#fleabag.

[sxmebxdytxuchme]

YO WHAT’S UP, IT’S YA BOI YUNGBLUD, DOUBLE THE U, DOUBLE THE FUN!!

otherwise known as the chaotic british twat that is jus dom and i’m from doncaster. am here to cause chaos, be fookin loud, energetic n to possibly cheekily show my arse off!

if you ever wanna talk to the human equivalent of an excited puppy then feel free to hit me up at bxdyxverdxse

[beainamber]

i am not immune to *turns to the camera* "This is a Love Story" *fleabag theme music*

[favoriteache]

i can see you make a habit of missing the point. / fleabag

FLEABAG -- SPEAKING. «

FLEABAG doesn't seem to do more than blink, though she does look to the audience, as if to say: can you believe that guy? not quite a raised eyebrow, but an amused upturn of her lips, like they have a shared secret, exchanged between open palms, some piece of paper they'll read and snicker about while ARMAND, unaware, remains on stage. though she doubts he's the type to remain out of the loop. he has that obsessive look, the digging type.

imagine a garden and a buried treasure. you can only get it by yourself, with a shovel and nothing else. everyone tries to dig it out at first, 'til your muscles start to ache and your legs start to shake. then most give up. they'll walk every day around that garden, knowing they gave up some unknown treasure-- and they won't miss it. because it wasn't theirs. because they'd rather focus on what else they can actually unearth. ARMAND looks like he would dig. like he wouldn't stop. like he'd turn over every little parcel of mud just to make sure that the treasure is his, because the scene's set and he has purpose. the obsessive type, indeed.

FLEABAG: do i?

she grins.

FLEABAG: the point you're trying to make isn't exactly flattering. maybe i just don't disagree.

[sheherlockholmes]

yeaaaaaahhhhhhhhh fuck my whole life. actually