#Do you guys think he has ever cried to mitski before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amptoohigh · 3 years

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sk8 characters + the music they listen to!!

this is a pretty long list so. headcannons under the cut <3

kaoru

paramore is his favorite. no i do not take constructive criticism

seriously. all i wanted and i’m not angry anymore are both still in the top 10 songs on his spotify wrapped because of how often he listened to them after adam moved to america

also really likes gorillaz

has a soft spot for the 1975 bc joe introduced their music to him when they were in LA but he’d never admit it because he knows joe will be like “aww he likes the music i showed him🥺🥺”

reki is really surprised by his music taste bc. i mean look at him he looks like he listens to classical but NOPE cmon did you SEE what he looked like in high school?? he may have ditched the piercings but the little punk inside of cherry never left

kojiro

here we go

he’s one of those motherfuckers thats like “oh yeah i listen to pretty much anything” but if anything comes on that he doesnt like the complains instantly

he serenades cherry to leave the door open by bruno mars when its just them in sia la luce and cherry has to pretend he hates it

did i mention that this boy can sing like an ANGEL?? he belts like it’s nobody’s business

every friend group has one person that will play wap and know all of the words. that person is joe.

as soon as sia la luce closes and its just him you know hes blasting music constantly. pretty much any time hes cooking alone or the only other ppl in the restaurant are the rest of the guys he’s blasting his faves. if anyone (most likely shadow or miya) complains about his weird music taste he’s like “my restaurant my playlist bitch”

had an emo phase in high school because of cherry. he collected mostly cds during that time so if he’s feeling nostalgic he’ll take them out and play them on his ancient barely working cd player

guilty pleasure? country.

tldr joe’s favorites are the 1975, doja cat, bad suns, lana del rey, and bruno mars

langa

he listens to like. really oddly obscure indie/folk bands that no one on the face of the earth has ever heard of before

he also likes paramore. he bonds with cherry over their music all the time and reki is like “what the fuck are you talking about”. cherry would never admit it but langa is his favorite because of it.

he loves showing reki his playlists and lending him records

the only one that never complains about joe’s music taste. when he says he’ll listen to pretty much anything he means it.

he and his parents would go to a bunch of concerts together all the time

now he goes to concerts with reki :)

yknow how i said theres always someone who knows the words to wap? theres also always someone who has never heard any super popular song ever. that is mr. langa hasegawa

reki

oh reki. sweet reki

he falls into the tyler the creator/rex orange county/frank ocean type but also really shitty early 2000’s pop and alternative

absolutely cries to teenage dirtbag while thinking about langa

he actually really likes bts but if anyone is like “omg yeah reki you like bts right” he gets weird and defensive about it (langa thinks its cute)

he will defend his music taste until the day he dies

he also really likes showing off his playlists, mainly to langa and joe

he’s the only person besides joe who’s allowed to take over the speakers in sia la luce, partially because hes the only one with a music taste thats slightly tolerable by everyone else and partially because joe has a soft spot for reki and he exploits the hell out of that fact

knows a lot of bad jpop because of his sisters

miya

hyperpop and video game soundtracks.

thats it. thats all i got. i dont think i need to explain

hiromi

he’s not much of a music guy really.

he only really listens to music in the car, and even then it’s always either on the main pop station or a classic rock station

u KNOW he listens to like. msi and icp exclusively when he’s in his shadow get up

tadashi

he doesnt have time to listen to music on his own so he really only listens to whatever adam has on, but let me tell you this:

tadashi is the personification of a mitski song. i think its the perpetually somber energy

if he had the time he’d love listening to mitski, he’d really connect with a lot of her songs

it ties in a lot with my interpretation of his character so that might not make a ton of sense to everyone else

he makes me so sad i love him so much :(

seriously. listen to ‘a burning hill’ by mitski and think about tadashi and i guarantee you will cry

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vaguelygeiszlerian · 4 years

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1 to 40 please OwO

rhhgjtghenrhg avery is that you (im chucking these under a readmore, i just did some so im not doing them again, there WILL be context so prepare to read)

your favorite song everyone who knows me even a little bit knows my favorite song is take on me by aha! https://open.spotify.com/track/2WfaOiMkCvy7F5fcp2zZ8L?si=Y-PQBNsYSFe30n4l-XILsw

the first song you remember loving the very first? well if i can’t do take on me again, you get... hm. well there’s two, so i’ll give you the not embarrassing one. bohemian like you, dandy warhols, a song 2 year old [redacted] went wailing round the house singing. https://open.spotify.com/track/0yEhNqCwEfy8LHUmnZoHpP?si=UDGKtdX-Qwiy2mUP88Xlbg

a song that reminds you of summer done!

a song you haven’t heard in years behind blue eyes, limp bizkit, before you say anything, and i know you will, this song is a depression song and i stand by my love for it https://open.spotify.com/track/1MTQHCpraD4S8g5PAFKzoj?si=vD8m_yjlRoq3bRd1hvQU1A

a song you can relate to right now? well, i’m mostly plucking songs from my ‘real ass bops’ playlist, if you want the one that reflects today’s jordan, you’re in for a grim treat! despicable by grandson https://open.spotify.com/track/5IPT4Noqvo7bsfbWUOHcG4?si=Cp4O-5WdS0-ZqfxxWVR01A

a song that reminds you of your favorite book ooh, i think i have a good one for this, my favorite book of all time is the taking by dean koontz, ask me why sometime, it’s a good read! it’s the end of the world as we know it (and i feel fine), r.e.m https://open.spotify.com/track/2oSpQ7QtIKTNFfA08Cy0ku?si=nfVjPGY7QaGH26uAz-88_A

a song that makes you want to dance right now? two trucks, lemon demon, don’t ask https://open.spotify.com/track/1s5A0u1dnAeVNur5nPkCpD?si=HLZERdMDQnqBxGnj31Lx3g

the best song from your favorite album heart’s a mess, from gotye’s ‘like drawing blood’, his second studio album, which is my absolute fave of all three proper ones he did, even if his first had some really amazing tracks, and making mirrors had some good ones, there’s nothing like learnalilgivinanlovin, or a distinctive sound, or, as i said, heart’s a mess! https://open.spotify.com/track/4tFkgfdi8b3aNcKNthPqIF?si=nDJafKn8QYmEgdqmlN4y4A

a song that makes you want to cry all songs make me wanna cry, but first that comes to mind is black friday (from the black friday musical soundtrack), because as an older sibling with a younger sister that the world doesn’t understand (that i don’t understand sometimes) the little aside about hannah makes me cry every single time https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAZgYL0p2zk

a song that makes you feel young the distance, cake, it’s a song i listened to pretty much from my formative years til about... well, yesterday actually! never ceases to make me feel like im a good 15 years younger haha https://open.spotify.com/track/0fsz7tJ7UKXT9hliLfO7aE?si=caOsrX_fT4u9qARZKWSqfQ

a song that means a lot to you la vie en rose, edith piaf. i was (still am) a romantic sucker, and used to make all sorts of idealistic romantic playlists growing up, and i never knew the french (and i still dont (youre welcome em <3)) but the way she sang always made my heart tremble. and then bioshock infinite burial at sea came out, and i listened to that version of la vie en rose a million times, cried at a good half of them. anyway i love this song. https://open.spotify.com/track/3lAun9V0YdTlCSIEXPvfsY?si=zSRwBZ0AQnuyGGkjh2XmZw

the last song you listened to i’m in love with an e-girl, wilbur soot, the chorus of this song FUCKS my friends, honestly the whole song (and internet has ruined me, the sort of sequel) fucks https://open.spotify.com/track/44wBlg3Y1KSAEmaze5BXe7?si=u9mapV8STz6sqR3jg4XMiw

the last song you heard on the radio we don’t really do the radio in the car, and i dont recognise the songs on there these days anyway

the last cd/album you bought the black friday album actually! support starkid

a song to listen to on rainy days done!

a chill song no surprises, radiohead https://open.spotify.com/track/1bSpwPhAxZwlR2enJJsv7U?si=oVXsE5JiTxulLkevqL4hjA

an upbeat song push up, freestylers, ok so maybe we do listen to the radio sometimes, and i heard a snippet of this like two months ago and immediately added it to my playlist https://open.spotify.com/track/2PJq8Fr5i2S0OkcmFsTC1P?si=3K7q37zNRuCQIduRdApjWQ

a song that gets stuck in your head nobody by mitski, everyone knows that one though https://open.spotify.com/track/6bTn1ovliI0OkjUNkiMBJq?si=Vc-DUCl-RpyhRc6lcbpKgg

your favorite song from a movie somewhere only we know, keane, from my favorite scene in ‘he’s just not that into you’ which is one of my fave romcoms, ok you probably didnt need all that context, dont laugh https://open.spotify.com/track/0ll8uFnc0nANY35E0Lfxvg?si=Lov6MdiOTNGrxCiX6UdDZg

your favorite song from a musical inevitable, the guy who didn’t like musicals. i know the choreo, i know every part almost down to the pitch now, i spent hours practicing the kickline with my sister. jon matteson if you have a spare moment please teach me how to kick your legs that high https://open.spotify.com/track/2lQkaEvJa69QCzk3x6HgaA?si=QMRBYXPwRruOSU4_xBPdMA

a song that reminds you of the moon night, the altogether, no real reason here, its just got a lonesome ethereality to it https://open.spotify.com/track/3MKF7HCn6uD03jWcUB8k1R?si=gm8JKR1jQbS6Dh59WUuEwA

a song by your favorite artist/band i really can’t pick between radiohead and newton faulkner, so you get the best of both, 15 step and teardrop https://open.spotify.com/track/6dsq7Nt5mIFzvm5kIYNORy?si=9dEYby1PRKm8zozrCTGcjA https://open.spotify.com/track/7JpgJ7b5sjvo3fUfPcRlq1?si=pVfzoWtuTdO5OsbDgUnabQ

a song from the year you were born closing time, semisonic, one of the fucking best songs ever https://open.spotify.com/track/4EnkwZd0UJAuHpNMMemQaA?si=ASYNfnThR_m9kqFrloI9nw

the number one song on your birthday my heart will go on, celine dion, i guess titanic had just come out that year, but in my country, on my birthday, this was the number one, god help us https://open.spotify.com/track/33LC84JgLvK2KuW43MfaNq?si=HswubDCkQJ-x7-LM06PQUQ

your favorite love song i do adore, mindy gledhill, cliche at this point, i know, but my sister introduced it to me, played it on her ukelele, and i love her, more than i love most things, and it makes me smile even on a day where ive not done very much smiling at all https://open.spotify.com/track/6JNEDSev5Tp5VQR04SEBfV?si=BxnrZafFT3m4QkXNUN5GcA

your favorite christmas song baby it’s cold outside, lydia liza and josiah lemanski, it’s the funniest fucking song https://open.spotify.com/track/3xvFTqHmlMqKjHgczCGn2C?si=lgDMvUQZR-2lPXHINo2POQ

one song that starts with each letter of your name j: JT by jon bellion (https://open.spotify.com/track/1eftOUoeMO1JkSQQmS6jXF?si=h4yYMpXnTAiZPxJJUPv0DA) o: one more shot, spies are forever ost (https://open.spotify.com/track/0EgLq4ORQ6TMPN6rjWp3d6?si=mC3eDbJJRyCGN4fNAcbdlA) r: red signal, the mechanisms (https://open.spotify.com/track/2TWDxsjHx2rqtH197URbE8?si=XB8D-1N-SkKgmlTZOFbcfQ) d: dont judge me, janelle monae (https://open.spotify.com/track/6UQDIIEPzeduwXlZE86SOF?si=1bONXfj-SQiq79ibrXjC-A) a: as your father i expressly forbid it, lemon demon (https://open.spotify.com/track/29L9B2aDs2NhrQGbs8pf9M?si=CvVTbLtNTgGeL3iemrLVHg) n: night drive, gotye (https://open.spotify.com/track/3fuRfxHpC56uNFMOaOlMCm?si=PDAbEsi_SjK-EYDmTvjT6A)

two songs with the same/similar titles that you like i don’t care (fall out boy) / idfc (blackbear) https://open.spotify.com/track/13mM4hWNMH5KwMcwl81tXS?si=YOqg8tVXRQKXB3ANmDFjHQ https://open.spotify.com/track/6y6jbcPG4Yn3Du4moXaenr?si=CzyYs4b5QQ23azTqgv0iXw

a cover that you like better than the original song done!

a song with really good lyrics kick it up a notch, starship https://open.spotify.com/track/1r223IXiRxObMBNh3mcyWR?si=-RX3obwISfS_jk3JjzvaJg

a song with an amazing beat couple’s retreat, jon bellion https://open.spotify.com/track/7pMS0byKI7V1Mpl0SlWEDq?si=Xytu_HBrStq_zjKdia2oig

a song that you associate with the color yellow boys, lizzo https://open.spotify.com/track/1ITsmuChPVC05ogvorAyVu?si=hkoCz7ouQsyLKn8Q7KO92g

your favorite song with an action in the title (jump, dance, etc.) bite back, all american rejects https://open.spotify.com/track/4zJv4aXOIAepvhApOFoQeQ?si=qRtthyDlQvKGRErmkI8lDg

your favorite acoustic song heart is full, jon bellion https://open.spotify.com/track/6DvsjPkNcB4QoezDPtxsAB?si=vD18h70qSFG5xtrjpuy4XA

a song that motivates you take me home, country roads, john denver https://open.spotify.com/track/39q7xibBdRboeMKUbZEB6g?si=STNgdvZSQNSfqX9pENggSg

your favorite song you’ve heard live camisado, panic at the disco https://open.spotify.com/track/1LF5HQ32hztQWzADGH8ys4?si=VDjKcAo9TX-JA0kF6csqQA

a song that reminds you of your best friend ok so this one needs context (and an attached apology), when i think of best friends as a concept i think of tianna, and when i think of tianna, i think of sitting at the junior campus, huddled around my phone, tittering like twits over this stupid fucking song. (but honestly avery this applies to you too, you’re my best friend that isn’t emmy, i love you) enormous penis, da vinci’s notebook https://open.spotify.com/track/7dUCFnaGSWLH6SdDP08NLP?si=dH00DTxqTR2y3mAIEia9Lw

your favorite song from childhood radio/video, system of a down, the song my sister used to babble incomprehensibly loudly to whenever we played it in the car, the one i grew so used to i can literally hear it in my head as i type https://open.spotify.com/track/41pOIT2t1rvr2Trg1HQChZ?si=-Kyg8JSET2uDq0XGMICsMg

a song you always sing along to can’t sleep love, pentatonix, my sister and i’s favorite song to duet together, even if we haven’t quite worked out the proper parts for a two person acapella cover haha https://open.spotify.com/track/1klGbW5a9qTBFUjFfddbmU?si=Lm0FMpz5TVKddr82vUyf2w

your favorite song in a language different from your native one since i’m determined not to reuse songs, you get papaoutai, stromae (sorry about all the french, they bop babe) https://open.spotify.com/track/09TcIuH1ZO7i4vicWKoaN2?si=YTuHkj1DTgicqo7ZnqYJ0Q

#long post #but thanks much for the ask #why i keep on doing these huge lists is beyond me #Anonymous

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live-in-noir · 4 years

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Angelonia, aster, baneberries, basket of gold, begonia, black eyed Susan, blazing stars, borage, dahlia, daisy, daylily, false goats beard, gladiolus, holly c o c k(??), lavender, lilac, rose, St. John’s wort, wolfs bane, zinnia

Angelonia: favorite TV show?

Probably Age of Youth/Hello My Twenties (it's a korean drama so sometimes the english title differs) I can't even count in both hands how many times I've rewatched it. All the characters are really relatable, at least I thought so when I was 15 lmao might have to watch it again 👀

Aster: what's one of your favorite quotes?

I don't remember quotes off the top of my head and I don't save them so idk. Probably every single Mitski lyrics ever written? Wow now I'm thinking if every Mitski lyric ever written..... impeccable

Baneberries: favorite song?

Honeymoon by B.A.P! I don't remember what the lyrics mean, but the chorus ajsndnsj it sounds like spring bro idk what else to tell you. It's the one song that's been in my library the longest, I've been listening to it for 3 or 4 years

Basket of Gold: describe your family

My dad's pretty cool. Has good opinions. Doesn't always understand but tries to, and is smart enough to have decent opinions even if I dont agree wholeheartedly. Tiff moved out when I was 9, so we dont really have a relationship besides her trying to make me smoke with her and enabling my alcoholism 🤘😞. Me and rob used to be really close. We'd play viddy games after school, and when I first went to high school and didnt have any friends he always had lunch with me 🥺 and even after he moved out I would ask him to pick me up after school so I we could hang out. Damb bitches be nostalgic but things are different these days and that's just how it be. Moms always been complicated.

Begonia: what's your favorite colour?

I like mauve. And light, warm tone browns/tans.

Black eyed susan: if you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?

A frog. I wonder what those snazzy little bastards get up to in a day

Blazing stars: what are you afraid if? Is there a reason why?

Bro I have anxiety I can find a reason to be afraid of everything lmao... mostly being looked down on, or loud noises. Sudden yelling/scolding stresses me out. If someone gets excited and suddenly yells it just makes me jump and makes my heart go boom boom but listening to someone get scolded? Bro I'll think about that for the rest of the day

Borage: give a random fact about your childhood

I cried the first time someone called me an april fool because I was raised uncultured and didnt know the holiday existed. I really thought that boy was just calling me a dumb idiot and it broke my little 7 year old heart man

Dahlia: have you done anything worth remembering?

I haven't done anything particularly impressive but I wouldnt want to forget anything either.

Daisy: what do you think is your greatest accomplishment?

Dont think I've had it yet

Daylily: what would you do if your parents didnt like your partner?

My dad's a pretty smart guy and I respect his opinions, so it depends. If my mom didnt like my patter well sucks to suck her opinions ain't shit lmaooo (also my mom has something to say about everybody so I don't imagine she'd be prone to liking anyone I date anyways)

False goats beard: what is something you're good at?

Not much lol. I used to draw a lot. I dont normally like my drawings and they're certainly far from impressive but they're good enough to make people go "oh, I didnt know you could draw!"

Gladiolus: what is something you hope to do in the next year or two?

I just want to have my high school diploma and be in university at that point man

Hollycock: describe your ideal day

I used to just want a day where I had 0 obligations and I could just vibe but that shit gets boring really fast, as it turns out. So probably a day where I have someone to keep me company and then I can come home and do absolutely nothing after being adequately stimulated lol

Lavender: what's your favorite thing about yourself?

Hnnmn I'd like to think I'm nice

Lilac: what's something you liked to do as a child?

Me and my brother were big into dinosaurs so mom would buy us dinosaur documentaries and me and my brother would eat that shit up like every other day lmao. Also, I would wait for my dad to come home every night and try to scare him as he came in the door. It was before I was in school so I must have been really young but that was like the highlight of my day lol

Rose: what's your favorite sound?

The chorus of Honeymoon by B.A.P

St.johns wort: is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things?

Both??? Sometimes I overshare or I accidentally catch myself casually saying things that are kind of conversation killers, but I do make an effort not to express the fact that I have feelings. Idk maybe I overshare a lot more than I think or less than I think I simply do not know. I like talking about my feelings but I know it makes people uncomfortable and can be irritating I'd you do it a lot so I try not to

Wolfsbane: where do you want to be in life this time next year?

I'm feeling happy these days so I hope I'm happy next year too, and that I also have my diploma lol

Zinnia: give a random fact about yourself

I'm really squeamish. I hate gore, and when people jam their nasty little fingers into their eyeballs or crack their bones. Y'all are nasty. Stop it.

#live-in-noir #asks

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willpowerbutch · 5 years

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Willpower Butch: In Profundis

Dawn clambered over the LA quarantine like a wearied soldier storming a hill – the hill that has become the burning bosom of the Gay-Transgender. Since NASA identified God in the night sky, flying toward earth to assess His children, society has been thrust into a state of nihilistic chaos. The Christians rejoice, and the Gay plot on how to turn Him over to their wickedness. The Transgenitalists, banned from public restrooms, desecrate suburban streets with their bodily fluids in an expression of protest, making neighborhoods where once children could freely get hit by cars while playing Pokémon Go into a biohazard.

(God, who is due to arrive this summer, is shooting through space right now.)

Morning threw these degenerates into relief as they staggered over the pavement of Duplass Avenue and into oncoming traffic, waving stolen underwear on long strips of decrepit building vinyl: the art gallery spinsters who invented Mitski; adults who cosplay as memes; “grandfathers” who loiter in the Youth Bibles section of book stores; and, most troublingly, the bodies of fallen straights, levitating up through the storm drains on the wands of gay necromancers – in short, the entire Green Party – were only the first denizens I encountered along the harrowing road to James Franco’s homo-cidal circus. Everywhere, there were the remnants of bar food and suspicious in-laws. All this was the plutonic vision which greeted my trusted correspondent and I as we strode heterosexfully down the block.

Paragon Shag beside me had not been the same since our eviction from the House of Those Motherfuckers Who Wear Sandals. Only the whiff of pedicure oils on a passing European businessman would send him into such extravagant declamations on the aesthetics of marginalization that I would be impelled to beat the fuck out of him.

“Shag,” I spoke unto him as we arrived at our destination, the Villa de Hermaphrodita, that crypt of human bipedalism. “What is this stench wafting from your chest?”

“Deodorant,” said he.

“I fear for you, Shag. You are aware that deodorant is a witch’s brew intended to inculcate children into the homosexual lifestyle.” He knew as I did that those who use it too much become ravenous beasts, mere British culture journalists, addicted to the scent of Orientalism and male crying.

“Precisely so. We cannot allow ourselves to be overtaken by those limping nancies. With this, we shall confuse their predatory instincts.” And just then, a furious piss communist passed us by, navigating by the odor of listless pretension to James Franco. “You see?” said Shag, turning to me suddenly. He took my arm in the manner of the Romans, up to my elbow. “We are brothers, Mr. Butch, and not in a YouTube Red sort of way, nor in the sense that two different-looking male roommates claim to be, nor in the manner of college boys who make out at strangers’ house parties and tell everyone that it’s part of their fraternity hazing ritual, nor like bohemian male friends who have a large age gap in a hot way, nor indeed like the Quakers, who we all realize developed oatmeal as a gateway to eating spunk.”

He spoke prettily, and I could do nothing but convert my doubt into glorious masculinity. We had come to investigate Franco, after all, whom we suspected of creating twinks to try to turn himself gayer.

We entered the villa -- and there he was, directly before us, barefaced and shockingly confident for a man who looks like a toilet squeegee, licking chocolate off the thighs of a servant boy. James Franco: provocateur of the Gay and war poet of their slick uprising against biological persons.

“Wow,” he greeted us running a hand through his hair. “This is, like, crazy. I haven’t been tag-teamed by two bears since I was on the set of Milk. Did you come to see how I kidnap women and transform them into twinks to make myself gayer?”

We were speechless before this display of arrogance, but Franco’s attention had already been diverted. The servant boy’s epaulet had come unbuttoned.

“Well,” said Franco, hooking him by the shoulders, “the evidence is piling up, huh?”

“Sir?”

“Tell me,” Franco mewled in a squalid attempt to sound erotic, “while you’re existing in a state of, like, untroubled happiness because of straight privilege, do you ever wonder how it feels to have ornery fetish sex with glamorous-yet-blasé strangers every second of your life like the Gay-Transgender are expected to do?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, now you’ll have nothing but time for that, man – as the newest member of the Heterosexual Circus.” Turning mercurially, as if astonished to discover that Shag and I had not moved, Franco addressed us. Raising his arms, he shouted, “Birth is Death! Reason is Treason! Empiricism is Imperialism!”

We could not bear to witness the poor boy’s torture by being forced to be bad at dancing in front of gay perverts. As Shag and I shuffled back onto the street, idly kicking the shit out of a taxi that had parked on the sidewalk, I was emasculated by a notion unrelated to the sweating power of my manhood: that we had not heard the last of these frightful slogans.

*******************************************************************************************

It did not take long for us to find a trap door at the other side of the villa, under a cypress tree. It was locked, but not for a man. Reducing it to smithereens with a mere touch of my beard to it, we descended into a lively disco club where, clinging to the shadows, we moved about curiously. There was in one of the dance-floor cages a sight which startled us.

“Gayflame!” called Shag. “Reddie Gayflame!”

“It’s just Sexchaynge now,” she whispered above the music, on the verge of tears because her body was undergoing a dramatic change.

“But, Sexchaynge,” Shag advanced fretfully, leaving enough distance so as not to be endangered by her femininity, “I thought you were a Gay as well.”

“I was, but I gave it up. You see, I believe in doing things as hard as I can, like Hugh Dancy -- but I knew that I would never be the gayest of all. Not while Ben Whishaw still has a career as an international sex fae... So, why not become a transgender instead, I thought to myself, since there’s less competition?”

Shag nodded sagely.

“Anyway, there is somebody else here that you ought to meet. Follow me.”

My correspondent and I were led into the adjacent hallway, where loomed a misshapen yet familiar silhouette. Suddenly recognizing it, I cried out, “It is the Lord of Lust, the fluent horizontal dancer ‘himself,’ Ben Whishaw! You fiend! You devil!”

But when the vampire stepped into the light, it turned out to be only Twinkathee Charlotterampling, who is merely probably an insatiable fairy.

He threw himself into Paragon Shag’s arms, weeping. “I knew you would never go back to Italy, so I came here to find you. Oh, please say that we can stay together, Daddio. Listen, I can even help you out: Gay Franco isn’t only turning women into twinks, he is then cloning the normal homos! Next, there will be enough fit gay guys to have sex with each other, and Franco will be our only option. Then where will I get any action with men who don’t look like a rejected Muppet? It’s a direct assault on bottoms, and not the fun kind, like when Benedict Cumberbatch gets turnt on Corvo and tries to turn my ass into Christmas lights,” spoke Timpani, gulping. “It’s against my huwoman rights.”

The dimensionless sex balloon’s discourse rained down upon me the spume of flaccid object permanence, and I was forced to rebuke him. “You skinny-jeaned Socratic, you purveyor of gay lies. Humans are not women. And the only right you have is to stop dangling your driftwood in front of every sailor you lay eyes upon. Knave!”

We resumed our progress down the hallway, the two of us and our limpid sidekicks, who stopped every so often to slather their tongues over errant broomsticks. At last, we cruised into a large room, which contained in its rear a glass chamber that held a strange, dark machine within.

“It’s the TRANSporner,” said Timpani Gayparade.

Turning to Shag, I asked, “What do you suppose it is, my macho companion? I cannot well understand the cartoon elf’s French.”

“It must be how Franco transfigures women into the Gay. My God,” Shag exclaimed, “it’s full of emo music.” Grabbing Gayparade’s weird jaw, he brought him into his line of sight so he could address him. “You – What else has Franco created?”

“He has an entire lab devoted to cloning the Gay,” Timpani laughed drily. “And it’s completely, like, impenetrable. Any man who goes in there is brainwashed into Franco’s horde. Only a woman could do it.”

“A woman?” we shouted together.

Twinkathee nodded.

“But we have so few in our warehouse. What if Franco merely kills them? We cannot afford to risk one,” Shag bemoaned.

“You see this?” Twinkathee peered up at Shag and shook his head despondently, pendulating his curls like Quentin Crisp’s spinal column. “This is only the first step. Once Franco masters cloning, the gays will be able to have orgies with themselves, and then they’ll spend eternity competing to see who can suck the most of his own dick. We can’t let God know that we ripped off twincest from Leviticus; he’ll think that we’re total fucking nerds. Shag,” Timpani huffed Frenchtastically, “I know this is the last thing you want to hear–”

“Silence, you animated meringue.”

“—but Ben Whishaw is the only homo who still dares to manufacture women. We need him.”

(A diagram of some of the unique anatomical characteristics of women.)

There was little sound then – nothing but the shaking swallow of breath and a distant applause, floating down from the circus where Franco was, variously, receiving his latest recruits. Tears of frustration had sprung up to rim Gayparade’s eyes. There was something accusatory in his gaze at my friend; such a look might have paused me in my celebrations of erectile power, if it had been produced by a man and not by a melancholy bagel fingerer.

Twinkathee lifted his chin, which surprised me because most homosexuals lose executive function of their necks by his age. “You know I’m right. And you know that you have to make him come.”

“He already has,” I interjected, “Whim Bitchaw, Colin Firth, Tom Tykwer, Patrick Stewart, and Judi Dench all at the same time. Oh, you mean come here.” I turned unto Shag, who shirked his eyes. “Why, Shag? What can this eroticized bungee cord mean?”

Slowly and with great shame, Shag reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, right above his heart, and pulled out a condom. “This – this is how we summon Ben Whishaw.”

“With a condom?”

I was surprised, but my skepticism soon changed to heroic terror as Shag tore at the wrapper with his teeth and emptied its contents onto the floor.

“Ben cannot resist the scent of a condom that is left unused. He will come now whether we want him to or not.”

Soon, Ben Whishaw came.

He came – in a flourish of glitter and sharpie tattoos -- attended by his insidious Cummunists: nudists brandishing firecrackers at uncomfortably-pretty busboys, male lingerie models, lions mounted by braless Valkyries, weeping Bavarian youths, the entire population of Barcelona, Michael Shannon, and a parade of cats, all singing “Cake” by Rihanna at the top of their lungs. BBC4 was empty that day; all the mouthwash Mary-Janes were on earth, rutting against children’s harmonicas, instilling fear in all but the most excellent specimens of manliness.

“Rejoice,” Ben Whishaw sang as his silky knees folded to the ground, chafing immediately. “Rejoice, you who have beheld the bawds of my bedchambers, the Greeks of old beachfront restaurants, the harbingers of fantasy sex tours like Ezra Miller’s career. I have come, and so shall you.” Swanning over to address Shag, he bit his lip. “Darling, I am here for you! What do you need, hot stuff?”

“Women!” he shouted manfully.

“What for? You aren’t still trying to figure out which hole is the mouth, are you?”

“Nay,” he replied, “my brother Butch told me. We need them to infiltrate Gay Franco’s hideout and destroy his cloning technology.”

“And you,” the hunch-hip padded towards me, “this is your brilliant plan? You send women to do your dirty work for you? What are you afraid of, big boy, and what can I do to ease that stress?”

“Naw, son,” called out Michael Shannon from afar, “do you want a garden salad with that skewer, or should I just serve you a knuckle sandwich?”

But Whishaw held up a slim, delicate wrist, jangling his fetish jewelry, silencing him. “I will say it to you strai—” he hacked painfully, “directly. I will give you my women, whom I had intended to use to lure fathers into a gay orgy, thereby undermining their paternal confidence. This, of course, would homosexualize the youth. But I will command them to join your cause instead... for a price.”

“Speak, elongated child!”

“Your beard,” said he.

I was struck silent.

“I need your beard,” he repeated, endless tears gathering in his eyes. “It’s for my play. The director is afraid that I’m not hairy enough to be Marilyn Monroe.”

“Why,” I puffed my chest, but it didn’t look gay or like breasts, “of all the evil perversions your kind have committed against man, this is the one that I shall never entertain to forgive.”

“That is the deal, Comrade Butch: your sublime brush for my women.”

There was no canon fire, there were no memorial barbecues where suburbanites play a game of subconsciously adulterous cat-and-mouse over the grill, for the sacrifice I made that day. Dear reader, it is a day that shall be marked forever with infamy, for that is the sin that hangs over whatever circumstance impels a straight man to give any piece of himself over to a queer Nancy. Do not mourn for Faust, do not pity Dante the Pilgrim for his travails in Hell; in the flash of a scalpel, I fell into a greater damnation than those dramatic homos could ever conceive.

*******************************************************************************************

When he had his ill-gotten prize, Ben Whishaw parted our company as he has left each of the tens of thousands of men he’s seduced around the world, with a lachrymose little smile, a wiggle of the ass, and a soliloquy on the transient beauty of tricking straight men into thinking you’re a woman until they’ve already removed their pants. Being a consummate phallic god, I was immune to his European witchcraft; Paragon Shag, I’m afraid, was somewhat awestruck by this coy display. But there was no time for either of us to dwell on his fabulous sorcery. The deal was done, and there awaited before us creatures yet almost as feminine as that enchanted nymph.

“So,” I said, stalking around their strange mass, “these are the notorious ‘women.’” A slim shadow fell across my face, and a chill entered my heart. “Shag, what do you make of all this?”

He proceeded to inform me, “It is supposed that women were invented by the early Catholics, at the decree of the Pope.”

“The Catholics?” I interrupted him. “But what do those queers need from women? They themselves gave rise to the two cruxes of gay culture: old men who sort of cross-dress, and bottoms who think they can top.”

“Like Michael Kors,” added Shag, “but with less herpes.”

“So, what, by God, did they want with women?” Yet Shag could only shake his head. “Women!” I shouted unto them, for their ears ring incessantly from all the cock they swallow. “What are you for?”

They seemed to consider my question. “We like Shakespeare!” shouted one. “We create life, and we perpetuate culture,” replied another thoughtfully. Said the third, “We’re trying to eliminate baby-faced depressives from the gene pool.”

“Then you’ve certainly backfired on the Catholics.” I stroked the remnant of my beard and turned to Shag. “Sir, we should waste no time in bringing them to the safety of our suspicious roadside barn. Send Gayparade back through the TRANSporner and let us put a plug in James Franc’n’o in a firm and impressive way.”

Shag nodded apprehensively, taking the marionette by the elbow and helping him toward the entry port. “Fear not,” he advised the waif, “for soon you will have no rap career again. Iggy.”

“Iggy,” Gayparade murmured after him. “Iggy, Iggy.”

They came upon the threshold of the TRANSporner, its dilated cavern of unnatural lust that had given Iggy Azalea talent and genitalia so many years before. The twink gulped, appraising it, unsure of how to proceed.

“Timpani?” Shag inflected. “What is the matter?”

But the twisted, hollow-cheeked spaghetti said nothing, impelling Shag to grip him by the hair, repeating his query in a low growl.

“Oh, Paragon!” cried the gimp at unimpressive length, “I can’t do it, brother! Being a girl is bullshit!”

“Truly,” said Shag. “I’ve read Nietzsche.”

“I won’t go back into the TRANSporner,” he wailed. “I would rather die than look like an adult human.”

Shag leant down, menace in his eyes. “Then we must leave, Timpani, quickly -- before Master Butch is able to transfer sufficient power from his penis into his legs to follow us.”

“You mean...?”

“Yes,” my noble friend, my eternal companion responded, turning to me. “I am prepared to accept my animal nature, the amoral truth of my life: there can be no more good taste, because that is for the straights. I am a total gay forever.” And thus, Shag tore the bomber jacket from his shoulders, and it fell away like his erection, revealing a strapless silver gown and taffeta stole. Rising by fabulous vampirism, he glared down at me; nevertheless, I could discern a cold and implicit sadness in his gaze, the gaze of young man after the golden summer of 1914.

“Shag,” said I, my loins quivering, “get ahold of your senses. There is no future in the Homosexuality. Every country where gay queers establish their warrens, penises shrink. This is because the Nancy makes healthy public arousal impossible by constantly bringing up Madonna.”

But he had already vanished, along with Gayparade, into a vortex of passionate mid-century female friendships.

The silence that prevailed in his wake was deafening; it was interrupted, at last, only by the genital whir of the TRANSporner and the soft, incomprehensible chattering of the women. And after much prayer, my noble witness, I still cannot say which of us in that final instant had been more the queer Dorothy: Shag, his crystal-blue eyes darkened with looming cocks, cutting loose to spend his life spoon-feeding treacle to a preteen girl’s gay skeleton; or myself, at the realization that, more than my box of horse condoms, more than my brass knuckles, more than even my beard, I needed Paragon Shag with me. It brings me shame to confess this, but we live in such times as make masculine pride scarce, and I do not foresee Western civilization’s return to glistening worthiness until the metrosexuals have been pounded back into almond butter and adult coloring books.

I crossed myself, still in a state of disbelief, and turned toward the threshold of hell, where Sexchaynge stood waiting. She had pressed her cheek against her fist, and her gaze lifted to me sympathetically. “What are you going to do now, Master Butch?”

In a supreme display of muscular eminence, I diverted my erection away from the heart of the sun, boring it into the ground, quaking the earth with my righteousness. “I must pursue Shag, and I must put an end to his delirious transsexual rampage at any cost. Even at the cost of his life. Before he encounters God and offends Him with Sapphic literature.”

“Take solace,” Sexchaynge whispered. “I don’t believe it will come to that. Shag has become a gay slut, so you will always know where to find him...” She smiled sadly as I considered her words. “And lucky for you, sweet-meat sandwich, I know just the ‘man’ to get you in.”

To Be Continued

About the Authors

In preparation for the BAFTA ceremony, Admiral Willpower Butch is studying how to act prissy and entitled by sitting in on liberal arts film classes. His former beloved companion, Paragon Shag, hasn’t been seen in public since he scandalized a group of children with a flamboyant Broadway medley at their school vape bar; now, he prefers the privacy of the abandoned crime scene he shares with Timpani Gayparade and his twenty-two hot brothers. Their secretary, international murder victim and street gastroenterologist Dead Summer Days, will never get into heaven, but he will loiter around the gate smelling of weed.

#willpower butch #paragon shag #jesus this turned out long #my dumb sense of humor as always #manly men! magazine

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personagf-moved · 5 years

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alphabet & soft questions ✨

I was tagged by my bb’s @prksjmiin (alphabet ask) and @joonieblossoms (soft ask) and i didn’t want to make two separate posts so im gonna apologize in advance bc i decided to stick both posts together :’) dkdkkdkd yall aint gotta read everything but if u do ily and im sorry i write novels on novels dlfksdkf

i’ll tag @koyasdad, @1ovegf, @joonlit, @sleepyyyoongs, @constellationstars and @capgi 💘

honestly feel free to do either one or both or none if u want dkkdkdkd i just wanted to tag u guys bc ily

Alphabet ask:

a // age: 21

b // birthplace: new jersey!

c // current time: 1:17 am

d // drink you had last: coffee

e // easiest person to talk to: my brother when he isnt being an absolute fool

f // favorite songs:

aint it fun - paramore

trivia love

honey - kehlani

abbey - mitski

moonlight - ariana grande

g // grossest memory: i was in the city one time and a bird shit on my forehead. i think about it at least twice a week

h // horror yes or horror no: H O R R O R Y E S B A B E E E Y Y Y Y Y Y Y im the absolute worst person i’ll dead ass watch a scary movie/video or read horror stories by myself just bc.

i // in love: with my whole ass soulmate namjoon. i luv u string bean man

j // jealous of people: im not even gonna try to lie i am a very jealous person and i am so sorry about it but i really cant help it lmfao. blame my scorpio venus i guess

k // kids of your own someday: when i say i have been thinking about this everyday.........! i wanna have it all i want the kids the white picket fence the dream house everything. i cant wait to be a mommy one day and love n support my bb’s :’)

l // love at first sight or should i walk by again: we a whole ass fool on main and believe in love at first sight!!!! i really do believe soulmates are a true thing and if a love is destined to be across an infinite span of lifetimes and universes then it will always find its way back. when you know, you know, and i genuinely believe that.

m // middle name: padilla

n // number of siblings: 1 older brother, 1 half brother (older), and 1 half sister (older)

o // one wish: to find true love

p // person you last called: my manager bc i had a work question lol

q // question you’re always asked: “why are you like this” (usually friends @ me when i wild out...which is like everyday), “are you mad?”, “how old are you REALLY?”, “how’s your brother?” (bc he ghosts all family n i have to speak on his behalf like always fsdfjksdf)

r // random fact about you: i once used a horrible bootleg copy of the force awakens to make a star wars crack video dubbing the part in shrek when he first meets donkey over the scene when rey first met bb-8 and it went viral and has like 200,000 notes and even had articles written about it. also i had a weird fascination with jar jar binks and danny devito when i was in high school and i had a habit of making either one of them my icon on school accounts so i could make people laugh when they emailed me or saw me in a word document skfkkkfkf

s // song you last sang: “abbey” by mitski :’(

t // time you woke up: exactly 10 this morning and it was weird bc i picked up my phone and it had JUST turned 10 when i looked i was so shook lol

u // underwear colour: she be black

v // vacation destination: paris bc im a basic bitch :’) also japan/all asian countries. i wanna connect with my roots more :/

w // worst habit: yeeting the fuck outta people’s lives when i think they’re getting too close/when i get overwhelmed. im sorry im a flighty bitch @ anyone i’ve ever ghosted :( i love anyone who’s ever tried to talk to me and its never ur fault, i just get the urge to escape sometimes and i’m trying to fix it

x // x-rays: omg @ tori dead ass me too tho, i had x-rays when i broke my arm when i was around 6 :o

y // your favorite food: my mom’s spaghetti! and sushi. also i love any and all filipino food but specifically i like nilaga and kare-kare oooo baby

z // zodiac sign: we’re a proud libra sun

Soft ask:

What’s the smell of your shampoo?

we got them fruity scents up in here we keep that shit smellin like a goddamn strawberry field take a fuckin whiff babes

What’s your aesthetic?

the moon and stars, soft pink and purple sunsets with a burning red on the horizon, sunrises as well, paintings and generally all art revolving around flowers and the celestial, pretty pastel pink and yellow, the sound and smell of rain falling against the window while being curled up in bed uwu

What’s your favorite time of the day and why?

lately it’s been night time. i generally get more creative and feel more at home during the night. i miss being a morning person tho.

What do you most like about the beach?

not a lot fklsjdjfkslkdflksdlkf i usually only go to get a tan and walk the boardwalk with my friends, but if i had it my way i would never step foot in the ocean for the rest of my life sdjdjdjdjsj we dont trust her!!!!!!!!!

What do you worry about constantly?

when i’m gonna figure out what i wanna do with my life lol. i took a year off to think about it but all i ended up doing was working myself to exhaustion and getting comfy in a work only mindset and now i’m only even more confused about what i want to pursue. i’m just glad im going to chicago next week because i feel like a change of setting for even just a week could give me a much needed reset on my mindset going into the next year. i worry about the future but the problem is i worry about the present too lol. oh well, we’ll figure it out!

What is a song you’ve cried to before?

oh boy...

trivia love

moonchild

first love

she used to be mine - waitress soundtrack

20 something - sza

26 - paramore

the letter - kehlani

landslide - fleetwood mac

when you see my friends - mayday parade

and many........many many more...... skskskks music is my main emotional outlet so naturally im gonna cry over anything that reflects my heart

What are some relaxing tips for your followers?

as The World’s Number One Most Stressed Out Human Being™️ i am definitely in no way fit to give advice on how to relax LMFAO

but i guess something that always works for me is putting on music i KNOW will make me sing a long or make me happy to distract me from the nerves i’m feeling. also putting on my favorite comfort movies to make me feel better (they’re big fish, scott pilgrim vs the world, and spirited away btw lol)

What are some things that make you tear up?

the ending of coco, seeing my mom cry, or anyone i love cry tbh, when children are neglected/abused, thinking about the world i’ll have to bring my future children into and how i’m going to be able to teach them to stay strong and bright in the face of it, lyrics that hit too close to home, absolutely anything tbh i cry easy

What is your favorite from each sense?

sight - the view of my cherry blossom tree against a pink sunset in the spring of my childhood home, a person’s eyes and how they light up when they smile, especially when they crinkle as they laugh

smell - the earth after rain, a forest in autumn

taste - my mom’s cooking, good coffee on an early morning

sound - beautiful melodies and harmonies to accompany them, a baby cooing, birds chirping at sunrise

touch - my pillow when its nice and cool, a cat’s tummy, a baby’s cheeks, fingers running through my hair

What is an alternative reality you’d like to live in?

one where im married to namjoon n we have a lot of smart musical prodigy babies who have his dopey smile and i live comfortably in our big ass home in korea where i raise our babies n get that good pipe down every night like i should

jk i wanna live in a reality where magic is real and i can cast spells and live my best life as the true witch that i am

What are some troubles you face on a daily basis?

for starters im ugly as shit so theres one

if we mean practically then i have really bad knees and i recently busted them again so its been really hard getting up and down stairs lately and bending over

but idk theres not really much. emotionally i just tend to get withdrawn and timid in public so it can be hard for me to speak up when i go out

What is one scene from a book that makes you really sad?

unfortunately i haven’t read as many books lately as i did when i was younger...so a lot of my memories are from books that i read like as a kid lol......THAT BEING SAID i think rue and finnick’s death in the hunger games was truly heartbreaking to read, the spine of my copies of both books have cracks on those pages bc i had to read it several times just to really believe it. also i thought it was written so heart wrenchingly well that i had to go back. also in looking for alaska when pudge, a man who loved to know people’s last words, realized that he would never know alaska’s last words. im also really thankful for that book bc it introduced me to wh auden’s poetry and to this day he’s still one of my favorite poets of all time.

Say something to your followers:

thank you thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU for following me and for some reason deciding to stay after how many times i act up on the daily. all jokes aside i really appreciate every single one of you no matter the number and i sincerely hope that you always have love and joy in your heart and that 2019 treats you well. i HONESTLY mean it when i say that i am always here if you guys want to talk or send me things or roast me or talk shit seriously i wanna hear it all and talk about it all i think all of you are so interesting and so beautiful and i’d love to get to know more about you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS! yeet!

#this is soooo long im so sorry oh my god

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toomanyfeelings5 · 7 years

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happy, part 4

here’s part three, which links to the other parts.

more angst but i promise that the fic will not have a sad ending!!!!!

(i mean the playlist i made for this fic is literally just....disney songs, crazy ex-girlfriend songs, mitski obvs, and then gay stuff so. it’s not all Tragique.)

anyway, here’s more of the closeted lesbian rosamund vincy fic:

7. it’s definitely 90-degrees-plus-humidity, the woman next to her hasn’t stopped whistling at every single float that passes by--there are a lot of floats, rosamund’s head hurts--and oh, yes, yup, that penis-shaped canon definitely just spewed confetti. the woman whistles again, piercingly loud, and rosamund winces, and she feels--

“isn’t this great?” fred yells into her ear on her other side, covered in rainbow glitter that’s going to stay on his clothes for months.

rosamund musters up a smile. “yes, it’s...it’s certainly exciting.”

“aw c’mon, rosy, i know you’ve been down lately--”

“i’m not--fred, i’m fine--”

fred raises his right eyebrow, which is dyed pink. “you’ve gotten five pedicures and three manicures within the last week alone.”

rosamund rolls her eyes and sips gingerly from her water bottle. “yes, well. i’ll be fine very soon. happy?”

“you know it,” fred grins, nudging her with his elbow. “seriously though, thanks for coming. i know that like, pride and this stuff isn’t really your thing--”

“no, it’s not that--”

“but you’ve made this birthday boy super proud and super happy. thanks, sis.”

rosamund softens, ignoring the sweat dripping down her back. she remembers his 10th birthday party, and the fear in his eyes. “you’re very welcome. i’m glad that you--”

another float passes by, immaculately styled drag queens waving at the crowds below, and rosamund doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because fred is shouting and waving at them along with everybody else.

it’s just...rosamund adjusts her sunglasses and stares at her sandals, feels her feet blistering. fred looks so at home here, even though they rarely ever go to new york city, and mom and dad are off taking a break from standing in one of the air-conditioned cafes dotting the block, and this is fred’s day, this is what he’s wanted to do for ages, of course she’s happy for him, it’s just--

it’s just that rosamund stares at every happy couple and she keeps seeing chris’s face when she told him that she wanted to break up, keeps hearing his voice. it was so quiet, that tuesday night three weeks after graduation. he’d sounded so different, voice hushed and steady and cold: “no one is ever going to be good enough for you. you’re a fucking piece of work, you know that, rose? i hope the next guy knows what he’s getting into. you’re just--you’re just too much to handle, ok, and you know what, fuck you--i really loved you, i loved you so much, and you’re breaking me to goddamn pieces--”

rosamund had cried, of course. she had cried and ruined her makeup, she had cried into her pillow, she had cried onto her mother’s shoulder, she had cried as she texted and called her friends and had an emergency slumber party, she had cried whenever she drove past his house on the way to the mall.

the thing is...rosamund swallows as two trans men kiss in a group of marchers, flags sticking out of their pockets. the thing is is that she feels relieved, too.

max and fred yell to each other over the chatter and the cheers about some gay inside joke or something, and rosamund takes a step away from the whistling woman and her apparent lack of boundaries.

rosamund tightens her jaw when two girls in a group of activists hold hands. she takes a deep breath, drops her shoulders--she just wants this rush of fear or panic or whatever it is to disappear. is that too much to ask? she focuses on the freckles dotting her sunburned arms. did miss porter’s send her subliminal messages telling her to hate gay people? rosamund shakes her head, annoyance building as yet another float passes by and another round of cheers make her head pound. it’s not that. it’s not that she hates the LGBT community. she’s here, isn’t she? besides, fred is her brother, and max is basically her second brother at this point. she could never hate them. right? rosamund sips her water. right? no, no it’s not--she’s just--uncomfortable with how hot it is, she doesn’t like the city all that much, it’s all of the noise and the color--

“i’m gonna go say hi to mom and dad and max’s parents,” fred tells her. “i’ll probs get a snack or something too. you want anything?”

“no,” rosamund says, grimacing as someone behind her accidentally hits her shoulder. “i’m fine, thank you.”

“alright, cool. see ya.”

fred disappears into the crowd. rosamund realizes that she probably has some of his glitter on her clothes. it’s going to take forever to wash out.

“hey,” max grins, slipping into the spot where fred was. “how’re you holding up?”

rosamund lets herself smile sarcastically, because max doesn’t mind it when she does that, unlike some people. “i’m fantastic! on top of the world.”

max nods, smirk edging across his face. he’s quiet, but he’s no doormat. “hey, at least you don’t have to deal with chris’s body spray anymore.”

“yeah,” rosamund sighs, smiling for real. “why do straight guys love axe so much?”

“i wouldn’t know,” max laughs, and a comfortable silence settles between them.

“thank you,” rosamund says a few moments later.

max frowns slightly. “for what?”

“you know, for--i’m happy for fred, and i’m glad that he’s enjoying himself, but--”

“but that doesn’t mean that you’re ok,” max finished, nodding. “i get that. fred has...” max smiles in that lopsided way he’s done since he was a kid. “fred just wants everyone to be as happy as he is, i think.”

rosamund bumps his shoulder. “when did you get so wise?”

max rolls his eyes. “it’s hard not to know fred when you’ve been friends with him since like, birth.”

“true.”

“it’s science.”

rosamund laughs, drinks more water, does her best to ignore the whistling next to her, and says, “but seriously, thanks for being so...you know. chill.”

max looks at her. “what?”

rosamund waves her hand, nervous giggle fluttering out of her mouth. “oh, it’s just--you know, a lot of these people are so, well, flamboyant and loud, and that’s fine of course, it’s just. it’s just nice that you’re not like that.”

something hardens in max’s face. his jaw tightens.

rosamund swallows. something twists in her stomach. “...max, i didn’t mean--”

max takes his rainbow flag out of his pocket, and he sticks it behind his ear. he does not look at her. “i know exactly what you meant.”

fred comes back, willfully oblivious, all smiles and jokes, and max doesn’t talk to rosamund for the rest of the day.

she apologizes for weeks. her nails chip. max accepts her apologies eventually, but that doesn’t mean that he forgives her.

rosamund isn’t sure she forgives herself, either.

8. rosamund dates ben, she dates eric, she dates victor, and then it’s fall semester, senior year of college.

rosamund’s semester to-do list, written in neat cursive on her scented pink planner:

1. find the man of her dreams.

2. get a tinder account in the meantime? is that too slutty

3. make the dean’s list (again).

4. apply for internships.

5. start a make-up tutorial channel. there are way too many girls (and guys, and otherwise) who don’t know how contouring works.

6. sign up for dance classes. find a dance partner?

the first thing rosamund sees when she enters the dorm is a giant bi pride flag draped across one half of the wall. her new roommate arrived before her, apparently, though she isn’t in the room now.

rosamund stares at the flag. something prickles under her skin. she takes a deep breath, and pulls out her planner:

7. don’t be a fuck up.

#mmts #middlemarch: the series #fic #my fic #hopefully i'll write more soon #i have Plans #THE PLOT THICKENS....DUN DUN DUN......#let's pretend that rosamund got stuck with a dorm junior year idk whatevz

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