#my mom read somewhere that it makes nail polish last longer

[kirayaykimura]

im begging, pls explain the nail polish in the fridge thing!! is it to make it like,,,keep for longer? and if so how did you figure that out, i'm genuinely SO curious!!!

i like drinking the polish cold rather than at room temperature

[quickspinner]

Indelible - Ch 12 White Space

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | AO3

“A vacation?” Luka frowned, his brow wrinkling. His eyes flicked from Jagged and Penny to the tall, well-dressed black woman sitting ramrod straight beside them. Lucille had been his agent since this whole thing started, but since Luka wasn’t Jagged, Lucille couldn’t be with him constantly. She had other clients and obligations besides Luka, so he rarely saw her in person except when they were in the studio’s corporate offices. She kept in touch regularly by phone and video conference, though, and Luka liked and trusted her. He liked her more because she didn’t baby him the way Penny did Jagged, and was more than willing to call him out when he was being unreasonable.

Now Lucille met his gaze evenly, a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, but said nothing.  

Jagged was tense, fingers tapping restlessly on the table, and he wouldn’t look at Luka, but none of that was especially unusual. Jagged hated sitting still and he hated meetings, and he and Luka had had enough artistic differences by now that things were always a little tense between them these days. Penny...well, Penny was hard to read, but he thought there was a little tension in her as well.

Luka’s own fingers began to tap the top of the conference table unconsciously as he glanced at Dingo beside him, and the two band members seated on his other side. “Why?” he asked slowly. “I know it’s the down season, but—aren’t there usually plenty of shows playing during the holidays? Should we really miss out on that?” He directed the question to Lucille; no matter how cool Penny was, Luka knew exactly where her loyalties lay. 

Lucille shrugged, and her lack of concern at the prospect eased his sudden nerves a little. The sparkly gold nail polish she wore flashed as she leaned her elbows on the table and folded her hands. “You’ve been going pretty flat out for a few years now. I think this is a good time for a break.” She glanced at Jagged and pressed her lips together slightly as her dark eyes came back to Luka’s and held them for a moment. She wanted to say more, Luka guessed, but not here. Luka shifted his gaze back to Penny. 

“The lineups for holiday and New Years concerts are pretty eclectic,” Penny demurred. “Lots of big names. We won’t really need an opening act, and—well.” She glanced at Jagged. “We figured you could use a break,” she finished, a little too cheerfully. “The last tour was rough on everybody, and you’ve been spending a lot of time in the studio since we got back. It’ll be good for you to get a little downtime with your family—” she glanced at the rest of the band. “Families, before we start locking things down here and gearing up for the summer.”    

Luka regarded her for a moment longer, and then turned his seat to face Jenna. She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say no to a break,” she admitted, her cheeks taking on a bit of a flush. “The schedule’s been a bit rougher than I expected, to be honest. I wouldn’t mind a breather, and my brother’s supposed to be bringing his new wife to meet the family this Christmas. If you need me I’m there, of course, but it would be nice to go home for a bit.”

Crusher, clearly bored and slumped so low in his chair that he was practically on the floor, just snorted when Luka looked at him. “You’re the brand here,” he said, a slightly sour note in his tone. “If you burn out, we’re all out of the job, so I’m on board with whatever.” 

His attitude irritated Luka, but, taking a deep breath, Luka turned to his other side to look at Dingo. Dingo’s thumbs were moving over his phone, apparently oblivious to the entire conversation, although Luka was sure he had heard every word. 

Luka slumped back in his chair and faced back towards Jagged and Penny, regarding them silently for a moment. Penny looked professional as always, but her face softened a little as he looked at her. Jagged had his arms folded around his chest and still wouldn’t meet Luka’s eyes. He was practically vibrating, clearly ready to be done with this whole thing.

Part of Luka wanted to refuse, to put up the fight Penny and Jagged were clearly expecting, to force Jagged to include him in whatever the hell was going on, to remind him that Luka would not be shoved aside and ignored, but…he glanced at Lucille one more time. Her eyes flicked to Jagged and then back to Luka. Luka stared back at her for a moment, and then sighed as he looked away.

“Okay, sure,” he said finally, and Jagged visibly relaxed, getting up almost at once..  

“That’s the spirit. Go home, kid,” Jagged leaned over the table to slap a hand down on Luka’s shoulder, and then started for the door. “Show your ma you’re okay and get her off my back.” 

“Mom?” Luka asked, confused, but Jagged was already gone. For a moment, nobody else moved. Jenna and Crusher looked at each other, and then they both got up and slipped out of the conference room. Dingo continued to text, still apparently oblivious. 

“I think this is a good choice, Luka,” Penny said, pushing back from the table. “You’ve really hit the ground running since you came with us. I know you want to make the most of this opportunity and that’s fine, but we can all see you need a break. This life,” she made a broad gesture that encompassed the studio’s offices, and everything that went along with them, “it’s a lot. You’re not the only young artist to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. We just want you to pace yourself, that’s all.”

"Why is this suddenly all about me? I’m overwhelmed, but the others are fine?” Luka demanded, aware that he was getting defensive. 

“Oi, some of us actually know how to take a break,” Dingo spoke up, without looking up from his phone. “You’re the one flying around and networking and getting mentored by the greats whenever we get some down time. You’re exhausted and you know it, dumbass.” 

“You’re the face of the band, Luka, and you have run yourself a little ragged,” Penny agreed. “We can tell it’s wearing on you. There’s no shame in taking a break now and then.” 

“Right. Just looking out for me,” Luka muttered. Unreasonably irritated, he stood up and began picking up his things, sliding on the sunglasses Marinette had made him. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He needed to get somewhere private before he took his confused tangle of feelings out on someone who didn’t deserve it. He could read the message here; he’d been butting heads with Jagged for months now, and the rock star was clearly over it. Jagged wanted Luka gone, so they’d cooked up some crap about Luka needing a break. As if Luka couldn’t handle anything the old man could handle, and with a hell of a lot more grace. 

Penny hesitated, watching him, and then stood herself, leaning forward over the table a little. “Listen, Luka. Whatever you think you needed to prove, you’ve more than done it. We all see how hard you work, including Jagged. You’ve made the most of every chance he’s given you and nobody doubts that you deserve to be here. Not anymore. So just...take the break. We all want to see you succeed, but not everybody can be Jagged.”

“I don’t want to be Jagged,” Luka huffed, and then gritted his teeth to keep back the rest of what he was tempted to say.

“We know. Your mom knows. That’s why we’re sending you home. You need those connections, and you need to recharge a little bit before—” She jumped slightly, and then glanced at Lucille. “Well, anyway. I think this will be good for you,” she said, picking up her tablet quickly. 

Luka watched her mutter something to Lucille and make a hasty exit, and then turned back to his agent, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just step on her foot?”

Lucille flashed him a grin. “Damn straight. You’re my lookout, not hers. Sit back down for a second.” 

Luka did, slowly, and Lucile leaned forward. “Listen, we can all tell that things are getting tense between you and Jagged. That’s to be expected, frankly. Jagged never did share the spotlight well, and you’ve got your own vision and you’re committed to it. That’s a good thing , Luka. It’s about time that you started thinking about your career separate from Jagged. This new album release will be a great time to start really hyping you up as an artist, and start separating your name from his.”

Luka blinked. “...Really? You think I’m— we’re —ready for that?” 

Lucille nodded. “It’ll mean a lot of work, it’ll mean playing extra gigs on your own as well as opening the big arena shows for him. It’s going to be exhausting.” She sighed. “Here’s the thing, Luka. You know and I know that part of this is Jagged throwing a snit, but the fact is, all of us can see that you’re running on empty. The rest of the band won’t say it, but you’re starting to run them into the ground too.” 

Dingo huffed beside him. “I’ll damn well say it.” 

Lucille ignored him. “Go home. Spend some time with your family. Unwind and maybe work out some of those knots you’ve tied yourself in. If you really can’t handle doing nothing for that long, I can book you some local shows if you want. Maybe some of those smaller venue gigs you said you’ve been missing?” 

“That...would be nice,” Luka sighed, taking the glasses back off to rub his hand over his face. Juleka was supposed to be in Paris for the next three months, too, so he’d actually have a home to go to. It would be nice to spend some time with her.  Luka nodded slowly, and Lucille reached out and patted his hand. 

“Go home,” she repeated. “Do whatever you’ve gotta do to recharge, because come the new year we’re going to work, and before long it’s going to be your name on the marquee.” 

Luka sighed, and then mustered a smile. “Has my mom seriously been calling Jagged?” 

“Every damn day for the last month, Penny said,” Lucille grinned. “I heard the last one, it was beautiful. I’ll have to stop by Paris while you’re there so I can meet her, I’d like to shake her hand.” 

Luka grinned. “You’d get along.” 

“I bet.” Lucille stood up. “I’m on your side, Luka. Don’t forget it, okay? Whatever you need, I’ll make it happen.” 

“I know,” Luka’s smile turned a little more genuine. “Thanks.” 

“Hey,” Lucille leaned down, putting a hand on the table and tapping her other finger on it for emphasis. “This is not a setback. This is not a punishment. This is the deep breath before the dive into the deep end, okay?”

Luka nodded, and Lucille straightened. “Have a nice trip, okay?” she grinned, and then left. 

“Can we go now?” Dingo grunted, and Luka rolled his eyes, grabbing his things again.

Neither of them said anything on the walk back to the hotel. Luka was brooding, he knew it, and Dingo was still so deep in his phone that Luka had to steer him around obstacles.

Not until they were back in the room did Dingo finally shove his phone back in his pocket and look Luka in the face. 

“Why are you so sour about taking a vacation?” Dingo demanded, throwing himself down on the couch in their suite. “Vacations are a good thing!

“Yeah, of course,” Luka said, walking over to the window and opening the curtain to look out at the city. He’d never really clicked with London, but then he hadn’t ever really gotten out and looked at it, either. He spent most of the time in the studio when they were here, and by the time they returned from tour, the last thing he really cared about was sightseeing and crowds. 

“Normal people go home more than twice a year, Lulu.” 

“Jagged doesn’t,” Luka pointed out. “He barely even has a home."

“As if Jagged was ever normal,” Dingo snorted, but then he pushed himself up with a sigh. “Luka.” He put his hands on Luka’s shoulders and steered him over to the couch, shoving him down in it. “Mate, you don’t want to be Jagged.” Dingo sat down in the armchair chair and scooted it over until they were practically knee to knee. “You know you don’t. Even if you did, you’re not built like him. You’d bleed to death trying to cut out the people you love.”

Luka took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “It feels like admitting he’s right,” he said finally. “If I can’t juggle both, if I can’t stay connected with my family and still kill it on the road...it feels like admitting he wouldn’t have been able to achieve everything he’s achieved if he’d kept us in his lives. I mean if…if he really did that...if he really is my...” 

“No if’s here, mate,” Dingo said, uncharacteristically solemn. “They don’t have to admit it for it to be true, and I think we both know it is.” 

Luka sighed, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. 

“Oi,” Dingo said, and Luka felt his friend’s hand fall on his shoulder and squeeze. “Maybe he is right. That doesn’t make him less of an ass for making the choices he did. It doesn’t mean you have to forgive him. He doesn’t get a free pass for being a shit dad just because he’s the greatest rock n’ roll legend who ever lived. So fuck him. You didn’t start this because of Jagged, and even if he opened some doors, we’ve earned our place here. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Luka reached up and put his hand over Dingo’s, and took a few shaky breaths. Then he nodded, and Dingo squeezed his shoulder one more time before letting go. “Fuck him,” Dingo repeated, leaning back. “Go home. Spend some time with Juleka and the Captain.” He grinned. “Take Marinette on a date that doesn’t involve a phone.” He slid his sunglasses down his nose and winked. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how often you’ve been disappearing lately.” 

Luka rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he straightened up and leaned back in his chair. Instead of denying it he found himself saying, “I don’t even know what her schedule is. She might not even plan to be in Paris over New Years.”

“Well get the lead out, mate, what are you waiting for?” Dingo got up and slapped Luka’s arm as he walked by. “Hell, I’ve already booked my tickets to meet up with Bri in Nice before we head back to Paris. Think I can talk her into hitting the beaches with me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Luka. 

“It’ll be December and the beaches in Nice are made of rocks, so I’m gonna go with ‘no,’” Luka said absently, pulling out his phone. 

He texted Juleka first, and then his mom. Once he knew what dates they were planning to be in Paris he’d be better able to make his own plans. Then he sat there, his thumb hovering over Marinette’s picture. 

It didn’t have to be a date, but...it would be nice to see Marinette in person. It didn’t hurt to ask. If she was busy, that would be fine.  He tapped out a message and sent it, and then turned his chair towards the window again, staring blankly out at the city. 

A few moments later his phone lit up and buzzed in his hand, and then buzzed again, and then a third time. Luka chuckled as he turned it over to look as another message came through. 

He still wasn’t sure it was the right call, but...if they wanted him to take a vacation, he might as well make the most of it, right?

Fiction Master Post

[kafka-ish]

without my enemy what would i do | r.t.

richie tozier has been announced to come to dinner and y/n doesn’t know if things could possibly get worse for her.

word count: 8.3k

warnings/included: !!TW!! mentions of suicide/attempted suicide, nsfw (smut, fingering, oral -- male receiving), enemies to lovers, bratty!fem!reader

a/n: this was in no way meant to glamorize/romanticize suicide or any topic relating to that so if that’s triggering for you either don’t read this fic or the end. also i was heavily inspired by freaky friday and some other fics i’ve read

-

y/n couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mom’s mouth that morning. It had started pleasantly. The two were sharing a fruit medley her mom had prepared the night before at the breakfast nook. But those eight words had ruined the rest of her day.

“I’m inviting the Toziers over for dinner tonight.” 

The tea in y/n’s mouth must’ve fallen out because she had been scolded for soiling the white tablecloth. But y/n didn’t care. The only thing occupying her mind was the fact that Richie Fucking Tozier would be in her house. 

“How could you do this to me?” y/n accused her poor mother who was now frantically sopping up the stained green tea from the white fabric which she had just bought. She supposed she could just switch out the cloth for the time being, but everything had to be perfect when the Toziers came over.

“I don’t understand why you have... such disdain for them,” her mom said calmly. She always had a way of keeping her heels in the ground while her daughter’s head was stuck in the sky. “The Toziers are a family friend,” she insisted. 

“I don’t have an issue with all of them.” y/n got up and gently placed her plate and mug in the sink. She washed them thoroughly before exiting. “Just Richie.” She mumbled the last part under her breath as she made her way up the stairs. y/n still had to put on her school clothes and make her way to school—something she was going to do rather unwillingly now.

y/n and Richie went back—way back. The Toziers and y/l/ns have been family friends since the two were in diapers; always forced to play together while their parents had their Sunday luncheons, the awkward lets-be-partners-since-I-don’t-know-anyone-else in middle school. Sometime in between the summer of ‘89 and their freshman year of high school, something changed. Richie changed. He was still the funny guy who hung out in the back of the room making offhanded jokes, but he was also the guy who made it his mission to hook up with every girl who stepped foot in Derry.

And somewhere in between, maybe y/n changed. She traded her pastel sweaters for cropped, graphic shirts and tight-fitting tees. The pleated skirts she always wore were replaced by ripped jeans that hung low on her hips with the help of her trusty studded belt. And her virgin hair was highlighted to the roots ever since sophomore year picked up.

Maybe y/n changed. 

It was after a long day of incessant chatter and a math teacher who couldn’t seem to stop talking about his ex-wife when the dismissal bell rang. y/n was then stopped in her tracks by the one and only, Richie Fucking Tozier.

“Hey, princess.” His eyes were hazy with smoke and she was sure the Marlboro in his mouth wasn’t his first of the day.

“What do you want, Tozier?” y/n was reluctant to actually stop walking so she could talk to the scum on earth also known as Derry’s resident Trashmouth. Her beat-up high tops scraped against the cement and the undone hot pink laces swung in every direction imaginable. How she hadn’t tripped over her own two feet yet was beyond Richie as he watched the girl in front of him with amused eyes.

Richie’s back slumped against the bricks that made up the walls of their high school. One foot was propped behind him on the bricks, the other planted firmly on the sidewalk. “Your shirt’s inside out.” His pink lips curled into a smirk as if he knew something she didn’t, and y/n’s frown turned into a scowl.

y/n looked down. He was right. Her favorite black shirt with neon red and yellow stitching of a guitar on the front was, indeed, inside out. But she wasn’t going to let Richie Fucking Tozier have the satisfaction of getting under her nails. Not like this, anyway. “Thanks.” She let out a breath, half to calm herself and half to let Richie know how annoying he was being.

But he knew. 

“You’re wasting precious oxygen.” y/n’s glare flicked from his eyes to the cigarette caught between his teeth and Richie only smiled. 

“What, from smokin’?” He took the, what Stan called, cancer stick out from his mouth with his index and middle finger.

“No, from breathing.” It was a lame comeback. y/n was never good at comebacks, but she felt her cheeks heat up and blood stir when a chuckle fell from his breath. 

He hummed thoughtfully, “Hmm. Okay, sweetheart.” He stood up straight, now towering over an uptight and pissed off y/n even more. He took another puff from his Marlboro, waiting for her response. But she only plucked the cigarette from his mouth and stomped it out. 

“Did you call me over to say something important or did you just wanna waste my time?” y/n should’ve just walked off before this conversation even started, but it was too late and she would curse herself forever for giving this boy the time of day. 

She was met with a cloud of smoke in the face and she coughed furiously. His breath smelled like ashes and cinnamon Altoids. Richie Tozier had blown his stupid cigarette smoke in her face. And before she could tell him to fuck off or screw himself, his words rung in her ears. 

“Your ‘rents contacted mine. Looks like I’m comin’ over for formalities an’ shit.” His features were still twisted in a sick grin that y/n wanted to slap right off him.

“Formalities doesn’t usually consist of the word shit,” y/n said and began to start on her way home. It was bad enough she was forced to spend an hour (or more) with him at dinner, she didn’t need to linger any longer. 

Her feet dragged on the graffitied pavement harshly and her pissed-off-ness transferred from the front door to the dining room where her mom was already setting up. Her dad had yet to arrive home from work, which was at five o’clock on the dot. Their family ate at six.

“Are you still upset about this morning?” Mrs. y/l/n’s soft voice sounded condescending as she was too focused on polishing the fine china to see her daughter’s scrunched eyebrows and squinting eyes. 

“Yes.” 

y/n huffed and one of the highlighted pieces of her hair flew from her face when she did so. “This dinner is ruining my life. Richie Tozier is ruining my life. You’re ruining my life!” She cried. It might’ve been an exaggeration, but so be it. Her life was, essentially, ruined.

“Your life is ruined?” Her mother was in disbelief. “How so?” Even though she asked the question, y/n could tell she wasn’t interested.

“Because you’re inviting the Toziers over when I’ve explicitly told you how much I hate them.” A growl left her lips in a fairly animalistic way to which Mrs. y/l/n told y/n that hate was a strong word and to make sure she didn’t bring that attitude to the dinner table tonight.

“Why don’t you take a hot bath? You can blow off some steam.” She laughed, thinking about the absurdity of ‘cooling-off’ in a tub of hot water but y/n crossed her arms at her mom’s negligence. y/n’s mother finally looked up at her daughter, her eyes judging y/n’s outfit carefully. “I’d like you to change, too.” Mrs. y/l/n wasn’t really fond of her daughter’s recent style. She had always loved the soft cardigans and floral dresses she used to wear in her early years. Granted, she was the one who picked them out. But they were just so cute. Mrs. y/l/n didn’t understand the recent trend of choker necks and buying jeans pre-ripped and she knew she never would. She could only wish her daughter were the same cute, innocent little girl she knew from way back when.

y/n grunted, making it known that her mother was being unreasonable. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my day? No, because you never do,” y/n mumbled only loud enough for her to hear. 

It was after three hours of painfully solving logarithms (which was more like staring at the dreaded piece of paper until eventually expressing defeat), a long soak, and an outfit change when four faces arrived at y/n’s front door and Mrs. y/l/n called her down to greet the guests. 

“Are you sure you want to wear that?” Her mother’s thin eyebrow rose skeptically at y/n when she saw—what she would call—the atrocity she was wearing.

y/n shot her mom the same look, unsure of what was so offensive about a black tank top and low-rise jeans. She could be so conservative. “I can change.” y/n didn’t feel like putting up a fight tonight, but her mother placed a hand on her shoulder before she could move.

“There’s no time, now.” y/n could tell she was about to break out in a scowl, but Mrs. y/l/n did a better job at containing herself than her. “Just…just get a jacket or something. I don’t know.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation and y/n left before she could see Richie Tozier unabashedly walk in with his so-called ‘rents.

“Look who I found just as I was coming home, honey.” y/n overheard her dad kiss her mom on the cheek as she fished for her jean jacket in the coat closet. Gag me with a spoon. 

“Maggie! Wentworth!” y/n watched her mom hug the two from the corner of her eye as she reentered the foyer wearing a jean jacket. “It’s been too long.”

“Indeed.” y/n found it hard to swallow her scoff and keep a neutral face.

“Yes. I’m so glad you invited us over tonight.” 

Richie then appeared from behind his parents. His parents had also made him change, seeing as he wore a navy blue button-up (wrinkled, of course) and the only pair of jeans he owned that wasn’t ripped and reached his ankles. y/n suddenly felt embarrassed about wearing such casual clothes. It seemed as if everyone were dressed for the occasion.

“Oh my, Richie. You’ve gotten so tall,” A gasp left her mother’s red and overlined lips. She took a few moments to welcome the family, making her version of witty banter and repeating how it’s been too long. She then walked them to the dining room which was lit up by the chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Why her mother set up a candelabra in the center of the table still unknown to y/n.

“I see y/n’s still shy.” Wentworth chuckled as he took his seat and y/n could feel the blood rush to her neck and cheeks (is it getting hot in here or is it just me?) when she realized she hadn’t said anything since the Toziers arrived.

She took her seat across from RIchie and begun to pick at the green beans on her plate. 

“Oh, Went, don’t be fooled. She’s not shy. It’s just her teen angst.” The words left y/n’s mother’s careless mouth and her daughter’s eyes widened at the statement. 

“Mom!” 

“Ah.” Maggie smiled at her friend knowingly before stabbing into the perfectly seared cut of stake that sat on her plate. “Wentworth and I know a thing or two about teen angst.” She tittered into her napkin and it was now Richie’s turn to shoot his mom the side-eye. 

y/n tuned in an out of the Toziers’ conversation with her parents. The topics ranging from their jobs, newfound hobbies, and the best recipe for meatloaf. Surprisingly, y/n hadn’t heard a peep out of Richie throughout the whole meal.

“Wow, you have outdone yourself,” Wentworth said as he had just about cleared his plate.

“Oh, that’s not all. I baked a lemon meringue pie for dessert if you’ll stay.” It wasn’t as if Maggie and Wentworth were just going to leave after finishing their meal. That’d be too easy. They had both complied, exclaiming that they could already taste how delicious it was going to be. “y/n would you be a dear and go fetch it for us?” Her mother asked. “It should be in the kitchen. On the island.” y/n stood up from her seat, grateful to get away from the scene she felt trapped in.

“yeah, y/n. would you be a dear and go fetch?” Richie couldn’t help himself but take a jab at y/n as she was walking towards the kitchen’s entryway. She’d turn around to give him the finger if this were any other setting. Maggie turned to face her soon, silently scolding him and whispering that it might do him good to help her out.

Richie bit back a sigh while he got up and trudged his way to where y/n was.

His eyes roamed y/n’s delicate fingers that moved with grace and dexterity as she handled the sharp knife that sliced through the homemade pastry.

“Hey.” If y/n were any less skilled, she would’ve dropped the weapon, ruining her mother’s sugary creation.

“Jesus, Tozier.” She set down the knife. “Don’t startle me like that.” She made sure to keep her voice low, not wanting her mom to become suspicious. 

“You’d hate me for knocking and you’d hate me for just standin’ around like a creep.” He shrugged and y/n brushed past him. She held the pie dish in one hand and a stack of plates in the other. “Lemme help.” His head tilted to the side and his doe eyes looked pathetic under the dim kitchen light.

“You are a creep.” But y/n complied, allowing him to take the plates so she could focus all her effort on the pie.

“I’m a creep?” Richie looked to her amusedly. y/n didn’t answer. Her lips were sewn shut as soon as she found herself back in the dining room with all eyes on her and Richie hot on her trail.

“Thank you so much, y/n.” Mrs. y/l/n awed at her own work and started to dish out the precut pieces onto the plates Richie set down. “Speaking of y/n—as if I don’t speak about her enough—did you know she recently won the Academic Excellence Award for both Math and English?” The enthusiasm in her mom’s voice was alien to y/n’s ears.

“That’s great, y/n.” Maggie looked to her with a sort of light in her eyes she never looked at Richie with. “Rich, you never told us about this.” Her fork started for the meringue on Jenny’s pie first; soon after it would make its way down to the actual pie part.

“I didn’t see the point in sayin’ anything.” His face was stuffed full of pie and he shrugged.

Both Wentworth and Maggie looked at their son with disappointment.

“We care.” Wentworth then looked at y/n reassuringly. “Don’t listen to him, y/n... Wow, Jenny, this is great stuff.” 

Once more, y/n got up from her seat. She didn’t bother helping herself to a slice of her mom’s pie and if she had the option, she wouldn’t have bothered making an appearance downstairs. “Can I be excused?” She asked her dad in particular who nodded. A sympathetic look was plastered on his face which was also stuffed with her mom’s dessert. 

“Hey!” This was the beginning of one of Wentworth’s many great ideas. “Why don’t you show Richie your awards? It seems our boy could use a new outlook on what an Academic Excellence Award actually means.” He gave Richie a firm pat on the back before he begrudgingly stood up and walked over to where y/n was already making her way up the staircase. 

“I wouldn’t blame ya if you feel all hot an’ bothered,” Richie said once they reached the top of the stairs. 

y/n’s nose wrinkled at his words and she could already feel herself frowning at his unwanted presence. “What?” 

“Aw. Don’t be like that, princess.” He threw his arm around her shoulder and y/n felt an odd warmth heat her body that wasn’t from the doing of her flimsy jacket. “Everyone wants a chance at the Tozier.” He took his free hand, the hand that wasn’t resting on her covered skin, and pointed to himself with his thumb. 

y/n was about to ask who everyone was, but she didn’t want to give Richie the chance to list off the names of the girls he’s done. “I don’t like you, Richie.” 

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, babe.” The two were now in y/n’s room. y/n didn’t allow her eyes to meet his. Instead, found herself organizing her already tidy desk. The only thing on it was her homework from earlier and a slew of highlighters.

Richie, on the other hand, took it upon himself to take a tour. His long legs made their way across the perimeter of y/n’s room. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found and if she had spent half the time she did cleaning to go to the attitude adjustment program his mom always talked about, maybe they’d get along better.

“Your room’s changed.” Richie was now admiring her trophy shelf. Above it hung multiple metals; all gold and he stood in amazement for a while. Richie had always been smart. His grades always surpassed his parents’ expectations, but he never tried. He never made a deal to push himself or shoot for the stars. He never got why awards were such a big deal. Hell, Derry didn’t even make a big deal out of them. But as his magnified eyes stared patiently through his coke bottle lenses at the shiny medallions and gold cups that were displayed proudly in y/n’s room, a part of him wished he had tried harder.

“Yeah.” y/n wished she weren’t so quick as she cleaned because that meant facing him sooner. “People change, I guess. The room’s just a part of the process.” She bit her lip and thought back to how things used to be. Richie and y/n were nowhere near close, but she hadn’t always hated him. 

“y/n, I want you to meet someone,” Maggie Tozier said softly to a small girl who wore her hair in pigtails and a puppy dog face wherever she went.

y/n, who spent her days hiding behind her mom’s legs and was never the one to talk to people who weren’t her friends or parents, looked between Maggie and the boy standing next to her as she sat crouched in the grass in her backyard.

The y/l/n’s had invited the Toziers over for lunch and Maggie thought this would be the perfect day to introduce her son to their daughter.

“Hey!” Richie Tozier had always been a loudmouth. From when he was first able to speak, the Tozier household was filled with nothing but incessant chit-chat, whether or not it was worth listening to. Maggie and Wentworth loved him regardless. “I betcha can’t fit your whole fist in your mouth. I can-!” Richie unhinged his jaw and he was about to force his balled-up hand to the back of his throat until Maggie scolded him for being ungentlemanly. “Sorry, ma.” He looked down, discouraged until he caught a glimpse of y/n’s shy smile and the beginning of a laugh.

It would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship—maybe even more—both the Toziers and y/l/n’s had suspected. 

How wrong they were. 

Sure, Richie and y/n were ‘friends’, but they were the forced-acquaintance-like type. The only time Richie and y/n had any solid interactions with each other was when their parents had their lunch dates together and they served as the tag-a-longs.

At school, y/n found her own group of friends with Stacy Howards and Regina Carmichaels. Stacy was a pretty girl who found out about her love of cheerleading at an early age and even though the popularity got to her from time to time, she still knew where her loyalties lied. Regina was like y/n—quiet, reserved, and focused on her studies. But she didn’t wear anything that revealed above the knee, on account of, she wasn’t allowed. The three had been inseparable ever since the third grade.

Richie had seemed to find his own group, too. A young boy named Bill Denbrough who would grow into his looks and lead them through silly adventures, Stan Uris (one of the only Jews in Derry), and a hypochondriac whom Richie called ‘Eds’, short for Eddie Kaspbrack. But his group would only continue to grow while y/n’s would stay because while seven’s the lucky number, three’s company.

y/n exhaled sharply, recalling how things used to be. The simpler times. She looked over from her desk to see Richie, whose hands were tracing the raised words scrawled on the metal trophy. 

Perfect Attendance Award (1989-1990)

“Don’t touch my stuff!” She shouted and a startled Richie pulled his hand away shakily but also clumsily, causing the golden cup to fall from its stand and the others to shift. They were now slightly askew from their original place. y/n cringed at the sound of the award hitting the hardwood floor; certain that would leave a mark. 

“Sorry,” Richie mumbled insincerely while he bent down to pick it up. He recklessly put it back and it was definitely not in the position it sat in beforehand. 

A scoff accidentally left  its way from y/n’s mouth and an idea formed in Richie’s head. 

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” y/n couldn’t see the smirk on his lips because he was turned away from her. 

“Only the insufferable ones.” y/n’s eyes narrowed at the back of Richie’s head. “You can be a real asshole sometimes.” 

“I hate to break it to ya, but you’re no walk in the park either.” Richie turned around. He was preparing himself for a smack to the head or jab in the gut. He didn’t expect for y/n’s searing stare to have some sort of newfound effect on him. 

y/n had always been pretty. Whether it be when they were twelve and she wore white, collared shirts under her yellow, cable-knit sweaters. Or in freshman year when her hair grew longer and her shirts got shorter. 

But the question, if Richie had ever thought about her or not, would remain a mystery to y/n. It would be weird to make out with the girl you knew since Velcro shoes and He-man, right? Right?

y/n’s eyes trailed from Richie’s to his lips, similarly to how she’d done earlier that day. But earlier that day a cigarette was nested between his perfect—chapped lips. Now, the only thing that stood between their lips was the space between them and tension.

“Whatever.” y/n was about to leave, not caring that Richie Tozier would be left to his own devices in her room. She just wanted to be in any room he wasn’t. But a hand, decorated in silver rings and chipped nail polish, stopped her from doing so. This was the second time someone had stopped her from leaving by laying their hand on her shoulder.

There was no time to ask for questions because Richie’s lips were attached to hers, kissing away her grimace. It was a total paradox: his lips were cracked, yet soft and even though they had just eaten dinner she could taste mint on his tongue.

The kiss was rough and full of want. Richie wanted to know what she tasted like. Richie wanted to know what she felt like. Richie wanted to know her.

y/n pulled apart from him. She stayed long enough to know what his kisses felt like but left fast enough to leave him wanting more. 

“Why’d you do that?” She said in between gasps for air. They were both left breathless from the intensity of it all. 

Richie shrugged and y/n hated how apathetic he could be. “Just felt like it.” His hands slipped into his back pockets. His eyes then started to travel from her neck to her body. He started to wonder what she looked like without that jean jacket on. Or any clothes on. 

y/n knew what Richie wanted. It was just the question if she’d give it to him or not. She shrugged her shoulders in an equivalent fashion as to how Richie shrugged his so that the jacket slipped off, revealing the exposed skin her tank top allowed for.

A faint whistle echoed from Richie’s lips. The same lips that were just on hers a moment ago. He took the time to stare at—no—admire her sharp collarbones and the skin that her top left no imagination for. A sudden rush of goosebumps pricked y/n’s now exposed shoulders at the sound of him whistling and she had to tell herself to keep her composure.

“Is this the part where we have amazing sex and afterward I’m just suddenly supposed to forgive you?” y/n’s words were like a knife, stabbing into Richie’s unusually open state. Nonetheless, her arms were reaching to take off her shirt and her legs were already kicking off her loose jeans.

“Don’t try an’ break the fourth wall.” Richie mirrored her. His shirt flew across the room, it wasn’t like he cared where it landed. His only pair of good jeans marked where he once stood. He was now on her. His lips left sloppy, wet kisses that trailed from her heated cheeks to her neck.

The two were fast to make their way to y/n’s bed—Richie taking his rightful place on top of her and y/n wrapping her legs around him. Her hips bucked up to his as she tried to relieve the built-up stress and ache in her core, but it only caused the heat in her underwear to pool, even more, soaking it further.

“Christ, you’re dripping.” Richie felt the dampness from her panties transfer to his boxers. His index and middle finger reached down, swiping at her heat through the lacy fabric. y/n whimpered as she watched him lick the slick from his fingers afterward. “You have to be quiet, okay? If we get busted my dad’ll sock me.” Richie whispered in her ear, his lips barely ghosting the shell of it.

y/n’s eyes fluttered at the small sensation. Do it again, Richie. But she would never admit her longing for him. Her legs tightened around him (if that were even possible) and she only wished that Richie would get the hint without her having to say it.

“Needy, are we?” y/n’s eyes rolled under her shut eyelids at the sound of Richie’s voice. The boy was all talk, non-stop. If they didn’t hurry, y/n feared her mom would check up on the two. All she could do was pray the Toziers kept them busy with conversation.

Richie held himself up with his left arm while his right hand rubbed indecipherable shapes on her clit. y/n wanted to cry out, but she knew better than that and she would get more than just a handful from Richie if she did. His long, dexterous fingers knew their way around a girl and y/n couldn’t help but think to how many times he’s done this before.

He was fast when he slipped a finger into her, then one became two, and two became none just as the top of y/n’s head hit her headboard from throwing her head back in pleasure.

“Why’d you stop?” y/n whispered. Her hips ground against him again and she could feel how hard he had gotten. These few seconds of paused breaths were about as much fun for her as it was for him.

“I think I hear someone.” Richie blinked and sat up. His full attention had reverted to the sounds outside her room and he was sure those footsteps weren’t y/n’s imaginary friend.

y/n saw this as an opportunity to get Richie back for all the times he’s gotten at her. The accidental trips in the hallways. The snide comments. The times he’s hooked up with other girls that weren’t her. She pushed him so he laid flat on his back, all sprawled out for her. She pressed a kiss to his lips. She kissed him hard. All the pent-up anger and resentment she had towards him was released into that kiss. Her lips then trailed their way down his body. They were feather-light and tickled his freckled skin. She was careful not to make marks, but it was tempting. It was tempting not to leave a purple bruise on his hipbone only for his next hookup to ask who’s that from? And for him to reply actually, I don’t think we should do this.

y/n looked up at Richie with the same puppy dog eyes she used to wear when they were six and Richie just about had a heart attack. The girl relieved him of his confinements (and other things), only for his manhood to unveil itself. It was eager for her, the tip glazed with precum and y/n’s mouth couldn’t help but water at the thought of being the one to get him off. She took him in her dainty hands. The same hands he watched handle the knife with. The same hands that wound their way around his neck and played with his unruly hair when he was on top of her. She pumped him cautiously; tenderly, before taking him in her mouth. She first kissed the tip, remnants of precum glossing her lips, and then swallowed around him.

Richie moaned at the feeling and y/n giggled, the vibrations sending him into endless bliss. The girl below him took one of her hands and placed it over his mouth in the same way he had told her to be quiet earlier. She smiled, feeling his mouth on her hand and her mouth-

“Richie?” It was Wentworth Tozier and y/n had never been so glad to be behind closed doors. 

y/n released the hand that was cupped over his trash mouth. “Yea-yeah, dad?” His eyes were wide and not because he was in awe of the night he had been waiting for since forever, was finally happening. 

“Are you ready to go? We’ve just about finished up.” 

Richie found it all of the sudden harder to contain his sounds and the sensation of y/n’s mouth taking his length multiplied by tenfold. 

“Ye-yeah.” Richie cursed himself for turning into his stuttering friend. Except instead of a stuttering Bill, it would be a stuttering Richie. 

“You’re not having any issues in there, are you?” Wentworth pressed further and Richie’s hands flew to y/n’s hair. Her head bobbed up and down at the command of him and the only thing Richie could do now was cross his fingers for a fast release. 

“I just lost my ring,” he managed to get out. 

“Aw. It’s not the nice one, is it?” Wentworth recalled how much that one had cost. The rings Richie wore were mostly costume jewelry, aside from the one plain band made of real silver. 

“N-no.” Richie was frantic. “But it’s just one I like.”  He stifled a grunt using his own ring-clad hand—where every ring resided just fine.

“Do you need any help?” I need you to go away. 

“No!” He was suspiciously eager. “y/n’s helping me.” 

“Okay, okay. Three’s a crowd.” Wentworth knew how to take a hint. “Your mom and I’ll be waiting in the car. Please be down shortly.” 

It was only until Richie couldn’t hear his father’s footsteps anymore when he choked out a moan he’d been holding in for far too long. 

y/n separated from him after swallowing the lst of his high. She left him with a thick stripe from her tongue pressed to the underside of his cock and breaths so heavy he could barely hear himself think. 

“Christ.” Richie was still trying to find his breath and y/n only eyed him innocently. She got up from the bed to retrieve her clothes, he would have to get his own, giving him a full view of her backside. 

“You talk too much,” y/n said nonchalantly. Her hands that were once on him were now searching through her drawers for a different pair of underwear. She’d have to shower again once the Toziers left but the pooling between her thighs felt too uncomfortable to tolerate for a second more.

Richie was sat upright on y/n’s four-poster bed. His glasses were fogged, an accurate representation of how his mind felt. A weird haze kept him from thinking straight. It was different from when you smoked green and he couldn’t help but think that this was the first time he’d gotten off in weeks.

“Richie?” y/n asked almost concerned. She appeared in front of him and she looked like she came straight from one of his dreams. Her cheeks were still flushed and hot from earlier when their skin collided and she hadn’t combed the sex out of her hair yet. Richie hated the Led Zeppelin t-shirt that covered her figure and he wordlessly pleaded to stay the night, the only indication coming from his big doe eyes that were blown with lust and sinful thoughts. “Richie!”

The shrill sound of her voice made him blink and he finally saw y/n for who she was.

“You have to leave.”

“Gee, sugar. You sure welcomed my stay.” His pupils were quick to contract when they made a trip to the back of his head.

y/n scoffed and before Richie could make a smart comment he was met with his clothes thrown at his chest and another order to leave.

“The princess gets what the princess wants,” were the last spoken words before y/n slammed the bedroom door behind him. But y/n wouldn’t confess that it was Richie she fantasized about that night while her left hand traveled beneath her fresh pair of underwear. She’d pretend her fingers were his, but it wasn’t the same when she couldn’t meet the same feeling of euphoria he gave her.

Unsurprisingly, it was Richie to address their rendezvous the next day. They were at school: y/n hung by a row of lockers with Stacy at her hip as she talked about her new cheer routine.

Richie immediately spotted y/n who was sporting dark wash skinny jeans and another band tee, but the hem reached just above her navel. He faintly recognized the blondie next to her, recalling if they had ever done it or not but he assumed if y/n was friends with her the answer was most likely no.

“Hey.” His voice was coarse and a shallow part of y/n wanted to know if he had found another girl to get off with when he left her place.

“Hi.” y/n’s eyes never left Stacy’s and she pretended not to be interested in what he had to say.

“y/n.” Her stomach felt hollow at the sound of him saying her name. She digressed, still giving her friend her full attention. “y/n.” His voice was firmer now. They had all the time in the world, seemingly because it was the end of the day, but Richie needed to talk to her now.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to talk to someone?” y/n bit back harshly. She didn’t mean it.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to talk to you?” Richie grew agitated and y/n liked the sound of desperation from him. Desperate for her.

“It’s fine, y/n.” Stacy was understanding but she shot Richie an offhanded glance that left him speechless and self-conscious. “I have practice anyway.” After she kissed y/n’s cheek goodbye, she skipped off to what y/n presumed was the football field.

“Whew, where can I get some of that action?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows which earned him a slap to his shoulder.

“What do you want?” y/n still didn’t make eye contact with the boy in front of her—a pattern he was just now starting to pick up on.

“Last night…” Richie’s eyebrow raised suggestively, and y/n knew exactly what he was hinting at just from the tone of his voice because what else had happened last night?

“Last night was a mistake,” y/n lied. She had to keep her guard up around him or else she’d get hurt.

“You think so?” Richie’s back slumped against the lockers next to hers while y/n continued to shove books into her bag. “I kinda liked it,” he admitted.

y/n’s eyes widened, and she swore her ears were deceiving her.

They weren’t.

Richie and y/n had spent the past week switching between each other’s houses. On Tuesday it was Richie’s because the ‘rents would be AWOL and on Wednesday it was y/n’s because it was her house the yearbook club would be meeting on that day and she had to be there to set up.

“I don’t see why ya have to go to that stupid thing,” Richie grunted before pushing in. “Who buys yearbooks anyways?”

“A lot of people.” y/n said, partially annoyed that they had to be fast and also annoyed at how much Richie talked during sex.

Their sessions were usually quick and sloppy. Neither taking the time for foreplay, and neither caring. Hands gripped skin and teeth clashed. As long as the other got their release, it didn’t matter. It was a system. Richie would meet y/n at her place and y/n would meet Richie at his. They’d part with a goodbye and nothing more. Anything more would be crossing the line.

It was on a Monday when Richie Tozier found himself shakily opening the handle to y/n’s front door. It was out of character for him to be nervous about this stuff, but he was. They’d been hooking up after school for a few weeks now and although they hadn’t had a session planned for today. It was like an unspoken agreement.

He didn’t bother to see if the door was locked or not. He already knew the y/l/n’s kept a spare key under the welcome mat so he welcomed himself to use it.

Her house was eerily quiet. He bet he could hear a pin drop if he tried to find the one sitting at the bottom of his backpack. But he didn’t. For a second, it occurred to Richie that no one was home. He wanted to recheck if the cars were in the driveway until he remembered y/n didn’t drive. Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was now Richie ‘The Snoop’ Tozier as he made his way up the stairs to her room. An uncomfortable stillness blanketed the air but Richie only continued his path.

He caught on quick once he saw the door to her room was open, giving Richie a full view of y/n leaning against the edge of the balcony that was connected to her bedroom.

“y/n!”

She looked peaceful as the wind lifted her hair—it would take her body too, just one push.

y/n didn’t notice her name from his lips as he called for her. The only cohesive thing that ran through her mind was the sound of her thoughts. Do it. Do it. Do it. 

She was about to. Her grip on the railing tightened before letting go completely and her feet pushed off to meet the air’s welcoming breeze. But the exoneration y/n had ever so hoped for was replaced by the tight embrace of Richie Tozier as his arms wrapped around her torso. He held her tight even though her body fell limp at his touch.

“y/n.” She wanted to crawl in a hole at her name on his tongue. The high-spirited and playful little girl Richie Tozier once knew and held close was replaced with a sad—miserable—teenager and Richie had to take a step back because it became apparent to him that he didn’t know her at all.

A hot tear burned its way down her cheek which Richie wiped with the pad of his thumb.

“Why do you care?” y/n whispered. She was too weak to move so she sat with him. She sat with his arms strewn around her to keep her from doing anything stupid.

“What do you mean why?” Richie was calm under the weight of the situation. Honey dripped from his voice, soothing her open wound and y/n reluctantly felt her body relax with his.

“We hate each other.” The words stung because honesty hurts and Richie’s dry mouth swallowed, buying him time to think of a reply.

“Where did it all go wrong, sugar?” He asked. Richie genuinely wondered what had changed between them and y/n’s heartbeat picked up rapid-fire because she remembered the events, as well as she, remembered her eighth-grade valedictorian speech.

It was the summer of ‘89. School had just let out and y/n rushed home to change from her school clothes and call up the Toziers’ landline—a number she had memorized by heart.

She threw open her closet door, blood was rushing through her veins as she decided what to wear. It took her a moment and she wondered what Richie’s favorite color was. She finally decided on blue to match his eyes.

Mrs. y/l/n had scolded y/n for running in the house because she just swept the floor and she didn’t want tracks again, but y/n didn’t care as she dialed the home phone with the precision of a hunter. y/n sat patiently in her baby blue sundress with her legs crossed on the velvet armchair while the dial tone rang. A giggle couldn’t help but escape her lips from the thrill of it all.

She’d never been so bold to call up her crush and now she was finally doing it.

“Hello?” It was Maggie Tozier’s voice and y/n could tell she hurried to the phone before this.

“Is Richie there?” y/n asked timidly. She wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t get the chance to talk to him because she died from a heart attack right there, but she praised herself in her head for containing her loose giggles.

The other end was silent for a moment. “Richie can’t come to the phone right now.” Maggie sounded sad and y/n understood. “Maybe try again tomorrow?”

She did. She had tried again that whole week and she was met with the same answer each time.

Embarrassment finally took the form of a soon-to-be-highschooler as y/n couldn’t bring herself to call the line, or even look at the phone that next week.

Summer of ‘89 went by as fast as it came. y/n had grown a few inches only for Richie to shoot up like a tree.

She’d only seen him sparingly. Once at Mr. Keene’s pharmacy where he was hanging out with Eddie, Bill, Stan, and a few other familiar faces; faces she’d seen before but couldn’t place a name to. The other times she’d seen him were at the barrens, but she couldn’t bring herself say anything to the boy, let alone look at him.

Their final meeting was on the first day of school: freshman year. Richie stood a good head above her and y/n had finally found the courage to confront him after her fun-less summer.

The days were still hot even though school had started to pick up and it didn’t help that Derry High had neglected to get their AC unit fixed until snowflakes carried through later that year. To combat the scorching sun that beat down on the Derry residents’ backs, y/n wore a yellow, pinstriped sundress that jutted out at the hip and ended above the knee. Her mom insisted she wore the new Mary Janes she’d splurged on, just for her, and to go with them she paired white frilly socks and a silver necklace.

“Hi!” y/n was hopeful that the one and only Richie Tozier hadn’t forgotten who she was over the summer of not calling back and sparse interactions. She stood at his locker and looked at him with the same puppy dog eyes she did when they were six. The same puppy dog eyes she’d give him the night he would come over for dinner and over welcome his stay in her room.

Richie stood there frozen. His hand had a death grip on the new history book he had just received earlier that day and even if he wanted to move, his muscles wouldn’t allow for such a thing. He forced a smile on his pretty lips that had snuck a cigarette in the bathroom earlier—a habit he picked up from over the summer—but didn’t say anything.

“I called you…” y/n said, a sort of sadness hinting in her words. She could tell there was something different about him, but she didn’t know what it was. “Busy summer?”

He felt his breath hitched and found his fingers, along with the other muscles in his being, able to move. Richie swiftly and recklessly stuffed the textbook in his backpack while y/n was tracing the numbers engraved on the metal plating of the locker next to his. The thrill of finally being in high school hadn’t yet left her body when all Richie could think about was when they’d get the fuck outta there. 

“You could say that.” Richie didn’t really know what happened that summer. All he knew was that there were a couple missed calls from y/n—according to his mom. And it’d be too embarrassing to try and rekindle what little they had now.

“Well, if you aren’t busy right now…” y/n’s words started to trail off, becoming a distant memory in Richie’s mind until they picked up again. “We could hang out after school?” There sparked a glimmer of hope in her big eyes and Richie felt his insides twist into a bow.

The loud, ear-piercing sound of metal hitting metal made y/n jump when Richie slammed his locker door shut. “We’re not friends.”

“What?” She was in disbelief at what the boy in front of her was saying even though he wore a straight face.

Richie sighed. “Look. I don’t know how many times I have to explain this to ya but listen good: just cos our parents are all chummy doesn’t mean we gotta be.” He hadn’t blinked since he started talking and his hard stare confirmed the awful feeling in y/n’s stomach.

“F-fine. If that’s how you feel.” y/n kept herself from bursting in front of the boy she harbored a crush for. She turned away from him and made quick to excuse herself from his presence.

y/n remembered never touching her Mary Janes after that day. They still sat in the back of her closet collecting dust—still shining as if they were new. She would spend the rest of her freshman year in t-shirts she’d cropped herself and figuring out how to get the most natural-looking tears in her jeans.

y/n remembered hating Richie Tozier ever since.

Silent tears streaked her cheek. Some fell on Richie’s sleeve and he felt guilty. “Oh, kid. I don’t hate you.” The sound of his heartbeat through his shirt soothed her, like how a lullaby calmed a child. Richie didn’t expect an answer from the girl in his arms. He just stroked her hair and hoped she’d stay as still as she was in his arms when it was time for him to go.

“Regina hates me.”

y/n gave Richie no further explanation as to why three became two in her already small group of friends. It was earlier that day when she had found out Regina Carmichaels had been talking to Ellie Wozniack behind her back—revealing y/n’s deepest secrets and embarrassing stories—since grade school. She only found out from Stacy who was in the handicapped stall during her lunch period. The cheerleader was doodling pink hearts on the wall that separated the two toilets in the girl’s bathroom next to the cafeteria when she heard a familiar voice groan in disgust about how much she couldn’t stand y/n. It was in study hall when y/n and Stacy finally shared a period when Stacy told her friend what she’d heard and seen through the crack of the door.

“My mom hates me.” y/n’s voice cracked, and Richie felt his grip tighten. She didn’t go into detail either. She didn’t have to.

“You have me,” Richie whispered in her ear. His thumb traced indistinguishable patterns against the sleeve of her shirt much like the night that started it all. One last sob escaped her dry throat and y/n felt herself turning in Richie’s arms.

Her eyes meticulously searched his, noting every fleck of color, every detail. His mirrored hers in expression and she felt her heartbeat slow.

The two didn’t have to say anything, they just knew.

It was Richie who pressed a kiss to her temple. The soft skin of his lips made their way down to her lips—they spent extra time on her cheekbone which was wet and salty from the tears that streamed down it.

The other times y/n and Richie kissed, it was rushed, neither of them taking the time to notice the other; only caring about getting off. But as Richie’s soft lips captured y/n’s, it was different from the times before. It was slow as each party took the time to explore each crevice of each other’s mouth and discover the natural feeling that stayed hidden in the pit of their stomachs in which only at this moment did it reveal itself.

The kiss they shared exuded a feeling y/n had never felt with him the previous times their bare skin found each other. It was nice. Richie was taking all the precious minutes he had with her and it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

A certain feeling of loss washed over both of them when they had to pull apart for air. When her lips were bare, the only thing y/n wanted being to feel him on her again.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Richie took her hand in his. He knew he wasn’t the sole reason for all her problems, but he could be the one to relieve her of at least one.

y/n was quiet. Her hand squeezed his, letting him know she heard him. “Stay with me?”

“I’ll stay with you forever,” Richie said, his words only loud enough for her to hear, only meant for her to hear.

[aforrestofstuff]

I’ve been looking at your posts for a while now and I love your Headcanons so much! I only made an acc today just to thank you for making these! Also I’ve also seen your A03 acc and read your fanfics there and I think you’re a great writer! I wrote a huge comment on one of your stories just rambling about how much I like your tumblr and works but I don’t think it sent cause I don’t have an A03 :( today I’m 15 and I was wondering if you’d make Headcanons for how you think S Class heroes would celebrate their birthdays (if that’s alright of course I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna) and also just a question, why don’t you do PPP headcanons at all? He’s an S Class Hero and I think he��s the only hero you skip out on. Other then that, keep making these headcanons cause they are great and inspire me for my own OPM crack storie book I created (Random One Punch Man Crack Fanfictions on Wattpad i only wrote one story there and only said it if you’re interested)

Thank you thank you thank you so much. I’ve already sent you a dm but I just wanted to say it again because I’m literally vibrating with happiness. Happy birthday <3.

Birthday Headcanons:

Terrible Tornado: Sticks a candle in a store-bought cupcake and calls it a day. She’ll go get her nails and hair done, buy herself a new dress, and just spend the entire time relaxing. Fubuki used to throw her parties when they were kids but she doesn’t really expect that from her anymore.

Silverfang: His disciples used to get together and throw him a surprise party every year. However, ever since the Garou Incident, Charanko will take it upon himself to fill the void somewhat and scrape together enough money to buy a cake (or the ingredients to make one) and a small gift. Silverfang can go both ways: he likes people but he can also be quiet and reflective. So, he has a great time regardless of whether or not he has a party and spends the day enjoying nature, meditating, and being thankful for living as long as he has.

Atomic Samurai: He’s not antisocial by any stretch of the word but he prefers to celebrate this day only with those closest to him. He and his disciples do something new every year and it’s always grounded and casual. Sometimes they’ll all go out to drink, sometimes Okama and Iaian will prepare a feast, sometimes they’ll have lighthearted competitions on who’s the best swordsmaster (with weird contests like who can balance their sheaths on their head the longest and who can catch the hilt of their blade after doing a backflip 3 consecutive times). Good times all around. However, if someone mentions Atomic Samurai’s age, he will sass them to oblivion.

Child Emperor: He doesn’t really plan to do anything out of the ordinary. It’s mostly just business as usual on his birthday. But after meeting Zombieman, however, he practically gets dragged out of the lab and into something special each year. Whether it’s a horror movie marathon, a late-night drive to catch a glittering view of the city, or just chilling and stuffing themselves on sweets, it makes Zombieman a little sad to see wasted youth knowing his life (and age) is as fucked up as it is so he tries to make the kid have at least a little fun the best he can. Child Emperor always has a great time and he now sees the importance of valuing youth and no longer shows shame in pausing his work and enjoying himself every once and a while.

Metal Knight: When he wakes up on his birthday, his alarm clock plays a little tune. That’s about it. He sees no real importance behind age or youth or seniority because as long as he’s at his height of intellect, nothing else matters. Gotta build them robots. It’s business as usual.

King: Holy shit. Shut the blinds. Lock the doors. Silence the phones. It’s game time, baby. Twenty-four hours of blue screen madness. He pigs out on chips, soda, buys himself a cake, and absolutely revels in solitude. He calls his mom each year and they talk for hours on end. She tells him how proud she is of him being a kickass hero and killing monsters and he dies a little inside each time but he loves her nonetheless and keeps up the facade for her sake. She sends him a card with a few coupons and a love-filled note about how much she adores him. He nearly cries each year upon receiving it.

Zombieman: He buys the best cigars he can find, cooks himself a massive T-bone, drinks an entire six-pack of beer, and reclines while watching crime movies. He wears sweatpants, polishes his weaponry, plays Mötley Crüe loud enough for his neighbors to yell at him for it, and just has a great time all by himself. He doesn’t really like parties or get-togethers and even sometimes has to take a break from Child Emperor. This is his day to recharge his social battery and sleep for seventeen hours. This is his day to get absolutely wasted on expensive alcohol and accidentally hotbox his own house. This is his day.

Drive Knight: Pretty much the same as Metal Knight. Whenever the clock strikes midnight on his birthday, a little tune plays in his processing unit and that’s about the end of it.

Pig God: Every restaurant in the damn country has a special on his birthday. He just goes around collecting free food, taking pictures with fans, and eats until he can’t eat anymore (which is a lot). The restaurants he visits have pictures of him eating their food on the walls; he’s become a bit of a indication that if he visits a somewhere to eat, the food’s gotta be bomb as hell. He doesn’t really do anything other than that. He doesn’t really strike up conversation or anything, he just eats in silent contentment and that’s enough for everyone to have a good time.

Superalloy Darkshine: He’s a fan favorite as well. Social media will be blowing up with birthday messages, he’ll be trending on whatever the OPM universe equivalent of Twitter is, and he’ll waste no time going out to meet his fans and spreading birthday happiness. He’ll eat cake, drink with strangers, share laughs and smile without stopping. People will give him little gifts and free food and he accepts it all graciously. Everyone’s invited. Good times all around.

Watchdog Man: This is one of the few days of the year in which he takes the day off from protecting City Q. He’ll just sleep a full twenty-four hours and resume his duty the next day like clockwork each year. Sometimes passerby will leave him little gifts on his podium like meats and dog treats but he doesn’t really take any of it since he’s really particular about what he eats.

Flashy Flash: On this day, he spends time reflecting on how much he’s improved since last year and adopts an extra-vigorous training regimen for the next twenty-four hours. One year, he climbed a mountain in sub-zero temperatures. Another, he ran across a saltwater lake without breaking the surface tension of the water. He spends it alone, occasionally has a drink, and that’s about it. Sometimes he’ll go out to have a nice dinner but that’s only on years he believes he’s deserved it.

Demon Cyborg: He doesn’t really care about his birthday. This makes Doctor Kuseno kind of sad because he believes that Genos is still a kid who deserves to enjoy his birthday like one. So, he does what he can to make the day somewhat special while also pertaining to what Genos could want. This is very hard because Genos never outright says he wishes for anything and that means Kuseno has to do a lot of guesswork. It varies year to year, but the best gift he’s ever given Genos was the sense of taste so the kid could eat birthday cake and enjoy it. Genos isn’t too fond of sweets, he much prefers fruits over cakes, but nevertheless, he was so happy to get one step closer to humanity that something malfunctioned in his head and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking for a whole week.

Metal Bat: Go hard or go home. This fuckin kid pulls an all-nighter with Zenko on the weekend of his birthday to stay inside, build a pillow fort, and play video games. They order pizza, do prank calls, play fighting games, and when the sun comes out they get a couple hours of sleep before riding out again at the height of a sugar high to go to the local carnival (he’s a summer baby) and spend a paycheck’s worth of cash. Once they come home, they collapse in Bad’s bed together, curl up, and fall asleep to some movies.

Tanktop Master: He and the Tanktop Gang have an all-out birthday bash. Everyone and their grandma is invited. There’s food, alcohol, and sports playing on the television in the host’s house (each of them take turns every year). The first few hours of partying, everyone’s having lighthearted fun and watching sports and drinking lightly (Tanktoppers drink responsibly). After that, everyone kind of calms down and they all gather around in the living room and sit on the floor together and just talk about what a great year it is to be alive. They catch up, share stories, eat snacks, and wish Tanktop Master the happiest of birthdays. He absolutely adores spending time with his friends and gives a toast to everyone and their hard work. After that, he goes home and calls his mom before going to bed.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He and his boyfriend share a slice of birthday cake from the prison cafeteria with a single candle stuck into it. His boyfriend gives him crochet and knitting lessons, they and the other prisoners dance to some music, and the guards give him a pat on the back along with some birthday wishes. That’s about it. There’s only so much he can do in prison, but he makes it work with what he has and has the time of his life nevertheless. Angel Hugs all around.

And to answer your question about PPP, I straight up just forgot he existed akshshshs. I’ll be brainstorming some stuff about him soon. Love you lots 💞💞💞💕

[buckleysjareau]

everything is blue

When Evan Buckley is ten, he discovers nail polish.

-

In which Buck paints his nails, Eddie is flustered, and May is matchmaker.

read on ao3

When Evan Buckley is ten years old, he discovers nail polish. At twenty-eight years old, thinking back, he feels like an idiot because who doesn’t know what nail polish is?

Maddie always had some bright color on her nails and ten year old Buck wanted to have bright nails more than anything. He sneaks the nail polish from his sister’s room at three in the morning, thanking God he’s always been good at keeping quiet, and he picks out a sky blue polish. Watching Maddie, he figured it would be as easy as she made it look, but the nail polish is all over his nails and fingers by the time Maddie finds him. 

“If you wanted me to paint your nails, you could have just asked.” She whispers. 

Buck jumps. “Please don’t tell mom and dad.”

Maddie tiredly smiles. “Lips are sealed.” 

“Throw away the key?”

“Throw away the key.” She holds out her pinky and smiles when his small pinky links with hers. “Here, let me help.” She guides Buck to the toilet, sits him down, and grabs nail polish remover from the cabinet. 

“You still want this color?” Maddie smiles as she holds up the Essie bottle. 

Buck grins. “Yeah, it reminds me of summer.” 

When Maddie finishes his nails, he’s beaming. He’s wanted to have pretty nails since he saw Maddie’s glitter polish collection. 

“Alright, Evan, time for bed. You better get up tomorrow when I wake you up for school.” Maddie warns. 

Buck just rolls his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

The next day, things go from good to bad within a second. He’s reeling, so happy and loves the color of his nails and he feels like nothing can take it away. Until something does take it away.

That something being Logan Hawk. He’s always had a problem with the sixth grader, he thought he owned their grade school and even at ten years old, Buck wanted to punch the asshole out of him but because he’s little wimpy Evan he won’t. 

“You a queer or somethin’, Buckley?” Logan grabs Buck’s hand and examines the blue on his nails. “Huh? Use your words, queer.” 

He doesn’t remember doing what he does next, and he hates that he doesn’t remember it. He’d love to remember finally punching Logan Hawk. He does however remember his parents coming in to take him home for being suspended. 

He remembers the entire ride home, his dad’s yelling loud enough to hurt Buck’s ears. Madeline is going to pay for letting you use her nail polish. Doesn’t she know it’s only for girls? No son of mine is gonna be a queer, you hear me? As soon as we get home, wash that shit off your nails, Evan. If not, there will be hell to pay.

 That was the first and only time he’d painted his nails. Now at twenty-eight, a little more than drunk, he doesn’t hear Logan’s voice or his dad’s as he feels the need to paint his nails a pretty color. Or colors, more than one color would be exciting.

He picks up his phone and dials the one person who he knows isn’t at work and would have nail polish. “Hey ‘Thena.” 

“What’s up, Buckaroo?” He hears the amusement in her voice and grins. 

“Will you come over and paint my nails?” 

“Paint your nails?” She tries to clarify.

“Yeah, I really want to paint them but I have none and I’m really shit at it. Can you bring nail polish?” 

“You’re lucky I love you, Buckaroo.” 

Buck feels like there’s sunshine coming from his heart and lighting his whole apartment. “Awwwww, ‘Thena, I love you too.”

The phone hangs up and ten minutes later, Athena is letting herself in with the key he gave her after he’d fallen down the stairs trying to get to his bed in his cast. She’s got a small bin in her hand, full of colors and glitter, and Buck is beaming.

“Should I be concerned that it’s only eight at night and you’re this drunk?” Athena raises her brow and crosses her arms and Buck thinks it’s so motherly, he wants to cry. 

“I’m not that drunk.” He pouts. “Can I see the colors?”

Athena snorts. “Knock yourself out, kid.” 

He sets aside a silver nail polish and continues to look. He does the same thing with the pink, and when he finds the exact shade Buck used when he was ten, he grips it in his hand and places it near his chest. Athena’s looking at him weird, but really, Buck couldn’t find it in him to be embarrassed about it.

“Can you do these three colors?” 

“I sure can. Can you get me a paper towel and some tissues?” 

Buck does as she says and gets comfortable on the couch when he gets back. 

It’s quiet for a minute as she carefully does the first coat of pink. When she’s done, she reaches for his other hand. “Don’t touch those, they’re not dry.” 

“Aye, aye, Captain.” He snorts. 

Athena fondly rolls her eyes. “So what’s with the sudden urge to have your nails painted?”

“It’s not sudden. I’ve wanted to paint my nails since I was ten. It didn’t go well the first time I did it, so I haven’t since. But a school bully and my asshole of a father aren’t here to tell me I can’t. Fuck toxic masculinity.” Buck is honest when he’s drunk, he’ll spill his deepest darkest secrets and not remember doing it the next day. He hates that but, here he is, still drinking and still spilling secrets. 

“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t go as well the first time, but I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to trust me to paint them for you.” 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Buck whispers dramatically.

“You can tell me anything.”

“I love Eddie so much it’s starting to hurt.” He pauses. “Do you think he’ll like my nails?”

Athena smiles. “He’ll love your nails. Maybe you should end the hurt and ask him out?”

“He’d never say yes to me.” He sighs miserably. “But, hey, let’s not focus on my breaking heart. Let’s focus on happy things because my nails already look good.”

Athena’s about to respond when her phone cuts her off. “May’s Facetiming. Probably to ask where her nail polish is.” She laughs. 

“Answer, answer, I wanna tell her she has amazing taste in nail polish.”

“You’re a child, Evan Buckley.” She rolls her eyes but answers the phone. “Hey, May.”

“Where did all the nail polish go?” The tinny voice has Buck laughing. “Is that Buck?”

“Hi, May! I’m holding your nail polish hostage, is that okay?”

He sees May laugh. “Normally when someone is held hostage, it’s not usually okay with the other person. But, yes, it’s fine.”

Buck holds up his right hand, which is completely done. “Look how pretty.”

“I see you used my sky blue Essie.” She grins, holding up her own hand with the exact shade. 

“I wore that shade when I was ten!” He giggles. “I was so happy to find it in here. You should paint my nails, too, one day!” 

May giggles. “I’ll be there. I gotta study, bye Buck, love you mom.”

Buck wakes up the next morning to his alarm. The night before rushes back to his mind and he looks at his newly painted nails. He loves them, but now sober, he hears Logan and his dad. He can hear Eddie saying something bad, even though if Buck were being rational, he knows he never would. 

He notices a note on his bedside table, a glass of water and two Advil next to it.

Remember what you said. Do what makes you happy. - Athena.

He hates that Athena knows him so well, but he holds the note to his chest and counts to ten before getting up to shower. 

The drive to the station is silent. He looks down at his nails every so often and holds onto the feeling of not caring. He gets to the station and smiles at Hen as he walks to the locker room. He changes, grabs a cup of coffee and sits down at the counter before anyone notices his nails. 

“I like the colors.” Bobby grins. Buck lets out a huge sigh of relief. 

“Me too.” 

“You painted your nails?” Hen raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Actually, Athena did.”

Clash. 

They all turn towards Eddie, who dropped his mug filled with hot coffee, as he stares at Buck’s nails. 

“What? Can’t a guy paint his nails?” Buck’s entire face is red under the stare of his best friend. 

“I- I- uh- you- I love your nails.” He's stumbling with his words and Buck is as big of a mess as he is so he refuses to talk. He smiles and grabs a broom, starting to sweep up the broken glass as Eddie continues to stare. 

“Eddie, take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Chimney snorts. 

Eddie doesn’t have a chance to quip back before the bell rings. A pileup on the 405, two major injuries, no fatalities. People really need to learn how to drive.

When they arrive at the scene, Buck follows Eddie to the first car to check on the driver.

“Sir, I’m Buck and this is Eddie, we’re here to get you out.” He starts. “What’s your name, sir?”

The man is about to reply before his eyes land on Buck’s nails and suddenly he feels self conscious. 

“Only pansies and girls paint their nails. Go help someone el-”

Eddie cuts in. “Who says nail polish is only for girls, huh? Is there a rule book somewhere that says it in writing?”

It makes you happy, don’t let them ruin it for you. There doesn’t have to be a reason to be happy because your nails are painted. I am happy. 

Athena’s voice repeats in his head as Bobby walks up.

“Is there a problem?” He has the jaws of life in his hand, so Buck figures Eddie must have asked for it when Buck spaced out. 

“No, sir.” The asshole answers. 

“Good.”

No one else bothers Buck about his nails after that. It’s been a week and Eddie is acting weird around Buck, ten times more clumsy than usual. May says it’s because he’s so flustered around him that he’s acting this way. Buck calls bullshit. 

“What’s Eddie’s favorite color?” 

“Red.” He answers before May can really finish the question. She rolls her eyes but takes out the red nail polish. “May, I’m gonna match the firetruck.” 

He can hear Bobby laugh from the kitchen and sees him peeking out. “I think Eddie would love that.”

May hums in agreement. 

“You know, I’m not painting my nails for Eddie.” 

“You’re not painting your nails, I am.” May laughs when Buck grumbles. “I wasn’t painting my nails for Darius but this red here got me a second date, so trust it.” 

Buck rolls his eyes. “Still mad I didn’t get to give him the shovel talk before Bobby.”

“That would have been one too many shovel talks though. Between mom, dad, and Bobby? He would have walked out for sure if you gave him one.” 

Buck snorts. “If he walked away because of an extra shovel talk then he deserves the shovel talks.” 

“Alright, alright, we’re not talking about Darius and me. We’re talking about you and Eddie.”

“Were we?” 

“Yes.” Bobby, Athena, and May say in unison. 

“That’s funny because there is no me and Eddie.” 

“Whatever you say, lover boy.” May quips as she paints the pinky. “All done.” 

“You staying for dinner, kid?” Bobby asks as Buck stands. 

“Wish I could but Eddie and I are taking Christopher to the skatepark.” He rolls his eyes when he receives identical looks from Athena and May. “Has anyone ever told you how creepy it is how much you look alike?” 

“Every day.” 

Buck can’t really point out why he felt so nervous driving to Eddie’s house. Eddie had no issue with Buck wanting to paint his nails, he wasn’t mad, he was just...acting weird.

So why does today feel life changing? He’s hanging out with Eddie and Christopher like he does every weekend. There should be nothing different in the way he feels but there is and Buck can’t tell if it’s his anxiety or something is going to happen.

He knocks on the door when he gets there. He never usually knocks but somehow this time, it seemed appropriate to knock instead of walking in. 

“Since when do you knock?” Eddie asks in lieu of his normal greeting. 

Buck only shrugs in response. “You guys ready?”

“Not quite. Chris still needs to finish his homework.” 

They’re walking into the kitchen when Buck spots a lot of dark blue stains on a dish towel. He looks over and sees the nail polish and Buck can’t seem to function. He just looks back and forth between Eddie and the nail polish. 

Eddie looks sheepish. “Uh, yeah, I tried to paint my nails. Not as easy as Shannon made it look.”

Buck doesn’t answer. He feels like he lost all ability to function. 

“Buck? Did I break y-” Buck’s lips are on Eddie’s before he gets the chance to finish his sentence. Eddie is kissing back, cups Buck’s jaw in his hands and Buck mirrors his movements. His heart is beating out of his chest, he can’t believe this is happening, thinks maybe it’s an amazing dream and he’ll wake up and be ten years old again but he prays to stay in this dream as long as possible. 

They break apart for air. 

“Wow.” Eddie breathes. “If I knew painting my nails would have gotten you to kiss me like that, I would have done it way sooner.” 

Buck feels like he’s about to choke on his own spit. “I- you- what?” 

“I you what?” Eddie smirks. “By the way, love the red.”

“I guess May was right then.” Buck sighs. “Since we’ve got time, maybe painting someone else’s nails is easier than painting your own?” 

“What was May right about?” 

“That the red would get me a date?” He smiles innocently.

“Funny. She said the same thing when I borrowed the blue from her.” Eddie laughs and the two look at each before laughing, realizing May set them up. “She gave me the shovel talk, you know.”

“That girl is a carbon copy of her mother, I swear.” Buck laughs. “So how about that date?”

“I’ll pick you up Friday at eight.” 

“Don’t be late.” Buck winks.

“Are you talking to yourself?” 

“Rude!”

[nyamafriend]

TELL US ABOUT YOUR OCS!!!!

Bro,,,,,, I love them sm. I’ll just do a quick bullet list of a few and if y’all wanna learn more about any of them (or wanna hear about any more of them) lmk. Some of them WILL be dnd characters, just btw

- First up is my girl Cassie! Her name is short for Cassiopeia bc I love mythology and stars. She’s in her 30s ish, and somehow she went from maybe saphhic to the biggest femme lesbian ever. Also probably ace. She’s very happy and colorful, lots of paintings (yeah she’s an art gay, deal w it) and pins, has like 3 cats. She has fairy lights up everywhere and is probably a plant mom

- Valerie!! I love her. So much. She’s Cassie’s adoptive/foster daughter (not sure which yet, but one of them) and she’s somewhere in her late teens (probably like 17). She only recently came out as trans, and is getting used to Cassie treating her in a supportive way. My girl has a dry sense of humor and names all of her belongings including her piccolo. His name is Bane, short for Bane-If-My-Existence. She is SUCH a cat mom, I’m serious those cats adore her. Her and Cassie have regular nail polish dates where they do each other’s nails and make a blanket fort and watch movies. I love their dynamic, which is great bc I made them!

- Fanta!!!! She’s an elf. There’s a story behind her name. Her dads name is Crush. Her moms name was Sunny (like Sunkist). Fanta isn’t her real name, she has a name that’s much more traditionally elven, but we don’t give a shit about that. Also I don’t remember it. She’s vv cheery, a cheerleader. Ears are a bit long bc of some goblin on her dads side. Somehow saphhic, even she doesn’t quite know what her actual sexuality is but she likes girls! At one point dated her best friend Sapphie, they lasted like 2 weeks max. Her hair is orange (no one is sure if it’s natural or dyed or magic and she doesn’t tell them) and always up in a ponytail. Also a bard, she talented. Accidentally became a little bit of a self insert haha whoops

- Dianin!! God I love this child. They’re a verdan, and my baby. Fine with any pronouns, typically uses she/they but honestly couldn’t give a shit. Vv smart, knows their way around a library. It’s honestly pretty scary. They’re really into stars (there’s some lore behind that but we aren’t gonna get into that now) and are immediately enraptured when you mention space. Very very very curious. Not the most social, so can seem a little standoffish at times but well-intentioned and willing to apologize if that happens

- Atolla Dew!!!!!! I just created her recently and my heart is FULL. This is my water genasi girl (also like 1/8 dragonborn so she has fangs bc I’m a simp) and I ADORE her. Her hair is smoke (might be water if it weren’t so hot and humid where she lives) and she is a weaponsmith! She mostly works with guns and she has her own bc my friend (who will be the dm) said she can have a gun. She’s so extremely scatterbrained and has been late to work countless times, it’s honestly so bad. She reads instruction manuals for fun bc she likes to figure out the inner workings of things. The embodiment of “longer I get my shit together, it’s over for yall” Also might end up dating her roommate Wisp but we shall see how I feel about that. Maybe QPPs

I have so many more and I love them all. If I talk about any more I’ll probably start talking about the dumb dnd characters I’ve made and put them together w their parties bc I love them all equally. Except for Fanta, out of those parties she’s my favorite

Anyway, thank you sm for asking! Fell free to ask me to elaborate or tell me to shut the fuck up

[szopenhauer]

are you hetero-/homo-/bi-sexual?: I’m an asexual lesbian have you gotten your first kiss?: of course

what form of birth control do/would you use?: homosexuality lmfao would/did you have sex before marriage?: I did  is there a difference between a crush and being in love?: there is

do you believe in love at first sight?: no, that’s lust or crush can long-distance relationships work?: yep have you ever had a long-distance relationship?: most of them were long-distance what of online relationships?: same have you ever been divorced?: I wasn’t married so... have you fallen in love in the past and regretted it?: yup how old were you when you had sex for the first time?: 28 have you ever been molested or raped?: kinda have you ever been jealous of a friend for their boy/girlfriend?: I was a tiny bit jealous of them being liked by someone but I knew their so called relationship won’t last so... but when it comes to being into my friend’s gf? nah have you ever been jealous of your boy/girlfriend’s “close” friend(s)?: sorta have you ever been jealous of your boy/girlfriend’s ex?: could say so have you ever gotten back together with an ex?: yeah

do you enjoy french-kissing?: dunno do you keep a picture of your significant other somewhere?: on pendrive, fb and her ID pic in my room on my shelf have/would you ever use whipped cream in a sexual act?: I don’t like whipped cream... or sex  do cherries or strawberries have any sexual meaning for you?: not really have you ever dumped someone?: I have have you ever been dumped?: wouldn’t say so are you (honestly) afraid of commitment?: it’s complicated do you have stuff from a previous relationship?: I only had few things (from S) and I trashed them or gave them away, I also no longer own a sheep I wanted to give for Karo but I kept a cheap ring I bought for her and the mug for May is my dad’s now, I won’t count bunch of trinkets I got in a letter from Wiktoria because we never been together - I was just crushing on her and she didn’t like me back, does the camp marriage certificate counts tho? hahaha 

When days go by, do you cross them off on the calendar? nope Are you currently counting down to something? If so, what? I am, hospital mostly Ever got injured at work? What happened? -

What color is your roof? silver, wish it was red

Last time you sharpened a pencil? I sharpened colorful pencils few months ago if that counts List all the people in your phone under T: dad  Do you pay rent to your parents? I would contribute if I had a job (or move out) How many icons are on your desktop? I cleaned my desktop recently :3 What’s your definition of a slut? I don’t use this word but - someone who has sex with many ppl that they don’t even know and spread STDs as they don’t use protection then have multiple abortions calling their pregnancy accidents

If you use the word “slut”, do you apply it to men who do the same thing as what you listed above? most of men are like that but would probably use a different word for their behavior as it’s more feminine - still it’s equally bad to act this way no matter of the gender Do you dye eggs for Easter? used to but I think it’s worthless What color hair did the last person you kissed have? last time we kissed she had very dark brown hair, she was changing colors so often in those past days... Do you like your eye color? I don’t care much about it Pens or pencils? pens Last skirt you wore and why? my gf asked me to wear her plaid skirt for a moment  What was the last magazine article you read about? not sure which was last How old is your brother’s best friend? ... If you’re old enough, do you have a credit card? If you’re not old enough, do you want one when you’re older? I don’t, I prefer cash What’s the minimum age you think someone should have a cell phone at? if kid doesn’t have to ride alone to school then older than 12 I believe? Would you ever work night crew? why not? How old is the last person you texted? 28

Does it make you nervous when someone does something dangerous showing off? very, I hate that

Have you ever had to take a pee test? shitload of times

Have you ever had to supply someone with clean pee? don’t do that

Are you in charge of cleaning anything in your household? not always

Ever carved/written anything on a park bench? also don’t do that

Have you ever had anything tailored? my mom sew 

Do you keep your eyebrows more thick or thin? natural

What color is your bedroom door? mostly white with glass in the middle

Have you ever been hunting? no way

Your take on one-night stands? Are they okay? I’m not into them 

Do you always wear a bra? basically never 

Do you have a wrist watch? nope

Do you usually jog or go for walks? walk

Do you own a pair of Dr. Martens? had two but my my red ones ripped :(

Do you like wine? disgusting

Do you scrapbook? not really

Would you feel bad about breaking up with someone on their birthday? absolutely

Have you ever sung anyone the happy birthday song? who haven’t?  How many followers do you have on Twitter? I no longer use twitter 

Do you like Hello Kitty? it’s evil

Have you ever won on one of those grabber machine things? tried but failed 

Is there an actual word for those? claw machine, ufo catcher

Have you ever been horseback-riding? I want to someday

Have you ever seen your naked back? in a mirror

Would you agree that wedding cake is so much better than any other cake? it’s not that good

Do you feel awkward with strangers in elevators? I’m glad I’m not the only one like this

Would you rather cheat and tell your other about it or be cheated on? be cheated on because I won’t cheat, that would be my decision - a mistake - that I would never forgive myself no matter of the reasons I’d have for doing that to someone I’m dating

Do you own a pair of shorts that could be mistaken for underwear? I don’t own any shorts at all

Do you have a beauty mark? like Marilyn Monroe and not only this one

Have you ever been in a shrubbery maze? as a kid

Do you think you’re the best thing that’s happened to someone? r u kidding? I might be the worst...

Is the best thing that’s ever happened to you a person? one of best

How many songs do you think you know all of the lyrics do? zero 

What’s the most emotionally painful thing you’ve ever been through? there would be a long list, too many to name

ever been kissed under fireworks? that didn’t happen

can you live a day without TV? 100% are you a bad influence? who knows night out or night in? in who was the last person you visited in the hospital? besides being there myself - my father do you hate anyone? majority of society

wanna have grandkids before you’re 50? I don’t plan to have kids so also won’t have grandkids

do you hang out with your siblings friends? they don’t like me

have you seen the movie “avatar” yet? if so, did you like it? if not do you think you will? I won’t, I heard people get suicidal because of it 

if you didn’t have to, would you ever grow up? not until my parents’ death 

do you often receive calls from random people at random times? luckily not

do you know the exact temperature right now? I know it’s hot and I suppose it’s like 30 Celsius or smth 

*it’s almost 30

what’s the worst place you ever dropped your phone? I don’t recall dropping my phone 

have you ever fainted from the heat or dehydration? never fainted at all

what is a food that you’d hate to be allergic to?: I hate allergies in general >.<

what color was the last towel you used?: pink, I don’t like it

would you prefer to date someone taller, shorter, or the same height as you? always been into shorter people and now I’m dating taller girl 

when was the last time your nose bled? not even when it was broken?

how old are you turning this year?: turned 28

who would you allow to read your thoughts for one day? thx but no

name your last reason for using a camera? fun

seven days from now, will you be in a relationship? mhm

have you ever kissed anyone with a name that starts with j or m? M

do you think you’ll be married in 10 years? if ever

could you go out in public looking like you do now? I might

is it easy for others to make you feel intimidated? hmm...

have you ever kissed someone whose name starts with an r? I have not

are you easily confused? maybe so

do you think you would make a good wife/husband? me? pfft

do you like summer? I consider it my fav season for now

where were you at 8am this morning? sleeping again, I woke up at 5 am choking and got really scared but then I went back to bed and didn’t get up until like 10 am 

what color nail polish is on your toes? my toes ain’t painted, only time I was painting them was in middle school when I was attending self defence classes and thought that my feet are fugly so adding some red color will make them look better somehow - idiotic

what are your biggest turn offs? personal

is there a baby in the room with you right now? not now but my niece is visiting so she can be here any moment now 

what is the way to your heart? with a knife - jk

what do you smell like? sweat and shampoo?

what’s in your pocket? no pockets!

anything in your mouth? saliva, teeth, tongue - the usual

ever jumped/fallen/been pushed in a pool with your clothes on? bless that NO

are you wearing any clothes that you wore yesterday? ... yes

what can you hear right now? voices outside

are you close to your siblings? *rolling my eyes*

do you bite your nails? I cut them

do you like your feet? yuk, they’re not the worst but feet are just creepy 

do you sleep well at night? not enough?

[obscurecurse]

concept: (bullets era/van days) the band gets back from tour and they park the van in front of the way family home. ray goes home to his mom. bob goes back to chicago to see his parents for a little while. but frank just... stays? the first night gerard mikey and frank hang out and smoke weed and watch movies and it's weird but it's okay. they all fall asleep in gerards room. gerard on the floor. mikey in gerards bed. frank on the small couch in the corner. when gerard wakes up frank isnt in the room anymore and the longer he lays there the less likely it seems that he got up to pee or something. gerard goes upstairs. his mom has made coffee for them. he can hear the radio on in her room upstairs. he knows he can smoke inside - but he's so used to hotels and having to go out for a smoke, that it feels more comfortable to go out for one. its a grey morning. the clouds are low and it makes gerard feel claustrophobic with the weight of the possibility of rain. as he sits on the front steps, he spots frank, or rather, he spots frank's legs, dangling out of the back of the open van doors. he goes to invesigate.

(how do i make a "read more... " break on mobile omg ༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽ )

frank is smoking a cigarette too, staring up at the ceiling of the van. "do you want to be alone?" gerard asks. frank shakes his head and scoots over so gerard can sit next to him. franks nails are chipped. so chipped. gerard eyes jagged black shapes on franks nails as frank takes a drag off his cigarette.

they smoke in silence. when franks cigarette burns down to filter, gerard hands him another one.

"i wish tour didnt have to end." he admits.

"i know. me too." gerard says

a few cigarettes later mikey comes out with a trash bag and a joint. they clean the empty water bottles. empty chip bags. spent lighters. one of bobs flannels that some drunk fan puked all over at their last show. frank collects an entire sandwhich bag of guitar picks. theyre probably all ray's but neither of the way brothers say anything. they leave all the windows rolled down to air out the smell of stale smoke and beer.

eventually gerard makes frank come back inside the house. he gets nailpolish remover and black polish from his mom's bathroom. mikey smokes in silence as gerard does frank's nails.

"it's like, if i go home. its over." frank says

"so stay here for awhile." mikey suggests.

gerard accidentally paints a line of black nailpolish across franks fingers.

frank stays. a few nights later, frank is still moping around the way house, quiet and contemplative, and gerard knows he's still upset about tour. he suggests they take the van for a spin, hoping the familiarty will give frank some closure. mikey's helping their mom with something so he stays behind.

frank is quiet on the drive. they stop at a burger joint for milkshakes. they take them back to the van and drink them in the back. its too easy to get in. gerard doesnt have to crawl around amps and guitar cases and water bottles and backpacks full of sweaty clothes.

"what do you miss the most about tour?" gerard asks when theyre settled.

"the band." frank says after a moment of deliberation, "everyone else in the world... is so boring. i just wanna be with you guys."

"i said we should all get a place together?" gerard reminds, he can't not. "and we can jam when we get back to my house. i'm sure mikey would be down."

frank just sighs.

gerard takes another sip off his milkshake, frustrated that nothing he's done all week seems to have helped frank.

"thanks, gee." frank says.

"for what?" gerard asks, more bitterly than he means to.

frank doesnt answer. "the other thing i'm gonna miss about tour," frank says instead, "is you."

gerard turns to look at him and then franks in his space, kissing the shit out of him, pressing him into the side of the van. his lips are cold from the milkshake. his tongue is cold. he tastes like a fucking strawberry milkshake. every other time theyve kissed they were drunk or on stage, or on some kind of post-show high. without any of those variables gerard doesnt know what to do exactly. his milkshake is starting to freeze his fingers so he tries to put it down carefully. as frank climbs into his lap something clicks, somewhere in the back of gerards mind. frank needs this. he can't throw himself around on stage, and it's making him crazy. he needs the release. he needs the sweat and the music and the energy. and. the attention. (fucking scorpio twink.) but if thats what itll take to get frank to stop moping around, gerard might be able to work something out for him.

"here?" gerard manages to ask around franks lips. the parking lot is too well lit for this. the burger joint is a fucking family establishment.

they agree. not here. gerard takes frank home and they hook up properly in the basement. metal guitars blare from gerards stereo. he hopes the lock on the door still fucking works. they take it real fuckin slow. gerard kisses every single one of franks tattoos. afterwards, gerard is more comfortable in his own bed than he ever remembers being in a hotel bed. frank falls asleep in his arms, still shirtless, with his jeans unbuttoned and low on his hips. gerard listens to the blaring music for awhile longer, smoking, ashing directly onto the floor beside the bed, and feeling all contemplative and shit. frank makes home feel like, well, home. mikey doesnt come down to hang out. he wonders if mikey knew they were going to hook up when gerard hadnt seen it coming at all himself.

the next morning frank is up and dressed when gerard wakes up, and it makes gerard all too aware of how in-his-boxers he still is. before gerard can even say good morning frank sits on the edge of the bed and starts talking a mile a minute. he says he should really go home and see his mom. he's stayed too long. he knows gerard probably wants some fucking space after an actual month of being with the band.

"but you'll come back in a few days right?" gerard asks when he can get a word in.

frank looks away.

"right?" gerard asks again. a pang of worry that he somehow fucked this up threatens his otherwise calm/satisfied mind.

"frank." gerard presses. he reaches for the sleeve of frank's hoodie & pulls. frank turns back toward him. a huge smile plastered across his stupidly pretty face.

"yeah." frank says, smugly, "i'll come back."

[rowdy-revenant]

It’s The Full Moon, Martin Priest

Pairings: None (please do not tag as drummerwolf)

Characters: Martin (Priest), Suzie Boreton, Mr. Palacios, Cross, Gripps, Vogel, Drummer (Amanda Brotzman)

Warnings: Minor body horror, OOC Martin, smoking mention, bitchy customers, swearing, nudity

Prompt: 13. Werewolves

A/N: This is for the @dghdaspookfest - It’s about the Rowdy 3 but it’s Martin-centric. I’ve set it up so a part 2 is possible but not necessary.

Words: 2100+

[Read it on AO3] [DGHDA masterlist]

Martin’s whole body was in pain. Sweat poured down skin that felt too tight, skin then felt like it was being stretched beyond what should have been possible. His bones cracked, elongating, rearranging themselves.

He pushed himself. Run a little further, just a little bit further, he told himself. Still his lungs were screaming for air and his feet were on fire, trapped in shoes that were feeling too small. Martin collapsed in a clearing in the woods and began to tear off his clothes.

He kicked off his shoes, the left one’s sole had already torn off. His fingers, with nails that were getting longer and sharper by the second, fumbled to take the tie off from around his neck. His shirt tore and he ripped it off his body, a sense of momentary relief washing over him as he was free from the confines of the long sleeved, collared shirt.

Martin looked down at his pants then hesitated. He couldn’t take his pants off and be found naked in the woods! He could be arrested! A second, louder thought shouted over the first one; dear God take these pants off! Martin clawed at the belt around his waist, undoing it and tossing it into the growing pile of discarded clothes. He wrestled with his pants, gasping when his legs were finally free. He then looked down at his underwear, paused, then took those off too.

In the desperate race to get undressed, Martin’s black rimmed glasses had slipped off his face. He didn’t notice until he saw them on the ground. He saw them. For a good few decades of Martin’s life, he had been as blind as a bat — no, even more blind than a bat — without glasses. Yet the world was slowly coming into focus around him, even without them on, even as the fading light of day was replaced with black night.

He could hear his own heart racing, pounding in his chest. He heard his rapid breathing, heard the wind rustle the leaves around him, and worst of all, he could hear his body creak and tear at the seams.

A pained groan escaped his mouth, low and guttural, changing into something more of a growl. It hurt so badly. Never before had Martin felt this amount of pain. Not when his brother broke his nose, not when he had been hit in the ribs with a bat during baseball practice, hell not even in that crash that had taken his mother away from him.

Martin watched his body change. Thick, black hair grew everywhere, his skin becoming completely covered by it. No, it wasn’t hair. That was fur. His body stretched, rearranged itself into a shape that was barely recognizable as human. He spat out blood that had started to fill his mouth when sharp fangs protruded from his gums.

Martin watched as the fur enveloped the mark on his wrist. A tattoo, if you could call it that, of a moon. A full moon.

Martin was terrified. He was in pain.

He was hungry.

If you went back by just a day, you would have never guessed that Martin would be in this situation now.

Martin Priest, the quiet and proper desk clerk at the Perriman Grand Hotel, naked and rolling around in the forest in the middle of the night? Don’t be absurd.

Martin drummed his fingers on the desk and pushed his glasses further up his nose. He stared at his reflection in the polished countertop. He could use a shave. His boss didn’t think it was a good impression to have “a scruffy hooligan greet the guests.”

Work trudged on. The clock ticked. Elevators dinged. It could be worse, Martin thought. I could still be a bellhop. Martin definitely didn’t miss that dumb red hat. He had worked hard for this promotion.

Still this mundane work at the hotel was so incredibly boring, Martin wondered if it were really worth it. He hated wearing a tie, that thin and incredibly difficult to tie strip of fabric always felt too tight around his neck. The only jewelry that was permitted for men was wedding rings. Martin wasn’t married, hell he hadn’t dated in over a year.

His ex had told him he didn’t “live enough”. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Martin was alive, wasn’t that good enough? So the idea of a painful tattoo freaked him out, or the idea of dyeing his hair felt like too much of a commitment (“That shit is permanent!”). Martin just couldn’t handle that big of a leap into something crazy and long-lasting.

Part of him wanted to. Part of Martin yearned to do something fun with his dark, drab, hair. Maybe he could get a tattoo, a small and hidden one that his boss wouldn’t notice. Maybe he could go to more parties, try to get out of his shell. Maybe he could finally come out as bi. But still… he was afraid to.

Lost in his own head, Martin didn’t notice the woman until she had stormed right up to his desk. Slamming a manicured hand down onto the bell repeatedly, this blonde, soccer-mom looking woman had a look on her face somewhere between “unstoppable rage” and “I just ate a lemon”.

“Hello?! Hellooooo!!” the woman yelled.

Martin blinked, straightened his tie, and got ready to diffuse this ticking time bomb. “Pardon me ma’am,” he spoke, his southern accent a little out of place, his quiet voice only just audible. “How can I help you?”

“I want a refund,” she huffed.

“I’ll see what I can do, ma’am. Can I get your room number?” Martin asked.

The woman huffed as if Martin should know her room number just by looking at her. “201.”

Martin looked through the computer system before delivering a response. “I- I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t refund your room. You’ve been kicked out.”

“Well I want my money back!” yelled the woman, who the computer told Martin was Suzanne Boreton. “I paid to stay here and I’m being forced out before I should be, so I want my money back!”

“Ma’am, it doesn’t-”

“It was just a little weed!” Suzanne exclaimed. “Scottie had the window open the whole time!”

“Smoking of any kind is prohib-”

“It’s barely smoking. I want my money back, and an apology to my son!” Mrs. Boreton yelled. She was attracting the attention of other guests in the lobby now. Martin wished he could just hide behind his desk and the woman would disappear.

“I can’t do that, Mrs. Boreton. I’m sor-” Martin began.

“Oh you’re going to be sorry!” Suzanne cackled. Oh god, was she going to ask for his manager?

Instead, Suzanne drew a long, thin stick from her purse. It looked like a twig she had picked off the ground, or maybe even some kind of junk she had bought from a hipster-y, holistic-y, fake magic mumbo jumbo shop. She pointed it at Martin, who stood there not knowing what to do, and mumbled a few nonsense words. Nothing happened.

Then Martin’s arm began to burn. It was like a hot brand was being pressed on his skin on the inside of his wrist. He rolled up his shirt sleeve to look at it. His skin was bright red, but a black mark was beginning to form. A circle, slowly becoming more detailed. A full moon. Martin clutched his wrist with his other hand, gritting his teeth in pain. What the hell was going on? This was impossible!

“Martin? What’s going on here?”

Oh, crap. Martin pulled down his sleeve as his boss approached. “Sir, I-”

“Is everything okay here, ma’am?” Martin’s boss asked Mrs. Boreton.

“I was just leaving,” Suzanne huffed, sticking her nose up in the air. “You really should hire better employees.” And with that, she walked off.

“Martin, what was that?” Palacios asked.

“I- I-” Martin stammered, rubbing his aching wrist. “She got kicked out of her room but wanted a refund.”

“Well you didn’t have to make a scene!”

“I made a scene?” Martin asked. “She was-”

“Enough,” his boss cut him off. “What’s going on with your arm?”

“I don’t kn-”

“Is that a tattoo?”

Sure enough, part of the mark poked out from under Martin’s sleeve. “No, it-”

“Don’t lie to me, Priest, you know that tattoos aren’t allowed for employees. We’re running a respectable business, not a circus.”

“But-!”

“Pack up your things.”

“I’m fired?!” Martin exclaimed.

“You’ve caused enough trouble,” his boss said, nodding. “Pack up your things and leave. If you’re still here in an hour, I’ll have to get security to escort you out.”

Martin? Causing trouble? Martin, the quiet, sheepish, scared-of-his-own-shadow man, causing trouble?

Before he could argue, his boss walked off, leaving Martin with an hour to leave, no job, and an unnatural mark on his wrist.

When Martin woke up, he couldn’t remember the events of the night. He remembered changing, but nothing after that. His body was human again, but not the same as before. A little taller, a little hairier too. His senses felt amplified, hell he could see without his glasses!

Still his head throbbed and his mouth tasted funny, like the world’s weirdest hangover. Martin licked his lips, trying to determine the strange taste. Metallic… blood. What had happened? Whose blood was that? Martin had a sinking feeling it wasn’t his own.

“HI, THERE!”

Martin jumped at the voice then scrambled to cover his naked body.

“Here,” said another voice. A bearded man stood before Martin, a small group behind him. He held out a neatly folded pile of slightly torn clothes, a pair of black rimmed glasses sitting on top. “These are yours, right?”

Martin nodded, then took them. “Thank you… can you uh...” The group turned around as Martin put on what remained of his clothes. “Thanks,” he muttered, letting them know it was safe to look back again.

“I’m Vogel!” the energetic first voice said. A younger man with wild, partially shaved hair stood next to the first man. He gestured to the one who handed Martin his clothes. “That’s Gripps, that’s Cross, and that’s Drummer!”

Vogel gestured to two others. Another man, presumably Cross, who had shaggy hair and a circle tattoo around his eye. Drummer was a woman with sunglasses, holding a black parasol.

They all wore clothes of a similar style. Mostly black, probably second hand, and unmistakably… punk.

“I- I um…” Martin stammered. “I can explain?”

“First shift?” Cross asked.

“Recently bitten?” Gripps added.

“Yes, and um… no?” Martin answered. “I wasn’t bitten but-”

“Born?” Vogel asked.

“What?”

“Cursed!” Cross exclaimed. “You got the tattoo! Man, yours is so much cooler than mine!” He gestured to the circle around his eye.

“Are… are you all like me too?” Martin asked, bewildered by these strangers.

“Werewolves? Duh!” Gripps laughed. “Oh, apart from Drummer.”

Drummer flashed a smile, revealing long and sharp canines. “I’m usually asleep right now, but I wanted to stay up to say hi.”

“V-v-vampire?”

“No, I’m just really goth,” Drummer replied. “Yeah, vampire.”

“Vampires and werewolves are real?” Martin asked, already knowing the answer. Of course they were real.

“Yup! Welcome to the club!” Cross greeted. “I was cursed, like you, but Gripps was bitten. Vogel was born a werewolf, third generation. He’s the most experienced outta all of us.”

“Cursed… of course,” Martin mumbled. “That b… woman with the stick.”

Drummer laughed. “You can swear, dude.”

“That…. That damn bitch!” Martin exclaimed. God, that felt good. “That fuckin’ witch! She cursed me then got me fired! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” The others laughed and cheered him on.

“What’s your name?” Drummer asked.

“Martin.”

“Well, Martin,” Gripps began. “We found you wandering around last night, howling your head off. You ate a rabbit then passed out.”

“First nights are rough,” Cross nodded. “But you get the hang of it and eventually start having fun!”

“I didn’t eat a person,” Martin sighed.

“Ewwww!” Vogel grimaced.

“We don’t eat people,” Gripps explained. “It’s a myth. Mostly just eat animals, or raw meat from the butcher’s. Or like… normal food. And beer.”

“Drummer gets blood bags from a friend, we don’t harm nobody,” Cross agreed. “Sometimes we get a bag for the full moon, like a treat.”

“TREAT?” Vogel asked, looking up. Drummer patted his head, promising a treat later.

“You wanna join?” Drummer asked. Martin nodded and she smiled. “Welcome to The Rowdy 3.”

“But there’s-”

“Martin, Martin, Martin,” Cross tutted. “Lotsa things won’t matter anymore.”

“Like math!” Vogel chimed in.

Gripps nodded. “Or jobs.”

“Or driving with your head inside the car,” Cross added.

“Rules,” said Gripps.

“Glasses,” Vogel said, nodding at the pair in Martin’s hand.

“But I liked my glasses…”

Drummer patted Martin’s shoulder. “We can get you a fake pair. Don’t worry. There’s a whole other world out there,” she told Martin. “It’s a lot of fun, trust us.”

[kitgilmore]

ONE // WHERE YOU LEAD.

Kit Gilmore wasn't sure if yellow was her colour but she knew today was a sweater and tights kind of day. From downstairs she could hear her sister riffling around, their three bedroom house was located in the small town of Stars Hollow. When Kit was thirteen, during her Stephen King phase she often thought about it in terms of a social experiment, she was sure, given isolation from the outside world, the residence would turn on each other. Her mother laughed when she told her, her sister, however, scolded her. Told her not be so rude. She pulls her long dark hair into a ponytail before shaking it loose, checked herself in the mirror one last time, grabbed her music journal and yellow rain jacket, and bounced her way down the stairs, trying to fake some enthusiasm for this day.

"Do you have my Macy Grey CD?" Rory asked. Rory was her twins sister, she was older by 6 minutes and therefore had the privilege of being named after their mother Lorelai, while Kit was named after their father Christopher. Lorelai Leigh Gilmore and Christine Emma Gilmore were born on the 8th October 1984 when their parents were only 16, to say that everyone reacted badly would be an understatement.

"Why would I have your Macy Grey CD." Kit replied, as they made their way out the door, Rory just hummed in acknowledgment, her sister wasn't really much for pop music, Kit rather get lost in Mozart than Macy Grey.

Kit rubbed her hands together as she said "I need coffee" as they made their way through the square. Both sisters beam with joy when they saw Luke's, the faded yellow sign that always brought them comfort. The bell chimed over head as they crossed the through the old diner towards their mother, although Rory and Kit were not identical, all three Gilmore's shared similar features, dark brown hair, blue eyes, bright smiles. Kit's hair was longer than Rory's and she had freckles across her nose she's inherited from her father. While Rory was bookish, Kit was musical. Kit had been playing the Cello since she was 7, one night after a piano lesson with Missy Patty, Kit wondered down the hall and saw a beautiful blonde girl, hair pulled back with a thin headband, she was playing the cello. Kit was mesmerised, the way her hands moved back and forth, pulling the bow across the strings it looks like she was spilling out her soul, Kit thought if only she could concentrate she would see colour. Peter Yogorov cellist turned music teacher, at Stars Hollow High, he taught the more advantaged students while Miss Lucas taught at the middle school. If Kit was being honest she was much better at playing the piano than Rory who even at seven would find ways to read C.S Lewis rather than sheet music. Her hands were born to play their mother would say, and Kit didn't mind letting her sister catch up but watching Rory learn the same piece over and over often left her feeling bored. But from that day she knew she wanted to play like that, with heart, with soul.

Peter was a beautiful man with grey hair, whose heart you could hear in every note. The first time Kit had met Peter she was so nervous, when she told her mother she wanted to play the Cello, she had mentioned it to Miss Patty who said Peter has to teach you, he's amazing and he was. During the spring recital, Kit play To a Wild Rose, Peter's quartet played along side the ballet, Kit can't even remember what ballet they were performing, she spent the whole performance watching Peter hold the other three together with his passion. Kit was addicted. He looked so much bigger than anyone she'd ever met, of course, he wasn’t at 6ft. He didn't let her play for him, Didn’t let her touch a cello just looked at her hands, turning them over in his larger calloused hands for what felt like hours, asked her if she could read the music she was just playing, she told him she could with a small nod than he presented her with biographies of Luigi Boccherini, Julian Lloyd Webber, Yo-Yo Ma, & Ludwig Beethoven, told her to read them, study them, learn them And she did. It had taken her nearly two months but that summer he taught her, three days a week for the next 8 years.

"Hey. It's freezing" Rory greeted their mother.

"Oh, What do you need? Hot Tea, Coffee?" Kit nodded in agreement, sliding off her coat, taking the seat next to her sister.

"Lipgloss?" Rory asked.

"Donuts"

Lorelai bent down to rummage through her purse "Aha" she declared pulling out a makeup bag filled to the brim. "I have vanilla, chocolate, strawberry and toasted marshmallow."

Kit sniggered at her mother and wondered if it was too early for ice cream.

"Anything in there not resembling a breakfast cereal?" Rory questioned her eyes widen, while Kit grabbed the bag looking for her a mascara she knew her mother had.

"Yes" Lorelai retorted simply pulling out another bag, "It has not smell but changes colours with your mood."

"God, RuPaul doesn't need this much make up." Rory complied as Kit found a mirror, her hair just wasn't doing what she wanted it to do today.

Their mother let out a sigh "Wow, you're crabby." Kit playfully nudged her sister.

"I'm sorry. I lost my Macy Gray CD and I need caffeine." Rory apologised.

"Ohh, I have your CD." she admitted, pulling it out.

“Wow, Mom Mary Poppin's much" Kit laughed

"Thief" Rory scolded lightly

"Sorry, and I will get you go coffee." Kit handed her mother the mug on the table, who made her way up to the counter while. Kit turned back to the makeup selection that was now covering half the table, Pocketing a red lipstick, Rory watched as Luke refused to serve her mother, she could only imagine the conversation that took place before they arrived.

"What? It's not for me. It's for the girls, I swear." she argued.

"You're shameless," Luke told her.

Both sisters were equally distracted when an older guy in plaid approached their table, Rory smiled politely at his attempt of flirting while Kit simply said "You not from around are you."

"No, I've never been here before" The man who introduced himself as Joey smiled, at the girls, who both just laughed.

"Oh, you have, too." Their mother said as she returned with fresh coffee.

Joey stood up straight to face her "Oh, hi" he returned with a flirtatious smirk, Kit took the blue mug, that matched her nail varnish from her mother, and lightly blew on the liquid, trying to hold back her amusement.

"I was just. uhh" Joey began

"Getting to knew my daughters.." she filled in, placing her arm on the back of Kit chair.

"Your.." Joey gaped

"Are our new Daddy?" Rory asked in her sweetest voice, smirking at her sister as the man struggled to speak.

"Wow. You don't look old enough to have daughters. No, I mean it" Joey said before looking down at the pair "And you two do not look like daughters."

"Every girl's someone daughter." Kit said under her breath.

"That's possibly very sweet of you. Thanks." Their mother told him.

"So... daughters." He stated at Lorelai who nodded in confirmation, Kit could see where this was going. Don't say it.

"You know, I am traveling with a couple of friends" he finished gesturing to the two men at the counter.

"They're fifteen," Lorelai informed him.

"Bye," Joey muffled quickly before grabbing his friend and leaving the dinner.

"Drive safe" Kit called after them, causing the three girls to break out in laughter.

Kit caught up the Rory and Lane before school, Rory had been to visit their mother at the Dragonfly Inn where she worked but Kit was having trouble picking out an outfit, this September weather was not her friend she was waiting for winter. Finally, she slipped on her favourite deep blue sweater and polka dot navy skirt, tights, and combat boots, winning combination in Kit's eyes. Kit chuckled as her friend slip a Woodstock 99' tie dye shirt over her plain pink long sleeved one she'd left home in.

"One day Lane, one day." Kit chuckled as the three of them walked through the streets of Stars Hollow.

Lane groaned, Rory sighed before saying "When are you going to let your parent's know you listen to evil rock music? You're an American teenager, for God's sake."

"But if you parents let you would you still like it.. that is the question?" Kit stated, readjusting her backpack.

"Guys, if my parents still get upset over the obscene portion size of American food, I seriously doubt I'm gonna make any inroads with Eminem." As the three stopped so Lane could put on her denim jacket, the young Korean pointed to the sign for annual 'Teen Hayride' "I have to go to that"

Kit sniggered in response "You're kidding".

"My parents set me up with the son of a business associate. He's gonna be a doctor"

Kit frowned, slightly confused. "How old is he?"

"Sixteen"

"Seriously, he's not gonna be a doctor in a hundred years." Rory laughed.

"Well, my parents like to plan ahead."

Rory cringed as she watched students pass by. "God, you have to go to the hayride with him."

"There's a rolling around in the hay joke in there somewhere I'm just too tired to find it." Kit commented, walking a head of them slightly, noticing the cute boy in the leather jacket leaning against the school entrance, before descending into a sea of red uniforms.

Writing music scores in the margins of her English notebook had become a habit Kit was always trying to break, but she couldn't help it when there was silence her mind flooded with notes. "For those of you who have not finished the final chapters of Huckleberry Finn you may use this time to do so. For those of you who have, you can start on your essay now. Whichever task you choose, do it silently." Mrs. Traister said she wondered how this early in the school year, her teacher could be this annoyed. Kit had already read Huckleberry Finn, she read it with Rory, over the years she found that no one likes to discuss books like Rory, it made it easy with books Kit didn't really like and Mark Twain wasn't one of her favourite authors. Her concentration broke when a bottle of nail polish landed on her desk. Kit wasn't unpopular but she wasn't a red uniform, football player, cheerleader. She wasn't even in the marching band, because well, cellos are heavy, her popularity stemmed more from the fact that she was the first of her friends to kiss a boy in middle school. Elliott Young, during a game of truth or dare.

"Maybe it's a love letter."

"Or her dairy."

"Could be a slam book."

Instead of painting her already blue nails red she simply held her her hands to show the other girls, passing the nail polish back she rolled her eyes and said "It's the assignment".

The girls turned away, disappointed as Rory sent her sister a smile for before rolling her eyes at her sister as she pulled out her beat up copy of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

"Well, was it a good colour at least?" Lane asked after Rory had finished telling the story from English class on the way home. Kit laughed at her sister when she said

"It has sparkles in it"

"Wow," Lane said slightly sarcastic.

"It smelled like bubble gum when it dried"

"It was red.. Minute men red.. Whatever that means," Kit said, Rory rolled her eyes at her sisters lack of school spirit, it wasn't as if she had a lot but Kit was very against organised sports.

"Mom, we're home" Lane called into the cluttered store she called home. Looking between the twins her eye brows raised as she said "Did you hear something."

They both struggled in unison. "I'm not sure." Said Rory.

"Mom" Lane called out, this time a little louder, this was a scene Kit had seen play out a hundred times but it would not be funny.

"We're Open" Mrs Kim called from somewhere in the house. "Everything's half off!"

"Oh No, Not Again". Kit laughed to herself, as the three girls made their way through the organised mess.

"Mom?"

"Lane?"

"Mom?"

"Lane?"

The mother and daughter continued to call out, trying to find each other.

"Mom, where are you?"

"Back Here!"

"Over Here!"

Rory pointed towards the kitchen "I think she's that way."

Lane looked around "Are we closer?"

"You really need to work on your communication skills."

"I'm by the table!."

Kit rolled her eyes, being in an Antique store they were many, many tables.

"She's Joking, Right?" Rory asked, Kit just looked at her and said "I'm sure, you know Mrs. Kim. Quite the prankster."

Lane signed in defeat before yelling out "Look, we'll meet you in the kitchen!"

"What!"

"The Kitchen" the twins called out.

There was an almost deafening silence before Mrs. Kim said "Who's that?"

"It's Kit and Rory mama".

"Oh"

Rory smiled awkwardly while Kit sign "Gee, I can feel the disappointment from here".

"Oh, come on. Stop it." Lane said looking back at her, Kit raised her eyebrows.

Rory frowned while they made their way through what felt like it could have been a living room but instead was filled with tables with chairs and stools pilled upon them, sideboards and chests. The whole room looked like an intricate game of Tetris, and had it been anyone else Kit might have had fun with it, but Mrs. Kim was deeply against games of any kind.

"You know, it sucks that after all these years your mom still hates us." Rory

"She doesn't hate you guys" Lane quickly stated as if rehearsed.

"Just our mother then?" Kit said filling her part.

Lane smiled, "She doesn't trust married women."

"You're unmarried" Rory pointed out.

"I have a hayride with a future proctologist" Lane grinned "I have potential"

"Potentially a terrible date." Kit snubbed.

When the three finally found Mrs. Kim in the kitchen which was cluttered in a different way, they were a sweet smell that was comforted when Mrs. Kim said. "Go upstairs. Tea is ready. I have muffins - no dairy, no sugar, no wheat." Kit knew Mrs. Kim was a sweet lady underneath her hard exterior, she saw it once after Mrs. Kim actually compliment her after seeing a cello performance "You have to soak them in tea to make them soft enough to bite but there but they're very healthy. So, how was school? None of the girls get pregnant, drop out?" Kit pursed her lips to save her from saying something sarcastic.

"Not that we know of" Lane shrugged.

"I'm sure statistics will catch up soon" Kit smirked.

"Joanna Posner was glowing a little," Rory added, smiling at her sister, who just nudged their shoulder against one another.

What!".

"Nothing, Mama, she was just kidding" Lane looked at her friends with annoyance. Mrs Kim clenched the dish towel she was holding turned towards the girls, her face taught as she said "Boys don't like funny girls."

Kit swallowed under her gaze, while Rory said "Noted."

"Hello" a customer called out after the bell above the door rang. "Anybody here?"

"We're here! We're coming!" she called out over their heads before turning to the girls and saying "Have the muffins. Made from sprouted wheat.Only good 24 hours." before disappearing into the clutter.

"Everything's half off!" They heard her yell.

"Where are you?"

"Over here!"

"Where?"

"By the chair!"

"What chair?”

"Seriously you need a road map" Kit said picking at one of the muffins.

"I need fudge." Kit complained to her sister, on the way to the Dragonfly Inn. Mrs Kim had practically forced the twins to eat her sprouted wheat muffins, Kit wasn't even sure what sprouted wheat was but she knew she never wanted to eat it again. The familiar kitchen housed Sookie St James, who was always fulfilling her sweet tooth with different flavours of fudge. As Kit opened one of the large fridges, she found the sweets she was looking for. Smiling to herself as she turned towards her sister, mother, and the chef.

"You're Happy?" Rory asked.

Lorelai continued to grin, as she nodded, it wasn't that the twins didn't often see their mother happy, in fact, she was rarely not the upbeat sarcastic women they loved, but this was something else.

"Did you do something slutty?" Kit asked, unwrapping the sweet. "No.. your not that happy"

The older women looked at each other and giggled, leading the twins to gaze at one other in confusion.

"What's going on?" Rory asked as Kit slipped the buttery fudge into her mouth, feeling satisfied with the white chocolate flavour.

"Here," their mother said holding out a large gift bag. Kit's eyes widen as Rory pulled out one of two plaid blue skirts.

"Oh baby, baby." Kit began to sing.

Rory raised an eyebrow, trying to contain her laughter "We're going to be in a Britney Spears video"

"Which sounds more fun in theory." Kit added.

"You're going to Chilton!" Sookie blurted out before her best friend slightly hit her in annoyance.

The twins looked at each other before looking at their mother. "Mom?"

Lorelai beamed at them proudly "You did it, girls. You got it."

"How did this happen?" Kit gasped

"You didn't. .with the principal, did you?" Rory asked her head slightly turned in that way she always did.

"No, honey, that was a joke." Lorelai rolled her eyes. "They have two spots, you're gonna start on Monday."

"Really?" Rory beamed.

"Really." their mother nodded with a grin.

"I don't believe this! Oh my God, we're going to Chilton!" Rory screamed with excitement

"Yeah."

Academically Kit and Rory weren't so different while Rory had been getting As in all her subjects since elementary school, Kit would sometimes get a B. Both getting As in Math and History, Geography, Sciences Rory pulled ahead in English, taking creative writing as an elective, while Kit had was more skilled in music and languages taking both French and Russian but that was at stars hollow high where the curve was vast even in AP classes. Where the twins differed the most was social activities, Kit was in Choir, had founded the Russian club, played in the orchestra for school plays, for some strange reason AV club and also a peer mentor. Rory Gilmore was very decided on her future, Harvard, Journalist. Kit was a little more unsure. On any given day she was torn between Bach and H.G Wells.

"I'll make cookies. Protestants love oatmeal." Sookie burst out, the three Gilmores jumping up and down.

"I have to call Lane," Rory said, laughing. Rory begins to leave before turning back towards her mother and saying "I love you"

"I love you both" Their mother said, as she stroked the back of her youngest daughter who was  smiling.

Later that night Kit was sitting in the yellow and blue cozy bohemian of her bedroom, her room was placed on the second floor of their quaint blue house, facing their yard, the walls were coved in posters, The Hobbit, Ferris Bueller’s day off and an old map of St Petersburg upon the flyers for The Echo park time travel mart, The Last Bookstore and Track 61 along side many other quirky attractions the girls would visit with their father Christopher. Music scores and post it notes with her favourite quotes, ticket stubs from various, plays, concerts and symphonies she’d been to with her mother and sister. Her small brown desk cluttered with texts books, sheet music and various shades of blue nail varnish, a dish shaped like a whale filled with silver rings, Disney mugs with pens, coloured pencils and way too many highlighters for any one person. The dark wooden bedside table covered with Stephen King, Charles Bukowski, Nick Hornby and a very well read copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban mixed with a sketchbook her music journal. In the corner sat her Cello, an antique fade, she'd had for 6 years. Bookshelves filled with Science fiction, Russian classics and Epic Fantasies, assorted vinyl records from classics to classic rocks. Candles that smelled like Christmas and bonfires, piles of sweaters and knitted socks. Under her twin bed was the bass guitar her father bought her one Christmas and the black Taylor acoustic guitar she brought from Morey for $75. She was listening to music trying to phantom perfect Beethoven's Cello Sonata no. 3, her fingers twitched as she began to think about her new school, not just the academics but music, she knew that Chilton had a great orchestra but how many cellists would she have to compete with, she would have to audition, what would she perform. What if she was taught concerto's she wasn't ready for or worse one's she knew backward. The blue plaid skirt hung over her mirror tautening her. She would miss Peter. Just then Rory walked in, blue skirt drowning her. Kit tried not to laugh before switching her polka dots for plaid.

"Mom?" Rory called out and they made their way downstairs.

"So what do you think? Kit asked, her mother and Sookie were on the pouch

"Wow, it makes you both look much smarter!" Sookie exclaimed, with so much enthusiasm it warmed Kit's, heart.

"Okay, no more wine for you." Rory joked.

"Mom?"

"You look like you were swallowed by a kilt." She answered.

"Fine, you can hem it. A little." Rory told her as she pointed a finger.

"Mine a little more than hers" Rory looked at her sister with disapproval, "What?"

"I could hem it a lot." Their mother told them.

"No, you're not. I don't want it to be too short." Rory told them as she followed the other three into the living room. Kit jumped up on the wooden stool.

"I can't believe tomorrow's our last day at Stars Hollow High." she said with glee.

"I know."

"Today I was so excited I dressed for gym," Rory told them

"She played volleyball" Lorelai began to pin the material into the hem sat just above her knee.

"With other people," her mother asked, looking over at her daughter.

"And I learned that all this time I was avoiding group sports?" Kit was lucky at her state school she hadn't had to take gym since 5th grade due to music.

"Yeah?"

"Was very smart because you suck at them." Kit finished, her mother tapped her leg lightly.

"Well, yeah, you got that from me." she said to Rory.

Sookie interrupted the girls laughing when she asked "Where's your paté?

"At Zsa Zsa Gabor's house." their mother answered her best friend.

"Right. I'm going to the store because you have nothing."The chef told them as she wasn't used to the lack of fresh produce in the Gilmore house. She checked her handbag and put on her coat before saying "You feel like duck".

Kit nodded, eagerly.

"Ooh, if it's made with chicken, absolutely." her mother answered.

"I'll be back."

"Bye."

"All right. This will give you an idea. Go see how you like it" Kit jumped off the stool, and twirled before running up the stairs.

"Okay now your turn missy." she heard their mother say from the living room.

[theultravioletcatastrophe]

From the aesthetic ask meme: ALL OF THEM. You're welcome.

ALRIGHTY THEN! Let’s see if I can put this under a break so I don’t clog up anyone’s dash.

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?Earlier today. I’m always singing to myself! Today it was probably a song from Moana because my daughter was listening to the soundtrack and those songs just get stuck in my head, y’know?

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?Honestly? I want to know the true nature of physical reality. Like, quantum physics can’t be the full picture because there’s a couple places where it’s either broken or incomplete, but so far we haven’t figured out what should replace it as a theory. I wanna know the truth about the universe.

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?I wanna say my daughter, but to be quite honest my wife is definitely more responsible for how she turned out than I am, so I can’t really say that. I guess my other greatest accomplishment is retaining some scrap of sanity and decency in this awful world that seems to want to destroy itself at every possible opportunity.

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?I don’t think you can call this a “memory” since it literally just happened, but I finished watching Mysterious Girlfriend X and honestly it made me so happy. Despite the fact that it only covered about half the manga it had a much more satisfying ending, somehow.

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?I mean, probably? I’d probably make an effort to be kinder and more loving. I’d do more to help people. I’d try to save up every cent I could to ensure my family doesn’t have nothing when I’m gone.

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?Ehh, not really, not in the sense most people usually use that term. I wanna go to space though. :D

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.I wanna describe my mom, but it’s going to make me sad, so I don’t want to right now. Sorry. :(

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?Yes and no. My parents had a pretty awful divorce when I was about 7, and things stayed weird until I was in high school. But like… I remember being happy and stuff, so…

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?Last night, when my wife was talking about being sad. I just felt so helpless, like I couldn’t do anything for her, and it made me really sad too.

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.My wife. I shouldn’t have to explain why. :) (I mean gosh come on her url is literally @youwillfindmestargazing)

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?I have! Some of the best conversations I’ve had have been with strangers at parties. There’s something so intimate about sitting on a bench on someone’s back porch talking about deep stuff with someone you’ve known for 20 minutes, while people inside are blasting music and screaming, and someone is throwing up in the bushes off to the side.

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?Oh geez, I don’t have many of those anymore. It was probably with my friend @aboutthreeneps who is one of my best friends ever and I love him. :3

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?“I want you to know how much I love you, and I want you and mama to look after each other, okay?” (which I would say to my daughter)

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?Um, they’re fine? I don’t really care that much about people’s eye colour lol

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.“[A]lways looked to be a man of action, ‘cause that’s what the old man should have been, but… this world, it wore him out. This world, it wears you out.” This quote is from the song “Man of Action” by Matthew Good Band. This song is basically my theme song and if you’ve been following me for any length of time, you probably understand why.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?“A Short Study in Fooling Yourself and Everyone Around You”

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?I would immediately put half of it into some kind of guaranteed investment like a GIC or even a TFSA if the interest rate was good enough. This would supply my income to live on for the entire rest of my life. The other half would be blown extravagantly on stupid shit I don’t need but really want (and also I’d give a bunch to family and friends and to charity, I’m not a total asshole).

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?Yes, and yes. It means you get hurt more often, but it kinda makes things easier.

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.Dear Earl, you’re not gonna believe this, but I’m you from 21 years in the future. Listen: don’t waste time pining over Leah or Connie or Katie, it’s not worth it. When you finish high school, learn a skilled trade. Don’t mess things up like I did. Try not to be a disappointment to your mom, and tell her you love her. Most importantly, get organized, manage your time, and DON’T PROCRASTINATE. Sincerely, you, but with more experience.

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?I’m… definitely not punk lol. I’m not really pastel, either, though.

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.I like them to a point. Just… don’t go overboard and you’re fine.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?Nope! Mostly due to the fact that society looks down upon masculine-presenting people wearing makeup, but partly also because I have no idea what would look good on my gross face. :P

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.Well, I mean, Sithu Aye has absolutely been a very positive force in my life ever since I discovered him about a year ago. Please give him a listen, he makes the happiest metal music in the world (without the disgusting vocals!). You can get his entire discography for 30 quid right now! What a steal!

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.“Please stop exploiting other people, the animals, and the earth, because if we keep going like this there’s not going to BE an earth much longer.”

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.Other than going to see our city’s symphony orchestra play, I’ve only ever been to a Marianas Trench concert (well, technically, I’ve been to 3 of them). The symphony shows are always amazing but the Trench shows were a total blast. What a great band to see live. I’m actually wearing a shirt I got at their last concert right now!

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?I want to receive a letter from the Queen, signed also by the Governor-General and the Prime Minister, authorizing me to do whatever the hell I want for the rest of my life, as long as I’m in Canada.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?Well, I’m sitting at a desk right now, and it’s a disaster. I have a desk at work as well, which is a bit more organized, but still quite a mess lol.

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?Browse tumblr until it’s way past my bedtime, brush my teeth while either browsing tumblr some more or reading manga on my phone, crawl into bed and become unconscious for usually no more than 6 hours. Ugh.

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?Nothing, really. My dad and I are pretty chill with each other and I don’t think there’s any secrets I’d want to keep from him (not that I’m going to go telling him everything though, haha). And, well, it’s not like my mom can find out anything she hadn’t already known, so… :x

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?If I HAD to? I’d go with some crazy cool colour like purple or blue. I’d style it the same way it is now, which is that I towel it off after a shower and flatten out any parts that stick up. Actually, if I had purple hair, I probably wouldn’t even do that. :P

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?My wife, my daughter, my IRL friend Ashley, and my tumblr friends Cody and Rachel (yes, you, Rachel). We’d go to a farm just outside town and pick strawberries, and then we’d all have a nice picnic in a field somewhere.

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.-infinite money (should be obvious why)-a hammerspace bag (should also be obvious)-your freedom, Genie (because I’m not a butt)

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.Hmm, I’d have to say the mad scientist costume I did when I was in university. I wore my lab coat from chem lab, I styled my hair to stick straight up from my head (and used this weird hair spray paint stuff to make it silver), and I would burst into rooms going “BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?I don’t think I’ve ever done anything really awful while drunk or high. I mean, I don’t normally get drunk/high enough to the point where I start doing truly stupid things. I guess the worst was that time my friend Cory and I split a 26er of vodka between us in the span of like… half an hour, and then we proceeded to smoke a joint of nothing but kief with a bunch of other people. I got WAY too wasted and ended up throwing up on the floor of the guy’s dining room (and afterwards was still too wasted to clean up after myself, so someone did it for me).

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?There are a lot of things I would never do for a million dollars. Intentionally harming a sentient creature would probably be at the top of the list though.

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?I’d pick the song one, because there are too many people in my life that I love too much to never see them again. (The song I pick would almost undoubtedly be Oceania by Sithu Aye.)

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love.Of course! I’ve done it so many times now, I BETTER know what it’s like! To me, falling in love with someone means that you put their own happiness and well-being before your own. It means you want to spend all your time with them, and knowing you wouldn’t get tired of them. Realizing all this about someone is quite exhilirating, and a little scary.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?I feel like I would have when I was younger, but now, hmmm… now I’m at an age where I don’t think I could “rock” anything anymore! XD

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?Grande cafe latte with coconut milk. Honestly I’d trust any of my vegan friends to order me something I’d like.

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?My daughter. I want to make sure she grows up to be a better person than I am. If she grows up to be a better person than her mother, I’ll be pretty astonished, but also extremely proud. She is my life right now. :3

[silvershadow1398]

There’s something else you should be doing at the moment.

You ate chicken today.

You are lactose intolerant.

There’s a nearby TV on.

You get along with your neighbors. - yes if you mean my dorm neighbors

Twilight is a horrible series.

You have worked out today.

Running a mile sounds awful.

You have a job.

You love to bake Christmas cookies.

Your parents are still together.

You woke up before 8 this morning.

Baths are better than showers.

You are 5’5” or shorter.

You hate British accents.

Victoria’s Secret is a good store. - sure

Cats are better than dogs.

The 90’s sucked.

Your cellphone is right next to you.

Your favorite color is either blue or purple.

Your hair is short.

You are by yourself right now.

The last thing you drank was water.

You are in your PJ’s right now.

Your hair color is natural.

Fred from Youtube is annoying.

You don’t drink soda.

There’s at least $20 in your wallet.

It’s cold out.

Orange juice is better than apple juice.

You love someone right now

Video games are awesome.

Your sheets are white.

You’ve read works by Shakespeare before.

You’ve been professionally diagnosed with a psychological disorder. - not yet

You know someone in the hospital right now.

You’ve showered today.

You know someone who has beaten cancer.

Sneakers are your favorite shoes to wear.

Chocolate is better than vanilla.

You’re allergic to peanuts.

You’ve never been to New York.

You’ve never been on a varsity sports team.

You want to go to Europe.

You’re using a laptop right now.

Plastic surgery is a good idea. - do your research, but yes

Vanilla is the best scent a girl can wear.

You’ve made yourself throw up.

You’ve cheated on someone before.

You’ve been cheated on.

You have a broken heart at the moment.

Your friends do drugs.

School is too early.

Your (toe)nails have nail polish on them at the moment.

You’re Italian.

You have a tan right now.

You’ve been on a diet before.

You shop in plus sized clothing stores.

Hot Topic is scary.

You’ve used a hair straightener.

Online shopping is easier than shopping in an actual store.

You’re in Verizon’s network.

Cheesecake is delicious.

You have gotten your hair cut in the past month.

Your birthday is within the next two months.

You’ve been rejected. - friendship

Comedies are better than action films.

Math is the best subject.

You are fluent in more than one language.

You love Greek food.

You consider yourself a picky eater.

You have more than 3 pillows on your bed. - at home yes

You live with your parents.

You’re happy right now.

You are a high school graduate.

You have a pet cat.

You were born before February 1

You have brown hair.

You have blue eyes.

Your last name is longer than 5 letters.

You are in a relationship.

You can count to 20 in a foreign language.

You have studied a foreign language.

You voted in the 2008 presidential election. - too young

You own a vehicle that is older than 2004.

You have worked 3rd shift.

You have worked in a fast food restaurant.

You drove somewhere that was further than half an hour away today.

Your last name begins with an M.

Your last name begins with a C.

Your first name begins with an J.

Your parents are divorced.

You have more than one sibling.

You are an Aquarius.

You are a vegetarian.

You have a gym membership. - not yet

You are in the military.

You have a relative in the military.

You have been to Canada.

You have been to Mexico.

You have been to Europe.

You are currently enrolled in college/university.

You have done something you told yourself you wouldn’t.

You have braces.

You wear contact lenses.

You have curly hair.

You are an aunt or uncle.

Your bedroom walls are blue.

Your bedspread is red.

Your bedroom carpet is beige.

You have been to a sit down restaurant in the past week.

You have been drunk in the past 24 hours.

You lost your virginity before you were 15.

You are bisexual.

You watch Scrubs.

You watch Jon & Kate Plus 8.

You watch X Factor.

You have been to the movies within the last month.

You have cursed in front of your grandparents.

You actually pay attention to politics.

You are still waiting for your first kiss.

You have kissed someone within the last week.

You have kissed three or more people this year.

You would kiss the last person you kissed again.

You were told you looked cute today.

You were hugged today.

Your best friend is the opposite sex.

You have paid more than $100 on one item of clothing.

You had a date to prom.

You’re a good speller.

You are always on time.

You believe in karma.

You have done something illegal within the last 24 hours.

You have thrown up within the last 6 months.

You have ridden an elevator within the last 3 days.

You spent the night at someone else’s house within the last 2 weeks.

You have been out of the country within the last year. - out now

You love Chinese food.

You love Italian food.

You love Mexican food.

You have taken pictures of yourself just because you were bored.

You know someone younger than 10 who passed away.

You have been in a car wreck.

You’ve had stitches. - does wisdom teeth count?

You have a parent who is a teacher.

You have a checking account.

You are Catholic.

You are Mormon.

You are Buddhist.

You are Agnostic.

You wish at 11:11.

You have had your current job for more than 3 months.

You have a debit card.

You currently have a $2 bill in your possession.

You have dated someone 2 years younger than you.

You have dated someone 2 years older than you.

You have broke up with someone for someone else.

You’ve had your heart broken.

You’ve broken someone else’s heart.

You have an Aunt Karen.

You have an Uncle Bill.

You have a cousin Lisa.

You have a cousin Anna.

You have worked with a Danielle.

You have ridden in a car with a Stephen.

You have done something just for the fact you were old enough to.

You have been to a cemetery at midnight.

You have been a vampire for Halloween.

You have been a witch for Halloween.

You’ve been a pumpkin for Halloween.

You have stayed up for 48 hours straight.

You have been to Walmart within the last 3 days.

You own a pair of scrubs.

You own a cowboy hat.

You own a leather coat.

You’re missing someone right now. - parents

You have been let down recently.

You’ve had someone you thought you could trust betray you.

You would rather have a one-night stand than a relationship.

You would rather win $500 from the lottery than guest on a game show.

You have met someone famous.

You have met the President.

You go deer hunting.

You have a motorcycle license.

You’ve fallen for a friend.

You have let someone use you, even though you knew they were.

You have run a stop sign.

You’ve had it snow on your birthday - idk probably

You have had a manicure.

You’ve dyed your hair an unnatural color. - highlights

You live in an apartment.

You share your room with a sibling or roommate.

You have won an award.

You have been hit on at work.

You’ve given someone a false phone number so they wouldn’t call you.

You have introduced yourself with a name other than your own.

You would marry someone 20 years older than you for $1 million.

You have cried yourself to sleep within the last week.

Your last phone call lasted longer than 5 minutes.

You love to go camping.

You have been to a wedding party.

You have low self esteem.

You are outgoing.

You are shy.

You have a temper.

You’ve made out with a complete stranger.

You have faked being sick to get out of school.

You have skipped school because you ‘felt like it’.

You have gotten a detention.

You live within 30 minutes of your best friend.

You have lost a good friend recently.

You have made a new friend recently.

You can belch your ABC’s.

Your hair is past your shoulders.

You have been on an airplane within the last 3 years. - MANY

You’ve had someone question your sexuality. - not directly but yes

You’re happy with your life at the moment.

You live within an hour of the beach.

You have seen a tornado.

You are currently wearing something blue.

You never leave your house without make up on.

You have been caught stealing.

You drive a stick-shift vehicle.

You pretended to be happy when you really weren’t.

You ended your last relationship.

You have been in a relationship that lasted more than 3 years.

You are pregnant.

You have freckles.

You go tanning regularly.

You watched Sesame Street as a kid.

You were obsessed with Spice Girls back in the day.

You were obsessed with Backstreet Boys back in the day.

Your mom was younger than 25 when she had you.

Your dad is over 50.

You are a night owl.

You usually go to bed before 11pm. - not often but sometimes

You have been in Walmart at 4am.

You have been skinny dipping.

You have gotten pulled over for having a tail-light out.

You have ridden a train within the last year.

You went to Six Flags last summer.

Your birthday is in March.

Your birthday is in June.

Your birthday is in October.

You wear a shoe larger than size 9.

There are at least 2 windows in the room that you are in.

You have kissed in the rain.

You slept alone last night.

You are on a diet.

You have ridden a bicycle within the last month.

You have been swimming within the last month.

You have gone camping within the last month.

You consider yourself an ‘outdoorsy’ type.

You consider yourself a ‘city’ type.

You’ve been called a redneck.

You’ve been called emo.

You’ve been called a dork.

You know someone with a twin.

You are a twin.

You sleep with the door shut.

You put cream in your coffee.

You take the crust off your sandwiches.

Your room is currently clean.

You have gone more than 3 days without a shower.

You bite your nails.

You have fainted before. - lol

You live with someone who smokes.

You were born before the 15th of your birth month.

You were in track in school.

You were in baseball/softball in school.

You were in basketball in school.

You can do 20 good push ups.

You’ve let a friend cry on your shoulder.

You’ve been to a funeral this year.

You’ve been to a wedding this year.

You’ve been to a baby shower this year.

You’ve been to a bachelor/bachelorette party this year.

You’ve been to a 21st birthday party this year.

You will be at least 25 in the next 5 years.

You expect to be married within 2 years.

You expect to have kids within 5 years.

You’re in the medical field.

You love thunderstorms.

You are part of a sorority or fraternity.

You are taking some kind of prescription medication.

You have a cold.

Your appendix has been removed.

You’ve had your wisdom teeth taken out.

You’ve lived in your current place for longer than 10 years.

You like black jelly beans.

You have big plans for the weekend. - idk but hopefully

You know someone you’d like to see right now.

You are hiding a secret.. - i always am