#choir dorks

[terrainofheartfelt]

A list of things about my dad for Father’s Day

- wanted a daughter so badly that when I was born he burst into tears.

- saved me from a collapsing swingset when I was toddler. I don’t remember it but he will never forget it.

- his name in my contacts is Grande Chevo after the nickname the indigenous locals gave him during a charity trip to Chihuahua, Mexico where he helped vaccinate the livestock

- we have a running list of Non Sequiturs. the most recent addition is “No, that was a completely different gorilla.”

- he keeps an ongoing collage in his home office that started when I was a baby. (He gave up the one he had in college when he joined the ministry/got married/became a father because it was nsfw, so I’m told)

- the collage of now has a photo of him in front of the original collage, cigarette in his mouth and cowboy hat on his head, likely the most cool he’s ever looked

- calls his home office The Batcave

- every time I mention an opera title that’s new to him he asks, “Is that the one with the Barber in it?”

- he saves up his quarters to give me for my coin-operated laundry, and hands them off in recycled pill bottles

- prepandemic he had a career as an amateur Santa for several Christmases. So much that he owns his own suit

- had an enemies to best friends arc with my cat (they’re besties now)

- had an enemies to best friends arc with me*

*I was a Momma’s Girl as an infant and a bit of a misandrist but now my dad is one of my favorite people.

[vendriin]

My Soul to Take (2010)

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Not to do one of those ‘I’m so glad I didn’t kill myself’ things, but Secret For The Mad came on spotify shuffle and I had such a memory of how much I was suffering then, and now I’m lying on a mattress on my best friend’s floor while she facetimes her online friends after I said goodbye to my partner and they left for uni this morning and I can say that I’m okay and mean it and everything does make sense again.

[rock-a-noodle]

Met a handsome dude last night...

[mauvecardigans]

no one:

absolutely no one:

my brain:

[andiloveyoutooangel]

B)

[othervee]

Finale thoughts!

Interesting to find out that Hillerska has had multiple warnings over several years and still didn't pull their heads in. Clearly they thought they were invincible.

Vincent and Nils stepping up to the plate when they see August's genuine distress, the way Vincent is stroking his arm. There's real friendship and love to be found, but you only see it when you're honest. Similarly, their reactions when they find out that August is backup. August receiving the posioned chalice. What else can he do now, though? He's lost Arnas, or at least part of it. He has to do the military service; he's in the position Wille has been in.

Haha, the housemaster having a drink with the boys. What else is he going to do?

Loved the scene with Felice dragging Wille to the party. Her facial expressions, she's so cute. Wille negotiating with Malin shows a level of maturity, but the male bodyguard is SO not impressed as he follows them to the palace, LOL.

LOVE that Simon brought Rosh and Ayub to the white party. And Ayub reassuring Rosh, after Stella shows herself for who she is. She's chosen the Hillerska way, all the way.

The scene between Wille and August in the clubroom. He didn't know it, but that was the closure he needed. THat they both needed. They've made peace, they can even develop a familial relationship again into the future, but right now this is as close to peace as they can have at this stage.

Nils, you giant dork. And also... They're shocked he didn't say anything earlier,  but would things have been different if he had?

No Royal house, no Prince, no socialist, no drama. No before. No later. Only now. As the previous song said, back to basics. Back to the pure connection they have with each other.

The lake scene. So beautiful.

Simon's Song! Did Felice initiate that, do we think? A few of the choir were smiling at Simon. Nice to see they all (or most of them) wanted that and not the musty old version.

Oh, Kristina, that really is too little too late, but I'm glad you came through in the end.

The little token the Queen and Duke put around August's neck is a frog prince. The symbolism would be a sledgehammer if the direction or script drew attention to that, but they don't.

In the car, Wille beginning to feel the panic attack happening, the constriction of the collar around his neck, and realising what that means. This is an unhealthy system and if he stays in it, this will be his life. The constriction, the desperation, literally struggling to breathe. Echoing Simon's words to him, "I've seen how it makes you feel". Being calm because he's no longer coming from a place of despair, a place where he has no control. And Kristina knows it. It was important for Wille to tell his parents he loves them. He's coming to terms and making peace with everyone.

That closing scene, oh my god. The montage was cheesy as fuck and I am here for it. The dialogue and the execution were not cheesy. They established the important things. Wille is doing this for his sake, not for Simon's. For the first time in his life he is making an informed, calm, active choice.

Simon's FACE. OMG. The shock, barely daring to believe it, but knowing when Wille says 'For my own sake' that this is it. It's real. And then! The tears, the gasping, the incredulous joy! Omar is a natural who stepped it up even more this season, and I do hope he continues to take on acting roles because he is amazing.

Wille's FACE. The joy but more importantly the PEACE.  His entire being, his posture, his aura changes and he radiates rightness. Edvin is incredible.

Also? They both look so, SO beautiful in this episode. This closing sequence, but really the entire episode.

Heading off into the sun, in white, whooping and cheering, Felice with her legs up on the dashboard, free.

And now I want LOADS of future fic about The Adventures of Wille, Simon, Sara och Felice. Tack, Lisa, for leaving it so open for us to do that!

[xstarsmvxz]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 ❀

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 .𝟎𝟎𝟎 - 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐞𝟒𝟐 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭! 𝐨𝐜

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➬ Miles morales, a star student at Brooklyn Visions Academy finds himself infatuated with a certain red headed girl he’s never even spoken to (yet), causing him to have a mental battle whether he should talk to the schools best guitarist and registered ‘cool girl’ and risk embarrassing himself or just absolutely keep to himself and live a regret filled life. Unfortunately for him- the universe decided not to be on his side.

Athena Blake, the schools so called ‘cool girl’ and best guitarist notices a boy she recognises from her calculus and advanced English class staring at her a lot. At first the red headed beauty finds it cute and mostly jokingly makes fun of him for it, rarely sending small smirks and head tilts his way, sometimes having brief conversations. However, when she notices him beginning to always loom around her and seemingly follow her around, she decides to ask him about it.

𝐜𝐰 ➬ one way pining (for now..), Athena being a flirt, light swearing, Miles is lowkey a dork, ooc, he and uncle Aaron are still the prowler!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ➬ 2.1k

The walls and hardwood floors of the dimly lit theatre room are basically vibrating as the strumming of guitars and booming sound of drums being played can be heard, playing along to the song ‘I hate myself for loving you’ by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.

People passing the doors of the large theatre stop in their tracks to take a peek or turn their heads towards the noise, some bobbing their heads to the music as others roll their eyes and continue walking to whatever class they have next.

Inside of the theatre room is a small band, two guitarists and one drummer. The three friends are on the stage, a red light illuminating their figures as they play through the loud speakers, grateful that they all have free period.

The lead guitarist, a girl with cherry dyed red hair and popping green eyes finishes the song off, her fingers aching as she throws her head back and strums the final cords.

The girl turns around to face her two friends Ivory and Thomas with a beaming smile on her face, her cherry flavoured lipgloss shining from the light on the stage. Her red hair messily frames her face as she goes to speak but is interrupted by the schools choir teacher followed by a few students walking into the theatre as the door clicks.

The band silently pack up their things, leaving the schools drums on stage as the girl puts her red and black guitar back in its case, placing it in the back rooms before smiling at the choir teacher as the trio walk out of the door.

The door closes with a loud click as the three friends strut down the hallway, squinting their eyes as they try to stop the burning sensation from the schools extremely bright lights.

Ivory turns to her friends, talking about how the choir kids are always interrupting them and cutting their playing time short. Ivory had jet black hair and deep brown eyes, she had dark skin which Athena thought went extremely well with her gold jewellery. She was the bass guitarist of their band.

Thomas immediately agrees with his friend, rolling his eyes as he exaggerates how annoying they are and how bad their singing actually is. Thomas was your basic white boy, except he was very very gay. He had light brown fluffy hair and pretty hazel eyes. He was the bands drummer.

“Speaking of singers, we seriously need one guys, I mean think of how much better our band would be!” Athena speaks up, turning around to face her friends as she walks backwards, her beat up red converse tapping as she walks along the tiled floor.

“She has a point. How many bands don’t have at least four people?” Ivory agrees, tilting her head to face Thomas as she takes her grape flavoured lollipop out of her mouth.

Thomas just stared at her blankly as he thought about his friends thoughts. “Exactly.” Ivory says, putting her lollipop back into her mouth as she tucks her free hand into the pocket of her black zip up hoodie.

Athena let’s out a stifled laugh as she turns back around to walk properly- only to bump into somebody. “Oh! I’m sorry!” She apologises, her face flushed with embarrassment, “I wasn’t really focusing on where I was walking..” she trails off as she picks up the papers that she had caused the boy to drop.

The red headed girl passes the paper back to the boy with an awkward smile, watching as the boy just stares at her with surprise. “You alright there?” She questions, her brows furrowed as she tucks some of her messied hair behind her ear.

“Oh I- um.. yeah, I’m alright” The boy replies, snatching the paper out of the girls hand and muttering a small thank you before he hurries off, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Athena and her two friends watch as the boy speeds off, Ivory and Thomas giggle a bit as they watch the boy however, Athena just stares with furrowed brows, whispering something to herself “weird…”

The trio shrug it off and continue to walk towards their next class, hoping to get there early instead of late like usual. Thomas has social studies so he departs from his friends first, giving the girls a small smile and wave before walking into the already student filled classroom.

“Hey Athena! Hi Ivory!” Comes a voice from beside them, her voice sweet and chirpy. The two friends turn to face the girl, already knowing who it was just from the sound of her voice. “Hey Valentina.” Athena says with a soft smile as Ivory just waves.

Valentina was a kind and lovely girl, she was also well known around the school so she got invited to many social gatherings and parties, that’s kind of how Athena and her friends met the schools sweetheart.

Athena and Ivory continue their walk, walking down some stairs before Athena reaches her calculus class. The girl rolls her eyes at a small joke that ivory made before pushing the doors to her classroom open.

Heads turn as they watch the girl walk through the door, some people giving her smiles and waves as others continue to mind their business. Athena sits at her assigned desk, next to one of Valentina’s friends.

Her name was Isla and her and Athena had become good friends since meeting each other in class. “Hi Athena..” The blonde girl says, smiling at the red headed girl as she does small sketches in her book.

“Hey girl, do you know why literally nobody is here today?” Athena asks as she scans the classroom, placing her books down on the table. Isla shrugs, flipping her book to a fresh page as the teacher walks in before whispering to Athena, “I heard that nobody was going to come today because of the prowler’s attack last night..”

The red haired girl turns to face her friend with a puzzled face. “Why? It’s not like the prowler is going to attack the school, especially in broad daylight.” Athena states, opening her book and grabbing a pen to copy off of the board.

Isla just lets out a small “hm” as she begins to copy the work down, listening to the teachers lecture. The teachers monotone voice in soon silenced as the door opens with a squeak, the hinges practically begging to be replaced.

The boy from earlier walks in, his books in hand as he walks towards a table at the back, awkwardly sitting down with a quiet sigh. Athena stares at the boy as she can hear the teacher let out a groan at the boys tardiness before continuing his lecture. “Hey Isla..” the red haired girl whispers, “what’s that guy’s name?”

Isla turns to face the boy who is now also rushing to copy what’s written on the board. “Him? That’s Miles Morales, he’s super smart.” The blonde girl mumbles before gurning back around to face the board.

“Miles Morales..” Athena mutters to herself, tilting her head before she zones back into what the teacher is saying, her pen gliding along her paper as she continues to write.

❀

Miles Morales. That name has been running through the red haired girls head all day. I mean- he’s cute, shy, but very odd, not at all somebody Athena could see herself with.

The red haired girl now sat in AP English, unbothered to listen to the teachers lecture as she zones out on the boy siting in front of her, staring at his two neat braids at the back of his head. The boy must’ve felt her green eyes burning through him as he slowly turns around, looking at her over his shoulder.

They make eye contact for a solid three seconds before Athena realises that she’s been staring. The girl quickly picks her pencil back up and continues to write, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

Miles does the exact same, flustered and surprised that the girl was even staring at him in the first place. He had been watching her for weeks, well not watching watching her, just noticing her. Noticing that she dyes to roots of her hair red again every few weeks, noticing that she reapplies her cherry flavoured lipgloss on every hour or so, noticing that she wears the same necklace everyday- the silver one with the pretty red star in the middle.

Miles thought she was beautiful, from her looks to her personality. Everybody knew her and spoke of her, his friends would tell him how fun and nice she really is once you get to know her, they would tell him to just shoot his shot and talk to her because it’s not like she would laugh at him for it, or tell everyone.. would she?

Miles had many questions in his mind as he thought about the girl, not even realising that the bell had rung minutes ago until the teacher repeated his name for the third time, telling him that the lesson had ended as she wonders how the dazed boy hadn’t heard her.

The boy carry’s his belongings as he rushes out of the door, his brows furrowed as he hurriedly walks down the hall, wanting to get home as soon as possible to prevent anymore embarrassment for himself.

His wishes are soon cut short as well as his walking as his shoulder bumps into the back of somebody. Athena Blake. The boy lets out a quiet groan, just how unlucky was he today?

The red haired girl turns to face him with furrowed brows until she catches sight of his pretty braids, realising who had just bumped into her. “You sure you’re not doing it on purpose?” She chuckles as she turns to fully face the boy, forgetting about the conversation that she was having with Ivory and Valentina.

“W- what?” Miles’ nervous voice comes out as he awkwardly and apologetically smiles. “Bumping into me, are you sure you’re not doing it on purpose?” The girl repeats, her guitar slung over her back as her hands are occupied with a small knitted handbag and her phone.

“No, no! I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to bump into you earlier either.. I.. I just wasn’t-“ The flustered boys speaking was cut short as Athena lets out a loud, obnoxious laugh, causing the few people in the near empty hallway to stare.

“I’m just fucking with you, we’re cool.” The girl says, widely smiling at miles, putting her pretty little tooth gem on display. “Oh.. we’ll still I’m sorry, my bad.” Miles awkwardly apologises with a small smile on his face.

Why was he so nervous around her? He was never nervous. Not even around other girls, not even when talking with strangers and definitely not when he was getting chased by the police as the prowler.

Valentina taps the red haired girls shoulder with a smile on her face as Athena turns around to face her brunette friend. Valentina and Ivory inform Athena that they’re all about to leave to hangout at her house, laughing at her interaction with the boy that they had most definitely been listening to.

Athena puts her phone in the pocket if her hoodie, grasping her knitted bag tighter as she follows her friends out, not before turning her head to face the boy with a smile on her face, “see ya around, Miles..”

The boy just stares at her as she walks, watching the was her hips sway and her plump thighs rub against each other as she lightly jogs to catch up with her friends. He was shocked that she knew his name, knowing damn well that he had never told her.

For the rest of the day Athena’s sweet voice echoed through Miles’ head, even as he showered, even as he ate dinner with his uncle and mom, even as he blared music through his ears, music that reminded him of her. The same sentence would never leave his head,“see ya round, Miles..”

He was done for, completely infatuated with the girl and he knew it, as much as he would deny it to this friends, he knew deep down that they all knew as well. Cute scenarios played in his head from the second he fell asleep to the second he woke up, when those scenarios were replaced by her sweet voice once again.

❀

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[cntoesussie]

tf2 mercs except they’re teaching classes at my high school for no reason whatsoever other than that i’m feeling self-indulgent

Scout:

I know his ass would be a gym teacher

either that or a coach of some kind

health class might work too

i’ve seen teachers teach both so it might work out

he might not be the best teacher though

but the class likes him methinks

Soldier:

he’d be a history buff i think

i can just imagine him teaching US history his own way

barely abiding by the curriculum

i think it’d be a lot more hands-on than most history classes

a lot less written work and a lot more reenactments

because yes

he might also be a coach too

but idk

Pyro:

Financial algebra, statistics, and economics :thumbsup:

Demoman:

First thought would be chemistry

but then i was thinking about how he could teach stuff like concert or marching band

i think he’s good with music

not me with the baseless headcanons again

but idc

Heavy

i think he’d be a good English teacher :]

slow-paced, but in-depth

he wouldn’t move on unless everyone got something

i don’t think electronics would be used in his class period

so get ready for some writing

a lot of writing

either that or library science

or Russian (if the school offers it)

Engineer:

okay

engineering is a low hanging fruit

so that’s an option

but have you also considered guitar, geometry (or any core math class really), physical sciences, and/or speech?

i think he could do any of those tbh

he reminds me of my current geometry teacher kinda

he prolly talks to the other math teachers in the hallway about video games and stuff

he’s a dork /affectionate

Medic:

Health, biology, anatomy, sports medicine, forensic science, medical technology, ORCHESTRA

his ass is teaching ALL OF IT

bro has his schedule BOOKED

he’s bouncing around the school

rushing from class to class just like he’s a student himself

he’s an old man, how does he handle it?

cocaine the extra organs he had sewn into himself

how did he pass the background check?

idk

Sniper:

he’s giving substitute teacher

no but imagine your teacher not coming in one day and having fucking MICK MUNDY there instead

he’s either a sub or he teaches stuff like small animal care or herpetology

also SAT prep

i think he’s surprisingly good at taking tests

Spy:

i think he teaches piano

and choir

and theatre

bro is stressed out bc these are such performance-heavy classes

but it’s his fault for taking up all these classes

maybe he needs a bit of Medic’s help with management

he’s out for a couple days and winds up with a bunch of extra organs

[lavendersprouts]

An everyone lives fic for RTC where:

- the choir (found family trope)

- Ocean and Noel have brother-sister bond

- ocean is like the dork little sister of the group

-ocean undergoes character development to be less selfish and self centered

-Mischa and Noel date

-the group go to therapy following the accident

-addressing their personal demons:

- for Jane her lack of memories, sense of identity and self. (penny has long term amnesia and still doesn’t remember who she is still going by Jane Doe )

- for Constance her guilt over the way she lost her virginity as well as standing up for herself more often

- Mischa works on being more vulnerable and open instead of repressing his negative emotions, also the trauma of losing his mother and moving to a new country only to have his foster parents treat him like a monster

- Ricki finally gets better accommodations, ie wheelchair, and AAC

- Constance, Ocean and Jane become a great friend group

- the group do fun activities together

- Ricki starts a D&D group for the choir where they meet weekly/ biweekly

- they have movie nights

- go to a pride parade

- Noel finally starts writing a novel staring Monique Gibeau and the rest of the choir is rooting for him even Ocean in her own way

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

Oh my goodness! I thought you had disappeared when I saw all your Quinn works gone! You’re absolutely my favorite Quinn writer!

So i was hoping i can request, fem!reader x Quinn Fabray exchanging soft smiles across the room from friends to lovers please! Thank you! Best wishes!

A/N: Awww thanks! Yeah, I got shadowbanned but now I'm back! So more Quinn fics :3

Quinn x Fem!Reader

The choir room was full of noise and the New Directions were working on their setlist for Nationals. Everyone was in little groups, some working on costumes, others working on harmonies. You were with Mike and Brittany, finalizing choreography before you all start teaching the others. You look up to survey the others and mentally visualize where to place them. Your gaze stops when a pair of hazel eyes catch your attention.

Quinn had her eyes on you from her place with the other girls. The soft smile on her lips grew slightly when your eyes met. Suddenly, no one else was in the room. You could feel your heart swell from the feeling of Quinn having her eyes only on you. From the beginning, you were infatuated with her and over time, it grew into a deep adoration before it became full-on love.

And gods, it scared you.

There was never such an intense feeling within you. In the beginning, if you thought too much into it you felt as though you were going to have a panic attack. Now, while there's a squeeze in your heart whenever you were near Quinn, it was bearable. It was enough to be near her. You never expected for her to share the same feelings, but you still stuck by her through thick and thin.

In a flash, the blonde was drawn back into her group by Rachel and the spell on you was broken. With a quick shake of your head, you went back into work mode and continued your choreography work. The rest of the time was spent passing glances amongst productivity.

-----+++++-----

You were the last one to leave the choir room. Last minute tweaks to some dance moves that didn't quite feel right to you. Once done, you notice that Quinn had waited for you.

"Quinn? What're you still doing here?" You pick up your backpack and trot over to her by the door. "Figured you'd wanna get outta here and destress from Rachel's shenanigans."

The blonde let out a soft chuckle at the words. "I do. But mom's out for the night and I don't feel like being alone. Keep me company?"

"Of course. I'll text my parents on the way." As you pull your phone out, you spin and dip into a sweeping bow. "Lead the way."

"You're such a dork." Quinn shakes her head fondly as she walks past, ruffling your hair and making you squawk in surprise. With a laugh, the blond runs off, forcing you to chase her.

While she manages to dodge your first few attempts to grab her, Quinn ends up fully in your arms. Her feet are off the ground and she has to cling onto your shoulders to maintain her balance. Despite being shorter than her, you were always a bit stronger. There were more than one attempt to recruit you into the Cheerios.

"Y/N! Put me down!" She manages to laugh out.

"Nope." You continue to walk down the hall with her in tow. "Can't have you running away from me. I'm keeping you right here."

You feel Quinn shift on your arms. To avoid dropping her, you stop and adjust your hold to look up at her. Hazel eyes stare down at you with an immense amount of adoration. Suddenly, you feel her hands on your cheeks as they heat up.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Those words echo in your mind as you let out a soft gasp. Your hold on her slackens enough for Quinn to slowly slide back to her feet. As a result, she's now a mere breath away from your face. You can see her eyes searching yours, looking for some sort of answer. She finds it when your eyes flick down to her lips.

You're not sure whether Quinn pulled you in or you surged forward. All you know is that Quinn's lips are on yours and it feels like you've just reached Nirvana. Your bodies are pulled impossibly closer and minutes and hours seem to pass simultaneously. Your hands don't roam. They seem to just want to cling onto Quinn and never let go. When you both come up for air, there's a moment of simmering tension.

"So... Your place?" You manage to breathe out. Quinn brushes her nose to yours.

"Make sure you tell your parents you're staying over."

[bigstupid69]

They're all here now!!

Mischa was the first one I did so if his sheet looks off and poorly formatted it's cause it is…

Headcanons below the cut

Mischa

☣ Now before I say anything "why are all the boys with each other" uhm cause I was indecisive on if I liked starrypoet, spacerap, or nischa better, I still ship mischalia honestly sometimes even more. So I just threw the rest of them into the polycule regardless

☣ He is a short king, short Mischa truthers rise he is literally only an inch taller than Ocean, she probably intimidates him more than the other way away around (Need more absolutely unhinged Ocean's who are one point away from screaming at someone, Trinity theater Ocean changed my life/j)

☣ He's practically Ezra's adoptive older brother at this point, bond over the Saw franchise and ICP. He's surprisingly good with kids, like he's a good guy he just looks intimidating and crusty, which I did on purpose. But he is literally the sweetest one in the choir, super physically affectionate, gives good hugs.

☣ Along with Penny he also constantly looks like he's been shoved down a flight of stairs, which he claims is because he's gotten into fights. It's not, he just fell down the stairs like her. He wants to think he's all tough and everything but it's like the complete opposite, he's a dork.

Ricky

☄ They are best friends with pretty much everyone except Ocean for obvious reasons. Constance and them make Kandi together. He's wearing two Kandi necklaces on his uniform, both of them loosely based on the Kandi singlets I made for the choir members. (which of course you have no context to unless you're the like 5 people I've shown them to.)

☄ They're breaking so many dress code rules and the school is just too tired to care. Dyes his hair regularly with Constance, also I know lots of people love the Savannah Potts hc, it's cute!! But I physically cannot draw masc presenting people without shitty facial hair. It's an addiction. I'm so sorry.

☄ Their art style definitely is similar to the late 2000s anime style every shitty windows movie maker slideshow presentation had. with a mix of warrior cats and sparkle dogs. I couldn't really present that in the like 4 inch amount of space I gave myself.

☄ Him and Constance have matching tamagotchis, Noel also used to have one but it died and he sobbed for hours and never wanted to touch it again out of sheer guilt of killing a virtual pet.

Constance

♡ I'm ngl I like pretty much every Constance ship except for blackrose and kept seeing sugarspace art and thought it was cute. So there you go sugarspace crumbs, I'll draw them probably at one point.

♡ She is literally the reason why the choir is like mentally and physically stable. Course that's very mentally draining and never said it's a good thing!! She's probably pushed into the group therapist role at points, I hate the "mom friend" headcanon at points, it's accurate, but at points it can be really toxic, coming from personal experiences.

♡ She definitely shops at hot topic with Ricky and collects a bunch of really cheap fandom merch. Usually bracelets and necklaces, also really into styling hair. She braids Penny and Ocean's hair sometimes, and as mentioned before dyes her hair with Ricky.

♡ I don't like blackrose at all but they've dated for like… a day. It was not a great time. (Literally just one of those absolutely pointless middle school relationships that you forget about like immediately after a breakup)

[powderblueblood]

BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984. 

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this. 

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it. 

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from. 

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome. 

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.” 

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.  

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.” 

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow. 

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again… 

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo! 

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious. 

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!” 

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads. 

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up? 

We were kind before; we can be kind once more… 

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm. 

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again. 

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed. 

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him. 

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.” 

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating. 

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too. 

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery. 

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep? 

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses. 

This is the royal court. They float above it all. 

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings. 

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants. 

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone. 

And finally, Lacy Doevski. 

The Almighty. 

She is a mythic bitch. 

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed– 

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates. 

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer. 

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table. 

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch. 

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.” 

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick. 

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned,  “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.” 

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.” 

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over. 

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof. 

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts. 

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important. 

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face. 

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down. 

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious. 

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic. 

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful! 

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! 

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt. 

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe. 

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set. 

Just a dream. 

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you. 

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me. 

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox. 

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days. 

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic. 

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on. 

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her. 

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.” 

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body. 

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way. 

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to. 

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

[familyvideostevie]

𝟭𝟮 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀: 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲

day one: tree lighting with steve | fluff, first kiss, 1.1k 12 days of christmas masterlist

It takes a few dates for you to realize it. Steve Harrington, despite being almost unbelievably handsome and funny and even a little bit of a dork, seems to forget how lovely he is. You know he used to walk around the halls of Hawkins High like he owned it, his attitude as big as his ego and his hair. But these days he's softer around the edges, looser even. It's kind of amazing to watch. 

Now, on your fourth date, you have to force yourself not to stare. Well, you think this is a date. You saw a movie a few weeks ago, then you went to dinner just you two last Friday, and just a few days ago you went on a drive for no reason. But he hasn't kissed you. You are trying very hard not to dwell on it.

The town square is full of people waiting for the thousands of tiny bulbs to be lit, illuminating the town and almost every tree in it. The high school choir is singing carols and people all around you are chatting and drinking hot chocolate. You and Steve are huddled close because it's a bitter Indiana night, arms linked together as you share your own steaming up of cocoa. He finishes taking a swig before passing it to you. You press your lips to the spot where his were and once again wonder if you're ever going to get to kiss him for real. What if he's just being nice? What if you're just...friends? Yeah, you think, the way he wrapped his scarf around you when you got here was real friendly.

"And then I almost feel off the ladder because Henderson decided to stop holding it at the bottom right when it got windy." He's telling you about the favor he did for Dustin's mom, putting her lights up, and you're just watching him talk. His cheeks are rosy and his hair is sticking out from under his hat and he is so pretty you have to hold in a sigh. "But I didn't fall because I have great balance, obviously, and I'll drive you by the house after this because it really does look great--"

"Steve," you interrupt him. 

"Yeah?" His attention turns to you immediately, eyes roaming over your face. Are they lingering on your lips or are you imagining things? You hand him the hot chocolate cup, but put a hand around his gloved one once he takes it from you. The carolers are singing louder now and some guy dressed as Santa is getting ready to pull the switch to light up the town, but you keep your eyes on Steve.

"Are we dating?" you ask him and try not to wince. You probably shouldn't be so that blunt so you don't scare him away. His eyes widen and his lips part. 

"Oh," he breathes out. You feel it on your cheek. "I, uh. I kinda thought so?" He sounds a little sheepish, like he's realizing he should have addressed this sooner. You think that maybe this is the core of Steve Harrington -- a boy who wants to love and be loved in return, his heart on his sleeve. 

"Okay," you say, smiling to reassure him. Heat builds in your chest, a fondness that you figure you're going to have to get used to around him. "I just wanted to check. Because I've been having lots of fun with you --" His brows start to furrow and you realize this is starting to sound like a possible breakup, so you hurry forward. "I have just been wondering why you haven't kissed me yet?" Your voice goes up at the end and you start to feel a little embarrassed. 

But Steve's face transforms into a boyish smirk and he presses into your side a little more and turns so your faces are even closer. "Is that so?" he teases. "You wanna kiss me?" He scrunches his nose in fondness at the indignant sound you make. "Oh, you want me to kiss you?"

"Well, if you're gonna be smug about it, I take it back --"

"Oh no, no," he says, tapping the side of your boot with the toe of his. "No take-backs. Plus, I want to kiss you, too." He unlinks your arms and pulls his hand out of his pocket to cup your jaw. You can feel the heat of his palm through his glove and he smiles, this one a little shy rather than cocky. Steve is so close now that you can count every one of his eyelashes and freckles. The hot chocolate cup you're both holding is cradled between your chests and you have a passing thought that you shouldn't crush it.

In the background people are counting down but the rest of the world fades away as you close your eyes and tilt your head a little and wait to see what he does. You feel a puff of warm breath on your lips just before he brings his mouth to yours in a soft, sweet kiss. You pull your hand from the cup and put it on his elbow, pulling him closer as your noses bump and you start to smile so much it's hardly a kiss anymore, just the press of your grins together as you both barely contain your joy. 

Kissing Steve is better than you imagined it would be. It's the kind that feels like the start of something, the kind that makes a knot you didn't you know had in your chest unravel, the kind that makes you tingle all the way to your toes. 

The cheers of the crowd fade back into your hearing and the real world reappears around you. You open your eyes and find Steve bathed in the warm glow of the Christmas lights that now shine from every tree and lamppost in town. But you barely look at the display because you can't take your eyes off of Steve. He looks...beautiful, still smiling, cheeks pink not just from the cold, and he leans in again to press a quick kiss to your temple before tucking you back into his side, arm around your shoulders.

"Not too shabby," he says, looking around you at the glowing square. You warp an arm around his waist as he pulls you close and you lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes for just a second, taking a deep breath. He smells like hot chocolate and detergent up close. 

"I think it's perfect," you say. He squeezes you just a little before you feel him press a kiss to your hair. "Just perfect."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[starful02]

It started as a joke conversation of what fruits fit the vibes of Kadou, Evemer, and Tadek and quickly evolved into this! I finally got around to coloring them this evening and they have stolen my heart again! For those that don’t know, these three wonderful dorks are from Alexandra Rowland’s fabulous book A Taste of Gold and Iron. It has become one of my all time favorite books and I cannot recommend it enough! It’s a slow burn romance between a very beautiful anxious prince and his equally handsome stoic bodyguard dealing with a high stakes counterfeit investigation as well as learning how to navigate each other (with the help of a sassy, incredibly charming past lover). For those who have read it, there’s several other books of Alex’s (@ariaste) to read too! You can find information on them on their site (which I’ll have linked below!). One that is particularly notable is their upcoming queer pirate comedy novel Running Close to the Wind. I’ve done some fanart of the fantastic chaotic disaster of a main character, Avra! It comes out in June! You can read an excerpt of it in the link below!

[lillazyboithings]

Day 15 - Everybody lives/no one dies

This one is where the choir decided to go on a different ride instead of the cyclone (I imagine that they went to the gravitron instead)

Just these two dorks being lovey dovey during choir practice

@june-doe-event

I want to headcanon Noel as being half-filipino (father side) since my pathetic butt is also Filipino and I resonate with him so much (I also love the fact that some people here just draw him as Hispanic and it's just so 🩷🩷🩷)

Also thought that Mischa with freckles and blue eyes would be adorable. just for a change (im keeping the tooth gap, sue me-)