#and also the chipped nail polish after just a single work day. and the frequent cuts and bruises and scrapes and other small injuries

[robinsnest2111]

God I wish it was socially acceptable and practical to wear my fox tail to work........ but it is not and I'd probably get it caught on everything and get it dirty...... not worth it....

[nctzendreamz]

Psycho — Bae Joohyun

Irene really, really loves you. Too much, you begin to realize.

Warnings: Psychotic!Au, mentions of abuse, murder, language, and in general dark themes.

Word Count: 7k

January 16, 2020 — 9:45PM

She might as well have been a celebrity, as she was the key reason that this coffee shop got visitors. Her silky smooth skin, complimented by her sparkling eyes and perfect build was everything the masses needed to get up early in the mornings before work.

She couldn’t count all the numbers she had recieved in just the couple of months she had been employed at Velvets; the coffee shop that rested in the center of the city. It’s red and pink decor, followed by the hand crafted decorations from so many visitors in the past, was exactly where Bae Joohyun, more frequently referred to as Irene belonged.

She always had the same greeting. It was in the protocol, after all.

“Hello! Welcome to Velvet’s. How are you doing today?”

And today is no different. She always tries her best to look right at the customer as soon as she hears the familiar bell, indicating the door had opened, but her nail was chipping, and it was driving her nuts. She says her line, still fiddling before she realizes that it can’t be fixed until later.

“I’m so sorry! It’s been a long—“

And then she stops. She has seen a million people come and go to her place of work. Most of them found her beauty to be enchanting, but even the finest of them could barely make her blink. No matter how hard they tried to merge the conversation onto dinner, or what she was doing after her shift, her facial expression stayed the same—dull and unimpressed.

But you. You’re standing here in all of your glory, hair perfectly sculpted to your face. She loves this look on you. It’s the perfect color to compliment your perfect skin, and daring eyes as they swallow her whole. Usually, she did this to others, yet here you were, snatching her soul—seemingly without even trying. 

“A long day.” She finally breaths out. Her heart is racing at a dangerous pace, and she knows she looks like a creep right now. Her dark eyes are trying to break you down, and bring you to your knees, but it’s not working.

“I understand that.” You giggle. You seem tired. The bags under your eyes are slight, but still drooped enough to which she can tell you’re either a student, or you work a nine to five. Regardless, you’re not always free. Your clothing is simple. Sweats, a hoodie, and some ugg boots to shield you from the cold weather. “Your nails are so cute, by the way.” You smile, and it’s calming. It’s not a full on cheese session, but that makes it even better. It’s simple, just as you seem to be.

“Don’t flatter me.” She begins, showing them to you in full form over the marble counter. “It’s chipped.”

“And still cute.” You assure, smoothly moving a sole finger across the nail. “Is it gel polish?” You question with an adorable head tilt. Absolutely priceless. You’re probably very good at getting what you want. You know exactly how to move, and lighten your voice to make people feel what you want them to feel.

“It is. You know—

“It stays on longer.” You finish for her.

“Exactly.” She can’t hold in her smile. Was her heart...warming? If so, that meant her cheeks were turning pink, which also meant that you could see clearly that you were doing it right. If you were flirting with her, you were doing it so well, and so respectfully.

“I’ll just take a hazelnut.” You breathe out. Your hands are in your pockets, and you’re shifting the weight from your toes to your heels repeatedly. You must be cold. When you’re cold, you get jittery it seems. That’s why you’re in here in the nick of time. You’re definitely in school. You probably just got out of class, and have a shit-ton of homework to finish. That’s why you need the coffee and that’s why you seem so exhausted; although you’re trying to hide it from her.

“Hazelnut!” She shouts, turning around and giving the ticket to the real worker in here. She doesn’t even look at him as reaches out to snatch it from her. “Is that your favorite?”

“The only coffee I will drink.” You admit, covering your face with your hands. You’re embarrassed. You probably feel somewhat uncultured, and childish for even saying that out loud.

“Have you ever tried another?” She says in a light tone, tilting her head just as you did a few minutes ago. Still, you’re unfazed. You actually close your eyes for a moment before snapping them back open.

“I have. I think it was roasted chestnut? Whatever it was it was not good at all.” And now you’re laughing. Your laugh—it’s beautiful. It’s not a subtle, shy chuckle that would indicate you don’t laugh often. You laugh all the time. She can’t tell if it’s a boyfriend that always has you geeked like this, or maybe your friends. Maybe, even your girlfriend, but that would break her heart too much.

“Well, coffee isn’t the only good thing here. We’re not Starbucks, but our frapachinos are pretty good.” Irene mentions, eyes flicking to the frap menu to the left of her. She lets the red sweater she spotted slip off her shoulder ever so slightly, and you’re looking at it. It was for a mere second, but she saw it.

“Here you go.” Josh—the chef of this shift interrupted, handing you your coffee quickly.

“That’s the fastest you’ve ever done that.” Irene seethes, shooting an annoyed look to her co-worker.

“Trying to close. No offense.” Josh nods to you, already starting the trials and tribulations that closing involved. He’s wetting a rag in preparation of wiping all of the counters down.

“Oh, none taken. I hate to be that customer that comes in late like this. I just have all this work to catch up on and I figured buying aderall from the guy who sits beside me in Psych wasn’t the best idea.”

Irene breaks into a fit of laughter. Truthfully, she wasn’t faking it. You were so funny. But she was also right. She hit the nail right on the head, actually. Josh couldn’t believe his ears as he had barely seen her smile a genuine cheese. Of course he stayed silent. “You’re funny!” She coughs out through her fit.

“Don’t flatter me.” You smile brightly. Your smile is so pretty, just like you. God, she was running through too many scenarios on how she could make you stay. “Thanks for this pleasing experience. Today sucked and I needed it so badly. Do you guys have like a manager or something? Or like a survey?”

She had never been asked this before. No one had ever cared to commend them on their excellent service and caffeine recovery program they had in place for the addicts. “Um...no. But what you can do is come back. To repay us.” She whispers the last part.

She needs your name. She just knows someone like you has the most goregeous name.

And the heavens answers her request. She already saw that you had a necklace hiding under your hoodie, but you’re pulling it out now. It’s a name; she just needs to know who it is.

“That necklace, I love it.” She leans over the counter, squinting to see the name. “Y/N.” She mumbles. “Is that your name?”

“It is.” You respond. “People say it’s stupid to wear your own name, but it’s comforting to me. Plus, I don’t have someone else’s name to wear so.”

So, you were single.

“Don’t get too discouraged. Someone could come and change that. Very soon, actually.” She purrs, and she finally does it. She’s getting in your head. You’re seeing her.

You leave, your walk mezmorizing her in ways that makes her tingle. She barely follows the procedures of cleaning, as all she wants to do is go home. She needs to know everything about you.

“Y/N L/N. Twenty four years old. Younger than me.”

It wasn’t that hard to find your all your social media. All public, minus your Facebook account. Your Twitter consists of retweets of memes that probably made you scream, and your own little comedy that your select friends liked as they felt obligated.

She can’t lie; she was expecting to see a tweet about her. Something about a beautiful girl in the coffee shop. But there was nothing. Not a peep. Then again, maybe this was a good sign. Maybe you liked to keep your loves private. She’s searching through your pictures, embellishing in the sight of you until something stops her scrolling.

It’s a picture of you, and another guy. His hair is black, but his features are far from plain. He’s not impressive to her, but she knows to you, he’s everything. He seems to be just your type.

It’s been two years, and yet, it feels like a thousand.

The caption is so short, yet so sweet and gentle. It’s telling a million stories with one sentence, and even she can tell there’s real love in the photo. On your side, at least. She feels sick now. He’s tagged on the photo.

Lee Taeyong. That’s his name. The first place she searches is his likes, where she knows she’ll find proof of him being a scumbag. The way you addressed your necklace; it’s almost as if it was a mere replacement for a previous. It was a somber, silent story.

A lot of his likes are filled with hip-hop. Viral dances, artist appreciation, funny memes just as you enjoyed. You two probably found love through a similar interest. She continues to scroll though, where she finds something that truly twists her stomach. A quote.

Do you ever wish you could turn back time? Fix a mistake? Go back to when everything was perfect? When you could hold her and she was yours? Because same.

He hurt you. She didn’t know what he did, but she knows he hurt you. Her first guess was cheating, and she was going to stick to it. Maybe your chill nature was because your walls were up so high. Maybe your intense laughter wasn’t because you laughed all the time, but instead because you hadn’t laughed in a while. And it was all his fault—fuck Lee Taeyong.

He works at a video game store. No—he owns an arcade to be exact. She was going to see him. She needed to observe him in person. See his vibe. In the mean time, she can follow you on Instagram. That’s not too weird, right?

January 17, 2020 — 7:30PM

“Welcome to T’s.” A dull voice speaks.

Although the lighting in the arcade is practically blinding—all the neon creating a cool atmosphere, their customer service is awful. Probably a telling to his personality if that’s the kind of people he hired.

She waited for a moment, waiting for more. How can they just assume she knows what she’s doing? What kind of place was this? It’s a Saturday afternoon, and it shows because people are everywhere. Kids are running around, and adults are talking trash to eachother as they bet money on who will win the car game. “Men.” She sighs. But with her sighs brings the man she’s looking for. He’s almost blending in with his all black clothing, but she knows it’s him. He’s hard to miss, but not because of his features. It’s because she hates him.

Her current outfit; a tight red dress and dangerous heels aren’t really arcade attire, but she doesn’t care. She clacks her way over to Taeyong, who is surrounded by many people. He must be popular. He definitely cheated on you. The girls around him were ridiculous. So much for missing you.

She knows approaching so quickly would be foolish. It wouldn’t make sense. She decides instead to creep around, wanting to know who these people are. As she gets closer, she can recognize almost all of them. Chungha—your seemingly bestfriend was here, some guy with his arm around her shoulder. The Johnny she had seen pop up on your feed a few times, the Ten, and lastly, the Momo. Momo also seems to have some unspoken feelings about you.

She could feel it in the way she comments under your pictures. You couldn’t notice her flirtatious nature, but it was there.

The most beautiful human in the world.

My favorite.

Can I be you?

More like—can I be with you?

“Excuse me.” Irene finally speaks, interupting their laughter. She was hoping they’d give her a dirty look, so she could have even more of a reason to turn you against them, but they don’t. They look at her in synch, smiles still on their faces.

“What’s up?” Johnny says, a dashing grin on his face. Another who thinks she’s too beautiful. Exactly how she felt about you. “Are you new around here?”

Chungha punches him in the shoulder promptly, clearly not a fan of his approach. Irene can see why she was your chosen best-friend. Then again, was she really your friend? I mean, all of these people were hanging around your ex boyfriend and the only person who wasn’t here is you?

“Sorry about that.” She apologizes. “Us pretty girls are hard to come by, and they get extremely thirsty.”

She’s funny, but not as funny as you.

“Oh it’s fine. I’m Irene.” She introduces, placing her frail hand out. It connects with Chungha’s, and it’s genuine. “He’s right. I am new here. I’m a tad overdressed, I see.”

“I’m not complaining.” Johnny adds, receiving a punch from Taeyong this time.

So, he’s somewhat of a woman supporter too. I mean, he didn’t have to stop him from his words, but he did.

“I’m Taeyong.” He sighs, but he doesn’t place his hand out. That’s odd. The glow of games is making all of them look nothing less of models, but that doesn’t mean she’s impressed. No one was better than you.

“You know, you’re allowed to touch a girl other than your family and Y/N.” Johnny jokes.

The mention of your name makes everything in Irene’s body spike. They were acknowledging you, even though you weren’t here, which means maybe you didn’t mind them being here without you. Or maybe you and Taeyong weren’t exactly broken up. Something complicated instead.

He doesn’t say anything, just squints at his friend in an evil manner.

“Y/N.” Irene interrupts, putting a hand on her chin. “I met someone with that name last night.” She says. She knows exactly what she’s doing. “I work at Velvets, and this girl came in. She was wearing a necklace with that name.”

She watches for Taeyong’s reaction, and she gets what she wants. The mention of the cafe makes him almost flinch. Velvets must have been a place you two frequently visited together when you were dating. But then again, why did you seem so clueless about the menu? No, you weren’t. You mentioned you tried other coffee. It must have been with him. The way you laughed, it all makes sense now. You were thinking about him. A memory popped up.

She wants to ask if you were his ex, but that would be crossing the line. She had only known them for two minutes. It would seem too odd.

“Was she wearing sweat pants and a hoodie?” Momo questions now. Her hands are crossed over her chest, and Irene can’t read her. She doesn’t like that. Momo somewhat has her guard up.

“Yeah. I think she was.”

“That was definitely her. She’s been dressing like a complete bum lately.” Momo giggles now. If she didn’t already know this was her competition, she knows now. Momo is giggling just from thinking about you. You must make her laugh a lot. Irene doesn’t like her judgemental nature. You would be perfect in every state if she was a real one, but she’s not. So maybe she isn’t going to be a problem after all.

“You described her perfectly.” Irene seethes, quickly switching back to her normal state. The bright smile, and pink lip.

“How was she?” Taeyong questions. He still cares. She can see in in his eyes, but even if she was blind, it wouldn’t matter. His voice was so frail when talking about you.

“Oh brother.” Ten sighs

“I have a right to know.” Taeyong argues. He’s frustrated. He’s hot headed; at least when it comes to you.

“She seemed perfect to me. Laughing a lot, making jokes and stuff. I apologize if I’m out of place for this, but what’s going on? Is she okay?”

All of their faces seem to freeze for a mere second. They’re not uncomfortable with her question, but it seems like they’re wondering do they have permission to tell your buisness like that. They’re looking at Taeyong, presumably because it’s technically his buisness too.

Chungha is the first to speak. “She’s fine. These two,��� she points to Taeyong, and then seemingly to thin air, “they broke up.”

Momo is oddly silent. She’s seemingly fuming, but no one is paying attention to her. That means none of these people know about her feelings for you. She’s been keeping it bottled up this entire time.

“Oh...sorry for asking.” Irene quickly scrambles, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I should’ve put that together by myself—

“It’s okay, beautiful.” Johnny places a hand on her shoulder, and she wants to slap the stupid grin off of his face, but he was going to be useful. He was stupid, and naive. One pull down of her panties, and he would tell her everything she needed to know. She moves into his touch, giggling just a tad.

The vibration of her phone distracts her, and she quickly searches for it in her Louis purse. You followed her back. One by one, you’re liking her pictures, and she can feel her heart beating hard through her little chest. Was her fairytale going to happen? Was she finally going to be able to fall in love again? God, she loved you already. Your sexy demeanor, your perfection. She needed you, and she would do anything to get it.

The bell of the shop dings, indicating that more people are walking in. From the way that they all freeze once again, she knows exactly who it is. She turns around and there you are. Her knees so badly want to get weak, but she controls herself. Today, you’re wearing an oversized t-shirt. She can’t tell if you have shorts on under, but she hopes you doesn’t. The shirt is from some band you listen to, and you have white converse on your feet. High top.

Momo is the first to greet you. She practically jumps into your arms, and Irene notices the way you don’t seem to mind. Her brain is starting to shock her, jolting her anger to all the wrong places. She could fucking kill Momo right now. The two of you are spinning around, Momo’s legs around your waist and you inhaling her scent. Everyone else is looking at the scene with a soft smile—they’re so stupid. How can they not see?

Momo finally returns back to the floor, and now you’re looking at her. She quickly fixes herself up, so quick, that you don’t even notice.

“Irene?”

The way you say her name is causing her to pool. She wants to hear you say it for the rest of the night. She takes a deep breath, not hiding it this time before she strides to you, hugging you. She knows this won’t make you uncomfortable. You seem to be willing to catch some affection for people you like. When she feels your hands on her middle back, she inhales you. You smell like spring, even in the winter, and that’s so beautiful. You’re so beautiful. She allows her cheek to graze against yours ever so slightly, and your noses to touch before she backs away. She sees the way you bite your lip. No one can see you but her, and she likes the thrill. It’s dangerous.

“Johnny.” You sigh, walking past him without a look. You don’t like Johnny—that’s obvious. Was he possible the reason for you and Taeyong’s break-up? “My Tenny!” You screech, putting his face in your hands like a baby and kissing his cheek softly. You have a soft side. “Chungha~” You sing, embracing her tightly. Now it was the big reveal. Would you speak to Taeyong? Or would you two do the awkward stare.

He still loves you. It’s obvious in the way that the love practically pours out of his eyes, and his hands shake. “Y/N.” He whispers. It’s like no one else is in the room. You must have not seen any of them in a while, based on the way they stare at you admiringly.

“Hey.” You whisper back, slowly moving to hug him. He closes his eyes for a mere second, and it’s all over. Now you’re back beside Irene, who’s very pleased.

“Irene was just telling us that the two of you know eachother.” Johnny speaks. He’s trying to get back into your good graces. It’s so obvious it’s painful.

“Yeah.” You smile, but not at him. “I was at Velvets getting my usual, and then we met. Surprised to see you here though.” You’re looking at her now.

“What? Just because I’m in a dress means I can’t be a gamer?” She jokes, and everyone around laughs. Everyone but Momo.

“No. Momo wears dresses.” You say, slapping her thigh gently. Why do you keep touching her? She’s standing right here, looking good for you, and you’re flirting with Momo? “There’s just a lot of assholes in a place like this. You don’t seem to be interested in that.”

“Well, how about I prove you wrong? Loser has to buy the other coffee.” She prompts.

She hopes everyone else looks jealous. Especially Momo. Knowing you, even if you wanted to say no, you weren’t going to deny her.

“Any coffee?” You question with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything you want—that is, if you win.”

“I say we have a tournament.” Momo adds in. “I mean, it’s been a while since we’ve all been together lile this.”

Shut up, slut. God, Irene just wants to wrap her hands around her neck. She had to get you away from her as soon as possible.

“Sounds good to me.” You agree. “Is that cool with you?” You look back at her. You’re already hooked enough to have to ask permission when you had only known her for 24 hours.

“Does it matter if she is?” Johnny mentions.

“Johnny!” Chungha screeches. “Why are you being such a dick!”

“Don’t answer that.” Ten prompts, taking his friend by the hand and leading him outside.

“Anyways, that sounds like a great idea to me. Let’s roll!” Chungha yells in sorority fashion, and now all of you are going to where the fun is. There’s a million games to choose from, but it seems like you guys have a section you’re leading her to.

“As you can see, the games only get harder and harder from here.” You explain to her, placing a hand on her lower back.

“So like, kids shouldn’t be going this far.” She giggles.

“Exactly. Consider yourself privileged.” You wink.

“Just because I’m short and cute does not mean I’m a child.”

“You’re going to have to prove that to me.”

You’re definitely flirting with her now. And to make it even better, more fiesty than she had expected it to be.

“What are you doing after this?” She flirts back, placing her hand on your back now.

“You’re taking me to get coffee.”

“Velvets will be closed.” She pouts.

“I didn’t say you had to take me to Velvets. They sell hazelnut coffee everywhere.”

“You really think you can beat me, can’t you?”

“No. I know I can.”

And you did. You beat the clean breaks off of her in every single thing. The whole tournament went to hell as you and Irene were completely in your own world. You ran from game to game like children.

You weren’t rude enough to not say goodbye, but it was quick. You knew exactly what was going to happen after tonight, and you needed it. It had been too long.

“You’re not coming over?” Is the last thing you hear right before you and Irene head out. It’s Momo again, and her eyes are sad as she seems to know exactly what’s going on. “We haven’t had the big sleepover in so long, and I cleaned my house.”

Irene is reading you like the open book you are, and you’re fighting it. You haven’t seen your friends in a while, and you want their attention. You love the fact that they miss you, and you miss them even more, but you don’t crave them like you’re craving her right now.

“I promise next weekend.” You try to plead.

“But I got drinks.”

“A promise is a promise.” Now your pinky is out. The way Momo seemingly gives up on her complaining shows that your promises held weight. She connects her pinky with yours, before lightly caressing your knuckles with her thumb. You don’t think anything if it, but Irene knows, and her eyes are burning holes into her skull.

As soon as the two of you reach the car, you’ve forgotten about the coffee.

With a slammed hand on the foggy window, Irene is in bliss.

“So much for that hazelnut coffee, huh?” She purrs, kissing you once more.

“You still owe me.” You giggle.

“You’re absolutely right.” She’s now crawling down your body, fully prepared to repay you for your victory. More like her victory. She had won, and it was easy. You were easy, and yet she still loved you. She would never let you go, and anybody who got in the way of you two being together forever will feel her wrath.

February 17, 2020 — 2:00PM

“Wait wait, so you’re telling me that I leave for two seconds, and Y/N and Irene are fucking?”

“Not just fucking—fucking dating.”

Johnny and Taeyong were catching up, just as brothers did. After being pulled out of the arcade by Ten, it had been decided that Johnny needed a break from his crew. There was clearly some animosity—rightfully so within the group, and a month break was much needed.

“I didn’t even know Y/N...”

“Exactly.” Taeyong finishes for him, taking an aggressive sip from his coffee. With the slam, some of it splattered on the table. He can’t help but think about how you would immediately clean it up as little things like that bothered you, if you were here that is.

“Well, how do you feel about it?”

“I don’t understand how this happened so quick. I mean, think about how long it took me and Y/N to start dating. We talked for what felt like years before you guys pushed us to make it official.”

“You mean pushed you.” Johnny corrects, sipping his Americano with shade.

“Whatever. I just don’t like it. I mean, this Irene girl just shows up, and takes Y/N away that quick? That quick?”

“I mean, she is fine as hell. Are you saying you wouldn’t be down for that?”

“Can you not be gross for like two seconds?” Taeyong fumes.

“Shh.” The congregation of the library says in unison, causing him to throw his head down in shame.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Month of meditation actually did something I can assure you.”

“I want to look into her.”

“As in, like stalk her? Do you really think you’ll find anything?”

“I don’t want to, but this all happened too coincidentally. I know you think I’m crazy,” a nervous habit formed as a little boy, Taeyong is scratching his elbow like a manic. His rash has appeared, and rash equaled bad news.

“Well, you know I’m on your side. You might be stupid and crazy, but as your best friend it’s my job to make sure you don’t do it alone.”

They weren’t alone, even when they thought they had found a secluded area. She was there, disguised as a typical college girl. She sported a bob that made her look extremely basic, and her ears heard every drip of that conversation. Of course, being the idiots that they were, a bathroom break included them leaving all their belongings on the table.

February 21, 2020 — 12:00AM

“Do I know you?” The blonde girl says in a low voice. She’s scared as she approaches her vehicle. She worked the late shift tonight, and deep down she knew it was a horrible idea, especially when her boyfriend was too drunk to come and get her.

“You don’t need the extra money—I got you, babe.”

But she ignored him.

“No, but I know you.”

“Did my boyfriend sleep with you? Because if you want revenge, I’m not the one you need to be speaking to.”

“What would make you think that?”

“Past trauma.”

“So he’s cheated before.”

“No, past trauma.” She doesn’t know why she’s entertaining this stranger. Maybe it’s because she’s so beautiful. You can’t help but to trust her, even in such a suspicious predicament. I mean, she was leaning on her fucking car like she pays the note. “Are you an addict or something? I barely have anything for myself, okay? Maybe next week.”

“You’re Johnny’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“I’m calling the police.”

But Irene snatches her phone from her, slamming it on the ground. The black gloves that cover her hands secure her non-existent finger prints, and the phone shatters.

“Literally what the fuck!” The blonde screams, but it doesn’t matter. They’re in a parking garage and there’s no one here to save her. She tries to run away, but Irene is just too quick. The knife that was behind her back connects to the back of her neck, and she haults.

“This is for your nosy fucking boyfriend, who believes that he can somehow find out about my past and make Y/N leave me. How foolish of him.” She chuckles, letting the blood trickle down her arm.

She’s crying and screaming, but as stated, it’s irrevlant. Irene 2 — Johnny 0.

February 18, 2020 — 9:00AM

“I just...I just can’t believe it. I told her not to work that stupid fucking shift.”

“It’s not your fault, Johnny.”

“Yes it is. If I wouldn’t have been drunk out of my ass, I could’ve saved her somehow—I don’t know. But now she’s gone. I loved her. I loved her so damn much and I was finally pulling it together because of her.”

The rest of you sit on the couch, struggling to find the proper words for such a tragedy. Johnny is sobbing into his hands now, while Ten is rubbing his back gently. Taeyong is off to the side staring into space. You’re familiar with this look. He was thinking heavily about something, but you obviously would never find out what it was. Chungha is sitting on your right, rocking back and forth. Her nails are chopping at her fingers—a clear sign of her fearfulness. Similar to Taeyong, Momo is silent. You expected her eyes to be on you in search of some answers, or silent suspicions, but she refuses.

Finally, Irene is beside you to the left. You didn’t know Johnny’s lover that well, but you knew she was a decent girl. She didn’t deserve this, and you couldn’t even imagine what would it would feel like to lose someone you loved. Anyone sitting in this room. Her frail hand is locked on your elbow while her thumb is trying to soothe you.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers. Her lips find your shoulder in something sweet and comforting. “Who would do something like this? Did she have an ex boyfriend?”

It takes a minute for Johnny to find a response.

“She did tell me about some guy who began to get a little possessive, so she broke it off. But she never mentioned him coming back.”

“Maybe it was him.” Irene says quietly. You can tell she’s trying not to say too much, as she hadn’t been hanging with the crew for too long. You’re grateful that she’s here for you.

“Let’s just let the police do their job.” Momo finally speaks, standing up from the loveseat she sat on alone. Something is wrong with her, but you’d have to figure that out later.

“Let’s order some food.” You decide, standing up as well. “I know you might now want to eat right now, but it’ll clear you head even if just a little bit. We are all under a lot of stress right now.”

“I agree, babe.” Irene commends, smiling at you sadly.

“Alright.” Johnny sighs. He also rises, but he goes straight into the back of his apartment instead. None of you were worried about him hurting himself. You knew he needed time to let his emotions out, as he was constantly trying to be society’s definition of a man.

Your phone vibrates, and it’s Irene who’s hitting you up.

I think you should check on Momo. Was she friends with her? She just seems really upset and I know how close you two are.

You have to contain the smile that wants to come out for the sake of the situation, but she was so perfect. She didn’t get jealous about anything. And she was so in love with you. It had been too long since you could confidently admit that this wasn’t a one-sided situation.

Your feet are approaching the kitchen softly, trying not to make such a scene. Momo is leaned over the counter at first, but when she sees you she tries to straighten up.

“Hey.” She whispers, preparing for eavesdropping.

“Hey.” You say back.

Why was this so awkward? It was never like this before.

“I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

Which means she’s not. You see her observing your current outfit—yoga pants with a shirt she had bought you years ago covering your body.

“Do you want to talk later?” You offer, putting a tiny smirk on your face remembering that usually made her feel better.

“I think that would be good, actually. I don’t know if we’ll have the time, but maybe when everyone’s asleep?”

“The best thing I’ve heard all day.” You open your arms out, and you know she won’t deny you. She lets out what seems to be all the stress from her week as she lets you engulf her. It had been so long since the two of you were close like this. On your nights where you couldn’t sleep from past thoughts, it was Momo who would come over and hold you until you could.

“I’ve missed you.” She mumbles into your shoulder. “So much.”

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I haven’t been exactly here as much.”

“Irene...I know.” She pulls away at the mention of her name, and it’s odd timing. “Let me just ask you something— as one of your best friends?”

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t you think the two of you are moving a little fast? I mean, we saw the girl for the first time a month ago, and now you’re all committed and in love with her. I’m just concerned.”

She made several points. It wasn’t that you made people wait for you in the past. This whole scenario was just too quick, especially since you had just gotten out of a relationship not too long ago.

“Are you insinuating that I’m not over Taeyong?”

“No.” She’s confident in her answer. “I don’t want you to be with him anyway. He cheated on and is a fat jerk.”

You snort at her last two words, and she’s punching your shoulder lightly even though she’s laughing as well.

“You’re so negative minded.”

“Continue.” You breath out, covering your mouth.

“I just feel like—

The door flies open, revealing Irene on the other side. “Sorry to interrupt, but have you ordered the pizza yet? We’re all starving.”

In reality, she wasn’t in the mood for food. Ten and Taeyong had went to the back to check on Johnny, and Chungha was using the bathroom. She had heard your whole exchange and to say she was pissed was an understatement. Why didn’t you try and defend her? You should have walked out of the room, and straight into her lap the minute the slut tried to question you on something she knew nothing about.

Both of you look like you’ve been caught, and she relishes in that. The fear that is in both of your eyes.

“Yeah I got you.”

That’s all you have to say to her? First, Momo was able to get you to open up that fast, when you hadn’t even revealed to her any details of you and Taeyong’s relationship.

“Or, you can order it if you want. Me and Y/N were just catching up I’m sorry to take her away.” The slut speaks. Her voice bleeds cockiness, even though her face is soft and sweet. She knows that Irene is mad. She’s enjoying it.

“Okay.” Is all Irene mumbles before going back to the living room.

“What was that about?” Momo is looking at you in confusion and fear. She had always had suspicions about Irene. She just seemed too nice—too willing to be everything you needed, when in reality she didn’t fit the role.

Momo had been in love with you since she met you. Your smile, the way you loved everyone no matter their differences, and your seemingly never ending talent of making her laugh. You were magical, but she was okay with being on the sideline. She had done it for two years straight while you were with Taeyong, and even during your nights of crying over she kept it to herself.

She knew keeping it to herself was only hurting her, but she was willing to be hurt for the sake of your happiness as you were happy with Taeyong. She could see how much the two of you loved eachother, and even after everything went down, she didn’t want to stop your journey of loving herself to have to figure out a way to reject her feelings nicely.

“Guess I’ll have to find out later.”

You seem frustrated as your leg is tapping up and down—even though you’re not sitting. Your breathing is getting faster and faster, and she knew this picture. This is exactly how you used to react when Taeyong made you upset, or neglected your feelings.

“Does she know what pizza you like?” She decides on, trying to pick your mood up with her bare hands as you were always able to do for her. She finds herself dancing slightly—her go to when she didn’t know what to do.

“I should probably go find out.” You smack her exposed stomach before walking back into the living room, where everyone has returned. Momo is behind you, and Irene is staring straight at the wall.

“The pizza should be here soon.” She whispers without removing her eyes.

“That’s goo—

By soon, even she didn’t seem to have meant this soon. The door is being knocked on quite aggressively, and all of you are looking at eachother trying to decide who’s going to answer.

“I’ll get it.” You step up. You were always the one in the group who would rise to the things you knew they were scared to do. Before you can even put your hand on the knob though, the banging is coming again, this time even louder. “I’m coming!” You spit full of attitude, and at the same time, everyone but Irene is rising to the occasion to stand by your side. You would always protect eachother—even from the pizza man. Johnny steps infront of you, opening the door himself.

It’s the police, and they don’t look happy.

“Are you Johnny Suh?” The chubby officer questions.

“Uh—yes.” He stutters. “The police said I wasn’t getting questioned until tomorrow.”

“Oh cut the crap.” The other offer says. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Cierra Valdez.” He rips the handcuffs from his belt, and he’s trying to turn Johnny around, but Johnny will never go down without a fight.

“What are you talking about!”

“Get off of him!” You yell, immediately trying to pull him in your direction. Everyone else follows, together more powerful than the police. Johnny is out of their grasp for just a few moments before a gun is pointed towards all of you.

“Drop your hands now!”

“You’re not gonna fucking shoot us!” Taeyong screams. It was the most passion Irene had heard come from his lips, and she was quite entertained. She was entertained by all of this. If you wouldn’t have been letting Momo flirt with you, she would’ve gotten up to shield you, but you didn’t, which is why she’s sitting on the couch in fake shock.

“Y/N get over here!” She yells. She doesn’t even have to wipe the sly smirk off her face as nobody is looking at her.

But you ignore her.

“I didn’t kill her!” Johnny is crying all over again, his whole face soaked in tears. “I loved her. Why would I kill her?”

“Anything you do or say will be held against you.” The Miranda rights are flowing out of the officer like he does this all the time, and now they’re dragging him out. His back is scratching on the cement.

“Y’all have to help me!” Johnny screeches. The whole apartment complex can hear what’s going on, and it’s killing him inside. He didn’t kill the love of his life. He didn’t. “I loved her.” He cried once more. “I fucking loved her!”

Continued

[kuzguncigligi]

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Minimize coffee, tea, and also red wine.

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Your dental practitioner will initially apply a gentle phosphoric acid to the surface of your teeth, which engraves as well as roughens the surface to aid the bonding material keep in area. The putty-like bonding product is after that positioned on the tooth's surface area, formed, as well as sculpted.

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[quarterfromcanon]

Gradation

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 7 - Nail Polish [2,503 words]

Home Base was in one of its periods of flux. The late lunch crowd shuffled out while the early dinner customers ambled toward their usual seats. Heather was in the final stretch of her scheduled work hours and expected nothing special from such an unremarkable Thursday. So, when Valencia stepped out of the glaring sunlight and swept in through the door, the surprise visit made for an especially welcome turn of events.

Heather’s excited expression dimmed, however, when she noted an all-too-familiar shift in her companion’s appearance. Valencia’s hair was pulled into a messy bun that looked as though it had been worn up overnight for at least seventy-two hours; her shirt appeared to be a forgotten garment from her high school years, and the legs of her sweatpants pooled around her ankles. Her purse strap was held together by duct tape. Heather had already noticed the discrete Facebook relationship status change the previous week but, even without that prior knowledge, she was familiar enough with Valencia’s dejectedly single fashion sense to recognize it on sight. 

None of the Gurl Group members knew what happened. Right now, Rebecca was only aware of whatever news from the outside world was brought to her on visiting days, but Paula and even Heather herself were kept similarly in the dark. Heather anticipated a severe fallout in the wake of the split from Beth, but witnessing it firsthand was another matter entirely. The sorrow was more physically profound this time than it was after Josh. Valencia’s eyes were ringed by dark, sleep-deprived circles and she was unusually pale in a way that made her seem ill. Several passing patrons corrected their course across the room just to allow her a wider berth. She reached the bar and pulled herself onto a stool. 

Heather waited for a moment, but Valencia did not speak. Her gaze flicked briefly in Heather’s direction and darted away again before there was any risk of eye contact. Instead, she settled for staring at the shiny surface of the bar.

“Hey, stranger,” Heather greeted when several minutes of unbroken silence had passed.

“Hi,” Valencia rasped. Her voice was feeble and scratchy from lack of use, coupled by what Heather guessed had been multiple days of frequent and heavy crying.

Valencia hugged her torso, still not quite able to regard Heather directly. As Valencia rubbed shaking hands up and down her arms, Heather noticed that her fingers were sporting chipped polish in a variety of hues. Heather was momentarily surprised that Valencia indulged in applying paint to her nails, but then it dawned on her what day it was.

“I like your Pride colors,” she told her.

Valencia laughed humorlessly with tears in her eyes. “Happy National Coming Out Day to me.”

She blinked rapidly before splaying out her fingers to examine what remained of the days-old coat. “Beth did these for me, before...” Valencia faked a cough but didn’t finish the sentence. “We decided that since I’m still Official Identity Pending, a rainbow was the right call for my first year being out. She taught me what they meant, too.”

Valencia turned the backs of her palms to face Heather and wiggled each finger as she identified its color symbolism. “Sex, life, healing, sun, nature, the arts, harmony, and spirit. Fitting that the life one ended up on my middle finger since its favorite thing to give me is a resounding ‘Fuck You.’” She shook her head, clenched her hands into fists, and tucked them under the crooks of her elbows. 

“What are the white ones on the ends?” Heather asked tentatively.

Valencia whispered to conceal a break in her voice. “Clouds.” She cleared her throat and chanced a quick look at Heather’s face. “I’m sorry. The last nine days have been hell. I only left the apartment because I didn’t think I could stand being surrounded by the memories any longer. I don’t mean to keep sounding fragile and melodramatic but those are my only two modes right now. Please, ignore me.”

Heather leaned over the bar and brushed her fingers along Valencia’s forearm in a concerned gesture. “Valencia Perez never wants to be ignored.”

Valencia looked into her eyes for the first time and had to visibly choke down a sob. “You’re right. That’s not what’s going to help me. To quote one of the godawful conversation t-shirts she and I saw while we were shopping online together: I’m here. I’m queer. I need a beer.”

Heather gave her a gentle smile. “I’ll take care of you.”

She turned her back and began preparing a glass, but Valencia’s voice stopped her.

“Heather?”

“Hmm?”

“The beer thing was just for the sake of the rhyme, so--”

“One finger of bourbon? I kinda assumed and already started pouring that.”

“Perfect,” Valencia confirmed. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

Heather brought the drink over and set it down before her. Valencia took a sip and shut her eyes. She cupped the beverage on either side and slid it back and forth between her hands. 

“Hey, my work day is done in, like, two minutes. Nobody’s gonna care if I ditch early. I’m basically their boss now, anyway. Do you wanna maybe come outside with me and sit at one of the tables?” Heather suggested.

Valencia twisted around to consider the rest of the clientele, then peered beyond them through the window at the warm glow of the setting sun. “Yeah,” she agreed with a little nod. “That sounds nice.”

“Cool.”

They left the bar and found a spot far enough away from the doors that they were unlikely to be disturbed. Valencia put her drink down and faced the horizon, her back to Heather who was seated opposite from her.

Heather lightly tapped her hands against the rusted tabletop. “The breeze feels good.”

“Autumn’s settling in,” Valencia remarked. 

“Sweatshirt weather.” Heather rocked forward and back on the bench and tapped the toes of her shoes together.

“You can ask if you want to.”

Heather frowned and leaned on her elbows. “I don’t want to make you face something before you’re ready, V. But, if you wanna talk to me, I’ll listen. To anything, really. Not just about this.”

Valencia took another drink. “It’s okay. I’ve been wallowing in it for long enough. I think I can at least get through telling you the basics.”

“Okay.” Heather gripped the crosshatched metal under her fingers and waited patiently.

Valencia took a deep breath. “Beth asked me to come with her to New York,” she announced on the exhale.

“To visit? Didn’t you just go on a weekend trip not that long ago for her parents’ anniversary?”

“Yeah, we did. And no. Not to visit. To live. Permanently.”

Heather’s stomach lurched at the thought. “Oh.”

“I said no.”

In spite of herself, Heather’s heart gave a relieved throb. “How come?”

“It just wasn’t right for me. I tried to keep an open mind. I swear to God, I did. Beth and I had fun on the visit and I could see how much she lit up to be back around familiar places and people. I’m all she really had out here. But New York is so big and crowded and confusing. It swallows you whole. I just kept remembering what Rebecca said on the party bus, the day you and I first met. To me, it looked and felt just like she described. That city may be home to some people -- it clearly is to Beth -- but, as far as I’m concerned, I’d side with Rebecca on this one. Much as this place annoys me and pisses me off, I’d take West Covina over NYC any day.”    

Valencia polished off the last of the alcohol.

“So, she’s going back?” Heather cautiously filled in the blanks. “...Without you?”

“Yeah.” Valencia swung her legs over the bench so she and Heather could be eye to eye. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave my life behind. My family’s here. Everything I know. And my friends... I finally have those, for the first time in so long... possibly ever... real friends, and I just got them. Was I supposed to put a whole country between myself and the happiest I’ve ever been, go back to just being somebody’s girlfriend who doesn’t really fit in with their crowd? Should I have done that?”

The teardrops she’d been keeping at bay thus far spilled down her face in two winding trails that reached her chin and then plummeted to the cement underfoot.

“Beth’s one of the most caring, patient, and kind people I’ve met in my entire life. I never wanted to hurt her. But the move would’ve destroyed me. I knew she wouldn’t want me to lie to her but, God, telling the truth broke both our hearts.”

She folded her arms, dropped her head onto them, and then began weeping in earnest. Heather climbed up and over the table to sit beside her. She pulled Valencia into her arms and held fast while her best friend shook with bereavement.

Heather rocked from side to side and rubbed circles on Valencia’s back. Her own throat was burning with sympathetic emotion that she could barely keep in check. “I’ve got you,” she murmured, distraught by the inadequacy of the only sentence that would come to mind.

Eventually, Valencia quieted to sporadic shudders and an occasional sniffle. “Your poor blouse. It’s sopping wet now.”

Heather pulled back and gripped Valencia’s arms. “I don’t care. It’ll air dry.”

“I’ve kept you with me so long,” Valencia said apologetically. “You could’ve been home with Hector ages ago.”

Heather tensed and let her hands fall into her lap. “Um, yeah, he’s not worrying about me, so... it’s fine.”

Valencia detected the evasiveness in her tone. “What do you mean?”

“He kinda moved out. I kinda encouraged that... by calling if off between us.” 

Valencia’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Also, how long were you going sit there and let me rattle on about myself without telling me what happened?”

“As long as you needed.”

Valencia’s expression softened. “Well, now I need to be able to return the favor. So talk to me.”

Heather ran both hands over her tied-back curls and sighed. “He didn’t do anything bad. He’s a great guy. We got along super well. I think he might be the first time I ever felt like I was dating a friend.”

Valencia shook her head, perplexed. “Then what changed?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, I’m lost.”

“Yeah. So was I.” Heather lifted her shoulders helplessly. “That’s the problem. I know I’m not a big planner -- that’s your specialty -- but, even for me, I got into bed with Hector way too fast. Literally and figuratively.”

Valencia grimaced but smoothed her features once more and patted Heather’s knee. “Go on.”

“He was reliable and accepting and a total sweetheart. We were getting used to the flow of our routine and building up a new life together,” Heather continued, “but, it was like you said about New York: it just wasn’t right for me.”

Heather met Valencia’s gaze for a moment but then fiddled with the shoelace on the foot she was resting atop the bench. “Not to make Rebecca’s jail time sound like a good thing -- because it’s not, at all -- but without her around, I got a taste of what a future with just me and Hector could be like. I couldn’t find anything wrong with it... but nothing felt right.” She fidgeted and kept her eyes downcast. “Anyway, we sat down at the table one night and had a really long talk. There wasn’t any yelling; it wasn’t over-the-top. Just really sad. But we came to an agreement that this was for the best. He’s crashing with WhiJo now.”

Valencia nodded and gave herself time to absorb the information. “Wow.” She trailed her fingertip along the edge of the bench. “Why’s it so painful if we made the choice?”

“I don’t know. I just know it fucking sucks.”

“Hear, hear.”

They both sat in silence for a minute while the breeze tousled their hair.

Valencia slapped her hands against her thighs. “Enough of this. I need a distraction. I think you could use one, too.” She adjusted the taped strap over her shoulder. “Why don’t I paint Pride nails for you? I still have a few of the bottles in the bottom of this purse.”

Heather thought it over for a bit and shrugged. “Okay.”

“You’ve got to go back to the other side, though, so I’ve got room to work.”

Heather dutifully clambered over to her previous bench, the awkward process of which made Valencia laugh for the first time in weeks. Heather smiled too and, once she was settled, fanned out her left hand across the table. 

Valencia rummaged through her bag and produced three colors: pink, lavender, and blue. “That’s the order, right?”

“Yeah, you’ve got it.”

Valencia unscrewed the first lid and took Heather’s hand in hers. She applied the pink in small, delicate strokes. “You know, I really didn’t thank you enough for coming out to me when I was struggling to come out to myself. You showed me a side of the journey that I don’t know if I could have pictured otherwise. You’re so confident in your own skin, so at ease with who you are. Sure, I saw some of that with WhiJo being so openly gay while we were growing up, but it all has a way bigger impact when it’s coming from someone you trust.”

A flicker of pain crossed Heather’s face, but Valencia’s focus on the task prevented her from catching it. “Glad to help,” Heather said simply.

Valencia opened the lavender bottle. “You always do.”

Heather’s senses felt heightened and the touch of Valencia’s fingers beneath hers left subtle bumps along the sides of her arms. 

“All right, one blue and this hand will be ready,” Valencia declared.

“Looks good.” Heather gulped and turned her attention to the sun, which had now disappeared halfway behind the crest of the land. “The baseball field is actually kinda pretty at this time of day.”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Valencia agreed. “But I’d better hurry. If I don’t wrap this up, the sky will match your nails and I’ll be painting the right hand in the dark.”

She finished the blue fingernail and brought Heather’s hand close to her lips. “This one’s ready to dry,” she explained, and then began to blow on the polish. 

Valencia’s breath tickled across Heather’s ring finger and she shivered. “Thanks for doing this. You were right about it being a distraction. It helps.”

“My pleasure. I’m glad it’s working for you, too.” She locked eyes with Heather again. “I want you to know I’ll always be here for you.”

Heather’s pulse thrummed against her ribs. “Thank you. And you know you can count on me too, right?”

Valencia ran her thumb across the backs of Heather’s fingers and smiled. “I do.”

[irnwoman]

PLAYLIST  STORIES:  come monday night --- god help the girl

DO  NOT  REBLOG !!!   BASED  ON  MY  OWN  HCS,  DO  NOT  COPY  EITHER.

                          COME  MONDAY  NIGHT,  WE’RE  IN  A  STATE  OF  PRAISE                        TWENTY MILLION BOYS ARE CAUGHT UP IN A PAPER CHASE                        IF THE WEEKEND PROMISED MUCH, THEN I FAILED TO TOUCH                              ON A SINGLE COUNT’VE WHAT I WAS HOPING FOR

“You’re going to run yourself into the ground, Gin.”  Mallory Andersen clicked her tongue, a combination of concern and mild annoyance in her words as she tossed her dark, damp ponytail over her shoulder. Her nails clicked on the counter top of Henrietta's Hideaway, the ocean grey-blue polish on them already chipping after overexposure to chlorine,  as her plate of fries sat neglected.

Mallory’s eyes followed the near blur of orange and turquoise that was Ginny Potts refilling water glasses and clearing plates from the other side of the counter with the same sigh she always expelled. Ginny looked back at her from behind ginger bangs, walking over to refill her water pitcher. If Mallory was tired of having to give the same lecture three times a week, then Ginny was doubly tired of hearing it. She knew that her friend meant well, or at least thought she did, but she was talking about things she just couldn’t understand.

“You’re so dramatic,” she retorted, not really denying her claim. There would be no use to do so, it was only the second hour into her shift and Ginny was tempted just a bit to just curl up in an empty diner booth to sleep for a million years. Her body was still sore from swim practice, coach pushing them harder due to an upcoming tournament in Astoria in a couple weeks. Ginny was finishing in the backstroke and starting in the front crawl, which was going to look on her transcripts and to any spectators who might offer her scholarships; but it was terrible for the sixteen year old girl who was scheduled to work five hours each night that week before tackling her homework and any help her father would need. He was getting worse, although he refused to acknowledge it to them, Ginny knew. They all knew.

Mallory raised an eyebrow, “and you’re impossible. God, you’re like a robot sometimes. All you do is work, work, work. I gotta twist your arm to do anything remotely fun with me.” It was clear that she was in one of her infamous moods, unquestionable by the way she waved her arms and slouched back in her seat as if exhausted by her. Ginny had become skilled in reading Mallory’s varied weathers, her first most useful skill upon moving to Oregon. She’d have been more exhausted Mallory in return, if she didn’t catch the flicker of sadness in her eye. It was becoming more and more frequent, but no matter how she pried, Mallory denied its existence; which did nothing to make Ginny more sympathetic to her small tantrum. “Are you even going to be able to go to the competition? You basically live here, when you aren’t chained at home playing housemaid and nurse.”

Ginny stiffened, hurt flickering in her eye for a moment before swallowing it down. To her credit, Mallory seemed to realise this was a step to far. She didn’t apologise, but she backed down from her attack and looked guilty. Ginny, for her part, held a stiff upper lip and turned to put ice into the pitcher; using the moment of brief privacy to push her emotions down. Her temper would only get her in trouble and make Mallory’s mood worse. It felt unfair, but Ginny didn’t have many other friends. Friends were time, time was precious for her. It was lonely, and it had hurt as her circle slowly grew more and more enclosed. For all her griping, Mallory at least was contented to just fuss a couple times a week but remained by her side regardless.

The worst part, was that Ginny hadn’t quite figured out Astoria yet. She was working every moment she could spare, they needed money. Four paychecks wasn’t enough to get them everything they needed. Food and bills left hardly anything for her father’s health. It felt like a failure on her part, unable to pull some miracle from nowhere to solve it all. Ginny managed to maintain her high grade point average, working between classes, on breaks and late into the night on her homework. Swimming, and if she was honest, Gymnastics, were her only leisure activities - but even that wasn’t fully true. While she loved them, they were only allowed to remain priorities because of one reason: Ginny was too poor to pay for school on her own. She needed every opportunity possible. Scholarships, offers - if she was ever going to be able to help properly, she needed to more than the local community college.

Of course, this all relied on her father’s health remaining as stable as possible. Paying the bills on his latest treatment had set them so far in the red. But so far, signs were hopeful. Ginny didn’t take comfort in hope though, she took it from facts; and thinking about all of this now was only going to make her freak out. The ginger was just barely holding it together as it was, linger on details she had run through her head a million times over wasn’t going to solve anything.

Turning back towards Mallory, Ginny kept a calm and leveled tone as she spoke, “It’ll be fine, I’ll figure it out. We’ll have tons of fun in Astoria for the competition and it’ll be okay. Alright?”

Mallory didn’t answer this time, instead tearing the end off of her straw wrapper and blowing the remaining paper at her face. There was a cheeky grin on her face, one that (despite the hurt and annoyance from moments before) was infectious just enough to make Ginny roll her eyes and accept it for the weird truce it was done in the name of. “Whatever you say Ginnybot.” Mallory replied, but her tone lighter, even if a tad forced. She’d still take it.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Mallory shrugged, “Maybe so, but you love me.”

“Debatable.” she called back as she walked away over to the window, to pick up an order; hearing Mallory’s mock scoff of offense. It didn’t make a lot of sense, Mallory could be selfish and insensitive, but she really did. Maybe Mallory wasn’t the best friend in the world, but if she was honest, Ginny was far from it as well.

They deserved each other.

The sun had already fallen by the time Ginny reached their house. An old family stead that had been passed down between Potts’ for who knew how long. She imagined once it had been a beautiful ocean view house, but several storms and lack of funds had left it worn and a shadow of itself. It was spacious, chilly, but it had the most beautiful views of the coastline, and there was no better place to stargaze then from their porch.

Or maybe these were things she just told herself to make herself feel better about circumstances; that maybe in her most secret of hearts, she still pictured the small house with the blue door in Philadelphia as her home still. Maybe; but she knew that was a door she wasn’t up to opening, so instead, Ginny found beauty in her present circumstances.

The living room light was on, she could hear the TV playing from the porch. Toby, her mind instantly supplied, as he was always the one cranking it too loud. She winced as she closed the front door and was flooded with the sounds of recording shouts from the TV. Highlights from a baseball game were playing on the screen. “For god sake Toby, turn that down! It’s after nine o’clock!” she shouted, kicking off her shoes in the hallway and tossing her coat on the hook before marching into the room.

Her brother, Toby, lounged lazily on the sofa. Still in his uniform from the Grocery Store. He ignored her, as usual. A habit of his lately, calling her bossy and fussy. To which earned several retorts of do it yourself, and I won’t have to tell you. A retort he did not take kindly to, prompting several arguments between them. Already gearing up for another, she raised her voice, “HEY! Turn that down! Or off. Or SOMETHING. Come on, dad’s probably trying to sleep and some of us with ears would like to keep their hearing.”

He rolled his eyes, “Dad’s out cold, he’s not gonna wake up.” Ginny scowled, snatching the remote from his hands. Toby yelped as she cranked the volume down, “Fuck off, Gin!”

“Then keep on low, idiot!”

“Oh my god, if you tell me what to do one more time…”

“What’s going on in here?” a new voice piped in, prompting both heads to turn and see Sean in the door, also coming home from work late. The eldest brother looked between the others with a tired expression. “You guys are going to wake the whole house, can you not get into tonight?”

Toby brushed passed Ginny briskly, knocking her shoulder as he did. “Whatever.” he grumbled, before storming outside.

Ginny’s eyes widened in anger, ready to march after him and tell him he couldn’t just take off before she felt a hand on her shoulder. Sean’s tired eyes pleading with her, “Please, Gin, just let him go.”

“You’re kidding me?” Normally Sean was just as actively on “Toby duty” as she was.

Her brother just sighed. “He’s in a bad mood, she didn’t call yesterday.”

The fight left Ginny at those words, the day before had been Toby’s birthday. She had been able to spend a fair amount of the day with them all before working a closing shift at the diner. When she had come home, the house had been dark and quiet. When she had left, she knew Toby had been, as casually as possible, lingering near the phone.

Their mom promised to call on holidays and birthdays; but her track record was notoriously poor. The last time she had spoken to her had been around Christmas. It was now May. Her own birthday having passed without a call either; but Ginny had cared significantly less than her brother. He had always cared more about it all; Toby and her mom had once been extremely close years ago. That had been before though. All she had hoped was that Gina Potts had put her work aside for five minutes to give her brother a phone call.

Apparently that was expecting way too much.

“Shit, really?”  Sean just gave her a defeated sigh as an answer. It didn’t excuse Toby for his behaviour, not when he was getting increasingly more dick-ish to them all most days regardless. Still, Ginny couldn’t help her heart from going out to him in this case.

The T.V. was turned off, Sean had collapsed into bed soon after. Ginny had gone upstairs to check on her dad, who was comfortably still asleep, before bringing her books downstairs into the kitchen. Setting up at the table with a cup of coffee as she poured into her homework. Math was easy; Math was something she had already cleared between her lunch and breaks at the diner. Science was a bit trickier, going over the parts of an atom. Mallory was in her class, so she knew she could copy her notes later. English wasn’t hard, but as the hours progressed, her eyes began to blur as she dissected quotes from Macbeth. Ginny had learned that French and Spanish were best done in the morning; it was too damn easy to mix them up as she conjugated various verbs after one in the morning.

She was on cup number two when she heard the front door open quietly, footsteps running upstairs and disappearing into the room she knew was Toby’s. Breathing a bit easier knowing he was home. Around cup four, Ginny lost track of time as she tried to make her essay as legible as possible. Not realising the time until she felt a hand clasp her shoulder. Nearly jumping out of her skin as she turned to see her Uncle Morgan looking down at her. Just coming in from his late night shift at the factory; his eyes sympathetic and heavy with bags.

“Gin, what are you doing?” his voice, to his credit, held no judgement; but laden with concern. Something she was becoming increasingly tired of. “It’s four in the morning.”

“I have too much to do.”

“You’re gonna be exhausted, Gigi.” the nickname prompting a slight smile in the corner of his mouth, “You got class in a few hours.”

Ginny gestured to her books, her face coloured to show as if that was exactly her point. “I know! That’s why I’ve got to keep working.”

Morgan sighed, sadness tinting his eye. Not for the first time, and unlike with Mallory, she knew what this was for. The feeling of guilt; the feeling of sadness for how unfair it was that the three kids be forced into these positions. And unknown by Ginny, a bitterness about how the one who could help chose not to. Thinking how her radio silence the past few months happened to coincide with the diagnosis. What could he do? Tell her not to? Tell her to forget her homework? Quit her job? No, as much as he wished he could, he couldn’t say that to any of them. As much as he hated it, this was the life they were stuck with. “You ain’t gonna get anything worth nothing done now. You got a few hours still. I’ll drive you in the morning, go get some sleep. Please? And don’t tell your dad you were up late again, he worries.”

She wanted to argue, opened her mouth to tell him how there was no point, but a yawn wiggled out before she could. Making her arguments invalid. “...okay.” Her body felt heavy as she rose from the chair. Morgan gave her a half hug before ushering her out of the kitchen. Ginny felt her body run on autopilot as she moved into her room and fell onto her bed, still in her uniform. A testament to how exhausted she was, even after four cups of coffee… more if she counted what she had during her shift, Ginny fell asleep instantly. She slept until eight, earning four hours. Not the worst. She’d gone on less. The sound of her alarm felt like the cruelest thing in the world; but still she rose up. Body aching, screaming for more sleep. Just like the day before and the day before that. Ginny groaned as she stretched and moved to change her clothes. Her eyes fell on the calendar by her dresser. 

It was only Tuesday.

It was going to be a very long week.

                                       LIGHT  THAT  COMES  IN  FROM  OUTSIDE                      IF  YOU  COULD  CATCH  IT  ALL  AND  PIN  IT  TO  YOUR  WALL                                      THEN  YOU  WOULD  SLEEP  MUCH  BETTER                                      BABY,  YOU  WOULD  SLEEP  MUCH  BETTER

[eatbreathewrite]

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Unexpected Guest

Today is a good day for Todd—though they mostly are, as of late.

He’s heard people, mostly the damned, mention the “good ol’ days”; these must be his in the making.

By the end of the afternoon, he’s improved greatly on his stitch counting and his triple crochets and, especially, in mastering how to properly turn his piece so his rows are no longer frustratingly mismatched. It’s still a work in progress, but Granny Ethel’s lessons are wonderful as always. Next up is learning how to incorporate another yarn color for bright, fun designs—or in his case, dark and atmospheric—after their midday break of coffee and desserts, of course. Because as fond as she is of his preferred black yarn, she insists he has to branch out from solids eventually. There’s no growth if one always remains in their comfort zone.  

Instead of coffee, however, Granny Ethel is in the mood for tea—and just as with everything else he’s inherited from her lifestyle, the art of brewing tea presents a difficult learning curve.

She doesn’t take her tea from grocery store boxes and tiny sachets—she doesn’t buy those in bulk because they only go to waste and sit stale in the cupboards. When she drinks tea at all (that is, when she isn’t in the mood for espresso), it must be fresh, and from organic, homegrown ingredients. For this reason, tea isn’t an impulsive choice of drink. It must be planned. It’s another lesson she’s instilled in him during his stay, and, the week before, they’d spent an entire morning identifying each of the specific herbs thriving in the back garden, and which parts were best used in which blends. Of course, he is well acquainted with the rosemary and sage, the lavender and thyme, the basil and juniper, and the chamomile and anise. But lemongrass is new, and it grows in abundance in the planters set on the windowsills.

Because it’s such a novelty, he chooses it as the main note and adds in chamomile blossoms to offset the citrus tang. It’s a challenge to balance it just right so neither is too overwhelming, nor too bland, and he doesn’t expect this to be a great attempt, but Granny Ethel is honest with her evaluations and generous with encouragement. There’s also the matter of heating the water to a proper boil, and not overheating the mix, then steeping it for the right amount of time…

Well, there’s a reason he never apprenticed to a potion brewer and enlisted in the debt collecting department for souls instead.

But for Granny Ethel, he tries his best.

The kitchen counter, small as it is, is a difficult surface to work with. The kitchenware is tiny in his hands, and if he isn’t careful when he moves, his horns scrape the ceiling above, sending a fine powder of popcorned drywall down like snow out of season.

Water sloshes out of the kettle and spills across the granite, some trickling down onto the tiles, and the small, fragile jar he mixes the herbs in cracks beneath his claws, but doesn’t shatter. He scoops out the blend with care and packs it loosely into a metal tea strainer, but even so, most of it ends up scattered across the counter. Grass and petals bounce and dive out of the tea ball as he fumbles to secure the latch, and by the end of the struggle, only a small portion of what he’d placed remains within.

He tries once more—and again. And once more, just until there’s an appropriate measurement of herbs trapped inside. Then, ever-so-carefully, he sets the tea ball into Granny Ethel’s favorite tea cup (the special one, decorated with playful kittens and ribbons and an elaborate, golden cursive “C”) and pours boiling water over it to steep.

A freshly-baked apple pie waits on the small, round dining table, taken fresh from the oven only an hour before. A sliver of the circle has been removed for tasting—and it is delicious. Slicing two pieces of the pie is a far simpler task than brewing tea, and Todd makes sure that Granny Ethel’s piece dwarfs the plate it sits upon, because she deserves the best. And bigger is better.  

The two dessert-filled plates sit across from each other, equidistant, on the table, on finely crocheted doilies that serve as placemats. The pastel yellow tablecloth covering the table is riddled in fragile, embroidered daisies and winding leaves and it screams spring despite the heat of summer weighing heavy in the air. He’ll have to find another to replace it with, soon. Maybe one with sunflowers.

As he considers this, the doorbell rings.

It isn’t something he thinks twice about anymore. Not since their new friend from the supermarket made it habit to participate in their weekly Yahtzee or domino nights, and their bi-weekly trips to the bingo hall.

Neither does Granny Ethel—he can hear her call to the door from the living room, remaining in her seat, “Come in, dear! The door is unlocked.”

But it isn’t a game night, or a bingo day.

It’s midafternoon on a Tuesday and the only thing scheduled for the remainder of the day is a rerun of one of their favorite TV dramas about two women in law enforcement.

The door creaks open—it’s something Todd’s been meaning to fix, though the home is sorely lacking in tools and hardware necessary for the job. If there was hinge lubricant around, it would fix it right up, but he may have to resort to cooking oil as a quick fix.

Curiosity gets the better of him. Carefully balancing the teapot and teacup in both clawed hands, he approaches the carpeted hall between the kitchen and living room to take a peek at the mystery guest. But multitasking, pouring the tea and looking at the same time, proves to be a mistake and in hindsight something he should have avoided.

The tea, so carefully prepared and brewed, overflows from the fine china cup, spills onto the matching, chipped saucer and steadily splatters the floor. Todd doesn’t even move, doesn’t blink, as it saturates the floral rug beneath his claws. The drips are the only thing moving in this scene removed from time, and all else stands still, even the dust in the air.

Neither of them expected a guest today—neither of them ever expected this particular guest. Mostly because one believes he is already present, and one believes he is too selfish to ever even have the passing thought to visit, much less call or write.

“Oh no, Todd, the carpet! Hurry now, dear, hurry, go and—no, I’ll go and grab a towel, I know where the cleaning ones are!”

Granny Ethel is the first to break free from the frozen atmosphere—though she refuses to acknowledge anything aside from the growing stain on the living room floor. Todd quickly rights the white china teapot hanging from his claws and holds his other hand steady to prevent the flooded teacup from dripping more hot tea to the puddle below. It doesn’t work—seems to make it worse, actually. It’s a vain task, so he gives up and cradles it all in his large hands, doing his best to keep the remaining tea contained in his palms. 

“‘Todd?’” says the clean-cut young man standing in the open doorway, a jarring juxtaposition to the black clothes and heavily-blackened eyes and metal accessories from familiar photographs—but even in the full Sunday suit, those downturned, bright eyes are unmistakable, and they are fixed unblinkingly on Todd’s decidedly un-Todd-like form. “Who are you?”

I’m you, but better, doesn’t seem like an appropriate response, no matter how true it is. Todd the demon holds his silence and doesn’t break the gaze, because it feels like a challenge.

This man is the human Todd, and he’s come to visit.

Today is a....strange day, for Demon Todd.

Tea time is no longer a pleasant, cozy time. Not with their extra guest, seated between them at the small round table with a (small) slice of pie of his own and an untouched glass of water—no tea, no coffee, for him. He’s tall—a bit too large for the small table, though Demon Todd is one to talk. But being who he is, it’s only natural he dwarfs everything around him. This Human Todd, though… just what is his excuse?

Granny Ethel hasn’t spoken a single word to the young man the entire time and her silence is strange. She’s usually such a chatty, friendly woman.

So they eat in silence—but not Human Todd. He sits still, staring with narrowed, mean eyes, on edge. But not entirely frightened, like the general public tended to be in his presence. It’s odd. Perhaps it runs in the family.

As he sits in the silence, he wrings his hands together—clean hands, like one unaccustomed to frequent physical labor. No dirt in sight underneath his nail beds. Not even flecks of old nail polish hinting at remnants of a secret grunge lifestyle never quite grown out of. Whatever he has grown into certainly isn’t that of someone who toils in the underworld or its culture, like his counterpart.

No, rather, it reeks of money. Given—not earned. And possibly taken, too.

Demon Todd has an inkling of why Human Todd is here. After all, he didn’t come alone. Accompanying his arrival were three large, expensive suitcases, stuffed full. Still sitting in the living room, out of place.

At long last, as the last crumb falls, Granny Ethel speaks.

“Well, dear, speak up, speak up. What brings you here?” she asks the young man as she pats at the corners of her wrinkled mouth with a cloth napkin, and she avoids speaking his name despite the fact that she must know who he is.

The words, though, aren’t entirely conversational. With the three of them sitting at the small table, it more resembles a conference—no, a hearing. Especially when she pulls up the thick, round spectacles hanging from crocheted strings around her neck and sets them atop the bridge of her nose to better see the new visitor.

Human Todd’s eyes drift warily from the long, sharp claws tapping silently on the tabletop, and he clears his throat before looking to his grandmother, wearing a sickly sweet and fake smile as he does. “Well, it’s been so long. So, so many years, Gran. I’ve missed you, see. Dad was in the wrong, and he treated you terribly. I understand that now.”

“Ah, Arthur…” she replies faintly, setting the napkin down on the table and folding her hands across her lap. Yes—she knows exactly who Human Todd is. But the behavior is still so unlike her. No joy, no sweet smiles. All gone, drained, as empty as the teacup set in front of her, but not even leaving the dregs of what she once was behind.

Demon Todd briefly considers kicking Human Todd to the curb.

“He said awful things about you, and I listened. I came here by way of apology, to take care of you, but,” briefly, and not without a flinch, his eyes wander to Demon Todd, and linger on the dark, hand-crafted shawl perched on his spiny shoulders, “it seems like you’ve already gotten that under control.” His gaze lingers, fixed in a poorly-concealed grimace. “Who are you, by the way?”

Granny Ethel speaks for him, and for a moment her cheer returns. “This is my wonderful grandson, Todd! He’s such a polite young man. And it’s true, life has certainly become easier, and better, since he arrived and helped out so, so much.”

Demon Todd can only nod, but if he could smile without it looking like several rows of craggy, sharp teeth gnashed together in malicious threat, he would.  

Human Todd wrenches his gaze away, and pulls at the collar of his pristine white shirt. His hairline shines with sweat, and it isn’t due to the cozy temperature Granny Ethel prefers to keep in the house.

“Then…who am I?” he ventures quietly, eyebrows furrowed in an odd mixture of confusion and shame. Ah, the bafflement of mortals.

“Why, dear, I couldn’t say. In fact, I’d say that depends entirely on you! Actions speak louder than words, don’t you know.”

The sweat creeps down his temples, shining in the faint light. “Right, I…I see.”

“But if you’d like a name…I would insist on Theodore. What do you think, Todd, dear?”

Demon Todd nods once more, pleased by the way the conversation unsettles the man. In fact, the situation is much like naming a pet. Although something fluffy and small, or covered in feathers, would be preferable to this sweaty human.

“Theodore it is, then!”

Human Todd—now, Theodore—switches his gaze between them, fingers tugging at his shirt collar once again. “Alright. Theodore it is,” he agrees, as if, perhaps, it has been his name all along, and using a shortened form of it had been a way to rebel, once upon a time. A memory lost to time. A privilege denied. “I guess I deserve that.”

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, Theodore, dear, how long are you planning on staying? I must warn you, showing up unannounced means Todd and I haven’t been able to prepare for guests. I’m afraid that means you and Todd will have to share a room until we’re able to make other arrangements.”

Theodore gulps audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing. He refuses to meet Demon Todd’s—just Todd, again, something of a victory—eyes. “Y-yes Gran.”

“And you must be aware of the house rules. Everyone contributes in any way they’re able.”

“Actions speak louder than words, right?” Theodore asks, shaky fingers reaching for the glass of water set in front of him. Not quite making it and falling still on the table, instead.

“That’s right, dear.” Granny Ethel smiles, at last. Full of her old joy again, as she should be. Renewed. Her eyes, large and owlish behind the clouded lenses, turn to Todd. “Now, Todd, won’t you be a dear and show our new house guest to his room?”

Todd looks to the dirty dishes on the table, caught between wanting to tend to them before taking care of any other, less important, duties.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Well, Granny Ethel’s word is law.

He rises to his feet—careful, always careful. Barely resisting the urge to let the ends of his horns graze the ceiling above Theodore so he gets a nice, healthy dose of powdered scrapings on his painstakingly slicked-back hair.

The man follows, cautiously, and keeps three steps behind as Todd leads him out of the kitchen and into the living room to scramble for his luggage, then down the hallway to the guest room, not making a peep, and not even stepping hard on the floors just to startle his counterpart a little, because one, it would flatten the carpets into ugly tracks, and two, Granny Ethel would want him to be a good host.

Theodore knows who—what—he is. Yet even when Granny Ethel is out of sight and out of earshot, he doesn’t question it. He simply goes about his business and does his best to ignore the hulking beast standing in the doorway, watching.

Though, between the two of them, Todd isn’t sure which one is the real monster.

It’s a conversation for another day.

[healthwomeninfo]

New Post has been published on Health Womens

New Post has been published on http://health-womens.com/want-to-make-yourself-more-beautiful-keep-reading-4/

Want To Make Yourself More Beautiful? Keep Reading

Every society consists of beauty which its people wanting to be young and beautiful. Beauty can be on the inside as well as the outside.Small changes can often provide a significant impact to your overall appearance. You can feel and look more beautiful to others by creating a beauty plan using the advice below.

Put a few drops into the bottle and then shake it! You can usually get about two more layers of the bottle by using this way.

Allow your hair to dry as frequently as you can in order to protect it. The hair and the scalp can really suffer from the curling iron, curling iron, and straightening iron can take a major toll on the hair and scalp. If you really want to use a hair dryer, dry your hair with the lowest setting. Your hair will feel silky best for years to come.

If you do not do this you may experience acne and clogged pores.

Apply a light-weight moisturizer prior to makeup. You will not have a blotchy makeup looks far less blotchy. This trick is also great at extending the wearing time of making your makeup and keeping you looking fresh.

Coconut Oil

Instead of paying high prices for fancy moisturizing products, use coconut oil. Virgin coconut oil soothes the skin and smooths out wrinkles. Coconut oil is also a natural anti-bacterial and anti-fungal agent, making it effective in combating skin conditions, be used to treat bothersome skin disorders such as acne, eczema and psoriasis.

TIP! Apply “hot spray” to wet hair before you blow it dry. Hair treatments that protect hair from the repeated application of heat during the blow drying process can be found at most general merchandise stores that carry hair care products.

A puffy brush and a dusting of matte powder are all it takes to freshen up your makeup if you blot out facial oil. You can make your cheekbones have some emphasis with a small amount of shimmery powder on your cheek temples.

Make sure to have Vitamin E around. It can serve many different things. Vitamin E is excellent for helping skin looking smooth and soft. Vitamin E can also be used on the nails to prevent cracking and feeling rough.

TIP! Get in some exercise every day. Moving daily will keep you healthy and looking young.

You can adjust your hair’s style and slim your face. A haircut with long and sleek can help create a slender look for your appearance. You can even add lowlights or highlights that help frame your face. These are quite flattering and will make your face more attractive.

You can add life to your foundation last longer if you mix it with your moisturizer. This also provides you with a healthy glow versus a “cakey” appearance and increases the foundation’s ability to protect your skin from the sun.

TIP! Do you always scratch and chip nails after polishing them? Remember to use a top coat! This will protect your nails and keep them looking freshly manicured for a full week! Although it might seem similar to clear nail polish, it is different, so don’t confuse the two products. Don’t purchase clear polish – remember to buy top coat.

Make sure to exercise every day.Keeping active will make you looking healthy and look younger. It is a vital part of your beauty kit. You should aim for at least 15 minutes daily. You could get this activity by cleaning your home or walking around the neighborhood.

Only use shimmer where you are sure it will be hit by light. You will create a glowing effect that looks pleasant. When you use highlighter, aim for highlighting your cheekbones, nose, and cheekbones; then set with loose powder.

The coarseness of the paper will help you blot your oily skin. Just grab a square of paper and press it to your skin!

Try using a loofah on areas of skin imperfections. Combine a loofah with some exfoliating body wash for maximum effect.Use a loofah two times weekly for optimal results.

TIP! Shimmery eyeshadow definitely makes a statement. Shimmery eyeshadow draws attention to your eyes and simultaneously makes them look larger and brighter.

Avoid daily conditioner use if your hair is fine. You should only use it one or two times per week. Conditioner weighs hair down and make it look dull. If you want bright, shiny look, keep the conditioner to a reasonable limit.

Look for additions to your beauty routines that dovetail seamlessly with your regular schedule. If you follow different routines on different days it shouldn’t take more than about 10 minute segments it will benefit your schedule. Trying to do all your efforts into a single day will get pretty overwhelming and you might give up.

TIP! To get those nice long fingernails, use Vaseline to massage into your cuticles each week. This feeds the nail bed, encouraging nail growth.

You now know that a beauty routine is a comprehensive program that can be customized to meet your needs. Start right now working on enhancing your level of beauty. Everyone deserves to feel and look beautiful, including you. It is up to you to take some steps to improve your beauty.

[alice-is-in-wonderland]

Can you do a handstand? What’s your most frequently used cuss word? Do you like dancing? What’s the most pizza you’ve eaten in a single sitting? What are some cool-to-remember-but-not-cool-at-the-time near death experiences you’ve had? Do you paint your nails? What color? (Lol have fun with these 🖤✌️)

Can You Do A Handstand– Underwater, yeah 😂, but other than that no

What’s Your Most Frequently Used Cuss Word– Fuck. Sorry. But damn and bitch are used a hell of a lot too. I swear a lot… oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️

Do You Like Dancing– Sorta? Haha, I like the game Just Dance but only with close friends, because I only have the courage to dance if I’m with people I trust, I can’t do it alone. Or when I’m bored during a slow hour at work, I sometimes kind of dance just a little to make my co-workers smile or keep myself awake due to long hours.

Most Pizza Eaten In A Single Sitting— So I used to be a competitive swimer, alright? And when you swim, you don’t realize how like, direly hungry you are until you’re out of the water, an even then it’s ALL THE TIME. So this one time, I was over to my best friend Jess’ house (I actually lived there at the time, but that’s a whole other story for another time), and we made about 3 pizzas, thinking that Jess, her sister, and I were gonna eat them. Her sister ended up simply snacking on popcorn, and I must have eaten almost two of those pizzas myself. It was those Screamin’ Sicilian pizzas, and those things are HUGE. But yeah, I think I was one slice shy of two of those. Jessie finished the rest.

Cool-To-Remember-But-Not-Cool-At-The-Time Near Death Experiences— Ohhhhhhh wow. Okay. Well I’ve been nearly hit by a car more times than I can count. I’ve had alcohol poisioning (not that I really remember, but my sibling Sam was concerned), I had pneumonia when I was little…etc. But the scariest thing was this one time I was at college, and it was the day before I was going to move back home for the summer, so I decided to take a shower. Now, I’m a shy shower person, as most people are. So to avoid people being in the other showers at all, I shower at 2am (also it’s a habit because I shower after I get off work, late at night). Anyway. I was showering at 2am and I was almost ready to get out when my vision goes all spotty. Like when you get light-headed and see little black dots everywhere? That was me, except the black dots kept growing and growing until I literally could not see. So I fumbled around and turned the shower off by just feeling around for the handle. Then I reached for where I thought my towel was. That’s when my legs started wobbling, so I knew I had limited time before I was gonna fall in the shower. So I tried to call for help, but my throat tightened up, and no one was around anyway, even if my voice was working. So I can’t breathe, my legs are shaking, I feel nauseous as all hell, and I can’t see a fucking thing. Eventually, I found a way to sit down on the toilets, which were only a few feet away, and my vision came back after three or so minutes. I was scared out of my mind, but hey, I’m alive now!

Do You Paint Your Nails/What Color— I LOVE LOVE LOVE painting my nails! Unfortunately, due to work, I can’t paint them (it’s a food-safety hazard, the paint could chip off into the pizza). I like to say that painting my nails is the only “girly” thing that I do. I paint them all shades of blue and purple! I do like black, but usually with a bit of other stuff (gold glitter so something to add to it) and I want to find the perfect dark green nail polish that doesn’t take 12 coats to put on. It is my quest in life!

Oh man, these were fun! I tag you @thomas-newtie-gangster again ;) as well as @iamyourbloodydealer @sadsoapart @newtieparker and @endless-shipper-shipping-things

[yourcrookedarcadecollectio-blog2]

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[justgeorgeweasleynow]

TASK 1 - THE QUESTIONNAIRE 

» THE BASICS «

Full name: George Fabian Weasley

Meaning: George = farmer

Reasoning: Fred and George were named together after Molly’s brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

Pronunciation: J-ore-j fae-be-an  wee-z-lee

Nickname(s) or alias(es): Georgie (occasionally by his family) 

Preferred name(s): George

Label: the peter pan - someone who doesn’t want to grow up ; childish and irresponsible ; someone who fear of letting go and moving on.

Date of birth: April 1st 1978

Zodiac sign: Aries

Religion: Atheist

Ethnicity: White European

Nationality: British

Gender: Male

Preferred pronouns: He/him

Sexual preference: Bisexual (demisexual)

Romantic preference: Panromantic (demiromantic)

Hometown: Devon, England

Resides in: London

Occupation: Owner of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes

Language(s) spoken: English

Native language: English

Marital status: Single

Political views: Moderate liberal

Financial status: Well off

» BACKGROUND «

Species: Wizard

Birth order: Middle Child

Traditions/customs: Snowball fights with his family on Christmas

Level of education: Almost finished Hogwarts

How were their grades? Acceptable

Best childhood memory: Christmas morning with his entire family together  

Worst childhood memory:  He once charmed a rock to act like a bludger so they could practice Quidditch and it hit Ron in the head, knocking him unconscious. His parents healed him, but they were both furious.  It was the angriest he'd ever seen his dad get. He and Fred were grounded for a week - they spent the first two days locked in separate rooms. He wasn’t sure what he hated the most being alone, disappointing his family, or that he put his brother in danger. From then on, George was more thoughtful about possible repercussions of his actions.

Experienced discipline: Despite lenient parents, he was disciplined a lot for pushing their wide boundaries

Family’s economic status: Not great.

Childhood career choice: Changed regularly depending on what Fred wanted to do - he just wanted to work with Fred. The one they stuck with the longest was being a cursebreaker like Bill

School subject they excelled at: Charms

School subject they had trouble with: History of Magic

» APPEARANCE, VOICE, & MANNERISMS «

Looks like (or face claim): Oliver Phelps

Height: 5’8

Shoe size: 9

Figure/build: Athletic, slightly skinny

Hair color, Natural or Dyed? Light red, natural (he dyed it brown for a while after Fred died, but it’s since grown back to it’s natural Weasley red)

Hair style/length/width: Just long enough to cover his missing ear. It’s straight, with a few waves depending on if he took the time to brush it or not (usually not)

Eye color: Brown

Eyesight: 20/20

Teeth: Bottom teeth are slightly crooked, but nothing to worry about. He’s never given it much thought

Shape of face: Oval

Body/facial hair: His facial hair is too thin and pale to grow a beard, so he shaves it off. He doesn’t shave his chest, which has a relatively thin layer of sandy red hair.

Self-care: Lots of tea. Chocolate. Friend. 

Skin tone: pale

Birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: He’s missing his left ear. He has a thin scar from quidditch on the back of his right shoulder.

Tattoos: None.

Piercings: None.

Innie or outie belly button? Innie

Dominant hand: Right

Describe their signature: Matter-of-fact, Hastily scribbled half-cursive

Nail polish color:  None

Clothing style: Bright colors, patterned, earth tones

Frequently worn jewelry: None

Describe their voice, what accent? Smooth clear voice, British acent

Speech style: fast, energetic, enthusiastic

Singing voice: Decent for a karaoke bar, but nothing to write home about. Although he likes to intentionally sing off key sometimes just for the hell of it.

Verbal tics: He still says ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ sometimes, or ‘our’ instead of ‘my’ since he’s so used to everything he does involving Fred as well.

Scent: earthy

Posture: Relaxed. He slouches and leans against things a lot, unless he knows he’s in front of an audience - then he’ll immediately straighten up

Gestures:  Energetic. He talks with his hands a lot without realizing he’s doing it.

Default facial expression: Cheerful or contemplative

Age often mistaken for: 27

» PERSONALITY «

Personality type: ENTP

Upon first meeting them: He seems very cheerful and goofy, a bit full of himself

Catchphrase(s): “Wicked”, “You know what?”

Positive traits: Enthusiastic, passionate, brave, thoughtful, creative, resourceful

Negative traits: Cunning, blunt, rebellious, self-indulgent, spiteful 

Likes: cheering people up, people who make him laugh, people who stand up for others

Dislikes: authority, people who act like they’re superior, people who try to tell him what to do

Usual mood: Alternates between cheerful and melancholy

Sense of humor: George has a broad sense of humor that ranges from childish pranks to sharp witty jokes. For the most part, he has an innocent sense of humor, preferring to makes jokes at his own expense (or the expense of his close friends or family who he knows will receive them well).

Soft spot/vulnerability: Fred and his grief around Fred’s death.  His future.

Insecurities: He sometimes worries that he bothers people by reminding them of Fred, that they’ll mistake him for Fred, or that they think it would have been better if he’d died and Fred had survived instead.

Fears: Unable to move on after Fred’s death, spending his whole life alone, never being happy again, losing more members of his family

Comforts: one-on-one time with close friends or family

Habits/quirks: Talking with his hands,

Nervous tics: He sometimes bounces or taps his foot with nervous energy. If there’s something in his hands, it makes noise - he’ll jingle keys, tap his quill, or clink coins together. He can’t keep still for long.

Hobbies: Quidditch, pranking people, reading short fast-paced (often comedic) books, thinking up new inventions for his joke shop

Guilty pleasure: childish pranks

Desires: Happiness, a family,

Wishes: Fred hadn’t died.

Regrets: Not being able to save Fred. Anytime someone got hurt during one of their pranks.

Secrets: At Fred’s funeral, several people told stories about ‘Fred’ that had actually been about George, and vice versa. George never corrected them.

Superstitions: None.

Lucky number: 7

Pet peeves: People who talk for long periods of time without saying anything interesting.

Level of seriousness: 4/10

Level of independence: 9/10 (Financially, he’s independent. Emotionally, he’s still dependent on his parents and his siblings)

» FAVORITES «

Accessory: Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes pin

Activity: Playing games with his family or friends

Animal: Dog

Beverage: Butterbeer

Clothing item: He secretly loves the jumpers his mom knitted him. He never wears them out, but still sleeps in them sometimes.

Color: Orange and Purple 

Day of the week: Monday

Food: Fish and chips

Gem: Sapphire

Holiday: April Fools

Ice cream flavor: Butterbeer

Instrument: Piano (he can’t play, but he likes the sound of it)

Mythological creature: Griffin or Dragon

Number: 77

Quote/saying: Laugh it off.

Person: Fred. (Living = Angelina or Lee)

Possession: His wand.

Scenery: English countryside

Scent: Autumn leaves

School subject: Flying Lessons, Troublemaking + avoiding  Filch (there’s an art to it so it counts as a subject), Charms

Season: Autumn

Quidditch team: Holyhead Harpies (since Ginny is on it)

Teacher: McGonagall

Time of the day: Late afternoon

Transportation: Broom

Weather: Warm, sunny, and breezy

Word: Joke

Vacation destination: The burrow with his family

» HEALTH & PSYCHOLOGY «

Blood type: O-positive

Time of birth: Morning

Place of birth: At home

Manner of birth: It was a quick and straightforward birth, the only surprise being that there were two kids born instead of one. No one knows which twin was born first, as they weren’t given their names until later that day, and no one could remember which of the two identical babies was which.

Vaginal birth or cesarean section?: Vaginal

Birth weight/length: average

Sex: Male

Diet:  Eats what he wants when he feels like it.

Alcohol Use: Socially.

Drug Use: Rarely, for experimental purposes.

Addictions: None (except occasionally he’ll get addicted to his work -  perfecting a potion or new line of products)

Allergies: None.

Body temperature: Average

Exercise habits: Occasionally runs to relieve stress. Enjoys playing recreational Quidditch (or any sport, really, though most often Quidditch)   

Sleeping habits: He rarely had trouble sleeping until Fred died. Now it’s hit or miss. Sometimes he sleeps deeply - sometimes he has nightmares. Sometimes he dreams of Fred and wakes up crying. Sometimes he has pleasant dreams. He hasn’t found the secret to predicting what kind of night it will be.

Do they get occasional checkups? No. If something bothers him, he’ll see someone about it.

Ever broken a bone? Yes, in Quidditch at Hogwarts his second year, he broke his arm, but he was laughing about it and it was fixed within minutes.

Hospital visits, what for? If the hospital wing counts, then a lot - he’s been there thirteen times for himself, three more for Fred, and every time Ron or Ginny or one of his Quidditch team mates were injured, he visited them. He also visited his dad in St. Mungo’s after he was attacked by Voldemort’s snake.

Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities? None.

Any mental illnesses/disorders? Complicated grief that manifests similar to depression and PTSD

When were they diagnosed? About a year after Fred died - he had showed up at his parents house crying and saying that he couldn’t live like this anymore - it felt like his heart was physically hurting every day. They took him in and he slept for two days. When he woke up, Mrs. Weasley encouraged him to see a therapist. He went six times before he stopped.

Any medication regularly taken? No.

Phobia(s): None.

Are they prone to violence? Only if you insult or threaten  his family.

Enneagram Type: Seven/ The Epicure

Moral Alignment: chaotic good

Temperament: sanguine

Element: Air

Intelligence Type: Linguistic intelligence

Approximate IQ: One point below genius

Sociability: Extroverted

Emotional Stability: Moderately stable, apart from his grief over Fred

» LEGAL RECORD «

Birth Name: George Fabian Weasley

Other legal names: N/A

Have they ever been arrested? Surprisingly not.

Ever served prison time? No.

Do they have a criminal record? No.

Have they committed any violent crimes? No

Property crimes? Not that he was caught for (although he trespassed a lot and has broken and entered several places around Hogsmead, just to go exploring with Fred)

Other crimes? He has gotten some of the materials for his potions from questionable sources.

» CAREER & INCOME «

Primary Source of Income: Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes

Secondary Source of Income: None.

Approximate Amount per Year: More than enough to pay his bills,  cover his extravagant clothes, buy everyone in his family nice birthday  presents, and still end the year with a bit more in his bank account than he’d started off.

Content with their job (or lack thereof)? Yes

Past job(s): None.

Spending habits: George hardly ever buys things on his own and prefers to spend his money on experiences - taking friends out for drinks, going to Quidditch games, vacation, etc.

Dream job: Exactly what he’s doing, but with someone helping him

Work ethic: If he cares about it/ thinks it’s important, he’s great. If he doesn’t he won’t get it done.

Feelings on their past occupation(s): N/A

Reason for leaving past occupation(s): N/A

Reason for their current choice of occupation: It was Fred’s idea, but George loved it. It was basically making his favorite pastime into a career

How long have they been in their current occupation? Five years

Are they well liked among their colleagues and employers? He thinks so, and for the most part he’s right. He genuinely cares about his employees and they can see that.

» RESIDENCE «

Living situation: Alone.

Good or bad neighborhood? Diagon Alley is decent enough.

Cost/rent: Fairly expensive.

Home type : Flat over Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes

How many stories? 1  

Exterior colour: purple

Interior colour: earth tones

How many bedrooms? 2 (he’s turned Fred’s bedroom into a study)

How many bathrooms? 1

Any plants? No.

Tile, wood, or carpeting? Wood

Housekeeping: He keeps it from getting too bad, but it’s not exactly clean. When it gets too messy, he pays someone to clean it.

Something they usually keep stocked in their fridge or cabinet: Tea, milk, sugar, honey, cookies/biscuits

Something they always keep next to their night stand: A glass of water or milk

How do their neighbors feel about them: They never hear him in his flat, but they get annoyed with him for the commotion the joke shop sometimes causes - or the sounds of explosions from his office which doubles as a lab.

Do they hate their neighbors; if so, why? No - he hasn’t given much thought to them

Is their home haunted? No

Has there been any deaths in their home? No

» SKILLS & ABILITIES «

Physical strength: 6.5/10

Offense: 7/10

Defense: 8/10

Speed: 8/10

Intelligence: 9/10

Accuracy: 8/10

Agility: 8.5//10

Stamina: 7/10

Teamwork: 8/10

Lying: 9.5//10

Sociability: 10/10

Talents: Playing pranks, juggling, muggle card tricks, story-telling

Shortcomings: organization, attention to detail, expressing his feelings 

Cook? Not well.

Bake? If he has a recipe (it’s like making a potion)

Drive? He doesn’t have a license, but he drove his father’s car a few times and managed not to crash it (although Fred was the better driver)

Swim? Yes

Play an instrument? He tried to teach himself the drums once when he was little, but never stuck with it enough to learn more than the basics

Play chess? Wizard chess, yes. He’s surprisingly good when he’s paying attention and not thinking about something else.

Braid hair? No.

Tie a Tie? yes.

Pick a Lock? Yes.

Shoot a gun? Hasn’t tried.

» VIEWS ON «

Life: Too short.

Death: Too permanent.

Love: Is essential.

Sex: Intrigued by.

Marriage: Is important.

Divorce: He understands it’s sometimes necessary, but doesn’t want to see it happen to anyone in his family.

Family: The most important thing in the world.

Friends: Tied for most important thing in the world.

Politics: They’re important, but he hasn’t had the energy to keep up with them lately.

Religion: Lies to control people.

Work: Might as well do something meaningful with your time.

Money: Isn’t happiness, but it certainly is better being happy and rich than happy and poor.

Alcohol/Drug Use: Don’t abuse it and you’re good.

Tattoos/Piercings: They can be wicked cool or awful depending on what they are. You know, Quaffles are cool, Dark Marks aren’t.

Swearing: A way to express emotion. And rebel.

» SEX & ROMANCE «

*optional if mun is underage or uncomfortable

Virginity? Still a virgin

Gender preference: Female

Dominant/submissive? Both

Top/bottom/versatile? Versatile

Turn-ons: Teasing. Lip biting. Laughing. Confidence.

Turn-offs: Being emotionally distant.

Kinks: Saying his name, trying new things

Anti-kinks: Anything too painful or dangerous

General libido: It’s like on hold until he meets the right person

Do they have sex often? Not at the moment. 

Do they take the initiative? Not at first, but once he’s in a committed relationship and they’ve had sex a few times, then yes.

How do they act? Excited, caring, genuine

Do they go slow or jump in? Slow

Do they act like a friend or a lover? Friend

Type of kisser: Passionate, gentle 

Do they like kissing in public? Once he knows someone will kiss him back, yes  

Can they commit to one person? Yes

What are they like in relationships? Happy, Caring, Optimistic, Clingy,  

Do they want kids? Yes

Do they want to marry? Yes

How long was their longest relationship? He’s been on a few dates, but never really dated anyone

How are they in bed? Inexperienced

Do they get jealous easily? A little, but he doesn’t make a big deal about it.

Feelings on oral? Intrigued by it.

» FAMILY «

Father: Arthur Weasley  Describe their relationship:  Warm and caring. George looks up to his father, even though he jokes around with him and gives him a hard time sometimes.

Mother: Molly Weasley

Relationship: He and his mother argued a lot during his teenage years, but they’ve made up and been very supportive of each other since the war. He doesn’t understand her sometimes, but he loves her and he knows she loves him. 

Brothers: Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, Ron, 

RELATIONSHIP: After Fred, he was closest to Ron, but his relationship with Ron was always strained by the fact that George thought of him as younger and needing protecting. He looks up to his older brothers and loved playing with them when he was younger, but lately he realizes he hasn’t gotten to know them as adults very well. He still admires them and a slight bit of younger sibling hero-worshiping going-on, but he’d never admit it. 

Sister: Ginny Weasley 

RELATIONSHIP: George always enjoys spending time with Ginny. Of all his siblings, she reminds him the most of Fred. He loves it when she tells an unexpected joke or pulls a prank. As with Ron, he tries to be the tough older brother and has a hard time opening up to Ginny about anything less than perfect in his life. 

GRANDPARENTS: Dead [*Charlie what are you putting for this? haha]

RELATIONSHIP: He has a few fond memories, but doesn’t feel like he ever really knew them. 

Significant Other: N/A

Children: N/A

Pet(s): None

» GENERAL RELATIONSHIPS «

Best friends: Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson 

Childhood friends: His brothers, Lee Jordan, Gryffindor Quidditch team (most of the Gryffindors in his year and the year below, really)

Rivals: Slytherin Quidditch players 

Past romances: A few one-time dates, nothing to write home about

Roommates: None at the moment. 

» QUESTIONNAIRE «

In the ABO universe, are they an Alpha, Beta, or omega? Beta

Expensive or inexpensive tastes? Both

Hygienic or Unhygienic? On the lesser side of Hygienic

Open-minded or close-minded? Open-minded

Optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic

Daredevil or cautious? Daredevil

Logical or emotional? Logical

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Methodical and messy

Prefers working or relaxing? Both

Confident or unsure of himself/herself/theirself? Both - appears more confident than he is

Generous or stingy? On the stingy side of generous

Polite or rude? Polite to people he likes  - rude to people he doesn’t like. Strangers are somewhere in the middle.

Book smart or street smart? Street smart

Popular or loner? He’s become more of a loner since Fred died.

Leader or follower? Both - he was used to following Fred, but he’s been leading his staff at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes successfully and he enjoys it.

Day or night person? Both.

Cat or dog person? Dog (he loves cats too though, especially if they’re friendly)

Closet door open or closed while sleeping? Cracked open

Coffee or tea? Tea

Sleep or eat? Both

Showering in the day or night? Night

Bath or shower? Shower

Shaver or waxer? Shave

TV or movies? Movies

Iced tea or lemonade? Lemonade

Ice cream or smoothies? Ice cream

Cupcakes or cake? Cake

Beach or mountains? Beach

Movie theater or Netflix? Netflix at someone else’s house

Buying music or downloading illegally? Downloading illegally. Unless he knew the artist. Then buying 100% and you better buy too.

Hot chocolate or hot apple cider? Hot chocolate

Video games or computer games? Video games.

Milk chocolate or dark chocolate? Milk

Sunrise or sunset? Sunrise

Feminine or masculine? Feminine

Are they a good or bad liar? Good

Do they have a fake I.D.? No

How long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse? A fair amount of time, as  long as if he was with other people.

Do they travel?  Yes, when people will go with him. Traveling is something he’s recently discovered he loves to do.

What do they wear to bed? Shorts or just boxers in the summer ; soft trousers, t-shirt, and a sweater in the winter

On what occasions do they lie? As an adult, to keep his family safe. To keep surprises

What is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves? He wants to be more like his old self before Fred died

How would they like to die? Saving someone he loves

Do they snore? Softly

Do they chew their pens/pencils? No

Can they curl their tongue? No, but he thinks he can

Can they whistle? Yes

Do they believe in the supernatural?  Yes

Are they squeamish? Yes

Have they ever killed anyone? Why? How? In the Battle at Hogwarts, he killed a few of the Death Eaters by hitting them with stunning spells at the same time as other people on his side.

Have they ever seen anyone die? In the battle of Hogwarts, he saw several of his former classmates hit by spells that killed them instantly.

Are they a lightweight? Yes and it’s hilarious

Do they forgive betrayal? If no one was hurt, then yes. If someone was hurt, then no.

Do they shower every day? Every other day

Most traumatic experience: Fred’s death

Do they wear the hood on their hoodie? Sometimes

Do they use chapstick? Not unless someone (like his mother) makes him

Would they rather sleep with someone else or alone? With someone else

What position do they sleep in? back/side

Which side of the bed do they sleep on? Left

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time? He can multitask, but he’s better at hyper focusing on one thing

If suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight? Stay and fight

Do they get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Restless

What would completely break them? Fred’s death completely broke him. Now, the death to any other member of his family would push him over the edge.

What was the best thing in their life? Fred.

What was the worst thing in their life? Losing Fred.

Do they curse often? Occasionally, when there are no kids around.

» EXTRAS «

Deadly Sin: Pride

Virtue: Kindness

Celtic animal sign: Fox

Chinese zodiac sign: Horse

Zodiac flower sign: Honeysuckle

Native American Zodiac Sign: Falcon

Zodiac gemstones: Diamond, Amethyst,  Emerald

Theme song: Just hold on (Steve Aoki)

Song that would like to play at their funeral: Good life

Song that is likely to be found on their music library: It’s My Life