#Slightly sad Headcanons ;-;

[mauri2530]

Headcanon; Vergil is on the autism spectrum. Concealing his nephilim heritage is what made him adept at masking.

[soupforsoup]

The perfect end of s3 that lives in my mind is that instead of going to kreese, robby ends up crashing at demetri's place and then demetri just has this sad as fuck guard dog following him around everywhere in s4

[lupeloto]

more artist!mickey headcanon - s6 edition (slightly maybe ooc)

when he was in prison by himself, he would draw little things that reminded him of ian all the time. he drew the tattoo ian had on his ribcage, taping it to the cell of his wall when he finished.

he drew all kinds of things that reminded him of ian; cans of the beers they would drink together, ian’s space in their room in the gallagher house (down to every last detail he remembered, like the vaseline on the windowsill and the posters that hung above his bed), visual depictions of the songs they used to sing together, his hands that mickey had a photographic image of burned into his brain.

he even drew that picture of ian in the hat that he kept all those years (you know the one 👇). he didn’t have it with him, but he had looked at so many fucking times that he drew it from memory, keeping it tucked away within the things in the cell.

it was painful, but any way to feel close to ian was important for him okay???

[maglorslostsilmaril]

hc that as a side effect of the oath, the sons of feanor, as they became more and more silmaril-obsessed and oath-driven, start to become more and more like the things they swore the oath to.

like, they begin to look faded and washed out, aside from their eyes, which turn blindingly bright.

despite all the evil they’ve done, the silmarils are hallowed by varda, and so their skin burns to the touch of those who have also done wrong.

(also i think they should glow in the dark a little bit. as a treat.)

by the end of it they’re more wraiths than anything else, halfway between elf and those oathbreakers in RotK; the oath not only mentally but physically consumes them.

[ghost-kitty-cat]

Bunny Headcanons (enjoy more of my rambling...)

First Headcanon, Before bunny met dion, they didn't have many friends (because of this, Bunny grew into the habit of reading a lot of books typically fantasy & history, they liked to imagine what their life would be like if they were there in the stories... which is slightly ironic seeing how their life turns out..)

Second Headcanon, Bunny actually quite likes bunnies (the animal) but they would never got one as a pet (or any pets in general) because they don't think they're capable of handling that much responsibility (I imagine they were kinda already struggling with taking care of themselves before they met two demons who are technically their "roommates" now...)

Third Headcanon, Bunny (and Dion too) totally have forgotten to eat sometimes (and now that Kane is "stuck" with them, he constantly has to remind them to... he unofficially became a "guardian"... well I guess he was already sorta one for Dion but now Kane has been a sorta "guardian" for Bunny too... he's basically that friend who somewhat acts like a dad...)

Fourth Headcanon, (because of the recent Kane solo video) I totally imagine Bunny likes tea now... and they will constantly ask Kane to make them some to the point where Kane grew so tired of it, he showed them how to make the tea (which I imagine was made with honey and lavender since those ingredients seem calming and I imagine Kane likes the kind of tea that can make you calm..)

Fifth Headcanon, when it starts getting colder in temperature, I totally imagine Bunny sitting on the couch in between Kane and Dion with a bunch of blankets to keep warm... usually they end up falling asleep like that... (I mean Dion and Kane are both "flame" demons so I imagine them being quite warm ^^)

Sixth Headcanon, Bunny (possibly Dion too) likes to ask Kane for piggyback rides (because in my head, Kane is the tallest, Dion is sorta in the medium (He's slightly shorter than Kane) and Bunny is shortest (though they're only a tiny bit shorter than Dion... just short enough that they can't reach certain cabinets without a stepping stool... speaking of which)

Seventh Headcanon, Bunny is totally the type of person who asks either Dion or Kane to help them reach something either in the kitchen or when they're out shopping (with Dion and Kane in disguises of course)

Eighth Headcanon, (this is more of a Dion Headcanon but it was because of bunny so I'm putting it) because Bunny showed Dion video games I totally imagine Dion now steals Bunny's controller or switch (I totally imagine Bunny having a cute little Nintendo switch.. maybe one with violet or light pink controllers) to play games and doesn't typically put them back in the right spot so Bunny ends up having to search the whole apartment for them (don't know if it was mentioned or not but I imagine Bunny lives in a apartment)

Ninth Headcanon, (again this is slightly also a Dion & Kane Headcanon) but before They met Dion, Bunny hardly went outside besides to the store, their job, school etc but after they met Dion, he would (not literally) drag them to all sorts of places, but now that Kane is here, he doesn't let Dion or Bunny go out until they promise to be back by a certain time (again I imagine Kane totally acting like a mother hen at times..)

Tenth Headcanon, Bunny is totally the type to only put up a few small decorations for holidays (like the type of decorations that are so small that you can keep them up as just decorations even after the holidays are over... I don't know why but I imagine Bunny doesn't really celebrate holidays, like the way I imagine Bunny is like a loner, not only do they not have many friends but they also don't really chat a lot with family.... but when they met Dion and Kane, they put a little more time and effort into decorations for holidays since they finally have someone to celebrate with... (anddd that got depressing quick... excuse me while I go cry my eyes out...)

[anonymergremlin]

Sorry guys. Still not back, but have a little thought of the day.

So first of all. There is this topic in FFXIV called 'shards'. The protagonist is a shard of someone. And there other shard who once belong to them. You can say the have similarities, but they are still their own people. A really that hurt those who didn't turn into shards.

Anyway how is this connected to LoP? Well in some way P is a shard. A shard of Carlo. We saw how powerful the Ergo is, that it can bring back a 'person'. But P isn't Carlo. And that solution probably hit some people different than it hit others. Romeo probably accepted it and may saw something good in it. Well Geppetto wanted the completed one.

Kinda funny. Both characters, in each game, who wanted back the former self of the protagonist... Only ended up accepting it after they were destined to die

[mdddante]

SO UHHH IA GANG.... HOW WE FEELING ABOUT THIS

[multishipper-baby]

Baby fever so bad I've been thinking about the ideal number of kids for characters. What is wrong with me.

[dulcewrites]

Exactly!

[oneirataxia-girl]

random headcanon:

since Mari’s found? let’s call it found for now family is chock-full of guys, modern!au Kid and Law probably have to go through several rounds of death threats every time she introduces them to a family member

and there’s a LOT of family to go through

[cc-tinslebee]

(excluding Neil's choices) what do you think would have to happen, or what do you think it would take for Meeks to go on a bender with the explicit intent of getting blackout drunk?

That is SUCH an interesting question, and it’s incredibly ironic that the first thing that popped into my head was The Day The Music Died lmao??

Honestly, when it comes to the Poets drinking for fun in general, I can see them being somewhat evenly split on “the usual suspects” (those who usually drink for fun) and the ones who get a kick out of watching their friends being idiots. I feel like Meeks (and Pitts too honestly) would usually fall under the latter option but they’ll indulge now and again with them because it’s fun

(or, alternatively, Meeks is like one of my friends and has a “once a year” policy that someone Charlie widdled down to “once twice a semester”, because it’s hilarious to see Meeks drunk and it’s an enjoyable enough feeling for him)

But blackout drunk? That’s tough. With the other Poets, I think I can safely say “Todd’s more a lay-down-and-be-numb-to-the-world type of guy like me” or “I can definitely see Charlie, Neil, Knox, and even Pitts trying to get blackout to wash away their feelings.”

Meeks seems pretty in tune with his feelings from what I’ve gathered? He doesn’t hide from it or others, as we’ve seen with his grieving. So he’s very emotionally intelligent as well as practically intelligent. I think if anything would make him want to get blackout drunk, it’s something he can’t talk about with anyone sober, something he can’t hide from but that he doesn’t want to necessarily confront.

I mean, it’s something I’ve seen with a friend of mine, to a certain extent. Like something just… happens that hits him especially hard, and it doesn’t really matter if the Poets would be understanding (because of course they would) — he has a hard enough time wrapping his head around it himself. And hey, pushing those ugly feelings down to chase a much more pleasant feeling that can take him out of that moment for a night sounds pretty nice

(don’t drink when you’re sad, kids 👍)

[strawberry-sticky-autism]

Auctober Day 3 - Collections

"Molly? Molls? Molly?"

"Hm?" Molly looked up from the book she was reading at the sound of Scratch calling her. The ghost was lounging on the edge of her toy chest, fidding with one of her plushies. 

"Yeah Scratch?" Scratch flicked his gaze up from the bunny plush. "Why ya got some many of these stuffed animals?" Scratch began shaking the bunny plush up and down.

Molly blinked and then shrugged. "Why not? They're cute, cuddly and make good substitute pillows. Plus they're all so squishy." Molly puffed up her face while grabbing and squishing the cheeks of her frog plush.

Scratch blinked and then slumped slightly, resting his face on his hand. "Do you really need this many though? How do your parents feel?"

Molly shrugged. "I like them, what's wrong with having lots of them? My parents don't care either way." She began bouncing the frog plush on her knees. 

"Hmf. Good for you." Scratch stared down at the bunny plush again. "...I tried to collect them, but my parents wouldn't let me..." He said quietly... and nearly jumped into the celling when he turned and saw that Molly had gotten very close to him. 

Molly grinned widely. "Really?" She said, almost giggling. 

Scratch blinked and turned away, trying to avoid her gaze. "Really... what?"

Molly smirked goofily. "Mr Scratch here likes plushies." She gently poked at him until he pushed her hand away.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Scratch snapped, rubbing his face with his other hand.

"You're asking me 'oh, Molly McGee, why ya got so many plushies? I'm Scratch and I'm big and tough and RAAAAAH' but you wanted to collect these guys!" Molly held up two plushies in the air and waved them around. Scratch groaned... or was it more of a whimper.

"You wanted to, but you couldn't..." Molly's cheerful energy started to dwindle as the full implications of what her friend said sunk in. "Because your parents wouldn't let you... That's actually kind of messed up-"

She was cut off by Scratch whipping around and slamming his hands on the chest. "IT WASN'T THEIR FAULT! WE HAD TO SURVIVE!" He yelled angrily, his body spiking and his voice gaining the echo it did when he was mad. It quickly faded and Scratch slapped his hands over his mouth, tears pricking at the corners of wide eyes, and breathing shallow.

After a moment of frightened silence, Scratch sighed and settled back down on the chest, face in his hands. "...It still hurt though..." He muttered.

Molly cocked her head, then put a finger to her chin, then smirked and leaned forward. "You don't have to survive now though..." 

Scratch lit up in that very moment. "Hey, you're right!" He grinned widely and pumped his fists in the air. "I could definitely do something like that now!"

"That's the spirit!" Molly cheered and high-fived her incorporeal friend.

It didn't matter what Scratch had suffered through before, Molly was there to make him happy now.

[blightcd]

do you guys wanna read the section of The Stol.en Th.rone that destroyed me the first time i read it and every time i read it? and by do you wanna i mean im putting it under the cut bc i need people to read The St.olen Th.rone and cry spoilers for it obviiiii

"Maker's breath, Gareth!" Sister Ailis exclaimed. "Whats wrong?"

  "Men. Soldiers. Coming through the forest." His mouth was pressed into a thin scowl, rivulets of water running down his armor and splattering on the floor. In two strides he was was Maric and hauled him up off the bed by the scruff of his shirt. Gareth slammed him hard against the log wall, seeming ready to explode with rage. "What did you do?" 

 Maric should have felt frightened for his life, but he didn't. Somehow, he was calm. It was a bizarre reaction, he knew, since Gareth seemed willing to kill him and probably had every reason to. "I told you," Maric said evenly. "They're coming for me. I think if you just give me to them, they might not even bother with you."

  "Why?" Gareth bellowed. The wind slammed the door loudly against the wall, and rain blew in with a cold howl. Already, panicked shouts could be heard from throughout the camp. "Who are you!" Gareth shouted, slamming Maric against the wall again hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

 "Gareth, stop!" Sister Ailis cried, clutching at his free arm. 

He shook her off without looking at her. "Tell me who you are!"

"I can tell you who he is," Came a shout from the door. Loghain was standing there, pale and soaking wet and with murder in his eyes. His knife was out, and with two steps he had it against Maric's throat. "Maker damn him, he's the Prince! He's the bloody Prince!" 

Gareth grabbed Loghain's wrist with his free hand, and for a moment they fought over control of the knife. It wavered dangerously at Maric's throat and made a shallow cut once into the skin. Loghain snarled with rage, but when he looked at his father, he seemed shocked at the aghast expression on his father's face.

 "What do you mean?" Gareth demanded, his tone steel cold. 

The battle for the knife paused. Loghain did not relent, but he seemed disturbed by his father's sudden change. "They killed the Rebel Queen in the forest, the news is everywhere. That's the mother he told us about, Father. He just left out the most important part, didn't he?" 

Gareth's expression was unreadable as he digested this. He stared off into space, beads of water running down his forehead. Outside, the chaotic shouts continued. Bewildered Sister Ailis gathered her robe around her and rushed to close the door. The sound of wind hissing around the door seemed to stir Gareth from his reverie. He turned his head slowly and stared at Maric as if he had suddenly transformed into something terrifying. "Is this true?"

 "I... I'm sorry," was all Maric could say in return. 

There was a pause. Gareth violently shoved Loghain away, the knife clattering down to the floor as Loghain fell against the far wall of the room. 

Then in one smooth motion, Gareth dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "Your Highness..." Gareth's voice trailed off into a quiet croak.

 Maric looked around the room, completely at a loss in the sudden stillness. The way they stared at him, it was like they expected him to do something but he had no idea what. Pull out a crown, perhaps. Burst into flames. That might be helpful, actually, he thought to himself. The storm pelted the hut with renewed force, the only sound in the room. The moment seemed to stretch on forever. 

"You bow to him?" Loghain finally asked in an incredulous voice, staring at his father. Then his tone became harsher, angrier: "You're protecting him? He lied to us!"

"He is the Prince," Gareth said, as if this was explanation enough.

"He's not my prince. He's going to get us all killed!" Loghain jumped to his feet and strode over to Gareth with purpose. "Father, they're not just coming through the forest! They're coming through the valley as well! We're surrounded, and all because they want him!"

"Look" --- Maric tried his best to sound reasonable-- "I don't want anyone to get hurt on my account. Just hand me over. I'll go willingly."

"Maker preserve us." Sister Ailis stared at Maric in dawning horror.

Gareth stiffly stood up and walked over to the door, opening it. He stood there, looking out into the storm while they listened to the sounds of people scrambling in the dark. His people. Off in the distance, terrified screaming could be heard, coupled with the deep-voiced shouting of strangers.

"They're here already?" the sister asked in a tremulous voice. Gareth merely nodded. "Then what are we to do?"

Loghain snatched up his blade from the ground. "We give him to them," he argued. "Father, he said it himself. We need to make a deal."

"No."

In a fury, Loghain leaped forward and grabbed his father's shoulder, spinning him around. "Father---" The word stated with unmistakable emphasis. It said listen to me. "--- we don't... owe him.. anything."

Gareth's expression became sad, and with a gentle gesture he reached up and removed Loghain's hand from his shoulder. Loghain did not resist, and the fury seemed to drain out of him as the realization grew in his face. A witness to the moment that passed between father and son, Maric didn't immediately understand it.

"Can you get him away?" Gareth asked. Loghain looked numb, but he nodded.

"Wait," Maric protested feebly, raising a hand. "What?"

Gareth sighed. "We need to get you to safety, Your Highness. Loghain knows the forest. You can depend on him." With a swift motion he drew his sword. "I will buy you time. I and everyone I can gather."

"You could come with us," Loghain said to his father, his voice hopeless.

"They would just give chase. No, that won't do." He glanced over at Sister Ailis, who was watching with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry Ailis. I had hoped for... something else."

She shook her head emphatically. Her eyes glowed fiercely despite the tears. "You have no need to apologize to me, Gareth Mac Tir."

Maric's sense of calm was rapidly draining away. Could they actually be proposing what he was hearing? Listening to the distant screams, it was all becoming real far too quickly for his liking. "Stop!" He cried. "What are you talking about? This is madness!"

Loghain stared at him like it was Maric who had gone mad, but Gareth stepped up to him and put a strong hand on his shoulder. "I served your grandfather, once." Gareth's voice was firm and steady, and Maric stared up at him with wide eyes. "The Orlesians don't belong on that throne, and if your mother is truly dead, then it is up to you now to remove them." He paused, setting his jaw, and when he continued, his voice cracked with emotion. "If I can help you do that, then I will give anything, even my life."

"Father..." Loghain's protest died on his lips as Gareth turned toward him. Maric could tell Gareth was resolute, and perhaps Loghain saw the same. Still, Loghain bristled with rebellion, furious at his father... perhaps for giving so much to someone they barely knew, the very person who had put them in danger. Maric could hardly fault him for that.

"Loghain, I want your word that you will protect the Prince."

"I can't just leave here," Loghain insisted. "Don't ask me to just leave, I won't do it..."

"That's exactly what you will do. Your word, Loghain."

Loghain looked stricken, and for a moment it seemed he teetered on the point of refusal. He shot a deadly look at Maric, no doubt blaming him for all of it, but Gareth awaited his answer. Reluctantly he nodded.

Gareth turned back toward Maric. "Then you need to go, Your Highness. Quickly."

He was completely serious. Maric didn't doubt that for a second, and he believed Loghain would keep his word despite how reluctant and torn he looked. Still, Maric was stunned. If only he had known, he clearly could have trusted this man as soon as he arrived. He tried to think of something he could say in return, and a thousand inadequate apologies came to mind, along with something his mother had once told him.

What they will give us freely, she had said, is never free for them. Remembering that is the only way we will be worthy of it.

"Were... were you a knight, Gareth?" He asked. The question seemed to take the man by surprise.

"I... No, Your Highness. I was a sergeant-at-arms once."

"Then kneel." It was Maric's best imitation of his mother's tone, and it seemed to work. Face blank with shock, Gareth knelt. "Sister Ailis, I will need you to bear witness." She stepped forward. "I will, Your Highness."

Maric put his hand on Gareth's head, hoping fervently that his memory was not so faulty as he feared. "In the name of Calenhad the Great, here in the sight of the Maker, I declare you a Knight of Ferelden. Rise and serve your land, Ser Gareth."

The man stood stiffly, his eyes glinting beneath furrowed brows. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"For what it's worth," Maric apologized. There was nothing more to be said.

Loghain stepped forward, interrupting the moment. His face was stony as he gestured to Maric. "We need to go. Now."

Maric nodded. Before he could move, the sister put up a hand and rushed over to the pile of clothing she had been mending in the corner. She pulled out a large woolen coat and without a word began helping Maric to put it on.

As they did so, Gareth turned quietly to his son. "Loghain..." "Don't." Loghain cut him off, his voice harsh and bitter. He refused to meet his father's gaze. The two of them stood awkwardly as the shouting outside drew nearer to the hut.

Finally Gareth nodded. "Do your best." "Of course," came the curt response.

Maric was now wearing the coat and ready. The sister hesitated and reached into her robe, taking out a dagger so wicked-looking, Maric's eyes widened with a surprise. Before he could say anything, she placed the blade in his hand and closed his fingers over it. The sister's eyes looked into his then, and they said, May the Maker forgive us all. He nodded his thanks, feeling chilled.

Gareth readied his sword and stepped to the door, all business. "Give me one minute. Then run." Sister Ailis stood beside him. "I will go with you," she said quietly. Gareth looked as if he would have preferred to argue with her, but decided against it. With a quick nod, both of them rushed out the door into the storm.

Loghain put an arm out, stopping Maric from following them, not that he had been about to. Loghain stared at the vacant door. His face was passive, but his eyes were intense, and Maric decided it was best to say nothing. Instead they waited in the dim light and listened. First they heard Gareth bellowing, his voice carried even over the thunder and rain as he rallied the panicked outlaws to his side. There was more shouting, and Sister Ailis cried out for someone to stop, in the name of the Maker. The sound of battle erupted, coupled with cries of agony and the ring of steel on steel.

Loghain ran out the door, not saying a word, pulling Maric with him. Maric almost stumbled, but kept his footing while dashing headlong into a sheet of freezing rain. Recognizing nothing in the rain and darkness disorientated him. Something large was burning nearby, and the sound of fighting surrounded him on all sides. He then felt a pull at his coat.

"Pay attention!" Loghain snapped.

Maric barely heard him over the commotion. Though the rain obscured much, he could make out the fight at the other end of the camp. He spotted Gareth, the big man swinging his sword in wide arcs and cutting a swath through soldiers that undoubtedly expected nothing like this kind of resistance. But the soldiers were armored, and they outnumbered the handful of men Gareth had managed to rally. It was not going to be much of a battle.

Others fled the camp in all directions, some gathering what little they could and other scrambling just to get away as they realized the extent of the assault. Several bodies lay on the ground in Maric and Loghain's path, one of them a young woman. Maric almost tripped on her, causing Loghain to hiss in fury again.

They were running away from the main fight, but Maric could hear other soldiers ahead of them in the darkness. Out of nowhere a man appeared, dressed in chain mail and wearing an undecipherable emblem on his blue tunic. His eyes widened at the surprise and he was about to shout for help, but Loghain was too quick for him and he ran the man through without slowing down. Loghain pushed the soldier off his sword with his boot, the man collapsing in a gurgling heap.

"Don't just stand there!" Loghain snapped, and Maric realized that was exactly what he was doing. He started to run forward but felt someone grab his arm from behind.

Without thinking, he spun around and sank the dagger given to him by Sister Ailis into the neck of a black-bearded soldier. The man roared in surprise and pain, losing his grip, and when Maric yanked the blade out, a fountain of blood followed it. The soldier clutched uselessly at the wound, careening away, and before Maric could stab at his foe a second time, he felt himself being dragged away.

"Go! Now!" Loghain roared. The pair of them sprinted, running past several tents and directly into a clump of trees at the edge of the camp. Loghain led Maric through thick bushes, the branches slapping wetly at their faces, and as they came out into another part of camp, they veered sharply. Avoiding an obscured scuffle not far way, they ran past two soldiers fighting to drag a screaming woman out of her tent. The soldiers did not even notice them pass, and when Maric slowed out of concern for the woman, he felt himself yanked forward again. Reluctantly, he did as he was bidden.

Two more soldiers sprang up in their path but were dispatched by Loghain with savage precision. The camp was little more than chaos and confusion. Maric heard the bloodcurdling cries behind him and the sounds of people fleeing in every direction. He heard a child wailing and men begging for help, soldiers shouting orders and giving chase. It was all he could do to avoid keeping his foot on the mud and grass, Loghain pulling him forward whenever he began to fall behind. It came as a shock when he realized that they had reached the edge of the camp. The hillside sloped down steeply into the forested valley below--- and into the Korcari Wilds, the southern wilderness uninhabited by all but the savages and the most dangerous of creatures. No sane man went there.

"Why are we stopping?" Maric asked, turning back to Loghain. He shivered with cold, the merciless rain pounding down. Loghain ignored him, and Maric followed his gaze to where Gareth was fighting in the distance. He was far away, but the fire had spread enough that he could still be spotted even through the deluge. Heavily wounded and covered with blood, he had dozens of enemy soldiers surrounding him. His swings were becoming desperate. Maric knew they should continue running and not waste any opportunity, but Loghain remained still, transfixed by his father's battle.

Then, though their vision was obscured by smoke and the rushing soldiers, they made out a defiant shout that ended abruptly: Gareth's final cry.

Maric turned to Loghain to say something, but wasn't sure what that might be. He said nothing. Loghain's face was stone cold, his eyes glinting. Almost instantly, Loghain sprang into action. He grabbed Maric's coat once again, practically pulling him off his feet as they bolted down the hill.

Loghain's voice icy and low, "Stay close, or I swear I'll leave you behind." Maric stayed close.

[ifimakemybedinhell]

if judas didn’t realise that the trial would lead jesus to his death (basing this on the fact that the sanhedrin did not have the power to sentence people to death, a fact i can’t remember the source for, sorry*), then it’s possible he thought he was bringing him back to orthodoxy, away from terrifying premonitions of death and godhood. it’s possible he was scared by the future he saw coming of a rebel execution and ended up causing it anyway. no wonder he’d feel guilty and ashamed and terrified and heartbroken.

*they didn’t, but looking it up jesus may not have been tried by them but a group of priests from the temple

[dpmultibitches]

Dani thinks her obsession is Travel, but really it's finding a place that she fits and belongs, but she doesn't realize that. So she doesn't realize that what she feels when she gets comfortable in a place is contentment, so she leaves. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk 🙃

[bardicwine]

🎧 + 10!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpaultin's not much of a singer--he only really sings for those he's close with, and even that warrants the type of situation--but the songs he can sing are slower, somber songs, which contrast with his usual style of upbeat and happy-go-lucky instrumentals. ( though, he can sing happier songs. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤi think he can sing abba songs pretty well. slipping through my fingers is a good choice, and i also think it'd fit for him and sandra, maybe even simon.