multi-muse blog for @boneyardfm, penned by niek
INTROS: daveed, bonifer, matevos, behrooz, zakir, bhaskar, janella, sobhinder, gemma, nasser, harsh, nikitha
intro graphic psd-template by @kingofwesteros

pixel skylines
Sweet Seals For You, Always

blake kathryn

Origami Around
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day

Kaledo Art

titsay
KIROKAZE

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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
will byers stan first human second
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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Discoholic 🪩

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wallacepolsom
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Today's Document

#extradirty
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@b4rredteeth
multi-muse blog for @boneyardfm, penned by niek
INTROS: daveed, bonifer, matevos, behrooz, zakir, bhaskar, janella, sobhinder, gemma, nasser, harsh, nikitha
intro graphic psd-template by @kingofwesteros
wylder + ??? : may 30, mid - evening @ glitter gulch lounge @boneyardstarters
mud wrestling was one of the few experiences in life wylder was a thousand percent certain she needn't endure. and yet, one of her rowdier friends had suckered her into it, not that it was a very difficult task—even years later, she was still learning that 'no' was a complete sentence. by the time they had versed one another and wylder was proclaimed the champion of the mud pit, she was made unrecognizable from the amount of grime lathered on her short stature. she wiped her face off with her dress, cowboying up beside the overseer so she could collect her reward, then immediately slipped inside in pursuit of a sweet treat. she perused the selection, her elbow inadvertently winding up in the ribs of the people beside her before she leaned in and selected a lemon square, then another just for good measure. she shoved half in her mouth and enjoyed the icing melting on her tongue, side-shuffling her way through the crowds to make it back outside where she could sit in the open air and decompress. but the block was packed, leaving little seating available for her. she spotted a bench at some point, which relieved her as she came up to sit on the empty half. "sorry. this isn't taken, is it?" she asked, offering a mud-covered smile that begged sympathy. "just wanna find somewhere quiet i can eat this lemon square. did you—want one?" awkwardly, she held the second lemon square she snagged from the display out toward them.
Zakir had dressed up, he couldn't help it. He'd gotten himself some black with gold rim cowboy boots, a matching hat, and a one-piece suit that had little golden stars on it. He looked ridiculous, but so did almost everyone who had dressed up, so he didn't feel like he stood out much. "No, don't worry about it! A seat is never taken if no butt occupies it," he said to the stranger asking about the empty part of the bench. It was every day business for Zakir to sit on a bench that could seat three in the hopes of someone joining him. He was an extravert, but despite having been in the city for a while, he'd never made a close group of friends. "If you want to share, gladly. I can offer..." he opened the little bag he'd gotten from another stall. "Half of a cinnamon bun in return," he showed the perfectly glazed baked goods and held it between them.
"Well Relia gave be a few things to try, mainly teas and I've been using lavender mist, but I'm not sure if they are working as well as they should." Andrea admitted, she loved that she had a partner that was willing to help out and happy to know that Bo would help her out too. She would do anything to get rid of the nightmares, while she did get some rest, she did not get the good nights sleep that she had wanted to have in a long time.
"It's hard to miss, especially before I put up the sign, now, nobody can miss it." The blonde spoke with a proud smile on her face once he noticed the sign. She remembered spending some time on designing it, like a child in an art class, she wanted those up and coming to be seen in any way that she can. "I have met so many nice artists, even give me tickets for their shows, but I always give them the money, even if it was free." She spoke softly. "Have a look and see if you find anything that you like."
Bo nodded, filing the information away for later. They'd tried camomille tea, but nothing much seemed to work. If there was a solution to their problem, it didn't seem to be something they could pin down. Some days there were no nightmares, some days he barely slept. "Teas and lavender mist, okay, I'll remember that, I'm excited to see if I can pin down a dream expert. Maybe a neuro-scientist, I think I remember hearing about one of them."
"Signs work," Bo agreed. "It's the home made style for me. This place always feel so... friendly. Like you can just have a sit down and you're transported to someone's living-room." And as someone who had spend a good chunk of time not having a home, he appreciated these places. "Me too. There is a small fund from the radio as well," he said. "I have to use it." He nodded and walked over to the section of the store. "How is business going?" he asked.
PRIDE MONTH SHEET
filled in by ZAKIR SETHUPATHI
. BASICS
sexual orientation BISEXUAL romantic orientation HETERO-ROMANTIC relationship status: single, dating, in a relationship, married, it's complicated
. IDENTITY
gender: cis-woman, cis-man, non-binary, bigender, agender, gender fluid, gender fae, transgender, other: ___ pronouns: she/her, he/him, they/them, other: ___ presents: feminine, masculine, androgynous, both, other: ___
. SEXY
has done: kissing ( girls, boys, enbies ), second base ( girls, boys, enbies ), sex ( girls, boys, enbies ), no interest (physically) attracted to: anyone, but most often feminine-presenting people one-night stands, hook-ups, kissing at bars, getting handsy in public places, sex in public places, friends-with-benefits, dated a colleague in secret, had sex with the wrong person, had sex with a friend (mistake), gave someone a hickey, passed out before/during sex, threesome, foursome, got kinky, currently a virgin. proudest BISEXUAL moment: being kissed by both a man and a woman in a single evening
. ROMANTIC
has done: dating, a relationship, married, divorced, polyamarous retlationship, no interest (romantically) attracted to: creative and driven people fell in love, fell in love with a friend, unrequited love, romeo/juliet moment, serenaded someone (happens a lot), got turned down, asked someone to marry them, got asked to marry, lost their significant other, love at first side, will-they-won't-they, puppy love, summer love, married their childhood love, in a relationship with their childhood love, the one that got away. proudest BI-ROMANTIC moment: writing a poem about falling in love with a boy and a girl and his family completely accepting him
. RELATIONSHIP
describe their ideal partner (according to them) someone creative and driven who can inspire him, someone who can be both a muse and who he can be a muse to. someone who can protect him. someone older. describe their ideal partner (according to you) someone less easily swept away by love and more down-to-earth, someone who puts up with zakir constantly serenading them
. PRIDE
what does pride mean to them? not letting other people tell you who you're supposed to be with, being surrounded by like-minded people did they come out of the closet (and if so to whom) ? yes, to his family. he wrote a poem at fourteen about falling in love with a boy and a girl at the same time, and how easy it was to figure out their genders didn't matter, describing what he loved about each as an individual. his family hugged him afterwards and have been okay with it since. are they completely comfortable in their identity? yes.
(template)
PRIDE MONTH SHEET
filled in by BHASKAR GOODE
. BASICS
sexual orientation BISEXUAL romantic orientation BIROMANTIC relationship status: single, dating, in a relationship, married, it's complicated
. IDENTITY
gender: cis-woman, cis-man, non-binary, bigender, agender, gender fluid, gender fae, transgender, other: ___ pronouns: she/her, he/him, they/them, other: ___ presents: feminine, masculine, androgynous, both, other: ___
. SEXY
has done: kissing ( girls, boys, enbies ), second base ( girls, boys, enbies ), sex ( girls, boys, enbies ), no interest(physically) attracted to: anyone and everyone who he thinks is hot (aka has confidence) and who think he's hot. one-night stands, hook-ups, kissing at bars, getting handsy in public places, sex in public places, friends-with-benefits, dated a colleague in secret, had sex with the wrong person, had sex with a friend (mistake), gave someone a hickey, passed out before/during sex, threesome, foursome, got kinky, currently a virgin. proudest BISEXUAL moment: the first time a guy openly flirted with him and said they weren't sure but they had to try it anyway because he was too hot to allow to walk away.
. ROMANTIC
has done: dating, a relationship, married, divorced, polyamarous retlationship, no interest(romantically) attracted to: people who give him compliments and who give him the space to show he can be more than he is, also people who ask him questions about himself and who won't judge him for his decisions. fell in love, fell in love with a friend, unrequited love, romeo/juliet moment, serenaded someone, got turned down, asked someone to marry them, got asked to marry, lost their significant other, love at first side, will-they-won't-they, puppy love, summer love, married their childhood love, in a relationship with their childhood love, the one that got away. proudest BI-ROMANTIC moment: being asked out by someone androgynous
. RELATIONSHIP
describe their ideal partner (according to them) hot, confident, no-nonsense, high libido describe their ideal partner (according to you) someone more down-to-earth who doesn't take shit from him or at least calls him out on it, someone who stays true to themselves, someone who he can learn from and learn with, and perhaps even someone he can help out in return
. PRIDE
what does pride mean to them? being unapologetically himself did they come out of the closet (and if so to whom) ? benny only ever admitted his sexual and romantic orientation to his childhood best friend Saagar, who is also the first boy he fell in love with and had sex with, he made him feel like it wasn't important, because in the end, aren't we all people? are they completely comfortable in their identity? yes, absolutely.
(template!)
ANNAKI HAD ALWAYS NATURALLY BEEN AN OPEN BOOK. Her heart had faithfully been worn on her sleeve no matter how many times it had been bruised or broken or taken advantage of, and she didn't think she was capable in navigating her life in any other sort of fashion even if she wished to not wear her emotions and thoughts so clearly for the entire world to see and dissect. Deflecting as a means against sharing how one felt was practically a foreign concept to her. "Do you do that a lot, or is it just because I'm asking too many questions? Well, I guess that's another one. I'm not really good at not asking questions." And she wasn't very good at realizing just how much patience that asked of others, either. "Not welcomed? Well that can really take someone out of the wedding mood, no wonder you have thoughts of something bad happening. We just need to find a way to restart the party spirit in you! It usually only takes a few minutes on the dance floor to do that for me." A wince cross their face at the first question he had asked back, the nail of her pointer finger meeting her teeth as they considered how to weasel out of it without admitting to her guest list crime, always coming back to spilling the truth regardless. "Well, I love weddings. Just all the love in the air; it's magical. But I don't...exactly know the bride or groom...nor do they really know I'm here. I mean, it's not really wedding crashing; I came to pick up my girlfriend, and I guess I just wanted a peek at the party. Please don't blow my cover."
Benny shrugged, pretending the words didn’t somehow hit some core part of him. He liked to joke about it, but he really only ever had surface level conversations. Depth was something he didn’t know. He always assumed it was simply because he didn’t ask people shit either. He didn’t want to know. “Yeah, guess,” he said. “Most people ain’t asking me shit.” Nothing beyond ‘what are you carrying?’ and ‘agreed price?’.
He was certain they just asked him to dance. And he was horrified. But it also didn’t seem like they were suggesting they went together. Which meant Benny saw an opportunity to do what he did best: make someone else uncomfortable. “Are you suggesting we dance?” he asked with a smirk.
He laughed - out loud - at the admission that they were essentially not on the guest list. They seemed to think it was a crime, even if there were probably enough wedding crashers. The comment about their girlfriend seemed pointed, so Benny took the hint. It wasn’t said that way, but Benny, known as a flirt, translated it to: no chance with me. And despite the settling unease, he could deal with rejection. He still thought they were cute. “Your secret is safe with me,” he assured them.
The pink-haired menace took a step back when the stranger leaned in closer. Anymore, they couldn't tell the difference between whether there was something off about another person, or their mistrust autopiloting to collide them directly into a dumpster fire. Though there was the bristling urge to snap and warn the other back, the terror had possessed Ivy. No longer could they think straight, and the last time something like this had happened, their girlfriend had been in the vicinity — not yet their girlfriend, but... a kind and willing stranger to volunteer shelter until the fright had passed. Until it felt safe enough to venture out again.
Through scrambled thoughts, they tried to pull everything back together, uttering, "No, I..." Wrong place, wrong time — shit like that sounded like a laughable excuse to most strangers. "I think... I learned something about them that I'm... I'm not supposed to know, but if it's not them, then it's..." They didn't want to say it. To the point that their stomach turned and battered against their petite body and demanded retribution for comprehending the thought, and their fist loosened around the note. Taking the note in both hands, she started to rend it from one end to another, until the divination splintered into miniscule pieces.
"It doesn't fucking matter." She was fine. She was safe. She was fine. She was safe. The mantra repeated itself, over and over, and the backs of her eyes burned with tears she didn't want to shed. Teeth bit down hard on her inner cheek, the blood that welled to the surface and a shockwave of pain enacted as a feeble attempt to force herself to the present.
Oh this would not do. Gemma saw the obvious distress and made a face. If she had anymore information to go on, she could’ve acted, dragged whomever it was that hurt this little thing out in the light and make them beg for mercy. Clearly messing with her head had been the intended outcome, because it had certainly worked. Gemma didn't feel bad for them. Not in the traditional sense. What she did feel was the promise of chaos to destroy someone else.
She hummed. "Hmm, doesn't matter? Who is them? We could pay them a visit? Go to the police together?" She hoped they'd say no to that last one. Gemma only walked into a police building when she had something to gloat about. She tapped a finger to her chin. "We could find you a place out of the crowds for now. Have you ever petted a horse?"
Was she attempting at kindness? Maybe. She simply liked to hurt people, and hurting people who hurt people were the best to hurt.
Everyone thinks that about themselves. "Well, your conjecture of how many good thoughts you have seems to even us out on how egotistical we both are, then." The fortune teller wasn't going to contest against it — she wasn't a good person, after all, and did think of herself as the best of the best, out of all of her siblings. That she didn't deserve for her parents to discard her like garbage and attempt to marry her off so they wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. It was just as well that they had died a horrific death, alone and without anyone to read them their last rites. Dark eyes snapped back to his face within seconds, expression hardening as they firmly said, "You're right, we did not share a moment. I'm unavailable, and I promise to throw my drink on you and cause a scene if you try, I don't fucking care what they think." Wedding or not, they were already waiting for their princess to come and whisk them away from the now horribly boorish celebration. Taking a sip from their glass, they notably refrained from sharing their name, still. It wouldn't be fun anymore if the anonymity of it wore off. "Good. If you can't remember where, then that's perfect. Why are you here, anyway? You don't seem to give a shit about weddings."
Benny chuckled. “Fuck you got me there.” And he was impressed. It was the kind of response he liked, when people were quick with their words and bantered for the sake of it. “Promise I’ll commit your fwce to memory this time.” He padded his pocket. He could go for a smoke, this place was making him feel horrible. If the letter was more than a warning, he wondered if the Weiss themselves were fucking with him or if someone else was. He liked neither outcome.
He wiggled his eyebrows, unavailable hadn’t stopped him before, but that was with people who didn’t care themselves that they were. And Benny was a serial cheater. Did not mean he wished that on anyone else. “Nah, I’m good, I’d rather fly under the radar.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “It’s gotta come to me at some point,” he said. “Probably need an a-ha moment, or a smoke.” Or something stronger. This party had very few clients though, rich people tended not to buy their drugs off of street rats like him. “I don’t? Here I thought I was basking in rosey energy.” He brought out a cigarette and searched his other pocket for a lighter. Maybe he should burn the letter too. “Got an invite,” he said. “Business pall with the groom, you could say.” And that had led to the letter… he eyed Edward Weiss from across the room. He hadn’t disclosed being a Vampire to anyone, but if they already knew… “And you? Got in because you’re memorable?”
OPEN STARTER capped ( 0 / 5 )
the glitter gulch, 30th of may
Matevos Hakobyan had ridden the bull four times already. He nursed a bruised shoulder, a split lip - very unfortunate altercation between his face and the bull’s head -, and more small bruises along his legs and arms. Didn’t matter though, he was hyped up and grinning. He’d lasted longer and longer every time he got on. He was planning on breaking his own record of a stellar fifteen seconds. After he had a drink to renew his energies.
“Really, you should try it. It gives you such an adrenaline rush! The falling is just part of the game, but as far as I know nobody has broken anything yet! Aside from some fingers and a toe. But hey, that’s part of what makes it funny, isn’t it? The danger of getting hurt doesn’t overshadow the sensation of being weightless for a moment when you crash on that bull!” Matevos assured his conversation partner. He gently touched his lip. Oh, was he getting a bruise on his jaw too?
“I look handsome even rugged up, right? I have a date later tonight with a pyromaniac.” Lie, this time it was a horse girl.
OPEN STARTER capped ( 0 / 5 )
the glitter gulch, 30th of may
Zakir had never even seen a bull. Well, not a mechanical that was. He’d seen plenty cows and bulls back home. The idea of riding one had always felt a bit odd and out of the question given his Hindu/Islamic upbringing. No pigs, no cows, was his Mother’s slogan.
But this wasn’t a real bull.
So he’d, with his thrown-together cowboy outfit including boots and a hat, entered the ring and sat atop the bull, knowing full well that he wouldn’t last that long.
They’d barely given him time to secure himself ontop of the thing before it started and he was thrown off... well, basically in the first second it felt.
Then ushered out of the ring for the next person.
His hat had gone flying - so much for looking dashing while riding a mechanical bull - and disorientated after the fall, he simply walked up to the first person hoping to retrieve it. "You wouldn't happen to have see a cowboy hat flying this way, would you?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀──ˋˏ ★ with @boneyardstarters ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ WHERE: THE WAREHOUSE. NIGHT - MAY 30
while the rest of the city had dressed itself in imitation—cowboys, rhinestones, and other borrowed mythologies the strip sold back to them at markup—the warehouse continued as it always did. unremarkable. untheatrical. functioning regardless. even if he had intended to take the night off, and had nearly been persuaded otherwise by one flower-named roller-skating variable of chaos, he could not ignore what the crowd became when half of the city was otherwise occupied by spectacle above ground. less restrained. less interested in pretending otherwise.
instead, he remained beneath flickering warehouse light that never fully committed to illumination. someone nearby coughed into a towel already too used to be called clean. the irony, at least, was consistent.
the third fight ends the way most of them do—loud enough to convince the room it mattered, abrupt enough to suggest it never did.
the ring is already dissolving into its aftermath. one fighter sits half-folded against the corner post while gauze is wound around skin that is too weak to hold itself closed. another is being guided off with an arm slung over shoulders, weight dragging behind them. someone wipes the canvas down with a towel, even more blood and grime within its fibers.
the crowd has already begun to forget it happened.
then, finally, toward the newest arrival. a pause. “if you were going to take anything tonight,” he adds flatly, “that would’ve been the one to bet on.”
Benny could usually be found where the less than savoury crowds were. Though half - or more - of the time it wasn’t on his turf and he was certain as a dealer for the Weiss family, he’d be kicked out if he was found out. But events like this: people needed a little extra to kick it off with. And no way did any other gang in the city have enough to go around. There was demand, and he was bringing ample supply.
He blew out the last of thesmole from the discarded cigarette and stepped over the threshold. He hadn’t expected to be addressed so quickly, Which he decided not to read into when he recognised the Cactus Cat member. He was familiar with all of them, either from years ago when he’d also been affiliated or because he did well to know his enemies.
He shrugged with a casual air, feeling the weight of the drugs in his inner pockets. “I ain’t like these people,” he said. “Not here for bets but to drink and see some blood and gore.” Also not why he was here, but he’d play the part as he always did. “Reckon I for some more of that to look forward to?”
She had almost popped up like she was a cartoon character, just appearing out of nowhere. While she did have a little bell and a sign pointing towards it on the counter, it would have been and easy thing for anybody to miss. She was just so lost in her work that it could have been hours until somebody had noticed her and she was thankful that it hadn't been that long at all.
"Usually I am set up at a table and sitting at it, but sometimes I end up hitting off the table, having records falling over and not to mention my back. Got to give my back a break when it comes to sorting things out." She spoke, fixing the ones that she had sorted out on to the counter that separated the two of them. "Oh there's no need to apologise, some people might think it's rude, but I don't. Some people come in to browse, but I've never met somebody who admires the art." She spoke, her eyes looking in to his for a moment before she spoke once more.
"You okay? You look pretty drained?" Her voice was soft as she spoke. "I can make some coffee up in the staff room if you'd like some." Andrea added.
Harsh smiled. "Tables are spaces too confined," he said. "They always feel like they aren't the right size for what you want to do." Except for examination tables, he knew that from real on-set experience. He took a look at the piles and considered the titles, the artwork, but he couldn't figure out what her system was. He knew as well that he better not try to help people with organisation, unless it was bringing the leftovers to the trash heap.
"New music?" he asked.
"Okay good, because I feel terrible if I walk into a store and don't buy anything." He picked one cover he'd been looking at. "I might be a bit shallow, I think the cover should entice you to buy it. Or at least say something about the music. And I like it because I know I couldn't come up with it myself."
The offer of kindness took him by surprise, and the smile he gave her was genuine and relaxed. "I worked a night shift," he said. Because Harsh rarely told people about his job as an actor. If people didn't recognise him, that was all the better. "I have a day shift tomorrow, so going to bed now seems like a sure way to ruin my night." He paused. "So I'd love a coffee."
CLOSED for @thcshyster
where: the doll house burlesque club
janella was not one for these types of events, she felt overworked after just an hour of watching men be raunchy, women be sexy, and other people yelling “yeehaw” too much. Cowboys had never held her interest. Neither did rodeos or the music scene. She wanted to prop her ears full with cotton.
Instead she found a quiet spot away from the loud music for a moment and with it a familiar face.
It was easy to forget sometimes that she wasn’t privy to the news frkm the underworld. That she didn’t use her own business for those kind of practices. But it brought in significant money and it was easy to pretend she didn’t do any harm.
But she could not forget.
She placed a hand on Jimmy’s forearm and sat down next to him. The gesture an act of kindness and understanding. She could not know the extent of his grief but she did know he had been closer to the family than her.
“I had not pegged you for someone who would go to these kinds of events.”
CLOSED for @ofdesertroses ft. Dakota
where: outside of the glitter gulch, 30th of may
Nikki let out a long breath as she exited the Glitter Gulch and sought a new place to centre herself. She had to pace herself more in these kind of places than she would've liked, and for a moment she scolded that desperate need, the way her fingers twitched when she saw too many people taking their drugs, hoping to do so in secret. But she had once been one of them, and she caught the signs. And she could almost envision herself taking some with them, spending the money she had on her person for an easy fix, for something. But in her head she repeated the words her brother, her veera would speak when she was at her lowest, before she realised the drugs she bought were manifactured by him: choti, you don't need this. you are strong, you are tough, you are smart.
She checked the pavement, the buildings on either side of the street, she noted the scent of piss, of smoke, of sweat. She heard the music from inside, the laughter, the talking, she heard the softer talking and laughing to her right. She took stock of everything she could register around her. And then she found her own centre.
Then she heard Dakota, the sounds and scents of him were just as familiar to her now as any of the heist crew, and before he could even notice her - though she wasn't that hard to overlook so perhaps he already had - she touched a hand to his arm and claimed him into her space. Looking up at him without much of an expression, to the outside world. To family, she was clearly in over her head and looking for support. "Having fun?" she asked, a small wish to her tone that suggested she hoped he was having fun.
with: @b4rredteeth ; gemma where: outside the glitter gulch when: anytime during the event
Nothing, and he meant nothing, could persuade him to step foot inside the Glitter Gulch Lounge, including Stella's personal entertainment with the guts and glory of a mechanical bull. However, he had resigned himself to linger outside when the business owner was forced to tail in after one of her friends, and instead preoccupied himself with the contest sheets that Damiar had sloppily written his name down on. Trust one of his siblings to dive right into the heart of the stupidity of it all and make a complete ass of himself, and of course, the person with that little shame was his younger brother. Thus, he found himself standing stone-faced behind a pair of sunglasses and taking small bites out of a lemon bar that his wife had brought back out to him.
Out of his periphery, he noticed someone sidle up alongside him, and cast a glance out of habit. Cyrek recognized Gemma immediately, a sharp line of his brow arching as he turned his head away back to the makeshift corral. Most people seemingly wanted to be left well enough alone this weekend and forego the reminiscence of the lines that divided them in Sin City — given the past few months, he honestly couldn't blame a single one of them. "Got someone you're rootin' for to rope the best hog? I think the guy with the green hair's gonna wipe out."
Gemma simply grinned when she spotted Cyrek - or perhaps when she was spotted herself. Her look of approval at the next person that went flying was one only seen temporarily in her one eye. Then it was gone, and so was the grin. There was only a small twitch at the edge of her mouth suggesting she was not here to see who would win.
"Rooting for someone?" She tapped a hand to her heart. "You have mistaken me for someone who wants to see people succeed. I want to see as many people fly off it as the night allows. The quicker the better, the further the better." She leaned her head on her hand and studied the guy with the green hair. "I hope he lands so hard he breaks something," she said with cheer. "Are you planning on attempting the bull?" Please say yes.
Spencer felt a little disappointment when clearly the woman didn't get his reference to Power Rangers. But he doesn't say anything due to feeling a bit of defeat being the only adult without kids who knows of the show. Was he lame for actually watching it in order to talk with his students? Probably. It's not new that he's considered lame or not hip. He was enjoyed the life he built for himself.
His face scrunches up in confusion. Even if someone knew who he was, Spencer didn't really think he's memorable. There's really nothing to remember because he assumed he's so plain. "I don't see how you would if we have met. There isn't anything really special about me." His shoulders shrug. For once he does fully look at her. He had been distracted by the contents in his backpack being lost. He didn't really look at her until now and he sees the eyepatch. "I mean yea, I guess that does make you memorable. But I was also thinking it was your beauty mostly." He was very much gay, but he could appreciate a gorgeous lady when he sees one.
Fuck her sideways, she loathed people who were wallflowers and pitied themselves enough to voice it. She had no time in her schedule for people who thought they were unremarkable. But it wouldn't do to voice this to the person in question, so she faked the most believable sympathatic smile she could muster. She thought it was an absolutely stellar performance. "Oh, don't sell yourself short," she commented. "You can say that about yourself, but that's not really something you should. Afterall, it's in the eye of the beholder!" Close enough to anything that might resemble kindness from the capo.
Gemma wiggled her one eyebrow, the expression of the other seemed a bit awkward, but she had stopped caring about what people thought of the patch. She thought it was bad-ass. A bitch in traffic, but totally bad-ass.
"Oh, you're cute, completely correct and very cute." Also totally not her type. Her type was tough and bulky and deliciously over the top.
the more he sat and spoke with them, the more leon felt at ease. the wedding slipping to the background, while possibly making a new acquaintance, maybe friend, or even a confidence counselor. he liked the sound of that, and he wasn’t loathe to admit that he could use a bit of confidence boosting. he could be quite introverted and a little too clammed up in his shell.
“sounds like you have a nice family,” though he understands families can be complicated, it’s still nice to be grateful for the positives. while he wishes he had a more supportive mother from birth, his foster parents were there to champion him as much as they could when he was younger. his smile extends at the words and they sit with him longer than expected—like something that’s found a place to stay. that someone like them could have started from somewhere uncertain too—it doesn’t fix anything, but it makes the distance between then and now feel… smaller. “thanks. i’ll remember that,” he adds quieter. “when i start overthinking things.”
the violin is something that is fond but a bit strained. in truth, he hadn’t learned a new song in awhile. “when i have time.” he nods. “work fills most of my days now. and my brother tends to turn the apartment into noise whenever he’s around, so…” a brief, softer exhale. “it’s not always the right moment.”
then, after a beat — a bit more open, but still tentative: “but i like it. when i do play.”
a pause.
“maybe one day i’ll take you up on that,” he agrees. “maybe one day i can play for you, if you have any favorite violin pieces.”
Zakir was always friendly to people, he didn't expect people to become friends with him, but there was always that hope. His familiar nature with people was casual, it was expected. He'd been taught to be hospitable. And he was.
At the comment of his family, Zakir nodded with a longing smile. There was enough to say about any family, and currently he was trying to solve a mistake made by his uncle. But overall, Zakir couldn't say a bad thing about them. He hadn't been raised like that. "I do," he agreed. "I do miss them, and hopefully I get to visit soon, Inshallah."
He couldn't be a hundred perecent, but he was certain his words helped the other. It was good. He did hope to be inspirational one day. "What made you learn the violin?" he asked. He'd never been good at instruments, though he'd always been inspired by the more traditional instruments from his home country.
He chuckled. "That's a deal, I don't know a whole lot of violin music, but I do know Vivaldi, if you know any of those songs. Never much of a... European classical type of guy. My mother had a friend who often preformed with a sitar or a rubab, string-instruments that I think are most similar to a gitar. Hauntingly beautiful when she also sang along."