#and if your still there nonny id love if you told us your own idea :)

[destiel-news-channel]

realistically, who would be the ones from superwholock that's shipped?? like are we making it a throuple that's just dean x the dr x sherlock? or are we going for it all with destiel x the dr and companion x johnlock?

OR

do we have castiel x the companion x john??

well we can connect the wholock part of superwholock to two figures pretty easily: Dr. Who and Sherlock, so the only thing to determine is who is meant by "super". now there aren't any superheroes in supernatural but thor's hammer does exist in universe and if i recall correctly Sam is the one to be able to lift it. In that case my guess would be Sam Winchester/Dr. Who/Sherlock which im not sure would work out well but i'd like to see them try ;). This is still the Destiel News Channel blog though so my second guess would be Destiel plus everyone where you could make a confession meme out of a doomed love confession/goodbye. Pretty sure tenrose falls into that category. As for Sherlock i'll leave it to other people to argue whether his goodbye in 'The Reichenbach Fall' to John counts. But maybe the amount of times he fell to his 'death' in front of John (in different adaptations) does something there.

[darker-soft-starker]

Love your blog! Could we have a snippet of a starker good marriage au? Where Tony comes home one night to see his hiding place not exactly how he left it so he checks the Internet history (sloppy peter) and realises his husband has put it together. So he goes upstairs but peters there- in bed, not calling the police...or maybe from peters POV? Whichever you prefer! Super fan over here ;) ☺️❤️

Awww thanks nonnie!! You’re so lovely and I have utterly butchered your prompt, for that I am exceedingly sorry. This is not remotely good, whatever this is.

Warnings: Dark!Tony, mentions of murder, child abuse, dark fluff

———-

It’s long been said that home is where the heart is. 

Whatever it meant, Peter had always found that the old adage difficult to reconcile with - after all, home was six years old, belt welts and whiskey breath. It was holes in his sneakers, cupboards that echoed and the purple and red on the side of his mother’s mouth. Home was something you carried with you to the principal’s office, the hot end of the cigarette and being firmly told that his red-raised knuckles are not pillars to rest on.

What was home if you didn’t choose it - if you were always trying to run away from it?

That’s what he’d always thought anyway - and that’s what he did. Threadbare hoodie, battered backpack and clutching the fifty he’d stolen, Peter ran. He fled into the warm embrace of his Aunt May who mended his patchwork heart with Sinatra on Sunday mornings and hot chocolate, Luke Skywalker nights. 

Love for May was the sound of New York traffic and the smell of nicotine drifting from her bedroom window, overcooked spaghetti and the tickle of her hair on his skin. She wasn’t perfect but she made him feel like he had a place, a room with no conditions.

When she died a few years after, Peter ran again. He made a map of heart-lines all across the state trying to find himself in all of the people he came across. From the lonely girl with the curly hair who offered him a kind smile as he shivered around a steaming cup of coffee, to the boy with the brilliant brain and piercing blue eyes who made made grainy, chalk-masterpieces on worn footpaths. 

He never knew most of them but their faces were like picture frames, their conversations his home movies. 

The price of living in a place he was supposed to call home in New York never got cheaper and so he worked. He was working for eight dollars an hour and twenty percent off stock when Peter had first met Tony.

Tony Stark, he’d introduced himself as. An older man, dark suit, salt-and-pepper temples. Old school charm and eyes that were gentle.

It was easy to find a home in Tony. 

The way his arms wrapped around Peter felt more like four walls than anywhere he’d found a roof overhead and so they dated. They dated and fought and fucked, dug themselves into each others skin. The furrow was so deep they had got married six months after their first kiss, neither of them had family except each other now - Peter didn’t look backwards from where he had ran from. 

It was hard to want to when he walked home after a long day, trudging himself up to their single-room apartment with the leaking roof and the floorboards that squeaked in protest when you stepped over them, the tap that never stopped dripping - and Tony, the centre of it all.

Tony was there to massage his aching shoulders after an arduous day, to kiss his forehead, his cheek, his lips, to enter through the doorway into his body and whisper sweet-nothings into his ear like wind whistling against the windows. Tony was all finger-tracing, wit and he called Peter husband so fondly like it was a gift. It was easy to love him.

Eventually they started their own business together, moving out of the one-bedroom into something more quaint on the outskirts of town by the oak trees. A cottage he cared for because Tony was in it - an extension of them, but just a thing. 

They tasted success as business bloomed, dealing and appraising rare-coins, combining both of their loves into a venture that made Peter feel like he was someone, like an explorer, like he was bringing together his half to their whole. 

But success meant Tony was out of town sometimes for their clients. 

It left them both somewhat vacant whenever he had to go, never more than a day or two, Tony stealing remorseful kisses in the lowlight of dawn as he leaves, taking the light with him. 

For Peter there was not one place called home when home was a person - because when that person is not there it is just a house. A property. Just four walls whose roof isn’t as comforting as his husbands body wrapped around him, inside him. A house didn’t have a heartbeat he could feel thumping under his hand or look at Peter with an adoring smile, soft eyes that crinkled around the edges. A house didn’t breathlessly tell Peter they loved him, didn’t hold him when he wept through the afterimages of his nightmares, didn’t make him feel like he was a cathedral, worth more than weathered sneakers and the pink stitches of skin on his back.

Years passed, settling into their new community like the way that the smell of tobacco latches onto fabric in that weary what can you do about it kind of way. Peter didn’t mind so much feeling like an outlier, he had Tony and their work and passion for both that kept him warm. 

He stayed in the shell they called residence when Tony was out on business and when he came back Tony made him remember that he was a temple. Tony’s tongue licked and laved and moved inside him, all reverence and repentance. Peter was only too eager to forgive for just one more loving kiss.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t immediately turn around and leave everything behind when he stumbled in their dusty garage, used only when either of them pretended to care about gardening. Maybe that’s why he didn’t pack up and run again when he found the dog tags and the ID card in a hidden compartment in the metal shelving. 

Michelle Jones.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The names sounded like his heart jarring, like a baseball breaking through a window - he didn’t know what else to do except gingerly place the items back in the box and wander back into the house in a confused daze, because why, dust motes and orange sun rays in his eyes. Despite swearing never to drink the whiskey Tony keeps in stock Peter finds himself reaching for it. It always burns. 

He’d always drank it sticky and smoky from Tony’s lips anyway.

The wind rattles against the windows and he remembered he needed batteries for the storm, the torches laying uselessly on the coffee table when the lights begin to flicker. But he still has signal on his phone and the light of his laptop to guide his hand to the bottle and the keys as he spells out their names into the search bar and what comes back up is deceased and mystery and suddenly the whiskey doesn’t taste too bad anymore.

The lonely girl with the curly hair. 

The brilliant boy with blue eyes.

The whiskey emboldens him to keep typing furiously, misspelling often as his vision blurs and his throat burns. 

Peter can trace a disappearance to every single one of Tony’s business trips, the dates, the locations. It all aligns right before him, like pages that had been missing all along. 

The victims, at least five of them, are murdered with the same signature method: blunt force trauma followed by the post-mortem removal of the victims heart.

The cavity left in the deceased’s chest is always filled with pennies.

He doesn’t even realise he’s called Tony until the man answers, tinny and concerned on the other end of the call. Dwindling percentage blinks back at him, a shaky thumb pressing the call to speaker.

“…Baby? You there?”

“I’m here,” Peter swallows. “Just wanted to call you. Miss you.”

He hears Tony’s soft sigh as clear as the whistling wind. “Miss you too, baby. I’ll be home soon, promise.” 

He sniffs. “When’s soon?”

“Soon,” Tony laughs, low and familiar. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, feeling syrupy, eyes glazing over. “Just wanted to hear your voice. There’s a storm.”

Peter doesn’t like loud noises. Doesn’t like metal clanging, glass shattering, doesn’t like how thunder sounds like belt buckles and upturned chairs hitting floors and fists on walls and how it reminds him that houses can only protect him from the elements. Sometimes when it storms Tony will curl up behind him in bed, and place his hands over Peter’s ears and press kisses to neck, other times he will stand with Peter in the shower until the water runs cold, their rapture echoing off the tiles. 

There’s a pause. 

“You sure you’re okay? Why don’t you turn some music on and get under the covers, sweetheart.”

“Good idea,” Peter lies. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

The thing with finding a home in a person is that sometimes there are parts to uncover and things you only notice when you stare long enough - secret rooms, hidden compartments and it’s just after that you notice the one floorboard that has begun to rot and ceilings that have cracks or the way the door hinges doesn’t work just right. Maybe he doesn’t work just right, either.

You can either pack-up and leave, or content yourself with the window that sticks and the dust-motes and say there aint no place like it.

“Love you too,” Peter whispers, shaking to his core as thunder rolls overhead.

——-

Tony comes home early.

His husbands eyes are dark when he finds Peter curled up in their bed later, late enough for the pale grey of early morning to filter through the glass. One of Tony’s business shirts is draped over Peter’s shoulders, curtain to everything outside of their bed as he rouses. 

“You left your laptop open. You been doin’ some research, baby?” Tony croaks, jaw set, mouth turned downwards. 

Peter doesn’t like that so he beckons, arms like open doorways when he reaches for his husband and takes him by the hand, wedding rings clicking togethers like locks latching. In Tony’s other hand is the ID and the dog-tags dangling by his side. He’s over being mad about being kept in the dark, long away off the initial burn of anger, too relieved that the vacancy is full again to mourn.

It feels like home when Tony kneels onto the bed and presses a kiss to Peter’s forehead, like their bed is a pulpit, the heat of Tony’s body as he nuzzles into his side a sermon. 

Peter turns his head to capture his lips, wondering how long Tony has been praying to him.

“Some” he admits. “I might need to pick your brain later. How did the trip go?”

Tony stills for a moment before the bristles of his beard scrape Peter’s cheek, a smile.

“Good. I found us a 1955 double die cent.”

“How much did the owner want for it?” Peter asks, raising their joined hands to kiss Tony’s red-raised knuckles, all copper and nickel.

The shirt falls loosely around his waist when he shrugs it off just to see how Tony’s eyes become a cavern, the slack of his jaw an invitation that Peter has always wanted to run into and curl up in. Maybe he should be running from the dark inside it, the unexplored territory, but he doesn’t. It just feels like a heartbeat, steadfast as a metronome, home.

“Just a few pennies,” Tony answers, eyes falling to Peter’s heart.

[connorssock]

Id love to see a sort of AU of sorts of that super cute/badass fic you wrote where Gavin got sponsored in gymnastics so when he got kicked out he had somewhere to go (with the sponsor?) And eventually competed world wide before retiring to become police

I spent so long thinking about this and I tried to make sure Gavin still ended up on the police force but…I hope you can forgive me for taking this idea and twisting it a little, Nonnie! I’m not going to lie, this turned into an Olympics AU that nobody really asked for.

For those curious, this is the post being referred to.

Much like in the other post, Gavin’s 18th birthday present is a pre-packed bag and being shown the door. But this time, he’s got somewhere to go. There wasn’t any money in the backpack and Gavin doesn’t exactly have much in the bank, so he figures that as the weather is good, he can walk for a couple of hours to get to Hank’s.

The house is silent when he gets there. Perhaps he should be concerned that he knows where his coach lives and that it’s not the first time he’s been there, but Gavin’s got his heart set on the Olympics and Hank was one of the few willing to work with him. Maybe the way they’d met wasn’t quite conventional either. Gavin had been aware of Anderson’s fame in the heyday, knew he was destined for great things in the gymnastic world. He’d been a role model to many right up until the fateful crash that shattered his elbow and robbed him of any future in the sport. Even worse, his son was killed and Hank all but dropped off the face of the planet.

As luck would have it, Gavin lived in the same town Hank had run away to. There were rumours at the club about the great fabled Anderson living locally and Gavin decided to take matters into his own hand. He’d done a bit of detective work and tracked Hank down, only to knock on his door unannounced one evening after school.

The man who opened the door reeked of alcohol and yelled at him to piss off. His words slurred and Gavin was torn. The person who could have gotten him to the Olympics was nothing more than a washed up drunk. But something nagged at him, urged him to come back. So Gavin did, he pestered Hank until the man finally snapped. Told him that if Gavin could do an Arabian Flip then and there, he’d consider taking him on.

There was a stunned silence when Gavin dumped his bag on the ground, took a step back and did a wonky Arabian Flip on Hank’s front lawn. His landing didn’t stick, the twist wasn’t a complete 180 but it was good enough when not warmed up, stressed and put on the spot. Gavin shoved his phone number and training regime into Hank’s hands and ran before did something stupid.

Three days later, Hank was by the sidelines at the club when Gavin arrived. He even wore an ugly shirt.

Despite the rocky start, Hank proved to be a better coach than expected. Sure, he pushed Gavin hard, put him through his paces but it meant that by the 2020 Olympics, Gavin had secured himself a spot in Tokyo. He never expected his parents to shatter his hopes by not signing the form that would have allowed him to travel. All Gavin remembers of the Olympics that year was sitting on Hank’s couch and getting progressively more drunk together as some haughty Russian took the gold he’d wanted to badly.

A couple of months later, Gavin waited for Hank to get home from wherever he was. At least it was still only cool and not cold, sitting on his doorstep with a bag between his feet. When Hank finally rolled up, he took one look at Gavin and wordlessly let him in.

Within a matter of weeks, Gavin had his own place. He didn’t mind sleeping on Hank’s couch, but it didn’t do his back any favours. All the same, Hank had pulled some strings and suddenly Gavin had a couple of sponsors, a bit of money in the bank and a place to call his very own. It was the best possible outcome for his situation and he was content.

Training and competitions came and went. Gavin built up quite a name for himself and by the time 2024 rolled around, he was comfortable in the knowledge that he had earned a place in the competition and his parents wouldn’t be able to stop him from going to Paris.

The trip to Europe was a bit of a blur. It was Gavin’s first time on an aeroplane and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Next to him, Hank snored merrily with an eye mask shutting out any light. There was a small part of Gavin that was jealous of his easy sleep, but at the same time, he didn’t want to miss anything about the trip.

Once they’d landed, got their luggage and were outside the airport, they made their way to the Olympic village. Hank had warned him numerous times that it was all a bit hectic, a bit crazy. People were doing things they wouldn’t normally do. In the end, all Hank had said was “what happens in the village stays in the village” with a grin that spoke of many memories Gavin was sure he didn’t need to know about.

Of course, Hank had been right. It was absolute chaos. There were petty cat fights followed by makeup sex, sometimes in a rather public setting. Gavin would have loved it if he could say he had only once walked into one of the communal lounges to find an archer bent over the back of the sofa by a shooter muttering about true aim.

In all of this, Gavin tried to keep his head on straight and was down at the practice grounds every day. It was inevitable he’d run into his competition, including the defending Russian champion. Now, Gavin could admit when someone was attractive, he might have even slurred something along those lines to Hank four years back. They’d even passed each other in a few competitions but they never struck up conversation. The problem was that up close, he was more than handsome. Even worse, Hank had nodded along but mumbled something about liking them a little softer and approachable.

Everybody called him Nines because of his average score. His trainer was Amanda Stern and she looked every bit the harpy. It was a matter of luck that their rooms were opposite Gavin and Hank’s. To make things a little more confusing, some mornings Gavin swore Nines looked a little different. Shorter and more willowy. He snorted when he realised Nines must wear fake contact lenses to get the piercing blue eyes.

It didn’t help that one morning Gavin stumbled out of his room to find Hank leaning against the wall a little too casually and was chatting to Nines. Jealousy wasn’t quite the emotion that flooded Gavin, but Hank was fraternising with the enemy. The enemy that he himself may or may not have quite a strong attraction to at that. Hank glanced his way and smiled before he turned back to Nines with a smile.

“I better get going, catch you around, Connor.”

That was not Nines’ name. Gavin blinked and watched as Hank waited for him to puzzle it out. No explanation came to mind and all Gavin could do was let out a confused “ehhhhh?” and wave.

“That’s Connor, Nines’ brother and fencer. Was going to be a gymnast but Amanda almost destroyed his and Nines’ relationship with her training regime and constantly pitting them against each other. So he saved their relationship and decided to take his frustrations out by hitting people with a sword instead,” Hank shrugged.

Suddenly Hank’s words about preferring them softer made more sense. Because Connor was softer than Nines and there was no conflict of interest either which definitely eased things. Gavin idly wondered how long Connor and Hank had been friends.

“His English is pretty good,” Gavin tried to probe gently.

“Father was Russian, mother was American. They were orphaned here so Amanda took them in when they were around 8. For all intents and purposes they’re Russian but…well, they could apply for US citizenship if they ever wanted to.”

It was impossible to miss the wistful note in Hank’s voice and Gavin knew exactly what he was thinking.

Training and avoiding parties became Gavin’s focus as he prepared for the competition. It was suddenly all too real and he needed to prove himself. He was in the last three minutes of his allocated practice time, tired and frustrated when his landings wouldn’t stick no matter how much he tried to keep his knees soft. All it took was one moment for his concentration to blip out and he was flat on his backside with a groan.

A hand was offered to pull him up and Gavin blinked in surprises as Nines backed away.

“Your left foot isn’t completely straight, it’s why your landings aren’t good enough.”

Before Gavin reply, Nines stalked away.

He began to see more and more of Nines. Watched his routine as the crowds screamed for him, how the judges nodded along. It was infuriatingly seamless and he was shot straight to the top of the leader board.

When it was Gavin’s turn, he stood nervously, palms damp with sweat despite being covered with chalk. His name was announced and his mind went blank while his body took over and went through the familiar steps of his routine.

Gavin would never be able to remember much of what happened, it was all a blur of anxiety that warred with the comfort of knowing what he was doing. He was where he’d always dreamt he would be and nobody could take that away from him anymore.

He remembered Hank hugging him tight, his name being called again on the loudspeaker along with a score. It didn’t beat Nines’ near perfection, but it was a personal best. Gavin was even tactful enough not to mention how Hank’s cheeks were tear streaked when he released him from the bear hug.

“That was a very credible performance,” Nines shook his hand when Gavin stepped into the changing rooms.

From there, they watched the rest of the competitors together. Cringed when the guy from Denmark landed wrong and twisted his ankle, cheered when the Chinese gymnast rescued a flip with an inch to spare from crashing out. Neither of them really knew when the space between them decreased or when they decided that dinners and holding hands in private was a great idea, but it made them happy.

They stood next to each other on the podium, Nines with his gold medal and Gavin with his bronze.Neither of them could keep the happy grin from their faces.

Like with everything, things came to an end. They exchanged contact details and agreed to try and stay in touch. Their e-mails were infrequent and secretive, Nines never said it out loud but Gavin knew that if Amanda found out about them, it would be a disaster.

He almost had a heart attack when, after a training session, Gavin dropped by Hank’s place and thought he saw Nines. But it was only Connor sat on Hank’s old couch with Sumo’s head in his lap.

“I have something for you,” Connor said and quietly slipped into the bedroom.

Gavin valiantly didn’t think about the fact that there was only one bedroom in Hank’s house and all of Connor’s things seemed to be in there. Any such thoughts vanished from his mind when a soft parcel was pressed in his hands. He didn’t open it in front of Connor, but the next time he went to practice, Hank was there with Connor at the club. It was fairly obvious that Connor had no clue what he’d brought over for Gavin, but his eyes widened when he recognised the hoodie. Thankfully he didn’t say anything.

In an effort to stay in touch, Gavin looked into more international competitions, managed to grab spots at a couple Nines was at. Their stolen moments were even better than beating him to first place on the podium.

By the time the Olympics came to LA, Gavin was excited. He waited at the airport for the plane to land from Russia. Connor was at his side, vibrating with excitement at seeing his brother again. He never did tell them what had happened, but a year after Paris, he retraced his mother’s heritage and moved over to the US. It was going to be the first time he was competing against his old Russian team in the Olympics and he was nervous.

“Brother,” Nines greeted him with a squeeze to his shoulder before he nodded at Gavin. “Nice to see you both.”

Gavin offered to drive while Connor sat in the back with Nines. They were catching up when Connor suddenly switched to Russian. Whatever he said got a very terse and annoyed reply from Nines and all conversation ceased.

Much like in Paris, the Olympic Village was manic. But this time, Gavin knew what to expect and was grinning wildly at the fact that Nine was his neighbour this time. Something told him it wasn’t pure luck it worked out like that. Especially when on Hank’s other side Connor moved in.

The tabloids were going nuts over the athletes. They speculated romances, feuds and delighted in mulling over tragedies. Oddly enough, Nines and Amanda became a frequent topic. They were often caught arguing in hushed tones, both looking furious. Nobody knew the root of the problem but it was obvious that the Russians were in a pickle.

The day of the competition came and Gavin settled in to watch Nines. A hush of anticipation fell over the hall as Nines took up position. His first landing was botched, his flips messy, timing deliberately a little off. Gavin held a hand to his mouth to hide the noises.

“What is he doing?” Hank hissed next to him.

With a final sloppy cartwheel, Nines finished, stood straight with his arms in the air. Both his middle fingers extended as he did a quick turn towards where Amanda sat and with a sneering smile took a mock bow before marching out of the arena.

“Holy shit, that is one heck of a statement.” Hank’s voice was lost in the mutterings of the crowd.

Needless to say, Nines crashed out of the competition in the first round. He looked smug as he sipped something that was in all likelihood alcoholic while lounging on one of the communal sofas.

“What the fuck was that about?” Gavin asked when he found him, Connor and Hank hot on his heels.

“An artistic expression of what I thought about Amanda. I thought the message was quite clear,” Nines shrugged. “Incidentally, Connor, you don’t have a couch I could stay on for a bit? I have a feeling I’m not returning back to Russia once the games are over.”

It was one heck of a way to declare his intentions but Gavin couldn’t let Nines distract him. He was competing the next day and needed to keep his focus. All the same, he was filled with warmth when he spotted Nines next to Hank in the trainer’s box just before he walked to into the arena. The small wink Nines sent him made him flush but then there was no room to think as he began his routine.

Gavin stood proudly on the podium, a gold medal around his neck. There were flashes of the cameras going off around him, people calling his name. It wasn’t something he ever really truly expected to experience despite wanting it for pretty much all his life.

He ginned when he saw Nines walking towards him and stopping in front of him.

“You’re actually taller than me for once,” Nines mused before crooking a finger at him.

Gavin leaned down and almost dropped his bouquet when Nines grabbed him by the medal and tugged him down for a kiss. If Gavin thought the cameras were going wild before, it was a veritable lightning storm now. The tabloids were full of the picture of them kissing, mulling over whether it was a kiss of affection or a Russian threat.

All in all, it was a great thing to giggle over, the two of them entangled on Gavin’s couch and giggling before returning to filling out Nines’ application for citizenship.

[spiicemarket]

idk if you are still doing this, but im evil so for the ask thing: 1-65

UGH SOMEONE ALWAYS DOES THIS whatevs nonny ty for the ask also i did some of these already but imma just do em again cuz im basically a new person than yesterday. under the cuttt

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? i honestly have no idea what this means so.. no?

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? unreasonably.

3. The person you would never want to meet? hitler

4. What is your favorite word? *moist*

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? the one rotting from the inside out

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? “wow look im wearing boots with heels 2day im so tall”

7. What shirt are you wearing? a plain black t shirt

8. What do you label yourself as? an annoying female

9. Bright room or dark room? dark but i want a pastel one

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? trying to sleep and failing

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? i rlly enjoyed being 6 actually

12. Who told you they loved you last? probably my mom lmao

13. Your worst enemy? hitler

14. What is your current desktop picture? the one that comes with the laptop lolol

15. Do you like someone? i mean i like people (some of them) but i dont have a crush on anyone fjekomd

16. The last song you listened to? sippy cup by melanie martinez

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? nobody id rather push them off a cliff

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? umm the kid that calls me fat at recess lolol

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? hmm my brother and i would basically just make him bring me chickfila

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) hmm i like my hair its really long and

t h i c c

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? umm i would just look like myself with short hair and less chubby cheeks lol

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? i took hula dance class for 4 years

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? burning to death 

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. okay i would have a sub with ham+lettuce+extraextraextra pickles+ pepper + oil + vinegar and thats it lol im v picky

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? parenthood pack and dine out pack

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? England!

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? apple juice plz

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? everyone is equal is society BUT there are representatives so like people dont have to vote for everything

29. What is your favorite expletive? bitch

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? laptop man

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? idk man i dont wanna erase any of my memories bcuz thats what builds me as a person.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! England! 

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? My grandfather but only if he wasn’t sick anymore because I never got to know him even though he was around until i was 10.

34. What was your last dream about? i was in a quidditch game.

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? simblr? cuz no lmao

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? yes once but i also went to urgent care when i broke my arm so idk if that counts

37. Have you ever built a snowman? no 

38. What is the color of your socks? not wearing any

39. What type of music do you like? pop/alternative like melanie martinez

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? sunsets because it gets cooler

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? oreo mint

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) um green bay packers cuz thats what my family likes but i dont like sports..

43. Do you have any scars? nah

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? photographer but that aint happening so lawyer..?

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? i push people away because i cant talk about my feelings to them

46. Are you reliable? what like, a secret because yesssss but if it means not being late to something then lol no

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? whats ur follower count? LOL IM JUST KIDDING DONT COME FOR ME

48. Do you hold grudges? yes literally all the time

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? a cat-corgi

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? one time i spent a solid ten minutes debating with my step sister about whether or not my dog was a good boi

THE ANSWERS YES

51. Are you a good liar? no (or maybe thats a good lie????????????? the real answers yes lol)

52. How long could you go without talking? approximately 2 seconds

53. What has been you worst haircut/style? i had bangs when i was little

54. Have you ever baked your own cake? nope

55. Can you do any accents other than your own? nope

56. What do you like on your toast? dont like toast

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? my teachers making us draw a poppy :(

58. What would be you dream car? a hybrid

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. LMAO YOU THINK I HAVE TIME FOR THAT I HAVE 50 POUNDS OF HAIR

60. Do you believe in aliens? sometimes my step dad says he was abducted when he was 11

61. Do you often read your horoscope? nope

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? omega

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? dragons OBVI (mostly cuz harry potter)

64. What do you think about babies? adorable

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of. THE ANON DIDNT ASK SO ILL TELL A STORY:

one time i fell out of a shopping cart and broke my arm

the end