I'm crying watching people freak out about levon and robbie kissing and playfully holding hands as if everyone in this band and even those involved with them aren't really gay
Like, man, fucking clapton talked more than once about having "fallen in love" with richard and one of the songs he dedicated to him has the lyrics "After all this time, well i thought that you were mine" LOL 😭😭
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Ghoul headcannon:
Dew gets nervous.
He gets slight stage fright, tends to go a little bit quiet before a ritual and even gets a bit shakey right before curtain drop. His behaviour on stage was created by him to not only distract his mind from the thousands of people watching him, but also to distract them from his slightly trembling fingers or on the off chance he misses a string during a solo.
He worries he may screw something up, or disappoint whoever it is he is trying to get closer too. He craves a really close connection with someone special but can’t bring himself to find that person, simply because his nerves get the better of him and he convinces himself he doesn’t need them. He sees someone who he finds incredibly attractive but doesn’t have the guts to talk to them.
He is very very comfortable with the pack of ghouls he’s got right now. They settle his mind a lot and help with whatever it is that is on his mind at that moment. They pull him back to reality and have often pushed him to do things that would normally turn him into a trembling mess.
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Can you be awesome and give me some well thought out prongsfoot headcanons? (If you have the time), I want to write a story with then and I need more on their dynamic, than just the basics.
(Friendship and Romantic! 😁)
omg hi yes!! i’ve never gotten an ask like this, i don’t think, and my hcs usually develop during stories so let’s see if i can do it :p
x
- soulmates in every universe, if not romantic then definitely platonic. they’ll find their way to each other, always.
- james has a crooked nose that sirius loves kissing. he’s very possessive about it, actually
- j might be generally a bit thick bc of the whole spoiled-only-child thing but he’s particularly attuned to sirius’ moods and emotions. i can imagine him writing long ass letters to his parents in the first few years whenever something tripped him up (which was, ykno, everything considering how sheltered he was) to so for help and sirius featured a lot in this (mum, how do i help with nightmares? mum, he doesn’t like treacle tart what do i doooooo, mum he wasn’t allowed to fly as a kid this is a travesty, mum he’s sad a lot and chai doesn’t always help, mum i don’t know how to make him smile etc etc)
- this one’s controversial, i think, but i love thinking of sirius as modelling james’ behaviour. we know he grew up being fed violent hatred + a superiority complex the size of Everest yeah? fully believe his process of unlearning started with james (the first time he used the word mudblood, our boy probably clutched his pearls, scandalised, ‘what are you doing u can’t say that!!’ so sirius started turning to j as a barometer for how to act, sometimes, bc he realised he couldn’t trust his family (and by extension, his own) behaviour. this isn’t instant, mind, but a gradual, time & labor intensive process and even after he grew out of it, i think sirius had this subconscious tendency to look for james’ approval.
- i hate the whole ‘james matured for a girl’ arc so my take on it is that his ‘growth’ came from a combination of ailing, elderly parents + rising war tensions + most importantly, sirius. end of 5th year he got a first hand view into the treatment his best mate received by his family and that horror made him want to be the best he could for sirius. i’ve always seen james as a protector and a caregiver, someone who takes people under his wing & looks after them, and i don’t think it was ever more obvious than around sirius. post 5th year, he gained a focus that he lacked before and would spend a lot of time just picking up on skills that could help him be better. duelling, defence, first aid, knitting, cooking etc etc. anything to feel useful.
- the shift from friendship to romantic would be tricky & probably require outside intervention or a lot of time, i think. they were already so close as friends that it just never occurs to them to take it any further ykno? their hearts & souls are intertwined, they’re super physically affectionate, and they’re already each other’s no. 1. so someone either has to bring it to their attention, they take yeaaaaars to realise ‘huh. this isn’t how i feel towards others’ or they live a wonderfully fulfilling qpp life together.
- i’ve talked about this before but physical!!! affection!!! and not just in terms of like, kisses or hugs but touch. they’re always in contact in some way. it’s comforting, safe. arms around waists, shoulders, hips/chin resting on the other, leg slung across, hand on a back or leg. you get it right? it’s subconscious, it’s natural, and they don’t even realise they’re doing it unless someone points it out
- sunshine and sunshine protector!!!! james was loud and brash and took all the space in a room. he was also sensitive bc he’s not told no often so when it has to be done, u need to do it in a certain way so he doesn’t internalise it as a personal failing and shut down. sirius is the best one to do it bc he can stand up to james w/o being intimidated + realise that the carrot works better than the stick w him. there’s a very real risk of his light fading out. at the same time, this makes sirius very protective of him. it’s why i wrote shovel talk. even in a universe where lily & sirius were friends, i think he’ll have a Talk with her to confirm her intentions. sirius is not willing to take chances with his james.
- pet names! james called sirius darling and my love and honey and sweetheart because he’s an old soul in a young body. sirius called james love (and sometime babe/baby). their go to for each other was ‘si’ and ‘jamie’ respectively, which was a term of affection on its own bc only they used it, no one else.
- james has *always* been attracted to sirius; he just didn’t realise it bc he thought this was how everyone felt towards sirius. ‘oh yeah he’s so ethereally beautiful, it’s just like, a fact of life and everyone knows it’ and thinks the random boners are normal until one day he realised that, no, that’s not actually the norm & he’s just a simp who thinks everything sirius does is perfect (think chin in hand, heart eyes, sighing)
x
ok i’m gonna cut myself off here bc this is already criminally long but i think it’s pretty clear i can go on for days lol. i tried to include both but i’m not great w romantic so i hope that came thru 🙈🙈
pls tag me in ur story when u write it (even if the hcs don’t help lol u can still use them in a process of elimination to find ur niche)!! i’d love, love , love to read it + always here if u wanna brainstorm 💜
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Pete’s thirteen when he gets his first six-string.
Like most of his things, the guitar was a hand-me-down from one of his cousins, who bought it during a yard sale in Kentucky on a whim and never got around to actually learning how to play it. Pete, bored out of his mind during those long, hazy summers, had picked it up and was instantly hooked.
It had sounded terrible at first, its wooden body too wide to fit over his gangly teenaged arms, his fingers awkward and unpracticed on the fretboard. He’d spend entire afternoons scouring through internet forums and dusty library books, learning chord shapes and memorizing tabs for the songs he liked, picking notes out by ear for those he couldn’t find within the pages of the local library’s copy of the Let It Be Me Song Book, Encyclopedia Edition. He ran his beloved Rumors CD ragged from pausing and rewinding it in tiny three second intervals, painstakingly learning each song note by note until he could begin to hear melody emerge from the mess, experimenting with different patterns with his picking hand, slowly learning with each song what made a decent tune.
Playing music felt like a reintroduction to god, something he could finally put his faith into. Years later, it would become the only thing holding him together, alone in an empty apartment in New York barely big enough for a mattress and table, his guitar a constant through the drug-haze that had long replaced those early summer memories. Whatever happened, he still had his music. For a long time, he could almost convince himself that was enough.
--
“I hate this place,” Kingston declares, unfolding himself from a structurally unsound plastic chair planted in the middle of a muddy grass pavilion. “Why am I here? This ain’t my scene, and I’m too old even try and fit in with these youngsters.”
They’re in Hoboken, of all places, waiting for the opener of a music festival whose lineup included charmers such as Kick Ass, Laugh, Repeat and Grunge Rot Thunder Thighs. Pete can feel sweat collecting down the back of his shirt.
“This isn’t my scene either. And it was your idea for a group bonding session,” Pete reminds him, surreptitiously trying to wipe at his back before it could stain his shirt. He feels hot and irritated, the sun too bright and the people too loud, himself entirely too sober. He wants to join the crowd of faceless revelers, feed off their energy, but he’s too wired to do anything but let it pass through him, too distant to feel anything more than light sparks of swirling chaos that stick to him like syrup.
“Okay,” Kingston grants, “but Hoboken?” The voxes shudder in unison.
The only reason they came all the way out was because Sofia had promised them pizza rolls and beer at her place, had enticed Pete with the promise of a free haircut, and had told Misty that some big names were going to be headlining the festival. The only big name Pete had seen was an enormous sign advertising for Bertinelli’s bread. “Where is Sofia, anyway?”
As if on cue, the woman herself appears from behind the long line of porta potties, looking a little worse for wear herself. Pete feels a pang of sympathy at her flushed and sweaty face. At least he isn’t the only one.
“Whew!” Sofia exclaims, slumping into the seat next to him, “If that line was any longer I’d’ave legitimately pissed myself.”
They watch as two clearly drunk men start whooping as a roadie plugs in a guitar, wincing in unison as they yell at the boy to start playing something to “save us from the boredom”. The roadie scrambles off the stage quickly.
“Um, Sofia, what are we doing here?” Pete asks. “Not that I don’t love hanging out with you or Kingston, or anything, but this doesn’t really seem to be most people’s thing. I think I saw Misty leave, like, an hour ago.”
Sofia looks puzzled. “Misty doesn’t want to hear you play?”
“What?” Pete stands from his chair. Kingston nearly falls off his.
“What?” Sofia snaps defensively. “I said there was a big name coming!”
God. At least the ferry ride to Staten had had an open bar. This shitty festival didn’t even have wine coolers.
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