victormakesart | (no subject)

I've been feeling more affectionate lately. This is weird for me. I just feel like...I don't know. Something safe. Something I can hold on to.

Speaking of 'holding on to', golly it's hard for me to be lifted up. I panic. I think they're going to drop me. It doesn't matter how strong they are. I mean, the strongest guy that I know in my world picked me up and PANICCLING. He also slung me over his shoulder and spun me around which did NOT HELP. He spins fast. REALLY fast. Dizzydizzydizzy.

Speaking of which, this guy, Ryan, said that he won't ever give me or allow anyone else to give me a knife. He says I'm too fidgety. He's fun! I miss my friends.

Me and a group of friends almost went to a party. We decided against it. Gangs, and all. Heh. Gotta love it. But yes! We watched "American Psycho" instead. Good movie. I had to cover my eyes and my ears a LOT. Because eww. And ewww. But pretty minds. Yeah. Brain-work, and all. It amused me greatly.

Sometimes I think insanity interests me far too much.

Sometimes I think I might be too neurotic.

Kim isn't hitting Joey, so yay! I asked him. I made him promise to tell me the truth. Because if she was...I'd have to kick some butt. Really. Yeah.

015. Blue
Victor was headbanging as she edited her brother's screenplay. With a blue pen. With that blue ink that reminded her of paint. She explained the lines she was making as she scraaaaaaatched out characters erratically.

Joey changed the radio.

"Hey. Brat. Hey. No fair." Brat was definitely a term of affection. She put down the pen and glared. Glareglareglaregrin! Then she remembered that she was supposed to be unhappy. She quickly rearranged her features. She drummed her fingers on the table and took a slurp of her ever-present coffee cup. She listened to the croony male voice on the radio and yearned for good metal. "Who is this, anyway?"

"Jesse McCartney."

She wrinkled her nose and made faces at him until he changed the radio.

Then she was back to headbanging.

And editing.

With a pen.

With blue ink.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

*slight frown*

Are you well, Miss Victor?

She looked normal. Her shirt was inside out. But she didn't notice.

"Quite well! I was right about the movie, it was all in his head! Remarkable, really. I oughtta study it."

"Oh! An' he didn't drop me or anythin'. That rocked."

"And Joey's okay!"

*He is far too well-mannered (in some respects at least)to mention the shirt*

It seems your fortunes have improved. Good.

She won't notice for the rest of the day, quite likely.

"It really is! She doesn't hit him anymore." She sounded...almost wistful and a little bit jealous. Her tone changed completely. Brightened.

"He wrote a play, too. For class."

*She's talking to a man who will forget to eat if he's busy but will notice unfailingly if a passing fellow happens to have a shirt fastened on the wrong buttons. His perception can be somewhat skewed.*

Ah. A talented family on all fronts.

She would identify various alternates of people who she knew through speech patterns, but she wore articles of clothing backwards. They were two of a very similar kind.

"Yeah. 'M proud of him. How're you, then?"

*He nods at her answer: being proud is no bad thing in his books, and frowns a little at her question.*

It has been some time since we last spoke. I am very well, thankyou.

*And he looks it. There's an almost healthy look to his normally pallid complexion*

To be honest, her brother was the only reason she came home at all.

"'M very glad that you're doin' well."

Oh, yes. How pretty! She wanted to paint him.

*As she must surely know by now, pandering to his vanity by wanting to paint him would meet with not the slightest resistance on his part*

Ali has found somewhere new for me -

*He corrects himself. Ali would probably be proud of him*

- for she and I to live. I will be moving.

Indeed, but she was a bit shy.

"Oh! Is it pretty? Congrats, too."