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Realistic or Modern growing up in seattle - main thread






H

y

u

n







THE DIFFIDENT


mood
owowowow my hands - hey lets not fight!!

location
Outside of school

oufit
Black hooden jumper, plain white shirt underneath, black jeans and black converse

tag
Mallory ( floralmoon floralmoon )
Marshall ( roxybirdie roxybirdie )



Lee Dong-Hyun

Hyun had lost all function and control of his body. Although once able to properly direct his limbs, moving in such a manner to bring his body into motion, it seemed as if that option was no longer there. Instead, all his body could do was remain still, silent, and fearing for what could possibly happen next. So, it was no surprise that when Mallory brought her hands up and pushed him off, that he felt like his body went flying. Falling back to the ground, his bottom hitting the cold, morning-dewed pavement beneath it, Hyun released an almost comical “oof”. He had not been expecting someone so small to be so powerful.

The girl continued to spit her words like fire; Hyun could feel his face burn profusely as he looked up at the girl from his seated position on the ground. “I-i-i-” he began, still trying to properly grab hold of any sort of word to be added into his ongoing, struggling sentence. He had already apologised, but it seemed as if that wasn’t enough to be forgiven by the Princess of the school. One might debate that she was a Queen of the school, but it was all politics that Hyun didn’t want to be involved in. To Hyun, being Queen required some sort of maturity. Something that he felt Mallory severely lacked. But, also, he would never say it to her face. Mainly cause he was barely able to say anything to her in the first place.

”I’m sure your father will head about this, Draco Malfoy”

The voice came from behind, followed by a hand; a branch to some sort of salvation. Hyun’s eyes looked from the fresh palm before him, travelling up the arm and connecting with the face of Marshall Kang. Hyun had very limited connection to the knight that was standing up to the venomous Mallory Hawke, but he had always thought he was in some way… I suppose… cool? He had seen him around the school, always suited with his guitar as if he could break out in song like the students from High School Musical. There was a carefree, wild nature about the boy that Hyun not only admired, but in a way, desired.

Shyly, Hyun took the offered hand and allowed the other boy to help him into a standing position. His palms stung from the freshly engraved grazes thanks to the pavement and his inability to run without running into someone. As he stood, he took a moment to look at his palms, frowning at the pain that was radiating through them. But that’s when things felt like they were getting ugly. Marshall stood before Mallory with arms crossed, and a sting in his words. Calling her Malibu Barbie and a bitch. Hyun’s eyes widened in fear, anxious that a fight of sorts would erupt because of something he had done. Oh, no, no. He couldn’t get detention for this if a teacher was to find out.

It’s okay,” Hyun insisted, placing a hand upon Marshall’s arm as if it could restrain him in a way. “Honestly, it’s fine. It was my fault, she shouldn’t have to accept the apology. We can’t tell her how to feel” His eyes narrowed slightly, observing Marshall for a moment. Kang, right? So… Korean? Slowly, somewhat unsure if Marshall may have come from a household that spoke their mother tongue, Hyun began to speak in Korean to the boy. “I’d rather not create some huge issue about this. Please, let’s just let it go so the teachers don’t get involved. Let her think she got a win or something





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.


 






giselle




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)



































1985



bowling for soup









The birds chirping outside Giselle’s open frosted window kept her entertained as she got ready. As she pulled a long-sleeve shirt over her head, because it was chilly outside, she tried to guess how many birds were out there. Three? Four? One of their voices was louder and one had a distinctly higher pitch, but she swore there was a soft one out there too. Why was she so focused on them she had no clue. Her brain seemed to bounce around like that. One morning it’ll be trying to guess the exact temperature, and the next would be which parent was up and walking around. Was it her mother getting ready for a pilates class or her father waking up early for work?

Today was birds.

After Elle pulled on shorts, because she felt like it, she looked in the mirror. Her hair looked too puffy today. It looked like a lion’s mane, all frizzy and big. Her outfit looked tacky compared to the styles she knew she’d see her classmates pull off later. But that was okay. For every “flaw” her brain rudely pointed she decided to combat it with a compliment. Neutralize the negativity! Ellie knew she had an amazing smile, her father said it could lighten up rooms. That was part of the reason he thought she’d be a star. She also had nice eyes, her mother always thought they sparkled. Ellie gave herself a last-minute look before eyeing outside, catching Ava’s vehicle on her street.

After snatching her backpack off the floor she swung out her room, skipping down the steps to the front door. Remembering to lock it this time, her father always got on her case about how forgetful she was, she sped down even more steps to her best friend's car. Ava had been by her side through thick and thin. Being young you’d think once your friend moves away with no guarantee they’ll come back you’d let them go. Neither of you have phones, it would be hard to keep that same level of closeness. But they did it. They sent letters to each other, each one delivered to Elle was saved in a shoebox under her bed.

Ava was by her side before she got famous and Ava stuck around after she decided to quit. Not a lot of people can say they have a friend like that. Ellie was the luckiest person in the world.

“AVIE!!”

Ellie climbed into the car as fast as she could, scrambling to put on her seatbelt. Grinning from ear to ear, she couldn’t do anything but laugh her ass off as Ava almost hit one of her family's trashcans. On their way to grab June, her other closest friend, they had a short conversation about Elle’s new social media accounts over the music. Being back in the public eye felt strange and nerve-racking, but mostly exciting and fresh. This time the ginger wasn’t playing different roles and working, she was posting what she wanted for fun. She was in control of the narrative. At least for now, until she graduated next year. If she managed to graduate; and if she decides to go back.

Thinking of ifs, Ava and Giselle had almost been stars together. It was something she thought about often. Would it have changed anything if they went through it together? Would the experience have been easier, or would their friendship have crumbled apart by being placed against each other for roles? Of course, that would never have happened. They would have remained amazing friends, she was sure of it. Ava was too kind to think of Ellie as a rival, and Ellie was too dumb to realize they were supposed to be competing in the first place.

More importantly, focus on the present!!

Giselle nodded along as Ava spoke before her jaw dropped open. “Junie has a housemate?? Since when,” Ellie tried racking her brain. Had June mentioned it and she spaced out? Was it a recent thing? “We get to meet him!! Hopefully he’s fun,” the ginger crossed her fingers and closed her eyes. June is a wonderful person so surely whoever was living with her had to be nice.

And maybe he’d be cute? Ellie was curious, to say the least. Romance was never a priority for her. It was always just a “that’s nice if it happens” concept. Ava on the other hand seemed to have a lot of fun in that area, at least a lot in the physical category. She respected Avie a lot for that honestly. While hooking up wasn’t a thing she had ever tried personally, it seemed like it took guts to be that intimate with someone you weren’t planning on being close with. Ava was always more adventurous and strong!

“That would be an interesting romance story!! Falling for an exchange student who would have to leave someday,” Ellie excitedly looked out the window for the two of them to come out. “If he was the one for you would you go back to Europe with him?” Ellie turned back to Ava, wiggling her eyebrows. “Oh, do you think he’s French? Would it be rude to ask him what he thinks about mimes?”

Ellie bounced out questions, happily impatient with intrigue at the thought of someone new in their circle.

Of course, she’d never would have gotten the chance to meet them if it weren’t for her Avie! <3





♡coded by uxie♡
 






mood
anxious. stressed. hurt.


location
School.



outfit
This + a jean jacket.



mentions
NA.







walk around fearless



artem andrews



The last month has been excruciating. Ever since Artem’s sister died, it was like a void lived on in her place at the center of her family. Her family who had never been anything short of perfect and loving were now having to deal with grief from something no one ever expects; suicide. When Artem came home and found her sister on the bathroom floor, she immediately knew something was wrong, she had just hoped the doctors would’ve been able to fix it. Though they tried, or at least claimed to, Averie Andrews died on that brisk autumn day and the rest of the Andrews family were left in her wake, trying to process and grieve and mourn all at the same time.

Artem’s bright blue eyes met her reflection in the mirror of her new bedroom in her new home. After the ‘incident’ as her parents called it, the three of them moved to Seattle and far away from any potential friends or support system Artem could’ve had at her old school. She used to get texts everyday asking how she was or if she needed anything, but soon enough everyday turned into once a month. The reflection in her mirror only showed what Artem already knew, that she was dreading this first day at a new school. Her eyes were puffy and her face was flushed and while makeup had always been more of an Averie thing, Artem was going to have to learn to do it sooner or later.

Sitting down in front of her mirror, the girl dotted concealer under her eyes, brightening them up just a bit like her sister had taught her. With a bit of powder, mascara and her trusty clear lip gloss, Artem went from a walking corpse to what looked to be a normal girl ready for her first day of school.

She sighed softly, only for a knock to come through her door, “Come in.” She droned quietly as her mother opened the door.

“Awe, you look great hun.” Her mom smiled sweetly, leaning against the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? You can wait if you want.”

Artem only nodded, standing up once more and pulling on a jean jacket to prepare her for what she’d heard was to be a chilly day. Honestly, she was just glad it wasn’t raining.

With a deep breath, the blonde grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, stopping just in front of her mother. “I’ll be fine. It’s just high school.”

With a fake grin and a pat on the arm, Artem moved past her mom and down the stairs, grabbing her car keys off of the ledge and heading outside to make sure she was on time.

- - - -

Parking at the school was much easier than in California, not too many spots were taken up so Artem got one close enough to the front which was at least a decent start to her day. Walking in, she went straight to the front office as instructed by her parents earlier that week to grab her schedule. While she waited, her eyes floated to the hallway where she saw crowds and pairs and couples and everyone else bustling about for their first day back from winter break.

A small smile cracked at the hint of normalcy the school was reviving inside of her and as the secretary brought back her schedule she made the decision that her dead twin sister would remain a secret. Artem didn’t have to be the pity party that no one knew how to act around, maybe this really could be a fresh start.







/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 







marshall kang






It takes him a moment to remember Hyun.

Lee Dong-Hyun, a fellow senior. They share British Literature and European History together. Since Marshall rarely interacts with him outside the classroom, he doesn't know a lot about Hyun.

To be frank, he doesn't know everyone in his high school, especially the senior class. It doesn't help when most of your friend group are juniors.

Marshall isn't antisocial. He likes to hang with people and play his guitar. However, there's a difference between social acquaintances and friends. Despite his amiable nature, Marshall doesn't have a lot of real friends.

When you gain a bad reputation — the teachers like to call him the rebellious bard — it's hard to find people you can rely on and trust. Sometimes, it feels like most kids are concerned about their public image and social media presence.

No one wants to be friends with the scary black cat and his bad luck. What happens if their reputation is destroyed?

It could be his pessimism talking. Marshall is a lot more cynical when he's hungover.

He opens his mouth to protest. He doesn't care if Malibu Barbie rejects Hyun's apology. It doesn't give her the right to act like a self-entitled—

Marshall heaves a sigh. If Hyun continues to look at him like a baby fawn, he'll cover him in bubble wrap. He raises his hand and pokes Hyun on the forehead. He switches to their mother tongue.

His father taught him. Since his mother likes to scream at him in Korean when she's drunk, Marshall has a lot of practice.

"Letting it go just makes it worse," he begins. He gives Hyun an unimpressed look. "If you don't stand up for yourself, she'll walk all over you like a designer welcome mat, Bambi." Marshall glances at Mallory. "Letting her think she won might be necessary in some situations, but now? There's nothing wrong with a little backbone." He pats his fellow senior on the shoulder.

He doesn't know Hyun very well, but he looks like he needs a friend. If no one will help him stand up to Mallory Hawke, he will. Shoving baby Queen Bee's off their diamond-encrusted pedestals is one of his favorite things about high school.





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
cameron chambers
ion wanna talk ab it
his car in front of his apt
The silence as Cam sat waiting for the car to heat up was suffocating. Two friends in three months. Two friends had come to him seeking refuge from home. The irony of being anyone's safe space almost made him want to laugh. He hadn't even had the fucking guts to tell Marsh what he could be getting himself into, and wasn't sure Alex knew the extent of his troubles.

He sure as hell didn't know the extent of hers.

He didn't think he wanted to if he was honest with himself, not that he'd ever tell her that. He mainly didn't want to find out how he'd react. If he'd learned anything in the last few years it was that you never know what you're capable of, never really know what your limits are.

The sound of his car horn startled him, the action seemingly automatic. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes as he waited for Alex, counting backwards in his head in a fruitless attempt to drown out his thoughts.

He opened them when he heard the front door shut, watching Alex as she walked towards the parked vehicle. She seemed to be looking at anything that wasn't him when she took a seat, and he had an inkling of a feeling he knew what was coming next. He heard her voice shake, felt the rage welling up inside himself and forced it back down. He'd save it for later, for someone who deserved it.

"I'll let Marsh know. Stay as long as you want." He paused for a quick second before adding, "If you'd rather stay with my mom let me know, y'know she loves you."

Usually, he would've started the car and continued the conversation as they were en route, but one look at Alex made him freeze. He wasn't used to seeing her so... small, like she was trying to collapse into herself. He listened as she spoke, his gaze fixed on the cupholder between their seats. The knuckles on his left hand turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, still doing his best to keep the anger at bay. It wouldn't do anyone any good, not right now, and the possibility of scaring Alex further terrified him.

He wished he had an answer for her, wished he could give her a solution, but if he could he would've done it years ago. Going to the police, beating the shit outta the motherfucker, staying with him. Everything had a potential outcome that would just make it worse. He felt helpless as he said nothing, and then selfish for considering himself at all in this situation. Relief washed over him - selfish - when she cut the silence, though his heart ached all over again when she apologized.

He looked directly at her for the first time since they'd left the inside of the apartment, meeting her eyes and giving her a small smile before shaking his head.
"Ain't got shit to apologize for, you know that. Could be before IHOP or something instead if you wanted." He put the car in reverse but kept his foot on the brake, giving her some time to weigh her options.
coded by natasha.
 
TW- mention of OD & Suicidal feelings (this is my LAST trigger warning for this skip tho!)























A












filler! ignore


















S












filler! ignore




























  • Alex Smyth






    The Rebel
















♡design by dreamglow, coded by uxie♡
 













.scroll












TALES OF DOMINICA
— by Lil Nas X








mood
a lil nervy~


outfit
the fit


interactions
Lexi Ahlgren


tags
BracedJupiter72 BracedJupiter72












calliope


― "kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?"




Relief washed over Calli as they walked inside the building, her body thawing as they escaped the cold. She felt cute as hell, but whether or not her constant shivering would be worth it didn't depend on her opinion.

Her eyes examined the others roaming the halls with them while Lexi recalled her morning, searching for familiar faces. Well, faces that would be familiar to her, not necessarily ones that would recognize her. She knew people, perhaps better than she should, but preferred not to be known. The train of thought left her wondering how she ended up planning a date with someone who not only clearly enjoyed attention, but that had seemed to master the art of acquiring it.

Her brows furrowed a little when Lexi mentioned nearly getting into multiple accidents on the way to school.
"People really need to be more considerate, wow,"
she said, shaking her head. It amazed her sometimes how little people cared about each other.

As they came to a stop, her nerves presented themselves as restless energy. Calli bounced back and forth on her heels, her expression softening when Lexi asked how she was doing.
"You know me, I'm chillin'."
She smiled as she spoke, though it dropped quickly when she fell quiet, her teeth nibbling on her inner cheek.

Hesitation was written clear as day on her features. She loved Lexi, honest, but the girl had a way of making Calli feel small sometimes, and she was already feeling pathetic enough as it was. If she didn't at least bring it up, though, it'd eat at her until the end of school, and that almost sounded worse.

"Actually,"
she began before she'd fully realized it,
"I'm, like, kinda freaking out right now."
She turned towards her friend for the first time since they'd settled, forcing herself to still and her back to straighten.
"Y'know how I told you I was texting Luke last night?"


Finally not being in a state of constant movement allowed her to take a closer look at Lexi, and she found herself wondering if she'd remember their conversation. Not wanting to stop now that she'd found the courage to start, she plowed on,
"I'm going to his house later and I dunno, I'm nervous."
It took a great deal of effort to not physically cringe at her own words. Who the hell got this worked up over a date with a known heartbreaker?






coded by xayah.ღ
 

mood: calm, cool, collected
outfit: lavandar long sleeve crop top, pleaded denim miniskirt, pink chunky sneakers
Mentions: Luke
Interactions: TheVoidQueen TheVoidQueen
Lexi
drink before the war - sinead o'connor

Lexi couldn't help but feel a little jealous. It's not like she liked Luke, or that she cares what he does with his life, it was just that she just didn't want Calliope dating someone. She knew that Calli had been eying Luke. Every time he came up she was more than happy to indulge in the subject. Part of Lexi wanted to disclose the fact the her and Luke had been hooking up but she knew it was wrong. It was terrible that she though that, but she liked that the two of them were single. That's the lie she told herself anyway. In reality she was just really lonely, and the thought of anyone getting in a relationship, let alone her best friend, made her feel crappy.

She put on a small fake smile, glancing at her friend for a second before staring down at her shoes. "Don't be. I'm sure it'll be fine." She stayed like that in scilence for a minute before looking back up at her friend, this time a bigger smile on her face, one that looked even more genuine even though it wasn't. Her eyes darted around Callis face, trying to look anywhere but her eyes. She knew if she met her gaze she would just get even more upset. Upset over nothing. Lexi raised her hand to her hair, ruffling it a bit before pushing herself off the wall beginning to walk away. "Gotta get going." She said, barley audible, not even bothering to look back at Calli.

Even though she had a good group of friends, a mother that truly loved and cared for her, supporting her through her transition and was really her biggest supporter in life. She felt alone. She didn't know why, or how, but she felt as though she would be alone forever. She thought back to all the guys in her life, back to her previous relationships. She ruined everything she touched. Her once healthy and happy relationship with her mom is now filled with distrust and anger, her relationship with Noah she ruined, and sooner or later everyone else in her life she would either screw over or they would realize she just isn't a good person and decide to leave her. Alone.

She could feel this feeling fester inside her, a feeling she couldn't explain. A mixture of hate, sadness, anxiety, love, jealousy, guilt, and resentment. A feeling she was used to. Something so small as her best friend nervous about meeting up with a potential boyfriend made her so upset. She should be happy, she should be with her friend reassuring her that everything would be alright, helping her plan a cute outfit to wear. But instead she was sulking in self pity like a selfish loser.

As Lexi walked down the hall she noticed that that whole conversation caused her to sober up a bit, all the thinking and mental turmoil really brought her high down. Before she knew it she found herself pushing past a set of doors that led outside to the right side of the school. Pulling her phone out of her waistband she began texting. "where are you? lets get high" She pressed send, staring at the screen, biting the skin on the side of her thumb while rolling her ankle on the ground, waiting for Leon to respond.



º º code by ditto º º
 
*disclaimer the only version of the song was a calvin harris remix lmfao srry bout it, still fits tho













eino van swearingen

♫/when you were young - the killers/♫



mood

happy, emotional, eager


location

emily's house in queen anne


oufit

d7e10715256866012ba9b69a14f0a755.jpg


tag




still jetlagged from his arrival, it took eino awhile to fall asleep though forcing himself not to sleep at all the day before did help with this immensely. today, he was full of energy and raring to start his first day at an american high school. even more excitement festered upon realizing laurybear had dropped, not only a new song, but a visual to go with it. he’d play it over and over again in his room already reciting the lyrics to himself by the time he got out of the shower.

“feel that summer, and i don’t wanna miss you..”

BNO’s music was nearly all he listened to. he’d been a fan since he found them on soundcloud years ago and ever since, he considered them the best thing that ever happened to him. after all, they inspired him to pursue the thing that changed his whole life: music. the emotional connection he had to their sound was like no other–they were just different. in his opinion, they deserved so much more recognition for the new blend of digital, yet alternative rock the members cultivated over the last few years. even when the contents of their songs were just silly and not as serious as their emotional tracks, it resonated with eino deeply. he wanted to be apart of that.

as eino got dressed he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d meet them someday–maybe even be able to create a relationship–now that he resided in the city this favorite artists resided in. the mere thought of it caused him to shake himself from daydreaming too much, images of going around seattle with them or recording a song in lukey or laury’s infamous studio from their instagram lives… he felt he shouldn’t get too ahead of himself and besides, the odds of running into them in such a huge city were too contingent to continue dwelling on for the short amount of time he had to start his first day at roosevelt. even so, he grinned at himself in the mirror, feeling tears well up–the feeling of pride and happiness were swelling inside him like a water balloon about to pop. could this be the start of greatness? who really knows..

for now, listening to “summer” would suffice. eino wiped his tears and grabbed all of his belongings together in his backpack.

the boy was quick to run down the stairs and greet his host family, offering to do the dishes while emily’s parents finished up breakfast.

“oh, and next time ill do the breakfast! i love to bake and cook, i did it for my family in copenhagen for years.” he smiled, continuing his chatter–focusing on charming emily’s mom which seemed to be working.

he ate the extravagant breakfast his new family laid out for him–almost choking as he went in eating as much as he could, it was hard to say when the last time he’d ever seen this much food in front of him without it being something he merely served a restaurant party. the welled up excitement bubbled up inside him over and over–flashes of how great the first day at school could be and how anxious he was to get to school and meet new people. the danish boy probably shouldn’t have kept his hopes too high, but he really couldn’t help it. shooting for the stars was all that was engrained in him. and reading anymore tweets from the twitter buzzkills wouldn’t do him any good.

eino took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the raspberry jam sitting next to the english muffins. he furrowed his brows, trying to keep himself calm after reading all the strange comments that appeared on his feed. the attempt he made to introduce his presence did not go as planned, but maybe it could be better when he finally arrived?

but what if it really WAS terrible?

he fidgeted in his chair a bit at the thought, then smiled at the ground. nah. there’s no way! school will be great because i’ll make it great.

resting a cheek against his palm, eino’s brows furrowed once more. hopefully i’m not around any of THOSE people though.

suddenly, the sound of the missing member making her way down the stairs perked eino’s attention like a puppy to the sound of a crumpling pellet bag. with a swoosh of his sandy-blonde hair, he turned around to meet the eyes of his first official american friend. with a cheeky grin he stood up out of his chair like a formal greeting, taking his finished plates and placing them in the sink before fully facing the girl. “ahh emily! you look great~!”

as he did so, the sound of a car pulled up–signalled by the radiating of a loud bassline.

oh? “who’s that?”






















/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 
Last edited:
tw: weeds












jack soren ronnenfelt

♫/remind me - royksopp/♫



mood

sleepy, anxious, kind of wants to die, curious


location

jack's house in south seattle


oufit

b09c49bfa5a4bc3bfb79175268524e78.jpg
5cd6d8c6e15298f83d720062282079b3.jpg
b9e7fe2d452b8590eaa86ed9aa3c9fc6.jpg


tag

haru Miaow Miaow




jack clutched the plastic bag in his pocket, opening the door and pressing a box of light blue american spirits against his lips. he took a cigarette out and lit it with one swift movement. the boy took a puff, looking at the ground and leaning against the concrete wall–eyes shifted up for a moment, catching a bit of silent conversation as he peered into the window of haru’s sedan. squinting, he could tell he was signing to someone in the passenger seat. both of them stepped out, but jack’s eyes remained on the short girl dressed warmly making her way out of the car. shit... is she coming over here?

he had to advert his eyes the moment she turned to face the house, leaning against the car. jack inwardly cursed himself for the tinge of shyness he felt in the moment. at least she wasn’t coming over to him. even so, he straightened himself up–hitting his cigarette coyly and watched the crushed leaves on the driveway instead, yet keeping her in the secrecy of his peripherals. jack would barely realize haru, just getting through the short metal gate, was nearly at the door. but as he did he nodded his head up to the boy, “sup… um, twenty-five for the eighth.” he spoke–his mind trying to focus on the deal instead of the cute girl in a scarf standing twenty feet away.

at this point he was practically chain-smoking the single cigarette, positioning his lips to exhale away from haru as he watched the boy count the cash out in front of him. jack couldn’t really help his slight curiosity, but tried to mask it with nonchalance–”i didn’t know you had a sister.” looking over for a moment–accidentally making eye-contact with said sister. they both looked away at the same time. dark-haired boy with his head down--tried to change the subject. “you can hit me up whenever.. by the way–like.. i’m not going anywhere anymore.” he continued with a shrug.






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 
LEON PIERCE
not understanding that youre a horrible person doesnt make you less of

a horrible person
the sinner
fell asleep and forgot to die
the weekend
mac miller
mood: it's raining women
location: bleachers
interactions: vera - Twin Fantasy Twin Fantasy | lexi - BracedJupiter72 BracedJupiter72
scroll
Maybe laying down with your eyes closed isn't the best idea when you're engaging in illegal activity.

Leon hadn't really been expecting company. At most they'd expected a straggler or two to run across the field and pay them no mind. Needless to say, a strange voice taking over the white noise of the morning had their blood running a little cold.

He sat up, his joint hanging loosely between his middle and index fingers and confusion etched on his face. Maybe the lack of sleep was catching up to him because the girl's words reached his brain long after they reached his ears. Shit, maybe it was the joint. How long had they been out here?

"Shit yea, here," the reply came after an almost embarrassing amount of time. Placing the joint back between his lips, he reached for his tote and fished out the pack of cigarettes. Handing it to her, they inhaled before smiling. "Take a few if you want. You need a light, too?" Generosity came naturally when you didn't pay for shit.

He grabbed his phone from beside him to check the time - it was looking good, seven minutes left - and saw a message from Lexi. Reading it was an unnecessary courtesy, really; the blonde only ever hit his line for sex or drugs.

"at the bleachers rn w some goth chick. what u got on u tho, im fresh out til later"

Oh fuck, hadn't they promised their score to some chick off of Twitter? Whatever, they could always just ask for a little extra. The issue of cash could be dealt with at a later time.

Setting the phone back down, they gave their unexpected companion a once over. Their left hand came up to scratch the back of their head, vague recognition causing his brows to furrow. "Yo, you look kinda familiar. You make music or something?" The question sounded less creepy in his head than he felt it did out loud, and Leon found himself hoping he hadn't made her uncomfortable.
© reveriee
 
tw; drug deal













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Car Lights
— James Marriott








mood
it's cold, is it dance class yet


outfit
the fit


interactions
Jack, Haru


tags
doedeer doedeer












Miyu Nagase


― "the invisible."




Miyu let out a soft sigh as she leaned against the car, adjusting her fingerless gloves. She naturally ran cold, always bundling up at the slightest sign of cold. However, it was January in Seattle, she had more than enough reason to be wearing so many layers. She pulled her scarf up so it covered her mouth, keeping herself nice and toasty as she waited for Haru.

Haru nodded to Jack as he stepped through the metal gate, but Jack seemed... preoccupied. Whatever, that guy was weird anyway. He was practically famous but was so... awkward. You'd think with all the deals he did, he'd have some people skills. It was probably all those drugs he did... Aaaaanywho, time to pick up his own drugs!

"Nice one,"
He responded. That was a cool way to respond to the price of drugs... right? Probably not, it didn't matter. He pulled his wallet out from his pocket and counted out the cash, his hands clumsy from the cold. His life would be so much easier if this guy accepted bank transfers. It wasn't like Wells Fargo was going to mind if he was dealing drugs. Well, they might.

"Cousin,"
He answered Jack in an almost stern tone. No, she wasn't his sister, she was just a cousin that shared a house with him, and a school, and a car, and a... mother...

He glanced over his shoulder at Miyu as she checked her phone. At least he wasn't going to make her late, walking into a classroom with everyone looking at her as she made her excuse to the teacher... that was her worst nightmare. She looked up, her eyes meeting with Jack. She panicked, quickly looking back to her phone. Why did she panic?! He was just a friend of Haru's... or, well, probably not, Haru didn't have many friends, she knew all their faces by now. This guy was new. She couldn't help but look back at him as soon as she knew he wasn't looking, curious as to who he was.

Haru handed the cash over to him, frowning a little at his remark. He wasn't expecting him to go anywhere, anyway.
"Yeah, where'd you go over winter? I had to do family christmas sober. It sucked."








coded by xayah.ღ
 





a

y

d

e

n







THE SKATER BOY


mood
Let me lie here and die hahaha

location
Outside of school

oufit
Orange hooded jumper, black adidas pants, plain white shirt and black skate shoes

tag
Gao Gao



trigger warning
child abuse

scroll for post


Ayden Thompson

If this world were blessed with a purge night, Ayden would’ve prayed for it last night. He had been lucky that his Uncle had been half cut, meaning his moves were sloppy. He had been lucky that his grandparents took strong sleeping medication and didn’t hear a thing. He had been incredibly lucky that his mother had been at work on her late shift. And most importantly, he had been lucky enough to have been able to sneak his arm out from underneath his Uncle’s hand as he pinned him to his bed mattress. One firm whack across the side of the older male’s head, and he was disorientated enough for Ayden to make his escape. With enough time to grab his phone off the bedside locker and take hold of his shoes and his skateboard by the front door, Ayden bolted out of the house at two in the morning.

His face was on fire as the cold air hit it. He had been up trying to study until late into the night and had eventually passed out on his bed. Thankfully, it meant that when all of this took place, he was still clothed in yesterday's outfit. I suppose this will have to do he thought to himself as he observed the items in his hands after running down the block in soaked socks. Once he knew he was in the clear, he took a moment to sit on a bus bench and placed his shoes on. Now… where could he go? He was running on probably two hours of sleep and knew that returning to the house when the only person awake was his Uncle was like sending a lamb to the slaughterhouse. He flickered through his contact list, looking through someone - anybody - that might be awake at this god-awful time of night. But then it struck him; school was back tomorrow. There was probably no way in hell any of these people would want to meet him outside, in the cold, after two in the morning when they would have to be up bright and early in a couple of hours for school.

And so began his adventures through the icy streets of Seattle. He visited four petrol stations hoping to find one of the newest limited edition Monster energy drinks. Sadly, everywhere was completely sold out. Instead, he had to settle for some Red Bull drinks, stashing two in his hooded jumper’s pocket and the other was to be had on the go. The moon began to bid its goodbyes to the world, kissing the horizon as the sun peaked through to show the start of a new day. Sleep deprived and running on energy drinks, Ayden decided that maybe heading to school would be the best option for now. At least he could double check if he had left some spare clothes in his locker (probably doubtful), or he could find someone to skip class with; praying he could just return back to their place and rest.

Skating down the parking lot of the school, he noticed the people rushing around, excited about returning back to their place of education after their little break. Ayden also noticed someone running straight into the school's Queen Bee and Marhsall running over to defend him. And while all of this was happening and capturing his attention as he glided on his board and slurped from his Red Bull can, Ayden wasn’t watching the other potential hazard up ahead; tangerines. Who would’ve thought that tangerines would be the one thing to take him out of everything in this world? His skateboard wheel became lodged in the fruit, causing his board to come to a complete halt, something that Ayden wasn’t expecting. While his board stopped, Ayden’s body kept on moving. He felt like he was free falling for such a long time in slow motion.

Bang!

It seemed that something had caught his fall.

Well, sort of.

Ayden had fallen off his skateboard and face-first into a wide-open car door. And now, he laid on the floor, his nose beginning to pool with blood and embarrassment flooding over his every being. As he laid on his back, his arms spread and his eyes closed, he released a frustrated exhaled “Fuck”. Did he have to get up? Couldn’t he just lie here and wait until everyone went into class so he could forget that something like that had even happened?







/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.


 
OCTAVIAN DE LA VEGA
  • ,
Fading light and wine on the
curtains,
sickly
fumes stain the
mouths
of the glasses. The
dry
mouth and the
bleary
eyes preside over the
misery
of their
battered
body, a hirsute
slippage
of time, a rod of
asceticism
in a treatise on
debauchery.

Collecting Tangerines from the ground like a foraging caveman, the reminder there was still time to get in the car and leave floated against the crown of his bald little mind. Cancel the day, scurry home and claim he’s sick, a simple and well rehearsed ruse.

Alas, he didn’t desire Mimosa’s coddling and fussing that something had gone awry. Treated like he was fragile grew tiresome, the eggshell heels and paper skin, as if a misplaced word or tone would be enough to disrupt sediment and crumble foundations.

He was braver than that.

Hey man.


He was not braver than that.

When gripped by fruit-chasing distraction he’d failed to notice approaching footsteps till greeted. Frozen to asphalt, blood diluted pale at the first brush with socialisation. Hey man was a vague hello, teetering the pendulum of either fond or hostile. Hey man with a fist to the jaw, or hey man with an arm around the shoulder?

When living like the hunted, throwing glances behind like a shadowed creature, he often fell lenient to the same question. Do I know you? Should I know you? A gaze of sunglasses, perhaps further inspection of their outfit would’ve garnered an answer that Ave valiantly sought; fashionable even through the cold. Instead, the blur of a nostalgic shape seen just over the stranger’s shoulder soothed apprehension. Understanding flickered, icy expression melting in recognition of the vermillion car, Diana.

This was Marshall.

Relief flooded with warmth, breath he hadn’t realised held now eased out through nostrils.

“Hey,” precariously balancing tangerines in arms, there was only a nod of thanks to the fruit-collecting help, inducing the hover of a pregnant silence.

This was Marshall.

Things had been strange between them for a while. A glacial stretch of ice, some divide he couldn't quite understand. Granted only starving glimpses of them throughout winter break, pestering of Mimosa’s questions had been growing whiny in frequency. Where’s Marsh lately? Did you two have a fight? Can you say sorry? I can make his favourite meal?

Akin to the Maltese dog that scurried their home, Bonita, grandmother’s nervous yapping was beginning to sound eerily similar.

And Octavian could only share in the assumption he’d done something. Perhaps overlooked them in passing gazes, not recognised them in public, that very same mistake he’d repeated year after year. Perhaps Marsh knew, a vivid paranoia that regularly crept up. Or perhaps, as Ave desperately hoped from the optimistic ravine of his mind, Marshall had just been busy.

Little did he know being busy involved crashing with Cameron.

A crease wrinkled between Ave’s brows at the offer, amused disbelief to their eagerness to avoid classes.

“It’s the first day back, man.” He couldn’t stifle the coals of hope that maybe things could be revived, return back to how it was; shoulder to shoulder. That their friendship wouldn’t have to become a cold memorial, stood beside the copious cemetery of Octavian’s lost connections.

“You should save your absences for when essays are due,” a smile glid his features, almost proud, “that’s what I do.” History was sure to be scarce in appearance, a much hated subject for the Vega boy.

With Marshall extending this olive branch, Ave knew it would be stupid to decline. They’d be able to catch up, melt the frost seeping into the hollow fractures between them, heal whatever splinters were pinching beneath skin.

Distracted, he followed the chase of their attention to a nearby drama. Squinting through the dark lens of his glasses, Octavian barely had a moment to register the collision before Marsh was walking off to intervene.

“What are you going to do?” Tinged with all-too-knowing suspicion, there was urgency in his voice as it called after Marshall.Just– don’t fight anyone!” That was the magic of Marsh; his unrivalled bravery to leap into things. That was also the vice of Marsh; his willingness to leap into risk without a second thought.

Octavian sighed watching them scurry into the distance. A dispute of some nature, all harsh words and mystery faces. Cradling tangerines in his arms, I look like a fruit-freak, and repealing back to the uncertainty of the unknown, Ave decided to steer clear from that mess.

Instead turning right as a stranger rammed into his car door.

Frame by frame did it play before him, a twisted spectacle of limbs that crashed into streamlined perfection. Orange spheres once tenderly held fell loose, arms dropping in defeat and spilling from Ave like a distribution of constellations. Eerie silence molasses thick, trawled slow as honey, yet sour as lime, for a moment Octavian was suspended in liminal space.

Perpetrator idle on the concrete, Ave dared not even ponder their name or injuries. They could have died on impact and it wouldn’t have influenced his behaviour one way or another, and perhaps death would’ve been a better fate than dealing with vehicle-loving mayhem.

“You just hit my car.” Voice faint, barely rooted in his body and barely present in reality. A reel reversed and replaying, projector flickering and choking on ribbons of black film. Untethered by the scene he stared upon, damage to the prized mustang had robbed Avian of seemingly, all emotion.

A tangerine came to rest against the side of his shoe, a final, gentle stop to its lulled journey.

Frames sped up, film swallowed into optical, air pooling lungs as sound resumed to hammer the inside of his skull.

“You just hit my car?!” Voice belted steady, his mind and body had ricocheted in realisation. Waxed into streamlined perfection, the black metal marred with bruising momentum. “Martina?!” He very may well have lost his mind right there and then.My Martina?!”

Horrified noises like a wounded animal circling the corpses of its fallen brethren, Ave paced the vehicle. Descent into waking horror, hands smoothing from forehead to scalp in distress, the rough-hewn buzz beneath fingers did nothing to ease the turbulent rise of malaise.

There were reasonable grounds to argue it wasn’t this stranger's fault; Ave should’ve closed the door, should’ve done a better job collecting tangerines before havoc could arrive, should’ve denied the fruit at Mimosa’s first offer.

But alas, Ave was a dedicated father.

And his baby had been harmed.

Attention drawn to the culprit, Octavian had rounded on them in a manner so unacceptably human. A movement that called into question how far he’d go to avenge his beloved mustang. The car he loves, the very machine he’d pore over like a sea of obsidian and ruby; Martina, now suffering. Octavian couldn’t bear another second of it.

“You.” Seethed in such hatred, words freshly flayed and pared open to spill its fiery innards. “Come here, you little orange shit!” Violence was not Octavian’s native tongue, nor did rage arrive regularly in his mouth. Yet a boy of action, Ave would do the gracious honour of closing the distance for them. Boots over fruit to the dismal individual, ignoring the run of red from their nose in preference for the ripe, soft grief sitting in his throat.

“See this?!” A snatch of vibrant clothing yanked the stranger into a sitting position, shoving their head within inches of the door to truly see the damage. “You did this. Look. Look properly!An urgent point at the dent. “You’ve hurt her. You know, Martina was around before you were even born!”

Akin to guilting a dog for chewing up shoes, there was a mild tone of indignity to forcing Ayden to stare at their wrongdoing. Witnesses be damned, Avian now cared naught for social etiquette.

“What do you have to say for yourself, huh?!” Then began the throttling, shaking the stranger back and forth by the fabric of their hoodie as if to scramble their brains to pulp. “Bashing up my car?!”

He may have told Marsh not to fight anyone, but it appeared Ave would be the one close to scrapping.

coded by reveriee.
 





a

y

d

e

n







THE SKATER BOY


mood
don't shake the baby!!

location
Outside of school

oufit
Orange hooded jumper, black adidas pants, plain white shirt and black skate shoes

tag
Gao Gao



trigger warning
mention of blood

scroll for post


Ayden Thompson

He had prayed that he could find an eternal slumber laying on the bitumen floor, stones of various sizes poking into his body. It wasn’t comfortable, but it would do for now. The distant whimper of a teenager obviously still in need of a diaper fell upon Ayden’s deaf ears as he laid so still and silent. It wasn’t until the bellowing of the crybaby’s voice that he decided that he should probably pay some sort of attention. Cracking an eyelid open, he tilted his head backwards and against the pavement to steal a glance of the one grieving. Martina? Ayden thought to himself, confused for a microsecond before it was revealed who exactly this Martina was. This full grown ass boy was wailing a sorrowful tune for a car? A car that he had named… Martina?

Ayden had seen some weird shit in his life. This was going to have to take the cake.

Tempted to close his eyes once more, hoping this sobbing individual wouldn’t make their way over to him and drown him in his crocodile tears (in all honesty, Ayden was going with the if I can’t see you, you can’t see me tactic here). Alas, the tactic had failed, and instead, he found a slur of harassment being thrown in his direction. Little orange shit. Must be me Ayden internally commented, allowing his eyes to humbly shut and resuming his playing dead routine. And he was going far too good of a job had it not been for the crazy fellow grasp upon his jumper, lifting him up into a seat position. Looks like we're playing he groaned to his inner self, opening his eyes along with a head flop. His head was pushed in the direction of the damage; ah yes, he could almost see the imprint of where his head had been a few moments ago.

My God, he felt like a rag doll. Did he break his neck in the progress of creating such a wonderful dent on this random stranger’s car door?

He wanted to snort, hearing the name Martina once more. But with the blood pooling inside, trickling down his nostrils and dripping from the tip of his nose, it probably wasn’t the best move right now. Who was this boy who was so obsessed with this car that he didn’t even have the common social skills or decency to question if he was okay? He had just practically put his head through a car door after falling off his skateboard, and this guy was more concerned about the dents left behind instead of his life? Was he one of those people who were married to their cars? You know those weirdos, who are registered and make love to their cars? Yeah, he seemed to fit the profile.

Then the thrashing began.

Oh, it was enough to give him motion sickness. Many years ago, he had seen an Australian advertisement on YouTube about the consequences of shaking a baby; their brains would end up like scrambled eggs that you could eat for breakfast. Was that really what this lad was trying to do? Was he wanting to have some breakfast delight before the first period? Like hell Ayden was going to let anyone take away his scrambled eggs - I mean, his brain - for breakfast, and for free. The other male spewed a hypothetical question in his direction; What did he have to say for bashing up his car?

Oh, he thought that he was bashing his car up?

Well, honestly, the idea had never passed through his brain.

What a good idea that was.

A cocky grin spread across Ayden’s face with the blood of his nose kissing his upper lip; a small wipe of his lip with his tongue only confirmed that it was in fact blood and not tomato sauce. With a firm fist, he raised it. Many on-lookers would believe that he was hellbent on starting a real fight between the pair of them; that this was his signal to declare war and for all of hell to break loose. Well, Ayden knew there was a way to start a war without even needing to resort to such primitive insists of whacking each other over the head with sticks. Instead, with his raised fist, he drew it back and flung it against the said car door.

Bang!

A fresh new dent next to the head-shaped one. He was going to have to get it buffed out anyways, right? What was one more dent to add to the collection? A raised brow in the direction of the giant crybaby was Ayden's cocky way of telling him to bring it on.






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.


 






mallory




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)



































Dounia & Kehlani



Rich Girl Mood








There was some Harry Potter references thrown by Marshall, which resulted in a major eyeroll and scoff from Mallory, "Yeah, I have no clue who any of those people are." The supposed influences just flew past her as she didn't understand any of the words that were being thrown at her. He then called her Malibu Barbie, this stung a little, but there was no way that she was ever going to show any sort of injury to the insult.

"Maybe I wouldn't be a bitch if he would actually watch where he was going. Now my coffee is all over the ground and I have nothing to get me through the day." She stood there with her arms crossed with an irritated look on her face, that was when the two started speaking in another language, the only assumption that could be made was they were talking shit about her, which she wasn't going to put up with.

Her eyes were rolling further into her head with each passing second, there was no way she could stick out here for much longer, too many people saw the incident and her school ranking was dropping by the minute. Mallory waves the boys off as she turns and walks into the school, all that she had left to do was meet up with Sam at his locker.

As she bounces through the school, trying to get as much attention on her as possible, Mallory makes her way towards her locker. Standing in front of it, she dials in the combination 5-21-37, the lock pops off and allowing the door to swing open. The inside looked like a pink explosion, with accents of white and gold, and some pictures hanging up, it was all very organized.

Once she had gathered all the items that she would need for classes, her path was now zoned in on finding Sam's locker. Zipping in and out of the crowd, her pace going faster and faster, trying to avoid people touching her. Mallory hones in on her boyfriend's locker, but had no sight of him, this upset her even more than she already was.

Her phone whips out and her thumbs start tapping away on the screen, "Where are you, Sam?" She hits the send button, then leans up against the lockers once more, arms crossed again, disappointed in the fact that she had to be waiting on someone. Typically, people would be waiting on her, so having to be the waiter instead of waited, was a nuisance.





♡coded by uxie♡
 





H

y

u

n







THE DIFFIDENT


mood
is no one going to help him?!

location
Outside of school

oufit
Black hooden jumper, plain white shirt underneath, black jeans and black converse

tag
Mallory ( floralmoon floralmoon ), Marshall ( roxybirdie roxybirdie ) + Cameron ( TheVoidQueen TheVoidQueen )



Lee Dong-Hyun

The poke on the head caught Hyun off guard, leaving him bewildered by the boy before him. This was a first; meeting someone new who could so confidently and comfortably give him advice while acting like he had known him his whole life. Marshall’s antics was a breath of fresh air, but it also left Hyun wondering if this was just a temporary, fleeting moment. Obviously, after this, Marshall would just go on his way. He had stood up for the small guy, and that was it. That was his thing. Time to move on to the next thing and completely forget this meeting at all.

I supposed Hyun was sour about these heroes without capes.

His only other experience with them came in the form of Cameron Chambers. Someone he had built a solid foundational friendship with in his younger years. They would’ve been six, maybe seven, when they first met. Hyun was being teased by the other children within the classroom, throwing racial slurs at him as if it wasn’t going to be dragged up twenty years later and used against them online or within their workplace. Cameron stood up for him, telling the other boys to cut it out. From that moment onwards, Hyun idolised Cameron. He was in awe of how strong and brave the boy was, and began to follow him around like a lost little puppy.

For years their friendship bloomed. Despite strict household rules, Hyun could go to Cameron’s house after school once he had finished his chores and homework. Cameron always had the option to come over to his own house, but even Hyun found it rather plain at his place. Limited toys, no gaming stations, and parents that would constantly mutter and complain about the mess that children would leave behind. So, Hyun spent most of his free available time at Cameron’s. But, like a garden full of magnificent roses, winter was coming. Their time in the warmth and bliss of their friendship started to wither away as they edged high school. Cameron became distant, making excuses instead of planning to hang out. Eventually, Cameron wasn’t there anymore. And Hyun was left to defend himself, entering the jungle of high school without that safety blanket he had kept himself hidden for many years.

Backbone? What was that? All Hyun knew was to curl up, hide and survive.

Turning towards Mallory, he caught sight of her waving her hand with elegance, showing her departure from the situation. There we go. The crisis was adverted. “She’s gone now” Hyun left out a shaky exhale before turning back to Marshall. Some sort of anxiety monster flipped in the pit of his gut, telling him that the other boy wasn’t going to be very happy with such an outcome as this. He didn’t seem like the type of person to let things slide so easily. “Thank you though” Hyun added on, giving him a brief nod and bow combination, unsure what to go within the public setting. He went to open his mouth once more to extend his gratitude when he witnessed something so… painful.

A boy falling off his skateboard and going head first into a car door with a loud bang!

Oooh!” Hyun winched, watching as the boy fell to the ground, pretending to play dead. “That would’ve hurt…” Well, it seemed as if that was least of the boy’s worry now that the owner of the car was making his way around and - dear Lord, he was shaking him?! Hyun’s eyes widened, looking around to see if anyone would help. Half of the audience that had gathered just stood in awe while the other half held up their phones and giggled through their screens. Honestly, no one was going to help him?

Was Hyun going to help him?



No.

He didn’t have the guts for that. But he knew someone who did.

Ya,” he commented, patting Marshall’s shoulder and pointing over to the direction of the scene “You can stop that. You’re good at stopping stuff like that. He’s going to be in an ambulance soon






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.


 
< Back
kenzie ronan

Online Now!

Last Updated:
Jan 18, 2018

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Gender: Male
Status: Single
Age: 17
Sign: Libra

City: Seattle
State: Washington
Country USA

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Calli TheVoidQueen TheVoidQueen
Thu, January 18, 2018
my sister is actually annoying. which one? guess. (:
MAH-Kenzie, Makenziee, MaAaaKenzieeeee!” The shrill sound of his teen sister had him jumping from his seat. He was bent over his eraser dust filled table at 2am, scrawling away sketches upon sketches of ideas. The little artist would be inspired to draw ideas the night before school. It was a pain to have his little sister draw the curtains open. It was aggressive as ever with the sunshine hitting his sensitive cedar brown eyes. Kenzie pulled his arm over his eyes as the monster raged on. “Seriously, Mackenzie! You’re still in jam-jams and it’s already 7:40!!!” Rachel huffed out of the room in her school uniform. She hated the pleated brown skirts and the button up with the ugliest tie in the world. His sister was always complaining and it was her prerogative to do so. Freshman year was the worst year for a Ronan sibling and Kenzie was glad he got through his bad first year without a problem.

Kenzie left his piles of papers and pencils on his desk. He wanted everything to be the exact way he left it to start back up easily. His sister probably spent two hours getting ready even with a uniform, while Kenzie pulled up some distressed jeans from the floor, a clean long sleeve shirt, and a pullover sweater and called it a day. He cleaned himself up an hour ago when he made an eggo in the darkness so he slipped on his shoes and swung the car keys as if he had all the time in the world. Kenzie perfected the morning grind to school but he forgot about his new chore: taking his sister to school.

He stood in the dated kitchen, just staring at his father as he waited for the chaos to come back around. His father, Nathaniel, was a serious man. Tall, gaunt, and always busy, except for today. Instead, he saw on the lounge chair squinting at his ipad before noticing his only son. “You’re late. That’s going on your permanent record.” Kenzie rolled his eyes at his dad, now moving over to grab a single glass of orange juice, freshly squeezed by his mom like every morning.

Nuh-uh. I found out that they were fake a long time ago.” Kenzie replied like the child he was. His dad lifted his head up to look at his son, a softness Kenzie only witnessed when they were both alone. You see, Kenzie was “different” like the way a research paper cites a source with a superscript number just to reference at the bottom of a page. He didn’t want to feel different but there were moments where he remembered. Most times it was when his dad stared at him for too long. Was it the feeling of anxiety of disappointing him or panic of being stealth to everyone but his family? It depended on the day, and today was just the former.

Rachel got your mom to take her to school. You need to get better at taking care of your sisters, bud.” The softest scolding as Kenzie now dashed across the open living room to grab the backpack he threw over a few weeks ago. It was the same one he had all of high school even if his dad could afford to get him a new one every year. He liked the normal black canvas with the brown suede that kept every paint and charcoal smudge he ever came across.

Alright alright, it won’t happen again!” He was running now from the sheer panic of disappointment. He barely noticed his littlest sisters now getting out of the hallway with yawning mouths.

Bye, Ken.” The littlest grumbled, an attempt that wasn’t reciprocated. Kenzie was actually officially late as he left the front door wide open. Too many people in the house he needed to talk to and he didn’t have time now. He was the middle child of seven, all girls, and he was his dad’s favorite. He was one of the top surgeons in the Pacific Northwest or whatever the placard said on the bragging wall, hailing from North Carolina, and well respected throughout the nation. It made sense that Kenzie was now sitting in his brand new Tesla™ and buckling into his chair as he backed away from the modern eyesore of a house. His phone automatically pairing to play his stimming music as the drive was worse than better. Guess all of Seattle was starting school today.

I stay up all night to see if you'll write me,
A buzzing on my cell phone,
A step outside the friend zone
If there are words you won't say,
I will wait, that’s ok
But if you think you might, I’ll be there tonight
I’ll be there tonight.

Arriving at the school parking lot, most of the parking spots were taken. Kenzie wasn’t one to park close anyways, always preferring to take a longer walk just to feel better about his car never getting hit by terrible drivers. He had seen the orange spherical fruit sprawled across the road in the parking lot, and the group of kids that gathered on the sidewalk. He couldn’t figure out what it was until he got out. Tangerines. Nice. He took two of the decent looking fruit from the floor as he walked into campus, completely oblivious of the shouting match he passed. He started to peel the worse of the two and moved with the current until his instincts got him to his closest friend in the West Coast.

Calliope Byrne was Kenzie’s best friend although she was much nicer to throw around that word to other people. His day was better with Calli as his grin always felt brighter when he was with her. He offered her the better tangerine as a good morning. Usually she would be talking to someone else when he got on campus but at least it wasn’t her asshole ex-boyfriend Carter. Kenzie would probably consider him enemy number one.

A tangerine a day keeps my dad away?” Kenzie may have a tiny crush on his best friend.




Currently listening :
All-Nighter
By Bad Bad Hats

7:55 AM - 12 Comments - 9 Kudos - Add Comment


coded by xoxoRamona
 
Last edited:
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benji banjo

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Last Updated:
Jan 18, 2018

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Gender: Male
Status: Single
Age: 17
Sign: Leo

City: Seattle
State: Washington
Country: USA

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Artem temporarybliss temporarybliss
Thu, January 18, 2018
my father's lemon sugar crepe recipe.
Our golden retriever boy spun around too quickly in his overcorrection. His dirty blonde curls swooped in the air as he bent down to help their unfortunate victim. They were both lucky it wasn’t too many items in her hands, just a single piece of highlighter yellow paper now sweeping under a lone desk chair from the underflow current. “I’ve got it - sorry!” Ben reached even lower on all fours to pick up the easily recognizable layout of a schedule. The darn thing got caught on the leg of the chair but the paper only had a little dirt on the corner so it was fine in Ben’s book. He didn’t even look at her until he was back on his two feet and handing the paper back to her. His sister said to never look up at a girl unless you’re doing “something”. He had no clue what that “something” was but he trusted his sister’s advice on women with his whole heart. His charming smile spewing the genuineness of his intentions, “You alright? I completely forgot the office doors were right here. My bad.” Ben took in the unknown features of the girl before piecing together the obvious. She was new to school, duh. “I’m Ben, by the way.

He didn’t get to say much after his introduction as Ms. Mancini seemed to catch up to him quickly. “Oh there you are, Ben.” Ms. M smiled as if she didn’t know he was running from her, turning to look at Artem with more poise and authority. The bright colored schedule gave her status away immediately. “Why don’t you be a doll and show our new student around campus?” She started to walk away to her office before he could reply to her either. Ben would have agreed anyway but having the option would have been nice either way. He waited for the principal to close her door before sighing in relief and speaking normally rather than quietly.

Let’s see what your schedule looks like…” He was straight-forward in the task, giving her space to fill in the gaps of his quiet if she wanted. The room wasn’t too noisy, and he was close enough to hyperfocus on her voice. Honestly, he was relieved he didn’t have to talk to anyone he already knew too. “Sweet, so I’m only a few doors down from you in your classes. I can walk you to classes if you want - just for your first day of course. The school’s a weird layout, since I think my sister said this used to be a jail or mental hospital or something, but it’s not haunted I don’t think… I’ll still show you around of course, just all the cool stuff like the indoor pool - oh and this.” Ben was eager to point out the accomplishments from the last three years in the glass cabinet. The soccer team won their league for the last three years and even if Ben wasn’t there to play for his team last season, he still cheered them on over his lagging tv screen all the way in France. “Our girls and boys soccer team is pretty good. Kinda bias, but our captain Avian is cool. We do co-ed practices… If you’re into that I mean.



Currently listening :
Inuit
By Foxing

7:42 AM - 3 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment


coded by xoxoRamona
 







marshall kang






Marshall rolls his eyes. "It still doesn't justify your high and mighty act, Barbie," he snarks. While a part of him — as much as he hates to admit it — can sympathize with the loss of caffeine, he doesn't feel sorry for the baby Queen B. Before Marshall can throw another barbed jab, Mallory turns around and struts away. He huffs in response.

"Even her walk screams rich brat," Marshall mutters. Shaking his head, he directs his attention to Hyun. His dark expression softens. "Hey now, there's no need to be so formal, Bambi. We're friends now," he points out. He says it so effortlessly as if they've been best friends since kindergarten.

His lips curve up into a smile. The carefree grin doesn't belong on the face of a feral stray. However, despite his dark wardrobe and snakebites, Marshall is more than an abandoned alley cat.

Suddenly, Hyun points at a commotion in the parking lot. His eyes unwittingly follow the senior's finger. He knows the smaller brunette is trying to distract him and slip away undetected. However, Marshall recognizes the unlucky soul on the ground and the angry goblin about to commit murder in broad daylight. He heaves a sigh.

He's not surprised when no one stops them. Fucking teenagers. He can't wait to graduate.

"I'll see you in British Literature, Bambi. I'll save you a seat," he announces. Without another word, Marshall storms across the parking lot like he's on a mission. A few students spot him and stumble back, giving him a wide berth. His strides are long and swift. For a moment, Marshall resembles a panther hunting its prey.

If Marshall catches his prey and delivers an instant death remains unknown.

Once he arrives, Marshall grabs the back of Avian's jacket and yanks back hard. While his grip remains on the jacket, Marshall reaches down and smacks his best friend's wrist with his free hand, forcing him to release Ayden. He steps in front of Ayden and retracts his hand from Avian's jacket. He crosses his arms and tilts his head back.

Stupid Avian with his daddy long legs and a buzz cut; a fucking giant with sunglasses.

"Are you fucking serious right now? You have the audacity to tell me not to pick a fight and you go ahead and pick a fight yourself? You fucking hypocrite!" Marshall snaps. He jabs his index finger at the dents. "I can fix that at the shop, Avis. Martina will be fine. She's resilient, remember?" His eyes darken to a thunderous pitch black. "What isn't fine is you trying to beat up my friend. Skater Boi's my friend, Avis."

Marshall pivots and offers a hand to Ayden. "If you want me to fix Martina now, I'll skip first period and take her to the shop. Cherry can cover for me."

He directs his attention to Ayden. "And you. I'll take you to the school nurse, but don't think you're innocent here. I saw the punch, Skater Boi. I won't stand here and let you be a dick. Talons in, Baby Hawk." Marshall hauls Ayden to his feet. He doesn't know if the school nurse is enough, but he doubts Ayden wants to visit the emergency room.

Marshall wants to avoid the hospital, thank you.

"If you two continue to fight like this, I'll stuff you both in a get along t-shirt. I swear to Hades, don't tempt me," he grumbles.

Despite his jabs, Marshall understands — more than anyone — Avian's ire. One of the solid foundations of their relationship is their love of cars and — at least in Marshall's case — motorcycles. His best friend is deeply attached to Martina. She's like his first born child.

He feels the same about Diana. Considering he spent a full hour sobbing in Avian's arms when his best friend told him about her tragic death — she's fine now, but the loss cuts deep — Marshall has no room to judge.

Diana is one of the only connections he has left with his father. When Avian salvaged her charred remains — the street race still haunts him — he didn't restore her to her former glory. Instead, he repaired her to a certain point.

And even added a few pieces of Martina to Diana's frame.

It seems stupid or downright careless. If you repair a damaged car, why stop halfway and not restore it completely? Regardless, it means everything to Marshall.

Avian knows how much Marshall wants to complete the job himself. Restoring Diana is his father's last wish. He's determined to make it a reality.

Marshall notices the nearby crowd. His anger spikes. "OI! Unless you want your ass kicked, beat it! We're not free entertainment, you fucking vultures!" he exclaims.





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
Last edited:










P






filler! ignore









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  • Penny Jones



    The Airhead








♡design by dreamglow, coded by uxie♡
 
mood :
bothered

location :
bleachers
outfit :
mentions :
Leon

interactions :
TheVoidQueen TheVoidQueen
Lukyanov,
Vera
A surprisingly kind offer. Vera's old man used to say that if someone was being nice to you, there was almost always a catch. In her mother's case, that catch was having to watch over Timothy Watts' god-awful children. In this case, the catch might be a few bucks. Or a lay. And he'd either get to it within the hour, or next week. He'd hit her up on Insta through the official Devotchka Kult account and ask if Vera's free for a lay, and it wouldn't be the first time, but Wendy Bunting managed the private messages, and she'd usually just respond with a picture of her cat's asshole.

Classic.

Still, she could afford being in a little debt to someone, and Leon didn't look like the kind of person to remember a debt for long. Some people smoke enough pot to torch all their brain cells and that has made Vera's life much, much easier. Her dealer Jaspers should be expecting nearly one-thousand dollars from her, but hasn't made mention of it. He just forgot. Like a goldfish on the pavement. Leon didn't seem to really be all there. Whatever strain of weed he was smoking, it was probably strong. Or maybe he was smoking a little bit of heroin in there. Unconventional, but not unheard of.

"I got it, thank you." She took maybe four of the cigarettes and stuffed most of them in her pocket, pulling out a Zippo which she'd modified to look like a big set of teeth. It made a satisfying 'click' when it opened and closed. The cigarette lit up in a beautiful orange burst of color.

Puff puff. Shhhooooo.

God, she fucking needed that.

She was almost so busy wallowing in the sensation of good old nicotine that she almost didn't realize she was being addressed. She looked up, tapping the cigarette ash off with her left hand.

"Yeah, I am. I'm in a band." She felt a little superior, having someone finally recognize her from her online presence alone. Or maybe from her album. Just the one. The one with a picture of some porn star's tits on it, all photo-manipulated to look like a squirming glob of flesh. That voice of hers. An old choir teacher called her phenomenal. "Devotchka Kult. With a 'k'. Sort of a... no-wave goth punk fusion I guess." She hoped she looked sufficiently Marla Singer for the occasion, dressed in all black and puffing out grey smoke like a dragon or a chimney. Was this like self-promotion? How novel.

"Why, you a fan? You know anybody? Or you just seen me around? Listed under local Seattle acts, I'd presume. It's me, and a couple of seniors, and also this girl from a private school you've probably never met, but she answered my advert." They ran without a bassist for a little while, but it turned out that was actually pretty essential. "We're playing at Tellers at the end of the month."
coded by reveriee.
 
OCTAVIAN DE LA VEGA
  • ,
Fading light and wine on the
curtains,
sickly
fumes stain the
mouths
of the glasses. The
dry
mouth and the
bleary
eyes preside over the
misery
of their
battered
body, a hirsute
slippage
of time, a rod of
asceticism
in a treatise on
debauchery.

Hostility-wise, Octavian wasn’t one to usually indulge it. Extent of ire displayed with a shove or two on the field, snide remarks only earning tepid stares and a sensitively confused, what the hell man?

In no means was Ave an actively provoking individual, many a time carrying the duty of wrestling friends off whoever they’d decided to pummel within an inch of their life. The wilderness of both Marshall and Noel required Ave to be reasonable, rational, and thoughtful with decisions.

Decisions like weighing if homicide was worth jail-time.

Akin to a man sentenced to gallows, the clumsy stranger had accepted bald-fury fate. Throttled with hopes their brain would liquefy and teeth would ring a melody of tiny white bells, Ave was letting off steam the only way he knew how.

Physical activity.

Shaking little orange to vitamin-froth, it was a radioactive grin nocking the corners of their lips that sterilised some of baldy’s animosity. Faltering all movement to their unnatural response, tonguing the blood from their nose like a child with its snot— Ave had been thrown off course by it.

Orange was smiling.


A linchpin of worry fired through confusion, did Octavian know them—? That this was some highly misconstrued joke he’d failed to catch? Acutely, he could feel worry needle his skin, a shadowy horror at the mere inkling of making a mistake once again. Sobering a notch of aggression, a subtle lax to the fabric within steel grip. Whilst there’d be no remedy for already thrashing the poor boy, perhaps Ave could step out of this interaction before any (further) physical harm befell them.

He was a soccer captain, after all. Mature, proactive, and responsible. Most importantly?

A leader.

“I’m gonna be the bigger person.” Summoning self-control to hold true to the statement, a shaky exhale through the nose to expel ill-will. “Okay? We can just go our separate wa-” Ave stopped, stared at their hand. Fist raising, motion slow and equally strange to the perpetrators prior behaviour: blood is not nutritious.

“What are y–”

BANG.

A fresh dip in lukewarm metal, Ave’s lips pursed thin to stifle the cry of grief leaping from chest to lodge in his throat.

Get him.

“I’m gonna be the bigger person tomorrow.”

Ayden might deter from primitive instinct, but Octavian certainly wouldn’t. Reduced to no more than a caveman shell, fist winding back to in preparation to strike the boy in no better place than their aggravating smile.

And then a yank, fished back by the forgiving mercy of Marshall’s return. In Ave’s haze of throttling he’d failed to notice their approach, splicing accumulated crowds like a shark through shoals to beeline for the scruff of his jacket. A stumble and foot easing back to catch the rush of surprise momentum, Ave found his hands slapped free and divided from the almost-casualty with Marshall’s figure.

This close, no matter how familiar they’d been three months ago, Octavian couldn’t help the sour seeping in his mouth. He anticipated warning, don’t get in trouble on the first day back, perhaps half-hearted remorse, they're not worth it. Or at the very least, something outside of admonition.

He received neither.

Bristling with a mouth full of war, Marshall had not stepped between them with leniency for Ave. Shoulders squared as if to shield the skater, safeguarding them— an illusion this was not.

Marshall was defending them.

There had been a time where Ave wouldn’t question his friend’s decisions. There’d also been a time he’d expected understanding and freedom without bars for an instance such as this. Marshall out of all people should have understood, friend or not. For the sentiment in vehicles running marrow-deep appeared trifling to most, the two dents had bruised not only Martina, but Avian’s week.

Unimpressed, he scowled at Marshall, then over their shoulder to Ayden. Eyes hooded and eyebrows arched with sombre energy.

“So you have to fix your friend’s fuck-ups?” He deadpanned, voice dry. A veil betwixt the two, gauntlet placed in watching the male helped to his feet. For Marshall to appear after three months of scarce interaction and block him from delivering a well-deserved beating, it appeared time, season, and feelings had changed.

Loyalty, especially.

And you know what? Noel probably would’ve let him punch the little orange guy.

“Dios mío,” Ave sighed with a shake of the head, withdrawing from the situation. The warning of a get-along shirt sounded wholly undesired. “Fine, fine!” He raised his hands in surrender, like easing that of a wild animal. “You’re right, Marsh. I’m sorry for tryna fight your...” a word uncomfortable in the mouth, forced past teeth, “friend.”

He was only sorry he couldn’t actually do it.

Snapping a warning to onlookers, a distraction delivered through Octavian’s silent turn to leave.

But something about Ayden’s grin and arch of an eyebrow had inflamed Ave to a consort of fire. The law of retaliation; river impulse clashing with ocean competition, flaws that could not be so easily extricated by Marsh’s reprimand. Eyes catching the item of interest, it was the beginning of the end.

Ave picked up the skateboard and stomped it in half over the concrete curb.

He would feel guilty about it later. For now? Caveman mode.

“Don’t worry, man.” Octavian shared with a smile for Ayden, tossing the splintered ruin against asphalt. “It’s resilient!”

coded by reveriee.
 





a

y

d

e

n







THE SKATER BOY





trigger warning
mention of blood

scroll for post


Ayden Thompson

It seemed as if their fun was going to be cut short.

Feeling the dingbat’s hand release itself from his jumper, Ayden had forgotten about the natural forces of gravitation and swayed backwards, the back of his head hitting up against the car that had now been hit by him a grand total of three times. Mouthing an ‘ow’, he placed his hand upon the back of his head to nurse it. As Marshall mentioned the nurses office as he extended an arm, he rolled his eyes in true Ayden attire. What? Did the nurse have an MRI machine that could check how his brain was going getting knocked and shaken around? What type of budget was this school getting?

Ayden lazily watched as the two bickered with each other like an old married couple (really? In front of the car? Martina would be so upset to hear the love of her life was already married to another), and as Marshall snapped at bystanders. The blood of his nose began to tickle his neck; hot damn, was it still going? Had he broken his nose or something? A glance downwards confirmed that his orange jumper was now stained with the red hues of lost blood. Well, great. Like a grubby child, he brought the sleeve of his already soiled jumper and wiped it against his nostrils, hoping it could clean up something.

Crack!

The sound of cracking wood filled the air, and his heart stopped for a moment. Eye-wide and mouth hanging, Ayden drew his attention to the bald-haired male before him who had just broken his board in half. While he had been internally taunting and teasing this stranger about his incredibly delusional relationship with his car, he was obviously one to talk. But his love for his skateboard was completely different - or so he told himself. His skateboard was a gift from his mother on his sixteenth birthday. He had learnt how to do grinds for the very first time on that very board. And the most important thing about that damn board?

It was his escape.

It allowed him to move from situations and fast. It allowed him to clear his racing mind and bring some sense of meditation and clarity when it felt like everything was just getting a bit too much for him. It allowed him to sneak out in the middle of the night and explore the town without having to cough up money for fares or bus tickets. It was quite literally a security blanket; and this asshole had just destroyed the one thing that made him feel safe. He was no longer safe.

Adrenalin flowed through his body, his limbs becoming enraged with numbness and anger. While Ayden was often seen as a calm and collected person by those who knew him, there was also another side to him. A psychopath, if we were being completely honest. The bottled-up rage, anxiety and aggression from all these years were allowed out in little spurts of fits. This was going to be one of those moments. Much like the Hulk, he could feel whatever this energy was consume every peaceful thought and matter that radiated through his body. It released every inch of primitive trait that he had been attempting to hold back and push down.

I’m going to fucking kill him

His first words of the day snarled in a wolf-like manner. He was out for the kill. In full force, Ayden pushed past Marshall and charged toward Baldy. With all of his body weight and strength, he clasped his arms around the other boy’s waist and lugged him down onto the asphalt cement. Once on the floor, he sat on his chest and raised a fist. Gravity was no one's friend as the blood from his nose dripped insouciantly from the tip of his nose and upon the person below him. Force of a catapult, pulled back and flung into action, Ayden’s fist raised to the sky before launching right into the other male’s face. Adrenalin raced through his body; his hands felt numb enough to keep thrashing until the cows came home. And he planned on doing that. The little psychopath, his nose bleeding like a waterfall and showering whoever and whatever were below, just living the life as he continued to throw punches. Oh, he was feral.







/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.


 
cameron chambers
what is wrong with y'all
school parking lot
Alex - neverbackdown neverbackdown | Marsh - roxybirdie roxybirdie | Octavian - Gao Gao | Ayden - weldherwings weldherwings
"Nah, I gotta show up at some point anyways," Cam sighed as he began the short drive to campus. He'd promised his mom he'd make more of an effort this year, and he'd meant it when he said it, but it was just the first day and he was already feeling testy. He wanted to stay true to his word, but he unfortunately doubted his ability to do so. At least she could count on Cecil.

The drive was quiet. Despite Cam's desire for noise, he had nothing lighthearted enough to balance out their heavy conversation. Instead he settled for the silence, casting his gaze on Alex at the red lights that caught them. He saw glimpses of her shift in demeanor and felt almost envious.

Selfish.

For the first time in his four years at Roosevelt, he felt relief wash over him as the school came into view. He let out a breathy laugh at Alex's question before shaking his head. "Gotta make a good first impression." He kind of meant it, clinging to the hope that at least Alex could still find a way to successfully play the hand she was dealt. "We'll be fine, c'mon."

It felt like an unnecessary comment, more for his own comfort that hers. She'd always been so good at the pretending that so frequently came with the lives they led, always been better than him at playing her cards close to her chest. Less than ten minutes ago, she'd had a full breakdown in his car and Cam was pretty sure not a damn person would have a semblance of a clue. He felt like his anger and his dread were written all over him, as though if anyone made eye contact with him they'd automatically assume someone had pissed in his cereal that morning.

Alex seemed to prove him right as she made an attempt to lighten the mood on their walk towards the front of the school. Shaking his head, a grin formed. "Nah not yet, but lemme know if you see anyone interesting," he said, returning her elbow nudge. "What about you, though? Tryna get anyone's attention? And you better not be thinking about goin' back to that asshole string bean lookin' kid."

He'd parked far enough, toward the side of the school, that the absolute fuckery going on in front wasn't immediately made evident.

Cam saw the crowd first, immediately assuming a fight had broken out. When he heard Marsh's voice address the crowd, however, his hairs stood on end. "Fuck me, stay here, 'Lex."

He didn't wait to hear her answer, sprinting in the direction of the vultures. A frown formed on his face as he began making out the clowns involved in the shitshow. Marsh, obviously, Octavian, asshole, and some kid he was pretty sure he'd seen at the skatepark. The last one threw him for a loop. He was pretty sure that kid was either high or the time or the most unbothered fucker on the planet. Leave it to Octavian to bring out the worst in someone like that.

He wasn't sure how they'd gotten to this point, but when he saw the broken board, it made sense why Stonerboy was pummeling the shit out of Octavian. He almost didn't want to interject. Marshall. Fuck.

"What the fuck is wrong with y'all?" he bellowed as he ran to practically tackle Stonerboy off of Octavian, the pair landing on the asphalt. Cam had clearly underestimated his strength, his attempts at pinning the boy's wrists so as not to get beat himself proving far more difficult than anticipated.

Sorry, ma, I definitely will not be doing this shit everyday.
coded by natasha.
 

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