Look it's my boblox avatar I based my persona on, BoxBoy!
This thing is my main avatar and idk what it is cuz assigning this thing a personality is not on my schedule and I'm ok with that👍
It's not a box or a boy, it's more of a title then anything just like I want it to be, very cryptic-like cuz I usually just hang around and watch people do things in servs, though I have cooked some people, it's great!
Anyways, don't mind this post
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I’ve already said I hc that Anthony speaks French when he’s having Big Feelings, but I would like to add to that: if it’s bad enough, he can get “stuck” in French. As in he genuinely cannot form English sentences even if he wants to. The words just don’t come to him, or they’re so jumbled and grammatically misplaced it’s unintelligible. And his friends understand like- four words in French combined. All of them via Anthony’s speaking the language. So if, say, he’s having a panic attack bad enough to get stuck, he will be unable to communicate why.
Not that he would if he could speak English, but the squad would have a fighting chance at figuring it out based on what he does say.
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"will you match my freak" no. i'm freakier than you. this is a competition and i'm winning
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the first time dick hears jason laugh after he becomes red hood is during a time they both got kidnapped. dick was scooting his chair closer to jason’s, because no time like when you’re both ties up literally to get in some brotherly bonding, and his chair slipped causing him to fall. Jason has never laughed harder in his life.
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not being able to find older bf!simon around the house and while you’re looking for him, you catch something out the window-
nearly all the women in your neighbourhood gathered at the end of your driveway
you come outside to investigate only to find them with their attention glued to the front of your car, it’s not till you walk around the front you find the lower half of simon sticking out from under it
on his back, knees bent, massive boots planted into the concrete, bare arm occasionally stretching out to find another tool
“you alright, si?”
you hear him grunt before he’s calling out to you
“yeah, i’m right sweet’art- sortin’ out that bit thas’ been givin’ y’grief”
breaking your gaze from his massive thighs flexing under his jeans, you scan back over the crowd that’d formed
all of them married, all of them a good ten years older than even he was- you couldn’t really blame them really, you had eyes
you could hear him shuffling out from under the car before he suddenly straightened to full height, wiping greasy hands on the front of his old-white-singlet
he pulled up the bottom of it to swipe his forehead and you think you heard someone gasp
wrapping a firm arm around you, he gives your backside a pat before he kisses the top of your head
“got t’keep y’safe, y’know?”
“thank you, baby- now be polite and say hello to your audience”
oblivious as ever to anything other than you, simon threw a look over his shoulder before he followed you back into the house
“oh, ‘ello ladies”
(someone throws a street barbecue and you force simon to talk to the other men around the burner and multiple husbands request him to start “doing that shit” in the garage with the door shut, please)
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