#like a damn yankee candle

[bellaramslover]

Beautiful Girl pt. 2 (18+)

Read part 1 here!

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: you and Abby go on a mall date and you run into your ex, Abby takes you back to her place and you guys have some fun;)

Cw: smut, use of daddy, strap-on sex, fingering, finger sucking

It had been almost a week since your hot and heated kiss with Abby on her couch, and things were going exceptionally well between the two of you. That night you ended up falling asleep cuddled on her couch, you expected the morning after to be slightly awkward. But it was everything but that, you woke up to the smell of your favorite breakfast which Abby cooked for you.

A smile was present on your face as you made your way to her kitchen, sitting at her Island and watching contently as she plated the food. She'd greet you with a cheeky good morning and you'd return her with the same.

Now, fast forward a few days later. You stood at her front door, knocking way too many times as you were eager to see her. Once she finally came to the door, she scolded you for knocking so much. You just shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

"I was actually about to head out, you wanna go to the mall with me?" She asked as she was grabbing her things.

"Um, yes! I'd love to, but what are you going for?" You asked as you followed her out to her car.

"Just wanted to get some new clothes, and I've been really craving those pretzels from Auntie Annes." She explained as she started the car.

"Ok, cool." You responded with a smile.

Abby would rest her hand on your thigh as she drove, a habit she picked up after your shared kiss. Not only was it comforting, but it also made the butterflies in your stomach travel further south. You did your best to keep your mind clean on the way there, but it was proving impossible as she played with the hem of your baby pink skirt.

Abby was no fool, she knew it drove you crazy. But maybe that's what drove her to continue her actions. The way your breath would hitch, and you'd stretch your neck from side to side. It always brought a playful smirk to her lips. One she'd never let you see though, at least not yet.

Eventually you got to the mall and Aby brought her hand back to her side, stepping out of the car and walling over to open your door for you. You thanked her with a smile then walked beside her into the mall. It happened to actually be insanely busy, worried you'd lose her in the sea of people you interlocked your fingers with Abbys. You smiled widely as she gave your hand a light squeeze, glancing over at you.

She was leading the way, already having a store in mind. But you stopped her, standing outside of the Yankee Candle. She stopped to stand next to you, confused as to why you wouldn't budge.

"Oh, Abby, please can we go in here?" You asked with puppy dog eyes.

"Ok, fine." She agreed, how could she say no to you?

You smiled big as you walked in, admiring the color coded rows of candles on various shelves. You'd held your arm around hers now, taking her to where all the red and pink candles sat. She watched in amusement as you grabbed one, popping off the lid to take a strong whiff.

"Mm, Abs smell this one." You'd say as you shoved the candle in her face, making it bump into her nose lightly.

"Oh, ok" She chuckled a bit, smiling as she smelt it, "damn, that does smell good. You know what, that smells like your room." She quirked a brow at the familiarity.

"Well probably because I have like five of these at home." You joked.

"Wh- why did you need to smell it here then?" She asked confused.

"It's tradition, I am going to smel every candle in this store." You shrugged, and immediately she was shaking her head in disagreement.

"Ok, no, not all of them!" She argued, "that's gonna take way too long."

"I guess you're right, but here let's at least get through these." You gestured to the shelf of pink candles behind you.

You'd each pick one up, smell it, then hand it to each other to smell for yourselves. Everything was going great, and you'd noted some of your favorites as you went along the shelf. But then, you felt someone grabbing at your forearm, and it wasn't Abby.

"Hey Y/n!" She exclaimed, as if she was beyond happy to see you.

Your eyes widened and you let out a sharp exhale, because of fucking course it was your ex. Stacy. Not only was she a shitty girlfriend, but she totally ghosted you. You'd just assumed that was her way of breaking up with you.

"Uh, hi." You chuckled awkwardly, avoiding Abbys strong gaze.

"Gosh, it's been forever. You know I really missed you, I've been trying to call you too. Did you get a new number or something?" Se asked, feigning innocence as she lightly stroked your arm.

Nope, you'd just blocked her sorry ass on about every platform you could thing of. It was more out of rage than anything, but you certainly didn't regret it.

"Uh, sure lets just say that." You scratched behind your ear, one of your many nervous habits.

"Well, that's too bad. I thought maybe we could catch up, watch a movie like old times?" She bit at her bottom lip with a cheeky smile.

When you guys were together, anytime you'd sit down to watch a movie you never actually watched it. It'd take about twenty minutes or so before you were fucking each other's brains out. As you continued speaking with Stacy, the bitter feeling of jealousy just rose in Abby’s chest.

"Yeah, no" and finally you pulled your arm from her touch, leaning into Abby, "this is Abby, and if im being honest I'd much rather watch a movie with her than you."

Stacy scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, whatever. We both know I'm the best you ever had." Now she was just being cocky.

"Please, as if. I'd put you like fourth at best." You quickly humbled her and she walked away with her head ducked down in embarrassment.

You could feel Abby tense, and you felt bad. It's not like it was your fault you'd run into Stacy, but still. You turned to face her, bringing your hands to her sides. You'd rub them up and down before pulling her body against yours by her waist, resting your had on her shoulder. She sighed, wrapping her arms around your back.

"Still wanna get pretzels and shop?" Your voice was muffled by her neck.

"Mm, let's get pretzels but I don't really feel like shopping anymore." She let out a heavy breath.

"Mkay." You pulled away from her, placing a quick kiss to her lips before taking her hand in your own as she led you two to the Auntie Annes.

Once you got there she ordered for the both of you, you each just got a pretzel and a soda. You'd asked for cheese dip, and she just had hers plain. Something you found outrageous.

The two of you sat on one of the various couches in the mall, just close enough so that your thighs would touch. You ate in silence for a bit, until finally you spoke up.

"Sorry about Stacy earlier. I don't know what the hells gotten into her." You shook your head.

"Oh, that's fine. I'm just glad you didn't take her up on her offer." She let out a small laugh of relief.

"Come on, no way. Besides, like I said, I'd way much rather be spending my time with you." You turned to look at her now, a small smirk on your face.

She smiled back at you, her eyes wandering all over your face. And taking the occasional glance at how good your top made your tits stick out. After a minute you'd bring a hand to the side of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

She brought a hand to your waist, smiling as your lips locked with hers. You sighed into her, giving her full access to slip her tongue into your mouth. You'd proceed to swap spit until you were too embarrassed to continue, as you were in public. That and the fact that you worried if you didn't stop, things would go further than just making out.

You finished your food and sipped on your drinks as you walked back out to the car. Abby took you guys back to her place, where she'd ask you to help out with some chores around the house. You didn't mind, more than willing to lend her a helping hand. It was nothing too terrible either, mostly just sweeping or cleaning out clutter.

Hours went by and it was quite dark out now. You and Abby were just lounging on her bed, she had her back against the headboard and her legs spread. You laid with your back on her chest, a hand resting on her thigh as you sat between her legs. After a minute or so, she tapped your shoulder lightly.

"Hm?" You'd hum, not looking back at her.

"You wanna go out?" She asked.

"Like, to a bar?" You'd ask in return.

"Yeah, why not? We haven't gone out in a while." She shrugged.

It didn't seem the most appealing, as you were looking forward to just a cozy night in. But she was right, it'd been too long since you went out together. So you agreed and practically jumped with joy when she let you dress her. Once you'd had her in a rather sexy outfit, you couldn't help but focus on her bare face.

"Can I do your makeup?" You asked, fluttering your eyelashes at her.

"Eh, I don't know." She was hesitant as she preferred a more natural look.

"Pleade please pleaseeee, I'll do anything." You begged, and immediately a smirk formed on her face.

"Anything huh? Alright fine." She agreed, and you pushed her to lay back on her bed as you rummaged through her vanity.

It took you a while, but finally you found what you were looking for. A black eyeliner pencil, a tube of mascara, and a tinted chapstick which was the closest you'd get to lip gloss. You set the makeup products down on the bed beside Abby, then you pushed her legs together as she had a habit of manspreading.

You tried to ignore the fluttering in both your stomach, and your cunt, as you straddled her then leaned forward to grab the eyeliner. Abby, of course, had a stupid smirk painted on her face as she brought her hands to rest on your hips.

"You know, I think I like you on top." She'd whisper in a sultry voice.

"Shut the fuck up." You'd respond, letting out a low laugh as you practically layed on top of her so you could begin drawing on her eyeliner.

Her eyes bored into yours as you did your best to give her a straight wing, and you were rather pleased with your finished work. Leaning back, you set the eyeliner pen down and went to reach for the mascara. But Abby stopped you before you could, her hands finding a tight grip on your wrists. Your breath hitched as you struggled to get them free, steadying yourself so your hands were at either side of her head.

"What are you doing, hm? Thought you wanted to go out." You whispered against her face as your lips were nearly touching hers as you spoke.

"I don't know, I've got something else in mind now." She looked at you with suggestive eyes.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" You prompted, wiggling your hips a bit so that your clothed cunt grazed against hers perfectly.

"Mm, fuck." She groaned, and before you knew it she was on top.

Abby wouldn't waste any time, first she'd start by kissing you sloppily. Then traveling her lips to your jaw, and your neck to suck a few hickeys that'd definitely be visible tomorrow. You let out something between a huff and a moan as she kissed her way down to your waist, pulling your skirt down and tossing it to the floor. She'd tapped your legs, looking at you from where she knelt between your legs.

"Put your legs up for me baby." She smiled as you listened, raising and spreading your legs at once so she had a perfect view of your white panties.

She let out a low chuckle, pressing her fingers to the wet spot that had formed on them. She watched you intently as she ran her fingers up and down your clothed cunt, circling at your clit for just a moment before pulling away completely.

"Abbyyy~" You whined, bucking your hips up against nothing, searching for some kind of relief.

"Shh, I know baby, I know." She shushed you as she brought her hands to your thighs, spreading your legs unbelievably further as she placed feather light kisses to your inner thighs.

So close, yet so far from where you needed her the most.

"Mmnph- Abby, fuck. Please." You whined, and of course she'd play dumb.

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" She asked, continued the kisses on your inner thighs.

"Ugh, just fucking-" You gasped slightly as she pressed her tongue flat against the wet spot on your panties, lapping at it "fuckk, need you inside me." You let out a small moan.

A devilish smile was present on her face as she finally pulled your panties off, starting with some kisses to your clit. You threw your head back, letting it sink further into the mattress as you let out moans and whimpers from the way she sucked at your sensitive bud. And you thought, finally, as she circled your hole unbelievably slow with her middle finger before plunging it in all the way.

You let out a breathy moan, the way her finger curled up against that sweet spot made you feel like you were going to black out. After about a minute or so of her moderately paced thrusts, you let out a whine.

"More." You demanded with a whimper.

"More what?" She'd ask in return, as if she didn't already know the answer.

"Mm~ fingers! Please, daddy." And your eyes widened at the name, it was unexpected to say the least.

Immediately you worried Abby would find it weird, or that she wouldn't be into it. But much to your dismay, she let out a low groan as she pushed her ring finger into your hole.

"Fuck, say it again." She commanded, and of course you obliged.

You'd continue to make and whine, the word 'daddy' being the majority of your vocabulary now. A few more minutes went by and you felt that familiar pressure in yohr stomach.

"Ab- Mm, fuck, daddy. 'M gonna cum." You whined, your brows furrowing in pleasure.

"Go ahead baby, cum for Daddy." She let out a small moan as your juices coated her fingers.

She didn't stop though, driving you into overstimulation until you'd be begging her to stop. Once she did, she brought her fingers to your mouth. You opened up and welcomed them with your warm tongue, swirling it around them and moaning at the taste of yourself.

"That's my girl, clean your mess." She smiled at you as you sucked her fingers clean, "Yeah, good girl." She hummed.

And you swore you felt your clit throb at the pet name because Jesus fucking Christ.

"Abs~" You whined, for what you're not entirely sure.

She brought a finger to your lips, shushing you before giving you a small pat on your upper thigh.

"Be right back baby, stay right here." She walked over to her closet, dropping her pants them retrieving an item from the top shelf.

You could've foamed at the mouth when she walked back over with a goddamn eight inch bright pink strap tied on her waist. She brought her hands to rub at your hips softly, a smile plastered on her face.

"You're so fucking beautiful..." She whispered, "you already came all over my fingers, but I bet you'll like it even better when you cum on my cock, hm?" She rubbed her hands across your thighs and just skimmed them on your tummy a bit.

"Mm-hm, yes Daddy. Please, wanna cum all over your cock." You whined.

She nodded her head to the nightstand behind you, which is where the lube sat.

"You wanna help me out? Be a good girl and get my cock all nice and ready for you?" She asked, and you nodded feverishly.

Leaning back, you stretched your arm to grab the bottle, unintentionally arching your back. The sight had Abby illiciting a soft groan, her grip on your hips tightening at the sight of you. You popped the cap open, squirting(😉) a decent amount of lube onto your hand. Then you reached forward, wrapping it around the long strap and stroking it gently as you coated it. Once you were finished you closed the bottle and tossed it to the side on the bed, wiping your semi-sticky hand on the sheets.

Abby took her time, and it felt like forever. But she finally pushed into you, and God it felt amazing. The stretch was just enough, almost too much, but not quite there. It rested against that sweet sweet spot perfectly, and then as she began to thrust you felt like you'd die from how good it felt.

"D-daddy..." You whined, and she stilled for a moment.

Her hands came to either side of your face, as she peered down at you.

"Yes, baby?" She asked, smirking at how you pouted from the way she stopped her motions.

"Please, don't go easy." You let out a small moan.

Her smile only grew, and so did yours as her thrusts resumed. She started at an unbearably slow pace, but quickly went harder and faster. You brought a hand to grip her bicep, the other one laying lazily above your head. She kept a strong grip on your legs as she pounded into you so relentlessly. Then, she brought her hands to underneath your thighs so she could pess your knees to your chest. Somehow she'd managed to thrust into you even harder, even faster.

"Stacy ever fuck you this good, hm?" Abby asked with a smirk.

"N-no, only you can fuck me this good daddy mm~" You moaned.

Your moans only grew louder, occasional whimpers and whines slipping past your lips at how good Abby was fucking you. It didn't take much more for you to cum, and when you finally did it felt so perfect. You practically screamed as you came, and all Abby could do was smile and let out a small moan at how fucking sexy it all was.

Once she'd felt you'd finished riding out your high, she pulled out. You whined at the emptiness, and she chuckled softly.

"Come on, I want you on top. Wanna see you ride my cock." She rubbed at your sides, helping you up as you were already a bit exhausted after having came twice.

She let out a deep sigh, caressing your hips as she reached for the lube feeling a bit more was needed. You waited as she coated her beautifully long strap in it, resting as you straddled her thighs. You raised yourself up, and she slid into your sopping cunt once again.

Your thighs twitched as you leaned forward, almost laying completely on top of her as you slowly rocked your hips and grinded down onto her cock. Abby moved her hands to your hips, helping you move your hips in just the right way.

You'd grabbed her strong shoulders to stabilize yourself, letting loud sweet moans fall past your lips as you gripped them helplessly. Abby bit down on her bottom lip as the strap was hitting her clit just perfectly, but it was too soft. She didn't mind though, because with the way your tits were bouncing in her face she could probably finish right here. She wouldn't yet though.

"Fuck, baby, you drive me insane." Abby let out a small huff as her hands roamed all over your back.

You let out a small laugh, grinding unbelievably harder as you were chasing what would now be your third release. After a minute or so, you leaned back and placed your hands behind you on her legs to stabilize yourself. Abby moaned loudly as she held your waist.

"Oh, f-feels 's much better like that." She whined, the strap hitting her clit just right now.

She thrusted into you, moaning as she watched the way your tits bounced and your body jiggled. It didn't take much more for you to cum this time, and it hit you like a truck. You sighed exasperatedly as your body stilled with exhaustion. Abby groaned frustratedly, resuming her movements as you'd stopped. She came with a loud moan and a smile on her face.

You let yourself fall against her, your boobs resting against her own which were covered by her black sports bra. You were breathless, your arms wrapping around her. She brought her arms to rub your back soothingly.

"Did you cum?" Your voice was whiny and breathless, but you were worried more than anything that you hadn't returned the pleasure Abby had given you.

"Yeah, fuck." She'd respon, easing your worries.

"I need a second." You let out another sigh, Abby chuckled lightly, rubbing at your hips.

"'S ok, you can take a second." She placed a kiss to your cheeks, letting you lie there for as long as you'd need.

Once you were ready, Abby pulled out and lied you down on the bed before standing and removing her strap. She walked to the bathroom and brought back a wet washcloth to wipe you down with, caressing your cheek and placing a kiss to your forehead. You smiled up at her, bringing a hand to her shoulder.

She discarded the rag then helped you get into one of her t-shirts and a pair of boxers, while she stayed in her sports bra and threw on some boxers as well. She climbed into bed with you, spooning you from behind as she pulled you against her. You relaxed against her, smiling as she'd push a strand of hair behind your ear then place one last kiss on your cheek before resting her head so that her nose was in your hair. You'd both fall asleep shortly after.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby x y/n #abby x you #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x f!reader

[ymaohoh]

Yankee Candle Baby - Fic

Eddie wants to buy something nice for Chrissy. Candles are romantic, right?  Oneshot (See at the end for notes)

Word count: 3,730

Chapter: 1/1.

No trigger warnings. No real plot. Just fluff and lust. 

Also on Archive of Our Own.

--

Oh yeah. He was most definitely out of his comfort zone. He was so far out of the zone that he felt like he was standing on a sinking ship surrounded by menacing hungry sharks. 

The mall. The fucking mall. On this perfectly fine Saturday he was here of all places. 

The small town of Hawkins boasted exactly one mall which meant it was unfortunately one of the busier places to be at the weekends, though at this precise time of the day he was thankful to see most of the shoppers were old folks, and noisy kids. His peers (and he used this term very loosely) would likely show up later when it was time to…God knows…go to the movies? Get a burger? Hit the arcade? Whatever it was the average American teenager did at the weekend with their friends or dates. As if he gave a flying fuck. 

No, he hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. Not because he cared about their opinion - he was Eddie Munson, after all, have you met him? - but because he wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as humanly possible. He was on a secret D&D quest with one singular (but important) purpose...and as soon as he found his holy grail he would race back to his beat-up van and get the hell out of here. 

His leather boots scuffed on the linoleum floor (decorated with some bright nonsense pattern) as he walked forwards reluctantly into what he considered the jaws of hell. Eddie was not typically a morning person and it seemed too early in the day for the overly bright lights that lined the walls or the music blasting out of stores that he could only assume people who hung here found ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’. He ignored the posters that lined the windows advertising whatever shit was for sale inside and kept his eyes open for one specific store. 

Harrington said it would be right at the end of the first floor by the food court…and here…finally. Here it was. The walls to the store were painted bubblegum pink and unsurprisingly the patrons inside were all teenage girls wearing pastels and preppy makeup. 

Hell was apparently the cover of Teen Beat or Just Seventeen, the magazines that he often found rolled up in this van nowadays. 

Eddie looked at the bright and cheery store in question with something akin to repulsion (could he seriously hear Robert Palmer being played on the stereo behind the counter?) before taking a deep breath and plummeting inside before he could change his mind. 

Addicted to love? Apparently he fucking was because it was the only reason he was here. The only reason he’d step inside a capitalist cesspit that was so intense and cheery and uncomfortable to him. The object of said addiction? 

A tiny cheerleader who looked at him like he was her God-damned hero. 

Chrissy was everything to him, even though they’d only technically been a couple  (or ‘going steady’ as she reminded him) for a month now. Honestly? It felt longer. It felt like she’d always been a part of his life from the moment he first laid eyes on her neat strawberry-blonde ponytail. If you asked him if he could remember a time before her he’d draw a blank. He’d had a life without her, sure, but damn if he could remember much about it. He didn’t really want to. She’d woken him up like he was Snow White and she was the prince and life was now all singing cartoon birds, rainbows and sunsets. She was like the fucking sun itself. 

Best of all? She was his. All his. They navigated through the highschool gossip, the stares, the outright rude comments that made him want to ball his fists like how the hell did that loser pull someone like her? Is she crazy? To be fair, it wasn’t a stupid question. He’d asked himself the same thing over and over. They’d laughed when hearing the suggestions of blackmail and magic and he’d fallen a bit in love with her when she admitted there could be magic at play. 

If he thought it would make her smile (and seriously her smile always had the power to totally pierce through his chest like an arrow) then he would most gladly step into whatever hellish landscape needed. He’d move mountains for her. Battle demons. All that cliche romantic stuff. 

Shit, he couldn’t wait to see her smile again. Maybe he was addicted. 

Later on today she was coming to his trailer and they’d be all alone as his uncle was working a night shift at the plant. They’d arranged it so casually yesterday when he drove her home from school - ‘I’ll be there after I finish my chem homework, okay? Maybe six…seven?’ ‘Sure thing. Come round whenever’ - but despite the casual tone he really wanted to do something extra nice for her. He had an idea about making her dinner and setting it up all fancy on the table with the forks and spoons and whatever lined up in the so-called right places. Hell, he’d even bought some wine for them both and Harrington said it was a good bottle (for under $5).

He wouldn’t call Harrington a friend exactly, but he wasn’t a stranger either. He was also one of the only guys he sort of hung around with who actually had experience with women. Eddie would die if any of the kids found out about this (though really they knew how soft Eddie was for Chrissy. It was almost nauseating to be in the same room as them). Harrington has also recommended getting candles. 

Girl’s love them, he’d said confidently. He’d pieced everything together immediately when he ran into Eddie at the store buying fancy healthy ingredients and wine. Eddie was a beer guy usually - wine had to only mean he was trying to impress someone. Trust me, man. There’s a new place in the mall that all the girls talk about. Sounds seriously lame but if you’re going with Chrissy the queen Cunningham then you better up your game. No offense.  

So here he was. Like he said, he’d do anything for Chrissy. Even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone and doing something different. 

Just like when she surprised him last Tuesday by showing up at The Hideout to hear his band for the first time. She’d looked so out of place in her floral dress beside the regulars who stuck to black and ripped denim as a rule, but she’d cheered loudly (his own personal cheerleader) and it made him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. She really was a fucking gem. 

“Hi. Can I help you?”

A friendly voice came out of nowhere and he looked up to see a salesgirl eyeing him curiously. He couldn’t blame her for looking at him in that way. Next to the other customers he stood out like a sore thumb in his jeans and leather jacket. Still, he had a reputation of bravado to uphold and he wasn’t the kind of shitty person who was rude to staff. Her name badge said ‘Becky’ in a tiny purple font. She looked to be around Chrissy’s age. 

Becky, you’re going to be my best friend right now. 

“You sure can. Candles? Word on the street is you sell them.”

She smiled and led him to the back of the store past all the scented bath crap, the bright cushions with tassels, the art-deco type figurines, and other trendy kitschy items that teenage girls seemed to adore having in their bedrooms. She led him to a counter at the back which was full of the promised candles. Several heads turned in surprise as he moved around but they soon went back to whatever little item that so fascinated them. 

Ah shit. 

“This is the only brand we sell as it’s the most popular. Is there one you have specifically in mind or do you need help picking one out?”

She was assuming he’d been sent here by his girlfriend (or sister or mom) to collect something on their behalf because they were tied up somewhere else. In which case he’d know exactly what it was he needed. How many boyfriends (or brothers or dads) had been in the same pitiful position as he was now? Becky probably spotted it right away which is why she was being so helpful. Golden star for Becky, he thought. 

(He did love the term boyfriend though. Chrissy’s boyfriend. Chrissy’s boyfriend who would run errands for her. Ah, bliss). 

He fixed her with a smile, saying honestly… “I haven’t got a clue, Becky. Honestly. I’m just trying to find something nice for my girlfriend.”

(His girlfriend. His girlfriend Chrissy. The person who braided his favourite bandana into her hair, marking her as such). 

“Well that’s adorable,” Becky commented. The smile she wore now seemed far more genuine. “In that case let me help. What does your girlfriend use them for? Reading? Putting on during a bath? General ambience?”

Dude. Do not think of Chrissy in a bath. Not Chrissy in a bath wet with water and soap and…

“I’m fixing her dinner tonight,” he explained, turning to more pure and wholesome thoughts. “So something for that? I thought it might look…nice?”

This was hell. Absolute hell. 

Still, two girls who were standing by all the bath crap nearby let out little sighs at his stilted phrasing. Becky looked pretty impressed too. Wow, was he nailing this? And was it just him or did his voice get softer when he spoke about anything to do with Chrissy? 

“I’d go with a pillar candle then, for sure. You can place it in the middle of the table,” Becky suggested. She waved towards the right side of the display. “What’s her favourite smell?”

“Uh…well, she likes loads of things…”

And this was the trickiest bit. He didn’t know. Chrissy liked all sorts of smells and tastes. He’d noticed her happy sigh when she smelled the football field after the grass was freshly cut, and she said she liked the smell of ‘new books’. How could they make candles out of that? 

“I see. Well, maybe test some? See which ones remind you the most of her. I need to go and help that customer over there, but I’ll be by the counter if you need anything else, okay?”

“Sure…thanks.”

This wasn’t going to be so quick and easy as he’d hoped. 

Who the hell needed so many candles? Why were there so many sizes? What the hell was Home for Holidays? He managed to stifle a sigh. He focused on the taller candles to the right where Becky had waved, agreeing that they were probably best suited for his purpose (and would last longer - you know, if he and Chrissy forgot all about them in a daze of frantic making out). Wait - was his home at serious risk of burning down tonight? 

It was a herculean effort to drag his mind away from Chrissy’s spectacular lips and back to the mission at hand. Really. He should be awarded some prize for this. 

Right. Maybe focus on scent like Becky said? That was the whole point of candles now the lightbulb made them otherwise obsolete, right? He scanned the labels. What smell would Chrissy like? 

Using his keen powers of logic and intellect (sharpened recently with Chrissy’s tutorage) he noted that the candles seemed to be arranged in a specific order. The ones on the top shelf sounded like flowery ones. 

Lavender? French Lavender? Lilac Blossoms? Lily of the Valley? He held the latter up to his nose but yanked it away quickly. No way. It smelled like something his grandmother would buy. From what very limited information Chrissy offered about her batshit family they seemed to uphold ‘good old-fashioned conservative values’ like most of middle America and Chrissy herself unknowingly still toed some traditional ideals (though she’d hate any comparison to her crusty bitch of a mother). For example, she was the one who wanted to ‘go steady’ and go on ‘dates’. She also made them wait for date three before…well, what she would very cutely describe as ‘PG stuff’ stuff. As for Eddie? Hell, from day one he’d wanted to throw her over his shoulder cave man style and fuck her on the floor of his van (where she’d first gloriously uttered the perfect words ‘yes, Eddie, I like like you too’) . 

Floral smells seemed to go hand in hand with those traditional ideals…yet Chrissy was showing day by day she didn’t want to be held back by that crap any longer. It started with baby steps - hell, dating him a biggie - but who knew what the future held? Chrissie wanted to go to college after graduation and instead of writing ‘baby-maker extraordinaire’ on her applications (as her family wanted) she confessed to wanting more. Maybe teaching? Maybe social work? She had the brains, for sure. His Chrissy was a Fourth of July sparkler, burning bright and sparkling. She could be whatever she wanted to be. She could have both a career and a family if she wanted because she admitted she did like kids (though the idea of Chrissy holding another little Chrissy in her arms made him feel things he never thought possible). With a fond smile he placed the candle back and moved along. 

White fig, Sicilian Lemon, Sea Salt and Sage, Sage and Citrus, Olive and Thyme. The next shelf seemed to hold the candles that smelled like food. Which was bizarre when he really thought about it. He sampled them each. After all, he was buying a candle to go with dinner so didn’t it make sense for it to be food related? 

He quite liked the citrus smell but he smiled when he saw the label for Thyme. He thought about the first time (ha) they’d cooked together at his trailer a few weeks back, back before they were dating. They’d still been at that bullshit flirty-but-not stage, both too scared of admitting their real feelings in case they ruined the tentative and unexpected friendship they both secretly cherished. Dinner hadn’t been anything special - they’d been hanging out watching a movie with accidental (or not in his case) brushing of limbs and secret glances to her legs (she’d been wearing her cheerleader skirt, for crying out loud - he was not made of stone) - when they’d grown hungry and started fixing some pasta. Chrissy had been awkward when it came to food back then and it was something he’d picked up on right away. She would always make excuses not to eat in front of him but her growling stomach had on this occasion betrayed her big time. He’d heated up the pasta and asked her to pass the thyme to stir into the tomato sauce and she’d eventually admitted to not having a clue what that herb was. He’d been so careful to show not even the teensiest amount of surprise in his eyes, and instead patiently showed her how to use it in cooking. It was apparent that Chrissy only ate the same things day after day and it was all bland and unseasoned. 

Less calories, right? 

Since then she’d come along leaps and bounds with her eating, though it was still something present in the back of her mind like a cobweb they couldn’t quite dust away. Though he worried about the future - what would his dumbass do while Chrissy excelled? - one thing he knew for certain was right after graduation (maybe while still wearing those dorky robes) he would bundle Chrissy into his van and drive her far away from the influence of her asshole mother. If she let him he would dedicate his life to feeding and caring for her like she deserved. He hoped she’d be game. 

He looked away from this shelf. They still had some work to do in this area. 

He liked Candy Cane Lane, Cranberry Twist, French Vanilla, Pink Grapefruit…He smelled them appreciatively even though they were very sickly sweet. He liked his coffee black but he knew Chrissy preferred hers laden with sugar and cream (now she actually let herself indulge more). 

Chrissy was sweetness personified in human form really. All sweet smiles and warm skin and caresses. She was popular for her looks, her kindness, her cheery nature. She also had the glorious ability to look past the dark parts of life (and in people) and see the goodness and the light. It was a trait that Eddie simply didn’t have and he marvelled whenever he was privileged enough to see it swell inside her. No matter how many times life seemed to try and beat it out of her, Chrissy was a God-damned angel who got right back on her feet and was unapologetically kind and sweet and dazzling. Eddie knew he would do anything in his power to keep that flame inside of her bright and fucking destroy anyone who tried to take advantage or smother it. 

(Was he an attack dog now? A bull terrier? Why not. She already held his metaphoric leash. Where she went, he went gladly). 

Chrissy had looked at him - him, Eddie, the guy who was all swagger and sarcasm and enjoyed guts and gore. The person who was labelled a freak, an outcast, a junior delinquent - and seen someone she wanted to be with. Her sweet pretty smile seemed to shine on him and say you’re my person and you are good and you are mine.  

Hell, he was going to ravish her later on. 

Strawberry  

Oh yes. We have a winner. This would be the part where quiz show lights went off and heaps of cash fell from the ceiling. 

He didn’t need to sample this candle because he knew right away this was the one which reminded him the most of Chrissy Cunningham. 

Of her fucking perfect little mouth. 

Chrissy had a habit of wearing lipgloss and it tended to be of the fruity variety which was A-OK with him as long as he was the one tasting it. He’d drown himself in buckets of strawberries if it meant he could once more brush his tongue against that soft velvet cupid bow. The rush he got from kissing Chrissy was better than any illicit high, and he knew as soon as he’d sampled just a little bit that it was game over. He was hooked for life. Chrissy was now in his veins - channelling through his body - and keeping his small insignificant heart beating. 

Their first kiss hadn’t been planned but it was fucking spectacular all the same. So were their other firsts. All of them etched into his memory forever. He might casually use the word fucking to describe what they were doing nearly every single night in his trailer, but they both knew it ran much deeper than that. They were hooked on each other. Couldn’t get enough of each other. It made them frantic and careless at times. Though she swore him to secrecy (blushing as she did so because of course good girls would never) he would never tell another soul about the times they’d frantically fucked in the back of his van, or on the bench in the woods where they re-met. They’d even fucked hurriedly behind The Hideout and the image of him lifting Chrissy against the brick wall with her long legs wrapped around his waist, was something he thought about a lot. He remembered how her pretty lips looked when she came for him. 

And before that when they first uttered the word fuck infront of him. They’d been sitting on the lawn with their friends at the time, and everyone had cheered at Chrissy Cunningham saying a bad word. He’d whistled and cheered too, though it was incredibly hot and a base instinct deep down wanted to grab her like he was some savage neanderthal and have her there on the field. He was pretty sure she knew that too because there was a coy twist to her smile. 

Ding ding ding. We’ve found the candle. He picked it up and went to pay Becky. 

“Nice choice,” she said as she popped it in a paper bag. 

“Yeah. Chrissy is…” Chrissy was a lot of things. He settled on, “She tastes like strawberries.”

Becky’s cheeks flamed at his words and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Instead of feeling embarrassed, Eddie felt pretty proud of himself overall. He’d battled the demon that was the mall, found a sidekick of sorts in Becky, and retrieved the holy grail that would please the beautiful princess. Not a bad campaign really. “Chrissy Cunningham, you mean?”

Christ. They knew her here too? He gave her a stiff nod. Was she going to start coming out with the usual crap he heard in the corridors about not being good enough? 

But no. Becky only gave him the bag. “Lucky girl.”

“Nah, I'm the lucky one.”

----

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing for the couple, so apologies for any errors or mishaps with the setting or characteristics. It’s a learning curve. I was not alive during the 80’s so I did rely on a trusty search engine for a few parts. I actually searched for ‘Yankee Candles which are now obsolete’ (apparently they started in the 60’s - who knew?) and the ones listed above are the search results. Pretty sure some of them have come back into circulation though. The store Eddie so bravely ventured into is essentially an 80’s Oliver Bonas. 

I’m also not from the US though I tried using some of the lingo. I think I actually wrote the word mum but it looked so out of place for this world. I can’t bring myself to swap the spell check over though so you still get plenty of u’s in unlikely places (or likely - eh). 

I really enjoyed writing this. It came very naturally. I’ve posted some prompts on my page which I’ll make my way through but give me a shout if you’ve got any requests. 

Toodles x

#hellcheer #edssy #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #eddie munson is a good boyfriend #eddissy #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer headcanons

[drum-cu-naluci]

@la-cocotte-de-paris and @little-miss-scare-all666 tagged me for the Make a drink based on your blog and I'm so damn curious what it takes like [is slight scent of smoke on a foggy night a certified drink flavour or just Yankee candle?]

If they are up for this my tags are @onyxheartbeat @eyes-of-the-fox @qveenofthefullmoon @seraphinesaintclair @love-n-purple but if you're not tagged and look for an excuse, consider you were actually tagged. It just doesn't show.

#tag meme

[silvermaplealder]

I had a dream last night where I lived with the lost boys and instead of living in a cave we lived in a very, very large mall. And this mall was like the heart of the city or whatnot. Always super busy. Our home was nestled between a Target store and Yankee Candle. The entrance was a supply closet door but the actual space itself wasn't so bad. There was a little living room and then it branched off into 4 bedrooms. There were five of us so no idea who shared. Also somehow Paul could teleport between our closet and a nearby trash can and he LOVED to scare the shit out of people by hopping out of the trash can.

I unfortunately woke up, but when I fell back asleep it resumed, only slightly to the left. This time we didn't live in a closet (lol, we came out of the closet everyone) we were living in a closed off arcade. Doors were all chained tight and apparently David was paranoid and tested every one of them each day. We all worked at a local little coffee shop to have pocket change and one day my human coworker noticed that their chips were missing. And I was like "this has Paul written all over it." So I brought my coworker to the arcade and we found Paul sitting on some old couch eating my coworkers chips. He legit thought they were his and apologized profusely. He gave them back to our coworker and promised to get them a new bag. We left the arcade and headed back to the shop but then! While we were on an escalator, some lady's dog sensed that I was a vampire and attacked me. It bit me right in the knee and I was like "oh damn, that sucks." But of course, all the bystanders were like "oh no!!! That must be painful!!!" I realized I didn't feel the pain but it looked pretty bad so I decided to be dramatic and pretend to be in a lot of pain. My coworker ran to get David (who I believe was the assistant manager of the shop we worked in). I was trying not to make a big scene. When David finally arrived he looked so tired. He helped me limp back to the arcade and told me to get some rest. I said okay and then woke up lol.

I do remember there was an orange tree in the middle of the mall and Dwayne and Marko would chill in the branches and knock oranges off when people walked underneath. Both dreams were actually pretty long and involved multiple days worth of stuff. My mom was there at some point too. It was real fun though

[thosewickedlovelies]

wildflowers  |  Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: A change in the air, small as a candle flame

Tags: No warnings tbh. GN!Reader, not an age gap fic. If any soap-makers are reading this, do not tell me if I’m wrong about the QZ’s capabilities

Words: 1,511

Note: hiii babes. I don’t really know what this is, other than my brain’s desire to say something about this man. A possibility, perhaps. Written after ep 3, although there’s no plot/canon references.

Masterlist

Joel’s knees ache with every step upward to his apartment. The staircase protests beneath his weight, as if the chipped paint of the railing and the grime and graffiti on the walls weren’t warning enough about the state of this place. Not that people had much of a choice about it. This building is no more derelict than all the rest in the QZ. Unless it’s FEDRA quarters, maybe.

Joel snorts, and then has to stop as a lance of pain through his ribs takes the rest of his breath away. Fuck. Bruised from that slip he took earlier, maybe. Damn sewer maintenance.

Joel can hardly remember a time before the ever-present pain. Had there ever been a point when at least one part of his body didn’t ache, or twinge, or pinch? Had he ever lived in a world where everything wasn’t as gray as this fucking staircase, where he at least had some distraction at home from the shitty parts of the world and his aging body?

The door to his apartment opens, and the first thing Joel registers is the smell. It’s pleasant, sweet, like a sunny meadow full of wildflowers. What the fuck? Nothing smelled nice in the QZ- even all the flowering plants of spring couldn’t cover the stench of human hopelessness or the rotting world outside the walls. 

“Joel! You’ll never guess what I found last night!” You rush around the corner from the living room.

Carried by your passage, another wave of scent billows over him. Amidst dropping his keys and gear, Joel pauses for a fraction of a second, his eyes closing. Memories rise up, unbidden: a fat, tri-wick Yankee candle in his childhood living room, one in a rotation of his mother’s favored scents. The heady perfume of real flowers, the ones lining the fence of an Austin side street where he first kissed-

His jaw clenches, and he lets his pack thunk loud onto a dining room chair, hoping the sound will shatter the hold of his memories. 

Joel turns his head to you, raising his eyebrows. Well?

“Candles! That’s what the smell is- they were buried under some debris in an old corner shop, you know, the kind that were the first places to be looted when everything went to shit. Nobody went digging for a pack of scented candles then, but now…” Your eyes shine, proud and somehow…happy? 

Joel glances past you, to where a tiny flame dances brightly on the rickety bit of wood you call a coffee table. A little scented wax, about as useful as a bottle of perfume but more wasteful (firestarters being a valuable commodity), has brought you this much joy?

“I hope you plan on sellin’ the rest of the pack, unless you found somethin’ else to make the trip worthwhile.”

He doesn’t look back as he heads to the bathroom, intent on getting out of the sacrificial clothes he wears to work in the sewers.

You scoff, trailing after him to deliver your retort. “Obviously I did, no way I’m selling the whole pack. I need something to cover up your stink.”

Scowling, Joel pokes his head out around the bathroom door, only to see your mouth already open to finish him off. 

“And I’m not talking about the days you work sewage.” You smirk at him triumphantly.

A deeply resigned sigh is the only response you hear.

Joel has had two years to get used to you as a roommate, after the last building you both lived in collapsed unexpectedly (Or at least, unexpectedly to most. Joel had seen the signs, which was why he hadn’t lost as much of his stuff as everyone else. But he hadn’t been able to predict the exact moment it would fall). You’re…not the worst he could have gotten. Between your respective smuggling groups, you lived reasonably well (Joel still remembers the night that realization had come to light- it was the closest he’d come to genuine laughter in years). You’d even gone on the occasional independent run together. You don’t get in his way, but nor do you enable his worst impulses; although he’d never acknowledge it, it’s come to be something of a relief to have you around.

You’ve moved on from making fun of him, now listing other goods last night’s trip had brought in, interspersed with the occasional observation on the world outside or gossip about the people in your group.

Joel listens with half an ear, silent but not uninterested. When the last of his clothes are hung outside the window (where they’ll remain exiled until his next trip down below or until the smell fades), he turns to bathtub.

Shit.

For all their skill of stretching resources, their latest bar of soap had finally squeaked out its last gasp of bubbles yesterday. Their spare was still in its protective wrapping…somewhere decidedly not in the bathroom.

Joel sighs again.

The pile of spandex that was his underwear lies crumpled in the tub already. He’s motionless for a long moment, his ribs sore, his skin gritty.

“Hey,” he says, interrupting your musings.

“…Yeah?”

“I forgot to bring in the other soap. Would you mind…grabbin’ it for me.”

“Oh, sure.”

Silence stretches between you, as intangible and yet undeniable as the network connecting the mycelium. It’s there even as other sounds spring up- your quiet footsteps, the rustle of you rummaging through packaging. 

It thickens as you return to the bathroom door.

“Here.”

Your voice is closer than before. Just on the other side of a thin wooden barrier. No other sound breaches the silence connecting them, and Joel knows that it’s up to him to make the bridge.

The click of the doorknob is loud. Maybe silence is the wrong word for the thing connecting you, because it’s still present, undiminished despite sounds like that click, the whisper of the door opening, the beating of his heart.

The air on your side of the door is warmer without any windows open, and still laced with the scent of wildflowers. 

“Here you go.”

Your voice- it sounds like someone trying to sound normal, but failing in a way Joel doesn’t know how to describe. You feel it too.

Joel eases his body slightly further toward the gap, and reaches out his hand.

You try to keep your eyes on his face, or your hands. Try to keep your expression neutral, blandly amicable. But Joel sees the moment you fail. Catches your gaze flicker past the reach of his arm, to his very bare shoulders, chest, waist.

Joel hasn’t been a vain man in years. Decades. His reputation in the QZ is enough to keep most people from looking at him too long, anyway. But you….he’s seen you look at him. He’s let you look at him- in the silence of their shared apartment, on those rare, fraught ventures outside the walls. 

What you’re seeing now isn’t much more than what you’ve seen before. You’ve patched him up a time or two, and he you. All the same…

The look in your eyes strokes some dusty, long-forgotten part of Joel that wants to preen. 

It’s not a very overt look, to be fair. A tension in your jaw. A shadow of interest, a willingness to be interested, if it weren’t for something stopping you. Like you knew better than to entertain the notion that he would return your interest.

And Joel…feels bad about that.

What? 

Yes, that’s what that is, a twinge of regret- for being so closed-off, so unavailable, that you wouldn’t even consider that he’d be willing for a roll in the sheets. 

Your hands connect. Or rather, they both connect with the soap. The crude, QZ-produced chunk hovers between you, both of you holding onto it.

You swallow, your gaze finally tearing from the sliver of bare hip Joel had left visible beyond the edge of the door. Thick and strong as the rest of him, an intimate curve whose appearance sent your thoughts whirling like dandelion fluff. You force that careless smile back onto your face. 

Joel’s fingers are less than an inch from yours. He stares at them, their subtle, restless stroking motions against the waxy wrapping.

“Thanks,” Joel finally says.

“Sure.”

Something has shifted in your face. A cautious curiosity emerged, as if you recognize the presence of a new feeling seeping through the fracture in his thoughts; as if you’d felt it through the not-silence still connecting you.

Tentatively, you release the soap. Your invisible connection holds, unbroken despite that Joel now grips the soap alone.

He lifts it to his nose. His face wrinkles at its strange tang, too strong for it to truly be considered ‘unscented’.

“Maybe smellin’ nice ain’t so overrated after all.”

His grimace made you laugh; a grin breaks across your face, in a shade of teasing you’ve never used on Joel before.

“Well, you know where I’ll be.”

Joel watches you waltz back toward the living room, and breathes in the scent of wildflowers.

💕💕💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fic #tlou #tlou hbo

[cjoatprehn]

Survival Financial Request!

My mom’s been filing for bankruptcy, has been extremely financially stressed lately, and trying to get me over to her has been really stressful. She’s a burn victim from a Yankee Candle catching on fire on Halloween, she received 3rd degree burns on most of her body for trying to save her support dog. Between support animal costs, food, rent, and hospital recovery, she’s in dire need of aid. If y’all could and are in a position to help, could you send some money over, please, to help ensure she will be able to at the very least have some pressure off her shoulders? And a sweet note, if you want to—? Thank you…

Adding to this post-

I want to make clear I’ve been struggling to keep us and others afloat, and now I’m at a point in my life and health where I am no longer able to do so. They’re cutting away more food stamp money from many households in the legislature not just ours, and I’m in the process of moving to my mom’s to help out. And also—

I’m kinda Flipping out right now. I don’t want to lie, with the US being a 3rd world country now. I’m flipping out because last month…was the last month they would be giving food money in the 100s. With food so high and Rent higher. SSI—I don’t even know. …I’m smiling but I don’t know what else to do. My moms still recovering from 3rd degree burns, surgery, and trying to get me there, and I’ve learned that the Aunt that had control of late great grandma’s reservoir for funds…Help won’t last long.

I’m scared, and I’m losing hope. I don’t want to go out as the person who Fucking struggled and suffered their entire life, never got to flourish. …I’ve never thought of making a gofundme again. Every time I’ve made one it never reached anything. And…I-can’t even maintain a savings for long. If we run out of money or assistance, then my mom stops getting treatment. Her dog doesn’t get food or treatment…and we’ll lose the little we have left.

She doesn’t have any friends or many connections outside of herself or her former government job. So—I’m just—like—trying to convince her to.. at least accept my help. I know everyone’s not in the best financial situation to help but—I can’t continue giving good energy to the universe from an empty cup…so I really appreciate the support..!

For record only, no longer helping someone who wants to gaslight and abuse me. I’ve been evicted as of May 9th, 2023. I found a place to stay for last night and possibly tonight. After that I’m on the streets. I’ve accepted I might not make it. I’m bedbound forced to rest by my body and disabilities. My phone has been deactivated by my mom only to discover she can’t reactivate it due to my phone being 6-7 years old. It’s too old to be reactivated with its old line.

But…hey…I’m no longer at my abusive home situation. I don’t wish to tell my dad’s side of the family. My mom prolly let them know anyway. I don’t know for sure though.

…I’m so flipping screwed. Had to deactivate my throne, due to no longer having that address. So…I’m just.. Here. Waiting. Watching my time come closer.

Thread of some of the abuse from my mom. I don’t feel like typing it all here..

https://cjoatbysamwise.com/donate-to-cjoat

…I’m scared. But I don’t know what else to do so I’m accepting my fate and situation for now at least. So.

Here’s to updates..

Late Update:

Got yelled at, insulted, and screamed at by my mom through text. She’s called AT&T to lock everything down; I asked her for my account information. When she didn’t answer for the next 5-6 hours. I had AT&T send an email and a text to her & asked her for what they sent her. I got accused of hacking. I’m Not getting my phone line back.

Oh and to top it off, she sent me a picture of Storme laying outside of where I used to sleep. With Storme saying hi. I relayed a message to Storme. It would be a goodbye unless we meet again.

…So I’m unable to exactly…Do anything so. Just…Trying to calm my heart rate down…It’s been elevated all damn day…and increasing..

Good News: The Situation has Partly Cleared!

I cued a erasure on the iPhone 14 Pro Max, which my mom gave me and then took away from me after snooping through my iPhone 8+ and kicking me out, as soon as it connects to the internet; that way, my mom gets to return the phone, she gets her $1K+ back, problem solved. However, twice my mom sent 2 “Reset Apple ID Password” pop-ups on my devices, which…fuck off, mom, tf?

In response, after checking with the select few, I have changed my Apple ID email, because she doesn’t know my Apple ID password. I will be working with Apple Customer Servicee to ensure she can not steal my Apple account through Screen Time (which is possible). Conclusively:

I have a bed and address, temporarily but for awhile, unsure of how long, definitely more than a few days. Right now, until things stabilize with assistance, I don’t have to pay yet, despite being willing to. Currently slowly getting out of survival mode. Many of my stuff remain at my mom’s. I am able to get another physical SIM for my phone. Throne should be showing and working now, because I now have a new address, temporary while I figure what to do from here. I am no longer am able to draw due to my stylus breaking and my disc tips running out. Still got to get back. Laptop is out of commission until I get a new laptop charger, or until I get my old one back. That’s the update for now.

…I’m…finally going to heal, now that I’m safe and in a warm & accepting, and lax environment.

Still going to need assistance, thank y’all so much for supporting me so far.

#mutual aid #time sensitive #disabled #homeless #abuse victim #black sheep

[voidbuggg]

a biiiig thank you to @socially-awkward-skeleton for the ole taggy for this funny lil template... had some fun playing around with Eran again :3

edit ~ also tagged by @nightbloodbix 💖

think this has more or less done the rounds by now but pinging @strangefable + @g0dspeeed ty for the company during my semi-hiatus <3

some details.. ⬇

colour: nothing too high concept here. It suits him.

flower: something something starting a new life for oneself in the wake of a disaster it's a funny scraggly lil pink plant. we love it :^)

animal: this has some context I haven't shared on here; beyond being a fellow Dangerous Stealthy Critter there's some representation of his chosen family there as well (wow imagine if I published that). In red dead terms it'd likely be his 'high honour' animal :>

scent: ok this sounds like a yankee candle ass scent but real hiking heads know- it's earthy but crisp, maybe a touch of frost that precedes the impending winter.

song: I'll be real here - we're coming up on 15 years since I made up this guy and throughout all that time I've never really had a specific song that's 'his.' (I'm beginning to think I should just write it). I've cycled through a few just trying to get this damn thing done. If I could plonk an entire playlist in a jpeg I would probably do that. HOWEVER it really is hard to go wrong with mr. Isbell. Again, a few things in this one I haven't given context for here on tumble but maybe some day :3

feeling: self explanatory, very simple actually

#eran #scrunkly lore #all the half explained shit on here making me want to write 💀 yowch

[bubblegum-blackwood]

Since I keep seeing stuff about the new adaptation of TVC, I decided to re-watch the old one, so here's my thoughts on Interview with the Vampire (1994) the second time around:

I find it hilarious how book!Daniel was terrified out of his mind the whole time while movie!Daniel has such swagger

Jeez you can tell from the get-go that Brad Pitt hated acting in this. (Meanwhile it's so obvious that Tom Cruise had so much freaking fun. So much.)

I will never forgive the movie for getting rid of Paul de Pointe du Lac in favour of "wah my wife died in childbirth" like I get that that's shorthand for "cis white boy sad" and they only had two hours but STILL

I'll never understand the choice to have the statue’s eyes open. It's just weird lol

i'M QuiTe FoND oF LooKiNG aT CRuXiFiXeS

Why is there more than one coffin, Lestat? WHY IS THERE MORE THAN ONE COFFIN LESTAT -

"Read her thoughts." "I can't." "Eh." That little shruggy hand gesture is everything to me.

(this isn't the one I was talking about, although this is just as good - I can't find a GIF for the quote I chose lol)

Wow. Okay. Forgot about the little "voodoo" ritual Louis's slaves have there. Could have gone without that.

Love the way Louis wields that flaming torch like a rapier. Very elegant, very hot (pun intended).

"We're in a nice, filthy cemetery. Does this make you happy?" fhesiofwne the sass - (btw the above GIF is of this scene)

The smug look Lestat gives when he knows the baby-trapping has worked gosh how does anyone hate on Tom Cruise’s acting he got it DOWN like -

"I prefer Creoles to Yankees, their democratic flavour doesn't suit my palate" why does Lestat have to commit to the French nobleman act this hard? (I know it's not just an act but really he does fill the role perfectly)

THE RUFFLY PURPLE COAT GDOSX

I forgot about Claudia sitting in her bed surrounded by her dolls and casually drawing a naked woman -

GO OFF GIRL! GET IT CLAUDIA! I will never not be impressed with Kirsten Dunst's performance in this. She stole the show. The rage, the coldness, the sophistication, the gleeful cruelty - she nailed it.

The hurt, the betrayal, the slight fear in Lestat's eyes here . . . I will never be over Tom Cruise's acting in this scene.

"He will never let us go." "Oh. Really?" *smirk* Like I said, Kirsten Dunst was amazing in this.

"A beautiful woman with endowments you'll never possess" I literally said "wow" out loud. Holy fuck Lestat that was a low blow.

Hmm floating up against the ceiling while on fire, now where have I seen that before?

As much as I resent the movie depriving us of Louis and Claudia's vampire hunter days, I have to admit that the montage of all of Claudia's sketches was actually a really clever transition.

I saw something once about how clothing tells its own story in IWTV because even though Claudia stays the same she slowly starts dressing more and more like an adult of whatever time period they're currently in and I really do appreciate that detail.

Anne Rice really deprived us of some sexy Spanish lover vampires and it shows with how tantalizing the little glimpse we get of Banderas!Armand is

Ah, the Theatre des Vampires scene. They really nailed the dumb goth drama and I gotta respect this movie for that.

Random woman in the audience being like MONSIEUR VAMPIRE TAKE ME I ADORE YOU if that ain't all of us -

Who else wants to Armand to hug them like this?

"So you have answers?" "So you have questions?" *he responds before Louis is even done talking, maybe a bit too much eagerness in his voice* If Antonio Banderas nailed anything about Armand, it's the thirst.

Damn the way Banderas's wig moves it's so thick and silky and long and *chef's kiss*

I wanna know how historically accurate these costumes are lol

Imagine being Brad Pitt and having to sit in a coffin and scream at a camera that's inches from your face lol

Okay but I love how Louis tips the candles backward into the coffins without even a backward glance

This is not in the movie but I just remembered that canonically the plot of land that the Theatre was on is still under Lestat's name to this day and I love that.

"What if all I have is my suffering? My regret?" *implying that he doesn’t want to move on from it* Damn Louis needs therapy and Armand is not that (because he needs it too lol)

Louis going to the theatre and watching Nosferatu is something I will never be over

Rule number one of being a vampire: always dress well

Louis disturbed a bat and the subtitles said [SCREE SCREE]

Say what you will about how they changed the ending of the movie from the book but Lestat jumping into Daniel's car and just saying "I assume I need no introduction" is iconic okay

#the vampire chronicles #vampire #vampires #vampire chronicles #anne rice #tvc #interview with the vampire #iwtv #lestat de lioncourt #lestat #the vampire armand #louis de pointe du lac #the vampire claudia #vc #iwtv movie #antonio banderas #brad pitt #tom cruise #kirsten dunst #daniel molloy #christian slater

[mrs-dr-reid]

My Personal Matt Murdock Headcanons

Part 1/?

(And yes. I have discussed a handful of these with my beloved moot @leossmoonn before)

Due to his enhanced senses, he knows the perfect time to flip a pancake, never burns anything, always makes the most perfect toast, and he always kills flies on the first try

As much as he pretends to hate it because it’s kinda blasphemous, one of his favorite songs is Take Me To Church by Hozier. He also really likes Devil’s Advocate by The Neighborhood and (don’t tell anybody) Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

He’s really good with kids. Like, unnaturally good. Like, you’ll walk into a room and see him regaling your nephews with stories of Battlin’ Jack Murdock, or all of your nieces doing their best to put his hair in ponytails or “forcing” him to sing Disney songs with them (and melting when he actually gets really into it)

The most chivalrous little shit on earth. Always opening doors for you, pulling your chair out for you when you go out to eat, helping you out of taxis, kissing the back of your hand, shit like that. Simply because he loves hearing the heat rush to your cheeks

He’s annoyingly good at hide and seek, at least from a seeking standpoint because of his super weirdness. He can’t hide worth a damn, because he’s almost six feet tall and not that flexible, so he ends up trying to hide behind the big plant in your living room and you can just barely see the tiniest bit of his fluffy hair peeking out over the top of it

He’s a complete pansy when it comes to spicy food or strong flavors. The only spicy things he can kind of handle are Hot Cheetos or Takis, and even after those he has to chug like half a gallon of milk

He’s surprisingly good with animals. Like, say you’re at a petting zoo for a younger relative’s birthday party. You’ll end up finding him in some obscure corner of the animal pen with a baby goat fast asleep in his arms. Or if you’re at a family member’s house for a holiday and they happen to have a dog or a cat, you can bet the second he sits down that animal is going to make themselves at home on his lap or around his shoulders. It’s even funnier if the dog that picks him as their dog bed is huge, like you just walk into the living room to find him being borderline smothered by a very self-satisfied fully grown Great Pyrenees

His favorite times of year are the beginning of spring when all the flowers and trees are blooming, and the holidays because of all the yummy baked treats you’re constantly making that make the whole apartment smell like a real deal bakery

He can’t bring himself to go within 50 feet of a Bath and Bodywork’s or a Yankee Candle because of all the competing robust aromas, so he’ll just tell you what candle or bath product he’d like, because he physically can’t go near either of those stores without getting a wicked headache

After a particularly rough night out on patrol, you’ll most likely find him on the couch cocooned inside a weighted blanket with his expensive noise cancelling headphones over his ears, because sometimes the only way he can get calm enough to meditate is if he can’t hear anything and he doesn’t have any outside stimulation

He loves audio books, especially the ones where the narrator uses different voices to distinguish what character is speaking. Knowing this, you buy him the Harry Potter audiobooks, and it’s safe to say they quickly become his favorite because Stephen Fry is the MVP of character voices

Because his senses are so refined, you, Foggy, and Karen come up with a game where you give him five of the same thing but from different places or brands (like four black coffees from four different coffee joints and one homemade or five pints of vanilla ice cream from five different brands) to see if he can tell the difference between them. Annoyingly enough, he can, and it pisses you guys off to no end

He memorizes the heartbeats and walking patterns of the people he cares about (aka you, Foggy, and Karen), so he can pick you guys out of a crowd of thousands and instantly tell when there’s something wrong be it your heart rate is slightly irregular, your walking pace is accelerated, or god forbid you have a slight limp

Much like Anakin Skywalker, he can’t really handle the texture of sand (of course you quote that one scene whenever he mentions it just to mess with him), so he’s not the biggest fan of the beach. Then one year for a vacation you take him to your relative’s condo in Coquina Beach, Florida, and the second he feels how soft the sand is, he changes his mind about beaches, and you two decide to try and find the beach with the softest sand in the world

He loves it when you wear his clothes, especially his old Columbia sweatshirts or tees. Once when he came home, you were wearing one of his white work button ups and no pants, and he just about lost his remaining five marbles

He unironically loves VeggieTales, especially the Silly Songs with Larry. You’ve caught him humming “Oh Where is My Hairbrush?” to himself while he’s getting ready for work too many times for it to be a coincidence

He has a really good singing voice, but he only ever busts it out at a karaoke bar after a few too many whiskeys, and yet he still sounds coherent when you drunkenly usher him onto the stage. Once he sang “Hold Me While You Wait” by Lewis Capaldi, and the entire female population within the bar (and a couple of dudes, tbh) basically melted into the floor, because he has no business having the voice of an angel when he’s drunk off his ass

He likes going to museums with you that specialize in your niche interests just to hear you infodump to him about the stuff you already know and the new stuff you learn while you’re there, because he loves listening to your voice in any context

#logan speaks #logan writes #logan has headcanons #matt murdock headcanons

[futureghost97]

6. Yankee Candles or Roaring FireplaceBath and Body Works?

10. Halloweentown or Nightmare Before Christmas Hocus Pocus?

11. Hot Chocolate or Apple Cider?

14. Goosebumps or Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Bonus: Honey Pot Hill or Ward’s Berry Farm?

ah damn. some of these are so hard ughhhh

6.) I like Yankee Candles for Christmastime scents but for autumn I actually go Bath and Body Works!!! Their blueberry pumpkin something from 2 years ago still lives in my heart

10.) DAMN. Ugh. Hocus Pocus bc specifically New England, gotta rep. But Halloweentown is so good.

11.) For fall, apple cider :) Winter is hot cocoa for meeee

14.) Goosebumps 😎 one of the scariest things from my childhood was the Stay Out of the Basement! VHS that my brother’s dad brought me one year. that shit terrified me fr and I still have issues watching it, super creepy to young me

Bonus: Honey Pot Hill (but I’ve been to Ward’s more recently)

#asked and answered #thankyouuuuu #hi cass

[bilestat]

1 through 10!

damn bestie okay (ily)

sleeping in or getting an early start - i have terminal sleepy bitch disease so sleeping in, but i love early mornings sometimes

coffee or tea - coffee! i didn't grow up drinking tea so i never developed a taste for it, and loving coffee is one of my personality traits (she says, taking a sip of a mcdonalds frappe as she types this)

favorite breakfast food - currently breakfast tacos! i've made them a couple times this week and fully intend to make them again tomorrow lol

opinion on brunch - love it, wish i went to it more. SOMEDAY BESTIE...... we will brunch together

how many houseplants do you have? - none! i like plants but not enough to put the effort into learning about caring for them. also idk what plants you can even have with a cat.

favorite flower - sunflowers!

things that always make you smile - MY BESTIESSSSSS

tv shows you’re currently obsessed with - iwtv obvs, the mandalorian, and tlou

favorite scent and why - incense because my dad burnt it all the time so it's super nostalgic. also yankee balsam and cedar candles

your hopes/wishes for the coming week - i hope my wisdom teeth removal consultation goes well and that my surgery is really soon after cause i just wanna get this shit over with lmao

#thank you bestie ily!!! #chloe tag #spookylestat #ask #tw dental

[heffrondriving]

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Which Side Of My Heart Are You On? ❜ : ̗̀❥ JO TAYLOR × LUCY STONE┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

: ̗̀❥ RATING: T // WORD COUNT: 9,080 // CHARACTERS: lucy stone, jo taylor // RELATIONSHIPS: lucy stone/jo taylor, obligatory kendall knight/jo taylor // TAGS: one shot, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, lil lucy angstiness, romantic tension, slice of life, friendship, pining, gay panic, flirting, confusion, internal conflict, self-denial, arguing, character study(ish), femslash, girls in love, canon compliant, useless lesbians <3, rarepair // AO3

: ̗̀❥ inspired by the song Like That by Stand Atlantic and dedicated to @digitalfate 💙

❥៚ 𝑶𝑵𝑬: 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒆 (𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆) ─ೄྀ࿐

❝ Honey-coated speech and I’m overdosing It’s just like that (It’s just like that) Delicately dying for another minute It’s just like that (It’s just like that) Gold rush, what you digging out of me? This head rush, stomach’s in my neck I gotta stand still, dizzy, dumb and in between... ❞

Things have been weird. And while Lucy wouldn’t mind a dash of weirdness cutting up the basic monotony of her daily life, this was just asking for madness.

Well...there was asking for madness, and there was turning right to madness, and Lucy felt so impossibly caught up in the middle of it all that she would have given anything to feel normal again, even just for a second.

But that was also ridiculous. She was Lucy Stone, for crying out loud! She was hardly the poster girl of normalcy, and she rocked that rollercoaster ride hard and fast, no safety bars allowed. She was an up-and-coming punk goddess shacking up in the very heart of Heartless Hollywood, land of the rich and famey and batshit crazy. She had four good friends who also happened to be rowdy hockey players slash huge popstars slash absolute troublemaking hooligans from Minnesota, all of which constantly dragged her along their insane cartoonish escapades. And believe her, Lucy had tried normal, once upon a terrible time—having apple-cheeked, insidiously overwound, suburban basketcases for parents will do that to a ponytail-pulled kid.

And still, it was amazing—infuriatingly so—how none of it held a Yankee gift-basket candle towards the weirdest way Jo had been making Lucy feel lately.

So maybe that was Lucy’s own fault, a slow undoing by her own personal hubris a-la Ajax tragedy—after all, she was the one who chose to move back to the Palm Woods, despite the rocky not-quite-history she had with the place. With the way things were going for her flourishing career, she could’ve gone all-out and holed up in some nice ultra-luxury condo elsewhere in LA, preferably somewhere far away from her old lie of a life and the pretty little faces that came back to haunt her every restless night she was all alone and running on twenty cans of Pipeline Punch Juice Monster and writer’s block. But that just wasn’t Lucy’s thing. She was never the type to just up and run away.

Well, except maybe running away from her overbearing parents and their southern passive-aggressive authoritarian neuroses that got her poor older brother kicked to military school before she could get more secret guitar lessons from him, but that’s besides the point. If Lucy wanted to get over something, she would face it without flinching and confront whatever got thrown her way headfirst. If there was anything she learned from her cranky whipsnap of a violin teacher (and nothing more useful than sight reading and permanently disliking classical music, to be frank), it’s that quitters never get the break.

Well, okay—she had also quit the old hag for nearly breaking her fingers off with that damn yardstick anyway despite her father’s disappointed vitriol. But it turned out to be the best decision Lucy had ever made, since now she has broken away from her stifling classical musician past and finally emerged with her big break as the rock scene’s next big rising star. Even though whoever in her idiot desk monkey PR team that had the ‘brilliant’ idea to stamp her brand as a ‘pop princess’ smack dab on the cover of Wailing Note magazine out of all places seriously had another thing coming, because that couldn’t be any further from who she was trying to be. But trying to be the next Siouxsie Sioux with kickin’ song titles like ‘Teenage Anarchy’, ‘Eat My Dog’, and ‘Cut It Off And [redacted due to inappropriate graphic nature]’ don’t sell in this modern climate, so maybe Lucy could at least try to get Avril Lavigne and she wasn’t even tossed that fighting chance.

And now the cycle of Lucy’s woebegone life seemed to have gone from broken-up to breaking out and now right on the verge of breaking down, grappling with strange feelings she wasn’t sure were even hers to feel at all. Even with her pointless selfish reminiscing, Lucy knew this wasn’t just about her, wasn’t just about her messed-up past and her breakneck future making her feel a thousand different shades of weird, but it was here and now. In the present, with a girl she doesn’t know how to feel about. There was something about Jo Taylor.

Or something else Lucy was missing entirely.

There was bound to be some weirdness between them; after all, she and Jo both dated the same boy at some point—even though dated was a pathetically generous way of putting it for Lucy, what with the whole only together for barely ninety seconds deal before those fateful elevator doors opened up to a badly-timed kiss and imminent disaster. After her previous cheater boyfriend fiasco she nearly fell prey to again, the last thing Lucy wanted to do was to get caught up in an unexpected love triangle with all signs pointing to heartbreak highway with an inbound collision, which was certainly enough to break the hardest heads and make anyone’s mangled stomach drop all the way to the pits of hell.

But if her debut album was all about being strong and doing what makes you happy, then so be it. Nevermind that she also would have been totally singing out of her ass for 80% of the tracks (the remaining 20% was for the sick guitar riffs that could shred a whole factory of Dutch gouda into fine powder and disgustingly great sound production courtesy of Galactic Records, of course). Because apparently that positive fakery and callout girlpower sells and sells and sells, so hey, well done her. Make it until you fake it, right?

Anyway, all of that annoying drama was over and done with, Lucy’s had her petty little revenge via a hit Taylor Swift-esque masterpiece that landed her a cosy place on the music charts (which, in hindsight, wasn’t the most elegant of moves, but she was lonely and dejected and filled with enough unwanted spite to boil her body from the inside out, what else was a girl supposed to do other than go all Ophelia? Yeah, Lucy was tragic but she wasn’t buying into that classic brand of fridged-lady bullshit) and earned her a pretty cool future European tour, and now she had her rightful throne back at the Palm Woods along with her old close friends and a really lovely new girl friend.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Lucy and Jo were only pretending to stand each other’s strained necks only to crush their heels down as soon as one let down her guard and looked away. Maybe they were only five seconds away from a slipped bitter laugh and tearing at each other’s throats with painted nails to the beat of flashing paparazzi spotlights and tonight’s E! News headlines. Lucy honestly couldn’t really tell anymore.

Sure, she and Jo were good friends now, but there was still something uncomfortable lingering in the air between them, hair-raising friction and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dispositions and an unspoken gravity that threatened to crush down Lucy’s tin can brain if she overthinks it for too long. The worst part about it was that Lucy couldn’t figure out what it was exactly—she was completely over Kendall (and any other stupidly complicated boy trouble for the foreseeable rest of her life, if she could friggin’ help it), that much was true...but why did she still feel a dull pang of something almost resembling jealousy whenever the Palm Woods star couple were together?

Lucy has tried to cut off that insidious feeling time and time again, but the indomitable hydra’s head just kept on sprouting back and multiplying twofold, poison veins and blood-red vision, suffocating her a little worse every time.

Cutting her own annoying head off would be a much easier solution.

That Sunday was one of those weird monster-brain days. Lucy and her two best friends had been meticulously planning this girls’ day out for an entire week now as their busy acting and recording schedules never seemed to perfectly align, and that day was the only free time they had to spare. Unfortunately, Camille had to be rushed back for a last-minute audition callback for the next series installment of hit TV show My Nanny is a Werewolf on Kidzie Channel. While both Lucy and Jo eagerly volunteered to entirely nix the hangout and come with her in support instead, the actress cheerily waved their offers off, telling the girls that Logan was already coming with her anyway and she didn’t wanna ruin their plans any more than she already did, despite their assurances of the contrary.

With exchanged wishes of good luck, Camille bade her friends goodbye with a well-practiced weregirl snarl-twirl-snap combo and playful reminders to “have fun and behave yourselves while I’m away!”

Lucy couldn’t even muster up a smartass quip back to promise one or the other. If anything could send her nerves instantly unwinding end to end and back around her throat next to news of her parents coming around for a visit to subtly psychoanalyse her every disobedient move and street mimes (the creepy monochrome bastards), it was having to be alone with Jo.

Shit biscuits, this was so not in the plan!

It was going to be strange for them—potentially disastrous, even—not having Camille around, since she was practically the sole linchpin keeping their friend group together. With the veteran teen actress having been really close to each girl and being a steady presence in the Palm Woods and their lives despite all the ensuing changes and confusion, she was always there to ease out the looming tension and act as an impartial mediator between Lucy and Jo, always ready with a crazy story or a fun activity to rope in the three of them together. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but Lucy’s previous solo hangouts with Jo proved to be a bit dubious after exhausting their seemingly multiple choice chit-chat options about music and work and the-eyebrows-man-who-must-not-be-named, more often ending the conversation in question marks and uneasy silence broken only by a straw scraping against the bottom of the empty smoothie cup.

But Lucy was still determined to make the best out of what might just be a good thing. Maybe even the next best thing for them going forward. This was the perfect chance to figure out what exactly was going on between her and Jo. What’s the worst that could happen, right?

(Everything. Nothing. All of the above plus one and show the equations on scratch paper. The options were limitless and if this was a test of true strength and willpower, Lucy would rather stab herself in the neck with a freshly-sharpened #2 pencil than fail hard and embarrass herself. But she wasn’t gonna be a coward and run away, not this time. Not anymore.)

Their day was a whirlwind blur; a burning rush of exciting Hollywood lights beckoning their giddiest fancies and sweltering air competing against frigid mall air-conditioning, teasing flashes of soaring blonde curls and a steadfast hand clutching Lucy’s own, and creeping close contact everywhere she turned—every moment a suspect call, ocean bruises and rubinette touches turning into downward spirals and a bleeding fleeting desperation that seemed to haunt Lucy around like a phantom as she followed Jo around, while her friend clearly wasn’t feeling the buzzkill spectre shivering and sapping her bones dry of enjoyment.

That was good. That was bad. The answers were still a mess on the page.

For the most part, Lucy figured she did a pretty good job of the whole rigmarole. Despite her brain initially going full neurotic on her, it really wasn’t all as bad as her nightmarish fantasies had twisted it out to be. As a matter of fact, it was Mr. Fox levels of fantastic.

They visited some boutiques and spreed the shops to mix and match some cool new outfits for each other, and shared some delicious food at a quaint seaside burrito and taco stand afterwards. There, Lucy listened intently to Jo’s stories about getting the part of the beautifully wise nymph-child Emily Trace and her time in New Zealand filming for Chauncey Jackson, which the actress still fondly remembered despite the whole breakup deal and the disastrous theatre-burning aftermath that came with it. Lucy managed to crack snarky little jokes and laugh in the right places, also sharing funny and zany tour tales of her own. And, upon Jo’s not-so-brilliant idea once she spotted the two-for-one deal sign as they were heading back, Lucy also begrudgingly got French pedicures with her, which was a whole other level of horrifying for the punk girl.

She swore upon all the unwise deities in the sky that she was never letting anyone near her extremely ticklish appendages again no matter how skilled they were at prettying up her nails, thanks very much.

But that was the worst brunt of it otherwise. In a spur-of-the-moment madness, Lucy even ran with this whole dumb bit of going all gum-chewing tour guide for Jo and showing her around the city, completely playing into it with awed gasping, imaginary camera clicking, and dramatic posing and pointing at every nondescript building facade and rusty fire hydrant. Neither girl cared that every rubbernecking passersby shot them odd looks and disapproving glares, they simply laughed and ran away with arms interlocked beneath the cascading firestorm marigold of the afternoon skylines, cardboard cutouts of towering skyscrapers and palm trees silhouetting the dying sun as the day drew to a more peaceful close.

So yeah, to say it went great was a massive understatement. Lucy enjoyed herself a lot, but not as much as she enjoyed seeing Jo have the time of her life. It felt like their relationship was going to continue its ascending momentum, but...friendship shouldn’t have felt this stilted, this rehearsed, this performative. It shouldn’t have been this hard for Lucy to deal with. Even with her inexplicable thoughts, Lucy really liked Jo. And the sentiment seemed to be reciprocated, counting how many times Lucy made Jo smile and crack up—and in one instance, even choke on her ice cream as the punk girl described Camille and Kendall’s short-lived stint as figure skaters in full painful detail, insane best friend code and Logan’s murderous jealousy and James and Carlos getting glued together and horrible shiny purple costume and bloody Death Spiral and all.

Jo was incredibly easy to talk to, comfortable to be around with, all prettiness and sprightly charm and that adorably wicked smile edging out a smart veneer—it made Lucy’s stomach flutter something strange—maybe from hope, or maybe from indigestion courtesy of those killer all-American beef tacos. Long story longer, Lucy wants to be with Jo.

So what the hell was she doing wrong?

There wasn’t too much time for Lucy to think it over, and she was far too exhausted and simply relieved that she made it out alive. The two girls opted for one last quick corndog snack (well, Lucy did since she was seriously starving after their impromptu street run and Jo wasn’t the biggest fan of the food, but the actress bought some to take home for their hyper helmet-toting friend anyway), before catching the last shuttle to the Palm Woods and finally making it back to their home sweet home.

Make it until you fake it...

“Thanks for the awesome day out, Jo,” Lucy said as they reached the door to Apartment 3F, a place less supply closet chic and much roomier than her old one. She only moved into a second-floor space when she first returned as step one of her terrible ‘get rid of horrible songwriting rut’ plan. And after a whole week of sleepless nights courtesy of the nonstop racket in Apartment 2J, Lucy decided to save what was left of her hanging sanity by requesting a change in rooms, an arrangement that Mr. Reginald Bitters was all too happy to agree to once he saw the growing zeroes in her bank account.

However, this also meant that Jo’s apartment was only a few doors away from hers down at 3I, an uncanny coincidence that Lucy didn’t want to think too much about.

“No need to thank me for anything,” Jo replied modestly. “And thanks as well!”

“I’m super worn-out to the bone and all, but I had lots of fun and I really wanna do this again soon. Hopefully when Cam’s free so we can paint the town a shade of red brighter.”

“Yeah, I think I’d really like that too.” Jo smiled. “And Camille better be there, ‘cause she seriously missed out today and well...I say this with all the love in my heart, but you’re also a really lousy clothes shopping partner.”

Lucy chuckled, airily shrugging in reply. “Hey, no offence taken. If it wasn’t so obvious already, I’m really more of a DIY-kinda person when it comes to choosing my fits. I mean, where’s the fun in picking up Barbie doll cutouts when you could get to run loose with scissors and trick up that haute couture perfection into something awesome and unique?”

“Yeah, I get the whole getting bored with dress-up too.”

“Yeah?”

“Kinda, with all the outfits and costumes they make me wear for my acting roles sometimes...” Jo said. “It’s all gorgeous fun and fabulous fashion shows in the dressing trailer until you’ve spent half your week on the makeup chair after your fiftieth costume change of the day and end up in a molting chicken outfit in hundred-degree LA heat for an eight-hour shoot.”

Lucy whistled low at this. “I’ve had my fair share of getting stuffed into itchy grandma dresses by my mom, but yeah, definitely nothing as bad as that. I think my worst offender was a giant pink chiffon tutu for a church recital and I sulked up a storm the entire time for the performance that my annoyed dad practically had to drag me off the stage by my pointé shoes.”

“Awww, ballerina Lucy-goosey,” Jo gushed. “Now that I would love to see!”

“You’d have to pry it from my cold dead hands first.” Lucy sternly clicked her tongue. “But hey, anytime you feel up for a wardrobe overhaul, call me, beep me, ‘cause I’m your gal. it’s a hell of a time ripping ‘em up, and that’s definitely a thing I gotta show you sometime.”

“Mmm, maybe. Daddy taught me never to run with scissors, though.”

“Oh come onnn, live a little, why don’t you?” Lucy mimed a pair of scissors with both hands and poked and jabbed her flicking fingers into Jo’s midriff, making her cry out in protesting giggles.

“Hey—don’t, buzz off—you’re—such a bad influence—Stone!” She gasped out, skirting away and whacking Lucy with a Kate Spade shopping bag to fend her attacks off.

“As if you really need me to break your halo, angel?” Lucy winked. “I’m afraid it’s far too late to save your grace.”

“And you and me and the devil makes three.”

“Well, only you and me since two of those are the same things.” With a halfhearted evil cackle, Lucy swung the door open with a grand sweeping gesture. “Feel like entering the gates of hell today?”

Jo nodded gratefully as she welcomed the invitation. “I don’t know if I could take another step without collapsing, so wouldn’t mind a little rest,” she said, dropping her bags down on the couch and comfortably settling in with a sigh. “Thanks, Lucy...fer?”

“Oh, you won’t be thanking me soon enough.”

“Why, ‘cause you’re gonna make pretty confetti out of my clothes?”

“Hey now, alright, alright. No more running with scissors so daddy doesn’t take your supper away.” The punk girl held up two hands in surrender and sat down next to Jo. “Maybe just very carefully ambling with helmets and crash pads. That sound like a plan?”

“Just as long as that plan doesn’t include you abandoning me to cause some townie trouble with high school kids and howl at the moon.”

Both girls couldn’t help but giggle at the vivid image of the elegantly gorgeous Camille Roberts transforming into a hairy scary beast by performing her signature snarl-twirl-snap cheerleader move.

“Hey, down with team Jacob,” Lucy joked. “I promise I won’t abandon you, and this is just a little precaution so we don’t accidentally riches to rags those really good florals you picked out for me, ‘cause that’d be a right shame.”

Jo frowned at this, peach-pink lower lip blooming into that dainty little pout the New Town High writers had taken every opportunity to abuse in her infamous character Rachel’s scripts. Lucy couldn’t blame them, though. It was a pretty view-cashing quirk—even she was completely mesmerised. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Luce,” she said. “If you don’t like it, just say so. I’m a big girl now and I could totally take it. And anyway, we could always exchange it for those fancy aviator jackets you were ogling over. Oh yeah, I totally saw that, even if you didn’t tell me.”

“How dare you accuse me of being a liar—‘cause I’m totally not!” Lucy insisted, adamantly waving the tropical-patterned paper bag containing the incriminating articles of clothing. “You wanna see me wear that frilly frigging halter top everyday? Girl, you got it! I’ll even dye my hair Electric Bananas yellow and wear it for my next music video complete with Daisy Dukes and red cowboy boots to immortalise it forever in my shameful name, if that’s what it takes for me to prove it to you!”

“Wow, so desperate to convince me.” Jo delightedly laughed, a mischievous wind-chime twinkle. “Hold your horses, cowgirl. I’m already impressed by the dedication alone—although I honestly wouldn’t mind seeing you in that kinda outfit...”

Lucy’s throat tightened, suddenly finding herself unable to meet Jo’s cloying coffee gaze and pursed smirk as it wryly raked up and down her pale, gawky, ungraceful form. She was so unlike her beautiful American doll of a best friend, who was like all the pretty pink princesses and gorgeous Day-Glo Pop Tiger girls she either unhealthily obsessed over or resented with a misguided burning passion (or both) in her younger days. And well, apparently now—but would Jo agree to a music video cameo if it meant Lucy also got to see her in skimpy denim and sunbeaten leather of a sizzling hot Arizona desert cowgirl outfit—was Lucy insane enough to even consider writing a song in the godawful twangy music genre she despised with a burning passion just to make it happen...okay, nope, she wasn’t telling that, either.

“Well, you said no need, so no take-backs,” she muttered halfheartedly, both arms folded adamantly to press over her churning stomach—ugh, must be those damn fried franks too, how the hell did Carlos manage to scarf down a hundred sticks of them on the daily and not get a heart attack in the box?

“...Hey, are you okay, Luce?” Jo asked worriedly as she reached out and touched the back of her hand to her friend’s feverish forehead. “You don’t look so hot.”

“Me, not hot?” Lucy waved her concerns off with a lame scoff. “Pffft, that’s impossible!”

“Oh. Now that’s weird...”

“What’s weird?”

“For a moment, I swear I was talking to James Diamond of Big Time Rush and not Hollywood’s hottest pop princess Lucy Stone...”

“Okay, A. Don’t ever call me pop princess unless you wanna get turned into a toad, and B. compare me to that conceited IKEA rug-looking nematode again and I will take you down,” Lucy snapped, but immediately regretted her default mean girl tone when Jo reeled slightly. Oh, right. Not everyone was used to her brand of poison spit. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean that.”

“You didn’t?” Jo countered. “I’m always ready for a challenge.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll save the taking down for James instead, the next time he tries to be a total pest with his stupid aeroplane-based makeout metaphors and toxic man spray fumes.”

“Wow. You really hate him that much, huh. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the boys on you.”

Despite Jo’s jesting tone, Lucy couldn’t help but feel a little bit defensive. “It’s not that I hate him, I just...” She sighed harshly. “I guess if you look past the bloated ego and the over-delusional Adonis complex and the general dramatic derangement, he seems like a decently nice enough person. A really annoying one, mind—but maybe someone I wouldn’t mind being just friends with.”

“Just friends?”

“Capital F-word Friends, period. Mark my words, Taylor, because I am damn well carving them on the gravestone I’ll rest on in my sweetest deathbed, that I shall never have a thing for James frigging Diamond,” Lucy declared, slapping the coffee table after every word to emphasise her point. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Which I will if you ever bring this utter nonsense up again or even mention a single word of it to James. Then I hope he dies.”

Jo sombrely mumbled something Lucy couldn’t quite make out, only catching the tail end of “...to know.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, just...” Jo shook her head. “Thinking about some stuff. Nothing important, really.”

“Oh? Then spill,” Lucy goaded. “C’mon Jo, you’ve seen me squirm and shriek my lungs off at that stupid foot spa torture chamber, I think that’s enough to warrant a no-more-secrets rule between us.”

“Well, it’s just that, the thing with James. Or the lack of it, rather.”

“What about it?”

“It’s not because of...the whole Kendall thing, is it?”

“What?!” Lucy’s tone rose to shrill indignation.” Why on god’s green earth would it ever be?”

“I don’t know,” Jo hastily backtracked. “I told you it’s nothing important, but I just never really thought of it this way before. Like, seeing how they’re best friends and everything...”

“Dude, come on—”

“Maybe it’d feel weird for you so soon after everything to have to see him around all the time.”

“Josephine, seriously, you’ve got a big brain on you. Don’t waste it on History Channel conspiracy theories and pointless MTV-level drama,” Lucy sternly berated. “But no, it’s because James is irritating and abrasive and keeps popping up everywhere like a bad rash.” She paused, making a disgusted face. “Okay, ew, that was a horrible comparison, but you know what James is like so you get my point. I told you I’m already cool with Kendall, and you and him have nothing else to do with anything that’s my personal business, except for being my good friends and good company. That’s all.”

Lucy wanted to mean it like she said it—but wowza, was that an Oscar-winning performance of a pretty little white lie or what? Either Camille’s extreme method actressing had been rubbing off on her lately, or it was just another one of those dirty tricks she had to learn the hard way after endlessly lying and being lied to in her last relationship. She was certainly good enough to fool hopeless hearts trying to chase her out of the friendzone and vice versa, so what’s one more lie? Laissez-faire life like this, you simply can’t have one without the other, as she found out easily enough.

That was the only easy part about it, unfortunately. I’d like to thank you with a side of choke, Academy.

“Okay. Just checking,” Jo replied after an extremely unnerving beat, dainty lips quivering as she stubbornly bit CW’s favourite thousand-dollar pout back into a serrated thin line. “‘Cause I’d really feel bad if—”

“Well don’t!” Lucy shouted in a crackwhip shock that made her friend flinch hard enough to taste blood. “I said what I freaking said—so seriously, just drop the whole annoying wounded kitty act and shut up about that for a moment already, okay?!”

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oh, great. Just when Lucy thought she was about to pass with flying colours, there came the surprise back page to clock her just as the time ran out. They were due in for a catfight anytime, weren’t they?

“Nothing,” Lucy dismissed, exhaling roughly and slapping a palm on the side of her head to fend off the incoming headache. “Just forget it. Forget about everything.”

“Lucy, I don’t wanna pick a fight.”

“Yeah? Then why don’t you damn well act like it?” Hey woah, ixnay on the attitude, Stone, what the hell are you doing?!

Jo blinked helplessly. Took a step back. She appeared on the verge of something. Maybe falling tears, maybe unsheathing claws. Lucy had certainly shown her hand. Er, paw. Her own fists clenched and unclenched, leaving thin scarlet indentations on her palms with obsidian-black fingernails.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you,” Jo finally murmured. “I just want you to talk to me, Lucy.”

“What am I, using telepathy or something?”

The punk girl’s snarky response went all but unheeded. “No, I mean like...talk to me, please,” Jo begged, clasping desperately at Lucy’s marred hands. “I just feel like, I don’t know, we’re still holding some things back and the last thing I want between us is this...annoying awkwardness! Maybe it’s just me—maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I feel like there’s this sort of unpleasant tension hiding behind all the normal chatting and the joking, it’s like this weird space that I just can’t understand how to reach out to. It’s like, there’s something more going on here.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucy said evenly, trying to ignore both the sudden electric dithers from her fingertips starting to course through her nerves and the distracting fact that Jo’s skin felt so warm...

“That’s the thing, I can’t even begin to describe it. I don’t think there’s any rational way to! And I swear, I like you a lot, but if we can’t get past that—whatever that is—then...” Jo let go of Lucy and slumped her shoulders heavily, at a total loss. “Maybe there’s no point in trying to be friends anymore.”

Oh, Tony the pissing Tiger grrreat with a side of soggy cornflakes. Not only was Lucy’s worst suspicions confirmed, but it was apparently playing for both teams and everyone was damn well losing. No, really, she would rather take the hair-pulling and name-calling and kicking and screaming—she didn’t do well with pity parades, seeing how easily she could rain on it with her stupid shallow tears. Even worse than the ticklishness, it was seriously Lucy’s greatest, lamest, worst weakness ever.

“Listen to me.” Lucy startled Jo as she staggered forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, trembling touch seconds away from a good sense-knocking shake. “I chose to come back to the Palm Woods. I chose to ignite some trouble with the whole nutty song scandal. I made you believe I was still chasing Kendall just to douse more gasoline in my writer blocked-brain. Did I regret any of it? Yeah, a whole freaking lot, and I’ll never stop being sorry for being so stupidly petty...but I’m not mad anymore. I don’t regret coming back here. And I definitely don’t regret...” Being with you. “Being your friend.”

They were so close Lucy could feel Jo’s rattled breaths shaking past her lungs. Or was it hers?

“Really?”

“Well, duh!” Lucy broke into a genuine smile, which Jo hesitantly mirrored back, and Lucy’s grip relaxed into an awkward pat on the relieved girl’s back. “Hey, the whole thing with me and Mom Pants McGee was a fun little tryst while it lasted, but sweet boys give me a toothache anyway and I’m completely over him now. And I did get a couple amazing hit songs off his storky back, so hey—even stevens.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jo said regretfully. “I’m really sorry for bringing it up in the first place and trying to overcomplicate things again. I mean, you’re so pretty and talented and great to be around with—even if not in the fitting room,” Lucy shot her fond stink-eyes at this gibe, “so...I really don’t wanna lose you.”

“Back at you.” Top ten worst responses to a heartfelt conversation much? But Lucy really couldn’t say it back at the risk of her twitchy eyes going twin geysers, so she squinted and blinked rapidly to get rid of the blurriness threatening to overtake her sight. “But also, you’re still right about some things.”

“Like what?”

“Us, for a start. When I said I didn’t know what you were talking about...I was just too nervous to admit the truth. Because I’ve honestly felt that weird awkwardness too, and I didn’t wanna be the one to ruin things when they seemed to be going great, so I left it alone and hoped it would go away. I tried to make it go away. But maybe that’s also on me for not trusting you enough to really talk to you.”

“Oh thank god,” Jo blurted out. “I mean, not the awkwardness, but I’m really glad I’m not going entirely crazy. Am I bad for saying that?”

“The worst.” Lucy grinned, winking at her. “And you know what? To hell with all that noise! Life’s too short to get cold feet with your cool friend, and it’s too awesome to hang out with you, today alone proved that. I swear, I haven’t had this much fun since...I dunno, my first trip to Kidzieland just after my very first successful violin recital.” She cringed a bit at the inflicting memory. “Well, the recital sucked total butt and a half, what with more frilly dresses and rows of dead-looking old people silently watching a poor six year-old screech her way through Vivaldi Concerto in A Minor, but I just meant the happiest place on Earth part.”

“Ooh, violinist Lucy-goosey, I gotta pry that out of your cold dead hands too! Just kidding. But I really hope you’re not just saying that just to say it.”

“I know I say a lot of things—maybe too many things—but like I said, I never say anything I don’t mean. I can promise you that much, cross my heart and hope to die. Or, um, not die.” There was an irritating song stuck in Lucy’s head going la-la-la-la-liar...

“Sounds good to me,” Jo said, smiling appreciatively. “Sorry for being annoying.”

“You’re not annoying, I’m just being a total queen bitch again. I’m really sorry for yelling at you, Jo. I’m not entirely used to this whole friendship thing yet ‘cause it’s all so new to me—and I guess you’ve just found out why I don’t really have many of them. God, I just need an attitude check every once in a while.” Lucy sighed. “But I really hope we’re still friends...?”

“Of course we are!” Jo said. “Besides, if you’re gonna need an attitude check from time to time, I wouldn’t mind being up for the job.”

“Hired—as long as you’re fine with being my unpaid intern slash total lackey.”

“Oh, I’ll make you pay one way or another.”

“You’ve been threatening me an awful lot today, Miss Taylor.” Lucy arched a daunting brow at Jo. “You really think you can take America’s baddest punk prodigy on?”

“Please. You’d be surprised to see just what I can do to you.”

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

Lucy smirked and rolled her eyes as Jo lightly punched her shoulder before making a grab for her choker blouse, which she easily twisted out of. Lucy zipped to her feet and made a taunting come-hither motion with one hand while Jo surged toward her again, and she pulled a feign to the right and used it as an opportunity to try to corner Jo. But the blonde girl performed a shockingly quick complex manouevre that completely caught Lucy off-guard, as Jo twisted her by the wrist and swept her outbalanced legs from beneath, easily pushed her back down to the sofa, and ultimately managed to pin her against it, one nimble leg locked over Lucy’s knee and Jo’s forearm pressed deep into her heaving chest to keep her from escaping.

“Told you I’m always ready for a challenge.”

“Touché. Colour me a hot-pink shade of impressed,” Lucy said, not even bothering to squirm her futile way out. “You weren’t the locked-up tower damsel in distress I thought you were.”

“Oh?” Jo cooed slyly. She was clearly savouring every minute of it (not that Lucy couldn’t say the same—but never admit defeat to your enemy and all that jazz). “Did Kendall never mention that my dad’s a trained Marine and CIA employee, and that daddy’s little girl went through intense judo training from age five to get her supper?”

“Your dashing Knight in flannel armour never mentioned a lot of things about you.” Lucy’s lips curled in between shallow breaths. “I wonder why.”

“I guess that means you’re not the only one keeping secrets, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“So you and me, what’s our deal now? I thought you said no more secrets?”

“Well, maybe leave some between the devil and me.” Lucy’s brash conviction fell flat, lost to the stunning sight in front of her spinning her into mental vertigo. Jo’s perfectly-coiffed ringlets were now a tangled mess over her forehead as it freely waterfalled over Lucy’s hot-pink face, and her breaths—damn it, I should really stop staring at those bewitched lips—were so heavy on Lucy’s neck that she found herself shivering and ticklish all over. Stupid oversensitive skin. She deliriously wondered if Jo’s barred arm was also bruising from how hard her heartbeats were walloping out of her ribcage. “So...what else can you do to me, Rapunzel?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” With a promising glee, Jo finally released her captor and stood up, smoothing back her hair and stretching her body as if their tussle never happened. “But hey, I’m tired and you’re tired and we’re all fried in the brains, so that’s a girl fight for another day, don’t you think?”

“I’ll make sure to chalk up that appointment.” Lucy accepted Jo’s helping hand and handed the other girl’s shopping bags in turn. With this, they instinctively linked arms as they walked to the front door.

“So, same time next week?” Jo asked expectantly.

“Are you talking about the hanging out or the fighting?” Lucy replied.

“Hmm...maybe a little bit of both. For funsies.”

“Hey, dinner and a movie first, missy!” Lucy exclaimed all huffy, making Jo laugh and whap her with a bag again. “But seriously though, whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it, as long as it’s with you.”

Jo searchingly peered at her. “Really?”

“Totally! I know I don’t have many people around here I could talk to apart from the Big Time Gonzos and you and Camille, and there’s never a dull moment, to say the least, but...I just really like being with you the most, Jo,” Lucy confessed. She hated herself worse the more she talked, but the dam had burst and she was unable to keep herself from blabbing on. “Now that we’ve got our issues out of the way, I think I could just talk to you, like really talk to you, no supermutant telepathy needed. Somehow, it makes me hope that I’ll never have to feel like I gotta be someone else other than myself now. So...I don’t know. This sounds super weird and stupid to say, but I kinda feel like...you could be my best friend. Or maybe even more than that...?”

Woah, nelly. Can we get some lip stitcher for the TMI snitcher here??? It must’ve been Lucy’s mind getting scrambled and smeared like avocado toast under the humid evening heat. Or from too much sugar-shocked Mint Brownie Blizzard DQ’s, because why the hell was she suddenly getting all soft and sappy now? Yeah, she was more than used to speaking her mind, but it was usually sharp edges and bad decisions like Jo just unfortunately witnessed, but not this...this goopy tempur-pedic heart mess!

“I dunno, it’s whatever, but you’re cool and stuff, and it’s really nice to wind down from work without getting caught up in insane tree hat schemes or Camille’s crazy acting gigs and have some vanilla peace and quiet sometimes with someone, so like. It’s whatever! Ugh, sorry. Lame. Not you—I just, me—I’m...so lame. Yeah. Um. Thanks. Bye.”

A deafening beat of silence, Jo softening into what could’ve been a second of sympathetic uncertainty, or a thousand years of embarrassed concern. Lucy scuffed her ancient Demonia boots against the dusty carpet, wordlessly counted the dirty palm prints in dire need of a good vacuuming and an entire pricey overhaul that their cheapskate manager would never pay for, and tugged absently at her handmade Lockpicks button, picking and pressing at the black and red marker-scribbled logo until she felt the open pin pierce past her jacket and dig into her numb hammering chest. She wanted to slam the door in Jo’s face to saver her own. Or slam her dysfunctional head between the doorway just to get everything over with.

Yeah, great save there, Stone. Only made you sound like a backed-up motorcycle that won’t start. Peanut butter smooth enough to choke a three year-old. That storm’s one for the playbooks, Lzzy Fail with a capital L for Loserville—

“I don’t know what else to say except for...thank you so much, Lucy.” At last, Jo’s reply mercifully cuts into the musician’s tirade of self-resentment, her sincere voice wavering into delicate brushstrokes and painting Lucy’s face with cosmic bloom. “For this day out. For your honesty. And for everything else.”

Lucy expected a judo slap in the face more than she did gratitude. She would’ve taken it like a champ too, if it’d help her come back to her senses. What? Huh? “Whuh?”

Aaand there’s the slap from her stupid dysfunctional brain to save the friggin’ day. Girl, snap your mouth shut and get yourself together before you have a full-blown aneurysm in front of Jo, come on.

“I’m just really glad to hear that from you, is all,” Jo continued. “‘Cause here I thought it’d never stop being weird after everything that happened between us and even now, I still wasn’t even sure if you really liked me or we’re just doing this to try to be polite with each other...”

“Ohoho believe me, I’m constantly five seconds away from slipping cyanide in your blue smoothies.”

Jo chuckled at Lucy’s amused threat. “Well, thank you for not doing that, and for being an amazing friend. I’m glad that you feel safe enough to be comfortable with me now. All the things you said, I just, I feel the same way about you, I really do. I know I’m not the best with my words right now,” At least you’ve got some words in, unlike miss guppy gaper over here—“But you...um, this just really means a lot to me.”

Lucy’s breath hitched as Jo smiled gently and reached out towards her—too high to be her arm, too low to be anywhere else. Was it a handshake? A hug? A well-deserved slap? Another surprise scuffle?

Even with everything at a standstill, there wasn’t enough time left in the world to find out.

The sound of a chirpy lo-fi ringtone cut through the air, jolting Lucy into a sharp exhale and a spat profanity. Jo halted dead in her tracks to fish out her phone from her shorts pocket and check the incoming notification, her earnest countenance immediately whittling down a weary resignation.

“It’s Kendall,” Jo announced as she idly scrolled through the accursed message. “He’s asking why I didn’t reply to his text twenty minutes ago and what time I’ll be back—and if I got him the latest Hockey Action magazine with that one...sports dude on the cover from the newsstand. I think he had like, brown hair and a weird name but that’s literally all I remember...like he really expects me to tell any of them apart?” She groaned. “They all just look like blurry uniformed guys to me!”

“Oh.”

The actress tiredly laid her glowing phone screen against her scrunched forehead, starkly illuminating the stressed lines creasing her face. “I’m sorry about that, I just...I love Kendall, I really do, but he’s been really testing my patience more and more these days. It seems like all we ever do is bicker and fight about dumb things that shouldn’t matter too much, and then we make up and kiss, and then repeat the whole crazy cycle and I’m used to it by now, but...maybe I shouldn’t be?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Wow, where’d all that big talk disappear off to, big girl? You sound like a stuck soundboard, chrissakes.

“Y’know, sometimes I think I’d be better off if I didn’t get back together with him at all and we just—” Jo sighed abruptly, repocketing her phone. “Nevermind. Sorry. Don’t wanna ruin our perfect day any more than I already have with some extra boring boy friend drama.”

“Okay.” There it was again, that ferocious hydra, writhing and biting and threatening to burst from under Lucy’s taut skin, screaming ‘was that a pause in between boy and friend or did she just run out of breath???’. Apparently metaphorical mythical monsters (ten points for the alliteration skills there, Maya Angelou) can also be total tinfoil hat nutters, grrreat.

“Yeah,” Lucy scoffed a little louder, blithely crossing her arms. “Better not. Anyway, I got a warm shower soak and a Capri Blue Volcano bath bomb in here with my name on it, and you better check in on Kendork before he blows a blond gasket and rips up half the state of California just trying to look for you, so. Don’t want the poor kid thinking I’m stealing his best girl away from him, huh?” Girl, what kinda weirdass joke was that?! God, just shutupshutupshutup—

“Well, right now you have a better fighting chance than him.”

Okay, either someone suddenly decided to throw a huge (highly illegal) party in the next apartment room out of nowhere, or the popping confetti and champagne and victorious rave music and flashing strobe lights were all in Lucy’s head. Lucy’s very confused, very impossible, decidedly insane head.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around?” Jo asked. “A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, and I wouldn’t mind it at all. Kendall would probably only lay waste and ruin to Sacramento and Anaheim by that time. And if you want, I could also make you a mean grilled chicken salad.” She tilted her head and coyly lifted her shoulders. “I mean not to brag, but. Gotta keep myself busy in the tower somehow.”

Yes, please stay, please don’t, I don’t know what I want with you except for it’s a lot even if you probably want nothing to do with me, maybe you should stay with me so we could figure this mess out together or maybe we don’t just as long as we’re together and you won’t have to fight anyone for a kiss, please fucking stay or I’ll miss you around—

“Nah, I’m gonna miss those cheesy ghost tours and gastropubs if he does that, but cheers for the offer anyway.” Lucy replied with a wink—oh gross, she did that a lot, why the hell does she do that a lot? She seriously needed to call an ophthalmologist’s office sometime to get checked for uncontrollable eye spasms. Or maybe it was the home of the future’s ancient dirty furnishings giving her an allergy reaction something awful and she could sue the pants off Bitters instead. “Now beat it.”

“Awww, but we were having such a moment!”

“Well you already let your hair down, so not anymore, princess.”

Maybe it was Lucy’s imagination being a little demon again, but there seemed to be a crestfallen hint to Jo’s smile at her brisk refusal. So Lucy decided to reach out past the weird space and surprised her friend (though considerably a lot less than she surprised herself) with a gentle embrace; cold sweat palms comfortably flush against Jo’s shoulder blades to slow their descent down even for just a moment longer, silent butterfly whispers fluttering under her wispy breath to never let go.

Jo unsurely squared up a bit before easing into the gesture and matching it, and that’s when Lucy let go and playfully elbowed her away, not bothering to draw away the curtain of red-streaked hair that had fallen over her face. Had it always been a thousand degrees here, or was Buddha Bob messing around with the perpetually-broken thermostat again? It really was a wonder of the world why she chose to move back to this busted joint. But maybe it was worth it because of something else. Someone else.

Surely the princess isn’t in another castle now.

“Now take my affection and scram before I choke you with it, Josephine,” Lucy warned breathily, shaking a curmudgeonly fist at Jo.

“Oh, really? And how are you gonna do that, exactly?” Jo grinned back, a challenging tryst as she shrugged her slipping cardigan sleeve back onto her chambray shirt, all frisky static and fleecy denim, the kind Lucy hated she loved. “Because if we’re gonna have a proper dinner and a movie date soon, then you better be ready to show me sometime.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No need to beg at all. Love you too, Lucille.”

Jo simply winked back, one tender hand to touched to Lucy’s chin as the actress leaned in to kiss her on the cheek—a shy flitting gesture that devolved into vicious hummingbirds tearing apart Lucy’s chest heartbeat by paralysed heartbeat—before Jo gathered her tote bag and newly-purchased belongings, casually waved to her friend one last time, and walked away.

Lucy’s hand let go of the remaining shopping bags—taking no heed of the sound of shattering glass—as it instinctively curled towards her crimson-clashed face, the scent of familiar Velvet Rose and shared mint brownie and vanilla lipgloss dizzyingly overwhelming, trembling electric fingertips tracing what was perfectly spelled out in front of her all along but she was just too stupidly blind to see.

Shocking white blinding Lucy’s vision like intrusive camera flashes worse than hectic press releases, bitterness breaking apart upon remembering the way her heart just about crashed to her freshly-pampered toes when Jo happily embraced her by the shoulders, the phantom sensation of their sweaty bodies pressed delicately and melted together in that cramped Sears photo booth, Jo holding up a peace sign that bumped against Lucy’s devil horns as the blonde stuck her bubblegum-purple tongue out so ridiculously that Lucy hadn’t smiled that hard it hurt since forever, hadn’t felt her stomach cramp up with the kind of unfettered laughter that rang in her ears too loud and untwisted her heated guts and made her feel a little more sane despite all the haunting madness—leaving only a blurry collage of pretty memories to be stuck on fridge doors or placed under pillows for sweeter dreams.

There wasn’t just something about Jo Taylor, apparently—it was everything about her.

Click, click, click, love-laced gears in Lucy’s annoying head gnashing towards a mortified understanding, senseless steam clouding her brain and choking up her restricting throat as the excruciating realisation scribbled warning-red question marks everywhere and derailed their exquisite friendship straight into a messy, confusing, dramatic trainwreck.

Most likely it was nothing. Just a friendly gesture. Just an offhand faux flirt for an offhand faux-flirter. But then again...maybe it meant everything. Maybe Jo meant it. Maybe Jo really felt the same way about her. Maybe the whole date schtick was beginning to dance the line past an overplayed joke into a serious invitation (would his ex-not-boyfriend be pissed if they ended up dating the same girl?). Maybe Lucy just had to turn her head the right way and take Jo down like her impulse-rabid brain hydras were screaming at her to even if that meant stirring up a paparazzi frenzy of the century, alt-scene’s baddie ‘pop-princess’ gone worse with the sweetheart new town queen, to stir their sucked blood in the shark-infested waters and devastate their contract-clean reputations—who ever heard of such a thing?—who the hell could tell anymore?—and who the hell cared about all this MTV-level drama, anyway?

She was too smartmouthed for her own good, all that shammed bravado and sweetsour chit-chat, too cool for class and calculated down to the point just to push people away, too full of shit...she was Lucy Stone, for crying out loud—and that meant nothing at all when she was trying fight against, with, for a girl she’s already lost to, once, twice, a million times over.

Why couldn’t she just shut up and shut it down like she always did this time around?

Lucy couldn’t run away anymore, so the only thing left to do was to write a hundred songs about being weak and making herself miserable and throw it all in the fireplace, because she already sold her soul to the devil. Fake it until you unmake it...and hope it would also unmake all the aching weirdness, the weird overthoughts, the weird way Jo left her hanging on and falling away to snap her neck on the rope she was barely holding onto...this was nothing like the best cheek kisses Lucy had ever served to all the nevermore nobodies she’d vaguely crushed on before, and yet Jo felt like all of those at once.

And more—the kind of more that she wanted, the way she wanted Jo, would Jo want her like they’re meant to be together, would Jo even want her...friendship shouldn’t feel this desperate, this complicatedly messy, this fucking painful. Lucy really wants to be with Jo. She wants Jo. She wants...

Oh, shit biscuits.

a/n: idk if anyone will ever make it this far lmao, but if you see this, thanks for reading!! (⑉⺥˶˶̫˶⺥⑉)💗

#yes i finally have a fic for my beloved girlfriends otp that i've been going on about since forever!!! 💗💙 it's a lucy-centric one too!!! #idk if i'll continue this but hopefully i'll have even more jocy fics in the future that doesn't take me seven literal months to finish!!! #who knows i might even work on my camille/chaotic lesbian oc drabble fic next ;) ker if you're reading this tag.......hi <3 *evil laugh* #btr #big time rush #jo taylor #lucy stone #fanfic #fanfiction #jocy #write a song about that #one shot #fluff #girls in love #pining #friendship #slice of life #romantic tension #femslash #hurt/comfort #jo taylor x lucy stone #the line that starts the whole story #bleep blap bloop! #writeblr #nickelodeon #rusher #stop it forever #writers on tumblr #writing

[thiscrimsonsoul]

💕 - What's something that never fails to make you happy?

🌷 - What's a few candle scents you like?

💪 - Quick, name something you're proud of!

🍃 - If you had to pick a season for it to be all year long, what would you pick?

🎨 - What is your favorite color combination?

❤️ - This isn't a question, I just wanted to say that I love seeing you on my dashboard!

💕 - What's something that never fails to make you happy?

Animals. Whether in person or watching videos of them online. Especially hamsters, other rodents, and cats. I just adore them and their noises and cuteness, omg. No matter what kind of mood I'm in, animals will make me smile ever time.

🌷 - What's a few candle scents you like?

My ultimate favorite candle scent of all time is "Witches Brew" by Yankee Candle. Not only do I just love the scent, but it also reminds me of my late mother. She knew I loved that scent and bought me a whole bunch of candles years ago, and she used to start burning it in the house before I got home from school, and then later, from work. So when I got home I'd have my favorite scent going on. So it always reminds me of her. Plus it's the perfect Halloween scent, and Halloween is a LIFESTYLE for me, lol, I'm witchy all year round, it's my normal everyday aesthetic. So that scent just conjures all sorts of happy memories and feelings in me when I smell it.

Another candle scent that I abdolutely adore that was retired and that really sucks... is "Unicorn Tears" by Fragrant Jewels. I'm not sure what's actually in it in terms of what the scent is, but it's just lovely, like a floral fruity... something, heh. Starry Night is a close second with this brand, I love that one too.

And then let's see... in general I love rose and rose petal scents, orange... like blood orange or orange blossom scents, and I mean because, yet again I state that Halloween is a lifestyle for me and not just a holiday haha, I love pumpkin pie, pumpkin spice, pumpkin donut, and pumpkin cake scents.

I... have a lot of candles, heh. With my anxiety, aromatherapy is really a thing, and I'm a person who tends to have emotions and memories invoked by scents, so if I need to relax or feel better, candles really help.

💪 - Quick, name something you're proud of!

The fact that I've written epic fantasy novels and series. Like... none of my books were great, I'll be perfectly honest, and maybe they weren't even mediocre, haha, but I loved them, loved the characters, and just the fact that I can say I've written 800+ page fantasy novels and multi-book series is pretty damn cool. I will forever be proud of myself for accomplishing that, even if they weren't the best quality writing pieces. I'll also always have such deep affection for all the characters I've created, and to this day I go back and reread things occasionally and just smile because those are creations and memories that no one can ever take from me. =)

🍃 - If you had to pick a season for it to be all year long, what would you pick?

FALL!!! Eh-hem. Halloween, heh. Have I mentioned that it's near and dear to my heart? But also, I love falling colorful leaves, hot choccy, boots and leggings, oversized sweaters, pumpkin everything, oak and maple themes, and just all the earthy smells and natural symbols that surround me during Fall. I love all of it, it's my happy season.

🎨 - What is your favorite color combination?

Anything and black, heh. White and black, purple and black, blue and black, red and black... But I guess if I had to pick my favorite I'd say... purple and black.

❤️ - This isn't a question, I just wanted to say that I love seeing you on my dashboard!

AWWWWW! Thank you, luv. You're so sweet. =)

#{ out of paprikash } ᵒᵒᶜ

[purplesurveys]

1622

Have you ever had a dream that your teeth were falling out? Once or twice. I remember this mainly because it’s my sister who gets this type of dream all the time, so when I had the same I immediately shared it with her.

Do you have a fence? We used to, but we took it out more than half a decade ago.

Do you think that in the end, everything will fall into place? Doesn’t always for some people. I like to believe it for myself though, at least.

When was the last time you went bowling? Oh gee. That time had to have been around 4-5 years ago.

Who was the last person you disappointed? I’m not sure, maybe Bea? I have some slip-ups at work here and there and I may have disappointed/slightly pissed her off in those moments.

Would you ever get a significant other’s name tattooed on yourself? I’d consider initials, but not an entire name. Even then I’m not entirely sure I’d actually do this; like if that relationship ultimately failed I’d hate myself for getting the tattoo.

Name one unpopular opinion of yours: Fruits suck.

Has the person you like ever made you upset? I don’t like anyone.

What is one thing people automatically notice about you? These days, it’s the fact that I wear braces, I guess.

Does anyone know your deepest darkest secret? That would be this blog, and yeah a couple of people know about it but never check it out as far as I know.

If you were getting unwanted attention by some creeper, would the person you like stand up for you? I’m really not into anyone...

Favorite kind of soda? I dislike soda, but in a hypothetical situation where it was the only thing available I’d probably ask for a Sprite. Idk if it’s the same for anyone else but the fizz (which I hate) is milder to me than other softdrinks, which makes it more tolerable for me.

Are you closer to your mother or father? My dad. Both because he’s away far more often and because we’re also simply more similar.

Are you afraid of the dark? Nah; I’d be afraid of it only if I was in some abandoned or ‘haunted’ spot.

What’s your favorite shape? I don’t have a favorite shape.

How social are you? Pretty damn social. I try to find people to talk to regardless of where I am lmao; unfortunately for me Filipinos by nature are very guarded and they like keeping to themselves – and for the most part find it weird when you try talking to them.

What��s your favorite primary color? Blue!

Do you like hot chocolate? For the most part I find it just okay, but I take great exception with Spanish hot chocolate. So good it’s almost stupid.

What do you have pierced? Just my earlobes.

What’s your favorite type of tea? I don’t like tea.

Who are you subscribed to on YouTube? Oh, so many channels. I’m not strict or crazy organized about curating my subscriptions; like I’m still subscribed to channels that I subscribed to in like 2010 lol. These days though I keep my views to any BTS-related channel and my latest obsession, Team Payaman hehehehe.

What’s your favorite thing about the winter? I wouldn’t know.

What motivates you? Money. And the desire to travel, which technically is still related to money.

Would you rather have a hot tub or a pool? Pool. I don’t need a hot tub in a country where the temperature is constantly above the 30s.

What’s your favorite Yankee Candle scent? I’m not a regular scented candle user, much less a Yankee Candle customer so I’m not familiar with their line-up.

Would you rather learn how to play the ukulele or guitar? Guitar.

If you are up after 3 am, what are you most likely doing? Watching BTS, getting food delivery, or scrolling through Instagram reels and Reddit. Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? I already have two of them. :)

What are your thoughts and feelings towards work/jobs in general? I don’t entirely disagree with the whole concept of work; I personally think it’s an acceptable way to work on your skills while at the same time make a living. What I hate are the 8-hour, 5-day standard of work weeks; the idea that you can always be called to work overtime and weekends and not have much of a choice; and the idea that being employed is basically a contract to keep your phone constantly alive in the case of any urgent matter to attend to.

Do you believe in astrology? Nooooooooooo no no no no.

What is something that you’ve made/created? Do you take pride in your creations? Outside the events I’ve mounted for work...not much. I’m not creative enough to make things by myself.

Do you have any cultural or family traditions that you know are uncommon in the area that you reside in currently? No, we never really did have any quirky or unique tradition in the family.

What are you grandparents' names? Not sharing those.

Have you ever been bitten by a dog? Just playful ones.

The last time you got blood drawn, what was the reason? 2020, to figure out what the fuck was causing my fever that wouldn’t go away.

Where are you, exactly, right now? I’m on my ‘couch’ in the bedroom, having Jungkook’s chicken mukbang the night before in the background. I say couch because my mom and I recently did this cute thing with my room where instead of getting an Actual Couch, we got these foldable mattresses that kind of stack up – we got two of them, so when placed together it totally looks like this adorable mini sofa haha.

What is your relation to the last child you spoke to? I can’t even remember that...maybe Camille’s niece? She brought her to work like last August.

Are you scared to look at your own organs on x-ray or ultrasound? No, I find it interesting actually. Biology and anatomy are also some of my fav branches of science so seeing organs has never bothered me.

Have you ever walked on a frozen lake/river? Nope, never even seen one.

Have you ever seen a volcano? Sure! We have a couple ones here that I’ve visited.

Have you ever met an Alaskan? I don’t think so.

Describe how you’ve broken a bone, if you have. Never had a broken bone. I have sprained my left ankle twice though – once in school, when I tripped on my way to my car 🙃 and the second was on my birthday weekend last year, tripping over stairs after having had a handful of shots.

Choose 5 friends, and briefly describe their relationship status. Angela’s been in a long-term relationship the last 8 years; Reena’s single; Kata’s single; Jo is single as far as I know; and Kaye is seeing someone. 

Describe the last situation in which you found yourself feeling awkward. My teammates were invited to the (very bougie) 123rd anniversary party of a major broadsheet, but we all traveled separately and I arrived too early so I was standing awkwardly for an hour while surrounded with a bunch of 50, 60, 70 somethings. Hated every minute of it.

Do you have a neighbor you'd like to get to know more? Not so much but I just wanna know if there are any other BTS fans here so I can befriend them and get them cookies and invite them from time to time to watch whatever lol.

If you're female, would you rather be called a girl, woman, gal, chick, b*tch, or lady? Woman.

What magazines did you like to read as a teenager? So magazines were in their heyday when I was a kid, so the ones I used to collect were those targeted for my age group, like K-Zone and Total Girl. Oh I do remember my dad also supporting my love for wrestling and getting me WWE and PWI magazines, too.

Did you use Lisa Frank folders in school when you were younger? I didn’t. The rich kids had a ton of Lisa Frank stuff though.

Do you watch any doctors' channels on YouTube? No. I’m subscribed to Institute of Human Anatomy though and watch their videos from time to time.

Have you ever lived in a house that was on a street corner? We never have.

What’s your favorite app? These days I have YouTube on pretty much, like, 18-20 hours out of 24. It’s the first thing I open and the last thing I close.

Do you want any tattoos? I only ever consider them and think of my dream designs, but never push through with an appointment because needles and I don’t mix.

What is the saddest song you’ve ever heard? Why We Ever by Hayley Williams. Also her songs HYD, Trigger, and Wait On. I have such a complicated relationship with her music, as much as I hate to admit it; her albums sat beside me and kept me company during what was arguably the darkest point of my life, but the obvious downside to that is I can’t really listen to those albums anymore without getting hurled back to that time.

Are you afraid of snakes? I mean if I saw them in the wild and they turned out to be venomous then yeah I’d be shitting my pants. I’m not afraid in more contained situations though and I’ve actually held snakes before.

Which “famous couple” is your favorite? Bey and Jay are a given, but I also like David and Victoria Beckham because of how cute and close their family is. What’s your favorite love song? Yellow by Coldplay.

How important is it to make a relationship official (p.e. on Facebook)? I personally think the “In a relationship with” feature is cringey so it’s not at all important to me. But I’m all for other ways of showing that a relationship is official, like sharing photos or writing appreciation posts for a significant other. Are you the “dominant” or the “submissive” part in a relationship? Submissive.

What career do you want? I already love being in communications and PR.

What about having kids? I wanted kids in the past, but I’ve moved past that. I like to think that in another universe I’ve happily got the two-kids soccer-mom picket-fence life I once dreamed of having.

Do you think you’ll marry your current significant other? I don’t have one and don’t think I’ll ever want to be in a relationship again.

How did your first serious breakup go? Not counting the one from high school, I’ve had one serious breakup and it went just about as bad as bad gets. Didn’t show up to family and friends for months (in fact my phone will literally show you I had no activity from Sept 2020 to, like, Feb 2021), barely ate, didn’t see a life past 2020 basically.

[TW: SELF-HARM] Have you ever cut yourself? Yeah.

The first time you dumped someone, was it hard? I’ve never dumped anyone.

Do you regret who you lost your virginity to? Eh, no. I wanted it at the time.

Do you watch WWE Raw? Not anymore, but I continue to check in for the major events like the Rumble and Wrestlemania. I can’t even tell you a single current running angle.

Do you dye your hair? Not regularly, but yes I did it twice last year and plan on having it redyed to purple again.

Which of your parents will you see next? My mom. My dad and I aren’t seeing one another again until like May.

Have you ever been hospitalized? Just once.

Do you make fun of obese people? Not because they’re obese, because that’s sick. But sometimes there’ll be those videos of racist people in those scooter things harassing Asians and telling them to get out and threatening to call the police or run them over or whatever. Those always get me into frustrated laughter every time lol.

Do you eat when you’re upset? No. I lose my appetite when I’m upset or nervous.

One word to describe your most recent ex? I barely have any memory of that person, so let’s go with the most boring, inconclusive answer I can think of lol: girl.

Fried, poached, boiled or scrambled eggs? Scrambled.

Where, in your current country, would you like to live, other than where you do now? BGC.

Where wouldn’t you want to live? The grossness that is Cubao.

Name three things that are overrated: Superhero movies, Taylor Swift, the whole 90s fashion throwback thing going on right now.

List four things about your facial appearance: I wear glasses; I have braces; I have one prominent dimple on the left side of my mouth, but another one on the right side will shyly peek out if I smile hard enough; I have the faintest eyebrow scar that you’ll see if you’re close enough.

List four things about your general appearance: I’m petite in height and body type; my arms and legs are pretty long; I practically have no boobs; my hair is currently sporting an ash brown shade that is rapidly fading into a brighter brown.

What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud? I was rewatching a few of the boys’ lives earlier this evening and was laughing over some of their jokes.

How many weddings have you ever been to? I can’t tell how many I’ve been to (because all of them happened when I was a kid, so I barely remember them), but I can share that I haven’t been to a wedding since ‘07.

Would you ever wear real authentic leather? No.

How old are your parents? My dad is 52, mom’s turning the same age this September.

What song is stuck in your head at the moment? Unholy by Sam Smith and Kim Petras.

What’s your boss’s first name? Do you call him/her by that name? My immediate superior is Bea, and yeah our workplace operates on a first-name basis. It was a deliberate decision so that nobody feels intimidated and so that everyone, down to the associates, would feel confident and comfortable sharing their ideas.

--

What is your favorite thing to cook or bake?: I do neither. The kitchen and I do not mix, haha.

When someone is tailgating you, do you drive faster or slower?: It would largely depend on how big of an asshole they’re being. If I catch them having been idiots to other drivers then I’d drive slower; but if I can tell they’re genuinely in a hurry or in an emergency, I’d either drive faster or (if there’s space) move aside so they can go ahead.

What place outside of your own home do you spend the most time at?: You can usually find me at a coffee shop.

Do you have any checks that you need to cash or deposit?: No.

Do you know how to use AutoCAD software?: No. I wouldn’t even be able to tell you what that is.

Do you read peoples' answers to the surveys you've created?: I don’t make my own surveys but I do read answers that I come across on my dashboard. What is your least favorite household chore?: Folding laundry. There are just so many clothes lol and the repetitive motions make me feel restless. What career field are you in/would you like to be in?: Like I said in the previous survey, I like where I am and it’s not so much a matter of figuring out what career I wanna be in, but more so on figuring out what places or companies can offer me the biggest opportunities. Meaning to say I already like being in PR, but it would be cool to one day work PR for a company I genuinely follow and support, like WWE.

Have you ever been snorkeling?: Sure.

Why did you last see a doctor?: Dentists count as doctors, right? I got braces last Saturday. How often do you check your email?: Only during weekdays. My work email is off-limits on weekends.

What is your favorite outdoor activity?: I wish I had an answer to this but the Philippines barely has any public spaces.

Do most of your relatives live in the same state/province as you?: No, we are pretty spread out on both my mom’s and dad’s sides.

Have you ever participated in a medical study?: Nah.

Do you have any magnets on your refrigerator?: Yep, magnets from all the countries my dad has traveled to for work. He’s been to every continent except Africa and Antarctica.

What is the last thing you got in the mail?: Indigo :) Got both versions.

Is there a food you hate that everyone else seems to like?: Virtually all fruits.

Have you ever donated to a charity?: Yes.

What is your favorite kind of soup?: Mushroom soup and miso soup.

How long would it take to drive from your current home to the last place you lived?: 15 minutes only because of how ridiculously far my house is to the entrance of our village. If we lived any closer to the front it would take literally only 5.

What do you usually order from Subway?: I don’t even know what options there are at Subway haha, I never order anything from there.

Are you the oldest of your siblings?: Yes.

Are you the oldest of your cousins? Nah. I’m the second-eldest on my mom’s side, and the third-eldest on my dad’s. And that’s only referring to first cousins.

What is the most expensive thing you own?: My car.

Have you ever had to evacuate from a natural disaster?: Nope.

Do you have any family members who are cancer survivors?: As far as I know, no.

Describe your favorite pair of sunglasses.: I don’t have one.

Are most of your friends shorter or taller than you?: Most definitely taller. I’m the short-ish friend.

Are you allergic to any medications?: Not that I know of.

Do you have any licenses other than your drivers license?: Nah.

What's your favorite Nintendo 64 game?: I didn’t grow up with an N64.

What all do you have on your keyring?: Two Tata keychains, car key, house key.

Would you rather ski or snowboard?: Idek the difference. What job does your significant other have?: I don’t have one.

Which class would you rather take: computer programming or astronomy?: Astronomy in a heartbeeeeeeeat. I love outer space.

When you were in elementary school, what was a typical afternoon like once you got home from school?: Ditch all my homework, play outside, watch TV.

Is your favorite movie part of a series?: It isn’t.

[wokeuplaughing]

damn this yankee candle has lasted me like 4 weeks I am so happy that I stole two of them

[honeybee-deepsea-kitty]

1, 3, 10, 20, and 30 for the soft asks, please

1. What song makes you feel better?

Damn there are so many of those. Hmm here's 2!

3. What's your favorite candle scent?

I love sea smelling scents, often candles with a hint of honey. But I think right now my favorite candle scent is probably this lovely Yankee candle called thunderstorm. It's got such an enchanting scent.

10. What's something you're excited for?

This is going to be very broad but Saturdays. Every Saturday myself, and my most lovely partner Wolf do a date lunch, we go to a comic shop. We pick out a place to eat and we make a day out of it.

20. What do you want most in the world right now?

I would like to be able to safely take my people to see live music. To be able to rock out and enjoy ourselves and our company to some bad ass rock artists.

30. What reminds you of home?

Thunderstorms, the beach, the way my partner sings to me in the car or anywhere really. It's not always perfect but it puts me in the best mood. The smell of brats and warm bread.

#asks #wolfie mention