worst behavior || nursey + jack


He doesn’t answer him, typing away at his keyboard in a way that’s visibly agitated, or at least irritable. What are normally soft, smooth clicks against the mac’s surface are now harsh, broken-sounding; each near-slam of his slim fingers makes a sharp clack in the quiet of the haus’ living room.

“Nursey,” Jack says again.

The continued silence makes it clear that he’s being ignored. Inwardly, he sighs.

“Twenty-eight, your captain is talking to you. Answer, now.”

At this, the typing stops. Nurse looks up at him, slowly, and his face is so uncomfortably nondescript and blank that Jack cringes a little inside of himself.

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The Signs As Pies (Happy Pi Day!)

Aries: Spiced Apple Pie

Taurus: Raisin Pie

Gemini:  Triple-Chocolate Pumpkin Pie

Cancer:  Buttermilk Pie

Leo:  Margarita Pie

Virgo: Strawberry Icebox Pie

Libra:  Shaker Lemon Pie

Scorpio: Chocolate Pecan Pie

Sagittarius: Banana Cream Pie

Capricorn:  Raspberry Custard Pie

Aquarius: Sweet Potato Pie

Pisces:  Frozen Key Lime Pie

Alton Coleman was born November 6, 1955 in the Chicago suburbs. His mother, Mary Bates, was a prostitute who drank and did drugs throughout her pregnancy. Alton never met his father, nor did he have any idea who he was. According to Alton’s grandmother, Alma Hosea, Mary never wanted Alton and threw him in a trash can, which she rescued him from. After that, Alton was taken in by his grandmother (Mary had four other children, all of which were raised by relatives)and raised by her, but his childhood was anything but idyllic. Alton still lived close to his mom and neighbors recall the small child being beaten by his mother with a chair and a baseball bat.  

Alton’s grandmother Alma ran a brothel and gambling parlor out of her home where Alton slept on a pallet made from rags. Alma was a voodoo practitioner who would send Alton out to kill animals so she could use the carcasses for her practices and collect dirt from cemeteries.  Alton was subjected to sexual and physical abuse at home and often neglected.  At school, Alton was frequently bullied due to his wetting his pants until the age of 12 and on occasion, being sent to school wearing girl’s clothing. Schoolmates and family alike would refer to Alton as “Pissy”.  Alton dropped out of middle school and it wasn’t long before he gained a reputation with local law enforcement as a troublemaker. His first arrest was for breaking windows in a housing project.

In his teens, Alton was known for his strong sex drive. People in his neighborhood reported that Alton was bisexual and willing to have sex with anyone, any time. His sexual appetite only seemed to increase in time and become much more deviant.  Between 1973 and 1983, Alton was arrested on numerous occasions for various sex crimes, often taking plea deals and other cases being dismissed, including one from his own 8 year old niece. Alton informed people he was able to stay out of legal trouble due to his grandmother teaching him voodoo, however, in 1973, his luck would change. He kidnapped, robbed and raped an elderly woman. While he was able to dodge the rape charge due to the victim being too scared to testify, he did serve 2 years for the robbery. Once released from prison Alton continued on his rape and robbery spree, once being acquitted for rape and had an upcoming trial for raping a 14 year old girl. It was around this time that Alton Coleman met Debra Brown.

Debra came from a well respected family. During her childhood, she suffered from a head trauma which doctors stated had made her “borderline mentally retarded” with a dependent personality. Debra was 21 years of age and engaged to be married when her paths crossed with Alton. Debra immediately fell for Alton, left her fiancé and moved out of her parents home to be with him. Shortly thereafter, Alton and Debra would purportedly develop their relationship into a master/slave role with Debra anxious to please her man in any way he saw fit.

In 1984, when Coleman found out he was a wanted fugitive for the rape of the 14 year old girl, he and Debra fled to Wisconsin. Once there, Alton befriended Juanita Wheat, a mother of a 7 year old boy and 9 year old girl, Vernita. Alton used aliases for Debra and himself.  On May 29th, Jaunita gave Vernita permission to go with Alton and Debra to their apartment to pick up a stereo. Instead, Alton and Debra kidnapped Vernita and drove her back to their home in Illinois.  On June 19th, Vernita’s badly decomposed body was discovered in an abandoned building, approximately 4 blocks from Alton’s grandmother’s home.  Her cause of death was ligature strangulation and one of Alton’s fingerprints was discovered at the crime scene.  By this time, Alton and Debra had stolen an acquaintances car and were staying in Gary, Indiana.
It was in Gary where the couple spotted Annie (9) and Tamika Turks (7). The girls were walking home to their grandmother’s from a candy store when approached by Alton and Debra, who convinced them to play a game in the woods.  Once in the woods, the two girls were bound and gagged with Annie being forced to have sex with the couple.  While raping Annie, Tamika began crying loudly and Debra covered her mouth while Alton stomped on her chest, followed by strangling her. Annie survived, although she had extreme injuries and suffered severe blood loss. Some cuts were so deep, her intestines were protruding into her vagina. Tamika’s body was discovered on June 24th with the cause of death being strangulation. Annie and Tamika’s grandmother took her own life after the ordeal. After raping Annie and killing Tamika, the couple kidnapped 25 year old Donna Williams and took her car. Her decomposed body was discovered in an abandoned house on July 11th in Detroit, Michigan with the cause of death being strangulation. While in Michigan, they robbed a couple and beat them, stealing their money and car. 

Pictured above victim Tamika Turks

On July 5th, Alton and Debra drove to Toledo, Ohio.  Once again, they found themselves meeting and befriending a young mother by the name of Virginia Temple. They took particular interest in Virginia’s nine year old daughter, Rachelle. Days after their meeting and befriending Virginia, family members became worried that they had not heard from Virginia or the children. They went to Virginia’s house only to find the young children alone, scared and hungry. After searching the house, both Virginia and Rachelle’s bodies were discovered in a crawl space. They were both raped and strangled to death.

While still in Ohio on July 11, 15 year old Tonnie Storey would become the couples next victim. Tonnie was on her way to a junior high computer class, but never showed up. Her parents reported her missing after she didn’t come home after school. 8 days later her body was discovered in an abandoned apartment building. She had been beaten, raped and strangled to death. Alton’s footprint was discovered at the scene of the crime and Debra’s fingerprint was found on a Michael Jackson button the girl was wearing. It was around this time that the FBI had placed Alton Coleman on the “Ten Most Wanted” list, linking him to several of the murders. Two days after killing Tonnie, the couple arrived at the home of Darlene and Harry Walters. The couple inquired about a camper for sale in the Walters’s’ yard. Harry excused himself to search for the title for the camper, while his wife Darlene went to get the couple some lemonade. Alton followed after Darlene and proceeded to hit her with a wooden candlestick, raped her and beat her to death. When Harry returned, he too was beaten with the candlestick. Harry survived the ordeal, but with brain damage. His wife Darlene did not survive the attack. Alton and Debra stole Harry’s car and quickly left the state.

Pictured above victim Tonnie Storey

The couple stole yet another car in Evanston, Illinois and killed the man who owned the car, 79 year old Eugene Scott. On July 20th, while still in Evanston, Alton and Debra were walking along the street when a car passed them. The driver of the car was from Alton’s neighborhood where he grew up and he immediately recognized Alton and Debra. Since it was all over the news that the couple was wanted, the man pulled over at a gas station and proceeded to call the police and inform them that he knew the whereabouts of the couple. Shortly after, the police discovered Alton and Debra at a nearby park. When asked if he was Alton Coleman, Alton denied and stated he had no identification to prove who he was. Debra was searched and a gun was found in her possession. Both were taken to the police station and identified through their fingerprints.

Over a two month span, Alton and Debra had killed 8 people traveling across 6 different states. Law enforcement officials from each state held a meeting to consider which state would charge the couple first. Michigan was immediately ruled out due to their not having capital punishment. It was decided Ohio would be given the first opportunity, as it is known for its stricter laws on punishment and they were likely to be executed there much more quickly than the other states. Both Alton and Debra were sentenced to death for the murders of Tonnie Storey and Marlene Walters. Additionally, the couple were both sentenced to death in Indiana for the murder of Tamika Turks. Alton Coleman also received a death sentence in Illinois for the murder of Vernita Wheat. He became the first person to ever receive the death sentence in three different states.

During the sentencing phase of Debra’s first Ohio trial, she had passed a note to the judge, which stated in part, “I killed the bitch and I don’t give a damn. I had fun out of it.” While she  has a death sentence in Indiana for her part in the murders, she had her death sentence commuted to life in prison in Ohio due to her low iq cited as the reasoning as well as the master/slave relationship she was in with Alton and the influence he had over her. Since serving time in prison, Debra has become extremely religious and in 2005, she made a video apologizing to her victims. She remains in prison in Ohio without the possibility of parole.

Alton continuously worked on his appeals while in prison, but 18 years after being apprehended, he was scheduled for execution on April 26, 2002. Alton had spent his last day in prison watching religious programs, writing letters to family and friends and visiting with his spiritual advisors. At the time, Alton ordered the largest final meal that had ever been requested to date. His last meal consisted of: A New York strip steak (he requested filet mignon, but the prison didn’t have it) sauteed mushrooms, sweet potato pie with whipped cream, butter pecan ice cream, biscuits with brown gravy, broccoli with cheese, french fries, cherry coke, a salad with French dressing, collard greens, onion rings, fried chicken breast and corn bread. All the food came from the prison kitchen, except the ice cream.

Alton Coleman’s  last words were “The Lord is my shepherd,” which he repeated over and over again. Due to how many victims and victims family came to the execution, the prison had to set up a viewing venue outside of the prison to watch over closed circuit television. Alton Coleman is buried at Warren Cemetery in Lake County, Illinois.

“super rich kids” for omgcpoc week (a little late, but it’s early in the day yet! sorry @checkpleaseofcolor)

too many bottles of this wine we can’t pronounce

Nursey has a slight buzz going, and he’s laughing, and he feels warm all over. He can’t remember the last time he felt this happy– genuinely happy, without the false grin or the forced pleasantness he’s been made to perform all these years.

too many bowls of that green, no lucky charms

Sure, he’s a little crossfaded, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Besides, he isn’t going anywhere: Bitty won’t let them stick a foot outside without forty different layers on, and he’s too lazy for all that. Instead, he burrows down a little deeper into the blanket he’s sharing with Chowder and Dex, stretched out all over them; his feet shoved under Chris’ bony ass and his head in Dex’s lap, nuzzled up against his stomach. Dex huffs, but allows it with a little smile, running his fingers through his hair.

the maids come around too much / parents ain’t around enough

“Y’all! Get in here, the food’s ready!” Bitty yells, and there’s grumbling and complaints, but ultimately, they all prepare to shift into the kitchen– whatever Bitty made smells delicious. Dex and Chowder shove him off the couch in a rush to get into the kitchen, and Nursey, is, unfortunately, so wrapped in the blanket that he ends up last in the kitchen–

And there are his friends around the Haus kitchen table, lights dim with a sweet potato pie on the table, candles stuck into it.

“Haaaappy Birrrrthday to–”

too many joy rides in daddy’s jaguar

Nursey is thrown back somehow uncannily to senior year. The year he’d spent his birthday with his kind sperm donor; Yosef Bahmani had demanded his “parental rights” and had told Yamaha in no uncertain terms that he “wanted to see his boy”. Amal hadn’t liked it, but they’d agreed to at least one or two visits every few years, and he was allowed to ask for this before he graduated.

He’d shown up to the apartment with a few things– a suitcase full of clothes, his backpack, an attitude. Yosef hadn’t appreciated the last of these items, but Derek could honestly care less about what he appreciated. Chill Nursey was already in effect, and the fuck who’d accidentally knocked up his mom at a party didn’t mean shit to him.

too many white lines and, white lies

He’d spent his whole birthday coked up after a shitty, awkward brunch that had made his stomach ache for Miz Lou’s cooking, the sugar crusted blueberry scones with almond milk she made every year for his breakfast if he wasn’t out or gone for the year, a dismissal heavy in his heart when Yosef mentioned “a business meeting” or some other nonsense. Grant, Jeremy, and Mitchell had all barged into his apartment at three, a big bag of weed and a little coke on each of them, and he snorted four lines before Jeremy and Mitchell could 

super rich kids with nothing but fake friends

Nursey thought someone had spiked his drink and he knew he would be throwing up all day tomorrow, but he was high as fuck, he was higher than a goddamn kite and his heart was pounding, his blood was rushing in his head, racing like a horse and he looped his arms around some dude who got handsy fast and he hoped didn’t give a fuck about him. He saw Grant’s flash go off, snapping a picture just as the dude pulled him flush with his hands over his ass He didn’t care. He didn’t care anymore, because after this year, he’d probably never see these fucking assholes again, and good goddamn riddance– he stuck his middle finger up at Grant and let the dude grind up against him and kiss him sloppily

real love (ain’t that somethin’ rare)

Nursey woke up naked in his bed, damned by his eastern-facing window, and ran to the bathroom, retching, clutching a sheet in his hands desperately. He’d almost missed the bowl– his whole body ached with the effort of not passing out.

“I think you should go home,” Yosef’s voice said from behind him, and Nursey wiped his mouth on his “father’s” white sheet.

“My fuckin’ pleasure, Daddy Warbucks,” he muttered.

i’m searchin’ for that real love (talkin’ bout real love)

Nursey could feel Yosef’s glare as he shooed Jacob out of the house. Good, he thought visciously. Let him see. It wasn’t as if he would see him after this year. Eighteen, and he was finally fucking free.

Before he left, Nursey flung the chair someone had left out on the curb at his father’s car– when he shouted from the window, Nursey ran for the L-train, not bothering to look back.

real love, yeah

Nursey’s not sure when he started crying, but he knows Chowder’s squeezing his shoulder and Dex is whispering “blow out the candles, Nurse,” and he does, he blows them hard, hiccupping, smiling, and when he’s done, he buries his face in Dex’s shoulder with shaking shoulders.

“Group hug!” Ransom shouts, and suddenly, he’s tumbling to the ground, laid out on the kitchen floor in hysterics. Everyone in the Haus is piled on top of him, even Jack, who he can hear chuckling quietly somewhere off to his right, and he feels warm in the best of ways. He peeks his head out and flash goes off– it’s Bitty, who somehow managed to escape from being wrestled into the pile. He’s crying too. It’s streaming down his face, but he’s laughing, a hand pressed to his mouth to hide his smile.

“The pie is gettin’ cold, y’all, and i’d bring sweet tea to the devil before lettin’ my frogs eat a lukewarm meal on a birthday.”

talkin’ bout real love

Nursey eats sweet potato pie sitting on the counter, squished between Dex and Chowder, his feet swinging. His head is leaned against Dex’s shoulder, ankles linked with Chowder’s, and he thinks this is the best birthday he’s ever had.


“A man came into [my friend]’s place, sat down, ordered sweet potato pie, identified himself as FBI Agent Mulder. He then questioned my friend. He then ordered piece after piece, each time asking another question. He ate a whole pie in that fashion, then got up and left.”
3.20 | Jose Chung’s ‘From Outer Space’
Requested by @ladyroche

anonymous asked:

Ok ok hear me out. This will be the best. Seventeen as potatoes........ yes. (Fries, mashed potatoes, even a straight up raw straight from the ground potato, anything is possible my love)

author’s note: MY TIME HAS COME YES for I am too a potato

S.Coups: extra and filling with a handful of cheese and heartiness

Jeonghan: Lucious but bad for u

Joshua: traditional but irresistible plus super pretty, all the grandparents to the toddlers love him

Jun: cajun fries cause this boy is never boring and always flavorful

Hoshi: tornado fries? nah, HURRICANE FRIES 

Wonwoo: sophisticated but fun 

Woozi: Korea’s (potato) pancake 

DK:  ba da dum dum dum everyone’s lovin you

Mingyu: looks manly and intimidating but soft on the inside

The8: u can try to eat it but it’ll fuc u up

Seungkwan: extra asf and will probably make u cry from how good it is

Vernon: he’s a hot potato ;), but he’s just happy to be here and to be a part of something

Dino: a sweet potato pie but spiced 

thanks for requesting ^.^ - admin v.k

“White people can’t season their food!”

Bitch shut the fuck up and come down to the South, they’ll show you flavor and then you’ll regret making a generalization about an entire race after you taste some southern fried chicken and sweet potato pie.

~ sincerely an Indian woman

Pumpkin and sweet potato pie 🌱

Chop pumpkin, sweet potato and the red bell peppers finely and sauté it in a pan with vegetable stock - toss in some spinach and other preferred vegetables. Place everything in a form and spread humus on top. Bake it in the oven 200 c for 10-15 min. Take it out and enjoy 🌿✨


November 2005

He woke to Sam’s startled, strangled cry, and he was on his feet with his Colt cool in his hand before he realized that his brother had been dreaming.

‘Sammy, Jesus Christ,’ he muttered, thumbing the safety back on before he put a bullet through the goddamned lampshade. Sam looked up at him from the other bed, sweaty-faced, wet-eyed, and then kicked free from the tangle he’d made of his sheets and ran for the bathroom; the light went on and the door slammed shut and a heartbeat later Dean heard him throwing up the little he’d eaten at supper—a shitty apple and half an egg-salad sandwich from the Kwik Stop on the highway, and a candy bar Dean had practically forced down his gullet, ‘cause his kid clearly needed protein, and Snickers had, y’know, peanuts. 

Damn it.

He tucked the gun back beneath his pillow, scrubbed a hand across his hair and stood irresolute for a moment in the center of their room, then padded quietly over to the bathroom door.  Rested his forehead and one hand against the thin cheap wood, didn’t open it. ‘Sam,’ he said. ‘You all right, man?’

One breath, two. ‘M fine,’ his brother managed, which Dean would have believed, sure, no problem, if only the kid hadn’t sounded like he’d been flayed open and left for dead on the side of the fucking road. 


They worked a few cases, saved a few people, hunted a few things. Sam lost ten pounds and stopped sleeping anywhere save for the cradle of the front seat, with the road humming beneath Baby’s tires and his head tipped against the window, a pained furrow between his brows. 

He still woke, always, from a nightmare.

He was, always, fine.


They were in western Indiana, one state line and 250 miles from a room full of shattered mirrors, when Dean opened his eyes, a little after midnight, to find Sam sitting on the edge of the other bed, head in his hands, sheets and blankets a messy tumble at his back. 

‘Hey,’ he said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘You all right?’

I’m fine, he expected, but Sam said nothing, and he came all the way awake.


In nothing but his boxers, shoulders hunched, feet bare, his little brother looked small, somehow, and painfully vulnerable. ‘ … I can’t sleep,’ he admitted, soft and young and lost. ‘I just … ‘ His fingers tightened in his hair. ‘Dean, I’m so tired, and I can’t—I can’t sleep.’

Dean’s heart clenched up, hard, behind his ribs, because he knew that voice, even though he hadn’t heard it in a dozen years: Dean, help, his baby brother had said, at seven, bringing him a dying bird with a broken wing; and But Dean I want to stay, he’d cried, at ten in West Virginia; and Dean and Dean and Dean, Sammy always so certain that he could fix it, that he could help, no matter how many times he failed him.

‘… I know,’ he said, quietly, because there wasn’t anything the fuck else to say, no matter how much he wished otherwise. ‘Sammy, man, the nightmares about Jess, they’re—they’re gonna get better, okay?’ he said. ‘They always do; it’s—’

Sam was shaking his head, slow and weary. ‘I’m not dreaming about Jess,’ he said, and Dean blinked at him, because what the hell? ‘I mean, I am, but not … not all the time.’ He pushed a hand back through his hair. ‘It’s always the fire,’ he said, softly. ‘But sometimes it’s … it’s Dad, on the ceiling, dying.’ A shuddery breath. ‘Most of the time it’s you.’

Dean’s throat closed up, hard. ‘Sammy,’ he managed, but the kid just shook his head again, looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes. 

‘I can’t—I can’t keep watching you die, man; not after … you’re all I got, and I can’t …’ His voice cracked, took something in Dean’s chest with it. They were quiet for a moment, the only sound the rumble of a semi passing by outside on the highway, and the low murmur of the TV from the manager’s office on the other side of the wall.

‘C’mere,’ Dean finally said. He scooted over in the narrow double bed. ‘Just … grab your pillow, all right? You ain’t gonna get any sleep over there.’

He could have sworn he saw his little brother flushing in the dark. ‘D-Dean, I … I don’t–’

He smacked the mattress, once. ‘Shut up and lie your bony ass down, Sasquatch. I ain’t gonna tell you again.’

It took a minute, but four years’ distance apparently hadn’t sapped all of his Big Brother mojo, because Sam finally crawled in beside him, hesitantly, mattress lurching briefly beneath his weight.

They lay quietly for awhile, both of them on their backs, shoulders close but not touching in the dark.

‘Hey, you remember that awesome diner in Georgia from when you were a kid?’ Dean asked. ‘With the waffles and the peanut butter pie?’

He didn’t think it was going to work for a moment, but then, softly: ‘The one with the big peach on the sign? Outside Savannah?’

‘Yeah. Dad and I ended up back there about four months ago, after we cleaned up a haunting in the city. They still got the pie. I was worried, you know? That they’d be sellin’, like, tofu cheesecake or somethin’ by now, but they still got it. Same dumb curtains, same dumb tablecloths, same awesome pie. Sweet potato fries are still good, too.’ He shifted a little, settling himself more comfortably. ‘What were you, twelve, when you polished off that basket of ‘em? The owner came out to take a picture.’ He didn’t mention that he’d found it in August, a Polaroid tacked up on the wall with three hundred others, Sammy sweet-faced and floppy-haired and shyly smiling, or that it was tucked safely now in the glove box, with the few other precious things Dean owned.

He could hear Sam’s smile, even if he couldn’t see it; could feel the tension starting to drain a little from his brother’s long body. ‘Yeah,’ he said. And then: ‘You got the recipe from the cook, remember? Tried to make them for me the next time we were at Bobby’s.’

‘Yeah, well. Not all of my plans are genius, Sammy,’ he said, and his brother snorted out a soft little laugh in the dark. 

Dean talked on, softly, about nothing important: a diner he and Dad had found in Nebraska one Christmas Eve; a ski cabin in Maine they’d slept warm and safe in for a week; the massive, moss-covered oak he’d spend a night under on Jekyll Island, waiting for the ghosts of a slaver and his son. After awhile Sam rolled onto his side, curling up bit by bit in the space between them until his forehead was touching Dean’s arm and one bony knee bumping against Dean’s leg; a little while longer and there were long, hesitant fingertips settling soft against his ribs, like his little brother just wanted to make sure he was real, that he was there. Dean was reminiscing fondly about a burger called the Mac Attack he’d found in Boston when he heard the kid’s breath finally settle into the slow, easy rhythm of sleep.

He lay quietly for a long while beside his brother in the dark, and never knew when he tumbled headlong into dreaming.


He woke a little after 7:00, their room still dark, December rain coming down steady and cold outside. Sam was still sound asleep, sprawled across Dean’s chest the same way he’d slept as a kid, tucked in under Dean’s arm with his face hidden in the crook of Dean’s neck and one arm and leg thrown over him in a haphazard tangle of limbs. Warm to his bones, Dean shifted just a little to ease the cramping in his lower back; Sam snuffled and kicked and wound himself more tightly around him in reply. ‘D’n,’ he mumbled.

Dean settled a hand in his brother’s hair, and closed his eyes against the coming day.

Posts on: February 28th

Summary: After the events of I’m No Angel, Castiel finds himself exiled from the safety of the bunker. He takes to wandering, but the money Dean gives him runs out all too soon. Luck, or perhaps divine providence, lands him on the Amish farm of Jacob and Lydia Beiler. 

The Beilers take Cas in, and he learns to do farm chores and care for the Beilers’ apiary. Despite the Amish’s general distrust of outsiders - Englischers - the strange man who can understand their language and isn’t afraid of hard work seems a natural fit amongst them. Castiel thinks he might just go ahead and stay - the placid farmland seems like a good place to heal his broken heart, and maybe forget the man who broke it.

Meanwhile, Dean finds himself so wracked with guilt, he can barely sleep, has no appetite, and can’t stand to see his own face in the mirror. He can’t decide which transgression is worse; the fact that he threw Cas away or that Sam’s unwillingly - and unwittingly - possessed by an angel. Charlie comes for a visit and decides to stay, and it takes her no time at all to call Dean on his bullshit. 

With her help and encouragement and a plan to deal with the angel in Sam later, Dean and Charlie set out to find Cas and bring him home. But when they find him, Dean’s surprised that Cas doesn’t want to come home, leaving Dean to face some difficult truths about himself - and how he feels about Castiel. 

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

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Aaron Tveit - Happy Thoughts
  • He really like puppies. Like. A lot. You put a puppy in front of him and you’ll never see a grown man as happy as he is with a puppy in his presence.
  •  He once took a girl on a date to a movie and he ended up ugly sobbing at the ending…and they never went out together again
  • He was really excited to have a stunt double for a role he was in, because the SD worked as Indiana Jones at Disney World.
  • When he was young, he slept with a baseball bat next to his bed in case Aliens abducted him in the middle of the night.
  • His favorite food is Sweet Potato Pie