#i love neon grey...

[that-house]

every day I walk into my visual arts class I am haunted by your fascination of neon grey and every time I find myself studying achromatism I want to disprove you so bad. But neon grey just isn't a color and you're right and you'll always be right and I'll always just be a girl painting neon greys that don't exist losing myself within a color that can never be defined

THANK YOU! YOU CAN'T HYPERSATURATE A SHADE AND ANYONE WHO SAYS YOU CAN IS LYINGGGG

[neon-catarina]

EAT YOUR FRIENDS.

[spaciebabie]

this is what unamed looks like btw. they're the character from that animation post i did awhile back

(he/they)

[turnaboutstar]

why are they all not human but human shaped and in love with a humans and are kinda angelic but not really...

[willowser]

honestly if i had a bigger brain, i would write an entire android shouto fic

[jrueships]

the four genders: the work in progress amygdala, average gay person, forehead indent, and White

and the forgotten fifth gender: JT Thor .

[hoperays-song]

Sing Colour Palettes: The Redshore Group

Ryan: Black, Green, Orange, and White

Clay: Tan, Grey, Blue, and Red

Nooshy: Silver, White, Green, Yellow, and Pink

[youssefguedira]

watching ripley again while normal IS changing my opinion on the show somewhat. very silly still fun to watch but like. it is SO stripped down and sometimes a liiiiiittle bit robotic and i GET that's what they're going for but on this watch i am sometimes not vibing with it. however i think this is in turn making the show all the more compelling for the fact that i cannot decide how i even feel about it

[hacked-wtsdz]

I love early seasons supernatural aesthetics so much. The isolated highways, funky motel rooms, neon signs, shiny guns and shiny cars, leather jackets, old books, through a film camera lens in seasons one and two, makes for such a specific atmosphere. It transfers the isolation Sam and Dean experience so well, cramped into the seats of a 67’ Chevy impala, claustrophobically un-alone while individually lonely. The nasty, sometimes created with horrible special effects, monsters really do look monstrous, unsettling more than outright terrifying. With yellow eyes, in dirty clothes, glitching and pale. The whole colour palette is grey-ish and cold, you almost feel the contrasted darkness, the distrust, the nagging belief that something wicked may be hiding behind every corner, behind every corner of your own self as well. Idk. The blood looks dark, the sulfur looks sickeningly yellow, the skin looks unnaturally pale. It’s all so horror-coded, and gives such an atmosphere of instability in your own existence in the world, which aligns with the themes of the seasons. This atmosphere, to me, makes it a better horror show than if it had had better special effects and scarier monsters. Because the horrifying is in the daily existence, in how you are, rather than what you face.

[xanaxspritz]

𝙙𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙮 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙨 ♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚𝙖𝙠𝙖 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙'𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙙˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

cw: bf!megumi, college AU, cheating, breeding, possible impregnation, cowgirl

an: I put cw here for a reason, so if this work makes you uncomfortable in any sort of way or if you're a minor, please do not interact. this is a work of fiction and what i write here does not reflect my own values or experiences.

ʚ♡ɞ˚

megumi was a sweet boyfriend. he sent good morning texts daily, was always ready to drop everything if you were in need across campus, and even warmed up to pda because you liked it so much. you couldn't ask for anything better.

but his father was a different story. undeniably a dilf, you couldnt help but to stare at the way his arms bulged out of his compression shirt he always wore, hugging his torso just right to show off his abs. you couldnt but to take a peak at his lap when lounged in grey sweats, watching TV with his legs spread wide open, as if he was daring you to take a seat on top.

it didn't help that he would stare at you, every time you visited megumi at home. the heat of his eyes lingering a bit too long on you heated up something dark within you.

the tension between you and toji kept rising and rising, until one day you went to the fushiguro residence to retrieve something you left. you find toji in the kitchen, eating his lunch, his lips curling up into a smirk when he sees you.

"megumi ain't here you know" he says food still in his mouth.

"i know. just forgot something," you say nervously.

"was it this?" he takes out neon pink panties from his pocket. you are mortified.

"oh my god. im so sorry mr. fushiguro. i promise i'll never-"

"always knew you're a little slut. i can always tell with little girls like you"

"what? what do you mean?" you feel your face grow hotter.

"don't pretend like you aren't, " he chuckled. "always teasing me with those super short skirts barely covering your ass. i can even see your pushup bra through your shirt." you cross your arms instinctively. "i didn't think megumi had it in him," he continued. "but it seems like you've got him wrapped around your finger."

you were speechless. was mr. fushiguro actually hitting on you?

"tell me doll, is he good enough for you? is he fucking you right?"

by this point toji rose up from his chair, inching closer to you until youre back up on the kitchen counter. you can something on the side of your thigh.

"y-yes mr. fushiguro, he's a great boyfriend. i-i couldn't ask for any better," the wetness you can feel in your panties betrays your words.

"hm, is that so?" his hands wandering behind you to squeeze your plump ass. he snaps your panty band before feeling up between your legs.

"already wet f'me you dirty slut," leaning down closely to your, lips centimeters apart. "how naughty."

you crash your lips into his desperately, weeks of sexual tension building up to a make out session. his lips are surprisingly soft, and his breath is a comforting smell of tobacco. "call me toji," he nuzzles into your neck.

one thing turns into another and you found yourself in the master bedroom, bouncing on top of toji's huge cock.

"that good baby, keep riding me just like that," he whispers slapping and grabbing your ass. "i bet he doesn't fuck you like i do, ain't that right?"

"n-no mr. fushiguro!"

"i thought I told you to call me toji," he narrowed his eyes, picking up the pace faster.

your moans get louder as his thick, fat cock pounded you. his heavy balls slapped against your ass, you close your eyes in pure bliss, your tits bouncing in his face.

"i wonder what would happened if i filled you up with this daddy dick. think megumi would notice you pregnant with my baby, hm?"

the thought of toji cumming in you was exhilarating, you quickly nod your head yes, holding him tighter as he digs his fingers into your hips.

he laughs at your eagerness. "figured a little whore like you would love it. fuck- are you ready?"

you feel his warm cum filling you up as toji grunts. his load is thick and creamy, the excess dripping down your thighs.

he quickly replaces his cock with his fingers, plugging the cum inside you, keeping you nice and full.

"you're a good fuck," he sighs. "no wonder megumi keeps you around."

right, megumi. how would you even begin explaining to this to him? should you even tell him? the overwhelming guilt consumes your thoughts.

toji notices the visible worry you're sporting on your face. "hey doll, don't worry. I'm not gonna tell him," he reassures. "as long as you don't either. just keep coming back when he's not home so I can cum inside that pretty pussy again."

[queers-gambit]

Neon Sticky Notes

prompt: ( requested ) reminding your boyfriend you love him one sticky note at a time.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.4k+

note: baby gets what baby wants! God, do i hope this is what you want, my baby...

warnings: probably cursing, Carmy needs a nap, men being simps, this is short and sweet! it's FINALLY edited!!!

You knew he was struggling. Worn-out, beaten down, exhausted, run ragged, amuck, and into the ground.

It was evident in the way he carried himself; the prominent bags under his eyes, the way he tossed and turned in bed before being found on the living room couch in the morning. His hair seemed greasier then usual, his skin turning gaunt and grey, and you knew he wasn't making time to eat.

By comparison, you had a simple job, something corporate and in an office. Something that made decent money; something you were good at, something you could find pride in doing.

However, Carmy's job as a chef was different; being more than stressful, and while coupled together for years now, it was still a work-in-progress each time Carmen started on a new venture. Owning, running, and converting The Beef into something "better" should've been no different, only it was - it was totally different. Carmy was frazzled, looking deranged some evenings, as if operating on adrenaline, and you were at a loss on how to help.

So, you resorted to a natural instinct - communicating.

Carmy needed reassurance, he needed support, he needed to be loved for who he is, exactly how he was, in order to keep his head on straight. You never did mind the challenge that was Carmen Berzatto, finding him akin to a puzzle. So, on your way home from work one evening, you stopped at a CVS to grab a pack of neon, multi-colored sticky notes and a brand new Sharpie marker.

You had an idea.

When you got back to your shared apartment, you unloaded the groceries you needed onto the counters before calling Carmy. "Hey, Peaches," he answered on the third ring, usual kitchen clatter in the background, "everything okay?"

"Yeah, all good."

"Sure? Sound outta breath."

"The elevator's broken, I got groceries," you groaned, "and have been skipping the gym for a couple weeks."

He chuckled, "Never skip leg day, baby, you know it's our house motto."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever - hush. I'm just wondering if you had an ETA for tonight? I have an early morning meeting, so I want to go to sleep early."

"Uh," he trailed, a muffled ruffling sounding over the line before a small clatter that made him sigh, "yeah, um, you know what? I really don't know, baby, I'm sorry. You do your thing and I'll be quiet when I get in, just leave my stuff on the couch."

"No, come to bed," you whined slightly, "I miss you."

"Awh, yeah, miss you, too, Peach. I'll be there," he promised.

You finished putting all groceries away; the dishes following, then you got started on prepping dinner. Look, you were no cook - that was all Carmy. But you weren't totally useless in a kitchen, so, you didn't mind taking over most meals now that Carmy was waist-deep in The Beef's bullshit. You played music as you cooked, poured a glass of wine, danced around, and tried to think of a list of encouraging things to remind Carmy. You ate dinner alone, and when done with clean-up, faced off with your sticky notes and Sharpie.

The first note was scribbled and stuck on the covered plate in the fridge: Bone Apple Teeth, Chef!

Then you wrote a note to leave at the door where Carm was sure to drop his keys: make sure you eat the plate I left you!

Humming, you pondered a moment before smirking and writing a third note to be left on the TV remote: I know you too well. come to bed.

Lastly, you wrote a fourth and final note to be left in the bathroom: great job today, Chef! you're killing it!

You were fast asleep when he got home. He found the note in the key bowl, smirking at your kindness and thoughtfulness. Carmy saw the messily-drawn heart and pocketed the note, toeing off his shoes and entering the kitchen. He reheated the plate you left, pocketed the second note after a silent grin of amusement, and when ready, took his hot food to the couch.

Carmy laughed when he found your third note. He left it on the table as he ate, half-watching the news segment he flipped on. When he was full and his plate clear, Carmy turned the TB off, pocketed your note, set everything in the dishwasher, started it, and then went into the bathroom. Another soft chuckle emitted as he pulled the final note in his hand - and you already know he saved it.

When he got in your shared room, he made sure to leave the notes in a random shoe box, stashing it in his closet, changed for the night, and crawled into bed with you.

This was a regular occurrence now: Carmy came home late to a barrage of sticky notes, saved them all, then crashed in bed with you. You missed each other, but understood scheduling just didn't line up right now. It wasn't like you two never saw one another, you still did - but it wasn't like it was. Time together now felt fleeting, as if you had to savor everything, so you made the most of your situation.

Was it overcompensation? Possibly. But Carmy adored your notes.

Sometimes, you'll be sat in the living room, reading a book, working on your laptop, or scrolling Instagram on your phone, while he cooks and he finds a note left on the milk carton that reads: I am UDDERLY in love with you!

Get it? 'Cause cows have udders? You were pretty proud of that pun.

Other times, he'll be up at an unGodly hour, getting a steamy hot shower, and you'll come in to pee. He doesn't think anything of anything until he gets out of the stall only to see a neon orange sticky note on the counter, saying: i love your butt! lemme pinch it!

Carmy feels himself looking forward to your little surprises. Some were funny and a little vulgar, like the note found on the eggs: fertilize MY eggs!

Some notes were more innocent, like the one he found in his shoe one morning, reading: I'm so proud of you. have a great day today!

Some just said: be home for dinner @ 8! making your fav!

Others were found, saying: you're so fucking handsome. I'm one lucky ducky! You even tried to draw a little duck.

Some notes were motivational: you're doing a GREAT job, baby!

Some notes reminded: you have a dentist appt @ 10!

Some notes were sweet: call me during your break, cutie, i miss your voice!

And others found on the bathroom mirror were playful: you look too good today, go change! A second note added: don't need anyone looking at your fine ass! A third: i'm the only one allowed to look #respectfully

Each and every note had a drawn heart, being saved to a hidden shoebox. He found notes in his usual coffee mug, reminding him you loved him. He found notes on his toothpaste tube, telling him he was doing a great job. Cereal boxes now promised Carmy they were proud of him, pastas told him to have a great day, and the light switches assured reminded him how special he was.

The microwave told him you felt blessed to be his and in his jacket pocket, he was told how lucky you are to love him. Some notes swore to him he was one of a kind, others explicitly detailed what parts of him you wanted in parts of you, and a few reminded him of important dates, appointments, deadlines, anniversaries, birthdays, etc..

Sometimes, he found little treats with these sticky notes. Like when you had to make brownies for your little sister's bake sale, you left him a Tupperware full with a hot pink note, labeled: for the love of my life!

And then... One morning, when you got up for work, Carmy was already gone for his day. You went through your normal routine, entering the kitchen with the intention of making a to-go cup of coffee, only to pause and grin when a neon green sticky note greeted you from the stovetop. Written in messy, fresh, black Sharpie was: got you on my mind. love you, be home @ 6 tonight!

Carmy drew own heart and you beamed at the reciprocation. You didn't mind the distance for now, knowing he was busy and it wouldn't last forever; but the fact that he could reassure you as much as you could him warmed your heart. You felt like the Grinch when his heart grew in size, just without the painful grunting. If anything, you felt euphoric from his little note - thinking it was reassuring to still communicate even when your schedules differed.

The day passed sluggishly - only because you were actually excited to go home. Ironically, your last client of the day didn't leave until a little later than scheduled, so, when you FINALLY got off work and made it home, Carmy had beaten you. When you got through the door, you were met with a heavenly aroma; using Gandalf's advice and following your nose to enter the kitchen.

You sighed dreamily when you came to a halt in the doorway, bottom lip trapped between your teeth to attempt and restrain your ecstatic grin. Carmy was shirtless at the stove, stirring a pasta dish to coat it in the sauce of his choice. "Hi, pretty peach," he beamed at you.

"Oh, I've missed this sight," you squealed, rushing to his side to throw your arms around his neck. "Hi, baby, hi, baby, hi, baby," you chanted between chaste kisses to his cheek.

"Someone missed me," he laughed, cheeks blooming a bright red - but not from the kitchen heat.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, and you know I don't do well alone, I need attention," you teased with a pout, his arm slithering around your waist - but a crinkle noise caught your attention. "Woah, hey. Did you get a new tattoo?" You pondered, looking down at his arm that was protectively bandaged.

He smirked and held his arm out, "Wanna take the plastic off for me?"

"What'd you get?"

"Find out," he whispered, staring at you with his intense baby blue eyes; waiting as you calculated your next move. Slowly, you reached out and unwrapped the protective cling wrap, getting to the gauze, then slowly peeling that from his skin.

"Ohhh, my fucking God," you whispered.

"Like it?"

"Are these... My hearts?"

He nodded, "I got 6 of them from your notes tattooed. 'Cause we've been together six years. Figured, each year, I could add one - but you gotta draw it."

"You're ridiculous," you laughed, in minor disbelief. "What made you do this?"

He eased, "You. I've never felt so confident in my life before, and I know you're a huge part of that. It feels right, being with you feels right and I wanted to show you that I see and appreciate all you do." His tone softened, "I wouldn't be me without you, Peach."

"You'd still be Carmy."

"A totally different Carmy, though," he chuckled. "I actually like who I am with you, baby. But look here, I know it's been real hectic lately, sweet girl, with the restaurant, but it's not gonna be like this forever. We're makin' progress, we're gonna get this settled."

"I know," you assured, "'cause if anyone's gonna get this done, it's you. Just don't forget to breathe every now and then - you're drowning in this stress and I need you to stay afloat, Carm."

"I'm good, Peaches, got you on my team so I can't lose," he eased, tucking you into his chest for an embrace. After a minute and a tight squeeze, he sighed, pecked the crown of your head, then mumbled, "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner's almost ready."

You agreed, stealing one last (prolonged) kiss before scampering off to the bedroom. When you got there, you almost tripped when you came to a halt; laughing loudly as the entire bed was covered in an array of neon colored sticky notes. Until you got closer and realized each note detailed a different reason Carmy loved you; from the way you search for him in your sleep to how you resembled a Gremlin if not fed within certain hours. From how you weren't afraid to dress up for the Renaissance Festival to how you throw blankets in the dryer for 15 minutes before movie nights. In fact, "movie night" was on a single note, being a fond yet routine date. You read each note carefully, tears wanting to build but you refused to let them, yet it was difficult when this was the sweetest gesture you've ever known.

Even things you were insecure about, like dimples or weight or hair color, was highlighted as a reason Carmy loved you. He listed your authenticity, generosity, thoughtfulness, charisma, incredible brain but even bigger heart. He praised your wit, your humor; adored your sneezes, and looked forward to coming home every night because he knew he was coming home to you.

You've never felt so loved before, wondering if this was what Carmy felt each time he found one of your notes.

Movement caught your peripheral, and when you looked up, Carmy was leaning in the doorway of the bedroom; arms crossed and lips pulled in a small smirk. He didn't speak, he just stared at you. You were at a loss for words, opening and closing your mouth twice; holding most of the sticky notes in your hands, but then, you settled on telling him simply, "I love you so fucking much, Carmy."

Dinner might've allegedly burned that night, but so did your love and passion for one another. Even the smallest of gestures can go farther than we anticipate, and showing someone you care could be as simple as leaving them notes around the apartment you cohabitate in, on neon colored Post It's.

Wanna know the cool thing about adult relationships? You get to love your partner out loud; being unapologetic in how you emote, and in return, you're loved by them. Each person deserves to be loved in the way they want to be loved - but you know how fucking great it is when two lovers respond to the same language? What I mean is, it could be considered rare that you, who liked to leave notes, would meet and fall in love with someone who liked to collect and read those notes. Your love language was the same as Carmy's, part of the reason you both worked so well together - but also why one day, he'd add plenty more hand drawn hearts to the collection on his forearm.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[stickandthorn]

I am so happy that the Barbie movie seems to be fully embracing the girlyness and sillinesss and overall Barbieness of Barbie. So much content these days that is either aimed at young girls, or based off of something that was aimed at young girls, is so embarrassed of the girl part of it. Corporations will try to make it more “progressive,” but in doing so they suck all the fun and joy and girlyness out of it, because they believe that diversity can only be corporate and boring.

If they’re making a mature adaptions, it becomes sad, bland, and grimdark, and it’s filled with 4th wall breaking jabs at the original that make fun of the girlyness and fun it had, like this muddy grey slog of self serious dialogue and butchered characters is any better. If it’s meant for girls and made now, it just doesn’t have any fun to begin with. All the characters walk the perfect line of girly but not too girly and diverse in a mandatory power point presentation from HR way that shows demand.

As much as we can tell so far, this movie does not do any of that!! They’re all named Barbie and Ken and the Barbies have 100 million jobs and the Ken’s are just there!! They all have great outfits and high heeled feet and bright pink cars and neon yellow rollerblades!! They’re wonderful girly plastic dolls who cannot conceptualize what sex is because they’re smooth and genital-less and they’re embracing that!! They’re finding the humor in it, not by making fun of it, but by wearing the funny parts proudly on their sleeve!! It’s not based on being ashamed of Barbie but absolutely loving it!! That’s what unabashedly girly material should be!!

[neon-catarina]

couldn't a reason Mind and Heart hate each other be because of whole's love interest (sung in Haiku and Hidden In The Sand), like how Whole really liked them, but he thought that they would never love him, so basically his Heart wanted to ask them out and pursue a relationship, but his Mind refused thinking they would never love him. And its mostly because of that Whole split into three in the first place, so they both blame each other for it, and that's why they hate each other?

[suguann]

He’s not sure when it happened—no warning with bright neon signs to prepare him.

All of it sort of creeps up on him before he ever really has a chance to reign it in. It’s to the point where he can no longer ignore the ache in the space behind his ribcage while tucking into dark corners in another country with thoughts of you to keep him company, hoping to make it another day just to see you again—and it fucking terrifies him. 

(In some ways, more than being on the receiving end of a bullet.)

He’s memorized far more than he ever expected about one person. The crinkle of your eyes with a laugh, the shape of your mouth around a lemon ice lolly. The way you bite your lip when you catch him staring.

He memorizes the things you tell him when it’s just you and him in the quiet of your flat. He knows you don’t want to be a bartender for the rest of your life. He knows you applied for university in the fall. He knows your hang-ups with relationships—he has his, too—but you’d like to settle down somewhere quiet with a family of your own someday.

(After a lot of soul-searching, he thinks he might want that, too.)

The list is endless. You like to talk, and Simon learns he doesn’t mind listening.

While you help him stuff his bags into the backseat of your tiny car, he makes the off-hand comment, “When are you going to let me get you something that won’t tip with a gust of wind?”

“If you were my boyfriend, maybe I’d let you.”

You look up at him in a way you haven’t before. Scared and hopeful. Like you’re getting ready to lay down all your cards for him to choose the best hand (probably all of them, whichever makes you his first). He’s never had anyone look at him like that.

A small part of him can’t shake the sense that it’s too soon, that your friendship is all he has during his time home, and he drunkenly sulks at the pub with Johnny one night.

Simon rolls his beer bottle—now lukewarm—between his hands. “There’s no way she likes me like that.”

“Just tell her how you feel.” Johnny slaps a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the worst that can happen? She tells you to fuck off but still wants to be friends?”

Simon wants to say, “Yes, mate, exactly that,” instead, he finds himself nervously running his hands through his hair outside your apartment door thirty minutes later. It’s only after he knocks that he realizes you might not be awake or how horrible this idea was because he’s not sure how to tell you that life before you came around, was grey utilitarian and a fridge full of take-out cartons—

“Simon?” You prop the door against your hip, sleepily blinking at him. “Is everything okay?”

His eyes trail over his old Nirvana shirt he let you borrow all those months ago and never got back, down to your cute pink painted toes curling into your entry rug, and back up to your soft doe eyes burning into him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, I—No.”’ Not anymore. All of the pent-up anxiety from the time it took to walk from the bar to your place sobered him up, but another beer would be nice right now.

“Do you want me to call Johnny—”

Then he just comes out with it. “I’m in love with you.” 

It’s not his finest moment. 

He expects you to laugh it off and tell him ‘nice one’ like you usually do when he makes stupid jokes or awkwardly gives him the we’re-just-friends rundown right there in your entryway. Nothing prepares him for when you drag him into your apartment, telling him between needy, quick presses of your lips that you’ve loved him for a while now.

“I’m surprised you couldn’t tell.” You say it like he’s the last one to know, and maybe he is.

Christ, he has you pressed up your front door for all of your neighbors to see. And you love him.

You fucking love him?

It’s difficult to wrap his head around, especially when his other head steals all of the blood he needs to think straight by eagerly pressing against his zip, or maybe he’s still a little more drunk than he thought. 

Simon never thought he’d get to find out how you taste or how you look sprawled out underneath him with your soft thighs pressed against his chest and your eyes knocked back as he slowly splits you open, carving a piece of himself there—your wet, tight cunt making his jaw fall slack.

His cock jerks at the sight of your pussy lips spread wide and taught around him, your little hole contracting, struggling to make him fit. No one has ever taken him all the way the first time, yet here you are, trying to hump up against him to bring him deeper—as if there’s anywhere else inside you for him to go. 

“There is, there is, there is,” you gasp, trying to prove him wrong.

And when he glances up to see the cute face you make once the last inch of his cock nudges its way inside, his name dripping from the tip of your tongue like a little prayer for him to think about in great detail later, he wonders why he waited so long. 

“Christ—love, fuck—you’re so pretty,” he groans, falling on top of you and pinning you to the bed, fingers pressing into your cheeks to make you look at him, to make you understand. “This is mine now.”

(Not that you argue with him.)

It’s what comes after that’s his favorite part, your head on his chest, his fingers in your hair, leaving slow kisses against your temple while you whisper sweet nothings into his throat—I love you, too; I don’t think I said it, but I want you to hear it—maybe the right words won’t be so hard to find in the morning when he sees you laying there beside him.

I know I posted this a few days ago, but I took it down because I wanted to add to it:3

[raphael-angele]

Solangelo Sleepover (feat Percy cuz it's his turn to babysit)

Nico: Hey, I found something

Percy: What is it?

Nico: Oh, just Will in a campus personality pageant

Percy: WHAT?!

Will: *tries to snatch away the tablet*

Percy: PLAY IT!

Tablet:

7 year old Will wearing a cowboy hat very sparkly gold tuxedo: Hi, I'm William Andrew Solace from Austin, Texas!

Nico, laughing: You look like neon yellow highlighter!!

Baby Will: And you should pick me for Mr Campus because *sings and dance* I am your sunshine. Your only sunshine. I make you happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away! *smiles*

Percy: PLAY IT AGAIN! PLAY IT AGAIN!!!

---

Nico, to Will: Why did you never tell us you were in beauty pageants?!

Will: Cuz it's embarrassing

Nico, laughing: It is, it really is

Will: Yeah, well, Percy writes Studio Ghibli fanfiction about himself and Annabeth and posts it on the internet

Nico: (º〇º) ... (⚆⩌⚆)...no..

Percy: WHY?! WHAT DID I DO?!

Will: I'm sorry, I had to get the spotlight off me and tearing down other people was part of my pageant training.

[bbunnyyy]

All The Stars~

BAKUGOU X SECRET ADMIRER PT.1

A/N: This idea has marinated in my head for wayyyy too many weeks, so here you go. There will be a part 2 to this.

P.S: Not proofread. Sorry for any mistakes.

ALL THE STARS~ PT.2 | ALL THE STARS~PT.3

It was the second day of school after the summer break. You peeked out from behind the wall at the lockers- your crush's locker. Your stomach grumbled in pain- ah, the sacrifices you make for love. Maybe this was a stupid idea, why would Katsuki fucking Bakugou reciprocate the sickening feelings you harboured towards him? You were better off staying his secret admirer.

Bakugou was the last person you'd imagine a puppy dog romance with. He surely wasn't worth skipping lunch for. What were you thinking anyway, hoping his love for you would blossom? Well, that's all it would be. Hope. You told yourself. Not that it would matter, the gifts inside were unsigned anyway.

Sighing, you turned to walk away- maybe you could convince Lunch Rush to let you have a peck or two before class started. Walking into the hallway, you scratched the back of your head as you felt a headache come on. Looking up, you saw Bakugou, Kirishima and the others walking towards the lockers. Scrambling, you ducked behind the staircase- Holy fucking shit. This was it. They hadn't noticed you, luckily. Not yet, at least. Your knuckles were white from grabbing the wall as you stood on your tippy toes, trying to get a closer look at his expression.

That idiotic blonde was screaming at Denki for electrocuting his lemonade or whatever- at least he saw that coming; what he didn't see was the hellish amount of confetti falling onto him as he opened his locker. The rest of the Bakusquad looked with their mouth open as you cowered behind the wall, blushing. You were grateful no one had noticed you yet. "Ooh, looks like someone's got the fancies for Bakubro ;)" Kaminari said, almost emoting in surprise, along with Kiri.

"What the actual fuck is this?" Bakugou grimaced, stepping on the now confetti-covered floor. He rummaged around his locker, pushing the confetti around to uncover boxes stacked on top of each other next to his textbooks. Pretty pink boxes adorned with ribbons, must I add. A neon orange sticky note taped to the topmost box stood out in contrast with the monochrome textbooks and grey metal of the locker. Bakugou had half a mind to throw it all away or blow up the entire locker. It wasn't worth the hassle anyway.

Denki snickered, peeling off the note that read 'High protein chocolate~' "Woaahh, real thoughtful, ain't it?" Kirishima said, elbowing Bakugou in the stomach. "I wonder who it isss~~" Mina piped up, opening one of the heart-shaped boxes to reveal chocolate-covered strawberries. Popping one in her mouth, she sighed, placing a hand on her cheek while relishing the flavour. "I wonder how they got all that confetti into your locker."

You took a deep breath in, relaxing your shoulders. One step at a time- You walked towards Bakugou. "I wonder who's masochistic enough to have a crush on Bakugou, let alone express themselves, hahaa-" you laughed, interrupted by a sharp jab on your ribs. "Aahh that hurt, y'know?" You sulked, rubbing the sore spot. "What kinda coward leaves this unsigned?" Bakugou grumbled, tearing up the note and resuming rummaging through his locker for his textbooks for Present Mic's class.

Katsuki Bakugou was not a kind man. You more than most people, knew that well. But Bakugou didn't mean to push you out of the way as he made his way out the hall. He didn't mean to bruise your chest. He didn't mean to hurt you.