#he doesn’t often wear nail polish because he thinks it chips too easily and chipped nail polish drives him crazy

[morganbritton132]

There’s a Twitter exchange where one Corroded Coffin fan posts a zoomed in picture of Eddie’s hand during an interview on a late night talk show.

All of his fingernails are painted black except for his thumb on his right hand. This thumb is painted baby blue with green writing but the quality of the picture isn’t good so you can’t really read it.

They caption the picture, “What’s this say?”

Their post is retweeted by one of Steve’s students with a picture of his hand where his thumb is painted black with a ‘SH ❤️ EM’ written on it with red polish. They’re like, “Probably this.”

#it is only Steve’s thumb that’s painted #he doesn’t often wear nail polish because he thinks it chips too easily and chipped nail polish drives him crazy #so it’s easier to just not wear it #if he is wearing nail polish it typically means El is in town #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[vampthropologist]

Ultimate Luck 🍀 Nagito Komaeda

Here’s my Nagito HC design! Full details under cut because I wrote a LOT

EDIT: I forgot to add that he’s autistic

HC Details/Additions:

Intersex- Partial Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome (basically mostly feminine body with undeveloped masculine reproductive system and a feminine reproductive system coexisting)

Raised female, but transitioned as young teen. Has not had too surgery, has a small chest and no dysphoria about them but might get it just out of convenience.

Genderfluid transmasc (neoboy usually)

Gay

Ectomorph - Meaning he is extremely lean with little muscle mass. He could eat as much as he wants but his body struggles keeping the wait. It doesn’t help that he simply doesn’t eat that much, to the point of sometimes only eating once a day (Much to everyone’s dismay)

Small chest, slightly larger hips and butt, little muscle, and sickly skinny

Can‘t catch a tan to save his life, but also doesn’t sunburn very easily. He might get some freckles though! They just fade when he’s not outside constantly.

Has asthma, though it’s not as bad as it could be because he took immunotherapy as a kid which helped with allergies. He forgets his inhaler a lot.

Autistic- He stims with his hands a lot, and rubs his patches (different textures). He also verbally stims, but he masks that most. In my opinion, most of his existing personality already aligns with someone with autism, but I won’t go into detail. (Also yes I am projecting with this diagnosis a tad bit but I do not care)

He’s the same height, just wears platform boots on top of that so he’s taller now.

Dry, fluffy, curly hair- He might have ringlets if it wasn’t so dry and sick. It gets bleached by the sun on top of the sickness so it’s extra pale. He probably bleached it at some point just for the heck of it. Point is, he has hair damage

Peircings- Right eyebrow, multiple on ears, used to have nose and bellybutton piercings

Eyes- there‘s no definite pupil how I drew them. This doesnt mean he has eye problems, though I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s to show he has a carefree look most of the time. He also has pale eyes too, which means they are sensitive to light and he would wear sunglasses if he cared about his eye health. Also he wears eyeliner, though it’s nothing special, just a wing or outline. He has under eye bags, whether they’re from his allergies (asthma) or lack of sleep is a mystery.

Injuries- he hurts himself often, so he has a lot of bandages. Usually he has bandages on his fingers, even though he might only have scabs. He doesn’t want to pick the scabs, and he thinks they look cute. The bandage on his neck is from a burn and the one on his nose is a cut. He also has messed up cuticles from biting his nails when younger a lot (another reason for bandaging them).

Hands- bandages from injuries, nail polish (he likes to paint them different colors, and when he starts biting his nails again he puts the bad tasting one on to stop himself, also his nails are very chipped), rings, usually up and in motion to emphasize his speech (he talks with his hands). He also writes reminders on his hands or arm sometimes. He’s ambidextrous.

Jewlery- various necklaces, bracelets, and rings from his travels. He has a belt chain and collects cute charms too. He also has a dog tag with his name on it, though a small corner broke off. He has clover and skull charms, some cuter ribbons and animal shapes (notably a dog one that he doesn’t take out too often) and an intersex charm for pride. He collects bangles, pearls, beads, kandi, and any type of chain or bracelet he can get his hands on. He also has rings on his fingers when they don’t have bandages, usually simpler bands and no stones. He has a ring from his parents on the same chain as his dog tag, but that’s one of the only ones he owns with stones. He wears a choker, and has a belt chain instead of a wallet chain.

Clothing- it’s the same, but the jacket and pants are more ripped up. His sleeves aren’t ripped either, but he has patches on his jacket and pants now. He especially likes the clover one on his right knee. He has patches from his travels as souvenirs, like locations, concerts, or shapes that symbolize something to him.

Shoes- They’re calf-high platforms with chunky bottoms. Lace-ups with scuff marks, but Special because he doodles on them when he gets bored (a lot of things about talents and hope on them, but also daily reminders for himself).

#I may have projected just a teeny bit #☕️.my art #🃏.kins #nagito komaeda #traditional art #sdr2 #sdr2 nagito #danganronpa #headcanon #headcanon design #dr is mine now kodaka (danganronpa hc/redesign tag)

[onesmallspark]

Quarantine Dream

Wrote this out of pure boredom and my own quarantine horniness.

2.6k words of fluff and porn. That’s all it is.

Apologies for any typos. LMK if you want to see more interludes from Leah & Steve’s quarantine.

A pandemic-level virus was not something Steve Rogers needed to worry about. The serum removed that threat years ago. However, for Leah, things were not quite the same.

She loved her little D.C. walkup and though she and Steve had only been dating for a little over nine months, they decided to take the plunge and quarantine together. Steve vowed to refrain from work he couldn’t do from her brownstone to cut down on the likelihood of bringing anything home.

Steve was old-fashioned, obviously. But he helped with cooking, cleaning, and maintained some of the things around her home that needed help like a kitchen cabinet not sitting quite right in its hinge.

However, he still turned a little pink when he’d help fold laundry and pull out an especially risqué pair of panties from the hamper. Leah loved it. She, on the other hand, took great pleasure in folding Steve’s underwear, no matter how flustered he’d get seeing the hold a pair of his boxer briefs.

They both spent most of their weekdays working in separate rooms of the house. They outfitted an alcove of Leah’s bedroom to fit Steve’s desk and computers, while she took over the spare bedroom to continue teaching her second-grade class.

Steve relished in the act of bringing up a sandwich to her office for lunch only to hear the group of 18 seven-year-olds dissolve into chatter and giggles.

“Hi, Mr. Steve!” They’d chorus, sometimes tipping off Leah to his location before she noticed him.

“Hi kids!” He’d smile back, showing off those perfectly aligned and whitened teeth. He’d set down the little plate with a turkey and ham sandwich and just the right amount of Doritos chips before announcing - “I think it’s close to lunch time!”

Leah humored him because the kids loved it and she often times needed the reminder.

“Okay everyone, after lunch, we’ll get back together and go over our multiplication tables.” She said sweetly before signing off.

The days went by quickly, and though Leah loved the extra time with her beau, she started noticing the real differences between them and their preferences. Steve could really do with some time to let his hair down.

“Baby?” Leah called from the kitchen one Sunday morning, digging through the fridge.

“Yes, my love?” He asked, walking in to join her. Always so formal. His eyes raked up and down her form - donning a lacy pair of pink panties that were somewhere between a thong and shorts, one of his workout shirts and nothing else but the white nail polish on her toes.

“I can’t find the orange juice - did we get some on our last Instacart order?” She frowned, closing the door.

“Uh,” Steve replied plainly. His brain shorting for two reasons - the swell of her ass from beneath the pink lace to the idea of working the Instacart app. He still wasn’t very mobile-friendly.

“Baby,” she laughed, turning and sliding her hands around his sides to press her face into his chest. “I told you I could do it.” She murmured, hands resting at the top of his jeans.

As previously stated, Steve was old fashioned. He didn’t hang around in comfy clothes. He got up, showered, put on his clothes for the day, changed once a day to go to the gym, showered again, then put street clothes back on. He ate meals at the dining table or breakfast bar, put out his pajamas on the dresser each morning and never skipped his deodorant.

Leah’s goal was to get him to lounge. Embrace athleisure. Maybe even go barefoot.

“I’ll get it this time, I swear,” he blushed as she slid her hands up his back from beneath his navy T-shirt.

“Baby, it’s 10 a.m. on a Sunday,” she pointed out, hands running over the brown leather belt. “Don’t you ever want to just hang out in your jammies?” She asked, looking up at him with her chin balanced right below the line of his pecs.

“I’ll get nothing done if I just hang around in my comfy clothes,” he pointed out, gulping softly as she slid her hands down into the back of his denim pockets.

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” She purred, burying her face in this chest yet again. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll make us breakfast, okay?”

“Do you want me to set the table?” He offered, kissing her forehead.

“We’re not eating at the table,” she winked.

Half an hour later, with a glass of milk tucked under her arm for the soldier and two plates of breakfast sausage and french toast, she wandered her way into the family room and set everything down on the coffee table. Steve was perched on the couch reading a book.

“It looks great, Lee,” he complimented, giving her a smile that made heart flutter.

“Thanks baby,” she smiled, straightening up. “Now, stand up,” she insisted. He complied, sticking a crisp $5 bill in his book to keep his spot, setting it on the side table.

She took a long, good look at him before meeting his gaze.

“Now, pants off.” She instructed. He opened his mouth to protest. “I mean it, Rogers. This is a no-pants brunch.” He almost went to argue again, but in the spirit of solidarity, he unbuckled his jeans and stepped out of them before draping them over the back of the adjacent lazy chair. “Socks, too.” She added. Again, he complied, tucking them into one another and setting them on top of his jeans. “I want your butt right here, and legs going that way.” She pointed him to sit with his back agains the arm of the chair and legs stretched across the three couch cushions. 

Climbing onto the couch, she carefully wedged herself between his thighs, tucking her feet beneath the juncture of the couch cushion and the arm, practically in his lap.

Steve immediately flushed pink at how close her warm center was to his very interested cock, and with just the thin layers of cotton - well, in her case, lace - between them.

“Here baby,” she handed him his plate. They held their plates in their hands, chatting about a few things they wanted to get done around the house that week.

“I went to Bachman’s on Friday and reserved a couple of hanging baskets for the courtyard.” Steve said, “thought you’d like the purple ones.” He spoke of the small 14 x 14 outdoor space off the back of the living room - just enough to fit a few chairs and some string lights.

“Thanks, baby,” Leah smiled. The space was their sanctuary. Outdoor, private and kept them from going to stir crazy during the week.

“I can run and get them after brunch and hang them, then I’ve got some lumber coming to put together that planter box.” He continued, eating his french toast. “So I’ll start sanding them down, make sure they’re cut to size. Sometimes you get them and they’re a few inches or so off.” He explained.

“Today?” Leah pouted.

“Yeah, they close at 2, so I only have a small window to grab ‘em.” He explained.

“But they’ll be there tomorrow, right?” She asked with a tilt of her head.

Steve looked up from his plate of french toast to see Leah looking back at him, her big brown eyes as innocent as could be.

“Yeah, they’ll be there tomorrow,” he acquiesced. 

“You’ve got just a little,” she leaned forward, flattered by the small drop of maple syrup balancing just carefully on his lower lip. He barely let her close the space before leaning forward, pressing his lips to hers.

He twitched subtly, but felt the earth shift when her sex pressed against his with the forward rock of her hips.

“Lee,” he blushed.

As previously stated, Steve was old fashioned. She had wondered in the beginning stages of their dating life if he was going to tell her he was a virigin, or was saving himself for marriage, - thankfully that was not the case. But Steve was traditional, vanilla, romantic. Things that were just fine - she was always satisfied. Leah, however was a modern woman, and she was ready to teach her old dog some new tricks.

She easily slid her plate, then his, to the coffee table before wrapping her arms around his neck and nesting herself much more comfortably and directly in his lap.

Feeling his hard length was always a flattering feeling that sent a thrill up her spine. His hands traveled up the length of her back and down again, holding her tightly to him.

“I love how big your hands are,” she admitted, lips brushing his. “You’re so strong,” she purred, kissing him again, knowing he could feel her hard nipples against his chest. Steve was a boob guy. She knew he never minded when she’d wear his workout shirts - the thin, breathable fabric always displaying her breasts in a way that he really appreciated. 

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” He huffed, trailing kisses from her lips, down to her neck.

“Absolutely not,” She giggled, running a hand up the nape of his neck to the back of his head, sending another shudder throughout his body. She pressed her mouth to the shell of his ear, soft pants coming in waves against him. “I want you to fuck me on this couch, Steve.” She purred, sending every hair on his body to stand at attention.

“O-on the couch?” He asked, having a hard time thinking straight as all the blood in his body rushed toward his cock in a way that had him momentarily dizzy.

“On the couch,” she repeated. “Think you can do that?” She asked, feeling the dampness collecting in her sex.

“Anything you want,” he insisted. 

“I want you to rip these panties off of me,” she said, rocking her hips into him once more, this time, leaving the faintest trace of wetness against the heather grey of his boxer briefs.

He reached down and complied to her wishes as if her were flicking a light switch.

“I need you in me, baby, I need you bad,” she tossed her head back, grinding her sex against him in a way that had him second-guessing his heart health.

Steve reaches down into his briefs, pulling out his cock and surprising even himself at how hard he was, the angry-looking head staring right back at him. Leah planted her in the couch and gripped the arm behind Steve, lifting herself just enough for him to slide more beneath her. They both groaned out as she sandwiched his cock between his abs and her pussy, grinding up and down the length in a way that felt like pure greed. The crown of his mushroom head caught against her clit as she spread her arousal up and down the length of it.

“Lee,” Steve stuttered.

“It’s so big, Steve,” she whimpered. He was going to commit the image to his memory forever - the inviting pink of her sex spread out atop him, her hooded clit peeking out in a way that was taunting him. She leaned back, bracing her hands against his knees, taking everything from him as she rubbed herself with more vigor against him. Then, she lifted herself just enough to hover, allowing him to reach down and grasp his length. Now, she was the strong one, as she let herself slowly sink down on top of his cock, pausing as she took just the head inside of her vice grip.

It took everything in Steve to not thrust up into her.

“You’re so big,” she echoed, “God, I just want you in me all the time,” she damn near whimpered.

“Lee, please,” he begged with an exhale. She sucked the remaining breath out of him as she allowed her body weight to drop, taking his full length and girth at once. Steve shouted as he bottomed out. Leah swirled her hips, side to side and up and down, taking exactly what she wanted from him. Steve straightened his posture, reaching for the hem of his own shirt agains her skin before bringing it up and over her head.

Wetness pooled against the grey band of his briefs as she rode him, and the sounds she made as she bounced were borderline pathetic. Steve needed more control. 

Leah yelped when she found herself laid across the length of the couch, Steve’s cock buried inside her as he hovered over her body

“Give it to me,” she begged, pushing her hips up against him. Steve complied, setting a hard, relentless pace that caused her eyes to cross momentarily.

“Is this what you want?” He husked in her ear, two of his big, blocky fingers pressed against her clit.

“Yes,” she begged, nails dragging down the expanse of his marble back, causing goosebumps to erupt all over his body. Leah wrapped her legs around his lower body and he braced one hand above her head against the arm of the couch, the other holding one of her thighs - keeping her nice and tight to him.

“Steve, I need you to cum inside me,” she whimpered, causing him to stutter his movements. “Please, baby, I need it.” She begged.

“You need it?” He asked, gritting his teeth as she clamped down on his cock, dragging as much out of him as she could.

“Need you to fill me up,” she panted.

Steve watched as she reached down, circling her clit with her fingers as she thrust up to meet him with every movement. He could feel it coming in the soles of his feet - the backs of his thighs getting sweaty as he began to shudder.

“Come on, Lee,” he huffed.

“Want me to come on your cock?” She asked, watching as his eyes dilated.

“Yes,” he all but growled.

“Say it,” she demanded. “Tell me you want me to come on your cock,” she panted again.

“I want you to come on my cock,” he parroted. “Now.”

Leah squealed as her body thrummed, clamping down as every muscle below her heart spasmed, complimented by the feeling of Steve’s orgasm painting her insides. Steve jerked haphazardly, taken aback by the strength of his orgasm. 

She ran her hands up the solid ridges of his abs to her chest as they each caught their breath.

“No,” she pouted as he moved to pull out. “C’mere.” Steve obliged, mentally still floating above his body as she pulled him down to rest on her chest, his softening cock still tucked deep within her. He nuzzled into the swell of her breasts as she ran her nails gently up and down his back, hands resting on his ass. As soon as he felt like he could make words again, he pressed a kiss to her breast.

“How long have you been planning that?” He asked, preening as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I think about it every time I see you,” she replied casually.

“Every time you see me?” He asked, a little bewildered, eyes looking up at her from her cleavage. 

“Every single time,” She replied, loving the way a pink blushed dusted his cheeks. She resumed his back rub, “I think about you taking me on this couch, bending me over the back of it, over there on the kitchen counter, in the shower, in the backyard, at your desk in your office…” she trailed off. Steve grinned a secret little smirk, pressing another kiss to her breast.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got plenty of time left inside this house.”

#quarantine smut #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #captain america #captain america fic #captain america x ofc #captain america imagine #captain america smut #marvel #marvel smut #quarantine with Steve Rogers #quarantine with captain america #cabin fever #steve rogers is vanilla #sexy times with steve rogers #captain america fucks

[ofclaires]

⌠ MAYA HAWKE, 21, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CLAIRE WALSH! according to their records, they’re a FOURTH year, specializing in THREAT ELIMINATION; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (chipped black nail polish, a leather jacket with boxing gloves slung over the shoulder, bandaged knuckles, and a wicked smirk). when it’s the (aries)’s birthday on 3/31/99, they always request MAC & CHEESE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati 22, she/her, est ��

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION.

Rosa Diaz - Brooklyn 99

Kat Stratford - 10 Things I Hate About You

Faith Lehane - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Mandy Milkovich - Shameless

Akane Owari – Danganronpa

Arya Stark – Game of Thrones

Kim Kelly – Freaks and Geeks

Kyo Sohma – Fruits Basket

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO.

pre-gallagher.

her parents were young as hell when they had her so she was raised by her grandma in her earlier years ! claire gets a lot of her values from her grandma, mainly her biting sarcasm and devil-may-care sort of attitude. she tells claire stories of her grandfather, who was a champion boxer and it ignites claire’s interest in the sport from a young age. she grows up without a tv and plays outside a lot.  

her grandma dies when claire’s about eight years old and she goes to live with her mom, who spends the money from the will about as fast as it lands in her pocket. her mom dates a lot of unsavory dudes. 

she and her mom actually grow quite close over the years, but a lot of times it’s claire taking care of her mom and not the other way around. the entrance to their trailer is like a revolving door for shady dudes and her mother drinks too much and sort of acts like an overgrown teenager, never ready to let go of her youth. claire learns a lot of responsibility and independence as a result of this. 

her mom finally lands a dude that seems like a genuinely nice guy that makes her want to settle down and become a housewife. claire likes seeing her mom starting to act like an adult, and their lives start to turn around. he’s rich and they wind up moving in with him after the wedding, but things change shortly after, and he reveals a darker, more manipulative and abusive side of himself. 

he takes claire out of her passion, boxing, because it’s not ladylike enough, and he starts talking to claire’s mom about boarding school. it’s then that he starts fighting your mom more physically as they disagree.

the climax of the drama is when he hits claire ( she’s sneaking around and still boxing ) , but claire knows how to hit back hard. claire’s mom gets caught in the fray, it’s a huge fight, and claire nearly kills the guy ( tbi for sure. ) 

as a result of the incident, claire is recruited to a spy prep school in new york at age 16, her sophomore of high school. claire’s angry and closed off, and has a difficult time making friends in high school. but she does go through a lot of anger management and such. 

gallagher academy.

YEAR ONE: claire gets adjusted to school at gallagher academy, determined to prove herself among some of the world’s best. she quickly gains a reputation for her prowess in combat and spends long hours in the gym training. she slowly starts to open herself up to the idea of making friends. 

YEAR TWO: even though claire’s made friends, she still keeps secrets about her past, keeping her guard up. she receives letters from her mom about a new guy she’s seeing, and an invitation to her mother’s wedding. she ignores it. she and her mom still haven’t spoken since she was sixteen. near the end of the year, she gets a postcard that her mom is moving to iceland, but she does nothing about it. 

YEAR THREE: ( where our story started ) 

boys come to campus and claire feels like she has to fight harder for her reputation as THE BEST, isn’t pleased with their presence due to a longstanding distrust when it comes to men. 

claire’s ego is boosted after she’s been chosen for a MISSION, to explore the abandoned boys’ school, blackthorne academy. there, she and mary sakamoto discover that it was a school for assassins. explains why claire keeps getting her ass kicked – these boys have been trained to kill. 

witness protection kids come to campus, resulting in the death of one of them and gallagher student, amelia taylor. claire feels helpless as a result, always thinking of herself as a protector and gallagher has always been her stronghold, her safe place, and it all feels threatened. 

claire has a falling out with a friend and feels super alone with all this shit going on and winds out reaching out to her mom. i wrote a self-para here, but her mom invites her to come stay for the summer. 

when a brotherhood member is discovered on campus, she teams up with a group of...unlikely allies, and sneaks into the sublevels to kick his ass. his current status is unknown, and he’s quite possibly dead. either way, as far as she knows, they were never caught. 

claire visits her mom in iceland for the summer (details here) and they sort of mend things. she meets her moms new husband and actually likes him. 

PERSONALITY.

DETERMINED – when claire sets her mind to something, she will stop at nothing to accomplish it. she’d probably even risk death to accomplish her goals, she simply can’t accept failure.

HARD-WORKING – claire can pretty much always be found in the gym, trying to make herself better. it’s honestly a running joke how often claire is working out, but there’s a basis in it. honestly, claire thinks her only value is her muscle, so if that’s what she’s good at, she’s going to be the best. she’s that kid in your gym class that’s going way too hard for no fucking reason like calm down. 

BRAVE – there’s little that claire fears, and even her fears don’t generally stop her from accomplishing her goals. you could chalk up some of her bravery to determination, but she’s been through enough that she doesn’t really stop to consider what she’s going to lose. so maybe it’s also stupidity!

LOYAL – it’s really challenging for claire to form connections, but when she does, she latches on. when she cares for someone, she really cares for them, and she’s pretty ride or die. this sort of loyalty can be a burden for some of her friends, because she can be somewhat overbearing. 

ANGRY – claire’s probably best known for her anger, it’s like she walks around with a fuse waiting to be lit at the slightest inconvenience. funnily enough, her training has made her better at controlling it, but she’s still known to snap. 

RECKLESS – claire often acts impulsively, says the first thought in her mind, does the first thing she can think to do in order to solve a problem. act first, ask questions later is usually her mantra, and sometimes it saves her ass – and sometimes it comes back to bite her in it. 

DISTANT – claire finds it hard to open up or form connections with people, not often readily sharing her feels with people. she’s really averse to personal questions but she’s gotten better about sharing things about herself since making more friends at gallagher. still, she’s somewhat hard to get to know. i will refer you to this musing. 

BRASH – she’s pretty cocky to a point that often comes off as rude, but the positive spin on it is that you’ll always know where you stand with claire. whether it’s good or bad, she’s up front, but most people she trains with are probably sick of her arrogance. 

HEADCANONS/RANDOM FACTS.

can usually be found exercising. she’s really into sports and fitness and prior to the berlin internship, she used to spend her summers working at summer camps for athletes-in-training. she’s a pretty good coach, and tutors some of the other students that need help with their athletic prowess, although she’s described as a bit intense.

identified as bisexual until fairly recently, realizing that she doesn’t care or have much interest in romantic relationships with men ! so, now she identifies as a lesbian. 

cannot sit through a movie to save her life, claire’s easily distracted and bored, always needing something to do. she didn’t grow up with a television set in her home either, so she hasn’t seen many movies and is a little out of touch with all things pop culture. 

takes pictures like a mom, if you ask her to take a photo of you it’ll probably a) be a little blurry, b) have her thumb in it, or c) both.

really likes podcasts! she listens to them a lot during her workouts, while she runs the track, or anything else. claire’s not exactly known for her intelligence ( among the astronomical iqs of other gallagher students at least ) but she can spout some knowledge on things you wouldn’t expect. 

generally a hard-ass but she’s a softie around animals, particularly dogs or cats, but catch her cooing and talking in a baby voice around puppies, she’s like a completely different person, pretty much. 

drink of choice is whiskey, neat. 

despite her preference for hand to hand combat, threat elimination has given her a multitude of skills. she keeps two knives on her at all times and sometimes wears a bulletproof vest for kicks. she’s prepared for anything.

#gallagher:intro #no need to reblog this on the intro blog tho ty #just updating everything! #abuse tw #violence tw #(light mentions/not much detail unless u click the bio tho)

[xcvierhq]

mark tuan. cismale. he/him.  /  one act of kindness gone wrong.  /  have you seen xavier zhang at the beach recently? i remember them being so dynamic, but they seemed a little melancholy today. it must be tough going through such hard times at only twenty five. even then, they still remind me of chipped nail polish, laughter after dunking a friend underwater, cold beer on the rooftop at three am, and wistful frowns.

BACKSTORY:

xavier was born into a family of emigrants from taiwan & he was raised in palm beach by two loving parents, with occasional visits from his uncles and grandmothers. his childhood was, thankfully, uneventful except for a few injuries every now and then because he was an active child, who liked getting himself into any sorts of trouble.

he finished high school with average grades, even though he was intelligent — xavier mostly focused on his friends and social life to actually try and achieve a lot in school, which resulted in him becoming friends with people who were up to no good. however, he was still a guy with a rational head, which is why he managed to stay out of serious illegal things, and later on, he cut off all communication with them because they always tried to have too much force and influence on him.

he worked odd jobs in order to save up, even though his parents were wealthy; they had bought him a nice house when he turned twenty one, and he felt bad about his parents spending money on him, therefore, he told them to let him save money by himself. when he finally gathered a large sum of cash, xavier went on a backpacking trip with a friend and traveled around the world for a year, gaining new experiences and discovering his true self.

unfortunately, with so many ups in his life, it was inevitable for him to have his downs. when he came back home and got himself a well-paying lifeguard job, his old friends reached out to hang out again and after a few persistent rejections, xavier finally gave in and agreed to cautiously meet up every now and then.

however, when one day he was asked to pick up a drunk friend, he accidentally got himself into serious trouble. when he arrived at the place, the other man was keying cars and destroying property ‘for fun’, and before he could stop him, the drunk man had caught sight of a patrolling officer first, prompting him to run away and leave xavier all by himself in the scene of a crime. they charged him, an innocent man, of vandalism.

instead of a sentence or fines because he was deemed a first time offender, xavier got a lot of hours of community service and this surely dampened his mood for a good while. he was angry at himself for being naive in a sense, hoping that those people have somewhat changed, and angry at the world for such injustice. he’s still trying to recover from this turn of events and not be bitter, and enjoy the summer, even though it’s hard to do wearing an orange jumpsuit during some hours of picking up trash and removing grafitti. 

PERSONALITY:

he’s kind, bright, loud, and intelligent, always devoted to please some people and help them out. usually the life of the party and the type to help a grandma cross the street or offer to pay for someone else’s food if they’re a few dollars short at the store. however, he’s not innocent or naive — he has a side to him that most people are surprised to witness when they get to know him better. he doesn’t have a short temper, but if he’s holding a grudge, he’s holding it forever. he also tends to get jealous easily, which is exhausting because he also gets romantically attracted and involved pretty often. the man is very adventurous and loves adrenaline filled activities, but he’s also reckless and tends to neglect his own health, making this combination very dangerous. he’s social and loves meeting new people, and he makes friends easily, but he also doesn’t trust them right off the bat, especially now that he’s gotten himself involved in bad business. xavier also makes a lot of jokes, puns, and sarcastic remarks, which is why it’s pretty fun to hang out with him, especially because he’s good at coming up with things to do and cater to everyone’s needs and wishes. however, these days, he tends to keep to himself and be less active and all over the place, but he’s still the same person once you break through his shell. 

TRIVIA:

one. thinks his parents were wasted when they named him xavier. two. can’t cook for shit, but makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich. three. experiments with his hair color a lot. his current one is blonde + washed off pink. four. if he wasn’t a lifeguard, he’d work in an arcade. five. has broken far too many bones throughout his life. six. despite having them sometimes, he’s not too fond of one night stands. seven. his favorite number is seven. eight. he really enjoys retro things and out-dated game consoles. nine. has a caracal kitten named jian (comes from the word jiān that means sharp or pointed) because of their pointy ears. ten. he doesn’t have a driver’s license, but he has a bicycle and skateboard. eleven. listens to any kind of music, but he loves indie rock. twelve. he used to babysit his neighbors’ kids when he was in high school. he gets along with children very well and really likes them. he’d also love to have his own someday.  thirteen. his favorite poison of choice is beer. he doesn’t smoke or do drugs.  fourteen. knows some martial arts, but he’s stopped doing them. fifteen. has a jam filled donut with powdered sugar at least once a day. sixteen. bisexual and biromantic.

WANTED PLOTS/THREADS (from your muse’s point of view):

one. i agreed to watch your cat except i didn’t know it was a caracal and now i have scratches all over me and i’m really really mad at you. two. you looked cute but i didn’t know how to approach you so i pretended to be drowning just to get your attention. three. you liked me before you went on this backpacking trip and now apparently you’ve forgotten about me? excuse me? four. how do you manage to fuck up ramen? you need cooking lessons from me! five. we’re close friends and we just had a one night stand. awkward. six. i was nice and agreed to hep you drag your drunk ass home but now you’re a blubbering mess and you just threw up on my shoes. seven. i really need swimming lessons, but i’m so bad at this and i feel awful to take up so much of your time when you’re supposed to be saving people. eight. i volunteered to dye your hair but i got the wrong color and now you look awful, i’m so sorry. nine. i keep distracting/teasing you when you’re doing your community service and it’s hilarious. ten. you’re always on the rooftop at odd hours and sometimes you’re cold, so i always keep you company and bring you a blanket.

#tsunamintro #this is....a Long mess #im sORRY #i forgot to mention this but if u wanna plot just like this n ill mssg u!!

[preyed-llama]

Emotions personified

I'm sick, I've got an idea that isn't sanders side. This will be one post (presumably) give me a second.

So like, someone personifies emotions and they're all like chill and shit in our world. And those around them get a rush of those emotions. But like... they can control it? Look idk. I've just got the characters of some of them down. This is character design based on emotions. If you’re willing to look that’d be neat.

Happiness:

Happiness is nonbinary (because the emotion doesn't have any gender links like love is known as being feminine and anger is masculine, we'll get back to that.) they are kinda short.. like 157 cm. so like average height. But they have light golden short hair and ambery browny eyes. They wear black jeans, a black jacket, and a red Tshirt. They also have a habit of bringing with them the dorkiest glasses they can find. Like ones in the shape of two swans, one is the heart glasses, one is dollar signs. The point is they're always dorky. This is because with an outfit like this it fits all ties, does the person get happiness from reading? From theme parks? From alcohol? Who knows. But when they smile everyone's just so embarrassed and can't help but smile too. Happiness tends to go by happy because it's not that weird of a name.

Wrath:

Anger is a chick, because I thought that would be cool. She has dark browny reddy hair. Her eyes are a hard brown. She has a gun on her (it's usually not loaded though). She wears fingerless gloves, high heel boots and black, ripped skinny jeans. Glasses tend to sit on her hair and she wears a white tshirt with a dark grey hoodie over the top. She's always ready to fight, but always for a cause. She rides a motor bike and tends to have her hair pulled back so she can see everyone. Small amount of eyeliner and red lipstick and she's good. She doesn't tend to get into fights that often because it doesn't help with the anger and her friends just get disappointed in her. She goes by An because why the fuck not? Do you wanna fight her over it?

Love:

Love is so dorky and cute. He has circular glasses and freckles! He wears button up blouses and brown dress pants with those v neck sweater things. He blushes easily and stutters a lot. Butterflies seem to love him. He has curly sandy blond hair and soft brown eyes. He tends to have a book on him that he gets really embarrassed about. But everyone loves him, not just in a romantic sense. He tends to go by Liv, so what if it's feminine, he's a little feminine, and if people can love him despite that then it doesn't matter what you think.

Sadness:

Sadness is genderfluid. Some times she feels like a dull throb of sadness, other times he feels like a wave of misery. It tends to be somewhere in between or more empty so they tend to stick to they on those days. Sadness has a black bob that they like to pin back. Their eyes are a mixture of light blue and dark blue, that tend to edge on grey when they feel empty. They wear a dark brown coat over a blue shirt and a black skirt or black shorts depending on their mood. They have a thermos full of hot chocolate for when they feel too sad and has a small teddy stuffed in one of the big pockets to hold if they get too sad. Sadness goes by Sam, it just felt nice, especially when the others started to refer to them as that. 

Jealousy:

Jealousy is a girl. Women as she prefers to hear. It makes her feel more professional. She tends to be constantly buying the newest things. The desire to be the best, to have what they have, is a big problem for her. She has to talk to the others to try to combat it. She hates how she needs all their attention, how she needs the newest stuff, how she is so demanding. She spends so much time trying to get over it. She constantly has her phone on her with some good looking earphones and a pair of stunning shoes, anything to get rid of the jealousy she feels when she looks at anyone. She has green eyes and light brown hair that falls perfectly around her face. Everything about her is perfect, from the shape of her eyebrows to her lips and tooth size, but she still doesn’t feel good enough in her own skin, she needs to look like the others, but to look better. She wears a short green dress that has a slit up her left leg and hugs her body to show off her toned stomach, and perfect hour glass shape. She talks to Love about her problems, because although Love gets so much attention, and she hates him for that, she also loves him platonically and he manages to make her love herself for a small amount of time, but those breaks from jealousy are enough for her. She goes by Jewel, mostly nicknamed Gem, but when she hears a name she likes she can’t help but despise them.

Fear: 

Fear is male. He tries to act tough in front of strangers to try and hide how terrified he is, and he tends to let his guard down with his friends. He lets his legs shake and himself flinch when he’s around his friends, because they understand. He wears a thick black jacket with a grey tshirt underneath, and sweatpants. His hair is pushed up and pinned so he can be aware of all his surroundings. He wears headphones around his neck, although he never listens to them. His phone is in a protective case and he rarely ever takes it out because his hands shake so much he can’t use it. He used to wear gloves because they thought he was just cold, they quickly realized it was nerves. He skips meals because nausea forces him not to eat. He has black hair and dark brown, almost black eyes. He goes by Nicolas but people nicknamed him Nikki and Nico. He wanted them to stop but someone had mention that that was santa’s name and instantly he was trying to get a different name. Happiness and Love took him to a night in the town to prove him wrong. When people complimented his name he decided that maybe it wasn’t that bad.

 Serenity: 

Serenity is a female with purple eyes and silver hair. She tends to wear flowing sundresses with flowers in her hair. Shoes are only worn when absolutely necessary. She likes flower scented or ocean scented perfume. Even when Anger shouted at her and almost punched her, the peace she felt didn’t seem to slip far. Instead she calmed Anger down and relaxed next to her as the sun began to set. She pretty much has a flower on her somewhere and is always relaxed. She occasionally had birds land near her. She goes by Selena.  

Nihilism: 

Nihilism likes to wear suits. He spends most of his money on dumb shit (which is why his friends bank some of his money). He’s done more dangerous shit than anyone could count. His things have gone from setting fire to a random pile of leaves during Autumn and setting off fireworks inside. He does what he enjoys, and frequently ends up injuring himself because of it. He constantly has a lighter on him to use when the opportunity arises. He has shaggy black hair and awkward stubble, with rich brown eyes that seem to dance with fire. He goes by Ned, because it was the first name that popped into his head, no one really mentioned it.

 Curiosity:

Curiosity is female. She tends to dig too deep to get information. She’s pissed off Anger more times then see can count by pushing to find out what’s wrong. She constantly feels like she’s missing something. She wears oversized sweaters over a tank top and leggings. Her natural desire for knowledge has led her to be following Nihilism into dangerous situations. She spent many nights researching different things. And she’s constantly dyeing her hair because ‘I wonder what I’ll look like with this colour.’ It is a pastel purple. Her eyes are naturally brown, although occasionally she’ll put in contacts because ‘I wonder’. Her curiosity is like a hunger she cannot fulfill. She constantly has a book on what she’s studying and a note pad to solve things or write out the questions she’s going to study. She’s done many thing’s she’s regretted because of curiosity. She almost shaved her hair, which had to be stopped by Anger because she wanted to know... needed to know. In the end she edited it in photo shop and was glad that Anger had stopped her. She also had a nose piercing and spider bites because she just needed to know what she would look like. 

Hatred:

Hatred is nonbinary. They are bitter and resentful. They wear expensive suits and jewelry. Their face is has resting bitch face. They have their black hair combed up as their red eyes look cold and dead. Their glasses rest on their nose. They contain their influence, determined to let people decide for themselves. They struggle with the hatred they have for people. It becomes even more of a problem when they keep flipping between hating Love and loving him platonically. He kept it hidden and hissed out insults. They hated themself for everything they did. Jealousy and Hatred bonded over their emotion. They both hated themselves. They went by Harley, they still hated the name, but it wasn’t for them, they knew who they were, the others needed something to call them by. 

Disgust:

Disgust is a male. He has chipped fingernails and heterochromia. His hair brown hair fell in front of one of his eyes to hide the mismatch and even ended up getting contacts. His natural distaste for others and himself was the only reason he befriended Hatred. He wanted to be able to like people, but the moment he saw them his mind would instantly find something wrong with them and it made him feel sick. His brown leather jacket, black jeans, low cutting v neck tshirt, and knife screamed danger and distaste. His nail polish would chip after a day of wearing it and he had to look into a mirror to put in the contact. Every part of him was disturbed by his own existence. Love tried to help, but that didn’t do much when he felt sick being near him. He tended to stay away from people and flip off anyone who came to close. He went by Dean, he somehow felt worse with that name than Disgust, but the feeling lingered with every name, like it was embedded in his very being. Probably was. 

Craving: 

Craving is a male. He constantly had the lust for sex, the craving for a cigarette, for beer, for food. He constantly craves something. Some times he can’t even put a finger on what it is. He was constantly forcing himself not to have that alcohol or cigarette or keep eating until he burst. The cravings were unstoppable. The craving wasn’t necessarily physical. Some days he wanted to hear certain words, a certain persons voice, or achieve a certain thing. He couldn’t be content. There was always an itch somewhere. Always something he couldn’t achieve. He wore gloves, scarfs, jackets and jeans. His entire body was covered most days to hide the scars from the days he craved pain, from days where the cravings could only be fought back. He had incredibly short hair, the craving for change or to cut his hair always stopped him from growing it out like the dull craving for longer hair demanded. He would walk around with a pen so if any cravings appeared he could distract himself. Craving never could settle on a name, the cravings to start new, to have a different name demanded him to change. Anger once jokingly called him Carl. It ended up sticking. He always felt an itch when someone said it, but he tried to force his cravings for the new to stop. His cravings for silence and to be alone always seemed to interrupt his cravings for attention. 

Loss:

Loss was a female. She constantly struggled to keep up a conversation. She would fail to comprehend what others are saying and keep hold of all her thoughts. Emotions always seemed to be fleeting. She would constantly misplace things, even the note book she had with her to write everything down before she forgot it again. The white dress mixed with her pale skin and dark black hair always made her look like a ghost. It didn’t help that you could hardly see the brown from the black in her eyes. Emptiness was a familiar feeling. She tried to maintain friendships, but it was always so hard. Serenity and Love were always willing to sit with her with a smile. Loss chose Lily, it was the only thing she could think of, and it was because Serenity was holding a lily. 

Determination: 

Determination was male. There was always something he was set on. Whether it be winning the game or achieving his goal. He would keep repeating it until he succeeded. He couldn’t give up. Some people called him ambitious, they didn’t know that it was an obsession. He felt nausea and like he was suffocating if he admitted defeat. He couldn’t handle it. He wore a choker with a small cross on it, some faith that maybe he would succeed first go next time and not have to repeat it again and again. His hair was shoulder length and a deep red as his body was covered in small scars and scrapes from repeating a tedious and dangerous task again and again. His eyes were a warm brown. He wore a black tank top and a red varsity jacket with navy blue jeans. He was as stubborn as they can be. He was always going to be right. His problem led to sleepless nights and trips to the hospital. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though when the event paid off. His name was Damion. 

Trust: 

Trust was female. She always felt like a kind motherly figure. She was gentle and caring. Always willing to listen. She always listened and was over trusting. She was like an innocent child and a mother all in one. She was so gullible and would trust someone, even when she shouldn’t. No one wanted her to get hurt. They all tried to protect her. Everything she said you’d know was the truth. She wore a knee length yellow sundress with a large sunhat. Her long pink her was constantly plated (curiosity needed to know what one of the others looked like with dyed and trust was the only one to agree) and her bright blue eyes always seemed to see light, even in the darkness. She would carry spare food for if she bumped into someone who was hungry. She broke all the rules, she followed people down alleys when she was alone and accepted drinks from strangers. Her name was Tina. 

Anticipation: 

Anticipation is male. He always seemed to be waiting for something over the horizon. He would look impatient, even when he wasn’t waiting for anything. It always felt like something was coming. Something big. Something good. He spent money gambling, talked to strangers, and constantly went on adventures. There was always a tight knot in his stomach and excitement bubbling in his chest. He tend to have a fidget cube although he’d never admit to it. He wore an obnoxious green shirt and light blue jeans. Food was difficult to eat because the constant feeling made him too excited to focus on that. He forced himself to calm down and do normal things, he couldn’t let him self keep sitting down and waiting for it to arrive. Birthdays and Parties were the worst for him because the anticipation only seemed to grow. He always felt antsy when it came to making changes. His platinum blond hair was half way down his back, like the anticipation of it getting longer was something he couldn’t quench. ‘Soon it’ll be longer than it’s ever been!’. His green eyes could rarely ever stay in the same place. He had to force the excitement down. Anticipation would go by Anthony. 

Shame:

Shame was male. It was like he was a mess. He couldn’t do anything right. He was always embarrassed. it could be anything from making the wrong amount of food or drawing a line wrong and suddenly it was like everything was collapsing around him. He would feel nauseous to the point where to couldn’t eat or do anything other then lean over the toilet. He wore a long white tshirt and brown jeans. He would have ginger on him constantly for when the nausea would set in and would carry a lucky charm with him. The others always tried to make him feel better, but it was so deeply rooted, so embedded into his personality that he couldn’t escape it for long. He had to keep his dyed green hair groomed constantly, and he couldn’t let the colour fade. He had to shave the stubble. It needed to be clear. His deep blue eyes always seemed to be too expressive. Tears always seemed to fill his eyes. He had selected the name Shane, it being the closest to his actual name, he didn’t feel right to choose something so different from him. He deserved to be called Shame. 

Annoyed:

Annoyed was male. He tended to keep to himself. His nose buried in a book or in a videogame. He would nitpick anything his was paying attention to and would grow more frustrated when they wouldn’t correct it, despite not being able to hear him. He would get frustrated if someone kept pestering him when he just wanted to be left alone, but he also got annoyed by being ignored. He wore an vibrant orange and khakis pants. No one could comment without getting a loud and forceful sigh. A beanie was on hand if too many people stared at him and he almost always had a collection of notes so he could just hand over one to tell them how annoying they were being. He got annoyed by his hair and shaved it all off. With nothing to hide it, his yellow eyes were always on display. When choosing names, Anger had chosen An before he could talk which ended with him letting out a frustrated groan and choosing Adam, because some people had to go and choose his names.

Vulnerability:

Vulnerability is female. No matter what she does she feels too exposed. She tends to wear long, male clothes that hide her body completely and shorts. Her hair is long, just so she can curl it in front of her and use it to hide behind. She only shares what she feels comfortable sharing, which is barely anything. And on bad days she can't be in the same room as someone without breaking down in tears. Anger and determination promised to protect her, no matter what. But her emotion continues to freak her out. She cries into serenity’s shoulder until peace takes over. Her grey eyes are usually bloodshot from crying as her skin is red and damp. She would carry around a box of tissues and a book. On really bad days she’d borrow Angers spare gun and clip just to make herself feel a little safer, she knew she could never pull the trigger.  She chose Vida and almost tried to escape after the name slipped out. Liv and Happy smiled happily at her as An nodded at her and Selena held her hand and hummed.

Sleepy: 

Sleepy is female. She tries to avoid lying down because otherwise she falls asleep almost instantly. Her memory is awful and she barely feels energized after a 16 hour sleep. Determination and Anticipation have to lend a hand when she has to stay awake for a long period of time. She constantly wears yoga pants and a cozy pastel blue jumper so that if she falls asleep, at least she’ll be comfortable. She consumes more coffee and caffeine than healthy, but she doesn’t have much of a choice, she constantly had a thermos full of coffee only one step down from nitro coffee. Her plum hair is always pulled back into a bun as her hazel eyes always have dark bags under the. She had chosen Aurora after sleeping beauty as she fought to keep her eyes open. Tina was resting her hand on her shoulder as Nicolas looked ready to grab her if she fell asleep. 

 Kindness: 

Kindness is male. He had the softest smile and smoothest voice. He wore a jacket with a snail on it that said ‘take your time’ and would wear dumb shoes with rabbits on them. He would hand out random gifts that he thought others would appreciate and made sure that everyone was alright. His orange hair was in a pixie cut as his green eyes felt warm and inviting. He tried to comfort them, although without the presence that Serenity and Love had, he fell a little flat at hitting the root of the problem, although warm cookies managed to get them to stop brooding. He gave money to the homeless and would spend all their money on an animal shelter if he was allowed to. His name was Kennith. 

Euphoria: 

Euphoria is female. She would always be bouncing off the walls. She was  hyperactive to the extreme. It pissed off Annoyance and entertained Love and Happiness. She wore a pastel pink Lolita dress that didn’t stop her from doing cartwheels and racing around. When she was on the more mellow end of the spectrum, she would spend her time giggling as she typed at a mile a minute to someone. Curiosity wasn’t the only one interested in finding out who she had inflicted her pure, unstoppable happiness on. She tended to calm down and actually sit down when she having a bad day or when sadness had calmed her down. You could have a normal conversation with her without missing most of her words due to her talking too quickly. Her hair was dyed an electric blue to match her eyes. She’d chosen Elfie as her name. 

Innocence: 

Innocence is female. She seemed to have a child like fascination with everything. She was trusting and friendly. She always seemed to be dreaming about somewhere else and would never hurt anyone. She always had a deck of cards on her to show off her magic tricks. Nothing seemed to bother her as mean spirited jokes and dirty jokes flew right over her head. She didn’t bother asking and would instead go back to focusing on what she was doing before. Her mind struggled to comprehend somethings, despite being the same age as the others, it was always a struggle to connect. Her clothing was always a plain white top and blue shorts, someone would put whatever jacket they had if they had gone out when it was cold. Everything about her seemed calm and yet joyous. She had chosen Ivy on her turn. 

Bravery: 

Bravery is female. She stood up for everything. She was like the main character in their group of misfits, the hero in the middle of the battle. She was courageous always ready to dive into the next battle. The problem appeared when she fought until she was too badly injured. She was powerful and deadly. She always had a packet of painkillers and bandages for if she or anyone else she liked got injuries. She was good at fighting... suspiciously good up fighting. She rarely ever needed to fight, but she was willing to argue and fight for justice. Instead of mindlessly fighting, she only did it in self defense. She had light brown hair that was always pulled back into a high pony tail and soft browny reddy eyes. she wore a black top that hugged her arms off her shoulder, leggings that look like leather and high heels. She had chosen Bethany. 

There we go. the complete thing. @paradoxicalpatton I’m sorry? But there.. tagged. 

#preyed makes ocs #there now it has a tag.

[utsus]

Say Uncle: An Uchiha Madara Anthology

AO3

Uchiha Madara is many things—powerful, enigmatic, alluring.

He has a wide range of talents, and has never met a challenge he hasn’t overcome.

That is, until his little brother and his cute wife must leave town on short notice, leaving him the only available candidate to watch over their twin preteen daughters.

He is not in the habit of backing down.

This, however, makes him think about it.

✧✧✧

“It’ll only be one day, Madara.”

“You know what else happened in one day? The fall of an entire nation, Izuna.”

“That was decades ago. It’s time to move on.”

“People don’t forget,” Madara whispers forlornly, curling his fingers and surveying the smooth curves of his fingernails, each with its own dainty crescent indent.

“Regardless,” Izuna huffs, exasperated. “Please take good care of them.”

Madara rolls his eyes, knowing his brother knows he’s done so. “Of course. Have a safe trip. Tell Hinata hello for me. Don’t forget this time, Izuna. Your lack of follow-through is at times unspeakably rude.”

Izuna sighs over the phone, and the line cuts off.

“He hung up on me,” Madara says to himself, clucking his tongue. “His manners are atrocious.”

✧✧✧

Fifteen minutes since Uchiha Madara stepped through the chipped, dusty doorframe of his little brother’s home, he finds himself sitting in the living room with two eleven year old girls on either side of him. There are teen magazines spread around them, nail polishes in several striking colors lined up in front of him, and two dainty hands resting against his knees.

Surprisingly enough, none of these occurrences take the cake for the strangest, most startling development in Madara’s life.

The conversation at hand, however, does.

“Listen, Mayumi. There are approximately three hundred and seven different reasons why silk sheets are superior to,” and here, Madara pauses to swallow some bile down, “cotton.”

“But uncle, what are they?” Michiko asks, peering up at him with her wide-eyed gaze. So young, he thinks, with so much to learn about the world.

“All in due time, Michiko. For now, just know that the atrocities your father has inflicted upon you will be rectified swiftly.”

“What’s an atro—atrossy?”

“For starters, your hair,” Madara admits pitilessly. “Not to mention the décor in this place. You both have been starved of fine living. I’m surprised at your mother, though this is typical of your father.”

“I want black nails,” Mayumi says easily, gesturing to the black nail polish. This particular shade is one of Madara’s favorites, even amongst the armada of polishes he brought over to share with his nieces from his place. Madara gives her an approving look, and picks the polish up with deft fingers. He turns it in his hands and reads the label on the bottom, eyebrows raised.

“This might look black to you, but it is in fact much more. It’s obsidian.”

“Right,” Mayumi agrees smoothly. “I want it on all of my nails but the thumbs.”

“I want it on my thumbs,” Michiko states, “but a different color for the rest.”

Madara hums as he moves the tiny brush meticulously over his first niece’s nails, not getting a single smidge of paint on her skin. “And the other color, Michiko?”

He watches her from the corner of his eye, sees her lift a specific polish, seek its label, and read out, “Crimson Rain.”

“Extraordinary choice,” Madara praises, beaming at her. He finishes painting Mayumi’s nails, excluding her thumbs, and surveys his work with a critical eye. Pleased with his exactitude, he nods to himself and shifts to start on Michiko’s nails. He treats them with the same careful precision, and finishes with a wide flare of his brush over the center of her pointer nail.

“You’re so good at this,” Mayumi points out unnecessarily. Madara very nearly rolls his eyes. Of course he is.

“Of course I am,” he reiterates aloud, casting a speculative glance her way. “Experience is key. Practice is integral. Understand this, and you’ll nail it.”

His pun flies straight over their heads, and his stomach drops. Strike one, he thinks solemnly.

“Mom’s good at it too. Dad gets some paint on my skin sometimes, but he’s okay.”

Madara cringes. “He does?”

“Yup,” Michiko asserts, blowing on her nails and shimmying in her seat.

“Abominable.”

“Like the snowman!”

“Perhaps,” Madara allows, but truth be told, his mind is still clouded with his brother’s apparent failures. Getting nail polish on the skin—what is Izuna, a barbarian?

“There,” Madara announces, when he’s applied the appropriate amount of coats for their nails to really stick and shine. They coo over his work and his ego is properly bolstered, his chest swelling with pride. He flips his hair over his shoulder, careful to keep it out of their hands. Upon walking through the door, his hair had been the first thing they’d wanted to touch, as always.

And, as always, he had denied them.

That was before he realized that he finds their company bolstering, and even quite refreshing.

They have swift learning curves, and are incredibly receptive to his words and actions—this is certainly genetic, on their mother’s side. They retain the lessons he’s deemed acceptable to offer them, and they seem to share several of his key interests. They did immediately understand the difference between mahogany and pine, and that this difference is life-altering.

This is still not enough to change his mind.

“Uncle, have you heard of coconut oil? And how it can help with split ends?”

Madara turns to Mayumi slowly, suspecting a trap. She’s all wide-eyed innocence and open curiosity, wondering at his answer. He’s an impeccable judge of character, and she seems legitimate.

“Coconut oil, you say?”

Michiko nods, climbing over to kneel by her sister. “Yes! Mom uses it and it works really well.”

“What’s the brand?”

Michiko’s expression pinches. “I don’t know.”

Strike two, Madara thinks, as he reevaluates his initial high opinion of his nieces. The fact that they seem unbothered by this does not deter him, or make him think differently. He wonders if this is really the time for another lesson to be learned, along with some pointedly disdainful undertones so that his nieces understand their deficiency in this regard.

“Well,” he says, deciding to move forward without that disdainful remark. They are still rather young, after all. “So tell me. It’s effective?”

The twins have more to say about coconut oil than Uchiha Madara had ever expected to hear in his life, and he is better off because of it. Already he has brand names running behind his eyes, producers and makers in countries around the world that have the capacity and capability to do coconut oil right. He’s already planning communication channels and shipping delays when Mayumi drops another heavy, but welcoming, blow.

“Uncle, have you heard of restorative hand cream?”

Madara doesn’t know how long he sits in front of his nieces and listens to them share their self care secrets for his benefit, but by the time they finish, the moon is in the night sky and there is an owl softly hooting somewhere nearby. His lips have been pursed in concentration for who knows how long by now, and his brow is a knotted, furrowed line of tension.

Even still, he has never felt lighter.

Hinata has been holding out on him, it seems, though he doesn’t blame her. Much. She had probably been distracted trying to convince his travesty of a brother not to wear socks with sandals again, or, God forbid, two different shades and patterns of plaid at the same time.

“Interesting,” Madara says for the umpteenth time, equally sincere as the first.

“Uncle,” Mayumi pauses, expression just this side of expectant. “We know you have connections in other countries.”

Madara sits up a little straighter at this, eyeing his nieces blankly, giving them no sign of his true feelings in the matter. “Hm?”

“Well,” Michiko joins, dragging the word out. “Our shampoo is bought from the supermarket.”

Madara doesn’t breathe for a solid minute; when the air is finally forced into his lungs, it’s through his teeth.

His voice is a roar, deep and thunderous; he says, “No.”

So much betrayal from his own blood, he doesn’t even know where to begin. The least of it is obviously how the twins have just efficiently played him, though he’s already debating forgiving them, simply because they share his tastes. And he finds them interesting. Maybe they had played him, but truly, their intentions are sound; they merely desire the best, just as he does. They just so happen to need him as a middleman in order to receive the best.

He is only too happy to oblige.

The betrayal he cannot let slide, however, comes as it so often does, from his little brother.

The supermarket.

Madara had thought certainly that he had raised Izuna better than this. This deficiency is in no way related to him, but it pains him to wonder if it may in fact be due to Hinata. She is the person he finds most interesting in the world, an amalgamation of cool, calm introversion with the potential of a dangerously manipulative side if threatened. He’s never felt anything but avid respect for Hinata, but if she is to blame for this supermarket fiasco, he may have to reevaluate her, as well.

His brother, however.

Madara is without a doubt going to have words with Izuna.

“Well played,” Madara finally admits to the twins, noting the calculating gleams in their wide eyes. He gives them appraising looks, wondering for only a moment if he would be overstepping his bounds should he foster that manipulative nature into something worthwhile, something treacherous. Their mother would never approve, but he’s fairly certain that Izuna would quietly side with him on this.

Perhaps another time, then. He requires a plan for such fastidious, underhanded work.

“I’ll have the same shampoo and conditioner that I use, imported from Jordan, in your hands by this Wednesday. It’s only a few days away; as such, I suggest not washing your hair until then, not when your only other options are so horrific. The natural oils in your hair are good for it.”

“Understood,” the twins chirp simultaneously, and turn to flick through some of the magazines spread around them. Madara goes to work putting all of his Louboutin nail polishes away in his travel container, careful not to chip any of them with careless handling. Not long after he’s sealed the container, he finds the twins turning their attention back to him, visibly curious.

“Uncle,” Mayumi starts, before Michiko picks up where she left off. “Can you teach us more?”

“Rather vague, Michiko.”

Michiko, apparently already well-learned in the art of self-preservation, does not roll her eyes. However, it seems a close thing.

“Can you teach us,” she repeats, “about ‘fine living?’”

Madara unashamedly brightens like a sunrise, and stands to his full height. He gestures for them to follow him over to the couch, waits for them to sidle up to him, and points derisively at the cushions.

“First lesson,” he begins. “These cushions are an abomination.”

The couch is only the first victim of Madara’s sharp eye, with countless others to follow. Now that he’s been given free reign to do a few of his favorite things—criticize Izuna’s taste (or lack thereof), and display his expert knowledge on all things upper class—he rambles on endlessly, leaving no cheaply glued frame or dusty flower vase without criticism.

In the future, Madara will remember this day fondly—not only as the first true day that he saw the raw potential for elegantly-inclined scholars in his insightful nieces, nor the first day that said nieces pulled out what would ultimately become a tome of Madara’s finely-honed knowledge of the world, but as the first day of an indomitable alliance between he and his nieces.

An alliance that would lead to immeasurable future victories over Izuna, who at that point in time, twitched and began to feel as though something ominous was moving over him.

Mayumi’s pen pauses in her detailed writing, Michiko peering over her shoulder at the words, and when both of them look back up at him expectantly, Madara smiles.

He doesn’t stop talking for the remainder of the night, not even when they’re tucked into their beds and their eyelids droop.

He has a great deal of knowledge to share, after all.

✧✧✧

“Welcome back, Izuna. Hinata. I trust your trip went well.”

“It went,” Izuna huffs, letting his backpack drop to the tile beside the front door. Madara eyes the bag with repulsion, going so far as to cringe away from it.

“You took a backpack, Izuna?”

“Yes? I only needed to carry a few things.”

“Hi, Madara-san.” Hinata greets, moving around her husband to press a kiss to Madara’s cheek, before heading deeper into the house to greet the twins.

Madara remains staring incredulously at the bag on the ground in front of him—is that a hole?—as he addresses Izuna again.

“Izuna, what happened to the carry-on items I gave you for Christmas? They’re designer, and far more practical than that disaster you have there.”

Izuna scowls. “The bags you got me were too big for this trip.”

“Extra space, Izuna. What if you had required more?”

If possible, Izuna’s scowl deepens. His shoulders bow exhaustedly, and there are deep-set lines on the corners of his lips.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” he says in response, his words coming out quicker than his mind can keep up. “We don’t have them anymore.”

Hinata, who had just appeared in the doorway behind them, gasps. Izuna looks up and sees the expression on her face—knowing, pitying—and looks to Madara and flinches.

“Pardon me,” Madara says slowly, tone utterly glacial. Chills race down Izuna’s spine; the last time he’d been the target of that particular glare, he’d almost lost an arm. He’s fairly certain his only offense, then, had been wearing glow in the dark flip flops. This, it seems, is far worse. “Did I just hear you say that you got rid of the Versace carry-on bags I got you three Christmases ago? The same ones that I had hand-made with real leather, velvet linings, and gold accents, and were imported from France?”

“Madara,” Izuna puts his hands up defensively, abruptly backtracking. He assumes his most placating tone, expression shifting into something downtrodden simply in an attempt to touch at any heartstrings Madara has left in him. It doesn’t really seem to work all that well; Madara appears a step away from murderous.

“You come into my house,” Madara cuts him off, smooth and derisive, even if he is in fact currently within Izuna’s house. “You insult my fine tastes.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Izuna appeases.

“Oh, and I suppose the Greeks never meant to insult the Trojans, Izuna.”

“Are you really equating this situation to the downfall of Troy?”

“Seeing that I feel thusly betrayed,” Madara snarls petulantly, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

“They’re just bags.” Izuna tries again, tone this side of pleading.

“And hell is just a sauna, Izuna.”

“I never even used them!”

“Deception,” Madara begins to sing lowly, tone rumbling. “Disgrace. Evil as plain as the scar on your face!”

“What? I don’t have a scar on my face.”

“Uncle,” Mayumi suddenly says from his side, tugging lightly on the hem of his shirt. “He won’t know that one.”

Madara’s anger, suddenly girded, becomes a passionate display of disappointment. He turns away from Mayumi, back to Izuna, and says, “You’ve never seen The Lion King, Izuna?”

“No?”

“This is,” Madara states sincerely, not blinking once, “The worst day of my existence.”

“Oh, please,” Izuna rolls his eyes, and Hinata cringes over Madara’s shoulder. “Don’t be so dr—”

“Madara-san!” Hinata interjects swiftly, moving around his shoulder and smiling kindly as his eyes flick to her face. “We happened to see this fabric store on our trip, and one of the signs in the window implied the possession of imported silk. I thought you might be interested.”

Madara allows himself to be deterred, refuses to even think about the road Izuna had so clearly been heading down, and turns to Hinata with an appraising expression. He purses his lips, says, “Signs? In the window? A hideous promotional technique.”

But he considers it; there are not many places near his home that sell large quantities of silk, which are specific to his needs. He has hobbies, after all. And no matter how many strongly worded letters he writes to the local Silk Shack (the most detestable of names, certainly, but their silk stock is second to none in this country), they keep refusing to connect him with the general manager.

His last letter had been especially strongly worded, so much so that he had gotten his very first actual response. Their unremarkable deflection attempt was pitiful, he remembers, and their assumption that he would give in so easily to their laziness a far greater offense. He can still remember how heated he’d been while writing his rejoinder, the tip of his quill very nearly piercing through the parchment (imported from Venice) when he wrote,

“I am Konoha! The Morning and the Evening Star! If I say ‘day is night,’ it will be written! Let it be known, now, that your general manager has done your silk business a disservice, and that I will not allow the continued disregard for the elegant material of silk to ensue further. Need I remind you how I conquered the atrocity that was © 1998 Powerade? I think not.

Best, Uchiha Madara”

Madara doesn’t know how many letters he’s going to have to write before they understand that he doesn’t simply want to speak with the general manager, he wants to follow through with a crafty and stylish coup d’état, and assume his position at the helm of the company. That way, he can really do right by the silk industry in this nation, and spread the wonders of silk throughout the lands.

If he really puts his mind to it, he can probably obliterate the entirety of the cotton market.

Madara’s smile is a switchblade’s transition, all sharp edges and full of bite. “Hideous promotional techniques aside…Hinata, do tell me more about this place.”

As Hinata guides him away from the front room and, coincidentally, Izuna, she chatters on about the details she’d managed to catch from their trip past this mysterious silk shop. Madara raises a brow when she mentions its proximity to the post office, and finds himself opening up more and more to the idea of taking over not one, but two silk shops.

He notices Izuna move past him to head for the twins standing in the doorway, dropping to his knees to hug both of them. His little brother coos softly over their painted nails, and smiles patiently while they recount several of the lessons that Madara had ingrained in them in their short time together. Izuna’s shoulders hunch when they mention flip flops and the term “atrocity” in the same sentence, but Madara swells with pride. His lessons, it seems, were not taught in vain.

He thanks Hinata graciously for her information she offered on the new silk shop, which she tells him is called Fine Comforts. Simple, if a little tasteless.

“Well, as it seems, my duties here have come to an end.”

Instantly, the twins both groan and ask him to stay a little while longer. While he admires their passion, he clucks his tongue at their lack of self-control.

“I have a cell-phone,” he allows, after a considering pause. “Feel free to use it.”

“Please do,” Izuna nearly begs, and Madara turns to him with a deadpan expression.

“Do not pretend you don’t enjoy our chats, Izuna.”

Izuna looks pained, and Hinata laughs behind her hand.

“All you do is reference movies and books I’ve never seen and read, and complain about fashion and home décor.”

Madara scoffs. “What else is there to discuss in life?”

Izuna purses his lips, sounding hopeful. “Anything else?”

“Call me when you come up with something substantial,” Madara turns, opening the door and stepping over the threshold. “Oh, and Izuna? Expect a package on Wednesday.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“It’s nothing uncouth,” Madara promises with a haughty sniff, glancing over to Hinata with a nod. He turns his heavy-handed stare to the twins, considering. After a long moment of weighing their successes versus their failures, he decides that their alliance can only truly be sealed with an act of genuine, powerful trust.

As such, he kneels over the threshold of Hinata and Izuna’s front door and gestures for them to come over to him. Izuna watches with wide-eyed curiosity, lips parting in surprise.

“Mayumi, Michiko, I am going to offer the both of you an extremely rare gift. Cherish it properly, and understand it’s significance, and you’ll be more likely to receive exposure to it again in the future.”

“A present?” Mayumi asks, and Madara rolls the thought of it around in his mind for less than a moment before saying, “Yes.”

He re-situates himself until he’s kneeling, and wraps an arm around each of his nieces, pulling them in close. He hears twin gasps in his ears as their cheeks press against his, and their noses touch his hair. Izuna’s gasp, however, is the loudest of all. Madara hugs them close, though not too tightly, and whispers, “If you play your cards right, girls, our alliance will prosper. In all regards.”

The twins hug him tightly, careful not to touch his hair more than necessary, for which he is eternally grateful. He pulls back first, standing to his full height and patting their heads dotingly. When he glances up at Izuna, his little brother is openly gaping.

“You hugged them?”

Madara stares at him with his typical deadpan expression.

Izuna stutters, even when Hinata comes up to his side and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. She looks a comical blend of amused and pitying.

Izuna blurts, “You only hug me once a year!”

“That is true, yes,” Madara nods, tilting his head at his little brother. “You haven’t yet earned a higher quota.”

“How in the world did they earn a higher quota? What have you done, Madara?”

If Madara had not been so scornful of Izuna envying his own progeny, he would have smirked outright.

“Poor form, Izuna. They’re your daughters.”

“Yeah,” Izuna agrees coarsely, all rough edges and narrowed eyes. “And you did something dangerous, didn’t you?”

“Dangerous for whom, I wonder?”

“Madara.”

“Afraid not, Izuna. Afraid not.”

“Madara, don’t walk out that door without answering me.”

Madara turns, flipping his hair over his shoulder and basking in the way the breeze causes the ends of it to flutter. He’s certain that, in this moment, he looks just the same way that Pocahontas had when she was standing at the cliff’s edge, gesturing farewell to John Smith, hair blowing in the wind.

His gaze lands squarely on Izuna’s, and his lips curl at the edges with devious commitment. With one parting remark, spoken sharp and true as any declaration of battle, so does Madara initiate the Uchiha Brother War.

“All is fair in home décor and war, Izuna.”

#naruto #uchiha madara #madara uchiha #uchiha izuna #hyuuga hinata #izuhina #naruto fic #madara and izuna #matchaball #IT'S FINALLY POSTED. SNINCREDIBLE. #crack fic #just in case anyone tries to go into this fic like ''huh. a madara fic. might be smartly written. intelligent and interesting.'' #friends. it's pure crack. #ANYWAYS i hope it makes someone laugh besides carmen and i bc we've been having a BALL over this au for AGES #MONTHS EVEN #also if you're like ''HUH. izuna and hinata as a pairing. H UH. '' THEN BOY HOWDY DO I HAVE NEWS!!!! FOR! YOU ! #i've been hailing carmen with izuhina for ages (and she HAILS IT ON ME RIGHT BACK) #but i have this obsession friends i really do #it snuck its way into nh spy!au if you remember and i haven't shut up about it since #\o/

[abewoodhullturncoat]

100 Asks Answered:

The meaning behind my url:  abewoodhullturncoat... Abraham Woodhull was a turncoat so I mean, it did not take much to come up with that one.

A picture of me: will post one soon.

How many tattoos i have and what they are:  One! A large treble clef in honor of my love for music.

Last time i cried and why: I do not cry often, as I was raised to believe a guy has no right to cry and it makes him weak,  but I cried just last night... When I realized I’ve forgotten the sound of my uncles voice. He passed around 7 years ago. 

Favorite band: I have an eclectic taste in music, so I couldn’t tell you for certain.

Biggest turn offs:  Pretentiousness, number one by far.  Also people who drop hints instead of asking for something, game-playing instead of being direct, and braggarts. -I don’t want to remove this because I share much the same sentiment. But I do wish to add that another turn off is the automatic judgment that a person put on someone before truly getting to know someone.

Top 5 (insert subject): Top five Ice Cream Flavors: Superman, Mint Chocolate Chip, Cookie Dough, Vanilla, and Birthday Cake.  

Tattoos i want: Something really cool that would be really... Me. Historical, I’d reckon. As my love for history is a big part of me.

Biggest turn ons: A mind of their own and a voice to speak it. Quick wit and a voice to impart it. A taste for romance. Easy conversation. A taste for fine literature doesn’t hurt.

Age: Over 21. (My birthday is October 3rd if you actually read this.)

Ideas of a perfect date: Sitting in front of a fire, on the couch. Whoever the date may be with beside me, reading books together or maybe watching a film? I’d cook her dinner. Dessert. And maybe if she permitted, I’d take her to her home and give her a romantic kiss on the doorstep.

Life goal: Travel to all of the American Historical sights

Piercings i want: None

Relationship status: Single

Favorite movie: The Labyrinth or FBAWTFT

A fact about my life:  I’m a huge history geek.

Phobia: Of being disliked.

.Height: 5'11"

Are you a virgin?   Um... Yes. Much to awkward to get a date. Let alone a proper good shag. 

What is your shoe size?  11

What’s your sexual orientation? Straight. 

Do you smoke, drink, or take any drugs?   I have drank in the past, but I refrain lately because it would mess with my anti-depressants

Someone you miss: My Uncle.

What’s one thing you regret?  My not working harder to accomplish necessary things. 

First celebrity you think of when someone says attractive:  Heather Lind, my goddess.

Favorite ice cream?  Mint Chocolate

One insecurity: Myself as a whole. 

What my last text message says:  I actually haven’t texted anyone since I got the phone really, but it was a text to my mum. Asking how she was. She spends a lot of time in the hospital due to her diabetes.

Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? No.

Have you ever slept naked?   Yes

Have you ever stole money from a friend?  No

Have you ever gotten in a car with people you just met?  Yes

Have you ever been in a fist fight?  Yes. Protecting my youngest brother from a group of people who loured him out of the house. I had an uneasy feeling when a friend of mine had refused to allow me to follow. Turns out that I made the right decision. They intended to beat the hell out of my brother, who has epilepsy and he’s too afraid to fight back. And the reason was because he was gay. They had no right to go after him, so I stepped in.

Have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back?  Yeah

Have you ever been arrested?  No

Have you ever made out with a stranger?  Yes

Have you ever laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by?  Yes

Have you ever been lonely?  Yes

Have you ever been to a club?  Once, and I was so very awkward. I went out on the dance floor and sort of just stood there while my friends just sat there... Grinding against me. I guess that’s part of being the only guy friend willing to hang out with the ladies.

Have you ever felt an earthquake?  Nope. But I was in a hurricane and a tornado before.

Have you ever touched a snake?  Aye.

Have you ever ran a red light?  Yes

Have you ever been in a car accident?   No

Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? The night my uncle died.

Have you ever sang karaoke?  Oh yes.

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t?   Mhmm. I call it, “Living.”

Have you ever laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose?  It was at a fancy dinner. Root-beer out the nose.

Have you ever slept with someone at least 5 years older or younger?   No

Have you ever dreamed that you married someone?   No

Have you ever got your tongue stuck to a flag pole?  Ah, yes. Actually. To be young and stupid and willing to do anything for money.

Have you ever ever gone to school partially naked?  Ah... No.

Have you ever brushed your teeth?   Dude... Yes.

Have you ever been too scared to watch scary movies alone?  Nope.

Have you ever been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on?  Yes 

Have you ever been told you’re hot by a complete stranger?  Nope

Have you ever broken a bone?  In my right leg, yeah.

Have you ever been easily amused? Due to my own immaturity.

Have you ever laughed so hard you cried?  Many times

Have you ever mooned/flashed someone?  No

Have you ever forgotten someone’s name?   Yes

Give us one thing about you that no one knows: I  am so overly romantic that it is slightly ridiculous.

What was your last dream?  I haven’t the faintest idea. I’ve forgotten.

Would you be up for interplanetary travel if it was a thing?  Heck yeah. 

If you could travel back in time, where would you go? I would go back and fight with Washington and his men. Win the war. Make history.

Do you dread doctor visits or do they not bother you? I don’t dread them at all.

Favorite fashion decade of the twentieth century?  Fashion is not my strong suit. I’d just as soon bring back the breeches and waistcoats, and the courtships of the 1700′s

Are you wearing nail polish and if so, what color? Now I’m confident in my sexuality but myself in nail polish is not going to happen.

Are you into working out or no? Yep.

Do you have a temper?   No

Do you have one item you treat yourself with, if so, what is it? Rolllllleeeeplay.

Do you eat meat?  Yes

If yes, how do you like it cooked?  enough

Ever had a boss or a teacher you absolutely hated?  No.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?  Hot Chocolate.

Do you wear makeup?  Nope.

If you wear perfume, what’s your scent type/favorite fragrance?  I’m a basic guy. Old Spice usually. But I do like Drakkar.

Do you have a girl crush?  Yes

Candles, wax melts, or incense?  Incense.

Favorite season of the year?  Winter.

Fanfic—do you prefer smut or fluff?   Smut

Do you like taking selfies?  Why or why not?  I mean, I take selfies. But I do not have myself convinced that I am God’s gift to women.

Do you want children? Not sure yet.

Do you prefer lots of friends or just a few good friends?  Just a few, not interested in crowds of pseudo-friends

Introvert or extrovert, or mixture of both?  Mixture

Ocean/beach or mountains?  Ocean, if it’s cold, cloudy, and the water is wild and gray.  Otherwise mountains.

Morning person or night person?  Both.

Do you initiate conversations with strangers?  Yes

Milk or dark chocolate? Milk chocolate is my secret weakness.

What do you post on your blog? Role play mostly.

Is it hard for you to apologize when you’re in the wrong?   I have no issue apologizing whether I am wrong or right.

Love at first sight?  Sometimes.

Best/funniest Halloween memory?  I was Jareth the Goblin King one year. Being recognized was great. But then the next year I was Westley from the Princess Bride and I scored myself a date at the very same halloween party.

Did your first crush work out or was it unrequited?  Unrequited of course.

Do you like old movies—and by old, I mean OLD old?  Yes

Do you tan or burn?  Both.

Do you think people deserve second chances?  Generally yes.  Hard to say no considering how many times I’ve fucked up.  But child molesters, that kind of thing–hell no. - Agreed sentiment, honestly.

What animal would be cutest if scaled down to the size of a cat?   Me, probably.

Do you have any weird food likes/dislikes? I hate fish and seafood in general. But I was introduced to ranch on hot dogs and I sorta dig it.

.What’s the funniest real person’s name you’ve ever heard? John Jacob Jefferson Schmidt.

I was tagged by @greenofallshades

@annastrxng @nellyforrevolution @bennjamintallmadge

and anyone else who wants to do it can. You can switch out questions if you wish, as long as there ends up being one hundred. Or about that.

#ooc post #ooc #ooc tag. #me #get to know the mun