glasses and buck teeth

Dating Richie Tozier Would Include...

- This is how you met

- After that, as the school year went on, the group he hung around clicked into place and you were happy to be part of it.

- Bill, Stan and Eddie were confused at why you and Richie suddenly liked each other, but they grew to like you too.

- Sass competitions. All the time.

- Getting Richie out of trouble is your job, usually.


- *Richie, with his heavily ruffled hair, bleeding lip and bruised EVERYTHING.* “I ran into a lamp post?

- *You raise an eyebrow*

- “…You know how Patrick Hockstetter always brings vodka to school?

- “Please no.

- “I may or may not have replaced it with vinegar. And bug replant.

- “I…I can’t even complain that sounds amazing.” 

- Stealing wearing his glasses.

- He acts pissed off but secretly thinks it’s kinda hot. 

- You help him when his mom having an episode, which happens a lot. Richie actually likes spending the night at your house because:

+ Movie nights™

+ Cuddles for hours

+ Junk food for days

+ Kissing sometimes gets heated, in the best way

+ You randomly boop his nose because fuck it he’s so cute

- When his mom is completely out of control he comes to your house with a hand shaped bruise on his cheek and you feel the urge to march right back to his house and punch her.

- You tried to help but he wouldn’t look you in the eye.

- Gently stroking his bruised cheek until he calms down.

- Richie doesn’t think you noticed that his eyes were red and watery but you did.

Even more cuddling

+ He’s the little spoon when he’s sad ‘cuz he likes to have your arms around his waist and you hug him from the back like a koala. You usually sling one leg over his hip and pull him closer 

+ Falling sleep on the couch

- You knew he only cussed to get the attention his mother never gave him, and you cussed right along with him so he wouldn’t feel alone. You knew that he needed attention so you gave it to him.

- Getting super defensive when people at school call him “Bucky Beaver” because of his buck teeth and glasses.

- You never call him this in public for the sake of his “trashmouth, practical joker” imagine but in private his nickname is Bambi because of his big doe eyes.

+ “I swear to god if you call me that one more ti-

+ “Mmm, sure Bambi.

+ He secretly loves how softly you say it. 

- You never told the other Losers that you were dating him, until Ben walked in on the two of you making out kissing a bit.

- To quote Ben: “I’m not even going to ask.”

- Over the summer you get a hammock

+ Sleeping on Richie’s chest

+ This boi has one foot on the ground so he can rock the hammock to keep you asleep

+ Cuz he thinks you look adorable when you’re dreaming

- When the missing children reports become too frequent Richie holds your hand a little bit tighter.

- You weren’t there when he was attacked by “It” but you knew something was wrong the moment you saw him.

- When he found a missing kid poster with his face on it in the Neibolt House, you were the one to tell him it wasn’t real. He wouldn’t be forgotten like the other kids as long as you were alive to remember.

+ Also you MAY have grabbed the paper, torn it to pieces, thrown the torn bits on the floor and stomped on them like a rabid donkey. For good measure.

+ *Richie has never felt so many emotions at the same time in his life*

- When Bill and Richie get into a fight after Neibolt House you were there to pick Richie off the ground but he swats your hand away.

- You’re shocked because no one will listen to you and Beverly.

- Trying to explain that IT will kill all of you if you split up. It’s no use. Even Richie stomps away.

- You attempt to pull him back to Bill so they could work it out but he nearly throws you to the ground to get your hand off his arm.

+ So, since his rudeness rubbed off on you, you punched him

+ By “accident”

- And for the entire month that the Losers were split up, so were you and Richie. 

- To get your mind off all the clown shit you went to the arcade. Well a humdidum dumbass is what you are because the arcade is where Richie is. ALL. THE. TIME. 

- But again, his stubbornness rubbed off on you, so even when you saw him, you refused to leave and resorted to avoiding him. You weren’t sure if he saw you; he was really into his game.

- And at 10:30, when the arcade was technically closed, he was still inside. He probably gave the owner money to let him stay. 

+ The arcade to Richie was like a bar to adults; a way to forget.

- You sat on the curb outside the arcade, sipping a slushie. You were supposed to go home, but since the clown at Neibolt you were scared of the flickering street lamps that lined your way home, and the arcade and other shops gave off a nice, bright light.

+ It was comforting in a way. Very aesthetic. 

- And Richie almost falls down on the curb next to you

- You want to be mad, but he looks so tired from staring at a screen all day, although you suspect the video games aren’t the reason his eyes are glassy.

- “Got kicked out?

- “Yeah.

- “Out of house or arcade?

- “…Both.

- You stand up and hand him the slushie, which he sips gratefully.

- “You’re leaving?

- He looks exactly like a puppy, with huge brown eyes and messy hair. Well, a puppy in glasses, anyway. 

- “If I’m leaving, you’re leaving with me.

- Richie gives you a sleepy smile and takes you hand.

+ The entire way to your house he slumps against you, sometimes falling asleep mid step and his head falls on your shoulder.


- At one point he closes his eyes and walks with them closed, his cheek pressed against your shoulder for support.

- Remember those nights when he comes over after a really bad day? This is one of them.

- So for the night, you and him are too tired to think about the huge fight.

- In the morning tho, you wake up to slightly burnt bacon and very burnt toast.

- Which would be nice, but..

- “How did you burn the toast but not the bacon? The toaster has a TIMER.

- “It’s called Satan’s charcoal bread dispenser and you’re welcome.”

+ He’d feel soo bad for fighting with you??? Like, REALLY BAD

+ I mean, you did punch him in the face, so you and him were kinda even, but he still did all this extra shit

+ Playing with your hair

+ Sharing chocolate stolen from the store

+ Braiding your hair and you’re like “Richie??? You’re very good with your hands???

- Yeah… you probably shouldn’t have said that.

- Richie never stops smirking. Holy fuck.

- “You know what else I can do wit-

- “NO! Nope! No, no, no. Keep doin’ what you’re doing and shut up.

- Really though, no fucking white paper-ass motherfucking bitchass dumbass pixie stick addict looking clown with a shitty pumpkin guts Halloween wig could break you and Richie apart. Period. 

Bang bang alley ~ Part one

This picture is not mine and I don’t know who the original owner is, please let me know so I can credit.

A/N ~ After seeing this photo I got an idea for a Bigbang mafia AU, it gets off to a slow start but please bare with it, I promise it will full of action as well as twists. Happy reading.

Theme ~ Mafia/Gangster AU

Pairing ~ Reader x Choi Seung hyun x Bigbang

Series one ~ | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

Series two

“I’m really sorry honey, I know you’ve been look forward to it” Dong won, your boyfriend, said through the phone.

“It’s ok, really, I understand” You said cheerfully trying to hide the disappointment you felt inside.

“You’re so good to me. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks” the tone in his voice telling you he was smiling.

“Ok, I love you” you called in a sweet voice.

“We’re going into the meeting, I have to go” he said in a hurry and hung up before giving you a chance to respond.

You sighed as you put your phone on the bed beside you, you closed your eyes and lent your head back as the last remnants of the sun shone in from the large glass window you sat across from warming your skin as the light slowly faded.

He was always like this when he was away on a business trip, at least when he was at his work place he had his own office to talk to you in private in, he never backed away from telling you he loved you unless he was in front of his workers. You had teased him about it on many occasions and he always responded with the same thing, he was the boss and he couldn’t been seen to be soft, which is also why you were never allowed to visit him at his work. You had been dating for almost three years, the last twelve months you had spent living together and you hadn’t once been to his work or met anyone that he worked with but you just figured that was how it must be in the world of stock exchange.

You couldn’t complain, your life was anything less then perfect. You owned a successful fashion boutique in the heart of Seoul, you’re boyfriend spoiled you and his family accepted you even though you were a foreigner. His family was very traditional, you had thought that they would have taken one look at you and protested the relationship but they had been nothing but welcoming to you.

Your eyes snapped open with the sound of your phone ringing, the unique ringtone you had set for the caller letting you know exactly who it was.

“Hey” you said nonchalantly.

“What’s wrong sweetie?” Hyorin asked.

“It’s Dong won, he has to stay in Busan for a few more weeks” you said with a sigh.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry, I know you were looking forward to your anniversary”

“It’s ok, his work comes first”

“Oh that’s shit, you’ve been planning that day for so long now and you’ve put so much effort into it” she scoffed.

“Really, it’s fine” you said as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, I know you too well” she scolded you.

“It’s his job, what can I do about it?” you questioned throwing your hand in the air.

“Well…. You could get your mind off it by coming out with us tonight”

“I don’t know” you replied biting your lip.

“Oh come on, it’s just dinner and a few cocktails…. It’ll be fun”

“Ok, what time?”

“Half an hour, June is going to pick us up”

“See you soon then”

“Wear something sexy” Hyorin said and you giggled.

“You know me, when do I ever wear anything sexy?”

“Well at least wear a dress or something, see you soon babe”


You were right, you were never one to really wear anything deemed sexy or revealing. You were what a lot of people would call a plain Jane, it wasn’t that you didn’t get dressed up you just opted for a more modest look. Hyorin on the other hand was completely the opposite, she always wore the tightest fitting thing she could find and the more skin it exposed the better. Sometimes you wondered how you were such close friends but then maybe that’s why it worked, people do say that opposites attract, maybe that applied to best friends too.

You threw your phone back on the bed and wandered to your closet and pulled out your favourite dress, a baby doll cut covered in autumn shades of browns, reds and yellows, matched with your signature black flat slip on shoes. You left your hair in the bun you had put it in for work and retouched your make up, a plain stroke of eyeliner and some more mascara.

Just as you left the bathroom you heard a car honking, you knew without looking it was the girls. You grabbed your phone and your bag and headed out the door. When you got out side you were met with an excited screech followed by high pitched giggles, you smiled as you got in to Junes jeep knowing that you were in for a night fun.

“So where are we going?” June asked Hyorin.

“Well you remember that place I told you about?” Hyorin said with a sly smile.

“No, absolutely not” June said sternly.

“Oh come on, please” Hyorin pouted.

“What’s wrong?” you asked confused and June sighed back at you.

“She wants to take us to the ghetto” June said nonchalantly.

“It’s not the ghetto, this isn’t America” Hyorin laughed.

“Well it’s Seoul’s equivalent” June bit back.

“Come on, please” Hyorin pleaded as she battered her eyelashes.

“Fine, but if we get car jacked you’re buying me a new car”

June was right, the area did look bad, the buildings were all run down looking on the outside and covered in graffiti, the streets were dark, not a single street lamp was working. The cocktail bar on the other hand was a different story, on the inside at least, it looked like any other you had been in.

After dinner and a few cocktails the conversation turned to nostalgia.

“Ok, ok, ok, I’ve got one. My first was with my high school boyfriend at his parents house, he was this nerdy looking guy with big glasses and buck teeth, we did it in their lounge room and his parents caught us. I was absolutely mortified that his parents had seen me naked and I broke up with him so I wouldn’t have to see them again” June admitted as she shook her head and you all giggled.

“Mine was with the hottest bad boy, I lured him away from his girlfriend at a party one night and we did it in her car” Hyorin chuckled.

“That is so like you” June tisked.

“That’s not even the best part, I wanted him all for myself so I stuffed my underwear under her seat, it was two weeks before she even found them” Hyorin said before taking another sip on her drink.

“What about you _____?” June asked.

“Mine is boring compared to yours” you said as you twirled the stem of your glass.

“Come on just tell us” Hyorin said and you sighed.

“It was just after I moved here to go to college. I didn’t really know anyone so I put up a flyer offering English lessons, only one person turned up” you paused as you remembered the first time you laid eyes on him.

“Hi I’m Se…..” the young man that was stood at your door paused as he looked at you, his smile replaced with a look of shock.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked raising your eyebrows.

“No, I ah…. I just….. You’re not Korean” he stuttered.

“Is that a problem?” you questioned.

“No, not at all….. I was just expecting you to be” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ok, well now we have that out of the way would you like to try and introduce yourself again?” you asked as you cocked your head making the man blush as he shifted uncomfortably, you had to bite your lip to suppress the giggle from erupting at how cute he looked when he was shy.

“Sorry, I’m Seung hyun” he said with a shy smile as he held his hand out.

“Nice to meet you Seung hyun, I’m _____” you smiled back as you took his hand to shake.

“Anyway” you said as you shook your head, trying to get rid of the memory you hadn’t thought about in years. “After a while we became close, one night he turned up on my door drunk and he confessed his love for me. I let him stay and I took care of him until he sobered up, I wanted to make sure he was genuine and that it wasn’t just the alcohol talking. When I told him that I felt the same one thing lead to another and well….”

“Aww that’s so sweet, so did you guys start dating?” June asked and you nodded your head. “How come you broke up?”.

“His family didn’t approve, they said that it was bringing shame to the family and that he should be with ‘one of his own kind'”

“Oh that’s so sad” June stated as she held her hands over her chest.

“Yeah” was all you said before downing the rest of your drink.

“Yah, why did we park so far away?” Hyorin whined as she trailed behind.

“Because there was no where else to park” June retorted.

The three of you had only walked two blocks and Hyorin was already tired on account of the enormous heels she decided to wear. When you turned on to the street that car was parked on the thud of a bass line hit you, you looked around trying to find evidence of a club or a car but there was nothing, only a half lit alley way with a handful of men standing around in it.

“Hey baby, where you goin?” one of the men shouted from the alley.

“Nowhere with you” Hyorin shouted back.

“Ah come on baby, let daddy show you how a real man does it” the man responded.

“You in the brown dress, you look like you need a good fuck to relieve some of that tension” another man yelled at you.

“No thank you” you responded as you kept walking.

“Stuck up bitch” he yelled and an eruption a laughter followed.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you, normally you would have kept walking but something told you to give them a piece of your mind. You turned around and headed straight for the alley.

“So I’m stuck up because I won’t fuck a stranger who shouted at me from a dirty alley way?”

“See what I mean? Baby you’re way to tense, why don’t you let me help you with that?” the man with blonde hair said as he stepped closer to you. You scoffed and folded your arms across your chest.

“Baby you don’t look like you know the first thing about how to satisfy a woman.

Your eyes widened as you heard a familiar deep chuckle, one you hadn’t heard in years. You looked around at the men trying to find the source but none of them were him, your heart sank at the thought that the noise had just been in your head, until you saw a tall figure move in the dark. He stepped out from the dark corner as he took a drag of his cigarette, he looked so different from the man you had once know but his eyes were still the same.

“Seung hyun?” you called as you took a step closer.

He looked at you, his face painted with indifference and his eyes seemed to look straight through you.

“You know this stuck up bitch hyung?” the blonde man asked as he gave Seung hyun a tap on the arm.

Seung hyun looked at you silently for a moment as the corner of his jaw twitched, he never thought he would see you again after that night and here you were, standing in the same alley way, still as beautiful as he had remembered.

“Never seen her before” Seung hyun said sternly as he looked away from you and took another drag on his cigarette, he couldn’t bare to see the look of hurt that washed over your face with his words, even if you had hurt him in the past.

“We have to go” June said as she grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the alley.

“What is wrong with you?” you yelled as you pulled your arm out of her grip.

“What’s wrong with me, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you realise they are gang members?” she shouted back.

“What?” you asked visibly shocked.

“That is club Bang Bang, the alley way is the entrance, it’s the hang out of the Green Dragon gang…… Did you not see that tattoo on there hands?” Hyorin said almost scolding you.

“No, it couldn’t be” you said stunned.

You looked back to see Seung hyun staring at you, his hands in his pockets and look of almost sadness written on his face.

“Well it is, now get in” June said as she opened the door for you.

Seung hyun watched from the alley as you got inside the jeep and drove away, a feeling of guilt hit him in the chest as he thought about the look on your face when he denied knowing who you were. The truth was he had never stopped thinking about you since the day you left him, how could he, you were his first and only love.

“Hi, I’m Se…..” he paused as he laid his eyes on you, it was you, the one he had seen around campus, the only girl he had eyes for but was to shy to talk to.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked raising your eyebrows.

'How can I concentrate when she looks so cute?’ Seung hyun asked himself.

“No, I ah 'didn’t expect it to be you’…. I just 'have a massive crush on you’….. You’re not Korean” he stuttered trying to say the right thing and not make a fool of himself by blurting out what he really thought.

“Is that a problem?” you questioned.

'Shit, I fucked this up already’ Seung hyun scolded himself internally.

“No, not at all….. I was just expecting you to be” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ok, well now we have that out of the way would you like to try and introduce yourself again?” you asked as you cocked your head.

Seung hyun felt his cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, he had only been talking to you for a few minutes and he already managed to fuck it up.

'God she looks so cute when she’s trying not to laugh’

“Sorry, I’m Seung hyun” he said with a shy smile as he held his hand out.

“Nice to meet you Seung hyun, I’m _____” you smiled back as you took his hand to shake.

I draw his hair way to poofy

forget the birds, my love

Stanlon nursing home au where Stan’s suicide attempt failed and they all survived It. they’re now old men and Stan has bad dementia. after all these years, they still love each other. 1661 words.

Mike takes him to the nearby park to watch the birds every day and reminds him of their names. every time he does, Stan smiles in pure joy and writes it down in his notebook. his notebook’s almost full, the same names repeating through the pages. Mike doesn’t mind when Stan asks the names over and over. he tells him facts Stan had told him lifetimes ago, and Stan listens in happy wonder. sometimes, when they go, Stan asks him to dance with him. it’s a slow dance, gentle and careful, two old men swaying softly as one of them hums ‘Because’ to the other, brushing thin, silver curls out of his husband’s face. they love each other, even when one can’t remember why sometimes.


the nursing home is a quiet place where people come and go. sometimes someone will come in who seems so very familiar, thick glasses and buck teeth or auburn hair with an age induced stammer, and Mike’s heart will pull when quiet confusion dawns on Stan’s face, recognition unrecognised. sometimes he thinks Stan has forgotten their friends, but some days when they sit in the park Stan will start to laugh as he shares a memory of Richie or smile in wistful remembrance as he recounts the times Ben and him had stayed in the library until dark together, gently murmuring as they read. sometimes someone will stop by the home, missing half of an arm. Stan’s face flickers in the same uneasy look, and Mike gently pulls Stan away, suggesting they go to the park, to dinner, to bed. the newcomers always leave soon enough. it does no good to stir up memories that already haunt his love’s dreams. sometimes Mike will awake to quiet weeping beside him, and turn to see Stan’s delicate skin streaked with tears,  painting over the wrinkles with shining silver. unconscious murmurs of names, accusations, pleading, horror. Mike draws him close, presses soft kisses to his forehead and cheeks until he wakes, holds him while he cries. when he asks why, all he is ever answered with is a slow, sad, “I don’t know.” Mike does. but it’s okay. at least this time, when horror strikes anew, he can be there. he can save him.


it hurts Mike to see Stan slowly forgetting it all, even with the physical marks of the past stained on his skin forever. the first time Stan asks him where the lines on his arms came from, it takes all he has not to start weeping. but he continues. he tells Stan stories of their time with the others, reminds him of the days spent rushing around Derry on too-big bicycles, feeling as if they ruled the world. there are good days, days where Stan will sing with him as they dance, days where he’ll relate to him stories of when Richie decided he wanted to live and almost got arrested, days where Stan will tell him of birds Mike’s not yet see. those are the days where Mike feels as if his liverspots and arthritis disappear, where Stan somehow looks more vibrant and his skin looks healthy and young as opposed to old parchment paper. but the bad days come too, the days where Stan shakes his head in confusion at the mention of Bill’s name, where he’ll ask if Mike has heard from Patty lately (dead seven years and not a single letter since from Stan’s ex-wife), where even a common finch is a discovery. Mike doesn’t mind hurting. He just wishes it wouldn’t be over the fact that his love is unable to remember even the good, even their past together. He hurts for the time his Stan has lost.


one day at the park, Stan calmly lists the birds he sees, pointing them out to Mike. every time he raises his thin, slightly crooked finger to point at another ball of brightly coloured plumage, he squeezes Mike’s hand in his own, and Mike kisses him on the cheek. the sun shining through the leaves of the surrounding trees seems to shine through Stan’s papery, thin skin, the pale blue veins tracing through his arms and hands and neck seeming to glow. his face seems translucent, amber in the light. still, when he looks to Mike again, chuckling slightly as he points to a bluejay, his eyes are as warm and amber-brown as always, solid and sparkling. he can see in his lined face the boy he loved, the young man he married. Mike thinks now is the most beautiful he’s ever been. when they go back to the home that night, Stan speaks softly to him as they lay together in their bed. taking Mike’s hands in his own, he tells him of the first day he knew he loved Mike and how he’d felt so scared. the first time they had kissed, how he’d wondered at how rough Mike’s palms were yet how soft they’d been on his cheeks. the first time they’d danced, and he’d felt so giddy he thought he might faint. he presses his lips against Mike’s, raises a hand to wipe the tears from Mike’s face, kisses a salty droplet from his nose. Mike pulls him into his arms, presses kisses to the scars framing his face, tears running into Stan’s silver hair. When he finally pulls back, he smiles, and Stan kisses him again, and again, and again, as if they are children again, as if they don’t know what comes next. finally, they just lay together, a silent, warm embrace. Stan kisses him one last time, murmurs a returned love in his ear. When he sleeps, Mike doesn’t need to protect him. Stan’s rest is safe from nightmares, from monsters in the dark. He sleeps soundly, finally at peace, surrounded with only love. Stan doesn’t wake in the morning.


Mike somehow finds their addresses, sends them simple letters. ‘Stan is gone.’ somehow, they all come. the night before the funeral, they meet at a Chinese restaurant, the setting somehow familiar. Eddie comes first, steering a now nearly blind Richie to Mike for a five-armed hug, only a stump left of the missing sixth limb. Ben and Bev come next, Ben’s strong hug accompanied by soft tears dripping omto his shoulder. Mike leans down to embrace Bev in her wheelchair, and she giggles, accusing him of being a “still-perfect gentleman.” Bill arrives last sans accompaniment, the only trace of Audra in a closed locket that chills Mike’s collarbone when they embrace, sharing an understood sense of loss. they talk as they eat, banter and laughter and beeps filling the air. for a brief time, it almost feels as if they’re children again, together for this, as if they’re unaware of what comes next. at the end of the meal, Mike thanks them for coming, sad smiles spreading to all of the others. Stan would have wanted them all together again. as they push their empty plates into a small pile on the table, Ben speaks up, voicing the heavy topic they all felt hanging over them. holding Bev’s hand, he quietly asks if it’s time, if the circle is moving again. Mike nods, and says that it is. at least it gave them this long, though. the waiter comes, and Mike hands them his card, shooting away protests from the others as they set down a small plate of fortune cookies. though they may not agree on Mike’s payment for the meal, they all agree to leave the cookies untouched. the next day, at the funeral, they all speak, telling stories of the Stan they had known, a boy who laughed at odd things and obsessed over cleanliness and excelled at baseball and could name every bird in the state. they share their memories of good times, times that Stan would have wanted remembered, and after the wake, they share tears and embraces as they bid their goodbyes. as Mike embraces them, he considers for a wild moment asking them to stay, stay with him and fight, the Losers club’s last battle against age and fate and the circle. the Losers beat the devil, one last time. but he can’t bring himself to do it, to interrupt their lives once more. so he bids them adieu, and returns to the home, to a too-large bed in a lonely room. he lays down and he cries tears of sorrow and grief and acceptance. soon after the funeral, Richie calls, voice thick with grief as he explains that Eddie passed away, healthiest man they knew but for a nasty cough. Bill goes next in a bicycle accident, a fitting passing if Mike may be honest. his next flight is to Nebraska, to hold Ben as Beverly is lowered into the ground, winter fire extinguished by Ben’s tears as Mike embraces him. he thinks that it will be a while before he sees either Richie or Ben again, but Ben ends up having to board the next flight with him after a phone call from Richie’s cousin. after it all, they stand beside a freshly-covered grave, staring with wet eyes as a headstone Mike had never thought he would see. he puts an arm around Ben’s shoulders, and Ben pulls him into a hug, murmuring choked admittance that he thinks he’s finally ready. Mike chuckles softly through a tear-choked throat, and says that he thinks he is too. the circle waits for two old, old men standing beside a grave, perhaps allowing them just this time more. they finally pull apart, but Mike keeps his arm around Ben’s shoulder, for his comfort or his own he cannot tell. he imagines that Richie is there, that they’re all there, listening patiently through the ground and grass and trees, and he softly hums Because for the last time, a final serenade to his old friends. he’ll be able to sing it to Stan himself soon enough.

limebloog  asked:

hey dave! i found your blog today and Dude Yuor Spritez... Bromides... but anyway heres a request! can you perhaps sprite a jane crocker with longer (terezi lengthish) hair and jade glasses with no buck teeth (black lipstick is a bonus) in a wheelchair? putting lesbian pride or a purple wristband or something to do with epilepsy is also ultimate points. thank you! have fun with this and take your time, strider

TG: aw dude thank you!! you guys are all so nice i love you all
TG: and also i dont do arms on sprites like these so instead of a purple wristband i made her a purple necklace
TG: shes the embodiment of a Big Lesbian Mood
TG: please enjoy the lass

Do You Want Fries With That?

Chapter 4/? 
Read on Ao3
Previous Chapter | First Chapter

Stan checked the red illuminated numbers of his watch, the bright LED lights hurt his tired eyes. 


Stan groaned as he shifted slightly in Richie’s bed, trying not to wake the sleeping figure next to him - who was currently splayed out like a starfish, forcing Stan to grapple onto the edge of the bed before he was pushed into the mountain of dirty clothes and comic books which was Richie Tozier’s bedroom floor. Stan couldn’t sleep. Normally he was asleep in his pristine white bed by ten o’clock, but not tonight, because tonight he wasn’t sleeping in his familiar abode - he was bunking with a hoarder.

Stan was exhausted - the soft glow of the stars peering through Richie’s half-closed curtains were burning his eyes, feeling as though the moon is mocking him for the restless night. Stan had never had difficulty sleeping with one of the Loser’s before. Eddie’s room was always fairly clean anyway but Bill always spent the day before hosting a sleepover cleaning the house if he knew Stan was attending. Stan wasn’t as bad anymore, he takes his medication and he can deal with small things like Bill’s posters being slightly lopsided, or Eddie’s pill bottles being arranged alphabetically instead of by size, or even the way Richie’s glasses were never quite sitting on his face right. Stan suspected he had sat on them and never bothered to get them fixed.

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anonymous asked:

Can I have some more jealous boom!Sonic please? I like seeing him fuss over Amy, it's quite adorable xD (btw your Sly Cooper au's are the best things to happen to me :D)

Oh man, XD I’m glad you like them so much!

I love jealous Sonic, but it’s always a subtle jealousy, it’s never fully expressed.

I’ve done so many, I wonder what will pop into my head… this… time..?

(There fight was just like my headcanon, and I literally was so happy, like someone wrote me a love letter for all my headcanon/prompts I’ve done. I’ve never been more happy to be appreciated in my life T-T Or, of course, this was purely coincidental that the writer ALSO had an idea about Tails creating a robot to read minds and Sonic and Amy having cute moments together because of it but EH, YOU KNOW, happens all the time!)

Strange rumors have been going around about girls mysteriously disappearing all over the village, and each last seen with a mysterious man.

Bent on solving the case, the team recruit a reluctant Sticks and Amy to wander around at night and try and get ‘kidnapped’ while the boys stay on standby.

Up on the roofs, the boys lay in waiting, as Knuckles begins to worry for the girls safety.

“I’m not too comfortable leaving them alone down there… what if he really DOES just swipe them away like the rumors say!?” Knuckles put his hands to his mouth, biting his nails.

“We have trackers on them, and visuals, Knuckles. There’s nothing he can do that can get passed us. Amy and Sticks will be just fine.” Tails types away on his computer, while also gesturing back to Knuckles to remain calm.

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re only looking at your doodady’s screen! You’re not even caring!”

“I care, okay!?” Tails slammed his hand on the side of his laptop computer, and glared up at Knuckles, not liking being insulted. “I’ve set up live-video cameras EVERYWHERE, night vision’s on and I need to make sure nothing slips by my radars!”

“…Hmph, well you could of just said you were looking for a bad guy.” Knuckles folded his arms and nodded, before looking down at the girls.

Sonic was growing anxious, looking around and flicking his ears to try and hear something. “I can’t stand just sitting here and looking around, Tails! Come on, let me out there!” Sonic complained, not liking being ‘above’ the action that may happen below. He peered over the roof top.

“Relax, it’s not like Amy or Sticks will just willingly let him take them away, anyway.” Tails stated, before his screens all flickered off to static. “Woah! Hey! Wha-what’s going on!?” he started typing things but his computer started sparking. “It’s jammed!” he hit the keyboard.

“Amy! Sticks! Hang on!” Sonic cried out, jumping down as Knuckles jumped down too, looking worried.

“They’re… They’re gone.” Knuckles looked around. “But that’s impossible! I was just staring at-” he looked over to see the object he thought was Sticks’s head was just a pile of junk and garage cans. “…Sticks?” he tapped the pile as it came crumbling down.

“Oh no.” Sonic’s eyes widened, as he quickly started running around. “Sticks!? AMY!!!!??”

Frantic for their two friends, the boys dress up as girls, and get taken to the guy’s lair.

He’s actually fairly ugly, but uses his chemistry know-how to ‘entrance’ the girls with delusional pheromones that make him look and sound like their dreams come true.

However, Amy shakes herself out of it often, and he seems to particularly refer to her as ‘A rare specimen’ as he tries to figure out why his current chemical experiment isn’t working very well on her.

Keeping her in his research lab, the team gather the ‘zombie love drugged’ (Had no other way to describe it xP) girls out of the place, as Sonic told the others he was going back in to find Amy.

Since they’re dudes, it doesn’t effect them, and actually smells pretty bad to their noses.

Amy is half way in the delusion, but keeps resisting and snapping herself out of the effect every time he thinks he’s got it working.

Picture a geek with big glasses, buck teeth, and a long thin mouse’s nose. “No, no, no!” he has a bit of a lisp too. “Why arenz’t you fully under my controlz!? Why is itz not working?” he stomped up and down on the ground, before pulling out what looked to be a deadly chemical. “Heh, no beauty can rezsist my power! The power… of szcience!” he poured a drop into the tube, before dumping the whole thing and laughing, and carrying it over to her.

“N…No, this isn’t… you’re not..!” she kept seeing her vision going wobbly, as a handsome man, almost irresistible was before her, but she shook her head as she felt herself growing weaker and weaker.

“My fair maiden, why must you protest?” the voice in her head stated, but she wasn’t sure if she heard that or imagined it.

“Sorry… pal.. I don’t…” she kicked the tube the creepy mouse was using.

“Ah! Itz’s izmpossible!” he cried out, as she was strapped to a vertical table, and shook her head more.

“I don’t fall for chumps and goatees.” though she was weakened by the effects of the chemical, she still drew up her foot and slammed it into the small evil scientist guy’s face, as he slowly fell over and was knocked out.

“Amy?” Sonic raced in, and saw the guy holding his face, coming too.

“Amy? Whzo the heck are-?” he turned to see Sonic, as he glared and grabbed the dude, who gulped in fright. “Whatz’s wrong wzith you, now!? Not anothzer onnnnne!” Sonic flung him behind him and against the wall.

“Cancel the chemical out, pal! And I mean now!” he shook his fist, anger for what this creep was doing to poor girls just filled him with uncontrollable hate.

“Woah! You’rez a dude!” the guy freaked out, as Amy moaned, that stronger chemical starting to take effect.

“Amy..?” Sonic turned back to look at her, as the scientist smiled, seeing the signs that her body and mind finally gave into his chemical.

“Hehehe…” he clicked a button and she was released, as Sonic sped over to catch her as she fell to her knees.

“Amy! Come on, Amy… say something…”

She looked up, and then to the man. She slowly got up and pushed Sonic away, walking over to the mouse guy as he laughed, and put his arm around her waist, as she weakly dropped her head to his shoulder.

“Hehe~ Seez the power of szcience?! Now I canz has all thze beautiful girlzs I want! Hahaha! No one carezs what you look like, soz long azs they THINK you’re better than what youz really are. Ha, ha!”

Sonic got up, looking sadly to Amy, reaching a hand out. “Amy..”

“She’sz just a girl, bub. Therez’s plenty of themz to go around.” The boy rolled his eyes, “Now, shooz. Shez’s made her decisizon.” he stuck his nose up, as Sonic glared and clenched his teeth.

“Has she!? Cause it looks like to me, she’s seeing something completely different than who you really are! What’s the point of having tons of girls fawning over you when you know that they aren’t even seeing you!?”

“H-huh?” The boy blinked his eyes, his glasses tilting to the side.

“You delusion these girls into seeing what their minds believe our their ‘dream guys’. But how does that make you feel? Wouldn’t you want a girl who thinks your that guy.. without all the science?” Sonic held out his arms. “I mean, natural chemistry is better than anything concocted as a ruse, right?”

“Yzou…Yzou wouldn’t underzstand!” he let Amy go, and Sonic waited for the perfect moment…

The guy threw a tissy fit, “Girlzs don’t like mez! They say, ‘ew, szo gross’ and treat me like the plague! I jzust wanted to feel like I wazs liked for once… isz that too much to aszk!?” he suddenly noticed he had stomped in his fit away from Amy. “Oh noz..” he looked forward to see Sonic race over and punch his lights out.

He was pulled into a big blue police truck as the mayor personally thanked the team for finding the girls, and that they’re snapping out of their delusional haze.

One girl was flirting with a flower pot and the other was kissing a pillar.

“Uhh… well, most of them are coming too, anyway, ehem.” the mayor stated.

“Not to worry, thanks to Sticks and Amy, I’ve got a cure right here!” Tails showed off his new tonic.

“Splendid!” the Mayor swiped it out of his hands, and turned to the people.


“Everyone, MY brand new tonic is out! Bring your fine young ladies and I’ll have them back to normal in a jiffy!” he then handed it back Tails. “With each girl cured, give them one of my bonafide mayor pins, okay?” he patted Tails’s back and ‘hmmhmm’d a laugh as he walked off.

“I really hate that guy…” Tails glared back over his shoulder, and sighed. “But these girls do need some help…”

“Just how much did that guy make them smell, huh?” Knuckles waved a hand at one of the girls, who stuck her tongue out and her eyes went derpy as she suddenly fell over.

“I’m not sure, but he CLEARLY didn’t think of the long term effect. Once that chemical is out of their systems, their gonna be coming to him for revenge.” Tails warned.

Amy slowly and awkwardly stepped up to Sonic, as he nervously turned around to see her, after shaking his head and smiling at the thought of the boy getting a beat down by a ton of angry teenagers.

“H-hi.” she stated, waving a moment and rocking on her heels, before looking nervous about something.

“H-hey. So, um… I’m glad to see your alright.” He stated, scratching behind his head. “I was really worried when Tails said you had a lot of that stuff in your system. I’m just glad he got it all out and you’re back to your old self again.” he stated.

“Me too. I actually wanted to say thank you for taking care of me until Tails figured everything out. I don’t remember much of what happened… but I do remember, very blurry vision mind you, that you had carried me back and told me ‘Don’t worry, Amy. I won’t loose you again.’.” she winked to him, holding up a finger as she repeated that.

“W-what?!” Sonic stepped back, “Wait, hold on! I never-!”

“Don’t try to deny it, that’s when I was coming out of the delusional haze cause you were letting me breathe in that fresh air from the mountains~” she took a deep breath.


“That… that is what happened, right? You took me to the mountains to get some air, and then you said those words to me… right?” she leaned forward, getting suspicious as he turned his head away, his eyes shifting around for an answer.

“Must of been the daze, sorry Amy.” he shrugged.

“Oh, really!? Poo! I was really hoping that one was real.” she looked disappointed, and stomped away. “Augh..! Then nevermind! Just wanted to say that was really sweet of you, but whatever! Darn mind… playing tricks on me.”

As she walked away, Sonic took a deep breath and sighed. Scratching his neck, he looked away and softly stated, “She remembered all of that?”

…You… you don’t even want to know the details about what STICKS was going through. Let’s just say her ‘dream guy’ isn’t exactly a type of thing I want to describe…

You’ve all seen Buster, right?

If that’s cute to her… then what’s a ‘dream guy’ to her!?

-shivers at the very thought-  Yeah, no.

(so… kinda jealous? Really more worried than anything, but didn’t like his hand around her waist! I don’t think this is very canon to where they’d make an episode on it, but I had the idea and thought I could go with it, so there you go xD hope you like it..~)

I’m late to Attack on Titan; I have a baby and the show was on my back burner forever because it didn’t appeal to me (and morbidly it still doesn’t, I watch out of a mix of spite and outsider intrigue primarily but I am way invested and I hate myself for it lol) so obviously I am utterly devastated I am also late to all the drama. That entire General Dot Pixis thing? It is all so interesting!  

In case you didn’t know AoT creator Hajime Isayama bases his series in a highly militarized world and for the character of Dot Pixis a big-wig general he modeled the bald mustached man after a real life Imperial Japanese general named Yoshifuru Akiyama  - which created an extreme uproar online among fans in Asia. 

North Americans and Europeans are likely to be aware that the Japanese have a history of not owning up to their war crimes by hiding under a blanket of willful ignorance. Japanese text books leave out Japanese war crimes; Japanese war crimes are thus not often acknowledged or even known by a bulk of the Japanese public; the Japanese government does not want other countries to bring up or acknowledge past crimes and gets really pissy when they do; The Japanese government has yet to release a formal apology for crimes committed during any wars the Japanese have partaken in that the people of surrounding countries have accepted; Japan is not the popular kid in Asia. 

Lets step back so as to get a bigger view of how real and problematic this issue truly is. 

I’m gonna talk about a guy real quick, a Japanese colonel - not Akiyama Yoshifuru, we’ll get back to him later - but a dude from World War II named Tsuji Masanobu.

This guy was a sick, gross, sadistic, misogynistic, dickcheese. If you can think of a WWII Japanese war crime he was probably behind the scenes of it. Massacres in Singapore; The Bataan death march; the Manila massacre; Guadalcanal’s last bloody stand and the suicide fox holes; the kill all prisoners initiative. The icing on the cake is that this motherfucker was documented by his own press corps to have eaten the liver of an allied fighter pilot. Tsuji Masanobu cannibalized and allowed the cannibalization of allied prisoners under his steward. Wow, he was probably executed or died in prison right?


By 1952 Tsuji Masanobu was elected by the people of Ishikawa prefecture to serve in the house of representatives AND had two national best selling books. Only seven years after Japanese surrender and a war criminal as heinous as Tsuji Masanobu is directly helping shape the new political landscape of the Asian-Pacific.

Now pretend you’re the rest of Asia, hell pretend you are Singapore. You’re lookin’ over at this new democracy taking shape and - wait! - who is that staring back at you? Tsuji fuckin’ Masanobu. ‘Cause a bunch of people voted for him. And he remained in Japanese politics into the 1960s.  

Super fucked up, right?

That is why foreign relations between Japan and it’s neighbors is massively shitty because pathological brutal pigjizz who organized and executed massacres, encouraged suicide, personally beat prisoners, and ate other human beings get statues in their home towns dedicated to them. 

But don’t get on your high horse America and Europe - oh no. Stay firmly planted on the ground because the milieu of willful forgetting and the rehabilitation of war criminals in the Japanese public consciousness, going from war criminals to openly being regarded as victims, was encouraged by allied forces.  

Why? Well, it is actually really simple as most super horrible things are:

The immense suffering, loss of life, and horrible acts of atrocious inhumane brutality perpetrated against China and Korea during WWII was purposefully swept under the rug because they were “going Communist”. An invisible hand (wink-wink nudge-nudge) directed Allied attention almost exclusively towards the holocaust. The European Theater was intentionally made the focus of victory and bravery and the location of the greatest of all war crimes because treating (potential) communist as people was not, evidently, an option. The proof of the degree of discouragement pushed by ally forces is in how this is possibly the first time you’ve even heard of Tsuji Masanobu - and yet not. You probably do kind of know him in an albeit fucked up way in of itself.

Most European and North American folks are probably aware of that super racist Japanese caricature, you know the one; glasses, bald, buck teeth, big ears? That is Tsuji Masanobu. Wellll, he was one of the basis for the image of anti-Japanese allied propaganda anyway. Sure the officers Tsuji Masanobu had constantly chastised for being not brutal enough, soft, and ineffective were executed for their crimes by the allied trials but Masanobu, literally the face effective in fueling and demonizing an entire people so as to motivate ally soldiers, was pardoned and allowed to run for political office in an ally influenced election. So guess who isn’t that popular with the rest of Asia either?

Right. So, now that the wound is sore lets go back to Yoshifuru Akiyama. 

Yoshifuru Akiyama was a Japanese general during the first Sino-Japanese war, a war fought between China and Japan over who controlled Korea. He is the older brother of general Saneyuki Akiyama who was the massive strategic force behind the battle of Port Arthur and by extension the Port Arthur Massacre during the first Sino-Japanese War. Yoshifuru and his Calvary were instrumental in capturing the port. 

It is not relevant that Yoshifuru Akiyama did not have a direct hand in War Crimes other than being on the side of an invading force; among neighboring countries and Attack on Titian fans the war Yoshifuru served in continues to be a reminder of a difficult and oppressive time period in history. A lot of the anger bubbling up from learning about how a brash, strategic, and honorable character like Dot Pixis is “based on” a real general doesn’t necessarily stem from (just) the actions of Yoshifuru and his role in shared war and history - but rather from the perspective of if Dot Pixis is taken from Yoshifuru then who are the titians? 

It isn’t surprising that the titans are up for grabs for what it is they represent since they’ve yet to be given a solid metaphorical attachment, and it isn’t surprising that some people take offense at what they perceive them to be. 

Stevenson Jr. High

An excerpt from Violence Girl, From East L.A. Rage to Hollywood Stage - A Chicana Punk Story by Alice Bag.

Stevenson Jr. High is where I served a three year sentence after leaving elementary school. I was in science class, learning about modern medicine when the teacher asked which antibiotic would cure a certain infection. I was still riding high from my smarty pants sixth grade year and I raised my hand high. 

“Penny-celeene,” I said, stressing the syllables as one would in Spanish. 

“Which one?” my teacher asked again. He was either confused or just setting me up for the punchline. 

“Penny-Celeene…” I repeated innocently. 

Penny-celeeeeene?” he mimicked quizzically and then paused for effect. 

“Oh!!! You mean PENICILLIN?” The class burst out laughing. It was very funny. Asshole. 

That experience marked the beginning of an exciting year. One guy thought it would be hilarious to throw dog biscuits at me in Algebra class. He didn’t think it was so funny when I went over and dug my fingernails into his flesh, clawing bloody red gashes down his face. Because he was a gentleman and only threw dog biscuits at girls but drew the line at hitting them, he vented his anger by picking up his desk and hurling it out the window of our second story classroom. The teacher sat at his desk and pretended nothing happened. 

I am second from the left on the top row.

I made Lamplighters, which is what the Stevenson Honor Society was called. The Biscuit Thrower christened me “Hunch Butt,” which was horrible because even I had to admit that it was funny and therefore had legs. A group of marauding boys threw an orange at my ass as I crossed the field. It exploded and left a big wet spot on my pants. The students on the yard fell over themselves laughing at me. My anger simmered as I plotted a million ways of exacting revenge, none of which would ever come to fruition. I saw a group of cholas jump a girl into a gang in the gym locker room. They mercilessly punched, kicked and dragged her around by her hair, literally mopping the floor with her before the coaches found out what was happening. 

I’d had a growth spurt in sixth grade and was almost normal weight, but by seventh grade my weight caught up with my height and then some. I was 170 lbs and wore a size twenty in women’s dresses. I had buck teeth, frizzy hair and glasses and I was completely lost in that savage, evil place named after the author who had written about bloodthirsty pirates and the hideous Mr. Hyde. None of the things he wrote about were as scary as this East L.A. middle school that was named in his honor. 

Before the year was over, I had signed up for Service, also known in some circles as Lapdog. I worked in the student store for a semester and then my past came back to haunt me and I was assigned to the girl’s bathroom. I tried to enforce as much as possible but I couldn’t control the gang jump-ins that took place all the time in that bathroom. I would’ve felt bad if someone had been beaten during my watch but these girls were willing participants. It meant so much to them to be accepted by these surrogate families that they were willing to have their asses kicked. It seemed to me that they were even sadder than I was. My parents might have been fucked up, but I knew they loved me. I didn’t want or need a surrogate family. 

 I was lost during my first year at Stevenson Jr. High. I had no clue how to parlay the few social skills I had picked up during my last year at Eastman Avenue School and make them work for me in this new setting. The school was big and overwhelming. The kids from a nearby housing project called Estrada Courts had their own gang called Varrio Nuevo Estrada or VNE. They were a huge gang at the time and today they’re one of the biggest and oldest gangs in L.A. One of their rivals was another large gang called White Fence, or WF. 

Me on the yard at Stevenson.

Although I grew up in East L.A., I never felt the presence of gangs when I was in elementary school or at my home on Ditman Avenue. Oh, I’d see the graffiti on the walls and there was a family who lived on our block that was deeply immersed in gang culture. The parents were gang members and the grandparents were veteranos (respected gang elders) and the kids, although too young at the time to be actual gang members, were expected by their family to be gang members some day. But most of the families on our block were not in gangs; they were just poor, working class people with a desire to get ahead.

I didn’t really understand the gang mentality. What were they fighting for? An old, overcrowded apartment building, a liquor store, a bus stop, all of it was prized turf. I saw them as divided and conquered, fighting over scraps from the master’s table instead of pulling up a chair to join the dinner party. I couldn’t relate to their goals. They didn’t seem interested in becoming brain surgeons, or pilots, or President of the United States, like I was. They didn’t want to live in a house like the one The Brady Bunch had. They wanted to rule their turf and grow old and become veteranos

Needless to say, I knew very little about gang culture but soon found myself in the middle of it. In East L.A. at that time, it was impossible to escape it. It was not unusual for rival gangs to drive slowly around the perimeter of our school football field, trying to find a particular target. Sometimes their bullets found their intended victim, but just as often, “civilians” (non-gang members) sitting in the bleachers studying their textbooks or watching a game got caught in the crossfire. Every so often, someone would post a bulletin about a memorial service for one of my classmates. 

It was like trying to sit in a classroom in the middle of a combat zone. Just when you started thinking you were in a regular school you’d walk into the bathroom or gym class and see someone getting jumped in, or you might see someone spray-painting a wall, or sniffing the paint from a plastic Baggie. Stevenson had lots of other problems besides gangs. There were plenty of drug dealers on our campus. It was the easiest thing in the world to buy reds, whites, black beauties, yellow jackets, joints and nickel or dime bags. I avoided these during my first year, but would eventually sample a little of everything while I was there. 

That first year was the hardest for me. I wanted so much to do well but doing well only meant that someone would threaten to beat me up if I didn’t let them copy my work. It seemed that the answer was to not do so well. Maybe I shouldn’t strive to make Lamplighters, the high GPA group that got you labeled as a nerd and made you an easy target. Yet, if I didn’t do well, I would have to contend with my father’s wrath. My looks didn’t help either - being fat, wearing glasses and having crooked teeth didn’t win me any friends. I looked the part of a stereotypical nerd and even some of the least popular kids at school teased and bullied me. I was at the bottom of the food chain. 

It was during this school year that I started to go home and go to bed while the sun was still up in the sky. My sister had already married her junior high school sweetheart. My mother had started working as a teacher’s aide. I was all alone and my best friend was my pillow.

In eighth grade, I wised up totally by accident. I was still in Service but now I was working in the girl’s Vice Principal’s office. This was exciting, high stakes stuff. I started making friends with the female thugs and ring leaders of the gangs at school. They were always being called down to the VP’s office and they always had to wait a long time with nothing to do. With no magazines or weapons to keep them entertained, these girls would eventually talk to me. They were nice, too. 

“Do you know why they called me down? How much do they know?” they’d ask. Pretty soon, I was on friendly terms with cholas from rival gangs and believe it or not, I even had one or two stick up for me. I started to appreciate them. They had so much style, they were so fierce looking and they didn’t take shit from anyone. There was a code of loyalty between them that I admired, but not enough to endure the jump-in ritual. 

I don’t know if being around all these cholas started to rub off on me but one day, one of my usual tormentors pushed me as I was walking up the stairs and without thinking, I immediately turned around and pushed her back. She was a couple of steps below me on the stairs and had a Bic ballpoint pen clenched pointy side in between her teeth. My open hand shoved the point of the ballpoint pen into the back of the girl’s throat, causing blood to come gushing from her mouth. The ambulance was called and I was suspended from school for two weeks, during which time I enjoyed watching TV and having no homework. 

I might as well have brought some 8x10 glossies and a Sharpie to sign autographs when I finally returned to school. I was almost famous. People smiled at me and said hello to me in the halls. I found four friends to eat lunch with (one of them was Viola) and my days of dodging projectiles and taunts were over. I took shop as an elective the following semester and learned how to make a plastic shank. 

What if there was a Helsa/Kristanna Modern AU where Hans, Anna, Kristoff and Elsa are all in College and Hans has a bit of interest in Elsa (they’d be in the same course or something) but she is very collected and is anti-sociable so she distances herself from others, and Hans thinks he could get closer to her through Anna, and then Kristoff, being Anna’s friend starts getting jealous wondering what Hans has that Kristoff doesn’t have.

Then Olaf would be a friend of theirs that has glasses and buck teeth, and sven would be Kristoffs dog.

If anyone wants to write this, go ahead, and send me it after 

cosleia  asked:

cecilos 45 because it would be hilarious

Hopefully I did the “pretending” bit Justice. I played around a bit with languages in this, and the Spanish is courtesy of google translate, so I can’t promise that it’s accurate.

I also threw a little Earl in here for you, on the house. ;D

“Et, Carlos est plus tard, comme d'habitude,” Cecil said, rolling his eyes as his fellow debate team member walked through the classroom door. It was much easier, he had decided, to act like he hated Carlos when he wasn’t speaking English.

“Stop speaking French,” Carlos huffed, annoyed that Cecil switched to another language when Carlos so desperately wanted to know and hang on to every word that Cecil spoke. “You know I can’t understand, and it makes you look like un asno pretencioso.”

“Don’t call me a pretentious ass,” Cecil replied, a little smug and a little hurt that Carlos thought we was an ass.

Carlos went slightly pale, then immediately blushed.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” he mumbled, sitting down across from Cecil.

“I speak a variety of languages,” Cecil said. “I had a lot of free time as a child.”

“Yes, Cecil,” Earl Harlan- the only other member of the team- sighed, leaning forward in his chair. “We’ve all heard your tale of woe. You had a lonely childhood, you wore thick glasses and had buck teeth, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“Whatever, Earl,” Cecil muttered. “Nobody asked you.”