i. i noticed your eyes are always glued to me // keeping them here and it makes no sense at all ii. attention that we crave don't tell us to behave // i'm sick of always hearing act your age iii. suburban living with a feeling that i'm giving up // everything for you iv. you're too young to be this empty girl // i'll prepare you for a sick dark world // know that you'll be my downfall v. you are everything i want // cause you are everything i'm not vi. shut up and kiss me like the antidotes under my tongue vii. we're the new face of failure // prettier and younger but not any better off viii. i want someone provocative and talkative // but it's so hard when you're shallow as a shower ix. everybody would waste it all // to have a summer that they could call // memory that's full of fun // fucked up when it's all done x. i was drunk and it didn't mean a thing // stop thinking about the bullets from my mouth xi. i'm just a girl // guess i'm some kind of freak // cause they all sit and stare with their eyes
For as long as anyone in Ashbourne could remember (at least, of the past 16 something years) the Oak Ave. kids all ran together. Stella and Phoenix, Charlie and Dean and Oliver, Claudia, and Brinley and Braxton. All best friends, all looking out for each other, and nothing could tear them apart.
Although, maybe because it didn’t fit conveniently into the small town narrative, everyone seemed to forget that Stella was an outright bitch to Braxton. When they were younger, she called him names, laughed at him, tattled whenever he did anything sort of wrong (and sometimes when he didn’t) and generally just made growing up a little bit harder than it already was with a father that hated him and mother that bolted.
He’d always been the one just a little behind the rest of them and Stella... oh boy, did she make sure he knew it.
Then when they got older, she got a little more creative. Her insults were disguised as friendly advice, her pranks minor but frustrating, and when he couldn’t get anyone to dance with him at the seventh grade semi-formal, he found out it was all due to Stella and her insistence that Braxton has super contagious nail fungus. Or maybe it was tongue fungus.
Either way, Braxton had always been the easier one to single out and Stella made sure she did. It really wasn’t until high school that she seemed to lighten up, or at least had other more exciting things to play with. Or maybe it was just because Braxton had started to really come into his own. He joined football, he joined baseball. He grew into his looks (hotter, like his sister, people told him) and even though he wasn’t a JOCK he wasn’t a nerd either. He started finding ways to make people laugh, starting making a few friends outside the Oak Ave. crew. Being around people made him happy and the people around him seemed to be happy to be there. So it was all good, most of the time.
Stella was still a bitch and once, last year, Braxton made sure she knew it.
It was a simple thing, really. A child’s prank. But it worked amazingly. During one of Brinley and Oliver’s swim meets, when they were all there cheering them on (and after Stella had “accidentally” kicked over Braxton’s soda), he’d walked down the halls to her locker. It wasn’t hard to figure out her combination. Stella had been a little more predictable back then.
The inside wasn’t anything like he thought it’d be. It was mostly empty except for her books a single photograph of her and the squad, Phoenix beaming proudly at her arm. And it just struck him. They’d learned about it in chemistry earlier that week. A little hydrogen peroxide, a little yeast... if he rigged up the yeast to fall when she opened her locker... boom. An explosion of messy but completely harmless foam.
The next day before first period, she opened her locker. And was covered with it. Head to toe, dripping globs of foam; and for once, people were laughing at her.
Everyone flocked to her when it happened, telling her how sorry they were, that she didn’t deserve it, that they’d find out who did it and pummel them, etc, etc. Even Braxton played it up for her sake, pretending to be horrified and out to avenge her good name. No one knew that he’d been the one to do it in the first place. Or if they did, they all agreed to keep it to themselves. A secret, unspoken pact that said: she might have had it coming.
It was actually one of the proudest moments of Braxton’s life, even if he had to listen to her bitch about it ruining her hair for three solid weeks.
When Stella disappeared, everyone started freaking out. Where had she gone? She was coming back right? Did someone take her? Where was Mr. Grayson? Where they together? (Did he kill her?)
And once again, Braxton found himself putting on an act. Of course he was worried. Of course he was scared. Of course he felt a little hurt that she’d left them. Of course, of course, of course...
(And of course he was worried, scared, hurt. He didn’t actually want anything to happen to her and of course, he’d feel incredibly guilty if it turned out something had and he hadn’t cared. He’d be as devastated as the rest of them if she-)
He knew she’d be back. He truly believed that. But the fact was, (his) life was just a little... easier without her. It always had been. Even when she was there, but it was just him and Charlie and the boys, or hanging with Claudia, or on the rare occasion Phoenix wasn’t tied to Stella’s hips, Braxton just felt like these people he called his friends were actually... his friends. Not Stella’s and then his by default. So it was fucked up, and it was something he could never say out loud but if he could be honest the next time someone asked how he felt about Stella being gone?
A little relieved. Selfishly relieved at least.
(He still wanted her home. As much as he hated to admit it, no one was the same without her. Even him.)
age 13, post first arm breakage. for charlie challenge.
Claudia was admittedly hesitant when she let herself into Charlie’s house with a large tote bag filled with a various selection of paints – spray cans, wall paint, brushes of various sizes. He told her to just walk into the basement in his last text, that his family was out for the day.
“We always talked about adding some art to that stupidly blank wall,” she remembered his saying two days ago while he was high on pain medication. She had a hard time looking at him without crying, so she hoped she would do better today.
She struggled a bit with the weight of her supplies as she made her way down the stairs, but Charlie met her halfway, taking the bag with his good arm.
“Shit, C, I told you to bring art supplies, not bricks,” he huffed.
“I wanted to bring a selection, C. I wasn’t sure what to do,” she countered, already eyeing the wall in question.
Charlie already cleared the space and put garbage bags on the rug. She immediately pulled out her tarp to put it on the ground. When she straightened up, she watched Charlie for a few moments as he searched through her art bag, immediately going for the spray paint.
“Hey, could I spray something and then we can paint over it?” he asked.
She furrowed her brow. “Yeah, of course. What did you want to do?”
He thumbed the cap off and immediately began shaking it.
“Wait, I’d use a lighter color then if you plan on –“ she started, but he was already going to the wall, spraying red on the wall.
She clenched her jaw, tears prickling in her eyes as she watched him write FUCK YOU as large as he can reach.
The silence was deafening for a few moments, but then she heard his breathing getting stuck in his chest. She was slow to approach him, taking the spray can from his hand, lacing her fingers with his. She watched his face, tense, his eyes screwed shut as he struggled to breathe. She exaggerated her breaths, squeezing his hand to calm him down.
He used to get panic attacks more often when they were younger – why now?
She swallowed over the lump in her throat, knowing he wouldn't share it with her. When his breathing was steady and even, he looked at her with genuine gratefulness. She smiled tentatively and after a few beats, he returned it.
“Maybe we could have a mish-mash of patterns. I even have some glow in the dark paints, but I don't know how well they'll work," Claudia suggested.
Charlie's eyes lit up, his breathing easy. "Yes. Let's do it."
The finished product was a bit of a mess. At one point they had more paint on each other than on the wall, but in the late afternoon, they stepped back and admired their work – a patchwork of controlled patterns (Claudia) and interesting interpretations of cartoons (Charlie). There were only a few remnants of his original words left, but only Charlie and Claudia would know.
"Thanks, Claudia," he said quietly.
She turned to him, smiling as brightly as she could. "My pleasure."
Like most Saturday nights, everyone met in Charlie's basement. They ooh'd and ahh’d at the wall, making fun of Charlie's attempts while praising hers as they sipped on stolen beer and wine coolers.
At one point while she was refiling her cup, Charlie came up to her, brought an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. He was a little drunk, but she was happy to see a smile on his face.
And that was that. He was able to manage his anxiety more so afterwards – at least she thought he did. She hoped. But she trusted him to reach out if he needed it – he did it before and he could do it again, right?
This begins a series of challenges based on the characters in the group. While Stella is a non-playable character, her basic personality is being cultivated throughout the group, and her presence is known even without a player behind her.
For this challenge: we invite you to create some sort of content revolving around your characters relationship to and with Stella before her absence.
Written creations are preferred.
Self para/journal entries with memories revolving around Stella are a great way to connect deeper to your character and their current emotions with Stella now gone, but you don’t have to stay limited to just that.
Creative content is also welcome! Mix tapes, moodboards, aesthetics, etc. are all encouraged to help strengthen your headcanons regarding your character and Stella.
There is no specific ‘end date’, but the next character challenge will be released sometime next week. As such, we’d like to see any participating players responses by Wednesday, May 24th.
Please remember to tag #skowchallenge and if it’s a creative option, tag #somekindofwonderfulrpg !
This challenge is not mandatory, merely a way to help build muse, relationships and backstory.
If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask!
i. get under my skin // come touch this ii. still jumping six in the morning // table dancing glasses are crashing // no question time for some action iii. don't you wanna claim my body like a vandal // you got the cure underneath your shirt // don't you wanna save this dirty little damsel iv. see anybody could be bad to you // you need a bad girl to blow your mind v. look over my shoulder // i blow you a kiss // can you handle // handle this vi. all of the boys and all of the girls // are begging to vii. throw me on the bed // i just wanna make you feel // like you never did viii. i know you like me // i know you do // that's why whenever i come around // she's all over you ix. boys they like the look of danger // we'll get him falling for a stranger // a player
While the boys were getting ready for junior prom in Charlie's basement, the girls were in Stella's room. Claudia was sitting in her lavender dress, fiddling with a strand of hair that was quickly losing its curl. Stella and Phoenix were hogging the bathroom, Phoenix dutifully tying up Stella's dress or doing her makeup since Phoenix was very gifted with doing other people's eyeliner.
Claudia was sitting on Stella's bed, watching Brinley apply her makeup in front of Stella's floor length mirror.
"I'll fix your hair, babe, don't worry, I'm determined," Brinley said after finishing her eyeshadow, turning her face from side to side.
"It's fine. You know Asian hair – pin straight, always," Claudia responded with a shrug.
"Nuh-uh, I saw your face – you loved it. You're going to have it."
Claudia smiled and looked down at her dress. It wasn't something she normally wore – too much skin revealed outside of the pool setting or a party while not sober, but Brinley's reaction in the mall made her reconsider.
Brinley, of course, was stunning in red and her legs went on for miles. "You look great," Claudia said.
Brinley grinned. "Hot and bothered?"
Claudia smiled. "A little."
"Good. I would like everyone to question their sexuality tonight."
"You sure it's not to get a particular someone hot and bothered?" Claudia asked innocently.
Brinley turned around and shot her a cross look. "Of course not."
"Right."
Claudia knew Brinley and Charlie were…a thing, for lack of a better and maybe more accurate term. It was something that became a natural part of their gang and now they all didn't think twice when they made out at parties and paired off every once in a while (often, honestly).
Claudia sighed and stood up, smoothing out her dress.
"Oh, that reminds me!" Brinley said suddenly, going over to where her bag was on the floor, rummaging through it for her makeup bag. She pulled out two tubes of lipstick. "Here," she said, going over to Claudia. "It's almost burgundy. I think you'll look great."
They both went to the mirror and applied their lipsticks at the same time. Brinley's was a true red, a siren's call. Claudia wasn't a stranger to makeup – she would wear it on occasions, really for going out, but it was always a shock to see herself with a bold lip color.
Brinley gasped, grasping onto Claudia's arm. "Am I good or what?"
"You're the best," Claudia answered honestly.
Brinley's grin softened to a warm smile, one of her arms draping around Claudia's shoulders. "Come on, bestie, let's get the other ones.” Her arm fell away, her attention on the bathroom door. “Hey, what are you two doing in there, making out?" Brinley joked, going over to the bathroom. "We need the curling iron again – and more hairspray."
Claudia smiled and shook her head, making sure to put Brinley's lipstick back in her makeup bag.
(A few weeks after prom when they are mailed pictures, Claudia framed the one of her and Brinley dancing (or attempting to dance) during "Closer" by The Chainsmokers, laughing about a ridiculous customer that Claudia had served that afternoon. Most of her happiest moments involved Brinley, but this one felt poignant in the aftermath of Stella. It felt like all of it – life – was so fragile and it could all change at a given moment. It reminded her to appreciate it, hold on to it as tightly as she could. Because you just don’t know.)
a room only half his, hints of brinley everywhere (the lights strung around the bed, her jacket on a hanger by the closet, stars they put up on the ceiling together when they were seven). a hidden pile of trash in the corner, a bookcase stuffed of everything he’s ever read, a wall of photographs of the same seven people. an empty guitar case (pawned to pay for… something he can’t remember) but good for storage. a doll brinley left once and neither can get rid of. a 150 square foot home.
