charmingclemence-blog

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huntthehunter: My only goal in life is to be like Matt Healy.

healingherbs: @huntthehunter "i don't want kids to be overly impressed by people like me."

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Oh my gods I actually could. Call it something like 'Climates Masters, Climate Master' and have, like, an in-depth weather report, not the five-minute tacked-on-to-the-end-of-the-news shit you get at the moment. 

@ the local Starbucks

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I asked if you wanted a painkiller. Or for me to put a dimmer on the sun.

[Maddy gripped the paper coffee cup in her hand as she walked down the street, headed for school.  Her head thumped loudly as some light gasped through the cracks of her glasses.  Her initial thought was to regret the night of heavy drinking she did, but instead she forced herself to deal with the excruciating hangover she had. She heard an unclear mumble of words through her ringing ears] What was that?  

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[Clémence nodded] Yeah, yeah I'm the weather. Climates Masters, at your service. It definitely has a ring to it.

@ the local Starbucks

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[Clémence focused her gaze on the 'c' of what was supposed to be her name, before taking a slow sip of the beverage, her gaze now unfocused and blurry, staring out into nothingness as her once-friend - for friends didn't just drop their friends as quickly and easily as Mel had done, did they? - dropped into the seat beside her. She could almost feel them opening their mouth numerous times, despite not even being able to see it, and she could feel the trepidation coming off of them in waves. With a sigh of resignation, she finally turned her gaze towards Mel, trying to keep her bitter tone from seeping in] If you've something to say, you might as well go ahead and say it.

@ the local Starbucks

[Mel almost didn’t sit down. Almost. But Clémence wasn’t just anyone, and Mel could swallow down a whole lot more for someone like her, a friend—at least, they hoped she was, or could be. Still, it did hurt to know they were like this. They took their seat quietly.] …Thanks. 

[They opened their mouths a few times, wanting to say much but finding the words come to a screeching halt at the top of their throat. What were they to say? Beyond how much they fucked up, Mel didn’t know if Clémence wanted to hear them out, or would chose to.]

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The girl smiled as the boy blurted out his name, before playing it off cooly with a cheeky smirk and a flirtatious compliment. She was used to boys acting this way around her but it was still a source of amusement, as well as being a sure-fire confidence booster. "Yeah, I'm Clémence. I'm a Junior at MOH - you're a sophomore, aren't you?" Another smile graced her lips, eyes twinkling. "You're not so bad looking yourself, Alexander."

She nodded and made her way back to the booth with him, gaze still scanning the crowd in the hopes that the other little troublemaker would being making his way back to apologise profusely soon. When there was still no sign of him, she turned to Alexander. "So, how'd you get roped into doing the music booth?" 

Music Booth || Clémence & Alexander

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[She was making her way home from picking up a few supplies for her mother - alcohol assuredly not included - when she happened accidentally upon a girl she recognised vaguely from school] Hi.

[ She had hoped to be alone, but the sudden rustle of footfalls near her made Ellie uneasy, but curious enough to whisper loudly—]

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Clémence nodded as the boy, thief in hand, pointed in the direction of where the other culprit had gone. She had chased after the two but quickly lost them in the crowd. Thankfully, her co-worker was faster.

She turned to the captured thief, her voice low as she tried to keep her annoyance out of her tone. "Why'd you steal the CDs?"

The sullen kid refused to meet her eyes, and Clémence calmly repeated her question. There was a long pause before the kid finally met her gaze, and a quiet 'thought it would be fun,' slipped out.

She nodded, standing back up and looking at her co-worker. "Thought it would be fun." Clémence rolled her eyes in disdain before turning to face the young boy. "You tell you friend to return the shit he stole before the festival is over, and we won't press charges for petty theft, understand?" The kid looked like he was going to argue, but something in her voice forbade him from doing so.

"Yeah," he said dejectedly. "A'right."

Clémence smiled in triumph and turned back to the older boy. "Thanks for capturing him. You can probably let him go now, though."

Music Booth || Clémence & Alexander

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5 people you've met that you would totally bang

Phillip. Clemence. Adrian. Jace. Cadence.

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Hot or not, Alexander?

His voice reminds me of the color yellow, not dissimilar to the sun, so Alexander is on the hot list.

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FMK: Clemence, Aria, Audrey

Fuck: Clemence. She’s beautiful. 

Marry: Aria. She’s mart and she knows a lot, I like that. 

Kiss: (I couldn’t kill any of these girls) Audrey. She looks like a good kisser.

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{ mass tweet }

parkerphobic: @healingherbs "good synth pop"? Weak

parkerphobic: @healingherbs I only listen to rock electro crunk indie folk europop cha-cha wub-wub blues dark jazz music. #onlythebest

healingherbs: @parkerphobic #tryingtoohard

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{ mass tweet }

sunshinedaisies: @healingherbs TELL ME ABOUT IT! the whole point of the stall is to play local bands and get them some recognition.

healingherbs: @sunshinedaisies it amazes me how many people struggle with that concept. #thiskidcouldbethenextrhianna #ifyoudshutthefuckupandappreciatethem

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Music Booth || Clémence & (Alexander, Callie, Dylan, Tessa, Oliver)

Clémence swayed in time with the music, eyes closed, enjoying it. The beats were good - surprisingly so - and she was just beginning to think that, just possibly, this fair wasn’t going to be so bad, when a cacophonous scream pulled her from her thoughts. A young child in full face paint (was that supposed to be Spiderman? Oh bondye mwen, if that’s what she was up against, her rotation at the Face Painting booth was going to be easy) had apparently decided they didn’t like the music currently playing, and even worse, had decided to show it in the form of an unearthly wail. Clémence was quick to move, honing in on the mother and child with little delay.

"Excuse me." She adopted a sweet smile, the one she usually used to beguile the occasional man that caught her interest. "I’m sorry to be a hassle, ma’am, but I don’t think your child likes the music, and I’m afraid they seem to be putting off some of the other listeners." Clémence couldn’t discern whether the child was a boy or girl or both or neither, but the gender-neutral pronouns came easy to her - after knowing and talking about Mel so often, it would be almost insulting if she’d struggled with the concept.

The mother, young and frail and flustered, flapped her hands about in meek apology, fussing around her bawling child in a futile attempt to get them to stop blubbering. When this surprisingly didn’t work, Clémence stepped in, bending down to the child’s level and whispering in a quiet voice so that only they could hear. The child quietened down almost immediately, the screams becoming great hiccuping sobs that wracked their whole body in silence, before stopping altogether as they stared balefully at Clémence. She smiled at them before fishing in her pocket and pulling out a hard homemade candied sweet. She gave it to the child with a flourish, watching as they shoved it whole in their mouth, sucking on it without even a thanks. She straightened up to face the mother, who was looking at her as though torn between saying ‘thank you’ and demanding what she had given her child, and handed her a sweet, too.

Evidently the mother couldn’t decide what to say, because she rushed off just as silently as her child had been when given the candy, and disappeared quickly into the crowd. A few people nearby murmured their thanks, and Clémence accepted it, knowing she had been smart to make some sweets with valerian root, ashwaganda and passionflower . They had, of course, been made with Clémence’s own sanity in mind, but if they helped knock a kid out and calm down a stressed mother, who was she to deny them that?

Feeling pleased with herself, Clémence turned back to the music stall - just in time to catch sight of a couple of pre-teen thieves taking advantage of the confusion and snatching several CDs. 

"Get your fucking asses back here!" Clémence yelled, chasing after them and hoping one of the other Music Booth workers had also noticed the thieves.

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{ mass tweet }

healingherbs: if one more persons complains that we aren't playing mainstream pop WHILST WE'RE PLAYING LOCAL ARTISTS, I will poison someone.

healingherbs: shut up and listen to some good synth pop langet manman-w

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how I imagine Circe:

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Even if you're new, you should still know the difference between what's a name and what isn't a name.

@ the local Starbucks

[shrugs] Maybe he’s new.