I just don’t know what they’re waiting for.

Don’t think out loud, don’t concentrate, That’s not working so far. It’s after dark, radio’s off She’s sitting in the back of her car.

Get up tomorrow. Wake up tomorrow.

Mistakes are bound to happen. There’s gonna be another summer. I know what I think and what I’m supposed to do. Maybe I don’t think as much as you.

That’s glum as hell, and relatable, and despite the boyish sweetness of his voice Lawrence manages to sing it like a man who is tired but prepared to be stubborn about what matters. There’s no guarantee any of this works out. But there is this chiming, insistent wordless melody that emerges between each verse until it takes over the song, until the word yet in “You Don’t Love Me Yet” becomes the operative one.

My experience of adulthood is that there’s a lot less to life than I’d imagined—but I’m somewhat more into what there is. No band strikes closer to that sensibility for me than the Vulgar Boatmen. And I’m grateful to have found them, even if not many others did when they played that big stage in 1992.

* I read the book a long time ago and I don't have a copy, so that's a paraphrase. ** There are a number of primitive demos / live tapes from a previous lineup of the band that most discographies omit; for our purposes, 1989's You and Your Sister is the Boatmen's debut.

2/365

#vulgar boatmen #jangle pop #music review #vinylgram #vinyl records #schooba's #'90s music #indie rock

[chabu22]

Empire Podcast #518: Bryce Dallas Howard

This week's Empire Podcast is an episode 65 million and 29 years in the making, as Jurassic World Dominion star Bryce Dallas Howard pops in for a face-to-face chat with Chris Hewitt, in which she talks about growing up on set with her director dad, Ron Howard, and how he's rubbish at keeping secrets. There's plenty of dino-chat as well for you Parkheads.

Then, in the virtual podbooth this week, Chris is joined by James Dyer and Amon Warmann for an episode in which they take advantage of Helen O'Hara's ongoing absence to have a mass debate over the hottest Chris Evans moments, discuss just what it takes for a film to get the Empire one-star treatment, have a natter about the week's movie news including the announcement of Joker 2 (which whips the podteam into a frenzy of excitement), and review Jurassic World Dominion, Udo Kier in Swan Song, Karen Gillan and Karen Gillan in Dual, while Chris and Amon have a bit of a barney over Adam Sandler in Hustle. Enjoy! คาสิโนออนไลน์ 

[mukdasstuff]

Empire Podcast #518: Bryce Dallas Howard

This week's Empire Podcast is an episode 65 million and 29 years in the making, as Jurassic World Dominion star Bryce Dallas Howard pops in for a face-to-face chat with Chris Hewitt, in which she talks about growing up on set with her director dad, Ron Howard, and how he's rubbish at keeping secrets. There's plenty of dino-chat as well for you Parkheads.

Then, in the virtual podbooth this week, Chris is joined by James Dyer and Amon Warmann for an episode in which they take advantage of Helen O'Hara's ongoing absence to have a mass debate over the hottest Chris Evans moments, discuss just what it takes for a film to get the Empire one-star treatment, have a natter about the week's movie news including the announcement of Joker 2 (which whips the podteam into a frenzy of excitement), and review Jurassic World Dominion, Udo Kier in Swan Song, Karen Gillan and Karen Gillan in Dual, while Chris and Amon have a bit of a barney over Adam Sandler in Hustle. Enjoy!

[bollywoodproduct]

Lyrics Baat Zara Hai Aapas Ki

Lyrics Baat Zara Hai Aapas Ki

Baat Zara Hai Aapas Ki – Song contents: Lyrics in EnglishHindi LyricsYouTube VideoSong TriviaMore Lyrics in English | Baat Zara Hai Aapas Ki | Diwana-1967 | Raj Kapoor, Saira Banu Baat Zara HaiAapas KiBaat Zara HaiAapas KiSaari DuniyaHo Gayi MeriBolo Main HoonKis Ki Baat Zara HaiAapas KiBaat Zara HaiAapas KiSaari DuniyaHo Gayi MeriBolo Main HoonKis KiBaat Zara HaiAapas Ki……………. Antakshari…

View On WordPress

#All TIme Best Songs of Helen #Antakshari Songs from B #Best 25 Songs of Sharda #Best Dance Number of Helen #Best Solo Songs of Sharda #Best Songs of 1969 #Best Songs of Shankar-Jaikishan #Best Songs of Sharda #Best Songs Written by Faruk Kaiser #Bollywood Songs of 1969 #Evergreen Cabaret Songs #Famous Cabaret Songs #Helen Cabaret Songs #Helen Songs #Hindi Song Lyrics Starting from B #Hindi Songs of 1969 #Hottest Songs of 60s #Hottest Songs of Helen #Jahan Pyar Miley (1969) Songs Lyrics #Lyrics Starting from B #Old Cabaret Songs #Retro Cabaret Songs #Sharda Songs #Shashi Kapoor Songs #Songs Composed by Shankar-Jaikishan #Songs from Jahan Pyar Miley (1969) #Songs having Word "Baat" #Songs Starting from "B" #Songs Starting from "Baat" #Songs Written by Faruk Kaiser

[rubysunnday]

Ok, so, first episode wasn’t that bad. Lovely tribute to Helen (I loved how simple it was and the bird song during the credits was lovely) and I like that they didn’t delve into it too much.

Tbh I don’t really know what’s going on and what opium and Gina’s uncle Jack has to do with Nazi Sam Claflin but I am hoping next week will explain more

Tommy saying he’s a peaceful man after slashing a man’s face and shooting a pigeon was hilarious.

This is the hottest Tommy has looked there I said it.

Michael looks like he has a slug on his face / that moustache is AWFUL.

Gina is so hot I am sorry but she is.

Ada being a girl boss we love it.

Arthur being high and delirious what more did I expect.

Ruby is probably going to die or something bad is gonna happen to her - I can tell. It’s like Graces giant necklace that was cursed all over again. But this could be how Esme gets brought back in…

Overall, liked it more than the previous season like it held my attention but I am confused as to what is actually meant to be happening. It did feel a bit slow too but then it didn’t so

Also, that photo they posted on instagram of a shelby putting a hat on is not Tommy and I think it might be John…

OH AND ADA’S SON HELLO @lotsoflovefromlea

#spoilers #peaky blinder spoilers

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {9}: Shawty, With You

Previous: May All Your Christmases Be White

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing! Kissing!

Summary: Yoongi’s been too nervous, and awkward, and embarrassed, to kiss you. With a nudge from his friends, will he finally do it? 

          Yoongi moves absentmindedly through the Christmas party. It’s a mix of who’s who in the music scene, a wanna be Quincy Jones Grammy party outfitted with the hottest celebs, elves and a high society mall Santa. Somewhere in the mix of celebrities and B-listers, Yoongi knows, is you.

           You, no doubt dressed in an ethereal holiday outfit, make up flawless and striking, resembling something straight from Euphoria, and if he knows you, laughing. God, Yoongi loves your laugh, the trill notes you hit in your giggle, the way your smile showed your double set of dimples, chocolate eyes squinting as you lost yourself in bliss. The smile you made when you’d calmed down, not gummy like his, but dazzling, blinding, Helen of Troy sent men to war over her beauty, and if you were any less otherworldly, you could destroy the galaxy.

           “You have to talk to her,” Namjoon urges, moving to stand next to Yoongi.

           “I don’t even know if she’s here,” Yoongi says, eyes scanning the crowd.

        ��  “Text her,” Namjoon says.

           “No,” Yoongi shakes his head.

           “Make a move before she finds someone else to kiss at midnight,” Namjoon takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows raised. “I’m right.”

           “Namjoonie, leave me alone,” Yoongi blushes, gently shoving his maknae.

           “At least come dance with us,” Namjoon nudges him towards the dance floor, and he resigns himself to partake.

           “Let me get a drink first,” Yoongi counters, and reluctantly Namjoon allows Yoongi out of his sight.

           Drifting to the bar, Yoongi bumps into a countless number of celebrities, all looking at him with confusion and recognition in their eyes. They can tell he’s important, the way he holds himself, the manner he’s dressed… It screams of his status, but they can’t place him. K-pop absolutely, but which group? And after they determine the group, which member? Yoongi appreciates his anonymity, though racist, as he brushes against Jimin at the bar.

           “Suga-hyung!” Jimin calls, smile dancing on his lips. He wraps his arm around his shoulders, dragging him to the front of the line with him.

           “How deep are you?” Yoongi asks, laughing at the blatant intoxication of Jimin and Jungkook.

           “Get on our level!” Jungkook yells, giggling immediately as the words fall from his lips.

           “Fine,” Yoongi orders three shots, tosses them back and turns to his maknae. “Happy?”

           “Let’s dance!” Jimin calls. He takes the hand of each man and guides them to the dance floor. An EDM version of Last Christmas fades as a dance-pop remix of Jingle Bell Rock takes its place. The seven men have a way of finding each other regardless of circumstance, regardless of the crowds around them… Their hearts beat together. Tonight, though hammered nearly into oblivion, they’ve managed to find one another on the dance floor. To say they’re a spectacle would be an understatement. It’s hard to dance anywhere when Jimin, Ho-Seok, Taehyung and Jungkook could wipe the floor with anyone that tried, and tonight is no different.

           They laugh and sing as they groove, only stopping when Yoongi stands still, eyes staring at a figure in the distance.

           You’re laughing with some guy he doesn’t recognize, the light of the nearby Christmas tree illuminating your dimples, gold eye liner striking a contrast against your warm skin. Yoongi doesn’t realize he’s staring until Taehyung is in his face, drunken smile dancing on his boxy lips.

           “Yoongi-ah go say something,” Taehyung urges.

           “He’s too scared,” Ho-Seok adds.

           “Just remind her how handsome you are… Oh wait, that’s me!” Jin laughs at his bad joke, which elicits an eyeroll from Namjoon and a giggle from Jimin.

           “She doesn’t care,” Yoongi shrugs, ear trying to make out the new song the DJ is scratching.

           “That’s a lie and you know it, she likes you,” Taehyung teases.

           “How would you know?” Yoongi questions, eyes suspicious.

           “Get her under the mistletoe and find out!” Taehyung turns from him, laughing with Ho-Seok as they begin some choreography he doesn’t recognize.

           “Oo, kiss her underneath the mistletoe!” Jungkook says, his mind catching up to what Taehyung had suggested.

           “That’d be so romantic,” Jimin adds.

           “Then you’d know,” Namjoon says. He glances past Yoongi at you. You’re stunning, merriment pouring from you like light from the angels. He knows Yoongi is smitten, the flirting and banter you’ve exchanged over the last few months, the dates that haven’t quite been dates, the longing stares and gentle touches Yoongi hoped he hadn’t dreamed… Namjoon had seen it all. He hoped that being in LA for the holidays would spur his hyung on, give him the courage to seal the deal or be gently rejected, and here he stood, at the hottest Christmas party of the season, standing, staring, unmoving.

           Namjoon turned to his brothers, and in a quick huddle they hatched a plan. Yoongi wasn’t clueless, but he could be misdirected, especially when he was drunk, especially when you were involved.

           Guiding Yoongi back to the bar, Namjoon turned quickly into the crowd, leaving Yoongi alone. Annoyed, he started walking back to the dance floor, only to be grabbed by Jimin who said Namjoon was at the other bar, on the opposite side of the room. Nodding, Yoongi started making his way through the crowd to the opposite side, only to be distracted by Taehyung and Jin, laughing uproariously, guiding him towards the buffet and away from the bar. Somewhere between the buffet and circling around the pool, Yoongi is left alone, taking in his surroundings.

Where the fuck is he?

           He turns to walk back the way he came, bumping into you. In the distance he sees Namjoon and Ho-Seok, giving him a thumbs up. He suppresses his instinctive eye roll.

           “Fuck,” He says, arms intuitively wrapping around your waist to keep you from falling.

“Sorry,” He breathes.

           “It’s o- Min Yoongi,” You smile, lipstick still impeccably placed. “Funny running into you here.”

           “I, uh, yeah,” Yoongi’s immediately flustered, cheeks crimson as he tries to glance away from you.

           “I’ve been looking for you, your friends said you’d be here,” You say, hands tightening around his biceps. He gets the hint and tries to relax but having you in his arms is electrifying.

           “Hmm, they led me on some wild goose chase to I guess, find you,” He shrugs.

           “Isn’t that romantic?” You laugh, eyes glancing above you. Yoongi copies you, eyes going embarrassingly wide as he takes in what hangs above you. Mistletoe.

           Yoongi stops staring at the plant, which he assumes is plastic, and dares to lock eyes with you.

           “I, uh, I’m,” He’s flustered, and it’s making your knees weak.

           “We don’t have to, we can just, walk away?” You offer, a hint of disappointment in your voice. Whether you want Yoongi to detect it or not, he does.

           “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Yoongi says. His dominant hand moves swiftly from your waist to cup your cheek and in a decisive moment, his lips are on yours. They’re soft and gentle, skillful and patient.

           In the distance, Yoongi’s brothers whoop and holler before tossing back another shot and dispersing to go back to dancing.

           Under the mistletoe, you and Yoongi remain, lips intertwined.

Next: All I Want Is You

#Yoongi X Reader #Yoongi drabble #Yoongi min #min yoongi #merryandbright2020 #merry and bright #25 days of christmas #christmas writing challenge #christmas #mistletoe #Justin bieber #Yoongi fluff #Yoongi fic #Suga / you #Suga X Reader #Suga drabble #min Yoongi / suga #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet

[calumcest]

dancing with the demons (holy spirit, holy spirit)

[ao3]

yes its 1am yes i just finished this fic yes i am exhausted yes i currently have an exam i should be doing looks like Helen’s Deadline Season Coping Mechanism is back in full swing 

i have to give my everlasting thanks to @ashesonthefloor and @clumsyclifford for their chaotic minds providing me excellent ideas and for always being so supportive of the things i write and motivating me to keep writing and also especially to ainslee for patiently listening to me talk about this for like the past three weeks before i could actually write it 

also this VERY very loosely based on christianity but as you will see: VERY. VERY. loosely 

-

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls.

“Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.”

“Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees.

-

Humans, Michael thinks sourly, wouldn’t be nearly as interested in getting to Heaven if they knew Ashton were in there. 

He means well, Michael knows that, and he’s just doing his job, but that doesn’t make it any less irritating when Michael gets Summoned twice a week to answer for whatever petty crime he’s committed this time. So sue him, he forgot witchcraft was sacrilege, and forgot that astrology falls under that umbrella, and he’d been amused when he’d seen a lady claiming to be able to tell him what was in store for him next year, and he’d had ten dollars on him. He’s thousands of years old, how the fuck is he supposed to remember every tiny rule? Plus, he thinks, cocking his head, she’d told him that a colleague would present difficulties for him, and the way Ashton’s ranting right now is just vindicating the poor woman.

“...set an example, Michael,” Ashton’s saying, when Michael tunes back in. “You were an archangel. You have to be better.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Ashton, I swear to God-” Ashton slaps his hand down on the table. 

“That’s exactly your fucking problem!” he says furiously, and then tenses as he realises what he’s said. Michael can feel the repentance washing over Ashton, the genuine purity of it, and it makes him wince a little bit. Ashton clears his throat, and tries again. “You can’t be blaspheming like that. You’re an angel, Michael. You have free will, and you know what a double-edged sword that is.” Michael folds his arms, wings ruffling defensively. Ashton’s always so fucking hot on how dangerous free will is, like he’s had some kind of bad experience with it, and Michael doesn’t get it. Ashton’s never stepped more than a centimetre out of line in his entire life. 

“I’m loyal to Him,” he says firmly. “He knows that.” Are you questioning Him? remains unspoken, but rings loud in the air between them.  

“I know,” Ashton says wearily. “But He did demote you. Again.” 

“I mean, I did give the Son an onion disguised as an apple,” Michael points out. Ashton glares at him. 

“Are you trying to make this worse for yourself?” he demands, and Michael holds his hands up in defence. 

“Not my fault Jesus doesn’t have a sense of humour,” he mutters, under his breath so Ashton can pretend not to have heard it. He still thinks it was hilarious, made even more so by the connotation of original sin. Maybe the fact he hasn’t repented is why He keeps letting Michael get reamed out by Ashton for the smallest fucking things. 

“You’re lucky He didn’t count that as a rebellion” Ashton tells him. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Ash?” he says, spreading his hands, ignoring the way Ashton flinches at the curse word. “I’m sorry? I repent? Forgive me Ashton, for I have sinned?” Ashton sighs, but chooses not to comment on the sarcasm. 

“I’m assigning you another case,” he says instead, “and you’d better not mess this one up.” Michael groans, and Ashton gives him a sharp look. “You’re always free to leave, Michael. You know that.” Michael tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and lets his eyes flutter shut, shaking his head. 

“What is it?” he mumbles. He hears paper sliding across Ashton’s desk, and pinches the bridge of his nose for a minute, inhaling deeply, before forcing his head back forwards to see the file Ashton’s pushed at him. 

“A demon,” Ashton says. 

“Oh, for fu- for Go- uh, for goodness’ sake,” Michael says hurriedly, when he sees the look Ashton sends his way. “Seriously, Ash? A demon?” Ashton shrugs. 

“You want to act like a kid, you get treated like a kid,” he says. Michael exhales heavily, and picks up the file, flicking it open to the first page. 

“Calum?” he says sceptically. “What kind of a name for a demon is that?” 

“You’d do well to remember who named him,” Ashton reminds him, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“He doesn’t look very threatening,” he remarks, flicking through Calum’s file. “What, a couple of possessions, a few cases of muteness...c’mon, Ash, this is well below my pay grade.” 

“Firstly,” Ashton says, in that tone that says I don’t like what you just said at all but I’m going to be the bigger angel here, “you don’t have a pay grade, and secondly, you’ll take what you’re given.” 

“I know, but c’mon, this?” Michael says, waving the file in Ashton’s face. “You could deal with this in two minutes, Ashton, why send me after him?” Ashton presses his lips together and looks away, and Michael cocks his head, realisation dawning on him. “Oh, shit. He’s sending me after him.” 

“You know I can’t comment on that,” Ashton says, but his wings twitch uncomfortably and he doesn’t even tell Michael off for cursing, so Michael knows he’s right. 

“What does He want me to do this for?” Michael asks curiously. 

“The Lord moves in a mysterious way,” Ashton says primly, which is his go-to response when he knows the answer but doesn’t want to say it. Michael sits back in his seat heavily, grinning. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll take the case.” Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“You’ll do as He darn well says,” he tells Michael, who grins. 

“I’ll do as I damn well please,” he says, and Ashton just sighs in defeat. 

 -------

 The first time Michael finds Calum, he’s loosening lug nuts on car wheels in the dead of night. 

He’s knelt on the floor, spanner in his hand, humming something to himself as he works. Michael leans against a car behind him, folding his arms, and watches him for a while, watches the way he bobs his head to the song in his head, taps his fingers on the spanner, grins to himself when the lug nut loosens enough for him to move onto the next one.  

“Man, what kind of demon uses a spanner?” Michael comments after a few minutes. Calum spins around, on his feet at the speed of light, eyes black, teeth bared. Michael just gives him a bored look. 

“Who are you?” Calum hisses. Michael cocks an eyebrow. 

“Don’t recognise me?” he says, and Calum just growls at him. “Damn, how long were you in Heaven? Two minutes?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” Calum spits. Michael sighs, pretending he’s not enjoying this as much as he is, and lets his wings unfold, big and pure white behind him. Calum’s eyes widen, still all-black but with an edge of fear, and he takes a step back. Michael tries his best not to smirk.

“You’re not an angel,” Calum says, sounding like he’s trying to reassure himself. 

“Aren’t I?” Michael says coolly, tucking his wings back in. They feel a little cramped, but he’s made his point, and it’s cold. 

“You said damn,” Calum says, still a little afraid, but also a little confused. Michael shrugs. 

“I have free will,” he says. “Perks of being an angel.” Calum stares at him, and his eyes flash back to looking human again. Michael can’t see too well in the poor light, but they’re still dark, maybe a deep brown, and there’s some sort of a spark in them that makes Michael’s stomach flip. 

He can see Calum a little better now as his eyes adjust to the dark, can see the black jeans and black leather jacket and thin black t-shirt hugging his muscular physique, can see what looks like tattoos on his hands and collarbones and can’t help but wonder whether there are more to be found. 

And yeah, that’s a dangerous train of thought, so he stops himself firmly, allowing himself a sigh. Of course He’s saddled Michael with the hottest demon to walk the realms. 

“Whose car is that?” Michael asks, nodding at the car Calum’s been working on. Calum’s eyes linger on him for a moment, like he doesn’t trust that Michael’s not going to attack him the minute he blinks, and then looks over at the wheels. 

“Don’t know,” he says. 

“You’re trying to fuck with someone you don’t even know?” Calum shrugs, eyes flicking back to Michael. 

“Why not?” he says. Michael narrows his eyes.

“You know fucking with humans is, like, bad, right?” he says. 

“For you,” Calum says, and there’s a glimmer of wicked amusement behind his dark eyes. Michael swallows. “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but my boss isn’t so hot on all of those kinds of rules.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Michael says darkly, because if there’s anyone from Hell Michael’s well-acquainted with, it’s the Devil. Calum, who seems to have now decided that Michael’s had his chance to kill him and hasn’t, casts him one final glance before picking up the spanner, twirling it in his hands (Michael chants a prayer to keep the thoughts about Calum’s fingers at bay), and kneeling at the next wheel. 

“Who are you?” Calum asks again. 

“Michael,” Michael says, as Calum starts twisting the lug nuts the wrong way, tightening them instead of loosening them. “That’s the wrong way, man.” 

“Fuck,” Calum mutters, and starts twisting the other way. Michael cocks his head. 

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls.

“Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.”

“Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees. 

“Aren’t you a fucking archangel? Michael?” 

“Used to be,” Michael says. “Got demoted.” Calum snorts. 

“Demoted?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, with a sigh. “Big man doesn’t like it when you play practical jokes on the Son.” Calum laughs. 

“Yeah, you’re a really shitty angel,” he tells Michael, who bristles slightly. 

“Well, I did defeat Satan,” Michael says defensively. Calum grins, all wicked and sharp teeth. 

“Yeah, he’s mentioned,” he says, and then leans back from the wheel with a sigh. “Man, would you give me a hand?” Michael cocks his head. 

“I’m meant to be stopping you, dude,” he says. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“You’re not doing a very good job,” he says. Michael thinks he would do a much better job if Calum weren’t so fucking pretty. That’s kind of unfair, he thinks. It gives Calum an automatic advantage. 

“Stop it,” Michael says, and Calum laughs, tilting his head back, and Jesus Christ, Michael wants to mark up his neck. He sends a quick apology prayer to whoever might have heard that thought, and clears his throat. “Seriously, Calum. Stop.” 

“Or what?” Calum says, eyes glittering mischievously. “You’ll scowl at me?” Michael cocks his head, and the grin slips off Calum’s face as he starts to choke. He clutches at his throat, looking somewhere between confused and shocked. Michael lets it go on for a few more seconds, relishing the way Calum’s gasping for air, before he lets Calum go. Calum falls back on his heels heavily, a pained expression on his face.

“Stop it,” Michael says simply, and he hears the power in his own voice. Calum winces, head jerking down in a forced bow, and right, yeah, Michael forgot that holy power has that effect on demons. 

“Damn,” Calum says, looking up through inky lashes when Michael lets him go, voice hoarse, but eyes twinkling. “Didn’t take you for the kinky sort.” Ashton is going to string Michael up by his wings for the thoughts that follow that sentence. 

“Fuck you,” Michael says, scowling, as he sends up yet another apology prayer. Calum cocks an eyebrow, grinning. 

“If you’re offering,” he says, rubbing at his throat. Michael sighs to hide the please that’s probably written all over his face. 

“Don’t let me catch you again,” he says instead. 

“What, you’re not going to kill me?” Calum says, and he sounds a little surprised. Michael frowns at him. 

“You want me to?” 

“Just thought you would,” Calum says, shrugging. Michael hesitates.

“You’re not really that threatening, dude,” he says eventually. And you’re far too pretty to kill. “I think the world can handle you.” Calum scowls at him, and flips him off with his left hand, picking up the spanner again with his right. Michael wordlessly tightens all the lug nuts again with a surreptitious flick of his wrist. 

“See you next time, angel,” Calum says, slotting the spanner onto another lug nut. 

“Not if you know what’s good for you, demon,” Michael says, turning away and tipping his head back up to Heaven. He hears a grunt behind him as Calum tugs on the lug nut, and grins to himself. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, dude?” Calum cries, and it’s the last thing Michael hears before everything turns white. 

 -------

 The second time Ashton sends Michael after Calum, he finds him in a Starbucks. His leather jacket is hung across the chair behind him, and he’s staring at a guy a few metres away from him with a look of pure concentration on his face. Michael takes a moment to drink it in, because he looks really fucking cute and his biceps are, like, right there - and yeah, Michael was right about there being more tattoos - before sliding into the seat opposite Calum. Calum jumps, tearing his eyes away from the guy to Michael, scowling when he realises who it is. 

“Hey,” Michael says nonchalantly, reaching for Calum’s coffee and taking a sip. It’s, like, pure fucking caffeine, and he pulls a face, pushing it back to Calum. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Calum hisses. 

“According to my superior, you’re up to no good,” Michael says. “I’m here to stop you.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“You’re no fucking fun,” he says. Michael shrugs, and reaches for Calum’s chocolate muffin. He’s always regretted not planting the idea of chocolate in the minds of humans earlier. 

“What were you trying to do?” he says, through a mouthful of muffin. 

“Why would I fucking tell you?” Calum says, folding his arms. “You’ll just undo it.” Michael raises an eyebrow, and swallows. 

“The guy’s tattoo,” he says. Calum scowls again. “What’d you do to it?” 

“It said Lisa,” Calum says sullenly. “Changed it to ‘Lice’.” Michael looks over at the guy’s tattoo again - and yeah, he does actually now have a heart with Lice in it proudly displayed on his arm. Michael can’t help the snort that escapes him. God, would Ashton kill him if he left that one as it is? The answer is almost a hundred percent, but he thinks it might still be worth it. 

“That is fucking funny,” Michael agrees. 

“Man, how the fuck are you still an angel?” Calum says, and Michael huffs out a laugh, taking another bite out of the muffin. Calum snatches the rest of it out of Michael’s hands. 

“This is my fucking muffin,” he says, waving the remnants of it in Michael’s face. Michael shrugs. 

“Steal yourself another one,” he says. 

“You steal yourself one,” Calum mutters. 

“I’m an angel, dude,” Michael says. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” Michael rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers as Calum raises the last bit of the muffin to his mouth. The muffin disappears and Calum bites down on thin air, looking confused for a split second before glowering at Michael. 

“What the fuck?” he demands. “Why’d you do that? That was a good fucking muffin.” Michael shrugs, grinning.

“For the hell of it,” he says, snapping his fingers again, and the muffin re-materialises in his hand. He throws it in the air, catching it in his mouth, and winks at Calum as he chews. Calum watches him, half in intrigue, half in outrage, mouth slightly open. He’s got such full lips, Michael thinks, and then hastily swallows both the muffin and that train of thought. 

“You’re the worst angel I’ve ever met,” Calum says decisively, sinking back in his seat. 

“You met many?” Michael asks casually. 

“No, but I’m pretty sure you’re the worst they’ve got,” Calum tells him. “I’m going to write a letter of recommendation to get you kicked out of He-” he winces. “Up there.” Michael cocks his head. 

“What’d you do to get kicked out?” he asks. 

“What do any of us do?” Calum says grumpily. “Exercise our free will.” 

“I exercise my free will,” Michael points out. 

“Yeah, to fucking swear,” Calum says. “You’re like that kid at school who gets an adrenaline rush from telling someone to shut up.” Michael scowls. 

“Fuck you,” he says, and Calum grins wickedly. 

“You kiss your Father with that mouth?” he says. Michael flips him off. 

“Right, well, this has been fun,” he says, wiping his hands on a napkin as he gets to his feet, “but I’ve got to get going. Stop fucking with humans.” 

“Man, you’d be way more fun if you weren’t an angel,” Calum says mournfully. 

“I dunno,” Michael says, mock-thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t get to do this then, would I?” He snaps his fingers, just for dramatic effect, and the Lice tattoo on the man’s arm rearranges itself to say Lisa again, and an identical heart with Lice appears on Calum’s bicep. Calum twists his arm around with a look of absolute horror.

“You absolute fucking bastard,” Calum shouts, making at least five people in the Starbucks turn around and give him a sharp look (not that he’ll fucking care). 

“Be a good boy, demon,” Michael says, throwing him a grin before heading out into the warm October air. 

 -------

 The first thing Michael’s going to do when He gets over Himself and reinstates Michael as an archangel is have a word with Him about ever giving Ashton Summoning powers. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michael mutters, using his right wing to rub his head where he’d banged it on impact. 

“Are you serious?” Ashton says, hands on his hips. “You come straight into my office and blaspheme?” 

“Don’t fucking Summon me with no warning, then,” Michael says, shaking his wings out. Ashton throws him a glare, probably for cursing, possibly for having the gall to respond at all. 

“You’re an angel, Michael, you’ll come when you’re called,” he says reprovingly. Michael rolls his eyes, but throws himself down on the chair on the other side of Ashton’s desk heavily. 

“What?” he says, with a long-suffering sigh. 

“It’s Calum,” Ashton says. 

“Again?” Ashton throws him a look. 

“You could’ve killed him,” he says pointedly. Michael shrugs, a little uncomfortably. He knows he should have, but something about Calum just draws Michael in, makes it impossible for him to say no. 

“He was fucking with tattoos and unscrewing lug nuts, Ash,” he says, a little too defensive. “Not exactly crimes of the millennium.” Ashton scrutinises him for a moment, and then purses his lips. 

“Well,” he says primly, “apparently he’s turned up in LA.” Michael can’t help but smile at that, because yeah, LA sounds like exactly the kind of place a demon like Calum would show up. Ashton sees it, and frowns. “Michael, this is a case, you hear me? Calum’s still a demon, no matter how much you want to copulate with him.” Michael scowls. Fucking Ashton, always listening to his prayers. 

“No one says fucking copulate anymore,” he snipes, because he can’t exactly deny it. “You’d know if you ever got down off your high horse and visited Earth.” Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“I’m pretty busy up here,” he says, gesturing to all the paperwork piled high on his desk. 

“I’m telling you, station Pahaliah with Peter at the gates,” Michael says. “You’d cut all this in half.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Ashton says. “Pahaliah’s had his work cut out for him since the Enlightenment.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, Barachiel, then,” he suggests. “He’s a fucking pain in the arse. Might do him some good to do something mundane for a few centuries.” 

“I think He has bigger plans for His archangels than guarding the gates,” Ashton says. Michael raises an eyebrow, and Ashton rolls his eyes. “You’re not an archangel anymore, Michael.” 

“I am in all but name,” Michael says with a shrug, because He always relents where Michael’s concerned. “This is my, what, twelfth demotion? Thirteenth?” 

“This one might stick,” Ashton says warningly, which is what he says every time it happens. His concern is kind of cute, Michael thinks, if unwarranted. Ashton’s never understood Him like Michael does. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael says dismissively, because he’s not about to have this discussion with Ashton again. “Can I go now?” Ashton frowns at him, which Michael takes as a yes. He lifts himself up from the chair, stretching his wings and arms out, and turns to leave.  

“Do not copulate with the demon, Michael,” Ashton says. 

“I won’t,” Michael promises, heading for the door. “Might fuck him, though.” 

(The force with which Ashton slams him into the wall makes the whole building shake, but it’s absolutely worth it.) 

 -------

 LA is cold in November, which Michael had forgotten. It’s also busy, which means he can’t draw his wings around himself for extra warmth, nor simply teleport himself to the studio Calum’s apparently in. Instead, he has to huddle into himself and elbow his way through the Hollywood crowds, meaning he’s in a pretty bad mood by the time he actually gets to where he needs to be. 

Michael distracts the security guard momentarily with a quick wave of his hand, enough for him to slip inside unnoticed. It’s a small studio, only a handful of live rooms, and Michael only has to peek into two before he finds the one Calum’s in. 

Calum, clad in his usual all-black get-up, is leaning against the wall of the studio, grinning as he watches the sound engineer frowning, fiddling with a bunch of his controls. Michael can see the shimmer of the glamour he’s cast, and wordlessly casts one of his own as he clicks the door shut behind him. The sound engineer doesn’t even look up, so preoccupied with trying to fix whatever’s going wrong, but Calum hears the sound and whips around, scowling when he sees Michael. 

“Do you just, like, have a sixth sense for when there’s some fun occurring that could be stopped?” he asks, and Michael grins at him. 

“Just got a sixth sense for shitty demons,” he says, and Calum’s scowl deepens. 

“Fuck you,” he says. Michael raises an eyebrow, then casts a look over at the live room on the other side of the glass. There’s a band in there, two girls on guitar, one on bass and one on drums, all frowning at their instruments and fiddling with tuning pegs or tension rods. 

“You’re un-tuning their instruments?” he says. “That’s pretty bad, even for you.” Calum makes a noise of outrage. 

“What do you mean, even for me?” he says, sounding scandalised. “That tattoo was fucking hilarious, you said so yourself.” Michael’s eyes flick down to Calum’s bicep, even though it’s covered by his leather jacket. Calum notices, and folds his arms. “Yeah, fuck you for that. Do you have any idea the number of favours I had to call in to get rid of it?” Michael snorts. 

“Who the fuck owes you favours?” he asks, and Calum grins, eyes gleaming. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking,” Michael points out. Calum rolls his eyes, and turns back to the sound engineer, who looks like he’s ready to cry. 

“I asked around about you,” Calum comments casually, as they both watch the sound engineer fiddle with yet more knobs. 

“Oh?” Michael hums, interest piqued. “You know, the Devil and I had a good understanding.” 

“Yeah, until you waged a war against him,” Calum says. 

“On the Lord’s orders,” Michael says, a little defensively. 

“Well, he found it pretty funny that you got demoted,” Calum says. Michael rolls his eyes. Of course he did. 

“He would,” Michael says. “Did he tell you about the time the Lord made him wash the Son’s feet in front of the whole host?” Calum gapes at him. 

“No,” he says, sounding flabbergasted. Michael grins, feeling oddly satisfied.  

“Yeah, I bet he didn’t,” he says. “Didn’t realise he concerned himself with petty demons like you, anyway.” Calum scowls. 

“I’m not a petty demon,” he says, a shade petulantly. 

“You un-tune people’s guitars, dude,” Michael says. “Pretty sure demons are meant to be out committing homicide, and stuff.” 

“There are plenty of demons who do the whole murder thing,” Calum says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m striking out.” Michael can’t help but grin at that. 

“I’ll put that in your file,” he tells Calum. “‘Not Like Other Demons’. Got it.” 

“I’ve got a file?” 

“What, you think we just let demons run around unchecked?” Calum blinks at him.

“You know Galadriel’s in the US president’s cabinet right now?” he says slowly. 

“Of course we know,” Michael says.  

“And you’re leaving him be?” Michael shrugs. 

“Not my department,” he says. Calum stares at him for a moment, and then a grin breaks out on his face, and he shakes his head. 

“Man, things have definitely changed since I was up there,” he says. 

“When was that?” Michael asks. Calum shrugs. 

“I dunno, I’m not great with time,” he says. “One, two thousand years ago?” Michael hums thoughtfully. 

“You remember Raphael?” he says. Calum rolls his eyes, and now that, that is a sentiment Michael can really get behind. 

“Unfortunately,” he mutters. “He still so fucking holier-than-thou?” 

“You thought he was holier-than-thou then?” Michael says, raising his eyebrows. “You should see him since my latest demotion.” He pitches his voice up a few octaves, and mimics: “Oh, Michael, if you just repented, you could have your seat at His side again. We’re all rooting for you. You’re just letting yourself down.” Calum grins. 

“You get demoted often?” It’s Michael’s turn to shrug. 

“Every couple of centuries,” he says. Calum laughs, all straight white teeth and sparkling eyes, and Michael’s stomach flips. God, he’s far too fucking pretty for Michael to handle. Is that why He sent Michael after him? Is this His idea of revenge? 

“I have no idea how you’re still an angel,” Calum says, shaking his head, still smiling. 

“Pure heart,” Michael says solemnly. “That’s why I keep defending these poor, helpless humans from your shitty little tricks.” 

“They’re not shitty,” Calum protests, as Michael throws a glance over to the girls in the live room, tightening their tuning pegs and tension rods wordlessly. Calum sighs dramatically, eyes following Michael’s gaze. “Man, you’re so fucking boring, you know that?” 

“Whatever you say,” Michael says with a grin, stepping back. “Behave yourself, demon.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Calum says, eyes twinkling. Michael smirks, and drops Calum’s glamour with a snap of his fingers. The sound engineer whirls around immediately, eyes widening when he sees Calum in the corner of the room, and scrambles to his feet, grabbing a nearby guitar and brandishing it like a weapon. 

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy shouts. “How the fuck did you get in here?” Calum shoots Michael a glare. 

“I fucking hate you, angel,” is the last thing Michael hears before everything goes white. 

 -------

 The next time Ashton sends Michael after Calum, he finds him with another demon who looks decidedly undemonic, blonde hair framing baby-blue eyes. Calum’s head whips around when Michael clears his throat, eyes black, poised to pounce, but he relaxes when he sees who it is. Michael’s not sure what to make of that. The other demon, though, bares his teeth, eyes flashing to black, tensing at Michael’s presence.

“Evening,” Calum says casually as his eyes flicker back to looking human, like they’re friends, and like Michael doesn’t have the power to kill him with a snap of his fingers. 

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, cocking his head. There’s glue and there’s coins, and he doesn’t understand how the two of them combine. 

“Gluing coins to the footpath,” Calum says, stepping back to let Michael see. In the dim light of the streetlight a few metres away, Michael can see a few coins shining back at him. 

“Huh,” he says thoughtfully. “Who’s your friend?”

“Luke,” the other demon says, eyes narrowed and black, posture defensive. He’s oddly familiar, Michael thinks, a bitter taste rising in his throat when they lock eyes. Michael’s dealt with a lot of demons in his time, but he doesn’t remember any called Luke. “Who the fuck is this, Cal?” 

“This?” Calum says, far too nonchalantly, kicking at one of the coins to make sure it’s properly stuck. “Michael. You know, the archangel?” 

“C’mon, dude,” Michael protests. “That’s a sensitive topic.” Luke looks at him, and there’s an edge of a glint to his eyes that Michael doesn’t like the look of. 

“An archangel?” he asks Calum, eyes still on Michael. 

“Well, no,” Calum says cheerfully, dropping to his knees again and sending Michael a pointed look, eyes glittering with humour. “He got demoted. Just a regular angel now.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” he says. “Who are you, the Raphael of Hell?” Calum snorts, and Luke looks from Calum to Michael and back again. 

“Are you going to kill us?” he says. 

“That depends,” Michael says. “Are you going to piss me off enough to make me?” 

“Don’t worry about him,” Calum tells Luke, reaching for another coin and some glue. “He’s the worst angel they’ve got.” Michael sighs, an I didn’t want to have to do this but you’ve twisted my arm kind of sigh, and raises his hand. Calum jerks into the air, feet dangling beneath him, and his wings instinctively shoot out, beating wildly to try and escape Michael’s chokehold. They’re kind of gorgeous, actually - sleek, black feathers, a little unkempt. 

“Huh,” Michael says thoughtfully, as Calum struggles against his hold, wheezing and spluttering, and Luke stares at him, looking only mildly interested. “Nice wings, dude.” He lets Calum go, who drops to the ground with a loud crack, splitting the footpath on impact. Calum winces, rubbing at his throat, and folds his wings back in. 

“Thanks,” he says, coughing. “Always thought black suited me better.” Michael hums in agreement. He can’t really see the pure, brilliant white he has on his own back working with Calum’s aesthetic. 

“Hey, d’you have a halo?” Calum says to Michael, voice still a little hoarse. 

“‘Course,” Michael says. “Do you have horns?” Calum snorts, getting to his feet. 

“I can if you want me to,” he says, throwing Michael a wink. Luke stares at him. 

“Wait, are you two fucking?” he asks, a note of trepidation in his voice. Calum’s eyes flick to Michael, dark and hungry.

“Not yet,” he says, not taking his eyes off Michael. Michael swallows, and apologises to Ashton, who he just knows is listening, for the string of thoughts that just went through his mind. 

“I’m just doing my job,” Michael says to Luke, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Calum’s. 

“Isn’t your job to kill us?” 

“No,” Michael says. “Just to stop you. And, I’ve got to be honest, stopping Calum isn’t exactly hard. He’s kind of a shitty demon.” 

“Fuck you,” Calum says, scowling, and Michael grins. 

“If you’re lucky,” he says, winking at Calum before turning to Luke. “You don’t seem like a very intimidating demon either, dude, not gonna lie.” 

“Oh, you should see him when he’s pissed,” Calum says, and Luke huffs, looking a little embarrassed. “Remember that transport minister in Berlin that fell in front of a train a few months ago?” Michael gapes at him. 

“That was you?” he says, rounding on Luke. 

“Yep,” Calum says gleefully, on Luke’s behalf. 

“What, he stood on my foot on the underground and didn’t apologise,” Luke says defensively. Michael stares at him for a moment, and then shakes his head. 

“You’re a way better demon than Calum,” he says, and the cheerful grin slips off Calum’s face, replaced with an indignant scowl. 

“What the fuck, dude?” he demands. Michael shrugs. 

“Find yourself a better sidekick, Luke,” he recommends, taking a step back. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Calum says. Michael grins, flicking his wrist, and all the coins start rolling down the footpath towards the gutter. 

“What did I tell you about behaving?” he mock-chides, as Calum makes a noise of outrage, trying to stop a few of the coins with his feet. 

“Fuck you, angel,” Calum grumbles, and Michael blows him a kiss as he transports himself back home. 

 -------

 Michael’s in the middle of a debate with Peter about whether or not Julius Caesar should really have been let into Heaven when Ashton Summons him. 

“-just shouldn’t have crossed the Rubicon, if you ask me,” Michael finishes his sentence addressing the wall in Ashton’s office. He spins around, annoyed. “What the fuck, Ash? I was having a conversation.” Ashton holds up a picture of Luke and Calum that Michael had put in Calum’s file, tapping on Luke. 

“Who’s the friend?” he says. 

“Luke,” Michael says. “Can I go now?” 

“No,” Ashton says, motioning for Michael to sit. Michael sighs dramatically, but throws himself down into the chair. Ashton sits down opposite him, wings poised, and steeples his fingers against his chin. 

“You know Luke?” he asks carefully. Michael shrugs. 

“Met him once,” he says. “They were gluing coins to a footpath.” Ashton nods thoughtfully. “Oh, and he killed that transport minister in Berlin a few months ago.” 

“I think he’s killed a lot more than just the transport minister,” Ashton says, tapping on a thick, unmarked file on his right. Michael shrugs. 

“Humans have to die of something,” he says. Ashton gives him a look. 

“We’re meant to protect humanity,” he says reprovingly. 

“C’mon, Ash, they live about as long as it takes me to blink,” Michael says. Ashton purses his lips, but he knows Michael’s right. 

“I’m going after him,” he says eventually. Michael does a literal, honest-to-God double take. 

“You’re doing what?” he says, astounded. “You’re going down?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Ashton says, a little snappily. “Gabriel’ll take over for me when I’m gone.” Michael groans. 

“C’mon, Ash, can’t you pick, like, Uriel, or Selaphiel, or something?” he asks desperately, because he’d rather die than answer to Gabriel, but Ashton shakes his head firmly. 

“Gabriel’s the only one qualified,” he says, eyes back on the picture of Luke and Calum. 

“What’s so interesting about Luke?” Michael asks, seeing the way Ashton’s eyes linger on him. “Why can’t you send someone else after him?” Ashton hesitates, then looks at Michael with a serious expression. 

“There’s never been a demon called Luke.” 

 -------

 Michael next sees Calum in a shopping centre food court. 

Calum spots him before he manages to get to him, and beckons him over, grinning excitedly. Michael tries to suppress a grin and ignore the way his stomach flips at that, pushing through the crowd to get to the booth Calum’s sat in and sliding in opposite him. 

“Watch this,” Calum says gleefully, nodding at the woman to their right. She takes a bite of her margherita pizza, nodding at whatever her friend is saying, and then stops, frowning, hand flying to her throat. 

“What did you do?” Michael asks, as the woman starts to cough. 

“Made her allergic to salt,” Calum says nonchalantly, and Michael snorts. The woman looks like she’s starting to struggle to breathe, so Michael waves his hand, and she relaxes, coughing a few more times, looking extremely confused and concerned. 

“So you’ve progressed to actually killing people now?” Michael asks, mildly intrigued. Calum shakes his head. 

“Knew you’d turn up,” he says, flashing Michael a grin. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“You don’t know that,” he says. “I’m a busy angel.” Calum snorts. 

“Right, that’s why they’ve sent you after me,” he says sarcastically, dipping a chip in some ketchup and popping it in his mouth. “Sure.” Michael shrugs. 

“He wanted me to go after you,” he says. Calum stops chewing, and frowns. 

“He?” he says, swallowing. “As in, Him?” Michael nods. “What the fuck? I’m on G-” he winces. “I’m on His radar?” 

“Apparently so,” Michael says, reaching for one of Calum’s chips and looking around for the mayonnaise. “Hey, where’s the mayo?” Calum stares at him. 

“You eat mayo, and I’m the demon?” he says in disbelief. Michael scowls at him, and conjures some mayonnaise. 

“It’s the best condiment,” he tells Calum, through a mouthful of chip. Calum shakes his head at him, looking genuinely disappointed. 

“What does He want with me, then?” he asks. Michael shrugs. 

“Do I look like God?” he says. Calum shrugs. 

“Never met Him,” he says. Michael raises his eyebrows. 

“Well, who kicked you out?” he asks. 

“Raphael.” 

“Bet he enjoyed that.” Calum huffs out a laugh, sticking his finger in the ketchup and then in his mouth. Michael’s not sure whether he should be grossed out by the fact Calum’s eating pure ketchup, or turned on by the way Calum’s got his lips wrapped around his fingers, looking up at Michael through thick, black lashes. 

“You’re disgusting,” he settles for, but it comes out weak, and a grin’s flashing across Calum’s face in a second. 

“Only for you,” he says, with a wink. Michael rolls his eyes, and hopes the pink on his cheeks isn’t too obvious. He reaches for another one of Calum’s chips, and Calum’s eyes follow him. He looks like he’s weighing up whether or not he wants to say something. 

“What’s He like?” he asks eventually, curiously. 

“God?” Michael asks, and Calum nods. Michael swallows his mouthful of chips, and clears his throat. “He’s cool. Pretty laid-back guy. It’s the Son you want to watch out for.” Calum cocks an eyebrow in intrigue, and Michael nods. “Yeah, the Son’s got a proper stick up his ass. Never met anyone so uptight in my life.” 

“Might be a side effect of crucifixion,” Calum suggests, and Michael snorts. 

“Well, you know, there’s the whole Trinity thing,” Michael continues, “so He’s pretty strict when it comes to the Son. God, the Son’s so spoilt. You think Raphael’s bad, wait until you meet Jesus.” Calum snorts. 

“Don’t think I’ll be meeting the Son anytime soon,” he says, and there’s something hard in his eyes and bitter in his tone. Michael frowns, but it’s gone as soon as Michael opens his mouth to ask. 

“What about Hell?” he asks instead. 

“What about it?” 

“Well, what’s Satan up to nowadays?” A look of amusement flashes across Calum’s face. 

“Oh, y’know,” he says. “Same old.” 

“Being the proudest motherfucker around?” Calum laughs, eyes twinkling, and Michael has the feeling he’s said something much funnier than he intended to. 

“You could say that,” Calum says. 

“He still funny?” Michael asks. “Heaven’s way more boring without him. He was the only one with a fucking sense of humour.” Calum’s eyes glitter with mirth. 

“I’d say so,” he says, grinning. 

“Well,” Michael says, a little awkwardly, because Calum’s finding this way funnier than it should be. “Give him my best.” Calum bursts out laughing. 

“Will do, angel,” he says. 

 -------

 God is nothing like humans think. 

Okay, He’s a little like humans think - He’s got the beard - but that’s about it. 

“Hey, Mikey,” God says, grinning at him when he knocks at the door. “How’s my favourite angel?” Michael rolls his eyes, shutting the door behind him. 

“You’re not supposed to have favourites,” he tells God. 

“I don’t,” God says, eyes twinkling. “But Raphael was listening.” Michael snorts, shaking his head, and God gestures at the seat opposite His desk, capping His pen as Michael sits down. 

“You reinstating me as archangel?” Michael asks cheerfully. God sighs, giving him a serious look, and the smile slips off Michael’s face. 

“You know, Jesus is still mad about the onion,” He says gravely. “You made Him look bad, which means you made me look bad.” 

“You know I didn’t mean to do that,” Michael says, because He can see Michael’s intentions laid out in front of him, clear as day. “And you know I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” God says. “So I am reinstating you. But don’t play around with the Son again.” Michael nods meekly, wings sagging a little. 

“Thank you, Father,” he says. God waves His hand dismissively, grinning. 

“You knew I was going to reinstate you,” He says. 

“Ashton’s going to be pissed,” Michael says, and God chuckles. 

“He knew too,” He says. “He thinks you get special treatment.” That fucker. And, yeah, whoops, Michael’s in the presence of the Lord, and isn’t censoring his thoughts. Whoops. Sorry. “Apology accepted,” He says, grinning. 

Michael hesitates, then, because it reminds him of some things Calum’s said - you exercise your free will to swear, and the many different iterations of you’re the worst angel up there. God raises an eyebrow, motioning for Michael to ask. 

“Why don’t you kick me out?” Michael blurts. God leans back in His seat. 

“You want me to kick you out?” He asks. Michael shakes his head. 

“But I- y’know,” Michael says, shrugging a little uncomfortably in the heat of His gaze. There’s nothing quite like the scrutiny of the Lord. “I swear. I blaspheme. I- uh.” He flushes, and God smirks as images of just what exactly Michael would like to do to Calum flash through his mind. Michael clears his throat. “I’m not exactly a model angel.” God looks at him, calculating, and Michael tries to resist the urge to fall to his knees. 

“You use your free will exactly as I intended it to be used,” He says. “You do as you please with a pure heart, unwaveringly loyal to me. You never have your own interests above mine.” 

“Even when I blaspheme?” God looks at him for a moment, and then smiles. 

“Even when you blaspheme,” He says gently. “You’d do well to remember my omniscience, Michael. Raphael may think obsequiousness is the way into my good books, but that was the reason I gave you free will. I knew some would use it for wrong, I knew some of you would use it to serve me blindly, but you’re the only one who’s ever used their free will as I intended, and the only one I’d ever want at my right-hand side.” Michael has to drop his gaze, can’t meet the holy power shining from His eyes. 

“Thank you, Father,” he says again, and he hears the awe in his own voice. Jesus Christ, he sounds like a human. God snorts at that. 

“Yeah, you do,” He says. “Now, go and tell Raphael you’ve been reinstated. I’ve seen how it plays out, and you’re going to love it.” 

“Can I tell him I’m your right-hand angel?” Michael says hopefully, and God laughs. 

“The fuck you can,” He says, eyes twinkling, and laughs again as Michael gawps at Him. “Oh, you think you’re the only one who can swear in here?” 

Yeah, Michael should have seen that one coming. 

 -------

 The next time Michael sees Calum, he’s with Luke again. It’s the middle of the night, and they’ve both cast glamours, whispering to each other in a dormitory in a hostel in Prague. Luke’s pointing at something across the room, and Michael silently casts his own glamour, sauntering over to them nonchalantly in the hopes of picking up what they’re talking about. 

“...the right side of the room, you take the left,” Luke says, gesturing to the other side of the room. 

“For what?” Michael asks, and both Calum and Luke jump, eyes instinctively turning black and baring their teeth. They both relax when they see who it is, though. 

“Can you let us have one night of fun?” Calum says, sighing. 

“Depends,” Michael says. “Does ‘fun’ involve fucking with the humans?” He indicates the ten people sleeping soundly in the room, and both Luke and Calum hesitate. 

“Well, yes, but-” Luke begins.

“No can do,” Michael says smoothly, and Calum scowls at him. 

“You ever get tired of being a boring cunt?” he asks, and Michael can’t help but laugh. 

“What are you up to?” he asks. 

“Unplugging people’s phone chargers,” Luke answers, eyes gleaming. “They’re all going to wake up with thirty percent charge. Some of them might even miss their alarms.” He sounds so fucking pleased with himself. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“What are you, three hundred?” he says, and he opens his mouth to make another  scathing remark, but is interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He whips around in surprise, because who the fuck can see through his glamour, to find Ashton standing there, looking equally surprised to see him. 

“Oh,” Michael says, turning back to Calum, who looks bewildered, and Luke, who looks shocked. “This is my superior. Although, actually, that’s not true anymore, is it?” 

“You get demoted too?” Calum asks Ashton sympathetically. Ashton sends Michael a glare, and shakes his head tightly. Calum looks back at Michael, who’s grinning widely. 

“No way,” he says incredulously. “You got reinstated?”

“He always gets reinstated,” Ashton mutters. 

“Jealousy’s not a good look you, Ash,” Michael tells him sweetly, and Ashton scowls at him. 

“Ashton,” Luke says suddenly. Ashton’s eyes slide over to him, something unreadable in his expression. 

“Yes,” he says, a little tightly. Michael frowns. What the fuck is Ashton’s deal with Luke? He’s just a harmless fucking demon. He’s about to start unplugging people’s phones, for God’s sake. Not exactly the kind of criminal mastermind Ashton usually descends for; the last time Ashton had come down had been for Attila the Hun. 

“Huh,” Luke says, a little smile unfolding on his lips. “You’re still fucking hot.” Michael’s eyes widen, and Calum chokes on his next breath, disguising it badly as a cough. 

“You know him?” Michael asks in disbelief. Luke grins, eyes glittering, and waves his hand. Michael watches as all the phone chargers in the room simultaneously unplug themselves and fall to the floor, and his jaw drops. No demon should be able to do that. Calum wouldn’t even be able to unplug two chargers at the same time. 

“Cal didn’t tell you?” Luke says sweetly. “Luke’s short for Lucifer.” 

 -------

 For want of a better phrase, all hell had broken loose as soon as the words had left Luke’s lips. 

Ashton and Michael’s wings had flown out, in warrior mode without a second’s hesitation, and Calum and Luke had responded in kind, growling, eyes black, teeth bared. 

“I knew it,” Ashton had hissed, holy light rolling off him so brightly it even almost hurt Michael’s eyes. Calum had shrunk back, but Luke had been unperturbed. “The minute I saw that picture, I knew it was you.” Luke had grinned, all sharp teeth and gleaming black eyes. 

“You think about me that often?” he’d said. 

“Of course I fucking think about you,” Ashton had spat, and Michael had stopped short, stared at him. 

“Did you just fucking swear?” he’d asked. 

“Not really the point, Michael,” Ashton had said through gritted teeth.

“Man, you’re not the only angel to swear?” Calum had said to Michael. 

“He never swears,” Michael had told him, bewildered. 

“These are special fucking circumstances,” Ashton had snapped, and the power in his voice had made Calum stumble back a few steps. 

“Look,” he’d said carefully, when he’d regained his footing. “Michael’s an archangel, you’re...whatever the fuck you are, and Luke’s the Devil. All I’m seeing here is I’m going to come out bottom if this comes down to a fight. Why don’t we take this somewhere else?” They’d all hesitated, tense and poised, none of them willing to be the first to give in, until Calum’s gaze had flickered to Michael, a pleading note in his brown eyes. 

And really, who’s Michael, archangel of the Lord, to say no to petty demon Calum? 

“Fine,” Michael had said, folding his wings, and after a moment’s hesitation, Ashton had followed suit. Luke had taken a moment longer, until Calum had nudged him pointedly, and then he’d folded his sleek black wings in too. 

That’s how they’ve ended up here, in a McDonald’s that’s open all night. They’re huddled in a booth, too close for comfort, Calum and Luke on one side, Michael and Ashton on another. 

“So,” Michael says awkwardly, cutting into the uncomfortable silence, because someone has to be the first to speak. “Sorry about, y’know. The war, and all that.” Luke snorts. 

“Water under the bridge,” he says, waving a hand dismissively, but his eyes don’t stray from Ashton. “You were always my favourite angel.” Ashton flinches at that. 

“What’s the fucking deal here?” Calum demands, and Michael’s silently grateful that he’s not the one who had to ask the question and risk getting publicly reamed out by Ashton. “How do you two know each other?” Luke grins, still gazing at Ashton. 

“You wanna tell them, or should I?” he says, and Ashton stiffens. “I guess I should, huh? It is my story, after all.” 

“Fucking spit it out already, Luke,” Calum says. Luke raises his eyebrows at Ashton, and then finally tears his gaze away. 

“Ashton’s the reason I fell,” Luke says. Michael feels his jaw drop.

“What?” he says, at the exact same time as Calum. 

“How?” Michael demands. 

“What the fuck?” Calum says. 

“What happened?” 

“What did he do?” 

“Hang on, I thought you fell because of pride,” Michael interrupts, jabbing a finger at Luke. Luke shakes his head. 

“I fell because I loved someone more than I loved Him,” he says, and then nods at Ashton. Michael blinks. 

“Sorry,” he says after a moment, shaking his head. “Not sure I’m getting this.” 

“Yeah,” Calum chimes in. “Sounds like you’re saying you and Ashton were, like...a thing?” 

“That’s what he’s saying,” Ashton says. 

“You- hang on,” Michael says, holding his hands up. “You, Ashton, angel who tells me off for even thinking about blaspheming, dated the Devil?” Ashton nods curtly. 

“Nah,” Calum says, shaking his head, “sorry, not having it.” Michael has to agree with that. No way did Ashton date Satan. 

“Wait,” he says suddenly. “No, this doesn’t make any sense. Why do you look different?” Luke shrugs. 

“Changed it up,” he says. “You get a much more exciting range of powers when you’re not confined by His morals.” He grins, and looks back at Ashton. “Ashton still recognised me, though, didn’t he?” Michael stares at Ashton. 

“You dated Satan?” he asks, and Ashton nods. “You never thought to fucking tell me?” 

“What was I supposed to say, Mike?” Ashton says. 

“Oh, I don’t know, hey, Michael, sorry about all those times I slammed you against a wall for swearing, turns out I dated the fucking Devil?” Michael suggests, slightly hysterical. None of this makes any fucking sense. 

“You slam him against walls?” Calum asks, sounding intrigued. “Huh. Shame. I won’t get to be the first.” Michael scowls at him. 

“Are you serious?” he demands. “I find out Ashton dated the literal Devil, and you want to make innuendos? What are you, an incubus?” Calum grins at him. 

“Might be,” he says. 

“Could make you one, if you wanted to be,” Luke offers. 

“If you’re Satan, why the fuck are you messing around with people’s phone chargers and gluing coins to footpaths?” Michael says. Luke shrugs. 

“Being annoying is way more fun than being evil,” he says. Michael stares at him, because yeah, that does actually sound like something Lucifer would say. But Lucifer also didn’t fucking date Ashton. 

“You two didn’t date,” Michael says, shaking his head. “That’s just- that’s just not true.” 

“I can’t lie, Michael,” Ashton reminds him, and Michael bites his lip, because it’s true, he can’t, but he also didn’t fucking date the Devil.

“So,” Luke continues, like this whole interlude hadn’t even happened, spreading his hands. “Turns out I loved Ashton more than he loved me. I get cast out, he doesn’t follow, cue thousands of years of warfare.” And actually, that’s a point. 

“You let me fight that war,” Michael says tightly, rounding on Ashton. “You let me lead that. You let me lead angels, your brothers, into battle to die, and you could have stopped it all along.” Ashton puts his head in his hands. 

“I couldn’t,” he says miserably. “I couldn’t force myself to love Lucifer more than I love Him.”

“Man, this is like a fucking soap opera,” Calum puts in, leaning back in the booth with a grin on his face. 

“I’m glad someone’s fucking enjoying themselves,” Michael snaps, and Calum holds his hands up in defence. 

“I’m a demon, dude,” he says. “I kind of get off on chaos.” He pauses, and then adds: “So do you, actually, don’t fucking lie. You said the tattoo was funny.” 

“That’s exactly why I’m so worried about you, Michael,” Ashton says. “You abuse your free will. I don’t want you to fall, too.” Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Ash, if I were going to fall, it’d would’ve happened a long fucking time ago,” he says. Ashton shoots him a look. 

“You’ve never been as close as you are now,” he says bluntly, eyes flicking to Calum. 

“Oh, c’mon, I want to fuck a demon, so what?” Michael says. “You actually fucked the Devil, and you’re still up there.” 

“You want to fuck me?” Calum interrupts, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, of course I want to fuck you,” he says. Calum looks at him for a moment, and then his face splits into a self-satisfied grin. 

“Don’t blame you,” he says. “I am pretty fucking sexy.” 

“Not the moment, Calum,” Michael says warningly, and it’s Calum’s turn to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t retort. 

“He’s not going to fall, Ash,” Luke says, and there’s something gentle and reassuring in his tone that doesn’t really sit well with Michael’s idea of Satan. “Trust me. He’ll never love anyone more than he loves Him.” Calum’s grin drops at that, and Michael tries to ignore the unpleasant flip in his stomach. 

“You don’t know that,” Ashton says. “You haven’t seen how he uses his free will.” Michael hesitates. 

“I spoke to God about it,” he says, after a moment of dithering. “I- look, I can’t tell you what He said, but we’re on the same page.” Ashton throws him a sceptical look. “Come on, Ash, am I going to lie to you about what He said in front of Him?” Ashton hesitates, and then deflates.

“No,” he says reluctantly. “But-” 

“No, I’m not taking any more fucking criticism from you,” Michael interrupts, pointing a finger at him, “ever. You dated the Devil. I’m going to swear to fucking God-” he relishes the way Ashton flinches at that “-and I’m going to fuck Calum, and there’s absolutely fucking nothing you’re going to say about it.” Ashton opens his mouth, and then closes it again, and Michael gets a rush of satisfaction almost as strong as when he’d told Raphael he’d been reinstated as archangel, again. 

“Fine,” Ashton mutters. Luke shoots him a look somewhere between concern and amusement, and Michael tries not to think about the fact that Satan seems to at least somewhat care about Ashton, instead lapsing into an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until Calum clears his throat. 

“So, Michael,” he says hopefully, breaking the tension. “We were gonna fuck?” 

 -------

 Just because Michael and Calum are fucking now doesn’t relieve Michael from his duties, as God kindly but firmly reminds him when he goes to ask about whether this is, like, even permitted. 

(“You know where I stand,” God had said. “Love no one more than me.”

“For you are a jealous God,” Michael had muttered, and God had grinned. 

“Exactly.”) 

He’s begged Calum to stop fucking around, but Calum seems to think it’s even funnier now that they’re whatever the fuck they are, uses it as a fucking booty call. His ideas are getting more and more ludicrous - he’d gone to someone’s house and put tiny holes in all of their socks, for God’s sake - just to call Michael down for a quick fuck. 

So when Michael hears that Calum’s caused a ten-car pileup on a motorway in England, he’s a little concerned. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Calum says, aiming for light-hearted and missing, not even looking up when Michael sits down next to him on the overbridge. 

“That’s all in your hands,” Michael says, looking out at the (pretty impressive) traffic jam Calum’s caused. “Damn, dude. Bad day?” Calum huffs out a laugh, but it’s humourless. 

“Yeah, guess so,” he says moodily. Michael hesitates. On the one hand, Calum’s a demon, and even though they’re physically intimate, Michael’s not supposed to emotionally care about him. On the other hand, Michael’s an angel, so caring is kind of in his nature, and something about Calum just draws Michael in. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he says eventually, gently. Calum shrugs. 

“Nothing you can do about it,” he says. 

“I can listen,” Michael says. “Angel, remember? I do a lot of listening.” Calum snorts. 

“What are you angel of?” he asks. 

“Healing,” Michael says. 

“You heal broken hearts?” And, oh. Okay. Michael swallows. He shouldn’t care about that as much as he does. It shouldn’t matter to him that someone that isn’t Michael has broken Calum’s heart. 

“I can try,” he says, aiming for jovial, but it falls flat. Calum sighs. 

“Remember that dude who wrote that play about the people who couldn’t be together?” he says, kicking his legs out. Michael frowns. “You know, the one set in Italy? Couple of centuries ago?” Michael frowns, and Calum rolls his eyes. “C’mon, man, you know who I’m talking about. Ro- Roleo? No, wait, Romeo? Romeo and Juliet, that’s the one.” 

“...Shakespeare?” Michael says. 

“Yeah, him,” Calum says in relief. 

“What about him?” 

“Didn’t he write the whole star-crossed lovers thing?” Michael raises his eyebrows. 

“You remember that, but not Shakespeare’s name?” he says. Calum scowls, but it’s half-hearted. 

“My point is,” he says, and then he stops, and kicks his feet out again. 

“Your point is?” Michael prompts. Calum sighs, and stares down at the cars. 

“You ever feel like that?” he says gloomily. Michael follows his gaze. 

“Like a traffic jam?” he asks slowly. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Like we’re star-crossed lovers,” he says, and oh. 

Oh. 

Oh, fucking hell. 

“Calum,” Michael says carefully, and Calum sighs again. 

“I know,” he says, before Michael can continue. “You don’t fucking care about me, whatever. It just fucking sucks.” He laughs humourlessly, and then adds: “You think He’d ever let me back in?” Michael dithers on that for a moment, before deciding to go for the truth. 

“I don’t think so, Cal,” he says gently. “You wouldn’t be able to love Him more than anyone else.” 

“Is that such a fucking crime?” Calum says bitterly. “That I have the capacity to love with thought, with intention, not just blindly?” 

“No,” Michael says kindly. “It just means you’d make a shitty angel.” 

“You’re a shitty angel,” Calum says. 

“I am,” Michael agrees. “But I’ll also never love anyone more than Him.” Calum deflates, and shit, are those tears? Can demons even cry? 

“What the fuck are we even doing then, Michael?” Calum asks flatly. Michael sighs. 

“I do care about you, Cal,” he says. “A lot. I should have killed you the first time I met you, but I couldn’t. There’s something about you, I just…” he trails off. “Look, it’s complicated. I do care about you. I’ll just never love you more than I love the Lord.” Calum stares at the traffic below them. 

“But you could love me?” he says to the cars. Michael nods. 

“Easily,” he says. Calum bites his lip. 

“I could be second best?” 

“You already are second best.” Calum’s brow creases, like he’s trying to make some kind of decision.

“Okay,” he says eventually. Michael frowns. 

“Okay?” Calum shrugs, and the wicked gleam is back in his eyes, just like that.  

“You know what they say,” he says, grinning. “First the worst, second the best.” Michael rolls his eyes, hard. 

“You really gonna have a breakdown and end it like that?” he says sceptically. 

“Demon, dude,” Calum reminds him. “Not really keen on serious.” 

“You sure you’re not, like, a poltergeist?” Michael says, and Calum shoves him off the overbridge. Michael squawks, wings unfolding so fast he thinks he might have sprained something, and he hits Calum upside the head with his left wing as he sets himself back down next to him. “You’re a fucking arsehole, you know that?” 

“And proud,” Calum tells him, and then sobers again. 

“What?” Michael prods. Calum sighs, and holds his hand out, fingers spread, for Michael to hold.  

“I don’t want you to fall for my sake,” he says. 

But, as Michael laces his fingers through Calum’s and stares at the cars under their feet, he thinks: would that be such a bad thing? 

#malum #lashton #5sos fic #5sos slash #5sos fanfiction #im so tired i will rsvp to messages tomorrow im sorry xx #holyverse

[anxiouspandatheatrekid]

Ranking of all Victorious episodes (in my humble opinion)

Sleepover at Sikowitz

Jade Gets Crushed

Opposite Date

Tori & Jade's Playdate

Tori Fixes Beck & Jade

The Great Ping Pong Scam

Wanko's Warehouse

The Hambone King

The Breakfast Bunch

Victori-Yes

A Christmas Tori

Ice Cream for Ke$ha

Beck Falls for Tori

Freak the Freak Out

Locked Up

April Fools Blank

Survival of the Hottest

Car, Rain, and Fire

Jade Dumps Beck

Pilot

Tori the Zombie

Wok Star

The Birthweek Song

André's Horrible Girl

Beggin' on Your Knees

The Gorilla Club

Who Did It to Trina?

Tori Goes Platinum

Stage Fighting

One Thousand Berry Balls

How Trina Got In

Robarazzi

Wi-Fi in the Sky

Prom Wrecker

Cat's New Boyfriend

The Bird Scene

Helen Back Again

Tori Tortures Teacher

Tori Gets Stuck

Terror on Cupcake Street

Driving Tori Crazy

Cell Block

Blooptorious

The Diddly-Bops

Brain Squeezers

Rex Dies

The Wood

Star-Spangled Tori

The Blonde Squad

A Film by Dale Squires

The Bad Roommate

Beck's Big Break

The Worst Couple

Robbie Sells Rex

Three Girls and a Moose

The Slap Fight

Crazy Ponnie

#victorious #victorious epa #ranking #andre harris #jade west #tori vega #cat valentine #beck oliver #robbie shapiro #trina vega #sikowitz #pandaoriginal

[kaleidoscopeminds]

why wont you tell me your radio;active and morning glory opinions i need to know

The way u have phrased this like it’s my fault I didn’t get your previous ask smh helen... ANYWAY these are 2 very key albums in my life and I have re-listened just to bring u the Freshest Hottest Takes

Radio:ACTIVE: firstly fuck this album is still so fucking good mcfly continues to be iconic

Top 2: corrupted, going through the motions (honourable mentions to both POV and down goes another one because I am an emo bitch!!!)

Bottom 2: Do Ya, Smile (maybe because I am an emo bitch!!!!)

(What’s the Story) Morning Glory: 

Top 2: morning glory, some might say (look champagne supernova could have made it here but I MAINTAIN the fact it is approximately 2:50 too long I will stand by that)

Bottom 2: can I say swamp song 1 and 2??? If not... cast no shadow and... fuck it’s got to be wonderwall the rest are just TOO GOOD (including she’s electric... banger)

Send me an album and I’ll tell you my top 2 and bottom 2 songs

#aksjjs i put the link on this even tho i did this like 2 weeks ago #but i guess if anyone has another one 2 send (ive done all of 5sos) #also how iconic morning glory is almost as old as me #1995 babies <3 #ask #calumcest #there u go helen here are my OPINIONS

[enkelimagnus]

The valentine/izzy question was one of HORROR not interest. Ur shipping Izzy with magic hitler? Seriously?! Holy shit, Whats next, shipping her with Asmodeous or Azazel or Lilith? How about just Satan? Jonathan at least has a depressing backstory that gives him potential for redemption in a Kylo Ren sort of way, but VALENTINE? His DAD? What is happening with this fandom?! Yall would seriously rather her be w/ Valentine, the antagonist who's literally just "racist & evil", than Simon or Meliorn?

Listen. 

Writing a ficlet where, in a complete AU, Valentine and Izzy have an unhealthy relationship, that is tagged as such and portrayed as such explicitly is not "would rather her be with Valentine rather than Simon or Meliorn". 

You would know that, if you thought for 5 seconds, and maybe like, considered that people aren’t as horrible as you think? You could have clicked on the link you so obviously saw, looked at the tags, and gone “ah, yes, tagged as unhealthy”. 

Writing fics with ships isn’t condoning, wanting that to happen in all universes in all circumstances and thinking it's perfect and pure and healthy. Far from it. 

I’m not shipping them. I actually don’t want them together in canon settings, or care much about them as a ship. I just made one fic with that pairing, in a complete AU, explicitly unhealthy, because it was very interesting for me to write, worked with the Ficlet Instruments prompts, and worked with the song that was playing on my spotify then. 

And I have written several Meliorn/Izzy fics that have FAR from the same tone as Lecture Hall, because well, people are interested in writing many different dynamics. A shock, I believe. 

I would rather her be with Meliorn, Clary, Maia, Aline, Helen, or Sebastian like in the fics I wrote. 

And you know what’s funny, anon? 

You ask: “What’s next, Lilith?” 

And on the very masterlist you obviously read and got offended by because of the Valentine/Izzy ficlet, there was an Izzy/Lilith. and that Izzy/Lilith is probably the hottest piece of smut I wrote this year. 

So please. Don’t get all “high horse” on me, okay, bud? 

The fandom is doing very well. And so am I. 

#sizzy #melizzy #clizzy #valizzy #jonabelle

[shemakesmusic-uk]

This segment features artists who have submitted their tracks/videos to She Makes Music. If you would like to be featured here then please send an e-mail to [email protected]. We look forward to hearing from you!

London Mars

Witty, fiery, and rebellious only begin to describe alternative/indie artist London Mars. The Berklee College of Music alum began studying piano and voice at the young age of 5, and was already travelling back and forth from her hometown of Oklahoma City to LA to record at only 16. ‘Alexandria’ is her debut release on Sadboy Records. Reflecting on how the smallest choices can have lasting effects, she muses over how different her life could have looked had she been named that instead. London explains: "The concept for my new single, ‘Alexandria,’ came to me on a 6-hour drive up to San Francisco to see my brother this past summer. I was going through a break up and trying to fit in some deep reflection, along with some screaming and crying. I started thinking about the web of my life that I've created and how the smallest choices can have lasting effects, whether that's with love, my career, friendships, or my family. This led me to think about the possibility that my life could look entirely different if my mom went with her second choice for a name for me when I was born. ‘Alexandria’ could be out there living her own carefree life in another dimension and I’m here, living what feels like a very complicated life sometimes." Listen below.

London Mars · Alexandria

Everything After Midnight

Harnessing a distinctive sound inspired by the likes of YONAKA, Nothing But Thieves and Wolf Alice, Everything After Midnight are bursting with attitude. Since meeting at the University of York, the five now-housemates have thrown themselves into the local music scene racking up gigs with a DIY ethos. The band are Andrew (Bass & Backing Vox), Jacob (Guitar), Steph (Vocals), Ben (Drums) and Aidan (Guitar & Backing Vox). Featuring singles ‘On Beauty’ and ‘Embark On The Wood’, Still Sleeping is their debut EP. Tracked in the rural Crooked Room Studios alongside friend and producer Tom Gulliver, the EP boasts an ambitious, eclectic sound reflecting EAM’s energetic live performances. Recording for the EP was crammed into two of the hottest days of summer, leading to a sweaty, intense experience and giving a natural, raw sound to the final tracks. We’re featuring the track 'Her' and here's a little quote about it from Stephanie: "I often have a rule about not writing on love, but this circumstance felt as thought it was demanding to be written on. Growing up I always had an attraction to girls, but living in a world that just about understood the term “bisexual”, my first crush therefore was quite tentative, and came with a dose of disbelief. This songs aims to encapsulate the tentative and coy feelings of a first school crush, whilst revealing the notions of uncertainty when liking a girl in a heteronormative world.” Listen below.

Everything After Midnight · Her

Anusha

‘Loser’ is the sarcastic and jaughty single from the singer-songwriter Anusha. ‘Loser’ takes a humorous approach at confronting a relationship breakdown. If you're looking to laugh, cry, shout - Anusha has a song for that. This is the second single that is being released off Anusha’s 2022 mixtape Vendetta. Like many people entering their mid-twenties, Anusha has been experiencing some self-discovery, whether she wanted to or not. She decided to write a “farewell” to every toxic relationship, situation and even some parts of herself that no longer served her. However, this is not Anusha’s first creative project. When she was 10 years old, she had her first poem published in the cover of a poetry collection. As she grew older, she has always strived to illustrate her surroundings through her poetry, her prose and her singing. It dawned on her that if she could mesh her Classical musical knowledge with eclectic contemporary sounds that were exposed to her as a child she could create a sound that was unique to her. Now taking her inspiration from Bon Iver, Mitski and Sevdaliza; she’s ready to share her lyricism and sound outside of her bedroom. Listen to ‘Loser’ below.

Anusha · Loser

Daisy Punch

Alternative pop artist Daisy Punch has a unique sound that has a nostalgic vibe with her own clever twist. Produced by fellow alt pop songwriter Cash aura, Daisy punch has created her signature gritty/dark atmosphere but with a more elevated and electronic twist on new single ‘Get Free’. Daisy Punch describes the track as a “sombre wakeup call to no longer doubting herself. ‘Get Free’ is based around finding some peace in a chaotic situation. The track is dark and empowering for me personally. It’s about no longer seeing a relationship through rose tinted glasses and not letting other people dictate who you are. As women whether consciously or not we often down play shitty behaviour, so not to rock the boat but sometimes it’s very necessary to rock the boat.” Listen below.

#submission saturday #london mars #everything after midnight #anusha #daisy punch

[chaos-weekly]

“You have to watch this,” Xander told JJ, who had started to walk away from the bar. He grabbed the redhead’s shoulder and pulled him next to him.

“I certainly do not,” JJ objected, pretending to scowl at Xander.

“You’re the reason Didi is up there.”

“Didi is the reason she’s up there.”

Xander raised an eyebrow. JJ was doing his best to distract his (fake) girlfriend from her mom being in the hospital across the country. And yet he claimed he didn’t care about her at all.

“You told her she wasn’t the table dancing type, JJ. You’ve known her long enough to know she’s going to do everything in her power to prove you wrong.” Xander loved Didi. She was his best friend for a reason. But her stubbornness and spite knew no bounds.

There was a glimmer of amusement in JJ’s eyes, despite his straight face.

“Didi makes her own choices. I’m not responsible for that.”

“No, but she is your girlfriend, and she’s sexier than ever in that dress dancing up there. If you don’t watch, someone’s gonna get the wrong idea.” Contrary to popular assumptions, Xander could be quite clever and manipulative. Particularly with those he knew well.

JJ scowled, but he finally turned to pay attention to Didi, who had now been joined by Nollie and her Russian model friend. Varya? Was that her name? Xander had only met her in passing.

Grinning, probably too excitedly, Xander spared a glance around the room. Everyone was focused on the three hottest ladies—the top contenders for the night’s highest award—dancing atop the bar. But it was London Lovell who was paying the most attention, even if only to Nollie.

So that stupid pickup line had worked out in his favor after all, because Nollie kept glancing back at London. There was something there.

“Oi, London!” Xander walked closer and gestured for London to join him and JJ.

“I see Nollie did save your life, then,” Xander greeted with a devilish smirk. London was not amused.

“I never said it was my best work,” he grumbled, eyes still trained on Nollie’s very fine figure. There was a reason Xander loved his annual “let’s see who the sexiest friend of Xander Presley is” party. London seemed to agree.

“You’re the guy that Nollie’s always grinning about,” JJ said, dragging his gaze away from a grinning Didi. The three girls were all belting the lyrics to whatever song was playing. It was some song from 2009 about Helen Keller dancing with her hips? It was hard to pay attention in the loud room.

This time, London did seem amused, or at least happy to hear what JJ said. “And you’re dating her best friend.”

JJ shrugged, gaze returning to Didi, who still wore his cowboy hat. “How drunk do you think she is?” But he was smiling, even if he didn’t realize it. Glancing at London, Xander realized he wore a similar face.

Man, his friends had it bad.

“If Didi is still standing then I guarantee it’s not as too bad.”

“Helpful, Defender.”

Xander glared at JJ. The tattoo JJ referenced originated before Leah had written her number one hit. At eighteen, Xander had gotten defender, from the meaning of his name, tattooed on the inside of his wrist. He hated it. Xander hated it before he met Leah, and she went and made it even worse. It had been a stupid idea to begin with, and now it reminded him of every stupid idea since then. Sadly, JJ knew this, and wasn’t afraid to use it against Xander. He was as bad as Didi now, wasn’t he? As much as he wanted them to acknowledge their attraction and go at each other’s throats (mostly so he could win the bet), he didn’t appreciate that they were teaming up against him. Then again, Xander had absolutely embarrassed JJ earlier. He chuckled at the memory. Making people uncomfortable was his specialty.

“So, boys, what do you say to joining those fine ladies up there?” Xander asked, setting down his empty cosmopolitan. It was the one Imogen had made, the one he’d been savoring for a while now, since before she left. He’d held the empty glass for a good twenty minutes.

JJ didn’t wait to answer; he was already over by the bar and climbing on. Within moments, he had Didi’s hands in his and they were dancing together. Even better, Didi was laughing.

Xander turned to London, who dared him to force him up there. Good thing Xander never turned away from a dare.

“You’re doing this, man, before I get up there and start dancing with Nollie.” That worked. London grumbled but headed over, pulling himself up and pulling his girl into his arms. That left Varya, who Xander didn’t know well, but he definitely wanted to get to know her body.

Yeah, he really did love these parties sometimes.

#chaos weekly #rising from the ashes

[pleasancetimes]

Over and Out: 27 August Fringe Final Round Up

After 270 Pleasance productions staged 5537 performances, another year draws to a close. 

The Guardian gave five stars to Sheeps and Freeman, The Times awarded five stars to Felicity Ward, Natalie Palamides and The Song of Lunch, and The Daily Telegraph gave five to Mark Watson. The Scotsman awarded three of the hallowed five stars to Electrolyte, Brexit and The Raymond and Mr Timpkins Revue, with The Herald giving five to Alex Edelman, Sarah Keyworth and Silence. 

Coverage

Natalie Palamides: Nate was featured in The Guardian’s Autumn Arts preview 2018 as “one of most talked-about shows on this year’s Edinburgh fringe”. According to Michael Billington, Palamides is “one of the hottest new acts in world comedy”.

Brian Logan from The Guardian awarded Ciarán Dowd with a 4 star review, remarking on Dowd’s “expert way with the crowd”.

The Edinburgh Evening News recommended Narcissist in the Mirror as part of their ‘What’s on Guide’ and told readers not to miss Adam Hess. The paper also featured a wonderful photo of all the volunteers and staff at Waverley Care, alongside the Pleasance team who raised an incredible £500,000 over the longest running fundraising partnership at the Fringe. Well done to all involved!

The Scotsman awarded 4 stars to Freeman, Mark Watson and Moon.

Rose Matafeo’s photo with her Edinburgh Comedy Best Comedy Show Award featured in the i Newspaper under the title of “utterly original 26-year-old wins best comic award”.

The i Paper also included Mark Watson: The Infinite Show in the Arts agenda round-up, calling Watson a “Fringe hero” and his show a “cultural highlight” you have to see.

The Times featured both achievements of Pleasance winners of the Comedy Awards 2018, Ciarán Dowd and Rose Matafeo.

Broadway World wrote a feature on Pleasance’s landmark year which included increased ticket sales, and a “trophy cabinet of awards”.

Awards

Awards fell upon the Pleasance thick and fast this year: The Archive of Educated Hearts and Power Play: Funeral Flowers both won The Scotsman Fringe First Awards. Elise and A Clown Show About Rain were both nominated for the Mental Health Fringe Award, with the winner being Queen Dome’s very own Electrolyte.White was shortlisted for The Filipa Bragança Award which was won by Power Play: Funeral Flowers.We had three shows shortlisted for the Amnesty Freedom of Expression Award; Freeman, Silence, and White. Helen Bauer of The Comedy Reserve was nominated for the BBC New Comedy Award. Electrolyte was nominated for the Holden Street Theatres Award, a highly prestigious award that invites the winner to perform at the Adelaide Fringe. This award was won by Pleasance’s very own Build a Rocket. Sarah Keyworth and Alex Edelman both won Herald Angels as Silence was recognised with the Herald Archangel. Freeman and Power Play: Empty Chair were both nominated for the SIT-UP Award whilst Better Together won SIT-UP’s Audience Engagement Award. Sirens and When We Fall Down won Three Weeks Editors’ Awards. Sparks won Musical Theatre Review’s Best New Musical. Natalie Palamides won a Total Theatre Award for Innovation, Experimentation and Playing with Form for her show Nate. And by far the most impressive achievement was Pleasance’s lion’s share of the nominations for the highly prestigious Edinburgh Comedy Awards. Felicity Ward: Busting a Nut, Alex Edelman: Just For Us, and Kieran Hodgson: 75 were nominated for Best Show, which was eventually won by Rose Matafeo: Horndog. Meanwhile in the Best Newcomer category; Olga Koch: Fight, Sarah Keyworth: Dark Horse, Sindhu Vee: Sandhog were all nominated with the award being snapped up by Ciaran Dowd: Don Rodolfo. Well done everyone on another successful year of programming!

#edfringe #pleasance #press round-up

[coturesocial-blog]

She was born in North Carolina and bred in the Bronx. Maliibu Miitch is just five foot but she is a little ball of fire and one of the hottest rappers on the scene right now. If you’re knowledgeable of the rap game you’ll recognise her as one half of the Maliibu N Helene duo but this chick has now gone solo. She’s rising quick time in the rap industry and injecting Lil’ Kim and Foxy Brown vibes into her music.

Watch out for Maliibu Miitch

As a lover of the 90’s and 00’s style in regards to both music and fashion, she is bringing back some of the beloved tunage that we don’t hear as much these days. Maliibu Miitch released her EP, Hood Foreign, and is currently working on some new music that we’re predicting is going to blow up later on this year. But, hold on, what’s with the quirky name? Well, the first half of this stage name was created to represent the softer, fun and bubbly side of her personality and the latter is to label the gritty, South Bronx side.

These two contrasting elements that make up her name work perfectly because her music also resembles these differences. Some songs are pretty and others are 100% from the hood. In an interview with XXL, she said that she now has Kehlani liking her IG pics and she’s making music with Chris Brown, Ty Dolla $ign and Jeremih.

But, how did she get to where she is now?

Maliibu Miitch has previously stated that life in South Bronx in New York was fun. Cookouts (the American term for a gathering where a meal is cooked and eaten outdoors) and block parties were great to socialise with your community. She was young and rebellious. In the summer, with her friends, they would bust open water hydrants but she admittedly said that being outside brought trouble…

Maliibu Miitch is a very candid young lady, at just 27 years old she has learnt many life lessons and knows that she’s changed for the better. Now, wanting to live the best life she can and wanting to provide for those close to her, she really is an inspiration. She actually revealed that she’s pretty conservative — she’s a true homebody. Maliibu is very close to her mum and hopes to buy her the house of her dreams one day.

Despite her inner sweetie, she doesn’t joke around when it comes to her music. Through the mode of rapping, she uses bars to get back at those who have disrespected her or her family and friends. What better way to suppress anger than to exercise it in music? If anything, it’s a creative way to showcase the things you are most passionate about.

Get Inspired by Maliibu Miitch

Whether you’re into rap music or not, something you can definitely take away from this girl is her saucy style.

She’s not afraid to play with bright colours and contrast them. Remember ages ago when there was a kind of unspoken rule that red and pink clashed? Well, not anymore. Pairing the right shades can give your outfit a super edgy look. While you’re at it, why not try mixing up textures too?

Forest green should always be seen — especially in all-over sequin form. You could try this look with any colour but this shade of green is universal. It’s 2018 and we’re becoming more experimental with fashion than we ever have been before. Who cares if people say certain colours won’t compliment your skin tone? No matter how much melanin you got goin’ on, your body is the true fashion statement.

Camo, camo, camo, camo and take it! Take another little piece of that camo baby. We’re predicting that this trend will never die. You just can’t go wrong. The great thing about this army-inspired print is that you can pair it up with ANY bold colour and make a statement people will never forget. Try it with bright red or even baby pink.

What will you be taking from Maliibu Miitch?

Cr: Instagram @maliibumiitch

Maliibu Miitch Just Keeps On Getting Hotter And Her Bars Are Back To Burn She was born in North Carolina and bred in the Bronx. Maliibu Miitch is just five foot but she is a little ball of fire and one of the hottest rappers on the scene right now.