#dmgtask

[dmgmoreno-blog]

Moodboard: Imogen + Personality

[tristsmilligans-blog]

little toy guns || task one.

i ’ m   a   l i t t l e    UNSTEADY 

PART ONE:

I won’t be, no I won’t be like you, Fighting back, I’m FIGHTING back the truth.

“You were supposed to pick him up!” His father’s voice ricocheted through the house, loud and clear. Tristan  ( currently hiding behind the kitchen wall )  didn’t see the big deal — he was six, and as far as he was concerned, he was big enough to walk home alone, and he’d made it home safe. It seemed like lately all his parents would do once they assumed he’d gone to bed was use anything they could to fight, and Tristan didn’t understand. They loved him, they were so nice to him and his brother. How could two nice people be so not nice to each other? It didn’t make sense — maybe it was a grownup thing.

Grownup thing or not, the words became harsher, and the voices became louder as little Tristan debated whether or not he should run and hide or stick it out. He felt somewhat guilty — it was far past his bedtime, but sleeping was difficult when your parents paraded their problems around the house thinking you’re fast asleep. He found himself momentarily jealous of Owen’s ability to sleep through almost anything. “I don’t care if you were working, you said you had today off! He’s our son! This would not have happened if you would just quit that waste of time you call a job!” “Oh, Jesus, here we go again!” “Yes, here we fucking go again! We don’t both need to work and I’m sick of having to send him to his grandmothers every time you can’t pull your weight as his mother!” “Fine, be a sexist pig about it, then!” “That is not what I’m saying and you know it.”

After that, Tristan turned tail and ran, straight for his room, tucking himself into bed. He didn’t need to hear any more. If it wasn’t for him, this would have never happened. He was the inconvenience, a bump in the road. He was the reason they were fighting right now, it was all about him. It was all his fault. Tristan was glad Owen slept like a rock, he didn’t want his older brother to know how badly he’d clearly ruined things.

This was his fault, so he wasn’t supposed to cry — not over a problem he was the cause of. Boys weren’t supposed to cry anyway. That’s what he’d heard, at least, not that he’d ever believed it. But he couldn’t help it, and he cried into his pillow until the screaming stopped, and he could finally fall asleep.

Eyes like yours, can’t look away, But you can’t stop DNA.

PART TWO: h e a d c a n o n s ;;

Tristan pretty much always blamed himself for their fighting, anytime they mentioned his name in an argument he took it to mean that it was his fault  ( as any six year old would ) and even though he knew very well that they loved him, he couldn’t help feeling guilty every time.

He’d never known that most married couples   ( hell, even most unmarried couples )  tend to fight. Tristan always thought love and romance would be how it was in Disney movies, that once you’re in love, that’s it, and they all live happily ever after. So when his parents had a massive blowup, though it didn’t really alter their relationship much in the long run, it had an incredibly negative effect on their youngest son.

His parents fighting was what would eventually wake him up to the reality that true fairytale love doesn’t exist. He would never stop wanting it, and hoping that just maybe he could be an exception to the rule, but he knew logically this wasn’t the case.

He would never classify himself as from a broken family. He knows his parents love him, Owen and probably still each other — besides, in his mind, some kids out there are far worse off, even abused, and even at a small age, Tristan didn’t think he had any right to be upset about his tiny problems. Especially not when his parents were so accepting of how different he was to the other boys.

After his parents big fight, he avoided Owen like the plague, paranoid that somehow his big brother may have heard what’d happened and blamed him for it. As far as Tristan was concerned, he was to blame, but he never wanted to hear it coming from his brother.

MUSE & RELEVANT LYRICS: 1. From: DNA // Lia Marie Johnson  

hate to see you like a M O N S T E R , so I run and hide.

2. From: Little Toy Guns // Carrie Underwood

Staring at a family FLAW         LESS but it ain’t a pretty picture t    o    n    i    g    h    t

Mom and daddy just won't        stop it, Fightin' at the   d r o p   of the  faucet CUTS through the walls, catastrophic He's    c a u g h t    in the      crossfire

3. From: Unsteady // X Ambassador 

Mother, I know, that you’re tired    of   being   a l o n e dad,  i know you’re   trying to fight when you feel like flying

[dmgmoreno-blog]

Moodboard: Imogen + Holly J

[zceyrivas-blog]

Zoe Rivas + Personality moodboard

[dmgmoreno-blog]

dmgtask 01 || cry me a river

Notes: Imogen experiences writer’s block and goes on a trip down memory lane.

TWs: None that I can think of. Imogen belittles her own problems a bit, which isn’t exactly healthy or recommended, but ??? I think that’s all fam

Imogen stared at the blinking line on her computer, as if willing it to produce words of its own accord. She was trying to figure out what on earth to write about for Mr. Mitchell’s creative writing class, and coming up totally blank. He’d told the class to dig deep for the first assignment and write about something that really represented their childhood, but Imogen was having a difficult time pinning down what exactly that would be for her. 

Maybe it was the way her parents were always arguing- over money, whose turn it was to take her to school, money, who was supposed to do the dishes, and money again. Always with the money. The fighting really hadn’t started until she was a little older, though- probably around eight, and it was hardly something she’d consider crucial to her life experience. And it was really more a constant stream of bickering than actual fighting. so she she dug a little deeper and tried to find something else to write about.

Maybe it was the time her dad lost his job. She hadn’t fully understood what was going on back then, just that suddenly, they were moving out of the house and into a cramped apartment. He’d gotten a new job eventually, but the pay wasn’t as good- so the cramped apartment stayed. Come to think of it, that was probably the cause of the bickering, which still wasn’t important enough to write about. Something else, then.

Maybe it was the loneliness. Now that was something that had been around for most of her childhood. Being unapologetically herself had made certain aspects of her existence easier, but making friends certainly hadn’t been one of them. It wasn’t really that she was bullied per se, but there came a point where nobody really wanted to hang around with the school weirdo. It wasn’t like she hadn’t made any friends though, so loneliness wasn’t quite a defining aspect of her childhood either.

Maybe it was the time her best friend moved away, back at age five. She cried for days after that, refusing to come out of the pillow fort she’d made to protect herself from the rest of the world. She’d become a little more closed off after that... which probably explained some of the loneliness, actually. 

Realizing that she was getting absolutely nowhere fast, Imogen let out a huff and pulled out her phone, deciding that a little check-in on Hastygram and FaceRange was what she needed if she was ever going to pull out of this weird, depressive childhood-related funk and think of something not terrible to write about. She wasn’t even sure why that was the direction her brain had initially gone in, anyway. It wasn’t like she had some tragic backstory in her rearview mirror- and even if she did, it certainly wasn’t something she’d want to share with the class. 

Besides, there were people out there with real problems. It felt stupid complaining about hers when, all things considered, she’d had an alright childhood. Not terrible, not great... just sort of there. If anything, she decided, that was the real tragedy. That here she was at nearly eighteen years of age, and she’d yet to do anything truly meaningful.

[zceyrivas-blog]

Nothing but a memory. | Task 1

Zoe was sitting in her room when she had heard her parents fighting with each other. It was something that frequently had began to happen in the Rivas’ household. Something that she didn’t think she would experience at such a young age. When her mother sat her down to tell her that the two were planning on getting a divorce, Zoe didn’t know how to take the news. She didn’t like seeing her mother so upset like this, and she didn’t know how to make things better because of the fact that she was just so young to even begin with.

Wanting to forget about the pain and the divorce, Zoe’s mom began putting her into acting more, and helping her practice her talents for any of her future roles that she was going to have. Putting so much time into all of this, Zoe’s mom had pretty much became the definition of a stage mom, and with Zoe being too young to realize it she wasn’t 100% annoyed with her mother like she probably would’ve been in present time. 

“Zoey!” Her mother called out to her from the other room. “It’s time to go, you have an audition in an hour!” Zoe rushed out of the room in the outfit that her mother picked out for her, feeling thoughts of excitement and nervousness fully take over. “What’s the matter, Zoe?” Her mom questioned her. “Just, um... nervous.” She said back. “Well, that’s understandable, Zoe. This is big, but I just know that you will get this part.” Her mom replied, getting them to her audition as quick as she can to make sure Zoe’s chances were higher than anyone else’s.

Zoe went into her audition, and all she could think about was the fact that her parents were getting a divorce. Outside of the audition room, there were lots of kids that were there with their fathers, and even both of there parents at the same time. Zoe started to break down crying in the audition room, not even being able to start it. She ran out of the room, her mother not so happy with her for just ruining an audition as big as this one. “Zoe! What’s gotten into you? This audition was big for you, you could’ve got this part.” Her mother didn’t even take notice of the fact that Zoe was crying and the impact that it was having on her.

Zoe never talked to her mom. “I’m sorry.” Was all that Zoe could even manage to say to her right now, she could feel her eyes and disappointment coming through and she didn’t want to do this to her mom, at all. “Zoe.. it’s not you, honey. I know this is hard for you, and I know I threw you into this to get your mind off things. I didn’t know it was going to be this hard, for you, me. The both of us.”

From then on, Zoe always had thought about this day in her head. It was never going to be easy, it was just another constant reminder of what she didn’t have and that really stayed with her ever since.