#my brain is mush now

[batshitcrazee]

planning a rewrite comes with rewatching the show yet again… despite how many times i’ve seen the first episode alone (planning to rewatch it then giving up), i still forgot how cheesy this shit is.

why are there so many corny one liners

the dialogue is so bad. why is it so bad.

please it cannot be this hard to come up with decent dialogue for the first episode

it’s so bad

[obsessionatthemoment]

This morning I saw @effervescent-lesbian ‘s post about how netflix_in’s instagram posted some byler coded things. I got so excited, and wanted to find these posts myself to see if there was any extra context to them. I spent pretty much the whole day scrolling through the instagram account trying to find it (because they post like 5 times a day and my phone kept glitching and sending me to the top).

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think those posts are not supporting byler, but making a joke using byler. The posts were a bunch of photos grouped together to convey their message. I didn’t know most of the shows, but both of them used Friends which I have seen a few episodes of (and obviously they used stranger things as well.) I don’t really know how to explain the posts, so I am adding the photos (to my knowledge the guys from friends in the photo were never a cannon couple, but correct me if I’m wrong.)

Anyways, this post is in no way meant to discourage you about byler. I am almost certain byler will happen. I am more saying that these instagram posts are not our strongest piece of evidence.

By the way, this is not meant to be a dig at effervescent-lesbian. They genuinely did nothing wrong and I am worried I sound mad at them. (I sometimes have issues with tone, and also have a huge fear of hurting someone’s feeling, so I want to clarify this is not their fault.)

Anyways, I hope this made sense or was at least somewhat coherent. My brain turned into mush after all that scrolling through instagram.

[randomingoftherandomness]

Fic: to speak or to be silent (Qiubing)

A/N: @xinyuehui @snicker-doodles

I just had a long day and I need to write something out.

--

"Are you ready to talk now?"

Li Bing bites the inside of his cheek at the way Qiu Qingzhi physically starts at his voice. Granted, he'd been loitering around in the shadows with the aim of not startling Qiu Qingzhi as he snuck back into his room, the way the other man stumbles against the corner of his desk, gasping at the impact.

It looked like it hurt.

Good.

"There's nothing to talk about," Qiu Qingzhi hisses, moving to light a candle. Obstinate, Li Bing thinks, equal parts fond and frustrated by him.

"Oh, I beg to differ. We're talking. Whether you want to or not."

Qiu Qingzhi shoots him a gaze, the tension in his shoulders sitting tight and pinched. Li Bing doesn't flinch and is soon rewarded with the way Qiu Qingzhi visibly unfurls. A surrender.

He takes a half step forward. Then, another. And closer still, until he slides his hand around Qiu Qingzhi's wrist. Gently and slowly, wrapping his touch skin to skin.

Li Bing hears the soft stutter of breath, right as he sees the way Qiu Qingzhi angle his body to him. "Do you regret it? Telling me you love me?" He asks.

The wounded spark in his beloved's brown eyes immediately makes him want to retract what he just said, but he perseveres. Shuffling forth until they are chest to chest. This close, he thinks he can count every dark lash that flutters when Qiu Qingzhi blinks at the sight of him.

"Some days I wish you had told me earlier," Li Bing says. "Some days I wish you hadn't told me at all."

"Li Bing..."

"But every day," Li Bing continues, keeping their gaze with a hand over Qiu Qingzhi's heart. "Every day I am glad you were the braver one of us two."

Qiu Qingzhi grabs the hand on his chest. "Do not... Please do not jest about this. I won't survive it if--"

"I'm not lying. I would never lie about this." Li Bing insists. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he searches Qiu Qingzhi's face. "I do love you too, you know?"

Li Bing can't stopper the bark of laughter that bubbles out of his chest when Qiu Qingzhi wraps him up in a tight hug and sweeps him off his feet.

"You do?" Qiu Qingzhi asks earnestly, hands cradling Li Bing's face like a precious jewel.

"I do," Li Bing repeats, laughter still ringing his words. "I really do."

[izzieedraws]

two birds on a wire

[forever--rain]

Nobody talk to me for like two weeks.

[khalliys]

I've been deeply art-blocked for a while now, but I really miss Beauyasha. I sketched this after the live show in November and now managed to (somewhat) properly draw it. They're in love your honor, always.

[onesidedradiostatic]

was gonna make a joke about this and have this be a shitpost instead but honestly may pass out soon so I'll type this seriously cause I have no energy to come up with a clever joke

it's interesting how vox's insults in stayed gone are literally just different ways of saying "you're old and outdated you're old and outdated you're old and outdated you're old and outda" tackled with a bit of "you're a coward" in there, whereas alastor's insults are not jabs at vox being new or modern tech, but rather his practices, "clout-chasing mediocre video podcast" he's saying he's a pandering, attention-seeking sellout, and he targets at vox's insecurities, questions his power, then makes fun of him for still being salty about his rejection.

I feel like it's pretty telling how vox's insults are just SO shallow, while alastor's cut deeper and more personally. while you could say, alastor may be just better at roasting than vox, I feel like it could also tell you something about alastor's hatred of vox being based on actual reason, which makes sense, he is the one who rejected the idea of being on a team with vox, the one who decided to make the decision to step away from their friendship. there were likely legitimate things about vox that alastor started to notice he didn't like.

whereas vox's hatred is extremely petty, he's still pissy over that rejection, he has no reasonable reason to hate on alastor's practices or medium. literally ALL he has is constantly repeating how tv is better and newer and how radio is worse and older, that he literally uses that SAME snap back even after alastor has his part "what a dated voice!" "you're looking at the future! he's the shit that comes before that!". he has NOTHING on alastor. if you asked him to make a list about what he hated about alastor he would probably just give you 10000 synonyms of "he's old and outdated" and be unable to come up with anything non-superficial. because the falling out on his part, from his perspective, was being rejected. and after that, BLIND RAGE. he hates alastor. he does. but he can't reasonably tell you why.

[delicioustarong]

DRAW YOUR FAVORITE AUS (but only John Dory) CHALLENGE!

Brotherhood AU by @0ketlyn-s & @tea0w0stache

World Tour AU by @year2000electronics

Not the Only One AU by @ryssbelle

Blast to The Past AU by @that-cool-guy

Im Still Here AU by @blade-that-was-broken

For This You Were Born AU by @blade-that-was-broken

Had fun coloring this but it took foreveeeeeerrrrrr because of school. As you can see from the "Im Still Here" AU, John Dory is just a tombstone 💀. It's because I made this before it was revealed that John Dory wasn't dead. I legit thought he was seriously dead so I did what I do best and use humor to cope LMAO.

(also-- Brotherhood!JD and NotTheOnlyOne! JD having the same pose makes me go 🧍🏻‍♂️So to cope, Imma just delude myself that this is the universal John Dory pose LMAOO)

[wizard-of-weed]

rb this to pass a joint to our fallen heroes (food service workers that worked through 420)

[crystallizsch]

"sweet merciful sands"

i blame this fucking meme

it was so hard drawing this without taking a minute to compose myself omg

[winds-of-zephyr416]

The dark lords should kiss. Make out, even. Dare I say…. Smooch.

[ghost-proofbaby]

my little scaredy cat

request: [anon] i would love to see watching horror movies with best friend!eddie and reader instinctively grabs his arm and hides herself against him and it leads to feelings and confessions haha

warnings: none! except it's unedited, which would be scary if that wasn't 90% of my writing on here lmao

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k+

i had a lot of fun busting this one out. it's just so cute and certainly how i wish i was spending my halloween! also, rest assured, i am also eyeing the other request you submitting anon. <3 happy haunting, my friends.

This was such a stupid idea. Such a stupid, stupid idea. 

You’ve always been a scaredy cat. Everyone in your friend group was well aware of it – you loved the idea of Halloween, but your poor heart just couldn’t take most of the frights that came with the eccentric holiday. 

It was fine, most of the time. If anyone had the urge to plan out a day at a pumpkin patch, you were eagerly accepting the invitation. If anyone wanted to bake any sort of sweet treats laced with pumpkin spice or caramel apple flavor profiles, you were already in your car and armed with the perfect recipe to help them. Someone wanted to peruse the decoration aisles of various stores? Wait no more, the perfect shopping buddy could be found in you. You, who could handle most of the trivial and sweet aspects of the holiday. You, who divulged in the more aesthetic side of it all rather than the scary side of it. 

Your distaste of being jumpscared or unnerved by gore and ghouls alike only really caused issues when it came to your best friend, Eddie Munson. 

His taste in experience of the frightful time of year was entirely the opposite of yours. It’s not that he didn’t like decorating caramel apples with you or that he didn’t find your choice in decorations cute, because he did. But he liked the terrifying aspect of it all – he liked the adrenaline rush of fictional danger. 

And friendship, in all its glory, is about give and take, is it not? 

Compromise. That’s what he called it when he’d begged and pleaded for you to join him in a movie night. Because the moment the suggestion fell from his lips, you both knew he had no intentions of watching one of your usual festive movies that only teased about the creatures that crept through the night. PG-13 films that didn’t really do it for him. No, Eddie Munson had insisted you join him for a movie night, and you both knew exactly what kind of movie he intended to play. 

You just hadn’t anticipated the scariest fucking movie you’d ever endured for the boy beside you on the couch. 

“Shit!” 

Your squeak is muffled over by the crescendo of creepy instrumental echoing from the small TV across the room. A cycle had quickly been found during this movie night; the movie would fall eerily silent as a tense scene arrived, you’d tense every single muscle so hard that Eddie could feel you shaking from the other side of the couch, and then once the jumpscare occurred and your small squeals were let out involuntarily, his own laughter would follow. 

“Oh, come on,” he coos a little, leaning closer to the middle of the couch, still a fair distance away from your figure bundled up in blankets that were being used more as shields than anything at this point, “That one wasn’t even that bad!” 

“To you!” you snap, yanking the fabric back down from your eyes only to glare at Eddie rather than look at whatever grotesque was plaguing the screen, “I’m a scaredy cat, remember?” 

And oh, remember he does. In all your years of friendship, Eddie had called you that nickname more times than either of you could count. He never meant it with ill will, but it was easier to tease you than to admit just how adorable he found your small reactions. 

Easier to tease than to admit just how badly he wishes you would seek protection or refuge from him during the scares he put you through. 

His face falls slightly, but he doesn’t let his small grin slip up, not wanting to give himself or his twinge of guilt away, “I’m sorry, kitty cat. C’mere – I can protect you from all the big bad monsters-”

Eddie’s opened arms are only met with one of the pillows you’d stolen off his bed to make the couch more comfortable. It smacks into the center of his chest with deadly aim and ferocious power, making him let out an exaggerated oomph. 

“Fuck you,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders now that the scare had passed. You almost tack on a comment about how he’s lucky you like him, because you would never endure this for anyone else.

Robin had tried. Steve had tried. Nancy had tried. They’d all tried to entice you in the scarier, classic Halloween experiences to no avail. Every offer of going to a haunted house, or attending the premiere of the newest horror movies at the local theater, were shot down before they even finished their sentences. 

Only one person could break your staunch demeanor on your limits. And right now, you sort of hated his guts. 

Eddie softens a bit, watching the way you pout and curl into yourself just a little tighter.

“Sweetheart,” he finally drops the cool guy demeanor, his voice gentle as he leans over with genuine concern, “We can turn it off, if you really want. Hell, if you want me to, I’ll put on something in your taste. Little Shop of Horrors, or maybe Beetlejuice? Those don’t usually scare you.” 

The offer is enticing. But you have a point to prove. 

“No,” you sit up a little straighter, square your shoulders with a little more defiance and faux bravery, “No, you wanted to watch…” 

You pause, and Eddie smiles softly as he supplies the title of his film of choice, “Poltergeist.” 

“Right, yes, Poltergeist. You wanted to watch it, so we’re gonna watch it.” 

Your stubbornness is admirable. 

Even when it falters. Even when another jumpscare has you ever so slightly scooching towards the center of the couch, no longer pressed to the opposite arm from Eddie in defiance. Even when Eddie spreads his legs casually, and you bump your knee into his thigh, the slightest touch bringing immense comfort.  

Once you discover that, it all seems downhill from there. 

A press of a knee against the side of his thigh turns into your side brushing his. Suddenly, the blanket you’d wielded like a weapon becomes shared. Moments where you try to hold up a barrier between your eyes and the screen cause slight disturbances in Eddie’s own vision. And then, it happens.

The thing he’d been diabolically planning for years. The one scenario he’d dreamt of every Halloween season, the one intention he’d held secretly every time he’d put your through endless scares. 

The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest. 

He almost missed it, it happens so suddenly. One moment, you’re just curling up a little bit closer to him. The next, your arms fully wiggly their way around his bicep, capturing his arm in your grasp as your face buries into his shoulder. He can no longer smell the buttery popcorn or faint chocolate on his breath as you invade his space. It’s all sweet shampoo and subtle perfume that tickles his nose, skin against skin in a quick flush as he can hear the vibrations of your predictable scream against the fabric of his shirt. 

You hardly seem to notice the sudden entanglement of your bodies in all your fear — your knees practically in his lap and your torso clinging onto his forearm for dear life. You’re acting on instinct, seeking out humane comfort without considering what you were doing.

When you do notice, you don’t let go, only slacken your grip. 

“Oh, I-“ you stutter, pulling back slightly to look up at a stunned Eddie, “I’m sorry, that’s- I just- I was scared and-“ 

“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, eyes blown wide, “It’s… it’s fine.” 

It’s more than fine.

His heart races in a way no horror movie or haunted house could incite. Every nerve ending tingles, everywhere his body connects to yours burning in delicious warmth. He wants to spend an eternity like this — you, curled up to him, clinging to him like your holy savior. 

Years, and years, and years of wait pays off. Patience is surely virtue as those big eyes of yours look into his. 

After a couple awkward beats of silence, you whisper, “I don’t think I like Poltergeist.” 

Just like that, you have him laughing again. It’s slow and steady, a gentle chuckle that stirs from his chest in disbelief as he tries to thaw from his shock and yearning.

“You think?” he breathes out, tone not nearly teasing enough to cover up the shakiness. 

He swears he can feel your heart pounding against his shoulder. 

“Don’t be mean,” you start to scowl, slowly unfurling. But he stops you — angles his arm so you can’t slip your arms away as easily as before, tilting his head in closer.

“Mean? I could never be mean to you, my little scaredy cat.” 

“You’re literally being mean as we speak-“

And so, he decides to stop speaking. 

It’s impulsive and an even dumber idea than you enduring such a scary movie to be around him. But you look so fucking cute, his heart is tearing up his throat, and suddenly his lips are on yours in his largest spurt of bravery to date. Even more brave than the time he’d made himself a human shield between you and that dude with a chainsaw at the local haunted house, despite the way chainsaws actually kind of made him shit himself.

You don’t fully reciprocate at first. His lips are pressed hard against yours, tips of noses crushed and eyes fluttered shut, and he starts to believe he’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that just washed years of friendship down the drain. 

Until your hands tighten on his bicep. Until that soft squeeze comes, and it feels like he can breathe again despite sharing the air with you. 

He breaks away for just a second, “I-“

“Don’t be mean,” you repeat your earlier words with entirely new meaning now. He opens his eyes and finds yours already pleading up at his face, glossy and desperate, movie forgotten. 

Those hands once squeezing his bicep let go and move to the collar of his t-shirt. Normally, he’d make a comment about you stretching it out, deforming the perfect fit that took him ages to wear in, but he can’t be bothered to feel anything but delight when you’re tugging him back in for another kiss. 

And the last thing he wants to be is mean. So he kisses you kindly, kisses you with all the care in the world that he had buried beneath his skin since the day he met you. Kisses you like it could scare away all the monsters that wait in the shadows. Like he’d lay down his life to protect you from the very frights he’d been subjecting you to for far too long now. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, pulling back briefly, “Hey.”

This time, his forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pauses the kisses. 

“God, Munson, I’ve waited for this God knows how long, sat through so many fucking scary movies, and you’re really going to-“ 

“Hold on, what?”

He’s grinning so hard, it aches. In his cheeks, in his chest, in the back of his head. Your words sink in and he relishes each syllable, even in your frustration.

“I- Uh,” you pull back suddenly, fingers still loosely tangled in his t-shirt, “I-“

“Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he insists, eyes finally fluttering back open to catch the embarrassment painted plainly across your face. You wear a nearly painful expression that only tightens as you know he’s watching you, “Just how many scary movies have you sat through wanting me to kiss you?” 

“Fuck off,” you sigh out, shaking your head a little, “I mean it. Fuck right off-“

“Cause I could probably give a ballpark number for how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you during them,” he continues on quickly, “Actually, I bet I could count how many times I suggested watching these fuckin’ films just for this moment only to chicken out.” 

Your eyes are open again in an instant. Sparkling with hope and realization of what he was getting at. “Excuse me?”

“Do you really think I’m that mean?” he scoffs, finally reaching up for your hands, surprisingly calm despite the delightful storm wreaking havoc in his chest. He takes your knuckles in his and lets his thumb trail right over them, “No offense, but if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have-“

“You like me?” 

Your voice is sweet as honey, bright and drowning out the horror movie still playing. 

He smiles, boyish glint and all, as he confirms, “I like you.” 

You put the first real amount of distance between the two of you since you’d started to cling to him out of fear, almost as if signaling that bravery beginning to bubble over in your chest, “You actually like me?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I- Well, maybe,” you bite your lip, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the need to capture it between his own teeth, “I just… I always thought you might like someone a little braver.”

His nose wrinkles, hands still twisting yours in his, “Excuse me? I think you’re plenty brave.” 

“Eddie, you’ve said it yourself, I’m a goddamn scaredy cat.”

“So?”

“So,” you persist, shuffling so that your legs fold beneath you and you gain some leverage over him, “You’re the exact opposite. You love scary things. Not even just during Halloween, but year round. And you’re telling me you like me even though I’m a scaredy cat.” 

“I like you because you’re a scaredy cat, thank you very much,” he corrects you immediately, “I love the way you always need me to protect you. I know, I know — not very feminist of me. I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really fuckin’ cute, y’know?” now that his floodgates have opened, he’s pouring out all the words he’s held back for so long, “And besides, you’re more than just a scaredy cat. You’re also so smart, so beautiful, so funny. Yeah, you scare easily, but you’re also the same person who is the first to put me in my place when I’m being an absolute little shit. And don’t even get me started on all the cute faces you make when you’re talking about things you actually like, or when you’ve been baking with Nance and have flour all over your cheeks-“ 

“Okay, okay,” you stop his rambling before he can embarrass you any further. Any more affection, and your face might end up buried in his shoulder again, “I get it. You like me.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you only stare, both smiling stupid, the screams of whatever climax occurring in the movie not even reaching your ears. All you can hear is the echo of his words, of his admission. And all he can hear is the pretty way your breath catches when he gives a small squeeze to your palm. 

It’s nice. It should be more anxiety inducing, it should be more dramatic. Eddie Munson should be absolutely losing his mind right now because he just kissed his best friend he’s been in love with for ages, but he isn’t. Actually, for the first time in a while, it feels as though he’s finally found it — he’s found his mind, he’s found his peace as he’s staring at your shy expression. It just feels right. Like a sigh of relief from the Universe. 

“I like you, too,” you break the silence, unable to meet his gaze, “I mean, you probably already got that, but-“

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I did gather that, but my God, please say it again.” 

Your eyes meet him, and another piece clicks into place. 

Right. It’s so fucking right.

“I like you,” you repeat yourself, a smile beginning to dance on your lips. He can’t help himself — he leans forward and pecks the corner of your upturned mouth, “I like you,” the repetition is music to his ears as he plants a second kiss on your cheek, “I like you, Munson.” 

His peppered kisses mark every inch of skin available to him, making giggles begin to escape you. You even try to hide from his onslaught, but it’s no use. He’s quick to drop your hands and wrap his arms around you, tugging you in close and trapping you against him as each kiss grows more obnoxious. Loud smacking sounds, deliberately leaving spit behind that has you squealing. It’s nothing like the squeaks from when you were watching the movie; these small noises are filled with a little more joy, a little more happiness that only fuels Eddie.

“Eddie!” you try to scold, placing two hands on his solid chest, “Oh my God, stop it. You’re gross.” 

“You love it,” he mutters with his mouth fully pressed to your temple, nose buried in your hair. That sweet, sweet shampoo intoxicating him.

You like him. He didn’t fuck it up. 

You finally go slack in his touch, succumbing and letting him place you in his lap, curled up comfortably as you sigh, “Yeah. Okay, maybe I do. Whatever.” 

“Oh, don’t act all tough now, kitty cat.” 

Your hands are curled back in the fabric against his chest and you share the wonderful ache he had been feeling in his own cheeks and bones as you look down at him with playfully squinted eyes.

When he ducks down for another kiss, you stop him easily, “Nope. First, I have a request.” 

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.” 

“Please turn off that goddamn movie.” 

He throws his head back in laughter that shoots straight for your heart. The kind of laughter that haunts a chilled autumn night as children prance the streets for candy, as teenagers get into mischief in distant bonfire parties, as elderly couples enjoy morning coffees over eerie fog. 

It kind of feels like home. It kind of feels like everything is as it should be, finally. 

“I suppose I can do that for you, my little scaredy cat,” he muses as his head tilts back forward, chest swelling with affection, “Besides, I think I know something we can do that’s a little more fun than watching the Poltergeist.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

His arms tighten around you as he suddenly throws the two of you to lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours and pick necklace nipping at your chin while he reaches out to click off the TV. The weight of him between your hips feels even better than either of your wildest dreams.

Years. You couldn’t believe it had taken years for this, and neither could he. But patience is virtue, and he probably would have waited another thousand years for this feeling, truth be told. 

“This,” he says boldly once the TV buzzes in sudden silence, dipping down and continuing where the two of you left off. Two sets of lips fit together like the world’s easiest jigsaw puzzle.

It’s safe to say the rest of the night, any further squeaks and squeals you let out aren’t due to ghosts.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

[tswwwit]

Thanks to everyone for bearing with me while I did this extremely long, ridiculous project.

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Shut the fuuuuuck up

I've long suspected that Mt Eternal is where the Tower of Thorns rests (or what is left of it anyway) due to several factors- the biggest being how chapter 8 ends with Zayne on Mt Eternal either sealing or clearing (interacting in some way at least) with something frozen or buried in the ice and snow there.

However, last night I was doing some rereading, and this afternoon a very specific thing caught my attention.

That is DEFINITELY the exact same mountain peak. I grew up in the Teton mountain range in the Rockies, my stupid little lizard brain recognizes peak patterns before anything else lol.

Maybe I'm super late to the party and everyone else already knows exactly what it is Zayne is doing here, but this makes me feel like he's finally remembering who he is now, and he's trying to either gain access to the tower (for abilities? A prophecy? The staff?) Or he's bound and determined to not let whatever is in there out again if it's trying to reclaim him.

"Remains shackled to time" is also especially troubling when you consider the vines of thorns and chains that literally bound him, and the verse from his myth:

"Astra gifted one of his eyes to the Foreseer. By walking the winding path of time did the Foreseer understand its passing. This is the power of a god” -Philos: Tome of the Foreseer.

The eye of Astra quite literally shackled him to time. While he was boundless in the sense of existing outside of time, he was more constrained than anyone bound to death.

Idk there is a lot to dissect but I need time to piece it all together. I just needed to get this out before I imploded.

[its-short-for-jackalope]

ugh, don't you just hate it when you're on a date with your partner and your boss won't stop calling to chat? 🙄

click for quality!

Curtwen for @starkidobsessedgiantgremlin, featuring a grumpy Agent Mega who doesn't like having to share attention.

[howdoistormspirit]

I am unwell about this man

Kicking my feet and twirling my hair as I giggle about him but also *incoherent noises*