#trying to uhhh clean out some old files. these are from a couple years ago & have been on my toyhouse for ages but i never posted them oops

[direful]

idk why his ref uploaded fuzzy but hey it's severin! these are super old but he's my lil bloodhunter gladiator guy having a real bad time (eventually. no campaign yet oops!)

[everythinggeeky]

Back To You | Javier Peña

Javier Peña x f! reader

Warnings: angsty, a tinge of fluff, alcohol, divorce/separation

Word Count: 1.8k

Request:  Okay but uhhh 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 Javier Peña where he has a kid back in Texas with his ex and he flies in to see them 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 and maybe they uhhhh get back ✨together✨(anon)

A/N: this is it. I’ve plummeted myself into the Javier wormhole. I’d appreciate feedback! Texas Javi is the reason I breathe.

masterlist

You had to keep reminding yourself that this was just a conventional meeting. A meeting to satisfy the requirements of the courts, fulfill the needs of the custody agreement. You rocked your daughter Sofia side to side in your arms, desperately trying to get her to soothe herself back to sleep. Perhaps she sensed your unease; this would’ve been the first time in three years that you’ve seen Javier since he ran off to become DEA and ignore all of his life’s problems that came along with being married to you. 

Something itched in the back of your mind; he had ignored the court’s previous attempts to get him to come home, but for some reason, in the thick of Escobar’s destruction on Columbia, Javier had decided that now was the best time to see his daughter for the first time since her birth.

As you watched the clock tick, your pulse elevated one point. There was less than an hour left until his estimated arrival. God help you if he was on time, or early. You quickly whisked the thought away. Javier Peña was never on time, let alone early. He always found something...or someone to occupy his time. 

There was a moment in both of your lives when that was each other. 

It was a photographic life of domesticity: you had a beautiful ranch on a piece of land that once was owned by Javier��s father, whom he was very close with. Papa would make loving visits to say hi, share a meal, or just to bug Javier about fixing the leaking faucet in the powder room. You would have dinner on the kitchen table by 5 pm, and Javier would drop his keys in the bowl on the credenza next to the front door. 

You had gotten married in the backyard of the ranch. It was a special ceremony; just for the two of you and your closest friends, family, and Javier’s coworkers. The ranch was your happy place; there were so many special memories that were kept there. 

It was the stereotypical American dream, and it felt like bliss….until it all came crashing down around you.

A year after you had gotten married, you found out you were pregnant in the bathroom of the Piggly Wiggly. You had been feeling sick for the last week and when you missed your period, you decided it would be best if you bought a test on your weekly outing for groceries. The anticipation was practically eating you alive, so you bit the bullet and took the test in the grocery store bathroom. You nervously bounced your feet against the faintly sticky floor and flashed your eyes to the test two minutes later.

You watched the two faint lines develop and before you could process it for yourself, your whole life had changed forever.

You brought the test home to Javier that afternoon, passing it over after dinner. 

“This is yours?” he met your eyes.

You nodded, smiling a toothy grin, “you’re gonna be a daddy, Javi.”

“Shit!” he stood, excitedly, a wide smile on his own face, pulling you into a tight embrace.

As happy as Javier was on that day, the fresh excitement dwindled and was replaced by the harsh reality of parenting. 

The months leading up to Sofia’s birth had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Javier would come home from work, drop his keys in the bowl, but the drop became more half-hazard and louder with every passing day. He came to expect a perfectly cleaned house and a hot, well-balanced meal on the table, and when your health slowly deteriorated because of your pregnancy, things had gotten harder for you and it just wasn’t as easy as it was six months ago. Javier was frustrated with the little things, and in your naivety, had contributed it to the stress from work. Those two combined created the perfect scenario for life-altering meltdowns that ultimately ended your marriage.

The screaming fights were ugly, ending in one of you crying and breaking down, as Javier typically took a breather in his Jeep with a loop around the neighborhood. You pushed one another away, the distance eventually caused him to find an apartment in the next town over, file for divorce, and encouraged him to leave for Columbia before the divorce could even be finalized.

Javier had left your life just as easily as he had come into it. 

And suddenly, Javier has weaseled his way into your life once again. 

His invitation had come in a letter, and as unconventional as it was, was endearing. He admitted to his shortcomings, wanting to make up for them and make a consistent appearance in his daughter’s life. Perhaps foolishly, in a lapse of judgment, if you will, you accepted his offer and allowed him to make the visit.

He was due to arrive in just over half an hour, and you were dreading it, but you also couldn’t deny that a part of you had a grim curiosity about what his visit would entail. 

You heard the Jeep putter outside, and silence after Javier parked on the street. You inhaled a deep, cleansing breath, hoping to rid yourself of the anxiety you had been carrying for the last week. Sofia stirred once again on your hip, looking out the window and gawking for herself.

“That’s daddy, baby…” you hushed to her.

“Da-...?” she stumbled over the foreign words.

“Yeah, Dad,” you sighed, walking to the front door to greet Javier as he knocked.

“Javier,” you reacted plainly, swinging the door to the modest three-bedroom rancher you now kept to yourself, a town over from the ranch. 

“Y/N…” he sighed, looking to you first, and then Sofia, “Sofia…you’re so big.”

“Wanna show daddy how old you are, Soph?” you modeled three fingers, to which she mimicked with her childlike chubby fingers.

“Wow….” he sighed in a dreamlike tone, his absence suddenly becoming real. 

He had missed what every first time father hopes to see; the first birthday, the first tooth, the first peanut butter (Sofia had handled that one like a champ, scraping the residue off the roof of her mouth, immediately begging for more) and of course, the big ones; the first steps, first words, and so on. You had held those precious memories close to your heart. Sofia was your precious princess; and you had wanted her to blossom into an amazing girl, even if you had to do it on your own.

“Come on….we can go sit in the playroom…” you led Javier into the playroom which neighbored the kitchen.

You sat Sofia down for playtime, to which she immediately seized the opportunity and started playing with her favorite toys. You sat down on the couch, and Javier sat next to you, a comfortable distance between you two. Too close for friends, too far for partners who once shared the same bed.

“Y/N…”

“Listen, Javi….I know you’re here to make good...but I’m happy, and so is Sofie. And we’re doing just fine.”

“That the thing, Y/N, I’m not.”

“That’s not what you said before you left us to chase drug lords in Columbia….”

“I know.”

“Then what? Why are you here?”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Listen...I forgave you a long time ago, Javi….but I’m much better off now. And maybe that’s because you’re not here.” 

“I want to be here. For Sofia.”

“You don’t get to decide when just to come into her life and then leave again when it’s convenient for you.”

He sighed before starting again, looking down at the toddler playing with a stack of blocks on the rug, “I realized when I was down there how much I needed this….needed a family.”

“What? The War on Drugs is changing your heart? Just like that?”

“Y/N...let me. While I was down there I realized that I was bigger than myself, that I needed something else to live for. My career is about me and what is the best for me, and who knows...maybe someone else. But when I go home at the end of the night to my empty apartment and my empty bed….I can’t help but think back to you. I’ve been thinking about this a lot...and what it means to be a dad...and I want to be that again.”

You inhaled a deep breath, considering his proposal. If you were as naive as you were when you first met him, you might have believed him, but the two years where you were actually married to the man eventually dwindled into the most catastrophic two years of your life. 

The fights were incredibly violent when Javi was stressed; he would pour himself a heavy glass of bourbon and would suck it down before you could say anything. Of course, as you floated around him, tending to his every need, he poured another glass, and another, eventually rendering himself intoxicated in the pale light of the hood above the stove, long after you had decided to go to bed. He would stumble up the stairs, mumble something about how the ranch was “too damn big for him to manage like this” and you would roll over in bed and hope he wouldn’t try anything in his current state.

He never touched you when you said no. He was a respectful man. His father had raised him well like that. As a matter of fact, when things started to go downhill, Papa was one of the first people you reached out to, before your own parents. Papa mentioned something about “talking some sense into the boy”, knowing what was best for him; you.

Nevertheless, you fought with Javier. And it went beyond your average, everyday couple domestics. Your fights were brutal and dug deep, riddled with personal attacks and jabs that left a heavy scar in their wake. 

As Javier begged for his place back into your life, you couldn’t help but think of the lonely nights spent crying into the duvet of the queen sized bed, while he slept on the couch downstairs. You didn’t think you could bear anymore nights like that, and you staked your claim.

“Javi...I can’t just let you waltz back in here on the promise that you’ll become a better man. I just can’t do that to Sofia.”

“Y/N...I promise I’ve changed. I mean it. I’ve seen what happens to the world when men become too powerful...and I can’t raise my little girl in a world like that without a father.”

“I’m going to need you to prove that to me.”

“I promise. I’ll do anything. Absolutely anything. Once this is all over, and there’s a bullet in Escobar’s head...I’ll come back to you and Sofia and I’ll be the man I’ve always promised to be.”

“Javi?”

“Yes, mija?”

“You better not be lying to me.”

tagged: @smokahuntis​

[turtle-steverogers]

Government Affiliated Love Affairs

idk @fuck-your-fandoms suggested this and i vibed with it so yeee here we are

soulmate au! kinda!

ship: ralbert

warnings: none i dont think, but if i missed something lemme know

word count: 2600 ish

editing: eh kinda idk

-

“Well, this is stupid.”

“Yeah, tell me about it, pal.”

Race sighs, looking down at his hands as he fiddles with the cup sleeve of his grande americano.  

It was common knowledge that the “Formulated Love Act of 2023” was not the most foolproof of laws passed by the government in the past 5 years (not that anything the government did anymore was foolproof, but he’ll digress), but Race couldn’t help but at least appreciate that it wasn’t trying to push any heteronormative bullshit.  

That didn’t make this asshole any more bearable.

Granted, the notion of solving the ‘loneliness epidemic’ (which apparently was a thing and was causing the US enough damn trouble that the government fucking stepped in) through means of systematic soulmates was sweet.  Everyone gets a match based off a stupid fucking questionaire they completed when they were 21, like “oh, you can drink now! Here’s a shot of vodka and also your future partner is gonna be determined by this thick ass packet, go ahead and fill that out, no pressure!” And by the time you’re 25, a soulmate’s been hand picked for you.  By law, you’re required to marry them within a year of meeting, and then you’re set to live your life happily ever after. 

It was nice in theory.  But in practice?  Not so much.

Then again, wasn’t the government usually like that?

Race wished he had some whiskey to pour into his americano like those edgy movie characters.  Or Jack Kelly.  Jack Kelly did that sometimes.

When he’d gotten the email a week ago with his soulmate’s information and their established ‘meet-up arrangements’- which were really just fancy words for ‘forced date, have fun’- Race had been tentatively hopeful that maybe he’d be one of the rare cases.  The ones you read about on Buzzfeed where it really is love at first sight and maybe those few, poor FBI Agents who were stuck with the ‘Pairing Process’ had done something right for once.  

The ounce of a Disney fan within him had even entertained the thought of some miraculous meeting, where sparks fly and eyelashes are batted and smiles are exchanged.

But no.  Instead, Race is sitting at some random Starbucks in the middle of Manhattan with an obnoxious (and upsettingly pretty) redhead, who’s first words to him were, “I fucking hate coffee, I’m gonna get tea.”  To which Race had tried to cover his scowl, but failed miserably.

He hated tea snobs.  Don’t get him wrong, he enjoys tea as much as the next 25 year old guy, but those dudes who fucking made a point to openly despise coffee in favor of tea like some sort of pompous jerk?  Yeah, they killed his boner.

Race toys around with his coffee cup for another moment, before the silence gets too thick and he breaks, “Albert, right?” he asks, because even though it’s been a good half hour since they’d met up, the guy still hasn’t properly introduced himself.    

It had said Albert’s name and age in the email last Saturday, but come on.  It’s basic human decency to at least offer your name and maybe a handshake.

Albert scrunches his nose, taking a long sip from his iced peach green tea lemonade.  Fucking asshole.

“Yeah,” He says.  He sounds bitter and uninviting.  Race tries not to shrink in his seat, “And you’re Antonio.”

“Race,” Race interjects.

Albert’s eyebrows draw together, “Race?  What the fuck kinda-”

“It’s a nickname, just-” Race scrubs a hand down his face, “Just, don’t question it, but it’s Race, got it?”

Albert leers at him, “Fine.”

The silence settles over them once more, except this time, they’re maintaining eye contact.  Albert looks like he’s trying to size him up and Race’s neck prickles uncomfortably.

I mean, seriously, this is the guy Race has to marry?  Yippee fucking ki yay.

“Listen,” Race says slowly, “This- I mean,” he blows out a breath, starting over, “I hate to break it to you, but we’re stuck together and you’ve gotta move in by,” he pauses, checking the date on his phone, “Wednesday, so we could either work something out or suffer.”

Albert’s glare doesn’t falter, “I’ll suffer.”

Race sighs again.

XXX

“And down the hall here is my room and that,” Race gestures to the door opposite his room, Albert trailing behind him, “Is yours.”

After their disaster of a first date last Saturday, Race had relented and cleaned out his office, turning it into a guest room and moving his desk and file cabinets into his own room.  It was a tight squeeze into his relatively small space, but he wasn’t about to share a room with Albert.  But he was a nice person and wasn’t gonna condemn him to the couch, either.  So, guest room it is.

Albert hefts his box of belongings higher into his arms, shrugging his right shoulder to adjust the duffle bag on his back before inching into his room.

“Thanks, I guess,” He calls bluntly behind him before kicking the door closed, leaving Race standing dumbly on the other end.

Race blinks.  Then, blinks again.

“Man, fuck you!” He calls in a sudden surge of anger.  He hadn’t done a damn thing to Albert, what fucking right did he have to hate him?  He didn’t even give him a chance!

“Nah.”  Albert calls back.

“I didn’t mean it like that you fucking ass- you know what?  Nevermind.”  He storms into his own room, slamming the door shut behind him.

XXX

Later that night, Race is curled up in front of the TV, cradling a bowl of Panang curry and watching some random documentary about koalas.  He spoons some fried tofu into his mouth, frontwardly considering getting a koala, because they’re fucking adorable, and distantly wondering if Albert was ever going to come out of his room.  

He hadn’t heard from him all afternoon and the only indication that he was still in the house had been the distinct sound of a toe being stubbed, followed by a loud, ‘fuck me!’, which Race didn’t laugh at.  He didn’t.

His question is answered a moment later when Albert’s door creaks open down the hall and he pads into the living room.  Race can feel him lingering in the doorway, watching him, and he groans a little, placing his spoon back into his bowl and muting the television.

“What,” he says, turning to face Albert, who looks sheepish for a moment before replacing the scowl on his face.

“Nothing, just-” he purses his lips and glances towards the kitchen.

Race softens a little, “Are you hungry?  I didn’t know your order, but I got you some pad thai, 

‘cause it’s pretty standard…it’s in the fridge if you want it.”

Albert looks back at him, a strange look on his face, “You got me something?”

Race shrugs, “yeah?”

“Even after I-” Albert shakes his head, “Thanks.” 

Race watches as he seems to go through some internal conflict before stalking off towards the kitchen.  A moment later, the microwave starts up.  

“Alrighty,” Race mumbles to himself, unmuting the television and picking his spoon back up.  

A couple more minutes pass with the remote sounds of Albert putzing around in the kitchen and the narrator’s accented voice droning on.  It feels weird to have someone else in the house, but Race shrugs it off.  He never loved having roommates, but it was no different than his college days, really.  Even though he couldn’t just forget Albert after the year was over.  He had to marry the damn guy.

He’s surprised when Albert comes back into the living room and even more shocked when the other end of the couch dips.  Glancing over, he finds Albert sitting with his legs tucked underneath him, twirling rice noodles around his fork and staring fixedly at the TV.  He forces himself to relax and finish his curry.

They don’t say anything and eventually, Race lets his guard down a little.  An indiscernible amount of time passes and the program turns to a show about domesticated hedgehogs and how to care for them.  

Race feels himself nodding off, and he’s about to let sleep take him over completely when he feels his bowl being lifted out of his hands.  He cracks open an eye in time to see Albert get up and clear their dishes.

He comes back a moment later and looks mildly startled to see Race awake.

“I thought you were out out,” he says, and Race notes that the hostility that’s been ever present since they met is curiously absent.

“I woke up when you took our stuff,” Race admits.

Albert hums and sits back down on the couch, clicking off the TV and bracing his forearms on his knees.  He looks like he might want to say something, so Race waits patiently.

“Look,” Albert starts, sounding a little strained, “I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.  I’m not trying to justify my behavior, but this whole,” he gestures a little wildly, “soulmate thing freaks me out and I kinda panicked over it and totally took it out on you even though it’s not in any way your fault and,” he lets out a humorless chuckle, finally looking at Race, “I’m sorry.  Really.”

Race offers him a tired, but reassuring smile, “Listen, bud, I’m like half asleep so only, like, a fraction of this conversation is getting comprehended, but it’s okay.  I mean, you were an asshole, but I get it.  This whole system is fucked.”

Albert laughs for real and Race finds that he likes it.  Just a little.  He can appreciate a nice laugh, okay?

“Sure is,” Albert agrees.

There’s a pause, but it’s not as charged as before.

“Where did the nickname ‘Race’ come from?”

“Uhhh,” Race yawns, stretching, “I dunno, my little sister always called me that and it stuck?”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Race props his head up on his hand, sleepily watching Albert fidget.  Albert seems to sense him staring, because he looks at him again, offering a small smile.

“You’re tired,” he points out uselessly, “you should sleep.”

Race nods, standing, “Yeah, I think I’m gonna,” he starts towards his room, “You should, too.”

Albert salutes him, “I will.”

“Goodnight, Al.”

“‘Night, Race.”

XXX

After their little impromptu apology session, things change between Race and Albert.

They hang out more, heading into the city to browse through museums and stroll aimlessly through Central Park.  Albert brings Race to a planetarium and Race, in turn, takes him to an ABT performance at Lincoln Center.  It’s nice, Race finds, and his initial opinion of Albert is rapidly changing into something entirely different and ten times more positive.

He discovers that Albert’s favorite ice cream flavor is stracciatella, even though it’s hard to find in the States.  Albert tells him that he graduated from Pratt with a film degree and dreams to one day participate in the Sundance Film Festival.

In turn, Race confesses that even though he grew up dancing and always thought he’d be a professional dancer, culinary school had ended up being his calling.  

Little things about Albert start to filter into Race’s awareness.  Like the way he quirks one side of his mouth a little higher than the other when he laughs, or how he scrunches his nose a little and furrows his eyebrows when he’s filming.  He’s got that kind of charming, self-deprecating humor, where he’s always cracking jokes, but only at his own expense, making him approachable and likable.  When he’s telling stories, his voice always pitches a little different, captivating whoever’s listening.  But when someone else is talking, he gives his full, unwavering attention.  

It makes Race feel interesting and important.  Like what he has to say matters.

It’s a sunny Friday and the two of them are sitting in a small sandwich shop in Brooklyn.  Albert is retelling some ridiculous story about how he got a cab driver to bring him to a veterinarian for free, because he found an injured pigeon.  His meatball sub is long since forgotten and Race notices that he has a little sauce on his cheek.

He’s just about to reach out to wipe it off when he realizes it.

He’s kind of in love with Albert Dasilva.

Huh.  Crazy.

XXX

“Hey, so I was thinking we could go try out that new bubble tea place over on 14th?”

Race lifts his head from his pillow, blinking blearily at where Albert’s leaning against his doorframe.  It’s Saturday and they’d spent the night previous in some club getting spectacularly drunk and naturally, Race is hungover as shit.  But Albert doesn’t get hungover, the motherfucker.

He scrubs a hand down his face and Albert watches with a smirk as he struggles to sit up.

“Yeah,” Race says, “Yeah, I’m down, just,” he rolls his stiff neck, wincing as it cracks, “gimme a few minutes to freshen up.”

“No prob,” Albert says, sidling out of the room, “We can grab greasy breakfast for you somewhere as well!”

“You’re a saint!” Race calls back.

A half hour later, they’re bumping shoulders as they venture through The Village, keeping an eye on Albert’s google maps as they look for ‘Bubbleology’, the new fangled cafe Jack and Katherine had been insisting they try.

“So, the Air and Space Museum in DC is having an exhibit on Mars next weekend and I was thinking we could pop down to see it?” 

Albert perks up, looking away from his phone to give Race an excited smile, “Really?  Wait, how did you know about that and I didn’t?”

Race blushes a little, shoving his hands in his pockets, “It’s your birthday coming up, so I was looking for things to do and...yeah.”

“Aww,” Albert nudges him, but Race can see him flush, “That’s sweet, I’d love to- shit, Race, careful!”

Race gasps, freezing as a car speeds towards him.  The only unfrozen part of his mind is screaming that the crosswalk says they can walk, so why isn’t that car fucking stopping and-

He feels a hand grip his bicep, yanking him back towards the sidewalk and all cognition slams back into him as he and Albert fall onto the pavement.

“-Fucking ASSHOLE, watch it!” Albert’s screaming uselessly after the car, but Race isn’t registering it.  Not completely anyway.

He takes a moment to assess himself, breathing deeply as he becomes increasingly aware that he almost fucking died, but he didn’t thanks to Albert.

Albert looks down when Race tugs on his sleeve, “Are you okay?  Jesus, that was- mmph.”

Race pulls him down, crashing their lips together.  For a moment, Albert’s frozen against him, then he relaxes into the kiss, reaching up a hand to cradle Race’s jaw.  They kiss for a while, until Race remembers that they’re quite literally sitting in the middle of a sidewalk and pulls away. ��

Albert opens his eyes, looking slightly dazed, “Whoa.”

Race bites his lip, suddenly unsure, “Sorry?”

“No,” Albert’s eyes widen, “No, don’t apologize, that- no, that was okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Albert says, hoisting Race to his feet and pulling him in for another kiss, “Very okay.”

When they break apart again, they’re both laughing, foreheads resting against one anothers.

“Hey,” Race whispers, waiting until Albert’s eyes meet his to continue, “I like you.”

Albert rolls his eyes, but it’s fond, “I like you, too, dumbass.  Maybe those FBI guys actually were onto something.”

Race smiles, goofy and genuine, “Yeah, maybe.”

They stand there for another moment, enjoying each other’s embrace.  Then, Albert steps away abruptly, grabbing Race’s hand and pulling him down the street.

“C’mon, I still want bubble tea.”

It’s Race’s turn to roll his eyes, “Idiot.”

“Yeah, butcha love me.”

“You got me there.”

-

do we want a part 2 with fluffy dating stuff/wedding?

lemme know!

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #253

hope everyone is staying safe through this quarantine. wash your hands.

Which band do you have more music of than anyone else on your computer? Ozzy. Who’s your favorite philosopher? *shrugs* I don't know any's ideals well. How old were you when you learned how to read? I'm not sure, but I know I was exceptionally young. What’s the coolest Halloween costume you’ve ever worn? I don't think I've ever worn something rather cool. Who’s your favorite painter/artist? If we're talking about well-known, "popular" artists, I'm not sure. Maybe DaVinci. What’s your favorite song lyric- ever? ARE YOU??????????? FOR REAL?????????? Holy FUCK I get goosebumps from lyrics SO easily, this is like impossible. Probably an Otep lyric, though. I really don't like her personally, but goddamn can she write. What’s your dream tattoo if you don’t have it already? I've linked it before, so I'll just remind it's "Denialism" by deviantART's NukeRooster on my entire, upper left arm. I've already gotten her permission (I don't like just... stealing artwork to put on my body), now just comes the day I can pay for it by a top-tier pro. What’s the coolest screen name you’ve ever had? I don't think any have been necessarily "cool." Who do you think was the most badass serial killer? (Real life.) I'm not well-versed in serial killers honestly, but I can say Charles Manson was a C A S E. I think we can all admit he was... interesting. Just the epitome of weird. Most badass fictional serial killer? ig Jason; again, I don't know a lot off the top of my head, but I like him. How many bank accounts do you have? I don't have one. Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Yep. Have you ever found a song that describes your whole life? Parts of it, sure. What kind of car do you drive? I don't drive a car, but Mom's is a... Honda? Kia? Idk. I'm bad with car brands. What kind of car would you like to have? Average size, pretty simple. Burnt orange or red. I know I want one of those screens you look into to see what's behind you when backing up. Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? If so, what’s your favorite thing to eat from there? mmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. So unhealthy, but I will destroy and Oreo Cupfection. Try. That. Stuff. Their milkshakes are also great. Which website do you email from? Outlook. Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Sure, it's nice. Have you ever had the flu? No. What about strep throat? Maybe once? Do you normally have a lot of homework, if you’re still in school? Kinda, yeah. Did you ever enjoy gym class? Fuck no. Even when I was healthy. What is your biggest insecurity? My body. Have you ever painted a room alone? No. How many huge secrets do you have? Huge? Uhhh, none, I think. Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? Yes. Would you rather go out to eat or stay in? I prefer eating out because yummy food, but considering I'm working on losing weight, I avoid it. Do you have any younger siblings? One. Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? To the point of being snow white. Considering my hair is super healthy and bleaching so heavily would destroy it, I'll be avoiding that. I DO want to bleach my hair to do other colors, though. Brown hair sucks. Do you drink vitamin water? No. Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Oh sure, a good handful. The Outsiders probably tops it. Have you ever had a Big Mac before? No, doesn't appeal to me. I don't like veggies on my burgers... despite eating veggie burgers when I was vegetarian lmao. Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? I doubt that. Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No. Do you enjoy reading often? I'm finally back into it!! Lately all I've been wanting to do is READ READ READ. Have you ever had a deadly illness? Well, I consider depression (among other mental illnesses) to be very deadly, but on a literal level, no. I mean I have dormant MRSA, which can kill if active, but it never has been. Most people carry that dormantly anyway, if I remember correctly. Ever had food-poisoning before? No, thankfully. Where did you last eat dinner at? Mom bought Nicole and me Sonic. Have you ever had someone pick you up off the ground & carried you? When I fainted, yes. Are you a flirty person? Not really. A name you hate with a passion? Edward, to name one. Erwin. A lot of old names. What is your favorite type of water (ex. arrowhead)? Essentia mmmmmmmmmmmmm,, Have you ever been to Warped Tour? I WISH. :( Do you know anyone who wears fur? I fucking hope not, because I wouldn't associate with them anymore. When was the last time you were on myspace.com? Damn yo, millennia ago. How often do you cuss? Too much. I mean, I don't even believe "profanity" is a thing by our definition of "that word is magically bad," but still, it's like when people say "like" too much. Have you ever cussed out a teacher? No. What did you think of the movie Juno? I never watched it. How often do you eat meat? Sigh, more than I wish. What grade did you meet your best friend in? We didn't meet in school. Last time you cleaned your room? Couple days back. I'm honestly bad at dusting regularly in here, but that's gotta change with Mom having chemo now. Her immune system will be compromised so this house needs to be as pristine as it can. When you were little, would you have rather watched Cartoon Network or Disney Channel? Disney Channel. We weren't really Cartoon Network kids, actually. It was Disney or Nickelodeon. Do you shave your arms? No. Are you a big fan of the Harry Potter series? Never read a book, never watched any movies; the first one was playing in my presence once, but I paid no attention. How often would say you pulled all-nighters, if you ever do? Shit man, never, nowadays. I don't think I've had one for two years now. My youth is escaping. Has a friend’s boyfriend/girlfriend ever had a problem with you for any reason? I don't think so. How many times a day do you find yourself cracking your joints, if at all? Maybe not even once a day. Only my big toes and upper back can pop. Is there a particular sport you follow on a regular basis? No. Are you 100% over the last person you kissed? No. Do you put ketchup on top of your french fries or on the side? On the side. Who was the last person you talked to in person? Mom. Do you have a dog? Not anymore, thank fuck. Do you like orange juice? Yes. Are you one of those people who obsesses over Hollister? I never liked it. They're not inclusive at all towards fucking NORMAL bodies, nevermind plus size. Apparently even their rules on looks for workers are absolutely horrible. Ashley liked them though, so sometimes I just had to go in with her. If money was no object, would you change your wardrobe? My goth could finally  E S C A P E. How do you/did you get to school? My mom drives me. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Four times that I remember off the top of my head. What candy cane flavor is your favorite? MMMMMMMMMM get the pink Starburst kind. Do you get angry when fast food restaurants mess up your order? It's annoying, yes. Angering when you've already driven away, especially when you really wanted something. What was your favorite elective class in high school? Art. Did you ever wish you could be homeschooled? Yes. I was homebound for a little while. Have you ever had a dream so realistic you could’ve sworn it happened? Yes. Do you have any mental disorders? I'm a walking mental disorder, lmao. Y'all know the biggies, and now ADD and especially DPD (dependent personality disorder) are being considered. Do you feel comfortable talking about these disorders, if you have them? Yeah, I really don't care. Where did you go on your last field trip? I want to say to a band competition in high school. Are you able to agree to disagree? Or do you have to have the last word? Yeah, pretty easily. Is there a cover song you like better than the original version? A whole lot, actually. Do you have a hard time talking about sex with the opposite gender? I have a hard time with anyone. Have you ever had major surgery? Major, no. Is there any food you don’t like that a lot of others do? Here in the South, everyone is most surprised when they hear I hate fried chicken. What was the last thing you bragged about? Hm. I'm not sure, actually. I don't make a habit out of doing that. Can you do a backflip? Hell no. Are you listening to anything right now? I have a video up of relaxing tracks from Silent Hill 2 + 3. Great shit. Has anyone ever tried to tell you you were adopted? No. How many doors are in the room you’re in? Two, but one's just the closet door. Have you ever been engaged and broke it off? No. Has anyone ever drawn a picture of you? Yes. Do any of your friends have children? Yep. Is there anything you’re craving right now? Not really. Who got married at the last wedding you attended? A family friend. It was the second wedding I shot. Is happiness something to be achieved and sought after or is it something to be retained and held onto always, no matter what happens? The former. You can't just stay happy when, like, your grandma dies. What gives you a peaceful feeling? Nature. Hearing water and birdsong, specifically. Are you a Toys-R-Us kid? Hell yeah I was. My sisters and I would go crazy if we had the chance to go there. We were SOOOO upset when it closed down. If you believe in Heaven, are there separate heavens for different animals (kittie heaven. dog heaven, bird heaven, etc)? I don't know if I believe in a "heaven," but some sort of peace after death, yes. I believe it's one, unified "heaven." When you sleep next to someone do they fall asleep first usually or do you? They always do considering it takes me ten years to fall asleep. If they do, do you watch them sleep? I have. Not in a creepy way, but rather a "wow I love this person" sorta way. What is your usual breakfast? Usually apple and cinnamon oatmeal What do your salt and pepper shakers look like? They're nothing special. The salt is a blue ceramic, and the pepper one is just what you get from the store. Have you ever had your car towed? I've never had my own car. What band or singer do you believe started rock and roll? I'm pretty sure Elvis is given that credit. Whose voice irritates you like fingernails on a blackboard? The female singer of Mother Mother's voice. Mom and I can't stand her singing. All I songs we enjoy feature almost solely the main singer. I can *tolerate* it in some songs, but. What do you contribute to society? Ha. Do you take naps? Almost daily. Do you have any cavities? Not to my knowledge. Do you believe that there has been a man on the moon? Yes, though I do believe the "first" landing was faked in competition with Russia. It sounds ridiculous, but I'm so serious, look into the theory - there's incredible evidence. Would you ever go into a sex shop? I'd be too self-conscious to. I'd just order online. Let’s just say your school team is on a winning streak. One of the cheerleaders cheers both for your team and the other team during games. Does it make you angry? I don't care enough about sports to even consider how I'd feel. Do you prefer carnivals, festivals, circuses, parades or faires? To be real, I only know the difference between parades and circuses. What even distinguishes the other three from each other. Do you believe in psychic ability or is it a sham? I lean towards no. What is your favorite classic rock song? You CANNOT ask me this question. Classic rock is some of the best music there is.