major is typing...
major: yo yo
major: i seen your status and shit, and it be lookin emo as fuck
major: they say 'see something say somethin' or whatever, so ima say something
major: u good brah????
violet: ermmmm
violet: wdym dude?? i'm so fine rn??
violet: OH
violet: i see the misunderstanding! 'feeling like nobody likes u everyone left u' is actually song lyrics LOL
violet: green day letterbomb XP
violet: not actually depressed i promise o7
Richie watched the scene unfolding from their perch on the front porch, perfectly rolled cigarette dangling from their lips. Her resolution of the night was firmly to not get involved. Richie was serious about the music, about the band's potential, which was the whole reason for even taking this gig in the first place. If Richie wanted to babysit adults, she would've become an executive assistant for some bigwig asshole. Instead, she was leaning against the railing on Major's majorly bare porch, debating the merits of intervening with Violet's antics versus letting her go for the gold.
On the one hand, Violet was the quickest to give Richie shit for trying to 'dull her sparkle' or whatever. On the other hand, what the fuck was Richie going to do if their drummer busted her hands?
So, begrudgingly, Richie put out their cigarette and pushed themself off the porch, taking long strides towards Violet. She put her hands up, showing she meant no harm, "Alright, Carly Patterson, give it a rest." Richie sighed, "You do know gymnasts use, like, padded floors for a reason? Ground's a hell of a lot less forgiving."
VIOLET tried to give richie opportunities to prove she wasn't a narc loser, really she did. but it seemed like they were too busy managing violet's fun ideas! so when violet had extended an olive brach in the form of a position as spotter, she should've known it wasn't going to play out the way she wanted.
"c'mon, richie, grass is basically nature's padding!" violet said, her voice borderline a whine. "first you tell me i can't do a front flip over my drum set during gigs and now i can't even do recreational flips?" it was also kinda fun as hell to antagonize richie, violet had found. unstoppable force vs. immovable object etc. except violet's unstoppable force was just pure obnoxious behaviour.
“Naaaaaah. Nah, nah, nah,” Major felt lame saying it, even if it was just to himself. He knew the crowd was going to be booing him before he even made it within reaching distance of Violet – and yeah! Maybe watching his friends split their skulls open was his usual brand of dumbassery! But on this chilly little November night, with not nearly cheap liquor in his veins to make this seem like a good idea, he’d risk being the uptight host for once. It’d be better than having to explain to Richie why he had let Vi bust her fuckin’ ass right in front of him.
“There’s a lot you could have said to talk me into this shit, but giving up the gun before you even line up the shot? That's a fuckin' strat.” He couldn’t help himself but laugh – how many people had talked him down from the same position, huh? It only seemed right that he was the guy that was going to have to break up the circus act this time. “Ain't no one spotting a girl who doesn't even know what that shit means. Lotta heads I’d like to see get cracked in this yard, and yours ain't on the list yet. So, you don't gotta put your boots back on or nothin', but I'm gonna need to keep your feet firmly on the fuckin' ground, girlie."
VIOLET's brows furrowed almost immediately. why was major being such a major buzzkill at his own party? she let out a huff, looking around to the various randos around her. she'd collected her own little crowd on her way out, and major wanted to shut that down? total narc! “you just have to, like, watch out for danger! you have eyes and i know they work, so there is legit nothing stopping you from doing that!” violet exclaimed. “plus, i've done this, like, ten times and haven't busted by head open yet!” yet being the key word. she'd gotten damn close. but that's what the spotter was for! “c'mon, dude! major, my main man, el hombre, my brother from another mother," she said, hands clasped together in front of her chest. “do you want this to be an awesome party, or do you want it to be so, so fucking lame?”
open starter!
where? in the yard at major's house!
VIOLET knew how to get a crowd hyped up. for the past couple of months, she'd be spending her time trying to teach herself gymnastics, and she'd learned early on how much of a crowd pleaser it was. was she good? no! she'd twisted an ankle or landed flat on her ass or nearly split her head open more times than she'd actually landed anything but that didn't matter. it was all about the suspense. the will she-won't she of it all. she marched with determination through the house, out into the yard, nudging people as she did to try and get their attention.
“come one, come all!” she called out, like an overexcited child. “i'm gonna do a fucking backflip!” she bent down to unlace her boots, kicking them to the side along with her socks. she looked up to a see of strangers - the perfect audience for a backflip! they had no idea that she was self-taught! - and picked out a familiar face. “hey, come spot me!” she said with a grin, reaching out for their arm. “i don't really know what a spotter really does, but i know they're a thing and i wanna do this right.”
* open starter at MAJOR'S DIRTY ASS STUDIO, a good hour into the party, also maybe on his dirty ass couch.
“ glad to know you kept this spot warm for me, slugger ? ” an already tipsied drawl seemed to underline his tone of voice already. just a few minutes in and the single downed solo cup provided that headiness he needed on a weekend night. heath's a lightweight, what could he say ? the buzz was nice, something to loosen the tight reins of social anxiety that still seems apparent, even despite the room of welcoming hosts and extroverts extraordinaire. a silly paradox, it was, the reputation that befell him, versus the reclusive tendencies he seems drawn to in his private life. whatever. heath wasn't one for complaints, especially not now. “ so what're you doing here ? pardon me if i'm wrong, i just thought you were more of the dancing type, eh ? or, i just don't know you that well yet, apparently. but, we could change that. no sweat. ”
VIOLET had flopped onto a couch for a moment, feet fucking sore from trying to dance in the platform shoes she was wearing and from playing bardender in the kitchen. when heath joined her, she couldn't help but scrunch up her face. while he was exactly who she wanted to see, she was still thrown off by being called slugger. what kind of nickname was that? “uh, yeah, hey...buddy,” she greeted, tacking on whatever corny ass nickname she could think of. heath was a lightweight, while violet was…well, violet drank and drank and drank and never really got drunk. maybe it was because she acted intoxicated even when she was sober. alcohol didn't seem to affect her. “i'm just chilling, ya'know. i'm totes the dancing type, but i think i'm gonna bust an ankle.”
violet was then hit with the recollection of what she had just been doing. “oh, yeah! i did say i'd make you the heath special, so-" violet held out an unassuming red solo cup. an orange slice was awkwardly floating on top. “i couldn't find any lemon's, so i had to substitute oranges.” she also wasn't really sure what she had put into the drink. her mixology skills were a new development. and by ‘mixology skills’, what she meant was throwing everything she could find into a glass and mixing it around with a straw. “i hope you don't have any allergies. i have no fucking clue what this could do to a person. it kinda smells like chemicals.”
( hunter schafer , she/her , twenty five ) hey , is that VIOLET SCHWARTZ walking around town with some pep in their step ? last i heard , they joined a band called static avenue as their DRUMMER — which totally tracks . they've always been known for being + COMPASSIONATE , - RECKLESS & for listening to LETTERBOMB by GREEN DAY on repeat . it's a bit annoying , really . maybe you'll think about them the next time you picture CUTOUTS FROM NEWSPAPERS AND GLITTER GLUE RESIDUE EVERY YOU LOOK AFTER A NIGHT OF ZINE MAKING; BURSTING OUT LAUGHING IN AN OTHERWISE SILENT ROOM; WAVING UP AT THE NIGHT SKY JUST IN CASE SOMEONE’S LOOKING DOWN; WIPING A NOSEBLEED AWAY ON A CRISP WHITE SHIRT; YET ANOTHER PAIR OF BROKEN DRUMSTICKS, SORRY! or when you hear someone yell UNSTOPPABLE FORCE .
read more below, freaks + geeks ↓
the basics.
name: violet jennifer schwartz
pronouns: she/her
gender: trans woman
sexuality: lesbian
occupation: praying for death behind the counter of a 7/11 and drummer for static avenue
family: mother ( louisa schwartz nee. williamsberg ), father ( christopher schwartz ), older brother ( christopher schwartz jr. or just 'chris' )
residence: currently living in the basement of her older brother & his boyfriend's house.
likes: making men angry, pressing flowers, strawberry flavored candy, zine making, the thrill she gets from running to the bus stop, the simpsons, converting girls to feminism, shoplifting (mainly from her own work)
dislikes: desaturated colors, action movies (snoozeville!), people who underestimate her, cold pizza, the smell of smoke, the taste of toothpaste, crowded buses & trains, the texture of velvet, narcs!
music taste: listen here
bio.
violet, really, was born on her eleventh birthday. nothing before that really matters. that was the day she sat in a pillow fort with her cousins and decided that she was supposed to be a girl. the name - violet jennifer - didn't come with the realization she was a girl though. violet spent a good few years sticking it out with her deadname while she tried to work the whole thing out. she thought she was alone. she had no fucking clue what a transgender person was. all she knew is that she was a girl. that the doctor and her parents had gotten something really wrong. she got along with her cousins who were girls. she never related to her dad or her older brother. the only thing she had in common with them was that she knew she liked girls too.
one thing about violet? she never took 'no' for an answer. so, sure, she coudn't tell her parents she was trans. not yet. it wasn't safe. but she had been savvy enough to sit in the back of the public library and do as much research as she could. then she was about to get a bus into chicago, to meet other trans people. because, to her shock, there were others? other people who felt like she did, who were living their lives and had jobs and friends and families? people who had cis friends who were smart, worked in medicine, and were able to violet's hands on puberty blockers. violet didn't ask how legal that all was, and she didn't care to find out. and violet met riot grrrls. girls, lesbians most of them, who started fights with men and didn't dress to please anyone, and make magazines about feminism and lgbt rights and anti-racism. it changed her life. it made her feel seen and heard. and then violet was introduced to hole. and when she was sixteen, violet's name was uncovered. violet jennifer. after two hole songs. it was perfect.
the schwartz's weren't over the moon about finding out they had a daughter. violet ripped the bandaid off and came out to all of her family during christmas when she was sixteen. sure, her cousins already knew, and she was pretty sure her big brother, chris, had clocked on to it as well - but all the adults in violet's life were shocked. which confused violet considering she's been dressing in girl-mode for a good two years now. when everyone had been sent home, violet sat through a screaming match with her parents as they tried to work out what they had done to fail their child like this. violet just shrugged. she didn't know why she was the way she was. she just...was. she knew her parents had been kinda cool when they were her age - they had been in a band together - but age had molded them into total loser narcs! but eventually they conceded, reluctantly called violet by her name, started introducing her to people as their daughter (although it was through a grimace). and that was good enough for violet. she'd tell them she was a lesbian another time.
throughout high school, violet learned how to fight back. people didn't bully violet, despite her being a pretty big target, because they knew they'd come to school next morning to find a wasps nest in their locker, or maxipads covered in hot sauce stuck to the hood of their car. violet was happy to keep to herself, listen to her bikini kill and jack off jill and make her zines in the school library. she had her friends in the city she could email now thanks to the new library computer. she had her riots and gigs and things to keep her busy.
and then she graduated. although she had to rush the stage and scream into the mic to stop her teacher from reading out her old name. violet didn't really have any plans for her future. she had hobbies, sure. not a lot of career-driven paths. she couldn't make zines for a living. chris had moved out a few years prior, studying something fucking boring as hell at community college and working at a blockbuster video. he was able to get violet a job. which she got fired from. same with the job at pizza hut. and every other job in town. eventually, she found herself crashing at chris' place to get away from her parents and found herself staying. chris and his roommate (who, suspiciously, happened to be chris' old T.A from college who had one dangly earing, three cats and loved elton john...violet didn't push) cleaned out the basement and bought a cheap bed frame from a garage sale. it wasn't such, but it was home.
now with a job at 7/11, that she has yet to be fired from - score!, violet found herself stuck. she didn't know where she was supposed to go from here. she didn't have any true calling in life, not that she could see. then, while riding her bike home from work one night, violet crashed into a telephone pole. she was fine, just a little scraped and banged up. but when she stood up, she saw a sign from god. a literal sign. a piece of paper taped to the pole advertising a band that needed a new drummer. tryouts tomorrow. violet had never played the drums before, but her dad had and she'd stolen a pair of his drumsticks to carry around in case she wanted to poke at something. and she knew the drum sections in every bikini kill song off by heart. so, she quickly practiced them on a series of vhs tapes the next morning before she went to audition. and god smiled on her that day, because - despite all odds - she got in.
drumming came second nature to violet. she could hear the rhythm in everything and was able to translate it to the drums. plus, band practice gave her a whole knew crowd to sell her zines too! she always brought her zine about lesbianism - panty raiders - to rehearsals. violet was finding her footing. she could see it all now: world-wide music domination! oh, yeah, she could sense good things coming for static avenue.
2087
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