#Angie Dexterity

[melodythebunny]

Was bored so

also wanted to draw canon style

XD Angie if she was in the Bill's new name au

her name would be different bc reincarnation

This au belongs to @leeseechkeens

[melodythebunny]

here a dumb edit

Latest Alex Hirsch's Instagram story.

[pupsmailbox]

LOSER ID PACK

NAMES︰ acheron. adora. adrian. ajax. alice. amanda. angie. arthur. aspen. atticus. bane. ben. blaise. bobby. brennan. briar. bruise. cal. charlotte. clara. dean. devlin. dex. dexter. dominic. eddie. edith. flynn. grime. hattie. hiro. hyacinth. jabez. jacob. jamie. jason. jay. jenny. juno. killian. kitty. leon. levi. lukas. manny. mary. misty. monroe. morgan. nancy. noel. ozz. rento. robin. rust. sam. scottie. shadow. sion. tammy. toms. tristan. tucker. tyler. valerie. vera. viola. will. wolf. xavier. zack.

PRONOUNS︰ alone/alone. bro/bro. bru/bruise. brui/bruise. cat/cat. cool/cool. de/defile. dir/dirt. dirt/dirt. dream/dream. dude/dude. dumb/dumb. err/error. ex/expire. fail/failure. fall/fall. freak/freak. grime/grime. gro/gros. haze/haze. heart/heart. hx/hxm. idiot/idiot. it/it. ix/ix. loner/loner. lose/loser. loser/loser. love/love. lune/lune. melancholy/melancholy. misery/misery. odd/odd. paw/paw. pla/plain. quirk/quirk. rock/rock. rot/rot. sad/sad. scab/scab. scrape/scrape. shx/hxr. soda/soda. star/star. su/suck. thing/thing. thxy/thxm. vi/vile. void/void. weird/weird. yearn/yearn. zomb/zomb.

[wizardshark]

For the DnD nerds who care about the rules a lot:

This is a 1 on 1 fight that contains 3 rounds. You win one fight, you go to the next round. At the start of the tournament everyone has taken a long rest, and between each round they get only a short rest.

Propaganda both for AND against in the readmore.

Adaine Abernant

For: Wizards have been the strongest class since 1st edition and it ain't changing now baby. One portent roll for each fight is enough to guarantee a turn to cast a wizard save-or-suck spell.

Against: This girl killed one person ONE time and had a break down about it, has frequent panic attacks, and her AC is 15. She has no real defensive options and will die as all wizards die: with an axe in their nervous system.

Fabian Aramais Seacaster

For: Short rests? Sounds like a fighter's adventuring day! Three attacks + superiority dice + spell slot smiting + Action surge to do it again is killing everyone but Gorgug before they can even get a turn.

Against: Melee fighters, famously, can't do shit all if you stand over there ->, and a single reroll for a save-or-suck isn't going to be very much against any spellcaster who, dare I say, casts more than 1 (that is, one) spell in the fight. Insult his dad and bait him into doing something stupid, GG EZ

Figueroth Faeth

For: Literal archdemon resists the biggest energy damage types, tons of spell slots and warlock shenanigans to play you like a fiddle, then smite you to death when you're finally just trying to get anything done.

Against: "I have no single target DAMAGE" - quote from Emily. This bitch got no single target damage and these are 1 v 1 fights. Yeah Paladins can nova but they have no spell slot regeneration, after the first fight, which you KNOW she will spam her whole arsenal, girl will be all out of resources. More likely to disguise self to be the referee and skateboard away.

Gorgug Thistlespring

For: Did you see him solo a purple worm in the last stand?? Able to concentrate on artificer spells while in a rage too. THE classic 1v1 class, resists your damage and crits you every turn.

Against: Single minded to the extreme. Spellcasting is the classic counter to an angy barbarian. Yeah he has mindless rage, poor Fig, but anyone with any CC that isn't a charm effect won't even give him a target to try to charge down. Mention his parent's lawnmower and defeat him while he is distracted.

Kristen Applebees

For: Clerics are strong! We can pretend all we like that healers are boring but she can hit you hard and keep herself topped out on HP, AC, Save bonuses, and do you in with spirit guardians and spiritual weapon with no problem. You see the muscles on that girl? The gay one, I mean, not the straight british one.

Against: 4 dexterity

Riz "The Ball" Gukgak

For: These bitches are BLIND blind. Reliable talent stealth checks puts him above 20 every time. Sneak attack damage won't explode anyone but the most squishy, but is extremely reliable with a bonus action hide. He will eat your bones.

Against: Actual skill monkey. He has a cool gun but he's an arcane trickster built for non-combat. Investigate an arm around his neck and pickpocket a knife into his belly and you've got the win easy. Man couldn't even get onto the owl bears until there was no one left to swap in except him. Will probably be too exhausted to put up a good fight.

[sapphicrow]

RE8 Lords (+dimi sisters) Opinion on crocs!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mother Miranda

The bird mommy herself. A true lady. Gothic aesthetic and all.

I think she would be an avid croc hater

I mean, she works in a lab, closed toe shoes. They’re not very practical for experimentation or any thing else

Plus her other outfit is goddess apparel or old hag.

I just can’t see her enjoying them whatsoever. They clash with her whole vibe.

If offered, Miri would most surely wrinkle her nose and scoff at the very notion.

“Ugh. Begone, mortal. The day you goad me into those atrocities of footwear is the day I surrender my subconscious to the megamycete,” Mother Miranda waves you off with a flick of a taloned hand.

Mia left a pair in the lab once and she tried them on. They remind her.

Salvatore Moreau

Fish man!

Moreau would be a huge fan.

Seriously, he lives in constant sogginess. A pair of shoes that can fit his deformed and damp feet would be welcome.

He pads around the reservoir in crocs all the fricking time

Over time, the sound of the rubber squelch becomes associated with his approach.

He would be gifted his first pair, but soon amass a bit of a collection- his favorites are the blue pair and the black one, but he’s also got green.

(In the church) *squish squish squish squosh squish* “hi, mother!” Moreau garbles. “Like ‘em?” He asks, gesturing to the tye dye crocs currently adorning the lower half of his slimy body.

He doesn’t wear them in public after Mother Miranda glared at them though

Heisenberg

Metal bending dilf

My guy isn’t the biggest fan of crocs, they just don’t work for him

The factory is difficult enough to manage in steel toed boots. Rubber slippers are not ideal.

I think he wears them solely to meetings to piss off Mirander (it works every time)

He was approached by his nieces with a pair of solid black crocs, and they were too insistent for him to deny them entirely.

Heisenberg thinks they’re fine, simply not his cup of tea though.

“Fuck!” The lord curses, his voice echoing against the metal walls of the factory for the fiftieth time. “Damn pieces of junk.” Heisenberg mutters after dropping a piece of scrap onto his croc bearing toes once more.

Alcina Dimitrescu

No.

Just no.

Absolutely not.

Lady Dimitrescu , the countess, the favorite of Mother Miranda, mother of three, would not be caught dead in such apparel.

It’s less that she has an issue with their design, and much more that she’s disgusted with the thought of looking so undignified.

She wouldn’t be threatening anyone when she whips her crocs into sports mode before unsheathing her mighty claws.

Alcina doesn’t mind them on others, but not her. She’s a noble lady and far above such peasantry.

Also they don’t make them in her shoe size.

“What…” she drawls, looking scornfully down at the maiden presenting her with such blatantly hideous shoes, “are those?”

Donna Beneviento

The dollmaker and illusionist ~

Donna is chill, I’d imagine she wouldn’t have too strong an opinion on crocs

She owns a pair in black and likes to wear them around her workshop

They’re quite comfy, and since she’s not always on her feet, they serve as very nice house slippers

She likes to pair them with fluffy socks to really get the full coziness effect

Besides, her skirt is long enough where they’re not really noticeable

A quiet melody sways within the air of Lady Beneviento’s workspace. Humming to herself as she worked and Angie looked over her shoulder. Dexterous hands wield pliers to work the last bit of wire into the joints of her newest creation. And as a finishing touch, a mini croc is slid onto this doll. A small smile quirks her lips beneath the veil.

“I want some!” Angie shrieks once she sets eyes on the crocs.

Bela Dimitrescu

The eldest of the flies, and the blondest

Bela follows in her mother’s footsteps on this one, she despises crocs.

She simply doesn’t see the appeal.

They’re rubber, they’re not particularly fashionable, and they clash with the lace of her dress.

Eyeing her sister up and down, Bela just scoffs judgmentally before walking away.

Daniela Dimitrescu

Our delulu queen <3

She is the biggest crocs person ever.

She absolutely loves them, much to her sister and Mother’s dismay.

Dani just thinks they’re the coolest thing ever

You don’t have to lace them, there’s different modes, and you can decorate them??? What more could you ask for!

She had a whole wardrobe. I think she had every color. Depending on the occasion, she mixes and matches.

Dani is also big on jibbitz.

“Look!” The ginger squeals excitedly as she swarms into a maid’s face. “It’s a fly!” Dani says with a delirious giggle, shoving the new charm into the frightened woman’s vision.

Cassandra Dimitrescu

The ravenette of the trio

Cassie likes crocs a normal amount

She doesn’t own her own pair of course, the only reason she ever wears them is to snatch them from Dani and make her mad

She also delights in how Bela and her mom glare down at her whenever she wears them

All in all, Cass doesn’t wear them as a fashion choice, she wears them for the drama

“Hehehe, you’re coming with me,” Cassandra whispers to herself as she steals Daniela’s prized flamingo print crocs from her room.

[melodythebunny]

ahhh I love the art so much ✨✨✨✨✨✨

Art done for @melodythebunny! This is their oc, Angie!

[eggtqrt]

EAH Music Headcanons

I am slightly too scared of people judging my music taste to share the ever after high playlists I made so instead I will share some headcanons I have about their music taste!

obligatory mention that dexter is the biggest swiftie and convinced raven to get into her music

usually though raven prefers goth or punk rock music, maybe some metal when she's angy, some alt rock, but she has a sweet side and is trying to go against her mom so she also gets really into tswift

apple is kind of a basic baby gay UAHFJDJF like girl in red and phoebe bridgers vibes

darling likes oldies, billy joel, elton john, I need a hero bonnie tyler, etc etc (side note: she is okay with taylor swifts music but she is so fed up with dexter being obsessed with her)

90s music is faybelle and briars THING (although faybelle acts like she doesn't like it but she totally does) like NSYNC, backstreet boys, Selena, destiny's child that era is so them TO ME

cupid is open to listening to literally anything like she loves all music so much and she picks out songs for her radio show that she knows milton would never allow but he hasn't noticed yet so she keeps doing it (but if she had to choose she probably leans towards r&b, hip hop, chill vibes, and anything super unique, AND OFC any type of love song)

ashlynn loves anything relaxing, mostly classical music, jazz (loves laufey), indie, and folk (her playlists would have super ethereal, cottagecore picnic vibes) oh and! Ghibli music or music with those vibes for sure

hunter likes similar music to her but leans more towards the folk side (he likes listening to relaxing music to calm down when he gets too fed up with pesky)

Cerise likes indie rock and alt rock, but also I feel like she secretly loves some really girlypop Taylor swift songs

Cedar I think would enjoy r&b and classical (tho maybe more like movie soundtracks...) And maybe some folk and indie as well (like cupid she's probably pretty open to anything)

Duchess obviously listens to some ballet music just for practice BUT I think she'd also have a music taste that's really embarrassing to her and one time someone overheard her singing really badly in the shower (like to one direction or smth idk)

I just thought of this on the spot but maybe Humphrey likes edm LMAO

The wonderlandians are my fav characters but I don't have a solid headcanon for their music tastes because I think it would be so purposely chaotic and random and eclectic and strange

[her-idol]

hello and hi's to you! any boy-loser themed NPTs? /silly if you do that much thanks to you!!!!!

NAMES

wolf , arthur , levi , ben , atticus , sion , angie , manny , mary , hiro , shadow , vera , ozz , eddie , jay , jacob , rust , will , dexter , dex

PRONOUNS

lose/loser , he/hem , it/its , fail/failure , void/voids , su/suck , fall/falls , err/error , pla/plain , vi/vile , de/defile , ex/expire , grime/grimes , gro/gross , lose/loser , rot/rots , weird/weirds , dir/dirt

TITLES

prn of failure , the loser , prn who stands alone , prn who lost , the boy who loses , prn who fell , prn of fallen luck , the boy in the trap , the awkward one , prn with bruised pride , prn with bruised luck

[melodythebunny]

prymind Steve Is REAL to me yall 😔 ✋

[melodythebunny]

Ford: no way I'm going to be in-laws with bill tho

Silly idea tho but yeah he would say that bc it's much simpler than explaining how two demons are helping lol

Also

It fits the normal human adopting non-human/eldritch being that way older as a child nicheCough cough Nate and wally cough

Ngl I kinda had an idea at one point

Where Angie was just around preportal incident helping the portal get build. XD

Fiddleford was wondering who this person was helping them out

And stanford just slipped out and said "oh uh Angie is my daughter"

He didn't question it

💀Im wheezing remembering that old idea

lol yes Ford just says it so bluntly. Angie

Fiddleford

[donna-beneviento-teacups]

Beladonna headcanon #6 - What’s your type?

The two are side by side in the Beneviento kitchen. Donna is waiting for the water to boil while Bela is cutting meat into pieces. They are talking about recipes and exchanging seasoning tips.

Noticing steam, the dark-haired opens the cupboard above her, “Bela, what’s your type?”

The blonde stops her actions and answered with a dreamy tone, “Secluded, one-eyed, intelligent, dexterous crafter…” She took a longing peek at the woman on her right.

Rosy dust spread on the Italian descendant’s cheeks, “I-I mean… Pasta.”

“Oh!” The human eater rolled her eyes at her own denseness. Her voice was now monotone, “… Yellow.”

Angie’s guffaws echoed in Donna’s mind.

[itsawhumpsideblog]

The Safehouse, pt. 11

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, description of injuries

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

Some days will simply be exhausting. The work you are undertaking is difficult to the point of near impossibility with some rescuees. Trust your instincts in deciding how far to push as rescuees expand their comfort zones and don't be afraid to admit that something isn't working. There will be days when the best course of action is simply to rest.

The whole atmosphere of the house felt quiet and exhausted after that morning's conversation. Despite the excitement he felt and his desire to take time to contemplate the massive change in his life, Francis was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.

It seemed best to allow Francis to stay in bed for a while and Tim offered to sit with him. This was partially to look after him, but also because Tim suspected that when he allowed himself to ask them, Francis was going to have a lot of questions. As Mikey seemed very reluctant to leave Angie's side, she took him along as she went downstairs to make breakfast.

While Angie made oatmeal, Mikey knelt on the cushion next to the table, where it had been placed for their first meal together.

"You really can sit at the table," Angie reminded him, but when she looked over her shoulder to see if he would do it, she found that he was still kneeling on the pillow, watching her with an expression that was fearful and pleading.

"I won't make you, don't worry," she said. His expression relaxed and he gave a small, satisfied nod. "Now, let's eat and then we'll take some of this upstairs to the guys, sound good?"

He nodded obediently and she put a bowl on the table for herself and one on the floor for him. "Think you can do it yourself?" Mikey nodded, but less sure this time. Angie thought she was starting to learn to read his expressive communication, such as it was. "Okay, go ahead and give it a try, then, and I'll help you if you need." She began to eat and tried to look like she wasn't watching him too closely.

Mikey studied the bowl and spoon for a moment and then bent forward towards them. He began by trying to pick up the spoon, moving his fingers very carefully and deliberately, but without success. It seemed that he could not close his hand enough to grasp something as small as the handle of a utensil. He attempted briefly to grasp it between his index and middle fingers, but this provided no dexterity and he returned to his efforts to force his thumb to bend enough to make a fist. At some point, his fingers refused to move any farther and Angie realized that his breath was coming in small, quick gasps, sharper in tone when he exerted the effort to close his hand.

Before she had a chance to intervene, Mikey reached his right arm farther out and swept the bowl in towards himself, pressing it against his knees and trying to get his hand under the far side to lift it. His balance wavered and he instinctively caught himself on his right hand, letting out an almost keening breath. He was horribly pale and there were tears starting in his eyes, but he reached for the bowl again.

"Hey," Angie interrupted him gently. "Wait- don't hurt yourself. I'll help you. Here you go." She leaned down and picked the bowl and spoon up. "Let me," she said. The oatmeal had cooled off a little by now and she took a spoonful and held it out to Mikey. He turned his teary eyes upwards in a look of deep gratitude and leaned forward to eat.

"I promise we're going to get a doctor to look at your poor hands," Angie told him. "Not a Pet doctor, either, a real one. We just have to figure out who to go to so we don't get... in trouble, I guess you could say." She reached out and ruffled Mikey's hair. "But we're going to take care of you, I promise."

Breakfast over, she stood to put their bowls in the sink. "I'm going to take some to the boys upstairs," she told Mikey. "I'll be right back down and then we can put something on TV or read a book or whatever, okay?"

He nodded and made his clumsy way out to the family room, sinking comfortably onto his pillow to rock soothingly back and forth and nurse his hand, sore from the effort to use it, while she took a tray upstairs.

When Angie had delivered breakfast and gone back to keep Mikey company, Tim debated whether to wake Francis. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully and Tim hated to disturb that, knowing how badly the rescuee needed to rest. Tim decided to begin by eating his own breakfast and was saved from having to make a decision when, as he set the bowl down, Francis stirred and opened his eyes.

"Good morning again," Tim said cheerfully. "Are you ready to eat something?"

"Yes, Master," Francis said. Tim was sorry but not surprised to find that the knowledge of his newfound freedom was not enough, on its own, to undo the behaviors that had been so thoroughly trained into Francis. For the moment, however, Tim ignored the word "Master".

"Let's get you sitting up, then." He bent over next to the bed and helped ease Francis up until he was propped against the pillows and then handed Francis the bowl. As Tim sat back down, Francis began to eat, calmly and methodically and very quickly. He really was unusually graceful, Tim thought; every movement looked as if it was part of a dance. Then, as Tim realized the implications of this level of perfection, his stomach gave a twist. There had been strict "training" behind that ability.

Francis finished eating, dabbed delicately at his mouth with a napkin, and accepted a sip of water. Then he put the bowl back and watched Tim expectantly.

"How about I do your bandages while you're already sitting up?" Tim asked.

"Yes, Master," Francis replied. Tim thought that they were going to have to talk about that at some point soon. For the moment, he left the room long enough to gather some supplies and returned to find that Francis had not moved a muscle in his absence.

Tim helped Francis remove his shirt and then Francis lifted his arms out to the sides in one fluid motion. "Thanks," Tim said absently as he unwound the bandages. Underneath them, the gauze was stuck to some of the open wounds and Tim realized that Francis was watching him nervously. All the training in the world couldn't stop his gaze from flicking between Tim and his own chest, clearly waiting for the pain of having the gauze ripped away.

"I'm not going to do that to you," Tim said, even though Francis had not asked, and reached for a sponge and a dish of water. Slowly and methodically, he bathed the wounds until the gauze came unstuck on its own and could be drawn painlessly away. Francis was still watching him, his eyes shining with something like awe.

"There you go. Now we'll put on that antibiotic cream again and wrap you back up. Sound good?"

"Yes, Master."

"About that." This seemed as good a time as any, since Francis had just had proof that he could trust Tim and they were stuck in this room together anyway. "You know you don't have to call me "Master", right? That's what Angie and I were saying this morning. You're the master." Tim smiled. "You are the master of your fate- you are the captain of your soul. That's William Henley. The poet."

"Yes, Ma- um...." Francis seemed uncomfortable and Tim hurried to provide a suggestion.

"You can call me Tim, like Angie does." The wary look in Francis' eyes told him this was still a bridge too far. "Or- I guess I could live with 'sir'."

"Yes, sir," Francis said. A small smile crossed his face, just for a moment.

"Good job!" Tim grinned at him. "Okay, how does that feel? I'm almost done." The injuries had been treated and Tim was laying fresh sheets of gauze over them. Then Francis lifted his arms in that remarkable dancer's pose as Tim wrapped him up and helped him lay down.

Once he was comfortable, Francis sighed softly, which counted for him as a display of great emotion, and draped the back of one hand artistically over his brow.

Tim moved to the end of the bed, bringing along the tray of supplies. "Seriously," he said, "How are you feeling today? Any better than yesterday? I know last night was pretty rough early on."

Francis looked down at him under half-closed eyes. He swallowed and opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened and closed it again.

"You're not sure how to respond?" Tim guessed.

"No, sir." The voice was a little shaky.

"Well... it's okay to just tell me the truth, even if the truth is that you aren't feeling too good. It's not wrong to be sick, you know? I won't get upset with you."

"Yes, sir. This Pet is not in working order, sir."

"Yeah, I figured you probably weren't." Tim smiled at him reassuringly. He began to remove the bandages from Francis' feet. "You know, we should come up with an alternative to 'this pet'. You can just say 'I', of course, but I'm guessing that's going to be hard for you, right?"

"Yes, sir." His voice sounded very small and very brave, thanks to the current of fear that his tone carried.

"How about your name? It's yours and it helps you sound like a person."

Francis nodded. He really did look exhausted, pale and listless with streaks of dark red high on his cheekbones. But he seemed to want to keep talking.

Tim said, "If you can tell me how you feel, it might help me know how to make you feel better. But right now, a lot of the problems are pretty obvious, so I can probably do whatever you need even if you're not ready to talk about it."

Francis nodded wearily from under his wrist, where it still lay across his face. "This Pet-" there was a long pause. "Francis- Francis is not in working order." Tim let the phrasing pass by without comment. It seemed to be Francis' way of communicating whether he was doing well and he might find an alternative on his own, given time. "His feet are swollen and aching. His head aches and he has a fever."

"Thank you for letting me know," Tim said. It sounded over-polite, but the handbook said that feedback like that was reassuring for rescuees. Then he whistled as the last of the bandages came away and he got a look at Francis' feet. "You weren't kidding. Not that I thought you were- it's just an expression. But honestly, this doesn't look great."

"Francis is very sorry to be so much trouble."

"No! You're not, I promise. This is what I'm here for. Okay- we need to do something about this. You must feel awful. You can't see it, but your feet are pretty red and sort of... hot to touch, you know? You can probably feel it. Let's start with some antibiotics- they won't make you feel better right away but we're playing the long game, here."

Whether it was the antibiotics themselves or just the cool feeling of the ointment and Tim's gentle touch, Francis thought he felt better just for having the medicine applied. Tim treated his wounds and then bandaged his feet again- more loosely this time, to accommodate the swelling. Then he left the room, saying only, "I'll be right back."

Francis waited with patient curiosity until Tim returned a few minutes later, carrying two bags of what looked like frozen vegetables. When he saw Francis look confused, he grinned.

"They make better ice packs than most ice packs, because they bend," Tim explained. "You have to use the same ones, though, because the peas get gross after you re-freeze them a couple times."

He bent the bags to loosen their contents and then pressed them gently onto Francis' ankles. They were deliciously cool and Francis sighed in deep contentment.

"That's better, huh?" Tim asked with another quick grin.

"Francis is very grateful," Francis said. "His feet feel... much easier."

"Good. Now if we can get your fever back down, you'll really start feeling better. So let me give you some medicine and then do you think you could go back to sleep?"

"Yes, sir." Francis suspected that he would have no trouble sleeping through the day and probably the night, too.

Next time: An unexpected knock on the door, with an equally unexpected result.

Master List

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! Also, I deeply enjoy reading your tags and comments, so thank you for that!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump @starfields08000 @fruitypinapple00

[cerastes]

I am curious who do you headcanon as the best dancer in Rhodes Island. The level I would imagine would be like kpop choreo and perfecting it. Which operator do you think would be the best at it.

Gladiia is stated to be a phenomenal dancer, and in fact it’s her signature artform, the way singing is Skadi’s and sculpting is Specter’s. It’s even stated that she taught Specter and it’s why Specter herself is also such an amazing dancer.

Sora is an idol, and a successful one at that, so she’s got schmoves as well. We don’t know her skill level, but Ch’en was hitting the dance floors in Heart of Surging Flame (pardon, that was Female Tourist B), and we know she’s got godlike balance and dexterity due to her particularly high-impact style of swordsmanship. I don’t have a hard time imagining the young n’ hip Operators like Angie and Utage (who’s codename is literally PARTY) to know some moves. One hundred percent sure Midnight, as the Ultimate Host, knew how to bust it down sensitive style. Kal’tsit is very learned in the arts, I bet she’s a graceful dancer as well.

Pretty sure there’s more worth noting, but if you ask me, the best K-Pop dancer in Rhodes Island, doubtlessly, is Gladiia. She gets the steps and moves perfectly, no one does it better, on paper, but the problem is that she always has the same monotone grimace the whole time. Not a hint of a smile. Dead serious throughout. Everyone thinks it’s unsettling, except Laurentina, who’s crying from laughter and cheering, and Sora, who is so stoked at the technical perfection of Gladiia’s performance that she can’t help but cheer.

[melodythebunny]

S h a p e s

Lila...why did this redraw take me not even 30 minutes

Freaking SHAPES

Shapes go brrr

[justforbooks]

After the Funeral by Tessa Hadley

Class and character are sharply observed in this immersive collection

Tessa Hadley presents everything as fine at the front while it comes apart comprehensively at the back. The dozen short stories that comprise After the Funeral, her absorbing and thoroughly readable fourth collection, manage with a quiet dexterity the emotional situations that promote this kind of undoing.

Lynette, central character of Dido’s Lament, bumps into – or is bumped into by – Toby, her ex of many years. The collision, and what they make of it, will maintain a certain ambivalence. Who actually bumped into whom? Which of them, if either, has recovered from the damage they did one another in the past? Elsewhere it’s a different story, although as a story Old Friends occupies the same carefully curated kind of space: Christopher and Sally are made for one another – “she fitted into the shape of his own serious nature like a nut in its nutshell”. But Sally is still married to celebrity BBC war correspondent Frank, so she decides they’ll have to wait. Christopher isn’t sure what they are waiting for exactly, while the “whole exaggerated scale of Frank’s personal operation” continues to draw in everyone else “like a baggage train dragged after some showy emperor”.

That use of “personal operation” to describe a familiar kind of energetically middle-aged male narcissism sums up Hadley’s talent: the ruthless analysis of unstable situations, and of how we maintain them while we extract their resources. Her unpicking of character is focused, intense and yet always, somehow, in parallel, kind. What it does best is produce in the reader exactly what she offers her characters, for a sickening moment or two, in each story: a vast, difficult, unruly elation. For this to work, they need to arrive in front of us with comprehensive histories.

They’re often mature survivors of the 1970s or the children of those survivors: lecturers, musicians, civil servants, writers, comfortably off, less comfortably self-aware. Angie, for instance, has “escaped” a “posh county family” while Sally does “something or other part-time for the British Council”. Your overall impression – perhaps unfair – is that they have settled somewhere between Bristol and the Cotswolds in shabbily expensive old houses. The author lays off them a little but details their floor coverings and kitchen tables in gleeful closeup. They’re at ease enough with their class to enjoy the way someone holds a fork (“the poised, elegant angle of her wrist and her rather big tanned hand”). They support an affective regime in which everything from sex to nice cooking is a performance, a controllable resource that can be withdrawn instantly, “like a favour they were bored with proffering”. It’s not that the stories can’t be told without these densely worked characteristics of theirs, more that the character is the story. Often, perhaps, too obviously. Children at Chess, a study not much more than three pages long, remains unstorified by the strange little point-of-view flip in its last paragraph – although similar brisk redirections of readerly gaze are used successfully elsewhere to finesse endings that combine delicacy and horsepower.

A Hadley story will often require an outsider, or at least someone who thinks of themselves as an outsider – someone who performs that role not so much for us, the readers, but to and for the other characters. Difference is to be cherished, from the ad hoc hippy rituals of My Mother’s Wedding through the faddy diet and spectacular dissociation of Robyn, titular child of Funny Little Snake, to the cast of The Bunty Club, in which three middle-aged sisters still unconsciously await the “all transforming mystery” hinted at by their ramshackle childhood in a house by the sea. Adults who don’t fully remember an odd upbringing are still trying to find somewhere to fit in while their hearts seem to understand that childhood long ago shaped their adult circumstances. You could find this conclusion banal, but the author’s deft switches from comedy to drama won’t permit it. Sometimes a kind of gothic is required to turn the trick: there are pungent, luxurious descriptions of magic gardens, magic houses, magic families, and especially of magic interiors in which something’s not quite right – though never visibly wrong. Rain “comes sluicing” across big windows, wheelie bins blow over, rooms are either “greenish and spectral or bleak with the lights on in the middle of the day”. The disaster is sensed, if never quite consummated.

And anyway, down the road somewhere another story is always already fermenting. In Men, two women called Jan and Michelle find themselves in a hotel bar. They are sisters, but in the Hadley way: that is, they haven’t set eyes on one another for 15 years. We want to know why. Beautiful Jan is “tall and serene, and pale”. Michelle works in the hotel office, never was beautiful, has “a little pasty face as soft as putty”. She’s instantly aware of her sister’s presence, “like an animal picking up a scent, a smear of something rank”. The men, meanwhile, unaware of this suddenly resumed, weirdly tense relationship, are loud and middle-aged; stand easily at the bar, relaxing into their money.

What’s revealed before the story ends might change something, even for them, smug as they are. More likely, it will make a small but significant adjustment in the reader’s view of the world. In a 2007 review of Hadley’s first collection, Anne Enright described her as “immensely subversive” – a judgment that has only gathered force since. Whatever Hadley’s characters believe about themselves, they’re always working hard for change, striving, consciously or otherwise, to knock the props out from under whatever life they’re leading.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[sodascherrycola]

Declan Robert Horan (@dextrbh)

DOB: August 11th 2009 Age: 21 years old Hometown: Mullingar, Ireland Nicknames: Dec, Dex, Dexter S/O: Amelia Clarke Kids: None Best Friend(s): Charlie Tomlinson and Edward Styles Aesthetic: The biggest Irishman you'll ever meet. Next to his father of course. He grew up mainly in Mullingar with his parents, of course being as young as they were, wanted to keep close ties to their family in case of help. Both Niall and Emma wanted to keep traditions and culture mainstays in their sons upbringing, causing the cutest little Irish accent in their boy. His voice was so tiny and his accent was so thick, his buddies could hardly understand him when he spoke and interviewers loved having him on whenever they could. He grew up playing footy with Charlie Tomlinson backstage and continued in school up until the end of high school. He was very good and ended up playing for Manchester with Charlie years later. He was very happy and giggly all the time, making himself laugh just as much as his family and peers. His little brothers looked up to him endlessly, and tried to recreate his antics, which Emma sometimes had to put an end to.

Kieran Dane Horan (@kit..horan..)

DOB: April 28th 2014 Age: 16 years old Hometown: Mullingar, Ireland Nicknames: Kier, Kit S/O: Samirah Dougherty Kids: None Best Friend(s): Xavier Malik and Maisie Payne Aesthetic: Kit a kind spirit. He could light a room one step through the door. As a baby his parents were constantly being told how precious he was. Kieran was still very young during his father's time during One Direction and his mum's pop stardom. He was always a blessing to have on tour however. He and his brother were the real stars of the tour behind the scenes with members of the staff. Kieran was always meant to be a performer, ask anyone that's ever worked with his parents. Kit used to drag Declan to put on a show for everyone, family or friends, it didn't matter. Emma started taking him to the studio as soon as he could talk and walk. He had a spark with music that Emma recognised in her husband. When Kit turned 11, Niall and Emma bought him his first guitar with a little note scribed into the base; 'our baby, our son, our star xoxo mum and da'. He still uses the same guitar today, in his band touring around the world. One time he almost lost it in Iceland and cried to his mum on the phone for two hours until Xavier came in and told him that it was actually still on the bus, not the hotel. Absolutely adores his parents and thanks them in every speech he has ever made.

Angelise Maura Horan (@angelhoran)

DOB: January 12th 2017 Age: 13 years old Hometown: London, England Nicknames: Ange, Angie, Angel S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Annie Tomlinson, Blake Styles, Riley Payne, and Seif Malik Aesthetic: Angelise would be described as friendly and talkative. The minute she said her first word, she didn't shut her mouth. Speaking of her talking a lot, she was the first in her family to be born with an English accent. She grew up mainly in London, England and so her words sounded far more posh than that of her parents or siblings. It was a silly thing to her family, especially taking her back to Mullingar to visit her grandparents and surprising them with her voice. Angel grew up surrounded by her "cousins" and was best friends forever, her words, with all of them. She never excluded anyone, and if she saw someone sitting alone, would run up to them and ask to play. Even with older people in restaurants. It was common for her mum or dad to pull her away, though the elders never minded the little girl and loved sitting with the family while at a cafe for lunch. It was a sweet thing, but the paparazzi knew they could always get a word from the young Horan. Niall and Emma had to give her the talk about the paps quite young due to her expressive personality. It scared them to death sometimes, but she was a smart girl and knew better. She still struggles with her parents fame to this day and has become quitter because of the immense fear of messing up under the public's eye. Her parents constantly reassure her though, especially her dad, who she is very close to.

Quinn Grier Horan

DOB: April 17th 2023 Age: 7 years old Hometown: Mullingar, Ireland Nicknames: Q, Quinny, Quintin S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Marshall Tonkin and Lila Murphy Aesthetic: Quinn grew up solely in Mullingar like his parents. He has never known anything different. Of course, sometimes his family would go on holiday somewhere else, but other than that, he was based in Ireland. When Emma was expecting him, she had sat down with Niall and explained her worries of raising her children in the city, so far away from their immediate family. Niall was a bit hesitant when Emmy mentioned giving up her career to settle down with her babies in their hometown, but she made sure he understood that it was truly what she wanted. A break from all the spotlight and time with her kids was all she wanted after almost 15 years of fame. They moved into a lovely house a few minutes away from Niall's family home and down the street from Emma's mum's house. Quinn had a funny way of thinking. He loved messing around and finding silly ways to remember things and words. In school, his teacher's noticed this and changed their lesson plans to help him and many of his classmates. It made class more interesting. He was a bit of a celebrity in Mullingar because of his parents. All the kids wanted to be his friend, but he only ever played with Marshall and Lila, his friends since nursery. They always ran around the town getting their school clothes mucked, sleeping over at each other's places, and bothering their parents for more time at playdates. Quinn was the only one of the Horan kids to truly have a proper childhood, away from curious eyes and public.