TECHNICOLOR FABLES

QUINN STUART FRANCISCO, 27, PERFORMANCE ARTIST.

[biolumipunk]

EVAN MOCK, CIS MAN, HE/HIM [ ... ] + QUINN STUART FRANCISCO, TWENTY-SEVEN, PERFORMANCE ARTIST AND BARTENDER AT THE LABYRINTH. SHORTCUTS: pinterest + reflection + interactions.

DOSSIER /

FULL NAME: quinn stuart francisco, goes by stuart. DATE OF BIRTH: 8th of december, 1996. ZODIAC SIGN: sagittarius. GENDER IDENTITY: cis man. PRONOUNS: he/him. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: queer. RESIDENTIAL AREA: cardinal hill. OCCUPATION: performance artist, bartender at the labyrinth.

BACKSTORY /

CONTENT WARNING: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, FOSTER CARE.

stuart's mother had been battling depression since way before he was born and with the father of their kid disappearing without a trace right after, raising stuart as a single mother was a major challenge.

despite his father leaving, she still loved him deeply and never spoke ill of the man, painting a heroic image of him in stuart's mind. he'd heard countless excuses as to why he wasn't around—"he has to work abroad to send us money [...] he's taking care of his ill parents [...] he's building community shelters and volunteering at charities [...]"—and she'd never find a reason to plant any seeds of doubt.

it'd played a part in stuart's small but quiet and ignorant resentment for his mother, not understanding why she couldn't love him "like other mothers love their kids". she took care of him the best she could, sincerely and deeply loved him in ways he couldn't see until much later.

SUICIDE TW when stuart was eight years old, he came home from school to discover his mother had committed suicide. since she lived a sheltered life, there were no close relatives to take him in and thus he was immediately placed into a group home.

that massive shift in his life had changed him entirely—from an exuberant and hyperactive child to a bully who turned grief to anger like water to wine, taking it out on other kids and himself.

it wasn't until meeting sierra neal, the chameleon of the group, that made him realise the error of his ways. where stuart could see through their countless people-pleasing masks, sierra could somehow always redirect his outbursts to healthier coping mechanisms. it was an unlikely friendship turned family.

shortly after that, they got separated by different foster homes and then some more. stuart had no attachment to any of the families, feeling lonelier than ever—even more so after realising that his father was, in fact, not a good man.

he was his mother's first and last love whereas he was already married before he met her. she was so head over heels for him that she overlooked all of his red flags, believing his sweet nothings and promises to leave his wife behind for her. it all fell through when she got pregnant and he didn't waste a single second to dash. she believed that it was her fault; had she not gotten pregnant, he would've stayed.

naturally, he entered a rebellious phase during those years, living life as if he had no responsibility, everywhere and all over the place all at once.

before turning seventeen, he got fostered by his last family where he reunited with sierra and met two other foster siblings: alfie and van skye. they stayed together and left together, finally being able to grasp the meaning of home and family with their fingertips.

upon leaving, they formed a hyperpop glitch band, becoming globally famous within the genre, but only lasted short of three years when van skye left the group to pursue his own music as their styles differed and stuart decided he wanted to focus on performance art.

he wandered around the states for over two years before finally deciding to settle down somewhere for the time being and so he threw a dart at the board and there it was, blue harbor.

then the rest followed.

CHARACTER STUDY /

loud loud loud and all over the place, but will always be the person to ask you to repeat yourself when your comment goes unnoticed in a group setting.

extremely passionate about performance and art—loves going to stage productions, museums, galleries, and takes them very seriously.

not the sharpest tool in the shed and it can be rather clear in certain situations, but he easily embraces it and takes such moments as opportunities to learn.

a strong advocate for body positivity/neutrality.

plays guitar, bass, and keyboard.

he practically lives at thrift shops with how often he visits them; most of his closet are vintage finds, hand-dyed or stitched together by yours truly.

loves indulging conspiracy theories, but takes them with a grain of salt.

diagnosed with can't ever read the room disease.

collects lighters and matchboxes.

dyes his hair a new bright colour every month.

he's not as quick to anger anymore, but it doesn't mean he can't be petty or passive aggressive at times. he does however have a tendency to hold grudges (until he forgets it existed in the first place which happens sooner than expected).

often hones new skills for his performances some of which eventually turn into hobbies; such as skateboarding, parkour, magic tricks, juggling, etc.

cannot swim, but that'll never deter him from skinny dipping. that sign can't stop him because he can't read.

not so good with commitment, but tattoos and piercings don't apply here.

overall a genuine and passionate person with flaws and mistakes he's always willing to learn from.

[biolumipunk]

“Hey, did you know that cemeteries sometimes stockpile graves when they run out of space? Pretty fucked, dude.” The cemetery had been eerily quiet for several minutes before Stuart decided it was a good time to break the ice between himself and the person ahead of him. His words were muffled, mysteriously so, and with hands on his hips, he waited for them to turn around, lightly swaying from one side to another like a straw of wheat. “Do I have something on my face, like, a gnarly string of snot or..?” He pointed at his face, illuminated by the flashlight in the tour guide's hands; Stuart was grinning behind the carved out expression of a giant pumpkin that matched him with utmost enthusiasm, despite the rot beginning to eat away at it. “Oh, this? Don't mind this little ole thing. I got cursed by this super evil witch, 'cause I wouldn't stop buying orange hair dye in bulk and putting them out of stock. Sounds like jealousy to me. Anyway, I'm probably gonna have an allergic reaction to this, like, right about now and I can't take it off, but hey, uh, got any ghost tingles yet?”

@thecjonowelford

[biolumipunk]

“Hey, look at that, I'm on the cocktail list! Damn, I just showed up and I'm already winning.” Stuart's long dark locks rustled like thin threads of plastic when he dramatically tossed them over his shoulder, the sound lost to the beat of the music and out-of-rhythm footsteps. “A Bloody Mary, please. And whatever my lady would like.” He reached for a wad of bills he'd stashed away in his bra underneath his bloody Victorian gown and pushed the two of them closer to the bar, securing a stool for Dottie. “I kind of wish I'd gotten a full-on drag makeover. So much unlocked potential. I was gonna, like, bring a mirror and make people say my name three times, but I'm putting comfort first. I'm already sweating my ass off in this dress and, holy shit, how do people breathe in these fucking corsets?”

@eclvpses

[biolumipunk]

“Hey, guess what me and Beetlejuice have in common?” Stuart appeared to Dylan like a mirage, hooking a glow-stick necklace over her neck. He lifted the sides of his gown and side-stepped carefully as to not trip over the trail of the dress, looking as elegant as he could with blood-stained hands—a staple of his Bloody Mary costume. “Ooh, yum, potassium!” His fingers reached to flick the peel of her banana costume, offering her a cup of ice cold water. The dungeon was packed like a tin of sardines at this point; the rave had reached its peak with fashionably late crowds streaming into the room and even Stuart was starting to feel a bit stuffy. “Bananas hate to see me coming during a hangover. Who knew fruit could be good for you?”

@dylxwestwick

[biolumipunk]

“God, I wish I was rich.” Stuart sighed wistfully, chucking the cucumber slice that had slipped off his eye in the air before catching it in his mouth. “Or at least a nepo baby. That's a fair trade-off, right? Like, if I don't get to have a living parent, then at least gimme a massive inheritance or directions to the pot of gold.” He'd thought about it before, how drastically his life—he—would change if he were to suddenly come into a fuckload of money. A lot more insufferable, probably, but not for long; he'd drain it all faster than a box of juice. “By the way, do you remember that couple we played tennis with a few weeks ago? Late thirties, total swingers.” Stuart pried an eye open to gauge Freya's reaction, but quickly closed it again when he realised that his masseuse was in the way, working tirelessly to get the kinks out of his forehead. “Anyway, they asked if we'd join them for dinner next week. I said yes—I mean, duh—but if they don't cover the bill, we'll just have to dine and dash, because I am soooo getting three servings of that lobster risotto.”

@biteswings

[eclvpses]

Though Leo was completely aware of the fact that he was far from intelligent, he generally got away with hiding it - through charm, mostly, sometimes by covering up what he didn’t know through humour. But Stuart’s comment felt so out of left field Leo had no choice but to just blink at him daftly. He’d heard of sulphur before, had once upon a time taken an interest in starting the show Supernatural, but cable television and Leo never made a cohesive duo. Eventually, their attention was always bound to go somewhere else. But as much as he understood the reference, he scrambled to guess whether the smell had been bad or good. The useless brother duo had never really given a proper indication. “It’s called man musk.” Purposely dropping their already deep voice into an even lower pitch, Leo tapped their chest twice - with his left fist then his right - in the world’s most simplistic primal act of dominance. Even though they didn’t really consider themself a man by society’s standards, but they could be if it suited the current narrative. “Full of pheromones. Don’t get too close Stuart, you’ll become feral with lust.”

Though he regularly gained it, Leo wasn’t someone that needed attention or the limelight. It occurred naturally, he liked to think, though it was obvious that his antics that often caused trouble made it easy for eyes to be glued to him at almost all times. But Stuart seemed over it - Leo, their conversation, glancing around him and tossing out base questions to pass the time before their drinks arrived. It was frankly a bit offensive, despite Leo being used to Stuart’s cold shoulder by now. Glancing behind them, their eyes all but rolled into the back of their head when they spotted Gabe not far off chatting amicably with a stranger. “Y’all haven’t fucked yet?” Leo asked, none too casually or with any semblance of empathy, considering they completely lacked the ability to read the room. “They’re a bit of a slut, dude, so this sounds like a you thing.” Cheersing the bartender once their drinks arrived, Leo gestured blandly to the girl he’d left who stood awkwardly on her own - she’d even sequestered herself into a corner, completely unsure of what to do with herself now that she was left to her own devices. “I’m here with… her.” Leo still couldn’t conjure up her name. “She’s nice and all. Total snooze fest, though. I was thinking of faking an epileptic seizure and blaming it on the lights to get out of it, wanna watch?” And then, like a lightbulb went off, Leo’s face lit up with a new but not nearly as terrible idea. “Or just pretend you’re with me. Not with me, with me but, like - you could be my sexy, seductive ex who I can just never stay away from. I’m trapped in your spell, Stuart, and I never wanna be set free.”

[biolumipunk]

It was a shame, the way Stuart and Leo’s friendship had taken a turn for the worse. They had a lot in common: their free-spirited thinking, lack of ability to read the room, and slightly dubious morals—but there were differences in the latter, too, as it was apparent in Stuart’s newfound cold attitude towards Leo. It wasn’t that forgiveness was a foreign concept to him; his brain was simply wired to hold grudges until the end of time. There was no letting go of them either. They would simply stay dormant for the time being until someone wronged him again, unleashing them tenfold, and Leo was most definitely not helping their case right now. “You smell like conversion therapy. Thanks! I don’t like men anymore.” Which couldn’t have been further from the truth and they both knew it. Even though their relationship had been strictly platonic, Stuart’s attraction to Leo was almost glaringly obvious since the very beginning. They were charming, that much was impossible to deny, and fun. He liked people who were unapologetic about themselves, people who were unpredictable and interesting, people that didn’t live by somebody else’s rules. But there was also that dangerously thin line between them and those who didn’t seem to take others’ feelings into consideration, and Leo had crossed it by sleeping with someone he had feelings for. Yet, it was somehow more upsetting that they hadn’t fessed up to it or acknowledged how it could’ve hurt him, and his own grudge had skewed his perception of Leo into one of a heinous beast.

Though he’d been staring blankly at the bottles behind the bar for the majority of the conversation, Stuart was quick to turn and face Leo following their comment about Gabe, and scoffed in disbelief. “Are you actually, like, fucking serious right now?” He wasn’t sure if Leo had genuinely forgotten the number of socks on their doorknob whenever they’d come over to pregame, not that he felt the need to defend his relationship with Gabe, or if they were taunting him on purpose. Either way, their attitude was starting to piss him off all over again. “Do you think the entire fucking world revolves around you? You think this girl you can’t even bother learning the name of has latched onto your cock so hard that she won’t be able to let go without you acting like a drama queen? Dude, she’s probably texting her friend right now to fake an emergency.” Stuart whipped an imaginary phone out, twiddling his thumbs on it as if he were texting. “S-O-S, bestie! They look like they just came off a four-night bender and I have yet to say anything but my name that he already forgot. Feral with lust, my ass.” Stuart took pride in the fact that it wasn’t all that easy to tick him off, but once he was on that roller-coaster ride, getting him off of it was like trying to wrestle a baby’s hand off your thumb. Nearly impossible. “Fuck you, Leo. Seriously.”

[hvneymelons]

Juno had been feeling the ropes through their fingers, minding their own business when the question came. Their eyes raised from their hand to the wall of ropes before them as they thought of their response. “I sure hope so.” Juno said, remembering they do tie their laces from time to time. Moshe had taught them well all those years back. Bunny ears and then loop. That was as much tying as they’ve ever had to do, but they did enjoy watching shibari tutorials. Had never had the chance to try it out themselves, although looking at where they were now Juno wondered if Stuart would let them tie him. “I don’t think about it.” they offered for response to his blabber. “Have you ever been tied? Or thought about it? Not for torture or anything. Unless you want it so.” 

[biolumipunk]

“What, you mean in bed? Oh, fuck yeah, loads!” Stuart nodded enthusiastically, undoing the rope around his palm and letting it slip through his fingers into the basket. “There's a term for that. Rope bunny, I think? I'm not that well versed in BDSM, though. I just like what I like and live in the moment, you know?” Although he still struggled with the notion of monogamy, Stuart was committed to trying anything at least once. If not for himself or others, then for the sake of art and performance. How could he ever judge something without living it? “Oh, right!” There was a loud snap of his fingers. “I've done shibari on stage too! It was, um, combined with circus, kinda? Like a shibari trapeze act. Probably one of the best shows I've ever done, honestly.” If only it paid more than he spent. Still, it was always worth it in the end. “Wait, have you?” he finally asked, as if it'd just clicked to him that he had been ranting for most of the conversation.

[biolumipunk]

Grateful for the fact that Emir had spared a couple hours to help Stuart move some furniture into his newly leased home, he'd invited him out for drinks down in Laurel Village. It wasn't a neighbourhood he frequented often, not unless he was there to offer Charity a ride home or make use of the luxurious services included in his forged membership package at the Cantwell Country Club, but the riverside views were far too enticing to pass up even on a chilly autumn day. He was in the middle of recounting the time he'd tripped and dived head-first into a customer's table, chipping his front tooth, when suddenly, he came to a sudden stop in front of the Thunder Road tracks. “Oh, shit, wait! Have you ever been here? It's probably empty right now, but it's pretty damn sweet for a hang-out spot. You wanna, y'know,” Stuart pinched his thumb and index finger together, holding them up to his mouth to inhale a puff of air, “up in the bleachers and see if there's any cool cars on the track?”

@fridaynightmuses

[gnaerlys]

The second his lips are parted and words start coming out, Char already knows what to expect — always one for the dramatics. It's enough to make sure her eyes roll, but it doesn't take long before a smile of her own creeps up not too long afterward. Though, she may not say it out load now — or ever based on the ever-growing ego she's grown accustomed to—but she does enjoy the show. Makes her feel a whole lot more comfortable in the environment she hardly knows.

"Alright, drama queen, you're gonna make a scene and get me fired before I even finish my first week," she remarks, wasting no time in taking the menu out of Stuart's grasp to take a better look at it herself. Merely because, despite her own teasing, Charity hardly knows the menu herself.

"The best I can offer you is the stuffed french toast," body leaning in slightly closer as her voice lowers ever-so-slightly as if not to be heard. Her eyes falling back onto Stuart, "'Cause that's all I've actually tried here. So far, but—" quickly adds in, finger pointing to one of the options that manage to catch her attention—"The banana nut waffles seem to be a crowd favorite. Which one sounds better for you?"

@biolumipunk

[biolumipunk]

“Woah, woah, now hold on there. Nut waffles and stuffed french toast? Are they buttering muffins out in the back too?” Stuart leaned forward, sticking his neck out to catch a glimpse of the kitchen a few booths down. When the doors opened, his brazen gawk was met with an unimpressed look from the dishwasher over the pile of stacked dishes, most likely feeling like a caged animal at a zoo; naturally, his immediate response was a sheepish thumbs-up. Stuart was well aware that he wasn't everyone's cup of tea—at least not when they were still clocked in for capitalistic labour—so he was grateful that Charity had decided to entertain him nonetheless. She was most certainly living up to her own name. “Damn. I didn't know it was that kind of establishment, but, alright, sure. I thought, maybe I could take you to a nice dinner at La Galleria or something first, but fuck it. Stuff me like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

[tonibeltran]

STATUS: closed for @biolumipunk (stuart) LOCATION: waterway diner

Stuart’s text wasn’t surprising. He and Antonio had kept in contact throughout the years, after all; he’s always been encouraging of any young musicians and their work, and the younger man had always been a solid presence to bounce off of. Contact between them isn’t rare.

No, it’s not the text itself that was surprising. What had surprised Antonio was his mention of being in town — Blue Harbor must have some sort of siren call, he thinks, if so many people from his past keep showing up here. He’d invited Toni out to lunch, to catch up properly, and he hadn’t been able to say no, really. Even if he’d been able to come up with an excuse, he doesn’t think he’d have wanted to skip out. It’s been a minute since anything from his past in Amethyst didn’t immediately make him want to throw up; but things have started shifting, slowly, since Roman. And maybe that’s just how wounds start to heal — with the proper care, attention, and support.

He’s been waiting at the diner for about ten minutes before he finally spots him — can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips at the sight of him. He looks, of course, older, but no less enthusiastic than the last time Antonio had seen him in person. He waves the younger man over, and stands to bring him into a friendly hug, patting his back affectionately in the process. “Stuart,” he greets him, fondness decorating his tone. Pulling back, he can’t help but raise a curious eyebrow at the other. “What the fuck are you doing in Blue Harbor, kid?”

[biolumipunk]

Growing up, Stuart didn’t have that many friends, so instead of birthing his egregious nature, he’d had to adopt and nourish it in the coming years. Then there was that blip in his history, a time he would often refer to as the Dark Ages, when he was a mean and insufferable kid to those around him to the point of everyone avoiding him like the plague. Luckily, it was short-lived—though some might say this new, polished version of himself wasn’t much better: a hulked out extrovert, feeding on every little interaction as if they were steroids. Still, he always made an effort to reconnect with those he’d made fond memories with, whether it was an old friend or a passing face in the crowd. After Amethyst’s break-up and the dwindling success of his own band, Stuart no longer had any reason to stay in touch with the members he used to open their shows for, but that wasn’t enough to cease their communication entirely. If anything, a part of him felt like it’d made them closer in ways that weren’t entirely business related; catching up now meant exchanging details from their personal lives, not just discussing schedules and sharing equipment. Stuart was first and foremost a performance artist, not a musician nor had he ever really considered himself to be one, but he was easily influenced by other people’s passions and he encouraged them all the same. Maybe that’s why he was a jack of all trades, but a master of none.

Barging into the diner like a bull in a china shop, Stuart did very little to not draw attention to himself. When he finally came to a stand in front of Antonio, he was out of breath, his orange hair unkempt and tousled by wind, and the left cuff of his pants was still rolled up from earlier when he had a cramp in his calf while helping Clem with a mural. Not that he was too shy to ask for a massage, but he didn’t want to risk a concussion as a consequence. “Shit, sorry! I totally forgot that the clock on set is, like, for decoration purposes. I mean, it should’ve occurred to me that I can’t fucking, like, freeze time, but alas. I hope you weren’t waiting long.” He beamed into Antonio’s shoulder, resisting the urge to pull him into another hug as soon as they drew away from each other. “Livin’ la vida loca, man, what else? But, hey, I promise, I’m no Stalker Sarah if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve got enough of your autographs to make a living off of eBay.” Making himself at home in one of the corner booths, Stuart leaned in a tad bit too enthusiastically and smacked the table. “This is fucking awesome! What’s up, dude? God, it’s been so long, hasn’t it? Like, what? Six, seven years? You’ve aged like fine wine.”

[eclvpses]

for: @biolumipunk where: the vault

"...and that's why house parties are a dying breed. Does anyone even throw them anymore?" Though they loved a club night as much as the next person, Leo had been waxing poetic about the healing properties of a good house party for the past 15 minutes straight. They could've gone on for longer - a blabbermouth at heart - but their drink was empty, and there was only about a half an hour until the bartender who always gave him doubles when he paid for a single left. "Hold that thought, I'll be right back" He said to his date, whose name they'd been avoiding all night on account of forgetting it about five minutes in.

Approaching the bar top, Leo had to do a double take when they saw who they'd sidled up beside. They hadn't spoken to Stuart in what felt like months now - after all but being tossed to the curb like they were a desperate ex. Leo still had no clue what'd done in their friendship, but Stuart's sudden hatred left them so flabbergasted they had no choice but to hate him back. It only felt fair. "Hey," They scoffed, tone giving away they didn't mean the greeting in any friendly way whatsoever. "Surprised you haven't burst into flames just by being in my proximity. I bet we could probably still make it happen - the devil regularly possesses my mortal flesh and reigns hell upon the unworthy!"

[biolumipunk]

Stuart didn’t miss Philadelphia anymore. Though it was up for debate whether he’d missed it in the first place, it was still a place of his birth and upbringing, a city where he’d lost his family and found another. Anything that was void in his heart, there was a quick fix for it here, in Blue Harbor; familiar faces around every corner, thriving local businesses, and way shorter waiting times at urgent care. But for someone whose grudges followed him everywhere like he was tied to them with a red string of fate, Stuart could hardly avoid them without running in circles and eventually biting the tip of his own tail. Normally, he would go the entire day not acknowledging their existence, as if they’d been banished to the corner with a dunce hat on, but pests like Leo didn’t seem to be all that self-aware. “Jesus.” He knew they should’ve just gone to O’Shea’s. “Is that why you always stink of sulphur?” Stuart’s retort came quicker than their eye contact. Then, he briefly—and unkindly—wondered if Leo would even know what he had meant by sulphur or would they assume it was an off-brand cologne. Either way, he had an inkling they’d take it as a compliment. He glanced over Leo’s shoulder, which in Stuart’s world meant tilting his head to the side to peek around their body because most people had torsos taller than all of his height, which would have been a sign of disinterest to the average person, but in reality, he was trying to catch a glimpse of Gabe’s silhouette under the dim lights of the Vault. Thank God, being a nosy bitch with a big fat crush wasn’t outlawed yet or he would’ve been in handcuffs a long time ago. “Who’re you here with?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could, as though conversation was mandatory while waiting for drinks.

[biolumipunk]

“Do you know how to tie a knot?” Standing by the ropes, Stuart found one in his grasp, feeling the rough texture against the calloused palm. He made a loop that turned into a figure eight, then poked through the eye; one of the techniques he'd learned from one of his foster parents, who was an experienced climber, but an apathetic man. “'m kind of shabby, but it works. I learned, like, every knot that existed when I was a kid. It was just fun, yanno. Makes me think I should've taken up crocheting. Thats kind of the same thing, isn't it? Like, when you think about it.”

@hvneymelons

[francaoliveira]

🦜ꜰʀᴀɴᴄᴀ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇɪʀᴀ & ᴏᴘᴇɴ (ᴄᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ - 0/3)

Late September and early October has always been one of her favourite times at the sanctuary. It was neither too hot nor too cold; It was the perfect temperature for all of the animals. All of them had been out and about all day, whether they be playing or basking in the sunlight to sleep. And while Franca didn't have to work today and everything she needed to do for the farm and her schoolwork all done, she was more than happy to spend her time at the sanctuary, all twelve hours of the sanctuary's open hours. It was more than perfect. Plus, it gave her some much needed time away from Beatriz. Sitting on one of the benches overlooking the lions habitat, she'd been watching over Dakarai with a proud smile. "I helped raise him," she said to the nearest person. Pointing towards the two year old male, playing with his mate. "That's his mate, Zola. Don't go telling people this, but... she's pregnant with their first litter. We're going to be making the announcement on Wednesday."

🦥ᴡʜᴏ: @bluestarters

🦥ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʜɪᴀ ᴡɪʟᴅʟɪꜰᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀʏ ; ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛ ʟᴀᴋᴇ

🦥ᴡʜᴇɴ: ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 5ᴛʜ, 2024

[biolumipunk]

Though Stuart was a lover of all animals—especially mice because self-love is important—he was never responsible enough to keep one. He remembered the fish tank back home, the one in the living room that wasn't lit most of the time because they all liked the way the aquarium would cast a fluorescent glow. Stuart and his siblings had gotten a few fish each from his foster parents, because they were far too scatterbrained for a hamster and too absent for a dog. They all had a cherry shrimp each, but Stuart also owned an endler's livebearer and a honey gourami. They were shy and mildly active, which was as reflective of his character as a shallow puddle in bentonite mud; soon, he'd forget about their existence in its entirety, as if they'd become nothing but a static object in that room. So, obviously, getting a pet of his own was out of question, but sanctuaries like this—they were like a minefield of little dopamine doses. “Did you? No way! You, like, bottle-fed him when he a cub and everything? I watched the Tiger King documentary when it came out, but, like, I don't think it was about the tigers, man. Terrible polyamory rep, too.” Stuart leaned forward to try and catch a better glimpse of the pair. “That's kind of crazy. I don't think I've ever seen a pregnant lioness before. But you guys should totally throw them a baby shower.”

[gnaerlys]

for: @bluestarters

location: waterway diner.

“You know, I hate to be the barer of bad news ..” the waitress begins, smile on her lips as she gestures to the menu rested on the table, “But the menu ain't gonna change no matter how long you stare at it. ”

[biolumipunk]

“I'm dyslexic. So that's false, first of all, and secondly, I'm feeling really targeted right now. Bullied, in fact. Where's your manager?” Stuart slammed his menu down for dramatic effect, eyebrows comically furrowed like an Angry Bird. Though he was a performer, he wasn't that good of an actor; at the sight of her face, his resolve crumbled immediately and his shoulders slumped below the table, as he blinked up at her, eyelashes fluttering. “Pick for me, pretty please? I'm so hungry—my intestines are literally devouring itself. I'm like an MTV commercial. I can't possibly think in this state.”

[coolpeaches]

Evan Mock Goes Sneaker Shopping With Complex (x)