#andiethomas

[stellamcnroe]

starter for: @andiethomas ​​ location: full moon party

“  𝐎𝐇  𝐌𝐘  𝐆𝐎𝐃  –––––  ”  stella  doesn’t  hesitate  to  grab  andie’s  hand  ,  empty  drink  cups  abandoned  on  the  high  top  table  as  a  new  song  filters  through  the  speakers  around  the  pool  .  she  drags  the  blonde  towards  the  dance  floor  as  the  ground  vibrates  beneath  their  feet  with  a  booming  bass  .  “  do  you  remember  that  one  night  in  LA  ?  and  this  song  ,  those  men  on  a  business  trip  from  sweden  ?  ”

[ozvicario]

🍺 what’s your biggest regret ?

Oz leaned back in his seat in thought. “In the fourth grade spelling bee, I misspelled trepidation,” he answered, earning him a playful smack on his chest. “I’m serious,” he said with a laugh. “I could’ve gone on to the state championship My parents would’ve.” There’s hesitation in his voice now and he finds himself stopping. Would’ve been so proud. The Oz that he is now somehow doubts it. He swung the bottle back instead. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of stuff,” he said, more serious now. “I do regret leaving you, Andie. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, drowning the bottle down, knowing that even if he hadn’t, he would’ve done it all over again to know what he knew now. 

[len-covello]

🍺 what is your deepest, darkest fear?

Wine drunk and sleepy, Len toyed with Andie’s hair, coiling and uncoiling a golden lock around her finger. The question came before sleep did, her eyes half shuttered as she answered it, feeling like something ancient, time-worn. “I think we’re scared of the same thing, you and me.” Confessionals didn’t feel real when there was little chance of remembering them in the morning, when the words climbed out of her mouth on their own accord, slurring together in a rush to escape with each passing breath. “Lonely girls, aren’t we Andie?” Her dark lashes brushed the freckled landscape of her cheeks. She doesn’t voice the fear as she drifted off to sleep but they both know it intimately— the deep and dark were nothing compared to having to face it alone.

[mickeyvillegas]

📖

📖  :    my  muse  discovers  your  muse  reading  a  diary  entry  that  my  muse  wrote  about  yours .

He didn’t actually mean to snoop, but as Mickey made his way down the hall, shutting the doors to empty rooms of the Hype House, something that caught his eye on the top of Andie’s bed. The shiny cover of a notebook, something that wasn’t his to look at but immediately snagged his curiosity. With everyone supposedly out of the house and the quiet settling around him as even Kevin failed to scamper about- Mick went to pick it up. Settling on the edge of the bed, amidst the crystals that charged in the windows and the posters on the wall, he thumbed the book open, stopping at a page wedged with a polaroid and a receipt tape.

In Andie’s looping scrawl, the words on the page simply read: day one.

He picked up the receipt, recognizing it as their very first take-out, a lengthy order that had been made with the intention of absolute indulgence. Mick smoothed it out before putting it back, flipping the photograph over. It showed the image of Len, with her shock of black hair sat in front of the camera with noodles spilled in her lap, himself, bent over and laughing as Ro clutched at a much smaller version of Kevin who lunged at the food. Oz lingered in the background, shadowed as he chewed what looked to be an egg roll, with his eyes closed and unready for the picture. He was fond of it, enough so that he didn’t even notice the door push further open, and Andie standing on the other side of the frame.

Her throat cleared and he looked up sheepishly. “Hey- fuck, sorry.” Mick held up the photograph, “I almost forgot about this.”

[len-covello]

🎀

🎀  :   your  muse  brushes  my  muse’s  hair .

She sat on the couch with Andie on the floor in front of her, her long hair splayed out like sunbeams as she flipped through channels, unable to decide on a crime drama or foreign film, or a particularly harrowing program that featured a mongoose on the defensive. Andie’s hair shined as she brushed it, each careful stroke revealing more gold in the strands. It was a lazy afternoon and the house stayed quiet but full, each occupant busy and content. She’d never had sisters, and Mickey was the closest thing she’d had to siblings growing up— she’d learned early that curls were not to be brushed— but there was something soothing to it, the rhythmic motions, the way the bristles passed seamlessly through the hair. They could sit like this for hours, but she was always restless. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine,” Len sang, leaning in and draping her arms over Andie’s shoulder, her voice hoarse and off-key, adopting a witch’s rattle to pull a laugh from friend’s mouth. “I’m gonna steal your youth and beauty and sell it to those old bitches down the street. Gonna be a billionaire!”