#rolls up a week later with the most atrocious thng youve ever witnessed

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

I wake up and put my light brown hair into a messy bun. Once upon a time, my hair used to be my whole pride and joy. But ever since my mother died in a plane accident and my father invested in all the wrong stocks..... Add the funeral costs, the gambling addiction, the alcoholism that followed...

Well. Small family out of luck moving to the big city, a tale as old as time.

Me from three years ago would never treat my hair this way. Inflicting the shitty elastic hair bands upon it. Not owning a single Hairspray bottle. And, worst of all. Having to use 3-in-1-shampoo.

It may sound stupid but... I have been defined by my hair for so long. It was my mother who taught me to wake up two hours before school to get my hair in order. It was my nickname in High School. "Look!", the girls would whisper in excitement when I walked down the hall "it's Steve "The Hair" Harrington!"

That is now firmly in the past. Yesterday I was waiting for the subway and a passerby threw a few coins in my direction because they thought I was homeless. I didn't correct them because we truly can use every penny. I used the money to buy a cheap hair oil, which I have to hide inside my closet. My father is a stubborn man who refuses to accept charity, but if he knew I used the money for something as selfish as this he would disown me. Not that the Harrington name means much anymore.

I go down the stairs where my father is already awake. Yes, we live in a very tiny and very cheap building. Yes, we have multiple storeys. Those two things can and do coexist. I am the living evidence for that. Father is pouring beer into his cereal bowl. I frown. Normally he eats his cereal with Whiskey or Rum in the mornings. My frown deepens when I see that the many eviction letters and unpaid bills that normally are spilling down the table are gone. Something is wrong.

"Oh, Hello Steve", my father says and smiles. Now I definitely know that something is up. My mother told me that the last time my father smiled was the day before I was born.

"What is going on?", I ask. I can feel my voice trembling despite my best efforts.

"You", a deep and hot and smolthering and sexy and (insert synonym for hot) voice says. I turn around. A group of like ten people is standing in our living room. Somehow it is not cramped at all even though we are still living in a very small apartement. With multiple floors.

"Who is this group of like ten people standing in our living room?", I ask.

"We are nine people. Can't you count?" The douchy-looking one asks.

"It's not my fault my father didn't let me finish high school", I cry.

The smolthering one steps towards me. He has beautifully long hair. Three years ago I would've been horrified at how he treats his hair, but now I am using 3-in-1-shampoo, so it looks absolutely divine in comparison. His eyes look like they have an inferno trapped inside them. An inferno...of passion. I can feel his breath against my face and for a crazy second I think he is going to kiss me. Which is ridiculous of course. Such a big and strong and cool and edgy (/pos) guy would never want anything with a small and tiny and pathetic little sopping wet kitty man like me :(

"Boys", he says, turning around. "Tell this hotshot lil big boy who we are"

"I'm Mike", the douchy-looking one says.

"I'm Will", the one with a horrible bowlcut says. I immediately feel better about my own hair.

"I'm Dustin". I now feel even better about my own hair situation.

"I'm Lucas", the token black one says. He is here to earn a few diversity points because we are #woke.

"I'm Gareth", says another one.

"I didn't really get a name in the actual show, but people headcanon me as Jeff", the other black one says. Wow!, I think. This super cool band is diverse^2

"And I", the super hot vocalist and obvious love interest whispers sexily into my ear, "now own you"

I look at him confused. It is super unfair how long his eyelashes are. I wish I still had enough money to buy mascara. "What?", I whisper huskily.

"Steve", my father says. "I have sold you to this super cool rock band. Eddie and the rotting cough or something"

"Corroded Coffin"

"That's what I said"

I look up at my new owner. "You are mine, pretty boy", he whispers in my ear. "Thank god that you are hot", I answer, "or this would be very creepy instead of romantic". Then we make out.

-> more shitposts :)