The World Won't End • •

[thursday jezebel roe]

It was Thursday, and Thursday the woman was full of life. She had put in eight hours at Three Kings, inking three of her loyal clientele and converting two other newbies to the world of tattoos and body art. One had already booked in again for another appointment for a vibrant redhead, which made her giddy. There was nothing quite like introducing someone to the world she adored so much, and having them fall in love at first ink. In fact, she was so excited she was still bursting with energy when she finished for the day, a pile of artwork ready and waiting for her appointments for the following morning. If she could she would haul them all in now and sit them in her room so she could release some of her creative energy and bubbling muse, but instead she had to settle for a night on the tiles and a series of mocktails to get her through. Thursday never drank when she had an early appointment, and she didn't want the hangover when she knew that her first client wanted a fancy cover up and had requested some of her finest work. The floral display she had worked out for her and agreed with the young woman was one of her more delicate designs and Thursday didn't want it ruined because of her own reckless behaviour. However, there was nothing to stop the inked up artist hitting the Marquee and dancing until her feet ached and her ears buzzed from the loud music.

It wasn't all that often that she wanted to shift out of her jeans and sweater. She loved her comfy clothes, but she assumed every girl out there got a thrill out of dressing up once in a while. Plus, there was a dress in her wardrobe that she had bought the last time her sister had come into town and Thursday had yet to find an excuse to wear it. If she headed out with the Three Kings gang it was usually immediately after they locked up the shop, and Thursday knew that none of them ever bothered to don their glad rags. They just stumbled to the bar they favoured and then stayed there until food called to them, or someone stood up and mentioned having other plans or places to be. Thursday was humorously Thursday's day when she finished an hour before the rest of her colleagues, thanks to opening up on Wednesdays and locking up on Tuesdays. She liked sharing the responsibility and the early finish usually meant she could run errands she didn't have time for in the week, or had neglected in order to work on custom designs and squeeze in out of hours consultations.

Donning the new dress and reapplying her bold make-up, Thursday was heading out tonight for herself. She didn't care about getting attention from strangers or flirting at the bar; she just hoped to have some honest fun and burn up the dance floor in the killer heels that took her to an average height. She only owned a few pairs of flats because she had grown bored years ago of people being stunned that she was only five foot tall. Smiling at the bouncer as she slipped on by, Thursday entered the Marquee and headed to the bar, putting on her sweetest smile to catch the attention of the young man serving the drinks. Not that she needed to smile to stand out in a crowd. Her bright hair and body full of tattoos usually worked to do that first. "A virgin strawberry daiquiri, please." She asked, shouting over the pounding bassline. Handing over her cash to pay, she took her drink when he gave it to her and then leaned back, eyes skimming the semi-full club just to see if there was anyone she recognised around. It was a slim chance, but Thursday figured she could take it before she hit the dance floor.

• • •

TAGGED! @open
WORDS! 664!
OUTFIT! Dancing Dear!
LYRICS! Wonderful Unknown - - - Ingrid Michaelson
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Deleted]

Nothing was going to stop Nick tonight. Nope. Nothing. He already made sure of that. He had left his cell phone at home so no one could contact him, and he wore his dancing shoes. He also may or may not have had a few alcoholic beverages before leaving the house tonight. The bouncer knew Nick by name, so he didn't even flash him the ID he had from when he lived in California. He made his way into the club, music vibrating the floor. He took two steps in before the tall, lanky boy began breaking out in dance moves from the 80's. Nick wasn't a good dancer at all, but that didn't mean he couldn't have fun. Plus, most people here were too drunk to really register that he was a horrible dancer, including himself. He danced with random people for about an hour before he decided he wanted to get something to drink. He danced his way over to the bar, plopping his six foot, five inch frame on a bar stool. His breathing was heavy, and when the strobe light flashed at him, it made the sweat glisten on his pale face. 

"Can I get a planters punch, please?"

He asked, handing the bartender a wad of cash before hearing a girl speak beside him. His face lit up, and he turned to face her. 

"Do you not drink alcohol or something?"

He asked, completely curious. There wasn't a mean bone in Nick's body, but his mouth ran a lot causing him a lot of trouble. Nick's biggest fault, aside from him being an alcoholic, was that he was too outgoing. He talked without thinking, and he basically talked to anyone that would listen to him. He made friends easily, which meant he was never bored, and he loved listening to people and their problems, but once you got the boy started, he wouldn't shut up. 

When the bartender handed Nick his drink, he began sipping it through the straw he was given. He looked out at the crowd when Thursday did, but then looked back at her. 

"By the way, your dress is adorable. You're going to have to tell me where you got it."

He complimented, giving her a once over. 

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For:
thursday jezebel roe
Outfit:
 Click
Words:
377
Notes:
My Nick muse is all dried up. I'm sorry, but I wanted to get him out there.

[thursday jezebel roe]

New York was still a wonderful and strange place for Thursday. Here she didn’t feel like such an outcast. Sure, some people stared at her because of how she looked, but she knew it was their problem if they had one and it had absolutely nothing to do with her past or the father who had been convinced that they would see a nuclear apocalypse in their lifetime. Thursday didn’t exactly scream her life story from the rooftops; hell, she didn’t even whisper it to her closest friends in the city that never sleeps. It was one of those things that was better left unspoken. She told people she had a family back home and that she had been raised out in Kentucky – a truth her accent often gave away. Travelling had brought her to New York and the bright lights had made her stay. It wasn’t a lie and she had enough wild stories from the years after she escaped the madness of her father that people didn’t seem to push for details of her childhood.

Plus, in a city like New York, people were mostly keen to talk about themselves. Thursday discovered that when she made small talk with clients. She knew more about some of them than she knew about men she had dated! There were plenty of times when she made a better listener than a talker, and she had her sister, Autumn, for when she really needed to vent. There were miles between them, but that was nothing a phone couldn’t fix and her husband, the pastor, was understanding. He knew to close his ears if Thursday was running her colourful mouth because of a bad day.

Glancing up from her drink as it was served to her, Thursday raised a bright eyebrow and smiled sweetly. “Not when I need a clear head for nine tomorrow.” She answered honestly. In truth she could probably count on one hand the amount of times she had been so drunk she had needed friends to help her get home. It wasn’t a feeling she was fond of, and with the exception of New Year and her birthday, Thursday didn’t drink to get drunk. She took a sip of her safe, sweet drink and shifted her position at the bar, turning so she could see more of the club now and the people in it. Hearing the voice again she looked to her side and laughed. “A little shop down by the warehouse district. Big bright neon lights outside and it blasts rock music.” She didn’t know the name, but it was one of her regular stops whenever she was looking for something to spice up her wardrobe.

• • •

TAGGED! @nick
WORDS! 454!
OUTFIT! Dancing Dear!
LYRICS! Wonderful Unknown - - - Ingrid Michaelson
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Deleted]

<sub>Nick was usually really great at making friends and starting conversations. Sometimes he could get himself into trouble with how little of a filter he had in his head. He usually just said whatever he was thinking, and sometimes people could get offended by what he had to say, though Nick always meant well. Nick didn't have a mean bone in his body, no matter what anyone said. He was always there to listen and help people out. He would go out of his way to make sure people were happy and well taken care of. But if you didn't know Nick, you probably didn't know about how good of a person he was. 

"Oh? Do you work tomorrow? What do you do for a living?"

He asked her. Nick was currently unemployed, and it was probably going to stay that way until his siblings forced him to get a job. Nick liked his routine of drinking when he was awake and sleeping during the day. He enjoyed the easy life, and he didn't think he would be able to keep a job because of his drinking habits. A lot of people got on Nick's case about his drinking, but Nick thought he was fine. He tended to drink almost twenty-four/seven, but he wasn't ready to change that. He wasn't ready to face life without his crutch. 

"Ohh. I think I will have to go there sometime. What about your shoes? Those are to die for, too!"

He told her. Nick was known for dressing up in drag sometimes. He had countless pictures of himself wearing dresses and heels on Facebook, and he was not ashamed. He didn't think he should be. He was just wearing what he wanted to wear when he wanted to wear it. Just because it was a dress or a skirt didn't mean anything. It was just sexism, which was something Nick hated. He hated the stigma around genders. He hated how it was wrong for women to be heavier or not wear make up, and how it was wrong for men to wear make up and dresses. He wanted to live in a world where it was just natural for men to wear make up and women to not shave.</sub> 

[thursday jezebel roe]

Thursday was friendly. If she asked Autumn, her sister would say she was overly so. Whereas her big sis had turned out to be a little more reserved and cautious, Thursday was more keen and adventurous. She knew Autumn had a family to worry about and saw things in a totally different light to her, but Thursday still laughed off some of Autumn’s concerns when her sister talked to her about them. She worried about the strangers Thursday spoke to, how she casually shared information with people she hardly knew. Thursday would roll her eyes and shake her head. She only shared information people could find out easily enough, like where she worked or what state she was from. She didn’t go around giving out her Social Security number and the door code for her apartment building. She wanted to live, not live to see her murderer’s face.

“Yup! All day long.” Thursday laughed. She had to love the question about her job more than any other one that she could be asked. She knew it wasn’t obvious to a complete stranger, but she wore her answer for the world to see and judge. And she knew people judged. Thursday just didn’t care about the negative opinions of others anymore. She had put up with enough crap like then when she was a kid, and moved a long way away to escape them. “I’m a tattoo artist, down at Three Kings.” She grinned. It was her proudest fact, and one she had worked hard to make a reality. Her doodles had turned into something good and then she had worked hard to turn them into something better before making them permanent markings on people’s skin, including her own.

Thursday glanced down at her feet. The comfy ankle boots were a personal favourite, but she couldn’t remember where she had picked them up. She was on her feet so much that she cycled through chunky heels pretty quickly, replacing a favourite pair with another every few months. “I wanna say I picked these up in Detroit, but I can’t be sure.” She shrugged it off and wrinkled her nose, reaching for her virgin drink and raising it to her dark lips. Then again, Steel might have bought her these as a present right before she left his shop and moved to New York. The last few years were a blur since Thursday had actually started living her life and not been forced to be afraid of it.

• • •

TAGGED! @nick
WORDS! 422!
OUTFIT! Dancing Dear!
LYRICS! Wonderful Unknown - - - Ingrid Michaelson
NOTES! <3 <3 <3