#(Some Ppl here act like it was some sort of conspiracy he was named that but I can assure you its very much NOT LIKELY THAT)

[chaos0pikachu]

ngl it’s actually high-key frustrating to see a conversation go from discussing fan entitlement, namely invading a public figures privacy and getting upset when they find out *le gasp!* said public figure has a romantic partner that isn’t:

their acting partner

figure skating partner

band member

fucking etc 

but like, I see these convos in BL fandom(s) all the time and like it’s dope to see a majority of ppl being like “hey appreciate the friendship don’t get to deep, don’t invade privacy” but when an inevitable scandal~~~ happens (like with Mile today) the convo always slowly ticks towards xenophobia 

like, sorry but nah bro this isn’t an “Asian industry” problem, this sort of fan entitlement and hyper para-social relationship isn’t something that solely exists in “Asia” by which when someone says Asia what they mean is like, four countries whose content they consume - for BL that’s like what Korea, Japan, Taiwan, and Thailand - so you’re intentionally or unintentionally generalizing an entire continent of varying countries (including those four) who all have their own cultures and histories and indirectly suggesting that the “west” (by which of course we mean Europe and America never like, fucking South American countries or the Caribbean, and even then only certain parts of Europe) is more enlightened

and this is something I’ve seen for years whenever folks talk about “scandals” in East Asian countries - I see this argument a lot for example when American/British fans talk about the K-pop industry - like nah my dude

Ok look lemme break it down: some of the worst examples of fan entitlement and invasions of privacy and harassment I’ve seen has been from from western fans. Like, what happened to Mile? Mid. The shippers and anti-shippers of MewGulf? Basic. BrightWin stans? Higher up the chain but still not as wildin. 

Don’t get me wrong, these stans and shippers are still crossing some huge lines, but like, so far no one’s accused anyone of faking a baby.  

Louis/Harry aka Larry - I’ma just link this 2016 VOX article, and also mention when Harry and Olivia Wilde were caught making out on a boat the meltdowns on Twitter were huge 

Benedict Cumberbatch - Again, just gonna link this article about how fans of Benedict believe his wife faked their child, and is actually a criminal; I once read a fan say she was secretly a member of the yakuza and a meth addict who was trapping Benedict in a loveless marriage

Lord of the Rings - Aka the birth place of TinHatting, Elijah Wood was once stalked by a fan to a club to “prove” he was going to a gay club as part of a conspiracy theory that he was in a secret relationship with his costar Dominic Monaghan

Fucking Supernatural, all of it, but mainly J2 (Jared/Jensen) and Cockles (Misha/Jensen) - Here’s a 2015 article about J2 and it has all the greatest hits, their wives are breads, their kids are fake, the network won’t let them be together, etc etc 

There’s a lot of other examples I could give: Robert Patterson/Kristen Stewart, Kerry Washington/Tony Goldwyn, Caitriona Balfe/Sam Heughan and how the women Timothee Chalamet & Tom Hiddles (mainly during his peak tumblr popularity not so much now) were or are with often get harassed as well by their fans. 

The last couple is from the show Outlander and the conspiracy that Sam was the ~~real~~ father of Caitriona’s baby got to her ears and the harassment of her husband got so bad she talked about it here. Fans also “theorized” that Kerry Washington’s baby wasn’t actually her husbands but her costars, Tony Goldwyn, b/c they were “obviously” having a secret relationship. 

My point is, this type of fan entitlement, obsessive shipping, and hyper para-social relationship isn’t something that exists just in the BL industry, or in Asian entertainment industries. I think we as fans can have discussions about the boundary between fans and public figures, respecting an entertainers privacy, and separating them from their acting roles without diving into potentially xenophobic takes about Asian entertainment industries. 

Its not about which country is “worse” it’s about the flatline fact this behavior is harmful, damaging and wrong. It’s something we shouldn’t engage in period. 

anyway elmo out, new kinnporsche and cutie pie episodes in 3 days, drink water, eat some rice and get some air

[gotatext]

by this point im p sure u all know the drill.... i’m nora, 23, she/her, gmt and tonight matthew im going to be greta o’driscoll, a terrible person but a hot one which frankly makes it almost ok. here is her pinterest..... this intro is literally just copied n pasted frm the last time i played her so soz if u’ve read it like 10+ times.... 

「 diana silvers. cis-female. 」have you seen greta o’driscoll around yet? i hear she decided to be in POTENTAS for their SOPHOMORE year as a CRIMINAL PSYCHOLOGY major. the 20 year old SHEPHERD is known to be tenacious, magnetic, capricious and evasive. ➨ the muse is written by nora, she/her, gmt.

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

was always a really sporty bitch. it started with a junior athletics squad, which turned into athletics and cheer, which then became athletics, cheer and hockey until she basically was doing a different activity every night. she came to see her body as a tool that she could make work for her if she trained it up and this attitude’s always kind of stayed with her that as long as her body is strong she is capable of anything. runs every day. 

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

left school at 18 n went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was working at a strip club. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time.

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate.

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea… pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming….. 

she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch. maybe it’s maybelline, maybe its coke.

massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps.  i hate her 

isn’t a foward-planner, however. greta prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manners so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning. 

not afraid to go after what she wants !! ambitious academically and romantically thirsty !! she loves the adrenaline of the chase. when someone’s easy to get, she becomes bored. very bisexual and very proud of it. feminist as fuck nd part of a queer representation in the arts group which holds fortnightly meetings to discuss lgbt representation in film, literature, art etc.

old soul in a young person’s body. all the shit that has gone on has kind of aged her. she’s quite cynical about everything now. always smoking smoking smoking. very edie sedgwick in that way.  little girls skirts bought for next-to-nothing at the market because she’s skinny enough to get away with it, barely long enough to cover your bum, and then the ugliest baggy sweater you’ve ever seen thrown over it.

likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramphone because “The Sound quality is Better” kfdsjj.

super into pop art and andy warhol. puts female friendships above everything but at the same time, would fuck her best friends man

her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk.

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

wanted plots

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sports rivalries ! sporting friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!! 

since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships

 girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

and I want like, fellow criminology students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? 

she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. 

ppl she did a few modules with ie. art history, bio-med, film studies, before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with

 ppl who she runs track with. 

someone she’s trying to make a zine with. 

here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

[lcgendcfzvlda]

☆ — wait , is that ZELDA KING ? dean lockwood has been looking for them . you didn’t hear it from me but , apparently the JUNIOR might know something about the whole omega chi & kappa tau situation . while they can be BRASH & IMPULSIVE , they’re far too WELCOMING & COURAGEOUS  to be involved , right ? those who know them say they’re reminded of FLANNELS WRAPPED AROUND THE WAIST, THE CLICKING OF A CAMERA, A COMPUTER SCREEN ILLUMINATING A PITCH BLACK ROOM, THE “IT’S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA” THEME, BAGPIPES PLAYING IN THE DISTANCE whenever they’re around .  honestly , the DIGITAL MEDIA major should try to keep their head down . after the events of last semester , lockwood is out for blood . did you know that ZELDA is a member of GAMMA RHO ALPHA ? that might explain why their name is being brought up .

                                               you’re an explosion , you’re dynamite                                                   playlist. pinterest. to listen as you read.                                                like for a plotting dm on tumblr , react for a discord dm                                                rocky lynch lovebot / hylia.#0329 on discord.

WOOOO I really can’t keep myself from holding only one muse can’t I. WELL. This is Zelda , a bit more of a happy-go-lucky muse compared to Sam !! She’s both her own character mixed with a few others I have - I love her dearly , so please please please feel free to come at me for plots !! <3 HERE WE GO :

HISTORY

Zelda’s backstory isn’t anything special - growing up in Scotland her parents had a nice marriage , she grew up an only child , always got good grades

But she always felt... average. She never was really anyone to anybody , so Zelda had a bit of a knack for wanting attention and trying to get her voice out there. So some took this as endearing , some took it as annoying.

In high school , she was lucky enough to be selected for an exchange student program in Salem , Massachusetts - and then she’d meet the FIRST person who would make her feel special in SAGA ( Sexuality And Gender Acceptance ) Club , a cheeky blonde boy named Cyrus who had a tendency to hide in the corner of the room and not talk to many people. And they’d date for about a year , up until Zelda would have to go back to Scotland.

They had to break up when Zelda would leave , but remained extremely close and communicating daily through digital connections.

ANYWAY , that little one year romance sort of gave her more confidence to use her voice and try and light up the room - since if she could do it for one person , she could do it for multiple people. That’s what gave her the idea to pursue a career in DIGITAL MEDIA -  namely , film & video ( with digital art and photography on the side ) in the more comedic aspect. Screenplaying and the technicals behind sketch-comedy skits. Stand-up comedy , even though that was more performing.

Think like Saturday Night Live - and then think of all the technical stuff that goes into it besides the acting. The script-writing , camera angles , etc. Zelda just wanted to make people laugh.

Soooo… when she told her parents that would be what she wanted to do , her average home-life would turn sour CONSIDERING they didn’t want her to explore such risky career choices. An easier life would be to become a lawyer or a doctor - more stable. But that’s not what she wanted. So after a LENGTHY argument with her parents , Zelda would be thrown out of the house with only the money she saved ( thankfully , she’d always been the frugal one ) , and would call . . . her ex-boyfriend and his mother. Since even though they’d only been communicating digitally over the past two years , it still felt like home in Massachusetts.

Her ex’s mother would pay for a flight for her to go back to the United States , and after some time of adjusting , she’d get into Hollingsworth to pursue her career in Digital Media - staying there , but often traveling home ( being where her ex and his mom lived ) routinely.

Pledging to Gamma , her insistence for encouraging people to live their life to the fullest and readiness to include people in her free spirited antics would leave a great impression on the sorority - eventually even leading to her current position as its president.

CHARACTER / FACTS

So again !! Zelda is my trans female pansexual bby , 5’11 bc tall girls make the world go round and she is the LIVING EXAMPLE of the Halcyon label. She’s loud , carefree , optimistic - never really known to pass up an opportunity to have fun.

...that’s so basic of an intro to her personality BUT IN MY DEFENSE IT’S EARLY

BUT YEAH Zelda ?? Does not give a shit about anything. She holds no grudges towards anyone , waaaay too chill - but she flips from extremely chill and laid back to “HEY HEY LET’S GO DO THESE TEN THINGS” and it’s. Definitely a 360. But nobody’s ever seen her angry and it sort of makes people wonder if she even feels anger or if she has a secret dark side nobody knows about.

...She doesn’t. Zelda’s only habits when angry are that she’s short , to the point , and WILL call you out if you’ve done something wrong. But making her mad is extremely hard and she’ll only remotely get upset if you prove time and time after again to be a shitty person.

Which , can sort of lead her to get taken advantage of because of her chill nature - that’s how the previous issue with Gamma getting in trouble at one of their parties happened. Zelda got pissed. She knows she’s chill but she doesn’t think about how that could lead SOME people to thinking “oh I can do anything I want and she’ll be fine with it” because she doesn’t. Get angry about much.

ALSO THAT DOES MAKE HER A BIT NAIVE - just again. She’s easy to take advantage of because she believes the best in everyone and automatically assumes people will do the right thing as people. Doesn’t really understand why people will do things to hurt others and doesn’t really want to.

Also kind of jumpy like she’s a social person and definitely flips between lax and loud but it is SO easy to startle her.

AS FOR HER INTERESTS IN DIGITAL MEDIA - she is extremely talented with the entire Adobe Creative Suite , especially Premiere , Photoshop , and After Effects.

She has an Instagram dedicated to posting manips , edits , etc. she made in both PS & AE. You know those funky Insta edits you see all the time ?? Zelda makes those.

She ALSO does a lot of editing and promotion for Gamma - a lot of times they’re memey little videos or advertisements or skits that display how welcoming Gamma is , and they do a great job at leaving a good impression on possible recruits.

Her BIG thing though would be a little YouTube channel she runs where she often posts videos just around campus - think Billy On The Street , which is what she really wants to do with her digital media career.

“I’M RUNNING AROUND HOLLINGSWORTH WITH A PACK OF WILD LESBIANS”

“LET’S GO LESBIANS LET’S GO”

She either wants to do that - or mockumentaries to put on Youtube ( or even documentaries in a whole that she approaches with her extremely sunny demeanor on conspiracies or the like ). She’d also like to film her own show to put on TV , either something like reality comedy , a reality show spoof , or even something like It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia or The Office or Brooklyn 99. Comedy film is her passion.

Commentary videos are ALSO something she’s considered , much like iNabber or Strange AEons , but she thinks mockumentaries , skits , and her other work

Also that person who Photoshops heads on people’s bodies and makes memes for all the group chats she’s in

She really doesn’t take herself seriously often but frankly that’s just Gamma as a whole so it WORKS.

A good portion of Zelda’s existence is a meme tbh I honestly adore her

She has a LOT of tattoos that were designed by her ex-boyfriend since he was an art major and now is a tattoo artist in Salem - I’d point you in the direction of Hannah Pixie Snowdon’s body art as a reference , just Zelda isn’t nearly as covered as she is.

This would be the best reference I can think of rn , lots of pretty designs and some animals, maybe some symbols and references from stuff. 

Olivia doesn’t have any tattoos but WE CAN CERTAINLY PRETEND

A lot of her spare money is made doing either graphics commissions or even photography from whoever needs her services !! The majority of her stuff has been done for cosplayers , budding models , budding actors and actresses , and even for other fraternities and sororities around campus. Zelda knows no rivalries when it comes to these things.

She’s also 100% that person who keeps around a polaroid camera so she can hang up pictures she takes she’s just That Person

Decorates the Gamma house with a lot of polaroids she’s taken and memey edits she’s done in Photoshop

INSIDE JOKES ARE HER THING

She also plays guitar and is fairly good at it but doesn’t have a band or anything rn bc she’s just someone who does it bc she wants to look cool ( and also bc the guitar’s a neato instrument but yeah she started it out just bc she wanted to play SOME kind of instrument at least )

,,,but she also knows how to play the bagpipes

and she owns a pair.

they’re in the gamma house. zelda plays them at meetings.

Also I can’t 100% guarantee she didn’t get her name from the Legend of Zelda series if y’all know me u know how much I adore that series so yeah

WANTED PLOTS / CONNECTIONS

GIVE ME A COMEDY SQUAD PLEEEEEEEEASE maybe even ppl she works to make a webseries or something with ?? give me people who work constantly just to make other people laugh

People she routinely takes photographs of !!

Whether they pay her or she uses as a muse for whatever

OTHER PPL FROM THE GREEK ROW THAT JUST DON’T… LIKE ZELDA FOR WHATEVER REASON

Maybe they think she’s too chill. Maybe they think she’s hiding something. Maybe they don’t like how she’s running Gamma but for whatever reason they just DON’T LIKE HER and I want enemies so fucking give me enemies

This is so general but more Gamma sisters would be lovely Zelda’s so eager to bring in more people to make their sorority feel like home

Give me crushes Zelda pines over !! Crushes that pine over Zelda !! Gimme that skinny love shit bc my god it gets me going !!

Hookup plots are also 100% acceptable bc again Zelda’s a carefree spirit and gives No Fucks

Also 100% down 4 cute romantic plots too - Zelda is ur regular poly pan babe w/ room in her heart for 12000 suns

it’s very on brand of me to place the romance/sex plots right smack in the middle as I’m thinking of what to put down

Okay when I was in high school we had majors and I was a Digital Art major and all the Visual Art majors had this bond with us for no reason so I’d really love some Vis. Art buddies that Zelda gets along with much like the bond she has with her ex-boyfriend now

OTHER PEOPLE TO DESIGN MORE TATTOOS FOR HER PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE one day she hopes to be a coloring book

I’D LOVE SOME UNLIKELY FRIENDS TOO JUST SOME GRUMPS ZELDA’S CONSTANTLY BOTHERING W/ HER SHIT

Memey group chat pls

THATS ALL I CAN THINK OF FOR NOW maybe i’ll do a more detailed / organized list soon but yeah !! Come at me !!!

[kazmorosov]

|| bill skarsgard, cismale, he/him || ( kazaran morozov ) is a ( 25 ) year old ( senior ) at rockport university studying ( business + literature [TA] ). people say they are ( ardent ) but also ( stoic ), and remind others of ( coffee rings on crisp paper, losing their sense of reality, hushed arguments ). bet they sure didn’t expect anyone to know about ( his plagiarizing to succeed and honor his terminally ill mother he killed ) but someone does, and ( kaz ) better cooperate if they plan to keep their lives. || james, 20, EST ||

hi i’m so sorry this took a long ass time to put out but im herE lmao here’s my baby

tw; murder, addiction/substance abuse, abuse mentions,

gen. info:

full name: kazaran nikolai morozov

nickname(s): kaz

b.o.d.: december 14th

label(s): the escapist, the academic, the fallen, the philanthropist, etc.

height: 6′4″

hometown: bangor, maine

sexuality: str...aigh...t ? question mark ?

biography:

born to a self-made businessman and a philanthropist with a penchant for odd names

his father’s a russian who moved to the u.s. in his childhood who still has many...unique, ties, to the country though none of those are important

his business involves military equipment and he works closely with the u.s.’s military (ahsdfghk conspiracies ?)

and his mother was a plain jane (literally--her name was jane) from a family of politicians; his uncle’s a senator

kaz is the eldest out of seven children (christ) and yes all of their names are just as excessive as ‘kazaran’

grew up with the pressure of the ‘golden child’ title; kaz had to be perfect at everything he did, from his grades to after school activities to manners and presentment

was always expected to follow in his father’s footsteps and like ?? partner with him once he was old enough? 

which is fine and grand except kaz had never given a shit about his father’s business; his real passion had always been for the arts, particularly literature and even more particularly poetry

he found that the arts was probably the most...free, kaz could get, without actively rebelling against his father

b/c god . . . his father is a force to be reckon’d w/

very strict man, likes to be in control constantly, not the...best, emotionally towards his family. or verbally. sometimes physically. y’know.

this really only...amplified, kaz’s perfectionist attitude. it was mostly out of fear of repercussions than much else

kaz has, however, always loved his mother.

jane is the opposite of their father, a woman who loves the world and everybody in it with this...heart of gold, and best intentions in mind

the only problem was that she was horribly submissive to her husband

aNYWAys okay, kaz grew up fairly unscathed but only because he was so...conformist, y’know?

loves his siblings and would die for them, but god--he’d have to side with his father just for his own sake, which definitely strained his relationship with a few of ‘em

AnywAys again; was pretty well-known in his high school

for being like, intimidatingly tall but also was fairly popular? star of the track team, student gov president, in DECA or whatever.

went to rockport just because it wasn’t...too far from home, and partially because he wasn’t allowed to go out of state.

and he was fine w/ it, man

his mother got sick his freshmen year, however, it wasn’t...horrible, at first

it was concerning, yes, but the doctors said she was going to be fine

jane was pretty...adamant about not letting her condition effect her children, too, so she acted as if she was fine

kaz, being a dumbass, was like alright fine this is fine and went on w/ life

sophomore year he met his soulmate; a future veterinarian named freya

n i mean he just...fell for her immediately, y’know ?? n ig she felt similar enough b/c they started dating immediately

it was really...good, for him; especially as his mother’s heath had suddenly taken a turn for the worst

kaz wound up taking two years off of school to care for his mother; his father was gone more often than not, and he felt as if his younger siblings shouldn’t have been burdened with the task

and well...jane never got better, only worse

it was at the point where the doctors had sent her home, knowing that nothing else could be done--she was confined to her bed, and miserable. in pain, really.

one...day, as kaz was tending to jane, she broke down. i mean, just, a full on emotional breakdown, a complete episode, begging him to just...put her out of her misery.

and, god, kaz had never disobeyed his parents (minus his studies in literature but y’knw what. . . not important rn) but that was so ?? morally ?? conflicting ??

they cried together for a long time until y’know. deciding what to do.

as soon as she had fallen asleep, kaz put a pillow to her.

he was never...caught, tho that may have involved some bribery on his father’s end who knows

the day after the funeral, kaz proposed to freya and she agreed.

and it really should’ve been fine if kaz’s mental health didn’t rapidly deteriorate like...he was not handling it well

freya helped, yes, but she could only do so much

turned to drugs, particularly painkillers after a minor car crash and just...a mix of shit, y’know.

probably stole drugs from his fiance’s job tbh

got on antidepressants, which only worsened his shit b/c he started ?? occasionally hallucinating his dead mother ??

his creativity had also just. shat on itself. he couldn’t write, no matter how hard he tried

his mother had really wanted him to pursue his dreams, and god, he was too far in his degree to drop literature

so he started....plagiarizing, his works, b/c kaz is a whole ass idiot. but he hasn’t gotten caught yet, somehow

his fiance thought the cruise program would be a great way for kaz to possibly, recover, since she could see how bad he was doing so he weNt because of her

also yes at this point he had gone back to school; had even gotten a TA position because he used to be...one of the best in his class, y’know ?

anyways yeah im paraphrasing this all horribly but idc u get the point

drug addict, mercy-killed his mother, loves his fiancee, tortured soul, y’know all that

personality:

likes to pretend he’s much calmer than he actually is, y’know

likes the whole aloof and distant thing b/c it’s already so easy for him to be intimidating

he can b a lil snarky, a lil sarcastic, but he’s overall always been really well meaning?

can be extremely passionate about his hobbies, or his future wife, or really...anything he mildly likes, tho, y’know?

gOD is he always feeling so guilty, tho, it really weighs him down

but he’s also like...usually high, sometimes u can tell but more often than not u can’t ??

because he’s obsessed w/ seeming okay. and doing okay. and being that average dude next door, y’know?

he wants to be normal, to feel normal, but he’s got this wave of emotions crashing into his chest and he’s in sm pa i n constantly

like he’s got major anxiety but u won’t know unless u catch him in midst of a panic attack and like he’d rather die than somebody see that

probably journals as a way 2 like...cope, and keep himself calm

uuhh he’s like lowkey a huge softie. will cry at sad movies and won’t care tht he’s crying about it

takes teaching rly seriously but he’s also always concerned somebody’s going to figure out that he’s just. a fraud.

smart, with dumbass energy

like he just...sometimes doesn’t think ??

loves his fiancee a whole bunch but this distance thing is...sm harder than he thought it would be. she’s his anchor and he’s just ?? floating aimlessly now

but yeah he’s always acting like he’s okay, like he’s gucci.

uuuhhhh god i dont know what else to say tbh ?? he’s just. a mans. being a mans.

probably doesn’t sleep super often b/c not only is he a TA, but he’s got some mf nightmares man

wanted connections:

got a girl best friend but he needs a...dude best friend?

other friends in general, honestly

professors he’s got some sort of relationship with b/c he’s working for penelope rn

a flirty unrequited thing, where they keep tryn but kaz is like nO i am TAKEN look at this photo of my beAUTIFUL FIANCEE

ppl pissed at him for the grades he’s given them LMAO

people...concerned? for him?

bad mf influences who are like LET’S GET FUCKED UP

a dealer y’know. somebody on the ship who can give him what he wants which is a Lot

uuh let’s brainstorm together, bb

like srsly just. gimme a like, i’ll pop into ur dms w/ my messy tall son and be like let’s fuck him up !

[bnha-imagines-hcs]

A c and e for dabi and twice? (I’m such a slut for the villains oops

( i’ll assume SFW, since that’s the last one i posted and you didn’t specify. | idk if any of this makes sense bc my head is weird atm but i wannit to write!!! i’ve been spooking myself with conspiracy theories... )

| dabi; headcanons.

AFFECTION       yes. now? always.

why else would he bother with a relationship? no trouble getting laid and able to snatch intelligent convos in a bar or park here and there, dabi’s no need to go out of his way for either.but proper, fulfilling affection comes with someone you trust - to an extent.

so. yeah. 

dabi’s always wanted a partner he could truly stand with. side by side, neither lesser or more than the other; whether this would be a romantic partner or not never mattered. a strong, reliable bond that doesn’t hinge on emotional constipation like so many of his working relations. 

                  a, uh. soul mate. if you will. shhh.

      he’s entirely honest with himself about this wish, too - which means he’s not shy about acting on it. unless he has his game face on or you’re around people who shouldn’t know you care about each other, dabi’s open to physical and not so physical affection.around here we’re not too macho for staring deep~~ into each other’s~~ eyes~~ (esp since his are so pretty that it’s hard not to ever get caught staring so yah). he prefers to have at least one hand at you at all times, soaking up your warmth and returning it. idle kisses during conversation, words clear against your cheek, the corner of your mouth. it’s in private that he lets his fingers trace the thin vulnerable skin of your eyelids or the exact shape of your cheeks.

ppl can complain or gag all they want, dabi is and will always be demonstratively loving. (or just. out of fucks to give, but w/e.)

CUDDLING     linked into the affection - dabi is highkey about simple, physical contact. arms around you at all times and usually while he’s behind you (better view on anything that might need to be u know dodged. he protective rawr); resting on your shoulders, round your waist, fingers hooked into the belt loops and fingers tracing the shape of your crotch if you don’t stop him, fingers hooked into the beltloops at your hips, hands at your hips, one arm round your neck w/ a hand on ur shoulder, hand on ur throat, hand resting lightly on ur crown, hands…… on ur ass. yeah.

will shamelessly insert himself into any conversation just by silently curling around you, and staring down ur convo partner like they’re the wall or smth ‘bout to get curbstomped; either, or.other times he lets u be… but still touches u somehow. turned farther away but with a hand on u to know where u at—

—dabi knows damn well how dangerous he is. he’s got to - it’s how he got where he is now, measuring his skill against what he’s got left to learn, against the competition that’ll come for ‘im as he makes a name for himself. consciously & unconsciously, that leads to him placing himself in a position where he can directly oppose whatever might try to fuck up this thing he’s got here, with u.he’s good w/ direct shit. also p good with sneaky shit. if ur a soft lil civilian or otherwise of lesser skill (or equal. or more, really - he’ll lay off some then, but still)- then he’ll want to know where ur at so he can bear in mind the angles if a threat pops up.        so. a hand on ur ass. hey- we can mix business w/ pleasure a lil.

             shhh. it’s totes just cuz he’s an ass man, tho.

straight up cuddling in bed, lazily soothed… all day every day pls and thnx. just hazy dozing, a dream-like quality to simple vulnerability shred. that’s not workable at present, but a worthy goal to set, no..? mmm.

EFFORT     flings, as stated, are for fun. he puts in the effort to be there bc he wants the good times, but it doesn’t go further than skindeep.

a real relationship - to dabi - is committed, and not something he’ll easily accept into his life. the point of one is effort; not in the least bc he knows it takes a fuckton of that for trust to really build. being who he is the way he is means it’s going to take effort.         mostly on his part, he thinks.     buuuuut also on the other part, if you’re not the patient or emotionally intelligent sort (which is fair honestly). 

dabi does not expect any true partner to do all the work. when it comes to effort in bonds, dabi goes … almost for broke, really. he’s neither antisocial nor aromantic, knows he craves emotional connection on several levels, and is therefore invested.                so, although he can be closed off (you may still not hear about w/e got him in this life etc), you can def just go up to him and go ‘okay i have xyz problem with us as we are, i need abc from you / do you need abc from me’. he’ll listen. he’ll try to see it your way too. this boy understands better than most what it really takes to make shit work with smn.

                  the most effort is trying to get him to a point where                   he wants to keep someone around, though. his                  agenda is his priority as is; romance just... well shit,                  you know this ain’t the time for that.

| twice; headcanons.

AFFECTION     at once highkey and lowkey. his anxiety nullifies any impulse to be all lovey dovey bc yeah. actually. that can get you killed. and losing you is high on his list of shit to avoid. so it’s all behind closed doors and there it’s desperate as you know he can be, all over each other, physical reassurance of both your connection and the fact your heart still beats.

starved of it, jin is always up for affection – yet can have too full a head to be able to deal with the extra impulses; physical touch, the emotion it evokes, what it does to his mind.

generally tight hugs, touchy-feely, wants to have his eyes on ur face to read u and check u over. prefers to have some kinda physical contact w/ u when ur together but his attention is away from you; the sensation of good things slipping through his fingers gets intense.

CUDDLING     yes please. jin can actually sleep in the same bed as someone else with little to no problem; at worst he’ll jerk violently in his sleep/during a dream/if his body registers your touch as foreign, but it’s not a punch or shit just an involuntary jolt.

embraces are his fave. full on arms around each other and pressed together. long, feelsy hugs that are all about just. well. affection. feeling each other. finding some peace in the hug and letting it last. 

jin is susceptible to ridicule (from stupid macho morons) but resolved about dem long hugs and sweet, tender love that isn’t afraid to be vulnerable. that’s what his cuddling feels like, always intimate. it can get a bit much to be constantly intimate to that extent, but then he rarely slips up about showing just how much he cares about you in public - so that’s a break from that lmao.

EFFORT     a lot. lots of internal shit, working on new anxieties. trying to ween himself off needing to feel you, to tone down the cling. it takes a few months for him to fully be ready to take this new flaring anxiety in his hands and deal with it like the (at least partially) solvable problem it is, and that’s when he starts toning it down, reassuring himself about the lack of touch, etc.         he’s an anxiety veteran. new causes can be so overwhelming that he doesn’t remember for a while that it’s his brain funking around.

he cares about you / what you’re feeling / needs & wants. might not be able to help, but will fucking care. if there’s one thing you won’t feel, it’s unappreciated. 

twice is a lil more aware of healthy functioning relationship dynamics than some of the other league members, and unlike say dabi he’s really intent on keeping you around. if he’s got something good he’s going to do what he can to keep it.

[gotatext]

claws my way out of the dirt like the goblin i am ..... hello thots, its nora, once again bringing you a revamped version of a muse i played yonks ago n some of u may have even written against... here is her pinterest.....

this is margaret greta, she’s a whole can of trauma spaghetti plastered over with a toothy grin and a lot of dad jokes. the only reason she’s in gifford really is bcos shes been put there as part of a witness protection program cos lots of police r monitoring livingstone so its deemed relatively safe.... haha... anyway she changes major all the time. she started off doing fine art but since then she’s done modules in architecture, film, bio-chemistry and is now dabbling in medicine. 

CIS-FEMALE — ever hear people say GRETA O’DRISCOLL looks a lot like DIANA SILVERS? I think SHE is about 21, so it doesn’t really work. The MEDICINE major is a SOPHOMORE that is from DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA. They can be +CHARMING, but they can also be -EVASIVE. I think GEE might be SHEEP. They are living in YATES. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her )

this bitch is the most restless creature u ever seen. before she came to livingstone, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years. 

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

goes through phases of being intensely feminist and tweeting “men are trash i don’t need them” before flipping into being lonely and needy n wanting male attention again. tends to gravitate towards men who are just pieces of shit tbh like her friends are always like hun.... pick a nice boy..... but no.... she’ll go for the boxer with several arrest records for gbh or the small-town drug dealer just trying to hook her onto pills for a little extra cash, or the reformed sinner who thinks he’s being protective by reading all her texts and always knowing where she is..... n she always finds a way to spin it so that they Just Care About Her and aren’t a p.o.s 

left school at 18 n didn’t go to uni, moved in w her boyfriend of the time instead, but soon got bored, n then went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was playing bass for a country n blues band. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time. 

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate. 

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea... pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming..... also this happened in 2017, he was mixed race and greta is white so naturally the police totally took her side. she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

 massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch

pretty easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be enthralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her

is That Girl who always knows where the parties are, and is always there, on the sofa, talking about institutionalised racism and trying to coerce you into a game of beer pong that she’ll definitely win. doesn’t really have one solid group of friends, just kind of on good terms with everyone and social butterflies about

has changed her major so many times. decision? who is she. currently studying medicine, but doesn’t rlly enjoy it. she’s very unmotivated and lazy and probably wouldn’t ahve bothered going to uni if she hadn’t been placed in one by a witness protection program. will probably change on to history or gender studies soon n just make up the extra credits by volunteering

 massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps.  i hate her

plays bass guitar, has a teal green fender and it is her BABY. it’s covered in stickers about saving the planet and ending fracking and going vegan. she’s in an all-female punk band w agnes (n mayb jade i think) n they play gigs every now n then in grotty club basements full of druggy sweaty college kids

PERSONALITY: easy-going, sociable, observant, blunt, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent, unmotivated, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring. ESTP and a leo

LIKES: art, music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy,  cowboy chic culture, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, karaoke, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, zip-lining, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, boiler house DJ sets, magnolias, decorative lamps, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

DISLIKES: bananas, coffee, Woody Allen, mental mathematics, children, Trump, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, Wes Anderson films, spoken word poetry, the general mentality of cheerleading squads (despite being on one)

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. 

wanted plots: since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships, and girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight, and I want like, fellow medicine students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. ppl she did a few modules with before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with, like she did a few art modules, a bit of film, n some architecture before switching to medicine, though she’ll probs switch course again soon. ppl who she runs track with. someone she’s trying to make a zine with. here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.