#wannabe wallpapers

[4suke]

anatomy of a breakup.

kuroo tetsurou x reader. angst, exes post-breakup, oneshot crossposted on ao3 as higashikatas.

you don’t get it.

it keeps you up at night, it takes your mind away from schoolwork, it makes you replay every single moment of the last year and a half and all the years of friendship before, and you still don’t get it. 

you’ve pulled apart every interaction both by yourself and with yaku, who has been nothing if not kind and patient and supportive and so simply unlike himself… and so like himself at the same time because yaku morisuke is nothing if not the best friend you will ever have. far too many evenings have been spent starfished on his too-big bed with his beloved weighted penguin plush on top of you, while the guy himself paces around alternating between sitting beside you or at his tiny desk-chair. he’d never been good at sitting still, less so when the topic of conversation upset him just as deeply as it did you. 

you wish feelings made sense. even the mere thought brought a fresh wave of pain, because it had never been you who had wanted the logical side of things. it has always been him, while you had laughed and patted his elbow placatingly. you wish a lot of things made sense, actually, but they didn’t and there was also nothing you could do about any of them. so you wallow in your heartbreak and let the voice at the back of your mind call you pathetic until it goes hoarse.

there’s no space for recovery. you’re in close proximity to tetsurou at almost all times- if not physically, then in the framed photograph on your nightstand you can’t bring yourself to throw away, or in the matching phone wallpapers that all the volleyball team bar two (yaku, out of consideration for you, and kenma out of sheer stubbornness) have, or in the group chat that still floods your phone every night. in kenma’s not-so-secret private instagram, in kai’s shared google photo album, in lev’s clumsy little wannabe vlogs, in yaku pretending he isn’t in the same room as you when tetsurou calls. most of all, he’s in your own head- you hold so many memories of him you might just burst. 

you wish the world would stop. stop reminding you of him, stop existing with him in it, stop existing with the both of you in it- anything would be preferable. but the earth refuses to stop spinning because you’re sad, and you wish that the earth didn’t have quite so much of kuroo tetsurou in it. 

(funnily enough, that isn’t the only impossible thing you wish for.)

the earth will not stop spinning, and your friends will not let you stay rooted in the muck of feelings he left you in. you continue to eat lunch with the second-years (on all five days of the week instead of just two now), you continue to walk the first-years home when they stay back late for practice (you do it alone now), you continue to poke fun at taketora and lev over the post-game bowls of ramen and you continue to treat inuoka like your long-lost son. you continue to crack a smile at fukunaga's puns and you continue to beg kai for homework answers over text mere hours before the deadlines. you continue to smile at tetsurou in greeting, continue to stay back when he asks you to discuss their prospects at nationals with coach nekomata, continue to offer to clean up the gyms every other day so he can head home to take care of his grandmother. the heavy knot of heartbreak still hangs like dead weight inside your rib cage, but as long as you continue complaining about kenma’s god awful sleep schedule and continue nodding energetically at snippets of songs that play when yaku slips you his earbuds, you can gloss over the way tetsurou hurt you. 

you get used to the weight with time. it doesn’t fade, but your friends seem to notice a difference even though they say nothing about it. kenma stops hiding his instagram stories from you when he posts another tetsurou grandpa moment. yaku stops sending you cautious glances during practices. taketora finally stops treating you like you’re about to break and starts clamouring for you to join the team bonding sessions once again. 

you aren’t fooled, though. your pain isn’t the kind of scar that heals up cleanly and quickly. you’re fighting to pretend you’re fine, existing this close to kuroo tetsurou and ignoring every instinct that screams at you to quit your post as nekoma’s volleyball manager and beg your parents to let you transfer to itachiyama.

the only thing that makes it hard to stick to the track, unsurprisingly, tetsurou is himself. 

he isn’t even trying. he’s normal again, and you know him well enough to tell that he (unlike you) is not faking a thing. there’s no internal conflict behind the large honest eyes every time he nods at you in greeting, no hesitation or pain echoing across his mind when he casually throws himself onto the couch between you and kenma on movie night and slings an arm across the back of the sofa inches from your head and shoulders. 

that , at least, makes sense, you think to yourself, walking home alone after a night out at the arcade with the team. he was the one who broke up with you so why should he feel any of the pain? why should he feel the ghosts of your touch on the sides of his face and the insides of his wrists every time he absentmindedly brushes against you in a crowded hallway? why should he lie awake at night trying not to think about the feeling of your arms curled around his waist when you used to nap together during free periods? 

he has no reason to agonize over something he chose to end, you know. rationalizing it doesn’t make it better.

the messy cannonball of emotions tucked neatly between your ribcage’s left walls wouldn’t hurt half as bad if it was another thing you shared with tetsurou, you think bitterly, wrapping your scarf tighter around your face. but life is unfair and this is the one thing you don’t share. you’re unbalanced. kuroo is fine and you are not.

you skip the next team outing. you sit in your bathtub, lukewarm water up to your shoulders with your head pressed against your arms, and you don't get it.

[erostheartist]

trans rights are human rights.

p.s. commissions and pre-made wallpapers are available on my #kofipage.

[rjl11898]

like what if a random reiloran was like “idk who this Liliana Temult wannabe is, but she keeps calling us to the blue promise and making us do menial tasks” and started taking notes^… anyway wallpapers below the cut o7

(These are mostly for me lol)

[selfless-solipsist]

°˖✧ The Tea ✧˖° [Planet Janet]

「 ✦ “You ever think about therapy, Janet?”✦ 」

╰┈➤ Planet Janet x Female Reader ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ (Yes really)

> I tried, okay? > Also, I used the gif with Wander because I couldn't find one with ONLY Janet. Besides, it's cute.

You and Janet—what a pair. Who knew that galactic conquerors and sentient planets could bond over tea, pancakes, and a shared love of spilling the cosmic tea about everyone else? Your weekly visits to Janet's surface had become a ritual, a bizarre yet oddly soothing routine in the whirlwind of your chaotic life. Every Sunday, you would make the trek to her, perched atop your sleek starship like a villainess on a throne. As you landed, Janet would practically roll out the green carpet—literally. Vines would snake toward your feet, forming a path of flowers that seemed to sigh at your approach. The air would fill with the scent of syrup and fresh pancakes as if the universe itself conspired to make you stay.

Janet always greeted you with that same excited giggle, which you imagined was her equivalent of screaming into a pillow out of pure joy like an excited teenage girl. You were her best friend, after all, and she made sure you knew it. The cottage she had "grown" on her surface just for your visits was ridiculously cozy—almost too cozy. The walls were covered in alien floral wallpaper that changed patterns depending on her mood, and the place always smelled faintly of whatever celestial garden she had conjured that week.

“I made pancakes!” her voice would echo through the cottage as you stepped in, your heels clicking against the impossibly pristine floor. “Sit, sit! I added extra stardust sprinkles this time!” You would settle into a chair crafted from her vines—comfortable in a way that was almost unsettling—and take your plate, deadpan as ever.

“You know,” you would start, taking a bite, “if this whole ‘planet’ thing doesn’t work out, you could really rake it in as a cosmic brunch spot. These pancakes could end wars.”

Janet’s delighted giggle would practically cause earthquakes.

The two of you always got to gossiping. Janet had her opinions on everything—Maurice (her ex-moon, as she bitterly referred to him), the state of galactic politics, and especially the sheer audacity of some planets thinking they could pull off rings when they clearly didn’t have the gravity for it. And as for you? Well, you had plenty to share about the overly dramatic exploits of the so-called “villains” you occasionally crushed in your spare time. Your dry delivery always sent Janet into adorable fits of hysterics.

Today, though, the gossip session had taken a bizarre turn.

As you casually recounted the ridiculous antics of a wannabe overlord whose “evil laugh” sounded more like a goat in distress, her vines had slowly but surely wrapped around your arms, legs, and waist. By the time you noticed, you were cocooned like a fly in a spider’s web.

“Janet,” you said flatly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Is this about me leaving again?”

Her voice came out soft and wheedling, like a child caught stealing snacks. “I just don’t want you to go... I mean, don’t you like it here? You’re my best friend!”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the vines as if they were a hammock. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t just kidnap your friends. It’s... weird.”

“I’m not kidnapping you!” she protested, vines tightening just a smidge. “I’m... giving you a hug!”

“Uh-huh. And I suppose you’ll be serving pancakes directly to my face next?” The sound of plates clinking made you glance down. Sure enough, a vine was extending a forkful of syrup-soaked pancake toward your mouth. Unfazed, you took the bite. “Okay, points for effort.”

Janet squealed in delight, the entire surface of her planet rumbling like she had just won an award. “See? You’re so happy here! Why don’t you just stay forever?”

“Because I have planets to conquer and people to terrify,” you said, deadpan. “I can’t do that from your cozy vine-chair.”

Her voice turned playful but with an edge. “Oh, I don’t know... I think you could terrify quite a lot of people just by calling this place your new home base. Imagine the fear! ‘The villainess who lives on a sentient planet!’”

You snorted. “Janet, you’re starting to sound like Maurice.”

One whine snapped like a whip.

“Don’t you dare compare me to him!” she snapped, vines twitching in a way that suggested she might fling you into the stratosphere.

“Touchy,” you said, completely unbothered. “What happened this time? Did he park in your orbit without permission again?”

“He said my volcanoes were overkill! Can you believe that? Overkill!”

 “Well, Janet... you did incinerate that asteroid last week because it ‘looked smug.’”

“It was smug!” she huffed. “Just floating there, acting like it was too good to get caught in my gravity!”

...

“You’re... definitely over him,” you deadpanned.

Janet went suspiciously quiet for a moment, her vines loosening just enough for you to stretch a leg. You knew better than to press further, but the little smile tugging at your lips said it all. If nothing else, the pancakes would keep you distracted from her possessive streak—or so you thought. She huffed, and the vines holding your arms tightened, almost like a passive-aggressive hug. “Why do you always bring him up? Maurice this, Maurice that. I’ve moved on!”

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh, totally. That’s why you have a crater on your northern hemisphere shaped like a frowny face. Real subtle, Janet.”

“That’s not a frown!” she shrieked, her voice reverberating through the air like a scorned diva at a karaoke night. “It’s modern art! You wouldn’t understand—it’s planet feelings!”

“Sure," You smirked. “Just like it wasn’t weird last week when you redirected a meteor to crash into him for ‘accidentally’ calling your oceans lukewarm.”

“He deserved it!” she snapped, vines flailing dramatically in sync with her voice. “I’m not lukewarm! My oceans are a perfect 78 degrees, with a light saline breeze!”

“And yet,” you said, as calm as a supernova before it explodes, “here we are. You, a sentient planet, and me, a mildly kidnapped villainess, discussing your volcanic breakup like we’re on some galactic talk show.”

Janet let out a melodramatic sigh, the ground rumbling beneath you. Flowers popped out of the soil, as if her emotions manifested as floral overcompensation. “I just want to be appreciated, you know? I put so much effort into everything! My waterfalls, my sunsets, my pancakes—”

“Your pancakes are phenomenal,” you said, mostly to stop her rant. A vine fed you another syrup-drenched bite before you could refuse.

“I know, right?” She preened. “Do you think Maurice ever complimented my pancakes? No! He always said things like, ‘Too much syrup, Janet,’ or ‘You can’t serve pancakes to a comet—it doesn’t have a mouth!’ He didn’t get me.”

“Yeah, Maurice is a real jerk,” you agreed around a mouthful of pancake. “But, y’know, he was your moon. Kind of literally made for you.”

Janet gasped in exaggerated offense. “Made for me? MADE FOR ME?! I’m a planet! I have billions of options! BILLIONS! You’re lucky I even let you visit—” She cut herself off, her vines quickly shifting to a far-too-gentle cradle around you. “I mean, not that I’d ever let you leave. But it’s totally not weird, right?”

“Oh, no,” you said flatly, sipping from a vine that somehow held a dainty teacup. “It’s perfectly normal to be smothered by your bestie every time you try to leave. I’m sure everyone would love being planet-wrapped. So cozy.”

Janet giggled, missing the sarcasm entirely. “See? You get me. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Favorite... what? Human? Friend? Pancake-eater?”

“Everything,” She replied, a suspicious amount of sincerity in her tone. Her surface glimmered in what could only be described as a planetary blush, soft hues of pink and green rippling across her landscapes.

You raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re not trying to butter me up so I’ll stay longer, are you?”

“Me? Never!” She said, giggling nervously as her vines tightened again—just slightly. “But, uh... since we’re talking about it, you could just stay. You’re way too good for all those other boring planets.”

“Janet.” You tilted your head, voice dripping with deadpan calm. “I’m not moving in.”

“I didn’t say move in,” she shot back, clearly flustered. “I just meant, y’know... permanent visits!”

“Mm-hmm.” You looked at the vines still wrapped around you. “Because you’re so good at letting people leave.” Janet opened her metaphorical mouth to protest, but you cut her off with a pointed glance. “Look. I’ll always stay a bit for the pancakes. I’ll even stay to listen to you vent about Maurice and how he ‘never appreciated your tectonic activity.’ But at some point, I do have to get back to my evil empire.”

“But I’m lonely!” She wailed, her voice echoing through the atmosphere like a soap opera star delivering a tragic monologue. “Do you know how hard it is being a planet? The endless void of space, the silence, the meteor showers that no one even compliments me on? And then Maurice—”

“Okay, okay!” You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smirk tugging at your lips. “You can keep me wrapped up in vines for, like, five more minutes. But after that, I am leaving. Probably.”

Janet sniffled dramatically, flowers blooming at your feet in response. “You mean it? Five whole minutes?”

“Yeah,” you deadpanned. “Just don’t forget to feed me pancakes while you monologue. Kidnapping always works better with snacks.”

She squealed in delight, her vines pulling you into an overly enthusiastic embrace. “You’re the best! I’ll make more syrup right now! Oh, oh, do you want a blueberry topping this time? Maybe some whipped nebula cream?”

“Surprise me,” you said with a sigh, leaning back into the cushy vines. “I’m already wrapped up in this mess, anyway.”

Her vines loosened just enough for you to adjust your position, which now felt less like a hostage situation and more like a bizarre spa treatment. One particularly enthusiastic vine fluffed your hair like a cosmic hairstylist who had overcaffeinated, while another twirled a napkin around your neck in preparation for what could only be described as round two of the Pancake Situation. “Whipped nebula cream and blueberry topping it is!” She declared, her voice a bubbly mix of excitement and the faintly unhinged energy you had come to expect. The ground beneath you shifted, a small geyser of syrup bubbling up from nowhere. “I’ll make this stack extra special. Only the best for my bestie!”

“You mean your only bestie,” you corrected, expressionless as ever. “Unless you’ve started taking applications.”

She let out an exaggerated gasp, the kind that made the whole atmosphere shiver. “You wound me! Like I’d let anyone else steal my best friend!” The vines squeezed you slightly—just enough to feel the weight of her emotional gravity, pun fully intended.

You groaned, though the corner of your mouth twitched upward. “Janet, if you keep acting like this, people are going to start calling you that planet. The clingy one.”

“I am NOT clingy!” she shot back, her tone defensive as wildflowers erupted around your chair.

“I’m... selective.”

“Right. Because wrapping me up in vines like a burrito is totally normal behavior.”

“It’s called affection!” she huffed. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy conquering every galaxy with your scary villain smirk, you’d get more of it.”

Your sly smile widened even more, because of course it did. “Oh, Janet, sweetie. I don’t get affection. I command it.”

Her laugh rumbled across the surface like rolling thunder. “And yet here you are, letting me feed you pancakes and braid your hair like a galactic princess.”

“Braid my—” You froze, finally noticing the intricate, alien floral pattern her vines had been weaving into your hair. “Janet!”

“What? It’s cute! You look like royalty.” She paused, a vine plucking a mirror from somewhere (where did she even store these things?) and holding it in front of you. “See? You’re glowing!”

You stared at your reflection, the deadpan expression on your face now juxtaposed with what could only be described as the most elaborate cosmic updo in the history of villainy. There were glowing flowers, swirling patterns, and even a little ribbon made of stardust. “Well,” you said after a long pause, “if I’m going to be an unwilling planet prisoner, I might as well look fabulous.”

“That’s the spirit!” Janet squealed, the landscape shimmering with excitement. “You always know how to make me laugh!”

“Yeah, I’m a real riot,” you said dryly, reaching for another pancake. “Hey, speaking of laughter, let’s talk about Maurice again. Remember the time he—”

Janet’s entire surface trembled, vines waving like an exasperated drama queen shooing away bad memories. “Ugh! Must we bring him up again? He’s so... so lunar!”

“Lunar?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “That’s an insult now?”

“Yes!” she snapped, voice tinged with melodrama. “He’s cold, distant, and always orbiting other things. Do you know how many asteroids he’s been hanging out with lately? Asteroids! They don’t even have atmospheres!”

You snorted. “Sounds like he’s rebounding pretty hard.”

Janet made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and an actual volcanic eruption. “Good riddance. Let him chase his dumb little space rocks while I—while we—live our best lives.”

“Uh-huh.” You leaned back, letting her vines drape over you like a weighted blanket. “And by ‘best lives,’ you mean trapping your bestie every time she tries to leave?”

“It’s not trapping,” she insisted, although the vines around your ankles said otherwise. “It’s quality time!”

“Sure it is,” you muttered, eyeing the syrup geyser that was now accompanied by a fountain of nebula cream. “You ever think about therapy, Janet?”

“Therapy?!” She recoiled like you had suggested she downsize her volcanoes. “I don’t need therapy! I’m perfectly well-adjusted for a sentient celestial body! Besides, I have you!”

“And there it is,” You raised a fork as a vine elegantly served you another pancake. “Just promise me you won’t sprout another ‘Welcome ___ Forever!’ topiary when I leave.”

She giggled nervously, a suspicious patch of vines shuffling as though trying to hide something.

...

You narrowed your eyes. “Janet...”

“It’s tasteful!” she defended quickly, sounding every bit like someone caught decorating their crush’s locker with glittery hearts. “And besides, you’ll be back next week for pancakes anyway, so what’s the harm?”

You sighed, unable to argue with that logic. After all, who could resist a planet with gourmet pancake skills, top-notch hair braiding, and just the right amount of possessive insanity to keep things interesting? Not you, apparently. “Fine,” you said, a smirk tugging at your lips. “But if you start naming craters after me, we’re gonna have a talk.”

Her vines tightened briefly in what you assumed was her version of a mischievous hug.

As the pancakes dwindled and the conversation mellowed into a comfortable rhythm, you leaned back into her vine-crafted throne, your eyes half-lidded in a syrup-induced haze. Despite her dramatic tendencies and occasional bouts of mildly possessive planetary behavior, Janet had a charm that was impossible to deny. Maybe it was her optimism. Maybe it was the way her laugh echoed like wind through a meadow. Or maybe it was the fact that she could whip up five-star brunch in the middle of nowhere. Either way, you were… fond of her. Not that you would ever admit it aloud in a way that wasn’t laced with your signature sarcasm.

“You know,” She began, her voice soft and thoughtful, “I don’t really say it enough, but… having you here makes everything better. Like, I used to think stars were the best thing about space, but now… I think it’s you.”

You blinked, stunned into a rare moment of silence. The only sound was the gentle rustling of her vines as they rearranged themselves into a cozy blanket over your shoulders. “Janet,” you said slowly, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

“Flirting? Me?!” she gasped, vines wriggling like a schoolgirl caught passing notes. “I—okay, maybe a little! But can you blame me? You’re brilliant, you’re confident, and you eat my pancakes like they’re the only thing keeping you alive.”

“Well,” you said, smirking, “they kind of are. Your cooking’s the only thing keeping me from taking over the universe twice as fast.”

Janet giggled, her surface glowing faintly with soft greens and pinks. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, really. To be… important to someone.”

“You’re more than important,” you said, surprising even yourself with the sincerity in your voice. “I mean, who else would braid my hair, feed me pancakes, and try to keep me as their personal space prisoner all in one day?”

“I knew you got me,” Janet said, her voice dripping with affection. “You always do.”

You looked down, spotting one of her roses growing near your armrest. Its petals opened wide, its soft pink glow shimmering like it was daring you to make a move. You reached out and gently cupped the bloom, tilting it toward you like a hand to kiss. “If this is your equivalent of a cheek,” you muttered, more to yourself than anything, “then… yeah, why not?” Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the petal. The rose immediately sparkled, its glow intensifying until it bathed you both in light. The vines around you trembled like Janet had just been told the juiciest gossip in the universe.

“Y-you kissed me!” she stammered, her voice rising an octave. “You actually kissed me!”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, though the flush creeping up your neck betrayed your nonchalant delivery. “I don’t go around kissing planets every day.”

Janet squealed—an actual, full-on squeal of pure joy. Flowers burst into bloom across her surface, their petals opening like a cosmic fireworks display. “Oh, my molten core, you’re so cute when you’re flustered! Do it again! No, wait—don’t! I mean, do if you want to, but only if you feel like it—”

“Janet,” you interrupted, amused. “Calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable.

You sighed, leaning back and letting her vines settle around you like a warm hug. “I promise. For now, anyway. But only because you’re bribing me with pancakes.”

She giggled again, her glow softening into a gentle shimmer. “I’ll take it. For now.”

And as you sat there, wrapped in vines, sipping tea made of stardust and stealing glances at her glowing surface, you couldn’t help but think: maybe being a planet’s favorite wasn’t so bad after all. 

[speakergame]

What do you think speaker and seers house would look like? I remember you explaining it like Addams Family wannabe and something else like that, but I have aphantaisa, so it's hard for me to mentally 'see' it. Idk how else to word this question, but I wanted to ask anyway 🫠

the house is an old Victorian-style home (in their case, one actually built during the Victorian era, it's around 150 years old). to me the asymmetrical appearance of Victorians makes sense for a home that has had rooms and wings added to it over the course of generations

the interior is cluttered and mismatched, a little crowded but not too much.

tintype and daguerreotype photos are framed right next to polaroids and Speaker's and Seer's elementary school pictures. original Victorian fainting couches and Edwardian sofas sit next to plaid recliners from the 1980s. there are delicate blown glass figurines and ancient music boxes on display, but there's also probably a Millennium Falcon toy and at least one Furby somewhere within the depths of the house. the wallpaper and cabinets are all original to the house, but the plumbing and kitchen appliances are all modern.

I've heard the style referred to as "maximalism" and "whimsigoth" and I think that suits them really well. Addams Family is the example I usually go for, but Howl's Moving Castle would be a good one too.

people generate clutter. it's a fact of life. any time someone lives in one place long enough, stuff starts to accumulate, whether it's books or plants or "I saw this at an art show and thought of you" paintings or funko pop figures or whatever. Speaker and Seer's house is what happens when several generations of family all live in the same place for 150 years, layers of human existence piled on top of each other.

I hope that makes sense 😅 I've never really thought of specifics of what the house looks like beyond a loose layout of where everything is. for me it's more about what the house feels like.

[samoyedkin]

caribou + samoyed therian wallpaper for myself :] feel free to use if you'd like though

sources under cut

theta delta caribou tracks pawprints sitting caribou sammie in woods pins woods why can't i ever sleep i want to go home 🎧 wannabe lap dog moss antlers face running paw snowy trees and the rest are all shoplook filler images

also a version with little sections for my apps so i can read em lol

[tzuyusluv]

❥ RACER

genre -> fluff

pairing -> itzy x reader

warnings -> nothing that I can see

word count -> 253

summary -> this request right here <3

Yeji

• Thinks it’s so cool

• Calls you cute

• You know when they reacted to the midzy dancing to loco at a cafe? It’s like that

• Would like to dance with you but understands if you don’t like dancing with other people

• She will watch all your covers on YouTube, like them and comment on them

Lia

• Amazed at everything

• It works so well and you make it look so easy??

• If you’ll let her, she will record it and maybe set it as a live wallpaper so whenever she feels discouraged, she’ll just play it <3

• Tries to copy along but with her being anemic, it’s definitely harder but she refuses to give up

• Brags to the other girls and shows them your videos proudly

Ryujin

• Wide eyed and her mouth is open in amazement

• Teaching each other dances

• Her teaching you the Wannabe shoulder move

• You teaching her your specific style

• Probably takes a bit of your style and mixes it into her own

Chaeryeong

• Standing ovation

• Please dance with her and possibly her sister

• Speaking of her sister, she will brag about you to her sister

• Watches your dance style and compares it to her

• Definitely a great dance partner even if your styles are completely different

Yuna

• Head over heels for you

• Covers her mouth with her hand while blushing and giggling

• Likes to watch your moves that work so fluently together

• Tries to follow along but it takes about for her to get it

• She’ll practice whenever she’s alone to maybe impress you <3

[sp00kymulderr]

15th Oct.

This week has been difficult for me. Recovering from a medical procedure took longer than I had hoped and with my not so great mental health I’ve been feeling pretty down.

But there have been things to bring me back up, and I’m forever grateful for that. I haven’t been involving myself in fandom much recently for personal reasons but I’ve been in the background enjoying peoples posts and creations. And of course, the man himself always brings joy - I wasn’t able to join the bloodsucking bastards watch on the space sisters server but I had a Prospect rewatch which always lifts my spirits. Thank goodness for Ezra & Pedro 💚

I’ve read less than I’d hoped to this week, but I’ve loved the things I have! Some recs from me:

A forgotten scene by @fromthedeskoftheraven

Cockwarming w Marcus M by @flightlessangelwings

Kiss me quick by @secretelephanttattoo

I’ve also made a start to some longer fics & series which I’m loving and so excited to keep reading! (I’m so so slow, I’m sorry)

The Pit by @morallyinept

Muddy Waters by @bonezone44

Recovery Road by @chronically-ghosted

A ghost of you by @wannab-urs

Compulsion by @iamskyereads

Of my own work, this week I’ve posted a few little things - to be honest I’ve been filled with dread about posting fic recently but I’m pushing through and trying to appreciate my own creativity more:

-Dulia (Ezra x gn!reader)

-Ascending Stars (Ezra x f!reader)

-take the long way home pt 2 (marcus pike x afab!reader)

-A selection of Dieter & one Ezra phone wallpapers here and here

For the week ahead, I’m kind of nervous about some work things but I do have plans (a date!!) and I’m super excited to hopefully have Our House of Flames pt 3 (Joel x reader) out. I also have a good old list of fic to read (95 and counting on my tbr - god bless the talented and prolific writers in this fandom).

Thank you all for brightening my dash & my days - always sending my appreciation. And love to anyone who reads this random Sunday ramble!

🩷✨🩷✨🩷

[dead-blondie]

Get the know the mun!!

phone wallpaper- my pretty boy

last song listened too- How We Do by The Game

currently reading- The Shining by Stephen King

last movie- malibu's most wanted, Y'ALL PLEASE WATCH THIS FILM, IT'S SO STUPID, I LOVE IT. THINK RANDY, BUT WANNABE GANGSTER

last show- south park

what are you wearing right now- summer dress

how tall are you- 5'0

piercings/tattoos- no tattoos, seven piercings (nose, naval, two pairs of lobes and helix), i do want a tattoo for my mum though, maybe angel wings but that's so basic and cliche ppffttt

glasses/contacts- as a kid, yes, not anymore though

last thing you ate- pasta :))))

favourite colour- PURPPLLEEEE

current obsession- scream, rose mcgowan, fnaf, and bordering on dead by daylight

do you have a crush right now- people who don't exist or don't know i exist, gosh i can't remember the last time i had a crush outside of that two.

favourite fictional character- ummm is this an actual question? yes, many. from childhood to now, like a million.

last place you travelled- a holiday resort in Devon

[babymacereal]

Jean Pierre Polnareff x Hamon Apprentice!Reader

Summary:

You knew you were going to have to encounter some odd personalities while accompanying Mr. Joestar to Cairo, but you couldn't have anticipated someone as grating as this wannabe smooth-talker, Jean.

Preview:

“Listen to the wall.” Jean whispers, ear pressed ardently against the dust coated wallpaper.

You set the bag of groceries on the table and shrug off your messenger bag. “I’m good, thanks.” Is he listening to people fuck? You don't think that’s a habit you should encourage.

“Jotaro and Kakyoin are in the next room.”

[thesinglesjukebox]

CALVIN HARRIS X RAG'N'BONE MAN - "LOVERS IN A PAST LIFE"

So 2000 and late...

[4.07]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: [A deep][trance][scorcher] about [old love] by [Calvin Harris] & [Rag'n'Bone Man][!] [6]

Will Adams: Disappointment! After last year's fantastic duo of singles that breathed life into the trance revival, Calvin Harris slips back into Euro-filler, where the only notable features are a marble-mouthed vocalist and a way-too-loud guitar riff. [4]

TA Inskeep: Calvin Harris, ever the musical unoriginalist, sounds as if he's interpolating the likes of Darude here -- because if there's anything Harris knows, it's what's hot in dance/pop at this moment, and right now that's retro '90s dance and trance-pop. The oontz-oontz is pleasant enough, and Rag'n'Bone Man's overdone vocal "ache" fits it well. Neither terrible nor great, just as one would expect. [4]

Alfred Soto: It has the anonymity of a dozen Eurohouse tracks that Miami played around the clock 30 years ago: I can hear Real McCoy's "Another Night" in its verses. What I didn't expect was a guitar solo with "My Sweet Lord" in its rear view. [5]

Hannah Jocelyn: Why did Calvin Harris stick a rag (possibly also a bone) in his vocalist's mouth before recording? The guitar sounds more human than he does! [3]

Nortey Dowuona: Rag'n'Bone Man's lush and rough voice works for EDM since it's just smooth enough not to clash with drum programming. It feels light, excitable and lively when freed of the obligation to imitate R&B and blues -- both genres he clearly wishes to be a part of, yet lacks the finesse or power to. Here, he lives out his fantasies of being Teddy Pendergrass. His voice is too raspy and phlegmy to hold during the verses, but once the pre-chorus synths take hold, he soars, ebullient and lithe as the guitar line over the slimmed-down 1986 pop drums. By the end, he is absent because he's served his purpose. [4]

Dave Moore: The vocals set my teeth on edge: wannabe journeyman pap, like Blues Traveler with all the wrinkles ironed out. I might have found the wallpaper pop-house backing from Harris to be a reprieve, but instead it's just a tepid bath for Rag'n'Bone Man to soak in. You couldn't get me in an unplugged hot tub with either of these guys. [3]

Brad Shoup: On "Giant," Harris redirected Rag'n'Bone Man's gale-force soul through the doors of the Wigan Casino. There was also a hint of boogie, which "Lovers in a Past Life" broadens. I love how this is hectic but not urgent: wrapping itself around the bullcrap until it's drilled a hole in the floor. When Harris drops the twangy hook, it's three docks before Balearic: lovely and gauche, like a restaurant's wall-length photo transfer of a sunset. [7]

Katherine St. Asaph: "Miracle" : Y2K :: "Lovers in a Past Life" : the Y2K club that probably exists in deleted footage from The Beast. (To be fair to this song, I would be more OK with being Rag'n'Bone Man's lover in a past life than that of the guy from The Beast.) [3]

Taylor Alatorre: Just as I was readying a wisecrack about the repackaging of Eastern spiritualism to suit Western categories of romance, I take another listen and realize the song isn't even that: "we were lovers in a past life, for all we know." How do you take a title that hints at reincarnation and cosmically linked fates, and reduce it to a shouted pick-up line at the club? Analyzing EDM lyrics is the province of fools and YouTube essayists, but Rag'n'Bone Man is credited as a co-lead, and his voice is launched at us in the first second, ironically while slurring the word "patience." If there ever were a stage name that implied a commitment to the bit, you'd think it would be "Rag'n'Bone Man," but here he is unwilling to give full expression to the fantasy contained in the premise. His misaimed realism leaves us with little to chew on but Calvin Harris' ongoing Eurodance fixation, which is more subdued and weary-sounding here than it was on "Miracle." That one was turn-of-the-century nostalgia in the service of untrammeled exuberance; this is just another day in the Logic Pro mines. [4]

Ian Mathers: So anodyne and pro forma that I've played it about 5x more than the other songs today because I keep forgetting what it sounds like. Would not care (or even notice?) if it was playing on the radio or whatever, and cannot even vaguely imagine getting it stuck in my head, let alone seeking it out. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Something about this (maybe Andrew Watt's slide guitar solo?) makes me feel actually literally ill. If I heard this in the club I think I would die on the spot. [0]

Isabel Cole: Rag’n’Bone Man does a good job at something I’m not particularly into (soulful warbling), and Calvin Harris does an adequate job at something I’m easily suckered by (a perfectly passable beat occasionally punctuated by, e.g., swooshy laser noises or handclaps), so I guess this is… fine? [6]

Daniel Monteshenko: Rag'n'Bone Man has a powerful bleat that's all grit, and I've never believed a single lyric he's yowled. The streak continues here. "We were lovers in a past life," he pushes on the chorus, but there's no history, no mangled emotion, no wide-eyed wonder of what romance brings. They're just things he's saying. Calvin Harris is 6'5" and cruising through life. [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[venacoeurva]

I just had s dream I was home alone and Some guy in one of those really square newish Jeeps parked by my place and for some reason I was immediately hostile and walked out there to confront him. And it’s this dude who looks like a scrawny bateman in a tacky suit, like rolled around in 70s wallpaper ugly, and he has a bbq skewer in his back seat? So I immediately go “ah you’re going to kill me” so I grab him by the neck, drag him out of his car, and flail him around like a sad beach towel before beating him up because I Could Just sense He Wanted To Kill Me. Then my neighbor calls the cops from the noise of me just waving this guy around with prejudice and violence in my heart, and they come and just start laughing at him for being such a terrible wannabe killer instead of calling an ambulance for him and he just laid there like sad scrawny spaghetti a la when you take a sim and make them really skinny but ke kept getting skinnier until he looked like a stick figure and we all just stared at him until he disappeared entirely

ok

[erostheartist]

¿sʇɥƃᴉl ʇǝqɐɥdlɐ ¿sᴉɥʇ s,ʇɐɥʍ 'ʎoɥɐ puɐ ¡ǝuǝɔs sᴉɥʇ ɟo ssǝuᴉsoɔ ǝɥʇ ǝʌol ᴉ ¡,ʇɹoɟ ʍollᴉd, ⅋ ,sʇǝd,˙˙˙sɐʍ oƃuᴉqʎzzᴉ# ɟo uǝǝʇɹnoɟ punoɹ

p.s. commissions and wallpapers are available on my #kofipage.

[lovelyshadowynightmare]

Not THEIR Truth, The Truth. Or The truth according to the Palace wallpaper. It begins a long time ago. Lady Sarah wasn't really that into him. He was OK, nice enough but it was like dating a brother. At least that's what she told Mummy, when she got back from date with him one evening. Little did Sarah know, it wasn't just mummy that listened. A nosey little sister was sat on the stairs , hands clinging to the banisters listening to every word. Diana listened to the heated words. Mummy kept saying Sarah shouldn't mouth off to the press, she should act more like a lady if she wanted to land The Prince. Sarah's scorn could be heard clearly on the floor above as she flounced off in a temper. Diana sat there thinking. She knew if SHE were dating a Prince, she would be doing exactly what Mummy said. And oh how she wished it could be so. Her sixteen year old heart could feel the fairy tales her mind was telling her. And Mummy would be proud wouldn't she? Mummy would be thrilled, if she married a Prince who would become King - she could rule as a his queen and they would live happily ever after. Just imagining Mummy boasting about her little Diana, bought the fairy tale to life as Diana started dancing up the stairs, back to her room. Her imagination playing on her mind like a disney movie. This was the first seed.

After that, she did do her homework. She tried to find everything out she could about Charles. Determined to bag herself a Prince. It worked. Diana and Charles, didn't get to spend much time with eachother, before ding-dong wedding bells, engagement announcement. Pity really, if she'd bothered to tell the truth of her actual interests, rather than just agreeing that she liked everything Charles liked, she may of saved herself some heartache. After all, think about the facts - not only was Charles a hunting, fishing, countryside living type he'd also only been dumped at the Queen Mother's 80th party in August 1980 by Anna Wallace because he was, quiet frankly - sniffing around Camilla Parker Bowles, like a dog on heat. City girl, wannabe Princess Ballerina Diana, didn't stand a hope in hell. She was totally unsuitable for Charles, but still that little voice in heart told her to continue as privately it still seeked the approval of her parents. She'd be the one to marry well and no body would be able to better her. Diana still thought she could win right up to the wedding, childlike in her adoration, right down to planning initials on her shoes, she was simply in Love with the idea of being in Love.

For Charles, typically of a Male. Not really clued up on matters of the heart. He just thought he'd done rather well-from Anna to married to Diana, all within 12 months. Why did he marry anyone? If he'd spent anytime thinking about it and been honest with himself-his mind would of told him, you can't have the one you want, so you may as well try and be happy with someone else. Plenty of men and women in life know that one - unfortunately, he is the king to be, so somehow if he thought at all, he thought it would be OK. Fool.

In time two children came to the couple. Diana couldn't believe her luck, with a male as a first born. Just what the establishment wanted and she did it. Not that she felt rewarded in anyway by Charles. He may as well of patted her on the head and said, well done my dear. He was happy yes, but the loneliness Diana thought she sensed in Charles, seemed to be sucking her into its vortex. She tried everything to get his attention, everything a schoolgirl would have thought of. He commented on her weight really just to stop her whinging and make her leave him alone, but she turned it into a drama, just like her sister throwing up everytime she ate. Charles really didn't have the patience for molly codling Diana. She was so young, so immature, the baby took up some of her time, he was relieved, they had another baby, unfortunately a boy-both had sort of hoped for a girl, but Charles just thought at least he didn't have to go through being extra nice to his wife for another 9 months, they had the Heir and the spare, no more was required on his part now. Then Diana discovered the media. If she had their attention, Charles hated it and actually spoke to her. Diana learned fast how to manipulate the media. She played it up for all it was worth. Part of her heart loved it too. She did like being the centre of attention, always had.Her two year old like, tantrums at age nine whilst staying with Lord and Lady Guinesses children had proved that to their Nannie, Eileen. She found Diana to be quite a bit of work. Again someone else seeing it as Diana was a spoilt brat rather than Diana- desperately wanted to be loved , adored and admired.

After Harry was born, the couple were finished and both unknowingly relieved. They were far better as friends, if only they'd seen it earlier. Diana hated highgrove, Charles loved it. So, Manakee , Gilby, Mewitt, Hoare, Carling, Khan and Al Fayed, came into play. Through them all, at least Diana thought she felt love. Diana manipulated the press beautifully. She played to the cameras just like she did to her lovers. Calling the press to say when she was leaving the gym one morning, they'd get their pictures and she would be left alone all afternoon. She even stooped low enough to advise Sarah ferguson what to wear. Why Diana would suggest pleats to someone who was short and round, was just unkind. But Sarah got bullied by the press whilst Diana was admired for her tall thin figure. Meghan, thought+ she had it bad? Be thankful a vengeful Diana wasn't around. Sarah ferguson was lonely and locked up in a guided cage, by then Diana was flirting with married men and the press - she only had time for her friend on her terms. But I rush on too much.

Let's rewind a little. The children.

William. The first thing Diana had ever really fallen in love with. Her son. Seriously, that all encompassing love that hit Diana's heart when William was born. She'd never felt that. She was stupidly frightened when pregnant with Harry - she was scared she wouldn't be able to love him like she loved William. Charles was just impatient with her constantly, is it a small wonder that she threatened to throw herself down the stairs?

The boys were bought up by both parents. Charles, even when present didn't seem to be there. 'Goodnight, my darling boy' with a peck in the air to each cheek at bedtime. He did love them so much, but even he admits to being reserved, when his own heart wishes he wasn't. When one is bought up a certain way, you look on the huggers of this world with longing, but when you try it yourself it feels to alien, its truly difficult. Diana on the other hand, held nothing back. As the boys grew, and her marriage failed she would belittle Charles to her boys, especially William who she used as an agony aunt. But, that was just it. She manipulated her children. Maybe not on purpose. But, it's a fact she did. She would tell things to William saying wouldn't you want mummy to be happy? And of course, he'd agree - not knowing what fantasy was playing in his mother's head. Harry, she kept close. He was naughty but allowed to get away with murder - over spoilt, with entire days off school with just him and mummy. It was a magical time for Harry, who thought the world of his mummy. He never knew anything but love for her, and he didn't see anything else but the rose covered fairytale that Diana wove for him. When William had to go and see the Queen or the Queen mum, Diana and Harry would be off playing games or having a chilled time indoors, which involved being curled up with eachother watching TV and eating sweeties. Diana told Harry he'd have to be the strong and funny one, that William took life too seriously and that Harry would be needed in his life.

What neither Charles or Diana ever thought to do was look at Andrews life as a spare. Diana never thought to prepare Harry for real life, whilst Charles only thought of the services and then duty for him. No one ever suggested to Harry he could go out and get a job. That he should work harder at his education and follow his own dreams.

Whilst we all know both boys suffered through the war of the wales's. The press pack was being driven to a frenzy with book deals, documentaries and interviews, on both sides - the boys must have suffered in some way at school. Diana still manipulating the press, who followed her everywhere and if they didn't she would call them and make sure they knew where she was. Visiting Pa, suddenly became the peace. At least for William. Both enjoyed being in the countryside with pa, well away from the media. An organised press photo and the rest of the week left alone, seriously gave both boys something to smile about. Diana did normal things with the boys, pizza night, cinema, going shopping, helping a soup kitchen, but even at Chessington the press would be there to take staged photos.

Just before the world crashed for these boys, some under current was travelling in Diana's circles. The press were getting tired of being manipulated, little stories sounding nasty were leaked," heart transplant diana in theatre for photo op", horrifying segments in not the nine o'clock news, and even spitting image sketchers having a slight dig at the people's princess. We never found out which way that was headed or what would if happend, as that fateful car crash in Paris. Suddenly, both boys lost their mother. Their father left them, to go and see Diana - how Charles held it together, we will never know. But he did for his sons. He took them on walks in the countryside when he could. The Queen contrary to public opinion, acted like any granny, and kept the boys away from the media for as long as she could. However, the baying of blood being stirred up by the media, egging public opinion of hate forced their dear Granny back to London with the boys. The out pouring of public grief was nothing more than mass hysteria. Why did thousands of people want to shake the hands of the young prince's. If it was your son or grandson, wouldn't you have wanted them to be allowed to grieve in their own way? Selfish hysteria for a women many had never met. Did it help the boys to know how much their mum was loved? Later, maybe. At the time, it was only media fodder with photo opportunities.

Let's spin forward now. William, studied and partied hard. He was responsible, but still had some fun. A good looking man, with polite manners he still got laid and excelled at college and University. Harry on the other hand struggled. He'd missed too much school playing hookie with his mum, that he couldn't catch up educationally. When he should of started learning, he'd been mucking about - by the time he realised he needed to learn and do stuff, what they were talking about in class was two years in front of his educational ability. He was lazy. Then, because he couldn't understand the lesson, he day dreamed in class. Let's call it skull cinema. He went into his mind and imagined things. He imagined getting a postcard at boarding school with a code on, only he would understand. He'd have to get Willy and they'd have to sneak out of the country to go and find Mummy. He'd liked Dodi, that last summer - he imagined he was rich enough to hide mummy and he'd send a yacht or even a submarine to get them and take them to her. So many day dreams. Then, as we now know the little twit got muddled up with drugs.

William tried his best, to look after Harry. When William met Catherine, and introduced her to Harry things actually started to change. Harry thought Catherine was the most beautiful women he'd ever met. He loved making her laugh and would often get sly digs in about Wils hair or something daft he'd done. Catherine, was his first crush. Catherine was Williams girlfriend. There was bitter row between the two boys at one point. William wanted romantic time away with Catherine. Harry felt crushed. Harry still can't answer Williams question - was he jealous because Catherine loved him or was he jealous thinking she was stealing his brother away from him? Harry decided to cool off in arctic, knowing there was nothing he could do. Wills wouldn't share Catherine, at least not the way Harry wanted.

Fast forward to Rachel. How did they meet. On Instagram. Rachel had been trying to move in on posher circles all the time. She'd finally made it as an actress, well, she was starting to and she hoped she could make it over the pond too. That's the way, she saw things happening, especially as her time on suits was fast approaching the end. Rumour had it she was going to be in a car crash, taken out as a mob hit on a new storyline. So, she started dipping her fingers into the waters over the pond. Just chatting to anyone influential in the UK. Press (piers Morgan) society Hook ups, (soho House) etc. Eventually she got lucky and started friendships with friends of Harry. POA plans of action, had to be put in place fast. So Rachel hit up the Tig with an exaggerated bio and called it redesigning her blog. She reworded her life experiences, a work experience suddenly became worked for the UN. Favourite wine and food was either the same as Harry or the same as his mother. By the time she flew into the UK, she had the entire honey trap down to a T. Complete with one of Diana's favourite perfumes, which wasn't her D Arples scent. She'd chosen her early favourites. Everything a young six or seven year old Prince would likely remember.

Now, how do you hook a Prince and then reel him in? . Talk. Listen. Lots of listening and then create stories so similar that he thinks you totally understand. I come from a broken home and no one understands, says Harry. Why my ma and pa split up when I was young too, says Rachel. Once he's bitten time to pull in the reel... A wild story. "My Daddy, well he used to cuddle me. I'd sit on his lap and he'd run his strong coarse hands up and down my legs whilst we watched TV. My mum would be out. He didn't do anything wrong, but I felt uncomfortable. I can't stand being alone with him, even now. It coloured my entire view of men. Oh H, your the first one I've ever told this to. It's cos you make me feel safe." - I had to put myself through college and university, I worked doing calligraphy and even waitressing, then I was called upon to do some modelling. That was OK, but I was always worried you know. I hated being alone with guys they always wanted more than I did. They scared me. I feel so safe with you, why do you make me feel so special, H? " - within minutes he'd already got it in his head to invite her to Africa.

Thing is, when it came to getting married. Rachel knew she'd have to keep her Daddy and H apart. A few drinks and something might slip. One of her lies could be exposed. She'd trample on her entire family to Marry her Prince. Whatever it takes, she's going to be so famous now. When she called her mother to tell her she was dating Prince Harry, mummy wasn't surprised, she'd known her daughters plans and dreams for many a year now.

[omniscias-a]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍

what’s your phone wallpaper : in a tbd post, i joked about it being a poorly drawn picture of kafka & i ( made lovingly by my friend ) so that's what it is currently. usually though, it's my e.d s.heeran wannabe cat ( orange cat behavior )

last song you listened to : i had a bad headache & needed something soft to listen to so !! it was love u by shye 

currently reading : hoo boy i'm rereading soc bc i needed inspo to write for k.az again :')

last movie : kind of embarassing BUT f.lushed a.way ,,,, my roommate came home a little tipsy & i didn't want her to go to sleep without eating something so i just put it on dsjdh babysitter of the year if u ask me

last show : either f.uturama or l.ockwood & co. i usually have one playing in the background while i nurse a cup of morning tea. 

what are you wearing right now : a faded h.ocus p.ocus sweatshirt that isn't mine, jeans that are not mine, & socks that are not mine :)

piercings / tattoos? : i have double piercings in both my ears & i'm currently considering a nose ring ,,, but idk. as for tattoos, i have a small rose on my inner left forearm, one of a crescent moon on the side of my ribcage, & i'm planning to get a matching toad one with my sister on my wrist :')

glasses ? contacts? : both but neither at the same time. i lose contacts a lot & my glasses smudge easily so !! all in all, i don't recommend poor eyesight dhjshd

last thing you ate? : i forgot i had to buy groceries so i just had a cinnamon poptart 

favorite color(s) : light pink, sage green, & like ,,, a really soft baby blue ; but i also really love darker colors ( browns, forest green, maroon etc etc )

current obsession : d.avid t.ennant & h.sr :D

do you have a crush right now? : down horrendous for w.elt rn

favourite fictional character : dhjs g.anyu ( g.enpact ), a.ang ( a.tla ), & t.ohru h.onda ( f.uruba ) are like ,,, the ones that come to mind :')

tagged by : @babochkas , @serpentsexile , & @starwrote !! u three are lovely thank u ♡

tagging : anyone who hasn't done it ! love u xoxo

[dayjobjotter]

The Flower Shop

(A little context - this comes from the middle of something I'm working on so picture the scene as a girl exploring a ghost town that her friend used to live in or this may lack any kind of sense. Imagine this as an opening to a chapter.)

Angel

i kinda hate it in town

mega hate it in town actually

wish i lived with my mum

ibiza looks nice

did find a plant u might like today

during my shift

ur a succulent girlie right?

ill keep it aside for you

Lynn

Do I get to know what it is?

Angel

no <3

Supply runs had been a regular event for the last year apparently, no, of course they were. The library didn’t have a years worth of beans in it. Or maybe it did? Lynn wouldn’t know, but she was excited for her first expedition out of there. To see what it was like out there after a week of suffocating. After a week of being crowded at the base with Troy’s whittling and Henry’s increasingly invasive questions, it was a relief to be out of their library base and into the silent acceptance of Winona. They walked side by side: Lynn unrelenting and confident in her stride (although she couldn’t tell you why) and Winona at a lazy amble, jogging every so often when Lynn got too far ahead of her. She never questioned the sudden speed and brazenness in Lynn’s demeanour, just accepted that the timid and injured Lynn was doing, whatever she did.

The streets were coated in the lazy glow of the early evening sun, specks of dust shivered, disturbed in the sharp air and highlighted against the yellowing sky. Last night, the dark hid the damage in the streets; hidden the life clawing out of the potholes and the cracks scrambling up through the foundations of buildings. There were things that still tried to stay hidden though. The blood stains mingling in shadows as dark as them and cast long and threatening. The abandoned shoes, rotting and ripped at the seams. The greying hand behind the bus stop. Posters and stickers gathered on the glass shelter like a make-do shade, peeled and ripped, disgraced by the weather and worn down naturally enough but not completely. The schedule was from over two years ago and only brought people from one end of the high street to another. A single pink line on the map, five stops. Twenty minutes to walk and five minutes to drive up and down the high street. Though she couldn’t see the bus from the corner, the road was full: clogged with looted cars and even a fallen tree in the distance; collapsed across the road as if impaled on it’s own spindly branches. There were splintered cuts around the base of the trunk, slight gashes overlapped until gravity had torn and fractured the rest. An axe (perhaps the culprit, perhaps not since it did have an uncomfortably maroon stain on the head) lay in a bed of broken glass over the root-ridden roads. It’s handle lodged with shards of glass. A lot of glass, from what used to be floor to ceiling windows of some shop.

Some flower shop.

Oh.

The building had been vandalised with malice, not the desperation behind every other looted home and act of violence splayed in the streets. Large spray painted dicks on the furthest walls where the wallpaper had chipped and flaked from the power used to tear off the shelves were accompanied by scrawls of ‘fuck off wannabes’, ‘i hope ur dead’ and ‘your fault’. Across the tiled floor, shattered plant pots left fragmented ceramics and soil but no life. The exotic flowers had wilted from neglect. These people hadn’t come back. Lynn knew that coming in. Figured it out after Troy had reluctantly showed her his video of What Happened. Even with the various missing letters and messy protestations in paint, she could still decipher the sign: ‘Westcott’s Weeds’.

This was Angel’s home.

They lived here. They found safety in these walls and took care of its inhabitants. For a moment, Lynn wondered what it had looked like before. Had it been as dull and gray as Angel always described it being? Was it more vibrant like the streaks of peach and palm leaves on the walls suggested? Pandering or genuine?

Was there anyway to tell any more?

With melancholic contemplation, Lynn tried to take in as much as she could. Winona wouldn’t stop - she and Troy had made it very clear what they thought of them. Selfish. Egotistical. A giant fucking nerd. That was her Angel.

To her right, a brief whistle caught her attention. Then a resounding thud as heavy combat boots swung into the fallen tree. The little flecks of moss scattered across the roads and frenzied insects tried their best to find a new hiding spot. Winona did it once, twice, and then decided it was stable enough to climb or free enough from bugs or whatever conditions she made up before determining whether to proceed or not. She turned - booted foot propped up on a branch - and tilted her head. An invitation.

Lynn followed suit.