anyone want a thing as i revamp jay's about
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anyone want a thing as i revamp jay's about
✿
✿ - Happiness headcanon
A list of things that would make Jay happy (he’s not happy at the moment, even though he acts like he is):
A full ride scholarship to any college with a good music technology program.
A fully paid vacation back to the Midwest where the rest of his family is.
His older sister to come home and help pull some of this responsibility off of his shoulders.
His mother finally pulling herself out of her depression or whatever the hell is going on with her.
For his house to stop being whatever the fuck his house is. Who knows.
Mostly, though, he wishes his father was alive.
Headcanons
Send ✚ for a HEALTH headcanon. Send ♕ for a CHILDHOOD headcanon. Send ✿ for a HAPPINESS headcanon. Send ␛ for an ANGER headcanon. Send ♆ for a BODY headcanon. Send ϡ for a MENTAL STATE headcanon. Send ღ for a LOVE/SEXUALITY headcanon. Send ☂ for a FOOD headcanon.
(( plan for today: take a shower, revamp jay's theme/about/nav pages
so much work
so much code ))
{ He isn't excluded from Gale'a little gift giving spree. He said he didn't read a lot which led her into wondering if he's ever read Christine. The book kind of reminded her of how his home seemed too alive and aware to be comfortable. So, she's left the book on his bed with a note sticking out from its pages: 'this is another book i think you'd like. you're a pretty swell kid and you'll probably see me around sometime.' }
[So there’s a moment of ‘Jesus Christ, someone broke into my house’. Then Jay looks closer.
And guess who is grinning way too hard down at this book, pulling out the note and peering at it. The use of ‘swell’ indicates Gale, definitely, considering Gale’s other vocabulary, and he’s not even that upset that Gale definitely broke into his house.
He flips through it idly to place it on his nightstand.]
— y-yeah. I fine. Promise. ( with that, keira turns to look at home, and only fills her lungs with a dangerous sharp breath upon realization of how fucking. close he actually is. like, the type of close where, with abandonment of eye contact, she could easily see the dip and rise of full lips. and feel the heat of his breath. )
Good.
[He doesn't doubt her. Instead Jay lets his eyes slide shut for a moment, mostly just enjoying the fact that he's close to someone. After all, he's isolated most of the time, busy trying to distract himself from his house or trying to drag his mother out of whatever stupor she is.
So it's comfortable here, leaning against her slightly.]
They really are wrong - I'm not the type to bullshit. You're beautiful and absolutely smart. What they say doesn't mean anything.
[In his opinion: anyone who asks about words and is even interested in learning is intelligent, and other opinions can go fuck themselves.]
( lips pulls to one side, and she draws thick lines with obsidian crayon before it snaps. right between her fingers. perfect. as though her shitty day required any additional misfortune. it evokes an exasperated sigh, and— admittedly? she almost really. really. wants to cry. ) People make fun. Say I ugly, stupid. Usual thing. I be fine.
Well, those people are completely wrong about you, and that's a fact.
[Jay sounds offended for her, because for all of his attempts to truly like people, sometimes they disturb him too. He's not really angry, though. He just seems exasperated for her, and he keeps his arm around her shoulders. Sometimes he doesn't really have a concept of personal space, but she doesn't seem to be complaining, so it'll turn out to be okay.]
You sure you're okay?
( an indifferent shrug, and she lifts delicate fingers to grab at oil pastels. they stain her flesh, and the colors etched into pores look much prettier on the paper she presses them to. though, admittedly, she probably. doesn’t have a fucking clue what she’s drawing. sad. ) Okay. Had bad day. You?
[And at that he gets up and decides to move closer, a split second decision. Jay pauses and lets his arm slide gently around her shoulders, as comforting as he can be. Gently rubs her shoulder.]
Just a normal day.
I'm sorry to hear you had a bad day, though. What happened?
[There's very clear worry in his tone, just as obvious as you'd expect from someone like him. He glances at the paper and the accompanying oil pastels before focusing on her.]
— good idea. ( a lighthearted shrug, because as long as he doesn’t say anything about the stitches, neither will she. it’s— enough torture to endure as strangers open their damn mouths. she sucks in a deep breath, and situates herself on the floor, legs crossing beneath her and one hand fisting into the fabric of her shirt. )
[And after a moment he detaches himself entirely from the doorway to actually enter the room, sliding to the ground to sit against the wall, pulling his legs up to his chest and offering her a more proper smile, something that definitely looks genuine compared to a few moments prior. She's okay with it. If she's okay, then he'll be okay with it. That's fine.
He sort of wants to move closer, but isn't sure considering what just happened. So he'll keep some distance.]
So, how're you doing?
( brows furrow together, and she’s quick to tug on a shirt. one that’s— oversized, and hangs loosely by her hips. she’s not so much concerned with the fact that he’s seen her in her bra, but more so the stitches. and the bruises. and. fuck. she can’t explain that. well, she can. but she doesn’t think she wants to. ) It. Fine. Stop that. Apologizing is. Dumb. Mistakes. It was. Mistake.
Christ. Okay.
[A low breath whistling out from between his teeth. Jay's shoulders sag slightly, forcing the tension out of them ever so slowly. He manages a smile.]
Well, um. Hi. I'll make sure to knock next time, yeah?
[He's trying yet not really trying to make a joke out of it, to help loosen the atmosphere. He saw the stitches and the bruises but he isn't going to ask, likely didn't really comprehend the full length and breadth of them in those few moments he saw her.]
( pardon her. or— pardon yourself. knocking is. a thing that people should and need to do. especially since she’s shirtless and you can see the bruises and stitches plainly staining fair flesh .) — oh !!!
Shit, sorry -
[And Jay was starting to say something as he opened the door, but then he looked up, realized she wasn't wearing a shirt, and shoved himself back into the doorway. Oh no. He says something really fast and jumbled.]
Sosorryohgod.
[The bruises and stitches haven't computed yet. He's too busy being embarrassed and trying to merge into the doorway or something while shutting his eyes.]
(( loudly considers making a side blog just so i can talk about jay's arc and not fill everyone's dash up with text posts?? ))
Maybe a normal person would have laughed at the boy for accidentally running into the pole but Tragedy didn’t see why that would warrant laughter. It seemed like something that should warrant concern. Like, does this guy need glasses? That was definitely a valid concern.
❝ Hi? You just walked right into a telephone pole. ❞
She’s never seen someone try and save face by playing it cool — surprising, yes, but note that the essence doesn’t exactly go out a lot. ❝ Are you alright? You’re not, like, going to die from that, right? ❞ Tragedy is aware that humans are fragile, but she’s under impression they’re like glass.
Yeah, I did.
[Jay's very matter of fact about it.
He ran into a telephone pole and his entire face is feeling kind of numb, but oh, well.
He wipes at his nose just to make sure there isn't blood, but he seems to be okay. That's good. The last thing he needs at this point is to injure himself. Considering how well everything's going, that'd be an absolute travesty.]
If I was going to die from just that, I should be really dead by now. Thanks for the concern, though.
[There's not an ounce of sarcasm in the way that he thanks her. It's very honest.]
Walker stood under Jay’s bedroom window and stretched a thin line of shadow up the wall, tapping at the glass. ”Hey, are you up there? It’s. Well. The guy who was outside the other night.”
[And guess who tosses down his book at the noise and proceeds into opening his window and peering out, gaze dropping downwards. How the hell did this guy reach this window anyway. Jay blinks.]
The last person who showed up outside my house for two nights in a row was my best friend back when he thought I had stolen some of his shitty CDs.
So why're you here?
❝ … ❞ She’s judging you very hard at the moment, she totally saw that.
[Jay Durant absolutely didn't walk his way right into a telephone pole because he was too busy squinting really hard at that motorcycle parked on the other side of the street.]
- aw, fuck.
[He winces a little more and glances over at the woman who's eyeing him. Whoops.]
Hi.