#long beach art theater

[thesummerestsolstice]

Hair Headcanons for the Feanorians:

Maedhros: Got Nerdanel's red hair, but filtered through Finwean Hair Magic™️, so instead of looking like normal red hair it looks like flickering flames, with deeper red tones and golden orange highlights, especially under Laurelin. After Angband, the gray streaks in his hair add the illusion of smoke. On the battlefield of Beleriand, he wears his fiery hair long and loose, almost an invitation to try and grab it. Taking that invitation is usually the last mistake his enemies ever make.

Maglor: Has dark, wavy hair with iridescent blue tones inherited from Feanor. Sometimes he puts some blue sparkle in it to really enhance the effect. It's always perfectly wavy and bouncy, and often tied into complicated up-dos for his appearances in Valinorean theaters and concert halls. His hair remains suspiciously luscious and styled even after thousands of years of being a beach hermit. His clothes are tattered, his skin is dirty, his eyes are bloodshot, but somehow, even the driftwood in his hair looks fresh and artistic.

Celegorm: He inherited his albinism from Miriel, and like her, has very light blonde/white hair. But because of the Finwean Hair Magic™️ his light hair actually has opalescent tones– light blues, greens, pinks, and oranges can all be seen in it from different angles. This is part of why he's called "the fair," his hair is light, but it's also as fair and beautiful as a polished opal.

Caranthir: Dark, relatively straight hair, with iridescent purple tones inherited from Feanor. A tangle has never been spotted in it, and he often keeps it up to avoid even the slightest chance of it getting dirty. He particularly appreciates the purple undertones in Beleriand, where purple dye is associated with luxury– it makes him look even richer than he already is. (tax fraud pays very, very well)

Curufin: Has hair very much like Feanor's, but his undertones are mostly on the green/teal side. Like Feanor, his hair doesn't really burn, even when it ends up in the forge fires, and as a result, he actually invents a kind of prototype curling iron and uses it to style his hair, since the heat doesn't damage it. He eventually abandons the curling iron, only for a young Celebrimbor to find it a few centuries later.

Amras: He's the darker haired one of the twins, and his hair is more reddish-brown than properly red. It's very shiny, and curly, and has very deep, rich colors. After Losgar, the ends of it always look dark and scorched.

Amrod: He's the lighter haired one of the twins, with hair that's more orange. It's bushy, shiny, and only Finwean Hair Magic™️ keeps it from being an absolute nightmare to brush. After he almost burns at Losgar, it becomes significantly darker, and loses some of its shine. Amrod always wore his hair long in Valinor, but typically wears it pretty short in Beleriand.

The headcanons for Maglor, Caranthir, and Curufin here are largely based on Sesamenom's wonderful art.

See headcanons for Finwe and his kids here.

[seirei-bh]

Jason Mendal headcanons

I wrote these headcanons for fun, however, keep in mind that there is only a few episodes of MCL NG out by now, so I may be wrong about some ideas due to later revelations. (I've also added some NSFW headcanons under the cut!)

-He loves luxury restaurants, especially Italian food, and everything expensive and exotic that is the specialty of five-star chefs.

-He has a limousine and a driver, but he only uses them on special occasions, since he prefers to drive his own car.

-If he were an animal he'd identify with a panther, a wolf or a shark

-He likes to listen to jazz.

-He made an anonymous Twitter account that he uses to insult Devemenentiel members (later Thomas found it and hacked it to permanently ban it, lol)

-He usually wears cologne, his favorites are “Sauvage” by Dior, and “Eros” by Versace (obviously very expensive and brand name)

-He doesn't feel close to his family. Most of them are unbearable to him, with a few exceptions.

-He tends to think that stable romantic relationships are a waste of time. Most of his romantic relationships in the past didn't last very long, almost all of his former lovers complained that "he was married with his job" or that "he was a self-centered asshole". He never had enough time for them and he got bored of them because they were not intelligent or interesting enough to him (something that changes with newsucrette/Ysaline)

-He likes women with self-confidence, who know what they want and are capable of challenging him.

-His poliosis was a consecuence of his Waardenburg syndrome. That syndrome also causes on him to suffers from partial deafness and has vision problems. However, he hides all this by using a very discreet hearing aid and contact lenses. Almost no one knows this except a few people very close to him, Jason hides these problems from the people at his company and any competitors to avoid look weak.

-He's afraid of one day becoming completely deaf, so he learned to read lips and sign language.

-He doesn't want to have children, partly because he doesn't have time to raise them, but mostly because he fears they could inherit the physical problems he has, like a partial or complete deafness.

-Since he was little he was always very good at maths.

-Jason pretends he was always popular, but he was quite nerdy at school, something that he decided to change later in high school and college, he went from being the nerd boy who other made fun of to being the popular boy who insulted and bullied the others.

-During his childhood and teenage years he used to dye his hair so that other children would not mess with him, but as an adult he learned to leave his natural white streaks with self-confidence and to see them as an attractive and unique feature.

-He likes the beach, the pool and going on a yacht. He hates mountains and nature.

-He likes to go to the theater and museums. He knows a lot about the life and work of artists, but he doesn't know as much about art itself, although he pretends he does.

-He has the philosophy of “the end justifies the means” and also that money does give happiness, or at least it can help buy it.

-As a child he learned to play the piano, but as an adult he has thrown away most of his former hobbies from his little free time, because he no longer has time for any of that.

-He got that tattoo on his arm because he lost a big bet once, but since Jason never talks about his defeats, when someone asks him, he says that he got that tattoo just because he wanted to and without any reason or meaning beyond the aesthetic.

-Devon was one of the few true pals Jason really respected and appreciated in the past, before “something” happened between them and they became enemies. Each of them has a different version about what really happened in mind, so that hostility due to differences in povs became increasingly stronger as the years went by. (Probably in this case it is Jason who is not right, but he is too proud to admit that he was wrong.)

-He felt attracted to newsucrette/Ysaline from the first moment he saw her. At first it was just desire and he wanted to manipulate her, but over time that feeling grew stronger and turned into love. Something that he also tried to ignore and deceive himself, denying it until he realized about the truth. He knew that maybe she would hate him, that maybe he would hurt her, that everything could end very badly, but still he couldn't resist to try it.

NSFW headcanons

-He loves bondage, specially tying your hands with his tie.

-He enjoys giving you orders in bed and see you obeying them, but also he enjoys secretly even more when you're a "bad girl" and refuse to do what he orders.

-Praise kink (both give and receive)

-He absolutely adores when you claw your nails on his back, so he has more excuses to call you “kitten.”

-Also when you grab him by his tie to drag him to the bedroom and passionately tear off his clothes.

-His favorite place is in his house, although it can be in bed, against the wall or on a table.

-Too excited by the idea of f*king you in Goldreamz's office, on his desk table sometime.

-He almost always prefers to be the dominant one, but also loves when you fight for dominance and you get to be the queen in his bed who is able to doms him.

-He loves to tempt you beforehand, whispering sexy and dirty things in your ear, kissing you on the neck and caressing you softly and subtly, until you can't take yourself anymore.

-Hard. Savage. Passionate. Sometimes very fast for all the sexual tension you two can't handle, sometimes unbearably slow on purpose because he wants to hear you beg for more and praise him how good he is and how much you want him.

-You two always end on a bed after an argument. He's turned on by how beautiful you look when you're angry and how you fight back fierly. Sometimes he makes you angry on purpose because how much he enjoys the moment and what comes later.

-He loves when you tell him that you hate him. That turns him on too even more.

-Skilled with his fingers and proud of it *wink*

-Proud of his own body. Yeah, his size too.

-He loves to kiss your neck, caress your legs and grab your thighs and butt.

-He loves looking at you. His gaze is especially intense and challenging when you're riding him, and he likes to hear you gasp as he watches your beautiful face and body.

-Sometimes is a competition between the two to see who shows better skills in bed and how much you both can last (how many hours and poses). He'll give you his best sexy smirk and won't stop f*king you until you beg him, but you would never beg your enemy... right?

Extra! A few nsfw sweet headcanons too:

-If he notices that you feel too uncomfortable and nervous, he makes humorous comments to break the ice and make you laugh.

-Although he likes BDSM, he will always ask you if you feel comfortable or not with it and will stop if you ask him to do so.

-He's not very used to aftercare, but he knows that you need them, so he tries to give it to you. Plus, he likes it when you rest your head on his torso, close to his heart, and he thinks you look gorgeous while you sleep.

[ashstfu]

fav autumn things to do?

cozying up by the fireplace after a long nature walk in the fallen leaves, adding cinnamon & cardamom in everything, visiting art galleries, exploring local bookstores, buying new sweaters and blazers, playing chess & poker with family, sipping hot cocoa, exploring pumpkin patches, weekend getaways to ojai, indulging in gourmet dinners, rewatching fantastic mr. fox, going to jazz clubs, scenic drives around the hills, hosting intimate dinner parties with friends, taking long walks on the beach after uni when its already dark outside, spending afternoons in cafés, attending theater performances, the crunch of leaves under my boots, dark chocolate desserts ☕🧣🍁

[authorhjk1]

Taking aespa out on a date but the place you choose is also the place where you must both relieve each other’s tension but how?

Karina:

A. Crowded Park

B. Crowded Cliff-Diving Spot

C. Crowded Movie Theater

Giselle:

A. Crowded Drive-in Theater

B. Crowded Restaurant

C. Crowded Tourist Spot

Winter:

A. Crowded Carnival

B. Crowded Beach

C. Crowded Art Gallery

Ningning:

A. Crowded Swimming Spot

B. Crowded Museum

C. Crowded Rooftop Bar

Karina:

C

I think the movies would be the safest. Mostly dark and and loud. Even better, if you sit in one of the last rows. You can do a lot, without getting caught there. The best would be Karina giving you a boobjob after sucking you off, before she rides you, both your eyes focused on the movie.

Giselle:

B

I like the idea of pleasuring each other underneath the table, while you both have a meal. Hopefully the table cloth is long enough to hide either one of you, so you don't get caught. You'd eat her out first and Giselle would return the favor with a blowjob.

Winter:

C

This was a hard one for me. But I choose the art gallery, because I think you'd be less likely to get caught there. I'm not a fan of them. But maybe you and Winter make it a game. You try to fuck at as many art galleries as you can find. She would be wearing a miniskirt, so she could sit in your lap throughout the day, cockwarming you with so many people around. And you'd have to finish on her face of course. Taking the "painting" seriously.

Ningning:

A

Chose this one for Ningning, because I kind covered the other two options with Winter and Giselle. Not sure what you define as a swimming spot though. A beach? A lake? A pool?

Whatever it is, I'm sure Ningning would love to prove to you how long she can hold her breath. She would suck you off in the water, occasionally needing to surface to take a breather. When she think no one is looking, she might even let your cock slip inside her bikini and in between her breasts.

[crazysaru99]

LMK fic au idea

Welp im not good writing fic and my ideas are riots

@quitealotofsodapop and I made an au about the Monkey King's children: Paramita, Sun Luzhen, Yuebei Xing, Jidu and Luohou.

This happens once Wukong finishes his journey and returns home, helping with the reconstruction of the island, mainly because he starts to feel lonely especially for what happened with his partner Macaque. And one of the things he always wanted once the war was over is to be able to have a family with his beloved but this couldn't happen so he will do it with his own hands in the style of Nuwa, he would create clay eggs and even find a hidden one and from there his children would be born.

Paramita is the firstborn and heir to the throne of the kingdom of the mountain of fruits and flowers and Alolai being the serious of all his brothers and the most elegant of them, he has an elegance that his father lacks but that will not make him less lethal on the battlefield; he is the general of the kingdom's army and has on his shoulders the expectations of the kingdom as crown prince.

Sun Luzhen in his canon is Wukong's twin brother who had taken so long to hatch, and the second to be born when he was found, the king had adopted him as his own son, He has an energetic personality like a showman, He is now a version of Porty light, he is a professional musician and has worked in various musical genres, even in large industries making soundtracks for various movies or video games under an alias.

Yuebei Xing, the only daughter of the monkey king, is daddy's little princess, with a tough character and a very bad temper, with an enormous and muscular build that makes her completely intimidating, but under the dark shell she is a monkey who loves her family and her brothers, she was born with a cleft lip of which she only has a scar, she is a renowned paleontologist in her field who loves her job, she has always loved digging up bones since she was little.

Jidu and Luohou they are mischievous twins who like to cause trouble like their older brother Luzhen, who love theater like Macaque and dedicate their life to that art. Jidu is a comedian in various stand-up comedy shows while Luohou is an actor in musicals and has participated in many.

Jidu

Grande Caeza de pichi

Luohou

King Paramita, Jidu and Luohou desing based in @wuzhiqi-enj0yer

Wukong wanted to experience the possibility of having children by modeling in clay that he created 4 eggs, by the time he found the stone egg of Luzhen he found that the Paramita egg had already hatched and in time only the eggs of the others would hatch turning Wukong into a tired father of 5 energetic children.

Rumors of his existence abounded, especially the fact that Paramita was the son of Princess Iron Fan, which was never lacking (Paramita could never find the author of that aberration in the book and if he had, he would have pulverized it). This rumor was born because he and Red Son WERE childhood friends and a possible marriage union between them was expected (Like Odette and Derek in The Swan Princess). Now their parents wanted them to marry for love like they did, but then the thing at the mountain happened and they lost contact.

Paramita as a cub: "This is my best friend Red. When we grow up, we'll get married and have an island to ourselves!" :3

But that is if the day they meet again they shout with joy and hug each other like little kids who haven't seen each other all summer.

The rumors of the monkey king's children grew to be illustrated in the non-canonical sequels of the journey to the west and at that time they were just children, but due to the isolation of the monkey king the rumors of them became a myth until their existence was doubted, making the shadow of his father grow…

MK would meet the children of the monkey king in ''A hero is born'' is when he lands on the beach of Huaguoshan Island and they were the monkeys in disguise (Headcanon the common monkeys are glamours of yao monkeys)

Making them lose their glamour and scare MK even more until Paramita has to take control of the situation by lining everyone up.

After the initial scare MK asks them to take him to the monkey king and leave them alone; Now you might be wondering why the monkey king would need a successor? Simple, because Wukong has empty nest syndrome.

For the events of season two Paramita and his brothers will be in charge of MK's training so he wouldn't be so far behind and if they would be aware of LBD.

When MKang finds out about their existence it will be at the end of this same season especially when Pigsy is yelling at Wukong and oh boy, if there is something that Paramita does NOT tolerate at all is that HIS FATHER IS INSULTED (He's a daddy's boy)

Pigsy: You're supposed to be his mentor! Paramita: "Excusr me!? He raised five children as a single parent!" HE IS ANYTHING BUT A LAZY MAN WHO DOES NOTHING, DAMN SERVANT!!!

Paramita was millimeters away from beating Pigsy up, he will defend his father's honor knowing how introverted he is and will let that insult pass (He will fight even in mud to prove his point), his brothers would be pulling him to avoid the chef's announced death, even Yuebei has a hard time doing it being the strongest of all her brothers.

And that would be all c:

EDIT: And now the au called ''Wuxing au''

[medusapelagia]

Christmas 1985

Celebrating another birthday with another little fic! This one is for @lemonhitsu's birthday, inspired by his incredible art! You can find the image HERE!

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve /Billy TW: no one Words: 2273

"I fucking hate Christmas!" Billy sighs, trying to find a free spot in the parking lot. 

Everyone in Hawkins is at the mall, looking for Christmas presents, and now he's there as well. And guess whose fault it is?

Maxine, obviously.

Because she decided that she needed a special present for her stupid boyfriend. Boyfriend. As if a relationship between two fourteen-year-olds meant anything at all. Max will definitely dump him in a few weeks, she's too cool for that little nerd.

But Susan asked Billy to drive her. She even promised to make him his favorite plate for dinner, and Billy, begrudgingly, agreed. That’s why he’s driving around the parking lot looking for a parking place.

"Stop the car! Stop the car!" Max yells, pointing at a car in front of them that just turned the lights on, "They're leaving!" she announces happily and Billy groans, both annoyed at the idea that he'll have to get inside the mall and relieved that he won't have to drive around the stupid parking lot once more.

As the car starts to move, Billy sees another vehicle moving in the direction of his spot, so he quickly speeds up and parks his Camaro in a swift maneuver.

"Fuck! I told you that asshole was going to steal our place!" a kid's voice says, and when Billy Leaves the car, ready to fight, he recognizes a familiar Beemer.

"Harrington?"

"Hey, Billy! I'm surprised to see you at the mall. I thought you hated this place."

"I do, but Max wants to buy a present for…"

"For mom!" she interrupts him, "A present for mom. And Billy was so kind as to offer to come with me."

Steve lifts an eyebrow, unconvinced, but nods.

"Ok, you know what? Why don't you go to the mall with Billy and Max, Dustin? I still have to find a parking space."

"Steve! You promised! You promised to help me find the right present for Suzy!"

"I know, I know. And I will. I swear! But maybe Billy and Max can help you and then I'll give you my opinion?" Dustin crosses his arms in front of his chest, annoyed, "Listen, Dustin, you can stay in the car with me but I don't know how long it will take to find a parking space. The time that you could spend inside the mall actively looking for a present. So. What do you say?"

Dustin muffles something about how unfair the situation is and that the parking space was theirs, but in the end, he leaves the car, slamming the door to piss Steve off.

"Kids." Steve sighs, then he waves at the guys and starts to drive, still looking for a place to park his car.

"Suzy, huh? How come she hasn't dumped you yet?" Billy asks while they get inside the mall.

"She didn't and she won't. Our love is too special!" Dustin replies, glaring offended at Billy.

"Good for you. Ok, Steve isn't here, so go where the hell you want and I'll see you both here at the food area in an hour."

"An hour? But it's not enough!" Max protests, "You promised me..."

"I promised to drive you to the mall and to drive you back. No one said anything about time. Now scram. This place is packed." Billy replies, Walking toward the movie theater.

When he was a kid they had a tradition, after the Christmas lunch, his mom used to drive him to the movie theater to see a Christmas comedy.

Billy’s family traditions weren’t really common, but he loved them nevertheless.

In the last couple of weeks of November, his mom and he used to go to the beach and look for little sticks carried by the waves and some seashells to make their little Christmas tree. It was nothing fancy, just a series of small branches kept together by rope and glue gun and a few seashells, but Billy was always eager to go to the beach with his mom. He couldn't wait to take off his shoes and run on the damp sand, looking for the best seashells for their three.

But after she left there were no more trees in Billy’s house. Neither real nor made of sticks. And no more movies either. Just a boring day with his father and some overcooked, if not burnt, premade food.

Even now, that Neil was finally in prison for domestic violence, there wasn’t a tree in Billy’s house. Susan tried to ask him if he wanted to choose one at the local tree farm with Max, but both of them had expressed their disgust at the idea, so no Christmas Tree for the Harringrove-Mayfield family.

The mall was full of red and green decorations, families, and Children. And reindeers. So many fucking reindeer.

The shop assistants were wearing reindeer antlers headbands, the shops are full of sweaters with reindeer, pillows decorated with reindeer, and even little reindeer earrings.

Billy looks at the earrings, thinking that they are something Susan might like. She was so sad when Max and Billy refused to buy a Christmas Tree and she was so nice to him since Neil finally left the house. She even helped him get the job at the garage, so he grunts and asks one of the shop assistants to make a little package for him. He buries the little box in his back pocket and leaves the shop, finding Max eating an ice cream and waiting for him.

"Did you buy a present for Steve?"

If there's another person who despises Christmas as much as Billy does it's Steve.

"No. He hates Christmas. Why do you ask?"

"I saw you buying some kind of jewel and asking for a package."

"They are earrings. For Susan."

Max stares at him in confusion, "For Mom?"

"Yeah. The woman who cooks for us every day? And that kept me in her house? You know that woman?"

Max nods, licking her ice cream.

"Isn't it too cold for ice cream?"

"It's never too cold for ice cream!" she proudly declares.

"You done?" Billy asks, looking at the bag at her feet.

"I'm done. Now I can help you."

"Help me with what?"

"Searching a present for Steve, shithead!"

"I already told you! He hates…"

"He's going to invite you for Christmas. I know it, the boys know it, Mom knows it. And you can't get there without a present."

"He's… what?"

"Come on!" Max says, grabbing Billy's hand and dragging him toward every single shop in the mall with no success. Steve is so rich that whatever he might need he already has it, apart from…

"I'm not going to buy a fucking reindeer sweater." Billy declares, crossing his arms.

"Come on! It will be fun! I'm sure he doesn't have one and I'm sure Steve will love it! He's such a dork!"

"He's not a dork, he's a jock, and jocks don't wear reindeer sweaters."

"Not even this one?" Max asks with a grin, grabbing a red sweater in the back of the shop.

It takes a moment for Billy to understand what he's looking at, but when he does he bursts out in a loud laugh.

"You could buy matching ones!" Max excitedly declares.

Billy grabs the sweater from her hands, "You're too young for this, shit bird. But it's fun. I'll give you that. But I don't know if I feel comfortable buying a sweater with two reindeer having sex as a present for someone."

"So boooring! Well, you could buy him the green one." she insists, "Red and green are Christmas colors, and red is your color. It makes your eyes pop."

Billy looks at his clock: if really Harrington is going to invite him for Christmas dinner, and if Max says so he has no reason to doubt it, he needs a present, and maybe that sweater isn't that bad.

"Fucking reindeer." Billy snarls, going to pay for the sweater. 

The checkout boy snorts when he sees the red sweater, so Billy pays as fast as he can and gets back to the car, catching a glimpse of Harrington and Dustin in front of a flower shop.

If the boy thinks they can send some plants to Utah, he's not the Genius Billy thought he was.

*** 

The days before Christmas pass in a blur. Everyone in town needs their car checked, so before Billy knows it, it's Christmas Day.

Max is old enough that she doesn't need all the Santa Claus pantomime, and they simply exchange gifts before lunch. Susan gives him an envelope with some money, to buy himself what he wants, while Max takes a crumpled packet from her school bag. Once Billy tears the paper he finds himself staring at the new AC/DC album.

"Thought you might like it. But if not I can change it."

Billy grunts, getting threateningly close to Max who instinctively steps back, but is not quick enough. Billy grabs her and hugs her tight, hiding his face in her red hair, "Thank you shitbird. I'll drive you to that stupid skateboard shop in Indy, ok?"

"Yeah. I'd like that," she replies, hugging him back.

They have a nice lunch, nothing too crazy because it's just the three of them, and in the afternoon Steve, Dustin, and Lucas come to take Max to the Wheelers.

"There's a place for one more if you want," Steve says, giving him a knowing look.

Steve and Billy have been hanging out since the night Max got lost in the woods after being hunted down by a stray dog and their friendship slowly became something more… personal.

"Give me a sec," Billy replies, going to his room to wear the red sweater under his jacket and grab the bag with the green one.

After a little fight with Dustin, who proudly declares he has shotgun privileges for life, Steve manages to convince him to sit in the back with Max and Lucas and drives them to the Wheeler house.

"Dustin's mom will come to get you, ok?" Steve says once they get there.

"Ok. Now go! We want to have fun!" Max answers, pushing the boys out of the car.

"My place?" Steve asks Billy with a wink, and Billy nods, staring out of the window. 

"Someone snitched, huh?" Steve sighs his eyes on the road.

"Max gave me a long lecture if that's what you mean," Billy replies, drawing a little heart on the fogged glass.

"I want you to know something before we get inside," Steve says, parking the car in the garage, and Billy slowly turns toward him.

"What?" 

Billy braces himself, ready to be rejected, holding the passenger seat so hard that his knuckles whiten.

"I bought a Christmas tree. A big one. Dustin insisted and the boy helped me decorate it so… I have a Christmas Tree."

"Ok."

"And... well you'll see it. Are you ok with the Christmas Tree? It's not… well his huge. And it clashes terribly with the furniture but… I like it." Steve admits, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'm out of shape but I'm pretty sure I can still beat a Christmas Tree if it tries to attack us."

"God, Max was right. You are a huge grumpy cat." Steve chuckles, getting out of the car and stepping toward the door that connects the garage with the inside of the house.

"Am I what? I'm not! I'm fucking not! Ok? Harrington! Harrington!" Billy yells, and when he gets into the living room Steve is kneeling at the base of a huge Christmas Tree, plugging it in.

A series of shining lights projects colorful shadows on the walls.

"It's beautiful." 

"You're beautiful," Steve replies, yanking some hair behind Billy's ear. "Take off your jacket. It's too hot inside."

Billy stalls for a moment, but then he opens his jacket and Steve starts to guffaw.

"Oh my god! Where did you find it?" He asks.

"No questions, ok? I have one for you too."

"Like yours?"

"No. I was worried it was too much for a present."

"Yeah, fucking reindeer… literally fucking reindeer!" Steve keeps laughing, holding his stomach with one hand, while he wipes away the tears with the other.

He keeps laughing even while he puts on the green sweater that surprisingly fits him very nicely.

"Ok. Ok." Steve says when he can breathe again, “I have something for you too.” He tells Billy, grabbing a little packet with a red bow that’s bigger than the package itself.

“Are you proposing, Harrington?” Billy mocks him, grabbing the package. He tears the cheerful paper, Robin wrapped it, Steve explains, and when he finally opens the package Billy’s speechless. 

Inside the little box, there’s a key. A house key. Steve’s home key.

“There’s also an empty drawer for you in my room, but Rob said that the key was enough.” Steve shrugs.

Billy grabs Steve by his arm, yanking him toward himself, but Steve stops him before their lips collide.

“What? You offer me your house's key only to deny me a kiss?” Billy whines.

“Wait! Something is missing!” Steve says, moving back toward the Christmas Tree, grabbing a Santa Claus hat and something green that looks like, “Mistletoe?” 

“Yeah. Mistletoe." Steve replies, holding it with his hand, "Now… kiss?”

It would make a nice picture, the two of them with their Christmas sweater kissing under the mistletoe. Maybe next year they won’t be alone. Maybe they’ll celebrate with the kids, and Robin, maybe even Susan, but tonight it’s just the two of them and it’s more than enough.

Permanent taglist: @katyawriteswhump

[originalfatfiction]

All the World's a Stage

I was your typical drama-geek, though a lot more subdued—hopefully. I prayed I wasn’t as obnoxious as those kids on TV shows about high school students. I wasn’t constantly giving long monologues about the idiocy of mainstream culture or strumming a guitar singing covers of Bruno Mars songs. I just highly valued theater as an art form. Man, that seemed kind of pretentious, but it was true! As lame as it may have sounded, theater was honestly my life. I had been in every production since freshman year—the fall plays, winter dramas, and spring musicals. 

Sure, I was a good student, but that wasn’t fun. And it wasn’t like I was athletic or exceedingly popular. My passion was performing on stage, no doubt about it, and it was a surprise even to myself. I didn’t talk much, and I dreaded holding conversation with people. When I was in the fall play freshman year, it was the first time many of my peers heard my voice. I will say as I’ve matured, I’ve become more willing to speak up for myself, but four years ago you couldn’t pay me to answer a question in class, even if I was a hundred percent sure of the answer. 

I worked hard as a member of the Jackson High Thespian Troupe. I was incredibly dedicated to all of our productions, and I had even gotten the lead role in two separate shows. I was hoping to get the lead in the fall play this year, which would be Of Mice and Men. It was the story of the big, lovable oaf Lennie and his cynical pal George during the Great Depression. 

The Troupe had absolutely no clue who our Lennie Small would be. Nobody in our productions stood any taller than six feet, which was nowhere near as imposing as we needed our Lennie to be. 

I was short, only about 5’6” and slim. Most of the drama crew was pretty small in terms of stature and weight. Everyone was really body conscious in the drama club. Most people didn’t outwardly speak badly of our larger members, but there was always an underlying negativity. 

I was black, mostly. My dad was half-white, but for all intents and purposes, I was black. I thankfully had some natural muscularity, so I wasn’t all skin and bones. As I’ve said, I wasn’t much of an athlete. I couldn’t do anything involving balls, bats, or racquets. Running and swimming I was okay at, but other than that I was hopeless. My dad had been crushed by the fact that I couldn’t even get a hit playing T-Ball. I’d close my eyes every time I swung the bat. I was a regular Hank Aaron (I knew he was good, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you when he played or what team he was on. My dad loved the guy, claiming he was one of the greats). Thankfully, my younger brothers were already showing signs of being potential MLB all-stars. I’d just have to accept that I would never meet my father’s expectations. 

We were in the second week of September (we had been in school for about three weeks) and the weather was still fairly hot. I loved warm weather and the sun and the beach. I was still rocking my summer skin tone, so I had a golden-brown complexion. I’d get lighter as we went into the colder months, but for now I had a beautiful healthy glow. I hated winter. I was my worst self in layers and layers of clothing. 

We’d had auditions last Thursday and after the roles were cast, the production would move next-level fast. It happened with every production; there was never as much time to prepare as we thought there’d be. I had auditioned for George. I went to the school’s bulletin board right outside of the main office that Monday to see if I had been cast. I was so nervous. The Troupe had become my whole life. 

George—Kyle Donnelly 

Candy—Hallie James 

Curley—Jimmy Ignacio 

Curley’s Wife—Jane Kingston 

Slim—Raul Mota 

Crooks—Richard Smith 

Carlson—John Waterson 

The Boss—Ken Ortega 

Whit—Holden Sanders 

Lennie and Candy’s Dog—TBD 

I couldn’t believe it. I’d been cast as Whit. How in the hell was I cast as Whit? I mean, come on! He had fewer lines than Candy’s dog. I almost cried right there, and then I felt really silly about crying publicly over a high school adaptation of a John Steinbeck novel. I held back my urge to sob and made my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and let a few tears escape my eyes. Sure, it was silly, but it still meant a lot to me. This would be my last fall play ever. I was eighteen years old and graduating from high school in less than nine months. I had to make the most of every day I had left. I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes. But wait! The worst part wasn’t even the fact I was cast in a role that could be performed by a mannequin—no, the worst fucking part would have to be that the lead went to Kyle Donnelly, who was a terrible actor and a total ass. His vibes were way harsh. I knew I didn’t like him, and he’d pissed off numerous members of the Troupe, but he was still an integral member (his parents donated a lot of time and money to the drama club).  

I had to calm down. This was no time for a meltdown. There was still the winter drama and spring musical. 

I exited the stall and headed to class feeling worthless. I almost considered dropping out. I swear, if I didn’t get the lead in the musical, I’d blow my brains out. I had Spanish IV first period, followed by AP Calc and AP Bio. English IV was fourth period, with the head faculty director Mr. Murray. 

I didn’t want to see him. He and the student director, Eva Porter, were the ones responsible for casting me as Whit. I’d spent the first three periods of my day hearing about how crazy it was that Kyle would be the lead. It’d been brought up numerous times in shady remarks that Kyle and Eva dating probably played a major part in him getting the role of George. I wanted to believe Eva had integrity, so I ignored the gossip. 

Mr. Murray was one of the oldest teachers in the school. He was pushing seventy, and nobody understood why he hadn’t retired yet. Kids said it was because he never got married or had children and that he wouldn’t know what to do with all that time to himself. Sometimes I thought I might end up like him, and it freaked me out. He was totally a latent homosexual. He mentioned women sometimes, but in a half-hearted way that made it seem like he was covering up something. (“Oh, that Saoirse Ronan is a beauty. If I were her age, I might be willing to settle down.”) 

But at the end of the day, I was gay—and I was sure people knew it. Most of my closest friends in the Troupe knew. I didn’t try to act all manly and stuff to hide who I was; I wasn’t that type of guy. But still, even though I was doing my best to be true to myself, I still worried about what people thought of me. Did I speak too girlishly? Did I move my hands too much when I talked? Did it ruin my chances of playing some of the great roles in theater history? 

I sat at my desk as class started, totally disinterested in what Mr. Murray was talking about until he started a class discussion. This old queen was ruthless during class discussions, going out of his way to pick on the unprepared and the distracted. He wasn’t about to catch me slipping. 

“We’ve just discussed some of the context of the poem, which now gives us an opportunity to analyze it further,” Mr. Murray said, looking from face to face of each of my classmates, deciding who he’d engage with one-on-one. “Why does this poem relate to life even today?” he asked the class as a whole. A couple of kids shrank back into the seats of their desks, some stiffened up and stared straight ahead. Mr. Murray was scanning the room, like some sort of rogue robot from the future trying to determine which life form would be most beneficial to exterminate.  

I looked at Mr. Murray, who had his sights set on Gregory Williams. He was the worst English student ever. Hell, he was probably the worst student ever. Gregory nervously flipped through his notebook, which looked packed with information. Who had written that stuff down for him? It probably wasn’t even notes for this class. He was probably one of those students who used one notebook for all seven periods.

But still, I couldn’t stand to see such a big lug in distress. I had to intercept Mr. Murray’s attack. The poem was fairly simple to understand, and hopefully my analysis would appease his bloodlust. I raised my hand quickly, trying to help, but as Mr. Murray and I made eye contact, he smiled and said, “What do you think, Gregory?” 

Gregory sat up, no longer flipping through his notebook. He looked petrified. This happened every time he got called on. I felt bad for him, but then I remembered how easy he had things. He had straight C’s because he was gigantic. He was on the football, wrestling, and water polo teams. And I meant it when I said that he was huge. At 6’4” and at least 280 pounds, teachers wanted him to be able to play so our school would win. 

I didn’t have a problem with Gregory Williams—he was so my type—but the whole “he’s a jock, pass him” thing sort of pissed me off. I worked hard to do well in school and manage extracurricular activities, why shouldn’t he? 

“I—I didn’t get it,” he said finally. He was embarrassed. “It was stupid.” 

“It was not stupid, Mr. Williams.” Mr. Murray chastised, obviously dismayed at such a lackluster response. “It was an artistic exploration of an important theme in African-American culture, which I would love for you to tell us about. Try again, perhaps discuss some of the figurative language.” 

“I—I couldn’t find any,” Greg said, his face falling. I glanced at his desk; the printout of the poem was annotated extensively. All he had to do was look at his notes! Why was he so afraid?  

“We can wait,” Mr. Murray continued, pressing him further and further. “Take your time.”  

Time began to move in reverse, I swear. Greg looked at the poem, scanning each line with his thick pointer finger, reading it soundlessly, though his mouth was moving. I couldn’t stand this abuse of power. Some of the other students in the room snickered. I didn’t consider this teaching. This was capital punishment. “Hey Greg,” I said, not one to normally speak in class myself. “Do you remember what an extended metaphor is? Mr. Murray went over it in that PowerPoint last week.” 

Yes, Mr. Murray still used PowerPoint.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mr. Murray. I could tell he was upset by the exasperated sound he’d made when I spoke without permission. I just focused on Greg, in the row to the right of me, two seats up. I watched his wide back in his plain, black t-shirt. He shifted in his seat, turning to look at me. His eyes were so desperate, and it made me feel terrible. This was probably killing him. 

He held his notebook in his hands, shaking slightly. “It’s ‘wh—when a comparison between two unlike things continues throughout a series of lines in a poem.’” He’d read it with minimal trouble, then looked up at me. 

“Yeah,” I said. “This poem is basically one of those completely. What do you think is being compared?” He turned quickly, grabbing the printout. He turned back, looking at me again. Having his attention like this was strange. He’d hardly paid me any mind before. Him looking at me like that, with his scared brown eyes. I wanted to protect him at all costs. I wanted to make sure this never happened to him again.  

I was getting ahead of myself. 

“Maybe this crystal stair is being compared to life,” he started. “The mom is talking to her son, and she’s saying that life hasn’t been no crystal stair. So life is hard, I think. And Langston Hughes is using a bunch of stair words to talk about how hard life is, especially for black people.” 

“Yeah, what words make you think that life can be hard?” I asked, pretty sure I should have shut up two questions ago. 

“It says there are splinters and boards that are torn up and—and uh, no carpets.” I could sense he was feeling more confident now. He smiled at me gently before turning forward in his seat. He looked at Mr. Murray before speaking again. “And the mom in the poem knows life is hard, and she’s letting her son know, so he never gives up. That’s how it can relate to today. All parents know stuff their kids don’t, and they’re just trying to guide us through the hard times.” 

“Quite the analysis,” Mr. Murray said, turning to the front of the room and walking towards his desk. “I’d love for you to locate another piece of figurative language Mr. Ignacio—with no assists please.” He’d finished with his torment of Greg, and class went on this way for another twenty minutes before the bell rang. Mr. Murray made sure to have droned on and on all class period. He told Greg to wait behind. I grabbed my books and went off to gym class. I was afraid I’d gotten him in trouble. He’d probably be more upset now. And what was worse was that he’d probably be upset with me for opening my mouth when I should have just minded my own business. 

I rummaged through my bag. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had forgotten my gym shorts again. What a way to start the week. I was the last guy in the locker room, and Coach White would be so angry. He told me if I were too much of a pussy to participate in gym class, the least I could do to get a decent grade was change. He’d yell at me in front of all the other guys. It was going to be awful. 

One would think the school board would frown upon a teacher calling a student a pussy, but Coach White had tenure and multiple state championships in football and basketball. He made our school look good, so there was no way he was going anywhere for harassing the feminine kid who opted out of participating in shooting hoops or serving volleyballs. 

I couldn’t help that whenever someone tried to pass me a ball my first instinct was to cover my face. It wasn’t my fault that running and dribbling at the same time was a skill that had overlooked my entire bloodline (yeah, even my dad. That’s why he stuck to baseball). I felt awful that any activity we tried, I failed miserably at it. My track record was not pretty.  

Softball—I sucked.  

Badminton—I sucked.  

Basketball—I sucked.  

Volleyball—I sucked. 

Kickball—I sucked. 

Floor Hockey—I sucked. 

I turned, my back against the cold metal of the lockers, and sank to the floor. I sat there for a few moments as I considered my options. I could hear the Jeopardy! music in my head, getting faster and faster as my time to find a solution dwindled.  

I was screwed, that was all I had.  

I’d just have to take the zero for today’s class period. I hadn’t noticed Greg changing until I stood up. I was so gay sometimes that I felt like they should create a new word for the intense levels of homosexuality I was experiencing. 

He wasn’t some fitness model, but he was incredibly handsome. I liked bigger guys, and he was a big guy. He had a gut, but it was hot. I liked looking at it, and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to make it bigger. Oh God, I was such a freak.  

He peeled that black t-shirt he’d been wearing over his head, standing there in just his baggy blue jeans. His back was to me, and what a back it was. He looked as wide as at least two-and-a-half of me. His dark skin looked smooth, and he had some faded circular scars that ran across his shoulder blades. I noticed he had some stretch marks on his love handles, but they were just as faded as the scars on his back. He undid his belt buckle and leaned forward slightly so he could pull those jeans down. The main attraction had been unveiled. He had a large butt that jutted out far behind him and massive thighs. His jeans must’ve been huge in order to camouflage those assets. He wore a pair of spandex underwear that all the athletes loved. The fabric was only a little darker than his skin, so for a moment it felt as though he was standing there in front of me completely naked. 

He tossed his regular clothes into the locker after removing his gym clothes. He closed the locker and turned around, our eyes meeting. My first instinct was to sprint out of the locker room, out of the school. I could be out of the tri-state area by dinner. I must’ve been examining his body for a good forty seconds. I could’ve looked at him like this for at least another decade. Instead of running I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t say anything. 

“You’re not changing?” he asked as he pulled on the gym shorts. My shorts looked kind of normal, but they were like something out of the seventies. The uniform had been like that for as long as I could remember. Maybe they’d ordered way too many skimpy shorts fifty years ago and we were stuck wearing outdated athletic gear. Greg looked great in the shorts though, so there were no complaints from me. They came about halfway up his thickset thighs and hugged his ass perfectly. 

“I forgot my shorts,” I said. He opened his locker again and tossed me a pair of his. 

“Wanna borrow a pair?” he asked. As conflicted as I was on Greg’s academic success, that didn’t negate the fact that he wasn’t a jerk. He was actually a really decent person. He didn’t mess with people like some of the other douchebag athletes.  

When we were working on our production of Little Shop of Horrors last spring, they buried a couple of members of our cast in soil. I was lucky to have avoided that punishment. Oh, and who could forget the time when during our production of Dracula a few of the meathead jocks pulled a Carrie and completely ruined the performance by dumping “pigs’ blood” on us during opening night. It was only melted strawberry ice cream with extra red food coloring in it, but the show still had to be cancelled. Some of those guys actually got suspended for that one, surprisingly. This was all on top of the day-to-day book checks (knocking books out of our hands, but lunch trays were a common variation) and being pushed up against lockers.  

“I know they’re gonna be a little big, but you just sit in the bleachers, right?” I fought the urge to bring his shorts up close to my face and give them a big sniff. He was still looking at me, and I was not about to be the weird gay guy going around sniffing other guys’ sweaty shorts. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” He pulled on a tight white t-shirt that showed off his large, burly arms and broad shoulders. “Thanks for your help in class,” he said, tying the shoelaces of his Nikes. “We should probably get to know each other a little better. Since I’m gonna be Larry or whatever in the play.” 

“You’re going to be Lennie?” I asked. 

“Yeah, that’s what Mr. Murray said,” he replied, sighing. He adjusted the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down slightly. “I need the extra credit he’s offering to pass his class. No football for me this year.” He left the locker room and went into the gym. 

I was too nervous to bury my face in his shorts, not wanting to be caught, so I just got changed quickly and hurried into the gym. I sat in the bleachers and watched as the more athletically inclined ran back and forth playing basketball. Damn Greg was fast for such a big guy. He was aggressive too. It was kind of scary how intense he was—but then it was hot.  

It was like a freaking mythical beast was going up for a rebound. He bumped kids around. He moved so heavily, like he was really solid and sturdy. His thighs looked ridiculously beefy, and the shorts rode up as he ran. They’d ridden up his ass, separating each cheek, highlighting the meatiness of his backside. I was glad his shorts were like a hundred times too big, because they were helping me cover up a pretty gigantic erection. The uniforms were definitely the one thing I liked about gym class.  

All of these interactions with Greg today had me feeling aroused, but on top of that they had me developing a major crush. I hated it. Nothing good could ever come from liking a straight boy, especially one that could break my face with the flick of his finger. 

I changed quickly, shoving the shorts into my bookbag. I’d wash them and return them to Greg tomorrow. At lunch, everyone was talking about Greg being in the play, and it wasn’t all good. Kyle was furious. He said he didn’t want to be in a production with such a “big, fat idiot.” I thought Kyle was a bitch, so it shouldn’t have mattered. 

We went to the school’s auditorium after classes ended to run the lines and sure enough Greg showed up, although about ten minutes late. A little after that Coach White flew into the auditorium in a rage and he and Mr. Murray got into a huge argument. They walked away from us students and continued bickering. 

Coach White was towering over little Mr. Murray, but he backed off when Mr. Murray started telling him off. They both moved animatedly, pointing and gesturing. They were just outside of the far doors, so we couldn’t actually hear what they were saying. We watched as Mr. Murray walked the length of the auditorium to where we all sat in a circle on the stage. 

“Gregory,” he said, his voice feigning calmness. “Coach White and I have worked out a schedule for you, okay?” Greg nodded. “On Mondays and Wednesdays, you can go to football practice, and when you have games on Fridays you don’t need to be here. However, during tech week and all performance days you must be in attendance, understood?” 

“Yes Coach,” he said, nervously tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Kyle scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. “I mean, sir—Mr. Murray.” 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Mr. Murray said, joining us on the stage. Gregory stood, towering over all of us as we continued to sit, and gave a slight wave goodbye before making his way down the stairs. 

“See you tomorrow!” I called, not entirely sure why I had opened my mouth. Everyone looked at me like I was deranged, but Greg turned and smiled at me. 

“Yeah,” he called, his voice deep. “Catch you later, Holden.” 

That night, I thought about Greg saying my name over and over. He said that he’d catch me later. He knew I existed, and maybe I could exist to him as more than the weird guy who was in his English class.

I was ashamed to admit it, but I smelled his shorts. I had to force myself to stop smelling them and to put them in the washing machine. They smelled so good, like sweat and laundry detergent and some sort of cologne. While they were in the washing machine, I walked to the gas station and bought a candy bar—a Twix, to be more specific. The king of chocolate candies if I were to be honest. They were my favorite. 

I made my way back home and grabbed a piece of white copy paper from the printer in the home office. I sat at the desk in my room, thinking. I had to be friendly, but not too friendly. I didn’t want him to think I was weird. I was just polite, raised properly. 

I wrote a simple message. It read: 

Hey Greg, 

Thank you for lending me a pair of your shorts. I washed them, and as a token of my appreciation, enjoy this candy bar.  

I signed it with just my first name, Holden. 

Before I went to bed, I made sure to put my gym uniform, his shorts, the letter, and the candy bar in my bag. I didn’t want to forget anything tomorrow. I felt off that night, kind of nervous. I was starting to feel like it was a bad idea to do something so formal for being lent a pair of shorts for fifty minutes. A normal guy would’ve just tossed them back to him, nodded their head, and kept it moving. He probably didn’t even remember lending them to me. It wasn’t a big deal to him, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to me. 

I still brought everything along with me, but I was conflicted about following through with the plan. I couldn’t do it in the locker room with all the other guys around. It’d be stupid to return them after gym class. Before I knew it, we were in English class, and I was walking to his desk. We had about a minute before the bell, and it was now or never. I stood next to him, and he looked at me. “What’s up, Holden?” he greeted me. 

“Hi, uh, thanks,” I replied, so inarticulately that he’d probably think I was abandoned in the woods as a child and learned to speak from the animals of the forest that raised me. I was Jackson High’s very own Nell. I placed the stack (shorts on bottom, letter in the middle, Twix on top) on his desk and returned to my own. He didn’t touch it but looked back at me as I returned to my seat. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and he smiled awkwardly, as if to say, What a fucking weirdo. 

He turned back to the stack and opened the letter. He read it, turned back to me, and gave me a thumbs up. I sighed with relief, signaling a thumbs up in return. 

He ate the Twix during class. 

The first rehearsal with Greg that afternoon went okay, but in the long run the scheduling situation proved to be much more difficult for everyone than anticipated. Greg needed more time with the whole cast to better practice his lines, so those two to three days we lost every week were definitely determinantal to our progress.  

It had been two weeks of line practice, and it was a Tuesday. 

“Gregory, it’s your line now,” Mr. Murray said, not looking up from his script. Kyle sighed and mumbled something about Greg being an idiot. Greg frowned and said he didn’t remember it. Mr. Murray tried to get us off script as soon as possible, but Greg was new to this world. It was incredibly hard to remember all our lines, even if we spent hours every night practicing. I bet he had a lot going on outside of this production that he was forced into. I wanted to say he should be able to use his script, but I didn’t want to appear meddlesome. Kyle groaned impolitely and said he needed a break. “Okay everyone, take ten.” 

I remember on the second day, parents started bringing food. It was like this every year. Early on in the productions it was small stuff, like juice boxes and potato chips, but as things got more serious there’d be pizzas and sandwiches. I thought it was adorable how excited Greg was. 

“You guys get food?” he asked me. I told him nobody ate much, so it usually got tossed out or given away to different sports teams. After that he took to eating all practice. It seemed to calm him, so I was glad there was something helping him. 

When I was cheated out of a role, I took on extra responsibilities. Usually that meant that I was in charge of wardrobe. I was to take measurements and get clothes from thrift stores and costume shops using a portion of the money allotted to the drama club. 

So today I was doing my second job and it was Greg’s turn and we went into the gigantic prop closet, and I started measuring him. He was wearing his freaking football sweats and they were grabbing onto his thighs and butt, and I was getting a major erection. 

“You can do everything,” he said, and it didn’t come across as sarcastic in a way that some others would say it. “A poet, an actor, and a tailor.” 

I laughed, flattered that he thought I was capable of tailoring clothing. “I’m no tailor,” I said from behind him. I knelt down to measure the size of his thighs, my eyes level with his ass. I looked longingly at his underwear, the sweats sagging down slightly from the weight of his cellphone and wallet in his pockets. “I only send the measurements to a costume shop or try to find pieces at the thrift store.” He was wearing these blue spandex boxer briefs and it was killing me. He was actually an inch taller than I thought, standing at 6’5”. 

I measured around his stomach next, followed by his waist. I placed a little stool in front of him and stood on it. It made me nearly as tall as he was. I had to measure his neck, and I swung the tape measurer over his head. “It’s nice to see you at eye level,” he said, laughing. “Short Stuff.” 

I tried my hardest to focus on the task at hand, bringing the tape measurer taught around his thick neck. He was so handsome. His skin was darker than mine. If I was the dough of a cookie, he was a chocolate chip. He had large lips and white teeth that were kind of large. I noticed he rarely smiled showing them all, but he’d recently been smiling at me in the hallways or at the end of rehearsals. It gave me butterflies thinking about how seeing me could elicit a smile from him. He had short hair and deep waves. I could see him brushing his hair and putting his durag on before bed every night. His nose was cute, kind of wide, but not so big that it took over his face. 

“I’m Short Stuff?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. I removed the tape measurer, stepping down off of my stool. He crouched down, spreading his legs and bending his knees. “How’s the weather down here?”  

“Very funny, Gregory.” 

“Ooo, using the whole name,” he said, standing up straight. “I’m in trouble. Why not throw in the ‘Deshawn Williams’ for the full effect?” 

“I’ll remember that for the next time.” 

“I wouldn’t want that,” he said. “I never wanna make you mad at me. I like you too much.” He smiled, and then I smiled. It was nice but filled with so much one-sided lust that it was almost sad. Kyle entered the prop closest, attitude set to eleven. 

“How long does it take to measure one person Holden?” He took in Greg and stifled a laugh. “Oh, never mind. I imagine it can take quite a while, actually.” Greg tugged at the hem of his shirt, his face falling.  

“I’ll talk to you later, Short Stuff,” he said. “Thanks for the measurements.” He went back over to the parent-supplied snack table. I saw him grab a Ho Ho and open it embarrassedly, shoving it into his mouth. 

He could have picked Kyle up and snapped him in half, Bane-style. I wouldn’t have said anything, and when authorities asked what happened, I’d say, with tears in my eyes, “He slipped, Officer. What a freak accident, truly.” 

“This is going to be a disaster,” Kyle said. I had the measuring tape around his neck now, trying to get through these measurements as quickly as possible. “I wouldn’t have wanted the lead if I knew I’d be working with such an absolute idiot.” I considered choking him. 

I was moving as fast as I could, but he continued to bad mouth Greg. It was really upsetting me. I didn’t know if it was because Greg wasn’t around to defend himself, or because I had such a major crush on him, but Kyle was pushing me to my limit. He had totally killed any signs of an erection, which I guess was good because I wouldn’t want people knowing I was some pervert getting erections while taking measurements. 

“Eva is devastated. Her first time as student director and this is what she has to deal with.” 

“Kyle, you aren’t as talented as you think you are, so you need to shut the fuck up.” He laughed casually and walked towards the door. I wasn’t even finished taking his measurements. He always had to do the most. 

“Who got the lead?” he asked rhetorically. He left the room, walking towards where Eva and Mr. Murray were helping the stage designers with a backdrop. I felt my face go hot and sat down. This was not how I imagined this year to be. I knew it would never be perfect; I didn’t set unrealistic expectations, not wanting to be let down, but I never thought things could suck this much. I had my eighteenth birthday a week before the school year started and I had spent a portion of my summer in theater camp in New York City. This was supposed to be my year. 

“‘Who got the lead?’” I mimicked in my best Kyle-voice. I pulled the tape measurer as taut as I could, struggling for a moment before giving up the effort. My mom would say not to let someone like Kyle get under my skin, and she’d be entirely correct, but I wasn’t as patient as my mother. I wanted to take action and kick him in the throat. 

We started rehearsing lines again after I finished measuring the last cast member. Obviously, I was sick and tired of Kyle, who continued to harass Greg. I knew this was going to sound totally lame and cliché, but the Troupe was like a family, so when he bad-mouthed Greg, it was like he was harassing his own family. 

“Uh, George—I did—didn’t me—mean nothing by it, honest.” 

“Oh my God!” Kyle howled. “Learn your fucking lines and stop stuttering.” I noticed Greg close his eyes—his head bowed, his fists clenched. Would this be the moment I’d been waiting for my entire life? Would one blow from the mighty Gregory Deshawn Williams finally be what vanquished the foul Kyle ‘Bitch Boy’ Donnelly? To add insult to injury, Kyle kept going. With enough weight I thought I could see the words travel across the circle, Kyle said, “All you’re good at is eating. Do you even know how to read? You fat fuck.” 

This felt more intense than ever. I could feel Greg’s energy from across the circle. He stood up, and everyone’s eyes followed him. He didn’t walk towards Kyle. He left the stage and then exited the auditorium. Kyle was too bad of an actor to be such a goddamn diva. 

Mr. Murray was saying something to Kyle that likely wouldn’t stop his bullying. Everyone else on stage began to murmur amongst themselves. Wasn’t anyone going to see if Greg was okay? Mr. Murray and Eva were in charge of this production, so they should have been doing everything to make sure every actor was being treated fairly. Nobody was moving. Didn’t anyone care if he was okay? I couldn’t take it. I’d check on him and try to get him to come back. I jogged out to the parking lot, looking for Greg. He wasn’t very hard to find.  

I saw him over by his truck and went up to him. It was an old Ford F-150. It was green, and it really suited Greg. “Hey, Greg,” I started, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Leave me alone,” he barked. 

I hated to see him like this. He never did anything to anybody. He was one of the gentlest, nicest guys I’d ever met. “Greg, it’ll be okay,” I said, grabbing at his arm, trying to get him to open up to me. 

“I said go the fuck away,” he roared, his voice deep and surprisingly angry, vibrating in my chest. He brought the weight of his large arm down into my face. It wasn’t even his elbow, but his upper arm. It was solid, very solid, and I’d hoped to feel it, but not in this way. I fell back onto the gravel. I noticed red droplets on my shirt before I felt the fountain that was my nose overflowing.  

I was bleeding, but thankfully it didn’t hurt that badly. I thought he liked me. I thought we were friends. He turned around and I noticed he was crying. He was crying. “I—I’m so sorry,” he said as he wiped his eyes on his forearm. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. Holden, are you okay? I’m sorry.” I stood up, holding my nose, trying to stop the bleeding. 

“It—it’s fine.” He walked towards me, and I instinctually took a step back. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I knew he didn’t mean to hit me, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know what else to do, so I smiled, trying to let him know I was okay.  

“Oh God,” he said, reaching for me again. I suddenly realized that had been a terrible idea. The blood spilled over my top lip, covering my teeth. It probably made me look like I was in a worse condition than I actually was.  

“I think I’ll just go back inside.” I ran back towards the building, blood dripping onto my shirt. He started kicking his truck angrily. 

I’d gone straight to the bathroom to clean myself up, and when I arrived back in the auditorium everyone was still waiting for Greg to return. He didn’t come back inside, so after thirty minutes Mr. Murray dismissed us for the day.  

I still couldn’t believe he’d hit me in the face with his freaking Hulk-strength and I was alive to remember it. If he could do this to me without even trying, I could only imagine the damage he could do on purpose. 

I didn’t know if we were avoiding one another or not, but I didn’t talk to Greg again the next day until lunch. The incident hadn’t left me with any swelling or bruising, so that was something to be positive about. I sat at a small table near the trash cans. I was sitting alone because I needed some solitude. Kyle was talking about how stupid Greg was and it pissed me off. I just couldn’t take it anymore, and my retaliations never seemed to faze him. Nobody else ever tried to call him out either, which only added to my aggravation.  

I swirled a spoon around in my cup of yogurt and granola disinterestedly. I hadn’t started on my turkey sandwich or potato chips yet, and I wasn’t feeling very hungry. “I’m sorry again,” Greg said, looking down at me. I hadn’t noticed him come up, which really showed how out of it I was. He was damn near impossible to miss. He looked at me so seriously. It was making me uncomfortable. “I didn’t try to—to hit you in the face like that. I don’t like hitting people. I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of person.” 

“I’m fine,” I said. “Apology accepted. And I definitely don’t think poorly of you.” He smiled uneasily.  

“Can I sit with you?” he asked. I looked at him. He was so freaking handsome. His eyebrows were thick and had a natural arch to them that made him appear somewhat angry. He had that look from shaving, like someone who had to shave on the regular. Not like me, I only had to shave once every two weeks. I’d heard he was a year older than everyone, but I didn’t know for sure. I went to a different middle school, so I didn’t know much about Greg before high school. 

“Yes, of course,” I replied. He smiled again, this time more comfortably, and sat down. He had one of those lunch bags that could be carried around every day. His was bigger than they usually were, and it was green. Maybe green was his favorite color. He had a bunch of food in there—three sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, a water, a juice, cookies, two bananas, and an apple. “You feeling better than you did yesterday?” I asked.  

“I feel lame as fuck,” he said. “You probably think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“A big guy like you crying is definitely out of the ordinary.” 

“You probably think I’m a pussy,” he said, shifting his gaze from me. He looked down at his massive spread, grabbing one of his sandwiches. 

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I cry much more often than I’d like to admit.” 

“Really?” he asked, looking up at me sheepishly. 

“Yes, really.” I started stirring my yogurt again, nervous at the thought of talking about these things with him. I wanted him to like me, not pity me. Hell, he might even think I deserved the things that made me sob. “I’ll share three things.” 

“Okay,” he said, smiling timidly. 

“One, The Princess and the Frog.” 

“The Disney movie?” 

“We got a black princess, and she was so hard working.” I could feel myself tearing up, only at the thought of the film. “She achieved her dreams. I want that.” 

“Aww,” he said, laughing. “We’ve got to watch that together sometime. Just so I can see the waterworks.” 

“Never.” 

He laughed again, harder this time. He took another large bite of his sandwich, speaking with his mouth slightly full, he said, “What else?” 

“Two, just three weeks ago when the cast list was posted for the play. I had to lock myself in a bathroom stall so I could cry. I was so disappointed.” 

“You didn’t get the part you wanted?” he asked, frowning. 

“I auditioned for George,” I said, finally eating a spoonful of my yogurt. “But you know how that turned out.” 

“Sorry Holden.” 

“It’s fine, honestly. I’ve accepted it.” We sat in silence for a little while after that. He powered through his lunch, and I watched him, impressed. Sexuality was such a fucked-up thing. What had occurred in my life that made me this way? He was eating his potato chips and it felt like things were moving in slow motion. He chewed, putting more chips in his mouth at one time than anyone I knew would. The oil from the chips left a glossy sheen on his full lips and I wanted to kiss them, to taste their saltiness. 

“You never told me the third thing,” he said finally. I jumped slightly, like a total dork. I had to stop staring at him.

“Oh, well, uh—last year, in October, we were getting things ready for the fall play. I—I was one of the last people still here, and when I finally left it was just me and one other girl. We waited for her mom to pick her up and after she’d gone, I went to the parking lot. My mom had let me drive her car to school that day, so I was feeling pretty good.” He was looking at me so intensely. I was regretting choosing something so serious for this, but I wanted him to know I wasn’t messing around about crying being okay. “I guess football practice got out later than usual, but a couple of those guys were in the parking lot.” His jaw tensed, and he stopped eating his lunch. All he had left were the bananas. “Long story short,” I said, trying to get through this as quickly as possible. “They pushed me around a bit, calling me names and stuff. I cried on the entire drive home.” 

“Who was it?” he asked angrily. My intention wasn’t to get him riled up. I didn’t think he’d even care this much to be honest. It was a couple of guys who graduated and one or two of the guys still on the team, but I wasn’t going to get Greg involved in something that didn’t matter anymore. Did I still think about them calling me a faggot over and over? Yes, absolutely, but I had been a convenient target. Normally they left me alone because I faded into the background, but that day I’d been the only drama-geek in the line of fire. 

“Yeah, no,” I said. “This isn’t what this conversation is about. We were just being open about our feelings. I’m not looking for retribution.” He angrily peeled open one of his bananas. He didn’t get this upset over Kyle taunting him, so this reaction was entirely unexpected. “So, what about you? Was it what Kyle said that made you feel so upset yesterday?” 

He looked at me and I realized I had been much more direct than I’d intended to be. He finished his first banana, sitting up straight. His belly looked satiated, but I bet he could’ve eaten way more. “I don’t like when people call me stupid,” he said. “I know I’m not smart, but I hate when people call me stupid.” 

“You’re definitely not stupid,” I said. 

“Sometimes I think I am,” he said. “I don’t try to stutter either, but when I’m nervous it just happens. I didn’t even want to do this, but I need the extra credit. I study so hard, but I still barely pass.” He studied? I felt guilt in the pit of my stomach. I had made unfair assumptions about him. I just thought teachers passed him. I had no idea he actually took his education seriously. “You’re really smart Holden. I wish I was smart like you.” 

“You just need help,” I said. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my classes too.” He ate his second banana in three bites. I was so hard that it was distracting. I was confused. We’d covered so much ground in one lunch period. I’d experienced such an array of emotions that I was sure we’d be bonded together forever. 

“I’m—I’m a year older than everyone,” he whispered, looking down. “It’s because I’m dumb. Who has to repeat the sixth grade?” 

“No,” I said gently, wanting to come across as sincere. “I don’t think you should feel that way at all. You just have to keep doing your best and trying to improve. School can be really hard and you’re still hanging in there! Besides, I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade—.” I had started rambling. I was officially embarrassed. I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade? I’d actually said that to him. 

“I’m glad we’re in the same grade too,” he said, looking at me kindly. He wasn’t smiling at me with his mouth, but with his eyes. Tyra Banks would be proud. Things were silent for a minute or two after that before he spoke again. “Man, I hate Kyle,” he said. 

“Ugh, me too,” I said, sounding too much like Cher Horowitz in Clueless for my liking, but it had already been said. “He is a total bitch.” Greg looked over at me and laughed. 

“Yeah, he’s a total bitch.” I could feel my face get hot. I’d been more honest with him than with a lot of my friends in the Troupe. He wasn’t making fun of me, thankfully, but I tended to say a lot of stuff I didn’t mean to actually say. That was why I preferred not talking. That was why I preferred acting, because I had pre-written lines. I got to play a role, and I didn’t have to be myself, because when I was myself, I felt like a freak. 

Lunch was almost over, and I’d forgotten to give him something from my bag. I leaned over, grabbing my bookbag and setting it on the seat next to me. I opened the front pocket and pulled out a king-sized package of Twix bars. “I meant to give these to you,” I said, sliding the candy towards him. “Chocolate always makes me feel better.” He laughed, and it was low and deep. I felt like I’d made some sort of faux pas. “I guess it was kind of silly.” 

“No,” he said, smiling at me kindly. “I fucking punch you in the nose and you bring me chocolate. You’re not like a regular guy. I’m glad I’ve got a friend like you, Holden.” He opened the package and handed me one. We sat together, me eating one of the Twix bars, he the other three, until the bell rang. 

After that, he started eating lunch with me every day. I was ecstatic about this development in our relationship. It was nice spending more intimate time with him, and less time at the Troupe’s lunch table with Kyle the Unbearable. 

I was enjoying gym class even more too, and Coach White’s attitude didn’t detract from it one bit. Greg seemed to be filling out his shorts even more, and I knew it had to be from the snack table at rehearsals and the fact he practiced two times less a week. 

We had been playing floor hockey recently. Watching our classmates jump out of Greg’s way or bounce off of his solid body was the highlight of my day. He didn’t try to knock people over, but I mean, if they were running full speed into a brick wall, they couldn’t expect to stay standing. 

“It’s getting hard to manage everything,” he confided in me one day during our lunch sessions. “It takes me so long to practice the lines at home, I don’t finish my homework until almost one in the morning.” 

“You do have a lot going on,” I said, wanting to help him in any way that I could. “Do you want to run lines together? And we could study too if you want?” 

“Do you have the time to help me?” he asked, smiling shyly. “I don’t want you to get stressed out because you have to help my dumb ass.” 

“I’ll help you,” I said. “But under one condition.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You aren’t allowed to talk bad about yourself. You aren’t dumb Greg, so I don’t want to hear you say that you are. Didn’t you tell me you hated when people call you stupid, so why is it you can do it to yourself?” 

“I—I don’t know. I guess I just feel like maybe I am. I’m sorry.” 

“So, we’ve got a deal?” I asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “Coach Sanders.” We both laughed at that and continued eating our lunches. 

The next day I waited for him to get out of practice. He said we could study at his place and that he’d give me a ride home after. The thought of being in his bedroom was enough to have my stomach in knots the entire day. He came and found me in the auditorium after he was finished, and we walked out to his truck. 

“How were rehearsals today?” he asked. 

“They were fine. Kyle was just as obnoxious as usual.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that today.” Walking next to him sure was something. I knew I wasn’t the tallest guy, but he made me feel microscopic. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He had a duffel bag and his regular bookbag. “Thanks again for coming to help me out.” 

“I’m happy to,” I said. “It’s good practice for me too.” 

“But don’t you only have like fifteen lines?” he asked. I knew he was genuinely asking and not trying to be mean. 

“Throwing shade,” I said jokingly. “You’ve been around Kyle too much.” 

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I just meant—it must not be—I wasn’t trying to be a dick.” 

“I was just messing around,” I said, in disbelief of how cute he was. “I got my lines down in the first week. And it’s even sadder than just having fifteen lines. I have twelve.” 

“I wish we could trade.” 

“Don’t say that. You’re going to kill it.” We started walking towards his truck again. It was almost six o’clock. I told my parents I probably wouldn’t be back until around ten. “With my help you might even be nominated for a Tony.” 

“What’s a Tony?” 

We had a lot to go over during the car ride to his house. 

The conversation in Greg’s truck didn’t make me feel awkward or nervous and it never felt like he was judging me or what I had to say. I was so at ease around Greg. When we pulled up outside of his place, I was kind of sad. I could’ve ridden around in his truck talking to him all night.  

Greg’s house wasn’t the largest; it was built in the bungalow style. The whole thing was one floor. His room was towards the rear of the house, through the living room and kitchen. Ms. Williams was busy in the kitchen when we arrived, unpacking loads of grocery bags. She was about 5’1” and large. She had the Mary J. Blige cut circa 2009 and wore navy blue scrubs. 

“Greg,” she said, looking at me excitedly. “Is this your friend Holden?” 

“It’s nice to meet you Ms. Williams,” I said. “My name is Holden Sanders. Thanks for having me.”  

“Greg, he’s so polite! And handsome too!” I laughed. I was really flattered. I thanked her for the compliment. “He mentioned you’d be coming over tonight. Are you staying for dinner?” she asked. 

“Only if you wanna stay,” Greg added. He was so fucking cute. If I got to be around him, of course I’d stay for dinner. “It’s nacho night.” 

“Sounds great,” I said, smiling. Ms. Williams then complimented my smile. She was gassing me up. I needed a hype-woman like her in my life. 

We went to Greg’s room after that, and he asked if I’d be okay while he went to take a quick shower. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. 

He pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it in a pile near the opening of his closet. I held my breath in anticipation of how much he’d take off in front of me. I should have looked the other way, but I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. He kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks, adding them to the pile before slipping on a pair of Nike slides. 

He grabbed some items from his dresser and walked over towards his door. He turned back towards me, and I took him in again. He filled the door frame with how broad he was. Greg was at home and still seemed too big to be entirely comfortable. I wondered what showering was like for him. I hoped they had a detachable shower head so he wouldn’t have to struggle rinsing himself off. What I wouldn’t give to be in that shower with him.  

“I’ll be back,” he said, walking away.  

No longer entranced by Greg’s gorgeousness, I was able to take in his bedroom. There wasn’t much in terms of interior design, but he had his huge bed, a desk setup, a TV with a gaming system, and lots of different sneakers in their original boxes. He was such a guy. 

A few minutes went by before there was a knock at Greg’s door.  

“Um, come in!” I called. Ms. Williams entered.  

“Do you need anything?” she asked. “Dinner won’t be ready until around seven-thirty.” 

“I’m all good,” I replied. “Thank you for being so nice.” 

“Oh, of course baby!” she said cheerily. “I am just so excited to meet one of Greg’s friends from school. I was worried he didn’t have any. He never brings anyone by to hang out.” 

“I’m sure he has lots of friends on the team,” I offered. 

“Maybe,” she said. “But he’s always been such a sensitive boy. I don’t think those boys really understand that.” She came further into the room. She seemed like she really had something to share with me, like this was confession in church, and I was the priest. “He was born premature, and I was terrified I was going to lose him. His dad was never the best and even when Greg was in the NICU fighting for his life, he rarely visited.” 

“That’s awful,” I said, knowing my emotions were showing on my face. I could feel a huge frown fixed on my mouth. 

“He never understood Greg. He was a terrible man.” She came closer, sitting on the bed next to me. I’d barely said two words to the parents of my other friends in the Troupe and I’d known most of them for over three years. Now here I was with Greg’s mom having a whole therapy session. 

“Greg must not like him very much.” 

“He was very hard on him.” She paused, like there was more to be said, but not like it could be shared at this moment. “I don’t think he could like his dad after how he was treated by him.” 

We sat together in the silence before she chuckled under her breath. She looked over at me, smiling wide. She and Greg had the same megawatt smile. 

“When Greg was a little boy, he loved Clifford the Big Red Dog. The boy was obsessed! He had all the books and the pajamas and the bedspreads. I think because he loved it so much, it’s the reason he grew as big as he is now. He was copying that damn dog!” She laughed loudly, playfully patting me on the shoulder. I laughed too, thinking about Greg not being absolutely gigantic. 

“I don’t think Greg would ever tell me any of this,” I said, still laughing. 

“Oh, he’s going to be a little Mr. Grumpypants when he finds out I’ve been in here talking to you.” She sighed. “I’m just so happy he’s becoming close to someone. His dad really instilled some negative things in him about his self-image. We got divorced when Greg was starting middle school.” 

“He hasn’t really told me about it,” I said. “Maybe one day he will.” 

“I think he might,” she said. “You’re all he ever talks about. ‘Holden is so smart, mom. Holden said I need to watch Dreamgirls. Do you think Holden would want to come play video games? Holden this and Holden that.’ It warms my heart, honestly.” 

“I didn’t know he thought of me as such a good friend.” I smiled at her. “I’m glad though. Greg’s really cool.” 

That’s when Greg came back to his room, stopping in the doorway when he saw his mom on the bed next to me. He groaned loudly. I could tell he was embarrassed. “Mom, please leave him alone. He’s gonna think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“If your friends can’t talk to your mom, they shouldn’t be your friends.” She stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’m going to go finish slaving over your dinner. Bye Holden-sweetheart.” 

After she left it was just Greg and I in his bedroom. He didn’t say much for a while, and I think he was actually really embarrassed by his mom having been talking to me. He was wearing another pair of sweats now; they were black Adidas sweats with the white stripes up the side. They weren’t as baggy either, so I was able to see a better outline of his legs and butt. He also wore a simple gray t-shirt. 

“Your mom is so nice,” I said, trying to alleviate some of the awkward tension. 

“She told you the Clifford story, didn’t she?” he asked, certain his mom had gone into detail about his love of the big red dog. 

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I said, feigning seriousness. “I know about the Clifford story. I would like to confess my obsession with Cyberchase.” 

He laughed. I laughed. We laughed together and things began to feel less uncomfortable. 

We got started running lines after that. We stood in the middle of his bedroom, both holding copies of the script. I didn’t need a copy. I’d committed the entire thing to memory, but it was important I was able to help Greg if he made a mistake. He played his one role, and I played all the other characters. He thought it was funny that I had different voices for everyone. His favorite would have to be when I did Curley’s Wife. He relaxed a lot when I did that one. He also thought it was amazing I had memorized everyone’s lines along with mine. I had a crazy good memory when it came to scripts, but a month after the show I wouldn’t even remember half of these lines. Hell, maybe it should have been a two man show. 

He was fantastic when he was at ease. He had great comedic timing and he knew exactly when to play up the serious scenes. We’d gotten through a majority of the script when his mom called us for dinner. 

We ate and talked. After dinner we worked on homework and did a bit of studying. He took me home before it got too late. That had been one of the best nights I’d had in a long time. 

We kept up our mini rehearsals every other day for about a month and everyone was amazed at how well he was doing when we got together after school. I was proud of him, and it made me feel good to know I was the reason he was improving. It felt good to know that he was my friend, even if I was still incredibly attracted to him. 

The play was a week away, meaning we’d entered tech week, so Greg was officially done with football until after Thanksgiving. At that point they’d be in the playoffs.  

I’d bought everyone costumes and I liked to think that I did a fantastic job. Everyone tried on their stuff last month when I first bought the clothes. Nobody had gotten any bigger or taller, so I was sure everything would fit. 

Well, almost nobody had gotten bigger. 

“Holden,” I heard Greg call. I walked over to the door his head was peering out of. It was the small bathroom behind the stage. He stepped back to allow me to enter and closed the door. “My costume, uh, it—it doesn’t fit anymore,” he said. He was right. It didn’t fit. The hooks of the overalls wouldn’t even meet the front part. His belly was too big. His thighs filled out the overalls completely. They were the biggest thighs I had ever seen and all I could think about was my head in between them with his dick in my mouth. “I ripped out the back too.” He turned around and I saw a very large rip down his meaty backside.  

“Well, I could—.” I was thinking. I had no idea what I could do, not in this very moment at least. “Just wear your regular clothes and tell him you can’t find your costume. Take it off and give it here,” I said. He pulled off the denim fabric and I almost passed out from how quickly my penis stiffened. 

Those big beefy legs—oh God. I couldn’t help but imagine them bucking behind me. He unbuttoned his plaid shirt as well. He was standing in front of me wearing nothing but his underwear. He pulled on his jeans and put on his sweatshirt. 

“Thanks for not laughing,” he said as he walked by me to leave the bathroom. I was so enamored that I hadn’t covered my crotch. I prayed he didn’t feel my erection as he walked by me. If he did, he didn’t say anything. 

I measured him again later and when I went to hunt down some more overalls, I went up a size larger than I thought we’d need. They were huge, but hell, I thought the last pair of overalls were enormous. I saw him the next day and told him that I had bought him a new outfit and he thanked me again. 

It made sense why he needed a new costume. I was pretty sure Greg was a nervous eater. But then again, I noticed he also ate a lot when we rehearsed at his house, and he didn’t seem nervous at all then. Maybe he just ate a lot, and he didn’t need a reason besides liking food. I liked that he liked food. It just made him all the more attractive to me. 

The football team did not like Greg missing two weeks of games. They’d gone into overdrive in regard to fucking with us drama-geeks. I noticed they didn’t really mess with me though. I think it was because I was always around Greg now. I heard a rumor that they planned on convincing everyone not to come and see the play. I hoped that wasn’t true. 

So things kept moving forward. Sets were built, costumes were finalized, mics were assigned, and blocking was underway. The play was in three days, and we stayed and ran through the entire thing twice every day.  

I could tell the fact that things became more fast-paced had started to get to Greg. I knew he liked to eat, and it was really cute how much he enjoyed all the cast food, but every spare moment he was munching on something. He’d even ended up on stage with food in his mouth a few times. The new overalls were holding up okay though. I wanted to ask him how much he weighed. I really wanted to know. 

“Hey, how much do you have to weigh for wrestling?” I asked one day at lunch. I figured he was going to wrestle once the play was over. I saw it once and it looked hard, but he looked amazing in the singlet. It was like the gym uniform, only better. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna wrestle this year,” he said, sounding really self-conscious. “I barely qualified for the highest weight class last year—and that’s 285 pounds.” He placed his large hand on his even larger belly as he munched on some potato chips. “I’ve gained a lot of weight recently.” Oh, and I’d noticed. “I’m probably up 60 pounds from last winter.” 

When he said that, I—of course—got an erection. I was a freaking sex fiend or something. I needed to calm down. 

“Cool,” I said. Cool? What was so cool about it? I didn’t want to say anything stupid, and I ended up saying the absolute dumbest thing in the world. He just laughed and kept eating. 

“I’m way more invested in football,” he said, still eating. “I’ve got college scouts coming to see me play in the playoffs. I just wish I’d been practicing more with the team.” 

“I’m sorry Greg,” I said. Mr. Murray and his determination to get us a Lennie could have fucked with Greg’s collegiate dreams. Football was his future, not acting. It was way more important than Of Mice and Men. 

“I’m not,” he said seriously. We were alone at our table. I’d grown accustomed to us living within our own bubble. Just me and him. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ll be doing another play, but I’m getting B’s in all my classes and I’m getting to spend time with you. You’ve helped me do stuff I never thought possible. It makes me think that maybe college won’t be so bad. I figured the only way I’d make it through was because I was gonna be playing ball, but maybe—maybe I’m smart enough too.” 

“It sucks to think we just got to know each other this year,” I said. “You’re one incredible person Gregory Deshawn Williams.” 

“I thought it’d be scary having you say my full name, but I like it when you say it.” He looked down at the food he had left, selecting his next delectable morsel. “It’s cute.” 

I just laughed. I didn’t know what else to do. His mom had said he was sensitive, not gay. Greg was probably just a guy that didn’t embrace toxic masculinity. Him saying that I was cute didn’t mean what I wanted it to mean. I didn’t want to harm this friendship. I’d rather have Greg as a friend than not at all. 

Opening night caused the most anxiety ever, for anyone. I put on my jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots backstage before putting on a light layer of stage makeup. I did Greg’s face too, but his was even lighter. He was sweating so much I didn’t want his face to look runny. 

“Calm down,” I said. “Your energy can throw off the entire show.” His eyes widened and I knew I’d chosen the wrong way to phrase that. Theater people were a little blunter than I think he could handle. “Greg, you’re going to do great. Just imagine it’s me and you up there.” He stopped fidgeting after that, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m so nervous I haven’t eaten since lunchtime,” he said. That was all I needed to hear. If Greg had skipped dinner, he must have been terrified of going up there. 

“We’ll eat a whole bunch after the show,” I promised.  

“My mom’s here,” he said. “She said that she was glad I was doing something more intellectually stimulating.” He sighed. “She probably thinks I’m stupid too.” 

“She doesn’t,” I said, quickly defending Ms. Williams, my number one fan. “You’re not stupid. You’ve never been stupid. And you know your mom would kill you if she heard you talking like this.” I knew he needed more support. This was his very first show ever! I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I could feel his warm hand on my back as he hugged me in return. We stopped embracing one another and he smiled at me. He could do this. I knew he could. The opening music started, and Kyle took his place next to Greg, rudely bumping me out of the way in the process. “Break a leg,” I whispered as he walked on stage. 

The show moved along, and I went out four times to deliver lines. I was only in two scenes with Greg, but I made sure to give him a discrete thumbs up. He nodded slightly and smiled. He did really well. I was definitely a Greg stan, but he killed it out there on stage! He remembered all of his lines, he made all of his position marks, and got a ton of laughs. I was so happy. Kyle flubbed twice, and I reveled in his mediocrity. 

Afterwards, Greg and I found Ms. Williams. She told me I did a fantastic job and that I was very handsome on stage. I noticed she nudged Greg in the side slightly when she said that I was handsome. “You are going to be the next Michael B. Jordan,” she said. “When you’re famous don’t forget about me!” 

She turned to Greg, tears in her eyes, and hugged him. She was so proud of him, and it showed. It was making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He’d worked so hard, and it was paying off. “You liked the show?” he asked. 

“I loved the show,” she said. “I loved seeing you up there.” 

My mom and dad and brothers were here too. They made their way over to where I stood with Greg and his mother. My family met Ms. Williams and they chatted for what felt like hours. While our parents talked, the twins joked around with Greg about how big he was. My brothers, Charlie and Sammie, were ten. 

“You could be in WWE,” Charlie said. 

“It’d be so cool,” Sammie added. “You could probably lift both of us at the same time!” 

“Yeah!” Charlie added enthusiastically. “Holden never plays WWE with us.” 

“Well, if I was on a team with Greg I’d play,” I said. “You guys kick my butt when it’s two-on-one.” That started an argument between them. They both wanted to partner up with Greg and they were debating who’d be stuck with me. Greg just laughed and laughed. I was worried he’d be annoyed by my kid brothers, but he was handling them really well. 

Standing in a cluster, Greg towered over all of us. My mom was 5’2” and my dad was the same height as me. The twins were still growing, but I doubted they’d grow much taller than me or my dad. And Ms. Williams was tiny as well. He was truly a giant amongst men. 

Everyone talked a little while longer, but the auditorium began to clear out aside from Mr. Murray and the rest of the cast and crew. We cleaned off all the makeup and changed clothes. We gathered in a circle for post-show notes. It was just observations that Mr. Murray and Eva noted during the performance that could be improved upon in the next show. Greg was the only one who didn’t have something to improve on. It killed Kyle, who’d been reprimanded over his missed lines and incorrect positioning on the stage.  

Unfortunately, the cast party was going to be at Kyle’s house. I wanted to go because opening night deserved to be celebrated, but I was likely just going to head home. I was sure the Troupe would be upset if I didn’t go, but Kyle’s attitude was going to be a lot to deal with. I was the only one who ever called him out and that meant I was the one he was going to take his aggression out on. 

“Are we going to the cast party?” Greg asked once we made our way to the parking lot. He’d told my parents he’d give me a ride home. I wondered if he actually wanted to go or if he was suggesting we go because he thought it was what I wanted. 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Only if you don’t mind going. We don’t have to stay long.” It was about nine forty-five and really nice for November. I sat in the passenger’s seat, and we drove to Kyle’s house. It was an older house and really big. It looked kind of haunted. 

We saw Jane, who played Curley’s Wife, and we all went inside together. There were thirty people involved with the production and they were all here. Greg and I talked about the performance, sitting at a table alone just like at lunchtime. A bunch of the Troupe were drinking and smoking and making out. Drama-geeks were just as debaucherous as all other high school cliques. 

He said that he was so nervous at first, he thought he was going to throw up. “You can just feel the audience when you’re up there,” he said. “It’s almost like we’re animals in a zoo.” I laughed.  

He was munching on those little sandwiches they have at parties. He must’ve eaten half of one of those huge trays by himself. “Hey, quit eating all the goddamn food,” Kyle said, walking over to where we sat away from everyone. He’d been so loud that nearly all the partygoers looked over at us now. My face was so hot it felt like someone had a spotlight on me. “I mean, I doubt you had to gain any weight for this role, idiot.” Greg stopped eating. 

“And you, I bet you loved when I messed up, didn’t you?” Oh my God. I was so mad. He wanted to start some shit? It was one thing to fuck with me, but to constantly belittle Greg? I had been waiting to go off completely on Kyle for weeks. 

“I did,” I said honestly. “I told you that you couldn’t act.”  

“You’re fucking Whit, Holden. You aren’t Broadway material.” 

“Neither are you!” I could feel my voice becoming shrill, but I had adrenaline pumping through my system and I wasn’t going to stop. “You spent months talking mad shit about Greg and he stole the whole fucking show. You should be thanking him for making you look halfway decent.” 

He glared at me for a moment before slapping a cup full of soda into my lap. What a bitch move. 

“How’s that feel? Figured you could use a drink from how thirsty you are for Lennie.” I was mortified. He didn’t have to say that. I couldn’t even bring myself to look in Greg’s direction. 

“You’re a real bitch, you know that right?” I asked rhetorically, standing. He shoved me hard and I stumbled back into my chair, banging my head against the wall of his basement. 

Greg stood up and grabbed Kyle by the collar of his shirt. I could see he wanted to knock Kyle’s teeth to the back of his throat, but he was able to restrain himself. He shook Kyle violently. “Say you’re sorry,” Greg boomed. 

“No way,” Kyle said, being very bold for someone who could potentially meet Jesus in the next thirty seconds. 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Greg barked, pushing Kyle so hard he fell on his ass. “You either apologize to Holden or I’ll bash your fucking face in.” I was living! I wanted nothing more than for Kyle to reap what he had sewn for weeks. I looked over at Greg and I could tell he was having a hard time; he didn’t want to do this, be the type of guy to hurt someone else. That really put a damper on how Kyle was getting his just desserts. Greg was breathing really heavily, and I knew that if he started in on Kyle nobody would be able to stop him. 

“Fuck him,” I said, standing again. “I don’t need his apology. Let’s just get out of here.” 

Greg looked over at me, still breathing heavily. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was starting to soften again. After a few more seconds, he just walked away. He left the house and I followed. Even his exit was totally badass. 

I caught up to Greg as he left the house. He wasn’t nearly as angry as he’d been a few seconds ago, but I could still feel rage radiating off of him. I appreciated him standing up for me even though he preferred avoiding confrontations.  

I wished my jeans weren’t so tight. They weren’t skinny jeans per se, but they weren’t as loose as some guys liked. The wet spot on my crotch had soaked through into my underwear. I hated how it felt, all damp and sticky. I wanted to go home so I could change, but I didn’t want that to mean we’d be done seeing one another for the evening. We walked to his truck and got in. He was still really upset so he hadn’t said anything. 

“I’ll take you home,” he said finally, sitting back in his seat, a scowl on his face and his hands in fists. It made me feel like he was upset with me. Maybe he didn’t like that I’d put him in that situation. I shouldn’t have antagonized Kyle. I should have followed Greg’s example and ignored trivial bullshit. 

“I’m really sorry about what happened in there,” I said, hating the idea that my pettiness could have completely ruined the vibe we’d built up. “I shouldn’t have said those things to Kyle. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in that drama. I’m not usually a messy person.” 

“You’re always standing up for me and treating me like I have something to offer besides playing football.” His voice was deep and clear. He looked over at me, his eyes watery. “I’m not as strong as I look. Kyle talking to me like that just makes me think of my dad. I’m just—I’m so angry Holden and I don’t like it. I don’t want to be like that.” 

“You could’ve hurt him, but you didn’t. I’d be lying if I said that in that moment I didn’t want you to let him have it, but you have real strength Greg. You are constantly surprising me with how kind you are. I admire you a lot.” 

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“If you take me home, would you want to hang out for a bit?” I asked. “I—I’m not ready for the night to end yet.” 

“I’m not either,” he said, laughing, looking over at me in my soaked jeans. “You could take off your pants if they’re bothering you. I wouldn’t mind. I can crank the heat.” He wasn’t coming on to me, I had to remind myself. That didn’t stop me from thinking about sex and getting a boner. I was so embarrassed. I needed to learn to control my sexual urges. I wasn’t twelve anymore and these constant erections were so juvenile. 

“My underwear is wet too,” I said. He rummaged through the back seat before handing me a pair of his gigantic sweatpants. “Well, if I get out to change, will you watch to make sure nobody is coming?” Being naked in front of him was bad enough, but I still had a semi-hard penis in my pants. I’d just have to move quickly and keep in mind he wasn’t interested in looking in my direction. 

“Yeah, of course.” He coughed slightly. “I’ll be lookout.” We both got out of his truck, and I walked to the driver’s side, which was facing the street. I held his sweatpants in my hands as I looked up at him. We just stood there looking at one another until he finally said, “Oh, sorry, I’ll turn the other way.” He shifted his body, so he wasn’t looking in my direction. 

I removed my sneakers so I could take off the jeans. Then I peeled off the moist Calvin Klein briefs. I could feel the cool November breeze on my ass and balls. My heart was beating out of my chest. I wanted him to look at me and like what he saw. I wanted him to rip my shirt off so that I was completely nude in front of him. He could push me up against his truck and do whatever he wanted to me. Fuck. I had fallen for him hard. I pushed my fantasies to the back of my mind, finally pulling on the sweats and slipping my shoes back on. I could fit in one of the pant legs comfortably if I wanted to. I had to hold the waistband in a ball so they wouldn’t fall down.  

“All good,” I said. 

Once we were back inside of his truck, he started the engine and drove to my house. It was about a twenty-minute drive. It was nearly eleven at this point, and my parents would likely have an issue with Greg and I hanging out in the house so late when everyone else was sleeping. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, whispering, following me into the backyard. 

“My secret fort,” I replied. 

We walked quietly for a few moments before coming to stand before a quaint wooden structure in our backyard. It had been here for nearly ten years now. My dad had built it for me, and now the twins played in it from time to time. It was a fairly simple design. It had one large entrance and two small windows. It sat on top of a large wooden base. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna fit in there,” he said, laughing. 

“You can fit,” I said, not entirely sure if that was true. I entered first, filling the space away from the door. There was plenty of room left, I thought. I watched him through the window. He crouched down, his body filling the entire doorway. Shit, maybe he wouldn’t fit. 

He turned slightly, sucking in his stomach. He sat next to me, both of his legs hanging out of the door. “I guess we can count this as me fitting.” 

“Is this how Emily Elizabeth feels dealing with Clifford?” I asked. 

“Shut up,” he said, laughing. I laughed too and it just felt so right. Everything about being with him felt so effortless. I was falling in love with him. I was suddenly very sad. I couldn’t sit here and fantasize about Greg. He wasn’t interested in me, and I was deluding myself hoping for anything more than being friends. I had to stop hoping for a relationship more romantic and physical in nature. I had to be appreciative that I’d gotten to know such a kind and gentle person. 

He lifted his arm and placed it around me. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a tight fit in here.” 

“Oh, it’s fine.” He just needed to get more comfortable. He wasn’t making a move on me. I looked up to see if I could tell what he was thinking. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but it didn’t seem like he was feeling what I was. We sat in the dark like that for a while, just existing with one another. 

“Holden?” he called, his arm still around me. 

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Are you gay?” I couldn’t look at him again, and even if I could, it wouldn’t have made it any easier to understand what he was thinking. I could feel my chest tighten, my heart beating a mile a minute. I wanted to hop out of the playhouse and run as far away from here as possible, but I couldn’t just leave him out here. I also wouldn’t be able to get out of here with him blocking the door. Maybe I could squeeze through one of the tiny windows. “I mean, I don’t care if you are. Because I—I—I like you Holden. I really like you.” 

“I am gay,” I said shakily. “I really like you too.” He looked down at me. I looked up at him. It was so strange how much better I could see him now. 

He pulled me closer. I could feel his body heat. I could smell him. He smelled like aftershave and stage makeup and faintly of party sandwiches. His massive arm pulled me closer still. His large hand held the back of my head. 

He kissed me and I kissed him back. This was nothing like kissing boys at parties this past summer at theater camp. “I gotta be honest,” he said, pulling away. “I was checking you out earlier tonight. You got a phat ass, Holden.” 

He’d been looking at me? And he liked what he saw? I couldn’t believe it. I kissed his face softly, enjoying how smooth his skin was. 

“Well, I’ve got to be honest with you,” I whispered. “I’ve been checking you out all year.” He smiled, his teeth bright in the night. He pulled me even closer. I could smell him even better; feel his warmth on my body. I placed my hand on his stomach, enjoying the heft of it. Greg was a fucking ten. 

The patio light came on and we both jumped. “Holden?” my father called. He could probably see Greg’s legs sticking out of the playhouse.  

“Yeah dad! It’s me!” I responded. “And Greg!” 

“Well say goodnight and come inside. It’s getting late.” He wasn’t coming outside. He probably assumed something way raunchier was going on inside of the secret fort. “You get home safe Greg!” 

“Yes sir, I will,” Greg replied. We heard the sliding sound of the patio doors. Greg shimmied his way out of the playhouse, thankfully not getting stuck. I followed and then walked him to his truck. 

“Text me when you get home,” I said. 

“I will.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for everything tonight. It was definitely memorable.” 

He wasn’t wrong about that, and I was happy. I was so incredibly happy. 

After all of that we still had seven shows to do. Kyle skipped like an entire section in the second show and Greg totally saved him by inventing new lines to get us back on track. When Kyle came off stage his face was so red! He couldn’t tell Greg he was stupid then. 

I hadn’t looked directly at Greg since that night in my secret fort. I was too nervous. It had been two days and I assumed we were still, like, together, but we didn’t say anything about it. It was kind of weird. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I had no lines to recite. 

The morning of our third show, Kyle quit the play. I thought it was hilarious, but Mr. Murray didn’t. He was freaking out about how we still had six shows to put on. Greg told him I knew all the lines. I didn’t even want to be George anymore, not like this anyway. I had wanted to earn it. 

“You can do it? You know the lines?” Mr. Murray asked frantically. I told him that I did, and he told me “Whit has nearly no lines, somebody else won’t have a problem with the role.” After that I was George. 

My family came back to see the show, and Ms. Williams had been to see every single one. I got to act with Greg, which went absolutely amazing since we had been practicing together. He seemed to be doing even better with me as George instead of Kyle. 

The final show actually sold out all three hundred seats. It was a Sunday matinee, and the entire football team was there—even Coach White! I couldn’t believe they all cheered for us, louder than any applause I’d ever experienced. They hooted and hollered for ten minutes, chanting Greg’s name. I think it meant a lot to him. This was some serious High School Musical-Troy Bolton-“Breaking Free” shit.  

We walked out after changing and went over to Greg’s truck. We had started talking more and more. “Do you want to come over, maybe?” I asked. “My mom and dad are out of town visiting my grandma with the twins.” 

“Yeah, I’m down.” He hadn’t gotten to see the inside of my house last time, so I gave him a quick tour. It was pretty big, like Kyle’s haunted mansion, but a lot more inviting. It had two floors, a basement, and an attic. My room was in the attic, which I had entirely to myself. 

We entered my bedroom and I flicked on the overhead light. He looked around and noticed my bookshelf. It had mostly plays and classic literature on it. I took my bookshelf very seriously, but I swear I wasn’t pretentious about it. “Jesus, look at all these books,” he said. 

“I try to read a new play every week,” I said. I sat on my bed, and he sat next to me. I leaned on his shoulder, and he moved his arm around my waist and pulled me a bit closer. I loved when he did that. “I have some I think you’d really like if you want to borrow one.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” I asked. He nodded and I got on my knees in my bed so that we were at a more even height. We kissed for the first time since the night in the playhouse. It was amazing. His lips were so soft and smooth. He pulled at my shirt, and I helped him get it off. He touched my chest, and I could feel every hair on my body stand on end. It was euphoric, yet strange, to have somebody else touch my body. I had never been touched like this before. 

I pulled off his sweatshirt and my already erect penis stiffened even more. I was so glad we had the house to ourselves. He was so big. His gut was round and meaty. He had hair leading down from around his belly button to his pubic area. I finally got to feel it. 

He undid his pants button at the same time I undid mine. I was so excited; I thought that my heart was going to beat out of my chest. My pants came off and I was in my black briefs. He was standing, and I was on my knees in the bed facing him. I kissed his chest. It tasted good, like clean and sweat at the same time. 

“Do you have any lube?” he asked. 

“It’s in the top drawer of my dresser,” I said, pointing across the room. He sauntered over to it, his back looking ridiculously sexy. I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to leave no area unmarked by my hands (and mouth). His jeans sagged down in the back and the slope of his lower back to the top of his ass was so extreme. I wanted to see him completely naked. 

He walked back over to me, lube in hand. He stood before me again and pulled off the rest of his clothes. I reached out, touching his stomach before my hand traveled down to his dick. It was thick and long. He had to be at least nine inches. “I’m a little nervous.” 

“Me too,” he said. “We can stop if you want.” 

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want to do this with you.” He smiled, his large hand pushing me onto my back. He put on a condom from his wallet. He grabbed my underwear and pulled it down. My penis bobbed freely from its confine. He covered his dick with lube before gently massaging my hole with lubed up fingers.  

He got on his knees as he continued massaging my hole. He brought his face close to my penis, licking the shaft. He grabbed it with his free hand and stroked it a few times before popping the head into his mouth. He sucked on it greedily, like it was some sort of tasty treat. I was so excited I thought I would cum any second.  

“Greg,” I managed to get out. “You’ve got to stop or I’ll cum too soon.” He ignored me, continuing to take my entire dick in his mouth. I thought for sure it was all over, but he stopped just in time. There were no words to describe the way I was currently feeling. This was unscripted. I just had to enjoy the moment. 

He stood, removing his fingers from inside me, and positioned me so that I was close enough to the edge that he could still have access to my ass. I was on my back; my legs were in the air and kind of on his chest. He bent his knees, trying to guide his penis inside of me, but he was too tall. I grabbed a pillow and placed it under my lower back, which helped considerably. “You better let me know if it hurts.” Even now he was concerned with hurting another person. I loved this guy. 

He slowly entered me with the tip of his dick. He kept it there for a few moments, allowing me to get used to it before pushing more and more of himself inside of me. “It—it feels good,” I moaned. I was feeling bashful, so I covered my face with my arm. 

He thrust his hips and I could feel his belly on my penis, shifting back and forth as he moved. “Move your arm,” he said assertively. “I wanna see that cute face.” 

I did as he said, looking up at him. He licked his lips and it just turned me on even more. 

“Fuck—,” he groaned, moving more slowly, switching up the rhythm. His belly had been rubbing me off, and I came after a few more minutes. Cum spurted on my stomach and partially on his gut. He wasn’t done yet, and he kept pushing into me at a steady pace. I was still rock hard and enjoyed the ride until he finished about a minute later.  

“We’ve got to do that again,” I said, panting. I stood, my legs wobbly, and grabbed a towel from my closet so that I could clean us up.  

“We most definitely do.”  

We even took a shower together after that. It was a good thing we had a detachable shower head because it did make it easier for him to rinse himself off. We were both hard the entire time, and I knew we’d be very busy the rest of the night. 

In the end, Greg and the rest of the football team made it to state, even taking the title. My entire family and Ms. Williams wore jerseys with his number on it. The scouts had come out to see him play and he killed it. He’d gotten multiple offers, but he was going to commit to the school closest to mine. Our campuses would only be a thirty-minute drive from one another. Greg wasn’t able to go back to wrestling. The coach, he told me, was extremely shocked by how much weight he had put on. He was well over 360 pounds, which was more than seventy pounds in a year. He spent the winter eating and conditioning and growing stronger. He may have had a belly, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a ton of muscle. 

I ended up getting a substantial role in the winter drama and the lead in the musical, so there was no more crying in the bathroom stalls for me. But honestly, even if I had been cast in a Whit-like role, I wouldn't have cared because Greg and I were together. 

Kyle didn’t audition for the winter drama or the musical. It was awesome; both shows went so much more smoothly without him. 

I’d been reading the play As You Like It and Shakespeare was really on to something when he said all the world’s a stage. I didn’t have to wait for lines, and I didn’t need to shrink into the background. If my life was a production, I had to make sure it was Tony-worthy. And I knew Greg would be one hell of a co-star. 

The End!

[littlequeenies]

Mary Werbelow biography part 1 (part 2)

Early years and relationship with Jim Morrison

Mary Werbelow was born in July 1944 and she came from a very strict Catholic family.

[Mary when she was 12 years old. Ebay]

In Summer 1962 she was just finishing her junior year at Clearwater High, when Mary and best friend Mary Wilkin spread their beach blanket near Pier 60, she was 17, and met Jim Morrison, who had been sent here by his father, then a Navy captain, after he blew off his high school graduation ceremony in Virginia. He had just finished the year at St. Petersburg Junior College and lived with his grandparents.

Mary was on the high school homecoming court. Her friends did cotillion dances at the Jack Tar Harrison Hotel, hit Brown Brothers dairy store for burgers and malts, and shopped Mertz's records for Ben E. King, Del Shannon and Elvis Presley.

Jim read his poetry at the avant-garde Beaux Arts coffeehouse in Pinellas Park and visited St. Pete's only live burlesque show, at the Sun Art Theater on Ninth Street.

Friends who thought they knew Mary couldn't fathom why she would want to hang out with Jim Morrison. What they didn't know was how out of place Mary felt in her social circle. Jim talked like no one she had met. "We connected on a level where speaking was almost unnecessary. We'd look at each other and know what we were thinking." He recited long poems from memory.

[L-R: Andy - Jim's younger brother - Mary and Jim pictured in Summer 1962. The Doors by The Doors & Ben Fong Torres]

She liked her alone time, in her bedroom, dancing and drawing. Jim liked his alone time, in his bedroom, reading. They skipped dances and football games and hung out, at her house or at his grandparents' house.

When Jim drove, Mary kept a notebook at the ready. "Write this!" he'd say, dictating an observation. Or he'd pull over and scribble himself. "He was a genius," Mary says. "He was incredible."

Mary says he rarely drank in her presence. "It was out of respect for me. We were in love, and he didn't want to do things that I didn't like."

At fall, Jim transferred to Florida State. Most weekends, rain or shine, he hitchhiked back to Clearwater, 230 miles down U.S. 19. Most days in between, letters postmarked Tallahassee arrived at the Werbelow mailbox on Nursery Road.

Mary's father intercepted one, read the page about sex and never got to the part that made clear Jim was writing about a class. Furious at her father's snooping, she burned all Jim's letters, a move she came to regret, deeply.

At Jim's direction, she wrote once a week and included the number of a public telephone in Clearwater and a time he should call. On his end, Jim would put in a dime for the first two minutes. They would talk for hours. On her end, Mary would loiter by the phone at the appointed hour.

[Mary early modelling shots, 1963. Ebay, tumblr ank links below]

On March 30, 1963 the Jaycees called to recruit Mary for the Miss Clearwater competition, Mary's mother answered the phone."Oh, yeah," she said, as Mary recalled "she'll be happy to do it." although Mary herself would have declined.

The third and final night of competition, more than 1,000 people packed Clearwater Municipal Auditorium. Five finalists matched "beauty, personality and poise." Mary was looking good, not that Jim was thrilled. If she won, it was on to Miss Florida. Mary performed body twirls. She did the bossa nova. Time for her big question: "If your husband grew a beard, what would you do?" she answered: "I'd let him grow it. Whether he would kiss me or not would be another matter."

She got first runner-up.

As Mary's father banned Jim from the Werbelow house, she followed him to Tallahassee for a semester, although her parents objected. in 1964, When he started film school at UCLA and Mary announced she was following him to Los Angeles, her parents were devastated.

Mary says Jim asked her to wear "something floaty" when she arrived in Los Angeles. "He wanted me to look like an angel coming off the plane." Instead, she drove out a week early and surprised him.

Together again, in an exciting, intimidating city, they kept separate apartments. By November 1964 Mary got her first real job, in the office of a hospital X-ray department. Later, she donned a fringe skirt and boots as a go-go dancer at Gazzari's on the Sunset Strip although Jim didn't like the idea. Later that month, she went to Celebrate Thanksgiving with Jim and his parents.

[Mary as a go-go dancer at Gazzari's on the Sunset Strip, 1964. Ebay]

Jim studied film. At the end of the year, a handful from among hundreds of student films were selected for public showing. Jim's was not among them. Shortly after, Mary says, he told her he was humiliated, considered his formal education over and needed to forget everything. He built a fire in his back yard and incinerated many of his precious Florida notebooks.

Mary says he started doubting her commitment. "You're going to leave me," he would tell her. "No, I'm not. How can you say that? I'm in love with you."

After one fight, Jim went out with another woman. He wasn't home the next morning. Mary went to the woman's house, but she said Jim wasn't there. Mary called: "Come out wherever you are!" Jim slinked forward, a hand towel around him. Mary bolted and, in a blur, hit the woman's fence as she sped off. "That was the beginning of the end."

He was drinking hard and taking psychedelic drugs. The darkness she had always seen seemed to be overtaking him, and she didn't want to watch him explore his self-destructive bent. And she felt he had swallowed her identity. Whatever he liked, she liked. "I had to go out and see what parts of that were me. I just knew I had to be away from him. I needed to be by myself, to find my own identity."

She enrolled in art school. The day Jim helped her move to a new apartment, she told him she needed a break. "He clammed up after that. I really hurt him. It hurts me to say that. I really hurt him."

They split up in the summer of 1965.

A few months later, Jim got together with a film school buddy, Ray Manzarek, who says he wanted to combine his keyboards with Jim's poetry. They started the band that became the Doors. "He didn't sit around and sing," Mary says, laughing. "Jim, no, he was a poet. He wrote poetry."

By phone from his home in Northern California, Manzarek says all the guys in film school were in love with Mary. She was gorgeous, and sweet on top of that. "She was Jim's first love. She held a deep place in his soul."

[Ray, Mary and Jim in a film from 1964/early 1965 when Ray & Jim were students at UCLA, from thedoorsareopened tiktok]

The Doors' 11-minute ballad The End, Manzarek says, originally was "a short goodbye love song to Mary." Doors drummer John Densmore stated: "Jim wrote The Crystal Ship for Mary Werbelow, a girlfriend with whom he was breaking up. . . . The song was a goodbye love song."

Jim Morrison took up with other women, notably with longtime companion Pam, but Mary says she and Jim kept up with each other. She says she was his anchor to the times before things got crazy. "I'd see him when he really needed to talk to someone."

She thought they were too young. She worried they might grow apart. She needed more time to explore her own identity, so by late 1968 to early-mid 1969, Mary moved to India to study meditation, while there, she wrote several letters to her parents. She never saw Jim again.

[several Mary's letters and photos from her early life, notice the rare photo she took of Jim when they were together. Ebay]

Sources:

Mary & Jim to the End

Romantic Relationships, Jim Morrison's girlfriends

Door's Jim Morrison girlfriend Mary Werbelow dead at 79

Ebay, very special thanks to S who shared all the links at Pam Courson facebook page !!

[iwashie]

˜”°•. Noel Noa as your S/O (18+).•°”˜ (gn!reader)

thinking about how he would be the perfect boyfriend.

The calm and understanding boyfriend would do anything for you.

The boyfriend who keeps the relationship private for your protection, but if you want to, he talks openly about you, eyes shining and a calm smile when telling that the relationship with you is the best he has ever had.

The boyfriend with few photos on social networks and gossip online about you two, but a lot of demonstration of his love for you.

Words of affirmation and quality of time are his love languages, but every once in a while, physical touch is appreciated.

Pet names like “sweetheart”, “honey”, “love”.

The boyfriend who isn’t clingy but is always around, subtle ways to remind you he loves you.

Boyfriend who always looks/ is tired but always has time for you.

Boyfriend who tries to do the things you like or makes you happy, because your smile is the most beautiful thing for him.

The boyfriend “daddy issues”.

The calm boyfriend x agitated partner; He prefers to listen to you talk about the most varied thing, to listen to your laughter. The black cat x golden retriever duo.

The boyfriend who is more homely and prefers dates made by you two; candlelit dinner, movie night, wine and cheese and deep conversations about whatever you want.

But he also likes to date in places that add something to the two of you; museums, theaters, book clubs. He would close the Louvre if he wanted to enjoy the arts, just the two of you, also book the whole restaurant to celebrate your birthday.

Romantic old-fashioned: various dates, expensive gifts, slow dances in the kitchen while cooking with you, introducing family and people important to him.

The boyfriend who loves you very much, but also understands that you need some alone time.

Always respect your time and your decisions!

Boyfriend who smiles when he sees you in the stands, wearing his shirt and at the end of the game, always calls you to the field, hugging you and kissing you as if you two haven’t done it in a long time.

Boyfriend who knows he can’t spend as much time with you so always sends gifts or makes up for it when he’s on vacation.

“My girlfriend this,” or “my boyfriend that,” and always “my partner.”

Boyfriend who makes a point of encouraging you to have independence. If you need him to pay for your studies,he pays, or, he would help you look for a job.

Boyfriend that “You can’t make all your life about me, love.” and “I need to be an addition and not the main part of your life.”

Boyfriend who is neither jealous nor possessive. He trusts you and has self-confidence. He is the best of the best.

Boyfriend who “wears whatever clothes you want”, “doesn’t need to change anything”.

Boyfriend who is not quarrelsome and solves things with conversation and always defends you.

“That person will answer in court, so don’t worry, dear.”

The boyfriend “Love in Portofino”.

Boyfriend who encourages your well-being and goes into couples therapy because he wants the best for both of you, always aiming to improve by your side.

Boyfriend who loves you with his whole body; tight hugs (an arm around your waist and a hand holding your head), calm and deep kisses, holding hands and head resting on top of yours.

Boyfriend who always makes calm and passionate sex. Hands entwined, sweaty bodies glued together, kisses to muffle the moans.

Boyfriend who has no favorite position, but loves you on top, prone bone and any position you two may be glued to.

Slow, seductive sex, deep thrusts, making you see stars and grab his body.

Boyfriend who is traditional, would like to have children, but respects your opinion on it.

Boyfriend who prefers cats to dogs and has adopted one with you, says that he is your son and would take care of all the animals you like with you.

Boyfriend who always looks for you in the crowd and smiles when he meets your gaze.

Boyfriend who would marry you in church, beach, notary’s office, heaven, hell, anywhere you wanted.

Boyfriend who “say yes to heaven”, “say yes to me”.

Boyfriend who would run away anywhere as long as you’re with him.

© 𝗂𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌

[soph-the-podcast-nerd]

Hello!

i’m soph :) 🏳️‍🌈 (they/she)

ill mostly be posting about my fav podcasts or whatever I’m listening to rn, feel free to let me know if you have any recommendations! also you should totally tag me in things and send me asks because I think I’m hitting 1 year in about 2 months and ive only gotten like 3 asks

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

✨Some of my favorite podcasts than I’m listening to or have completed✨

Welcome To Night Vale 👁️‍🗨️ 🎙️💟

The Magnus Archives/Protocol 📼👁️📗

Wolf 359 📻👽🚀

The Penumbra Podcast (Juno Steel) 🧥🏳️‍🌈🩷

The Strange Case of Starship Iris 🪐🛸🩵

Camp Here and There 🪱⌛️☢️

Witherburn After School News 📡🔍💚

Neighbourly 🏡🦎 🧿

Spirit Box Radio 🥀🐈‍⬛🔮

Malevolent 🩸💀💛

Death By Dying 🪦🦭⚰️

What Happened in Skinner 🎤🎧❤️

Leaving Corvat 🐦‍⬛🍔💜

(Currently listening) Hello from the Hallowoods 🌲🍄‍🟫♥️

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

I love reading (despite the fact that I pretty much only read paranormal/murder/mystery books with sapphic characters (if you need any recs hmu ✌︎)), cartoons and fiction shows (GF, SU, HTTYD, ATLA, OTGW, OH, UA, TTZ, GO, etc), 80s and 90s and halloween movies, theater (although I’m a techie myself) and my music taste is kind of all over the place (lemon demon, will wood, the crane wives, mother mother, the orion experience, clairo, beach bunny… some Gay Person Music for the ages huh)

I’m adhd, so I love podcasts but can’t function unless I’m doing something with myself, usually drawing, making buttons, taking walks/hiking, or idk finding neurodivergent things to do like messing with something random and shiny as one of my favorite characters is probably getting traumatized

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

i post my art when I can which is not often but yeah :)

i do podcast recommendations occasionally, if ive recommended one its linked on the list

DMs are open to talk (I am a minor) as long as you’re nice and not a creep (no nsfw, transphobia, rascism, homophobia, etc.) (also if you’re homophobic why are you even here this is tumblr.com you have no power here)

I have a side blog @twilight-zone-as-tma-fears where I’m re-watching the twilight zone and assigning each episode to one of the 15 fears, I personally think its cool you should go check it out :P

Tags (semi-managed):

#Soph’s art, #Soph’s night vale doodles (a little project i did) #Soph-recommends, #my post, #rb, #Podcasts to listen to

[aurorabayrpg]

EVENT 016 {OCTOBER 1ST - NOVEMBER 1ST} AURORA BAY’S HALLOWEEN FESTIVITIES - PART 1 & 2

Summer has come and gone, the temperatures are cooling, and pumpkin spice is in everything! It’s finally time for one of Aurora Bay’s biggest events thrown by Town Hall, Aurora Bay’s Halloween Festival!

For the last couple weeks in town, residents will have noticed that the town has slowly been putting up their fall decorations, with pumpkins taking their places at front door steps, paper ghosts in the windows, and even a few scarecrows around the square!

There will be plenty of family-friendly fun, but perhaps the most anticipated part of the festival will be the Halloween costume party held at Sharky's, our Monster Mash! Once again there will be a costume contest with plenty of prizes! More info will come later in the month.

OOC INFO BELOW:

Here's our next event, and just like last year, it'll be running all month long to give everyone plenty of time to plot and play with some Halloween scares!

Here's a list of some of just some of the things you'll find in town this year: (*If you'd like your shop to have anything special going on this month, please let us know so we can add it to the list!)

Botanical Gardens:

Corn Maze running daily (after 8pm it becomes haunted!)

Halloween lights and inflatables all around for a nightly lit-up walking trail

Food stands with kettle corn, caramel apples, etc.

Aurora Bay's Art Museum:

Running all month long, a special spooky art exhibit featuring unsettling works, haunted artifacts, and macabre paintings all while reading up on stories of famous artists throughout time that met gruesome (and oftentimes untimely) deaths.

Charles Levin Theater:

Join us all month long for the Theatre's production of The Phantom of the Opera. Keep your eyes up on the chandelier!

Sunrise Winery:

hard cider and mulled wine tastings

a pick-your-own pumpkin patch

pumpkin carving and painting stations

Sunset Drive-In:

Every weekend Sunset Drive-in will be showing Halloween movies, ranging from movies for children all the way to those super scary movies for the adults! Movie schedule will be posted around town for everyone to plan their movie nights!

Around town:

Hayrides (nighttime haunted rides running Friday thru Sunday evenings)

Specialty menus at shops like Sweet Nothings and Driftwood Coffee

Fall styles and Halloween costume items at Sea Glass Boutique and Hidden Gems Thrift Store

A haunted house open nightly- enter if you dare!

Pop-up candy spots all around town for an early trick-or-treat all month long!

and new this year, an Aurora Bay Haunted Tour!

Every evening, join a walking tour through places said to be haunted in town including the All-Nighter Diner, Aurora Bay's Lighthouse, and then to the docks to hear scary tales of merfolk that are said to reside just below Aurora Bay's waters.

Read about what you’ll learn on the haunted tour HERE

Neighborhoods:

Trick-or-treating will obviously take place on Halloween night, so make sure you have plenty of candy for all the little gremlins of our little beach town!

Halloween decorations on the lawns and houses of anyone wanting to participate (feel free to make posts of what those decorations look like and tag our aesthetics blog!)

Part Two:

Sharky's Monster Mash:

Sharky's will once again be holding their annual Halloween party, The Monster Mash! This will be part 2 of the event, so we'll let you know when it's time to post costumes and threads for this one!

Please feel free to make posts of your character's Halloween costumes and tag our aesthetic blog as well as tag it as #ab.halloween , as well as put your character's name and the name of who they're dressed as in the description! And if you're doing a couple's costume, make sure you tag your partner in there as well! This helps us admins keep up with everything!

Like last year, we'll reblog all the costumes to our aesthetics page and we'll make a masterlist of them all where muns can vote for their fave costumes!

Categories will be: best costume, best couples costume, funniest costume, sexiest costume, most creative costume!

A second post will be made for this part of the event, giving all the dates and more info on the party!

RULES: (this will be expanded on during part 2!)

Players do not have to participate in Sharky's Halloween party, decorating houses, or dressing up if they do not wish to!

Per usual, the first 5 open starters may be posted without muns replying to others first, but if open starters have plenty of notes or you've already replied to them, feel free to go ahead and post another!

[awlimagines]

Part One: What dating them is like

CELIA/CECILIA

Since she works on a farm, she understands how busy and chaotic the growing season can be. Cecilia’s preferred dates are simple. She enjoys daily walks around town with you and maybe a trip on the mountain trails when there is more time. She also greatly enjoys working alongside you on your farm. She especially loves the animals you keep since there are none at Vesta’s. If either of you plan for a day in the city, Cecilia enjoys the zoo and arboretum. 

Cecilia is a hard worker and tends to withdraw into her work. If you leave her alone, there is a good chance you won’t hear from her for a week when first dating. A gentle reminder pulls Cecilia from work, and soon, she will prioritize her free time to include you. Cecilia’s love language is acts of service. She enjoys doing things to help make your life easier. Cecilia can become frustrated if she has to ask for help with chores when you start living together.

CODY/GORDY

Surprisingly, Gordy does not hold a great interest in art museums. He would rather attend his niece and nephew's school shows. Gordy enjoys children’s freedom of expression before the rules of adults in art burden them. He is a huge fan of nature walks to search for his inspiration. Gordy will not turn down anything you want to do for a date, believing inspiration can be found anywhere. He won’t say it, but he has a particular fondness for beach volleyball.

He is a thoughtful lover who will put your needs first. Gordy can be quiet, but he is highly observant. His love language tends to be gifts. Gordy feels awkward accepting gifts from you but will provide you numerous gifts. Whether it's a candy he knows you like or a grand gesture, he likes seeing you smile in delight.

DARYL

He keeps a schedule and will regularly come by the farm to see you on most days. Daryl can be neglectful at times, though never intentionally. He'll forget to eat if he is intently focused on an experiment. Planning most dates would fall on your shoulders. Thankfully, Daryl will do essentially anything you want for a date. He enjoys the escape rooms most since they allow you to work together on solving problems. Daryl also enjoys science museums, though he gives you a difficult time about the interactive aspects. He could provide a better experience in his lab and save money. 

You wouldn’t have guessed it since Daryl seemed standoffish, but the scientist loves physical touch. He will be quick to hold your hand any chance he gets. Daryl can pout if you drop his hand for something. He struggles to say what is on his heart but is happy to show you. Daryl also enjoys quality time and has a short fuse when your time with him is interrupted. While he understands emergencies with your animals (you can’t control when birth happens), he cannot stand when other villagers take your attention for petty things.

GUSTAFA

Gustafa is generally content to let you take the reins. He will approach you with the things he cares about. Gustafa enjoys attending concerts, craft fairs, and local theater. For daily meetings, Gustafa enjoys learning about how to run the farm. He is always impressed with how you tend fields and provide excellent animal care. Gustafa can notice when you’re too busy or stressed and will settle into playing soothing music for you. If your day runs too long, Gustafa will cook you both dinner after trying to help you finish up. 

The most crucial aspect of your relationship with Gustafa is words of affirmation. He can literally spend the day singing your praises and his love for you. While he’s over the moon if you join in, Gustafa understands if you don’t feel comfortable singing. He loves any verbal acknowledgments from you. From your exhausted thanks when he helps you with the farm to whispers in the night, his favorite sound is you. The fastest way to make him a blushing mess is by heaping authentic praise on the man.

ROCK

Be ready for spontaneous dates! Rock lives to the beat of his own drum and will drag you along to that beat. He has no set schedule for what he wants to do. A general guideline is in the Spring, he’ll try to convince you to sneak away for naps or watch him race your farm animals. Summer is filled with floating the river, surfing, and fishing. Fall is reserved for ghost stories and tests of courage. He’ll also want to attend any costume party he can, especially if there is bobbing for apples. Rock simmers down in the Winter to watching cheesy romcoms with hot chocolate. 

Rock loves to hear you praise him and acknowledge that you think he’s as great as he thinks he is. He won’t show it, but he gets flustered when you encourage and support him when he talks about starting a fashion magazine. He is not shy about any displays of affection, regardless of the public. Rock will pout like a kicked dog if denied a kiss (he doesn’t believe in simple pecks). He can be appeased with hand-holding so long as your shoulders are touching.

[notallrobots]

about me ࿓

22. multiship. i write and draw and ball out

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

hey! i thought i’d make an intro post that i can edit as i go. i’m nara (my pseudonym derives from an acronym for Not All Robots, which is a comic i like). i’m turning 23 this year. i got crazyyyy obsessed with inside out 2 after seeing it in theaters. i draw, write fic, and animate. i take drawing and fic requests, but i might put a limit on them or decline them. i’ve never done commissions, but feel free to dm me if you’re interested in seeing something in particular. i only want to draw inside out rn, though…

i use a translator for my French captions / speech bubbles, but i’m trying to learn..

i LOVE fear, ennui, disgust, and bill hader :3

i like ennui (because she is my gf), piña coladas, top-down video games, 2d animation, Bret Easton Ellis novels, CARTOONS, fanfiction, swimming, hair accessories, the post-apocalypse, long skirts, nekojiru, museums, beach vacations, fear, horror letsplays, and white chocolate. (-‿-)

talk to me about fear, inside out, cartoons, movies, music, and writing (especially writing! i love writing of any kind and am happy to proofread or beta stuff)!! i hope you enjoy my headcanon, but it’s okay if you don’t! i know that i can be corny and delusional.

i also don’t mind if you want to critique my art anonymously! please do; i really want to improve.

i have a 9-5, so sorry if i’m replying slow!

me on ze left and the original disear gansta @tokibuns (she drew this!!) on the right

live laugh love fear

[oldsoulcalifornian]

a (very detailed) intro post!

basic info!

✵ my name is megan, but i prefer to be called meg! noelle is my middle name, and i use it sometimes alongside my first name.

✵ i’m a cisgender woman who uses she/they pronouns!

✵ the best way to describe my sexuality is borderline bisexual, but i only date guys!

✵ 20 years old + sagittarius (december 9th, 2004).

✵ i’m white, but i come from a multicultural family (one of my grandmothers is lebanese, the other is a spaniard).

✵ my personality type is INFP-T.

✵ i’m a southern california native! i was born in long beach, but i’ve lived in orange county for my entire life.

✵ i’m an aspiring screenwriter (+ director)! i created my first big project when i was thirteen, and i haven’t stopped since!

favorite things!

movies + tv: ingrid goes west, once upon a time in hollywood, mean girls, breaking bad, stranger things (seasons 1-3), the walking dead (seasons 1-7), gossip girl, and more!

music (solo artists): lana del rey, brandi carlile, britney spears, joni mitchell, marina and the diamonds, mitski, norah jones, nelly furtado, chase icon, charli xcx, kesha, doja cat, etc!

music (bands/groups): alice in chains, fleetwood mac, smashing pumpkins, sublime, weezer, radiohead, the beatles, red hot chili peppers, fall out boy, bread, carpenters, daft punk, dazey and the scouts, green day, hole, nine inch nails, etc!

video games: the sims (2 + 3), overwatch, valorant, minecraft, team fortress 2, animal crossing (new leaf + new horizons), splatoon 1, and more!

other + more niche interests: writing (mainly fiction, but i also dabble in non-fiction sometimes), doodles + drawing concept art,  gaming, modern history (the 1960’s to the 2000’s), finding new music + listening to old stuff, true crime, fashion, thrifting + antique shopping, caffeine (i’m a sucker for iced coffee), taking naps with my cat miu miu, traveling, musical theater, and more, somehow!

do NOT interact list:

✵ if you are under 18: please note that i’m an adult, and some of my future posts may involve NSFW content. i strongly advise not following if you’re a minor.

✵ racism, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny and general bigotry are always strictly prohibited. fuck anyone who identifies with these.

✵ SH + ED blogs: unless you’re actively trying to get better, please don’t interact. i struggle with severe mental illnesses (including recovery from binge eating disorder) and seeing these blogs can make my wellbeing go downhill fast.

✵ those who glamorize and/or romanticize true crime. i myself am incredibly interested in true crime, but making light of cases is just flat out disrespectful.

✵ guys looking for a gf: i’m not looking to date anyone right now, nor will i anytime soon. leave and seethe.

you can find me on...

pinterest (personal!)

pinterest (boards for my stories and original characters!)

twitter (personal!)

ao3 (stay tuned for a backstory fic on the sniper from tf2!)

letterboxd

spotify

note: feel free to ask me for my discord or personal instagram! i'm not too comfy putting it on here outright. ♡

[altheia-featherstone]

OC aesthetic game

Thank you @anew-flame for the tag!

Rules: bold/color any which apply to your OC; remember to repost; feel free to add to the lists. 

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it

*****

Altheia Featherstone

(The Arcana)

[ COLORS ]

red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. cream. mint green. cobalt blue. lime green. beige. turquoise.

[ ELEMENTS ]

fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset.

[ BODY ]

claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. sun-kissed. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. average. muscular. lean. piercing. tattoos. lithe. moles. dimples.

[ WEAPONS ]

fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. whips. knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. pyre. teeth. rifles. words.

[ MATERIALS ]

gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amber. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. rubber. synthetics. jade.

[ NATURE ]

grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. dandelions. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. poppies. galaxies. stardust. sky.

[ ANIMALS ]

lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. crickets. bees. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats. livestock. foxes. bluebirds. deer. dragonflies.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ]

sugar. salt. bitter. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. french fries. ambrosia. honey. cheese. pasta.

[ HOBBIES ]

music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. wood carving. foraging. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. journaling. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. history. books. comic books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. flight. climbing. running. exploring. partying. yoga. potion making.

[ STYLE ]

lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. sweater. boots. heels. sandals. leggings. trousers. cargo pants. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. flower crown. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. duster. trenchcoat. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ties. uniform. fancy shoes. leather jacket. sport underwear.

[ MISC ]

balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. kisses. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. bittersweet. happiness. luck. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. revenge. lust. regrets. passion. spontaneity. potty mouth. recklessness. practicality. hope.

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Thinking about a disjointed mishanks 70s origin AU with a little bit of dad!mihawk/dad!shanks thrown in. None of this is coherent so sorrrry in advance. It all takes place in california near hollywood. Shanks is a not-quite-hippy and drives a beautiful red Cadillac (think Chuck Berry's red cadillac) he also owns a a beat up red yatch. Roger and Rayleigh were beatniks and raised Shanks and Buggy that way. ergo, Shanks being a hippy-but-not-quite. Buggy being a theater nerd. the one piece is Roger's collection of super old and super valuable antiques he'd collected in his heyday traveling the world. (traveling the world here means smuggling and various illicit methods of obtaining merchandise) some might even be magical. Roger had cancer or such and so allowed his old friend police chief Garp's underlings to kill him before things progressed. Shanks became a freelance thief like Roger after this. Roger arranges to get caught in a breaking and entering up in good old BH. The ensuing standoff that ends in Roger's death draws the crowds that Mihawk and Shanks see each other for the first time in. Weeks later Shanks is at the premiere of some film trying to take his mind off things and recognizes the leading actor as Mihawk. he sneaks backstage, almost gets stabbed by Mihawk as he sneaks around trying to see Mihawk and the rest is history. Mihawk was the child of two old-school movie stars and was raised up in the old-school mansion he still owns. He's also a child-star turned movie-star. known as an adult for his peerless acting in many pretentious artful history films in which he always plays a foreign swordsman. due to the constant training with swords for movie purposes he actually knows how swordfight for real. he rides a Harley Davidson in the present and keeps a black switchblade on him at all times. there's a prop sword called Yoru that hangs on the mantel back at the mansion, meant for decoration, but only Mihawk knows that it's a real sword.

At some point in his early career Mihawk gets into a contract to make guest appearances in a long running crime/mafia show called the Seven Warlords, playing a reclusive Warlord. He also gets 'close' with the other actors who play the rest of the titular Warlords. Mihawk has his career and is often overseas to film and Shanks is religiously smuggling contraband in his trusty yatch up and down the coast and making friends and connections up and down it as well, (and eventually becoming a backdoor supplier in hollywood) but they make it work for two decades and still going strong. Mihawk is one of the industry's most wanted bachelors because of it. Shanks is still thieving well into middle age, trying to add to Roger's collection. the collection that no one has any idea where it went to and everyone wants to try and get their hands on. Roger hid it really well before he died. On one of these little trips of his Shanks decided to lay low down the coast and met little Luffy there. He simply doesn't shut up about him to Mihawk when he gets back. Garp brings Luffy up with him some years later, Luffy runs away to make his name in hollywood/find Roger's famed collection and meets a stuntman named Zoro and a indie actress named Nami. Things progress. Mihawk encounters Luffy and his friends at a function, starts an argument over swordfighting with the stuntman Luffy brought with him. It doesn't end well. But Luffy makes a name for himself with startling rapidity, and Mihawk takes a trip down the coast to show Shanks his movie poster and get drunk with him on pismo beach. Things progress more and sometime later Mihawk finds himself agreeing to mentor two promising young people in the industry, one the stuntman he humiliated at that function and the other a young actress named Perona, who has a cult following after work in some dinky little psychological-horror flick. And so on and so forth. They all have fun.