★

alsooo just for reference— if there are any danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys/killjoys comics anons out there, i miiight be considering making a kobra kid or oc-based one! we’ll see :p

"As I said, I take vision very seriously. I don't think she needs them because it's an unnecessary risk to her eyesight all in the pointless pursuit of looking... pretty?"  He frowned, turning his head slightly to look at Wilbur,   "Yes, I am her dad. I think my opinion matters. Glue in the eye sounds horrid."

[ @-goldenghost ]
            
            "Why don'tcha?" Wilbur asked lazily, a little sympathetic but clearly not trying too hard. This wasn't exactly his area of expertise. "I mean, it's her decision, I dunno. I've never worn false eyelashes. You're her dad, anyway."

// i decided my reply was too short, so here's an added bit. i can't think of much else to add right now  :,)
            
            
            he glanced away, looking down the street, before letting his golden gaze settle back onto the younger man's expression.

"forty-two is not old."  he grumbled and took another drag of his cigarette. "it wasn't an attack. i just don't think it's a brilliant idea–"  he sighed.  "nevermind. i'm not your father." 

[ @schemesnap ]
            
            “aren’t you a little /old/?” wilbur argued back, taking the statement as a weird sort of insult and countering with the most childish argument possible: “everyone does it. who cares?” he took the lighter—ever polite, even in this mood, a grumpy ‘thankyou’ slipped out—and flicked it a few times with shaking fingers, finally drawing it close enough to light the end of the cigarette into a soft glow, hissing and fading out. “i’m not too young, anyhow. i’m /nineteen/.” perhaps a little hard to believe with his babyface. 

@kandistars-  //  i think we did!  i can go over to instagram to plan something with you in a moment.  :)

[ @-goldenghost ]
            // yes i think we have! i’d love to rp again, with whichever character you’d like — i might use wilbur :)
            if i remember correctly did we talk through instagram? if not i can give you my insta/discord anyway, to make it easier to plan things out, if you’d like :]

@kandistars-   //   hi !   i'm almost certain we've roleplayed before back when i was writing for a character called simon.  i'd love to rp with you again!  would you like to?  i have this midas character, and i also have a few other characters on other accounts.  :)

@XxM3th0dactingxX 
            She thought about an earthquake, but she'd /felt/ earthquakes, and this was not a /grounded/ type of feeling. It felt mechanical somehow, and hot, but it was terribly hot, duh, in the forest where everything was thick and lush and green. "No," she said, then backtracked, like she had come on too strong. "Uh...no, I mean, there isn't one that comes through here." Where the hell would the tracks even be, for them to notice the movement but not the very familiar whistling of a train? Maybe it was nothing. Every rational part of her brain told her to ignore it, but she was always misconstruing the rationale for force, and the more detatched thoughts as whole truths. In short she didn't trust herself, she didn't understand how to, but the way he talked gave her some conviction this was not easy to explain. He said, 'thought', past-tense, but he also said 'maybe not', like he wasn't sure. "A plane...doesn' make noise like that goin' by. Even when it's low." She looked through the trees to the sky, blue so heavy it seemed purple in places. The clouds were so thin, such wisps, that they didn't seem like real clouds at all, some manufactured release. "Huh. You did /feel/ it, right?" she repeated, in case her tiny bit of hope was nonsense.

[ @XxM3th0dactingxX ]
            
            "I guess so." It seemed more on the 'nothing' side to him, but maybe Maple should be more open, accepting of change. He could try to make the best out of it, and it's size could be considered a positive; but he didn't like big spaces, preferring the density of the trees on all sides to crowds pushing him into himself. That was what the headphones were for, and he didn't need them here. A city was a city, and this one seemed much the same as Canada, at least a little better than ones his mother had described, in Pakistan, all chaos, however prettily she described them for him. 
            He thought Ember had relaxed slightly, but suddenly she was tense again, words coming out in cut-off chunks, hesitant but then resolved. Maple couldn't hear anything, really, apart from leaves shifting near their feet from a small breeze, a heady rumbling from far away that sounded like a train passing way, way underneath them. Maybe that was what she was taking about. "Uh, isn't it just the train?" Was there even a train nearby? There were pretty big buses, he supposed, but no airports, so probably no trains, either. And still the rumbling didn't pass, hanging in the air like alien static. "Maybe not. I just thought it was a plane, or something." But it was louder than that, more stationary, and he could feel it solidly in the soles of his shoes.

@XxM3th0dactingxX 
            im back fückers
            "Oh, sick. Canada." She bit at a nail, the only Canadian animal she could think of was geese, but then she remembered there were moose too, breaking her stillness to snap the top of her nail between her teeth. "That's real cute. The city's alright. Not too big but 's not nothin' either." She was thinking about that, Canadian deer and whatnot, thinking she detected a bit of disappointment in his tone, that he probably liked it way better out here. Nicer and softer in the trees even when they stank like dirt breath and in the leaves even when they were sticky with bugs. It was kind of sweet the more she considered it. Herself  she didn't feel very much either way about it, besides the fact that woods felt like it understood her--and frightened her--more than other places.
               She hadn't noticed the sound before, which led her to believe it simply wasn't there, because she /would've/ noticed it. But it came anyway, a kind of shaking, like underneath an underpass while the train was going by. And she felt it, there was no way he didn't, unless it was just her. "D' you..." Then she stopped, and the words got caught under her tongue. She had just met this kid--what the hell was she doing? Against her better judgement, she finished, im spite of herself, "y' hear that?" but she should've said 'feel' instead. It felt extraordinarily external, like a charge in the air from some large force.

@XxM3th0dactingxX 
            'Feel /what/?' she wanted to press her, as if she could take a hand into Autumn's chest and pull the words out were Autumn to let her. Nova would've yelled if she had the guts to do it, and if Autumn was more strung up right now than she really was. She would've yelled at her to tell het something else, anything, pushed her. Contrary to what Autumn might've thought of that, it wouldn't be in Nova's interest. She generally put herself first, and she was the only thing on her mind most of the time, but she would never but herself above her /girlfriend/. She had assumed she was the problem because she was /there/, and nothing /else/ was changing and breathing and existing in her vicinity. It hurt, though that hurt was deserved, to know that was what Autumn thought of her. And that made her bitter, and she extrapolated obscenely in her head and that made her angry. "Well I'm /here/," she said, "I'm here t' f/ckin' /help/ you, but...I just care about myself, right? whatever. Fine. You don' wanna f/ckin' say anything, /fine/." She felt hollow ringing in her hear as she stood quick as though she was ordered to, and grabbed her bag from her feet--it made the scar up her arm twist and sting, but she didn't care. Neither did she pay any attention, this time, to where the stones and patches of grass and flowers were in the yard, jumping over them and swinging the gate shut with a hard and final slam that reverberated along the fence.

[ @XxM3th0dactingxX ]
            
            Accusatory or not, that was what Nova sounded like to Autumn; and immediately she was defensive for little reason except to deny the other's claim that she was making something up. If there was anything Autumn Sharpe was not, it was a liar, and she took that to heart. "I'm /not lying/. I feel--" Words crumbled behind her pursed lips, the defensive line of them. She might have stood up and stormed off, had she felt able, but Autumn was glued to the porch steps, it felt, like some sort of ugly stiff crustacean. Nova wasn't supposed to be so defensive -- she was supposed to let Autumn go and recover, then come back out into the back garden to join her again when she didn't feel quite as stuck. But people seldom did what she wanted, and that was fine, except in times like /this/. "It's not always about you," she snapped at the ground between her feet. "Maybe it's /actually/ just me, and I'm telling the truth and I need space." Autumn's nails cut crescents into her hands as she sat there, simmering but a little calmer now; regretful, a little, but not enough to apologise.

@XxM3th0dactingxX 
            "Autumn, you can't just /not/ say anything." She frowned, tucked her legs more firmly underneath her, like she was wedging herself into the ground, or against the house, in order to become immovable and irreversible; or alternatively like she was crushing her being into herself, that she was removing herself from the situation by being completely still and small, and without moving. She had no idea why she had said it like that, she just knew that she was /tired/ of people reverting into simply antagonized things. She was /done/ with allowing people to have no explainations for why /she/ bothered them. Her teeth set of their own accord, hot brown eyes, her crouched and stringent body language like an admittance of self-conciousness. "Like, /come on,/"--her words seemed to scatter between them, rigid and taunt--"Stop /lying/. I dunno what 'm supposeda do when /you/ don't tell me what it is 'm doing /wrong/."

[ @sadistsweets ] 
            
            comet grins at the other’s enthusiasm, her pleasant surprise at veronica’s excitement about such a — to comet — mundane thing clear on her face. “ i live just along here. i have loads of different types of beads, ” she explains, “ all different shapes and colours and stuff. you’ll love it. ”

really?!  that  would  be  sooo  cool!  i  have  the  time!  and,  and,  you  can  use  my  shoes!  wow,  this  is  going  to  be  awesome.    (    she  can  barely  contain  her  excitement,  smiling  wide  and  hardly  able  to  stand  still  as  she  looks  at  the  other.    )

[ @sadistsweets ]
            
            “ well, if you’ve got an hour to spare, i can show you whenever! i’ve got plenty of stuff at home— just headed back, actually. if you don’t mind using those shoes, i’ll show you with them? <3 ”

         ⵢ    !!<3

[ @XxM3th0dactingxX ]
            
            Pennsylvania? Well, close enough. “Yeah, they eat cicadas. They paralyse them first. But they’re harmless to people. Technically wasps, actually,” she explained, suddenly more interested in the camera in Nova’s hand. “Did you get a charger for that? Like, in the trash or wherever you found it?” Autumn did sort of want to pinch the camera, take it apart, see how it worked, starting with what charger it needed or what lenses it had. Thank god there was a little lens-cap over the glass, however cracked the plastic was. Autumn reached forward and carefully removed it, dropping it in one of her pockets before shifting forward to get a better look at what her girlfriend had spotted. “As long as you’re gentle,” she said, as if Nova was ever anything less when it came to handling bugs. She could be a little messy, careless when it came to herself, but Autumn admired the loose carefulness Nova used when handling the little creatures, deliberate but still noticeably casual, noticeably herself. “I wouldn’t hold it for too long.” There was probably a lot more she could have said about the worm, but she didn’t have the concentration at that moment, falling close to silent as she watched the worm wriggle around the patchy soil before Nova picked it up. 

@XxM3th0dactingxX 
            It made Nova happy when Autumn talked like that, when she used words that sounded more like magician spells than facts, or listed off things like she had it typed out in her head. "/Pennsylvania/?" she laughed, "cool." And she squinted, her finger stilling on not the habitats bur eventually the flat rocks that bordered the garden. She traced its lined pattern. Sedimentary, she was pretty sure, if she remembered from seventh grade. Where she scratched at the surface the paint chipped off her nail, miniscule dust of perriwinkle and hot pink. She couldn't place it, but she sensed something had changed--in both of their favors, that was, for the better--in between now and when Nova had started talking. Like Autumn had cracked open an a bit of ice with just her words, and in place of the wall that had been brought up between them there was now an equally cold empty space. But a passable one. Nova smiled; and stood, found her bag at the back doorstep and plucked the camera carefully from it. She poked the power button once, then realized she needed to hold it for a second, and tried again. When she settled back down next to Autumn the screen flashed a little box in yellow: ʟᴏᴡ ʙᴀᴛᴛᴇʀʏ. But once the message cleared it operated normally. "Do cicada killers eat 'em or what?" she asked, finding it strange that an insect was coloquially named after the thing it destroyed, not by any other characteristic which it must have. She wondered if that applied to her, activity to the point that it was a title, and nothing else. She looked away from the screen. "Worm!" she announced, catching something thin and slimy and brown-pink wriggling under the top soil. "Can I pick him up?"

[ @XxM3th0dactingxX ]
            
            “Um.” Nova followed dutifully, picking up the bag and shutting the gate with a foot, placing both of their bags in a better position by the mossy back door. The wet grass immediately soaked her skirt where her knees sank into the slightly soft ground. They itched uncomfortably—Autumn would gladly have stood back up, got changed, placed a towel down if she could—but Nova was fine. She herself was normally fine, too. It was just today, a culmination of muddy knees and bags dropped in incorrect places, that made her want to peel off her skin from the ankle to the upper thigh, and cut off wherever her skin touched fabric touched grass. “Um,” she repeated, trying to focus as she watched Nova nudge little chunks of dirt out of place, but correcting where she’d touched quickly first. “Worms, mostly. Ants and earwigs, specifically black carpenter ants. Camponotus pennsylvanicus,” she said matter-of-factly, squinting at the bug hotel but not touching it. “Over there we sometimes get cicada killers. Eastern ones. Sphecius specious.” Some old confidence had slipped into her tone, and she appeared a little calmer—not that she’d appeared visibly distressed before, just stiff, silent. Her dads noticed, Nova didn’t, but nobody else did. That was normal. She just had to keep herself focused on the bugs, their dirt habitats and the way they were arranged, or supposed to be. She looked across at Nova, trying again fruitlessly to read her expression while quiet anxiousness brushed close to her shoulders and stained her skirt grass-green. 

@kandistars-   /   i'm sorry, too, for dissapearing. you are welcome to drop anything either on here or on fightingmonsters. i'd appreciate it  ^_^   /gen

[ @gloomjournal ]
            
            // omg i’m so sorry i disappeared for a few days /gen 
            if you still want it i can drop smth still! sorry abt that!!!

//  aaaaa.  i don't know.  maple is fine!  but any character is great tbh.