idk if you could help a sista out with providing a brief or long list of some camilla/lardo headcanons
my dude i will do this happily:
when they first knew each other they both got super flustered around the other like cause like woah ur really cool and super hot. like yeah, both lardo and camilla are objectly like v rad people but they’re also a little awkward and more shy than they’d like to admit and so for a good month they ‘’flirted’’ by doing that ‘staring at each other from across the room, blushing, and looking away quickly when the other caught them’ thing
camilla finally worked up the nerve to ask lardo to borrow a pen in the one class they had together
and again when lardo didn’t have someone to play beer pong with because [reasons idk johnson kidnapped everyone else] and camilla came over and asked “need a partner?” and they decimated the competition
at some point and time, camilla definitely decided to teach lardo to play tennis, and it definitely turned into camilla wrapping her arms around lardo to place her own hands over lardo’s holding the racket and do the whole ‘no, see, like /this/’ thing
lardo definitely let out a laugh and turned to probably chirp camilla but then holyshitherfaceisrightthereholyshit ahhhHHHHHHHHHH
help someone write it
lardo draws all over camilla’s arms and shoulders with sharpies or pens or paint
obviously there’s a lot of reasons lardo likes camilla but i do think one aspect she appreciates more than she thought she would is that camilla has also been in that in-between space with the hockey team where she knows them but is also not on the team (lardo arguably is on the team but she has other friends that she regularly hangs out with too)
and ya know sometimes the team is loud and obnoxious or there are things about being manager that are frustrating because the boys don’t listen or make it difficult and camilla is someone she can rant to about that
cause with her art friends they just hear that ONCE AGAIN the hockey team is annoying and jocks are stupid and dumb
and like, yeah maybe, but those are her boys and only she gets to talk shit about them like that shut the fuck up oliver
cam gets it tho cause she loves them too and lardo is like so thankful for it
A/N: I hope y’all enjoy. As always, let me know if you see something you like, or if you catch a typo!
Bright. Way too bright. You open your eyes and immediately close them. It’s too early, too bright. You pat the comforter next to you. Groaning, you sit up and scrub your sleep heavy eyes. Glancing over at your nightstand, the red numbers agree with you; it’s too early. “Sam?” you yell. A muffled, “down stairs,” comes through your closed bedroom door.
You pad down the stairs and walk towards Sam who is standing, folded in half, touching his toes. Smirking, you run your fingers lightly over the curve of his ass before entering the kitchen. You inhaled the heavenly scent of coffee. “Thanks for making coffee babe,” you said. Looking through you lashes, you stared openly at your new boyfriend over your steaming mug of heaven.
Sam was currently in what looks like a prayer position, but you couldn’t be sure. Yoga was never an interest of yours until you met Sam. Your relationship with him was still fairly new, and you weren’t opposed to learning about yoga, Sam just hasn’t taught you anything yet.
But, here you were. Sam sat up into a position you recognized as the snake… or was it the cobra? He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his hips further into the mat, stretching and flexing his stomach. Sam’s abs and arms twitched under the pressure until he sat back on his heels, glistening slightly with sweat.
Baz scoffed. “I don’t see why not, Simon. It’s a haircut.”
Simon sighed, exasperated. Why would Baz want to cut his hair now? For as long as Simon could remember, Baz had had long hair, spilling in dark tendrils or slicked back with copious amounts of hair gel. (Simon had always preferred it let down because of the little moments when he could mess with it. Like when Baz would be slumped over his desk, his hair dropping annoyingly in his eyes as he worked on his most recent essay or something of the sort. In those moments, Simon could approach from behind and run his fingers through it, and tuck it behind his ears. Or when they would be cuddled together on the couch, and Baz would lay with his head on Simon’s lap while he threads his fingers through his hair, working out all of the tangles that had gathered throughout the day; black against gold.)
“But Baz,” he whined, and was ready to continue when Baz interrupted.
“But what, Snow?”
“Snow? Really?” Simon questioned, crossing his arms.
“Yes, Snow. But. What?”
Simon rolled his eyes. “You can’t cut your hair.”
“And you have yet to actually tell me why I can’t cut my hair.”
“I, well, uh…” Simon began, stumbling over his words has his mind worked to form sentences, scrambling fragments together like puzzle pieces to form coherent sentences. It was times like these that made Simon hate his lack of speaking-skills. If he could only have the right words, the right about of sincerity and arrogance, he might have been able to talk to Baz the way he talks to him, confident and easily. But that hadn’t happened yet, so he was left standing in the kitchen under his boyfriend’s scrutiny, mumbling and messing up his words. It was embarrassing to say the least, to be doing so while before Baz, who had all the right words and didn’t get nervous and stumble over them.
Baz had to refrain from going over to Simon and holding him tight, kissing his forehead and being hesitant to ever let him go. Because right now, Simon was in front of him, with his face flushed and clasping his hands together tightly. Baz knew he was embarrassed, but Baz found his lack of speech skills and his shy posture adorable. But no matter how adorable he was, Baz was on a mission.
Simon quickly abandoned his plan on trying to be witty and serious in front of Baz, to make a valid argument, and instead heaved a sigh, one that said ‘I give up.’
“I’ll have to get back to you,” he said, crossing his arms and looking downward.
“Okay. So can we be on temporary truce? I could really use a cuddle y’know…” Baz asked, eyes hopeful and shy. By just looking at him, you wouldn’t think Baz would be the one for hugs and forehead kisses, but his tough-appearance was just a façade. When it was just Simon, and sometimes Penny, Baz was truly just a bookworm who liked lots of affection. Simon found it adorable.
“Hmmm… I’ll have to think about it…” Simon said, while moving his finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were in deep thought. It was a gesture that he had only seen genuinely done by the elderly he met while he was at work with The Mage, or the teachers who he met in his short time in primary school. Truthfully, Simon already knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to lay down in his room and cuddle, Baz snuggled into his side. A nap sounded nice too, but it was unlikely. And he wanted to do anything to prevent Baz from cutting his hair off.
“If I cuddle with you, will you not chop your hair off?” he knew his attempt was futile, but attempted either way.
Baz smirked. “No promises, Snow.”
“Baz,” Simon whispered. Baz stirred slightly in his arms, but didn’t wake fully. Simon waited a moment, and then tried again.
“Baz,” slightly louder. This time Baz woke, turning to face Simon. He raised an eyebrow. Yes, Snow?
“Let me up, your laying on my legs,” Simon said, casting a glance down to where Baz’s leg was slung across his own.
“Where are you going?” he reconsidered after he said it. Did he sound to clingy? No, Simon won’t mind.
“I just… I have to work on something. You can go back to sleep, okay?”
Baz noticed how Simon chose his words carefully, dodging around whatever that something was. He tried not to worry about it.
“Oh. Uh, alright then,” Baz said, swinging his leg back over to his side of the bed. Simon gave him a smile as he got up, and Baz couldn’t help but smile back.
It wasn’t until later, after they had met Penny and Micah (he was visiting for the week, and Penny was spending as much time with him as possible) for dinner, that Baz discovered what Simon had been up too.
They had walked back into the flat, and Baz knew instantly that he was ready to put on his pajamas. After spending the majority of the week in lounge clothes, his nicer jeans and jumper suddenly seemed much less comfortable.
He pecked Simon on the cheek, with promises of being right back. Simon gave a smirk, one that made Baz feel off-kilter, like the feeling you get when you know a surprise is coming, but you don’t know when.
He made his way into Simon’s room, treading cautiously, although he didn’t know why. He trusted Simon, but he also hated not knowing.
He opened the door and discarded of his jumper, swapping it for one of Simon’s pajama tops. He put on his own pair of bottoms, and then went to turn out of the room. He went to leave, but then caught a look at a folded piece of paper, placed neatly on what was considered Baz’s pillow. He made his way to it, and slowly unfolded it.
Reasons Why Baz Shouldn’t Cut His Hair 1. I love it long. I can run my fingers through it while you are asleep, and I know that makes you happy (you smile when I do it.). If you cut it, I can’t do that and you are denied your unconscious happiness. 2. It suits you. Penny says so, too (she told me during a conversation one day, but about what I will not say. Way too embarrassing). Penny is always right. 3. I told Penny about it on the phone earlier, and she said you shouldn’t. Like I said, Penny is always right. Always. 4. You’ve always had long hair. It would be weird if it wasn’t long. 5. I can’t play with your hair if it isn’t long. You do like me playing with your hair, right? You don’t just ask me to play with it so I’m happy, right? If so, please tell me, but still don’t cut your hair. 6. Just don’t cut your hair. I wouldn’t like it.
Baz smiled goofily at the paper, because it was so… Simon.
He remembered one of their late-night Skype calls when Simon had told him about his lists. He made them about several things; Watford, people, pretty much everything. But even though he was aware of the lists, he had never read one, nor had he had one about him. Well, it was about his hair, but Baz felt special either way.
That was it. He wasn’t cutting his hair.
Baz went back into the lounge, where Simon was sat on the couch playing a game on his phone. He looked up when he heard Baz enter, and smiled almost shyly. Baz smiled back, genuine.
He sat on the couch next to Simon, and turned and wrapped his arms around his waist. He hugged him for a moment, and then reached up and kissed him, his smile remaining constant.
“I like you playing with my hair,” he muttered as he pulled away, recalling what Simon had said on the list. He hated seeing Simon being so worried, so insecure, but at the same time, it made him feel less alone. It made him realise that he wasn’t the only one scared of somehow messing something with Simon up, that he wasn’t the only one who second-guessed himself.
Simon smiled coyly again, and pecked Baz on the lips once more. Baz settled back down, this time sliding down so his feet were against the arm rest of the sofa. He placed his head on Simon’s stomach, and wrapped his arms loosely around his hips.
“Simon?” he said, looking up towards his boyfriend. He looked down at him with his eyes soft, filled with admiration. He hummed; hm?
“I’m not cutting my hair.”
Simon smiled with a sense of pride and victory, and hugged Baz closer.
you’re scrolling through your dashboard, or maybe you’re on the studyblr tag and you see it- somebody’s amazing, jaw dropping, hella heart eye worthy handwriting. and then you look back at your handwriting and suddenly feel an urge to make it even neater and prettier. we’ve all been there before, and i’m here to help out anyone looking to improve their penmanship, whether for the sake of the aesthetic or simply for anyone wanting to improve, so read under the cut and let’s get started !!
i recently hit 1k so why not do some moodboards to celebrate!!
here’s what you gotta do:
•gotta be followin me n my aes blog @wavybuzz
•reblog dis post
•then just shoot me an ask or a message about your favorite color, zodiac sign, and what type of “hoe” you are (music, art (only if you’re a poc!!!! if you’re not a poc you can write paint or anything like that), writing, etc)