Headcanon: Charlene isn't the little perfect athelete Mrs. Perfection she seems to be; I think that all of that is just for show. Like, when she's at home by herself, she, like, looks at herself in the mirror and judges herself
Headcanon by: Kingdomkeeper1121
Charlie
The blonde girl in the mirror stared back at me.
Bags under her eyes, frown on her face. I shook my head. The exposed girl in the mirror did, too.
My fingers traced the scar that started at my hip, and went up to my mid-stomach. An Overtaker encounter had given me that ugly conversation-starter.
The scar ended at my ribs. Each rib jut out clearly, a canyon between them. I looked sickly. Emaciated.
Ugly.
I know, I've lost a little weight due to the stress of things, lately… But… I looked terrible.
The skin blanketing my ugly bones, itself, had flaws- too many flaws. Tan lines and freckles and birthmarks.
I felt around my face- nose too big, lips too small. Deep purple bags under my eyes.
'Perfect'. Perfect Charlene Turner. That's how the media puts me.
Perfect?
What are they seeing?
This girl, this stupid girl in front of me isn't perfect. She's too far from perfect to be considered.
Who could love someone this far from perfect?
How do I have people fooled? How do I have people thinking I'm perfect? One day they'll see.
One day they'll realize. I'm not.
And they'll hate me.
….
Oooh. That was… I'm sorry, I'm terrible about writing appearance-based insecurities.
Alrighty, next? One of the 34765894545 headcannons I got from Mandy (aka her-eyes-fiery-pinpricks) (THANK YOU FOR SENDING SO MANY I LEGIT LOVE YOU DUDE)
Headcanon: Willa goes to theater camp.
Headcanon By: her-eyes-fiery-pinpricks
Amanda
We'd known she'd gone to theater camp basically every year of her life, since she'd turned had a pretty good idea that she could sing. But I've never heard her.
So, in our little game, when she'd picked dare, a thought had bubbled up inside of me.
"I dare you to sing. Something Broadway." I smiled. "Miss Theater Camp."
She pressed her lips into a line.
"Oh, come on. You told me you perform every year at the end of camp!" Charlie laughed. "A big musical!"
"Well, yeah. But never… for like, close friends."
"So? What's the difference?"
"I dunno…." She sighed. "What do I sing?"
"Something Broadway. Les Mis?" Charlie suggested.
"No. Too depressing."
"Okaaay…" I laughed. "Um.. that one you love… Wicked?"
"Too loud."
I glared.
"What about a Disney play." Jess smirked. "Newsies."
"Alright. Santa Fe." Willa sighed. "Prologue. A guy sings it, but. What can ya do, right?"
We waited. She took a breath, and-
"No, I-"
"Sing."
"Ugh."
She opened her mouth and belted out what must've been 'Santa Fe'.
'Close your eyes, come with me, where it's clean and green and pretty…'
My mouth fell open.
'And they went n' built a city out-ta clay.'
She could've been a Broadway star, with that voice. Jess was in the same predicament as me, gaping. Willa could hold a note forever, it seems, with perfect… vibrate-o, or verbrato, or vibrato or whatever the term was.
"Whoa, kid. You've got a voice."
She took a sip from her water bottle, shrugging. "Hey. I can't do sports, I suck at playing clarinet, and I can barely ride a bike. It woulda been unfair for me not to have some talent, ya know."
"That's a little more than 'some', Wills. You could out-sing a Disney princess!" Jess laughed. Willa just smirked.
"I know." She looked at jess.
"That you could out-sing a Disney princess?"
She nodded.
We looked at her, confused.
"I have." She laughed.
…
Haha, cuz they come across the characters all the time and yeaaahhhhh eh.
Sooo, next is by me again.
Headcanon: Willa and Jess aren't so popular in their high school. But they'll defend each other to the grave.
Jess
There was a circle of kids around her locker.
Oh, god, Wills, what NOW?
I joined the crowd, trying to figure out what was going on. Fingers crossed that it wasn't Willa, I pushed through until I could hear it- still too short to see.
"Alright, then why the hell were you in my way, anyway?" An annoyed voice questioned. Victoria, a snobby girl in our grade who basically fits the 'bitch' stereotype easily.
"It was an accident! A mistake! Accidents happen! I'm sorry!" Ugh. Willa, what did you do?
"You were an accident. How the hell are you famous?"
"I-"
"I don't care." The girl snapped. "It was a redder-ee-col question."
"You mean rhetorical?"
"Did I ask!?"
"You should've." Willa laughed. "You came across pretty stupid there."
I heard a slam!, and immediately pushed through the crowd to see Willa being held against a locker.
Willa could smack-talk people like no tomorrow. She's a genius. She can manipulate them with a few carefully planned words and win a fight easily, confusing her hulking opponent to defeat.
When it comes down to physical fighting… Well, she's not good if she's got nowhere to run. She's tiny.
"Listen, you-"
"Hey!" I yelled.
Victoria, five-foot-ten, bulky from playing lacrosse, and still hulking over Willa's five-one figure, snapped her head towards me.
Why does she pick fights with the big ones!
"Come on, break it up, leave her alone." I said. "You're like a foot taller and twice as muscular. That's not a fair fight."
"Three times as muscular, and I don't give a damn about 'fair'."
"What'd she do?" I sighed, and Willa's eyes met mine apologetically.
"This little punk decides to spill her coffee on my shirt."
"Sucks, doesn't it?" I grumbled. "I'm sure it wasn't on purpose. She's a klutz."
Victoria turned back towards Willa.
"Hey! Come on, beating her up won't do anything."
"Yeah, you've tried, and look at me now." Willa mumbled. "Completely unchanged, save for a black eye."
I winced. The bell rang. Kids started dispersing, and Victoria sighed.
"Whatever. I don't have time for you right now." With one final shove into the lockers, she let Willa go and made her way to class. It was just me and Willa in the hallway.
"Thanks, Jessie." She muttered.
"Don't call me 'Jessie' in school, please. Not a very intimidating name, and if I keep having to scare bullies off of you, I'll need an intimidating everything."
Willa smiled a little, and I touched the purple circle around her eye lightly. She winced.
"When did you get this, and why did I not see it before now?" I whispered.
She smirked a little.
"No, Willa. I'm serious."
The smirk faded. "About a week ago. I pissed her off a little too much, I guess. I don't know why the bruise won't fade… and every girl knows that makeup can hide anything." She said softly.
I sighed.
"Stop getting her angry. Avoid her."
"What fun would that b-"
"Willa, I am serious. I can't always be around to save your sorry butt."
"Well I can handle myself!"
"Like you were just now, right? Situation totally under control!"
"I would've been fine!"
"Oh, yes, in pieces, but other than that-"
"I fight pirates and ghouls and monsters every night. I can handle a freakishly big lacrosse player."
"It's different, and you know that."
She bit her lip. And, before I could do anything, she pulled me into a hug. Shakily, I wrapped my arms around her, too.
…
So that one was accidentally long… but…
Did ya catch the reference?
ANYWAY,
Headcannon: Famanda has a kid young, like age 20.
Headcannon by: Her-eyes-fiery-pinpricks
Finn.
We lay, side by side. Amanda sighed, curling into me. I smiled, wrapping an arm around her.
"Good morning…" I smiled. No answer. I looked down at her.
She still slept peacefully. Her brownish-gold hair was sprawled on the pillow. Her delicate shoulders were hunched, her back curved as she clung to my arm. Her skin was beautiful, somewhere between tan and pale… everything about her was beautiful. Her face was so peaceful. I leaned down, kissing her forehead.
"Finn…" She whispered.
"Good morning, Sweetheart." I whispered. I pulled her to be up against me, giving her a long kiss on her forehead.
"Mh… You're warm…" She smiled. She buried her face in my chest. I smiled, kissing the top of her head. Moments like this was what I love- so close together, so peaceful.
We stayed like that for a while.
"Finn?" She finally whispered.
"Yes?"
"Are you scared?"
"Of having a kid when I'm still young enough to be in college?" I whispered. She nodded. "Of course I'm afraid. I'm terrified."
She looked at me, eyes full of tears and a terrified look on her face.
"But," I continued. "I've got no doubt we can do it. You are the smartest, most beautiful and talented girl I've ever met. We can do this."
She smiled, pressing her face into my chest again.
"Sh, you dummy. Being pretty hasn't got anything to do with anything."
"Well, our kid's gonna be gorgeous." I slid my hand to be on her stomach. "Speaking of, how's the little guy doin' in there?"
She smiled, and I saw a glint in her eyes- hope. Security.
"The little guy's both hungry and is trying to make me puke." She smiled, pressing her face into my chest again.
I shifted, putting my head on her stomach. She groaned.
"Now, little guy, you can't be doing that to your mother. She's nice enough to carry you around for nine months; the least you could do is make it a little easier on her."
Amanda laughed, groaning. "I don't think it's working, babe."
"Oh, well. I tried." I whispered, planting a kiss on her stomach. She smiled a little.
I pulled her into a hug again, my face buried in her hair. We fell asleep like that.
And I couldn't be happier.
…
Hmmm okay I'll do one more.
Headcanon: Jess goes back and forth with a couple of guys before she finds someone
Headcanon by: her-eyes-fiery-pinpricks.
JESS
I'd run out of there faster than I should've.
What's wrong with me!?
A sob escaped my lips- there- I'd gone and blown it. He'll never talk to me again. He'll never look at me again.
"Jessica Lockhart, I love you more than anything. I want to spend forever with you… Will you marry me?"
And, after standing in shock… I ran. I'd ended up in the garden of the restaurant, on a bench near some dying flowers.
I just… everything had gone through my head. Everyone, straight back to Rob. Every stupid guy who'd cheated on me, who… who I had cheated on… All the times it hadn't worked out.
I couldn't. I'm terrible at relationships. I couldn't do that to him.
"Jess?"
I jumped, turning around.
"Ryan- listen, I'm so sorry, I just…"
"Hey. If you don't want to marry me, it's completely fine. It's alright. It's kinda why it's called a 'proposal', and not a 'claiming'."
Despite my tears, I laughed.
"No, I really do. I really do. It's just…"
"Just…? If you're not ready, I'll wait-"
"No, it's just… like… every guy I've ever dated… was terrible for me. I pick the worst guys, and I always get hurt, in the end." I mumbled. I ignored his 'vaguely insulted' look. "But then there's you, and you're amazing and funny and handsome and smart-"
"Well, thanks." He laughed.
"-and you're perfect… And I'm so… so not. I don't want to hurt you."
He sighed.
"Jessica Lockhart." He cupped my face in his hands, sitting next to me on the bench. "You aren't perfect. I'm not perfect. But you love me anyway. And I love you, for every scar you have, every hair out of place, every insane joke you make and every mental breakdown you may or may not have."
I chuckled.
"I love you, and I know you'd never hurt me on purpose. You're the most passionate, insane, and adorable person I've ever met. And I'd like to wake up next to you every morning, and make you breakfast because god only knows how terrible your cooking is. And every night I'd love to watch you paint, because the look you get in your eyes is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I love everything about you Jess, and if you're not ready, I'll wait- as long as you need. It could be till we're eighty. We'll have a wrinkly old person wedding. I-"
I cut him off by kissing him. I pushed him down, now on top of him, lips locked in a solid kiss.
"Ryan, I'm in love with you." I whispered. "And I want to spend forever with you. Will you marry me?"
He laughed.
"Maybe."
….
Aw… I quite like that.
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