Realistic or Modern Auburn Springs

[jasmyn]

JADE JENNINGS

@ g e t j a d e d

school bathrooms

"fuck this shit"

whatever this is

tags

you'll see Winona

Nothing beats good sex, except for good sex in a place you shouldn't be doing it in. Jade was all about the thrill after all. This hadn't been what she'd meant to meet up with him for if she was being honest but she couldn't help herself. FUCK OFF. He looked hot as hell in his uniform and Jade was...well, Jade.

One thing led to another and before she knew it she was pulling her pants back up while he gave the "this was a one-time thing" farewell as if they hadn't done this same dance a thousand times. "We both know that's a lie, Rivera," she called out as he vanished, leaving her alone. A deep sigh escaped her lips before she turned on her heels and walked into one of the bathroom stalls.

----

One hundred seventy-five, one hundred seventy-six, one hundred seventy-seven... Oh, fuck this! Three seconds couldn't matter much.

With a simple flick of her wrist, Jade turned the white stick over to find out if she was going to be celebrating or mourning her youth tonight.

HERE GOES NOTHING.

One pink li-

FUCK FUCK FUCK. FUCK.

No, no. It was definitely two. Two pink lines.

Jade Jennings was fucking pregnant.

She let out a very loud curse word as she slammed a hand into the stall door, the rattle echoing through the restroom. How could she have been so stupid? Sure, Jade had been a pretty reckless teen especially lately but come on. Birth control had been her best friend since her thirteenth birthday and she hadn't skipped a pill. Had she? No, no way. She would remember...

Damn things were supposed to prevent babies and clearly, that was a scam because it didn't fucking work. Maybe step-daddy Warbucks could sue the entire company and get her and baby daddy a hefty settlement.

CUE THE EYE FUCKING ROLL.

How ironic though that she was sitting here on homecoming night of her senior year, almost perfectly mirroring her mother's own experiences. Go figure. Speaking of her mother. Fuck. The woman was going to absolutely freak.

Ms. Jennings was all obsessed with trying to fit in with the high-dollar snobs. All she talked about was her wedding to this man (who Jade was convinced she barely liked) and attaining this status she was so desperate to show off like a trophy. Fucking weird-ass cult things.

What? That's what it seemed like to her.

They all expected each other to act and dress a certain way, they had three main hobbies: brag about their kids and rich-people stuff, try to one-up each other, and gossip gossip gossip. Which they did all while they drank way too much wine and popped whatever pills made them emotionless to the fact that their husbands are either corrupt, cheating on them, or both.

She wouldn't be shocked to find out they did sacrifices every Tuesday.

Anyway, that was the real reason her mother would even care about this situation in the slightest. Her new image would be tainted before she really even had a chance to fully make it in with the real bitchy housewives of Auburn Springs. This news was sure to make even bigger waves than when people found out that a bridger whore and her daughter had moved in.

Hey, at least they were sure to be a hot topic at parties again!

If her mother didn't give her the biggest hypocritical lecture about her "latest stunt" then she was sure to finally kick her to the curb. She'd talked about it enough after all, and Jade had continued to push the limits. This would probably be the final straw. But then again...maybe they never had to know.

It wasn't like she was going to keep the alien thing growing in her body anyway. Right? Like...she couldn't. For starters, she wasn't even sure if she LIKED kids. She hadn't really been around many. What if she hated them? What if they hated her? What if it came out ugly or she accidentally dropped it?

She glanced back down at the test in her hand as if that would magically change the results or something. News flash, it fucking didn't.

How could Jade, of all people, raise a tiny human being? The blonde could barely keep herself out of trouble, not that she tried very hard, but you get the point. She wouldn't be a very good example for a child. Shit, she'd probably forget to feed it or it would get into her pot or something.

Which reminded her of the whole "changing your entire lifestyle" thing? Yeah. She just didn't wanna do that. Jade liked her life as is. okay? Doing whatever and whoever she wanted whenever she wanted. She didn't have anyone else in her way or to worry about and it worked for her. Jade liked her life with no fucking strings or attachments.

So, it was settled.

...

...

Right?

Honestly, she had no clue what she was going to do but right now she needed to get the hell out of this stuffy stall. It was starting to feel like it was going to close in on her. Her free hand shot out against the door shoving it wide open so that she could step out and up to one of the sinks. "Fucking he-" she started, only to be interrupted by a slightly familiar voice.

"Knocked up? Thought it'd be sooner. Who's the lucky father?"

Jade's light green eyes, which had been previously fixated on the mirror, shot in the direction that the voice had come from. Her glare only softening when she recognized the source. Of course, had it been anyone else she would've threatened to beat them to a pulp if they didn't keep quiet and get lost but circumstances were special here.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe I'll let them draw straws. Loser has to sign the birth certificate," Jade quipped back, even though she knew exactly who the contestants were. Jade might've gotten around but she kept track of who she was fucking...kinda. Whatever.

She leaned back, steadying herself on the ceramic sink while a smirk tugged at her lips. "So, what are you doing here anyway?" she questioned, giving her guest the once over. "Come to cheer on an old friend?" she added teasingly.

coded by natasha.

 

[mikaluvkitties]

NAOMI DEERING
bleachers | this but with a skirt | ready to go home | 0k_mang0
cw ; subtle transphobia​

The longer the boy next to her went without looking at her, the more bold Naomi grew in her watching. By the time someone asked where his fries had gone, Naomi was watching closely enough to catch his smirk. Her frown deepened. The hoodie could have been chalked up to poor taste from someone who didn’t know any better. Stealing, now… That was something everyone knew better than.

Maybe he was poor? But he could at least have the courtesy to feel bad, then, right? To at least want to repent?

It was only after he’d stolen the fries that the staring grew unignorable, disapproval radiating intensely off her small form as if that alone would be enough to make him see the error of his ways, repent and, she didn’t know, at least never steal fries again?? Who did that?

...Probably the twins.

She didn’t expect him to speak and as soon as he did, any last good impression being pretty might have made him was lost. She was almost embarrassed before she reminded herself she wasn’t the one menacing society over here. The way he looked at her was even less impressive. If she’d wanted to deal with minimally expressive idiots speedrunning their way to Hell and trying to talk down to her, she’d have stayed over with her sisters.

Her face scrunched up as she squinted at him, momentarily forgetting to leash her temper as she said chidingly, “Personally, I’m more worried about fry thieves than a bit of staring.”

 

[Winona]

Adriane Holloway

Since the whole...

Leaving her ex-boyfriend with their bastard child and moving like halfway across the country to pursue a career in literally the only thing she found fun whatsoever -- and it happened to be modeling -- Adriane had been...

...

She'd been existing.

Adriane had a pretty face, a portfolio, and a decent enough work ethic that she was able to get some modeling gigs. What she couldn't pay for by modeling? Well, she paid for from waitressing. Being pretty came in handy there, too, and she couldn't wait until she was twenty-one so she could bartend. Like oh woops, spilled some alcohol on my cleavage? Oh, and you want to give me extra cash? Oh well how sweet.

What? If you had it, why not flaunt it.

But there was just the...

She couldn't ever forget -- not totally, not in the way that she wanted. There were scars across her stomach from Ariana's birth, and every time she showered or changed or whatever else, she'd find her fingers kind of brushing across the marks along her flesh. When it'd first happened, she'd been pissed. Angry. Upset that some kid she'd never wanted had disfigured her body and now couldn't even be around her without crying and she just...

She'd wanted to get away.

But now?

Now, the scars served as a faint reminder. Not maybe of Ari, but more the time with Mason. The countless nights laying in his arms, the goofy smile with his braces, the way part of his glasses were taped together. All that little stuff that she'd once taken for granted but that now was settled and consistently festering in the back of her mind.

Mason had wanted a family with her and she hadn't been ready, and she... she still wasn't ready. Not yet, but she knew that one day she'd be ready. One day, she'd be ready to return to Auburn Springs, and she'd see Mason, and they'd kiss, and they'd buy that little suburban house with the white picket fence that he'd always dreamed of. They'd have a dog (even though she preferred cats -- but he was obviously allergic), and maybe another kid, and they'd raise Ariana, and they'd have a little studio apartment in the basement for Drake.

That's what she told herself, anyway.

Soulmates always found themselves back to one another.

She just... hoped that no one stole him from under her.

So occasionally, when the homesickness would grow to be too much, when she'd start screaming Mason's name in bed instead of whatever body was keeping her warm for the night, and whenever... whenever she kind of missed her child, she would pack up. Head home.

There was always this thought in the back of her head that maybe now, now would be the time that she was ready. She'd get Mason to move with her to LA, and they'd just be a happy little family.

That's why she was back, anyway.

And she was at the game with her parents and Ariana. As the game felt like it might be wrapping up, Adriane had headed back to the bathroom to touch up on her makeup. Mason had some other dumb girl that he was taking to the dance, but that didn't mean she couldn't look hot as hell when he came by to see Ariana.

While she was doing so, she'd heard someone slam on the bathroom stall, so she'd decided to just... wait a moment. She stood in front of the mirror, fixing her lipstick, and then she stepped back a bit to wait.

And...

Lo and behold.

Her lips curled back into an amused smile.

Jade fucking Jennings.

She'd started to speak before she realized Adriane was standing there, and Adriane noticed the pregnancy test in her hand.

Yes, she knew that Mason and Jade hooked up.

No, she totally wasn't jealous.

"Knocked up? Thought it'd be sooner. Who's the lucky father?" She asked with a smirk.

Not Mason?

No, there wasn't a hope somewhere in there.

Even if it was, Jade would be nothing compared to her, and...

....

She wasn't possessive of Mason at all.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe I'll let them draw straws. Loser has to sign the birth certificate," Jade said.

Whore.

"So, what are you doing here anyway?" she questioned. "Come to cheer on an old friend?"

Adriane sighed, bringing a hand up so she could casually examine her nails. "What can I say? I just can't stay away from him," her tone was deadpan.

"So, is he the dad or...?" Her gaze moved up from her fingernails. "He never was good with condoms."

mood
ha bitch

location
bathroom eww

outfit
sexy probably

playing...
Fast Car

by Tracy Chapman​

mentions
Mason

interactions
Jade

tags
jasmyn

º º code by ditto º º

 

[0k_mang0]

MOOD: eh... what

OUTFIT:
spicy heck boy
plus navy blue bomber jacket, jeans & black sneakers
​

INFO

LOCATION: somewhere on the bleachers

WITH: Naomi

MENTION: none​

ACTIVITY

mikaluvkitties

TAGS

Deo V. Solomon

— Where Evil Grows

“Fry thieves?” Instead of silently panicking or acting defensively toward a girl dressed in an itchy-looking, librarian-grandma sweater suspecting him of stealing someone’s fries, Deo was actually both puzzled and curious about why she seemed riled up.

How often do you meet someone getting upset over fried potatoes? That wasn’t something Deo thought about daily.

“Maybe that guy just misplaced his fries,” he said dismissively. “Some people are just careless, y’know? They should be more watchful of where they put their food. Never know where it might end up.”

Setting down the now-empty paper bowl aside, Deo saw a couple of people walking up the stairs beside him. One of them had a backpack with bottle holders on either side.

Without hesitation and without shame, Deo swiftly plucked a Great Value water bottle from the holder closest to him, and those people went on by none the wiser than everyone else around, except his seat neighbor. But he didn’t care.

“Seriously, why were you staring at me?” he said as if no casual pilfering had just occurred. He set down his now-empty paper bowl aside and took a sip from his newly acquired drink. “Is there an ink stain or bruise on my face I’m unaware of? Y’know, it’s pretty rude to stare long without saying anything. Almost stalkerish.”

code by valen t.

 

[mikaluvkitties]

NAOMI DEERING
bleachers | this but with a skirt | ready to go home | 0k_mang0
​

For half a second, Naomi thought that maybe he hadn’t done it. She’d thought for sure he’d smirked, but maybe he had and she’d just misread it… Was she already going crazy without those she’d left back in Bountiful to ground her?

Of course, then he stole again, right in front of her, and well, she at least knew she wasn’t at the point of seeing things. Her frown deepened as he did it, scrunching up tighter as he pretended nothing happened. How could he act like he was the normal one here? He stole things.

She ignored his question, eager not to lose to him and even more eager not to let him know she’d initially been watching because he was cute even with that hoodie on. “It’s even ruder to take other people’s things. Most people learn that in kindergarten. We’re at a football game and you’re—You’re menacing all these people.” There was something to be said for how expressive her face was in that moment, how evocative her gesticulation. She was barely containing the volume of her dismay, an uncalled for scornfulness to her voice over… fries and a water bottle.

 

[0k_mang0]

MOOD: amused

OUTFIT:
spicy heck boy
plus navy blue bomber jacket, jeans & black sneakers
​

INFO

LOCATION: somewhere on the bleachers

WITH: Naomi

MENTION: none​

ACTIVITY

mikaluvkitties

TAGS

Deo V. Solomon

— Where Evil Grows

He coughed a sudden laugh from behind his hand, partially failing to hide his amused smile. Of course it was getting more ridiculous than he thought.

“I’m menancing? Huh, that’s a new one.” Deo and his actions had been called many unpleasant things in the past, but nobody had ever said he was “menacing” to his face, and his name wasn’t even Dennis.

From one once-over, he supposed she was kind of cute, if you were into the autumn-church-school-girl look, anyway. Sometimes Deo was into it a little, but the impression he was getting from this short girl—jeez, so uptight. He felt tempted to call her “Little Miss Karen” aloud.

“From what I remember reading from Merriam-Webster, ‘menacing’ would suggest I’m threatening, harming, or endangering someone—which I’m currently not doing,” Deo said matter-of-factly. “As you can see all around us, there’s nobody bleeding on the floor. Probably someone will, by the team bench in the next ten minutes or so, but not right now.”

He wasn't wrong. Nobody was rushing to call an ambulance or the police. People were chatting, laughing, taking photos, eating cheap, greasy concession food. There were probably a few teenagers making out under the bleachers or sneaking off to the parking lot. Not a care in the world. His snack swiping was hardly a controversy.

“If you must know,” Deo began, adding a bit of flippancy in his tone, lightly twiddling the small silver round earring pierced on his left earlobe, “Backpack Guy was walking in three to four hundred dollars worth of Yeezy shoes that he might've owned for less than a week. And Mister Missing Fries? Wearing this year’s Gucci tracksuit jacket that’s about thirteen hundred, and a Rolex Cellini that’s most likely a couple of thousands more than the Gucci.

“Neither of them are losing their entire life savings over four dollars worth of fries and water tonight.”

He knew stealing people’s stuff was rude, but that didn’t always stop him from doing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m being impolite. Hi, my name’s Deo, and I don’t actually like football.” Deo held out his hand casually to her, unfazed by her sharp reproaching tone. Perhaps he would be if she had been anyone else. He must be really bored if he was enjoying this more than he should. “And your name is…?”

code by valen t.

 

[ditto]

IAN HANSEN​

Stella rolled his eyes when Ian mentioned the signs. “No, genius. That one’s for Drake.”

“Oh, okay.” It didn’t really make sense, since #12 is sexy wasn’t accurate at all, but there was something that was more important right now: “Where’s mine?” Ian’s wide eyes excitedly glancing around as he tried to guess what his sign said. Bet it says something like, “#69’s the sexiest freaking beast alive who is so much sexier than baby Drake and also he’s a freaking god you should totally hit him up Salem ahahahaaaa he’d take you out for a really nice date ahahahaaaa he’ll even pay for the meal and for the Uber and for the everything ahahaaaa what a sexy man huh you should totally date him he’s amazing ahahaaaa”.

Whatever it said, it was gonna be ten thousand times cooler than what stupid baby Drake’s said, ‘cuz he was ten thousand times cooler than Drake.

He flexed his biceps very subtly (and very hotly), preemptively closing his eyes to bask in the glory of his praising sign. When he opened his eyes, he wore an excited grin, and his mouth was already beginning to thank Stella for writing what was so obviously the truth of his sexiness on her board.

When he saw the board, Ian’s face cracked.

He’d imagined a thousand other things. You know, a thousand good other things, ‘cuz that was, well, ya know…what you were supposed to write on signs and also, it was Ian, so why would you anything besides anything good, right?

Instead, he was face to face with a sign that read “MY FAVORITE BENCHWARMER”, with a big glittery heart beside it. A little jersey with 69 on the back was in the corner.

“Oh…” A crestfallen expression took over his face as he stared longer and longer at the poster. Ian’s heart pumped dejectedly in his chest. B-Benchwarmer…

Was that all he was known for…?

He’d told her that he wasn’t going to be on the benches tonight. And — and he — he wasn’t. He was seriously determined to get on that field.

She didn’t…believe him, obviously.

Ouch.

Drake’d been talking or something, but Ian wasn’t paying attention until his friend spoke. ”This one is yours," Stella said, smiling.

She seemed, uh, you know, really proud of it…like, really, really proud of it. She hadn’t meant to, like, hurt his feelings or whatever — an-and he was tough, so obviously his feelings weren’t hurt by…by a stupid poster.

Right, yeah, no, it didn’t bother him at all.

He put on a polite little smile. “Th-thanks,” he said.

"See that one's real accurate,” Drake said, and Ian tried to keep looking at some nondescript spot on the ground. His heart was still thudding in his chest, and his mind was still echoing a cold hurt. “Real up your alley, but don't worry, kid.” Drake reached out with a hand, grabbing Ian's shoulder and giving him a little shake, and Ian’s eyes were forced away from his spot to Drake’s face.

Who did this bitch think he was?! He wasn’t his freaking mom — he didn’t have to pull that fake comforting shit. Ian’s jaw clenched. “Shut up,” Ian mumbled, trying to come across as whatever the opposite of humiliated by the situation was, “jerkface."

“You'll get there one day,” Drake said. “Just…just don't give up." He let out a snort of laughter, and Ian wrenched his shoulders free, scoffing and slamming his heel into the gravel.

Stella, unconcerned, looked back at Drake. "I still can't believe you convinced me to go. I've never been to a school dance. "Have you ever seen me in a dress, Martin?"

As Drake freaking flirted with freaking Stella — freaking Ian’s best friend, so frick him, it was weird — Ian drew in deep breaths. Nami stay. Nami stay. He needed to be calm, to not pick a fight for once.

Though he was confident that he could win against freaking baby Drake, getting ejected from the homecoming game would result in Rory kicking his ass and the coach also kicking his ass, and plus he wouldn’t be able to gobble down some nachos at half-time, which was really what was keeping him going at this point.

"What'd'ya say, Ian?" Drake asked, pulling Ian out of his zone again.

Irritatedly, Ian looked at Drake. “What?” he huffed.

Drake, beaming, gestured between himself and Stella. "Hottest couple there, yeah? Think we'll win king and queen?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he sighed uninterestedly. “Or, well, Stella’s gonna be hot enough to be the hottest couple herself, and then you’ll just be the ugly baby she dragged along there.” He glared at Drake. “They don’t vote stupid-looking babies to be king, Drake. Or people who’re named after stupid rappers who just sing about stupid hotlines blinging.”

mood
:|

location
the football game

outfit
the football fit

playing...
baby (ft. ludacris)

by justin bieber​

mentions
rory & salem

interactions
drake & stella

tags
Winona @petals

º º code by ditto º º

 

[jasmyn]

dani monroe

@ d a n i p h a n t o m

football game (near bleachers)

to be determined

click here bitches

tags

jess Winona

The last thing Dani had been wanting was to be dragged into the police station and it had her way more paranoid than she cared to let on. It wasn’t because she was worried that she was in trouble or anything. No, what concerned her was that she was 99% certain it had something to do with Sly. He'd been MIA for weeks so this was pretty much expected at this point and while she wasn't shocked, she knew that it couldn't be fucking good news.

Was he okay? Did they have him in custody? Had something worse happened to him? Did they just pick her up because they expected her to give them some kind of information? That would be idiotic since nothing they could say would ever make Dani turn on one of her own, let alone Sly of all people. That had to be it though. They needed information and the closest person to him besides Big Johnny was Dani. Anyone with a brain knew that.

The bullshit cops hadn't said anything to her since they'd hauled her off and tossed her in an empty room alone with just a glass of water though. It was obvious that they were attempting to intimidate her but she knew they were just on the other side of the glass watching her like a lab rat and hoping she'd slip up somehow.

Apparently, she must have been too spaced out to hear the door open because the unexpected slam of it closing was what caught her attention to the detective entering the room. Her brown eyes darted to the man in the charcoal suit, watching his every move carefully as he walked over and took a seat across from her.

“Danielle Monr-“ one of the detectives started only to be cut off quickly. “It’s Dani,” she said simply, glancing down at the file he'd placed on the table between them. “What the hell do you want?” she demanded, her eyes flickering back up to the man in front of her.

Look, Dani made sure that her tone and body language gave off the impression that she was confident and not shook up in the slightest which was something her father had taught her. It was safe to say though that on the inside she was panicking a little.

“Dani… We brought you in because we know you are close to Sylvester Cosgrove and we have questions about him. There was some illegal activity that he was recently involved in regarding some stolen vehicles…” the man said as he locked eyes with her as he waited for her reaction.

When it snapped that this cop really was actually gonna give it a go at trying to get her to rat on Sly she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I don’t know anything about that so you’re wasting your time,” she spat. It was a lie of course. She knew all about most of the stuff that Sly dabbled in. The things that he and Big Johnny did for money weren’t new to her but she damn well wasn’t gonna say that.

“Look. We know what he’s been doing with these cars and we know that he skipped town about two weeks ago. What we don't know is w-" the detective was still talking but Dani was barely listening anymore. Her mind was fixed on the pictures he'd slid across the table, along with the other items that of held undeniable proof of what he was saying.

Sly was...gone. Like by choice. He'd fucking up and...left town.

...

Left her.

-----

Long story short: Sly had abandoned her and broken her heart and she was a mess but she hadn't exactly told anyone. Well, except Mason but that's only because she had needed a ride home from the police station and Mason happened to be the only one wh-

Okay, so maybe it wasn't because he was actually the last resort but she'd told him that he was so he would pick her up. He probably would've done it anyway but she didn't want to chance it. If he had said no then she would've had to call Ryan or Link and she definitely didn't need them worrying about her more than they already did with her freaking about Sly being "missing", ha.

It was just logical for her to call Mason first. He wouldn't make her talk if she didn't want to because he didn't care to get all deep and mushy with her or be involved in drama. Plus, he wouldn't tell if she asked him not to because again, he didn't care enough to. So, he'd driven her home and yes, she had spilled the details to him. Told him all about how Sly had left town and how she had no clue until the cops came around pressing for information.

Oh, and then when they pulled up to her house and the conversation shifted, well...they ya know. Wink wink? Get the picture?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was a little weird for them too, okay? Dani just wanted to feel something other than the hurt. She wanted to forget Sly Cosgrove ever existed. But she couldn't... As much as she wanted to in the moment, she couldn't just forget him or drown out his memory and it fucking hurt.

-----

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

Dani couldn't actually hear the clock ticking but she watched anyway as the smallest hand danced around the circle. "Fifty-three! Order fifty-three!" a man called out, waving a ticket around. Dani snapped out of her trance, looking down at her receipt to see a big bold 53 printed on top.

"ORDER FIF-" her voice rang out over his, halting him mid-sentence. "Yeah, yeah. Chill the hell out," she rolled her eyes as she walked up and held the piece of paper in his face dramatically so he could see the number.

He shoved the soft pretzel into her hand, which definitely wasn't worth the four bucks she'd swiped from her mom's dresser that morning, and ushered her away grumbling under his breath. "Grade A service, man! I'll leave you a fucking review!" she said sarcastically, flipping the man the bird.

Dani hated people.

Okay. That wasn't entirely true. It was more like ONE person. As in, her shitty ex-not-ex who had run off without even so much as a goodbye or explanation. The one she had been worrying about for weeks. The one she had given all of her damn loyalty to and at one point fought with her best friend in the entire world over. And he had just fucking dipped as if she was nothing to him.

Maybe that held truth to it. Maybe to her, it was more and to him, it never was. Maybe Dani was just fucking naive and blinded by her own desire to be loved. Pathetic. Whatever. She didn't even care, at least not at this particular moment.

See, she had planned on staying home under the warmth of her covers all damn evening but her best friend had insisted on her coming to this homecoming shit. He was on the football team and it was a big game so because of it so she gave in. Unfortunately, she'd felt the need to not attend the event sober, wanting to just numb her mind and float through the whole thing.

It was just one pill. It was harmless. Don't judge.

She dropped a hand from the necklace around her neck (yes, the same one Sly had given her, fuck off) and pinched off a piece of her pretzel, popping it into her mouth as she halted near the bleachers. Everyone's focus was on the field, cheers filling the air as the team scored or something. Dani wasn't sure, her eyes had landed her best friend's newest crush, Jessica Finch.

Her nose was in a book which Dani found odd since football games weren't exactly the best place to try and cram in a reading sesh. It didn't seem off-brand for this girl though. At least, based on what Dani could read of the girl's personality in Twitter. Guess it was time to get a better look at what she was like in real life, especially if she was going to be hanging around a while and Ry was all drooly over her so it was likely.

So, while Jess chastised her fellow Springer for knocking the book from her hands, Dani reached out and saved it from falling any further out of reach. Flipping it over to see the title she couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. Of course. Pride & Prejudice. Somehow that was fitting.

"Who brings a book to a football game?" Dani questioned, though it was more of a rhetorical question than anything. The book she was holding out was suddenly snatched from her hand by its owner, a smirk creeping onto her face before their eyes met.

After fumbling over her words for a moment, Jess managed to rattle off a quick apology, followed by something that sounded like it was meant to be a complete sentence but well, it hardly was. "Why are you here? Football doesn't really seem like, umm... like your thing." she finally spat out.

"Would you believe me if I said I have such raging school spirit that I never miss a game?" she shrugged, a laugh echoing in her throat. "Well, the part about never missing a game is true anyway. Gotta support my local idiots, ya know," she nodded towards the field as if that explained it. "When Ryan joined the team, I became a fan. Someone has to supervise and make sure he doesn't fuck himself up too bad, right?" she joked.

Well, it wasn't like his actual family members were gonna show up and cheer him on so Dani did. His first year on the team she'd made sure to show up to some practices and learn what she could about the game and then ever since she'd gone to every game. Well, except for the year she had the flu but she made him give her a play-by-play from outside her window after it was over.

"Number 11," she said simply, pointing out to where Ryan was on the field or at least where she thought he was since all of the players were kinda a blur to her. "So, if you aren't into the game, why didn't you just stay home? Peer pressure get to you?" as she spoke she popped another piece of the soft pretzel into her mouth. "I mean, anybody who is anybody is supposed to make an appearance for Homecoming, right?" she added sarcastically.

coded by natasha.

 

[mikaluvkitties]

NAOMI DEERING
bleachers | this but with a skirt | ready to go home | 0k_mang0 ​

Embarrassed. He was embarrassing her. The heat began flushing her face even before he started in on his dictionary definition, her lips pursing up as she fought to keep looking at him—It was polite to look at someone when they were speaking to you, after all. She wanted to tell him that wasn’t what she meant, that the fact his mind immediately went to someone bleeding on the floor from him was even further indictment of the kind of person he was, but she’d already had enough of this.

She peeked at the pair he’d stolen the water bottle from, none the wiser and having a fine time. It didn’t mean she suddenly felt fine about him stealing from the boys, but it was disheartening to care more than his targets. Her eyes darted back to him at the flippant tone, honing in on the earring, anomalous from her expectations of men.

Her brain quite nearly short-circuited from the information he gave her, and the look fled from her face to be replaced by shock What kind of parents trusted a child with that kind of money?. How did anyone even get that much money? She hadn’t grown up poor, had arguably not even grown up middle class, but that kind of excess remained beyond her. It also left her, once again, even more embarrassed.

Her eyes darted away from him once again, hovering down at the bleachers between their feet. She should’ve said that that didn’t make it right, and it didn’t, but it was like someone had pressed the mute button. She didn’t expect him to start talking to her again.

She peeked up to his hand, then up to him, clearly confused and, even if only a little, suspicious. It only lasted a moment, though, before she sighed and carefully took his hand in her own to shake. “Naomi. I don’t like football, either.” If the situation were different, maybe she would’ve mentioned how she was only here because of her stupid brother, who wasn’t even watching the game and was, in fact, nowhere to be seen. Instead, she said, sheepish, “Just because it won’t hurt them doesn’t mean you should do it.” And then, eager to move away from the conversation, “Have you lived here a long time?”

 

[0k_mang0]

MOOD: amused

OUTFIT:
spicy heck boy
plus navy blue bomber jacket, jeans & black sneakers
​

INFO

LOCATION: somewhere on the bleachers

WITH: Naomi

MENTION: Val, Jade, Darcy​

ACTIVITY

mikaluvkitties

TAGS

Deo V. Solomon

— Where Evil Grows

Maybe it was her body language and the tone in her voice that made him reconsider laughing at her again. Naomi’s self-righteous courage retracted faster than he expected. She wasn’t biting back.

A few years ago, Deo would’ve mocked anyone he humiliated, absent of remorse. He was a first-class jerk back then and used to hang out with other kids who were doubly so. Deo was still a jerk, he won’t deny it, but he found no more joy in taking things too far. That wasn’t the kind of trouble he wanted to see happen at the homecoming game. He didn’t want to cause a scene in this place, on the bleachers, with witnesses nearby. No doubt Deo would put himself in a bad light.

A big, roguish-looking guy, belittling a harmless bashful girl who was a foot shorter than him and not talking back—that’s what onlookers would see, and eventually, one guy or two chalks up enough dumb courage to step in, plays the shining knight; if it led to it, Deo punches them either in the face or crotch area (and wins because he knows he’s one of the best fighters in town except when fighting Jade), and then he’s removed from the premises by security guards, possibly in handcuffs….

So, if Naomi wanted to drop the subject, then, fine, Deo might as well, too, just as long as she didn’t insult or disrespect him. There was no fun in fighting someone who stops fighting back.

“Only a few years, in Ambridge,” he answered her question frankly and said nothing more of his background. “If you don’t like football, why’s a Springer like you here? Is it for the stimulating school spirit or you got some friends around?”

He didn’t need to ask her which town she was from. Most Ambridge kids wouldn’t blink from his small snack theft; they’d probably be disappointed if he didn’t do it. She was dressed a little more blandly than a typical kid from Auburn Springs, but the rest of the clues said it all, like her neat clothes and the clean, soft hand he just shook. Don’t get him wrong, Deo’s hands were always clean and sanitized, but they were fairly smooth and callous from several years of living in a rough neighborhood.

By no means did Deo have strong feelings against Auburn Springs, even though they did try to lock him in prison—ironically, they were also the reason he got out. (Long story.) He just found some of them annoying, and he didn’t know many people from there. There was Valerie, a spoiled rich girl who somehow tolerated Deo to some degree but most likely also found him annoying, and vice versa. Jade wouldn’t care what he did unless he stole from her, but Deo didn’t entirely count her as full-time a Springer.

The only Auburn Springs resident he didn’t mind so far was Darcy... for reasons he can’t explain around children or goody-goody girls like Naomi. He teased now and then, but he wasn’t really the kiss-and-tell type of guy.

No, he still wasn’t apologizing for stealing food from people who can afford more. He was a jerk like that.

code by valen t.

 

[Kitsune2202]

Onyx Griffin​

​

Mood:
Excited​

​

Outfit:
Cheerleader uniform​

​

Mentions:
Cheer squad, Co-captains​

​

Interactions:
Esther mikaluvkitties ​

​

Location:
Concession stand line​

It's the night of the big homecoming game and Onyx couldn't be more excited! Sporting her trustee cheer uniform and added body glitter in her school colors for a bit of extra flare. She though about putting one of the football players number on her cheek, but then it crossed her mind that might make the other players feel bad if she didn't pick them. she did have quite a few friends who were on the team, and putting numbers all over her body just wouldn't look very cute at all and she couldn't have that.

She needed to look picturesque from every angel today because of course she planned on taking pictures all night! She wanted to be able to look back on nights like tonight and have all her memories perfectly committed to memory but also saved for the future. You never know what might be cute to show the grandbabies one day, or who might be famous in the background right?

Is it too soon to think about grandkids when you don't even have a man yet? Absolutely not because it's not like she was destined to be the forever alone type. Nope not her. She would find prince charming sooner or later she was sure of it. She preferred sooner because who doesn't love a high school sweethearts love story?

All that aside she also just really liked watching sports...well her peers play sports. she wasn't the kinda girl who'd just turn on a football game for no reason. Sports was more her parents and eldest sister's thing. She could do it, she understood it but watching rando's play gave her zero pleasure. But friends? She loved seeing her friends do things that they loved and having fun. She was getting to cheer and thrive off the rush of so much energy in the air from being surrounded by so many people. Mind you some of that energy wasn't so positive.

For example witnessing from a distance the two captains look like they were going to get into a fist fight. Good thing about being a cheerleader? It was fun, the girls were cool, and the uniforms where cute. The bittersweet thing? Front row seats to whatever happens on the field...for better or worse. Lastly the bad thing? Only getting to leave the field during very specific times because of having to cheer the whole game. You can't even leave during half time like most people do for a snack because you have to be part of the half time entertainment!

Luckily the band and dance team is first so just before half time she asked the coach to slip away for just a second to get something to eat because she'd already devoured all her goodies in the first quarter. She gave a quick cheeky wave before rushing off.

She was in such a hurry that she over-estimated her own speed accidently knocking into the girl at the end of the line a bit, "O-o-oof I'm so sorry my bad!" She started apologizing immediately, "Just rushing cause gotta get back soon." She shimmied her pom-poms still in hand "Not that it makes it ok, so once again sorry." She looked past them a second, "Uh speaking of which do you think this line is gonna go pretty fast or.....have you been here a minuet already?" She asked curiously, but more importantly eagerly.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Xander Harris

What's fun? was definitely a mistake of a question to ask one Xander Harris.

Because what was fun for him involved, you know... things that weren't exactly the most legal per say. He had his trusty backpack on, and a need to fuck some shit up. It was like a... a necessity for the peppy boy, as necessary to living as, say, breathing or drinking water.

Yeah... yeah, that made complete sense.

"C'mon," Xander said with a little tilt of his head, and then he turned on his heel and started walking off -- not really waiting to see if Rayden would be following along like a little puppy, because Xander was sure that he would. Like ten thousand percent sure that the boy wouldn't be left to his own devices, and that Rayden would be glued to his side.

"Football games aren't really all that fun," he explained with a matter-of-fact nod of his head. "'Course, you know what's really, really fun?" He grinned over at his friend as he asked the repeat question, and as their footsteps carried them out through the gates that led into the parking lot.

Once they'd make it outside, Xander shrugged the trusty backpack off of one arm and pulled it around so that he could open it. He unzipped it and pulled the bag open so that Rayden could peer into it.

... And upon peering into the contents of Xander's bag, one would find an assortment of different spray paint cans, a couple bags of weed, and a ski mask. What? He liked to be prepared for anything and everything all at once -- even if carrying weed on oneself was probably a bad idea. Even if it was legal in Vermont, Xander was still a minor, and the boy's baby face didn't exactly lend itself well towards him trying to convince cops that he was of adult age.

"So what'd'ya say?" He asked with a little wiggle of his eyebrows. "I'm thinking we tag a couple of the jocks' cars. Maybe a cheerleader's. It's really funny when they come out and they're all," he pulled his hands away from his backpack as he balled his fists up, shaking one angry fist at about chest level, an angry look on his face, "'I'm gonna kill whoever did this. You're fucking dead.'[/]" The angry look fell away, again replaced by a grin. "Funny, ain't it?"

Well, to him it was fun, anyway.

He... wasn't known for having great survival instincts.

mood
lolol let's get wild

location
Homecoming game

outfit
flannels only for win characters

playing...
Lost Boys

by Ocean Park Standoff​

mentions
Darcy

interactions
Rayden

tags
qunqun

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Jessica Finch

Right...

It must've somehow skipped Jess' memory -- that Ryan was on the football team. Not that it should've come as any kind of surprise that she didn't remember. This was Jessica Finch, who was kind of the poster child for anti-school spirit. She did her best to ignore all of that shit. Everyone that was all... doing things or whatever. The fucking jocks, the fucking cheerleaders, the fucking preps. They were all the same.

Plastic bitches whose faces would melt off if left out in the sun too long or some shit.

Not Jess' cup of tea, and when the Bridgers had joined the teams, Jess hadn't even bothered to learn the ones that were in band -- let alone the ones that were running around on the field, or standing on the sidelines cheering. She didn't give a fuck. All she wanted was to play her instrument in band so that when it came time for graduation and college applications, her resume sent to the schools would look even better.

Being some kind of fucking plastic tool didn't get you into good schools.

"Number 11," Dani said, and Jess looked towards the player she was pointing towards. "So, if you aren't into the game, why didn't you just stay home? Peer pressure get to you?"

He looked like a dumbass.

Definitely Ryan.

Not that Jess cared, because she wasn't interested in him. Obviously. It wasn't... it wasn't any kind of news to her that he was somehow infatuated with her, but Jess didn't get it. The first thing she'd done when meeting him was, what, say her name wasn't Jess and walk away so he'd leave her alone? Like, she'd done everything right in her mind -- to turn him off of her, to get him hooked on someone else, and...

It didn't work.

She kind of liked it, though, and she was almost glad it didn't work.

Almost.

Because toying with him and dragging him along like this was... wasn't fair to him.

"Band," she responded and gestured to her ugly band uniform with a hand, her lips pursed together in disinterest and a touch of disgust in exactly what she was wearing, because well, Jess wasn't the most fashionable -- but even she knew that the band uniforms were tacky as fuck.

"College applications," Jess explained, as if she needed to tell Dani why she was dressed like this, and why she was here. As if Dani cared, but... well, Jess didn't want anyone thinking that she did any of this shit because she just wanted to or because she had school spirit or something disgusting like that.

Nope, Jess wanted everyone to know the truth.

She was using this as a stepping stone. A method to getting the fuck outta here.

"Are you going to the dance to keep an eye on him, too?" Jess asked, her tone deadpan as she gave a little tilt of her head towards the football field.

mood
annoyed

location
the band section of the bleachers

outfit
nerdddyyyy band uniform

playing...
Bite My Tongue

by Relient K​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Dani

tags
jasmyn

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Stardust Galaxy]

Football, one of the many sports that Prim wasn’t interested not even a bit; there wasn’t any part of her that would have been let me be a fan of seeing guys running from one side to the other while they tackle each other along the way. But despite her apathy towards the sport; she was still an attendee of the homecoming game. Well, this was more because she still had to cheer for the football team as more of an obligation rather than being full of high school spirit.

If Prim was being honest, she really didn’t care if the football team win or lose or if it was the historic first game that the students from Auburn Springs and Ambridge played together under the same team. She was just there to fulfill her duty as a cheerleader as she pretended she was totally invested in the game and knew all the names of all the members of the team.

After all, she was just there as her counselor recommended her to partake in the school activities in order to get involved in high school life and to help her develop meaningful relationships with people her age. But if faking a smile and reciting stupid cheers with pom-poms were her ticket out of her father’s house and back to New York, she would do it gladly.

Prim wondered why everyone was so invested in a game that most likely was going to go downhill, eventually; as she was sure the egos from both sides of the city would eventually collide and they would start fighting like the caveman they were. But if she was giving it more of a thought, that was the perfect way to end things quickly; and she could get rid of the stupid pom-poms and it would put an end to she hyping up a crowd that she really didn’t know or even cared about. But as much as she wanted things to go that way; things never really went the way how Prim wanted. But she could still hope that someone would end up with a black eye because of someone’s fist. At least maybe that would spice up her evening.

“Is this all the excitement that a high school football game provides? Just trying to make sure if I should down my expectations after all this is the first game I have ever attended.”

Location: game | Mood: annoyed
Outift: cheerleading uniform | Interactions: Salem ( Winona ) Angeline ( ditto )

Primrose Wright

Code by Stardust Galaxy​

 

[qunqun]

MOOD: Buffering

OUTFIT: mmm comfy

LOCATION: Football Game

basics

MENTIONS:
N/A

INT:
Xander Winona

tags

TL;DR Moral dilemmas make me think too much.

tl;dr

Rayden

Rayden looked at his lil buddy. Yes. Definitely. This made sense to him. Fun. He liked fun, he could get behind some fun.

As for football games? Sure! He didn’t particularly like football games. It was a snore. Yawn. Not as good as lacrosse, thank you. And he didn’t want his lil buddy doing whatever he was gonna do all by himself, no siree bob he wasn’t. So he followed along, a little bounce in his step.

The human equivalent to a golden retriever followed the graffiti artist, horribly stumbling into whatever nefarious scheme he had set up.

He saw the spray paint, and then the idle threat, usual little dumb grin flipping into a tiny frown. A little crease appeared between his brows as he started thinking really really hard.

Processing…

Processing…

This sounded like a mean thing they were about to do. And mean was… bad. He didn’t want to be mean; therefore, this did not seem like the good kind of wholesome fun he’d signed up for.

What the fuck was Xander trying to do anyways, trying to get them both killed? It was fun when they got angry? Weren’t they the type of people to beat people up for less? Rayden was big and strong but he wasn’t strong enough to take five people at once. This didn’t seem very smart - and Rayden knew he wasn’t the sharpest bulb in the drawer. Could Xander not see the very glaring holes in his- wait a second.

Maybe they were friends!

Yeah, this was probably a prank between… friends. Right? Because Xander… wouldn’t be that dumb and none of his friends were mean particularly. He wanted to believe in the best of his friends, after all. It’d be rude to not trust them. Friends didn’t doubt other friends’ intentions. That was like… not friendship to be distrustful of other friends!

The little blue buffering wheel that was Rayden’s current expression suddenly unfroze. Back to standard operating then. “Okay then!”

There was a little voice in the back of Rayden’s head, telling him that no. No, Xander and the football team were not friends. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t do this. But Rayden picked up a can of spray paint and stared at the car before him. A pause, what should he do? Probably something nice, right? He began spraying a cartoon cat on the hood of one of the cars. People liked cats, right?

He looked up at his buddy with a dumb grin plastered across his face - so proud of his cat.

“Like this, right?” No. Not at all like this. He was pretty sure that this sucked and was decidedly Not Fun. He didn’t like being mean - and this still felt wrong and mean but hey. He could at least try to see the appeal.

code by valen t.

 

[ditto]

Chelsea Kader Freud​

CK watched Rivera with a steady, unwavering gaze as the asshole leaned down and picked up the paper cup. Behind the former Ambridge captain’s dark eyes, CK could see a million murderous thoughts forming. Seeing it sent a small surge of victory within Chelsea, accompanied by another spark of anger at the idea that the guy who was late to the game that senior season completely fucking hinged on was pissed at CK, the rightful fucking captain, for being pissed at him.

Punch me, you bitch, Chelsea dared with his gaze. Try me, I fucking dare you.

The second he lifted a finger against Chelsea, it would all be fucking over for Rivera, in so many different fucking ways, and Rivera knew that, and, as much of a fucking moron as he was, Rivera still had to know that Chelsea knew that. The fire behind his eyes said he did, said that he was still weighing whether or not he could risk it.

But he couldn’t, and Rivera knew that he couldn’t.

Ha. It was what he fucking got.

It was a bit of a power trip for Chelsea, taunting Rivera like this, admittedly, especially now that Rivera really fucking deserved to be miserably fucking squirming. There was a steady flow of power that came from being the big dog that kept the meat-stripped bone just out of reach of the smaller dog, but only just out of reach.

Rivera crumpled up the cup into a tight ball in his palm. CK locked eyes with him again. For another couple of moments, he played chicken with his gaze, and then — slam — Rivera stepped forward and slapped the cup against CK’s chest pads.

The shock wasn’t so much painful as it was fucking irritating. Chelsea almost stumbled, but he caught himself just in time. He straightened his back, gritting his teeth and maintaining his forward gaze, his face as stoic as ever, though his lip was still curled up in disgust.

Rivera’s voice was a hiss. “Don’t.” (Fuck, Chelsea could smell his breath — he knew Rivera was broke, but the fucker needed to blow his college savings on a fucking toothbrush.) CK straightened up his chin, looking down his nose at Rivera. “Say shit you’re not willing to back.” His voice was low, icy. The bastard thought he was fucking doing something. “Half those fucking boys are mine and the only fucking reason you have a fucking chance to take your privileged ass to playoffs.”

That was fucking bullshit. AS didn’t fucking need the fucking scum anywhere near them — they were so much fucking better off without them. Last year, they’d made it to playoffs, and almost all the way fucking through — Rivera could keep his fucking mouth shut.

“Keep talking shit and we walk, bitch breath,” Rivera said.

Chelsea let out a scoff through his nose — an almost laugh. A small smile played at the corner of his lips. You promise? he wanted to ask.

The cup fell to the ground as Rivera took a step back. “And pick up your fucking trash before I shove it down your fucking throat,” he said.

Chelsea’s face grew unamused once more. God, what the fuck was up with this jackass? Where he came from, even the richest bitches only had fucking a thousand dollars to their name, at most, and blew it all on blow — so where the fuck did he get that entitlement from, huh? It would make Chelsea laugh if it wasn’t so goddamn infuriating.

This asshole had to have gone his whole life before meeting Chelsea without having a single goddamn person put him in his place, and now Chelsea was left to clean up their fucking mess. What a crying fucking shame.

“Do you think that’s fucking intimidating?” he asked in a low voice, stepping back closer to Rivera. “Your petty little fucking threats — you think they’re fucking scary to me? To me?” He stepped on the cup, looking back into Rivera’s eyes with a steady, icy gaze. “Listen here, Rivera,” he said, “I don’t know who told you that you ran this shit — or you ran it alone — but whoever it was, they’re just as fucking delusional as you are. You’re not even treading on thin fucking ice — you’re walking on fucking lava. You want to test me? You can join the rest of the people that tried to — in hell, ass —“

The coach’s whistle blared, and Chelsea looked over his shoulder to see him waving toward him and Rivera.

Fucking shit. He guessed it was time for shit to start, then. Time for fucking both of them to…fucking work together or some shit.

He looked back at Rivera, then scowled again, bending down to pick up his helmet. He stared at Rivera again as he straightened up. “This isn’t fucking over,” he said.

Fuck that guy. He gave him another disgusted once-over.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes, tugging on his helmet, and taking off in a jog toward the coach.

mood
pissed

location
the football game

outfit
whatever football players wear

playing...
this fire (franz ferdinand cover)

by bullet​

mentions
n/a

interactions
rivera

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Salem Moore

When Salem had been accepted onto the high school cheerleading team, she'd been super excited. Like, it was kind of a dream of hers ever since she was a little girl, and it hadn't been easy necessarily. The girls felt very clique-y, and they were all umm... not meaner, but a little more... judgmental than Salem was?

So like yeah, there was quite a bit of Salem doing her best to try and fit in. To try and have the same kind of sassy, disinterested look on her face that the other girls had, and she'd also found herself starting to copy some of their movements. The way the girls would stand, the way they'd look.

Salem was like so good at mimicking others... apparently.

“Is this all the excitement that a high school football game provides? Just trying to make sure if I should down my expectations after all this is the first game I have ever attended.” Prim asked.

"Oh, yeah," Salem chirped, her eyes brightening as the whole part about Prim umm... well, Prim not being serious or equally excited kind of went over the younger girl's head. "And they're doing, like, so good which is really, really cool. Because like, you know, it's not as much fun and kind of boring when they're doing really bad, but we have to still cheer them on like... like 'go team, you suck but good try!'"

The last part of her rambling there was supposed to be some kind of joke, and to showcase it as such, Salem naturally let out a small laugh. She was smiling, glancing between Angie and Prim, waiting for... some kind of sign that would let her know if she was nailing this hanging out with the cooler older girls thing, or if she was totally bombing it.

Oh, she was totally bombing it.

"Kidding," she quickly said, giving a curt nod of her head. "I ahh... well, yeah, no, yeah, I ahh... I was joking. It's like... yeah," she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on one hip. "Yeah, games are like... totally, totally so lame, am I right?"

Help her. SOS.

mood
hahaha

location
with the cheerleaders at the football field

outfit
cheer uniform

playing...
Marilyn Monroe

by Astrid S​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Prim, Angie

tags
ditto Stardust Galaxy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

Noah Stewart

Something about this girl resonated with Noah. The way she spoke; indeed very charismatic. The way she sucked on the lollipop in between her words, letting everyone else wait in suspense before the next word arrived. Even the words that left her mouth were amusing in their nature, and the way they formed sentences, oh, Noah could just eat the girl up and inherit her talking skills slowly, through the lining of his small intestine.

Psycho Janitor’s Closet Girl and Barticus, and, of course, Noah! What a trio this was. Too bad Artie was not having it. They hated when Noah made situations uncomfortable, but sadly, Noah loved it.

„Oh, but wait wait wait wait……” Noah stopped Artie in their steps to get out of the conversation, both figuratively and literally, pulling them closer to the girl, and moving himself to the side. No way would he openly let go of an opportunity as such; a perfect example of luck on his part. Artie was looking for love, and Iggy was looking for, well look how perfect, the exact same thing! This was a match made in heaven, and who was Noah but a pesky Cupid shooting the two of them with arrows repeatedly. He could almost feel the nonexistent spark between the two, and it was lovely. This would certainly be the story for the wedding ceremony from the best man, who would undoubtedly be him. Perfect.

“Look at her! The messy hair! The unapologetic face! The dark circles under her eyes!” He pointed at Iggy. “America’s next top model right here, I’m telling you.” To be honest, these were all the exact qualities Noah looked for in a man. It was literally the description of all of his hookups, Donna included. Donna the prototype, probably. “You can’t pass on this jelly just because you’ve got one lined up. You’re supposed to be a playa.”

He turned to face Iggy, and then switched the story around. “And you! Look at them! The messy hair! The unapologetic face! The dark circles under their eyes! They are also definitely up for burning buildings. A cute first date if you ask me.” He pointed at Artie the same way he did at Iggy previously.

Obviously, he was doing everything he could to get Artie’s mind off Jade. He didn’t need Artie falling in love with his step sister even if they might have been too far down that hole. Noah was desperate, but still enjoying this quite much. There was nothing like putting people in uncomfortable situations.

mood
Filled with spirit!

location
The bleachers

playing..."
Low (slowed and reverb)

by: Flo Rida​

mentions
DC, Jade

interactions
Artie, Iggy

tags
ditto , @petals

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Xander Harris

See, Rayden had taken to this as perfectly as ahh... as a duck to water. Yeah. There was a huge grin on Xander's face as he watched Rayden, like a proud father watching his son hit his first homerun. Just that instead of that, this was a guy watching his best friend take the first step towards vandalism.

"That's real good," Xander said with a proud nod of his head, and then he snatched out his own can of spray paint -- black to paint on the white truck. He zipped his bag partially up and swung it back, sliding his arm through the other strap so that he could safely paint without losing all of his possessions.

Xander then walked to the back of the truck, placing his hands on top of the truck's tailgate, and hoisted himself up. He swung his leg over said tailgate and stepped into the back of the truck. Walking up to the cab, he shook his can of spray paint, a huge grin on his face as he popped off the top and started to draw.

For the top of the truck, it wasn't anything too spectacular -- just Xander's personal tag. His little signature that he did on all of his work, which was a very fancy and very elegant x. He figured there was no better place to advertise his work than atop the truck, where its owner might not see it for a rather long time.

That was the goal, anyway. Imagine six months down the road, truck owner climbs into the back, sees an x adorning the top of their cab. New wells of anger bubble inside of them as they remember the whole car getting covered in graffiti thing all over again, and then they break a truck window or something. Get angry from that.

Hehe... it was so funny.

Once he was done with said x, Xander dropped his backpack back to his side, dropping the can of black spray paint inside. He then rummaged around inside of his backpack until he pulled out his second choice -- a blue color -- and then he replaced his backpack, and hopped down from the back of the truck.

"You know, this is fun because it's ahh... it's kinda hard to remove spray paint," there was a grin on Xander's face as he popped the cap off this can, and he started to doodle his other signature.

A dick.

A simple one.

"Lotta work, gotta scrub it with nail polish remover." Xander let out a sigh. "For cars, anyway. I ahh..." he glanced around as if looking to make sure no one was listening it, then he spoke. "One time, I did this on a church, and that..." he chuckled. "Well, it's real annoying to get spray paint off brick."

mood
lolol let's get wild

location
Homecoming game

outfit
flannels only for win characters

playing...
Lost Boys

by Ocean Park Standoff​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Rayden

tags
qunqun

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Drake Martin

When Ian had realized which sign was his, there was kinda this reallllllyyyy sad look on his face. And like, Drake could understand, 'cause the little boy was all sad 'cause he was a loser and not really good. And Drake could-- oh, who was he kidding? He couldn't understand what that was like. Sports came as naturally to him as breathing, so he'd always been top of his teams... well, most of the time.

Sure, being high didn't exactly lend itself towards being great at sports, and he was in a... bad episode, or... however you wanted to word it, he... might've skipped a few practices here and there, and fallen into loser, benchwarmer status. But none of that really mattered, 'cause during those times, Drake didn't really care.

When he felt like the weight of the atmosphere was crushing his chest, he could care less if he was the best.

Really, he didn't care now. Mason was the one with the competitive streak, Mason was the one that thought they needed to be the best because "grr future," but hey, it was fun to mock Ian, anyway.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian said. “Or, well, Stella’s gonna be hot enough to be the hottest couple herself, and then you’ll just be the ugly baby she dragged along there. They don’t vote stupid-looking babies to be king, Drake. Or people who’re named after stupid rappers who just sing about stupid hotlines blinging.”

There was a dramatic gasp from Drake. He brought his free hand up to his mouth as he looked down at Ian in shock, and then dropped his hand to press against his chest, mouth still agape in shock and mock hurt at what Ian had said. Hey, he couldn't really be too offended.

"I'll have ya know, my mom named me Drake 'cause it was the suggested name on the baby website she used," he stated, as if that'd somehow make it better than being named after the rapper.

Granted, Drake didn't really know if that's how he was named -- but his mother did like to tell Mason that that's how she named him. Ya know, when you click the baby website, and it's like "today's name is..." and it just so happened to be Mason on the day of his birth. Apparently. Who really knew, 'cause their mother kinda had this habit of lying to her sons, particularly the older one that she held a bitter vendetta against for existing.

(That one wasn't Drake.)

(Drake was the cute baby of the family.)

(He was his mom's favorite.)

'Course, before Drake could bite back at Ian, Stella hopped in.

"Stop it," she scolded. "You're both acting like giant asshats. I don't understand why you two just can't get along, or at least pretend to, for my sake."

"Oh, come on, Stella," Drake chuckled. He gave her shoulders a little squeeze and then let go, stepping over to Ian's side. He reached out a hand, patting Ian on the shoulder. "We're just playin', right, bud? I don't got anything against this lil' fella," he reached out, playfully ruffling Ian's hair, and then balled his hand into a fist and lightly punched him in the shoulder. All good-naturedly like, 'cause he was smooth like that.

"Ian here hits me up for real good advice 'bout girls and stuff, so." He gave a nod of his head.

As if that'd ya know.

Make it clear they were friends.

Or something.

mood
wooooooooo

location
the football game

outfit
sexy football outfit bois

playing...
Small Talk

by Call Security​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Stella, Ian

tags
@petals ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Mason Rivera

He wondered how fucking traumatic, on a scale of 1-10, it would be for his daughter to watch him beat some fuckhead to death on the football field. Surely Adriane and Ari's grandparents would cover her eyes, so she wouldn't really see too much. They would spin her some sweet, sugar-coated lie about what was happening on the field, keeping it from her that it was her deadbeat dad beating some cocky fucker to a pulp.

She was the only reason he was really keeping his fists to himself, because he couldn't really fucking afford to pay for therapy for her (not that she didn't already need it), and he couldn't afford to risk his chances at a football scholarship. Even if a fucking scholarship was a longshot. No matter how good Mason was at football, no matter how good his grades were, he was still from a shitty school with a three year old, and...

Well, colleges didn't really wanna bank on that kinda shit.

Still, it was like a collar around his throat. A chain that was choking him, holding him back from making a move against fucking Freud. And Freud should really count himself lucky, because it had been some time since Mason had beaten someone's ass -- and it was really starting to chew at him.

You see, in the way that Drake was addicted to drugs, Mason was addicted to fighting. Well... maybe not in that way, but he was still feeling the bite from not going off on someone. From not feeling that adrenaline rush, from not feeling that bit of pain as someone fought back, from not feeling someone's blood coating his fists...

...

Yeah, that all sounded really fucking bad.

But it's also what he really fucking wanted.

He'd been holding himself back since he'd come to Auburn Springs, but all he needed was some fucking prep to flip and punch him first. In front of these people, where there were plenty of fucking witnesses, and he'd just make up some shitty fucking lie about it being self-defense or whatever.

The coach called for them, and Chelsea took off like a good little dog. Mason's glared after them, his dark eyes boring holes into the back of Chelsea's head, and then he turned away, trying to take in a shuddering breath that would calm his nerves enough to not punch a hole through the next person to come near him.

And hey, the breathing thing wasn't even necessary as his gaze, moving away from Chelsea, settled on someone else.

Lola.

He was taking her to the Homecoming dance tonight which was... well, it was causing a lot more nerves to shoot through the typically stoic, angry boy than he was used to. When was the last time he'd had an actual date to something? Or at least a date that he actually fucking liked?

Spoiler: freshman year. Adriane.

He swallowed.

He shouldn't be thinking about her right now, or the fact that she was in the stands watching him with their daughter, or--

"Hey, Lola," he called out to her and walked over to the bleachers, his lips flashing into a smile for a brief moment before falling back to his typical annoyed, bored expression. "Didn't expect to see you here."

mood
fuck

location
football field

outfit
football uniform

playing...
Superman

by Boyce Avenue​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Fucking Freud, Lola

tags
ditto Kitsune2202

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

IAN HANSEN​

“I’ll have ya know, my mom named me Drake ‘cause it was the suggested name on the baby website she used,” Drake stated.

“Baby website?” Ian repeated, flopping back against a sign sponsored by “Jackson Trucking Co.” mounted on the fence. The metal made a loud rattling noise against the fence and dented a little bit, which startled Ian a bit, making his eyes grow wide. Quickly, he recovered, though, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring unamusedly at Drake. “That sucks ass,” he deadpanned. “Just like you.”

Burn, Baby Bitch. That was a sick fudging burn.

“Stop it,” Stella interjected. Ian glanced over at her. “You’re both acting like giant asshats. I don’t understand why you two just can’t get along, or at least pretend to, for my sake.”

“‘cuz he’s a little frickin' baby,” Ian mumbled, at the same time that Drake said, “Oh, come on, Stella.”

Stella’d sounded really disappointed in them, and now, the whole mood was different, like their bickering messed up the vibe or something.

Ian crossed his arms tighter over his chest, looking at the ground guiltily and again mumbling, “Little frickin’ baby.” It wasn’t his fault that Drake sucked so much.

Ian felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up with an annoyed expression to see freaking little Baby Drake smiling at him. “We’re just playing, right, bud?”

“Psh, playing,” Ian repeated in a huff, looking away from Drake.

“I don’t got anything against this lil’ fella.”

Ian’s brows crinkled together in offense as he looked back over at Drake. “Lil —“

Before Ian could realize what was happening, Drake was ruffling his hair. As Ian lifted his hands to slap Drake’s away, the guy moved his hand to punch Ian in the shoulder.

“Ow,” Ian whined, reaching over to rub the arm that Drake had hit even though it hadn’t hurt in the least bit. This guy really got on his freaking nerves, acting all tough and friendly and stuff.

“Ian here hits me up for real good advice ‘bout girls and stuff, so…” Drake gave a nod of his head.

“No I don’t,” Ian said, his brows knit in confusion as he looked up at Drake. He reached up a hand to fix a curl that had been displaced by Drake’s ruffling. Play it coool, Ian. Play it coooooooo.l. Crossing his arms tightly across his chest, Ian gave a displeased, almost mocking up of the chin. Slipping into his cooler than you mode, he clicked his tongue. “Why would I ask advice from a guy who gets less girls and stuff than I do?” he asked, his tone coming across a little too butthurt to be conceived as lighthearted.

He looked over at Stella, and he pushed off of the fence. “Hey, but speaking of girls and stuff…,” he said, trying to change the subject before things got worse again, for Stella’s sake. “Stella, dude, do you wanna get some nachos or something? I’m really freakin’ hungry. From, uh, practice n’ stuff…n’ stuff.” He gave her a little grin, raising his eyebrows, and then he remembered that Baby Drake existed. He nodded over his shoulder. “And Baby Guy can come too, if you want him to, ahaha, but honestly, maybe he shouldn’t, ‘cuz, ya know…ahaha…”

He couldn’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t off the top of his head, so he kind of just trailed off.

mood
:|

location
the football game

outfit
the football fit

playing...
baby (ft. ludacris)

by justin bieber​

mentions
n/a

interactions
drake & stella

tags
Winona @petals

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

iggy ellis​

“It’s Artie,” said the person who she thought was Barticus.

“No way,” Iggy said, lowering her brows and gaping her mouth. Of all names she’d been thinking, that wasn’t one of them. Huh. She was usually good at gauging that type of thing. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head as if ashamed of the truth. “Damn…and just when you think you know a person…”

“And I’m not looking for a girlfriend,” they continued. "I've already got one lined up, thank you very much.” They crossed their arms, glaring at Noah.

“Oh, but wait wait wait wait,” Noah said, grabbing Artie (seriously, it wasn’t Barticus? You had to be pulling her leg, right?) and pulling them back toward her. “Look at her! The messy hair! The unapologetic face! The dark circles under her eyes!” He pointed at her. “America’s next top model right here, I’m telling you.”

Iggy’s grin spread wide across her face. “Heh heh heh,” she chuckled like a middle-aged suburban dad. “‘ey, and you’re not too bad yourself, Shaggy,” she said, giving Noah a little nod and a salute with her sucker.

“You can’t pass on this jelly because you’ve got one lined up,” Noah said, taking it too far. “You’re supposed to be a playa.”

“A playa?” Iggy repeated, looking scrutinizingly at good ol’ should-be-Barticus-but-is-instead-Artie. “A football playa, maybe.” She snickered at her own joke, popping her sucker back into her mouth.

Noah turned to Iggy. “And you! Look at them!” Iggy glanced over at not-Barticus, raising an eyebrow. “The messy hair! The unapologetic face! The dark circles under their eyes!”

“Cramping my style, home skillet?” she asked, cocking her head.

“They are also definitely up for burning buildings,” Noah said, pointing at unfortunately-still-not-named-Barticus. “A cute first date if you ask me.”

Iggy turned her head this way and that, narrowing her eyes at why-the-hell-are-you-not-named-Barticus-that’s-a-fuckin’-gnarly-name as though she were actually sizing them up, and then she looked at Noah. “Yo, I’m gay,” she said bluntly. Moving right past that, she reached into her pocket, pulling out two more grape Dum-Dum Pops (t-m), and she held one between each of her first two knuckles as though they were Wolverine claws. “You want some suckers for your troubles?” she offered, and she crushed the remainder of the one in her mouth with her back teeth.

Taking a few moments to finish cleaning the candy off of the stick, she leaned her head over the middle bar and — “ptoowee” — spat the stick toward the head of one of the ten-year-old boys playing with a football beneath the stands. It missed the head of the one she was aiming for by about twelve feet, if she had to gauge it.

“Shit,” she mumbled. “So close, yet so far.”

She reached into her pocket and retrieved another grape Dum-Dum, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. She shoved the wrapper into the other pocket of her flannel.

Looking over at Noah and why-you-gotta-be-Artie after finishing that whole routine, Iggy gave a shrug. “Eh, that sucker just got boring, ya know?” she explained casually. “It was time for another one.”

She bounced her head and kicked her legs off the back of the bleachers for a couple of moments, hanging her head off the middle bar and looking down at the people below, and then an idea crossed her mind.

Slowly, she turned her head back to both of them as slow grin pulled across her face. “Heeeeeey," she started slowly, pulling out her sucker to point between them with the candy end as her brows knit upwards in a pleading kind of way, "do either of ya got five bucks I can borrow?” She stuck the candy back in her mouth and pressed a hand to her chest, putting on a genuine expression as she continued. “Hey, hey, and before you ask, no, I promise, I won’t use it to try and bribe the coaches into letting the other team win, you silly gooses, ‘cuz why the hell would I do that?” she laughed. “I’m not crazy, no. I just want a Gatorade — is that the brand with the purple kind? Or is that Hawaiian Punch…?” She knit her brows and looked to the sky, then shrugged. “Eh, whatever. I just want one of those suckers, and I’m fresh outta money. I mean, unless you’re talking cryptocurrency, in which case…yeah, actually, I’m fresh out of that, too.”

She pulled out another Dum-Dum. “But I can give you one of these as payback, yeah? That balances it aaaall out.” She nodded emphatically, and then remembered, with an eyeroll, that there was a necessary clause to add. “Oh, and — and I’ll be your best friend, too, right, can’t forget that.”

She gave them a toothy grin (with, of course, her sucker stick poking out of it), then clasped her hands together. “So what do you say, Shaggy and Playa? Will you pitch in five bucks to help a lowly lovable little pyro get her Gator-fix? I hear that she'll love you forever."

mood
hello hi

location
the game

outfit
a flannel, ripped jeans, and the good ol' sharpied converse

playing...
tom's diner

by suzanne vega​

mentions
n/a

interactions
noah & artie

tags
mogy @petals

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

Angeline Jumper ♡​

Both sides of the field roared with overly enthusiastic shouts as a jersey-wearing boy crossed into the endzone yet again. The scoreboard’s LED numbers changed as the first points of the match were scored against the visitors.

To that, Angeline Jumper, from her spot at the base of the bleachers behind the small cluster of screaming cheerleaders, gave an oh-so-enthralled rattle of her pom-poms. She was at the back of the crowd, so they wouldn’t know she was sitting down, anyway. “Yay,” she mouthed as she folded her pom-pom-holding hands back in her lap, so she at least appeared to be supporting the game she was here to support.

Her blue eyes were more focused on watching the real game here, though: the competition between the cheerleaders. It was a 4D chess match — or checkers, depending on the player. As she was made to stand again and the squad stood back in their formation in front of the bleachers for another cheer, her eyes lay not on the crowd but on the girls around her. She watched them scrutinizingly, analyzing the way they moved and the little ways that they tried so, so hard to outdo each other. Especially the little captain. She tried the hardest of all of them.

Of course, Angie didn’t participate in that. She didn’t need to try to be better than them; she just was.

Hotter than. More athletic than. The list went on and on and on, but she guessed you could just sum it up as better than.

Part of that being better than was just not really giving much of two shits about anything about this game or their chants. She was conserving her energy.

You know, for something that actually mattered.

Angie sighed, leaning against a railing of the bleachers and grabbing her water bottle. She uncapped it with her manicured fingers, hardly paying attention to the two girls beside her before one of them started talking.

“Is this all the excitement that a high school football game provides?” Angie lowered the bottle, cocking a brow at Prim. “Just trying to make sure if I should down my expectations after all this is the first game I have ever attended,” Prim added.

Angie gave a soft half-chuckle-half-scoff through her nose at her. She didn’t know much about this girl yet, but judging from her unamused look and demeanor, she was just as disenchanted with the football experience as Angie was. That didn’t mean much for Prim’s character, in Angie’s eyes — there were plenty of people who did that because they thought they were above it when they really weren’t.

"Oh, yeah," Salem chirped, and Angie looked over to the smaller girl to see her eyes alight with a kind of excitement. She suppressed a disgusted amusement. Kids, trying to be cool. That was what most of the squad was, and Salem was part of most of the squad. "And they're doing, like, so good which is really, really cool,” the girl continued. “Because like, you know, it's not as much fun and kind of boring when they're doing really bad, but we have to still cheer them on like...like ’go team, you suck but good try!’”

Angie sat down her water bottle, screwing the cap back on in what must have been such an indifferent way that it was obvious enough to the little girl.

Salem let out a small laugh, smiling. “Kidding," she said quickly. "I ahh…well, yeah, no, yeah, I ahh…I was joking. It's like…yeah.” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on one hip. "Yeah, games are like...totally, totally so lame, am I right?"

God, tryhards. Angie rolled her eyes, letting out another half-chuckle-half-scoff at Salem’s attempt at “coolness” or whatever she thought that was. “The only thing lame here is the fact that they still let K-Mart brand Jack Nicholson call the shots,” she said, her eyes looking at and her head nodding subtly to the large-bellied coach, who stood chatting with CK Freud. She crossed one arm across her chest, propping her other elbow up with that arm’s knuckle as she narrowed her eyes at the coach. “Guy’s old, a total fucking washup. Not that I would know much about football, but…” She snickered. “When your face shouts ’hide your kids’ and your body shouts ’before I eat them’, I feel like it’s someone’s moral obligation to tell you to get the hell away from polite society and live out your life in your mom’s basement where you belong.”

She paused a beat, rolling her tongue across her teeth, and then she looked at Prim. The girl was new here, and Angie hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to her before. If she was entirely honest, she felt like Prim had the vibes of…well, a tryhard, just like the rest of them, but one of those tryhards who was disillusioned enough to believe that they were, in some way, in control. Annoying…but they were sometimes useful to balance that out.

Then again, sometimes they weren’t, and Angie was yet to decide what Prim was: fuel or fodder, practical or prey. However, she had a sort of way to gauge that.

“By the way, Prim,” she said, inclining her head toward Prim, “I’m really just dying to hear your opinion…” She gave a nod toward the short blonde girl chatting with the cheer coach. “You have to know Tiffany Barry, right?” Angie chuckled, looking over to Prim, then she answered herself. “Of course you do. If she doesn’t look familiar, that was the cracked-up hamster who was on the tryout panel with Coach when you joined the team…if they do that this late in the year.”

She let that subtle dig sit in for a moment before she continued.

“Prim, you’re a new set of eyes here, so I’m going to need your honest thoughts, just to know it’s not just, like, all of the veterans thinking this…” A venomous smirk snaked across her face. Angie spared another glance toward Tiffany, then turned her full body toward Prim and Salem. After all, she couldn’t have Coach or Tiffany overhearing what she was saying right now. “Tiffany Barry really fucking bad, right?”

Angie moved aside to allow the others to view her, and she turned back around to face Tiffany. She narrowed her eyes at her, pursing her lips. “Like, look at her.” Angie chuckled, shaking her head. “I mean, it’s cute that she tries or whatever, but…maybe she shouldn’t.” She sighed. “She’s really pretty, though,” she said. “Especially for someone so willing to suck dick to be cheer captain. Some people would kill for that boob job, and those hair extensions look so natural. But, like, I’ll be the first to say that you definitely have to have talent other than the kind that she can show off in the boy’s locker room to stay around as captain as a freshman, and I don’t think she realizes that. Poor honey…” She shook her head shamefully. “It’s really going to bite her in the padded ass one day. Karma’s a real bitch like that.”

And so am I.

Angie pursed her lips for another moment, then turned back toward Prim and Salem. “Hmm, but speaking of talent…” Her eyes went back to Prim, and she gave her a slight incline of the head. “I was watching you, and I think you’re actually pretty good, Prim.” To satiate the desperate need for approval that the other girl obviously had, Angie added, with a slight scrunch of the nose and a smile, “You too, Moore.”

Those were both lies, of course; Prim was decent, at best, and Salem…well, her wannabe nature bled into her cheerleading. Still, fluff like that could go a long way for getting into the good graces someone who you might need in the future.

Did Angeline already have a plan for what Prim might be needed for? It was quite possible…but the same went for bitches as went for magicians: they never revealed their secrets.

“If this were a competition, you would be killing it,” Angie continued, “and honestly…” She sighed deeply, her brow quirking up as she looked over to glance at Tiffany. “It’s really a shame you have someone like Tiffany stealing the spotlight from you.”

That ratty bitch, Angie added internally before looking back between Prim and Salem.

“Though…” She smiled and let out a half-chuckle-half-scoff. “I guess that’s how it is…” She gave a shrug of one of her shoulders as she dropped her hand to her hip. “And what can you do?”

By the way her brow quirked up and her smirk pulled further, it was obvious, to someone smart enough to be paying attention, that it was a little pop questionaire: are you going to be useful, or are you just wasting my time?

mood
; )

location
the game

outfit
the cheerleading outfit

playing...
bubblegum bitch

by marina and the diamonds​

mentions
the poor npcs (& also ck)

interactions
prim & salem

tags
Stardust Galaxy Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

Lola Bello ​

​

Mood:
Surprisingly good​

​

Outfit:
slightly above Casual​

​

Mentions:
Link, Iggy, Iris, CK, Caleb​

​

Interactions:
Mason @Winona ​

​

Location:
Stadium bleachers​

It was clearly a sign of the oncoming apocalypses because Lola Bello was willingly at a crowded school event. No one had to drag her or bribe her, she just...came. It was truly a sight and every step she took on the premises reminder her of why this was such a rarity for her.

All the noise was almost disorientating. God did she hate crowds and the sensory overload that came along with them. This was Links type of environment all rowdy and chaotic, and for what? To watch people toss a ball around and smash into one another? Well actually watching people smash into one another didn't sound so bad. She wondered casually how many concussions it took for you to be ill fit to ever get on the field again. There had to be a limit right?

Maybe not. That would assume their was actual care about these players. Their value to the school was probably only their value to win games and nothing more. Oh and not getting sued. That was probably another big thing. While they probably didn't care if a Bridger got hurt if someone like CK was made unable to play or seriously injured their might be a problem.

If one more person bumps into her though she was going to go off on them. Jeez sure it was crowded but keep your damn paws to yourself! People were such animals. Which brings up the question if all she was going to do was complain why was she here?

She'd come originally because Link apparently joined the team and admittedly she felt some type of way about it. Mostly curiosity. Curious if he was really any good, curious if he'd hate it after one game, Curious if he'd love it and become just another jock, and a plethora of other things that might affect him in the long run. Their step father seemed to take note which was exceedingly dumb.

Oh now was Link worth something because he could possibly be good at a sport? Ugh just when she didn't think she could be disgusted any more with that man he proved her wrong. As mentioned above accidently happen injuries happen. If Link gets hurt would he raise hell? Would he even care? Or would he toss him to the side once again as being useless just like he'd done with them in the past.

This was why she had no desire to gain his approval, or acceptance. None of the people in her house in fact. Just like she had no plans on giving it (even though only her step brother seemed to care enough to want it).

She knew her worth even if the sperm donner didn't.

Truth be told she actually had a second reason for being here. Mason.

Surprise, surprise. Seems lil antisocial Lola B. actually had a bit of a heart for someone other then just her her brother. She'd knock your teeth out if you dared say such a thing, but it was true. She wasn't sure how, but she did. He was co-captain of the team and this was apparently like a big game. It was natural right?

If anyone asked she had plenty of things she could say outside of that little secret. She could say her brother, she could say Caleb (but trying not to gag while saying that might be difficult), she could say friends since she was was pretty sure the few people she actually did like were around here somewhere, or she could simply say she liked the idea of having front row seats to seeing guys getting knocked out. Especially guys she didn't like. This was the closes thing to seeing people willingly get to hurt each other legally and 100% school approved. Encouraged even!

Would anyone believe any of those excuses? Probably not. Well no one that actually knew her. The Link thing would be the most believable, but truth was all that other stuff was technically true in Ambridge and she never went to game back then either unless dragged by someone.

Speaking of her friends who usually brought her and were her best excuse to be here she needed to find them. She figured she could sit with Iggy or Iris if they were around, but as she finally made her way to the stands the were no where to be found. She was trying to look towards the top knowing that's the most likely place to find them without actually walking up the bleachers because that's WAY too much work for them not to be there.

Especially after standing in that concession stand line for what felt like an ungodly amount of time. Tho maybe it was perfect timing since she was distracted from her search for her friends hearing people murmuring about the tail-end of what looked to be an almost fight between none other then Mason and CK.

Figures.

Not like no one saw that coming a million miles away, so she wasn't surprised nor phased by it like some others around her seemed to be. She hardly even found it gossip worthy. the two clearly never got along ever. It'd be a lie to say she wasn't kinda hoping Mason would've knocked the pompous Springer's lights out, but she also knew why he didn't.

After all that was the big difference between herself and her twin. She didn't just react on impulse because of her feelings. She thought things through, and that was something she kinda liked about Mason. Sure he had a rep for being angry all the time and violent but even he knew when to pull his punch for the greater good it seemed. There was more to him then just the ball of rage he was known for.

Or maybe she just read too deep into things. Maybe she liked to think their was more to others sometimes because she hoped there was more to her then her own bitterness. Was that projecting? Probably. Didn't stop her from feeling it.

Seeing him approach her and the smile that flashed on his face for just that split second caught her off guard. Once again her damn face betrayed her showing a light pink tint on her cheeks. Ignoring the slight warmth she suddenly felt she let a grin curl onto her lips as she shrugged, "Hey, and yah kinda surprising myself right now." She admitted casually. "Figured I'd see a bit of the action in person for once."

"Things always start of this hot?" she mused teasingly referring to everything while leaning closer towards him over the rail separating them.

"Snack?" She offered him a cup full of small pretzel wrapped hotdogs. She would give him the whole thing, but he could have a few. Which that in itself was special because sharing her food was NOT something Lola typically did.

º º code by ditto º º