#the writing is genuinely pretty funny who let them dig through the trash like this

[chakiro]

go girl dig through the trash 🗑️

#i've been playing star rail for the last like half a week send help #the writing is genuinely pretty funny who let them dig through the trash like this #ive been genuinely enjoying it tho #honkai #honkai star rail #star rail #trailblazer #stelle #peppy #march 7th #dan heng #kealy

[self-proclaimed-best-blog]

The fear.

The fear of being judged regardless of who you're with is actually crazy. I feel icky just talking about it here. I think I find strangers more comforting than my actual friends because they don't have an expectation of what my interests or personality will be. I could be anything.

But the moment something I'm secretly passionate about comes up in a conversation with some close pals I'm fucking doomed. It's over. Roll the credits already. Put me out of my misery. Because even if it's in positive context; I don't want them to know! WHY DO I WANT THEM TO KNOW???

I want them to know but I don't want them to have certain ideas of me. Ideas consisting of being uncool, or weird. I'm already pretty trashed on at school for being quiet but if I opened up about my interests I'd dig the hole deeper.

I have a mental list of things to say that make me appear awesome without letting them know much. But also trying to make them comfortable to bring those things up around me. I have a list of interests that are okay and not okay for me to share.

Actually, recently I told some of my closest friends for... just about a year now about my interest in a dumbass anime and.

I can't even fucking say it I feel gross.

This one ship in an anime that happened to be gay. And I've liked this anime since I was a little kid and read the mangas at the library. I've never told anyone though. (It was Card Captor Sakura. Sue me for being a boy who thinks magical girls are cool.) And I opened up about Yukito and Touya and how they had so much more potential and all the shit that could possibly be infodumped was definitely infodumped that day... and now I'm scared they think I'm some asian-gay fetishizing weirdo.

I'm pretty sure one of them might genuinely think that which just isn't true. It just so happens the only time I've ever really talked about shit like that was then. You guys don't know what animal it is until you uncover the whole skeleton, right? I was just starting to feel like opening up more too but I'm regressing. So much progress because of paranoia and one dumbass person who barely knows me out of the group. IT'S FUNNY ACTUALLY! NOBODY THERE KNOWS ME. I like them. I guess I trust them. But nobody takes time out of their day to show interest or get talk to me (Except that one person. Shoutout to her). Sure, I make them gifts for events and maybe it's my fault I'm so closed off and ask for nothing in return.

I actually just got over my agro habit of avoiding saying "I love you" to the people I care about the most. BUT I'VE REGRESSED YET AGAIN! This is why they left me bruh. It's so easy to say "I love you" to someone random because I don't mean it that much but when a person is the absolute best thing to ever happen to me: I'm suddenly dodging the three words like my life depends on it.

All because I'm worried to be vulnerable. I haven't talked about... REALLY talked about my interests for years. I always say "Oh, never heard of it." When they come up because I'm so horrified of people seeing me as me. I only want people to think I'm awesome, I'm cool, I make cool art, I make funny comics, and I'm just a great, laid back, chill guy.

But I'm none of those things. I'm some loser nerd who spends all day playing niche video games, watching anime, reading manga, skimming through wiki pages, listening to OST, binging Bobs Burgers, watching shitty 80's movies, sulking, stressing, talking to myself, barely eating and writing a really depressive blog.

I probably imagine and make up conversations more than I actually HAVE them. Horrible habit. I can honestly see why they ghosted my ass now. I'm a fucking loser.

I wish I was somebody else. I wish I was actually cool.

But I can't do shit but fake it until all these lame interests wash away as I get older. God, I hope it's soon.

[writerman]

Here's a prompt for you, my brother 😆Thranduil and bard fake marriage. (Bonus if Elrond totally knows it's fake, but is to amused/wants the to get together, to mention anything)

I’m so glad these asks don’t have dates on because MAN THAT WOULD BE EMBARRASSING.

Anyway, here’s a prompt response.

------------

It had all started with a text from Bard on Monday night. 

Thranduil’s phone vibrated on the soft cushion of the sofa by his leg and had caused him to nearly jump right out of his skin. 

11pm Monday night, Bard should have been asleep and Thranduil should not have been pouring himself another glass of wine as he binged trash TV under the cover of darkness. 

[Bardle] Hey, how long have we been friends?

This was surely going to lead to a request of a favour, and Thranduil had sorely wished to write back ‘Too long’ but it hadn’t been long enough in his opinion. He loved Bard more than he had any of his other friends. 

They had been close since day one but he couldn’t fully recall how they’d met. 

[Bardle] I have a favour to ask…

Ah, here we go he thought but the smile on his lips was a sure-fire sign that whatever the favour was he would accept. 

Tapping a response back he asked what exactly it was he needed him to do.

There was a very long wait between his question and Bard’s reply and at first, Thranduil had assumed he’d fallen asleep but when his phone vibrated again he considered that, perhaps, the favour was too much even for Bard and the time taken to reply was merely indecision. 

[Bardle] Can you be my husband? 

A poor proposal, Bard. Try again. Hopefully, the response was light enough that Bard would understand it was a joke because Thranduil’s heart was beating so hard in his chest he was sure it was about to break through his ribs and escape. 

[Bardle] Har har funny. I need you to pretend to be my husband.

[Bardle] There’s this reunion thing for highschool and I don’t want to show up alone with no date or partner, you know? 

Can’t you just ask someone else? 

[Bardle] Hey I know I’m not your type but this is a free party.

[Bardle] Please, there isn’t anyone else I can ask. 

In all honesty, Thranduil was happy to go and was planning on agreeing before his friend had started pleading with him. Now he just felt bad for making him feel like he was less than he was. 

There had never been a time where Thranduil had thought Bard wasn’t his type, there just didn’t seem to be a moment where he felt comfortable enough to ask Bard out. Not that he would now. A few years ago he had the chance and didn’t take it because his friend was pretty much preoccupied with raising his newborn and Thranduil would rather have helped him with the baby than ruin their friendship. 

I suppose I can come with you seeing as it is only one night. 

The response was instantaneous… well, almost. 

[Bardle] THANK YOU

[Bardle] I owe you so much. I’ll get the drinks in for the next 3 months. 

That isn’t necessary, Bard. I know you can’t afford that with Sigs off to university. Plus getting out for the night might put Legs at ease.

He thinks I’m lonely. 

[Bardle] Well, you only really hang out with me… this might be good for you. 

He didn’t see the need to respond even if he did agree with him and his son. 

When Thranduil met with Bard the next day he took his seat across from him and merely folded his arms giving the man an expectant look. 

“What?” Bard asks, he stops mid-sip of his drink and sets the cup down nervously. “What?” He asks again, this time with more concern when Thranduil doesn’t answer him. 

With the roll of his eyes and a sigh, Thranduil decides to put him out of his misery. 

“Well, when is this reunion?” 

“Oh- uh this Saturday. Is that too short notice?”

It wasn’t. 

He had nothing going on. 

“It might interrupt my very important TV watching but I suppose I can just rearrange that.” The put on sigh got a smile from Bard and sat back in his seat looking visibly relieved. 

“Were you that worried I’d say no?” 

The response was a nod as Bard busied himself with looking into his coffee cup hoping to ignore Thranduil watching him. He seemed embarrassed but Thranduil had no idea why to him, the idea was hilarious and fun and if not a tad bit self-indulgent on his part. 

Pretending to be Bard’s husband, even for one night, was as close as he’d get to actually being his husband.

That didn’t sound pathetic at all… well, maybe it did but no one had to know.

The night of the reunion rolled around quickly and Thranduil was stood in Bard’s living room in a pair of grey jeans and a soft pale green jumper. He’d promised not to come too fancy, and, at first, he had planned to ignore that request but after some thought, he decided on an outfit that looked comfortable and classy. 

“You always look so good, how do you do it?” Bard was wrangling himself into a jacket as he spoke, the reunion tickets between his lips, which Thranduil plucked from him and stowed in his back pocket. 

“Luck. Mostly.” 

“Hm, well, let’s get our story straight before the cab gets here. We met while Legolas and Sigrid were just starting high school, dated for a while then got engaged a few years later. We’ve been married for what… 3 years?” 

Entirely plausible and Thranduil hated how true and accurate that story could have been if he’d just asked Bard out that day when they ended up having to walk Tilda around the park in her pram for 3 hours to get her to go to sleep. 

The moment had been perfect. Tilda was asleep and they were sat on a bench, autumn leaves falling around them the vibrant orange brightening up what would have been a dull and grey day. 

He had just been about to speak when Bard sighed and mumbled how happy he was with the way things were right then. 

Upon hearing such Thranduil endeavoured to stow away what feelings he had and remain Bard’s friend. If he needed a friend more than a partner he could be that and had been ever since. 

“Right, we’ve been married 3 years. You tried to propose to me and I thought it was a joke and said no at first.” 

That was that. Clearly believable. 

The cab was outside, they didn’t have much time now to discuss anything other than who Bard was hoping he would not see. There was a long list.

Sadly, a hitch in their plan came as an unexpected guest at the reunion who greeted them with a smile and nothing more as he was ushered away with the crowd. 

Elrond. 

Why was he even there? 

Their mutual friend had been two years above Bard in high school, he didn’t need to be attending. 

Thranduil leaned into Bard’s ear and in an awkward yet panicked whisper he asked,

“What on earth is he doing here?”

“Hell if I know. He shouldn’t be.” They whispered back and forth for a while until they were approached by one of Bard’s old classmates he introduced himself to Thranduil who smoothly revealed he was Bard’s husband.

The look his friend gave Bard was one of surprise and admiration, Bard tried not to blush and Thranduil was charmed and amused in a rush of complicated feelings that threatened to surface before they had even stepped foot into the main hall. 

Music was thumping and the party seemed in full swing already as they headed into the hall, and Thranduil’s grip on his emotions seemed tenuous at best more so as Bard put an arm around his waist to guide him through the crowd. 

Having Bard at his side introducing him as his husband was genuinely the happiest he had felt in a long time. The crash he’d experience later was what he didn’t look forward to. 

Eventually, they had to face Elrond who offered them an even brighter smile as he approached them. 

“So nice to see you two here, but, am I mistaken in thinking that Thranduil did not attend this high school… I wonder then why he has come tonight?” Of course, he would make this as awkward as possible knowing full well Bard and Thranduil would have to continue their charade with old school friends in earshot. 

“Elrond, no need play such games, you know Bard is my husband and I am here under his plus one arrangement.” Thranduil smiled though he spoke through gritted teeth as he watched Elrond’s smile grow broader. 

“Ah, perhaps my invite to the wedding was lost in the mail?” Came the light reply. 

Out of the corner of his eye Thranduil watched as Bard covered his face with his hand and shook his head. 

This was a complete disaster from the word go. 

“I admit, I am hurt that I wasn’t invited to see you two tie the knot. You certainly kept it quiet in our social circle.” The more he spoke the more Thranduil could feel his soul leaving his body.

This was absolutely a dig at him, Elrond knew how he felt about Bard, they’d spoken about it at length over many many bottles of wine. Thranduil had lamented over his lost chance and Elrond had rolled his eyes but pat his arm sympathetically at the right times. 

It was about then that Bard spoke up to try and rescue them from the torture.

“We eloped, kept it quiet because really it is no one’s business if we’re married or not.” Oh it was a weak excuse but Elrond could see how they both suffered enough in their lie and he merely nodded pretending to be satisfied with the response. 

“Of course, yes, true love matters only to those involved. By my, didn’t it take you two a long time to realise you were meant to be together? You know Thrand-” The blond inelegantly lurched forward and effectively silenced his friend with a hand over his mouth before real-world secrets came spewing out. 

“That’s enough out of you.” He hissed into Elrond’s ear before moving back to Bard’s side with an awkward laugh. “Elrond loves the sound of his own voice sometimes, desperate times takes desperate measures. If I hadn’t stopped him chattering on we’d have been here all night…” 

The rest of the night went smoothly, and Bard was able to relax and have a few drinks with some of his old classmates. They all seemed intimidated by Thranduil but he put it down to the height he was nearly a head taller than some of those attending the reunion. 

They were joined by Elrond again outside of the school while a few of them waited on cabs and rides home. He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish and apologetic but only for a moment. 

“Out of curiosity, Elrond, why are you here tonight?” Bard asked he checked his watch as he spoke. It wasn’t very late but he felt exhausted and he wondered idly if lying to people about being married had taken a toll on his morals to the extent it drained him of energy. 

Dramatic but Bard didn’t make a habit of lying to people so he assumed that’s all it was. 

“I’m headmaster, I offered to stay behind and ensure everything went well this evening. Plus, I knew you’d be there so at least if it was boring I would have a friend to chat to. Little did I know I’d have two friends pretending to be married to each other.” 

“Yes, must have been quite the sight,” Thranduil mumbled but he refused to fully join in on the conversation. If he was being honest with himself he was a tad sore that Elrond had almost blurted out his secret to the one man who didn’t need to hear it. 

“You two look wonderful together. For a moment I believed you were actually married, wouldn’t that be a hoot?” Elrond had to be drunk to be coming out with all this nonsense and Thranduil, for good measure, laughed as though the man had made a joke. 

“You don’t think we looked good together?” Bard asked quietly.

 Thranduil watched as he pulled his gaze from Elrond to him and he felt instantly put on the spot with his reaction. 

A laugh, he should have just rolled his eyes. 

“I didn’t say that,” Thranduil fidgeted for a moment pretending to check his phone and hoping to appear nonchalant in his reply but it was too much when he had heard the hurt in Bard’s voice. “I would never say that to you.” 

A car slid up smoothly to the curb and Elrond turned to his friends and bid them goodnight, but not before offering Thranduil an apologetic look as he opened the car door and climbed inside. 

They were alone now. 

It was awful because Bard looked so wounded and was waiting for Thranduil to say something more, to use his words to fix the situation but nothing was forthcoming and instead, the silence drew out. The longer it went on the more Thranduil realised that this was the last chance he had to tell Bard everything. 

“Cab’s here,” Bard’s voice was flat as he spoke and he didn’t wait for Thranduil to speak as he turned and pulled the door open and slid inside. 

The ride was silent and Thranduil hoped that he would feel a small relief when getting out at his place but he realised to his horror that he’d left his car at Bard’s and would have to end his journey at the man’s home to retrieve it.  

He’d been too on edge all night to drink anything so at least he knew he could drive home, but the fact he had to awkwardly get out of the cab and follow his friend inside was too much to bear. 

It crossed his mind that he could just get out at home and have Legolas let him in, but it seemed the cowards way out and he really didn’t want to leave Bard feeling as though he were lesser. 

So, when the cab pulled up outside Bard’s house he leaned forward to pay the cab driver before climbing out of the car and following his friend into the dark hallway. The kids were with their other parents that week and Bard had to ramble around a large house without them which Thranduil knew the man hated. 

“I need to talk to you, Bard, before I go home. I need to tell you something because if I don’t I will hold this regret inside me for the rest of my life and I don’t think I can do that.” While he pleaded Bard stood in the dimly lit hallway merely watching him with no expression, but he relented and his shoulders droop.

“It’s late, whatever this revelation is, can’t it wait until morning?”

It couldn’t. No. 

If he didn’t say it now he would never. 

“I love you, Bard. I’m sorry to just spring this on you but I have loved you for years and it took pretending to be your husband for one night for me to be able to find the courage to admit that to you.” The words rushed out and he had little to no power to stop them, and as mortified as he was that it just happened like that he couldn’t help but feel a small flare of hope as Bard’s eyes widen in surprise. 

There was a moment where neither of them spoke but Bard paced the small space of the hallway with one hand tangled in his dark hair as he muttered something unintelligible to himself. 

“Please, say something,” Thranduil’s voice cracked as panic rose, hands jammed under his upper arms to hide their shaking, and he took a tentative step toward his friend but stopped when Bard turns suddenly to face him. 

“I always thought I wasn’t good enough for you. All these years, I wondered if I should have taken the leap and asked you out but I couldn’t ever get my head around how odd we might look.

I’m not much to look at and you… well, you know what you look like because people tell you all the time. It didn’t seem to add up, us being together.” Every word that had spilled forth from Bard’s lips was with a quiet finality that left Thranduil aching from a loss of something he’d never had. 

“So that’s it?” It came out hard and Thranduil allowed himself to move again, the shaking in his hands no longer present as he curled them into fists. “You think we don’t fit and that’s that… you won’t even give us a chance?” 

This couldn’t be happening, he had been so sure that everything would work out and that as soon as he had confessed things would just be better. He didn’t understand any of what was going on. 

“I see, well, then I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” Thranduil darted past his friend and grabbed his car keys from the coffee table where he’d left them earlier that evening. “Let me get out of your hair and you can go to bed.” He easily slid past Bard who was stood frozen still in the hallway blinking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Wait,” Thranduil had reached the front door when Bard found his voice again. “Tell me one thing before you go?” While it could have sounded like a demand Thranduil saw it as a desperate attempt to grasp at something Bard felt he didn’t quite understand. 

“Anything,” Thranduil whispered, his eyes were focussed on the door and his body felt rigid as though it loathed to stand there and be perceived. 

“Earlier, you stopped Elrond from saying something, what was it?” 

There was no point in hiding it and it didn’t matter what he said now. 

“Nothing, just more fodder to embarrass us likely.” That wasn’t the truth he’d bottled out almost immediately because regardless of what he said it wouldn’t change Bard’s mind. “But, just so you know, when he said it was about time we got together I thought so too.” 

 “He did say that, didn’t he?” The small admission shouldn’t have given Thranduil as much hope as it did but the flicker was enough to have him try again.

“Don’t you see?” Moving toward Bard again he tried to hide the pleading tone in his voice hoping that if he sounded confident in his own words Bard would too, “Everyone in that school tonight believed we were married, no one asked if we were lying. They saw us together and thought ‘Yes they are married’. Doesn’t that mean something?” This was his last chance if Bard didn’t feel the same this was the moment he had to tell him so he could lay his feelings to rest. 

“You’re right, no one questioned us, they just… they just accepted that I had married someone that looked like they’d just stepped off a runway.” Bard let out a choked laugh as though the whole thing was still wildly unbelievable.

“Did it ever occur to you that, perhaps, they accepted it because you are just as handsome, if not more so than I?” 

“Are you on drugs?” 

“Bard, please.” 

There was an awkward laugh shared between them and the tense air around them dissipated slowly. 

“Do you want to stay for a while, I guess we have some stuff to talk about?” Bard asks as a pink blush spread over his cheeks, he’d never been embarrassed to ask his friend to stay a while longer before. 

“Is it wedding plans?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, loverboy.” 

But nothing Bard could say would get Thranduil down now, not when the door to Bard’s heart had been unlocked and thrown open. 

With a grin, Thranduil snaked an arm around Bard’s waist and pulled him closer. 

“Haven’t we waited long enough?” 

“Yeah, maybe we have.”

#Barduil #Thranduil #Bard the Bowman #Prompt #The Hobbit #mypackpride

[combat-wombatus]

uHm if you do these and if you want to do it I’d love a bnha matchup <3?

• my name is Aubri, I’m bi but prefer MHA boys tbh. I go by she/her, too.

• I’m a very Gryffindor person. (Sorry if you don’t know Harry Potter - 😖)

• I’m a June cancer, and I have ADHD and anxiety. My anxiety can be literally crippling somedays, but it’s gotten better overtime.

• I’m a bit of a class clown and usually just a clown 🤡 but that’s irrelevant. My teachers all hate me but like school-wise I do well so we have a love and mostly hate relationship 🤧

• I’m usually the ‘entertaining’ friend, in elementary the popular kids would invite me to play games with them because, “you’re funny” and it was like the biggest achievement ever 😭👍🏻 then they’d ignore me but that’s another therapy session

• I’m usually made fun of by people for being ‘weird’ and ‘insane’. Like all through elementary everyone thought I’d be a criminal when I grew up JUST BECAUSE I HAD UNDIAGNOSED ADHD - I hate it here 😐🦶🏻

• I’ve always been super into crime stories/true crime (where my anxiety comes from, I’m always worried about a pesky serial killer just killing me. It’s usually being kidnapped tho lmao) so I knew and still know like all these murder facts and sometimes I’d just randomly be like;

“Hey did you know it takes 12 hours and 2 days to dissolve a body in acid?”

or

“If you bury a dead deer over a dead body you buried deep in the ground, when police dogs sniff it and people dig they’ll just think it was the deer and won’t dig any farther.”

• So maybe people had a reason to be scared of me and think I’ll be a criminal someday, i dunno.

• I love love love reading and writing, and also debating. The things I’ve wanted to be when I grow up are basically: Dog shelter worker, actress, FBI agent, politician, and a writer. But usually I just want to do something that makes a positive impact on people. Like i wanted to be an FBI agent to solve crimes for people. I wanted to be a politican so I could actually help a lot of people. The entertainment industry also seemed like a way to make people happy. Idk, but then I decided I couldn’t be a politican at 10 because they were all corrupt and to be one I would have to be too. 😫🤌🏻 we love some good childhood angst

• the only subjects I’ve ever excelled at are ELA and Social Studies aka History, and Math I can’t do to save my life. ELA comes easy for me and I usually don’t have to work that hard and/or get too stressed over it. But I always get the meanest teachers for some reason. For example, one time I did my final essay for like 30% of my grade in 30 minutes the day it was due and I got an A+ 🦟🦗🦟🦗

• Uhhh id describe myself as a pretty loyal friend, I’m a ride or die type of girl. A story from my childhood that summarizes it pretty well is when I was in 2nd grade my friend wet her pants and she didn’t want to go to the nurse for it alone so I peed my pants so I could go with her and she wouldn’t have to be alone. Like, you know, a professional problem solver

• and I have genuinely attacked people for fucking with my friends but don’t snitch pls 🕳🏃‍♀️💨

• But also just anyone, people at my school tend to come to me with their problems for me to either help solve them by reasoning, or just to confront the other person like the bad bleep I am 😈😈

• I also have a huge daydreaming problem, it’s literally maladaptive daydreaming. So paired with my ADHD I don’t get shit done like ever.

• I have really high empathy levels I guess, like I always say hi to everyone I see on the street, especially if they look sad 😔 I’ve done it ever since I was a little kiddo.

• My fashion sense is very much a preppy/alt style. I wear those ripped tights and fishnets, I also have the MOST BIZARRE JEWELRY- like who allowed me to buy the gummy worm glittery earrings, hmmm???????? and those Mary Janes???????

• But I love crew necks and pleated skirts so I always obide by the National “hoes dont get cold” policy 🇺🇸😫🦅

• I wanna move somewhere someday, I don’t want to stay in America for very long

• I can speak Latin, French, and my native language which is English.

• My music taste varies, but my all-time favorite artists who all of their music they’ve ever put out has been my favorites are, Billie Eilish, Melanie Martinez, and Conan Gray.

• I no-joke have a sign in my front yard that says;

In ✍️ this ✍️ house we ✍️ don’t ✍️ worship Jesus ✍️ but instead ✍️ Melanie ✍️ Martinez

• My favorite shows are MHA (duh), The Promised Neverland, and Malcolm in The Middle.

• and I’m not going to tell you what I prefer in a partner, because that ruins the fun 😤

• but I will say I cannot be friends with someone who doesn’t really make me laugh. Like I’m used to doing most of the talking in convos but if you’re just boring I’m sorry it’s nothing personal but no thanks 😐✌🏻

• About my physical appearance, I have fluffy n curly brown hair, but when it’s in the sunlight it looks sort of brown but golden yk?? It’s shoulder length :) I have bleach blonde streaks in the front. I like wearing eyeliner most days, too. I’m pretty average size/ on the skinnier side. Kinda high key inscure abt my body bc I got flat shamed in elementary EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TIDDIES NOW- whatever 😤🙄. I also have crystal type blue eyes, and I do have fairly big eyes. But, like, not weirdly big. A good big. My cheekbones are ALWAYS PRESENT so sometimes I get called a Tim Burton character but it’s cool ig ☠️☠️ oh and I’m kinda short. I’m 5’3, even though my doctor said I’d be 5’7. I feel like I was either tricked by the doctor or someone just stole my destined height while I was asleep. It’s probably cause I didn’t keep an eye out for Selener 👁 😔😔

• I’m a definite night owl, like all of my energy comes at night which really sucks cuz I can’t do much since everyone else is asleep.

• My love language is touch starved so I’ve never figured it out ✌🏻😗🔫

• but I am an attention whore so idk 😏

• I’m a huge introvert with social anxiety. It isn’t as bad as it used to be cuz I used to not be able to like go to restaurants but now I’m much better.

• I’m a huge history person, mostly like sad history LMFAO. Uh but a lot of my hyperfixations have been on history. Some examples are The Roman Empire, Julius Caesar himself, Anne Frank, The Titanic, the Black Plauge, Helen Keller, Marie Curie, Slavery in the US, Joan of Arc, and just a lot more. I always love talking about these things if someone would let me ramble to them but no one ever does 😖 it also got to a point where for all these subjects I’d go to the library and try to find a book on them but usually I’d either have already read it or I’d read it and know all the information.

• I’m super into Greek Mythology, I have 7 books filled with the stories, I’m going to Greece maybe this summer to see it’s history, and named my hamster Aphrodite but we call her Aphie. I also will talk about this forever and ever if you let me.

• My favorite color is yellow, my favorite food is literally nothing I never have an appetite, my favorite planet is Saturn, favorite song is Tag Your It by Melanie Martinez atm but it changes like everyday.

• Music is a huge safe-space for me if I’m feeling down or having a panic attack. It calms me down n is overall my coping mechanism 💃🏻💃🏻

• Biggest fear is spiders, even looking at one gives me a panic attack and I cannot sleep at all for that night, adding to my insomniac ass 🧎🏻‍♂️🏌️‍♀️

• I’m mature for my age, I don’t exactly like hanging around kids my age and I get along better with older crowds.

• i don’t like conventional dates, (I PROMISE IM NOT TRYING TO SOUND ‘QUIRKY’ AHAHA) I kind of like having a best-friend type partner more so dates that aren’t as romantic as like the movies or a fancy restaurant suite me better. My dream date is playing Monopoly on my bedroom floor 🦧

• Also I hate getting gifts. End of story. If someone gets me a gift like awe that’s nice but never again, I’d prefer to get you one. Especially in a romantic partner 😐 i keep a journal of my friends’ interests and hobbies so I can get them the perfect gifts for their bdays and Christmas’s. Been doing this ever since 4th grade.

• Though I don’t have much actual experience with relationships🧍🏻‍♀️

• I’m a huge believer in ‘family isn’t blood, it’s who you make it’ because I have a pretty shitty family life and my childhood has been trash. My friends are my family to me.

• Also if my friends don’t like my romantic partner ✨ GOODBYE ✨. Sorry girlie, bros before hoes 🦨💨

I was going to put more but I’m so so sorry for how LONG AND COMPLICATED THIS IS- idk if this is a autobiography or a matchup at this point 🤦‍♀️ don’t feel pressured to do this and if matchups aren’t open IM SO SO SORRY LMAO uh yeah ilysm 🦎🎂🧃

OMG ASLDFKJHASLKDJH

🥺 i’m so sorry bby but matchups are closed ;-; my 100 follower event was over while ago (i guess i should’ve specified that in the asks i answered LKSAJHFLKJAHDS SORRY IT’S MY BAD) but you sound so cool?? i had a lot of the same hyperfixations interests (heLLO helen keller was badass AF and the roman empire was messed up but still v cool, anne frank was awesome too) i also may or may not have wanted to be a politician when i was younger alskdjfhalkdhj but now i’m just 🧍🏻‍♀️ lost and anyways you’re amazing >.< love u lots and don’t forget to drink water and eat a lil something hehe :p 

#coco answers #nonnie <3

[maydaymemer]

Steam vs. Sledgehammer

Yep it’s time to review two songs in one. My favourite song ever: Steam (yes, Steam), as well as one of the iconic songs of the ‘80s: Sledgehammer. Both by Peter Gabriel, both heavily influenced by funk and both with music videos directed by the late Stephen R. Johnson.

Sledgehammer needs no introduction for anyone over 40, which means it does need an introduction here. The song is the lead single from Peter Gabriel’s 1986 pop opus “So”, and is his only American #1 (it only got to #4 in the UK, which makes me more ashamed to be from here than ever). It’s known for its pioneering stop-motion animated music video which is still well regarded today, heck it kickstarted Aardman’s career before they made Wallace and Gromit. The song is a loving tribute to Gabriel’s favourite funk and Motown songs he listened to in his youth, there’s even a funny anecodote a read about Gabriel in his early days going to a soul cafe or something and being the only white guy there. To be a fly on the wall on that day. Methinks he was there to pick up chicks, not just listen to the music, which only makes me love the guy even more to be honest.

Steam on the other hand I don’t think anyone who isn’t a Gabriel fan remembers. Sure, when it was released in 1992 it was a hit but was generally seen as a Sledgehammer II: Sledge Harder, and didn’t set anyone’s world alight. Plus, people weren’t listening to Peter Gabriel in ‘92, they were bumping Nirvana and Tupac. On the bright side we did get a fucking insane music video which I love showing to people to get a reaction out of them.

One of them highly acclaimed and the other mostly maligned, but both are typically overshadowed by their music videos. I’m here to dig into what makes both these songs great, and why they’re both intelligent, finely crafted pop songs. I’m also going to note the similarities between the two, and why I think Steam was a more than worthy follow up.

Let’s get down to the start of both songs. Sledgehammer begins with a synthesised flute that goes on for about 15 seconds, before launching into an opening tune that knocks you right off your seat like, well a sledgehammer. This sets up an appropriate atmosphere for a song that combines the clever soul with the sexy sounds of the ‘80s to create a song that transcends past dated into just a banging tune that holds up today. The song has an excellent bassline and feels simply big. Then we get Gabriel coming in with a prolonged “Heeeeeeey” followed up with a more muffled “tell me how have you been?” to take us into the first verse. The song sets a mood and it sets it well, this is bouncy and fun Peter Gabriel, not weird psycho Peter Gabriel (which is pretty much his default).

Steam, on the other hand, doesn’t introduce itself. The song just abruptly bursts into your door after a short bassline with the distinct drum and bassline with all sorts of sounds flung at you. Horns, electric guitar, you name it. Gabriel yells “Stand back! Stand back!” And you almost think “yeah maybe I should I shouldn’t really argue with Peter Gabriel”, especially in the video where he’s wearing a pimp suit to accompany this. He continues, shouting “what are these dogs doing sniffing at my feet? / They’re onto something picking up / picking up / this heat”. I still have no idea what this intro means, but then we transition into the abolsutely magnificent instrumented chorus as Peter sings “Give me Steam / and how you feel can make it real / real as anything you’ve seen / get a life / with the dreamer’s dream”. I’ve heard reviewers call this song overproduced, and I would agree the song is very maximal in terms of production, but I wouldn’t remove one instrument. The song’s various mood changes from chorus to verse to pre-and-post choruses take me where the song wants me to go emotionally every time. I find the “Give me Steam” part specifically to be rather exciting and really impressed me the first time I listened to this song, last year I believe, and it still impresses me now.

This is where we take a look at the verse structure of both songs, which are pretty much the same not just within the songs but between them. The first verses of both set up two metaphors:

“You could have a steam train / if you just lay down your tracks

You could have an aeroplane flying / if you bring your blue sky back” - From Sledgehammer

“You know your culture from your trash

You know your plastic from your cash” - From Steam

Peter then connects these to the message of the song at the end of the verse:

“All you do is call me

I’ll be anything you need” - Sledge

“Whenever heavens doors are shut / you get* them open but / I know you” - Steam (alright I’m cheating here, that’s three metaphors, but this illustrates my point better)

So as you can see this is where the two songs split off. Sure both include Peter’s patented silly sex puns, a Sledgehammer is long and hard while Steam is hot and wet, but the meanings of each song is different.

For Sledgehammer the song is about how sex can be used to communicate and brighten up the mood of someone where words simply can’t help. The philosophy of the song is that sometimes you just need some fuck. I imagine a narrative where maybe Peter and this lady friend he’s talking to through the song have just broken off some long term relationship, and they’re very good friends so they spend some time together playing with her bumper cars and his big dipper to take their minds off it. The song isn’t really about love, it’s about having fun, but as I illustrated with my interpretation it’s not about sex with someone you don’t love it’s about sex with someone you’re not IN love with. So kind of a FWB/rebound kind of thing, though not a romcom version where they get together in the third act. It’s a very different approach to an ‘Intercourse with You’ song and told in a very fun way. The song has a bounce to it and a sort of mature naivety, Peter comes across as genuinely joyful to the woman he’s narrating too, they aren’t using eachother but they’re not in a serious relationship either. Good stuff, Pete.

Steam on the other hand is about the relationship, it’s about that spark and connection with someone. Specifically it’s about a relationship where the woman is cultured, sophisticated and generally a classy lady but Peter isn’t. He’s talking himself down, except for one subject: when it comes to the lady, he knows her better than she does and that’s the most important thing of all. Maybe he knows how to please her, maybe he knows her deepest depths, maybe it’s both but the songwriting illustrates that Peter is just in awe of this woman and she might not be in awe of herself just yet. I always interpreted this as Peter writing about a relationship between classes, but in a smarter way than say Billy Joel. Peter grew up middle class but in this song it’s like he’s putting himself in the shoes of a working class guy who’s in a relationship with someone who should be out of his league, but perhaps because of those virtues have led to him knowing how to socialise he can get the depths of her heart better jan a thousand potential rich suitors and their relationship just works. I’m being a bit old school with the picture I’m painting but a genuinely smart way of basically writing Opposites Attract but without the cartoon cat (instead we get a CGI Peter Gabriel Chair, perhaps that’s not the best trade off). That’s why I love it so much, it writes a geniunely smart love song about a relationship working despite the differences which a lot of songs do but they never go into why they work together. Peter explains that while he can’t know a lot about art or money he does know a lot about humanity (and sex, as Sledge shows).

The rest of the verses follow this same formula, I’ll close the review by pointing out how the finales of both songs basically are the same again.

With the finale of Sledgehammer Gabriel refers to “shedding his skin”. He then says “this is the new stuff”, which probably sounds like a birthday suit reference to you but I have a more indirect interpretation. What I love about the line is that in a way it’s Gabriel saying “I’m the shit!”, predicting that the song will become ‘the new stuff’ as it did. Which is why it’s one of the things I do prefer over Steam, which goes for a more obvious orgasm innuendo:

“Roomshake, earthquake

Find a way to stay awake

It’s gonna blow, it’s gonna break

This is more than I can take!”

Tho back to praising Steam, it is my favourite song after all, I think that song does pace itself better. Steam is a minute longer and has way more variety, with a lot of change ups with an occasional pre-chorus peppered in. It’s a longer song that feels shorter and endlessly replayable. Granted a listen to both of these songs an unhealthy amount of times, so I wouldn’t recommend any of you reading this skip out on them. Listen to them however you can, they’re a great time. Heck, buy the albums they come from because the rest of the songs on there are great too.

Thanks for reading this review. It’s a very quick one drafter of hopefully many that I’m posting to sharpen my writing skills. Hope you enjoyed and I’ll make sure to improve these over time. I have ideas for little bite size and more cohesive reviews of the following songs: Uh Huh, Girl, Babooshka

*note: thought he sung “kick” but apparently not. Personally I think “kick” has a better kick to it, funny enough, in terms of annunciation.

#peter gabriel #steam #song analysis #review #music #peter gabriel steam #peter gabriel sledgehammer #petr fuckriel #sledgehammer

[youcanstayinmyheart]

the barista effect (1)

[ gif posted by nochuie ]

» 1 / 2

» Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

» Genre: Fluff, Coffeeshop AU

» Word Count: 2,965

» Description: you meet him when he comes into the coffee shop you work at, and he keeps coming back. is it because of you, or the coffee? (i wanted to write this because i work at starbucks and i love jungkook lmao i’m such trash)

» Music inspiration: basically just listened to this

❀ ❀ ❀

The first time you two met, he had come in to order seven drinks.

Five iced americanos, black, and a vanilla bean frappuccino with extra whipped cream; the final drink, you came to realize, was for him. He was having trouble deciding on what to get, and you felt sympathetic due to his thick accent; clearly he was not fully fluent in English but was doing his best, glancing down at his phone every few seconds.

As you stood there, waiting patiently for him to sound out the word “mocha” with what you hoped was a sweet smile and not an exhausted one, though you were exhausted from the hectic week, you looked him over. He was sporting a messy haircut, golden brown in color. A simple white t-shirt that was a tad see-through left you with warm cheeks because it clearly defined his toned chest, and lastly he seemed to be wearing baggy jeans with a good amount of holes. Something about him had this...aura of importance, yet he was dressed so casually. Like he had recently rolled out of bed and needed to run some errands.

You weren’t one to judge.

“...Iced mocha,” his quiet voice finally said, snapping you out of your admittedly embarrassing once-over. As you nodded and reached for the right sized cup, uncapping your black marker, his eyes settled on your face for the first time. You quickly noticed that they were dark in color, like an espresso bean. The thought brought the corner of your lips up slightly, but you held back a chuckle, instead prompting him for a name.

He blinked twice, head tilting slightly as he repeated the word: “Name?”

“Yes, could I have a name for your order?” You did your best to sound out every syllable, without sounding like you were speaking to some kind of toddler. You had foreign customers in all the time, and three years into your job as a barista you were pretty used to speaking with them and understanding what they were trying to convey.

The young man cleared his throat, eyes wandering as if he were suddenly nervous. “Uh...J-...N-Nochu.”

Your eyebrows shot up. What? “I’m sorry?”

He repeated, “Nochu. No-chu.” And then he smiled, with a proud nod of his head after helping you sound it out.

You wrote the name down quickly on all of the cups, ringing up his total and taking the money he handed you. After rolling your sleeves up a bit, you set to get to work. Thankfully, the day had been dragging on and not many customers were coming in, most likely due to the weather. And with your co-worker on a lunch break, that meant you were alone for a bit. Seven drinks for one order usually made your heart sink, caused irritation to creep up your spine and give you a headache; it certainly helped that this customer oozed politeness.

If you were being honest, his visage definitely softened your mood too.

This guy that apparently went by “Nochu” stood at the pickup counter, tapping his fingers along the countertop rhythmically. His doe-eyes shifted around the shop, and due to your experience with customer service, you could tell he was nervously trying to find anything to grab his interest. You remained silent as you multitasked, pulling shots for the americanos and spinning around to the other side of the counter to make the frappuccino. Letting out a sigh, you allowed yourself to spare him another look, and at that moment your eyes met.

Your heart jumped a bit, but outwardly you kept calm and smiled. He returned it, albeit shyly. The blender stopped roaring and you removed the pitcher to pour the drink and finish it off, sliding it over to where he waited.

“Oh, you might need a tray or two,” you said, mostly mumbling to yourself. A bad habit of yours. You reached over and grabbed a couple of drink trays for him, knowing there was no way he’d be carrying all seven drinks out without some kind of assistance. Your good conscience wouldn’t allow it, either. “There we go. The last few drinks are coming right up.”

Warm, dark espresso eyes met yours again. You felt a pang of guilt and wondered if he could understand you. Awkwardly, you gave him a thumbs up before adding ice to the last americano.

And then, he laughed. It was the cutest sound you’d heard all day.

“Thank you,” he drawled, flashing a brand new smile that reminded you of an adorable rabbit. God damn. “You are...good...barista.”

That earned an embarrassed giggle from your end. “Thanks. I’d like to think so!” Seconds later, you stumbled over your own foot, and prayed he wasn’t watching.

Knowing your face was now pink, you stirred his iced mocha latte and noticed he now had a phone pressed to his ear. He spoke in a hushed tone, in a language that was certainly not English. Your curiosity was piqued, but of course you weren’t about to go digging. You didn’t even know this Nochu.

You were really wanting to, though.

After hanging up, he grabbed a handful of straws and looked around himself, wondering where he could put them. You were about to grab him a bag, but turned back and saw that he had stuffed them into the front pocket of his jeans.

I mean, whatever works! You giggled aloud, and his eyes shot up.

“Have a nice day,” you said, unable to hold back your smile and a little wave. “Enjoy your iced mocha.”

Balancing the two trays atop his palms, he spoke something your brain couldn’t translate--he realized this and quickly replaced it with, “Yes. Enjoy! You too.”

He walked out, and you were left picturing that bunny smile for the rest of your shift.

❀ ❀ ❀

Over the next few weeks, that cute stranger turned into a regular customer. You were certainly not complaining. He didn’t order seven drinks every time, which you were relieved about, but it would not have given you any ill feelings towards him even if he did.

Something you had begun to notice was that his English was getting better. He was a bit more open, and tried to talk to you instead of pressing his mouth shut and listening to his music. You still didn’t know him, but you were secretly proud of him. English was difficult and the fact that he was learning, whatever his motivation, impressed you.

Another thing that tickled you was when you asked for his name, once in a while he would throw some random other one at you. You had started to know him as Nochu, real name or no, and suddenly one visit he was responding to your question with, “Justin Seagull” and a wide grin.

He was so good at making you laugh, too. He was pretty goofy, and you found yourself with a little crush in no time. I mean, who were you kidding--handsome, funny, fashionable, and strong? (You’ve witnessed him carry a large duffel bag and two full trays of drinks without so much as a huff of exertion.)--he was a complete package!

Which, you realized, probably meant that he was taken. There was no doubt, right? His partner was probably just as cute as he was, would blow any cute barista aesthetic you tried to display out of the water.

You really tried not to think that way whenever he came by. He isn’t some prize to be won. He seems like a genuinely good person.

And he was about to prove it.

❀ ❀ ❀

You were all set to close up, with ten minutes to spare. After vigorously wiping down the counters, you spun around to check the register for the time, and suddenly there stood a man and you jumped out of fear.

“Sorry!” he instantly spoke up, chuckling a bit awkwardly. Your heart racing, your own laugh came out in a similar fashion. “I didn’t mean to spook ya.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, shaking your head and stepping forward. “I was just focused on my cleaning. What can I get for you?”

The man thought for a minute and finally decided on a frappuccino. Of course. You weren’t really in the mood to have to wash more dishes, but there was no way you would refuse to make him one.

“Coming right up!” you chirped, heading over to the drink making station.

As you went through the process, your back turned to him, you had this strange sensation. Like, eyes were on you from somewhere. You couldn’t help it and glanced back at him, trying to act like you may have forgotten where an ingredient was.

The man’s eyes were right on you. Uneasiness oozed into your chest.

“You’ve been working here for a long time, right?” he asked, his voice a bit lower than when he had just talked to you. A smile spread on his face, and it was different. “Whenever I come in, you’re here.”

“Ah, yeah,” you replied distractedly, scooping ice and putting it into the pitcher. Your thoughts were racing a little and you silently repeated your anxiety mantra. You’re okay, everything’s okay. “Three years! Sometimes I feel like I don’t ever get a day off!”

You didn’t want to ignore him, so you tried keeping up the conversation good-naturedly. There was just something that was screaming in the back of your head, something wasn’t right. Maybe the way his eyes never left you, even when you moved about behind the counter. How he kept asking questions about you and your personal life, which seemed innocent at first and then traveled into the territory of why do you need to know.

“Well, I’m really glad you had a nice Christmas!” Taking the drink from your hand, he inserted a straw and took a long sip, still eyeing you. You stood there for a moment with a quick smile, hoping to start your closing duties. It had probably been five minutes, and there was no one else in the shop besides the two of you.

“Yeah, you too. Have a good night,” you said politely, hoping this would end the interaction and you could get back to work. You were ready to get home and take a nice bath and get to sleep…

“It would be much better if I could talk to you longer.” That smile again. You had bent over to pull out the small vacuum for cleaning, and when you heard him your head snapped up.

He was checking you out.

The store suddenly felt smaller and darker.

“I-I, uh, that’s nice of you, but I’m actually supposed to be closing in-- right now! Haha. I’m sorry!” You hoped he bought your apologetic smile, because you really weren’t sorry. He was creeping you out.

The man pouted, setting his drink down on the counter by your register and leaning against the pastry case. “Aw, really? Even if I pay you, you can’t talk to me?”

What the actual fuck? “Er… I can’t--”

“What if I refuse to leave?” His eyes were unreadable, and he smirked in your direction. Your blood ran cold. “Would you talk to me then? Or make me leave?”

These felt like loaded questions, bullets striking you in the chest and making it hard to draw in air. Your tongue felt swollen and dry in your mouth. You really didn’t know what to say.

Swallowing, you offered, “Maybe...next time you come in…”

“No.” His palm was flat on the counter now, and he was leaning closer. This all felt so predatory. “I’m here right now, and I would really like to talk… Or, if you want instead…” He trailed off, licking his lips in an obvious hint.

Oh my god.

Your phone was in your back pocket, but you wouldn’t be able to get to it without him seeing, possibly grabbing it from you. He was tall, and you’re sure if he really wanted something from you he could take it. You were not strong physically or emotionally.

You pictured yourself naked and crying in the darkness behind the shop.

“What do you say?” the man mumbled, his voice thick and lustful. You felt tears building in your eyes, stinging.

And then, a noise. A door opening.

You both looked for the source, your expressions equally surprised. Who would even be coming in past closing time--

Nochu.

“Hello!” he greeted cheerfully, walking towards the counter with a warm smile. He seemed a bit tired, sweat shined on his exposed skin and his breathing was slightly labored. As he got closer, it was as if he felt the tension in the air; his dark eyes shifted to the man that was practically threatening you, and then back to your face. Your mind screamed at him to get help, to make him leave, anything.

He was a miracle, you swear.

“Oh, is it closing time?” his gentle voice asked, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry. I had work...wanted coffee. But that’s okay!”

The man with the frappuccino glared outright at him, and you took the opportunity to slide your phone out into your palm while he didn’t notice. The two men stared at each other, one taller and angry, and the other clearly unperturbed.

“We should go, so she can clean,” the one known to you as Nochu offered nicely, eyes searching the other man’s face. Looking at him, you felt...safe. It’s like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Something to say?”

“...We were just talking. If anyone should leave, it’s you, who came in after closing time. I was already here with her, and she was willing to keep the store open for me.” For such bullshit, he was uttering it so convincingly, as if he was under some delusion of his own mind.

The younger man’s smile faded. He turned his head slowly to soak in your expression, your body language, and, possibly, the fear in your eyes. Once he had what he needed, he turned back.

“I think,” he began, his voice a pitch lower than you were used to hearing, “you should leave. She...no interest.”

“Excuse me?”

With a small sigh, he reworded, clearly piecing together the sentence in his head beforehand; “She is not interested in you. Please, leave her alone.”

In awe, you remained silent. You never expected a development like this.

A hateful laugh cut through the silence. “Oh, really? Are you going to make me leave?” he challenged the younger brunette, looking down at him as if he were superior.

In return, the one you had come to trust glared back with a level gaze. You had no doubt that he could pound this guy into the dust if necessary. “Yes,” was his response.

Apparently deciding it wasn’t worth his time--whether or not he was afraid is a different story--the predator scoffed and grabbed his drink, cursing under his breath yet loud enough for anyone to hear. “You’re lucky I have somewhere to be,” he growled, walking to the front of the store and literally throwing his drink into the trash can. “Fucking brat.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, you let out the breath you were holding. Your knees felt weak, so you steadied yourself on the counter with one arm. “Thank god…”

Your friend--friend?--regarded you with clear concern. “How you feel? Okay now?”

A breathy chuckle escaped you and you nodded to him. Add selfless to that list of qualities…

“Thank you, so much,” you said quietly, glancing at the front door out of paranoia. “I didn’t know what to do…”

“I will help you, anytime.” His smile was so warm and kind as he looked at you. It was like he was piecing you back together with his eyes. “You can...call me.”

As you were about to express confusion, and probably embarrassment, he reached into his pocket for his phone, scrolling and typing away until he faced the screen towards you.

It was a message that he had translated into English for you: “If anything like this happens again, or you need any other help, call or text me. Here is my number: *********”

“Oh,” you breathed, finding that your heart was in your throat. You didn’t think you would ever get his number… Much less because of some incident like this. You had to fight the smile off your face as you took out your own phone, adding him to your contacts list.

Just as you were about to type in the name as Nochu, something occurred to you.

With a playful quirk of an eyebrow, you looked up to him and found his eyes sparkling. “What’s your name?” you asked. “Your real name.”

The young man digested your question, and a second later he let out a snicker that reminded you of a mischievous child. He seemed amused by your playfulness, and something about his expression said that he was impressed by you; perhaps for knowing he had never actually given you his name before. His attention immediately went back to his phone, and after typing he showed you another message, although this time he spoke it for you as well. He sounded very happy.

“My name is Jungkook.”

i’m planning on continuing this, especially if people like it! i haven’t written anything in a long while so i feel a bit rusty atm. i hope anyone that reads this enjoys it! feedback is totally welcomed!! :)

#bts fic #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts au #jk x reader #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #writings

[sniffle-elf]

Maybe I Should Have Stayed Home

Okay! Here is a thing I’ve been working on for far too long. Hectic rl stuff combined with ADHD means writing more than a sentance a day didn’t... happen lmao. But I managed to focus my brain tonight and finished it. 

So here’s a new OC. His name is Liam, he’s a musician and a geek, and his husband is Big and Fussy. Liam often works when he shouldn’t, making Evan chase his scrawny ass down. This is almost 3.5K of stupid. So enjoy that! Also this is totally dedicated to @kotyonoksnz because she was so patient with me. ;;

There were a lot of adjectives that could describe Liam Cooper. Most of them were some extension of his seemingly perpetual good mood. Sunny, warm, loving, enthusiastic. But there were also the ones that were murmured in fond exasperation by his husband, when Liam would come to him in the middle of the night, waking him and asking him sheepishly where the burn cream was. Klutzy, disastrous, a tragedy sometimes. He was the type to eat half of a meal before realising something tasted off about it, and opt to finish it before going to fish the packaging out of the garbage only to discover that it had gone off two weeks ago. Evan had screamed at him over texts more than once to throw stuff in the trash. The infamous 'Can fruit be like... carbonated? This pineapple tastes fizzy!' conversation was brought up in wedding toasts. It had gotten to the point where he had told Liam that he was banned from the kitchen if there was any cooking involved unless he had supervision. And while it had been a funny joke that had made their friends laugh, there was an air of seriousness to it. More often than not, if Liam cut himself, or burned himself, or burned something else, his admission at such was answered with a, "What were you doing in the kitchen?" And while there was always a subtle cringe at being treated more or less like a child who was too young and stupid to handle something like grilling a chicken breast, he knew that the reason that Evan gave him those huffy little sighs was that he loved him. And how could you be mad at something like that?

And just like there were countless adjectives to describe Liam, there were innumerable things about him that just would never change. He would always opt for the left side of the bed because when he was a little boy, the right side of his bed had faced the closet that he was convinced housed an entire militia of soul-sucking monster creatures. So the left side was safer, always. Even at thirty-five, when he was pretty convinced that soul-sucking monster creatures didn't exist. So even now, when he was married and wise to the ways of the world, if he and Evan went somewhere and slept in a guest room or a hotel, he would make a beeline for the left side of the bed. And the best part of it all was the smug little face he'd give Evan as he stretched his long body out on the mattress. The look that said 'I won, I got the good side, so suck it husbando.'

He was always hungry, and if he didn't want to eat that was a sure sign that there was Something Wrong. The last time Liam had refused to eat, Evan had found him an hour later, sitting in the bathtub and hyperventilating through an anxiety attack that had been building up all day. And that was another thing; Liam had anxiety attacks, and that was something else that would never change. They ranged from minor episodes where his breath came in funny little gasps, and his chest got tight, to full-blown attacks that curled him into a ball and stole his breath entirely, breaking his speech into stuttered syllables and welts that came when he raked his nails over the bare skin of his arms. He didn't know when the anxiety had started, or if it had just always been a part of him, but it was there. Lingering under the surface of him, behind the sunny smiles and bubbles of laughter and genuine happiness. Just one of his little, hidden corners, he liked to say.

Another thing about Liam that would never, ever change was the fact that he was stubborn as hell when it came to his health. Always the kid who begged for a day off of school if he sniffled three times in a row, it had all changed one day in his twenties. He went from looking for any excuse to stay home and play video games to going to work with a fever of almost a hundred and three. He didn't get very far into his day before passing out behind the snack counter at the skating rink, but he still went. And after that, it just became kind of a thing. Because after he'd spread his baby bird wings and moved away from home, he realised that if he didn't go to work, he didn't get paid. And not being paid meant staying in the shithole apartment that he could barely afford anyway, living with leaks around the windows that let in cascades of water during the rainy season - pretty much the entire year in Seattle - and frigid winds, and had spots of black mould on the sills. And this was maybe why he was sick all the time in the first place. He tended to hold onto colds for an alarming amount of time, sniffling stuffily and coughing into the sleeves of oversize hoodies for a month after the symptoms had first started.

And then he'd met Evan, who was a beautiful mountain of a former linebacker who now owned a game store. And they'd dated only a few months before Liam moved out of the Hellmouth apartment and into his place. And it was a place that was always warm and homey, and not full of black mould. And even though he could suddenly afford to take a day off if he caught a stubborn cold, he still refused to stay home from work unless it was vital. He didn't work at the snack counter at the skating rink anymore, as much as his addiction to soft pretzels suffered. Instead, he had started working at Evan's store. Drexoll was a relaxed place, the sort of shop that held weekly game nights. Game nights that had zero structure, and boiled down to 'come and play games, we don't care what games, order pizza to the store if you want, no you don't have to buy anything, just come hang out'. Because of this chill atmosphere, the shop was never empty, even on a Tuesday afternoon in February when the snow was coming down so thickly it was hard to see more than five feet ahead of you.

He knew that he didn't have a cold because of the weather. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that the cosy old proverb of being out in the rain or the snow wasn't going to get you sick. But it was just so easy to blame his runny nose on that particular Tuesday on the chilly weather. It was easy to wave off Charlie, the girl who sometimes bordered on being Regina George levels of mean, when she told him that he looked like a walking garbage fire. "Just the cold weather," he said with almost too much cheer in his voice. And since he'd just started his shift at the store, he could play off the flush that had climbed his cheeks and the way he had already blown his nose about fourteen times in the half hour he'd been there. She'd lifted a pierced eyebrow, muttered something about not sniffling around the customers - as if they would decide never to shop at Drexoll again because one of the register biscuits had a runny nose - and gone back to unpacking a case of Magic The Gathering cards. Liam rolled his eyes behind his glasses (which he was wearing because he was lazy and not because he'd felt too crummy that morning to put his contacts in, thank you very much) and leaned his hip against the counter, thumbing through social media on his phone.

Meme. Meme. Update about the snow. Meme. Ooh, Emily and Harper were at Voodoo Doughnuts! Mem--

"Hih-KTSShhh'ue!"

The sneeze was sudden, and Liam barely had time to turn his head away to avoid misting the screen of his phone. His nostrils twitched with need, the second of his usual pair hovering just at the edge of his nose. He had time to react to the second, though, a few hitchy seconds where he could fit a loosely curled fist beneath his nose. "Hih-hh--! Hh-KTchhh!" It was clumsily stifled, barely suppressed, and it made his head swim for a minute. The sniffles that resulted from the sneezes were damp and frequent, and he huffed a curl that escaped the knot he'd twisted his hair into from his eyes with a long, slow breath upward.

"Just the snow, huh?" Charlie spoke up from somewhere behind Liam's left shoulder, and he rolled his eyes again, digging a tissue out of the pocket of his jeans to dab it beneath his nose. And really, that should say more than the sneezes themselves said, because Liam was not the type to carry tissues around. He was the type to sniffle against the cuff of his sleeve instead, or just sniffle, over and over again until he could find a Kleenex, or a sheet of paper towel, or whatever was at hand to deal with it. Having a pocket full of tissues meant you needed a pocket full of tissues, and that meant you were sick. And while Liam wouldn't go so far as to deny to himself that he had a cold, he would absolutely deny it to the rest of the world. And of course, Charlie noticed the tissue thing too, and knew him well enough to know it was a sign, and she had to hum an irritating "Mmhmm!" in a tone that made him huff between quiet sniffles against the tissue.

"Do me a favour Charlie, whenever you get a chance? Feast upon an entire cornucopia of dicks." He nudged his glasses up his nose, grinning at the appreciative giggle that came from the girl with bright blue hair that was hovering near the counter, clutching a stack of tabletop campaign books to her chest. Ignoring Charlie, and the middle finger she presented to him, Liam turned his attention to the customer, folding his arms and leaning against the counter so he could see her selections. They spent half an hour discussing the pros and cons of a classic Dungeons and Dragons session over something newer, like Tales From The Loop, or something fandom based. He laughed when he recounted the night he and a few friends spent hours creating characters for a Buffy game, only to have it fall through.

"I still have my character sheet for my W-Watcher..." Liam was sniffling again, with such an increasing frequency that even Blue seemed to notice. She glanced sideways at Charlie, who was still unpacking cards at a pace so leisurely it had to be on purpose. Liam ignored them both, focusing on quelling the infuriating tickle that was lingering in his sinuses like a friend prone to doorknob goodbyes. The type of person that stood at the front door, one hand on the knob, for an hour. The one who kept saying 'I should be going' and then launching into a new branch of conversation. The one that just won't go away. He rubbed the slope of his nose, just beneath the bridge of his glasses, and sniffled again against a bent knuckle. "She was totally a Mary-Sue. I think snff I wrote in that she was going to snff! sleep with Giles, or had slept with G-Giles or... shit. J-just a--hh-!" The Doorknob Goodbye tickle had decided not only to not go away, but to flare up with such sudden intensity that Liam didn't have time to do anything more than lean his hand against the counter to keep his entire lanky body from falling forward, hold up a finger to Blue, and whip his head to the side with a vicious, "hh'Ahtsch'ue!!"

"Bless y--"

"Don't bother; he's not done yet." Charlie sounded vaguely amused, standing on her stepladder to reach the top shelf behind the counter. Liam couldn't even fix her with the glare that he wanted to, since she was right. He wasn't done. He struggled to get a hand into the pocket of his torn jeans, all while his breath hitched softly as he fought to keep the sneeze at bay for one more second. Just one. more. second!

Nope.

"h'ihhTSshhhh'ue! Hh-Hk!'TSChhh!" Shit. Three. That almost never happened, he almost always sneezed in even numbers. Fits of six or eight during allergy season instead of his typical 'just because' double, but it was always even numbers. So that was weird. But at least his cold seemed satisfied with the weirdness of three, and the tickle faded back to the dull hum in the back of his sinuses that he knew would be a constant for the next week or so.

"Did you just sneeze all over my clean counter?" The deep voice was warmly amused, fond, and had no trace of the admonishment that it might have had the speaker not seen Liam sneeze all over everything when the trees started blooming. Not to mention he had married him last October. Liam had been so distracted by his own nasal prowess that he hadn't heard the doorbell chime that indicated someone new had entered the store. Evan, who was supposed to stay home that day because he had just worked nine days in a row, stood at the corner of the counter with his arms folded and that look of eye-rolling affection that Liam usually caused to creep across his face. "You messy bitch. What are you doing?"

And of course, just when Liam was about to answer his husband (and boss), Charlie had to hop down from her stool and open her own mouth, ambling over with the grace of the rodeo girl she had once been when her family had lived down South. "He's sick, and you should take him home. You should take him home because we don't need him here, getting his snotty face all over everything and sneezing in the fridge."

That blunt statement managed to startle a stuffy laugh out of Liam, and he pulled a tissue - his last tissue - from his pocket and dabbed it beneath his nose which was, admittedly, running like a cheap faucet. "Charlie. An entire cornucopia of dicks. And I'm not sick," he added, turning to look at Evan again, who had that expression of exasperation on his face again. "I'm not! It's just... it's the weather or something. Fucking me up. S'cuse me," he had to turn away, to face the wall like a punished child so he could blow softly into his crumpled tissue. It did nothing to erase the beginning of congestion that softened his words, making everything sound like it was wrapped in bubble paper. What it did do was trigger that last sneeze, the one that had confused him when he'd stopped at three. Hunching thin shoulders, he folded the tissue over his nose to catch it. "Hh'kTSchhh! Oh god, that's so much better. I felt incomplete for a minute there. What??" Upon turning around again, tissue still held in place as he tended to his forever runny nose, he found three pairs of eyes staring at him. One confused and a little concerned (Blue), one smug (Charlie), and one soft with worry. Evan reached across the counter, and Liam found himself leaning toward his touch automatically, heaving a defeated sigh when a brown wrist came into contact with his forehead. "I have a gig tonight..."

Evan sighed a perfect echo of Liam's huff, and brushed errant strands of hair from his forehead with an expert touch. "Li, you won't be able to sing if you can't breathe. And you've got a fever. The last time I let you go on stage when you were running a fever, you passed out and fell off the stage. And then we got to take a fun trip to the emergency room and spend our vacation fund on hospital bills because you busted your face open and needed stitches and a CT scan because they were afraid you'd scrambled your brains. Didn't help that you kept saying you smelled french fries..." He added, flicking the bald spot that split Liam's eyebrow, the spot that had caught the edge of the stage when he'd fallen and had split wide open. Liam flinched back and pouted, rubbing his brow with one hand.

"I did smell french fries, you dickburger. One of the nurses was eating at that big round... nurse island thing. In the middle of the ER. Whatever, the point is... ugh." He dropped his hand and slumped a little, defeat he wasn't willing to admit out loud yet making him sag like a potato sack that had lost all of its potatoes. "My friend here..." He gestured with a limp hand toward Blue, who was still standing there and jumped a little when a hand was flapped at her, "Was asking me questions about tabletop games, and I am being a good little employee and helping her out. So you can just... go away. Go be big and handsome and annoying somewhere else. I'm working." He turned back to the poor child who had been sucked right into the middle of something that she certainly hadn't anticipated when she'd approached the tired looking dude wearing the t-shirt with the dice printed on the front. And he was just about to launch back into their conversation about classic-versus-new games when dizziness filled his head, and he was forced to lean on the counter again. When Evan came around a little too quickly, and spoke his name in that worried tone that squeezed Liam's heart like a fist, he smiled weakly and held a hand up to him. "I'm fine, I'm alright. I just didn't eat breakfast this morning. I wasn't hung..ry..." Oops. That was as much an admission of his state of poor health as holding up a giant neon sign that proclaimed I'm sick and should be at home and in bed! would be.

He didn't have to see the look in Evan's coal-dark eyes, or the tightness at the corners of his mouth to know that he was displeased. The gentle hand on his back, and the murmur of, "Babe..." said more than words would. He leaned against the broad chest that made him feel small and safe, his head dipping down to drop onto Evan's shoulder.

"Alright. Okay. You win. Take me home. I'll call Roger, see if someone else can't take my slots tonight. Hey kid, Charlie here is gonna help you. She may be a total assbutt, but she knows her shit. Next time I see you in here, tell me how your campaign went. Full, gory details on how you GMed everyone into tears." He grinned, a little less sunshiney than it normally was, and looped an arm around Evan's waist with another soft sniffle. "I'm gonna let the boss bully me outta here. Lemme get my jacket, Ev? I'll meet you outsihh..." A sniffle, a rub of his nose, and he managed to stumble through what he was trying to say before ducking against Evan's shoulder like it was the thing to do. "Meetyououtside hHH!'KSCChhuh!-h'EhSCHhuh!" The sneezes were muffled against the thick knit of Evan's sweater, which made Charlie squeak in disgust and Evan to sigh softly.

"Bless you. How about I come with you to get your jacket, and also get you some more Kleenex for the ride home? Hm?" He leaned down to nuzzle Liam's temple a little and brush his lips against the warm skin there, tightening his arm around his shoulders. And Liam, who was sniffling against his wrist now, allowed himself to slump against his husband, taking the affection he was offering.

"Yeah, okay. I guess... maybe I shouldn't have come in today."

#elfy ocs #elf fic #snezfic #liam cooper #evan kaslow #charlie (kind of?) #just a whole world of characters that probably mean nothing to you #but have full backstories in my brain #i've created a monster #it's a whole universe #anyway #here's this thing #bye #OH ALSO I TOOK OUT THE HTML TAGS #i'm awesome at things

[aticklishtem]

Something to Laugh About

((welp so~ I’m pretty new to writing this kinda thing but this Concept wouldn’t leave me alone, so I decided to give it a shot and yeah, maybe someone else will also enjoy this self indulgent trash pile, idk \o/ any kind of feedback is always welcome!!))

For a dame who made, employed, lived in and was even made out of so much candy, that Baroness Von Bon Bon could be an awful sourpuss.

In fact, Beppi wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her truly smile, and it sure wasn’t for lack of trying. Nothing filled his heart with more joy than a genuine, honest-to-goodness smile - the kids whose faces lit up with excitement when he handed them another of his balloon animal menagerie, the crowds who came by his tent to watch him willingly make a fool of himself, his fellow carnival workers and isle-dwellers, he treasured every single smirk, chuckle, giggle and reluctant grimace. Way back before he’d so much as dabbed the first lick of paint on his nose, Beppi had made it his mission to bring a smile to the faces of all of Inkwell, and he was proud to say that so far he had an almost perfect track record. Almost.

The Baroness’ place was over the other side of town, but the isle was small and even she had to venture outside to peddle her wares, so Beppi and Bon Bon had crossed paths plenty. Often enough that it seemed like he’d tried everything - his best jokes, his worst jokes, the pie gag, the seltzer, the banana peel, even his killer impressions of Djimmi and Wally and Grim and anyone else he could think of - to see her lips so much as twitch, but she still just looked at him like he was a piece of taffy stuck to her shoe.

Beppi wasn’t quite as much of a fool as he acted - he knew she fancied herself above him, above all of their colourful corner of carnival. She turned her nose up at their hot dogs and candy corn, declaring that her confectioneries were made with only the finest ingredients Inkwell had to offer, and she couldn’t imagine why anyone would opt to shovel all that greasy garbage down their throat instead. But he hadn’t gotten to where he was by giving up easy - it was that dogged determination that had coaxed chuckles out of some of Inkwell’s grumpiest inhabitants, after all. And it would’ve been too tragic just to let them all carry on their way, stomping through town so sour-faced: he couldn’t imagine anything worse than a life of stony silence. Laughter was Beppi’s lifeblood, long before it had been his living; it filled him up, made him feel big and shiny and swell like a balloon (metaphorically and sometimes literally) until he could just about burst, in the best way. He wanted - no, he needed to spread the joy all over town, all over Inkwell, every way he knew how, and remain hopeful that it’d prove just as infectious as it was irresistible, even for the sourest of pusses.

He was optimistic for another day of sunshine and smiles, during a brief break in the afternoon’s frivolities to relax under the shade of one of the colourful parasols in the square. Beppi had been in the middle of telling Djimmi all about yesterday’s unfortunate yet hilarious incident involving an overzealous balloon giraffe and a fruit hat when Bon Bon shimmied into view.

Without missing a beat, he broke off into a comical double take, and then figured he might just as well fall out of his chair in shock that the esteemed Baroness had seen fit to grace them with her presence. Djimmi just shook his head fondly, long used to his friend’s antics; Bon Bon opted to ignore Beppi entirely as she and Djimmi exchanged polite greetings, simply manoeuvre around him like a colourful puddle as she took the chair on the other side.

Typically tough crowd, but Beppi was prepared for that - and he had a good feeling about today, the fact that Bon Bon had willingly descended from her fancy castle to mingle with the common folk suggesting she might be in a good mood, or at least not quite as much of a sourball as usual. If he could pull just the right rib-tickler out of his hat, maybe she’d even -

Hot dawg - Beppi had to glance up to check if someone hadn’t lobbed a lightbulb right over his head as he scrambled back upright, because had he just been hit with a doozy of an idea.

“Hey, hey, Bonnie.” Beppi leaned in closer to her, his usual ear-to-ear grin turning just a tad more mischievous than usual as he nudged at her elbow. “Gotta question for ya.”

Bon Bon turned to him with a long-suffering sigh, her eyebrows knitting together as though it pained her even to look at him. “What do you want? And don’t call me that.”

“My sincerest of apologies, Baroness.” Beppi just managed to resist putting on his snootiest voice in response as he bowed and tipped his hat - he was happy to humour her this time, since her hoity-toity act would only make his eventual victory all the sweeter. “Aaaanyway. How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?”

“I neither know, not care to -“

“Ten-tickles!” he popped the punchline gleefully, sliding an arm around her waist and squeezing before she could get away. “One!” He felt her jump a little at the unexpected contact, but no giggles followed; undeterred, he kept it up, searching for a sweet spot with a few pokes to her ribs. “Two!” Still nothing: Bon Bon was just staring at him like he was doing something utterly ridiculous - which, in all (fun)fairness, was kinda what he was always doing. But this was getting weird, and not the fun kind - was this woman made of rock candy? “Three..?” Faltering for just a moment, he scribbled his fingers across her midsection and finally she reacted - but not how Beppi had hoped, as she seized his wrist and pushed him roughly away.

“Get off! What in the world do you think you’re…” Bon Bon’s big doe eyes widened even further, her eyebrows shooting up as realisation dawned. “Oh, I see - you were trying to tickle me, weren’t you?” Before Beppi could protest his innocence, she scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls. “Tough luck, Chuckles - you won’t get me to crack with such a cheap trick. Hmm, but I wonder…” Something almost in the vicinity of a smile slowly spread across her face, and it was more than a little unsettling, sharp as the glimmer of an idea in her eye as she glanced Beppi up and down, drumming her dainty fingers on the tabletop, and - whoops, he might’ve bitten off a tad more than he could chew after all.  “Perhaps someone else around here just might?”

“Ah - heh…” A nervous chuckle escaped as Beppi edged slowly away from her, until his back bumped against Djimmi’s broad chest and he pounced on the potential distraction. “Oooh - you talking about Djimbo here? He’s plenty ticklish - just watch this…”

Before he could attack, though, two strong arms shot out and grasped his noodly ones. Beppi let out an outraged squawk of protest as Djimmi effortlessly held him captive. “Hey - what gives…?”

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Djimmi replied with a shrug and such a grand-piano grin Beppi was surprised his pants didn’t burst into flame, “but, as karma dictates, what goes around…”

“Well said.” Bon Bon nodded, her gaze positively predatory now as it lingered on Beppi’s now-compromising position; a bundle of nervous butterflies fluttered in his belly as she took a few steps closer. “I’m glad to hear someone around here has some respect - putting your greasy paws all over royalty like that? Why, I could have you executed. But…” She paused, actually licking her candy-heart lips as they twisted into a sadistic smirk, and with the slightest wiggle of her fingers Beppi knew he was done for. “I can think of something more fun.”

“N-nohohow, Bonnie, no need to be too hasteeheeheehee…!” Giggles spilled out the moment she spidered her fingers up his sides, barely touching him yet somehow unbearable all at once.

“Isn’t it funny,” Bon Bon purred, her sugary teasing sing-song only intensifying the torture, “how one who so desperately chases the laughter of others can be so easily reduced to such a giggly mess himself?” As if to prove her point, she dug right into his vulnerable underarms, and Beppi’s laughter pitched; with Djimmi holding him just a couple inches off the ground, he could do nothing but cackle helplessly. “It’s kind of cute, though. I might even prefer you like this, laughing too much to prattle on with your pitiful excuse for comedy.”

Beppi might’ve felt himself blushing even redder under his makeup at that last remark, if he could focus on anything other than her wicked fingers as they danced down across his ribs. “We may even have a new attraction!” she continued cheerfully, pausing to squeeze at his hips a few times; he could feel the tips of her nails through her silky gloves and his thin suit, digging in just enough to drive Beppi loopy as the teasing circles she was now tracing around his stomach. “Forget the dunk tank - how many coins for a go on this silly, terribly ticklish clown?”

“Bohohohon, nohoho - nohohot there!”

“Hmm? Not here? But that’s right where the target is!” Bon Bon just sped up, drawing faster and smaller circles until without any warning, she dug one of her devious digits right into his bellybutton; Beppi howled, writhing and bucking uselessly in Djimmi’s iron grip in a vain attempt to escape. “Oooh, look at that, I believe I just hit the bullseye! Where’s my prize?”

She wiggled away until Beppi was honking and wheezing like old Charlie, unable to even beg her for mercy or at least to think of his makeup, which was bound to be in ruins from the tears starting to roll down his cheeks. So this was how it ended - tickled to death by a candy lady. Well, he did always say to always leave ‘em laughing…

“Alright, now, Baroness, I think he’s learned his lesson,” Djimmi’s deep voice intoned, as he dropped Beppi back on his feet, Bon Bon finally ceased her attack - sure, she’d listen to him - and he gasped in relief, gulping in sweet lungfuls of air as he flopped back into Djimmi’s arms in a giggly heap, before remembering that he was a dirty traitor. “We don’t want the poor fella to literally laugh his head off.” He grinned, apparently unconcerned by Beppi’s best wounded glare. “It’s been known to happen.”

“That,” Beppi eventually managed to say, pointing an accusing finger at the both of them, “was cruel. And unusual.”

Bon Bon tittered, smoothing down her dress. “Oh dear, funny boy, was I too much for you? Can’t even take what you attempt to dish out? Well, I’d best be taking a powder anyway - time is candy, fellas.” She caught Beppi’s eye as she rose to her feet and shot him a sly wink, and his heart might’ve done a tiny somersault when she fluttered her fingers at them. “Let’s do this again sometime, shall we?”

She turned to saunter back off to her candy land, leaving Beppi and Djimmi to sit/float under the parasol in silence. Well, he’d better get used to it, because Beppi was definitely never speaking to him again. Not a word, not for the rest of their days, no matter how much he begged or -

“Djimbo.” Whoopsie - he’d just have to ignore him forever later, as he was already leaning over to nudge him repeatedly in the side. “D’ja-hear that? Bonnie thinks I’m cute.”

Djimmi chuckled indulgently, taking a puff of his pipe. “Perhaps you should be more careful how you address the Baroness,” he pointed out, eyes twinkling with gentle amusement, “lest you find yourself in another such ticklish predicament.”

Beppi shuddered dramatically, but his goofy grin only grew wider - because, well, Bon Bon had been smiling when she’d been tickling him to pieces. More than he’d ever seen her before, so maybe his plan hadn’t backfired quite as spectacularly as it might seem.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind letting her get the last laugh every once in a while, after all.

#tickling #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #cuphead tickling #slightly candyclown? you can interpret it however #i have No Clue how to tag this so i'll just #leave it here with the rest of the fire #tem writes #my fic

[simonsoys]

So what movie genres do you think the UT cast likes? I can imagine Alphys and Sans nerding out and nitpicking sci-fi movies together for one thing heh.

Ooh! Good question! Asks like these are my favorite haha!

I’m actually going to broaden this to TV shows too. Maybe like, what their Netflix history is.

Frisk

Loves Pokemon. Has watched every single episode in sequential order. (Toriel insists on knowing what Frisk is watching, so she’s had to sit through all of it too. She’s mostly confused by what the point of all this is, and is going to barf if she hears “Gooomygoomygoomy” one more time, but admits she quite likes Brock.) Also watches a lot of Pokemon-like shows.

Occasionally watches Sesame Street, even though it’s below their age range. It’s hard to find monster-positive shows.

As for movies, its pretty much anything animated or based on a kids’ book and nothing else right now. Everything must have a happy ending.

But even more than watching Pokemon shows, they’re into Youtube Let’s Plays. They like Minecraft videos, especially Stampy. (Undyne thinks the concept of watching other people play video games is ridiculous and yells at Frisk to go outside.)

Ambivalent about Frozen. Liked Olaf but that’s about it.

Favorite movies: Matilda; The Little Prince.

Toriel

Likes PBS Masterpiece Classics, like Downton Abbey and Indian Summer. 

Probably likes Benedict Cumberbatch.

A sucker for soppy British movies.

Loves The Walking Dead more than you’d expect. Carol is her favorite.

Likes the variety of crafting shows that humans make and put on TV and YouTube. Has thought about making and uploading some of her own.

Gets overly invested into some of Frisk’s kid movies. Bought Frozen on DVD for Frisk. Honestly. For Frisk. 

Favorite movie: Philomena

Sans

Into Sci-Fi movies a lot, even though he knows the science is bogus. He and Pap both like Star Wars, it’s got a lot of non-humans who are good guys! (A head canon I ACTUALLY had previous to this ask– the two of them have seen the first Star Wars, but it’s the only one that’s fallen into the Underground and circulated. They don’t know about Vader’s relation to Luke or what a Yoda is. The monsters are possibly the only fans on the planet who haven’t been spoiled on the ending of the OT yet. Some kind human souls learn about this and set up a screening of it in a theater, so that monsters have a chance to see it properly before having it ruined for them. It’s beautiful.)

He also has a large appetite for 90s high school romcoms? Like 10 Things I Hate About You and Clueless. It’s light and funny.

Not as big on TV shows. Likes to have the experience done and over with in one sitting.

Falls asleep without fail during Frisk’s movies.

Except for Frozen, which Toriel’s watched so many times, he managed to stay awake once for it. He thought it was kinda stupid through 2/3rds of it, but the final act got him. SIBLING LOVE is relevant to his interests and now he kind of digs the movie.

Favorite movie: The Fifth Element.

Papyrus

Watches The Bachelor religiously.

Watches Dancing with the Stars religiously.

Still watches anything MTT comes out with. 

Not a binge watcher. He likes shows that are on live.

Likes to watch random YouTubers’ Vlog channels, and no one’s totally sure why. It’s so weird… watching them daily, they feel like friends that haven’t met you yet. 

Animated shows are for children. …But Power Rangers is cool.

Sees every superhero blockbuster that comes out in the theater. 

Doesn’t typically watch anyone else’s shows or movies. If it’s not something he likes, he doesn’t have time for it.

Forced to sit through Frozen at least once. Whined about Elsa’s amateurish ice magic technique and poor casting form throughout the ordeal. 

Favorite movie: Star Wars.

MK

Probably watches PG-13 movies eVEN THoUGH THEY’RE NOT YET 13??? Scandalooz!

Is more of a Digimon kid. Arguments have been had.

Also likes superhero movies a lot, and Godzilla movies.

Watches a lot of Ninja Warrior/American Ninja Warrior, and has decided they’re going to take the challenge someday.

Hates Frozen, 0/10,literally the worse movie ever.

Favorite movie: Any Godzilla movie where he’s a good guy.

Undyne

Is disappointed to learn that anime isn’t real. But that’s okay because soon afterwards she discovers Jackie Chan movies and that’s even cooler?? Martial arts are her new jam.

Likes the idea of Ninja Warrior shows, but just feels like there’s a significant lack of real danger. Needs more fire and deadly pits.

Likes watching YouTube videos of people playing musical instruments in really crazy and incredible ways.

Sometimes likes more artsy films? Like with music, she’s not all action all the time.

Still watches anime with Alphys, even though she’s learned the truth.

Frozen had fighting! And magical transformations! And a gripping love story! It’s practically an anime! (Though not the best one she’s ever seen.)

Favorite movie: Hero

Alphys

Continues to be anime trash. Probably likes most of the gay sports anime the best.  Also cute romances like Ore Monogatari!

Watches MST3K with Sans sometimes. They also found this old show where people build RC robots with sawblades on them and fight each other and they LOVE it. They’re considering organizing their own tournament at some point.

Not as into sci-fi movies– but is very into complaining about sci-fi movies. Likes to write long blog posts about why they’re bad/inaccurate.

Likes Dr. Who, despite the above statement.

Really likes cheesy romances. Watches a lot of K/J/C-Dramas.

Total weekly intake of movies and shows in hours is obscene and embarrassing to repeat.

Has blogged about Frozen’s clunky narrative and weak execution of its core themes, but has to admit the characters are lovable and has drawn at least one fanart of it. Has the unpopular ship of Elsa/Hans and just won’t let that shit go.

Favorite movie: Mew Mew Kissy Cutie: Super Lovely The Movie: Extra Doki Extended Cut Edition

Blooky

YouTubing music videos all day.

Watches concert recordings.

Watches MTT’s show every day.

Downloaded the Frozen soundtrack off the internet, but has never watched the movie and genuinely has no idea what it’s about.

Forgets they own a TV 90% of the time.

Favorite movie: ?? Doesn’t really have one. …Sorry…

MTT

Competition shows are great, but he gets frustrated by how long and drawn out human reality tv is. Between each commercial break it should be wall to wall excitement! That’s his philosophy anyway.

Is actually consuming as much film as possible now that he’s on the surface, from a variety of genres. Where Napstablook and Undyne are passionate about music, MTT sleeps and breathes film studies.

Watches the news a lot too?? Probably the best informed monster besides Asgore. He has a news program of his own, and filters a lot of the world’s current events through to monsterkind. He has to always be in the know! …It also helps for making funny, topical statements. His 1.5 million viewers love topical statements!

He’s actually a really effective reporter. There’s no region too dangerous for him, he’ll report from anywhere. War zones. Active volcanoes. Maybe even space? All while doing it in a stunning blazer and perfect hair.

He’s busy a lot, so doesn’t actually have time to watch too many things.

Frozen is exactly the kind of movie he’d make, except that Elsa’s sparkly dress did not have enough screen time. For that matter, more characters needed sparkly clothes. Someone bedazzle that reindeer, stat. 

Favorite movie: Grease; Moulin Rouge

Asgore

New to movies and TV, but is slowly getting into them. There are so many violent movies and shows out there! So he mostly lets other people recommend things to him. A member of Oprah’s Book Club. He watches the movie versions of the books he’s read.

He likes stories about peoples’ lives. Watches Dr. Phil every afternoon. Recently he’s been touched by the stories of My 600 Lb Life and Teen Mom.

Is the only sports fan in the bunch. Prefers being there in person to watching on TV, but that’s not always feasible. Paints his face, even when he’s watching from home.

Frozen was a good movie and he enjoyed it quite a lot. Thank you, Undyne.

Favorite movie: Tuesdays With Morrie; Fried Green Tomatoes

Flowey

Loves YouTube Poops and he doesn’t know why.

Hates sad movies. Hates any movie that makes any attempt to make him feel things. Up is a dumb movie.

Doesn’t really care about TV or movies, but likes to watch with other people and chatter over it to ruin their experience. He really just wants to be the center of attention.

Probably pretends to like Adam Sandler movies, but doesn’t actually like Adam Sandler movies.

Likes America’s Funniest Home Videos, especially the ones where people fall off water skis.

Frozen is disgusting and would’ve been better if everyone turned into ice and died. The end.

Favorite movie: Anyone else’s favorite, so he can ruin it for them.

Chara

Doesn’t have much experience with TV or movies outside of what Frisk consumes.

Secretly has the same crappy taste in anime and K-Dramas as Alphys, but is stuck with Frisk’s over-indulgence in YouTube and Pokemon.

Sibling estrangement and isolation is a theme too close to home. Spends too much time drawing parallels between themselves and the rest of the cast, to the characters in Frozen.

Favorite movie: Frozen

#infullmoon #ask #Simon UnderTalks #undertale spoilers #getting through as many asks as i can lol #sorry i still have a few more old ones