#The Golden Pine Theatre

[quackshley]

Fortune’s getting a slight design update :)

idk if i mentioned it here but the golden pine theater comic will be returning, but I’m restarting it with an overhauled script and some adjusted designs

[rollthedice-playthecards]

Daisuke Nagase & Kou Ichijo, the Sun.

[neighbourscat]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 , nicholas alexander chavez

MY BOOGIE SHOES, JUST TO BOOGIE WITH YOU.

𓈒  ˙ ꪆৎ   ꣹  ۫  𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . screen actor!nicholas c. X stage actress!black!fem!reader.

+ synopsis. dancing around your new york apartment with your boyfriend, nicholas chavez, after a tiring final show.

+ cw. mature language & suggestive stage dancing … but none, really (: just smiles, dancing, and good music!

+ nali’s notes; i love 70s-80s music soooo much. dreaming of a cold autumn / christmas fic in this tiny nyc apartment. all the short stories that’ll probably come from this nyc apartment, like a little tv show. the neighbours would have their own backstories & cute interactions. omg should i do that???? a nyc apartment series, kind of like friends or martin??? wordcount :: 2.1k+

+ to be played: dancing in the dark, bruce springsteen. || alternative: slow dancing in the dark, joji. + everybody wants to rule the world, tears for fears.

MY BOOGIE SHOES, JUST TO BOOGIE WITH YOU.

he moved his left foot backward in a smooth motion, sliding across the slick, slightly scoffed, pine theatre stage. two blue overhead spotlights had shone down onto him, highlighting and allowing the golden sequins along his black-costume pants to sparkle and glimmer. the sharp, metal heels of his four-taps no longer producing sound . .. . the active trumpet-players, acoustic guitarists, and drummers eased and eased their instruments into a low twinkle —

— the audience knew what time it was. another character was about to be introduced. in the orchestra pit, the conductor quickly switched her attention to the violinists and flute-players, baton up in the air and readied for the new entrance. the elder english woman gave the group a small cue, flicking her wrist in beat: 1, 2, 3, 4. and as the violins, violas and cellos came in quiet and steady . .. . the male dancer at the far end of the stage reached up and slowly removed the costume fedora from his neatly styled hair, staring over to his stage left.

your beautiful, brilliant and glittery gold mary-jane style tap shoes clicked as you gracefully entered from stage left — the gold fringes of your body-con mini dress flapped and swung every which way as you rolled your costume glove over your right hand, the music coming from the violins and flute-players transforming into something hot and seductive.

your glove snug — the trumpets have returned, this time with the trombones and horns, easy and gentle — with what looked to be absolutely effortless, your body control impeccable, you swayed toward your dance partner. and once as close as rehearsed, you slid your left foot backward; lining yourself up with your partner, you raised your arms neatly, fingers almost wiggling.

your partner snaked an arm around your waist, his opposite hand sensually caressing the under side of your arm — his fingers tightened on your ribs. you felt his plump lips brush against the soft skin of your neck, you don’t hold back a mini smile. and after a thirty-second sleek, clean sequence of sneaky smirks, lustful eyes, gyrating hips, and chasing each other’s feet with mirroring steps on beat — you and your partner stand center stage; he had just spun you out and away and reeled you back in, unable to give you up. you’re overlooking the hungry crowd, toe to toe, hips pressed into each other’s . .. .

the conductor slowly lifted her baton, the orchestra picking up their pace just a bit . .. . more dancers began to take the stage, ten men on one end and ten women on the other, all styled to absolute perfection — you ripped away from your partner, his hand lingering in the air as you hurry toward the women. you strike a pose and the women behind you follow suite, just as clean and precise. the men chuckle amongst themselves, lips moving but nothing being said. your partner took his place in front of the men, eyeing you down.

the blue spotlights went out and back in on beat; this time colored red. the percussion picking up intensity . .. . the atmosphere no longer showcasing love and attraction, but lust and obsession — the red spotlights darkened and blinked in and out powerfully, percussion played fast and with high energy, the string and horn instruments carried out in unison, background voices sounding . .. .

nicholas chavez, anxiously chewing at the skin of his fingers, watched as the other casted dancers performed with everything they had — his eyes working even harder to follow you around. he stopped chewing at his skin then, trying to focus his eyes on you; he couldn’t do the two at the same time. different variations of gold leotards and ruffled dresses and flown pantsuits, the maracas, xylophone — so much was happening at once. portraying chaos perfectly.

every time he found you, he had lost you just as quick. nicholas shifted in the cushioned chair a bit, mindful of the young woman sitting behind him — the saxophones and trumpets intensified, the gold-clad dancers continued shuffling and leaping up and down and around the large pine stage, metal heels touching down with the beats.

the entire stage was bathed in deep, sultry red light, casting long, dramatic shadows over each dancer — the red hue seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the music, bodies moved with precision and purpose, every step choreographed to build toward the crescendo of the performance. the audience watched in awe — nicholas’ eyes never leaving your amazing form — the dancers' figures sharp and striking against the glowing backdrop.

each dancer’s silhouette was satiny, their limbs cutting through the air like blades as they glided to their spots. and as the music swelled, the dancers reached their final positions, holding their forms in an intense, powerful tableau. their bodies arched and poised, chins tilted upwards with defiance, hands spread in graceful curves or clutched at their hips in dominance. the red light drenching them, casting their figures into stark, dramatic silhouettes — elegant and imposing, yet full of tension.

their shadows stretched behind them, larger-than-life, as if their presence demanded more than the stage could contain. the audience held its breath, the stillness of the final pose amplifying the raw energy. it was a picture of controlled power, desire, and neat mess.

the world beyond the stage faded, and all that was left were the figures frozen in that moment — red and black, light and shadow — a vision of drama and allure, like something out of a fevered dream. then, as the final note lingered in the air, the curtain slowly began to close up.

you were curled up on the couch, still basking in the soft afterglow of the evening. your legs draped over nicholas’ lap, the warmth from his hand gently tracing heart-shape patterns on your ankle. the exhaustion from your final show was settling in, but being home with him — no more hotels, no more cast gatherings, no more living through an intense schedule; eight shows a week — felt like the perfect ending to an overwhelming night.

nicholas shifted beneath you, the faintest grin pulling at his lips. “you know .. .” he hummed casually, “.. . i’ve been thinking.” that was never good. you respond with a low groan, rubbing your tired eyes, “no. i’m not doin’ it.”

“can i-i’ve gotta get it out first before you tell me ‘no’,” he said, nudging your arm. “i don’t want a lot or anything .. y’know, crazy. i just want your help.”

you stopped rubbing your eyes, dropping your hand down into your lap. you gave a look that said: ‘go on’ and he did, giving your ankle a loving squeeze: “i want you to teach me how to dance.” he sounded serious, but you couldn’t exactly tell. you blinked, face and gaze blank and revealing nothing. you turned back to the television, an early episode of glee rolling.

nicholas stood up then, gently moving your legs off of his lap. he reached out his hand toward you. you had performed so beautifully with your dance partner, nicholas wanted to move with you the same. “nicholas .. .” you stared at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, “sit back down. seriously.”

“come’on.” his brown eyes soft but determined. “just a little bit. five minutes, hmm?” he was hopeful, still waiting for you. “i’ll take anything. anythin’ i can get, okay? i’ll be grateful for whatever.” you shook your head as an answer and laid back into the plush cushion, arms crossing over your chest. “nic . .. . you can’t dance,” you said in a simple, matter-of-fact voice — not trying to be harsh or mean, and nicholas didn’t take it as such.

he knew he couldn’t. “well, baby, that’s why i’m asking you to teach me.” you looked to his big hand; he made a gentle grabby motion twice, urging you — and back up your eyes went. “i can’t teach rhythm.” nicholas dropped his hand with a hoarse grumble. you sighed, feeling your body protesting the idea of getting up, but the way nicholas was still looking down at you, with that mix of earnestness and affection, made you give in. with a groan, you held out your hand — nicholas smiled wide and pulled you to your feet.

“five minutes.”

“all i need,” nicholas confirmed with a silly smile, dragging you over to the other side of the couch. your shared apartment wasn’t spacious, for no apartment was this side of queens, new york. your deep-grey tabby cat, ruby; the world’s most mischievous kitty, climbed back in through the open window and landed on her feet, gracefully. after an afternoon of racing up and down the fire-escape and most of the block ( ruby, though mischievous, was a friendly animal ), she was ready to be in her bed.

her bed; nicholas’ pillow.

“okay, so what’s first?” nicholas clapped his hands together, anticipating the next five minutes. “music,” you said, reaching down for your phone in between the couch cushions. “oh, how about from your show? i really love the gold one, what’s that song’s name?” he went over and picked up the musical’s playbill, flipping through the first couple of pages, “that song .. when you come out for the first time and look hot?” you almost laugh, unlocking your phone and scrolling through your music. “i’m not teachin’ you that, nic.”

“look, baby, if you’re worried about there not being enough room, let’s not worry, we can move this couch around some .. . throw the cat back outside-“ you stopped him right there, “or you can get out?” nicholas laughed at that, apologizing softly, coming up behind you. his hands found your waist and his chin dug into the skin of your shoulder, watching as your finger scrolled and scrolled. your finger touched down then, the bluetooth speaker in the corner coming to life immediately.

it started off as slow, lazy dancing in the living room to random musical theatre soundtracks . .. . the moonlight streaming through the large open windows, casting cool white rays over the hardwood floors — but quickly turned into a party.

you slid in from the hall opening, wearing oversized socks, loose basketball shorts, and a baggy football jersey; from nicholas’ side of the closet, your body rocking to the rhythm. you’re holding a wooden spoon, it’s your imaginary microphone, dramatically lip-syncing to bruce springsteen’s dancing in the dark, your expression playful and exaggerated.

nicholas was in the kitchen, a spatula in his hands and dragging his fingers along the handle as if it were an electric guitar, wearing a goofy grin. he’s wearing fuzzy socks, slipping across the floor, attempting to match your moves, his brown hair messy, his shirt half-tucked — this impromptu dance-off felt as though it had been going on for hours. nicholas moved to you, your energy completely in sync, lost in the fun of the moment.

you twirled away, laughing as you swung around the kitchen island, your socks giving you just the right amount of glide across the floor. you threw a hand up, pointing at nicholas like a pop star mid-performance, mouthing bruce springsteen’s lyrics. nicholas laughed, feigning a swoon, then slid back toward you, pulling you into a silly two-step.

and now you’re in the hallway again, where you’re at his side, arm wrapped around him, shuffling in time with the beat. you and nicholas sing together now, the music barely audible over your screaming voices, off-key but full of love.

you pushed nicholas away with a playful shove — he stumbled dramatically and recovered in seconds, lip-syncing passionately. as passionate as before. maybe even more so.

you end up in the living room, this time nicholas was spinning you around — as you twirl and spin with your boyfriend, the music grew louder. your body moved with his perfectly, not with precision or control, but with the kind of ease that comes from knowing each other so well. nicholas pulled you in close, your face just inches from his . .. . he’s grinning down at you like a kid, heart racing and thrashing cutely.

bruce springsteen faded smoothly into tears for fears — nicholas started his air guitar again and you bounced toward the kitchen, grabbing your wooden spoon again. braids flipped over one shoulder, you lifted yourself up onto the island in time for the first verse of everybody wants to rule the world. swinging your dangling feet and rocking your head side to side to the drums, you sang into the spoon.

and by the instrumental break, you and nicholas are skating through the hall, singing and dancing with reckless abandon, whirling and dipping, in your own little world. you’re breathless, your face flushed with laughter — watching nicholas overdo the solo guitar outro from where you sat on the couch’s armrest. he dropped onto his knees and rolled onto his back, his feet kicking into the air.

and as the strumming died, you collapsed back onto the couch in a heap, panting and drinking from nicholas’ cold bottle of pepsi. you and nicholas both jumped up startled hearing the grating pound of fists at the front door — ruby sprung from where she laid and ran around hysterically, you and nicholas scrambled to get up; you rushed behind the couch to quickly turn the blasting speaker down and he went to the front door. nicholas was squinting through the peephole, “fuck-it’s minnie .. .” ms. minnie from two doors down hated loud noises.

but she hated the young people scattered along the fourth floor even more.

[addsalwayssick]

My works

My works are something I take pride in, something I work hard on when I have time between volleyball, acting lessons, theatre, and school. Treat them with kindness. (Like, nice one?)

Ao3 completed works:

Orders out for delivery! [Pizza Boys and two brothers who love the pizza (and the boys)]

Dancing to the stars song [Dancer James Singer Regulus]

And I’ll miss you Forever [James and Lily’s last few days]

A03 Uncompleted works:

I Know Places [ Volleyball Au | Wolfstar and Jegulus]

I Remember Everything [Call Me By your Name au | Jegulus]

It’s In the Stars [ The Invisible Life of Addie Larue au | Jegulus ]

Here We Go Again [Wolfstar reunited- Mamma Mia! Au]

Which fics are worth your while?

Now, as a fic author, im inclined to promote all my fics, but which ones have the best writing? the best plot?

If you want pure angst: And i’ll miss you forever

If you want pure fluff: Dancing to The Stars Song, Here We Go Again

If you want the prettiest writing: I Remember Everything

If you want angst, but people falling in love: It’s in the Stars

If you want a sports AU: I Know Places

If you want a comedic fic with lots of pining: Orders Out For Delivery!

If you want platonic moonwater and platonic prongsfoot: I Know Places

If you want a little bit of golden trio with teddy: Here We Go Again

If you want a vacation/Italian fic: I Remember Everything

If you want mainly wolfstar: Here We Go Again

If you want mainly Jegulus: I Remember Everything, Dancing to The Stars song, It’s in the stars

If you want Jily: And I’ll Miss You Forever

If you want a mix: anything not mentioned.

if you want a variety of wolfstar, jily, jegulus, dorlene, pandalily, dorlene, and others, find my writing tag under this post!

Works i’m coming out with soon:

You’ll Hold my Hand Right? || Rosekiller

Sick but Not of You || Wolfstar texting fic

Just the way it goes || Group text fix

Writing request info

You can request anything. I may not write it i don’t like it, but feel free to request it. i’ll do smut, fluff, angst, etc

I don’t really have many tags, but most of my writing will be under

‘Addie Writes’

my art will be under

‘Addie does art’

and anything about sports/my life should be under

‘Addie cooks up’

I support everyone. ()

[thescholarlystrumpet]

Good Omens Fic Master Post

Smut fic

Multi-chap

For Loving One rated explicit Father Fell x Crowley Human AU in WW2. Slow Burn. Complete.

Like one of your French Girls rated explicit Aziraphale gets inspired by the Titanic film. Crowley models ;)

To Err is Human Rated Explicit. Memory Loss AU, Aziraphale was never invited to Heaven. Slightly slow burn, Mutual Pining, Smut with Feels. Complete.

Lending a Hand Rated Explicit First GO smut fic, post S1, 3 short chapters, Complete A Demon lends a hand to his aroused confused Angel.

One-shots

Like Magic rated explicit Theatre Bang with art! Magic show plans go awry in a sexy way ;)

Double-booked rated explicit Reverse Omens Human AU - Rival Musicians

Almost lost, Always found rated explicit 1941 "missing scene" fluffy smut

Not Just Watching Anymore rated explicit Buffy X-over, M/M/M threesome with Giles. Sex Pollen + Consent

Softer than Rainfall at Twilight rated explicit An angel keeping his demon warm in just one bed.

Silence is Golden rated explicit Smutty Angst follow up to The Rest is Silence

Eye Contact rated explicit "Look away and I’ll stop.” Dom Crowley

The Tension and the Spark rated explicit “I think I like hearing you beg me.” Dom Azi

In Perfect Unity rated explicit Double priest porn, PWP with feels.

The Rest is Silence Rated explicit Porn with Feels for the Smut War. They're Not Talking.

There's A First Time for Everything Rated Mature One-shot (with potential for more encapsulated stories to follow) about "Firsts" between Crowley and Aziraphale. Tickling, humor, fluff.

Chromatic Carnality Rated Mature Poetic prose: An Angel trembles before a kneeling supplicant and it is perfectly perverse. 

** Non-smut

When Making Plans with Witches (always read the fine print) rated M Streek Week 2024 cracky ficlet inspired by Gleafer's coven!

My Own Secret Garden Rated T Nonbinary Crowley getting a tat from a tempting Aziraphale Trans Omens min-bang fic 2024

I have brought her laughing (to my quietly dreaming garden) Rated T Fem Azicrow, Prohibition Speak Easy, Drug Use, PINING. Art collab with the incomparable @quona

Wounds Unseen Rated T Inspired by Zoeytime’s comic, an Angsty Aftercare ficlet

A smidge of celestial, a pinch of occult rated T Collection of Drabbles (each 100 words exactly) ranging from humor to angst to suggestive.

What I Am Rated T Post S2 Crowley POV ficlet, meta as inner monologue (3rd person)

To Know a Black Sheep Rated T published first draft of a Priest AU (am doing a whole new idea as a long smutty fic)

Linguistic Evolution - Rated G First fic I ever wrote for GO: Funny and fluffy one shot.

I also run the 18+ discord with the Masters of Sex streams and NSFW Sims channel. Link by request :)

[riacte]

One of my fav parts of the fire imp rp is when False saw them doing their stuff and said “I’m leaving” in a tone that clearly indicated she was going to Leave Them Alone to carry out their Weird Theatre Gay Shit. And Ren, the guy who was longingly pining after Martyn on stream for months and talking about wanting to collab with him (“Martyn can do anything he wants with me”?????), instead of taking this golden opportunity handed to him on a silver platter, because they’ve never done a collab outside of Life series and MCC, immediately went “where are you going? 🥺”

Ren’s unstoppable force (urge to roleplay with Martyn) meets his immovable object (urge to cling onto False no matter what). And False was like “yeah you’re weird” but also stayed the entire time and put it in her video. So it turns out nobody really left anyone alone. They had a moment alright.

[rainkays]

Do you have any Jess or Emma headcannons?

i have SO MANY hc’s for my best girls so let me drop some of my favs <33

jess is an only child, her parents are probably away on work a lot so she either invites people over to stay at her place OR stays at chris’s house

jess & chris have known each other since they were kids and eventually started dating in high school (my silly rare pair <33)

jess isn’t a huge fan of horror movies, but has grown to love 2000’s horror thanks to josh (she’s a big fan of jared padalecki in house of wax)

jess wakes up early most weekends, especially during summer, and drags everyone with her for a beach day

jess was the captain of varsity cheer in high school & had a whole page in the yearbook dedicated to her thanks to the photography club (chris & josh)

jess and emily were lifeguards for a summer in high school, which mostly consisted of tanning and gossiping about the couples that came in and out

jess LOVES animals, especially her dogs, 2 golden retrievers (they’re sisters) and goes on hikes with sam & brings them along

i see emma as an older sister with either a younger brother or sister back at home

emma loves 80’s horror & has the biggest crush on bruce campbell in evil dead

emma worked at a movie theatre during high school and often vlogged during her breaks or while it wasn’t busy

emma loves drive in movies, and picks up abi on the weekends to go and see the newest movie playing

emma & kaitlyn were on the cheer team together for a year in high school before kaitlyn quit and emma decided she liked theatre more

emma is definitely a charli xcx fan and got dylan to put her on his playlists for the last day of camp party they dead for the campers

emma loves going to the beach and wearing summer outfits, but hates the hot summer weather, so i think fall/spring would be her favorite season(s)

emma goes skiing every winter break and invited friends with her family to their lodge (blackwood pines core <3)

[quitealotofsodapop]

Since Mac gas to deal with Azure's unrequited pining on Wukong, does Wukong have any unrequited love rivals of his husband he have to deal with?

Also is this live rival(s) situation happen to other Wukongs?

hehhehe

For LMK Shadowpeach:

Wukong has witnessed many a being try and romance his beloved Macaque; as monkeys of FFM (fellow primate demons), as attendants to the gods (celestials), and now as settled couple in the mortal realm (demons and humans alike). And while Mac has no interest in anyone else, Mac does love how possessive Wukong gets of him at the slightest sniff of a love rival. Mac attracts a fair bit of attention when he starts living in the human world -mostly from fellow theatre nerds and handsy fans. SWK quickly puts out any hope in his love rivals hearts when he goes to collect Mac after a play. This monkey is willing to perform public indecency to scare off any threats to his lovelife. Mac loves it >:3

For the other Wukongs; a few def have present love rivals. Two of them I'm especially willing to discuss.

For the HeroIsBack!Shadowpeach:

Since their story takes place many years before the events of JttW; SWK and his LEM encounter the still-single Nine-Headed Beast. Imagine just nine teenage dorks in the same body falling over themselves trying to impress the "beautiful shadowy warrior" that is Macaque. They aren't a very good rival though, more Milhouse than Gaston you know?

But then comes White Deer Spirit of Biqiu... who's a lot more interested in stealing Liuer (golden cicada soul looking tasty) and the Stone Egg for his alchemy than Mac, but hey he can be the honeypot when he wants to. He endears himself to the small pilgrim group as a fellow single parent (using the much younger White-Faced Vixen Spirit as his daughter like in the Jttw), and he then starts making the romantic moves on Mac. HeroIsBack!SWK is not happy.

Luckily their new spider girl gang buddies are quick to recognise a no-good manstealer when they sees one and warn the monkeys ahead of time. HeroIsBack!Macaque meanwhile is like; "Tbh I was just hungry for venison. But seeing Dasheng do that endless heart trick, and go primeval on a guy is doing something for me." <3

HeroIsBack will immedately challenge any love rivals to combat, and then take their adopted kids as his own - White-Faced Vixen (Shui Lian/睡莲 I've decided to call her) needs a stable home after all, and not a dad that would present her as a concubine to a creepy king decades older than her.

Reborn!Shadowpeach:

These two have to deal with more... mutually unwanted affections.

Reborn!SWK and his LEM meet in the buddhist-and-demon-unfriendly Cart-Slow Kingdom, both unable to leave for sometime because of "passport troubles" (ie, Tripitaka getting captured for SWK. Trying to hide a stowaway for LEM). I'll be making a whole post about how these two meet very soon. ;)

Then the three Daoist demon priests running the kingdom (Tiger-Strength, Deer-Strength, and Goat-Strength) see two beautiful, powerful monkey demons and decide that they want wives. Both Reborn Wukong and Macaque are unhappy about this - Bajie, Ao Lie, and Sandy have to organise a simultaneous monk and wedding heist.

Later on, Reborn!SWK assumes there is a love rival for Reborn!Mac and gets a little sad-but-happy for his potiential soulmate... only for the person to turn out to be a certain demon holding a debt over Mac's head >:3

Lets just say anyone who comes between a Shadowpeach pairing is doomed to failure.

[witchybitchybisexual]

Gonna leave some golden girls headcanons here and then I’ll do a separate one for Dorothy x Blanche (there are too many):

1. Sophia would teach them her Sicilian recipes and it’d be like private cookery classes. Blanche would struggle with it slightly but eventually get the hang of it with some half hearted instructions; Dorothy would be quite ‘clumsy’ with the ingredients and begs Blanche for help, but the two get a little… distracted. Sophia fondly (or not so fondly) curses them out in Italian. Rose is a natural and Sophia is very proud of her and calls her “My only worthy daughter”. That is, until Rose decides on her next attempt to add some Scandinavian twists and the 4 of them end up with mild food poisoning.

2. Dorothy and Rose share a love of musical theatre. Dorothy’s favourite is Les Misérables for its powerful message on social hierarchy and the way it advocates for compassion, human kindness and hope when fighting for justice, no matter what you’ve been through. It always makes her cry. Rose, choses the far more contemporary Matilda, and when asked, she says it reminds her of her childhood. Dorothy points out she wasn’t the smartest person in the world and Rose would roll her eyes and explain it was because she didn’t always pick up on social cues which would isolate her from other children, and later adults. This would fit in with @eeblouissant’s headcanon that Rose is autistic, since Matilda is also suspected to be too.

3. Sophia and Blanche sing Copacabana for Karaoke at every opportunity. No one knows how this tradition started, but every Sunday after the football the pair head down to the rusty anchor to serenade the guys. They adore Sophia, and Blanche improves on her singing after many, many, many weeks.

4. Every birthday, the other 3 girls make a homemade cheesecake instead of a regular cake and add candles. Rose sings in Swedish, Sophia in Italian and Blanche in French (even though she forgot most of it after finishing school) Dorothy is the only one who sings in English. However, after it gets too loud, they all sing in English the second time around!

5. Blanche is far richer than any of them realise - she’s from an old money family and married a wealthy guy; they know she’s well off, they just don’t realise HOW rich. The only reason she has roommates is for her own personal comfort so that she doesn’t feel as lonely after the kids left and George died. Plus, she wanted some more female friends too, so it was the perfect solution.

6. Sophia’s least favourite child is Gloria, and she praises her so much because she feels bad about it. Sophia loves Phil dearly but doesn’t understand him entirely. Dorothy’s her first baby, and the one she’s the most similar personality wise. Of course, she’s not crazy about the fact she put her into shady pines, but she appreciates all the things Dorothy puts up with for Sophia, even if she doesn’t always show it.

7. Sophia is protective of all of the girls, but has a well hidden soft spot for Rose. She loves them all equally, but she feels a certain need to protect Rose because of her naivety. Rose brings out her maternal side because she knows the other two are better at defending themselves. Obviously Rose can too, but they underestimate her abilities: though Sophia used her sarcasm to hide her concern for Rose’s mental health after they were burgled in S1.

8. Rose and Blanche paint each other’s nails. Blanche tries to coax Dorothy to let her paint her nails too (considering Blanche is Dorothy’s biggest weak spot) and sometimes she agrees, but most of the time the best friends practice on each other instead.

9. Sometimes when Dorothy’s particularly sad, she goes to Sophia’s room and makes Ma brush her hair to remind Dorothy of her simpler childhood days. One of the most comforting things in Dorothy’s life was when Sophia would wake her in the early hours of the morning to plait her hair; sometimes it hurt because Dorothy’s hair was naturally curly, but she’d never complain because it gave them more 1:1 time together without the burden of her siblings.

10. Rose was the smartest person in St Olaf - she taught them to go inside when it rains, she went to St. Gustav university to do Latin (I headcanon she got a 1st) and in my personal opinion the reason she knows so much about the town’s gossip was that she was a private investigator for the elite in St Olaf. And Bridget went to Oxford, so she must’ve got her intelligence from somewhere! She just doesn’t tell this information to the others as she doesn’t want them to feel bad about themselves.

11. Blanche suffered post-partum depression after Janet’s birth and that’s why they’ve got the worst relationship out of the children. Don’t get me wrong, Blanche wasn’t the mother of the year and had many faults, but she clearly had stronger bonds with the other 5. We don’t hear anything negative about the relationship with her sons, and Becky’s just seems like poor communication which is quickly resolved and they eventually become exceptionally close (particularly after the moving birth of Baby Oreo at the beginning of S6. With Janet, she was a new mother and considering PPD wasn’t recognised as a condition until the 1990s, she wouldn’t have gotten the right support either - probably trying to hide it to appear like the perfect wife and mother to her other high society friends. She adores Janet, but it definitely would’ve impacted their relationship.

12. Rose knits her own animal jumpers, basing them off the animals she remembers tending to on the farm. She also knits pride badges onto Dorothy and Blanche’s clothes and accessories to show support for them (and to get used to knitting different patterns.)

14. Blanche has a Diet Coke obsession like me. No further explanations needed.

15. Blanche first learned to cook from Mammy Watkins. Blanche clearly knows how to cook from the catering episode (was it one for the money?) and obviously she could’ve learned to cook as an older woman, but in my opinion she would’ve learned to cook from her Mammy. They were very close and Blanche was clearly the favourite Hollingsworth child; and she wasn’t close to her sisters (even though she was her brothers) so while she was cooking, it’d only be natural that they’d do it together. They’d have to hide it in case Mammy got in trouble though. Blanche wouldn’t have expected to cook and clean as a rich, married woman of that era as she probably would’ve had maids etc- but old habits die hard; especially the childhood ones.

16. Dorothy had a girlfriend before she met Stan. So did Blanche, but unlike Blanche, Dorothy tried to suppress the fact she was attracted to multiple genders after she and the girlfriend broke up, so she got drunk and slept with Stan to try and stop the pain in her heart. That’s one of the biggest what-ifs in her life :(

17. Blanche would be a fan of anything 50s-80s that’s remotely upbeat or popish, and is a big, big fan of Gwen Stefani, Madonna, Nina Simone and Ella Fitzgerald. Odd combos, but it works for her. Dorothy Likes Frank Sinatra, Cyndi Lauper, Prince and George Michael, and is a big fan of jazz, but listens to anything really. Sophia loves Boney M, Pavarotti, Cher (obviously) and she and Dorothy share a profound love for Eminem. Rose loves ABBA, Amy Grant, The Beatles and Nirvana.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

Original short story- The Door

Kelsey sat down at the table, doing her best not to wrinkle her new skirt. In front of her was a plate of food, reassuringly simple, yet just alien enough for her to approach it with trepidation- a cooked chicken breast crusted with golden-brown breading, heaped with a generous helping of parmesan cheese on top and served with a side of steamed asparagus and halved miniature potatoes. 

“To celebrate your visit, I made your favorite,” her sister Erica said, seated at the opposite end of the table with a fork in hand. “Mom’s chicken parmesan.”

“It smells delicious,” Kelsey said, and began to cut into the chicken breast with her knife, the breading crunching slowly as it gave way to the blade. It’s not Mom’s chicken parmesan, though, she thought. It’s Erica’s chicken parmesan. 

“So,” Erica said in between bites of chicken, “how has college been?”

Kelsey sighed, communicating all her sister needed to know in one exasperated breath. The knife clattered on the edge of her plate. “It’s been a lot,” she said. 

“You’re majoring in economics, right?”

“Business,” Kelsey clarified.

Erica gave her an approving nod. “Business,” she repeated, and gestured to a pitcher on the table. “Lemonade?”

“Sure,” Kelsey answered, and Erica poured her a tall glass, slender lemon slices bobbing delicately underneath a layer of finely crushed ice. “How have you been?”

Erica put a manicured finger up, signaling that she still had chicken in her mouth. She swallowed. “I’ve been good,” she finally said. “I’ve got a few gigs coming up, so I’ve been busy.”

“Right,” Kelsey nodded. “You’re still playing piano.”

“I’m booked for three weddings this week,”  Erica answered, pointing her fork towards Kelsey. “And I teach childrens’ classes on the weekends. And next week, I’m accompanying the community theatre actors for their auditions. They’re doing Les Miserables in the spring.”

“Oh,” Kelsey said. “I’ll have to come back to see it if I’m free.” She poked again at the chicken that Erica had made. It smelled like their mother’s old recipe, but the color seemed off somehow. Perhaps Erica hadn’t used all the right spices, or she’d let the chicken cook for too long, or maybe she hadn’t let it cook for long enough.

That piano should have been mine, Kelsey thought. After all, she was the one who had begged their mother to let her take lessons back when she was eight, and her younger sister, ever the copycat, had insisted on learning, too. At first, it was fun- they learned to play Christmas songs together, and even tried writing their own music. But as they grew older, Kelsey spent less and less time at the keys of the piano, and more and more time on the keys of her laptop. There was no money to be found in playing the piano, she decided. She forgot how to sight read sheet music, and grew to hate the sound of Erica practicing Beethoven and Liszt from the other room. She’d never learned to play anything by Liszt before. By the time both of them moved out, Kelsey was all too glad to let Erica take the piano with her when she’d asked for it; the old thing wouldn’t fit in her apartment, anyway, and even if she still knew how to play it, the noise would certainly annoy the neighbors. She told herself to be happy for Erica and her music career, but couldn’t shake the feeling that, if things had turned out differently, that career could be her own.

She probably isn’t making much, anyway, she thought. That’s why she has all those gigs. I feel sorry for her, really.

Erica had finished her chicken, and had started on the potatoes. Kelsey had once again put down her fork.

If Erica wasn’t making much money playing piano, she realized, her living space certainly said the opposite. The apartment was modest, but clean and well-furnished. A vase of fresh flowers stood on the table between them, and the kitchen behind them was equipped with a bar counter, where a bottle of good wine was arranged next to a bowl of fruit and a pine-scented candle. A painting of a bucolic cottage scene hung in a frame on the wall of the nearby living room, where a small gray kitten dozed on an armchair in front of a muted television set. In the living room, with a vase of flowers hung on a hook in front of it, was a white door with a brass handle.

Kelsey picked up her fork again, but seemed to forget it was in her hand as she craned her neck past Erica, trying to get a closer look at the door. She couldn’t tell what kinds of flowers were in the vase, or if they were real or fake, but she could make out an arrangement of red and yellow blooms, dotted with small blue clusters.

 At first glance, the door itself didn’t seem like much. It looked like any other door in Erica’s apartment- all were the same shade of white, and had the same round brass handles, which were about the shape and size of an orange. Four rectangular panels were carved into it, although the bottom halves of the top two were obscured by the vase of flowers. The grain of the wood, however, was what caught Kelsey’s attention. It snaked in thin, hypnotic lines around the door, running up and down in concentrated furrows along the sides. A few knots whirled in the wooden surface like ivory galaxies, circling into hurricane-shaped patterns that invited a few miniature maelstroms of chaos into the rest of Erica’s orderly house.

“Erica,” Kelsey asked, “where does that door go?”

“What door?” Erica responded.

Kelsey pointed with her fork. “That one,” she said, “with the flowers over it.”

Erica glanced behind her. Kelsey was certain she noticed the door. Then, she went back to calmly spearing a potato. 

“These need salt, don’t you think?” she asked. “Mom never wanted us putting salt on the potatoes, because she always said they were already salted. But I don’t think mine are salty enough.”

“I suppose not,” Kelsey answered, and sipped her lemonade. It was tart. Not enough sugar.

“I’m sorry,” Erica said, a note of genuine sorrow in her voice. “I wanted to make your favorite food for you.”

It was never my favorite, Kelsey thought. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, once again cutting into her chicken. “I think you did a great job.”

Erica glanced down at Kelsey’s plate, where the chicken was cut into pieces, but not yet eaten at all. “Thank you,” she said. 

Kelsey felt her stomach twist, and looked back at the door, following the whorls in the grain with her eyes. “Where does the door go?” she asked again. “It must go somewhere.”

“After we eat,” Erica said, “do you want to go out? There’s supposed to be a new bar about ten minutes from here; it’s right next to Tall Tales. You remember Tall Tales, right?”

“Yeah,” Kelsey said, her voice distant. “The used bookstore.” She blinked; the patterns in the door appeared to shift.

“You used to love Tall Tales,” Erica reminisced, with a smile on her face. “You’d always make us wait for hours there while you and Dad looked through all the books.”

Kelsey stood up, once again dropping her fork. This time, it landed on the floor with a light clatter.

“Don’t worry,” Erica said. “I’ll pick that up.” As she went around the table, reaching for the fork, Kelsey began to walk towards the door in the living room. The tiny hurricanes had eyes; she was sure of it. One of them even blinked. 

Erica took the fork to the kitchen sink to wash it, and Kelsey put a hand on the door handle, attempting to twist it open. However, it wouldn’t budge. She tried both hands, still to no avail.

“I don’t mean to rush you,” Erica said as she rinsed the fork off. “We can finish dinner first.”

Kelsey felt around the frame of the door, the grain rolling in crests and troughs under her fingertips. “Is there a key?” she asked.

Erica looked up from the sink, turning it off. The noise of the sudden cease of flowing water made Kelsey turn her head like a bloodhound on a scent, and she noticed- perhaps with satisfaction- that Erica’s face at last looked pale and panicked, hilariously out of place in her curated kitchen, with its stately wine bottles and cheerful, plump lemons arranged in cream-colored shallow bowls. The sight of her wide eyes and open mouth in her pale face, set against the orderliness of her surroundings, made Kelsey laugh.

“There’s nothing back there,” Erica said. 

Kelsey laughed again- a sharp, cruel bark. “Why would there be nothing back there?” she asked. “Apartments don’t have doors that lead to nothing.”

“It’s- it’s just storage,” Erica answered. 

Kelsey stroked the door slowly, feeling the hurricanes swirl under her fingertips. The eyes in the grain- there were definitely eyes- fixed themselves upon her with adoration, infatuation- maybe even hunger. 

Storage, she had said. 

What was the storage that Erica so adamantly kept behind this maddening piece of wood? What could Erica possibly have to store? 

That, Kelsey realized, must have been why the apartment was so infuriatingly clean- Erica must have hoarded all sorts of mess behind this door. Mess that she wouldn’t allow into the rest of her house, or into her life. Stacks upon stacks of Liszt and Scriabin, gathering dust as oversized gray mice chewed their way through the concertos and sonatas of the great masters and marked the sheet music with staccato droppings. Piles of garish theatre costumes, all rhinestones and matted wigs and tawdry lace, the bloody remains of chickens littering the floor in piles of feathers and flesh still stuck to a mountain of bones, potatoes overgrown with their tendril shoots and asparagus jutting out from the floor, pitchers of rotting lemons in piss-yellow fluid that reeked of burning pine, a filthy old wedding dress coming apart at the seams with the bride’s desiccated body sewn up inside. 

But there were other things Erica locked behind that door, certainly- things that were far more horrifying than what Kelsey knew to be there. Stacked up to the ceiling in sealed cardboard boxes, packed tight with styrofoam and bubble wrap, were all of Erica’s failures, stuffed to the brim until they were leaking out the sides. All of her insecurities, all of her heartbreak, all of the impossibilities she hadn’t been able to easily overcome were crammed in there- that was why there was no evidence of them in her house.

 And behind that door, too, was something that should have belonged to Kelsey- perhaps nestled in a beautiful music box somewhere, or in the pages of Liszt, or under the floorboards, or in the pile of chicken bones, or in the eye socket of the decaying bride, were Kelsey’s dreams. Kelsey’s success in what she’d wanted to do since the very beginning, Kelsey’s adoration from their mother, Kelsey’s vindication that she had chosen the right career path, Kelsey’s years that had been wasted away in the monotony of business classes, Kelsey’s happiness and entire life that should have been ahead of her.

“Tall Tales will be open for just another hour; we can make it if we’re ready in time…” Erica’s voice came, distant and shaky and far away. Kelsey felt a hand tap at her shoulder as she pressed herself against the door, scratching at the wood as hard as she could, hearing the hiss and screech of the eyeballs in the grain as she dug her fingernails into them. But the door wouldn’t budge, and Erica was there, right behind her…

The vase was surprisingly heavy in her hands. Kelsey yanked it off the hook on the door, feeling its weight pull down on her muscles. The flowers inside fell to the ground, spilling out around her.

“Kelsey, what are you-” Erica gasped. 

Her sister lifted the vase above her head, took a long, deep breath, and swung it about in a furious, vengeful arc.

[farm-witches-fic-recs]

It’s Friday again, friends, and we’ve got more fandom essentials and must-reads to share! We hope you’ll enjoy these community recs and leave some love for the creators when you check them out.

==========================

Favored Nations (@blueink3)  “I'm sure so many people are going to rec this piece, but oh, it's wonderful. A fully realised world and narrative with gorgeous characterisation and beautiful writing. The love blueink3 has for the theatre world and for artistry in general comes through in every line. The slow build of love between this universe's David and Patrick is so lovely and tender, and there are so many iconic moments that hit you right in the feels. Honestly, if you haven't already, spend the time on this fic. You won't regret it.”

“This series is one of my absolute favorites in the fandom.  Theater director David, famous musician Patrick, Broadway, pining, secret romance, all the feels!”

Bonus: “Anything written by blueink3. Favored Nations! Vroom Vroom Bitches! my heart was broke, my head was sore! as greater things crumbled! happy golden days of yore! you got a big old heart in there, david!  It's really bangers all the way down with blueink3.” 

Just As Long As I'm Here in Your Arms (@princess-tiger-lily) “This piece is considered a must read for the fandom for sure. The author has been writing it since 2019 and it covers every episode from Motel Review (when Patrick arrived) and it is the love story of David and Patrick told through their sex life (with much tenderness and minimal angst).It is canon compliant, but gives us a BTS view of how each episode's happenings impacted their sex life. It is explicit, but is also filled with fluffyness and love. Note: the author has one episode to go! I cannot wait for their take on 'Happy Ending'.”

Meet me out at the end of my rope (@yourbuttervoicedbeau) “I love this fic so much sometimes I just go visit it for awhile. Just to read a chapter or two, make sure it is still doing okay. It’s a long exes-to-lovers canon divergence fondly nicknamed “angstapalooza” by the author, so it’s intense, but in that lovable way. It is creative, well-thought-out, full of great details, and emotionally satisfying. I particularly like the epistolary interlude and how integral Stevie and Alexis are to the story. If you’ve somehow missed this, put reading it in your planner for tonight.”

Strike Anywhere ( @madlori) “This is definitely my go to fic. Sometimes I read it all the way through, sometimes I pick a chapter at random and go from there. It is beyond hot, so sexy and tender, sweet and funny. The chemistry and tension between D&P is phenomenal. The characters thrive in this setting and nothing about it feels forced or unbelievable. I absolutely love this story. 💙🖤” 

Sometimes, home is a person (houdini74/@mostlyinthemorning) “If you were to read anything post-canon, it should be this. Five years post-wedding, the Brewers have moved to Schitt’s Creek. As everyone figures out what life looks like for them now, the love is so real, and the story is just such a great look at the future it could well be canon.”

What we didn't see at Stevie's ( @lizzie-bennetdarcy) **ART** “This artist creates the loveliest images but holy🔥 this one in particular holds me fast. Something about how David's head is tilted back just so, his hand on Patrick's face... I don't know, man. Just check it out. So steamy.” 

[quackshley]

uhhh the scrunkliess!!!!!!!

[fbfh]

I just stumbled across your Ricky Bowen fic and I love it!! Any chance you’ll ever continue it or write more for him?

YES. yes I most certainly will. I make absolutely no promises in terms of time but you can sign up for my tag list for ricky bowen and rocks at your window so when I do write something you'll be notified!!

Until then let me tide you over for some Ricky content. Dating Ricky is a flex in and of itself, but the biggest flex is how down bad he is for you. this little golden retriever rescue dog boy loves you so goddamn much. to quote the evil Lorelai from welcome to pollyworld 1:02:15, you have Ricky Bowen wrapped so tightly around your little finger he'd believe the world is flat if you said so. The thing is he's already going to be an instant theatre heartthrob, you just need to know that going into it. He's not only decent at singing and acting and even dancing, but he's also tall and cute and charismatic and actually really good at singing acting and dancing??????? there is a negative 45 BILLION percent chance that everyone WONT have a crush on him. yk how people in the pjo/hoo fandom are like "yeah everyone either had a crush on percy or jason. literally everyone. it's a rite of passage." Same for Ricky. there's also a 99.9% chance he's totally unaware of it. If people know that you're dating publicly, get ready to have some real haters. about 1/3 of the cast will actually be able to be friends with you, 1/3 will act neutral outwardly and silently pine for him, praying every night that you break up so they can just have one fucking chance with him, and the last 1/3 will actively loathe you. they'll gossip about you and PRAY you get worse roles. you don't because you're amazing, but congradulations, you now have haters lol. Oh my god and if Ricky ever gets wind that people are treating you like that even in secret?????? Messy season 1!Ricky will reenter the chat with no hesitation. He is not afraid to drag ALL the drama off stage if it means defending you. he is a gorgeous talented force to be reconed with. Even if getting revenge just means making out with you in somewhat secluded backstage areas that he knows people will see "by accident", he's more than happy to do it. He will also aboslutely have a kiss for good luck tradition before every show and dress rehearsal with you.

[claudiyerrr]

i saw you were taking crp matchups and I JUMPED at the opportunity! your writing is GORJUS!

ALRIGHTY THEN!! here’s some stuff about me! sorry if I write too much i have a bad tendency to ramble oopsies..!

im a 4’9 cis girl with golden brown hair, dark blue eyes, freckles, button nose and a septum piercing. my body is mid-size with a bit of tummy— just squishy!! :3

my personality is very outgoing, silly, kind, extroverted, and a bit loud. i have been told I’m very “sunshiney” and cute, and i have a very high pitched voice for someone my age. im extremely extroverted and try to talk to as many people as i can!! i love making friends and being friendly to those around me. i can also be described as “weird” but I really don’t mind cuz everyone’s a bit weird! as i said a bit ago, i ramble a ton and I actually make friends that way just by talking non stop heheheh. i have adhd and suspected autism :P !

my hobbies are: baking, singing, collecting cute things, shopping, drawing, writing songs, gaming, and making jokes!! im very involved in theatre classes cuz im a whimsical little fellow and most of my roles are comedic! my favorite thing to bake is cakes and I make homemade frosting! (secret recipe hehe) i also am a hopeless romantic and enjoy romance mangas with cute fluffy storylines! did I mention i love cute things??

likes: bunnies, DESSERTS, SWEET STUFF, anything cream-filled, parties, cats, jumping spiders, horror movies, forensics, and PINK!!!

dislikes: spicy or bitter foods, hateful people who are just mean to be mean, bigoted folks, my town 😞, caterpillars, things with WAY too many legs, big empty rooms.

EEEEKKK thank u sm for the opportunity to send this in it’s totally long but I hope i added the right information GRAHHH!!! im super excited to see what u come up with :3

i have a male preference as i am heteroflexible! HAVE A TOTALLY GOOD DAY!! <333

Omgosh firstly thank you so much! Also, neurodivergent forensic science besties?! Anyways, I hope you like it!!

Your matchup is. . . Ticci Toby!

While hanging out at a mall one Friday night, security comes over to your friend group and informs you that the mall’s closing up and you need to leave.

Not even realizing the time, you huff in a bit of annoyance because of how much fun you were having there and reluctantly leave with your friends. Once you’re back outside, the friend who drove you all there leads you back to their car.

You guys talk about your favorite purchases and other stores you wish you had the time to hit before getting kicked out for the night, but soon enough you grow a little carsick and decide to watch the horizon outside the car.

Rolling down the window, you rest your cheek in your hand tiredly and stare out into the foggy woods boredly until you spot a flash of orange. A lanky boy with brown hair poking his head out from behind a pine tree waves and you gasp in surprise.

Turning back to look at your friends, you interrupt them frantically, pointing out the window to where you saw the boy, only to see nothing. “You guys seriously didn’t see him?!”

They look at each other in confusion before shaking their heads much to your disappointment. You doze off trying to figure out what the guy was doing out there, after all, he seemed pretty young and didn’t have a hunting rifle or anything in his hands.

“[Y/N], you in or what?” one of your friends snaps you out of your thoughts as you hold your gaze on the dense woods as the car continues driving. “Sure, I’m down,” you answer, not knowing what you were now in on, but not really caring either way.

Pulling up to their house, everyone starts to get out and you take your shopping bags before getting out as well. “So, a sleepover?” you find yourself looking all around into the distant darkness with a small lip bite as your friend group stands beside the car under the streetlamp. After a few “yeahs” you all head inside and decide to sleep in their large living room.

Some of your friends set up snacks for a movie while others get pillows and blankets from unoccupied rooms. You try to help out and pitch in, but everyone seems to have things under control and just asks you to pick out a horror movie.

Slumping down on the couch nonchalantly, you scroll through a few movies before hearing a knock at the living room window and shuddering in response. Looking outside, you see the same brunet boy with orange goggles and do a double take as he points to the TV.

Looking back at the screen, you select the horror movie he was gesturing at as he nods excitedly, you return his excitement by mouthing a “thank you” and smiling, although a bit shaken up that he followed you to your friend’s place. He seems harmless, but you contemplate telling your friend at some point that night even if it annoys them.

As the rest of your friends file into the room, you greet them before looking back at the window and seeing that he’s not there anymore. You didn’t know why, but you almost felt upset that he left. After the movie, everyone starts falling asleep and before you know it, you’re the only one awake.

Deciding to bring some of the dishes to the sink for your friend, seeing as they’re sleeping, you hum to yourself softly before hearing another series of light knocks, this time from the window on the far side of the kitchen

Going over to it skeptically, you open it to be met with bright eyes behind those same orange goggles. “H-Hi, I’m Toby…”

You stick your head out the window and reach to shake his gloved hand, “The name’s [Y/N], nice to meet you Toby.”

He hesitates but shakes your hand with a twitch and from there, you two talk for a while, just getting to know each other until you see the sun start to come up.

He lets you go so you can catch some zs and waves goodbye, saying that he’ll see you around with a little wink. You wink back with a small blush; He seems cute.

*

*

*

Random headcanons:

- He found your house when your friend drove you home the next day, but you didn’t know until a week later when he showed up at your back door with a wave.

- You guys don’t take long before confessing; Maybe a month or two of being friends. You both grab each other’s hands, beaming with blushy faces while talking about how it was love at first sight.

- If you ever have plays for your theater classes, he’ll drag Hoodie along to record it for you so he can watch the whole time. Toby definitely cheers the loudest out of the entire crowd at the end, even throwing a bouquet of flowers that he hand-picked from the forest up onto the stage for you to catch!

- You’d both love gaming together in your free time and I can see him convincing you to play Work at a Pizza Place with him on Roblox. Let’s just say this kleptomaniac likes to burn innocent kids in the pizza ovens 💀

- I feel like you’d both cuddle facing each other and he’d enjoy playing with your hair and connect the dots (your freckles) with his fingertip. He might squish your belly or chubby areas, but it’s not in a teasing way! He just loves every inch of you.

- After the first time you surprise him with a cake, Toby would love it so much that he’d ask to help you out the next time you bake. He tries so hard but 100% screws up in tiny ways, which makes him get all shy and cute. You refuse to tell him the frosting’s secret recipe while the cake’s cooling, so he’ll wait right outside the kitchen against the wall so you guys can still talk as you finish up the cake.

- He’d enjoy reading romance mangas with you and you both squeal and kick your feet over the cutesie moments in them together.

- He’ll pick you up cute trinkets from any missions he goes on. They’ll probably have blood on them but he tries to remember to wipe it off before giving them to you.

- If you need someone to look over the lyrics of a song you write or listen to you sing it, Toby is not your best bet if you’re looking for brutally honest constructive criticism. It’s not that he’s dishonest, he just thinks the songs are perfect because you wrote them.

- His kisses are really soft and he likes to kiss all over your face especially. He tries to only use the unscarred side of his lips to peck you despite you not being grossed out about it. Toby’s just trying to be polite to his first girl.

- You guys definitely have deep moments and crying sessions after you find out he’s a killer and he relates to your strong dislike of bigots and hostile people in general.

- He may or may not try to show you caterpillars he finds in hopes of getting you over your fears. If it backfires and you freak out though, he’ll gently put it back and hug you while apologizing profusely.

- Toby absolutely adores the height difference between you guys because you’re only up to the middle of his chest when you two hug!!

[starry-hughes]

A KENNY AU? BBG KENNY

POTENTIALLY

IDK HERE ARE THE INITIAL THOUGHTS I HAD WHILE DRIVING (and singing heathers)

theatre major, golden child (aka smartest of the hughes), really close with quinny, oop kent enters, kent and her at umich same time, he is constantly falling in love with her singing and talent, suddenly she wants to transfer to ohio state but doesn’t actually, jack finds a blue jackets shirt in her laundry one day in the summer and he’s like “mmh???” and she’s like “that’s not mine.” and he’s like “that’s not yours?”, runs into blanks when visiting Ohio who opens his big mouth and suddenly half of the nhl knows that she was in ohio and more importantly in Kent’s apartment, also lots of pining at the beginning

very scatter brain thoughts

[entheognosis]

Excerpt:

I lugged the coffin all over the world. As I never travel with less than sixty suitcases, again something quite unnecessary, but which has enhanced my reputation for extravagance and eccentricity, I thought that I might as well bring my menagerie, and the box. This kept the press of the world fascinated and amused, and I am mighty glad it did.

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Yes, but I may choose not to answer.’

‘Have you made love in it?’ I admitted that the idea had occurred to me, but seeing how narrow it was, I decided that it would not be much fun. I had therefore declined the opportunity. He shook his head.

‘No, we both have slim waists, and you as an actress and I as a toreador, are masters of movements, I assure you that it will not be only possible, but we will enjoy it all the more. Let us try.’

I was game.

The first thing that strikes one with Señora Bernhardt is her diaphanous litheness, like she is half Goddess, half Serpent. Her body is full of grace and abandon. When possessed by the demon of tragedy, the strength and nobility gushing out of her is so intense one can almost touch it. Her physiognomy, while maintaining its femininity, breathes a wild voluptuousness, a testimony to her resolution. Señora Bernhardt has, with the sole use of her dainty femininity, snatched from Fate the sceptre and the orb of French theatre. Her genius lies in her will. Her golden voice ever sings, her arms command, and her presence demands admiration.