#they all own eyeliner and get mad when they’re all wearing it on the same day

[strawberrytalia]

a large portion of the arrowfam are teenage girls, and we do not talk enough about that.

emi, lian, mia, cissie, and sienna squabbling over clothes and nonsense, then making up two seconds later by showing each other a funny video or buying food for the other, and then making fun of ollie all together in a group is everything to me, you don’t understand.

[after-witch]

Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

 A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on. 

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on  your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side.  You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you.  He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding. 

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness. 

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight,  you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

**

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

[moregaythanyourealized]

First Impressions

Otto Octavius x reader

Working with others wasn’t your strong suit. People think you’re vulgar and rude. You like to call yourself brutally honest. This job wasn’t an exception. A science company that needed engineers, mechanics, and strong minds like your own. You had only been working here for a few months when gossip about a new super project was being passed around. No one bothered to tell you, of course. You just overheard it on your coffee break. Apparently some great scientist was coming in and taking over the entire lab.

Usually you’d be excited for an advancement in the world of fusion. But this new rich snobby scientist meant that for however long this project took you’d have; No office, Less working hours (meaning less pay), and worst of all....small talk

It was the day the new scientist was supposed to come in, you now knew his name was Otto Octavius. Your desk and your co workers desks were moved out of the lab and into a much smaller space. Cramping you all together like rats. You wore your usual attire and annoyed look as you entered the building. Although today you dawned some stylish eyeliner. Not for him of course, everybody was working extra hard to look presentable and professional. You passed by a co-worker who you didn’t really hate as much,

“Yo, Kathleen, is that guy here yet? Or do you think he’s too busy getting the windows on his lamborghini re-tinted?” You snorted at your own joke waiting for her response,

“Uh, he’s upstairs I think...in the lab.” You thanked her and walked up the steps. You pushed through nerds and geeks trying to reach your desk. A folder of your ideas carefully sealed with colorful clips sat in your drawer.

“L/n!” Turning around your boss was at the end of the hall stomping his feet,

“You were supposed to be in the lab by 7:30!” You glanced at the clock on the wall, 7:46,

“My apologies sir. I didn’t realize everyone would have a stick up their ass this morning. Besides traffic on the way here is always shitty.” You absentmindedly looked through your folder and took one page out pinning it to your cork board, until your boss grabbed your wrist and turned you towards him. His breath was heinous,

“Listen L/n, on a normal day I’d let you get away with being like this. But this is too important for you to fuck up.” glaring at you he released your arm,

“Get your shit together.” He spat. Waiting until he rounded the corner you groaned and tugged at your hair. Today just wasn’t your day. Taking a deep breath you smoothed out your shirt and walked to the lab pushing the door open and continuing inside. The colder air made you relax a bit. Hoping you’d be able to get some work done you sat down on a metal table in the corner. Crossing your legs and looking over blueprints for the next big thing in New York. The above ground bullet train. Sleek design and smooth riding on the rails...you hoped.

Kathleen walked in and shyly rapped your shoulder,

“Did you meet Mr Octavius?”

“He hasn’t come in yet.” You replied glancing her way, admiring how nice she looked even when she wasn’t trying,

“He’s right over there.” She points to a hunched over man in a red sweater. You got off the table and stared,

“That’s him? I thought he was like a janitor or some shit.” The man looked up raising a brow.

Fuck...probably said that too loud.

Waving awkwardly you grabbed Kathleen’s arm and dragged her over to the main table with you,

“Hello, I’m Dr Octavius. I believe we’ll be working together for the next few weeks.” He smiled sweetly and stuck out his hand which Kathleen accepted greatly,

“Actually Dr,” You chimed,

“You’ll be working with people from the east wing. They’re just letting you invade our entire office.” Kathleen stamped down on your foot lightly before turning back to the doctor,

“Y/n was just going to get me some coffee, do you want any Dr?” He nodded and you walked out making sure to slam the door. Stupid jerk, wearing a cute fucking sweater, trying to act all innocent. Trying to play god and mess with whatever sanity I have left. Pouring two cups of coffee you sighed, watching the steam spiral from the cup in a calming manner. Putting milk and sugar into one and nothing into the other.

Re-entering the lab Kathleen was no longer there. A disturbing silence made you want to turn on your radio. Octavius was still leaning over the desk writing things down. You held the drink infront of him,

“Oh, thank you sweetheart.” Your eye twitched. That was the final straw. You yanked the coffee back spilling it a bit,

“My name is Y/n L/n, I may not have your money or title but I expect the same respect you’d give any man on this team. Do you understand me?” He stood up quickly. You didn’t realize he was so tall,

“Now wait a moment Y/n, just a few minutes ago you were cursing and accusing me. Respect is about the last thing on my mind when I think of you.” Ah shit, he was kinda right. You weren’t mad at him. You were just mad at the world. Still you had bad energy in your system,

“But I apologize for calling you sweetheart. It was a crude mistake.” You set both coffees down gently and folded your arms looking at your boots. Saying sorry was the right thing to do, even if it sucked,

“I’m sorry for the way I acted Dr, I guess I’m just a little upset with the pay cuts.” He paused,

“They’re cutting your pay?” You nodded and sat down in one of the metal chairs,

“Everyone here who doesn’t work 24/7 alongside you for the next month gets their pay cut in half until you’re out of here.”

“But you didn’t choose to work less, that doesn’t seem right.” You sighed and rested your head on the table,

“Tell me about it.” While enjoying the feeling of cool table on your cheek you noticed one of his papers. You grabbed it and a pencil before erasing some of his math. You could feel him focused on you,

“Staring is rude.” You said not taking your eyes off the equations,

“You seem to be as well.” Chuckling a bit he sat down and tapped your hand drawing your attention to his soft features,

“I think I know what’s bothering you.”

“I already told you what’s bothering me.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue,

“No, not that. When you left for coffee, Kathleen and I had a small talk about your behavior” Jesus, he sounds like a high school principal,

“She told me that you act like this a lot around other people. And it’s my personal hypothesis that you are intimidated by others who you believe to be smarter or better. You’re afraid of losing your job and not being able to prove yourself. I’m assuming that started in your childhood, either with an absent father figure or bullies at school.” You sat in disbelief. No one had ever really laid out your problems and made them seem so simple. Your face heated up and you clenched your hands. Why did this make you feel so stupid? Why did he think he knew more about your feelings than you did?

Standing up you turned away. Once a demanding and harsh voice was now quiet and small failing to hide your distraught,

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

————————————————

The rest of the day was slow. Your desk felt like a prison where time never moved forward. Rethinking what he said. The repeated movie in your brain of him lecturing you, All of it slowly morphed into him not making noise at all. His mouth moved but no sound, it was wonderful. You just imagined him, dark eyes, large stature looming over you, soft hands....

“Y/n?”

“Fuck!” You hit your head against the wall and turned to see Kathleen. She leaned in to make sure you’re okay, her perfume hit your nose and you tried not to seem like you were enjoying the moment too much,

“What do you need Kathy?”

“Dr Octavius asked me to give this to you.” She handed you an envelope and hastily exited the room. The crisp paper unfolded in your hands. Reading the letter was like fiery kisses to your skin. Words pouring out like water from a faucet.

Y/n,

We obviously got off on the wrong foot. I do not think of you as a subordinate and I certainly hope you do not think of me as a threat. We both overstepped personal and professional boundaries today. I apologize sincerely for making you uncomfortable. What is science if not testing the waters though? To show my attitude towards a better future working together I invite you to lunch tomorrow downtown. I will pick you up outside at 12:30

All the best,

Dr Otto Octavius

Pinning the letter up next to your project on the cork board you admired it smiling. Perhaps second impressions will set you both straight.

[realcube]

trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references 

kei tsukishima 

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you 

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima 

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you 

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF 

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one 

♡ jk jk 

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you 

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy 

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened 

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning. 

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--” 

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?” 

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact. 

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened?  why were they both acting like they were in drama class?  and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani 

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead 

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red 

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable 

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice 

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y’know - chasing you around the whole school 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage. 

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.” 

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?” 

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable 

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution 

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending? 

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you* 

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.” 

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer 

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny  obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch  🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague 

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time 

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly 

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment 

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?” 

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

[padsnprongs]

wolfstar headcanons that ✨just make sense✨

french sirius and welsh remus

they would speak to each other in their different languages all the time, mostly just to mess with each other.

they’d also say really romantic things, but in their different language, so the other wouldn’t know

remus is like insanely tall, but always slouches, whereas sirius is literally a dwarf but stands up really tall (talk about that ✨aristocracy✨ you know)

when remus had his growth spurt in the summer of fifth year, sirius was, understandably, shocked

but also maybe a little annoyed

how was he supposed to kiss him now?

in the end he decided to just grab his tie and pull him down

which remus didn't particularly mind

remus keeps his hair short, because it gets in the way. sirius loves remus' hair, because of how curly it is - remus hates it for the same reason

'I look like an idiot, pads!'

'no, you look cute.'

after sirius started living with the potters', his hair grew long, finally free of the strict rules of grimmauld place

when remus saw his long hair for the first time, on the train platform, he fell in love with him a little more

sirius turns into padfoot on the days surrounding the full moon to comfort remus. he’s literally like a therapy dog at this point.

sirius’ bed hasn’t been slept in since fifth year

cuddles

so many cuddles

lots of pda, much to james’ disgust

‘ugh, you guys, get a room!’

‘prongsie stop being homophobic.’

‘im not- what am i even supposed to say to that??’

‘nothing, that’s the point.’

sirius has a tattoo of the full moon that changes with the moon phases and remus has a tattoo of the canis major constellation - while the rest are just inked on, the sirius star seems to be actually glowing.

remus always seems to lose his jumpers, even though they’re some of his most valued items of clothing. he will eventually find sirius wearing them, but he can’t even be mad because sirius just looks so adorable in them.

remus, in return, will steal sirius’ leather jacket, which sirius doesn’t particularly mind. james, however, gets especially mad whenever this happens

‘well how come he’s allowed to wear it and I’m not? I’m literally your brother!’

sirius rests his head on remus’ lap whilst remus reads to him, and remus will stroke his hand through sirius' hair

remus loves to french plait his hair, and sirius is adamant about leaving the plait in for as long as possible

‘sirius, it’s been three days, you need to wash your hair! I can always re-plait it!’

‘...fine. but only if you promise.’

remus is constantly freezing cold, which shows through the countless jumpers and scarves he will pile on, even in the height of summer

his feet alone are like blocks of ice, which sirius never misses an opportunity to complain about whenever they share a bed

sirius, on the other hand, is a human sauna, and will still be wearing shorts in the middle of winter

when they cuddle, their contrasting levels of body heat cancel each other out perfectly

basically, whenever remus gets too cold, or sirius gets too hot, you’ll undoubtedly find them clinging to each other

sirius always gets really worried after the full moon, and insists on looking after remus - he makes sure he has enough pillows, sneaks him food because the hospital wing food isn’t the nicest, makes him drink water, takes notes for him during the lessons he misses, and just generally stays by his side as long as he can, until madam pomfrey has to kick him out

sirius worries so much during and after the full moon that it often makes remus feel guilty, but he also finds it really sweet that sirius cares so much

he still tries to make sirius see sense and stop him from worrying, because he has really bad self esteem issues after the full moon and doesn’t think he deserves it. whenever he tries to tell sirius this, he says that sirius shouldn’t feel obligated to look after him, because he’s a monster.

every single time, sirius will take his hand, look into his eyes, and tell him firmly, ‘you are not a monster, moony.’

peter will then add that ‘you fold your socks, moony, we’re not exactly scared of you.’

and remus will wonder how he got so lucky as to have such amazing friends

whenever sirius is ill, remus will try his best to return the favour. sirius will insist that he doesn’t get ill, ‘don’t worry, remus, I’m fine’, even though he can barely move

but remus won’t listen, and turns into a proper mother hen, fussing over him and making sure he has everything he need, just trying to repay sirius for all he does during the full moons

illness = constant cuddles

but lbr there are constant cuddles regardless

they got together because they both kept confiding in james and lily about their unrequited feelings and how hopelessly in love they were, and james and lily got sick of it and decided to work together to set them up bc they were both so hopelessly oblivious.

that’s also how lily got to know james better, and see that he wasn’t as arrogant as she thought, and he actually cares deeply about his friends

but these are wolfstar headcanons not jily so moving on

they had a very touchy feely relationship even before they got together. they were always very close, and their bond was different than it was with james and peter

sirius loves to bake, whilst remus loves to cook, but if they try to do it the other way around, bad things happen

they would often sneak into the kitchens late at night and try to make something, fool around, mess up, and end up snogging surrounded by the mess of ingredients

late nights on the astronomy tower!! they did this even before they got together; when either of them couldn’t sleep, they would go up there and just sit together and look at the stars. their first date was a picnic up there, and it became their own special place where they both felt safe

nose kisses!! forehead kisses!! cheek kisses!! adorable

whenever they're messing about they'll almost always end up in each others arms, saying ‘I hate you’ whilst grinning bc they both know that they don’t mean it and it’s actually the exact opposite

when sirius can’t sleep, he’ll watch remus (in like. a non-creepy way) and count his freckles. once remus caught him in the act and thought it was the softest thing he’d ever seen

remus talks in his sleep. sometimes he just mutters random words that don’t make sense, and sometimes he can have full on conversations with sirius.

sirius thinks it’s the funniest thing ever and teases remus mercilessly about it in the mornings, even though remus has no memory of it and denies everything.

when they’re alone in the hospital wing after a full moon, sirius will hold remus’ hand and sing softly to comfort him and help him sleep.

remus absolutely adores sirius' voice, and tries to get him to sing more, and in front of other people, but sirius is adamant that the only reason he sings to remus is because it helps soothe him, and his voice isn’t all that great.

his lack of self confidence about his voice is due to his parents constantly yelling at him to stop singing, because they said it was annoying and he didn’t have a good voice, and he believed them, and still does. It’s one of his biggest insecurities.

the first time they said they loved each other was actually an accident. they had gotten all caught up in planning a prank and sirius smirked and said, ‘aren’t i just the most creative person you’ve ever met?’, with a dramatic flip of his hair

remus just chuckled and replied, ‘that’s why I love you.’

remus didn’t even realise he’d said it out loud until he saw sirius staring at him with a dropped jaw.

then remus panicked, but before he could get up and leave, sirius grinned and said it back.

and then they kissed, obviously

remus may be tough and sarcastic and sirius may be proud and overconfident but they’re both big softies really

remus cheers sirius on at every single quidditch practice, come rain or shine

he says he’s just supporting his boyfriend, but secretly he thinks Sirius looks really good in that quidditch jersey

remus loves it when sirius wears eyeliner. no reason. just looks cool.

literally everyone had a bet on when they would get together. minnie and dumbledore, james and pete, lily and marlene, james and lily, james and dorcas...

james likes betting

there are frequent updates on their relationship in the staff room, because all of the teachers just know they're meant to be

the teachers had a field day when they first got together

madam pomfrey, especially, always sees them together in the hospital wing, and by fourth year, is their no1 shipper

they both get frequent nightmares, and will always comfort each other and cuddle after because they feel safe in each other’s arms.

literally the least toxic relationship ever. they’re both incredibly honest with each other, always talk to each other about how they feel, but also have that perfect balance of banter

if not soulmates, why moon and stars??

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for Friends to Lovers with Rodrick Heffley

Rodrick Heffley x reader

warnings: mentions of a bad home life

a/n: YALL I FUVKING DID IT AND IM TERRIFIED OF THE REPERCUSSIONS

prompt: y/n and rodrick have been friends for a long time, so long boundaries seem to be blurred

you’ve actually known rodrick since elementary school

it all started when he asked you to join his band

��i can play drums, you can play the tambourine because that’s the only other instrument i have! it’ll be wicked!”

your band lasted a week and only had one gig, it was for rodrick’s parents

who LOVED you by the way

they somehow permitted you to sleepover almost every other day, you practically lived at their house

FOR YEARS you did this

terrorizing lil greg

“what’s he gonna do, pee his diaper?”

“rodrick!!!”

always trick or treating together, exchanging candy when you got back go his house (or occasionally yours)

you guys didnt like hanging at your house, your parents were kind of....a lot to handle

starting middle school together, wreaking havoc on all the teachers

rodrick did it to impress you, according to mr. and mrs. heffley

but he’d give you a stupid little smirk from across the classroom after he got scolded so you believed them

whenever anyone gave you shit at school, rodrick wouldn’t hesitate to step in and show them who’s boss

“rodrick, you’re gonna get detention again!”

“yeah, well, i’m not gonna let them be mean to you”

you went to his house after school most days, sometimes you’d get there first while he was in detention

mrs. heffley had after school snacks

“y/n, why don’t you play some video games with greg while you wait for rodrick to get home?”

playing wii sports with greg, who cried when you won

you also had time to do homework while you waited, rodrick usually copied afterwards

when rodrick came home, he’d drag you to the garage to show you his drum skills

he hit himself in the head with his drumstick

“ooh, that’s gonna leave a mark”

next step was high school, which was a weird step up

but you guys had each other

you still spent most nights at the heffley residence, but you had to sleep on the couch instead of on the floor in the attic (aka rodricks lair)

“you two are growing up, so we think it’s best that you don’t sleep in the same room together, right?”

rodrick emptied one of his drawers for you to put your clothes in

but you still end up stealing his clothes half the time

“i wish i could be mad, but you wear all of my clothes better than me”

subconsciously doing couple-y things without realizing it

like rodrick would pull you closer to him when you two were together, put his arm around you, give you his jacket, etc

“are you guys serious? you’ve got to be dating!” -everyone

“rodrick, when are you and y/n going to get together?” -mr. and mrs. heffley

the answer was always the same: “we’re just friendssssss”

watching his band practice and cheering him on no matter what

you’re his guest vocals ☺️

when he got the van, it was a whole new world for you guys

you could go out wherever whenever

(with parent approval usually)

“wanna go ride around for a little while? hit a gas station and get a bunch of candy?”

“do you even have to ask?”

watching scary movies in his room

“platonic” cuddling in his bed

stuffing your face in the crook of his neck during scary scenes

“come on, y/n! it’s not that bad!”

him having to hold onto you for comfort so you’d keep watching with him

sometimes falling asleep together and his mom or dad coming to check on you later

“alright, time for bed! y/n, you get your usual couch...”

laughing your ass off at rodrick when he messes with greg

manny loves you, sometimes rodrick is jealous of the attention you give to his baby brother instead of him

rodrick scooping you up in his arms when you least expect it, never fails to make you scream

“hey there, hot stuff”

“you’re impossible!”

roller skating together, he held your hand the whole time bc he was worried you’d fall

his friends ENDLESSLY taunt him over your relationship

when he makes plans with others, he always says “let me ask y/n first” which just SENDS his friends oh my god

“dude, that’s your s/o!”

“no, they’re not! shut up!”

hating being apart a lot its so stressful

sometimes you’d have a pretty hard time at home and show up to his house at odd hours, but you were always welcome

you have your own key

“hey, what’s wrong?”

“my parents...they’re just the worst”

rodrick knows its bad when you start crying

he took you up to his room and played some music (quietly as not to wake the house)

you laid on top of him while he rubbed your back and told you that he was there for you

dozing off on him, as per usual

dude, the amount of pictures you have? astronomical

you playing his drums, the two of you going 🤘, an actual nice picture of you guys, him carrying you on his back, kiddos on your first day of school by year, you kissing his cheek “platonically”

comforting him when he was having his own hard times, whether it be an argument with his parents/greg, difficulties with musical inspiration, or anything else

“come here, you need a hug”

“i need several”

“you’ll get ‘em”

talent show! talent show! talent show!

you completely cussed out the rest of his band before they went on bc they had the audacity to replace him

but greg managed to save the day

“greg, my dude, give me a high five, that was awesome”

he wasn’t actually half bad but like, his mom kinda stole the show

more joyrides in the van

absolutely BLASTING the music in there while you and rodrick sat on the floor in the back and ate the taco bell you’d just picked up

“dude, you gotta try my potato griller, it’s a godsend”

“okay, but try this slushie, its so good. i mean, not as good as a 7-eleven slushie, but it’s up there”

finishing your food and laying in the van for another hour bc you just loved each other’s company

but after sitting together alone for so long, you felt like there was something left to do, what was it?

you and rodrick were moving around a bunch and ended up next to each other sitting against the wall of the van

you looked over at each other and hesitated before leaning in to kiss

and you guys kissed for a while

okay, so, you made out on the floor of his van with led zeppelin playing in the background

✨magical✨

it wasn’t awkward or anything, just long overdue

okay it was a little awkward actually

“well, that was” *clears throat* “that was cool or whatever”

“yeah...wanna do it again?”

“oh, for sure”

not like it was a surprise to anyone when you announced you were FINALLY dating

“wait, you guys just started dating? i thought you’d been together for like, at least 5 years” -mr. heffley

“this is great! obviously, we’ll need to set up some boundaries so that everyone is comfortable and safe, but yay for young love!” -mrs. heffley

“gross” -greg

mrs. heffley wrote a column in the newspaper about you titled “my teenage son’s fantastic significant other”

not much changed after you and rodrick got together, just kissing, “i love you’s” and more teasing from friends and school faculty

“we were all rooting for you two, actually!” -the teachers

summer vacation with him

it was always SWEET

going to the pool together, he’d usually lay out on the chairs with you but you were able to drag him into the pool a few times

“come onnnn, it’ll be funnnn”

“you’re lucky you’re cute”

hugs from behind!!! kisses on the top of ur head!!!!

PROM AH HAH HAH

seeing rodrick in a tux was too funny for you, you almost couldn’t stop laughing (especially at the eyeliner he insisted on wearing)

but he just couldn’t stop staring at you

“rodrick!”

“what?! you’re stunning!”

honestly, prom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be

you danced like maniacs for a few songs and ended up ditching early on

but you did end up renting a bunch of movies and getting tonssss of snacks and changing into pajamas as soon as you got to his house

im talking popcorn, candy bars, ice cream, cans of pop, chips, chicken nuggets and so on

and also passing out on each other

“i think i love you a little more, i didn’t know that was possible”

“i have that effect on people”

he makes u breakfast before his mom gets the chance though

“pancakes? for me?”

“i put chocolate chips in them too, you’re gonna love them”

(they were a lil bit burned, still good tho)

you guys really did just spot on get each other

okay but i know you also roast each other sometimes so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

relationship goals, honestly

fresh outta ideas 🤠 goodnight

[catsandstrawberries]

Hi do you take request ?If yes, can you do a platonic BTS x reader where reader is coming out to them ?

(I’m personally Bi , aro ,ace and non binary,but if you’d rather do something else it’s fine too!)

Sexual Identity Crisis 

Pairing: 8th member x bts (platonic)

Word Count: 1.6k 

A/N: I hope you don't mind but I made the reader bisexual and use she/them pronouns, I also made it platonic as in 8th member. Hope you like it! (this is unedited so sorry for grammer)

It was the little things that you first started to notice.

The way you would blush on stage during a performance when an army would call your name. The squeals for your attention no longer embarrassing or cute but stirring something deep within you. You never liked the idea of dating as an artist, too much drama, too many things, too many feelings.

But it wasn't until you were preparing for one of your solo songs, one of the noona artists your age fixing up your makeup, you started to notice. You started paying attention to the way some of the noona's would wear leggings that fit tight to their bodies, or how gentle their hands felt on you.

It only confused you more when you felt the same for guys. The harsh jawline, the big hands, thinking about it made you flush.

During interviews, as you sat next to your brothers, and tried not to seem as disinterested as you felt, they would ask you the question.

"Who is your ideal type?"

Images. Images of curvy bodies and plush skin, hard stomachs, gentle hands to caress your face, and thick fingers to ground you.

"I don't think I have a type." You respond with a smile. Deflect a few more questions, just as you deflected the feelings within.

Whenever you felt panicked you liked to make lists. You were good at that. A few things to take note of,

One: You might not be straight.

Then you met Shawn Mendes and Camilla Cabello and fuck you've never wanted to have a threesome so bad.

One: You're bisexual.

Then you had another jaw-dropping, mind-altering revelation.

It was caused by TikTok. BigHit thought it would be a great idea for BTS as a band to post a series of TikToks to help gain attraction and give content to the fans.

It was really fun.

Pulling pranks on the boys like cutting the power in Jungkooks room when he was playing video games or handing Jin salt instead of sugar for his coffee gained a huge following.

But on rainy days when you had no work to do (which rarely happened), instead of making videos, you would scroll through the app. It caused your heart to stutter, the users on the app who smirked and winked at the camera made you feel so nervous. As if someone would spot you and your secret would be revealed to the world.

But then your eyes would linger on a few guys. As the only girl in BTS oftentimes you were trademarked to be the girly girl, or on the extremist side of the gender spectrum. But you had always secretly wished to hold the same power your brothers did. Some days you hated the weight on your chest and wished your boobs could pop right off. You wanted to be like Jimin who was so fluid in his gender identity and wear tux's and give

smolders to the fans.

Two: Your pronouns were she/they.

Three: You need to tell your brothers.

Well, you didn't need to tell them. But you wanted to. As the youngest and declared golden maknae duo with Jungkook, they had practically raised you.

You love them.

You started small.

"Hey, Hoseok, have you seen (G)I-DLE's new music video, oh my god'?"

You were in the dance studio refining the black swan dance for an upcoming performance when you asked him. Taking a chug of water as you watched his reaction.

"Of course I did! They're trending right now, after I watched the teaser video I was hooked."

"Soojin looked hot." Fuck, you meant to bring it up more calmly but it comes out rushed in one breath.

You feel yourself flush but get back onto the dance floor, hoping that it will pass off as exhaustion.

"If you want to hang out with her, I'm sure PR won't have an issue with it," Jin comments from the side, and you just nod hoping to change the conversation.

The next time it happened, you and the boys were traveling in America to go on James Cordon's show. It was supposed to be a casual interview but nothing ever casual in America.

"So Jungkook, (y/n), you were at the Grammys a couple of weeks ago, right?"

You and jungkook both nod, and you get a strange pit in your stomach for being called out like that.

"Well, you both had such strong reactions to meeting them!" Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

"(y/n) Shawn Mendes is quite beautiful, isn't he?"

"I think a lot of people are beautiful, but he is very good looking." You wince as you feel Namjoons gaze burn into the back of your head.

"Interesting."

James continues asking questions to your brothers and delves into several female celebrities, and after what feels like forever, it's over.

Then you're in the car with Taehyung, Jin, and Jungkook and the maknae starts to mimic you.

"I think a lot of people are beautiful but Shawn Mendes is so cute oh I could look into his eyes forever-

"Shut up Kook!" and then you take a breath and mumble under your breath,

"Camilla is pretty too." Little did you know that Jungkook was too busy making kissy faces to hear you, but Jin and Taehyung definitely share a look.

The third time is when the band is having a dress rehearsal and the style is very edgy and the boys are dressed in jewelry and punk rock and eyeliner, but they want to put you in this white frilly dress even though you have to dance, and...and you just don't want it.

So when one of the Noonas isn't looking you grab one of Yoongis discarded outfits and put it on, a pair of black skinny jeans, a metal chain, and a white tea with a black suit blazer.

When you go to show the boys they don't make a fuss, and you hope no one notices it's not your original outfit. But then one of the noonas is bringing you the dress and you're casually walking away from her but she starts to shout,

"(y/n), isn't this your original outfit? Where did you find that?"

But then Jimin is throwing an arm around you and glancing you up and down, "Ugh, our little maknae is growing up, can she wear this instead noona?"

And the girl just huffs out a fine while Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, "I got your back."

But you never could have imagined telling them like this. You wanted to sit all of them down and pass around hot chocolate and have a revelation about your sexuality and gender status.

But no, nothing can ever go your way.

Hobi was introducing Becky G to the 7 of you in person. It was a few months after chicken noodle soup had come out and she had decided to stop in Korea for a break on her solo tour. Hobi thought it was only right for the rest of BTS to meet her since they had worked so well together.

It was the way she walked into the room with so much confidence, wearing whatever the hell she wanted, and glancing at you with a wink as she bowed and repeated the mantra she had been learning for weeks.

"Annyeonghaseyo, (y/n)!" Respond back to her, it's not that hard. Just say hello.

"I'm so fucking gay."

You could literally feel the temperature in the room change and even some of your security guards passed you a look.

Shit.

"Well not like, fully gay, I'm bisexual."

Why are you still talking!?

An awkward chuckle left your mouth as sets of eyes stared at you, and as if you couldn't make things any more uncomfortable, you added,

"I want to use she/they pronouns."

"(y/n), love, we aren't mad." You had just arrived back at the dorms and immediately sprinted for your room but Namjoon was hot on your heels.

"Got her." You squealed as Jungkook wrapped his arm around you and practically dragged you to the common area.

"So you swing both ways?" Jimin added nonchalantly both of his legs tossed over your lap, "that is the best way to live life, dear."

"Jimin! Not helping" Jin berated before taking a seat next to you on the couch,

"How long have you known?"

"I feel like, subconsciously I've known for a while, but I didn't really accept it until six months ago."

Jin winces at your words,

"did you think we would be mad? Six months is a long time."

"It must have been hard to keep that to yourself," Yoongi adds, rubbing a soft circle into your palm.

Namjoon sighs from the loveseat next to Tae, "Look, (y/n), you're our little sister, and we will never be mad at you for doing what you need to do to be comfortable in your own skin."

"We'll always support you, in fact, if you need any lady advice-" Tae's suggestive smirk is cut off by Hobi who smacks him on the back of the head.

"Now is not the time!?"

"Whether or not you want to go public with this information is up to you, but we'll need to talk to Bang PD if so." You nod at Namjoons words but thinking about going public makes your head spin.

"But Namjoon, if they don't want to, we can keep it our little secret, right?" Jimin's use of the pronoun causes you to shift your eyes to him, and before you know it you're attacking him in a hug.

Namjoon adds with a smile on his face,

"of course, whenever they're ready."

[ladydarklord]

The Mighty Boosh on the business of being silly

The Times, November 15 2008

What began as a cult cocktail of daft poems, surreal characters and fantastical storylines has turned into the comedy juggernaut that is the Mighty Boosh. Janice Turner hangs out with creators Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and the extended Boosh family to discuss the serious business of being silly

In the thin drizzle of a Monday night in Sheffield, a crowd of young women are waiting for the Mighty Boosh or, more precisely, one half of it. Big-boned Yorkshire lasses, jacketless and unshivering despite the autumn nip, they look ready to devour the object of their desire, the fey, androgynous Noel Fielding, if he puts a lamé boot outside the stage door. “Ooh, I do love a man in eyeliner,” sighs Natalie from Rotherham. She’ll be throwing sickies at work to see the Boosh show 13 times on their tour, plus attend the Boosh after-show parties and Boosh book signings. “My life is dead dull without them,” she says.

Nearby, mobiles primed, a pair of sixth-formers trade favourite Boosh lines. “What is your name?” asks Jessica. “I go by many names, sir,” Victoria replies portentously. A prison warden called Davena survives long days with high-security villains intoning, “It’s an outrage!” in the gravelly voice of Boosh character Tony Harrison, a being whose head is a testicle.

Apart from Fielding, what they all love most about the Boosh is that half their mates don’t get it. They see a bloke in a gorilla suit, a shaman called Naboo, silly rhymes about soup, stories involving shipwrecked men seducing coconuts “and they’re like, ‘This is bloody rubbish,’” says Jessica. “So you feel special because you do get it. You’re part of a club.”

Except the Mighty Boosh club is now more like a movement. What began as an Edinburgh fringe show starring Fielding and his partner Julian Barratt and later became an obscure BBC3 series has grown into a box-set flogging, mega-merchandising, 80-date touring Boosh inc. There was a Boosh festival last summer, now talk of a Boosh movie and Boosh in America. An impasse seems to have been reached: either the Boosh will expand globally or, like other mass comedy cults before it – Vic and Bob, Newman and Baddiel – slowly begin to deflate.

But for the moment, the fans still wait in the rain for heroes who’ve already left the building. I find the Boosh gang gathered in their hotel bar, high on post-gig adrenalin. Barratt, blokishly handsome with his ring-master moustache, if a tad paunchy these days, blends in with the crew. But Fielding is never truly “off”. All day he has been channelling A Clockwork Orange in thick black eyeliner (now smudged into panda rings) and a bowler hat, which he wears with polka-dot leggings, gold boots and a long, neon-green fur-collared PVC trenchcoat. He has, as those women outside put it, “something about him”: a carefully-wrought rock-god danger mixed with an amiable sweetness. Sexy yet approachable. Which is why, perched on a barstool, is a great slab of security called Danny.

“He stops people getting in our faces,” says Fielding. “He does massive stars like P. Diddy and Madonna and he says that considering how we’re viewed in the media as a cult phenomenon, we get much more attention in the street than, say, Girls Aloud. Danny says we’re on the same level as Russell Brand, who can’t walk from the door to the car without ten people speaking to him.”

This barometer of fame appears to fascinate and thrill Fielding. Although he complains he can’t eat dinner with his girlfriend (Dee Plume from the band Robots in Disguise) unmolested, he parties hard and publicly with paparazzi-magnets like Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse. He claims he’s tried wearing a baseball cap but fans still recognise him. Hearing this, Julian Barratt smiles wryly: “Noel is never going to dress down.”

It is clear on meeting them that their Boosh characters Vince Noir (Fielding), the narcissistic extrovert, and Howard Moon (Barratt), the serious, socially awkward jazz obsessive, are comic exaggerations of their own personalities. At the afternoon photo shoot, Fielding breaks free of the hair and make-up lady, sprays most of a can of Elnett on to his Bolan feather-cut and teases it to his satisfaction. Very Vince. “It is an art-life crossover,” says Barratt.

At 40, five years older than Fielding, Barratt exhibits the profound weariness of a man trying to balance a five-month national tour with new-fatherhood. After every Saturday night show he returns home to his 18-month-old twins, Arthur and Walter, and his partner Julia Davis (the creator-star of Nighty Night) and today he was up at 5am pushing a pram on Hampstead Heath before taking the train north to rejoin the Boosh. “I go back so the boys remember who I am. But it’s harder to leave them every time,” he says. “It is totally schizophrenic, totally opposite mental states: all this self-obsession and then them.”

About two nights a week on tour, Fielding doesn’t go to bed, parties through the night and performs the next evening having not slept at all. Barratt often retreats to his room to plough through box sets of The Wire. “It’s a bit gritty, but that is in itself an escape, because what we do is so fantastical.”

But mostly it is hard to resist the instant party provided by a large cast, crew and band. Indeed, drinking with them, it appears Fielding and Barratt are but the most famous members of a close collective of artists, musicians and old mates. Fielding’s brother Michael, who previously worked in a bowling alley, plays Naboo the shaman. “He is late every single day,” complains Noel. “He’s mad and useless, but I’m quite protective of him, quite parental.” Michael is always arguing with Bollo the gorilla, aka Fielding’s best mate, Dave Brown, a graphic artist relieved to remove his costume – “It’s so hot in there I fear I may never father children” – to design the Boosh book. One of the lighting crew worked as male nanny to Barratt’s twins and was in Michael’s class at school: “The first time I met you,” he says to Noel, “you gave me a dead arm.” “You were 9,” Fielding replies. “And you were messing with my stuff.”

This gang aren’t hangers-on but the wellspring of the Boosh’s originality and its strange, homespun, degree-show aesthetic: a character called Mr Susan is made out of chamois leathers, the Hitcher has a giant Polo Mint for an eye. When they need a tour poster they ignore the promoter’s suggestions and call in their old mate, Nige.

Fielding and Barratt met ten years ago at a comedy night in a North London pub. The former had just left Croydon Art College, the latter had dropped out of an American Studies degree at Reading to try stand-up, although he was so terrified at his first gig that he ran off stage and had to be dragged back by the compere.

While superficially different, their childhoods have a common theme: both had artistic, bohemian parents who exercised benign neglect. Fielding’s folks were only 17 when he was born: “They were just kids really. Hippies. Though more into Black Sabbath and Led Zep. There were lots of parties and crazy times. They loved dressing up. And there was a big gap between me and my brother – about nine years – so I was an only child for a long time, hanging out with them, lots of weird stuff going on.

“The great thing about my mum and dad is they let me do anything I wanted as a kid as long as I wasn’t misbehaving. I could eat and go to bed when I liked. I used to spend a lot of time drawing and painting and reading. In my own world, I guess.”

Growing up in Mitcham, South London, his father was a postmaster, while his mother now works for the Home Office. Work was merely the means to fund a good time. “When your dad is into David Bowie, how do you rebel against that? You can’t really. They come to all the gigs. They’ve been in America for the past three weeks. I’m ringing my mum really excited because we’re hanging out with Jim Sheridan, who directed In the Name of the Father, and the Edge from U2, and she said, ‘We’re hanging with Jack White,’ whom they met through a friend of mine. Trumped again!”

Barratt’s father was a Leeds art teacher, his mother an artist later turned businesswoman. “Dad was a bit more strict and academic. Mum would let me do anything I wanted, didn’t mind whether I went to school.” Through his father he became obsessed with Monty Python, went to jazz and Spike Milligan gigs, learnt about sex from his dad’s leatherbound volumes of Penthouse.

Barratt joined bands and assumed he would become a musician (he does all the Boosh’s musical arrangements); Fielding hoped to become an artist (he designed the Boosh book cover and throughout our interview sketches obsessively). Instead they threw their talents into comedy. Barratt: “It is a great means of getting your ideas over instantly.” Fielding: “Yes, it is quite punk in that way.”

Their 1998 Edinburgh Fringe show called The Mighty Boosh was named, obscurely, after a friend’s description of Michael Fielding’s huge childhood Afro: “A mighty bush.” While their double-act banter has an old-fashioned dynamic, redolent of Morecambe and Wise, the show threw in weird characters and a fantasy storyline in which they played a pair of zookeepers. They are very serious about their influences. “Magritte, Rousseau...” says Fielding. “I like Rousseau’s made-up worlds: his jungle has all the things you’d want in a jungle, even though he’d never been in one so it was an imaginary place.”

Eclectic, weird and, crucially, unprepared to compromise their aesthetic sensibilities, it was 2004 before, championed by Steve Coogan’s Baby Cow production company, their first series aired on BBC3. Through repeats and DVD sales the second series, in which the pair have left the zoo and are living above Naboo’s shop, found a bigger audience. Last year the first episode of series three had one million viewers. But perhaps the Boosh’s true breakthrough into mainstream came in June when George Bush visited Belfast and a child presented him with a plant labelled “The Mighty Bush”. Assuming it was a tribute to his greatness, the president proudly displayed it for the cameras, while the rest of Britain tittered.

A Boosh audience these days is quite a mix. In Sheffield the front row is rammed with teenage indie girls, heavy on the eyeliner, who fancy Fielding. But there are children, too: my own sons can recite whole “crimps” (the Boosh’s silly, very English version of rap) word for word. And there are older, respectable types who, when I interview them, all apologise for having such boring jobs. They’re accountants, IT workers, human resources officers and civil servants. But probe deeper and you find ten years ago they excelled at art A level or played in a band, and now puzzle how their lives turned out so square. For them, the Boosh embody their former dreams. And their DIY comedy, shambolic air, the slightly crap costumes, the melding of fantasy with the everyday, feels like something they could still knock up at home.

Indeed, many fans come to gigs in costume. At the Mighty Boosh Festival 15,000 people came dressed up to watch bands and absurdity in a Kent field. And in Sheffield I meet a father-and-son combo dressed as Howard Moon and Bob Fossil – general manager of the zoo – plus a gang of thirty-something parents elaborately attired as Crack Fox, Spirit of Jazz, a granny called Nanageddon, and Amy Housemouse. “I love the Boosh because it’s total escapism,” says Laura Hargreaves, an employment manager dressed as an Electro Fairy. “It’s not all perfect and people these days worry too much that things aren’t perfect. It’s just pure fun.”

But how to retain that appealingly amateur art-school quality now that the Boosh is a mega comedy brand? Noel Fielding is adamant that they haven’t grown cynical, that The Mighty Book of Boosh was a long-term project, not a money-spinner chucked out for Christmas: “There is a lot of heart in what we do,” he says. Barratt adds: “It’s been hard this year to do everything we’ve wanted, to a standard we’re proud of... Which is why we’re worn to shreds.”

Comedy is most powerful in intimate spaces, but the Boosh show, with its huge set, requires major venues. “We’ve lost money every day on the tour,” says Fielding. “The crew and the props and what it costs to take them on the road – it’s ridiculous. Small gigs would lose millions of pounds.”

The live show is a kind of Mighty Boosh panto, with old favourites – Bob Fossil, Bollo, Tony Harrison, etc – coming on to cheers of recognition. But it lacks the escapism to the perfectly conceived world of the TV show. They have told the BBC they don’t want a fourth series: they want a movie. They would also, as with Little Britain USA, like a crack at the States, where they run on BBC America. Clearly the Boosh needs to keep evolving or it will die.

Already other artists are telling Fielding and Barratt to make their money now: “They say this is our time, which is quite frightening.” I recall Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, who dominated the Nineties with Big Night Out and Shooting Stars. “Yes, they were massive,” says Fielding. “A number one record...” And now Reeves presents Brainiac. “If you have longer-term goals, it’s not scary,” says Barratt. “To me, I’m heading somewhere else – to direct, make films, write stuff – and at the moment it’s all gone mental. I’m sort of enjoying this as an outsider. It was Noel who had this desire to reach more people.”

Indeed, the old cliché that comedy is the new rock’n’roll is closest to being realised in Noel Fielding. Watching him perform the thrash metal numbers in the Boosh live show, he is half ironic comic performer, half frustrated rock god. His heroes weren’t comics but androgynous musicians: Jagger, Bowie, Syd Barrett. (Although he liked Peter Cook’s style and looks.)

“I like clothes and make-up, I like the transformation,” he says. Does it puzzle him that women find this so sexually attractive? “I was reading a book the other day about the New York Dolls and David Johansen was saying that none of them were gay or even bisexual, and that when they started dressing in stilettos and leather pants, women got it straight away with no explanation. But a lot of men had problems. It’s one of those strange things. A man will go, ‘You f***ing queer.’ And you just think, ‘Well, your girlfriend fancies me.’”

The Boosh stopped signing autographs outside stage doors when it started taking two hours a night. At recent book signings up to 1,500 people have shown up, some sleeping overnight in the queue. And on this tour, the Boosh took control of the after-show parties, once run as money-spinners by the promoters, and now show up in person to do DJ slots. I ask if they like to meet their fans, and they laugh nervously.

Fielding: “We have to be behind a fence.”

Barratt: “They try to rip your clothes off your body.”

Fielding: “The other day my girlfriend gave me this ring. And, doing the rock numbers at the end, I held out my hands and the crowd just ripped it off.”

Barratt: “I see it as a thing which is going to go away. A moment when people are really excited about you. And it can’t last.”

He recalls a man in York grabbing him for a photo, saying, “I’d love to be you, it must be so amazing.” And Barratt says he thought, “Yes, it is. But all the while I was trying to duck into this doorway to avoid the next person.” He’s trying to enjoy the Boosh’s moment, knows it will pass, but all the same?

In the hotel bar, a young woman fan has dodged past Danny and comes brazenly over to Fielding. Head cocked attentively like a glossy bird, he chats, signs various items, submits to photos, speaks to her mate on her phone. The rest of the Boosh crew eye her steelily. They know how it will end. “You have five minutes then you go,” hisses one. “I feel really stupid now,” says the girl. It is hard not to squirm at the awful obeisance of fandom. But still she milks the encounter, demands Fielding come outside to meet her friend. When he demurs she is outraged, and Danny intercedes. Fielding returns to his seat slightly unsettled. “What more does she want?” he mutters, reaching for his wine glass. “A skin sample?”

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

some kind of attention grabbing noise to clue you into the fact that its FIC TIME, BABES! again, mentions of self harm in this chapter, be cautious and take care of yourselves lost? confused? frightened? worry not. start here, for delicious tasty context

His home is broken. When he’d arrived at the Tudor, floating up the steps, he’d almost felt a sense of relief. No matter how bad everything is, at least he can see his dad and sister now. Even if they can’t see him, he can find a way to make them say his name, and maybe his presence will only be a band aid on a mortal wound, but they’ll at least all be bleeding out together.

But he doesn’t recognize the people in this house. They call themselves Lydia and Charles, and their voices sound the same, and they mostly look the same, but these can’t be his breathers, his family, because they hardly seem to count as one. Lydia’s only sixteen, but she looks older, sadder, the dark makeup and short dark hair a shock, when he’s only known her as fresh faced and long haired and blonde. And his Lydia used to smile, she used to tell jokes, she used to have life behind her eyes. This Lydia is functionally dead. She walks around, eyes half hidden behind hair and eyeliner, and sits quietly, hardly eats, picks at her food like she’s already accepted starvation as a viable escape method. Charles is just as bad. His father reeks of alcohol, a scent BJ can’t stand, and the gray at his temples is more pronounced than he remembers.

But worst of all, is how neither of them talk about anything that matters. He sits in his chair, at dinner, listens to Charles berate Lydia over some stupid school thing. “Mom always said high school was temporary. Ya know, unimportant,” he grates out, like he’s a part of the conversation, but no one turns to look at him. Lydia pushes her food around her plate, hardly reacts to the scolding, and that’s dinner. Two dead people, playing at being alive, neither doing an especially good job.

He goes before them, up the stairs, leaving a cold air behind himself, and he finds that he’s able to manipulate his bedroom door, though not by much, and it’s exhausting to do so. It opens only a fraction, but that must be enough to get Lydia’s attention, because she enters, pokes around, and even asks Charles about it. But he can see from the look in both their eyes, that this evidence of his existence isn’t enough. Lydia lays on his bed, in the dark, and cries for their mother, and he would give anything to cry with her. As it is, he hugs his knees to his chest, in the dark, and sits there, shaking and overwhelmed, as he listens to his baby sister softly sob herself to sleep.

He becomes well acquainted with their new bad habits fairly quickly. Charles is drinking himself into a stupor, every night, falling asleep at his desk, barely making it to work in the mornings, sometimes not changing out of his suit for a number of days, only applying cologne as needed, too busy in the bottle to take care of himself properly. That’s bad enough, but the first time he sees what Lydia does, now, it scares him so badly it’s hard to even think. She digs a shard of glass into her forearm, and it at least seems she’s not cutting to kill, but both siblings watch the red prick along the new wound in silence, until he speaks. “Mom wouldn’t like that,” he tells her, not that it matters. “You shouldn’t be doin’ that, Lyds. What if it gets infected? What if you get seriously hurt? Th’ blood’s supposed to be on th’ inside, kiddo,” he babbles, pointlessly, as she cuts deeper, sinks that glass further into her skin, and sits there, watching it, passively. Like it’s not happening to her. Like she’s watching something on a screen. Like she couldn’t care less that she’s hurting herself. “Dead Mom,” she addresses her empty room, as she often does. “If you can see this, you’re probably freaking out. This is coping. I’m coping.” She lies to the air in front of her. “You’re not,” he croaks out. “This isn’t healthy, Lyds, please..”

It’s a nightly ritual for her, at this point. She listens to music, looks through photos, and maims herself, and all he can do is watch her, trying to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, or stupider. A week into silently stalking his own family, and he’s still not any closer to being seen, or figuring out how to make them say his name. It’s torture. He follows the two of them around the house, plays at being their shadows, and trails them places, work, school, the grocery store, wherever. It doesn’t matter. He might as well not exist.

Actually, not existing is already starting to sound pretty good.

Lydia stands up from her bed, still bleeding, and the motion of that breaks his thoughts. She crouches low, retrieves a photo album from under her bed that he didn’t know had been there. She flips through it, and has to sit down, after only a second.

“That th’ blood loss catchin’ up to you?” he snarks, before glancing over at her, and his eyes widen. She’s staring at a photo of him. Several photos of him, actually, and she flips through the album, pages and pages of him. He studies her expression, as she lands on a picture that he recognizes. The two of them, coming back from that disastrous visit to the Smallpox Hospital, on the lift, over the water. She’s nine, and adorable, and he’s sixteen and grubby, but infatuated with the two who had been sitting across from them. Adam had taken Lydia’s instamatic, and snapped the picture of the siblings, making faces, the skyline behind them.

“You remember that day, Lyds?” he tries, as he watches her brow furrow. She sighs, like she’s disappointed in herself, and closes the album, and it’s deposited back under her bed. “Mama, some of these pictures, they make my head hurt, more than my heart,” she says, softly, which he understands. She can’t remember him, all the memories she has of him are locked behind whatever mental wall this curse has created, and trying does nothing but confuse her. Maybe she can’t even see his face, in the pictures. Maybe it’s a blur, out of focus, like the moment you wake up, and have yet to rub the sleep from your eyes. That’s all he is, now, just a dream she can’t remember upon her return to the waking world.

He can open and close doors, but only barely, and it takes the energy out of him. He finds that any fire he lights still affects the world of the living, but when he tries to spell his name out in flames on the walls, all he manages to do is scare Charles into calling an electrician, about a possible electrical issue causing fires. He hadn’t even been able to spell out a “B” because somehow, this stupid curse can tell his intentions, and he hadn’t been able to physically move his arm, to form the letters he needed.

A month into living in hell, he’s finding himself feeling more and more like he’s losing his mind. He knows humans can be driven mad by isolation, but he’d never thought of what the effects on himself would be, especially since it’s not true isolation. He can go into a crowd, surround himself with people. It just doesn't matter, which is what’s making him feel so unhinged, and more than once, he throws himself into a crowd of people, and screams and kicks and thrashes, begging them to see him. All he succeeds in doing is giving a group of New Yorkers a slight chill.

But the thing that makes him the angriest is the day he finds a red headed stranger in their house. He and Lydia come in together, her just returning from a day at school, and him returning from a day of tagging along behind her, and the siblings both stop, and cock their heads at the same time, the same direction, at the sight of the strange woman standing in the foyer. Her red hair is piled in sort of a silly looking bun on top of her head, and she’s got some very intense bangs, hiding her forehead. She’s also wearing almost exclusively purple. She's scrunching her nose, examining one of Emily’s framed prints, the one of Saturn Devouring His Son, looking a bit disgusted.

“Who th’ hell is that?” he asks Lydia, and Lydia addresses the woman. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman turns to face them, and then smiles. “Oh, hello there!” she says, like they're strangers, and she’s welcoming them into her home. She lifts her hands, and rings a triangle Betelgeuse hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “You’re bringing a very interesting energy into this house, Lydia,” the stranger smiles, like that’s the only facial expression she’s got. “You don’t say. I’m about to bring the energy of a bunch of cops here, too,” the teen threatens, staring at the woman, who places a hand over her chest. “My name is Delia,” she says, finally. “Your dad has hired me to be your life coach! He says you’ve been feeling down in the dumps, lately,” she gives an over exaggerated sad face. “But I know with a little positive thinking, me and you can turn that sad aura into a bubbling rainbow one!”

“Oh my god, you should bite her,” Betelgeuse says, instantly. “You up to date on your rabies shot?” Lydia asks. “Positivity makes me foam at the mouth. I wouldn’t get too close.”

Delia cocks an eyebrow, but does move, and allows the teen to move past her, up the stairs. “I’m just here to help you gain a new perspective, Lydia~!” she calls from behind her, as Lydia storms up to her room, and she slams the door behind herself. “Unbelievable,” she growls, throwing her bag on her bed, and he echoes her. “Un-fuckin'-believable!” he agrees, pacing around her room. “What th’ hell is a life coach, even?”

Lydia kicks at her wall, her big black combat boot leaving a mark on the red paint. “I’m the one who needs help? He can’t even say her name, and I’m the one who needs the hippie to come in, and try and change my perspective? A change of perspective doesn’t bring MOM BACK!” She ends her sentence in a scream, her face going red, and then she picks up her bag, and throws it at her bedroom door. The bang it makes isn’t satisfying enough, and she whirls around her room, looking for anything else she can throw around, and destroy. He settles on her bed, and watches, forced to be passive by the curse, as Lydia storms around her room, until finally, Charles throws open her bedroom door.

“You are being ridiculous,” he hisses at her, his grip on her door knob white knuckled.

“Get out! Get the hell out and leave me alone, and take that bitch downstairs with you!” Lydia screams, a hair’s breadth away from throwing a potted plant at him. “Scream and throw fits all you want, little girl. You can’t temper tantrum your way out of Delia being here. She’s going to help you.” She lobs the plant at him, and it barely goes sailing by their father’s head. Betelgeuse watches go over the railing, and then there’s the sound of it shattering on the entrance floor, followed by Delia’s surprised, “Oh!” Charles’ expression is deadly. “You can stay in here until you’ve calmed down,” is all he says, before slamming her door, and Lydia stands there, breathing heavily. “You learned how to throw those epic tantrums from me,” Betelgeuse tells her, as she flops on her bed, and screams into a pillow. read the rest right over HERE

[sparkles-and-trash]

South Park Main 5, Headcanons Masterpost  ~

Stan Marsh 

Looks: 

hair is actually nice and somewhat floppy naturally, but because he wears a hat most of the time, it’s usually flat and a little greasy kshdhsd

hair is that blue-ish black color

eyes is piercing ice blue 

skin is light, kind porcelain like, but he also tans really fast?

soft sweaters are the only thing he’ll wear from early autumn to late spring

in summer he’ll literally only wear band shirts and flannels lol 

Personality and General Trivia:

totally cares more for animals than most people let’s be real 

sometimes he struggles with seeing things from others point of view and ha can come across as a little self centered 

he is aware of it tho and tries to be better at it 

his instagram is filled with Sparky haha 

let’s Sparky sleep in his bed every single night even tho Sharon tells him not to 

likes reading and writing, has a tiny obsession with dark themes and Lovecraftian stuff 

he and Kenny volunteers at the local pet shelter and homeless shelter together 

the pet shelter was Stan’s idea, and the homeless shelter was Kenny’s 

wants to be edgy but is really just very soft

“Kyle said...” 

believes everything Kyle tells him lol 

enjoys video games a lot, prefers single player, story based ones tho 

also still enjoys boardgames a lot, and when the big group isn’t up for hit, he, Tweek, Jimmy, Butters and Cartman groups together to nerd it out 

has clinical depression, but is managing it with help of a therapist, his mom and friends

sometimes things gets pretty dark, but he is getting better at reaching out and asking for help in those times 

Friendships:

like I mentioned above, he struggles a bit with seeing things for other’s point of view 

but he is aware of his flaws and is trying to be better

can get a little bit caught up in his own drama, but listens when his friends tells him he needs to get over himself 

will always stand up for his friends, especially if they’re not there to do it themselves 

when he starts getting closer with Butters in early high school he gets really upset when he realizes how much he gets shit-talked 

enjoys spending time with his friends individually, probably the most of the group, and takes initiative to do so a lot 

which is very important to Kenny, since he tends to feel a little overlooked sometimes, and it makes their friendship really strong 

same with Butters, except Butters doesn’t usually doesn’t mind mainly being in a group, but the first few times and Stan hangs out alone it’s obvious he really appreciates it 

Family:

daddy issues 

sorry I don’t make the rules lol 

has a decent relationship with Sharon tho

she’s a good mom 

and he wants to be a good son 

Shelly is still kinda angry and scary

she keeps the “only I can beat you up bro” attitude and there is secretly mutual respect there

but we don’t talk about that!!! 

Ships and relationships:

okay so my main ships for him are stutters (Butters), stenny (Kenny) and Style (Kyle) 

my fav is stutters tho 

I usually head canon him as bi or pan, but as with everyone in SP, I’m open to different interpretations if different Au’s and stories! 

I just really like the idea of them learning to balance facing their issues AND celebrate the good things in life together 

I def think he can be a bit insecure in relationships, struggling with feeling like he’s not enough, and would need a partner that naturally will be affirming and positive 

that’s not to say he’s super needy or clingy, he’s just a bit insecure 

but I really think he would truly be a good partner 

he’s caring, kind and very appreciative 

which is again why I really like him with Butters offh 

Kenny McCormick 

Looks:

sandy blonde hair that’s always messy and floppy/softly curled 

teeth is kind of crooked due to lack of funds for braces 

his front teeth are kinda big and has a significant gap 

lots and lots of freckles man 

all over his face, shoulders, back, hands and arms 

tans fast 

I actually really like him with brown eyes? like, soulful deep brown eyes 

but also very, very clear blue ones, like almost unnatural (yes that’s a mysterious thing) 

medium tall 

wears his hoodies, usually with the hood up, no matter if it’s freezing or a heatwave

not conventionally attractive, but charming looking lol 

likes to wear some eyeliner every now and then

and nail polish, but it’s like super clumsily put on and always chipped

Personality and General Trivia:

falls asleep in class a lot, but always seems to know the answer if the teacher asks him something

also has decent grades

I think he’s way smarter than he gives himself credit for, both socially and school wise 

the therapist of the groups 

actually, the therapist of the whole school 

knows a lot of secrets due to this, but he always, ALWAYS keeps them 

I see him as very friendly and approachable, but terribly hard to get close with

lots and lots of walls, man

very much an observer type? 

quietly stays in the background if that’s an option

but if he is talked too, or feels like he has something to really contribute to in a conversation he’ll jump in and be comfortable talking and taking up space if he is with friends or people he knows 

if not, he’ll just stay in the background with that.... look on his face that just makes you know he knows more than he says 

works at Tweek’s parents coffee shop, is kinda close with Tweek because of this 

zones out a lot 

“…what?” 

can fall asleep anywhere

Friendships:

is pretty close friends with Butters! 

Butters used to have a little crush on him, but Kenny didn’t find out until years later lol 

he also has a lot of patience with Cartman compared to the others

which is why Cartman actually cares when Kenny sets him in his place 

likes learning new things, and does that with Kyle a lot! 

both school and homework stuff, and things like cooking and other homey stuff, the two of them really bond with this 

him and Stan volunteer together, and I already mentioned, and that time means a lot to Kenny 

since he works with Tweek, the two of them are pretty close and good friends 

is the one of the main boys who gets along the best with Craig and those guys

actually hangs out with them from time to time, so does Butters

it low-key drives the others crazy

Family:

I often like to think his parents would keep having these bursts where they try to get their shit together? 

and it’s slow, and one step back and two backwards, but the fact that they’re trying at all means a lot to the kids after years of them... not 

I can also see Kevin stepping up and taking more charge, Kevin get’s way too little love in this fandom! 

Kenny usually never fights with his sibs

but when he does it’s with Karen, usually because he’s worried about her and it’s nor pretty

none of them can stay mad at each other for long tho

Kevin trying to be all “big brother” and kinda failing because he is chaotic, but he really wants to do right and Karen and Kenny knows that and appreciates it 

Ships and relationships:

ohhh kay here we go, unpopular opinions ahead! 

first, my main Kenny ships are Tokenny (Token x Kenny) and Stenny 

rn Tokenny is my main, I love the potential dynamics, both with their personalties and backgrounds and families 

I tend to head canon him as pan or bisexual, and demiromatic 

I know the demiromantic part is... controversial, at best 

but hear me out! 

I see him being very comfortable with discussing sexual stuff, and being attracted to someone physically is never something he feels awkward or bad about 

but when it comes to more emotional connections, he is way more awkward and fumbling 

for those who doesn’t know, a demiromatic person (like myself! surprise!) won’t have crushes or romantic feelings for someone they don’t already have some form of emotional bond with! We can still feel sexual attraction tho, and some of us are comfortable with casual sexual encounters (like me!) and others are not, and both are very valid! 

I usually have two ways of writing him 

either him being comfortable having casual sexual interactions, but struggling with the romantic aspect and having to figure out how this works for him 

OR 

him having some trauma related to debating sexually very early, thinking he was all ready and it was just sex, but getting his emotions caught up in it and being very heartbroken and confused, and therefore having issues with being intimate with people for a while 

I mix them up depending on the story, but the first one is usually my go-to! 

Kyle Broflovski 

Looks:

he still covers his hair a lot, either with hats or hoods? 

because I really see him being insecure about it 

it’s a medium sort of red, and like, really curly and fluffy 

not frizzy, big like... big 

I usually give him green eyes, but I also could see him with a light brown or hazel! 

some light freckles on his face that only really shows up if he’s spent time in the sun 

pretty tall, kind of lanky 

d i m p l e s 

Personality and General Trivia:

big nerd energy

in every way, board games, video games, loves school, like genuinely, enjoys studying for tests, loves fantasy books, the longer and more complicated the better 

co-captain of the debate team with Wendy 

is good with arguments unless he gets too passionate on the subject, or if someone knows his weak points and uses them to tick him off

it’s usually Cartman  

his mom wants him to go to an Ivy League but honestly he just wants to go to the same one in Denver as Stan, Butters and Cartman are planning on, and now that Kenny is also considering it he seriously think he’ll die if all his friends go to the same college without him

he struggles with FOMO, which is kind of an issue since he’s a busy guy, and some of his friends are not lol 

if any one of these kids become a jock, it’s def Kyle with his basketball change my mind- 

but not like, a letterman wearing fuckboy type of jock, but like, is obsessed with his sport and his team and works really hard to do well type of jock

Friendships:

very loyal 

he and Stan walks Sparky together at least twice a week, just to be sure they’re always caught up with each other even when they’re busy with school, sports and dating

yeah they’re still super best friends 

when they started high school he got closer to Wendy as she’s also on the debate team, in all of his AP classes and they share a lot of the same interests  

they’re still good friends, but nothing more

the first time Cartman got really drunk was at a party freshman year, and at the time everyone was pretty fed up with him, and he ended up crying and Kyle found him, and Cartman thinks Kyle doesn’t remember, but he does 

that was the first night Kyle really kinda understood why Cartman was the way he was, and even though he still thinks he’s a dick at times, he tries to remember everyone have a story, and to give people time 

but he often gets too riled up to remember that lol 

good pals with Jimmy, they share a lot of interests in fantasy stuff and have the same humor 

he also start to go along well with Craig when they are around middle school age, but they’re both kinda too stubborn to admit they’re friends until a year later lol  

Family:

even tho Sheila is pretty overbearing and can be too much, he is a mommy’s boy deep down 

tense relationship with his dad 

enjoys cooking, so that’s where he spends a lot of time with his mom! 

tries his best to keep up with Ike and his life

sometimes he is a tad cringy when doing so, but Ike appreciates the gesture 

Ike is pretty confident and strong in himself so he doesn’t care if Kyle is a bit awkward lol 

the type of brothers who genuinely enjoys spending time together 

Ships and relationships:

I like Style, Kyman, K2 and Kyvid! 

I think he’d be a late bloomer when it comes to love and dating

struggles with opening up and letting himself feel these things 

I often think of him as biromantic asexual, but I’m not always set on it! 

he’d enjoy traditional dinner and a movie type of dates a lot, such a nerd 

Eric Cartman 

Looks:

keeps his hair cut pretty short and styled

has heterochromia iridium (different colored eyes), one blue and one brown

also he has a real nice smile when it’s a genuine one

which is rare but like 

it happens 

is kinda insecure about his weight and tries to compensate with always having the newest stuff and pretending not to care

sometimes tries to diet in secret

he isn’t huge anymore, but is still sort of broad, and isn’t skinny, but like..

kinda bulky, if he wears the right type of clothes it’s hard to see if he’s chubby or buff

but he is def chubby 

Personality and General Trivia:

spends way to much time on reddit arguing with randoms

angry gamer, will call you a slur on voice chat 

after almost getting dropped by his friends in middle school he tries a little harder to be a more decent person

still an asshole at heart, but like, an asshole who sometimes cares about some people 

always tells people that’s he’s seen that meme before, even when he hasn’t 

nothing is ever his fault and the only ones who can get him to admit he’s wrong are Kenny and, very, very rarely, Kyle

he wears supreme hoodies for a full year of High School and stands in line all night for the new ones and never shuts up about how he is the first in South Park to have the new stuff 

Kenny finds it hilarious to buy the fake supreme stickers and put then on his own worn out hoodies

Kyle makes it his main goal in life to put things (everything from used gym socks to old food he finds in his locker) in Cartmans hoods and see how long it takes for him to notice 

can’t handle alcohol, is constantly being teased for it

sloppy drunk lol 

one of the main reasons the other bothers with Cartman trough middle school, when he is at his worst, is because of his big basement, the old Coon Lair, who got a big renovation around 7th grade and is an awesome, private hangout spot with a big TV and wifi and gaming systems

Friendships:

constantly says he hates his friends but would die if everyone left him 

is secretly terribly jealous of Kyle, both his closeness to Stan, his basketball skills, his grades and his family

but they had that thing in Freshman year when Kyle found him drunk, alone and sad, and Cartman himself barely remembers it, and doesn’t think Kyle does because he never mentioned it 

but he does

so much tension there, but also co-dependency 

sees Kenny and Butters as his best friends, and knows deep down neither of them feel that way about him and it secretly kills him 

is in the same board game group with Stan 

is low-key terrified of Tweek lol 

Family:

big mommy issues 

but also very protective of her

I really enjoy the AU/headcanon that Liane marries Clyde’s dad 

it’s not like, the only version I like, but I put it in as many au’s and works of mine as I can 

I def think both boys would be mortified right away 

but Clyde comes around first, because he really wants a brother, even if that brother have to be Cartman 

Cartman would never admit it, but after some time he really starts to see Clyde as a brother and genuinely cares for him 

Ships and relationships:

I mainly see Cartman as gay 

sometimes I start of AU’s and stories with him not being out to himself or anyone else tho, I think that whole journey for him will be very interesting and help him grow as a person 

I def think he’d have a few girlfriends before he comes out tho? 

he can be very charming when he wants too yanno 

my only Cartman ship is kyman atm, but I’m def open to explore more of

Leopold Butters Stotch 

Looks:

I really really really like T A L L Butters??? 

like tall and gangly and adorable 

I know it’s very popular to head canon that he bleaches his hair, but I like to think he has very light blond air naturally! 

keeps it short on the sides and longer on top, with cute ass curls 

soft sky blue eyes 

also dyes his bangs light blue in high school!! 

Pete the goth helps him because he is a pro of dying bangs 

I like to think he’d be into pastel grunge, and keep his love for Hello Kitty and Sanrio etc, but still be a bit more... edgy? 

Personality and General Trivia:

one of those people who’s friendly with almost everyone

but that doesn’t mean he’s friends with them, yanno? 

gets drunk from one wine cooler 

loves the theater and is in the drama club, but likes to be behind the stage, not on it 

wants to be a director one day 

watches Netflix on his phone every single time he has any time to spare, because he’s always binging a show

is usually pretty positive and kind, gives people the benefit of the doubt 

but can be very stubborn, and if he has decided he dislikes or doesn’t trust someone, it’s almost impossible to change his mind 

Friendships:

Butters put up with Cartman for so long because he genuinely thinks he can be fun when he’s not horrible, and he really tries his best to believe in people

he was also the first one to forgive him after the others cut him off 

a very loyal and fun friend

takes a lot of initiative to do stuff, and loves hosting movie nights 

thinks of these boys as his closest friends, but is also real close to Wendy, Bebe, Jimmy and Tweek

Family:

I just hate Stephen so much you guys

so tbh I usually like to just... have Linda leave him, or straight up kill him off oops 

I know Linda is terrible too, I do, but I think she could possibly have a moment of realization if something happens like Butters potentially being taken away? 

idk I’m not gonna go too deep into this, I know it’s such a heavy topic and I don’t wanna seem like I just ignore it, but I personally don’t usually include Stephen directly in my stories, and this is why, I hope y’all understand and respect that! 

Ships and relationships:

my main Butters ship is Stutters (Stan x Butters) 

I mentioned a lot why in Stan’s headcanons? 

but idk, I just really think they’d balance each other well, and could have a very interesting and cute relationship! 

I usually headcanons him as pan or gay, and genderqueer, but I’m open for other interpretations too! 

he does date a little bit, but have never been in a real relationship and isn’t stressing about it! 

he did have a pretty huge crush on (a very unaware) Kenny during middle school, but then they started hanging out a lot more and became really close and Butters didn’t really bring it much thought?

that’s until Cartman gets jealous and throws out a “what are you guys dating and fucking and being gay huh???” and Butters mind immediately goes to “omg ew no he’s like my brother!” 

aaand that’s how Butters realized he was over his crush 

they two of them stay close friends tho, Kenny makes Butters laugh and helps him be more sure of himself and Butters helps Kenny remember that they’re still just kids and should have fun and be good

[prouvaireafterdark]

Honey, If You Stay

Enjoy the next installment of my Michael Sanders AU, set sometime between Caught in the Moment and A Father Like That 💜

Also on AO3!

***

Michael has only just put his bedtime reading on irrigation systems on the floor beside his bed and turned in for the night when his phone buzzes loudly on his bedside table. He reaches for it immediately, unplugging the charger so he can pull it closer to his face. He has a single text from Alex, and another comes through as he’s opening it.

Are you awake?

Please tell me you’re awake.

A heavy feeling sinks into Michael’s gut as he reads the words—something doesn’t feel right. He quickly types out his reply.

Yeah, are you okay?

Alex’s reply comes not from his phone, but in the form of a soft knock on his bedroom window. Michael looks over to see Alex standing outside, drenched by the rain that’s been pouring down all night.

Michael leaps from his bed and rushes to the window. He opens it as far as it’ll go and Alex climbs inside. He reaches for Michael immediately, burying his face in Michael’s neck and breathing deep. Michael wraps his arms around him tight without a care for how wet he gets, anxiety buzzing under his skin.

“What happened?” Michael asks him.

Alex just shakes his head and holds on tighter. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Dread fills him even more, but as Alex shivers in his arms, Michael decides to shove that down and focus on warming him up—he knows what happens when humans stand in the rain too long and he doesn’t want Alex to get sick.

“You’re freezing, come on,” Michael says, tugging Alex toward his bedroom door.

Alex lets Michael lead him out of his bedroom and into the bathroom down the hall. He leans listlessly against the sink while Michael turns the shower on, holding his hand under the spray until he feels it reach a good temperature.

When he turns around, he sees Alex watching him with a complicated expression on his face. Now that they’re in the light, Michael can see he’s not wearing any eyeliner like he usually is. He isn’t sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it—Alex is dripping water all over the floor and he still needs to grab him something dry to change into. He just hopes he has a clean pair of underwear for him—he’s been putting off laundry day a little too long.

“Water should be warm enough now,” Michael says as he heads toward the door. “You can leave your wet clothes in the sink, I’ll wash them with mine tomorrow.”

Alex reaches for Michael’s hand as he’s about to leave. He catches him around the wrist, his fingers digging into his skin a little desperately. Michael turns around to look at him and finds Alex’s eyes glassy and wet, his breathing shallow.

Michael backtracks until he’s standing right in front of him again. Alex’s breathing starts to calm when Michael touches him, moving his free hand up to cradle Alex’s cheek delicately in his palm, so Michael leans in to kiss him, soft and sweet, offering him the only comfort he can think to give.

It works, Alex’s grip on his wrist loosening in relief.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Michael tells him when he pulls away. “I’m just gonna get some pajamas and a towel for you.”

Alex visibly swallows before he nods.

Michael presses another gentle kiss to his cheek before he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He sneaks back into his room and grabs his last clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt from his dresser before slipping into the hall to get a couple of fresh towels from the linen closet. When he reenters the bathroom, he finds Alex already in the shower. His clothes are piled in the sink, and his muddy shoes are on the floor near the cabinet.

Michael throws a towel on the floor and uses his foot to haphazardly wipe up the mess before he sets the clothes down on the closed toilet seat cover. He’s just hanging the towel up on the rack by the shower when the curtain pulls back and Michael looks over to see Alex peeking his head out, the color in his cheeks a healthy pink.

“You gonna join me?” Alex asks, and there’s a subtle, flirtatious twist to his lips that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. It makes Michael hesitate, but if Alex wants him close right now, he can’t think of a single reason he should deny him.

“Yeah,” Michael answers, reaching back to strip off his shirt. He lets his bottoms pool at his feet before he steps into the shower.

As soon as he’s inside, Alex crowds him against the shower wall. The tile is cool against his back, a dizzying contrast to the heat of Alex’s hands on his hips and the hot water beating down around them. He feels Alex’s lips on his then, and his skin is soft as always, but he’s anything but gentle as he covers Michael’s mouth with harsh, biting kisses.

Michael usually loves it when Alex kisses him like this, loves to feel how much Alex wants him, how desperate he is to have him, but this… this feels different. It feels a little like Alex is trying to disappear inside his mouth, and it sours the pleasure coiling in Michael’s belly.

Alex didn’t stand in the rain for a fun midnight hook up, he reminds himself. Something’s wrong.

“Alex,” Michael gasps, tilting his head to get the space to speak, but Alex doesn’t stop kissing him. The grip on his hips tightens as he moves down Michael’s jaw to his throat. He sinks his teeth into the join of Michael’s neck and shoulder, and under normal circumstances Michael would find that brain-meltingly sexy, but right now it just makes the pit of his stomach drop. “Alex, stop, look at me.”

Alex does, his chest heaving as he wrenches himself away like he’s been burned.

“Shit, I’m—I’m sorry,” he gasps, eyes wide and devastated as he tries to put some distance between them, but Michael doesn’t let him go far, reaching for his waist to pull him back in.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Michael assures him, rubbing his palms against the smooth skin of Alex’s sides. “I’m not mad, it’s just—you’re upset.”

Alex looks away, swallowing hard.

Michael raises his right hand from Alex’s waist to tip his chin up until he can look him in the eye again. “What’s going on?” he asks, voice pitched low and soothing despite how unsettled he feels.

They stare at each other for a long minute, the hot water raining down upon them, before Alex’s eyes fill with tears and his face crumbles. Michael catches him as he pitches forward, his right hand immediately going to the back of Alex’s head while his left loops around his waist to hold Alex securely against him.

“Shh, I’m here, it’s okay,” he whispers in Alex’s ear, rocking him softly as he sobs into his neck. Alex’s hands slide uselessly against Michael’s skin as he tries to grab onto him, his chest shuddering with each breath he takes. Every gasp, every sob, every whimper is amplified in his ears by the acoustics of the shower, and Michael’s heart fucking shatters for him. He’s never seen Alex cry like this before. “You’re gonna be okay, baby, I promise,” he says thickly, his own eyes burning with tears. “Whatever it is, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Alex doesn’t cry for more than a few minutes, but it’s long enough for the shitty water heater they’ve got to run out of hot water. Michael turns the shower off quickly in those precious few seconds before it turns from tepid to ice cold and reaches for the towel on the rack by the shower.

Michael towels Alex off first, starting with his hair and then moving down his body. Alex leans into him a little as he does it, allowing Michael the freedom to touch him however he needs to to get him dry. The intimacy of it strikes him—Alex is usually relentlessly self-sufficient, and Michael hasn’t been naked with anyone without some form of sex being involved since he was old enough to shower by himself. It feels important somehow, like they’ve reached a milestone, or a turning point maybe. Michael’s heart aches at how much Alex is trusting him right now.

“Go get dressed, okay?” Michael tells him once he’s finished. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay,” Alex croaks and steps out of the shower.

Michael gets himself dried off as quick as he can and pulls on the clothes he’d been wearing before.

When they’re both fully clothed, they tip-toe into Michael’s bedroom. Alex climbs into Michael’s bed without a word, his back facing him. Michael slides right up against his back, and pulls the covers over them both. He nuzzles his face into the back of Alex’s neck and secures his arm tightly around his waist.

They’re both quiet for a long time, the only sounds to be heard their breathing and the soft patter of rain against the roof. Michael wants to ask him what happened again, but he doesn’t. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. There’s only one thing Michael needs Alex to know before he loses him to sleep for the night.

“I love you,” Michael whispers, pressing a kiss to the spot behind Alex’s ear. “Whatever’s going on, I love you, and I’m here for you. I’m right here.”

Alex doesn’t respond, but Michael can hear his throat click as he swallows, so he doesn’t think he’s fallen asleep. A moment later, Alex reaches down to entwine their fingers together before bringing their joined hands to rest against his chest, right over his heart.

Michael thinks that’s the end of it, so he drops another kiss to the back of his head and closes his eyes. He’s just on the edge of sleep when he finally hears Alex speak.

“He hates me,” Alex says, so soft Michael barely hears it, but it sends ice shooting through his veins all the same.

Michael doesn’t need to ask who he means. When Alex doesn’t say anything else, he asks, “Did he hit you?”

Michael’s suspected for a while that Alex’s dad beats him, but Alex always shrugs him off whenever he brings it up. He’s never actually seen any marks on him to prove it either, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Michael wasn’t in the foster system for long, but it was long enough for him to learn that there’s plenty of ways to hurt people without leaving any evidence.

Alex huffs a bitter laugh. “He didn’t need to.”

Michael pulls him back against his chest a little more firmly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, not knowing what else he could possibly say to make Alex’s pain disappear.

Alex lifts their joined hands toward his mouth so he can kiss Michael’s fingers and keeps them there. The position is a little awkward for Michael, but he’d rather cut off his own arm than move an inch.

“I just don’t understand,” Alex continues a moment later, his voice sad and frustrated. “Flint can fuck around and get a pat on the back for pulling C’s in every class, but I get one fucking A- and he’s tearing apart my room and making a bonfire out of my posters? Why is nothing I do ever good enough? Why doesn’t—“ Alex cuts himself off abruptly, swallowing the emotion thick in his throat. “Why doesn’t he love me?”

An aching fury unlike anything Michael has ever known rises inside him; he wants to scream, wants to cry at the unjustness of Alex—the beautiful, wonderful boy who has shown him nothing but love and kindness as long as he’s known him—having a father capable of such cruelty that he would make him feel so unloved. Michael’s vision blurs with tears, but it’s not his pain that matters right now, so he bites his bottom lip harshly between his teeth to keep from crying out until he regains his composure enough to answer.

“Because he’s a psychopath who doesn’t even deserve to know you, Alex,” Michael says.

Alex sighs, but otherwise doesn’t react.

“How often does he do stuff like this?” Michael asks, fearing the answer.

“Often enough,” Alex says, and he’s vague enough that Michael gets the feeling this happens far more often than Alex has ever let on.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Michael asks, trying hard not to let it come out like an accusation. He’s relieved when Alex doesn’t take it as one.

“I don’t like thinking about him when I’m with you,” Alex answers.

“What about Liz and Maria? Do they know?”

“A little,” Alex says. “They walk on eggshells around me whenever I say anything, which is really fucking annoying, so I don’t tell them much anymore.”

“So you just deal with it all on your own?” Michael asks, rubbing his thumb against the back of Alex’s hand.

“Yeah,” Alex shrugs. “Always have, I guess. When it gets bad, I just go to the shed behind my house to be alone.”

“But not tonight,” Michael comments.

“No,” he says softly. “Not tonight.”

Michael lets that hang in the air between them for a moment before he asks, “What changed?”

“I, um…” he says, voice wavering. He sniffles when he pauses. “I just needed you, I guess.”

Michael’s chest clenches at Alex’s admission, and he presses a soft kiss to the back of Alex’s neck. He’s about to tell Alex how mutual that need is, but Alex starts to speak again.

“And I didn’t…” he says, his voice soft and hesitant like there’s something he needs to vocalize, but isn’t quite sure how.

“Didn’t what?” Michael prods gently.

“I didn’t feel safe there, with him still in the house,” Alex admits after a brief, pregnant pause and, fuck, Michael wants to cry again.

“You’re safe here,” Michael assures him, a desperate edge to his voice as he draws his arm tighter around him. “You’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me, Alex.”

Alex is quiet for a few seconds before Michael hears him sniffle. “I know,” he whispers. “But I’m not always here, am I?”

“You could be,” Michael insists, untangling his fingers from Alex’s to move his hand to his shoulder in an attempt to make him turn around. When he doesn’t budge, Michael slides his right thigh over Alex’s hips and lifts himself over him so he’s lying in the narrow space between Alex and the wall. Alex won’t quite meet his eyes, so he tips his chin up with a gentle touch. “I’m serious, Alex. Don’t go home. Stay here with me.”

It’s dark in his room, but Michael thinks he can make out a wistful expression on Alex’s face as he sighs. Michael waits for his answer with bated breath.

“I can’t do that,” he says finally, shaking his head. Michael tries to fight off the hurt his answer brings, but it’s easier said than done.

“Why not?” Michael asks.

“Because if he finds out where I am—and he will—he’ll hurt you, and I can’t—that’s not an option, no matter how bad things get,” Alex explains. “I can’t risk you like that, Michael. I won’t.”

“And, what, you think I can risk you? You just told me you don’t feel safe in your own home, Alex,” Michael says, his frustration growing. “Why won’t you let me protect you?”

“Because I love you,” Alex says, his voice breaking over the words, “and if he gets his hands on you, I will never forgive myself.”

They stare at each other for a long time, neither one of them willing to back down. Michael understands where Alex is coming from, he does, but the thought of him spending even a single minute somewhere he doesn’t feel safe makes Michael feel like he can’t breathe.

“What if we made a compromise?” Michael asks at last.

“What kind of compromise?” Alex asks warily.

“Forget the shed—you come here if it gets bad,” Michael proposes. “If anyone asks, you’re at Liz’s or Maria’s. You already do that when we’re together anyway, so it’s not like it’s unbelievable.”

Alex doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“I don’t know if—“ Alex starts, but the desperation curdling Michael’s stomach has him interrupting.

“Please, Alex,” Michael begs him. “Let me have this. I need to know you have an exit plan if you need one. I need you to feel safe.”

Alex studies his face as best he can in the dark for a long, terrifying moment.

“Okay,” Alex says at last and Michael feels such a strong rush of relief that he starts to tear up again.

“Thank you,” he says, and a few tears leak from his eyes as he captures Alex’s lips in a kiss. “Thank you.”

Instead of answering with words, Alex rakes his fingers through Michael’s curls and drags him in for another kiss, this one sweet and tender and everything Michael needs right now. It settles him more than he can say, makes him feel safe and warm and loved. He hopes his kisses make Alex feel the same way.

“What about your dad though?” Alex asks when he pulls away, distractedly twirling Michael’s hair between his fingers.

“What about him?” Michael asks.

“Will he be okay with me spending the night?”

“Yeah,” he answers with marginally more confidence than he really feels before he adds, “And, I mean, it’s not like you haven’t spent the night before.”

“Sneaking into your room every once in a while to fool around and then leaving before dawn is not the same thing as a sleepover and you know it, Michael Sanders,” Alex tells him, and he can’t quite see it but he’s sure Alex just rolled his eyes at him.

Michael sighs. He has a point.

“I’ll talk to him to make sure, okay?” Michael promises, reaching out to lay his hand on the side of Alex’s neck.

“Okay,” Alex relents.

Michael snuggles closer and leans in to kiss Alex’s forehead. Alex yawns sleepily as he pulls away and Michael laughs softly under his breath.

“Okay, time for bed,” Michael says, and Alex doesn’t fight him on it.

It takes a little maneuvering, but eventually Michael winds up on his back with Alex’s head resting on his chest and his fingers pressing into Michael’s bare skin where they’ve slid up under his shirt.

“Thank you,” Alex murmurs against his collarbone.

“For what?” Michael asks, dropping a kiss onto the top of Alex’s head.

“For being here,” he answers, like it’s a kindness he never expected, and Michael can’t help but kiss him again.

“I’ll always be here for you, Alex,” Michael tells him, feeling the truth of those words as he whispers them into Alex’s hair. “All you need to do is stay.”

[es05l2k5sl]

I'll never understand why WB had to redesign the Batcast for the new Bat adventures. Some characters took getting used to. But as for the villains, I'm roasting they asses cus they're ugly. Can't change my mind.

These Oswalds together look like 2 different people bruh. But we're here to talk about new Oswald. This Wimpy x Olive Oyl fusion snoody looking ass bitch. I'd like his outfit if it didn't have that lazy drawned bow tie looking like 2 triangles glued together & those fake ass MJ gloves. Also when tf did he have 10 fingers in dis universe? Also fuck that hair. Rocking a balding Mullet like ponytail before. Now it's just a boring cut down. Got dat snooty ass bitch look on face like his bird shit don't be stinking. I'll rock tf out u. Lookin like a whole ass Looney character or sum mf from the 30s.

Wot da fuck dey got Selena wearing here? Sis looking like a whole ass alien. Kid vs Kat looking ass bish. And her skin white af too? Did sis fall in some damn Joker acid too? Sis whole lower face is white as shit! Dat shit paler than crack. Like sis got the white slapped outta her and she just turned whiter. Das probably what happened. Her ass probably got on my mans Bruce last nerves one night and got da shit backslapped out her ass.

So my dude Matthew got turned a different color pal & got his neck privileges revoked? Lazy af but not the worst revamp.

You kno that meme: "upgrade, upgrade, FUCK GO BACK!"? Dis pre much sums up Jonathan here. My mans jus looks so dirty here. Looking straight outta da trash bin. Like literally dirty. Nasty ass teeth probably got dat hot ass breath blowing thru them bitches. Das a real fear toxin right there. Long ass black as shit dirty ass hair. Tryna copy off my girl from the ring w dat shit. Need to take dat dirty ass wig and mask and Amish hat tf off my dude. It is not rocking you. Dat whole worn out trashy ass outfit ain't working for you either hoe. You need to take yo ass a bath bitch cus your arms looking brown and ashy as a bitch. You can not even THINK about borrowing anything from me w yo dirty creepy stalker lookin ass. If you don't put down that damn stick like yo ass need help walking and shit I oughtta bitch ya ass with the shit fo going around dressed like dis. Take that damn rope off your neck bitch fo I do something Bruce won't do.

Bruh, you can not go up to my face and tell me these niggas are the same person in the same mofucking universe! Jervis What da fuck did they DO TO YOU MY N**GA?? N**ga looking like a damn leprechaun with special needs and shit. Rocking all dat dookie green swag but you got no swag anymore my dude. It's shit like you clothes and yo breath! Yo shits wasn't perfect and white before but them hoes looking hella worse now. What you get drinking all that damn tea my n**ga. Ol Tiny ass n**ga. Like wot. HOW?! HOW TF DID YO ASS SHRINK??? LIKE SOMEBODY TOSSED YOU ASS IN A LAUNDRY DRYER AND PROBABLY FORGOT TO TAKE YO STUPID ASS OUT. PROBABLY WHY YO HAIR WHITE AND SMALL AS SHIT YA UGLY ASS LUCKY CHARMS LOOKING ASS CRACK FEENY. If you don't hop yo ass back under a rainbow with dem skinny ass broken heel lookin ass tap dancing shoes.

Victor, bruh, they dem did yo ass so dirty in the new adventures. I ain't gonna lie that new suit kinda ok. But you looking like a whole skeleton and shit. Lookin like a young Palpatine & shit. Ol Frisky dingo looking ass! Need to put those goggles back on. The least yo (spoiler) 2003 Baxter Stockman ass can do now.

Yo ass probably looking mad as shit cus ya can't jack it no more n**ga. Dats all gon now. Long with yo unloyal ass wife. How tf she gon bounce on you after everything you did for her? After all the years and bull you had to put up with & she leave yo cold ass for another nibba? Fuck DCAU Nora. Just fuck her.

Scarface lookin like a damn Fanboy & Chum Chum character & his boy over here lookin like Chode. Next.

UUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHGG.

Just. UAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHH. Bruh I will never understand who tf thought this shit was a good idea?! Like who the fuck, was drawing dis nigga. Drew DIS Sus af shit. LOOKED at dis shit. And said to deyself: "Yeah dats da Riddler aight". HELL TO THE NAH DAT AIN'T NO DAMN DAS A (dick) FIDDLER! HE LOOKIN SUS AS FUCK NOW WITH THEM TIGHT AS GREEN SPANDEX AND THAT DARK AS HELL EYELINER. Looking like gay Christmas elf! Looking like a gay ass ballay dancer with them Spider Gwen ballerina shoes. You can't dance for shit nigga! Yo shit is SOOO DAMN TIGHT like I can get a good sight and shape picture of yo "Question mark" I'm telling y'all. sSSSUUUSSSSSSS. Looking like a bigasss lima bean. Skinny ass Jack skeleton moFucka. Like. They did my boy Eddy so freakin dirty with this. My mans had class, style, a nice look, HAIR. Now he. Whateverthelivingfuckdisbaldasspeterpanlookinmofuckasupposestobe. And i hate how that's how he did be lookin in almost every new Batverse when why tho? Nigg(m)a look stupid as hell. How tf he expect to be tooken seriously dressed and lookin like dis ? If I saw dis fucker in real life and he threatens me, imma laugh at his ass and beat him with his cane. Get ya Richard from Allen Gregory looking ass away from me. I can't!

Bruh it don't look that much but they did my mans Harvey dirty too. LOOK AT MY MANS FACE. good half i mean. Yall nigs kno. THESE MUHFUCKERS STRIPPED HIM OF HIS PRETTYNESS! Man. Dis version of Harvey was a pretty muhfucka. You can't deny dat shit

Even when he became Two-Face he still got dat 1 side of pretty.  And that deep af panty soaking voice to go along w it. He dat half and half package. 

Now HE LOOK LIKE DIS

WHOEVER TF DID DIS NEED DEY ASS WHOOPED! SQUARE TF UP NOW. NIGGA LOOKS LIKE EYEBROWLESS VERSION OF DOC FROM SECRET SATURDAYS. FAT ASS BLOCK NOSE MUH FUCKA.  His eye looks like traingle with a Nike logo on top of it. Lookin like a poorly drawn Dwayne The Rock Johnson. And ya other half ain't lookin that good either. Dat 1 eyebrow putting Helga Pataki to shame! I mean the shit didn't look good before but it was somewhat tamed, now the shit looking like full grownass caterpillar. And that lip black as hell. Kno that side dirty as fuuhck!

I don't even know what tf I'm sposed to say about DIS except (kinky..)

Angelica pickles looking ass. Bigass blonde captain coconut looking ass hairstyle. Looking like a blonde creepy ass Wednesday Adams. Dem black as fuck Kim possible lips. She actually looking like a family guy character with that bigass head and small body. I SWEAR she ded looking like one of Stewie's ex's right now my dude! Got  tiny ass flat ass guitar chip shoes. Looks like sis wearing fucking Zippers as shoes. Sis got that "i got something planned fo yo ass" smile. Sis look like she plotting something or did some evil shit already.

. . .

Bros I'm sorry but I'm just as confused as you like. I can't find a single thing different about Harley. Like literally nothing. Her makeup at night be looking blue sometimes, looking like a fakeass Livewire, but nah. They didn't even touch homegirl. Why tf is Harley the only character that stayed the same?????! Niggas was playing favorites. They had plans for that ass since day one. They was probs like: "Aye y'all. DO NOT TOUCH HARLEY. SHE STAYS THE SAME!" "why?" "JUST LISTEN TO ME BITCH!" "Wha bout her mans?" "Oh hell yeah fuck his shit up!" ...sigh.. Yep. It's that time...

UaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHH what else is dere to be said about dis ugly ass nigga? Dis nigga look like Yakko Warner & Freakazoid's love child! Dis nigga look like a random Tiny toons or Animaniac character! With that dookie green shirt and flower. You and Riddler's gay ass both matching them Dexter's laboratory Gloves. Why tf yo eyes eyes black as fuck tho?! How tf does one do that to theyself?! Yo ass probably snorted some shit and ya shits expanded and that's prolly yo pupils with ya cracked out ass. Nigga don't even look like a clown no more. Hell Jared Leto Joker atleast had the lipstick down. Dis nigga got dem ashy ass lips hanging out. Nigga think he owning too. Nigga you don't own shit! Broke as hell now. And yo design broke too. Joker? Man more like Broker. Got dat fairly odd parents hair. Got that Cosmo and Wanda in one. Like bitch if you don't. Just like Riddler i can not take yo animaniac looking ass serious. You do not scare me bitch! Bye!

Now see dis? DIS is Aight! A lot more fitting and & faithful to the character. No over the fucking top redesign, you can actually tell it's the same damn character as before, a little bit of swag for personality

So that's the tea. Ivy & Croc are the only good rogue redesigns in the whole series, evBody else ugly as shit.

[sunflowers-insherwood]

Winter RH Headcanons

In winter in Sherwood Forest it’s cold, it’s wet, it’s frosty, and there’s snow.

(once again the amount of bullet points make this quite long but it’s so fluffy you won’t even need to wear a coat because it will get all warm in your heart instead)

- ‘i’m not bring funny, right, but it’s freezing’

- the gang find ways to sleep together to preserve heat (huddle for warmth!)

- this usually ends up with Robin, Much, John and Allan, Will, Djaq snuggled together

- they pack leaves and mud into the crevices of the camp to keep wind and rain out as much as possible

- the front door is to be kept shut at All Possible Times

- the worst feeling is when it's opened first thing in the morning (usually by resident early bird Much, who is making breakfast)

- he usually gets at least 2 objects thrown at him and 5 discontented grumbles as he opens the door to inspect the traps for food

- it’s the rule that two fires should be blazing rather than one

- from which Much makes lots and lots of hot teas and mulled wines to warm the gang up after a long day of work

- and hot water bottles are used 24/7

- they have competitions to see who can keep moving for the longest to avoid the cold (Allan or Much usually wins)

- the only gifts of thanks they will accept from villagers are warm clothes

- the word soon spreads and they have woollen jumpers and scarves and hats thrown at them left right and centre

- Much loves his bobble hat and john is secretly jealous of it

- Will owns about ten different scarves

- John is so grateful for his big coat

- Much gets even more inventive with the food sources, him and Djaq doing lots of foraging and hunting the most random of animals

- winter is the hardest time for the villagers too so the lads can't have any time off

- though this is kind of a blessing as it means they have no reason to lay around in the cold

- when they rob nobles passing through the forest they take their warm clothes and distribute them to the poor. To avoid being found wearing obviously stolen clothes the villagers come up with creative methods and designs to help them fit into their everyday attire

-  getting wet feet is the worst (Much particularly hates it) so they have as many pairs of socks as possible to change when they need to

-  they also make sure they have two pairs of shoes each, one pair to wear while the others dry

-  everyone expects Much to complain the most about the cold, but actually Djaq comes in first with Much and Robin tied for second place as they are all used to the heat of the holy land

- John pretends that he doesn’t feel the cold due to his Scottish Blood but actually he would be freezing without his coat

-  Will makes sure to watch that Djaq has ways of keeping warm and dry at all times even when they’re not explicitly together, he just cares about her a lot okay

-  Djaq likes wearing Will’s scarves because they smell like him

-  Robin and Much swap clothes often too, as Much feels warmer when his clothes are tighter and Robin likes snuggling into larger pieces

-  because getting wet likely means getting cold and hence ill, the gang don't wash and start becoming a bit smelly

-  they don't notice it until the villagers they're helping keep scrunching their noises

-  they can't do much about it though apart from wash their faces more often

-  Luke always calls the days where it is so cold you can see your breath 'dragon breath day' and so Will calls it this too

-  soon all the gang refer to it this way, with even Robin cheering everyone up on particularly grey days by saying a cheerful 'don't worry lads, it's dragon breath day!'

-  when Djaq first sees snow she proper freaks out

-  Allan manages to lob a snowball at her face and it goes down her neck and she gets so mad

- a very competitive snowball fight breaks out

-  Robin obviously has the best aim, but Will makes wickedly ice-hard ones and John's throw packs a punch

-  Allan just shoves snow down people's necks for a laugh

-  John is used as a human shield way too much for his liking

-  Much convinces Robin to make a snowman with him, soon the entire gang are helping out and even the villagers donate a carrot

-  when it snows and they go around delivering supplies to the villagers, they often end up in massive snow games with them

-  once it was Nettlestone vs Clun with the gang scattered on both sides and that was a day that went down in Nottingham history

-  the gang's favourite hot meal to come home to is Much's rabbit stew

-  Marian gets warm clothing and food to them as much as possible, even gifting them chamber pots so they haven't got to leave the camp to go to the loo in the woods in the middle of the night

-  it was A Problem before she did that

-  everyone finds the cloaks really annoying and heavy but they have to wear them to keep warm so Much embroiders little patterns onto each person's to make them feel better about wearing them

-  Guy is Edgy so his favourite season in actually winter even though it's freezing

-  he puts on layers of yellow knitted jumpers under his black leather to stay cosy but fashionable

-  he would kill anyone who saw what colour his jumpers were though

-  they were his mother's and father's so he wears them when they can (he likes to imagine the warmth he feels from them is the same warmth as one of their hugs)

-  what Guy doesn't appreciate, however, is how the rain makes his eyeliner run

-  he gets special stuff from the holy land imported instead, it's water resistant

-  Sherwood becomes gorgeous in the frost

-  when the sun hits it in the morning and the entire wood is gleaming with cobwebs and ice

-  it's secretly Robin's favourite part of the day

-  he was sad when he missed a winter in Acre (Much, not so much)

-  they leave rude messages for Guy and the Sheriff in the snow around Nottingham

-  and they greatly enjoy lobbing snowballs at the Sheriff and his men whenever they leave the castle

-  however they have to play it careful because in the snow their footprints are easier to track

- forget the floor is lava, the floor leaves footprints and so they get good at climbing over stuff to confuse people trying to track them

- to make up for the gloomy and cold days Will and Allan paint loads of bits and bobs around the camp bright colours

-  because it gets dark and cold early they spend more time together in the evenings, and they play loads of games (charades: Allan always wins) and sing lots together

-  John plays the lute and Allan a pipe and they spend many an evening singing increasingly foul songs about the Sheriff and Guy

- basically it’s cold outside but warm in everyone’s hearts <3

[bxthharmon]

Ivy, Chapter 1 ~ Inhale, In Hell There’s Heaven

Words: 2219

Series Warnings: Underage drinking / Smoking weed / violence / abusive relationships / toxic friendships and relationships

Pt Warnings: drinking / smoking weed / a fight

Series Summary: She’s been faking her whole life, and he makes her realise she doesn’t have to

Pt Summary: A party leads to a reunion

Pairings: Pope Heyward x reader, Rafe Cameron x reader

A/N: okay sorry for dipping but im returning with the first chapter from my new series (yes ik the gif is from euphoria but i love it)

prologue in masterlist

“masterlist”

She meets Sarah at eight, outside the gas station in Figure 8. She is leaning against the cool glass, wearing a bikini and booty shorts and smoking a blunt with a half empty bottle of Smirnoff in her free hand. She is met by Sarah’s disapproving gaze, and sulkily puts the sweet scented blunt out, mumbling about needing some kind of pregame to make it through the party. They link arms, walking in silence through the unlit suburbs, houses too big for their own good. 

They hear the party before they see it. 

From around a corner, they can hear the deep bass and the loud chatter of drunk teenagers. Sarah, innocent and apprehensive, lets her friend walk ahead, watching as the girl high fives and fist bumps almost everyone, calling out greetings to those she can’t reach, and answering random quick fire questions as she wanders down the front lawn. If Sarah was popular, Y/N was famous. On an island where everyone knew everyone, Y/N was the centre of everyone’s attention - the combination of being an experienced partier and high achiever found the respect of adults and classmates alike. She was the queen of the island, with a hold over the youth that couldn’t be rivalled.

The front door, open already, allows them into a thicker atmosphere, the reception hall opening up, on one side, the living room acts as a dance floor, thriving and jumbling with dancers. On the other side, the kitchen acts as a buffet of expensive spirits and party food. Past the stairs, the dining room is full of more dancers, but also more smokers, more drugs, the air at the back of the house thick with smoke. The large French doors of the dining room open into a huge garden, teenagers in the pool, around the pool, away from the pool.

Y/N leads the way to the kitchen, grabbing two solo cups from one of the red towers, and mixing herself a drink with concerning dexterity. For the first time since they entered the house, she turns to Sarah. Through the hum of the bass and loud shouts, Sarah understands that her friend is asking what she would like to drink. “Surprise me!” She shouts, and the girl in front of her shrugs, a small laugh playing at her features as she grabs a few bottles, some of them alcoholic, some of them not, and concocts a drink. Her hair flashes with the lights, neon pink eyeliner and glitter shining as she moves around, picking up bottles and stirring. After a minute, maybe two, the girl passes a drink back, an excited smile in her cerulean eyes as she bites her lip and gages her friend's reaction. Sarah takes a sip from the red cup, swirling the drink around in her mouth. She can taste the sweet citrus of orange and mango, and the masked tang of the spirits. Her friend shouts a warning, saying she’ll drink it like it’s juice, not vodka, so will definitely be wasted by the night’s denouement.

Sarah feels a sweaty palm grab hers, tanned hands connecting, and then the pair are off again, wriggling their way through the throng of bodies, moving to the beat. Sarah is hardly aware of their path - always ready to follow the girl blindly - until she finds herself outside, in the warm air of the late spring evening, bodies spreading out. Beyond the pool, teenagers stand in groups, some passing bottles or spliffs, some empty handed. Greetings are called out, most aimed for her counterpart, but a few called to her. Eventually, she is pulled to a halt. Kelce and Topper stand before her. Her boyfriend kisses her, and she smiles at the familiarity of the touch, tuning into the conversation, the clear night air allowing the ability to hear.

The talking is about parents - complaining, probably. Kelce is laughing at something Fallon is saying, and Topper is chuckling too. The conversation flows for a few minutes, each person taking intermittent sips from their respective cup. Sarah is talking to Topper, and when she looks up again, her friend is gone.

Y/N shimmies her way through the crowd, her cup dangling delicately from her blue-painted fingertips above her head as she works her way towards one of the dance floors - whichever one has a better atmosphere - she hasn’t decided yet.

She passes on the first, finding herself dancing in the suffocatingly crowded living room. After a while, when her drink is finished and her cup has been knocked away, her thirst gets the better of her, and once again she struggles against the tides of people, trying to get to the drinks. She works her cocktail magic, only drawing her attention away from her contriving at the sound of shouting. The kitchen thins out, and she sees the shapes of two men struggling against each other outside, hazardously close to the pool.

Curious, she joins the flow of people, working her way to the front of the forming circle, winking to Sarah, on the other side. She is surrounded by phone screens, each fixated on the brawl before them, following each punch, each kick.

The two offenders, one of them being the Cameron boy, the other blond and scruffy, seem dead set on causing damage. Before it gets exciting though, two more bodies join the violent fiasco, one of them being Kelce, the other a Pogue - recognisable as John B Routledge. 

The crunch and smack of each punch is painful to listen to, let alone tiresome. It’s the same shit every party - someone crashes, and everyone’s mad about it. Rolling her eyes, she sips her drink. She realises that she does know the blondie - he mows her lawn every Tuesday. She almost laughs at the thought, but withholds her self-inflicted humour. 

The fight fizzles out, the audience bored and the performers tired. One of the Kooks - he best friend's brother - is surfacing from the pool. She turns to leave, the entertainment of the night having ended quickly, but is stopped by the clammy hand of her friend.

“Does that happen at all parties?” Sarah asks.

For someone known for being an extrovert, she’s extremely inexperienced when it comes to parties. “Sure.” Fallon shrugs, already bored with the prospect of a fight. “Come dance with me.”

After another hour of dancing and drinking, she checks her phone. Her eyes scan over threatening texts from her parents, and countless missed calls.

Fuck them. The epiphany arises, and as if it’s genius, she agrees to her undisclosed plan. Wanting to take action quickly, she leaves whatever boring conversation she’s been dragged into and swipes a bottle of overly expensive whiskey and stumbles upstairs, opening each door cautiously, and slurring an apology at each yell until she finds the bathroom. She locks the door and sits down in the bath, drinking straight from the bottle as she ponders her own life.

She swings her legs up, worn nikes resting on the tiled wall as she drops her back, lying down so that she is nestled into the bath, her falling over her face in the cramped space. She discards the emptied bottle carelessly, enjoying the clunk that sounds as the glass hits the bathmat. 

She doesn’t know how long she lies there, turning every detail of her life so far over in her head, but when she wrestles her way out of the bath, the music is still in full flow. She fumbles to unlock the door, opening it into the face of a boy she hasn’t seen in years. “Pope?” She laughs, and he shakes his head despairingly, “Popey!”

“Oh my God, Y/N.” He frowns, not returning your drunken sentiment, “How much have you had?”

She groans, mumbling about his buzzkill tendencies as she almost falls down the stairs, rejoining the lively crowd of teenagers. She stumbles to the door, falling out into the fresh air as she checks her phone again, seeing that it’s almost half past one. She tries to gather her bearings, to work out which way leads home, but her inebriated state fights against it. Mumbling incoherent strings of words - barely able to be described as sentences - she realises that she only lives three streets over. In which direction, she is still uncertain.

“Need help?” The voice sounds behind her, and she spins clumsily, a pair of hands steadying her as she blinks dumbly at the offending face. The same face as earlier - Pope Heyward’s. Oh, so he thinks he’s so cool. Recognition dawns on her.

“Nope!” she hiccups. “Your friend fought Rafe.”

“Yeah.” he chuckles, letting go of her slowly, making sure she won’t fall. She blinks again, gazing at his face with utmost curiosity.

“He deserved it.” she decides, “He gets cocky.”

“That he does.” she tilts backwards again, and grabs her hands, pulling her back up gently, a familiar amused smirk forming as he glances down.

“I don’t think he’s a bad person though.” 

The boy in front of her raises his eyebrows, doubt adorning his features. “Debatable. Need help getting home?”

She ponders on it for a second, “As long as you don’t kidnap me.” she shrugs, “But he’s not.”

“Isn’t he?” the boy challenges, letting her walk ahead, swerving around with her arms out as she’s a child playing airplanes.

“Nope.” she bubbles, “None of these people are. I mean sure,” she spins around, sparing a look at the large house either side of her, “they’re backstabbing, fake, plastic assholes, but they’re not inherently bad.” He laughs, and she drapes a tanned arm over his shoulder. “Why’re you doing this?”

“You were wasted, I want to make sure you get home safely.” he explains, and she stumbles forwards, her arm sliding from its place on his shoulders.

“Popey, Popey, Popey.” she giggles, the thought of your childhood friend making you smile, forgetting for a moment that his shoulder was the one brushing against hers. “You used to be so carefree.” Pope nods slowly, your proclamation making sense in his head as he remembered the days before college applications and 4.0 GPAs. “So did I.” she murmurs.

“You seem pretty carefree now.” he scoffs, and she cackles.

“My darling,” she turns abruptly, forcing him to stop as you stroke his cheek mockingly, the sweet smell of alcohol and weed filling his lungs at the close proximity. “I’m a good actor.”

He scoffs again, “You’ve got everything, Princess.”

“In material terms, maybe.” she shrugs, rubbing her eyes so that colourful phosphenes imprint themselves in her vision. “But I’m trapped.”

She stops again on the street corner, and he faces her, unimpressed with her sentiment. “A caged linnet bird, are we?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m perfect.” she shrugs, and this time he rolls his eyes. “No seriously, I’ve got a 3.9 GPA, I study in the week, but look at me, a party girl. I’m a good friend, I’m dutiful and classy and I laugh at the right times and make the right jokes. I pull off being a preppy good girl and a party girl. But I’m so fucking bored. I want to feel free. I want to feel like I’m invincible, like my parent’s expectations and college plans and shitty friends can go fuck themselves because I’ll be free.”

There’s a glint of confusion in his eyes as he stares at her, watching the light in her eyes renew itself, even the idea of being rid of those metaphorical constraints giving the girl a happier aura. “What about all those times you ran away from home?” she turns to him, a smile on her lips as she cups his cheeks, drunkenly condescending.

She sighs. “I spent a few days high off my ass - it was hardly an escape. I wanna find a way to feel like all the pressures of this island are gone without actually having to leave.” He nods slowly, knowing the feeling, and she smiles, the embarrassment of the outburst plaguing her mind, retrospect sobering her up slightly. The girl steps away from him, “Shit,” she mutters, “I said nothing.”

She turns away, rushing towards the front door, now in sight. “Y/N, wait!”

Pausing, her shoulders drop as she faces the boy again. “Hang out with me, at least once - take a break.”

A frown pulls at her brows, mockery filling her eyes, “You?”

“Yeah, just trust me, okay? I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

She bites her lip, skepticism adorning her features as she turns the offer over in her head. “10 o’clock - don’t be late.”

She steps backwards, out of reach, and for a second she finds herself wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t pushed the boy away. There’s a moment of silence, and even in her inebriated state she can tell that he’s noticed that she’s changed since their last conversation. In a weird, untimely realisation, she realises that she is not herself, and she hasn’t been for years now. 

Confronted with her thoughts, and this boy, she steps away again, turning away and walking towards her house not daring to look back until her door is unlocked. She knows what she’ll see, it will be just like last time. Still, she has to prepare herself for the observation.

He’s gone.

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[ghostie-luther]

Umbrella academy headcanons #1 - sexuality

Takes place in my "I won't hesitate bitch" texting universe on ao3, which you can read, here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146260

In my universe the hargreeves siblings are 13 years old! !

Luther

-luther is pansexual, like Klaus!

-so ik in the series and stuff he loses his v card to rave girl (which was technically r*pe btw....he was drunk out of his mind) but come onnnn Luther with a boyfriend? CUTE

-he probably knew from an early age tbh, told reggie and Reggie was like "haha think again bitch" and basically told him he couldn't afford to be gay as number 1

-which is, by the way, bullshit

-and although Luther is very comfortable in his gender as a cis male, he gotta admit, he loves a good skirt

-like the pink pleated aesthetic ones?? The pastel ones?? Ohmyfuckinggod he drooled

-so Grace made him one!!

-like cmon let the boy wear what he wants. He looks adorable in it >:(

-he and Klaus are very similar in the way that they both like feminine clothing and have both been caught wearing makeup and painted nails

-yes Luther thirsts over luke Evans get with the times

Diego

-Diego is straight!

-he attracts alot of female attention while out on missions and interviews and he LOVES it

-hes very confident when he comes to the ladies, despite never having a girlfriend

-although he knows how to paint nails like a BOSS for his siblings. He doesn't even care. He OWNS it

-like he will sit and listen to tea while doing their nails for hours and hours

-lmao he tried to do that "sexy growl" thing men do during an interview and spat everywhere

-girls took the absolute piss out of him for MONTHS

-recently he's had his eye on this girl named Eudora who walks past the mansion on her way to school.....but it'll never happen

-right?

Allison

-Allison is also straight!

-her and Diego and five are the only "straight" ones tbh

-Vanya says it's a shame because lots of girls would have FLOCKED to Allison give them the chance

-one of her favourite things to do is let Klaus do her makeup after Reggie has gone to bed

- like Diego, she a sucker for gossip

-sometimes her and Diego pick fun at the others but it's all harmless teasing that they're all perfectly fine with

-Luther: imagine drawing your eyebrows on everyday

Allison: imagine hiding in the bathroom for an hour because you were wearing a skirt and dad was looking for you

Luther:

Allison: couldn't be me

-she's such a diva! She likes to strut around in feather boas with Klaus and talk about boys and read magazines

-its her favourite time of day

Klaus

-Klaus is pansexual like Luther!

-Klaus, while also is very confident in his gender, STEALS ALLISONS AND GRACES CLOTHES-

-honestly you'd go into his room and he'd be sat there in an prom dress and a boa

-nobody even HAD a prom dress

-he Ben and Luther like to have sleepovers alot to catch up and thirst over men (and women) they like

-Klaus loves to wear makeup!

- not as subtle as Luther though. Where Luther would have maybe some blush, red or pink eyeshadow and lilgloss Klaus would POP OFF

-vibrant eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick, eyebrows drawn on highlighter ETC

-i mean...hes not amazing at it but he finds it SO FUN

- he keeps getting Luther to try the eyeliner but he won't, and Klaus gets really mad because IT WOULD SUIT HIM SO WELL

-both he and luther have to do the makeup when there's NO chance at getting caught tho because reggie would go off the RAILS

five

-straight as a lamppost

-but he's in the community because he is asexual!

-nothing to do with adult stuff appeals to him AT ALL

-at least before he dissapeared oop

-now nobody knows

-HAD THE BIGGEST CRUSH ON SELENA GOMEZ

-"compared to me she's as smart as a newborn baby but GODAMN she cute-"

Ben

-TIS A GAY CHILD

- this babey is fully, 100% gay

-but you wouldn't really be able to tell because he keeps it pretty quiet and doesn't really show anything off??

-OH OF COURSE you get the sass and the gay jokes but he doesn't really join in with the whole "omg look at this man" type thing

-maybe he's just shy

-hes shy but will paint his nails black any day of the week

-i think he would rather cry in the library than admit he liked someone tbh

-hes so awkward it's adorable

-sometimes the rest forget he's gay because he acts...well...straight or doesn't mention it for AGES and then he'll come out with "-oh PLEASE when me and my husband get married-" or something and everyone fucking JOLTS

Vanya

-AGAIN, STRAIGHT AS A WOBBLY CIRCLE

- this child is so gay omg she can't contain it

-every joke she makes about herself points to herself being gay (which i mean...same)

- she has posters of famous female singers in her room because:

- "dad these women inspire me to play the violin and are the reason I strive to be better."

-like no sis tf???

- you just like to stare at them

- she deadass outlined Angelina jolies face in a lipstick heart like this was an early 2000s movie

- she gets really frustrated sometimes because Allison likes boys and vanyas all "I like...hnnng girls...women...BOOBS...girls, women are nice ygm?" And Allison's like "..no?💀"

-has exactly 12 flannel shirts in her wardrobe

- sis you WEAR UNIFORM EVERYDAY-

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #407

“sugar pop, sugar pop, baby here i come, straight to #1″

Do you follow any special diet? (dairy free, vegetarian, gluten free etc.) No. What’s your favourite summer activity? Swimming is all I really enjoy about summer. Who was the first person to break your heart? It wasn't in a romantic sense obviously, but my dad. First band you obsessed about? I've only ever *truly* been obsessed with Ozzy Osbourne as a band, haha. First place someone took you on a date? I want to say a local skating rink. It was a group thing. How many doors are in the room you’re in? Two, if you include the closet door. Has anyone ever drawn a picture of you? Yes. Do you have any nieces or nephews? Quite a few. Which movie villain do you find the most terrifying? Well, if you've seen the scene where Pyramid Head literally rips a woman's skin off like a sheet in Silent Hill... u kno. I genuinely do find him to be a terrifying monster though, all bias aside. Humanoid monsters with ambiguous faces unsettle me. I wouldn't want that knife swingin at me, either. Do you get grumpy when you’re hungry? Yuuuup, I sure can. Do you stick your tongue out often in pictures? I have done that maybe twice in my whole life. Which one of your family members are you closest to? My mom. If chocolate was an illegal drug - would you be a drug addict? Nah. I'd be able to survive if it was illegal, but it would suck. Are you proud of your parents? Yes in some areas, no in some others. There are things both have said and/or done that I can't say I'm proud of them for, but overall, I am. Do you say “soda” or “pop”? "Soda." Are you shy about singing in front of people? YUP. I just don't do it. If you could get backstage tickets to ANY concert - which would you pick? Ozzy. :') It'd be fantastic to tell him thank you for his music that has always brought me joy and comforted me, and also let him know for sure just how strong he is and that it is absolutely not overlooked to still be nailing out an album while fighting Parkinson's. I'd probably start blubbering like a baby while rambling at some point, haha. Which is better: orange or grape soda? Orange. I don't like grape soda. Do you sleep with a sleep mask? Well, you could sort of call it that, ha ha. I have to wear an APAP mask to subdue my sleep apnea that causes wild nightmares/terrors. Do you like techno music? It's actually grown on me the past few months. Have you ever been drunk? No, I've never quite reached that point. I've only been tipsy. Are you mad at your best friend right now? Nope, got no reason to be. Do you know anybody with a pet snake? Yes, including myself. Is there any drink that you absolutely MUST drink cold? WATER. ABSOLUTELY WATER. I canNOOOOOOT do room temperature water anymore. It's gotta be pretty damn cold for me to drink it like it's nothin'. Have you ever painted anybody's nails aside from your own? No. Do you ever donate to the less fortunate? Mom likes to donate our old clothes and stuffed animals. Did you buy an American flag after 9/11 to put on your car/house/ whatever? I was a little kid when this happened, so. I don't know if my parents did. Honestly, do you have any Hilary Duff on your MP3 player? HA, I do. I love "Who's That Girl." When was the last time you had an ice cream sandwich? Wow, probably years... I really, really want one now, ha ha. Have you ever caught a friend cheating on their bf/gf? Well, my sister's friend, anyway. I was just sitting on the computer in the living room and there they were on the couch just casually making out. Do you enjoy doing math? Fuuuuck no. Do you think your mom has secrets she’s never told you? Oh, I know she does. There are things she's done that I know I have plenty of missing details from, but I don't ask because I know they're sensitive subjects. Do you own anything you don’t want your parents to know about? No. Do you pose in your pictures or just smile? I usually just smile. Do you use scented soap in the shower? Yes. It smells like cinnamon rolls and it is HEAVENLY. Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No. Who was the last person you danced with? Enjoyable? Ha, Sara. Yeah. Dark or light colored jeans? Dark, 100%. I never wore light jeans. Can you take apart a computer and name all the parts? No sir. Can you take apart a car and name all the parts? That's an even bigger "no." Have you ever purchased a lotto ticket? No. What is the longest amount of time you've spent playing Monopoly? Idk. Have you ever witnessed a tornado first-hand? Thank fucking Christ I haven't. I am terrified of them. Have you ever colored your eyebrows? No. Have you ever taken another person's prescribed medication? Pain medicine, yes. Have you ever played golf (not miniature golf)? No. I'm not interested to, either. Have you ever gotten dressed with the windows open? I definitely don't believe so. Have you ever taken a shower outside? At the beach, yes. If you could call it a "shower." Have you ever been to a junkyard? No. Have you ever watched the History Channel willingly? No. If you could get the cell phone of your choice - what would it be? Probably a current iPhone. Apple is such a rip-off, but damn is the camera good lmao. Do you hand out candy to kids on Halloween? This will be my first Halloween in this house, so I really don't know if trick-or-treaters happen here. Do you like huskies? Love 'em, but I could neeeever own one with all that fur. What do you smell like? I'm always self-conscious over if I smell like sweat because of my hyperhidrosis. I hope not. Do you take your dog for walks? I don't have a dog. I used to take Teddy when he was younger, though. He loved those, but I stopped when I noticed his arthritis kicking in. Have you ever went paintballing? No. Seems stupid to me, honestly... Like that shit seems painful, so like, why??? What kind of movies are you drawn to? Horror and fantasy, mostly. I don't watch movies often. How often do you update your Facebook status? Just about never because I either just have nothing to say or am afraid of saying something stupid. I only ever share posts or pictures that appeal to me. What type of pet would you like to have? A Brazilian Black tarantula. :( I will whine about that until the day I get one, ha ha. I would also really, really like a plains hognose and a woma python. What breakfast are you most likely to have? Cereal. When you're starting to feel sick, you: It depends on what kind of "sick," but odds are I'm heading for the medicine cabinet. What colors are you most drawn to? Pastel ones. :') Light and pretty. What deadly sin are you most likely to commit? Sloth. When you're away from home, what makes you feel at home? "Having my stuff with me, like my laptop." <<<< Same. Do you prefer to lounge in a hot tub or swim in a pool? Swim. How many books do you have out in the public areas of your house? None. Who makes a better burger, in your opinion? Sonic. @_@ What do you like best about the holidays? Seeing my niece and nephew so excited. You think your eyes convey: Boredom, probably. Besides screaming for ice cream, what else do you scream for? If a bug surprises me by being on me. Well, depending on the bug. Do you like fried chicken? Noooo, it is so gross to me. What do you think of belly button piercings? They are SO cute imo. I want one, but I think it would look hideous on me. Maybe if I was actually thinner. Not saying bigger people can't wear belly button piercings, I just don't think it would look good on me. Do you like plain Lays potato chips? They're my favorite! I especially like the ruffled kind. Is there a big screen television in your house? In the living room, yeah. Would you rather no heat in winter or no A.C in summer? No heat in the winter, EASILY. I can't handle no A/C when it's hot. At least if you're cold, you can bundle up with tons of blankets. Have you ever had braces? I did for a long time because we couldn't afford to take them off. Do you do your own laundry? No, honestly. Mom likes to just do it all together, so I let her do it. Which do you prefer: English, Irish, or Australian accents? Irish. Is there anything on your bedroom door? Yeah! I got a "Meerkat Lover St." sign for my door. :') What is the best vegetable? Broccoli. Guys in eyeliner: Hot or not? That shit is h o t. Have you ever seen your favorite band live? No. :( Do you drink water or soda more often? Ugh, soda. Did you collect Pokemon cards back in the day? I didn't deliberately, but only because I was awkward about asking for Pokemon stuff because I thought people thought I was weird for being a girl and being obsessed with it. I think I got one pack. I really, really wish I'd been less self-conscious about that passion. Pet turtle: yay or nay? I'm personally not interested. Did anyone famous come from your town/city/school? Yeah, but I'm not sharing who. Have you ever seen a celebrity on the street? No. Have you ever pretended to be sick? To avoid school sometimes, yes. Can you ice skate? Never tried, too scared to. The blades terrify me. Do you have your nose pierced? No, but I want to have it redone. Do you loooove Tim Burton movies? I sure do! What arcade games do you like to play? I haven't been to an arcade in forever... but I liked the racing ones. What's the most expensive gift you've ever gotten for someone else? I'm not sure. Would you rather spend a whole day with your mom, or your dad? At this moment, probably my dad. We haven't hung out in a long time. What would you say if you found out your last ex was in a relationship? I'd be happy for her and tell her she'd better let me know if the person ever fucks up so I can kick some ass, ha ha. Are you easily confused? Very. I'm slow to understand things. Where was your MySpace/Facebook default taken? My bedroom. Can you whistle with your fingers in your mouth? No. I've never understood how that works. Do you like peanut butter? Love it.