#Senior Nail Care Complete

[herespaaa]

Pamper Your Seniors at HereSpa | Senior Nail Care, Restorative Pedicures & More.

Treat your seniors to rejuvenating nail care, restorative pedicures, anti-aging facials, haircuts, and compassionate companion care at HereSpa. Book now!

[eepy-evie]

Twisted Wonderland Senior Headcanons

A/N: i am very tired as i write this, BIBI is saving my life force. I just got screamed at by my mom but the fans (no one) can’t wait 😎. Im sorry Lilia’s is kind of short, im pretty high and have been pushing this off for days.

Contents: Various non romantic headcanons for the seniors in TWST

Trigger warnings (if any): Religion mentions (Trey’s + Leona’s + Vil’s + Rook’s + Idia’s part), eating disorders (Vil’s part), stalking mentions (Rook’s part… no surprise), minor adult themes (idia’s part)

Trey Clover

I might have this feeling only because i also bake but he has beef with multiple people about bread.

Like i mean people spreading misinformation (NO YOU DO NOT NEED TO ADD SUGAR INTO BREAD, IT DOESN’T DO MUCH)

Besides my personal beef with ig bakers…

He doesn’t listen to music, lofi background stuff at best.

He’d listen to anything someone put on with no complaint but he doesn’t feel the need for music for mundane things

With his obsession with brushing teeth i feel like he loves mint

Like i mean spearmint gum constantly, mint chocolate chip ice cream, idk mint leaves in drinks?

Bro can not understand if someone else doesn’t like mint

I believe he is an Atheist living in a Christian household

Its probably brought up rarely but he just doesn’t really believe that saying grace before dinner does anything

I think he’s way too empathetic for his own good, i mean like excusing lots of harmful things due to how someone was raised

(Totally didn’t mean to refer to Riddle but whatevs)

Cater Diamond

Get this man into kpop NOW

I feel he is rivaling Idia with his, honestly abusive, amount of slang

I dont think anyone who isn’t chronically online could stand to hear his thoughts

Or who isn’t insanely mentally unstable

But he pulls shit like “she=onika ate=burgers” every single chance he gets

Which i wont blame him for that, i pull medieval slang every second i can too

He loves brittany broski with his whole heart and soul

Not only is she funny as hell but she can also be very serious in a blink of an eye

On the low he enjoys those insider videos

He likes watching them and pausing them to argue the point to no one

Going back to kpop briefly…

He loves Aespa

Do i know any of the members of Aespa to tell you my assumed bias? No.

Also loves Zerobaseone

Ricky bias

Although i may be biased (oh my a silly pun, you scoundrel)

I do believe that he is a funny person but he is very repressed

I dont mean to make this a whole angst post but he genuinely doesn’t understand how he can express it

He is very sensitive to rejection so i think that leads him to extreme lengths to be liked

And I’m not just talking about how he acts a certain way to please others

I mean a deep rooted guilt for not being what someone wanted

Leona Kingscholar

…all my headcanons for him are purely how I’d personally treat him

Someone get this man a mukbang video and a comfy bed

He barely listens to music but when he does its some rnb stuff

He doesnt care for stuff thats too loud but he does like soft music even if he isnt open about it

I need to make him see nekomimi switch, twitter.gov, and anything else that has catgirls/boys so i can see his reaction

I dont think he holds many physical attributes to lions besides the ears, tail, and teeth but he most definitely holds many reactions and other stuff

Like he is literally sleeping in a garden most the time

He has long(er) nails and hates cutting them

Erm… idk man

I think he had a big Religious breakdown in his childhood

I dont really know what Religion he’d be to start with(due to my lack of knowledge of Religion in Africa) but he’d have the whole moment of betrayal

And then he’s completely Atheist for the rest of his life

Vil Schoenheit

He has a side account where he responds to all his hate comments

For music taste… hear me out…

He likes, on the low, vkei

But no metal like kaneto juusei or gulu gulu I mean malice mizer

He enjoys the instrumental along with the twists they take on classical

Moi meme motie x Vil Schoenheit collab when???

He 100% doesn’t express it though, he tells the public he likes whatever’s popular

I feel like, this may or may not be me projecting, he’s a hellenist

Obviously worshipping Aphrodite and has an altar for her which he never publicly speaks of but is not hiding

heres a bit of TW for eds + that type of stuff

I feel like he has an extremely bad relationship with food

He doesnt see it as something to nourish your body but instead a sort of numbers game

Like with a limit of however much someone says and the whole game is to stay under that number in calories

Besides that i feel he’s very orthorexic to the point he’d refuse to eat something if it looked too “bad” to him

(End of tw)

I know he has a very argued gender identity but i dont think he’s too confused by it

He’s very firm that he is who he is and he never seemed to have much of an inside problem with it

Maybe he got poked fun at a few times but thats all his problems with it

Rook Hunt

Get this man away from me

He is in many fandoms and somehow knows everything going on all the time

Bro personally took down Nayeon’s stalker by himself

But seriously i dont think his intentions are bad, i think he is just trying to be on top of everything in the worst was possible

He doesn’t really think its creepy himself but most the time he is

He is also a Hellenist who worships Aphrodite but also Artemis

He is so very open about his Religion

He makes those hopecore videos on tiktok and has amassed 10k followers but no one knows its him

Yearns to be in the south/midwest for the scenery

Just yearns in general

Bro is single handedly bringing back male yearning and being chalant

Saw bridgerton as a normal tuesday for him

1000 hours on c.ai

I will not, and should not, elaborate.

Is that projecting? Yes. Do i care? No.

He has the longest and some how most effective body/skincare routine ever

I mean like he’d do some shit like “once in a blue moon bath in pure hyaluronic acid for 2.5 hours on the dot”

He loves absolutely everything on everyone and its to a detriment to me personally

Hooked nose? Loved. Chubby? Love. Literally anything unconventional? Consider yourself yearned for.

He listens to anything and everything

Although he cant stand songs about break ups or anything to do with hate

Put this man on “doughnut” by TWICE now.

Idia Shroud

Yes… give me this nerdy man…

He 100% (mostly canon) loves jpop idols

Prolly an akb48 stan

I cant even get started on everything he likes

But i can tell y’all 100% that he is not overly flirty or overly easy to fluster

Istg all i see is either big dom idia or uwu shy boy idia

And both are wrong (in my opinion ig)

He starts arguments about anything and everything in game chats

Because he’s grown up in this big company family he was forced to appear better that how he truly acts so i believe that would also entail with being a die hard hellenist

But without any spotlights he does care, he just likes his games and anime

Speaking of anime…

He loves shoujo, he’s in hiding though

He literally wants to be sawako from “from me to you” but will never say it

Somebody come get this man

If anyone asks he just loves Naruto and One Piece

But we know the truth…

Istg he plays an absurd amount of eroges for the plot

He’s depraved on twitter

Two accounts, one for public image and the other for the unspeakable

Do NOT let him find any dating advice on there cause he will take it and act like a fool

He loves breakcore music and anime intros and thats about it

Besides his jpop idols

I dont think he like kpop, for some reason he just has a grudge against some fans

A little self insert but he 100% has autism (as we all know…) but he also has arfid

For those who dont know… arfid is “avoidant restrictive food intake disorder” which is like you are a very picky eater

He aint struggling with it, he succeeding (LYING)

Malleus Draconia

Get this man a cat or some shit like that

Can someone please make him watch all of aphmau Minecraft diaries and then twilight back to back

This strange individual has that man from the notebook shaking in fear

Bros a hopeful romantic

Randomly says inspiration quotes that you cant find anywhere online

It just came from his heart

He only listens to classical songs he knows how to play

Though i’d doubt if you showed him something he’d dislike it

Bros the yearner

I showed up to the yearning contest and went into anaphylactic shock at the sight of him there

He has honestly researched every single religion for fun

Highlight god damn bible verses for no reason

He needs to make an iceberg of every single religion and why they are good/bad

I just know he has an insane knowledge of lore in any book he’s ever read

Please make him watch smiling friends

You’d have to pause every 5 seconds so he can process it

You could make him do anything tbh, just be like “you should come watch *whatever it is* with me” and bro is outside your door

For shame with the amazing attention towards practically anyone who shows anything besides fear or hatred comes the fact he is unaware of most modern things

He has a tamagotchi and thats it man, get him a 3ds at least

He cant use a phone, cant use a computer, and barely understands the concept of social media

But at least he has the spirit to learn

Lilia Vanrouge

Do i even put him as a senior?

Bro is pushing some mystical number that no one knows

He’s like one of those grandmas that never mention their age and whenever its brought up all they say is “never ask a woman her age”

… perchance a bit controversial but i think he’s bad at cooking on purpose

Ain’t no way someone fucks up cooking THAT bad

I think he really likes horror games

And i dont mean those shitty mascot horrors like poppys playtime

I mean fatal frame, faith, and visage type shit

He listens to breakcore too

I dont make the rules

Hes a gamer grandpa so he either has to have pretty good taste in games/music or the absolute worst

HE’D LOVE GULU GULU AND VKEI

Hes practically already mana sama

Hes got all the moi meme motie dresses

Get grandpa off taobao NOW

I want my nyanya madoka dress, and i will not be stopped by some twinkish old man.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is asking, "do you want a blanket?" by @thefreakandthehair | AO3)

Steve's life was completely turned upside down (theoretically he sees the humor in this, but in practice the trauma trumps the pun) six months and six days ago when he came face-to-face with a honest-to-God inter-dimensional monster and barely survived to not tell the tale thanks to an airtight and frankly scary NDA.

He should be over it by now, right? He shouldn't be waking up screaming, drenched in his own sweat and shaking all over, his heart racing in his chest and his stomach in his throat.

Right.

Well, he's not. He doesn't get over it. The nightmares don't go away. If anything, he feels like they're getting worse, his mind adding horrible details and things that didn't happen, but could have, to keep torturing him.

He's a fucking mess.

Steve Harrington is a mess. His grades are slipping, on their way to joining his social status at rock bottom, and even his performance as co-captain of the swim team and basketball team is suffering from lack of sleep.

The only thing he has going for him is Nancy. Nancy, who doesn't understand that Steve just wants to get over the horror and the paranoia, just wants his life back, just wants to be normal again.

She doesn't say it outright, but he knows she thinks he's selfish, too self-centered to care about anything but himself. Sure, he's made amends with Jonathan and cut ties with Tommy and Carol, but deep down, Nancy doesn't think he's changed all that much. He's not Jonathan, he's not mature and monosyllabic and introspective. Just dumb little Steve, pretty to look at but not much else to offer.

These are the things he ponders during his late-night drives when another nightmare keeps him awake. It's impossible to fall asleep with terror pumping through his veins, so instead he climbs into his car and just drives. Some nights he will drive for hours, music playing softly from one of his tapes, Queen, Springsteen, Tears For Fears, Bon Jovi.

Tonight his drive takes him to the edge of town, right where a dirt road leads to the quarry. Steve has no idea why, but something makes him actually leave the main road and turn onto it. He follows it where it leads into the woods, slowing down on the bumpy road until he sees the dense cluster of trees open up to reveal a glimpse of the starry night sky. The path seems to open up into a clearing, and just there, to the right, Steve spots an old van.

He knows the car, has seen it often enough in the parking lot of Hawkins High to know that it belongs to none other than Eddie Munson, local drug dealer and freak.

At least that's what everyone keeps calling him, and sure, the guy seems a little weird, with his speeches on cafeteria tables, his dramatic antics in and out of class. He certainly doesn't look like most of the other kids, with his ripped jeans (clearly from wear and tear rather than fashion sense), long, unruly curls, and loud shirts advertising bands Steve has never heard of. People also shit on him for his father and for living in a trailer park, but none of that sounds particularly freaky to Steve.

Knowing what he does now, though, it worries him to think of Munson all alone out here where anything could happen to him. He doesn't know Munson, just about him, but Steve couldn't live with himself if he came to school on Monday and found Munson missing. One person has already died because of his carelessness, and no one deserves to suffer the same fate as Nancy's friend Barb.

Parking his car right next to Munson's, Steve climbs out and walks around the car to the trunk to pick up the nail bat that saved his life and the lives of Nancy and Jonathan. Then he makes his way to the opening of the clearing ahead.

Stepping out of the trees, Steve stops to take in the sight before him.

Above him stretches the inky expanse of the night sky, a seemingly endless void painted with a myriad of distant stars. The moonlight danced along the jagged edges of the quarry, revealing the vastness of the rocky landscape below in a silvery glow. The only sound that broke the silence of the night was the occasional soft rustle of leaves. The air was crisp and clean, carrying with it a hint of earthiness from the rocky terrain. In this secluded enclave, far from the lights of the city, the stars were front and center, and Steve felt unbelievably small.

With his shoulders hunched over his ears and his arms slung protectively around his knees, the figure sitting on the edge of the cliff looks even smaller than he feels.

It seems that Munson didn't even hear his car approaching, and that makes Steve's hair stand on end because it means that anyone, anything could have snuck up on him. It's not safe.

Steve approaches cautiously, trying his best not to startle the other boy and cause him to fall to his certain death.

"Munson?" He asks softly, quietly, but to no avail. It still causes Munson to flail in surprise, and only Steve's quick reflexes keep him from falling over the edge. With his knees still smarting from the sudden drop to the ground, Steve has his arm wrapped around the other boy, and both of them are panting from the shock.

"Fuck, man, are you trying to kill me?" Munson's voice quavers too much to be truly biting.

Steve carefully loosens his grip on Munson and leans back to sit on his haunches. Running a slightly trembling hand through his hair, he can't help but bite back. "If you paid more attention to what was going on around you, you would have heard me coming. I wasn't really trying to be subtle. It's like you want to get killed."

Munson scoots away from the edge of the cliff and climbs to his feet to look down at Steve and the nail bat he dropped when he made a grab for the other boy. He raises a judgmental eyebrow, causing Steve's defenses to go up in an instant.

They look at each other, brown meeting hazel, until Munson breaks the silence. "By someone walking around with a nail-studded bat, you mean?"

"I wasn't going to hit you with it!" And crap, abort Harrington, abort.

Now both eyebrows look at him questioningly. "And who, pray tell, pissed off King Steve enough to deserve this kind of treatment?"

"No one! For God's sake, I thought you might be in danger and wanted to be prepared in case you were." Then he adds, "After what happened to Will Byers and Barbara Holland, you'd think people in this town would be more careful instead of hanging out in the woods in the middle of the night."

Ed-No, Munson's eyes soften at his explanation. "Shit, sorry man. You're right, I guess." Shuffling his feet, he offers his own explanation for his harsh reaction. "Just had a shitty day, I guess. I shouldn't have bitten your head off for trying to look out for me. Although I never thought King Steve would ride in on his white horse to save the school freak from unimaginable evil."

"White horse? What, like a knight? Does that make you the damsel in distress, Munson?"

Munson gets a strange look on his face at Steve's words, and before he knows what's happening, the guy pretends to faint right into his arms. He catches him just before he hits the ground and feels how cold the boy's body is in his thin t-shirt. "My savior," Munson croons, and Steve rolls his eyes at his antics. Still not a freak, but definitely weird.

Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Steve says, "You're freezing, man. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?"

Dark brown eyes search his, and Steve thinks he's never seen such expressive eyes. He can read a myriad of emotions in them and he doesn't even know the guy. Sadness, caution, defeat, and something he's seen in the mirror a lot in the last few months: fear.

"I bet you have better things to do than listen to my sad little problems. Can't imagine you're just running around town rescuing damsels in distress now, I'm sure you have places to be, a kingdom to rule..."

"Could you just drop the whole 'King Steve' crap, man? I'm not him. Not anymore. Even if nobody seems to have gotten the memo."

"Okay, woah, sorry, man. I didn't know this was such a touchy subject."

"Do you want me to call you a freak and make assumptions about you based solely on high school gossip?"

"I don't know, don't you?"

"I'm trying not to. You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to. I'm just saying... I know what it's like when you can't stand lying in your bed staring at the ceiling any longer. Wanting to get out and leave whatever it is that's bothering you behind, but no matter how fast you drive, it keeps catching up with you."

He's rambling, he knows he is, he didn't plan on unburdening his heart to Eddie Munson of all people, but here they are.

"I failed senior year." Eddie finally admits in a small voice, not meeting Steve's eyes.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Fuck, man. That sucks. Can you repeat it?"

"Sure. But I... God, everyone was right all along. I'm a failure, a fuckup. Just like my dad. A good-for-nothing waste of space. I haven't even told Wayne, I can't stand the look in his eyes when I tell him". There are tears in Eddie's eyes and Steve's heart breaks for him.

"Fuck!" Eddie shouts across the quarry and a flock of birds takes flight somewhere in the nearby woods. He's shaking again, and this time it's not from the adrenaline. Steve can't really take away any of the things that are weighing on Eddie, but he can offer him something else.

"Do you want a blanket?"

Eddie's doe eyes blink at him slowly, as if he's not sure he heard him right.

"You're only wearing a T-shirt, you must be cold." Eddie doesn't deny it. "Let me get you a blanket, then."

Another slow blink, and then, "If you're...sure?"

Steve gives him a smile that he hopes is warm and reassuring. "I'm sure." He walks over to his BMW and takes the nail bat with him, exchanging it for the blanket that he keeps in the trunk of his car at all times. Tommy H. calls it the "baby maker blanket," which is so typical of Tommy that Steve wonders why he was hanging out with him at all. Maybe because he was a friend to Steve when no one else would be.

But maybe he won't tell Eddie about the blanket's history. Anyway, it's freshly washed and smells only of his detergent.

Handing it to the boy, Steve says, "There you go," before turning to walk back to his car.

"Where are you going?"

When Steve turns back, Eddie is sitting on the ground with the blanket around his shoulder, one end held open as if inviting Steve to join him.

"Back home?" It's not supposed to sound like a question, but some of his reluctance to leave seeps into it anyway. He doesn't want to go home to his empty house and bed, afraid to close his eyes in case the nightmares come back.

"Look, you don't have to, of course, but if you want, you can stay and tell me what brought you here in the middle of the night. Or not. We could just sit here in silence, totally fine with me."

Steve snorts, because even though this is the first time he's had a conversation with Eddie, he can already tell that silence doesn't come easy to him.

"If you're sure," he repeats Eddie's words back to him as he makes his way over to him.

"I'm sure," Eddie says firmly, wrapping the blanket around Steve as soon as he sits down next to him.

Many things surprised Steve that night, but most of all how comfortable the silence between him and Eddie had felt as they watched the stars until they gave way to the rising sun.

They never talked about that night again, the polite nods in the halls all the acknowledgment they allowed for what had happened.

But when Steve walks across the stage to receive his diploma in 1985, he notices Eddie's absence and his heart aches for him. He had been looking forward to seeing Eddie walk across the stage next to him, to give him a smile, a wink. Maybe even ask him out for a celebratory beer, if he's being completely honest with himself.

The sad truth is: Steve had no one to spend his graduation with, no girlfriend, no friends, just a 13-year-old know-it-all whose bedtime didn't really allow for any kind of grown-up celebration. Eddie was his only hope of not being alone tonight.

That's probably why he's heading out to the quarry again that night, bat and blanket in tow.

It's a shot in the dark, and at the same time it's not. Because there Eddie is, sitting on the edge again, small and defeated, and just as alone as Steve. Without a word, Steve joins him on the ground and wraps the blanket around them both.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie's warm weight settles against him. "Me too." Silence falls between them, and Steve thinks that's all they'll say, but then Eddie nudges his shoulder with his own and says, "I'm sorry, too. About Wheeler."

"Me too."

Steve thinks that even if he's not a poet, there's something symbolic in the way they both watch the sun rise again over the quarry.

The next time he wrapped the blanket around Eddie, it was again in the middle of the night. Only this time, Eddie is unconscious in the back of his car while Steve races to the hospital, praying to any God who will listen that this will not be the last time.

It isn't. Not by a long shot. Getting the blood out is not easy, but with Joyce's help he manages. The blanket is there when physical therapy is especially grueling, when they both sit on the porch of Eddie's new trailer, Steve holding Eddie under the blanket's protective cover.

It's there when Steve moves in with the Munsons and gets a special place on Eddie's bed, though they never make love on it. The blood was hard enough to get out, and the material doesn't look like it can take much more deep cleaning.

They take it with them when they move to their apartment in Chicago, and it's there for every bad day either of them has.

Their blanket finds its final purpose, however, with the arrival of their daughter, April. From the day their little bundle of joy moves in with them, she sleeps wrapped in the foundation of Steve and Eddie's love.

Steve may not be a poet, that's Eddie's job, but he appreciates the symbolism all the same.

[joequiinn]

PREVIEW | You Can Have My Hate | B.H. x reader

summary: Unfortunately, you got stuck with Billy fucking Hargrove as your partner for your final assignment in history class. Also unfortunately, Billy discovers you have a killer body underneath all those baggy clothes…

a/n: Billy is a disgusting little man and i love him dearly. as the title says, this is a preview of something i've been working on! the fic is already at 6.5k words and still isn't done, so i decided to put out a little snippet to see if there was any interest, so please let me know if you'd like me to finish the fic!

notes & tropes: fem reader, curvy + large chest reader, foul and suggestive language, canon typical Billy bullshit, awful behavior from both Billy and reader, minor allusions to sex but nothing happens (yet)

music inspo: Closer by Nine Inch Nails

preview wc: 1.9k

You let me violate you | You let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you | You let me complicate you

“Damn, little miss straight-laced,” Billy’s hooded eyes slowly crawled down your body, the corner of his mouthing pulled back in a lecherous smirk, “is that what you’ve been hiding under all those baggy clothes?”

God, you hated Billy Hargrove. Absolutely despised him with every fiber of your being. You knew you should’ve begged your history teacher for a different partner, should’ve gotten on your knees and pleaded for literally anyone other than Billy fucking Hargrove to work on this assignment with you. An idiotic football player or a bitchy cheerleader would’ve been better than this. But no, you didn’t beg and you didn’t plead, so now you were stuck, and god if this wasn’t about to be the worst couple weeks of your life.

Ever since Billy showed up in Hawkins at the beginning of last semester, you detested him. Everything about him screamed disrespectful, hateful asshole, and so having two classes with him meant you had witnessed your fair share of this behavior. Why so many girls wanted to fuck him and why so many boys aspired to be him was a mystery to you, because you could see from the start that he was a no good piece of shit.

But, in a way, you were lucky because you were literally a nobody. And nobodies went unnoticed, which meant not having to deal with bullshit from 90% of your peers. Hell, when your history teacher was pairing everyone off and told Billy who his partner would be, his response was an amused “who?” as if he didn’t believe this person - you - even existed. He had gone the entirety of the school year not having a single clue that you existed, and damn you wish it had just gone on a little longer. You literally had one more month left of senior year, one more month until you never even had to think about Hawkins High again, and the last thing you wanted was to spend half of that month in misery while trying to put up with Billy fucking Hargrove.

This assignment shouldn’t have even been worth shit to you, considering that your grade was nearly perfect and it was your last big project before graduation, but that’s where your history teacher hooked all of you - if this assignment wasn’t completed, then you guys wouldn’t be able to receive your diplomas. Or so he said to deter kids like you from flaking on it - you didn’t know if your boring old history teacher had that kind of authority, but you weren’t about to risk finding out.

And for kids like Billy? Kids who didn’t give a shit, who were already struggling to pass? The grade on this assignment was make or break. Not that it affected you any, of course - Billy could fail his senior year for all you cared. But shockingly enough, he was the one to make a point of its importance to you, the one to emphasize that he had to pass this class and graduate. It was curious to you, since you’d never once seen Billy care about school, but perhaps he was also beginning to feel the fire under his ass to leave Hawkins.

So, for the past week now, you’d been meeting with Billy at the school library, trying your best not to rip out your hair while you did the majority of the work. Hell, you could’ve told Billy just to fuck off and let you work on your own - you’d still let him put his name on the assignment and everything. But for whatever reason, you didn’t and so now you were subjecting yourself to tolerating his bullshit.

And that’s what you were doing right now, sitting across from Billy in the library and using every fiber of your being not to lose it on him. He had been particularly difficult from the moment he sat down, his foot bouncing impatiently and his expression condescending each time you tried to talk to him. He was making it very clear that he’d rather be anywhere other than here. The warm temperature of the library combined with your frustration at Billy was causing you to feel a little toasty, so you caved and tugged your large sweater over your head, leaving you in a tight, black tank top that left little to the imagination.

And said tight, black tank top is exactly what Billy was ogling, making you sneer and immediately regret taking off your sweater.

You never liked showing off your body, never liked the attention it drew you. You wouldn’t say you were self-conscious necessarily, you didn’t hate the way you looked in the mirror or anything like that. But you were very aware of how men looked at women’s bodies, and as someone who hated most forms of attention, you weren’t going to have any of that. So you wore baggy jeans and oversized sweaters, hid your frame under clothes that were always a size or so too big. It kept eyes and hands off of you, and you preferred it that way.

But damn it, it was so hot in the library that afternoon and you weren’t thinking clearly. You couldn’t believe your own stupidity - you just had to take off your sweater in front of Billy fucking Hargrove, a boy who only ever saw women as either sex pots or prudes. His lewd gaze was making you feel even more hot under the collar, but shit did you want to put your sweater back on already despite the heat.

“Will you please focus, Hargrove?” You begged in an exacerbated tone, trying to cross your arms over your chest in a way that wasn’t obvious while looking back down to the textbook open in front of you.

“You expect me to focus now, after you whipped those out?” Billy took such obvious joy in knowing that he was making you uncomfortable. He leaned forward on the table, his eyes once again traveling a salacious path down the curves of your body, “It’s Friday night, I got a pair of double D’s sitting across from me, and you’re asking me to focus on a damn essay?”

“Shut up.” You threatened between your teeth, trying not to raise your voice and draw attention. Your eyes were dark with frustration as you stared at Billy, who simply looked back at you like he didn’t give a damn, like he was just waiting for you to cave to him.

And how the hell could he tell you wore a double D?

You sank in your seat a little while attempting to cross your arms even more aggressively in front of your chest, feeling your cheeks growing red. Billy gave you that smooth, lazy grin that you’ve seen him use before, his eyes hooded as he leaned back in his chair. The feeling of his indecent gaze on your body practically made your skin crawl.

“Fine, Hargrove,” You quickly grab up your belongings and shoot to your feet, fumbling with your bag and sweater to make sure they kept your chest covered, “if you wanna be a prick who won’t focus, we’ll do this next week.”

You started to march out of the library, to retreat to safety. You didn’t like the way Billy was looking at you - it was objectifying and disrespectful and vulgar. Billy never once gave a fuck about - or even noticed - you before, but the second you remove a stupid barrier of clothing, suddenly he’s oh so interested. He was such a pig.

But shit, why was it also… kind of hot?

No, it was not hot.

You couldn’t let yourself even entertain that thought because there sure as shit wasn’t anything hot about it. It wasn’t hot that he objectified you, it wasn’t hot that he drank your body in with impropriety, it wasn’t hot that his tongue ran slowly along his lower lip as his eyes met yours with practiced allure.

No, no, no! You could’ve kicked yourself. Nothing about that should’ve been hot, god damn it.

“Oh, come on, killjoy,” Billy grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around to face him, having followed you through the library. His grip was firm as you looked between his face and hand and back again.

The library wasn’t exactly busy on a Friday afternoon, but you looked around to find that the librarian and another student both looked in your direction. It made you even more nervous to know that eyes were on you; what if you got in trouble, what if the librarian reprimands you both for being disruptive? You looked back to Billy, your brows furrowed in annoyance as you whipped your wrist out of his hold with hostility.

“I’m serious, if all you want is to slack off and look at my tits that’s your business.” You immediately clamped your mouth shut, your eyes widening slightly - that is not what you meant to say at all. Oh god, why the fuck did you say that? Shit, you should’ve just told him that you’d regroup next week, that you weren’t going to put up with him. But no, instead you said arguably the stupidest thing you could, and it was clear on Billy’s face that he was relishing in your stupid words, enjoying them even.

He looked back down at your body, luckily hidden behind your bag and sweater, “My business, huh? Sounds to me like permission to stare.”

“No.” You answered firmly; your cheeks and neck felt so fucking warm. You tried to get back on track, tried to shake off the stupid thing you said just a moment ago, “I just want to finish this project. So, go home and jack off to your Playboys all weekend, and then maybe we can actually get some work done next week.”

Despite your jabs, Billy still grinned wickedly, dipping his head a little as he took a step closer, his voice low, “So, that’s what you’re thinking about, huh? Me jacking off? You enjoying that thought?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find some quick response to that, but you couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. A sound of disbelief left your throat as you gaped with loathing at Billy for a moment. God, you felt like a damn fish trying to breathe out of water. With a glare in your eyes, you clamped your mouth shut, which seemed to be a great amusement to Billy, whose smile widened as a laugh escaped him.

“God, you make it so easy.” He said, shaking his head, “You gotta lighten up, you know?”

You sigh loudly, eyes still staring at him harshly, “Whatever, Hargrove.”

You attempt to walk away once more, but yet again Billy snatches your wrist, “Wait, wait, wait…”

“Stop acting interested in me all of a sudden,” You try to shake your arm out of his hold again, but this time Billy’s grip is tighter, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Look,” his tone was firm as he instructed, “let’s go back over to the table, get some more work done, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you studied his face, “I don’t need a ride.”

“You don’t have a car.” He countered immediately.

“I don’t need a ride from you.”

“You don’t, but isn’t it generous that I’m offering?”

“More like devious.”

“I’ll be a total gentleman.”

You laughed right in his face, “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

[maybe-moonchild]

9/27/2011

WC: 2.4k

Students cheered and shouted as they gathered across the quad, whatever had caught their attention obscured by the circle of bodies . When you looked up from your book, you wished you were more surprised at the sight of Flash’s first slamming into the side of Peter’s face. He went down hard but you were barely watching, already rushing to shove your things into your bag. 

You managed to shove your way to the front of the circle just as Peter shoved himself up off the cement. His eyes met yours and his face hardened immediately . The distraction cost him, preventing him from noticing that Flash was lunging forward for a body slam. 

There was a murmur of ‘Oohs’ from the crowd as they both wrestled on the pavement. Even at 15 years old, Flash Thompson was a force. His extracurricular activities included basketball, football, and beating up classmates. Some days it was really hard to justify being his friend. 

Today was one of those days.

“Alright, Flash! That’s enough,” you called out over the chanting. Before you could stop yourself, you shoved through the crowd to grab his arm. Flash managed to land another blow to Peter’s face before he stopped mid-reel.

“Knock it off!”

The sharp look on your face was enough for him to let out a groan at your intervention. He flashed you a sheepish grin, waving you off and rolling off of Peter. Katie smacked the back of his head before Flash could fully dust himself off. Not like she really cared about what he just did; she didn’t like when his stupid antics drew the attention of the entire school. 

“What?” Flash asked innocently as the crowd started to dissipate. The lunchtime show was over and would be forgotten by tomorrow morning.

Katie just rolled her eyes, likely having found the whole situation to be a waste of time. “You’re such a moron.” 

No one paid any mind to Peter who winced as he sat up. 

Flash noticed the dirty look you sent him. As Katie started to drag him back towards your usual table, he shrugged. “Sorry. Just having some fun.” 

Your face flushed from second hand embarrassment because of your friends. You knew what Peter thought about them even if he’d never actually said it outloud. You knew even more what he thought about you without ever speaking it outloud. 

He hadn’t needed to. 

Not when him pulling away at the beginning of last year said more than enough. 

When you’d started high school last fall, you’d told yourself that you would join at least one club and one sport. Even if you sucked at it, you wanted to be involved with the rest of your class. You just didn’t realize that cheerleading…  Well, you were pretty freaking great at it. With the gift of yellow and blue pom poms came the gift of attention, of eyes on you. You didn’t exactly mind it. 

It also came with the gift of Katie Douglas. Even in fourth grade, Katie’s face was always one of distaste, boredom, or a glare. If anyone thought her completely vapid, they were wrong. She was a natural born genius at anything to do with engineering. So when you both managed to snag spots next to each other on the bleachers the first day of cheer tryouts. Katie was gripping the seat so tightly you were shocked she didn’t crack a nail. You made a joke.

It wasn’t a funny one. 

But she laughed. 

When you both made the team, she invited you to the mall. 

With Katie came Flash Thompson.

Flash was lucky if he had three brain cells on a given day and he always used his fists before thinking. Befriending him was never intentional. When you got invited to an upperclassman Halloween party, Peter skirted around your extended invitation. He’d been pulling away for weeks but you tried to push through because you were trying to balance him, home, cheerleading, and new friends without letting any of them get dropped 

If Peter had been at that party, then there was a good chance that the senior dressed as someone from Jersey Shore wouldn’t have approached you. He wouldn’t have tried to coerce you into taking a shot while invading your space. But he did. It was Flash that shoved him back, towered over him and scared him off. He had a lot of moments like that where he was painfully kind… only for him to do something painfully stupid and barbaric the second after.

But they were your friends now.

Peter was the one that stopped answering your calls or you would catch him peeking out from his bedroom window after May had just told you he wasn’t home. 

Peter glanced at the hand you extended towards him, your eyes apologetic and hopeful that he would accept it. He didn’t take your hand. Instead, he opted to haul himself to his feet on his own and wipe the blood on his lip with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“Why’d you stop him?” He didn’t look up at you as he pretended to brush dirt off his jeans. He wasn’t going to thank you for stepping in.

You stiffened at the sharpness of the words. So sharp you couldn’t seem to look at him, jaw clenched so tight to hold in a scoff. He’d gotten taller since last year, the sleeves of his sweater just an inch too short from where they should have ended on his wrists. 

“Oh. Sorry,” you draw out sarcastically, your hip jutting out and your hand settling on it. “I didn’t realize I was just supposed to let him keep punching you in the face.”

“What? Did you want me to thank you?” Peter asked with equal sarcasm. 

Your face fell. You didn’t know why you expected some sort of banter that maybe bordered on bickering. No, this was anger, directed at you and you alone.

“No, I don’t,” you admitted, kicking at a pebble and trying to force down the white hot shame eating you alive. 

Someone called your name but you both turned toward the sound. It was Flash, his arms waving in the air to get your attention from the other side of the Quad. Katie sat perched beside him on the lunch table, giving you a look that clearly translated to ‘why are you still talking to Peter Parker… in public?’.

You shake your head to tell them to leave you alone but the damage is surely done. Peter just scoffs. That sound makes you feel even worse. He won’t even look at you, instead inspecting his camera to ensure it isn’t damaged. 

If it is, you won’t forgive yourself. Not when that was his prized possession, a memento from his dad. Relief slammed into at the same time it slammed into him when he confirmed that it was not broken from the fight. 

“You okay?” You tried to meet his eye and took half a step closer. His guard was up, blood accumulating in the cut in his lip and purple blooming on his cheekbone. “I uh… can walk you to the nurse.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at your offer, his expression cold and his lips pulled into a thin line. His thoughts and emotions were always so clearly plastered on his face. It's clear from his expression that he was not interested in your offer. Before he could get a word out, Flash interrupted again, calling out to you from his spot standing on one of the tables benches. 

You turned around and waved a hand dismissively in their direction. Some of the other kids you usually sat with looked like they were getting ready to go dick around off campus. Flash and Katie seemed determined to wait for you. They always did. It was why their faces scrunched up in confusion when you turned back around. 

“You sure you don’t wanna go to the nurse?” You kept your tone and face soft to avoid setting him off. “Might wanna put an icepack on your cheek.”

Peter looked like he was about to say something, but then decided not to with a shake of his head. 

“I'll be fine. You shouldn’t be seen talking to me anyway.” It stung and you hoped that it at least made him feel better. “See ya around or whatever.”

You swallowed a million things you wanted to say as you watched him collect his discarded backpack from the cement. The dig did what he’d hoped. To remind you that you had shitty friends that beat him up or made faces when you talked to people that weren’t deemed cool enough. 

Peter was already stalking off towards the school before you could respond. Fuck it. With a scoff, you decided to go after him. 

“Hold on a second!” You called out, jogging to catch up until you were hurrying beside him. “First of all, I talk to whoever I want. Second of all, I’m trying to make sure you’re okay after getting pummeled into the ground.”

“I’m not your problem. You should go be with your friends,” Peter shot back, head staring straight ahead in the hopes that he didn’t have to look at you. He hated looking at you now.

“Well I'm not. I'm right here talking to you.”

“So are you here to make yourself feel good? Trying to be all friendly and help me out so, at the end of the day, you can tell yourself that you’re not like them?” He let out a scoff, shouldering open the door without holding it for you but you managed to slip right in behind him. 

Those words made your face scrunch up in offense but you swallow it down. You have to. A part of him is right. Not because you were doing this to make yourself feel better but because you did tell yourself that. 

“Hey-”

Peter kept going without a glance in your direction. “I’m fine. Would hate to harm your important reputation.” His pace didn’t slow in the hope that he could leave you far, far behind. 

“Can you just stop for a second?” You reached out, hand hooking around his arm in the hopes that he would just listen. You were surprised when he actually slowed to a stop without turning around. A muscle in your jaw ticked at the sight of the back of his head, silence hanging in the air as you collected yourself. 

“I’m not doing this to make myself feel better,” you said tensely, dropping your voice to keep anyone wandering the halls from overhearing your conversation. It had nothing to do with not wanting to be seen with him. You’d never cared about that. You just didn’t need people to know you chased after him because he refused to speak to you. 

Maybe that was a shallow thought. You did have some semblance for your reputation. Thoughts like those had been ingrained in you. 

“I’m doing this because I care and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

It’s clear that he didn’t really have a response to that, the frown on his face said it all. Peter looked down at your hand on his arm, but didn’t make a move to yank away. 

“If you actually cared you would have talked to me all this time,” Peter muttered under his breath. His bitter attitude just made you throw up your free hand in exasperation. 

“I have tried to talk to you,” you reminded him, a sharpness in your voice and the grip on his arm forgotten. “You’re the one that will barely look at me or say more than a word without bolting.”

It wasn’t like you just decided you were too cool during freshman year and threw him to the curb. 

“Why would you want to be seen with me anyway?” Peter mutters, clearly agitated and a little annoyed. He pulled his arm away from you to shove his hands into his back pockets. 

You didn’t reach out to touch him again, instead letting your arms fall to your side. This time when you looked away and pressed your lips together, he actually looked at you. 

“I don’t care about that stuff,” you said quietly, face screwed up in hurt. “I don’t care about what they say because I think it’s all stupid.”

You wanted to say that you cared about him. That you never stopped caring about him. 

Peter narrowed his eyes at you before letting out a scoff. Sure, maybe a part of him wanted to believe it but he wouldn’t let himself be hurt by you again. Not when it had always been you and him against the world. Then, the start of high school filled your schedule with things that weren’t just him.

You were busy Monday through Friday from after school until six at night- and if there was a football game, then you were gone until almost midnight. He didn’t go to the games to watch you cheer and he certainly did not go to the after parties you invited him to. Newer and cooler classmates asked you to sit with them at lunch. He turned that down too and opted to spend that time in the darkroom. There were only a few times that you forgot about your plans with him only to call later that day and apologize religiously. It didn’t matter, after the first time, he avoided you for a week. 

Then the next week. 

Then the next.

He spent the entire ninth grade dodging you. 

And then all of tenth grade so far doing the same thing. 

“So you don’t care about what other people think?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s a load of bullshit. Isn’t that what you’re all about? Being liked? Being friends with the right people?”

That hurt. That hurt so badly you had to step back and you really couldn’t seem to pull your eyes away from the floor. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, willing your mouth to move and disagree with him. 

But you kinda deserved it.

“Right, sorry,” you breathed out after a long moment. The tight lipped smile you gave him barely even resembled a smile from how forced it was. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Whatever.” He was already turning around and slipping down the hall before you had finished speaking.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

In Love, in War Pt. 1 | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary | She (the reader) comes from a wealthy family in Birmingham, England and he (Thomas Shelby) comes from a family of no-good troublemakers in Small Heath. Their worlds finally collide when Thomas lands himself in the triage tent of a nearby hospital camp during the battle of the Somme with a neck wound. Past traumas and heavy-handed words open old wounds, and yet, they always find their way back to Birmingham.

Warnings | Blood, gore, mentions of sex (not yet explicit), war, death, and out-dated language ("Gypsies").

Hey- Pixies 🎶

Bodysnatchers- Radiohead 🎵

Word count: 1812k

Not proofread- my b, folks!

..............................................................................................................

Yes, she knew of the Shelbys, who didn’t? She just didn’t really care. She kept her life away from the dark underbelly of Birmingham, and more focused on the bright future in front of her. She was born into a good family with sterling silver spoons in their tea set and barbs strung into their pearls. She was destined for great things, good houses, and well-groomed men with boring Christian names. That was until the beginning of the Great War and most of those men died in the pits of France and Germany. She was engaged once too, to one of those men. 

His name was Frances Gild Jr. and he loved her. He was the heir to a banking fortune with a passion for the arts. He was beyond beautiful with short blonde ringlets and blue eyes. Her daddy loved him and blessed the union when Francis asked for her hand, sliding a large diamond engagement ring onto her finger. That was two months before Britain joined the war. They were still naive enough to sneak behind the kitchen into the distant sheds to have their way with one another. They were young and prudent so their kisses were prideful and polite. Their love-making was brief and unexceptional, legs splayed in the air and fine silk ripped by old sawdust. When the war began, Francis was 20, two years her senior and assumed he was ready for war because his daddy was a Lieutenant. 

There was no time for a wedding, at least that’s what Francis said as he rushed to the front. To wait for his return and to do her part in the war effort, she trained as a nurse. Was she a good nurse? Not particularly. She often fainted from the sight of blood which brought discomfort simply from her period much less an amputated appendage. But she learned how to cope, mostly. The smell of blood was the hardest to ignore. It seemed to never wash out as much as she scrubbed beneath the beds of her nails and behind her ears, the smell was a constant companion. 

It took her a couple of months to complete the basic training course but soon after she was sent to a hospital in London to work on more serious injuries before going directly into the field. She was allowed to go home on the weekends to visit her parents in Birmingham’s wealthier neighborhoods. The job was hard and it didn’t pay well but it afforded her a bit of peace in the whole ordeal, knowing that she was helping English soldiers in some small way. She felt like she could reach Frances through these patients who came in for breaks and fractures, not gunshots or paranoia. It was during one of these long night shifts that she received the telegram postmarked from Frances Gild. She opened the envelope without concern, having received one a week since the beginning of April. That is the night she learned that Francis Gild jr. had died somewhere on the western front, spoiling in mud like old fruit. She’d overlooked the postage from Birmingham, assuming it was just another letter from her fiance, which it wasn’t. It bore his death in plain script, emotionless and frigid. 

“FRANCIS DEAD STOP KILLED IN ACTION STOP WILL SEND NEWS STOP GOD BLESS STOP.” 

She dropped the yellow paper on the clean linoleum floor and felt her jaw fall open in a shocked gasp. Nurses on the night shift rushed to quiet her or comfort her. She paled and clutched the sharp edge of the desk for support. 

“It will be ok.” Voices whispered in her ear. 

“You poor soul.” Others crossed themselves like preventing a bad curse, a hex. A dead fiance disease that carries onto young well-meaning women in close proximity; more always follow the first. 

Francis was the first for her. He was many of her firsts. In a cab back to Birmingham, she thought of the first time they had made-love. He’d finished in a matter of minutes, panting against her chest like a puppy. His eyes bore into her with more passion than his thrusts. He was her first kiss, stolen after dinner behind the china cabinet when the adults had gone through to tea and brandy. That man was dead now, and she imagined his beautiful blue eyes closed forever under the casket’s heavy lid, buried somewhere in his family’s mausoleum outside Birmingham. And what did this leave her? Not a widow, and yet, she believed in a way, she was. 

She was excused from service for three months, allotting her the same mourning period as a widow though she officially lacked the title. She was nearly two years into her training when Francis died and the war waged on in countries that seemed so far away from her house on Claremont. When she was called back to service, she went with a black armband and her light blue uniform. She was dispatched to France and left right away with a British medical unit, relieving the unit stationed at the Somme. During her months of mourning, she had avoided newspapers and prints about the war in France, so the Somme meant nothing to her. They were escorted in large covered trucks with heavy trunks of supplies and rations. Americans followed behind, whistling after the young nurses like the warning knell of a whizbang. 

The medical camp was a shock for her in sight, smell, and noise. Distant bombing and gunfire rang in her ears and vibrated the very pit of her soul. Blood and the threat of blood was as thick as the mud encircling the camp. She thought back to the sterling silver spoons of her youth as she waded through the fecal matter and mud to the office tent. She was assigned to triage. 

“Just assess the situation. Write down the serious injuries, treat the basics, and set those aside who will live for the next few hours. Use your judgment, girls.” The head nurse directed them, holding the girl back as the others hurried to the triage tent. “Word of advice?” The head nurse pursed her lips. 

“Yes, ma’am?” The girl responded. 

“Take off the armband, you’ll look like the Angel of Death out there.” 

She removed the armband strapped around her arm as she moved to the triage tent. Soldiers screamed and pleaded for assistance while others lay dying and without the strength to speak. She followed the movements of the other nurses, checking the bodies and scrambling for pencils and paper dotting with blood and mud. 

“Please help me!” One boy cried and grabbed her sleeve. She recorded his injuries and sent him to the hospital tent. 

“You’ll be fine.” She called after him as he disappeared through the thick canvas drapes. 

She marked down the men she saw who could not be saved and passed them along with a sorrowful shake of her head. The men she saw passed her by in blurs of colors and sounds like silent films in fast motion, a puppet book whose pages flip so fast that a story appears between them. 

The second week she was moved to the hospital tent which doubled as the operation theater. She was not formally trained in surgery but had picked it up in the months of study and shadowing she managed to procure in London. As long as her patients didn’t die, the doctors were willing to let nurses take over due to the lack of helpful hands and skill. Her long habit-like nurse’s cap was pinned up to her head to prevent the veil from falling into open wounds. She washed her hands as another patient was carried into the tent.  

“God dammit.” One boy cursed loudly, clutching his neck with a dirty palm. She scanned his body for further damage and accessed the neck wound. 

“Large cut from metal shrapnel. Some kind of grenade.” A second nurse who had followed the stretcher with the patient. 

“Thank you, Mandy.” She nodded to the nurse. “Sir, I need you to move your hand from the cut.” She spoke loudly over the man’s curses.

“Fuck that. I’m gonna bleed out.” He growled through his heaving breaths. 

“You’ll bleed out if you don’t move your bloody hand.” She retorted, her hand full of gauze. “I’ll pack the wound so that I can look at it, ok?” 

“Fuck me!” He yelled at the tent’s ceiling and reluctantly moved his hand. Blood spurted out from his neck before she could clamp the clean gauze down on the agitated wound.

“Ok, ok.” She soothed, frantically applying pressure and wiping the area with strong alcohol. “Mandy, hold this against the wound, I need to close it.” She ordered and switched with Mandy, rummaging through a cart of supplies with bloody hands. She removed a surgeon’s needle and thread for stitches. 

“She threaded the needle and pierced the skin around the wound with the needle, pulling the two sides of flesh together with quick movements. 

The soldier screamed and thrashed on the ground. 

“I need help over here!” She yelled over her shoulder. Two men ran over and held his arms down as she tried to finish quickly. 

“I’m sorry, sir!” She weaved the needle through one last time and tied it off. Pouring alcohol on the finished stitches, she caught her breath. “It’s done.” She gasped out and nodded to the men. They released the soldier who looked to be on the verge of unconsciousness. Mandy removed the bloody gauze and moved to the next patient.

“Give us some of that.” He panted and pointed weakly to the bottle of gin she’d been using to clean wounds. She handed it over and he took a strong swig of the horrible drink. 

“I hope,” he panted, “that I never have to see you again.” He handed back the bottle. 

“I wish the same, sir.” She nodded and stood. His hand shot out from his side and gripped her wrist with renewed strength. 

“What’s your name, nurse?” He tried to smirk. She noticed his large blue eyes as she told him. He loosened his grip on her wrist and gave a nod. 

“Thomas.” He swallowed. She paused for a moment, registering his clipt cocky accent. “Pleased to meet you.” He added when she said nothing. 

“You’ll be taken back to the infirmary to rest. Try not to move your neck because you may loosen the stitches. Don’t waste the stitches, Thomas.” She joked lightly. 

“Is that what you care about then?” He smiled. 

“What?” 

“The stitches.” 

“Yes, and you by extension. Your life is my responsibility but stitches cost money.” She laughed and stood again. 

“Good to know where we stand.” He called softly from the ground and she allowed herself to smile as she met the next group of patients.

...................

End part 1 :)

[loremaster]

CHAPTER 1 - Man Door Hand Nail Fur Door (Comic)

...aka the Zilara manifesto.

(tw: strangulation, suggestive themes) BOBA AU MASTERPOST: [link]

Yakou tells Yuma to go to the hotel and corral all the other detectives who have been sleeping soundly in the nice fancy rooms over there. Yuma, who got 3 hours of sleep on Yakou's creaky couch, says "Okay, sure thing, Dad." ((side note - wouldn't the train detectives have had rooms reserved at the hotel? Couldn't Yuma have had one of those?))

Instead of agreeing to meet up, they all send poor little Kokohead around the city doing side quests.

Pucci wants to know if Kanai Ward has any good symphonies; recordings of classical music are all well and good, but it's no substitute for the acoustics of a live concert hall. Closest thing Yuma can find is Aetheria Academy's chamber orchestra program. Musicians in Kanai Ward used to be part of a larger regional symphonic orchestra, but since Amaterasu locked off the city, they've had to resort to busking. Pucci seems disappointed, but resigns herself to checking out the high school girls' next concert anyway.

Aphex is cruisin' for a bruisin'. He spotted some suspicious movement in one of the districts on his radar (drug deals?), but every time he goes to check it out, he can't find out which people in the crowd are the suspicious ones. They must be afraid of Aphex's intimidating appearance, so Yuma goes in his stead to grill the people hanging around the square. Turns out they weren't dealing drugs, they were passing around anti-Amaterasu propaganda. They beg Yuma not to tell Aphex. Yuma goes back to the hotel to tell Aphex... who thinks anti-fascist action is cool, actually, so no need to do anything about those guys.

Melami wants to know about the local fashion scene, and is very curious about the dronebrellas she's seen around Kanai Ward. She sends Yuma to see what the big deal about them is, and once there, he gets roped into a long winding sales pitch for technology he can't afford. He relays as much of this as he can remember back to Melami, but once she hears they only come in one color, she decides she's not interested. What's the point if you can't customize it? Just get a regular umbrella. Or a rain coat. That's a much better way to show off your personality! Yuma tries not to scream about how much time he just wasted.

Zange shows Yuma a picture he took (with his mind) of a specific location in Kanai Ward, but can't quite remember where it was. Yuma has to go on a scavenger hunt to find the place that matches the picture and tell Zange how to get there. Zange assigns Yuma a numerical score based on how long it took him complete the quest (which is always too slow). This will be a repeatable quest/minigame with different locations every time.

As Yuma is about to leave the hotel, Zilch stops him. He offers a more formal introduction (since, you know, they didn't actually meet aboard the train) and volunteers (insists) to accompany the poor useless trainee as a senior detective, to show him how it's done.

Zilch has four animal companions with him at the moment: three caged mice and a dog named Bosch.

He doesn't seem to treat them very kindly, though. He isn't careful handling the mice's cage, and he orders Bosch around like one would speak to Alexa.

Anyway, Zilch and Yuma go look for the last remaining detective, Halara Nightmare. Canon ensues.

They run into The Boy and accept the quest to investigate the Nail Man murders. Halara needs some convincing.

At the church, Zilch makes a new friend, or so he thinks.

Zilch tactlessly asks the nun if her ears are natural or not, and starts bragging about how well his own surgery went. For the ears and tail, that is. The Nun doesn't like Zilch's attitude one bit. She watches him use his mice for spying and gets freaked out. The nun threatens to kill Zilch but he doesn't think she's serious.

Zilch says that he didn’t expect there to be a Metal Fox Church here, of all places. Yuma asks him to elaborate, and he says they’re a denomination that exists elsewhere in the world. The church near where he grew up was much larger and more spectacular than this one. The Metal Fox is a deity known for its fortitude and cunning, that offers protection from “hunters,” or persecution of any kind. Zilch doesn’t seem to believe in its teachings at all. #atheistpride

Meanwhile, the dog, Bosch, sniffs around and seems agitated by something. He can place the smells of all the church NPCs around the scene, but there's something else, too. Zilch barks the order - literally - for Bosch to track whichever scent doesn't belong, and the dog goes off on a solo mission.

Zilch has a plan to catch the Nail Man red-handed, but he won't tell what it is yet. He needs to prepare some stuff. So in the meantime, Yuma and Halara hold hands at several different crime scenes.

While Shinigami keeps blabbing about stripping detectives, Halara fucks off to who knows where and Yuma returns to the church to meet with Zilch. Zilch leads Yuma to the nearby woods and reveals his master plan to lure out the Nail Man by taking a doll with a slip of paper on it to the forest, and writing the name of someone for the Nail Man to kill...

"Yuma Kokohead," of course.

Yuma is terrified of being used as bait, but Zilch promises he'll intervene before the Nail Man can actually kill him, it'll be fine. So Yuma the pushover gets tied to a tree...

Halara unmasks the cloaked figure to reveal the priest of the Metal Fox Church, as they suspected. The priest begs for mercy - he was only trying to protect the people of Kanai Ward by purging it of corruption (and letting an innocent man take the fall for it)...!

Yuma thinks he might not have to rely on Shinigami's powers this time, but then...

Bosch leads them back to the church where Seth and his Peacekeepers are threatening Yakou.

And with that… it’s Mystery Labyrinth time!

Zilch’s voice is back to normal inside the Labyrinth. He seems oddly relaxed around Shinigami - because he insists this is not real and actually a dream. #atheist4lyfe

Yuma deduces that Zilch's name was written in the woods by the nun. She witnessed Zilch’s mistreatment of his animal companions and tactless assholery - but the thing that pushed it into murder territory was actually her recognizing the crest of the Alexander family on his fur coat. The full truth comes to light - the Alexanders have been known for generations as prolific trophy hunters. They “live alongside nature,” sure, but it’s a heavily controlled and subdued “nature.” This is antithetical to everything the Metal Fox Church stands for, so the nun, devout to her faith, believed Zilch to be an invasive threat to their way of life, and the peace of Kanai Ward.

And, since this revelation is taking place in the Mystery Labyrinth, of COURSE she gets a cool Mystery Phantom.

The gang also, like, solves the actual mystery.

Then once they find all the evidence they unmask the true culprit and his copycat, and the Priest's and Worshipper's souls are reaped.

Zilch is horrified. Somehow he didn't expect this was actually going to affect reality. Shinigami assures him that he won't remember any of the Mystery Labyrinth anyway, so...

Aaaaand eventually they do leave the Labyrinth. Halara is back to their usual steely exterior.

The masked priest in front of them drops to the floor dead. A scream from the church can be heard, presumably because the worshipper has just done the same. They go to check it out.

Then… Yomi shows up. He intimidates the group and doesn’t seem to deem any of the detectives worth his attention… until he notices Zilch.

Shinigami wonders if he recognized the Alexander family crest... but Yuma makes the connection and realizes Yomi might have had some sort of connection to the impostor on the train. That's pretty scary to think about. Was this the guy who tried to kill off all the Master Detectives coming into Kanai Ward? He seems dangerous...

Good thing Yomi has a devoted right hand to play around with. In front of everyone.

But anyway, regarding the Nail Man situation, Yomi decides to throw Seth under the bus, and punish him accordingly.

Bye Seth! Or should I say... Steve. :noes:

After his near-death experience, Zilch has a change of heart and decides he doesn't need a fur coat after all (seeing as it almost got him killed). Halara accepts it as payment for their services solving the case.... at least Zilch's half of it - Yuma still owes them a small fortune.

And with that the day is saved. Yuma plays a bit of baseball. Halara has a comfy new bed for their beloved strays. And Zilch... has a lot to think about.

-----

HELLO BOBA FANS!!! Thanks for your patience waiting for this update! I hope you can tell I've been working on this very hard (in between assignments for cartoon college)! The post didn't even fit all the images I made for this chapter - I'll be sure to post the other ones separately. At some point.

This chapter was an interesting challenge to write, trying to hammer down Zilch's character - how to make him distinct from his impersonator, but similar enough to lend credit to the impersonator. It took a while but I think I've finally landed on a solid backstory. I'll be posting more about him in the next installment of Boba AU - Zilch's Gumshoe Gabs. Then after that will be Chapter 2! Super excited to rub my gay little hands all over that one.

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, then please... I beg of you... draw me some Zilara ;_;

BOBA AU MASTERPOST: [link]

[pumpkinsy0]

Babs! We need a fic where older Ponyboy (maybe 18, gonna turn 18, let's just make him 18 for now) is in his senior spring break and honestly had no plans. Curly finds him, tells him he's going back to Haiti to see family and invites him along.

Nothing dramatic, just two excited boyfriends going to one of their home countries, Ponyboy gets to hear new languages, see new sights (he loves laying on the white beaches with Curly, listening to the ocean. They usually say nothing during that time--they don't need to) eat new food and of course meet more Shepard family. They're just as wild as the ones he knows in America, but there's such a sense of love and belonging in that home. They instantly love Ponyboy (there's just something about this white boy that ain't threatening.) They already call him names Ponyboy tells himself are just casual endearing ones. (No they've already adopted him, he's their token white boy) Pony wants to compare Haiti to his home, and it's sort of like that, but in it's own unique way.

Also, he learns of Curly's government name. The second he heard it, he felt Curly stiffen as an auntie came over and kissed both his cheeks and spoke about hos tall he was getting. Ponyboy could pratically feel the rage rattling around in Curly's body.

......Curly has a french name. That's why he hates it so much.

Curly gets another tattoo and re pierces his ear, and Ponyboy get his first tattoo, a small thing on his ankle or on his back (someplace he can hide it from Darry till he's 18 and can run away legally). Ponyboy and Curly walking in the streets at dusk to witness the prettiest sunset Ponyboy has ever seen, sitting on the rooftop balcony smoking weed.

It's the greatest memories they'll ever share with each other.

Pony gets into Harvard with his essay he wrote about his time as a 14 year old and how he grew to love himself with the help of a tough as nails greaser who took him to Haiti.

.......forget a fanfic where's the production team to make this movie?

its been so long since someone called me babs, i actually jumped a lil /pos /lh

idk y im getting more asks involving haitian shepards,,but im REVELING in it, im ABSOLUTELY eating this up like im at the last supper

AND THIS FITS SO WELL W ONE OF MY IDEAS!!!! I REMEMBER ONCE I SAID MAYBE CURLYS REAL NAME IS PIERRE AND HE HATES IT BC ITS SO OBVIOUSLY FRENCH COMPARED TO TIM AND ANGELAS NAME, ITS JUST LIKE

tim, 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓮, angela its even funnier bc i hc angela and curly as twins so its like, they whipped out this french ass name for one kid and looked at the other and just went “yea we’ll call her angela”, but i saved curlys entire life n just say his real name is christopher, i cant have my fav be plagued by the french COMPLETELY

(i also said that he hates it tim and angela would probably go “YO PIERRE U WANNA COME OUT HERE🤔🤔🗣️🔥” over and over)

and pony being adopted as the token white boy is SO real, ik they call him “blan” (if u dont know, “blan” is like, the haitian equivalent of gringo, best way i can explain it)

BUT IMAGINE ALL THE THINGS THEY CAN DO!!! they can get ready for kanaval,,,going to the waterfalls,,,,seeing curlys other family that also live in the more country side,,,they can teach pony dances,,,,they can even go into some caves!!!! they can get fresca,,,,get fruits from curlys cousins backyard,,,go on lil walks w curlys cousins to the store for, the possibilities, anon im gonna scream,,

they even have pics to never forget the memories!!! pony also has a scar bc of a lil mishap w a tap tap, but we dont talk about that❤️❤️

and as for curly getting his ears pierced and getting another tattoo ik he was getting looks and lectures from ppl but he did NOT care and honestly, go him

plus everyones speaking in kreyòl and barely knows a lick of english, curly was def the translator the whole time but thats ok, he thought pony looking confused was pretty cute n funny

i will never forget this, anon

HAITI MENTIONED RAHHH🇭🇹🇭🇹🇭🇹🌺🌺🌺🥥🥥🥥🥥

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Did reincarnated Mirabel go to school after being reincarnated?

I’ve been waiting to answer this, actually!

Technically, yes.

For a bit of a reminder, Encanto is a rural town stuck in the 1890s. School ended at sixteen. Because of Camilo’s birthday, 1950 (the year the film takes place) would be his last year, he would have finished school not long after Antonio’s birthday. Mirabel would have had one more year to go, had she not died.

(Before somebody comments they are only three months apart in age - Camilo was born in December 1934 and Mirabel was born in 1935. None of their birthdays are in that middle gap that would allow them to possible be put in the same year. They wouldn’t be in the same year. And a lot of the time boys and girls were separated anyways).

I digress, when Mirabel was reincarnated and kept basically the same age (she’s now sixteen), going back to school and finishing that year was an option for her. And, not wanting to deal with change and thinking school would bring back a sense of normality, Mirabel insisted she wanted to go back to school; possibly continue until she properly finished school. (Most, though not all, schools nowadays continued to seventeen/eighteen).

She started at a local high school in October 2021. And… she hated it.

It was very different to what she knew of school and far from her normal. The work was fine - she’s intelligent and a brilliant academic - it was the modernisation of school and the enforced social aspect she couldn’t handle. She didn’t like moving from class to class, she didn’t like being forced to work in groups and talk to other kids, she didn’t like using the new technology, etc. However, she didn’t think it made sense for her to not finish the year and get the qualifications at the end of it, so she stuck with it. But she was very miserable.

(This got worse with the release of Encanto in November. Not related to school, but her mental state really took a toll).

Parents’ evenings were always very interesting as Mirabel obviously doesn’t have parents. Dolores, Isabela and Luisa took it in turns for each class, rather than only one or all of them going. You can imagine how chaotic that was.

Mirabel sat her mock exams in January and achieved obnoxiously high marks, which impressed the teachers as they are always made to be harder than the real thing. To nobody’s surprise, she nailed her real exams a few months later. The others joked about how she was free of school. However… She was encouraged to stay on another year by her teachers to get higher qualifications to allow her to apply university, which is what she wanted to do.

She enjoyed her second year of modern school a little bit better. There isn’t much to note on. She was encouraged to stay and complete her final year, but she turned it down; having gotten the qualifications she needed and not caring enough about doing all “the fun-day senior nonsense”, as she put it.

From what I have researched, kids in Scottish schools have the option to leave each year after they turn sixteen/when they complete first exams and receive qualifications. So it’s perfectly legal.

(They were reincarnated in Scotland, in case you weren’t aware. Well, they were reincarnated in England but moved to Scotland. That’s different ask though).

She did apply and got a place at her chosen university, but is delaying it. Mainly due to anxiety. She’s Mirabel.

If anyone was interested in what exactly Mirabel got qualifications for:

Highers:

Classical Studies - A

English (Literature/Literacy) - B

History - A+

Mathematics - C+

Media Studies - A

Philosophy - A

RMPS (Religious, Moral and Philosophical Studies) - A+

Advanced Highers:

English (Literature/Literacy) - A

History - A+

RMPS (Religious, Moral and Philosophical Studies) - A+

Italics were her second year subjects.

[invisibleraven]

omg this new prompt list is SO GOOD.

I totally stopped at "exclaiming "because I love you," during an argument and then right under that prompt was rain kisses. So like TOGETHER! Fighting in the rain. Gah I needs it!

I'd love Juke but I know that's not your fav so Rukebox would be my second choice followed closely by maybe hmmm, Luke/Reggie. I feel like it's Luke or Julie doing the dramatic exclaiming and I'm not a fan of Rulie (sorry)

You ship what you want, and I'll ship what I want, it's all cool. Besides we can always agree on the best triad formation of Julie/Luke/Reggie, so no worries.

Reggie was good at pretending.

He pretended he had a loving family and supportive parents when it was the complete opposite. He pretended that his low grades that threatened to make him senior year didn't bother him. He pretended to be cool with the band doing Christmas every year when he went home to light his tiny menorah.

And most of all, he pretended he wasn't hopelessly in love with Luke and Julie.

He had gotten pretty good at it, even though his heart ached everytime he looked at them, saw them making heart eyes and singing love songs at one another. Even if they were perfect for one another, that didn't make his feelings fade any.

He missed sharing a mic or a notebook with Luke. Painting his nails or discussing country music with Julie. Sure they did still did those things, but it didn't feel the same-not with the spectre of their partner hanging over him. He felt like a third wheel, and that was a feeling he hated.

He would be fine if he could one, or both of them as his loves, but he didn't think there was any way forward with that. His luck wasn't that good.

Especially now, given the three of them were trapped in the studio waiting for a rain storm to pass so they could head to their respective homes. If the rain and wind wasn't so violent Reggie would have hopped on his bike, but he didn't want to risk wiping out so he stayed put.

"Yo Reg do you wanna help on the bridge for Electric Heart?" Luke asked.

"I think you both have it in hand," Reggie replied, but the smile on his face was strained, his eyes not as bright as they usually were.

"How about the melody to Untamed Rhapsody?" Julie suggested.

"I'm good," Reggie said, idly strumming his bass, not looking up to see their expressions.

"Why are you such a grouch today?" Luke snarked.

"Yeah, what happened to our sunshiney boy?" Julie asked.

It was the our that broke him-it stung so much to have it dangled in front of him by the very people he wanted to mean it.

"Maybe I don't wanna be sunshiney!" he shouted. "Maybe sometimes I'm a storm cloud, or a stiff breeze, or a fucking tornado. If you knew me, you'd know that!"

"Reggie..." Luke said, standing, and bringing Julie with him.

"No!" He exclaimed, scooting backwards. "I am so sick of pretending to be okay, and neither of you notice. None of you do. None of you even care!"

With that he stormed out, heedless of the rain, just marching off in the direction of Silver Lake, too mad to stop for his bike, or grab his jacket. He was too fuming mad to care about the raindrops dripping into his eyes, as he blinked them away with his tears. He could care less about his soaked clothes, all he cared about was getting away.

"Reggie!" Luke called, catching up, holding his arm fast.

"What?"

"How could you ever think we don't care about you?" he asked.

"We know when you put up a front Reggie," Julie said, pushing her water logged curls away from her face. "We figured when you were ready to talk to us, you would-we didn't want to push."

"How? Why?" Reggie asked.

"Because I love you!" Luke shouted. "We love you!"

"And before you argue or front, we don't mean as friends," Julie stated firmly. "We've both been in love with you since almost as long as we've been together, but we weren't sure how you felt."

"Then I saw your song...the one about a heart pulled in two directions. Then I knew," Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's such a good song Reg."

"It's nothing-" Reggie said, but was cut off as both Luke and Julie gathered him into their arms.

"Never doubt yourself," Julie admonished. "You are talented, and wonderful, and so so handsome."

"How could we not love you?" Luke asked, a faint laugh in his voice.

"I love you both too," Reggie broke down, though this time the tears were happy, relieved, and made even the rain feel like nothing.

Julie was the first to kiss a tear away, then Luke, making Reggie giggle as they pecked each of his freckles, the corners of his eyes, the tip of his nose, the hinge of his jaw.

But he was the one who gripped Luke's face, pulling him in for a real kiss, a little hard, a little bit too much tongue, and perfect all the same. Then he kissed Julie whose kiss was sweeter, with a hint of teeth, and surpassed his every imagining.

Luke pulled Julie into a kiss then-but this time Reggie didn't feel jealousy or heartbroken. He felt glad to see the loves of his life there with them, sharing the love between them all.

"Can we go back inside now?" he asked. "I'm soaked through and we're all going to get pneumonia at this rate."

"Can't risk that, we have to plan our first date," Luke said with a grin, pulling them back towards the studio.

It was Julie who directed them towards the house where she had changes of clothes for them stashed away, and warm horchata to drink. Plus she had to give her father the chance to gloat over knowing all along.

Reggie didn't have to pretend to smile at that-his grin was one hundred percent genuine, as was every smile that followed it for the rest of his life.

[herespaaa]

Senior Nail Care and Wellness Services | HereSpa

Discover rejuvenating wellness services including senior nail care, complete nail trims, and restorative pedicures at HereSpa. Pamper yourself with our specialized treatments tailored for seniors.

[liuvli]

Critical Darling

pairing: eddie munson x fem!goth!reader

summary: It's your senior year. You're a "goth freak" and you definitely stand out, but it doesn't bother you. You're proud of who you are, and nobody is going to change that. Not even the person that motivated you to be so proud in the first place. Eddie "The Freak" Munson.  

warnings: she/her pronouns, slow burn, cursing, alcohol, smoking, eventual smut, minor use of y/n, slightly bitchy reader, work in progress

tags: first meetings, pov second person, s4 doesn’t happen, goth!reader, tradgoth!reader, fluff, angst, eddie & chrissy friendship, reader is a little fruity

all fic chapters & ao3 link 

chapter wc: 4.5k

Chapter Two: Pens and Picks

A cloud of light grey smoke filled the air as you exhaled the drag you had taken of Kace’s cigarette. You absentmindedly waved your gloved hand in the air as you sluggishly tried to disperse the cloud, a half-assed attempt at making sure none of the smoke would be seen seeping through the cracks in the bleachers. Your eyes traveled through one of the gaps that were eye-level with you from where you were sitting on the gymnasium floor, your back leaned against the brick wall behind you, and you could see a group of boys stumbling around with a basketball, blocking each other as their sneakers made horrific squeaks against the floor. 

Not really caring about a group of sweaty 17 to 18-year-old boys, you slowly dragged your eyes away to turn your attention back to Kace who was laying down on the floor, head resting on a rolled up gym-mat.

“A Halloween party?” kissing your teeth, you wait for a response as you fiddle with your hands in your lap, your long painted-black nails clacking together as you did. Kace turned his head to the side to face yours, one of his earrings dangling down onto his cheek as he brushed it away.

“Yeah! Make it the first freak party of the school year. And it’s fitting, seeing as it’s Halloween. Yeah, yeah?” The boy’s white toothy grin appeared as he enthusiastically proposed the idea to you.

It’s not like you had an issue with parties or anything, and you had definitely hosted one or two, but you were still an academic try-hard at times, and it was also your last year at Hawkins High. You didn’t want to make any choices or do anything that could risk you not getting that diploma at the end of the school year, and saying a final “fuck you” to principal Higgins as you walk off that stage, never having to see the miserable old bastard ever again. There was a lot on the line, truly.

“Tch, I dunno, man. I need to book my ideas up this year. Can’t give in to distractions or waste any time,” your flat, fully-serious tone made Kace’s grin drop, a dull, somewhat-bored expression playing on his pale face.

“Blah, blah, blah. I get it, I do! You wanna get the fuuuck out of this Hell-hole, I do too! But it’s only a single party, love, it won’t hurt your academic streak of straight A’s too much. Unless, of course, you take some complete mind-fuck of a drug at the party and scramble your brains for the rest of your life,” you both blankly stared at each other, “just don’t do that and you’re set.” Unsure of whether or not he was being serious, you allow yourself to snort at his comment, leaning forward to pluck the cigarette between his index and middle fingers out of his grasp. You hold the stick up to your lips, taking a deep drag in, holding it in your system for a couple of beats before slowly exhaling.

It is Halloween… and the freaks hadn’t had a good party in months, as the summer season was mostly busied with parties held by the “other” groups at Hawkins. Jocks, cheer squad, party-goers, the band freaks, for some reason. But now that October had finally rolled around, it was finally back to being the freak season. Late, private parties in the cold fall and winter season, hosted by the different “freak-ish” cults at Hawkins High while all the prissy popular groups stayed bundled up inside with their… lovers, or something. You didn’t quite, but you knew it couldn't have been as good as the parties the freaks held in the cold seasons.

Whilst deep in thought, you hadn’t noticed that you had kept the cigarette held up to your lips, but not taking a drag, just keeping it there without really thinking. Kace noticing this is what eventually snapped you out of your thought.

“You gonna actually smoke that or just make out with it? Because if so, give it here instead.” You rolled your eyes at the idiotic comment, leaning forward as you gently placed the filter-end of the nearly finished cigarette between Kace’s lips, the boy nodding at you as you did so.

“Alright. Let’s do it. Your house or mine?” Kace sat up as you agreed to his proposal, clapping his hands together like an overjoyed child, his rings clanking together as he did so. 

Despite his appearance; the heavy, dark makeup, the matching leather jeans and jacket with varied different shirts every day, the silver jewelry he never failed to crowd his outfits with, and his spiked, maroon, almost-black hair, he had always been the most upbeat, cheerful person you knew, and he had never once failed to make you smile. Except for that one phase in middle school where he went full anti-social freak, “I hate my mom” type thing. Thank God it was short-lived.

The lanky boy crouched as he took one last drag of the cigarette, dropping it on the floor and stomping it out as he finished it.

“I’d say your house because, one, it’s bigger, and, two, I don’t know if my parents have any plans to leave the house for long enough on Halloween night or any day around the 31st. But, what about your sister? I'm willing to bet you don’t want your sister in the house if you’re planning on hosting a party there, right? Am I right?” Groaning, you rolled your head back as you rubbed your palms together, the lace of your elbow-length, fingerless gloves rubbing together. It didn’t take long for you to think of a solution.

“She’s 15. She’ll wanna go stay round her friend’s house, or something. If she doesn’t already have plans to do so, which I’m willing to bet on, I can easily convince her. Or just bribe her, either work.” You raised your eyebrows at the simple solution, and after thinking over it in his own head, Kace nodded, bobbing his head up and down with a hyped grin on his face. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something else, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Through the bleachers, you could hear the basketball players running toward the locker rooms to change, and Kace groaned.

“Christ, I’ve got math next. Wish me luck, love.” The raven-haired boy leaned down from where he was standing, slouching slightly to avoid hitting his head off the bleachers, as he planted pecks on both of your cheeks, your lips ghosting the action to do the same to his. As he leaned back up, you slipped your fingers into his front pocket and pulled out a fresh cigarette, holding it up to him as you immediately began to light it. He rolled his eyes.

“Using me for my cigs, you wound me.” You clicked the lighter shut and stuffed it back into your pocket as you let the cigarette sit between the corner of your lips.

“Payment, for my time and attention,” you smirked up at the boy as he reciprocated the expression, waving goodbye as he ducked under the framework of the bleachers, leaving your sight in just a small second.

You were now sat alone leaning against the wall under the bleachers in a now-empty gymnasium, grey clouds of smoke wafting through the air as you took drags of the cigarette you had stolen from your friend. 

Your friendship with Kace had always been perfect. Completely platonic, grew up like siblings, and you both had an undying trust for each other. There had never been any sort of issue between the two of you, and although there were times when you barely saw each other due to different friend groups or just not even sharing classes, you still pulled through all the way to senior year. 

...

Senior year.

It was finally your senior year, and you just had to get through it, and then your time at Hawkins High would finally be over. No more shitty cliques, no more shitty grades, no more shitty people. Your first year at Hawkins High was mediocre; not too bad, but not really eventful. Your sophomore is when it started to go downhill, as you were severely lacking in the friends and personality departments. That one day you got jumped by those shitty cheer squad girls was probably the most memorable. Assholes. Who the fuck sprays PERFUME in someone's eyes? Couldn’t that, like, make them go blind, or some shit? Fuck them, they’ll end up graduating and being fucking miserable when their cliques dissolve. Stupid, fucking-

“Shit-” Your eyes snapped open as you simultaneously snapped out of your thoughts, immediately looking over to the source of the sound. 

...

...

Eddie Munson?

The metal head was frozen in place, posed like one of those creatures in a “bigfoot sighting” photograph, his body looking as if he was frozen mid-step. The silver chain on his hip dangled as he failed at remaining completely still as if staying still would mean you wouldn’t see him. 

Still frozen, you took the chance to look the boy up and down. A sleeveless denim vest layered over a leather jacket Kace would be envious of and an Iron Maiden tee, blue, ripped jeans, and white high-tops. Not really your style, but not the worst you’ve seen, especially at a stuck-up school like Hawkins. As your eyes traveled upwards, you noticed how frizzed and knotted Eddie’s hair was, more than usual, as if he had been running from something, or someone, as the small amount of sweat on his forehead meant his bangs were damp against it. His cheek was also red and somewhat bloodied, a dark, small cut on the corner of his bottom lip catching your eye. He reeked of distant sweat, weed, and cheap cologne. Surprisingly, not anything like blood from the satanic, sacrificial rituals he was rumored to take part in. Or, more specifically, take control of. Rumors, am I right?

Tired of him standing dead-still like an opossum playing dead, you decided to break the silence, taking a drag of the lit cigarette between your fingers.

“What do you think I am, a fucking t-rex?” Although mostly hidden by his dark, sticky bangs, you noticed his brows knit together in confusion at the comment, his stance releasing a small amount of tension as you finally spoke.

“Wh-what? Why would you-” You roll your eyes.

“You’re standing there frozen as if I won’t see you or some shit if you don’t move a muscle, like a t-rex. You don’t know your dinosaur facts or some shit?” For some reason, the sound of those words leaving your mouth caused you to chuckle at yourself. You took a drag of the cigarette, exhaling the smoke out of your nostrils. 

The blood, the tousled hair, the whole out-of-breath thing; he was definitely being chased by someone. Or, some people. You wouldn’t normally allow fellow freaks to be harassed by some stuck-up jocks, especially if they were actually throwing punches at one another, but it was a Thursday morning, and you didn’t really feel like having your hide-out being discovered finally by a group of amped-up assholes looking for a fight. 

Just as you were trying to come to a decision, the sound of the gymnasium doors swinging open and a voice shouting out to the freak just stood a few meters in front of you was your call to make up your mind.

“Get lost, Munson. I don’t need your shit disturbing my peace. Take the circus’ monkeys with you too, if you don’t mind.” Ash fell from the end of your cigarette as you waved your hand towards the out-of-breath brunette, signaling him to leave. He groaned as he flipped you off, maneuvering his head from under the bleachers to check if the coast was clear before setting off. It, in fact, was not, as you peeked through a gap in the seats and spotted the group of boys chasing after Munson out of the gymnasium doors onto the field. You snorted at the almost comedic-looking display.

~

The remainder of the school day passed by smoothly and quickly as you spent lunch with your clique and Kace, opted out of 5th-period Chemistry to hang out with one of the girls from your group in the bathroom, and happily attended your last period art class, the teacher, Miss. Coeur, always being a favorite of yours. 

When you finally were allowed to leave school at the end of the day, you arrived home and were greeted by your younger sister, April, who was sitting on the couch flicking through tv channels. You placed your bag on the dining table, taking a seat next to the blonde girl on the couch. Sensing something was off, you looked up at the clock on the wall next to the kitchen door. 3:34 pm. Strange.

“How come you’re home before me? You normally take, like, 50 minutes to walk home from school despite it only being a 30-minute walk.” In the appropriate fashion of a true 15-year-old girl, April rolled her eyes, not bothering to look your way.

“My class got sent home early because some kid made the teacher cry and she walked out. She’ll probably end up quitting. ‘S a shame, I liked her,” she mumbled out, continuing to flick endlessly through the channels on the tv. Clearly, nothing to her liking was on.

You snorted, replying, “You got problems, man. That kid must’ve been a real asshole to make the teacher cry. Freshmen… What’d the kid even do? Or say.” She shrugged, finally glancing in your direction as you place the tv remote on the armrest, letting a show quietly play in the background. 

“‘Not sure, I wasn’t really paying attention, honestly. It was that Brad guy again, as usual. He’s funny, though, I’ll give him that.” As she spoke, you perked your eyebrows up, a smug smile spreading across your lips. April looked up at you with pure confusion written on her face before something clicked and she grimaced.

“No- no, do not. Don’t even go there.” 

“You got a… cruuush? A tiny, weeny crush, maybe? Huh, Apricot?” You wiggled your painted-on eyebrows before you could react to the couch cushion being tossed your way. At the impact, your bangs flew out of your face and you widened your eyes in fake shock.

“I told you to not call me that! And ew, gross, Brad is gross! I do have standards, actually.” You chuckled.

“Okay, okay. You totally don’t like Brad. I get you. So sorry, Apricot.” April huffed as she went to grab the cushion she was leaning on to fling at you but you beat her to it as you deflected hers with the one she had thrown just moments before. 

April’s blonde parted bangs swayed as she shook her head, readying herself as she declared war, “You’re so dead.” You swallowed, faking a scared gulp as the girl grinned across at you, her hands gripping onto another cushion.

~

The plate you were holding clattered against another as you slotted it into one of the gaps on the drying rack, grabbing a cup to clean as you did so. After another 5 minutes, the dishes had been done, April was up in her room sleeping (hopefully), it was dark out as the clock struck 10:30 pm, and you were just about ready to head upstairs to bed too. You dried your hands off by shaking them as you walked through into the living room, grabbing your lace gloves from the dining table as you made your way upstairs, checking that the front door was locked as you passed it.

After a long shower, spent mostly cleaning the black, thick makeup off of your face and shampooing copious amounts of hairspray out of your hair, you were finally ready to sleep. Homework for classes you cared about was completed, your alarm clock was set, and you had managed to get a proper meal into your diet for once, cooking for both you and your sister.

Your bed was cold as you climbed into it, the window being open right next to it as the obvious cause, and you shivered as your rubbed your legs together hoping to warm up. Finally, you began dipping in and out of consciousness as your eyelids grew heavy. And, as always, just like clockwork for the past however many years, that itch was in the back of your mind as you drifted into a deep sleep. 

~

The silver rings on your fingers glinted in the morning October sunlight that shone through the classroom window as you fidgeted with them, waiting for your 4th class of the day, English, to start. As students began to pile in, you silently watched from your seat at the back of the classroom, not having anyone in that class to talk to as none of your group had managed to join you this year. It was fine with you, though, because you weren’t bad at English; you knew how to do the work, and reading and literature, in general, was something you had always enjoyed. Being alone in a class you actually liked wasn’t an issue for you.

After only a few short minutes, it seemed as if everyone had arrived, Mrs. O’Donnell stepped towards the door to close it but as she did, an arm stuck itself through the small gap, getting trapped due to the older woman not realizing it until the very last second. The door swung open as a familiar face pushed his way through, and O’Donnell crossed her arms in disappointment as she looked at the boy.

“Apologies, ma’am.” The brunette’s untamed curls bounced as he dipped his head, trying to avoid O’Donnell’s killer glare.

For whatever reason, up until now, you hadn’t realized Eddie “The Freak” Munson was in the same class as you, despite the fact that it had been an entire month since school started. He wasn’t hard to miss, as it wasn’t unusual for him to be making some sort of scene wherever he went, something you found yourself rolling your eyes at regularly. Standing on tables in the cafeteria, screaming in the halls to his little nerd clique about whatever, and arguing with hall monitors about being “late” to class (he was, in fact, just completely skipping his lessons, and getting caught whilst doing so). The obnoxious metalhead had made a name for himself as the freak of the school, but you never found yourself grouping him in with the other “freak-ish” cliques you were a part of. He was different, and in your mind, made shit hard for himself. 

When he bee-lined over to the desk behind you, his head still dipped as he did so, you knitted your brows together as you wondered how you seriously hadn’t noticed him in your class until now. It wasn’t like he kept a low profile or attended classes on time. Christ, he sat directly behind you, for fuck’s sake. You weren’t that oblivious, were y-

“Psst, Patricia Morrison.” Two fingers tapped your right shoulder as the voice piped up, snapping you out of your thought. You turned around at the disturbance, a mixture of confusion and annoyance plastering your face as you locked eyes with the boy behind you who was leaning over his desk to bring his face close to yours. Why Mrs. O’Donnell wasn’t taking notice of this, you had no idea.

“Why-” As you went to question the name he had called you, the name of a bassist in a band you knew Kace liked, Eddie brought his finger up to your face, just ghosting your lips as he shushed you.

“You got a pen I can use? I forgot my shit in my locker,” you started to turn your body so you could rummage through your pencil case but halted as he spoke again, “oh, and thank you so much for helping me out yesterday, by the way. Got my shit rocked because you basically told me to get lost rather than letting me hide out in my smoke spot.” With unfiltered annoyance and your face now, you kissed your teeth at the last comment, squinting your eyes at him.

“It’s not your ‘smoke spot’, it’s the space under the bleachers, fuck head. You got some ownership over it like a dog that’s pissed on a fire hydrant or something?” you snorted, grabbing a pen from your desk.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.” Rolling your eyes into the back of your head, you quickly turned in your seat as you heard Mrs. O’Donnell clear her throat, her attention on both of you and Eddie as your quiet bickering finally caught her attention.

“Got something you two need to say? Share it with the class, maybe?” Her drawn-on eyebrows were high and arched as she expectantly tapped her shoe against the floor, half of the class's attention turning to you and the boy behind you. You shuffled in your seat uncomfortably as you took notice of all the eyes on you.

“Sorry, ma’am. Munson was just asking for a pen.” The older woman turned her nose up at you, a subtle gesture to show that she was accepting of your excuse, her eyes lingering on you for a second as she turned her attention back to the class. As everyone turned back around in their seats, all of the tension in your body left simultaneously. 

Rummaging through your pencil case, you finally pulled a pen out as you twisted your arm around to place it on the corner of Eddie’s desk. With your head turned slightly and your voice quiet, you ordered, “Return the pen after class, or I’ll hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands.” He snickered. 

“Will do. Forever grateful, doll.” The nickname made you shiver as you grimaced in disgust, tuning back into Mrs. O’Donnell’s rambling as you tried to push the horrid thought that was Eddie Munson to the back of your head.

Without any other disturbances, the class ended almost as soon as it started, and everyone rushed to push their way out through the small door at once, wanting to get to lunch sooner than usual as it was Friday, and everyone seemed to act more rushed to finish classes the closer the weekend got. 

As you were packing your things away, not bothered by the allure of lunch finally arriving, your eyes widened as you remembered the pen you had sworn to get from Eddie. But as you turned to claim your pen back, the boy seemed to already be long gone, no trace left of him in sight. That was, however, except for a red guitar pick that he had managed to forget on his desk. 

All throughout the duration of the class, you had to refrain from turning around in your seat and (somehow) killing him with the small piece of plastic he had been non-stop flicking against the edge of the wooden table. It seemed that, in the rush to get to lunch as quick as possible, he had forgotten the tiny plastic pick. Without another thought, you picked it up, tucking it in the small pocket of your black dress, walking out of class as you avoided eye contact with O’Donnell, who was staring you down for whatever reason.

You slid into the seat next to Kace as you finally made your way to the cafeteria, the boy’s numerous bracelets and chains jingling as he waved his arms in excitement.

“My love! Oh, my dearest girl, I’ve missed you today. I hate how Friday is the one day we don’t have a single class together. I’m blaming it on the Gods.” Kace turned his body to fully face you as you brushed your combed-back hair out of your face, pulling a bag of chips out of your bag as the boy held his hand out. You placed a few of the salted chips into the palm of his hand as your eyes drifted across the cafeteria but not really looking at anything specific. Apart from Eddie Munson who was, once again, causing a scene, and his loud shouting muffled to quiet rambling due to his position on the opposite side of the cafeteria to you.

“Munson stole my pen.” Crunching loudly on the chips you had given him, Kace quirked an eyebrow upwards, not stopping his chewing to verbally ask you to continue. You didn’t need him to, though, as you knew just from his expression that he was waiting to hear more.

“Apparently, it’s taken me an entire month to realize he was in the O’Donnell’s class sitting literally behind me. But because I didn’t let him hide under the bleachers when he was being chased down by some jocks after you had left yesterday, he’s got a grudge against me now. I also let him borrow a pen because he asked, but he didn’t give it back.” In the fashion of an angry child, you popped a chip into your mouth, chewing with a more than disgruntled look on your face as you stared the metalhead down from across the cafeteria. 

Kace chewed the last of the chips you had given him, pointing a finger at you as he readied himself to reply before swallowing with one big gulp.

“Asshole. That’s what he is.” You nodded in enthusiastic agreement. However, just as you thought you were on the same page as your long-time best friend, Kace rubbed his hands together off to the side, getting rid of any crumbs the chips had left.

“Actually, you’ve reminded me that I actually need to go talk to Munson,” your eyes widened as you harshly swallowed what was in your mouth, “don’t stress, love. I’ll only be second.” Waving your arms around frantically as you stared at the boy sitting next to you with nothing but a face of betrayal, you couldn’t help but be confused at Kace’s sudden switch-up. 

With his chains clattering against themselves and his earrings dangling from the sides of his head, Kace stood up as he smoothed out his shiny leather jacket, wasting no time before taking long strides across the cafeteria over to the table where the entire Hellfire club was sitting. Defeated, you leaned back in your chair, unable to do anything apart from observe in silence as Kace started a conversation with Eddie, who was sitting at the head of the table surrounded by his goons. 

“What the fuck…?” you muttered under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest as the lace of your sleeves draped off the sides of your torso. 

“It’s like when worlds collide. Looks freaky as shit and could only ender shittier,” the girl sitting behind you chimed in. You nodded, pouting your lips like a spoilt child who watching their only friend make new friends. It kind of was that, in a sense, but you weren’t a child, so you had no other choice but to suck it up and shut up.

I swear, Eddie Munson. You better not indoctrinate my only friend into your weird nerd cult. It’ll be the last thing you ever do. 

[fandomloreblog]

UMBRA Headcanons/Fun Facts

You want to discover more of the chaotic/psychopathic gang of prisoner overseers? Here’s some fun facts/lore that I made, but feel free to comment your own head canons/ideas!

🔥 Boron 🔥

- Boron’s natural hair color is unknown. No one knows if he dyes it or uses product, but it always ends up looking like that. Most of the staff thinks that his natural hair color was either white or black. Bismuth thinks it red, while Manganese assumes it’s blonde.

- He’s an ex-soldier who was discharged after being injured during duty. He claims that nothing bad ever happened to him during his tours, but he’s jumpy around loud noises and explosions.

- Boron’s sexuality is unknown/questioning. He claims he’s straight, but he’s never so much as asked a girl out, and even then, he’s in a ridiculous headlock with the leader, or “The King”, of The Neon Gang, a group on the outskirts of Vandelay Island, which has resulted in more than a few comments of his true reason for going out there every so often.

- He is stubborn and energetic to a fault. Like a dog chasing a bone, he will never stop until his goal is completed. This fault of his often resorts to him taking some extreme measures, and evening doing tasks himself just to make sure he’s getting closer to his goals.

- He is not pure of heart and dumb of ass. This man has put all of his stat points into strength, speed, and endurance and said screw all to everything else. This is one of the main reasons why he is considered the weakest (in terms of all around stats) Overseer in UMBRA.

- If he had to have had a favorite Overseer, it would be Arsenic. He enjoy’s their shy nature, as it counteracts between his overzealous personality and it keeps a  bit of a damper on his energy.

- His least favorite coworker? Cobalt. 100%. The two get along like cats and water. They despise eachother.

- His favorite color is red, unsurprisingly. He loves spicy foods and always enjoys a good action movie. Track and exercise are his favorite hobbies, and most of his free time is spent at the gym.

- He absolutely LOATHES sweets and candies. Anything with sugar, he will actively avoid it. No one seems to know the reason why he hates it so much, but he does.

“Well… This should be fun! Bring it on, Vandelay!”

🧪 Arsenic 🧪

- Arsenic is the Medical Overseer of UMBRA, which is ironic considering they never even passed high school. They dropped out their senior year for unknown reasons.

- They have terrible insomnia and anxiety, which results in them hardly sleeping and living off of energy drinks. Their anxiety manifests in when they chew at their lips. It used to be their nails, but after getting their cybernetic arms, they switched to their lips.

- They are extremely touch sensitive. Even so much as brushing up against them will send them into a frantic fit. The only physical contact they have is when they initiate it, and even then it’s simple hand shakes and half-hugs. If they had an s/o, they would maybe upgrade to cuddles with them.

- Arsenic has a very depressed outlook on society. They’ve accepted that they’ll always fail, and have just stoped caring. If everything’s destined to fail, why even try? Perfection is unobtainable, so why even try?

- Arsenic is nonbinary, and falls under the “gay” category in their own terms. They were always attracted to men, so they use the term loosely, as they don’t apply to the normal definition of it. They use they/them pronouns.

- Arsenic is extremely smart, yet physically weak. They often prefer to stay indoors and have their lackeys do the work, simply because of how feeble they are. Despite this, they are considered one of the more valuable Overseers in UMBRA.

- Arsenic loves comfort foods, such as popcorn and frozen meals. They don’t enjoy the fancy and expensive luxuries of food, and always enjoy something simple and delicious.

- Their favorite color is grey, actually. They do like green, but it’s not their favorite color. Their favorite hobbies include movie watching and reading, as they are brain-stimulating activities with little movement.

- Surprisingly, Arsenic is the closet to Boron. They are always close by, doing research and overseeing the medical and intake wings of UMBRA. No one knows how the two get along so well, but they do, despite having nothing in common?

- Arsenic’s least favorite Overseer? Bismuth by a long shot. She’s energetic and chaotic, even more so than Boron. Besides, they always get chills whenever the light shines on them just right to show her bone implants. Creepy.

“Oh… So we’re supposed to fight…? Whatever…”

🪨 Cobalt 🪨

- Cobalt is a middle child, with an older brother and a younger sister. However, she doesn’t talk to either of them, as they are “troublemaking delinquents who don’t obey the law”.

- She is actually Roquefort’s niece, to which she takes great displeasure in when someone brings it up. She hates being related to someone so “criminal”, at least in her eyes.

- Cobalt was born deaf and without legs. She used a wheelchair to get around most of her life, and is fluent in sign language. She received her cybernetics for her ears and legs once she left home and joined UMBRA.

- Cobalt was the only Overseer promoted from inside the company. All other Overseers were outside hires, while Cobalt joined as a basic officer, and was later promoted to the Security Overseer position.

- Her brother is known as “The King”, a leader of a delinquent/resistance group in the outskirts of Vandelay Island. She despises him for his unlawful actions, and the mere mention of him can send her into a rage.

- Cobalt identifies as a lesbian. She never experienced romantic attraction towards men, and was often disgusted by them in her adult life. She doesn’t truly care for romantic partnerships at the moment, but perhaps one day.

- Cobalt loves sweet and bitter foods. She enjoys the clash of flavors, and thinks it gives the dish an interesting kick.

- Her favorite color is Blue, Cobalt Blue. She enjoys keeping fit by running laps, and also enjoys puzzles and neatness. Most of her free time is either spent on extra work or doing a small hobby.

- Cobalt’s favorite Overseer would be Chrome. Logistical and methodic, the two get along well as their main focus is to follow UMBRA’s plans and work together. Their no nonsense personalities allow them to mesh well.

- Least favorite? Boron. In her own words, “That moron constantly taunts me about my brother while attempting to capture him, and expects me to like him?”

“Such outrageous violation of the rules…! Just who do you think you are?!”

💻 Manganese 💻

- Manganese! The only female Overseer who wears makeup. She doesn’t throw a fit over it, but does wonder why Cobalt doesn’t put much effort into their attire. It doesn’t take much to spice up an outfit!

- She is the only Overseer with cybernetic implants on her face. Her eyes were replaced with robotic ones to connect into data and the internet remotely. Is it a bit extreme? Maybe, but it’s easier than constantly going to a computer.

- Manganese is the Media Overseer, meaning she is in charge of what outside information goes into UMBRA, and what info the public gets. She quite enjoys her job, and is an expert on learning people’s secrets.

- A (not so) fun hobby of hers is to hack into her coworkers desktops to find their search history. She has plenty of dirt on her coworkers, and due to her media and computer knowledge, she can easily cover her tracks.

- Manganese is smart and strong, making her one of the more challenging Overseers in UMBRA. She has connections everywhere, and she is more than willing to pull some favors if it means the job is done.

- Manganese is transgender, male to female. She doesn’t really mention her life pre-transition, but she doesn’t exactly hide it. She has more than a few stories she likes to share when the time comes. As for romantic interests, she doesn’t have a preference. She is open to whoever is willing to stumble into her arms.

- Her favorite color is a tie between Cyan and White. She loves how well the colors go together, and has made it her signature office look. As for hobbies, she enjoys reading and writing, and always loves a good gossip night. She plans to become a writer once she retries from UMBRA.

- Favorite Overseer in her opinion is Boron. He’s quirky and idiotic, making him a perfect lackey for her to use in any quick schemes she has. Besides, even if he wasn’t dumb, she has enough dirt on him to blackmail him for the rest of his life.

- Least favorite coworker for her is Chrome. Even Arsenic can have their funny moments from time to time, but for Chrome, it is all work and no play. The two cannot seem to agree, with Chrome always opting for the logical choice, while Manganese has to take into account human emotion.

“Ah, so you wish to challenge me? Heh, very well. Let’s see what makes you tick.”

👻 Bismuth 👻

- Bismuth is the youngest out of the Overseers, both in terms of career and age. She’s often mistaken for a child, but is actually 20 years old. She claims her short stature was due to a bone deficiency.

- Bismuth’s bone deficiency has actually resulted in them getting a full cybernetic replacement. Her entire skeletal system has been replaced with Military Grade Implants. Under the right lighting, you can see them through her skin,

- She is a psycho, to put it nicely. Even compared next to Boron, she has a fascination with what makes things work, and always enjoys watching prisoners reactions to her punishments. This has resulted in even the Warden being terrified of her.

- Despite her dark interests, Bismuth is the Overseer for the Reform programs, tasked with making sure those in UMBRA’s doors will be reformed when they leave, no matter what. Many offenders don’t return, simply because of how terrified they are if her.

- Bismuth’s undercut changes colors, depending on her mood. No one knows exactly how it happens or why, but it does that. Arsenic claims it’s a chemical imbalance in her hair and scalp that causes the changes. Who knows.

- Compared to all of the Overseers, Bismuth is second in terms of strength and power. Extremely agile and strong, along with her small stature, she can easily become a terrifying threat if not taken care of.

- Bismuth enjoys most childlike hobbies. She enjoys video-games and youtube, and often spends most of her free time relaxing in a bean bag, playing the newest games online, and all around acting like a teen. Her favorite color is rainbow.

- Bismuth’s favorite foods are candy and sweets. She enjoys lots of sugar, and says it keeps her active. Most of her coworkers wonder if she’s just a robot that needs sugar as fuel. Wouldn’t be so surprising for them.

- Bismuth doesn’t particularly care about pronouns. She mainly uses She/Her, but doesn’t care if she gets called a guy or nonbinary. However, she lacks any sexual or romantic attraction, labeling herself as AroAce. She doesn’t care much for that sort of stuff, and prefers to have friends.

- Favorite Overseer? Chrome, surprisingly. They enjoy their bland nature, and think it’s funny when they snap at her, trying to calm her down. She views him as a sort of surrogate father figure, never actually having parents in her life.

- Least favorite Overseer? Arsenic. She thinks that they’re dull and boring, and don’t do anything apart from read boring books. She doesn’t understand how someone could be so bland all of the time.

“GHAHAHAHA! Cmon, cmon! Let’s get WILD! Hahah!”

⚜️ Chrome ⚜️

- Chrome. The DILF of UMBRA. He actually has an ex-wife and children, but he never talks to them anymore, he’s too busy with work and UMBRA to deal with that anymore. Perhaps later in life he could reconnect, but not now.

- Chrome runs the Logistics wing for UMBRA. He’s the one who keeps track of everything, from money to security flaws. Everything and everyone is meticulously documented and recorded, constantly added to tables of data within his office.

- He doesn’t like the robotic workers. In fact, he hates robots. He thinks they’re dull and unfeeling, just hunks of steel made for menial tasks. A majority of his staff are human due to this, but even still, there has been some pushback on this.

- Chrome is the most secretive of the bunch, yet the most powerful. With all of the data and statistics he has recorded, he can easily solve issues whenever they arise. Does not matter where or when, he can easily make sure it is dealt with.

- Chrome is both of the oldest career wise and age wise when it comes to the UMBRA overseers. He was actually around when UMBRA was first founded, and joined later as an Overseer, and stuck around after the first warden left, being replaced by the newest warden.

- His favorite foods are savory and rich. Steak, exotic foods, expensive cuisine, you name it. He always enjoys the finer things in life, and food is one of the things he refuses to cut back on.

- His favorite color is black, and his hobbies are often made fun of for being “old”. He enjoys chess and logic puzzles, and always likes to have a nice glass of whiskey while reading by the fireplace. The finer things in life always appealed to him.

- Chrome identifies as a Bisexual, often experimenting with both male and female partners before marrying his wife. Now that he’s divorced however, he does plan to experiment once again before settling down again.

- Favorite Overseer? He doesn’t have one. All of them are equally capable in their own ways, despite how chaotic some of them may be.

- Least favorite? Boron. He’s a feral loose canon that Chrome cannot figure out why they still have a job.

“Is this truly the best you can do? Pathetic. I don’t get how an idiotic loser like you though you could challenge me.”

[maria021015]

“I hate first days. Have I ever told you how much I hate first days?” she whined to her older brother, reaching across the island bench to steal a slice of buttered toast from his plate and take a large bite

“Only almost every year.” Xander regarded her with an arched brow. People had always said that she and Xander didn’t look alike. A passing sibling resemblance, sure. They both had dark brown hair (though his was almost black), the same Grecian straight bridged nose, the same olive skin, same full lips, same almond-shaped eyes, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Where Zaida was short with a soft, curvaceous figure, Xander was tall and lithe with muscles honed from years of training. Where Zaida had eyes hued with green, amber, and chestnut, Xander’s were so dark they could be black. Where Zaida’s hair twisted and fell in waves, Xander’s was straight. Perhaps it came from the fact that he was nine years older than her.

“Remind me why we moved to this shitty little town again?” she huffed, words muffled and distorted by a mouthful of food.

“Because you decided to apply for deputy positions on my behalf - behind my back, might I add - and this ‘shitty little town’ wanted to hire me.” he shot her a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she waved him off and finished her toast with a toothy grin. “I’m so sorry. Getting a promotion must have been awful for you.”

The truth was, she was happy to be here, even if only for Xander’s sake. Her brother had been twenty when their parents had died, attending his third year of college where he had been studying Law, like their father. The incompetence of the officers handling their parents’ case was what had propelled him into a completely different direction. He had started training immediately, collecting all the necessary qualifications to become a police officer. It took him a year to go through the extensive recruitment process, but in the end he made it. Xander always succeeded at whatever he put his mind to, and Xander never stopped at the bottom. He always climbed to the top. Zaida knew he wanted to go for deputy, and then senior deputy, then sergeant, then lieutenant, and so on and so forth until, eventually, he’d be sheriff. Zaida also knew he would never have gone for the position himself.

When their parents died he was ineligible for custody - he had no job at the time and couldn’t support her - so she had gone to live with her father’s parents in San Francisco. When he was finally an officer, he fought tooth and nail to gain custody of her. It had taken another year to have everything finalised. His career, his ambitions, his whole life; he had put it all on hold for her. To take care of her. He shouldn’t have had to do that. He deserved better. So she had taken matters into her own hands.

“I thought I could give you a ride to school today. My shift doesn’t start until later.” He offered, finishing his own breakfast and rising from the kitchen stool to slide the dirty plate into the sink.

“You could have told me that before I woke up early to walk,” Zaida exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air dramatically. Lost sleep was a tragedy of the highest order.

“If you were planning on walking,” he glanced down at his watch nonchalantly. “You’d be late for your meeting with the principal. It’d take you an hour to walk from here, and it’s already seven.”

“You already knew I’d be late, didn’t you?” she tilted her head and raised a brow at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know you, Zay, and that’s why I knew you would convince yourself it would only take ten minutes to get ready, and wake up at the latest possible time. When actually, you take about half an hour to get ready.” he shrugged and his forced expression of disappointment cracked and gave way to a grin.

“Twenty-five minutes, tops.” she shook her head defiantly. “Fifteen, on a good day.”

“Fifteen minutes, thirty, either way, you’d still be…” Xander picked up his keys from the bench with a clatter.

“Late,” she interrupted and followed him on his path to the entrance door. “Yes, I know. Where are you going?”

“To take you to school?” he dangled the keys noisily in front of her face as he unlocked the heavy wooden door.

“It’ll take like fifteen minutes to drive there? School doesn’t start until eight?” She pushed his hand away and scrunched her brows in confusion.

“Well then I am going to introduce you to a concept you’ve clearly never experienced before.” he began sarcastically.

“And what’s that?” she drawled, trudging along behind him lazily, her heavy boots scraping against the carpet of the apartment building hallway.

“Being early.” Xander flashed her his winning smile and Zaida groaned.

[daphnebowen]

hsmtmts season four episode five

WHY ARE ALL OF THEM IGNORING RICHARD even though it’s LITERALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS FACE still that’s really rude what happened to being nice to people??? If people are genuinely like that in college I am scared

“Richard Bowen.”

”Elton John.” I LOVE THESE TWO!!!!

why does the principal care omg like stay out of her business not everyone can make every rehearsal what do you expect??

kourtneys hero is her mom! That’s the most wholesome and sweetest thing ever 🥰

if kourtneys college trip was a casual visit how come miss girl is wearing four inch heels a miniskirt and a turtleneck 🥸 not that I’m complaining, she looks amazing, but I’m just saying my feet would be KILLIN ME

”wait wait wait… YOURE working??”

ok can we talk about ej for a min?? Man has four jobs, full class schedule, is on the PING PONG TEAM (is that a thing?), is an acapella group called the blindorphins (blind orphans? Help?), has no parental support (srsly, where is his mama?) has a beard much more prominent than the one in season two, is the dork of his friend group (how????), is talking to Val (I totally ship, ngl, so if it’s just a friend thing ima hurt someone) and wears Birkenstocks. He’s a hippie. Someone help my matty poo. But good for him! Proud of ya eej!

”you do look good.” “You look… terrible.”

okay, plot hole, ej says he’s been dabbling in playing the guitar yet in season three he’s literally playing the guitar for the song “ballad of Susan fine.” So is he dabbling in other types of guitars or is a plot hole??? Because if it’s a plot hole it’s the first one I’ve noticed. and now it’s bugging me. And I can’t unsee it.

”I do not break my promises” NO YOU DONT

”for my leading lady thirty seconds.” Welp

”g force” I cant

”no is a complete sentence” thanks Quinn that’s my senior quote

YES GINA

”I’m hearing awards buzz” the only line from Mack I haven’t absolutely hated

“ all songs might be terrible, Elton.”

they’re such brothers it hurts knowing that this is like their last season together :( I wish we’d gotten more of their friendship “ooh, a capo? Fancy.” Ricky said with a proud smile 🤩 his big bro is all grown up (which is backwards, but you know what I mean)

I absolutely love this song! It’s everything we’ve ever needed and more

ricky looks so intently focused on ej he’s into it

AWWW THEYRE DUETING TOGETHER

that song really hit Ricky home huh. That’s just what he needed. I can totally see why people ship Ricky and ej because their chemistry and like, playfulness was really cute but I still see it as more of a bromance and brother relationship.

man Siri is really working miss Jenn dang

The fact that Siri is still going and recording all while miss Jenn and Carlos are talking has me bawling what if it sent the text to the theater group lmao

no Mack. You and Gina are not “best friends.” Yall are barely friends imo. Ashlyn is Gina’s best friend. Kourtney is Gina’s best friend. Ricky is Gina’s best friend (plus a lil smth else 😏😉)

the fact that she’s looking at a picture of Ricky to help her nail the chemistry 😚 true love right there

EW NASTY MACK STOP KISSING GINA Gina looks like she does not wanna be there but Mack is all in and I wanna slap him

omg big red. What happened…. Cairo… changed him?

Aw his grandma is 100! That’s so sweet

stopppp I still can’t believe it was BIG FREAKING RED

”fantastic. My girlfriend is kissing her childhood crush”

THE CAPTION HAS ME DEAD

ejs little noises “mmm.. mmmm… mmMMMMmm.” He totally disapproves huh

i love how Ricky is ranting to ej even though Gina and ej dated and ej is pretty cool with it, he’s so supportive in this season

man Ricky cannot sit still boy is constantly moving

“everyone’s only allowed to be okay, for like, ten seconds” yup pretty much sucks but true

”todd” says it like it’s the worst word ever

im tired of you losing people too Ricky - don’t worry I’m HERE FOR YOU :((

I love how big red was just like SURPRISE!! even tho Carlos is literally dying of heartbreak and he’s just like “eh it’s cool, whatever” COME ON BIG RED YOURE BETTER THAN THAT

i can’t freaking believe that big reds coming out moment was with Sebastian

I love how Ashlyn doesn’t even care herself she’s just worried about Carlos mostly TELL HIM ASH TELL HIM

bug red is so supportive 😍 he’s a number one madlyn fan I swear

honestly redlyn was one of the most non toxic couples in the show, they constantly supported each other and were there for each other, but they knew that there just wasn’t something final about them together, yes they clicked and they clicked well and so they’re better off as friends now that both of their storylines have explored other sides of their feelings and broadened “their dating pools” as Ashlyn said. So I’m glad that they’re staying friends. And were able to come to a mutual breakup. “Or maybe growing towards this” 🥹

”but what if I got it wrong?” GIRL SHE JUST TRIED TO KISS YOU ON HALLOWEEN!!! SHE WAS THE ONE TO INITIATE IT!!!

”we are 24 cups?!” The instant panic is so real

Carlos: “do you know what it’s like to be gay?” Miss Jenn: *shakes her head* 😭😭😭😭

”hiding is never the answer” yess!! This all the way

baby steps Carlos you got this hun

kourtney really is glowing , she’s so happy at Lewis

harpers shoes are super cute!

”how heavy can a steadicam be?” The steadicam guy: really heavy 😒

“you missed every one of my opening nights!” “Hollywood is different” GIRL I hate you if it weren’t for those opening nights Gina probably wouldn’t be in hollywood hate to admit it but I did

I hate Gina’s mom so much why does she feel the need to push Gina towards Mack and invite him over for dinner and make her miss rehearsals when clearly she wants to go rehearse like what? Gina doesn’t even like Mack that way!

ginas mother… I thought you said “no boys.” And here she is

the last time Carlos is gonna smile at big red “spill the international tea”

YOU KISSED MY BOYFRIEND?!?!?

”im very fond of you “ AWWW sad considering the circumstances but it’s still a sweet thing to say..

oh- mad and mad are back on again

i love how ej aaid “no” when the thunder cracked 💀

TIME FOR SOME BIG BRO EJ TOUGH LOVE AHHHH ALL FOR IT 💗

see the fact that Ricky didn’t even know about ejs dad problems and everything going on with him and Gina and still waited respectfully until Gina was ready shows his character growth. In season one he was actively interfering with nini and ejs relationship but in season three he saw Gina was happy and let her have her happiness. This is what I love about him ❤️

”you will never meet another family like the Wildcats” HITS LIKE HOME CUZ ITS OVER

”cause I miss it every single day” literally me rewatching this knowing I will never be able to go back and rewatch seasons 1 and 2 ever again 😢

Matt Cornett king of voice cracks

”she would be be with you if she didn’t see the guy you could be” YES EJ PREACH MY MAN

”if you hurt her… I will never forgive you.” The way Ricky looks up in alarm ‼️

Ej is the freaking best at pep talks man all that time with Val really taught him a lot, he’s being tough on Ricky and honest with him but he’s also being caring and gentle and I love that for the two of them, we need more bromances like this!

YES RICKY GO SPEAK YOUR MIND TO GINA PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF HEAVEN AND EARTH

YESSS A HUG

”why didn’t we hang out more in high school?” “Well maybe because you were always stealing my girlfriends” HAHAHA

awww ej is giving him his guitar!!! (He’s got good instincts)

ugh mark and spark are literally on the table

part 2 tk!

[potential-fate]

Abe kept his gaze on the table in front of him, only allowing himself to steal quick glances at his grandfather when he saw the older man wasn’t looking at him, but at Abe’s mother instead. He’d moved seats to where Oriana had been sitting when his mother had motioned for him too as the rest of the family left the room. 

He’d prefer to have been able to escape as well, but had known that would be impossible the moment his grandfather had mentioned Nathan staying at the table as well. So instead, he sat in silence, envious of Nathan’s easy escape. 

Even without looking up, he still caught every word his senior family members spoke. He knew better than to speak while his mother tried to convince her own father of her positions. 

“Hence why I think you should consider it.” Abe picked at his nails under the table as his mother spoke, “You’re concerned about the way your son was raised, and I completely understand that. I took careful pride in making sure my own children hold up to the Helios namesake, obviously.” 

Abe schooled his emotions into polite neutrality. His mother’s careful pride version of parenting was negligent on the best of days, and on most days, it was suffocating to Abe.

“Indeed. It seems that they’ve mostly turned into fine young men. Certainly this one has.” Abe tensed as his grandfather gestured towards him, but he moved on. “The younger two seem polite and well mannered as well.”