EVENT: SING FOR YOUR SUPPER.

[cuddlemods]

EVENT: SING FOR YOUR SUPPER.

Good morning, Cadelle. As you wake from what should have been a restful night's sleep, you'll start to notice a tickle in your throat, the kind that feels like you might be able to cough it away, or in a worst case scenario, swallow down with a few gulps of water. However, no matter how many glasses of dihydrogen monoxide you tip back or how many times you try to clear your throat, that lingering feeling remains. It's a good thing most people are quiet when they first wake... By the time you've had your first cup of caffeinated beverage of choice and feel up to interacting with other people — which, depending on your personal preferences might be mid-morning or perhaps late afternoon — you might notice that the tickle has gotten considerably worse. It's more insistent, like an itch begging to be scratched or a grey hair just demanding to be plucked away, and every minute it's ignored only aggravates it more. So, eventually, you'll give in. You'll open your mouth to say something, only to realize you're not saying anything at all. ▸ Maybe it's time for your coffee break... ▸ Or perhaps a kinder good morning is the way to start your day. ▸ Or, just possibly, you might greet the day with a question. What is this feeling, you might ask... But whether you're expecting caffeine or kind greetings or even just answers from your own personal AI, song is probably the last thing on the list of possibilities. Unfortunately, it's also your reality. Try not to panic too much — after all, characters in crisis often have the most dramatic solos. It may put your mind — or maybe just your pride — at ease to realize that it's not you who's been blessed by the angel of music. In fact, it seems the whole city is affected — everyone from the shopkeepers to your neighbors seem to be singing, and for once, it appears nobody's off-key. (Talk about a blessing.) So, while it may not be your ideal method of communication, you'll just have to take it like a man... at least for now. Who knows? Maybe you'll even start to like it. Pull up a chair, get comfortable, find someone to chat to, pick a little, talk a little. But whatever you do, don't try to resist it, because... well, you know. You can't stop the beat! How did all this come to be? Well, we're sure you're familiar with the age-old tale of the little mermaid — but, just in case, we'll give you a quick tl;dr. Mermaid girl wants legs, trades her voice in a sketchy back-alley deal with a sea witch of questionable allegiance, and has to mack on a dude of her choice or give up her bodily autonomy. Totally normal kids' fare. What does that have to do with Cadelle? Maybe you're familiar with the redheaded girl who lives in the bright pink house? Yeah, that's Clary, our own little mermaid, who stuck around in a magical pool so long that she needed the help of the Energem to un-mermaid herself. Unfortunately, she didn't wish quite clearly enough, so the wish stone got more of the Disney movie musical vibe than any ideas of redheads with legs. Not that Clary didn't get her legs. She did, obviously, but she also accidentally bequeathed the entire city with this great gift of song. We know, you're excited. Feel free to send her your thanks. Singing telegrams are always in fashion! Of course, characters are unlikely to know the hows and whys of this particular event. Unless they ask Clary herself, they'll only know that they've woken up feeling unable to resist the urge to sing their hearts out. Those that resist will only suffer until they give in, with a sore throat and thick tongue that demands to be treated, and relief will only come from the first notes of song. As far as song choices are concerned, feel free to play this in any way that strikes your fancy! We chose Broadway mostly because two thirds of your mod team has extremely niche interests, but you're welcome to choose popular music, your favorite Disney classics, a retro r&b or rap beat, or maybe even some original lyrics of your very own. This could be your chance to blossom into the next Lin-Manuel Miranda! If you have any further questions specific to this event, we encourage you to ask away on our QUESTIONS COMMENT here in this post. If you have general questions, or prefer a more private venue, our GENERAL INBOX (and SCREENED INBOX) is always available for you. In addition, if you've got an idea for a future event, feel free to drop us a line at our EVENTS SUGGESTION POST. Have fun, and don't forget — sing from your diaphragm, please! No breathy solos!

Comments

[acuerdo]

[drinking doesn't sound like an idea, and lord certainly knows that robbie's considered it even if he hasn't so much as uttered a word. there's no need to break out into a spirited rendition of "en el cielo no hay cerveza". but the call to song is too much to resist when vasquez is right there beside him belting it out.]

Hello, I know there's someone out there who can understand.

[kelvins]

[mick's gaze darts between the woman and the officer and wordlessly manages to convey his most sincere 'please?' — a feat and a half because he really doesn't feel any remorse for beating up the bar patron. but despite this good samaritan joining in on the request, the policeman shakes his head, pulling out a notepad to scribble the word 'procedure' in careful block letters.

mick groans. he would scream and punch, but that pesky urge to keep singing bubbles at his throat.]

I fought the law, and the law won...

[quinientos]

[He's nearly able to haul her into a lift, but once they're in the cab and she starts to write things down, Vasquez feels the relief pulse through his whole body. He's so tired of singing and he wants to do so much better things with his mouth and his whole body, so this is best, yes? Yes, definitely.

Reaching for the pen and pad, he takes it to write down his own message.]

by the time we reach your place, should be no singing necessary

[quinientos]

[That's it. Drinking is the only thing that Vasquez wants to do for the foreseeable future, which is why he starts to ignore Reyes and points to the exit door, mimes taking a drink, and then goes for a cigarette because at least if he's smoking, then he's not singing. Maybe it'll be a temporary fix, but if he can stop hearing himself humiliate himself, then he'll take it.

He doubts it will take much convincing to get Reyes to join him, but he still doesn't check over his shoulder as he goes.]

[ischyros]

I'm not busy either. We should go pick out the newest member of the Prince-Trevor household tomorrow morning.

[ischyros]

( Diana shakes her head, helpless. She'd tried her best but it seems like the law has other ideas and doesn't feel like righteous indignation is cause to start a fight. Cadelle is quite strict in that regard. )

Is it too late now to say sorry?

[icansavetoday]

We must be going alphabetically there.

We don't have any of the other things we need for a dog either.

[ischyros]

Are you wanting to argue Trevor-Prince for our new hyphenated appellation? ( Diana laughs, low and soft. She's missed bantering with Steve and is so happy to be able to do it again. )

Come on, then. We have to go shopping for dog supplies so we can get one tomorrow.

[acuerdo]

[it doesn't take much guessing on robbie's part to figure out exactly what vasquez is recommending as a solution to their plight. even if it won't stop the singing, a few drinks sounds like just the kind of thing to take his focus off everything. so what if it's still kind of early for a drink. so what if he still has a mountain of work to get done.

he wipes his hands and hurries to play catch up with vasquez whose swift strides have him already just outside the garage. once they're side by side, robbie jingles his keys in his palm, raising his eyebrows. it's not the first time he's offered vasquez a ride, which he can only hope will go more smoothly than the last.]

[kelvins]

[he'd really like things a lot more if he could stop singing because now the cop has something akin to a smirk on his face and Diana's singing some top 40 nonsense. which, naturally, means he feels even more encouraged to go along. seething even as he does.]

Baby, I'm sorry. I'm not sorry.

[gasping]

( she can't help but roll her eyes, affectionate and smug all the same as she watches him scribble down words. he's not wrong. he might be a little obvious, though. )

congratulations, you cracked the code

( her message comes in the form of a typed up text not yet sent, held out for his perusal on her phone. )

this place just wants you to use your mouth for something more fun instead ;)

[prosecutorial]

[It reminds her of Oliver's hands. Which is a thought she pushes away almost as sure as she has it because she is not thinking about Oliver. At all.]

Nice to meet you, Frank. I'm sorry for walking into you.

[quinientos]

[He's not in the mood to open his mouth and snipe back at her, because who knows what awful singing might happen as a result, so instead he keeps his mouth shut and only starts to absently play with her hair, letting his fingers gently stroke the nape of her neck.

It's not torture, not really, but he hopes that it at least makes her think twice about wanting to write anything. Squinting, he smirks at the message on the phone, reaching over for it.

Though, given his comfort with technology, this will take a while.]

Did we decide if was my mouth? Did I miss that?

[quinientos]

[Vasquez gives him a disappointed look, mainly because he always prefers to walk if he can help it, but given the fact that they can't go very long without singing, maybe it's not such a good idea to take a longer time to get there.

Nodding, but showing his discontent, he agrees to a ride in the car, even though he deliberately lights up his cigarette as he stares at Reyes, a silent comment that he doesn't plan to avoid this.]

[shitmagnet]

That's alright ma'am. You got- bigger shit to worry about. [The soldier boy is not quite gentleman material - certainly not the moping on his own island type - but civilian life has been filing down Frank's rough edges a bit, one day at a time. His hand goes back to its resting place cupping his empty glass. Getting another drink is tempting but maybe he should call it a night, too.]

[gasping]

( no, that feeling is absolutely not torture. instead, it's just reason enough for caroline to angle her head down a little, just enough to make it that much easier for him to touch. )

not much of a "we" decision
i liked it, so i decided
are you complaining?

[quinientos]

[Instead of saying anything to complain about the direction this night has taken, Vasquez casually shrugs and sits back, still playing with her hair, running his tongue over his teeth as he grins at her, which ought to at least give some indication about how much he's willing to do.

He only wishes he could speak, now, instead of having to sing every thought out loud.]

[acuerdo]

[vasquez's displeasure is clearly mirrored by his counterpart, though robbie's reasons for being unhappy lean more toward nonverbal grumblings about how long it takes to detail his interior and how he hopes vasquez isn't going to put the butt out on the dash or other absurd thoughts that don't take into consideration that vasquez has been nothing but reasonable as a passenger in his car before. not to mention that his car is self-healing and the detailing is more to make him feel better and to pass the time. robbie hops in and turns the key in the ignition.

he breathes a sigh of relief when the only sound that greets him when the car starts is the rumbling of the engine. no music. no singing. just the pleasant purring that he could recognize even in his sleep.

unlike their last car ride though, he takes them toward criminales. figuring that the dive bar won't be filled with the song and dance numbers that have plagued them both thus far.

[quinientos]

[Vasquez spends his time smoking and using the window to get rid of the ashes, seeing as he's not a complete asshole with no care for Reyes' car, but he still wants something to be able to distract himself with. Grinning as they approach Criminales, he gives a nod of his head to indicate how very good of a choice it is.

Only when they're there does he put out the cigarette under his heel, feeling himself dragging towards wanting to sing again, even though he hates it.]

Let me know what'll break you, let me know what to pay you.

[gasping]

( well, he doesn't need to speak, because the power of body language is definitely working in his favor. so much so that caroline just opts to follow his lead, enjoying the silence and the touch until the taxi pulls up to her apartment building. which earns a mental note: start looking into moving out again, sooner rather than later.

at least she's only on the second floor. a single set of stairs is barely anything to climb, and it doesn't take long before the door to her apartment is unlocked and opening wide to allow him entry.

on a small table in the hallway, there's a pad of paper, upon which caroline pens a message: )

hi :)

[quinientos]

[He's got long legs, he's young, he can handle some stairs. He's done much worse in his life, but when she heads inside to write a silly little face on a paper, he gives her a dubious look, because there are much better things that he wants to be doing with his time.

Namely, the one that he intends to start with, advancing and yanking the pen from her fingers to set it down, bending a little so he can haul her into his arms for a kiss, tangling his fingers in her hair and making a wild mess of it, because that's the least of his cares right now.]

[ischyros]

( Diana laughs softly, unable to keep from singing either. She tries, covering her mouth a bit, and eventually fails when the following bursts forth from her mouth as she dances: )

I got this feelin', inside my bones...

[prosecutorial]

[She gives a small shrug.]

Everyone has bigger shit to worry about. Still doesn't excuse being rude. All you did was sit there.

[shitmagnet]

[Better him than other people, but. He doesn't want to be presumptuous or say that aloud. The proof is in the deed if she'll give him the chance and if she doesn't then they can call it a night and go their separate ways.]

I'd rather this over the musical. [Is what Frank ends up saying instead. Poor attempt at small talk - but true.]

[prosecutorial]

[Her nose wrinkles a bit in confusion, because musical??? But then she remembers that she was doing a ballad not that long ago, and she nods in acknowledgement.]

I thought that was all in my head.