Realistic or Modern Auburn Springs

[Winona]

Say You Like Me

Jess

Conan was an awfully pushy son of a bitch, and Jess glared up at him with eyes narrowed when he decided to broach the subject of why she was refusing to go to the dance with anyone -- or at all. Well, not at all... because coat check duty, but uhh... if it wasn't for coat check? She'd've avoided the hell out of anything that had to do with Homecoming. As it was, Jess was hardly acknowledging anything that had to do with the dumb dance.

But Conan's insistent pushing of the subject matter was rubbing Jess the wrong way. She pressed her books tighter against her chest, her eyebrows furrowing together, her gaze pressing against the floor in front of her as she concentrated on where her feet were going -- step after step after step. One foot in front of the other, ignore his dumb question, maybe he'd let up and leave her alone about it.

When had because I don't want one not become a sufficient enough reason to not want a date to something like Homecoming? Or because I don't want to go become something that could be argued with? They were statements, not suggestions, not something for others to try and convince her that she was wrong in these solid little convictions.

Jess didn't want to go. Jess didn't want a date.

And if you didn't like it, she didn't fucking care.

“Bad past date?” He asked jokingly. “I’m kidding. But seriously why don’t you want to go with someone? If you don't mind sharing.”

Bad past date was an understatement.

Well, and not even a statement because it didn't fall close to what had happened.

What she thought had happened.

Most of the night in question was blotchy, scattered, mostly forgotten underneath a haze of the alcohol she'd drank mixed with her just squeezing it from her memory as well as she could.

"I do mind," she snapped, her words harsher than-- ... no, she'd intended them to be that harsh, actually, and she wasn't about to apologize for the harshness, and she wasn't about to apologize for being generally annoyed, or fed up, or felt as if she was being backed into a corner over this barrage of questions.

"It's none of your business. I'm not going." Her words, typically questioning, soft, and unsure were suddenly strong, stilted, edged with venom as she tried to shut down the conversation.

She didn't even want to continue this conversation -- surprise, surprise.

“The only Bridger girl I can think of at the moment is my bandmate Chris.” He told Jess. “But she’s in a relationship so I’m not asking her. I’ll figure something out.” He finished with a smile. “Meeting new people is always nice anyway and what better way to get acquainted with out new classmates than a party?”

She tried to brush off her previous annoyance.

"You're just... going to approach a random girl... a random girl from Ambridge, the school that hates us, and just... ask her and hope that it goes well?" If you couldn't tell that she was skeptical from the tone of her voice, the confused, skeptical expression on her face undoubtedly made it clear.

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Conan | tags: @Xed |

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[ditto]

IAN HANSEN

“No…I do not,” Ed said in a deadpan voice, reaching out for the papers.

Ian snatched them away quickly, snickering. “Gotta be quicker than that!” He grinned proudly. “Baby Eddy,” he added, for that extra umpf.

(He had to take his chance to be the one in charge — it was a rare moment of triumph and power.)

Ed grunted. “Give it!” he demanded, standing up and reaching for the papers once again. His face was growing red.

Ian’s laughter this time was somewhat nervous, but he still tried to maintain his confidence. “Only if y…”

He trailed off as the intercom clicked on, and he cocked his head up at the speaker as it sounded an announcement: “As we officially close the homecoming sign-ups, we do have one last entry to announce; Valerie Flores and Mason Rivera. Please don’t forget to buy your tickets for the game before Friday and cast your royalty votes at the dance!”


Oh right, Homecoming was Friday — and so was the dance. Ian was hand some cups to some jocks, bust a move, and then make some moves, hahaha.

Hell-o, ladies and gents. Yep, that's right — tonight is your chance at Ian Miles Hansen, only the hottest and most elligible sophomore for some lovin', baddest boy style.

Hahaha, niiiice.

Wanna have a make-out session in the backseat of his foster mom’s car?

Ed slammed his fist on the table, and Ian jerked out of his thoughts with a flinch. Antsily, he looked over at the librarian, and he offered an apologetic wave and hissed, “Ed, Schwartz is gonna beat our asses! He’s gonna kill us and then stuff our bodies in his minifridge!”

Ed gave the librarian a wave, mouthing a “sorry!” to him, and then he turned his attention back to Ian. “I can’t believe that fucking bimbo thinks anyone’ll vote her for anything.” Ed scoffed. “And Mason’s way too fucking cool to drag his name through the mud with her.”

“I think they’re hot.” Ian shrugged. “Val’s hoooot. And Mason’s hot. I mean, I’m hotter than him, but that’s okay ‘cuz I’m hotter than basically everyone. Except Elvis Presley. But Mason’s still hot.” He snickered, holding out the papers to his friend patronizingly as he took the opportunity to antagonize him with a grin: “Hotter than you. You’re jealous, McGlock, hahaha.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Ed said. He seemed to have been thrown off by the announcement, and Ian’s grin fell slightly at the lack of any kind of reaction from his friend. As Ed picked up his backpack, Ian asked, “You okay, bro?” His brows furrowed with concern. He glanced down at the papers. Ed hadn’t even snatched them.

But Ed started making his way towards the entrance, and Ian huffed, picking up his backpack quickly, grasping the papers firmly in his hand and calling whinily behind his friend. “Hey, wait up!” He had to rush his steps to catch up with him. When he finally reached him, he tried to match his steps with his friend. The good thing was that they were more or less the same height, so there wasn’t too much of a difference in their natural strides’ lengths. “Hey,” he started again. “Hey, Ed.” He elbowed him. “Hey.” He elbowed him again. “Hey, hey. Hey, Ed.”

“I’ll buy you a soda,” Ed said, and Ian’s brows raised. He cocked his head in confusion — and then he remembered that Ed owed him.

Ian laughed. “Score!” he whispered excitedly, pumping his fist slightly, though he tried to do it in a way that wouldn’t catch Ed’s attention.

“I need one, too.” Ed reached for his wallet. “Thinking about stupid ass Valerie’s got me all in a mood now.”

“Why’s she stupid ass?” Ian asked curiously. “She’s hot, hahaha. Like, really hot. She hates Bridgers ’n shit, but…” He shrugged. “You’re not a Bridger, so it doesn’t matter.” He came to a stop at the vending machine, flopping himself against the side of it and squatting down. “Plus, hot people are usually mean…” He trailed off, then quickly added, “I’m, like, the hottest, though, and I’m nice.” He grinned, nodding to show his utter confidence in that fact. “I’m the nice guy and the hot guy.” He pointed two thumbs at his chest, and then pushed off of the side of the vending machine.

He moved to stand beside Ed, trying to think of a reason why his friend would dislike Val—

Wait.

Wait.

Dislike?

Orrrr was it—

He gasped loudly, and he laughed, covering his mouth. His eyebrows raised dramatically. “Oh shit — shit, bro, I know,” he said, almost excited at his idea. He grinned, dropping his hand and cupping his hand around Ed’s ear and leaning in to whisper: “It’s because you got a crush on her, isn’t it?”

mood
hahahahahahahaha you like her don't you

location
the vending machine hahahahaaa

outfit
hahahaaa this probably violates dress code but i dont give a fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck hahahaaa

playing...
rebels

by call me karizma​

mentions
val & mason

interactions
ed

tags
hery

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[Winona]

Angel with a Shotgun

Rory

Wow. Wow, Rory was really upset and oh so taken aback by Kelia's response. Err, well, her question. How dare she just think that Rory had something concocted for Homecoming night? Like, wasn't Rory able to attend some shit like a dumb ass dance without being accused of only being there to cause trouble?

She shrugged.

"Maybe I do," she responded, a sly grin creeping across her face. For a moment, she let that idea sink in, and then she gave a small laugh and a shake of her head. "Nah, kidding. I don't have any shit planned. I wasn't even really planning on going -- dresses and shit, ya know? But uhh..." she shrugged casually. "If Ian ends up going, and I'm pretty sure he is because he thinks he's on the football team, even though he's just the water boy. But uhh... I'll lend up going to keep an eye on him if that ends up being the case." She admitted with a sigh.

Damn, this bigger sister thing really never let up -- and yes, she was considering her going to keep an eye on Ian as a necessity. As in, not something that was a choice. No, it didn't occur to Rory that watching Ian's every move wasn't something that was required of her, but rather a choice.

The idea of ever leaving Ian to his own devices? Nope, never once crossed her mind.

Of course, when the names for the Homecoming kings and queens were announced, Rory had to give a casual roll of her eyes. And yeah, she noticed the slightest look of jealousy cross Kelia's face, but she wasn't sure if she should say anything. Broaching subjects such as, ah... jealousy wasn't exactly something that was Rory's forte. She was more of a... set shit on fire and don't commit to any one person for a reason type of person.

"So..." she started slowly, and figured that she could poke at it, but not directly mention it. "You're going, right? I mean, you can either go because you want to, or..." Rory's lips pulled back into a sly grin. "Or I can remind your mom about it so I make sure that you have to show up. Really it's your choice."

Look, if Rory was going to be miserable, then so was Kelia.

"Anyone you wanna go with?"

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Kelia | tags: @Xed |

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[ditto]

DONNA CAIN CAMUS

Theo had sat Donna’s keys back at Donna’s feet with thoughtful, ginger movements. Why did he move like that? So carefully? So apprehensively? He moved as though he was afraid to move at all, afraid to cause any kind of stir.

Had Donna been like that before? He couldn’t remember. Perhaps he had been — he probably had been. He figured his aimless movements had come with his aimlessness. But he simply couldn’t recall — that felt like centuries ago, even if it’d only been a couple or a few years.

There was a look in Theo’s eyes then — a look that questioned if Donna had suggested what he did with the water to be funny. To tell a joke at Theo’s expense. To laugh at his desperation, to see if he’d do such a thing. Tha notion was almost funny itself — that Theo thought Donna was making a joke or had much of a sense of humor at all.

How wrong he was.

“This is not my first time.” Theo’s accented monotone was sure, perhaps bordering on defensive. The cigarette dangled between his fingers. “One of my first, but not my first.” His brown eyes broke eye contact, looking away from Donna. “I think I like it less now than other times. Maybe because I do not make smoking a habit.”

”You’re going to die of lung cancer.”

“Here, try it.”

DC leaned his head back against the cold metal of the bleachers’ underside again, taking an inhale from his cigarette. He wasn’t going to press; in fact, he preferred to keep more for himself. Offering Theo one had been more of a formality than anything — not necessarily a thanks for coming along, but a for your time, have one if you’d like. Donna hadn’t expected him to have smoked before, seeing his reaction, but he supposed that it made more sense that way.

“You would appreciate it more if you did,” Donna said blandly, but he didn’t say anything more on the matter. He took another breath from his cigarette, blowing out the smoke into the air. He watched the smoke curl about and dissipate into nothing in the wind, and he listened to Theo’s remarks on Donna’s commentary about his family.

“Sounds like a typical Springer household. Not that I care much for stereotypes on either side of the bridge.” His voice was serious, unamused. “All of you people are the same to me. Equally depraved and melodramatic.”


Donna lowered his free, pallid hand, settling it to his side, his palm against the concrete that anchored the pole he was up against. The pole was rusting near the base, and he rubbed a bit of the orange with his pinky, feeling the rotting, crumbling spot of metal. Theo’s interpretation of things wasn’t too far off; everywhere, the people were the same: they cared too much about things and ideas and events that meant absolutely nothing. That was the way things were — that was the way that people were.

Then, after Donna had finished his unintentional monologue, Theo let out a long, defeated sigh, and Donna moved his eyes to him. He studied the blonde boy, his face, his expression. Though Theo’s eyes read defeat — a sort of pained realization — Donna lifted the cigarette to his lips again in his uninterested manner. He may have crushed Theo’s world, or disappointed him in some sense, or convinced him of something that was the opposite of what he had learned all his life, but it didn’t mean much to him.

“You are right,” Theo said finally. “There is no…” He hesitated.

Donna breathed in a breath from his cigarette. Blowing out a cloud of smoke again, he suggested: “Hope…reason.” Both were equally as true there — both were equally as absent everywhere.

“There is no point.” Theo’s face read of a struggle. “To any of it. Years and years of trying and all we have to show for it is someone telling us to do more. Work more. Be more. It is all arbitrary…” He lifted the cigarette to his lips, but he seemed to decide against taking another puff. “…bullshit.”

He shook his head, then snuffed out the cigarette. It was a waste, and Donna didn’t understand the point; if he was that far into it, there was no reason not to finish it.

He breathed out a soft sigh through his nose. “So you’ve realized,” was all that he said.

“This feeling. I don’t like it,” Theo said. His voice read a sort of desperation. “How do you cope? Like, really cope? Resigning myself to fate — in a temporal, non-spiritual sense — feels almost too…helpless to bear. What could anyone possibly do with themself living in a constant state of impassiveness and giving up to the world?”

Donna understood: fear. Theo was afraid.

He looked at him once again, staring blankly with his blue, dull, dead eyes. His expression simultaneously looked thoughtful and thoughtless.


In Theo’s fear, Donna saw a younger version of himself once again.

Himself, when he come to that same realization, though he was alone in his bedroom, alone with a crudely-constructed container that he used to hide the drugs that he’d told himself he’d keep but never use, that he’d have there just for an emergency or some bullshit like that. Staring at the ceiling, pills in his system, eyes glazed over. His thoughts were so loud that he could hear them — like they were other people in the room with his dull, low voice, telling him aloud all the things that had been building up throughout these months.

No one really wanted him. He was useless. It was all pointless. They were going to work him into the ground, but in the end, he’d have nothing to show for it. Nothing substantial, anyway. Money, maybe. A house, maybe. A “life”, maybe. His father would make him marry some girl, and the girl would make him have some kids, and those kids would make him pay for their useless future, the future that they were told that they wanted, too, the same miserable future that he had. Day in, day out, like clockwork, never stopping, and all of it for nothing.

When he died, there would be nothing left. When he died, his name would be forgotten. When he died, they would only remember him as a nameless creature who made countless mistakes and never lived up to the impossible standards.

No matter what, you could never do anything well. No matter what, you could always do better. No matter what, you always failed. Even when you were at the top, you wanted more.

And it was all pointless.

Donna had cried then, and his tears had felt like balloons pressing from his eyes. He was in agony, writing in silent pain. When he moved, the world around him seemed to shift, too. Depth seemed so much deeper. Time seemed so much slower. It was Hell.

And when he’d begun to come off of the high of his drug-induced trance and he’d stared at the dark ceiling of his room, sweating, breathing heavily, losing the extra feeling that the drugs had given him, losing the sensitivity and feeling time speeding up again, Donna promised himself never to touch the bottle in that messily-crafted box again, because he didn’t want to hear what everything had to say — he didn’t want to have to hear his thoughts like that, he didn’t want to have to hear those things yelled at him in his head, where he couldn’t even clasp his hands over his ears and pretend that they weren’t happening.

“I just cannot bear it, Donna,” Theo said, his voice nearly pained. “Putting all this into practice just makes no logical sense. My pride and my natural apprehension are screaming to get up and walk to class like none of this happened.”

“I tried that, too,” Donna said, breathing in another casual breath from his cigarette. “When I first realized all of this to myself, I wanted to…pretend I’d never thought it. I wanted to act like I never heard it. But you can’t just forget. You can’t stop it. If you try to ignore it, the noise gets louder, and everything feels…faker and faker until you can’t ignore it. Pride. Apprehension. Those are pointless — there’s no reason to those, either. Leaving, walking away…it’d do nothing.” He pulled his lighter from his pocket, touching at the slick plastic.

It’d happened to him.

He’d gotten up the next morning, gotten dressed, went to school. Gone to class for the first time in months, tried to suddenly jump into having purpose after feeling so lost for so long.

But it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

And the things in the box soon became a comfort, and then he’d had to refill, and then he’d begun to branch out, and he began to try everything, to try and stuff his senses. Not to forget, not to brighten his world. But to feel numb to it all. To shove his senses so full that even his own internal monologue had no punch.

Things did look brighter, though. Faker, but brighter. Clearer. He could see the pointlessness in HD.

It didn’t work to give him a will to live, but it allowed him to live without the pain.

“It’s easier…” Donna flicked on the flame and stared at it for a second, until the wind came along and extinguished it. “To cope when you have help coping.” He took his finger off of the top of the lighter, holding it up for Theo to see. His gaze moved to Theo’s face. “At first, I didn’t know what to do either…but I found my way.”

His hand moved to his pocket, and he pulled out the Ziplock bag, holding it in his palm. Tablets. “Abandon,” he said in his unfeeling monotone. “That’s what they call it — living with abandon.” Ripping open the top, he took some from inside, putting them in his mouth and swallowing them dry. Sliding the bag back into his pocket, he looked at Theo again. “It’s easier not to give a shit when you use…something. Drugs are my choice. They’ll give you shaking hands or sore throats or raw noses or headaches, but everything becomes easier to understand, too. It becomes…simple. Black and white. You can see the way that things are and…feel…nothing towards it.”

He dug his heel into the gravel again. “I smoke, too. Cigarettes, vapes, weed…though I guess weed is a drug, too. I don’t mind the laws, either. Breaking them helps, too. It’s easier to understand how pointless everything is when you see it firsthand. How little your actions matter. How little anything matters. How, in the long-run…” He breathed in another puff of his smoke. “We’re all buying time until we die.”

mood
high & ...?

location
the cafeteria

outfit
sweatshirt & sweatpants

playing...
fuck up

by gabriel black​

mentions
n/a

interactions
theo

tags
hery

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[jasmyn]

MOOD: determined and bitchy as always

OUTFIT: very val

LOCATION: hallway >> cafeteria

INTERACTIONS: mason

TAGS: xxx

Val didn't budge or say anything else as Mason scoffed the word no and moved to walk past her. Instead, she simply counted down in her mind, curling one of her perfectly manicured fingers down into her palm with each number. As expected, by the time she got to number one, static sounded from the intercom and another announcement was read out, presenting the last entry for homecoming royalty as her and Mason.

Did he really think she was bluffing? After all, it was Valerie. When she wanted something she didn't just ask, she made it happen and this was just a small example of that. Since the day she made her grand entrance into the world, Val had everyone wrapped around her finger. Her parents spoiled her, making sure she had the finest crib money could buy, the best designer clothes, and the most elaborate birthday parties.

Even among her peers, she had always been at the top of the food chain. In her mind, it was Val's world and everyone else was just lucky to be living in it. Whether out of fear, respect, or something else entirely, most people didn't choose to challenge her, and those who did quickly found out it was a mistake.

Her brown eyes locked on his whenever he snapped, his voice filled with anger."What the fuck is wrong with you bitches? Who the fuck in this school lets bitches sign people up without their fucking permission? Huh?" he spat out, throwing his book in a tantrum-like fashion. The guy needed some serious anger management. "Are you done with your meltdown yet?" she asked, rolling her eyes when he simply turned his back to her again in a painfully obvious attempt to regain his composure.

Could he be any more of a mess? What was she thinking signing herself up with him? This was the second time she'd roped Mason into one of her "get back at Raven" schemes and she was starting to regret this one. Sure, he was the easiest way to get under Raven's skin but was it worth it? Her judgment had clearly been clouded.

Val had always been a more calculating person but the past few weeks the queen bee had become way more impulsive and it all circled back to Raven. The kiss at the fair, the funhouse, the art room. She could try and pass this homecoming thing off as some well-thought-out power move or publicity stunt but she knew the real why even if she wouldn't say it.

Mason's hands dropped back to his side and he turned to face her, the sour mood still apparent though he was more agreeable now. Not that he had a choice if you asked her. "You fucking owe me for this." he hissed, causing her to wave her hand dismissively. "Yeah, whatever. I'll buy you a pack of cigarettes or some cologne because you reek of... Don't tell me that's Axe body spray," Val scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"You're gonna need an actual suit, not some hand-me-down that you dug out of the Goodwill dumpster. Knock-offs might be good enough to get you laid by some desperate Bridger whore but it won't help us win the crown," she said, looking him up and down. "As fashionable as you are," the sarcasm in her voice pretty clear, "I don't trust you to take care of it yourself so I'll have something sent over," she finished, motioning for him to follow her as she walked down the hall.

"Obviously, I will handle all the campaigning because you'd probably just draw our names on a piece of paper with one of your kid's broken crayons and call it a day which would be a disaster," she explained. "Your only job is to make sure your fleas don't waste their votes on the competition and to show up," Val came to a halt as they made it into the cafeteria and she turned to look at him again. "Think you can handle that?"

VALERIE FLORES

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[Winona]

Superman by Boyce Avenue

Mason

He hated this fucking school. He hated fucking Val. He was starting to itch with how desperately he wanted a goddamn fucking cigarette, and it was taking all of Mason's meager self-control to keep him from flipping out completely on Val, or... screaming. Breaking something. You know, typical Mason reactions to being pissed as fuck.

And yet, he was still trying to keep his cool.

She should be fucking thanking him for not marching down to the office right now to pull out of the dumb fucking race.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll buy you a pack of cigarettes or some cologne because you reek of... Don't tell me that's Axe body spray," Val responded.

"That's not what I fucking meant," he grumbled back, but he didn't push the issue. Also he wasn't wearing any cologne, thank you very much, because cologne was for attempting to impress chicks and shit, and Mason wasn't exactly trying to impress fucking anyone right now. That's right, what she thought was Axe body spray was all natural.

She continued to blabber along about this and that, and apparently, she was getting him a suit? Well, actually, Mason wasn't opposed to that -- Adriane had bought him a suit, but he'd been, what, fourteen? Fifteen at the time? So he'd quickly outgrown it, and now it was a hand-me-down to Drake... who already could barely still fit into it. But hey, they did whatever the fuck they could, which meant that Mason's current suit? One that had remained in his mother's closet for years and that Mason figured was... her ex-husband's. Maybe his or Drake's dad's, but who really fucking knew? It was older and in decent condition, save for a couple of cigarette burns here and there.

"Fine," he mumbled, keeping up the gruff attitude and annoyance in his voice as if he wasn't a fan of her getting him a suit -- although again, free suit? Yeah Mason would take that shit. That could be payment for him agreeing to fucking help her even, although even that was barely tipping the iceberg.

Fuck...

Plus how the fuck was he supposed to explain this to Lola?

You know, the girl that he was going on a fucking date with?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Obviously, I will handle all the campaigning because you'd probably just draw our names on a piece of paper with one of your kid's broken crayons and call it a day which would be a disaster," she explained. "Your only job is to make sure your fleas don't waste their votes on the competition and to show up," Val came to a halt as they made it into the cafeteria and she turned to look at him again. "Think you can handle that?"

He came to a stop beside her and turned to face her, the look of annoyance still evident in his expression as he glared down at her. "Yeah, yeah," he snapped, "whatever. Look I doubt anyone's gonna fucking vote for us over Raven. Everyone wants to fuck her or be her. She's actually likable."

Well, it was true.

Name one person that didn't like Raven.

He'd fucking wait.

Actually, no, he wouldn't, because he'd be waiting for fucking ever.

And now she was gonna be pissed at him and...

Fucking Val was really fucking up the little bit of stable home life that Mason had managed to situate -- because yeah, Adriane had fucked off, and Raven had stepped up. And although he'd never admit it aloud, there was no way that he would've been able to do the whole kid thing without her. Sure, he still pulled a majority of the work (she was his kid and he was a prideful man), but that didn't change the fact that Raven had basically stepped into the mom role.

And now fucking Val was creating a wedge between them.

Fucking bitch.

"I'd vote for her over you any day." He added, just in case his stance hadn't been made clear before.

| mentions: Raven, Chelsea, Lola | interactions: Valerie | tags: jasmyn |

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[hery]

responsibly impulsive

Chris Harris

Ambridge

Chris couldn't help but smile at the honest boy. He maintained an objective sincerity she hadn't encountered in a long time, if ever. In a nutshell, he was the total opposite of the type of person to run around and do something stupid with one of the Harris kids. Was Xan holding the poor kid hostage?

"Y-Yeah! Y-You can come with, right, Xan? I…I mean…v-vandalism is a g-group effort, right?”

He really, really sounded like a hostage, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. There was clearly a side of the poor kid that wanted to let loose. Chris was happy to oblige. She looked to her cousin for approval, no sign of doubt about an invitation on her face. Either way, she wouldn't take no for an answer. Inserting herself into the adventure so politely was merely a formality and a sign of respect for the first day of Nut's juvenile delinquency.

"Yeah, yeah, but you only want people you trust to be with you," Xander answered, while Chris nodded in agreement, "And this is Chris, she's my cousin. She's coolio in my book, although I dunno. She can be kinda boring."

Immediately, her jaw dropped and she whipped around to backhand her traitorous snake of a cousin, but her hand stopped just short of his cheek. "You're a riot," she snarked through gritted teeth, leaning right into his personal space. She shoved her index finger to the front of the cheeky bastard's face, shaking it mere millimeters from the tip of his nose.

She then backed away, failing to stifle her snickering. "It's not boring to have more than one brain cell!" She received the can of olive green spray paint from Xander while the last of her laughter died off, immediately going to inspect the bottle down to the specific shade on the cap. This would do. It would do very nicely. And anyone that dared compare her special olive green spray paint with runny diarrhea would get a punch in the nose.

"You did good, ranger. Thank you." She continued scrutinizing the outside of the bottle, caressing the cool metal with her palm. She removed the cap, then aimed it at the two boys and pretended to spray as though it was time for target practice. "I bet you bought it online 'cause all the store owners would think you're gonna go and huff it," she observed, speedily reading the fine print below the label.

"Anywho, Chris is fun, but we don't need a chaperone."

"No, you do," she countered matter-of-factly, her easygoing gaze subconsciously hardening a little. She really didn't trust either of her cousins not to get into trouble on their own, which they had to have been aware of at that point. They'd at least avoided many major conflicts about it thanks to Chris' lighthearted humor regarding the subject.

She finally looked up from the can and stepped beside Xander as the trio strolled down the sidewalk, struggling with her backpack's zipper as she worked to conceal the paint from any onlooking adults. She nodded throughout his explanation of the church and their tentative plans, her pleasant surprise with his choices and planning visible on her face.

Before getting down to the nitty gritty, the girl looked over to Nut and grinned widely. "Big Nut's very first time, eh?" she repeated, giving him a light shove on the shoulder, "Looks like it's a very special day today." She then caught back up with Xander, throwing an arm over his shoulder while they walked. "The railyard'll be great. It's the best place to train anyone, in my opinion."

Yes, she was ignoring Xan's implied depiction of Ambridge, which wasn't all that run-down. It just... looked super run-down. The town had its charms. She loved her cousins, but they didn't get it like she did, being Springers and all. By Chris' observations, most Springers tended to see Ambridge as a gang-infested shithole, but lacked actual common sense and natural apprehension when walking the streets. How did that make sense? Walking home from the bus stop in Auburn Springs was a way different experience than in Ambridge, no matter the time. She just couldn't force herself to trust in Xan's judgment.

"But, just so we're clear, if anything feels off, we're turning right back. Understand?" She raised an eyebrow, attempting to appeal to Nut with a moment of serious eye contact.

| mood: gratoes | outfit: clothes | location: street | mentions: Darcy| interactions: Xan, Nut | tags: ditto Winona |

 

[Kitsune2202]

It was like the universe just refused to give her a break. Even a tiny one. What had she done so wrong to deserve this? Well technically speaking she's done a lot of shit that would be considered wrong, but in her defense...she was dealt a fucking shitty hand at birth so the cosmos started this shit she was just retaliating. Always trying to one up one another, but it was hard to one up getting landed with one of the most obnoxious people on the planet as a half brother.

For some ungodly reason he has made it his life's mission to get her and Link to talk to him, but the ore he tries the more frustrating it is, and the more she wants him to just go away. It must be so difficult for him to understand that you can't always get hat you want. Fucking spoiled brat probably doesn't even understand the concept of no. The only thing they have in common is their shitty father, and honestly she still resents him for even having that. Sure the guy is never around or pays attention, but hey they've never had to go hungry, they've never wondered if their was going to be a roof over their head, they never had to work themselves to make sure they would live to see the next day. He wasn't around, but he still provided, which is more then her and Link ever got from him.

It's ok Lola was making sure they'd be properly compensated for the years of back pay. To be clear Lola didn't hate Caleb. Was their resentment? Yes. Was their jealousy? If you speak of it she will hire a hit man to snap your neck...so yes. But hate? The guy was too dumb to hate. She hated her father, she hated the way society worked to keep people in poverty like a never ending cycle, she hated sun burns, but Caleb? She didn't hate him...she couldn't. He was one of the only people in this world who seemed to want to see her. Want to know her. Well except for her brother of course, but it's not like Link didn't know Lola by now so he doesn't count.

The main thing separating her from wanting to get to know him back was her pride. That stubborn pride that wouldn't let her detach the image of him from the rest of their so-called family. When she looked at him all she could see was all of them. It wasn't fair, but life hadn't been fair to her, so why should she be fair to anyone else?

She sighed rolling her eyes at his approach. "Lols really? It's Lola. don't make my name a cheap emoji or whatever." She reprimanded him for trying to give her such a stupid sounding nickname. She hated that everyone tried giving her nicknames because her name was already short. Like the only think shorter would be just L. Her classic resting bitch face that usually warded off most people still firmly on her face. It was a warning to everyone else, but of course he ignored it. "I'm fine."

The hunger in her had her eyes drift from his face to the pizza box in his hand. Of course he went and got pizza, why wouldn't he? It was so on brand for him it was almost comical. Her stomach rumbled a bit again, but she pretended to not even hear it. The only indication was the fact that her cheeks betrayed her and a faint pink tint washed over them as she looked away from the box. She'd be damned if she ever lowered herself to ask him for anything. Well not just him, but anyone for anything. That wasn't her thing and she damn sure wasn't about to start now. Lord knows how he'd react to finding out food was good enough leverage for her.

Just then of course the announcements came on spilling who was running for homecoming this year, and truth be told she didn't care. It was a popularity contest and if she hadn't already been made aware she was not popular not did she really hang out with people who were. So she saw no need to run and no need to vote. However one name did catch her attention. Mason Rivera. Did that speaker just say that Mason was running for fucking homecoming King with someone?

What. The. Fuck.

She was mentally preparing for the conversation that she'd now have to have with him. The first run through in her mind had a lot of cussing in it. In fact their were more cuss words then anything else. It wasn't very cohesive, just reactions. She swears if asking her to that stupid dance was just some cheap joke on his end she'd fucking kill him. Ok...not kill him cause let's be real Lola wasn't ready to go to jail for murder, and while she'd call you a liar if you said anything...she might have grown a little fond of having him around. MIGHT.

Ugh if he didn't wanna be her date why even ask? Was it just till he got a better offer? Though she didn't honestly take him as the type to want to do that kind of thing anyways. Honestly she just needed some time to think this whole thing through before talking to him. Or at least a chance to calm down...who was he even running with? She hadn't paid any attention to the name that came before his.

Suddenly realizing how much time had passed in her own head she looked back at Caleb, "What names did they just say were running for homecoming or whatever?" hopefully he could at least be useful in this. "Also should you really be eating pizza at a time like this? Or at all Like aren't athletes supposed to...i don't know eat decently healthy to stay in shape?" She asked trying not to sound curious.

Lola B.

"Breakaway"

Mood: Hangry (hungry +angry)
Location: School Locker
Outfit: Yup she's that type
Interactions: Caleb ( natsukashii )
Mentions: Link, Mason

coded by incandescent

 

[natsukashii]

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  how he's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  Ready to have fun bro!
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what he's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  https://i.imgur.com/uzn16mf.jpg

  T-shirt, Jeans + backwards baseball cap

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where he's at...

  
  
  
  

  Near the lockers
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Lola Kitsune2202
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Caleb Walker

Auburn Spring's Pizza Boy

"I don't know; wasn't really listening, sis."

Truth be told, Caleb sort of blanked when the names of kings and queens for homecoming were announced. Maybe it was him wanting to pay close attention to his sister or maybe -- and perhaps this was his simpleminded nature -- but Caleb was more focused on just eating his pizza.

But, that wouldn't stop Lols -- Lola -- from pointing out something that not only was rather telling of her sour mood this morning but he was confused by it. Was it such a bizarre thing for someone to eat pizza for breakfast? Save for maybe some bacon and fried eggs, what Caleb was chomping away at was all part of a balanced breakfast. Besides, he always ate pizza for breakfast. Ever since he developed the love for it, he's never not had it. Breakfast, lunch, dinner -- hell, if you got creative enough, you could even make it into a dessert.

He looked at Lola for a long few moments, thinking about what he wanted to say. The confusion left and a smirk of epic proportions remained.

"I understand why you might be skeptical. Pizza isn't an everyday thing for most people, especially for those who care too much about calories."

He kept his eyes on Lola and shook his head.

"And before you imply that because I'm an athlete, that I should be watching my count, let me break it down to you like this, sister!"

Caleb cleared his through, smiling still at Lola.

"I work out a lot. These muscles--"

Caleb flexed for his sister's viewing pleasure,

"--they are naturally obtained. I didn't take any supplements. And to achieve this, I need to eat a lot."

With a chuckle, he popped open the box, no doubt the aroma of the pizza flying into the air.

"And, well pizza is good for that: I can consume a lot of calories and it won't be torture because, as you know, I love pizza."

After his speech was done, Caleb took another hard look at Lola. It didn't take a rocket scientist, or anyone with average intelligence, for him to recognize the way she was seemingly staring at him. It didn't hold that familiar annoyance that frequently bled from Lincoln and Lola. In her hazel green eyes and in the way she stood, Caleb could see the visage of someone who might just be hungry.

Shot in the dark? Maybe she didn't eat breakfast.

"Say, I might be overshooting here -- and you can totally tell me if I'm wrong, but did you even eat this morning? And if not, I've got plenty left. You can take a slice or two if you want."

He held up the box with a smile that held no hidden agenda behind it.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[hery]

cool pirate cowboy 123123

Dexter Cruz

Auburn Springs

Dex chuckled to himself. So they had drank. He'd only forgotten because of his chronically leaky memory; had he been blackout drunk, the room would have looked a lot more trashed. That was a detail Myron was probably aware of, likely more than even clueless Dex himself.

As he went about asking for a ride, describing his busyness, he struggled not to let his friend in on everything that had gone on between himself, Chelsea, and, well, his assailants. He'd begun to dredge up emotions he hadn't felt for a long time while simultaneously swearing to keep it all under wraps for his best friend's sake.

Dexter Cruz? Keeping a secret?

It was tough. And he'd have loved nothing more than to confide in Myron, but instead he returned all harmless probing with a shrug and a halfhearted smile.

"While I would love to see you show off your incredible athleticism and sneak out my bedroom window, that won’t be necessary. The parents are already out for work so it’s just us.”

Dex blushed, and he let out a nervous titter. He averted eye contact for a few seconds, turning away and scratching at his head with an awkward bashfulness. "Well, that's good. Figured I'd offer anyway." He cleared his throat, his usual playfulness bouncing right back. "You're always invited to play ball, by the way. If you wanted to, like, see my athleticism."

Not long after, the pair headed downstairs. Dex couldn't help but be in awe at the nice place he had, even if he'd seen even bigger and better furnishings at Chelsea's place. Still, Myron's house felt a little bit more homey and the air was a little less... tense, given the family who lived at each respective home. He snuck a few fond glances at Myron's baby photos, looking back and forth between his past and present self. That baby face never did go away.

“Here, I made it while you were sleeping. An extra hot sandwich for an extra hot guy.”

In the kitchen, Dex was delighted to find that Myron had prepared him a sandwich with hot sauce practically dripping from all sides. His mouth watered as his hands seized it, Myron's words barely registering before he halted his blind greed in its tracks. Before he accepted it, he flashed his friend a big, dazzling smile as a sign of immense gratitude.

"Hey, thanks!" he chirped, finally accepting the sandwich and taking a substantial bite, the tangy hot sauce filling his mouth with flavor. His mouth full of bread, he added, "This is the most attractive thing you've ever done." It was a breath of fresh air to have such a disarmingly nice guy by his side, not that Dex didn't appreciate Chelsea's well-meaning seriousness. Relentless, genuine kindness like Myron's was just hard to come by in recent times—not that Dex would ever have had the mental capacity to articulate that to anyone.

He eyed Myron's own sandwich, his bottomless pit of a stomach formulating evil, thieving ideas. However, before his appetite could overtake him, the skinny boy was already heading to the car in the garage. Dex followed right behind him, tossing his bag in the back and seating himself in the passenger seat.

Once they were on the road, Myron broke the serene silence. “So," he began glancing over at Dex, "you talked about Chelsea and how much stress he was under earlier, but what about yourself?" Myron briefly rested an arm on Dex's shoulder, and an artificial smile tugged at the athletic boy's lips as the earlier topic made a reappearance.

"Well, if Chelsea's stressed, then I'm usually stressed, too," he explained, fiddling with the radio, "That's all there is to it." A pang of guilt twinged in his heart, the entire explanation sitting on the edge of his tongue. Although respect for Chelsea was the only thing restraining his big mouth, it was strong enough to stop him. He avoided Myron's eyes, having already revealed too much based on body language, if the boy was even reading into that into the first place.

"How are you coping with the big game and everything coming up?”

The game. He'd nearly forgotten about the Homecoming game and it was coming up in a matter of days, not to mention playoffs early next month. "I'm coping with, like... lots and lots of training," he responded, watching the town's well-kept houses as they passed by, "And Ryan's coping with running a lot of laps for talking too much, Mason's coping with arguing with Coach, Donna's coping with, um, bench stuff..." He trailed off, knowing the list went on and on. "We're trying. I do better when my friends come to watch practice or when they're, well... practicing, 'cause they're a good kind of distracting, you know?"

He fell silent, working mentally to complete his thought. "Like last night. A good distraction. I bet you have things you need to escape for a bit, too, huh?" He finally turned back to face Myron, whose attention was split due to being in the driver's seat. "Since you're the perfect student and all. I bet the teachers always call on you when you raise your hand. And you get it right every time. That's why you're in a better math than me."

PSA: Most people were in a higher math class than Dex.

| mood: chit chattin | outfit: clothes | location: Myron's car | mentions: Chelsea, Ryan, Mason, Donna| interactions: Myron | tags: @Xed |

 

[ditto]

KATEE NAUSBAUM

Nut clasped his hands, still shaking from the jarring experience of seeing all sixteen years of his sad little life flashing before his eyes for what turned out to be no reason, around the paint can and hid it behind his back. He glanced this way and that way over his shoulder. They were still at school, and even if this girl wasn’t going to narc on them, someone might, and then Nut would end up in jail, and then he’d go to prison, and you know what happened nuts in prison, right? They got cracked, that was right. And Nut couldn’t risk that. It didn’t sound fun at all. He was too young to die. He still had so much life to live, so much love to get, so many friends to still make, and — and going to jail because someone caught him skipping school…? Nononono.

Nut pressed his shoulders as small as he could get them, doing his best tree impression as Xander looked over at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Xander said, “but you only want people you trust to be with you.” He shifted his backpack back around to his front and unzipped it. “And this is Chris, she’s my cousin. She’s coolio in my book, although I dunno. She can be kinda boring.”

Nut looked over at her, cracking an antsy, wide smile. “Oh, uh, hey, Chris.” He’d seen her around Ambridge’s halls, but he’d never really had anything to do with her.

Chris turned around, and Nut tensed up and grimaced as she sl—…wait, as she didn’t slap him, b ut almost did. “You’re a riot,” she said. “It’s not boring to have more than one brain cell!” She took the can of spraypaint from Xan. She uncapped the can. “You did good, ranger. Thank you.”

And then she held the can up and aimed it at Nut and Xan.

Nut, panicked, threw his hands in the air in surrender, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation of being painted. Well, he was doing his best tree impression — if he were green, it would be even more convincing.

But the spray didn’t come, and Nut peeked open an eye. She was looking at the label of the paint. “I bet you bought it online ‘cause all the store owners would think you’re gonna go and huff it.”

Nut slowly lowered his arms, laughing softly. “Like Sharpies?” he asked. The art teacher had told his third grade class not to sniff those too hard or they’d get you high. Nut’d been scared to use permanent markers for too long after that incident. “Those could collapse your lungs. The fumes,” he spouted. “And mess up your brain, too. Drugs, too. Drugs are no fun. Not cool. They make you lose your teeth and rot out your liver and shit like that. Not cool.”

Was a Sharpie and/or a bucket of paint drug paraphernalia? No, but Nut was on his righteous tangent, too caught up in spreading the word about the uncoolness of drugs to realize how little those correlated.

Xan slipped his backpack over his back again. “Anywho,” he said with a smile, “Chris is fun, but we don’t need a chaperone.”

"No, you do,” she said assertively.

Nut chuckled. “Uh…” He rubbed his neck with one hand and shook his can with the other. “Uh…I’m…fine with her…?” He gave her a sheepish smile. She was a pretty girl, y’know. Like, really pretty. “Good with her, I mean. Yeah, she…c’mon, join us.”

He was the picture of sauvé, wasn’t he just?

They started back down the sidewalk, and Xan began to speak. “So we’re gonna go spray painting. There’s this really like…kinda rude church over on First that I was like ‘welp, gotta add that to my tag list,’ ya know? But ah…I think I’ll save that place for another day. Need something easier for ol’ Nutella here since it’s his first time breaking the law.”

When he was referenced, Nut gave Chris a little wave to show yep, that’s my name.

“I was thinking maybe going down to Ambridge. Lotta old buildings down there that no one keeps an eye on, ya know? That’d be a great place to show ol’ Nutella the ropes first.”

Again, a wave at his name. He was focused more on swooning over Chris than comprehending Xan’s words.

“Oh, oh, oh! Or the train tracks. Yeah, everyone does graffiti on train cars, ya know. Plus then the whole world gets to see them. Or, well, the country.”

Chris looked over to Nut and grinned widely. “Big Nut’s very first time, eh?” she asked, giving his shoulder a nudge. Nut looked away, cracking a smile. He could feel his ears heating up, and he laughed somewhat nervously. “Uh, yeah,” he answered. “I, uh…delinquent time!” He tried to sound enthused, but it came out all weird.

“The railyard’ll be great,” she said.

“Yeah,” Nut agreed, not really registering what she was talking about.

“It’s the best place to train anyone, in my opinion.”

Nut smiled brightly, looking over to Chris again. “Uh-hu—“

And then: “Huh?” He blinked a couple of times, his smile fading slightly. “Uh…wait, shit, railyard?”

He lived near there.

“We’re…we’re going to paint trains?” Which meant that everyone would see Nut’s delinquency. It’d be displayed to people all across the world. “You’re…”

But Chris and Xan thought it was a good idea.

And Nut…well, these were potential Nut friends — the first potential Nut friends.

So Nut gave a soft sigh and pulled on his smile again. “On,” he finished. “You’re on!”

"But,” Chris said, “just so we're clear, if anything feels off, we're turning right back. Understand?" She raised an eyebrow, and she looked to Nut, her face serious.

Nut averted his eyes again, trying to hold back his blush and nodding. “Uh-huh. Got it.”

But he wasn’t gonna feel off. He wasn’t gonna let Xan and Chris down.

Spraypainting, here they came.

• • • • •​

Ambridge was familiar. At least it had that going for it. Its run-down, crumbling buildings and crackhouses were really what made it home.

Nut hopped over another crack in the sidewalk, and the can shoved into his back pocket gave a rattle.

He’d focused on this or that on the way over. He’d picked up a weed, tried to identify what kind it was only to realize that he only knew the name of dandelions; he’d tried to figure out where a cut on his hand came from (and he’d ended up giving up on that one); and for the past five or so minutes, he’d worked on stepping over the cracks, trying to get his strides juuuust right so that he only took one step per block. Nut turned out to be the master at that.

But now, they were coming up to the railyard, which was just two blocks down from his house, and Nut’s throat was drying. His heart was beating in his throat, and his fingers started to shake nervously.

We’re gonna get caught. We’re so gonna get caught.

What if his mom saw him passing by their window? Like, they hadn’t walked by his rundown apartment building, but…still, what if? Or what if his dad was on a smoke break and decided to walk away from the dollar store and come back home, but then he also saw Nut?

His dad was the scarier one of the two.

We’re gonna get caught.

He could piss himself right now.

He looked over at Xan, and then at Chris, and then he stepped over a beam on the ground, and then he stopped. He looked up, followed the cracked pavement all the way up to a rusty, abandoned car.

“We’re, uh…here,” he announced small-ly, as though they couldn’t tell. “At the railyard. Heh.”

Shit.

mood
shit

location
the railyard

outfit
something

playing...
monster (under my bed)

by call me karizma​

mentions
n/a

interactions
xander & chris

tags
Winona hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Lost Boys

Xander

Man, Nut was funny, but Xander was pretty sure that Chris was gonna give the kid a heart attack. He could see it in the constant worried look on Nut's face, although Nut seemed to always look like that, so eh. Maybe he was just reading too much into it -- plus, reading too much into it would mean that he'd be more likely to change up what they were planning to do to make Nut a little more comfortable, and he was excited for this.

The walk to Ambridge was long and felt as if it took forever, and then weaving through all of the not too familiar streets, until they eventually arrived at the somewhat familiar railyard. Xander hopped over beams, bounced across rails, even balanced along a rickety tube on their way to the best abandoned car.

Everything was more fun if you made a game out of it.

Eventually, as he hopped off of the tube he'd been walking across (okay, you got him, maybe he kind of fell off and landed rather unevenly), he hurried to rejoin his cousin and new bestie as they stood in front of an old, rusty, clearly abandoned railcar. Well, it wasn't something that would ever see the whole country, but it was a good one to start learning on for Mr. Nutella, so it would do. After all, you never wanted your first attempt to be the one showcased for everyone.

"Alright," he said as he shrugged off his backpack and dropped it to the dusty ground by his feet. He shook the can of teal spray paint and popped off the cap. "Listen up, Nut, I'm gonna give you the rundown, alright?" He explained as he held up the can of spray point. He pointed towards the thing that the paint came out of. "Make sure that's turned away from your face, 'cause one time I accidentally sprayed my face and I was coughing and spitting pink for a solid week. Even was sneezing it up for longer, but we don't really talk about that."

And yes, he'd gone to the hospital. Yes, he'd been fine. Clearly. No, he wasn't embarrassed.

"So you're gonna point it away from you and usually I cover my mouth 'cause you kinda get a headache if you breathe in too many fumes, so make sure you took breaks. Oh, and shake the can first," he finished explaining as he shook up the can of teal paint and started towards the car, "and just paint whatever your little nut-shaped heart feels, buddy."

As he made it to the car, he didn't actually cover his mouth -- sure, sometimes he did, but eh. It was more badass looking if he wasn't covering his face up, ya know? And then, he started drawing lines, making art.

By art, it was just a giant teal X -- for his name, obviously. Nothing too fancy, but he was just giving a demonstration for Nut right now and, as he finished his half-hearted X, he dropped his hand to his side. His finger was now dyed with the teal color, but that was nothing new to the consistently stained boy.

He smiled over at Nut and Chris, waiting to see what they did.

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Nut, Chris | tags: ditto hery |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

Lola sighed heavily hearing his response, "Fucking useless." Of fucking course he wasn't listening to the announcements either. Truth be told what annoying goodie two shoes do on the regular? It wasn't really something she should fault him for since she wasn't either and most people weren't. However her irritated mood wouldn't let her make that distinction so here she was damn near glaring at him for not knowing the answer to something that had absolutely nothing to do with him. No someone deserved this look but it wasn't Caleb.

To top it off he called her Sis. Gross. Did Link even call her that? She was pretty sure he has at least once or twice, but she couldn't really think of a need. If he was calling out to her he usually used her name or on occasion a nickname to tease or get under her skin. If he was talking directly to her like Caleb was doing now he didn't add it because there wasn't a need. She didn't need to be reminded she was his sister after all, so she couldn't help her face from scrunching up for a moment when the word left his lips. It left a weird taste in her mind.

It's not like it was a lie or anything, but it was just...weird. She still found it extremely difficult to mentally connect ad accept she had other siblings outside of Link now. It's partially why shouldn't bring herself to care about them even a fraction as much as she did Link. 99% of the time she didn't even register them as being real. She didn't acknowledge them as sibling or family, or anything. Only in the moments like these where Caleb was standing in front of her pointing it out did it sink in even a little. Even at that it would fade the moment he left her sight. She wasn't sure what would fix this, but it's not like she wanted to fix it. Why should she?

Through gritted teeth she had it in her right mind to just turn and walk away from him right now. Why? Because he was literally just staring at her now.

He just stared at her for a moment and she wondered if she'd broken him or something by asking a question, jeez. Note to self don't do that anymore. Or rather maybe she should do it more often! Maybe add in some bigger words and really stump him. Maybe make a game of how long it'd take him come back to reality. Or while he's figuring out how words work she could slip away from him. Perfect escape plan!

Too bad as soon as the thought popped into her mind he was back to talking...great.

And boy did he talk. She suddenly hated herself for even asking because she did not give a single fuck about a word that came from his lips to explain himself. She honestly zoned out about half way through, just waiting for a long enough lull to nod her head hoping to speed it along. The opening of the box was the only draw of her attention. God did that smell good. She liked food ok, and right now she was getting hungrier and hungrier by the moment because it was right fucking there. Like Right there. Like if if they were two random people on the street she'd have swiped it and ran by now. considering he was an athlete she wasn't sure if she'd get away, that was more Links thing.

Did he just say something about her knowing he likes pizza? She had no idea what this Neanderthal liked or didn't like. That would imply she actually paid any attention to him and if she did pay any attention she committed any of it to memory. She would just as soon forget this very interaction once she's been set free to walk away from it. Especially since as far as she's concerned she has gained nothing from this interaction but a slightly bigger hunger headache.

Her cheeks instantly flushed bright red at his question as she looked away from him and folded her arms, "Fuck off, so what if I haven't? It's not the first and it won't be the last. But I'll be fine." How did he even know? Was it her stomach growl earlier? Did he actually notice that. Stupid fucking body. She was no stranger to skipping meals, and some old habits die hard. Sometimes she forgot she technically had money she could spend now whenever she wanted for damn near whatever she wanted. She usually was so focused on saving and storing it that she forgot she could use it now AND later.

Despite everything in her body screaming for her to take his offer, her pride was still bigger, "Look I don't need your charity or your pity." She huffed. "You just said you needed to eat a lot or whatever, and you got it, so you don't have to bother with trying to feed me." She sighed, "I'll figure something out." She always did why would today be any different? Plus she had no napkin or whatever and people talked about about her and her peers without adding eating like a pig to it. "I don't even have anything to eat it over so, just stuff your face and let me be." God did his constantly smiling dopy face irritate her. She didn't know why but it did. Maybe because deep down she didn't hate it as much as she wished she did. It was the only reason she hadn't just walked away from him mid talking. It was the only semblance of respect she could give him.

Plus she figured sooner or later he'd be tired of the way Lola and Link treated him and he'd treat them just like everyone else so there was no need in holding her breathe for better. Everyone turned eventually, it was the nature of people.

Lola B.

"Breakaway"

Mood: Hangry (hungry +angry)
Location: School Locker
Outfit: Yup she's that type
Interactions: Caleb ( natsukashii )
Mentions: Link

coded by incandescent

 

[hery]

the grass is always greener

Edwin Jarvis

Auburn Springs

Ed had tried to ignore when Ian called him a baby, which already should have been an easy insult to shrug off considering who it was coming from, but it still struck a nerve. Of all the nasty, demeaning insults slung at him over the years, he despised being infantilized the most. It awoke the slumbering dragon within that was his sense of inadequacy indirectly spurred by (although he'd never admit it) his older brother and exacerbated by his cousin.

At least, that's what somebody told him once, but he couldn't be bothered to remember who said it considering how entirely fucking stupid the idea was. Ed was better than his brothers. He'd be older, taller, and stronger one day, and all his critics and the lowlifes who looked down upon him like dirt on their heel would change their minds. People like Val, who had a fond keenness for joking about his adoption.

The fucking irony of it made Ed want to laugh and cry. Like he'd ever even dream of sharing the genes of his cruel, insufferable family. Yet somehow, that's all everybody thought he wanted.

Because it was. Just a little.

“I think they’re hot. Val’s hoooot. And Mason’s hot. I mean, I’m hotter than him, but that’s okay ‘cuz I’m hotter than basically everyone. Except Elvis Presley. But Mason’s still hot. Hotter than you. You’re jealous, McGlock, hahaha.”

Ed shot his friend a menacing glare, then shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Like hell I am." The very thought of wanting to be anybody other than himself was repulsive. He knew better than to idealize over dipshits who had already seemed to hit their peak in high school. Further, he knew better than to think for a second that Valerie Flores was anything beyond hideous. He could hardly stand the mention of the banshee's name, no less Ian fantasizing over her fucking tits while they roamed the halls.

"You okay, bro?”

"Peachy."

He made no effort to slow his pace for the marginally shorter boy behind him, maintaining a moody pout that resisted Ian's pestering. He tensed upon being elbowed, but didn't deem the miniscule act of stupidity egregious enough to react to. Instead, he moved forward in compensating his friend with a soda.

He punched in the numbers on the vending machine and slipped in a bill, promptly retrieving his change and a cola. He repeated the act for Ian's soda, hesitating a movement due to how undeserving of a reward he really was. He still relinquished the drink, but he didn't like the feeling. If that wasn't enough, all of his rambling about attractiveness or whatever gave Ed the sudden urge to shake up his soda and spray it into the chattering boy's ear.

And that was just what he'd have done if it wasn't for the imminent stupefaction that would fall upon him. “Oh shit — shit, bro, I know,” Ian said, somehow completely unaware of how much he was being tuned out. He then leaned in, whispering softly into Ed's ear. The message's recipient shuddered thanks to the warm tickle of his breath. “It’s because you got a crush on her, isn’t it?”

What the fuck!?

"No, you moron!" he exclaimed, following up with a forceful shove away from his ear. He knew Ian was stupid and he especially enjoyed pissing Ed off, but to be so off the mark... Who did that? Not often had he found himself truly upset over the other boy's words, but it irritated him to no end to listen to the source of his dismay be treated so flippantly. Not everything was some fucking joke, and yet every time Ed opened his mouth, people started laughing.

It was frustrating, and there was no winning in an uphill battle like that. "I hate her! I told you I hate her!" he whined, throwing his hands up in the air. He froze in place, staring straight into Ian's eyes in search of any trace of higher cognitive function. "She can go crawl into Sam's hole and die!" He let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair and slamming his back into the wall. He glared at staring passerby, nonverbally shouting to mind their own business.

"I wanna fuck some shit up. Think there's easy access to bats around here? Let's bang up that stupid fucking Barbiemobile of hers. Bet she'd finally get a grip after that." She needed to learn. She needed to fucking pay for making him feel like shit and going about her life like she was shit. What a sad life that hollow high school bully led. She wasn't even Barbie. She was Chucky. Or Annabelle's sweaty doll armpits.

He cracked his knuckles, itching to release his bolstering rage.

| mood: angry!!!! | outfit: clothes | location: school | mentions: Val, Syd, Mason| interactions: Ian | tags: ditto |

 

[hery]

fluent in buzzkill

Theodore Virtanen

Ambridge

Theo looked to his left, to his right, straight at Donna, and down at the remains of his cigarette. He could have just left. There was nothing stopping him (and Donna certainly wouldn't) from standing up, saying nothing, and putting one foot in front of the other until he was anywhere but there. He didn't even have to go to class. He could simply have been anywhere at that given moment.

Even so, a force stronger than gravity glued him to the ground. He sat with listless patience, taking in everything the boy across from him had to say as though it was a game to see how long he could maintain his cool composure. In a way, it did feel easy just listening, failing to offer any real resistance to Donna's words. Either Theo was beginning to agree or there wasn't a point in arguing, but which was more true didn't particularly matter. Just talking at each other was almost mind-numbingly simple to the point of comfort.

“It’s easier…” So he still cared enough to judge some things as harder than others. That presumption alone unmasked a sliver of the aloof boy's humanity, which held on for dear life. “To cope when you have help coping. At first, I didn’t know what to do either…but I found my way.”

Drugs? Was that all he did?

"You still seem lost. Not scared, but still lost. Can you call that finding your way?"

“Abandon,” he continued. “That’s what they call it — living with abandon.” He ripped open his plastic bag, then unflinchingly downed several little, white pills. Theo couldn't help but grimace, contemplating all that brought the lanky drug-user to where he was today. Surely it had to have been more substantial than expectations not met and a talk or two with the cool kids. People were driven by more than that. At least, they were supposed to be.

“It’s easier not to give a shit when you use…something. Drugs are my choice. They’ll give you shaking hands or sore throats or raw noses or headaches, but everything becomes easier to understand, too. It becomes…simple. Black and white. You can see the way that things are and…feel…nothing towards it.”

He didn't seem to be selling the idea, not that Theo was in the business of buying or even asking for an offering. It was difficult to latch on to any of Donna's words with the sight of such nonchalant misuse of prescription pills burned into his head, something of which he'd have typically scorned. When he swallowed them, it almost appeared disturbingly natural, and it took a moment before Theo blinked in surprise.

"Self-medication seldom ends well," he advised with complete knowledge that it would fall upon deaf ears. He pointed to the bag, mild concern the only hint of emotion crossing his face. "Although I am sure you know that."

It was a little quieter for a moment. He hadn't considered the twisted depth of his words until they'd left his lips. "I can see the appeal—of the nothingness. But surely it must get boring? Even in a crisis such as mine, I still have the desire to do something. Have you never?"

There was hardly any time to process it before the bag was slipped away. The blonde boy's focus moved back to the monotone words being spoken to him, which were simultaneously a cry for help and a shout to get away. Donna continued on, but the rest of his self-imposed drug policy didn't come as much of a shock. Theo gave off a mix of skepticism and morbid interest, his subdued aura only shifting for the boy's final thought.

“We’re all buying time until we die.”

He blinked once more, this time with far more alarm than he'd exhibited at the sight of the pills. Donna was wasting away, shirking his life while facing toward only death. Theo knew he couldn't allow himself to fall into that trap, fabricating such a mundane existence despite a shrieking void of despair clutching him by the heel at every waking moment. Things weren't how he wanted them, but he had no intention of rewriting his entire life just to sit and wallow in bitterness for the world.

There had to be something he could do. Of course, nobody else—especially Donna— could ever provide that answer, but he had to look at that. There was futility in staying the same, but not in change, no matter how hopeless.

Theo liked to tell himself that, but the side of him that found Donna's nihilism appealing was overpowering. No amount of existentialist literature had prepared him for this set of realizations he was bound to eventually encounter, but solely because Donna had introduced him to it he should adopt all of his philosophy? The very thought itself was absurd, and not the kind defined by Camus.

"I hear you, and I respectfully disagree," he finally answered, leaving it at that. He couldn't explain why he disagreed, which made his heart sink a little, but nonetheless he rejected Donna's claims. He stood up, allowing the frigid wind to whip him across the face. "I need water. You do too. We need to do something."

He was beginning to feel restless—antsy, even. "There is no use sitting around now. What meaning is there in feeling nothing toward what you see if all you are seeing is the same thing every day?" he proposed, his eye twitching as a gust of wind threw his hair into disarray, flopping onto his face, "Perhaps a change of scenery could be beneficial."

| mood: existential crisis...?| outfit: clothes | location: school | mentions: n/a| interactions: DC | tags: ditto |

 

[ditto]

IAN HANSEN

"No, you moron!" Ed exclaimed, and he gave Ian a harsh shove, which caused the boy to let out a quiet yelp and stumble a couple of steps away. He held his side, wincing and frowning for a second before a grin spread across his lips.

It looked like that really pissed Ed off, and that translated in the messy-haired boy’s head to, Keep saying that.

“I think you dooo,” he sang in his soft voice as he grabbed his soda, and then he laughed. “You’re in love with Valerie Floors!” he said. (It was Flores.) “Valer-rie and Ed-win, sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n—“

“I hate her!” Ed threw his hands in the air, and Ian flinched. “I told you I hate her!” He lowered, meeting Ian’s eyes. The cargo-panted boy shrunk back slightly, the smile fading quickly from his face beneath the other boy’s scathing glare. “She can go crawl into Sam’s hole and die!”

“Sam’s…hole…?” Who was Sam again?

Ed groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Wearing an angry gaze, he flopped back against the wall.

Aight, so here were Ian’s findings: Ed hated Val. Like, really, really, really hated the girl. Like, apparently go die bad or som’n’? Yeah, seriously. No, like, trust Ian and his instincts; he was 94% sure he was right right now.

But, like…why? Why go die bad? She was, like, mega-mega-megahot. Mega-mega-megahot people got a pass for being bitches because, duh, mega-mega-megahot people were mega-mega-megahot. Did Ed not get it?

Ian offered his condolences in his soft voice regardless: “Sorry, bro.”

“I wanna fuck some shit up,” Ed said, glaring at some passersby. “Think there's easy access to bats around here?”

Ian’s mind immediately went to the place that any normal person’s mind would go when they heard that a guy who brought a glock to McDonald’s wanted a bat: they were about to do something probably illegal to the rich bitch with an army of lawyers. He didn’t know, but it had to be something illegal — or at least something bad enough that they’d be slaughtered for it. His blue eyes widened, and his heart pattered in fear. “Y-you wanna…” He swallowed hard.

He was a bad boy, but, uh, uh, not the criminal kind? Like…like…like, he wasn’t ready to be a criminal accomplice just yet — Linda would kill him.

He shook his head. “W-what do you mean?” he asked to clarify. “W-what are we gonna do with them?

“Let's bang up that stupid fucking Barbiemobile of hers. Bet she'd finally get a grip after that." Ed cracked his knuckles.

He was serious, which meant, for once, Ian’s instincts were correct.

“Uh…”

Ian was gonna die.

He was gonna die if he said yes to Ed, ‘cuz Val would rip his balls off or something, or if he said no ,’cuz he’d get strangled and/or beaten to a bloody pulp on the ground — or worse, he’d have his pinkies snapped.

He liked his hands.

He really, really, really liked his hands.

He looked down at his free palm, then turned his hand over to admire it, perhaps for the last time. He swallowed again, and then looked over at Ed. Laughing sheepishly, Ian gripped the tab and cracked the can of soda open, then took a long guzzle from it. He let out a soft burp, and then drew in a deep breath, and he said to Ed, “I…uh…I guess that they’d have…bats in the gym?”

Wait.

Wait, no.

“But there’s — there’s no way we can go in there without getting caught,” he said quickly. He shook his head to emphasize the point, and then he took another sip from his can. “The, uh…" He rolled his eyes, trying to continue more confidently than before. "They’re are probably in there lifting weights, and when they see us, they’re gonna be like, ‘Get us water.’ And then we’re gonna be, uh…we’re gonna be stuck on water duty all day,” he warned, like that threat existed. “Or — or worse, Coach’ll make us join in there with them,” he added. “Not that I couldn’t handle it, but…” He laughed. “Pshhh. I think you’d be squished like a bug.”

He flinched preemptively, taking a step back, and then he quickly brought his can up for a swig. He swallowed the sip hard, squeezing his eyes shut, and then he looked at Ed again. “Can’t we just do something else instead?” he suggested. “Like…uh…I dunno…like…break into her locker and look in it or something?” But that wasn’t fucking shit up, so he tacked on another suggestion: “And then, like, punch it afterward?” As his question came to a close, he smiled hopefully.

Because he reaaaaally hoped Ed took his suggestion and didn’t pull him along to do something that’d get him murdered.

He really wanted to be able to watch tonight’s rerun of Deal or No Deal.

mood
hahahahahahahaha Im going to be killed please someone help thIS ISNT A JOKE MAYDAY MAYDAY

location
the vending machine hahahahaaa

outfit
hahahaaa this probably violates dress code but i dont give a fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck hahahaaa

playing...
rebels

by call me karizma​

mentions
val

interactions
ed

tags
hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

DONNA CAIN CAMUS

The air was quiet for a long moment after Donna spoke. Birds twittered in the distance. Somewhere on the road, an engine revved. Donna breathe in from the cigarette in his hand, flicking the ash off as he slowly breathed out the heavy, curling cloud of smoke. It snaked from his lips, dissipating into nothing as it climbed higher. It never quite reached the bar above his head, though its spindly fingers always tried to reach for it.

There was a metaphor in there somewhere, but it was lost on the dark-haired, drug-shoved addict, failed to show itself to his dull, empty, blue eyes; he was too focused on watching the smoke disappear. There was something fascinating about it, how it became nothing from the strong form it held. Even if he knew the scientific explanation (which he certainly didn’t), watching it happen, over and over and over again, was still somewhat mesmerizing.

“I hear you —“ Theo’s voice broke the silence, and Donna looked over at him. “— and I respectfully disagree.”

For some reason, Donna didn’t quite believe him, but rather than speak, he took another inhale from his cancer stick.

Theo stood up. “I need water,” he said. “You do too.”

“I don’t,” Donna responded.

But Theo insisted, “We need to do something.”

“We…?” He raised an eyebrow — a rare shift of expression in the boy who seemed almost entirely devoid of emotion.

“There is no use sitting around now.”

“There’s no use going anywhere, either.” It wasn’t meant as a retort, merely as a statement; he saw no point in moving, or sitting, or going to class, or skipping it, or staying home, or playing sick, or growing up to be the head of a multimillion dollar company, or dying with two cents and a needle in his arm in a ditch, or laughing, or crying, or breathing, or blinking, or really even existing.

“What meaning is there in feeling nothing toward what you see if all you are seeing is the same thing every day?” The other boy’s eye twitched as the wind blew his hair into his face; Donna flicked ash from his cigarette. “Perhaps a change of scenery could be beneficial.”

Moving as unhurriedly as ever, Donna pressed his back against the cold metal of the bleachers’ support beam, pushing his feet further down in the gravel. His white tennis shoes, already a shade of brown from about a year of mistreatment, became spotted with wet sand. He pulled his feet back, staring at the grains that stuck to the canvas and narrowing his eyes. Then, finally, he asked, “What do you suggest, then?”

He looked up at Theo. Though he was asking a question, there wasn’t a hint of curiosity in his face — or any emotion, really. His face was as stern and stoic as ever, and his eyes as dead as always. “Are you saying that driving into a city will…manifest some sort of purpose, like it’s magic?”

He dropped his cigarette to the gravel, stomping it out with the sole of his shoe. There were other short cigarettes, smoked almost to the butt, scattered throughout the gravel. Some kid stuck with detention or in school suspension would come out here and pick it up in a few months, bitch about being forced to clean other people’s shit up, and throw it into a garbage bag. The garbage back would be tossed into the dumpster, which would be emptied into a garbage truck, which would go to the incinerator, and it’d be burned to ash along with other pieces of trash produced by homeless people and soccer moms and strippers and priests alike. And then afterwards, it blow off into the wind, a speck to be flicked off and never find a place to rest, or it’d be taken to a landfill to rot away for the rest of eternity, for people to look at and say to it that it was ruining the world and the environment and the scenery, though it really had no choice in coming here.

Its existence was as pointless and as aimless as his own; he was doomed to the same meaningless end, and the answer to his existential question was the meaningless drabble: there is no point, there is no reason, there is no rhyme, and there is no fighting it.

“Would everything have aim if we drove north until we hit the ocean?” he asked. “When we reached the beach, would there be any more aim to anything? What’d come from it?”

He pushed off of the concrete anchor, and he stared at the beam across from him. Without anything to occupy his hands, Donna let his arms fall by his sides. “When you go somewhere else.” he said, “you’re still the same person. The world doesn’t change because you move around on it, and you don’t change in it just because you decide to go someplace new. Someplace else might be more interesting. It might have more things to explore. More things to do. More ways to distract yourself, to play like things have a reason to them. But you can’t ever find a purpose. Maybe something temporary, like the…” He trailed off, then continued. “Like the want to explore a location, or the want to win some kind of game, but in the end, what are you doing but wasting your time?”

He looked at Theo. “If you insist,” he said, “I’ll go along with you. I’ve got a truck — we can go anywhere you’d like. But anyplace we go will have just as point as the next; it won’t have any.”

mood
high & ...?

location
beneath the bleachers

outfit
sweatshirt & sweatpants

playing...
fuck up

by gabriel black​

mentions
n/a

interactions
theo

tags
hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Stardust Galaxy]

Prim wondered why she mentioned to Natalie about her family situation, it wasn't like it was a secret she was sure that people still know about her father and the really gossipy people in Auburn Springs would still likely remember her father cheating on her mother after all her parents make sure to be part of every society that could exist in Auburn Springs just to be known around and being part of the society of the city. Look how that turned out, but it was pretty obvious that Prim was a complete stranger to Natalie just like she was to her, and still, she decided to mentioned something about her family, something personal and one thing for sure Prim didn't want to get personal with this girl or anyone in Auburn Springs she closed the chapter of her life here she was just stuck here again by bad luck and her terrible decisions but let's keep it at only her bad luck.

Was it because old habits die hard and even if she thought that she had mastered the art of not giving a fuck about anyone else that wasn't her, she somehow went to her old ways of trying to sympathize with someone else and her way to doing it, in this case, was to mention about her half-siblings, something that Natalie wasn't supposed to know but that Prim blurted out in a way to make the blonde girl feel a little bit better knowing that she most likely had the spawn of the devil as her stepsister although Natalie was most likely be the spawn of the devil too, so maybe both of them complimented and deserve the other, either way, it was fucking ridiculous that she was thinking about this.

"Of course there are spots," Natalie responded. "Well, maybe there aren't. But I suppose that I could pull a few strings and make sure that you make it onto the team." The amount of energy it took for Prim so she wouldn't roll her eyes from annoyance was quite astronomical, first, the blonde was telling her that the only club that mattered was the cheerleading squad because it was the last one were supposedly the students from Ambridge wasn't part of it and now she was acting as if she was making her a favor to help her make the cheerleading squad, Natalie really needed to get her priorities checked, but Prim was pretty sure the one that was making the favor to join her little club was her like she even cared about cheering for a bunch of idiots that only run across a field with a ball on their hands, maybe she should really just step down and hope that eventually, an Ambridge girl would eventually join just to ruin Natalie's socialite that was the cheerleaders, she would really love to see her face.

"I can speak with Mercedes about it. She's my friend, also on the cheer team. Decent enough cheerleader, but she's far too peppy and happy all the time." Natalie added, the mention of the girl's name made her blood turn cold, it couldn't be the same Mercedes, right? Not the same girl that she used to see as a younger sister when she was a child, the same girl that was the little sister of the guy that once she called best friend "DC let's be friends forever" she remembered saying once and it was pretty obvious that didn't age well, "Sounds like she really embodies the school spirit" She said trying to keep her composure, she wouldn't allow her past to drag her present, she was done with those friendships.

As the small tour around school continued the announcement of what they supposedly were the people running for what they said was homecoming, great she just arrived in time just to see people trying to win a plastic crown and where humans were supposed to be dominant species? When you had morons depending their life on a piece of cheap plastic and a stupid slow song while the rest saw them as a bunch of idiots, that's when the announcer said the last two pairs in which out those four people she could only recognize one name, and it was the one of Chelsea Freud, did the asshole of CK was running as homecoming king or whatever title winning a stupid dance it gave you, out of everyone it needed to be that full of himself ass which thought the world revolved around him, who believe that he was above everyone else and let's not forget that he was an asshole towards DC just because the older one was the supposedly golden boy, and the younger one was never good enough, if only he knew outside of Auburn Springs he was just a nobody.

And once again she didn't care about DC or anyone else, she just had a hate relationship towards CK since she was a child, not like it was known to the public because the whole acting perfect didn't allow her, but that didn't stop her of thinking of wanting to crush his hand with the wheel of her bike when she was a kid, she wasn't sure if she was shocked of knowing that the guy cared about this kind of nonsense or if people in this school were brainwashed in order to believe that CK was actually a good option, she really needed to get out of that school and from that city as soon as possible.

Something that caught her attention was also the reaction of everyone else at the announcement of the last two couples.

"Let me guess, that whole homecoming thing is like super important here and now you have two idiots, sorry let me rephrase that" she stopped herself for a second.

The two most popular from Auburn Springs and two from Ambridge competing for that plastic crown as if their lives depended on it and the pride and honor of the school is on danger because of the Ambridge students running for homecoming, what a tragedy"

Location: hallway | Mood: this is getting worse
Outift: Here | Interactions: Nat ( Winona )

Primrose Wright

Code by Stardust Galaxy​

 

[hery]

responsibly impulsive

Chris Harris

Ambridge

Chris had to force herself to stifle just about six counts of laughter on the way to the trainyard thanks to Nut's outlandish mannerisms. She stared at him blankly for a moment too long as he expressed the dangers of Sharpie fumes, waiting for an ironic punchline that would never come. How the poor kid got wrapped up in Xander's antics, she didn't know.

It was charming in a way, though. It wasn't hard to tell that he was well-meaning and, as thanks, Chris sent him a grateful smile once she had his definitive permission to tag along. Before long, her genuine smile became held up by tape and safety pins, especially in response to his odd pride at the nickname "Nutella", as though "Nut" wasn't already stretching it. Don't get her wrong—she dug the quirky authenticity of his name, but he could have carried it with a less pathetic confidence.

On the trek to their destination, a peculiar revelation seemed to dawn on Nut. “We’re…we’re going to paint trains? You’re…” There was a pause. What happened? “On,” he finished. “You’re on!”

Chris cracked an amused grin at his weirdness, laughing softly. He was way too excited about this. "Well, it's a trainyard, and we're not painting the yard." She shook her head disbelievingly. If this what it was like to have a younger sibling, Chris wasn't so sure what Ophelia was always complaining about. "Somebody has to tag all the train cars around here."

She could hardly contain her excitement as they arrived at the railyard, the day's blank canvas. Xan's explanation seemed to go on for hours as he droned on about whatever stupid, easily-avoidable mistakes he made in the past. None of it mattered. Chris was there, and she had enough common sense to keep the three of them from having any later regrets.

Keeping a moderate distance from the two boys, Chris shook her can of spray paint, relishing every moment of sweet, sweet ASMR from the ball inside. Once the paint can was properly primed for action, she peered over at Xander's handiwork and instantly rolled her eyes. "An 'X'? Why don't you go ahead and stick your social and home address on there too?"

Now motivated by her playful, sarcastic teasing, she proceeded with her own design. Opting for a facetiously historical angle, the eccentric artist sprayed an olive green depiction of Kilroy onto the train car, adding on bags and a sharp side part covering his left eye. She added an arm of his throwing up a sign of the horns, then topped it off with "Kilroy was here, I guess" to complete the look: Emo Kilroy.

Dorky and edgy. Still got it.

Once she was done, she got behind Nut to check on his progress. It seemed his lesson was just finished up, and she couldn't deny how curious she was to see what he'd pick. "Pro tip: don't think too hard about what you wanna do. Just spray and see what you end up with," she advised the younger boy, gingerly guiding his hand holding the spray paint. She shook it a bit with him, then held his finger onto the top to initiate a spray of orange on the train car. She then slowly removed her hand from his, allowing him the space and freedom needed to achieve great artistic feats.

"Who knows? Maybe you'll end up with a signature you like." She pointed back at her own work, which looked like a doodle on the margin of a freshman's math notes. "Or, if you're like me, your signature is having no signature." She smirked at Xander, remembering with great fondness all the masterpieces she'd concocted on various modes over the years. Her cousins' arms made great Sharpie canvases.

"Isn't that right, Xan Man? You still interested in a Chris-designed back tattoo?"

| mood: artiste | outfit: clothes | location: railyard | mentions: Oph, Darcy| interactions: Xan, Nut | tags: ditto Winona |

 

[ditto]

KATEE NAUSBAUM

"Alright," Xan said, shrugging off his backpack and dropping it by his feet. A cloud of dust poofed around the bag as it fell to the ground. He shook his can of paint and popped off the cap, then turned to Nut, who looked back at him with wide eyes.

Nut’s heart pattered nervously in his chest. He mustered a smile, repeating Xan: “Alright.”

He didn’t feel alright. He felt like he was betraying everything he stood for. But, swallowing hard, he reminded himself that this was for friendship.

Friendship, something he’d never really had before.

“Listen up, Nut,” Xan said, “I’m gonna give you the rundown, alright?" He held up the can of spray paint and pointed towards the spout. "Make sure that's turned away from your face, 'cause one time I accidentally sprayed my face and I was coughing and spitting pink for a solid week. Even was sneezing it up for longer, but we don't really talk about that."

Nut blinked, then laughed nervously. “Spray…away…from my face.”

He couldn’t do this.

"So you're gonna point it away from you and usually I cover my mouth 'cause you kinda get a headache if you breathe in too many fumes, so make sure you took breaks. Oh, and shake the can first.” Xan shook up the can of teal paint and started towards the car. “And just paint whatever your little nut-shaped heart feels, buddy."

When the other boy reached the car, Nut stared at him, watching with his prudish heart beating in his throat. Oh no, oh no. He glanced around. There was no one around, but oh no, they were going to get caught. He could just feel it. When you did bad things, someone always came along and saw it. That was how the world worked.

Maybe if he went now and turned them in himself, he would get off easier. He could just run and tell the cops and they’d be like, ”Thanks for telling us, Nut.” And he’d get off scott-free. Or — or, or something, right?

But then, Xan started spraying, and Nut had that pit of dread just open up in his stomach.

Just this kinda knowingness that it was too late. He was too far in to back down.

Xan turned around once he’d completed an X, smiling, and Nut could hardly muster a smile back.

Nut turned his can around in his clammy hands, swallowing hard.

He was gonna have to do something like that, too.

“An ‘X’?” Chris asked. Nut looked up at her. “Why don't you go ahead and stick your social and home address on there too?"

A nervous laugh bubbled from Nut. “I-I think it’s great,” he lied, giving Xan a shaky thumbs up. “Very nice letter.”

Chris took a step forward, shaking her can and beginning to spraypaint something that looked like something that Nut’d seen in history class once, featuring eyebags, bangs over one eye, and the rock and roll hand. She added, ”Kilroy was here, I guess,” and then looked back at Nut.

He swallowed hard. “Good job!” he said encouragingly.

I can’t do that.

There was no way he could do that.

As he took a couple of steps towards the train car, Nut felt his heart beating erratically in his chest. He lifted the can, but only ended up staring blankly at the metal canvas. He felt as though he was looking down the barrel of a rifle.

He couldn’t do it.

His hands shook wildly as he poised it up to paint, quivering so much that he could hear the ball bouncing against the inside of the can.

He was a good boy. You know, the kind with no office record besides that one time in Kindergarten when he’d drawn on the walls. The teacher’s pet, even if he was failing most of his classes. The narc. The snitch.

Yet he was here.

He swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath.

And he stared for a few more seconds.

He was going to get caught. This was going to go on his record. It was going to be all over. This was it.

"Pro tip: don't think too hard about what you wanna do,” Chris said, and her voice cutting in made him jump in surprise. He looked back at her, wide-eyed, his heart catching in his throat again. “Just spray and see what you end up with.” She walked over, and she put her hand around the one that held the spraypaint.

And his heart caught in his throat for a different reason.

There were two things going on at once — his panic and dread about the crime that he was going to commit and the nerves that he got from being this close to a pretty girl — that made him nearly want to faint.

Her smaller hand on top of his, she shook the can with him, then held his finger on top of the can. When she pressed it down with him, he swallowed hard once more, pulling his eyes from her to look at the car that he was —

Oh shit, that he was painting!

He was doing it!

There was a sort of morbid excitement in it. It felt wrong to do, but he’d already started, so he couldn’t really stop it, and he figured that he might as well…might as well enjoy it.

She pulled her hand from his, but he barely noticed, instead laser-focused on making something with the spraypaint. Chris was talking, but he had adrenaline-fueled tunnel vision as he traced a circle.

A stick down from the center of the circle.

A stick through the middle of that stick.

Two sticks forking the bottom of that stick.

Two dots in the circle.

An upward curve beneath the two dots.

A small circle to the left side of the stick through the middle.

And then, he stopped the spraypaint, releasing his pressing on the nozzle, and he loosely held the can as it dropped to his side.

With wide, stunned eyes, Nut stared at the creation he’d just permanently attached to the side of private property.

A smiling stick figure holding a circle.

He turned to Xan and Chris, smiling shakily, and he pointed with the bottom of the can to the circle the stick figure was holding.

“He…he’s got a nut,” Nut explained.

mood
...well

location
the railyard

outfit
something

playing...
monster (under my bed)

by call me karizma​

mentions
n/a

interactions
xander & chris

tags
Winona hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[natsukashii]

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  how he's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  Ready to have fun bro!
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what he's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  https://i.imgur.com/uzn16mf.jpg

  T-shirt, Jeans + backwards baseball cap

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where he's at...

  
  
  
  

  Near the lockers
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Lola Kitsune2202
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Caleb Walker

Auburn Spring's Pizza Boy

Caleb kept looking at his sister. Even as she tried to come up with reasons not to accept his offer, he just looked at her. His wide eyes, the half smile that was on his face more as a permanent expression that he often had on it as its default setting. He didn’t understand why she was trying to think of reasons to not eat. Maybe they were wired differently? Caleb never refused food on any occasion. If he had just ate, he’d eat some more because, well he thought it was rude, but also because he loved food that much.

But as Lola tried to validate her stance by pointing out that he needed to eat a lot because he was a football player, yeah he couldn’t deny that. He literally just said that, but he was full.

Okay, so maybe Caleb wasn’t as full as he might be letting on, but he also heard his sister’s stomach grumble like an Earthquake. Guess that would make her body the Earth in this scenario, wouldn’t it?

What a weird thing to entertain. But here Caleb was, staring off into space as Lola nastily looked at him like both she and Link did.

Oh, right Link! He needed to catch up with him at some point.

Oh wait, Link doesn’t like him.

Caleb lost his smile whilst thinking about the difficulties he has run into as he tried to win over his brother and sister. Link was harder because he wouldn’t even give him a chance, but Lola was different. Maybe it was because she was hungry or that maybe -- just maybe -- she actually was learning to like him as a brother?

God, I hope so.

“You can take the box,”

Caleb suggested after what felt like several moments of being silent.

“I mean, yeah I know I said I had to eat a lot for my diet or whatever have you, but you’re hungry. I know you said you can go long without eating or whatever, but c’mon sis!”

Caleb placed the pizza box in her hands, almost forcing her to hold it.

“It’s really not a big deal. I was thinking about heading to the cafeteria, anyway. Or I can get something from the vending machines.”

In a rare moment, not only was Caleb adamant that she take the rest of his pizza, but he had a stern look in his eyes. She was likely going to fight him on it, so he was prepared to assert himself as her brother.

“And it’s not charity. Whether you like it or not, you and I are family! And what is it that Stitch always says?”

He chuckled at how he hasn’t watched Lilo and Stitch in a while.

“Family doesn’t get left behind! So eat and if you want to hit me over the head later, then I won’t stop you but I won’t take no for an answer!”

He smiled at his sister, feeling like maybe he got through to her.

♡coded by uxie♡