joaniebomb-blog

[joaniebomb-blog]

So this was it. Starting this very moment, Joanie had an entire weekend to spend completely alone with Quentin Porter, the one thing that had been a monkey wrench in her dreams since the moment she'd accidentally caught his impossibly blue eyes. She couldn't have fabricated a better human being in the interior of her twisted mind or put him together with bits of dream woven together to create a creature that didn't really exist. He did exist...in all of his leather clad and endless legged glory. Even knowing that the two of them were currently breathing the same air caused her heart to beat faster and her foot to fall just a bit heavier on the gas pedal. the female doing her best to put as much distance between the two of them and the world as quickly as possible. How was she going to fill the silence without the distractions? When there was nothing but them and she couldn't simply dodge his questions and leave them open ended? Perhaps Joanie wasn't ready to allow him into that little world of hers, the place behind the walls and towering fences that she had worked so hard to keep hidden from prying eyes. Ever since Massachusetts, she promised herself that she was going to ride away and never look back, to leave that girl behind her and spit in her face; remind her how weak and selfish she'd truly been. Joan was never going to be that person again. She was going to be strong and beautiful, she was going to hold the power and never let anyone take it from her ever again.

Her mother was practically praying every evening for her daughter's salvation despite the fact that the woman wasn't all that particularly religious. Basically, she just wanted the wounds to heal and the past to remain in the past. If that meant praying to an invisible man in the sky that may or may not actually exist, Calliope was willing to make that effort. The woman never would have stood for Joan's weekend adventure with the boy that physically embodied everything that terrified the woman. After all, she could see the way that her daughter looked at him, and she could feel the way that he felt about her. According to her mother, Joan and Quentin were an impossibly deadly combination, a ticking bomb that was waiting to explode and drag her daughter back into the darkness where they'd worked so hard to drag her from. All she could see was her daughter toppling down the rabbit hole, all to impress some boy that she had absolutely no business impressing. What Calliope didn't realize, however, was that Quentin made Joanie feel safe, at least in a literal sense. She knew that as long as he was beside her, the world couldn't touch her and she wouldn't let it...and he would protect her with anything that he possibly could. However, who was going to protect Quentin from Joanie if that can was ever opened? In reality, it was him that should have been terrified of her.

"I packed a rosary to add a little bit of flare to my story." Joan commented, pointing to the glove compartment that was hidden just beneath where the male's legs were perched. "A little souvenir from our weekend with Jesus." The female chuckled to herself, drumming her fingers against the wheel before she cranked the radio just a bit louder and glanced sideways at him, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hand. "Too bad your mom won't be home, Q. I almost wanted to see the look on her face when I kidnap you." She dodged easily through the traffic on the main roads before trailing off down the side streets, the massive tank of a lime green death bed coming to a stop right in front of the male's home. It didn't fit him; it was far too plain and far too much like every other house on the block. That was suburbia for you...it would literally suck the life out of you if you went and let it. "You have five minutes, Q. The countdown starts now. Bring your softest pillows, comfiest blankets, and that award winning Quentin Porter smile." Joanie stated in an almost condescending tone, biting her lower lip and settling back against her seat once more as she put the car in park. "I'll be waiting right here."

[joaniebomb-blog]

So long, farewell.

I just wanted to start off by saying how sorry I am that my presence here made anyone uncomfortable, because that was never in any way my intention. That being said, I just wanted to say thank you to the people who were so supportive of me with your kind words and praise of my character, you have no idea how much it means to me to know that you enjoyed having Joanie and myself around even if it was for such a short period of time. But since the issue here is my age, which is something that I obviously can't control, let me give you very brief words of wisdom as someone a bit older than some of you may be.

Attacking someone without attaching an identity to it is bullying, no matter how old the person may be. It is inappropriate, and quite honestly is just something that should never happen.

I, as an adult writer, would never put any other writer, regardless of age, into a situation where they felt compromised. You, of course, are entitled to your own opinion, but just know that I have never and will never write any type of explicit content with an underage writer. I am leaving this group because you feel uncomfortable, and I am giving my reasoning with my name attached to it and a true explanation which is what my fellow humans deserve.

More than likely, I'll be recycling this blog or continuing writing as this character in the style of a 1x1 or possibly tossing her into another group with an age range closer to my own to avoid further predicaments. The good news is, that means that I will still be lurking around here if anyone wants to continue contact with me. If you message me, I will even link you to my personal rps account here you can follow my writing, see my randomocity and perhaps request some graphics help or a theme makeover.

Also side note: The admins of this group are absolutely wonderful. I would recommend this group 100% to younger writers. You were very tasteful, polite, and professional with how you handled the situation. Most groups are not so fortunate.

Bye lovies!

-xoxo, sid.

[joaniebomb-blog]

This isn't OOC hate I swear... it's just, a lot of us aren't really comfortable with you in the rp. It just makes us really uncomfortable rping with someone so much older than us. This isn't OOC hate so please don't get offended.

I'm not offended. When I was first considering joining this group, I looked around on the site to try to see if any ooc information was posted about the writers so that I could try to figure out the general age rage but couldn't find anything. Not only that, but I put my age in my application and made a post where I stated my age so that people would be aware of it. Obviously, I'm not being sketchy. If I was, I would have lied about it or not mentioned it at all which I feel is an even worse thing to do. I have literally no idea how old any of you guys are. How would I? I don't see why it is an issue if I'm not trying to write inappropriate content. But, if it is seriously that big of a deal, I can leave the group since that would be the mature thing to do. And also, coming at me about this on anon without actually having the decency to talk to me about it in private is most definitely ooc hate, even if you try to say that it isn't.

[joaniebomb-blog]

@nolakylee: your opinions wrong and invalid

@ifyouseekjoanie: @nolakylee you are colorblind and invalid

[joaniebomb-blog]

@nolakyles: shut the fuck up that dress is white and gold

@ifyouseekjoanie: @nolakyles it is fucking blue and black I will literally end your life

[joaniebomb-blog]

✐INSTAGRAM COMMENT: @itzchantibitch did you mean "pointe"?

[joaniebomb-blog]

Hi guys, just checking in before I head off to work for the day. There is a strong possibility that I might not be around until a bit later again, because after work I might also have to do some freelance tutoring. We'll see how that goes, I've never done it before so hopefully I don't totally suck at teaching. Anyway! I do have a connections page up right here as well as a brief description of myself and my character right here. I also just put several hours of work into my theme, so it's super pretty if you just want to go and stare at it for awhile. Even if you don't like any of my connection suggestions, I would love to hear some of your ideas! If there is a spot of your own that you would like filled, don't hesitate to ask me, I'm very flexible and I'm sure we could come up with something awesome. I've already spoken to:

Quentin.

Makayla. 

So far no one else has wanted to flesh something out, which is just all kinds of sad because you're all wonderful. 

[joaniebomb-blog]

Sounds like a fucking waste of perfectly good youth to me.

You say midlife crisis. I just say laziness.

[joaniebomb-blog]

When Joanie Haxton held a magic marker in her hand, it was as if the rest of the world melted away. All of the lies and illusions were stripped down until she was left completely naked and exposed. The one time that anyone could ever see past the walls of ice that she had so strategically erected to keep everyone out. Along her hands and fingers was the real story of Joanie Haxton, every ounce of the pain and terror of inferiority...every hurtful word that had ever been tossed in her direction. There was nothing more personal to her than her music, nothing more terrifying and bare. In a way she found her writing cathartic, a way to vomit up the toxins of the day and wash them clean to start over anew. Even her therapist had never managed to take a peek at the words that mirrored what truly lurked in the female's mind. Every single fuck and fuck up. Joanie was what her therapist, Ken, liked to call a pathological liar. However, Joanie was the worst kind. The kind that was completely aware of their own lies yet unable to stop them from bubbling up from the back of their mind and spilling through their lips like a viral sickness. Each time that the female opened her mouth she could feel the web growing thicker, the threads intertwining and crossing in intricate patterns that even the spider herself couldn't follow. Who was Joanie Haxton? She was ink on flesh. Music that cracked through the silence only to fade out just as quickly as it came.

Over the years she had probably written an infinity of words and a billion phrases, lines that didn't rhyme and lines that had no business ever being displayed for public consumption. It was better that way, honestly. Safer. Everything made much more sense when it was like a codex with countless combination possibilities. Every so often she could feel the click as one of the digits slid into place, one step closer at solving the puzzle that even Dan Brown couldn't fabricate. Her fingers threaded through the thumb holes of the sleeves of her sweater that was worn securely beneath her jacket, all words but the ones on her fingers hidden from view. How many times was he going to ask her that question before he realized that the answer was always going to be the same. "I don't hate you enough." She responded dully, the words tasting familiar and monotonous on the tip of her tongue. Gently, she pushed herself off of the hood of the vehicle, taking a step toward him and tilting her head to the side like a curious animal as she studied the features of his face. "The artist is tired of waiting." Joan offered as a late response to his previous statement that she hadn't bothered to gratify with a response until now, turning her body away from him to wander back toward the driver side door. "Follow."

Rather than climbing into the front seat, she made her way around the back, prying opened the doors of the hearse to reveal the contents within, several layers of cushions, pillow, and blankets occupying the vacant space that want meant to hold a coffin. "Try not to get too excited." The female offered him a vibrant grin, gesturing to the set up that was probably just going to get all knocked around as soon as they hit the highway or a patch of rough terrain. "Almost the entire basement's worth of cushions is in here." She informed him excitedly, her fingers rubbing together wickedly as she slammed the doors closed once more. "I am so ready to get the fuck away from my mother." Joanie grumbled anxiously, testing the doors to assure that the lock had clicked into place. "I need music. And a drink. Maybe a fire. Fuckin' cocktail weenies. Or an entire pig to roast." Grinning, she leaned back against the doors, facing him with her arms folded across her chest, her many assorted pins clicking together noisily. "I told Calliope that I'm going on some big church retreat. Removing myself from the elements to be alone with Jesus and cleanse my vile soul." Her laughter burst through the quiet, tongue snaking along her lower lip. "Kumbaya, right? Fucking save my body from the beastly defiling of Satan and rock n' roll." Another cigarette found its way between her lips, fingers moving quickly to ignite it and fill the air between them with smoke. "News flash, mom. I would literally gargle Satan's balls if I got a record deal out of it." She paused at the end of her sentence, realizing she'd just began smoking what she'd been very careful to save for him. /Oops./ "Here." Joanie offered, extending her hand toward him with the lipstick stained object pointed toward him. "And don't say I never gave you anything. Hi, by the way."

Awkwardly, the female rolled her body off of the doors of the car, slipping past him to dip back around the driver's side and find her way into her rightful seat in her lime green throne. Her hands tensed as her fingers gripped the wheel, realization washing over her entire being as her eyes grew wide with terror. She was going to be entirely alone with Quentin Porter for nearly two days. Suddenly she felt like she was on top of the ferris wheel in Disney again, and Joanie Haxton was terrified of heights. Swallowing roughly, she relaxed, leaning back against her seat and running her fingers roughly over her face. "Alright Q. So here's the plan of action. We stop at your place for you to pick up your stuff, swing by the corner store where you will then buy cigarettes because you are, in fact, an adult and I'm not. Then, we will pick up a hitchhiker and some hookers, gut the hitchhiker, collect our stars for the hookers, and then head for the hills where we toast some s'mores over their torched bodies. Sound like a fuckin' party, daddy-o?"

[joaniebomb-blog]

Alright so I have errands to run and then I have to drop my little sister off at work, but I should be around after that. I do have a connections page up if anyone is interested, I tried to come up with some plots that aren't your typical boring crap...so please give it a look! I'd really like to try to work something out with as many people as I can. I promise that I'm super friendly. I'll respond to anything and everything that I might receive when I get home in a couple of hours. If you don't feel like it, drop Joanie some in character asks and get to know her a bit better. I'm really nice I swear.

[joaniebomb-blog]

>>moodboard 01. Joanie Haxton.

[joaniebomb-blog]

What'd you have for lunch today, Joanie?

Ham and cheese.

[joaniebomb-blog]

The misunderstood bad boy thing pretty much went out of style with the breakfast club.

Shut the fuck up, Joanie.

[joaniebomb-blog]

Joanie + Claims

Face Claim: Taylor Momsen

Voice Claim: Taylor Momsen

Music Claim: The Pretty Reckless. Pretty much just assume that if it is a Pretty Reckless song, it is an Asphalt Massacre song. Plus a couple of Avril Lavigne song because that makes damn sense.

Fashion Claim: Herself and Taylor Momsen. Oh and also probably Avril Lavigne. Lmao.

[joaniebomb-blog]

You and Quentin are in love

No. Non. Nee. Jo. La. Nein. Voch. Ne. Nyet. Nej.

[joaniebomb-blog]

Do you have to make fun of me like, all the time? Can you at least pretend to be happy for me?

Look at you go, my little femi-warrior. I want a copy to hang on my fridge.