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Realistic or Modern Newcastle (Open!!)

Characters
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Mikaela Ainsley



All was going well - or really, not well depending on your opinion - with getting this girl to share the good stuff with her. There was proper eye contact now, the girl was shaking (sort of) in excitement (not really) from Mikaela’s sudden intrusion upon her personal space, and then came the shocker.

“Go. Away.” Well that was hurtful, not to mention the abrupt removal of her arm. This had to be one of the saddest moments in Fourth of July history.

And then it got even sadder because she started trampling all over Mikaela’s Fourth of July dreams like an adult telling an innocent little kid that Santa wasn’t real.

“Everyone has their own Fourth of July traditions and mine involves a good bottle of bubbly.” By which she was not just specifically referring to champagne but really any and every type of alcohol out there.

If the goal was to make Mikaela back off and go away, well she was about to respond the way any kid when their Christmas dreams – or in this case, Fourth of July – got crushed. Big ol’ semi crocodile tears.

She was about to turn on the tap on those tears just like she’d seen her mother and sister do when they practiced for their scenes, when someone else appeared. Under the dim lighting and her mildly drunken daze, emerged a boy who quite frankly, she didn’t recognise, then again recognising people in situations like this was far from her strong suit. Especially when her brain was deprived of sufficient alcohol. But aww look he was in crutches, poor thing, and he wanted alcohol too, surely their little gatekeeper friend wasn’t going to be cruel enough to deny the poor sweet boy –

Well that was just mean. Not only had she just knocked out his crutch from under him – she hadn’t offered him any alcohol either. Which – how could you do that to a poor wounded child on the Fourth of July? That was practically a crime. Where were the police when you needed them to make arrests? Help the poor and innocent when they were being terrorised by evil like their awful alcohol gatekeeper who seemed determined to make them miserable.

Of course, while thinking all this, Mikaela didn’t move a muscle or offer any assistance to help the poor boy or pick up his crutch. She simply remained standing, somewhere behind the cooler box demon, eyeing the treasure she guarded. Helping him wasn’t her job, she wasn’t some healer or civil servant, and she had a busted leg too, minus the crutch, so… you couldn’t blame her for not offering any assistance.

Her job was to procure some bubbly to get her brain buzzing, end of story. Anyway, their new arrival said several good things, the last one especially, which gave Mikaela a most marvelous idea. If the gatekeeper wasn’t going to move and open the box for them, then they just needed to move her, so…

Mikaela closed the little distance that had been created between them when her hands got pushed away, and wrapped her arms around the unfriendly little Fourth of July Gremlin once again, only this time, under her arms and around her torso, and then she gave a tight squeeze and pulled hard and sudden to lift her. Or at least tried to. It was a movement that required great effort and, because their target was seated and they were standing on soft, uneven sand, put a lot of pressure on her knees and legs. Her bad, never the same again knees and legs, which well, obviously a terrible, terrible decision that just screamed disaster waiting to happen.





mood
HAND. OVER. THE BUBBLY. NOW.

location
Beach party

outfit
beach babe, the kinda outfit that would make big brother Kieran faint





playing...
song title here

by artist here​




mentions
nil

interactions
Lorelei, Ed

tags
Soap Soap hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 
Damien Slater
his room ; )
; )
clothes
interactions

Amy Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202
No, he hadn't fucking forgotten about Amy coming over and shit. That would've made him a really bad fucking friend, and Damien was anything but a bad fucking friend. He'd just... you know... momentarily when he'd woken up, forgotten that she was supposed to come over. But he'd remembered after he'd woken up completely. Fucking duh.

'Course, the lack of time meant that when he'd rolled out of bed, he'd had to pretty much rush to get ready. Luckily, he was a master of getting cleaned up in record time, and he'd just finished getting his pants buttoned when he heard the knock coming from the front door. His mother was already on route to answer it, so he sped up -- hopping down the stairs two at a time. The last thing he needed was his mom embarrassing him in front of his friend.

"I got it!" He called to his mom, rushing to the door and getting there just before her. He offered her a grin, and his mother smiled before walking past. The smile fell away and he opened the door. "Hey," he said, still a little breathless from rushing his way down.

"C'mon in," Damien said -- his mother was still within earshot, so he was obviously watching what he was saying as he let Amy in, and then closed the door behind her. "Do you want a drink or anything?" He asked -- 'cause yeah, his mother would've had his ass if he hadn't. "Here, actually, lemme just ahh... I'll grab some pops and we can head up to my room to hang, yeah?"

Keeping his promise, he headed to the fridge and grabbed out a couple sodas. A smile was on his face as he looked at his mother, and then he turned around and headed back to Amy. He gave a tilt of his head, gesturing for her to follow him, and then led the way upstairs. Once safely in his room, with door closed, he passed a can of soda to her, and he could actually relax -- and you know, the dickishness was safe to come out.

"So, what do you wanna do?" He asked. Damien fell into his computer chair, kicking back. On the screen was... well, an animation he'd been working on -- blood and gore visible, although he hadn't even really blinked an eye at it.
coded by natasha.
 
Michael Reid
just like you


the gas station/food place
what's wrong bb : (
clothes
nate | Winona Winona
(tw: brief mention of suicidal imagery?)

Mike got a blank stare from Woods for a moment. In that long moment, he took another bite of the chicken leg in his hand, patiently waiting for his friend’s remark with a sympathetic expression on his face, and then he took another puff from his slowly dwindling cigarette.

Then, finally, in a drained monotone: “I slept with Evie at that Fourth of July party. She’s leaving. For some…stupid job offer.”

“Holy shit.”

The response came from Mike’s lips before he could catch them.

Mike, somewhat managing to real himself in, shook his head, and he dropped into the bench across from Woods. “Oh, shit, Woods,” he said, still dumbfounded and at a loss for words. “I thought you and Evie were…done?”

Evelyn Sinclaire — Woods had fucked Evelyn Sinclaire again? Look, Mike wasn’t an incredibly nosey person — didn’t like a lot of bullshit drama, wasn’t one much for knowing the ins and outs of everyone’s personal lives, you know — so he hadn’t ever really gotten the full story on what happened with Woods and Evie. But he did know that the breakup had been hell.

And now, Woods was back here — back to being super fucking out of it because of the same bitch.

Call it deja vu, if you would.

Breathing out a soft sigh, Mike flicked the cigarette’s ash in the floor and took another puff from the foul-tasting cancer stick as he searched for the right words to say. His eyes peered up at the stained ceiling tiles thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a firm line.

“Look,” he said finally, grabbing a napkin and setting his piece of chicken down on it, “we’ve all got regrets, Woods.” He chuckled softly, shrugging. “I mean, hey, just look at me, ya know.” After taking a final puff from his cigarette, he licked his thumb and pinched it out. “Told myself I’d be famous, in all the magazines, name in lights and alla that shit…” He dropped his cigarette butt to the floor, following it with his eyes until it disappeared into the abyss of the underside of the table. “Ended up getting assfucked by the system because I was a dumbass freshman.” He propped up his elbow on the back of the bench, leaning against the wall beside him and laying his legs out across the bench. He grinned amusedly. “Now fucking look at me, huh? I’m a fuckin’ gas station clerk who smokes like a goddamn chimney, drives the same fucking dinosaur clunker, has less than a hundred dollars to his name, and has got some psycho bitch after him who says he fathered her fucking infant, ya know?”

With the final sentence, his eyes flicked to Woods. The words only registered coming out of his lips, and there was a slight stir in his stomach as he realized that he’d casually dropped the bombshell he’d been keeping from his roommate for the past year in passing conversation.

Well, fuck.

Too late now. The cat was out of the fucking bag on that one. Great fucking going.

He patted the table, deciding to brush past it as quickly as possible to avoid as much fucking dwelling on that fact as possible. “Look, point is…whenever you fuck up, or when life fucks you, or when you start to fucking feel like everything is coming down around you, you’ve got to fucking say to yourself, ’Goddamn, life is fucking hell, but I’m not gonna fucking let it,’ Woods.” He emphatically tapped a pointer finger on the table. “You can’t just fucking let life do that shit to you — that’s what they fucking want, you know? They want to see guys like us fucking…hanging themselves from ceiling fans or dying with fucking needles in our arms in ditches. That’s all we’ve fucking heard our whole lives, ya know?”

He breathed out a sigh. “Look, Woods — you’re a serious fucking asshole, you’ve got the demeanor of a fucking emo middle schooler, and you say probably three words a fucking day. But you’re one of the — fuck it, you’re the best guy I know.” Mike gave a small grin. “One of the only fucking guys around with brains, brawn, looks — the whole fucking nine yards.” His face went serious again. “And you’re not a fucking pushover — you never fucking let anyone tell you anything, right? Right? So why the fuck are you going to let this shit get you down like this, huh? You gotta…” Mike gestured to the bucket of chicken. “Eat your fuckin’ gas station chicken, have a smoke, and tell yourself that this isn’t fucking it, babro.” He leaned forward (and had to stand up a little) to give Woods a nudge in the arm with a knuckle. “Fucking show them where they can shove it, Woods.”

He sat back down, grabbing his chicken leg again and taking a bite, and he breathed out a small sigh. “When is she leaving, huh? Did she say?”
coded by natasha.
 






Dalton Kirby



There was nothing quite like the feel of cool sea water, splashing onto skin, and the thrill of being chased by a wave that nipped at your heels, seeking to swallow you whole as you rode in its mouth.

It was even more riveting at night, the darkness that added to the danger, the difficulty, the challenge. Dalton was by no means, some stupid adrenaline junkie simply seeking out the next thrill or high.

He simply loved surfing and the occasional surf at night. The rise that doing the latter got out of his old man was just an added bonus.

Kicking the bucket while riding the waves was not in his list of plans though, so he’d be getting out after this last one. Maybe in time for the fireworks if they hadn’t happened yet. Whenever he surfed, all his senses were focused on the waves, the water, the board under his feet. Everything else was tuned right out. The last thing he needed was to wipeout like an idiot. Especially with the crowd on the beach tonight.

Sure it was dark, most people were far from the water cause the alcohol was, accidental drownings, safety reasons and all that, but he didn’t need to risk anybody witnessing something embarrassing like wiping out, even if he did have a built in excuse since it was night time.

He’d never hear the end of it. Thankfully, his last surf ended smoothly with him upright on his board as usual and paddling back towards the shore. He gave his head a good shake, spraying the surroundings with droplets of water as he walked up the beach, board tucked under his arm, towards the tree where he had left his belongings, right along the periphery of the party.

How many were already wasted? What stupidity had occurred? Was it worth sticking around to find out which partygoer, if any, had brought or created some real entertainment? The thoughts passed Dalton’s mind as he wiped off the water and looked for his shirt, which was slightly damp and covered in sand. He definitely wasn’t putting that back on. Beside him his phone buzzed and lit up. Ugh.

Three missed calls, twenty over messages, all from the ‘parents’. Probably about some stupid dinner party or something of the sort, definitely annoying and something he wanted nothing to do with. Maybe he’d go look for Val to get caught up on all the happenings of the party he’d missed thus far… then again, she was probably with that ridiculous ‘boyfriend’ of hers. Some fucking joke of a relationship that was. Loved up power couple his ass. No, he’d give Val a miss, didn’t want to be party to any of that shit.

Jared Darrington was just a stuck-up boring ass rich mama’s boy, which really could be used to describe a good number of the folks in Newcastle. Speak of the devil. Was that him he was seeing up ahead? Standing next to some blonde who was very clearly not Val? What was he up to? A lecture? Giving free ‘lawyer in training’ advice? Or perhaps something remotely entertaining, like cheating?

Unfortunate that the latter was the most unlikely, if it was though, ha. He’d laugh at Val.

Dalton started walking in the direction of Jared and the blonde stranger, no not because he wanted to talk to either of them or eavesdrop. They were simply in the direction of the party and happened to be located along the shortest path from where he had been drying off.

Their voices carried on the cool night air, and so Dalton heard the last bits of their conversation before Jared dipped. He also recognised the face of the blonde as he neared. The girl he’d hooked up with, the summer before or whenever, when she’d visited on vacation or something. Did she and her family love Newcastle that much? What were they doing back here? And asking Darrington of all people for advice on that? Ha.

Dalton stopped to her right, a step or two behind and lowered his head slightly. “If it’s fun you’re looking for, you’re looking and asking in the wrong place.” He murmured before pulling away and looking down at her. “Lawyer boy knows as much about fun as a pig knows about being clean.”

He took a couple steps away from her, then paused and turned to glance back. “Want some real fun? I can show you the ropes.”





mood
great surf

location
beach party

outfit
surfer boy





playing...
song title here

by artist here​




mentions
Val, Jared

interactions
Ash

tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 
Mason
party
....
flannel, jeans, the norm
interactions

Blake HolliSter HolliSter
She was right -- Mason knew she was right. It wasn't his job to keep Jade safe, no matter how many times she came crying to him, or how many times Raven messaged him asking about her, or... anything else, really. It wasn't his job to deal with her. She was just some random hookup that'd gotten a little too clingy.

(Sure, there was plenty more to their relationship than that, but keeping it cleancut and simple made it easier for him to excuse himself from feeling as if he held some kind of... civil duty to keep the girl safe.)

Although he could find solace in the first part of her statement, the latter part never failed to make him uncomfortable. He'd heard those same words, reiterated in a thousand different ways, and yet he'd never once bothered to heed their warning. The latest had been a bit of a fight with Drake, where his younger brother had ended it by exploding and exclaiming how Mason didn't need to keep him safe, and to mind his own business, and blah blah blah. It was hard to listen to someone that was strapped down to a hospital bed due to a lack of people paying attention.

His jaw clenched, almost unnoticeably to the stoic boy, as the dog came walking over. His dark gaze followed its movements, watching as he took a seat beside Blake. He'd always wanted a dog, but never really had the time or resources to make sense of owning one. Plus, well... Drake was Drake. Perpetually terrified of dealing with dogs due to the rabid Chihuahua that had bit when they were younger.

Finally, his dark gaze moved back to Blake's face. She'd asked him to smile, and he did, but only because her joke had been funny. A small upturning of the lips gave way to the faintest of lopsided smiles. The most you'd probably see from Mason on a day to day basis.

"Makes me look like a charming hot lumberjack," he said, his tone nothing if not confident. What? He was hot, and Mason knew this -- well, kind of. 'Course, his smile did faded a moment later, as Blake's words kind of settled on him. "Okay, but..." he started, not knowing why he was really arguing this, "what if she fucking dies or something? 'Cause I didn't go pick her up. She's not the brightest. Probably would get kidnapped and murdered or some shit."
coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:









  • leave blank




castor ioannidis







Where do you even get something like that?


If you had asked Castor last year—no, last week—if he’d thought he’d be driving down the I-10 on a summer afternoon with Drake Martin in his passenger seat, he’d say you’re crazy. If you had then asked him if he’d thought he’d be getting ready to partake in doing cocaine for the first time with the previously aforementioned Martin brother, he’d laugh in your face.



He’d become a changed man since a week ago, it would seem.



They drove now with all four windows in his 2011 VW convertible down, wind streaming past them as they drove (admittedly haphazardly) towards their destination. As they blew past yet another speed limit sign, Cas turned in his seat to grin at Drake.



“There’s no speed limit if you’re going too fast to read the sign,” he explained, cranking the volume on his stereo up to maximum, the heavy bass rattling his bones.



After three years in Newcastle, his accent had vastly improved, but still added a faint lilt to his words. Castor doubted Drake noticed—the boy wasn’t nearly as observant as himself—but it still felt odd to him. Living here, an ocean away from where he’d grown up.



It was better than being home.



His family house in Greece was dark, and drafty, and full of long hallways and empty rooms. It felt like a tomb to Castor, who spent many of his days alone, like a prince locked in a tower. His parents spoke in whispers around him, and brushed off his presence like he was a purse dog nipping at their ankles. He hadn’t been surprised when they’d sent him to live with Luca his freshman year.



It didn’t matter. In America, they partied.



“Where did you get this slab of cocaine anyways?” Cas asked, forehead wrinkling as he pondered the possibilities. Did Drake buy the stuff from a dealer, all shady like and hoodie wearing and musty, like in the movies? Or even better, he could have used the dark web to have it shipped to his house.



Modern day technology never failed to amaze him.



“And who’s throwing this party anyways?”





coded by weldherwings.


 









  • leave blank




blake prince







the fireworks start soon


“Psh, charming, brooding…same thing,” Blake responded to Mason’s quip, laughing. And there, just barely…a hint of another smile, that she answered with a broader one of her own.

But…her smile slid off of her face as his did. She knew what was coming before he spoke. The only sign of her annoyance was her head tipping back to rest on the back of the couch, her brown eyes pinned to the high ceilings as she listened.

He couldn’t go five minutes without talking about her, could he?

“You’re not her fucking father, Mason,” Blake responded sharply, twisting the gold ring that had a permanent spot on her thumb. “It’s not your responsibility to go ‘pick her up or something’,” she let out a long exhale through her nose as she finally moved her eyes back to him, her liquor addled mind fighting the urge to laugh at her own crude impression of him.

It might have been a low blow, Blake knew, but if no one else would lay things straight for him she sure as hell would.

“If she wants to be stupid, let her,” she pressed on, knocking back another swig of the scalding liquid, face contorting at the taste. “She’s grown enough to make her own decisions.”
Blake turned in her seat to jab a finger against his chest, sticking her tongue out at him. “So knock it off or I’m going to beat your sorry ass to high heaven.”

Sawyer nudged his head against her knee, beckoning for attention, and so she let her free hand drift down to stroke his silky fur. The interior of the living room was getting dimmer as the light provided by the setting sun began to fade. The fireworks would be starting soon.

“We should watch the fireworks on the balcony,” she suggested, grinning once again. “Or the roof, if you’re brave enough,” she whispered dramatically, nudging Mason’s shoulder with her own.

Yeah, she was definitely drunk.





coded by weldherwings.


 
Chelsea Kader Freud
Pick Your Poison


his car
fucking sick and fucking sick
clothes
mer | Soap Soap
(tw: sibling abuse?)

Chelsea Kader Freud had been here before.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a little shithead named Donahue Camus. He had everything fucking handed to him, and yet, from the very fucking start, he did fucking nothing in return. He gave no fucking effort, tried not even one fucking bit.

His whore stepmother and his bitchfaced father tried to shove some fucking sense into him. Even his fucking older brother tried to knock some fucking sense into him. They drained so much fucking money and so much fucking effort on him — hired him private tutors so he wouldn’t be such a dumbass, bought him a fucking weight kit so he would stop being such a weak pussy on the football field, bought him the best fucking cello there was so that might get him wanting to finally fucking play.

But the fucking abysmal freak just laid there and started fucking snorting shit and drinking shit and wrecking shit and smoking shit and stealing his brother’s shit because he said that there was no fucking point anymore.

His parents started taking shit away. His allowance first, then the keys to his fucking truck, then his phone. But somehow, the fucking bastard, so dead-fucking-set on ruining the fucking family, managed to get money, managed to get access to his fucking shitty pickup truck, managed to get access to his phone again.

And then, Donna wound up in the city jail.

Shoplifting, they said to his brother when he’d picked him up; he’d been caught shoplifting from a fucking strip mall. The bastard was obviously fucking high, but there was no mention of that from the cops on the phone. It was Donna’s first infraction, so they would let him off easy, so long as it didn’t happen again.

As they drove home, his older brother couldn’t fucking hold back anymore — he let him have it. And Donna just sat in silence, blank-faced, high out of his fucking mind.

So his older brother punched him, right in the fucking face.

Once they got home, Donna just fucking walked inside, while his older brother spent the whole fucking night trying to scrub the blood from Donna’s broken nose out of his leather interior.

Meanwhile, the fuckhead was fucking plotting. Somewhere, in his fucking idiot mind, the fucking “genius” idea to fucking skip town came to mind. So he packed a fucking backpack full of drugs and fucking granola bars, took all of the money from his brother’s wallet, and dropped himself out of a fucking window.

And for two weeks, Donna was gone off the face of the fucking earth.

According to his parents’ story, from there, Donna went fucking insane. They connected a trail of fucking crimes back to him. Shoplifting, vandalism, missing and damaged property, you fucking name it.

They only caught him when Donna, fucking strung-out, wrecked a fucking stolen Sudan with a huge fucking drug stash in the literal fucking glovebox into a stop sign.

It was fucking hell for his parents to get that shit covered up.

But they didn’t tell Mer that. All they told her was the last part of the story. The part where Donna got sent to fucking Britain to live with their dad’s dad, got sent to fucking go to a fucking “reform school”, where he’d be fucking “straightened up”.

Donna was home for ten minutes after they made that decision — just long enough for them to shave his head.

And that was it.

And the story they had to tell the whole fucking town was that Donna had been offered a fucking scholarship for a new boarding school overseas and that his parents had figured that would be the most fruitful option for him. There was no fucking crime, no fucking drugs, no fucking anything.

And it was like Donna had disappeared from existence, off the face of the fucking earth.

The end.

Sitting here in silence, Chelsea, nauseated, couldn’t help but get fucking deja vu.

Mer finally decided to break the silence. “Are you…uhm…feeling better?”

Chelsea said nothing; the wind rippled outside of the window as some bastard passed him going eighty.

"I know, okay?” Mer said. Her voice was small. “I know you're angry, I know you're pissed and pretending like you hate my guts right now, whatever. But we both know that mom and dad are gonna say a lot worse than you can, so could we please just..."

Chelsea’s grip tightened on the wheel, his tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth, but he kept his eyes on the road.

There were a few more moments of dead silence — suffocating, dead silence.

Then, very quietly, Mer said, “I miss Donna."

At the mention of his brother’s name, Chelsea felt a flare of anger in his chest. He let out a small sigh, clenching his jaw, and then, his eyes still set on the road, he said, “Is that why you did that bullshit, Mer?”

He slowed to a stop at the red light, then turned his head to face his sister. “Do you miss Donna so much that you’re throwing your fucking life away and…”

Begging to join him in fucking exile?

Chelsea was fucking glad that disgrace was gone — he was ruining the fucking family, costing them fucking day by day.

But Mer was no Donna.

“Mer,” he said, looking forward as the light turned green and pressing down on the gas, “I want you to tell me honestly: why do you keep pulling shit like this?” He put on his blinker, turning down a familiar street. “You know what they did to Donna, right? Do you want that to happen to you? Do you want to be fucking…shipped off? Across the fucking ocean? To disappear off the face of the fucking earth and have them erase your fucking existence? To have them fucking strip you down and send you to live with the fucking grandfather we never met to go to a fucking ‘reform school’ while they have to clean up your big fucking spill back home at their own fucking risk? Is that what you want? For me and your pathetic friends to probably never fucking see you again until you’ve become a fucking drone?”

Written in there, beneath all of the angry, cold words, were the words, “Because I don’t want that to fucking happen.”

“That’s what’s fucking good for a fucking no brain burnout like Donna who wasn’t shit to begin with,” Chelsea said, as a drizzle began to dot his windshield, “but you can’t just throw your fucking life away like that, Mer. That’s not what you fucking deserve.”
coded by natasha.
 
Havana Lombardi
pop-up puppy adoption... park
pessimists & pups
Some overalls + cute bandana
interactions

Mitch, (mentions Zach) ditto ditto

Havana was so distracted by the past conversation with Joan that Mitch attempting to hand her back the dog flew right over her head.

“I imagine she’s…fun to work with,”

“Hm?” She glanced back at her and shrugged, shaking her head and brushing his words away. Joan wasn’t always a hard-ass. It took some time for her and Hav to get over their initial… difference in personality.

“Oh, on the right day, definitely. A bit of a…” What was the word? Havana blanked and simply decided to throw a soft compliment her way instead.

“She means well.” Her lips thinned for a soft smile to accentuate her words.

Havana blinked in surprise at this sudden urge to get rid of the dog, taking the pug and narrowing her eyes almost playfully suspicious. She was waiting for the tortured story behind his hatred for animals.

Obviously, she couldn’t tell if he actually hated animals or anything, but the whole macho man afraid of a puppy sounded pretty entertaining… though, Havana couldn’t bring that up just yet. Wouldn’t want to scare him off.

“Cats are the spawn of hell,”

“Might be why Joan likes them so much?” She teased despite barely having an idea if he was serious or not… Havana actually really liked cats.

And dogs.

She’s never had any long-term pets unfortunately, she’s always wanted one, but her parents deemed Havana too irresponsible to handle one after an incident with a hamster or two.

The pug continued to scratch at her arm and Havana leaned down and placed him into the pen with some other puppies, watching him run around with some of the other dogs when Mitch spoke up again, gaining her attention.

“What, are we doing today, exactly?”

“You mean besides relishing adorable company?” She asked, tapping the clipboard in her hands and gesturing towards the family walking towards them. Havana wasn’t expecting Mitch to agree with her– so, she continued.

“Our job is basically to woo them into adopting them,”

That wasn’t entirely true… while it may have been part of the job, it definitely wasn’t the main priority.

“write down their info and send them over to Joan or Hank to fill out some more boring paperwork– we do that on repeat while keeping an eye on the animals.”

The last thing she wanted to do is overwhelm him with too much information.

The job was pretty simple but something told Havana that he’d need as much help as he could get. Mitch wasn’t a people person and Havana connected those dots within five minutes of meeting him.

“Have you ever had a pet before? It helps to talk to potential adoptees about the kind of dog they might–” Her question was drowned out by a young boy running up to the cage, mumbling something to his parents about keeping one of the pugs in the pen.

“Hello,” The older woman started, smiling over at Mitch and fading slightly at Havana. “What can you tell us about…” A hand released off of the stroller to gesture towards the pen.

She looked disgusted while her son stuck his hand in the pen, petting the exact one that Mitch had been holding earlier.

“So… they’re very sweet dogs, playful, affectionate–”

“Ow!” The boy’s eyes brimmed over with tears. “He bit me!”

“I… he’s teething, it’s very common for pupp–”

“Come on, Ronin.” The boy followed his mother and father while she strolled away, “I told you dogs weren’t…” their conversation was out of earshot and Havana sighed, looking down at the pug who was ruining his own chances.

Poor thing.

“You’re free to leave around six. Unfortunately, not all dogs have to be adopted before we pack up.” That always left a weight on her chest, looking at all their hopeful beady eyes just for them to end up alone in the end.

Never really felt right.

“There’s a lot of people here who aren’t going to give patience a try,” She tapped a pen against the clipboard, muttering her next words under her breath. “especially with overdramatic children…”

Havana loved kids.

It was just… really difficult to like a crying one.

“I should probably get used to dramatic kids, though… especially if–”

Wow. Reality was setting in.

Really fast.

“What is it like? At the high school, I mean, Is it hard? Do they drive you crazy?” Havana covered one side of her mouth as if she was telling him a secret, her goal was to be amusing– but she'd be lying if she didn't say a part of her wasn't freaking out just a bit.

“Are they overdramatic?”
coded by natasha.
 
Mercedes Camus
In my room


ck's car
...
i'm a cute criminal, duh
interactions

CK ditto ditto

“Is that why you did that bullshit, Mer?”

She almost laughed but it came out as a subtle sigh, shaking her head and keeping her gaze focused on a car beside them, wishing to trade places with the random driver across from her.

She thought about that a lot actually.

What if she was someone else? Anyone else? Someone with the same opportunities and freedom that her peers had. Someone who was free to have fuck-ups and fun with friends, to party and to never be afraid, to kiss people and be unapologetic.

To feel comfortable and confident in her own skin without a care in the world about what her parents would think. It a daydream to wonder what her life could’ve been like if she was that random driver.

And just like that, CK’s words yanked Mercedes back to reality.

“You know what they did to Donna, right? Do you want that to happen to you?”

“No,” She swallowed a lump in her throat, blinking away tears that threatened to spill over.

No, she didn’t know the entire story. Mercedes believed that he’d gotten caught shoplifting and ran away from home just to come back and be shipped off and to be never seen again.

She barely even got to say goodbye.

Mercedes didn’t even blame Donna for everything he’d gotten into. The drugs, the trouble, despite their family, he did whatever he wanted and wasn’t afraid to face the consequences. It was something she always envied about him.

She just didn’t think it’d result in him leaving for good. She blamed their parents. Their rules. Their strict-on-strict behavior and inability to treat them like anything more than bad PR.

“Do you want to be fucking…shipped off? Across the fucking ocean? To disappear off the face of the fucking earth and have them erase your fucking existence?

Her lip quivered and Chelsea continued, voicing everything that happened to Donna and her fears along with it. Things just always seemed to go wrong when Mercedes intentions were so far from bad.

“To have them fucking strip you down and send you to live with the fucking grandfather we never met to go to a fucking ‘reform school’ while they have to clean up your big fucking spill back home at their own fucking risk?"

“No,” She finally looked over at him and twisted the plastic bag on her lap, picking at it constantly and creating a rustling sound that distracted neither of them in the conversation that was slowly turning tense.

“Is that what you want? For me and your pathetic friends to probably never fucking see you again until you’ve become a fucking drone?”

“No, Chelsea! No, that’s not--" She sobbed, tears were streaming down her face and Mercedes aggressively wiped them away, a pool of guilt, fear and anger began to swirl in her stomach.

“That’s what’s fucking good for a fucking no brain burnout like Donna who wasn’t shit to begin with,

“But–”

“but you can’t just throw your fucking life away like that, Mer. That’s not what you fucking deserve.”

She defeatedly sunk back into the passenger seat.

Maybe I do.

“He didn’t deserve it either.” She muttered under her breath, the lump in her throat worsening to a point where it just continued to ache. Mercedes wanted to scream into a pillow, fall asleep and never wake up.

Her brothers never got along, ever. But it wasn’t something Mercedes had guilted herself over because she figured one way or another– they were all family, all three of them were stuck with their parents.

She assumed that some part of that logic would’ve trickled onto her siblings, it never did though.

Growing up, Mercedes was in the dark about everything enough for naivety to have it's way with her until Donna getting sent away opened her eyes. Mer believed that her parents just wanted what was best for them.

That just wasn’t true.

…

Mercedes sniffled, wiping away her tears for a last time. “I didn’t do it because I miss Donna,” She swallowed.

“I didn’t do anything. I was just…” She didn’t want to throw all the blame on Drake and Jan, Mercedes had even offered her own lighter. It wasn’t fair for her to say it was all on them.

“It was just some freak accident.”

There were very few things Mercedes intended to do with her antics. Getting arrested was not one of them… dying her hair was one way to piss her parents off without unreasonable punishment.

She supposed in some ways in some instances… causing trouble, playing pranks, or running up a bill on a credit card or two was a good way to make them hurt for sending Donna away, Mercedes just didn’t piece together how badly she’d be hurting herself in the process.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, but if you don’t believe that,” Mercedes gestured to Chelsea and let her arm fall back onto the windowsill with a small thud.

“Neither will they."
coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:
Raven Rivera
LUX
just hand me the paycheck
fancy bartender
interactions

Mason, Zach Xed Xed

Her day started insanely early– or late depending on who you are.

Raven was awoken from rattling from outside her bedroom door at 3AM. Not that it’s majorly relevant but did you know that you didn’t need a permit to buy handguns in the state of California?

(Neither did I before writing this post.)

When you’re single, living alone in a run-down apartment on the lesser-fortunate side of California and away from the gated mansions and suburban communities, oh, and a female, let’s not forget that part.

It’s a good idea to invest in protection.

She slowly opened her door and walked through the dark hallway of the mildly furnished apartment. It wasn’t a very big place. One bedroom, one bath. It was a great place for a ‘starting couple.’ The real estate agent made sure to let her know before signing the lease.

So it didn’t take her long to realize that the sounds were coming from the kitchen. Raven held the gun in one hand and fumbled for the light-switch with the other and it flickered on.

The intruder had let out an unnecessarily high-pitched scream when she noticed the weapon in her hands.

~

Her mother sat on a stool near the kitchen bar while Raven stood across from her, rubbing her tired eyes.

“¿qué demonios estás haciendo con eso?” Andrea gestured towards the gun on the counter, resulting in Raven brushing her words away.

“Tsk, no está cargado.”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to be fine with my daughter just wielding a gun around like it’s nothing?”

“Yeah, well, you were fine with a lot back then,” barely surprised by her mother’s sudden concerned demeanor when her mind began to connect the dots that Andi had wanted something. She usually played the part of concerned parent whenever she needed a favor or two.

“What is it? What do you want?”

“What?”

“Is it money? Is that what you want?"

“Can’t I see my daughter without–”

“No, you really can’t. It’s a pattern for you. I’m tired and I don’t wanna go back and forth. What do you want?”

“I see how it is, you don’t see your mother in months, you don’t ask how I am, you don’t ask what’s going on– you just assume I need something from you?”

“When you break into my apartment at three o’clock in the morning, I feel like small-talk shouldn’t be required and we should just skip to why.”

“Ey, Raven you leave a key under the ugly plant like my mother used to, I didn’t break in. You’re so serious.”

The brunette sighed heavily, putting her face in her hands and pulling gently at the strands in her hair, easing some tension for an upcoming headache she knew this conversation was going to be.

~

She didn’t get much sleep.

Raven stared at the ceiling until her alarm went off. Twiddling her thumbs and laying there wasn’t going to change anything. So, she had called work and offered to take another shift. Imagine her surprise when she read the note left by her mother on the kitchen counter; borrowed the car, be back later.

Her and her mother talked for around thirty minutes before she had set up a bed for her on the couch. A bed that was surprisingly cleaned up and packed neatly to the side.

“She got into a fight with her boyfriend, she's staying with me until she gets on her feet.” Raven said, texting Zach while Mason was oh-so-kind to take her up on her favor and give her a ride to work.

where r u. The boss is asking


car trouble. Cover for me?


“She abandoned you.”

“I’m not doing this with you. You’d do the same for your mother and don’t say you wouldn’t–”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Bullshit.”

abt the 4th…

Raven sighed, putting her phone on silent and slipping it into her pocket, flipping down the passenger mirror to make sure she looked up to par. Her boss was the biggest bitch imaginable and the genes had somehow passed to her daughter.

Yeah, apparently that girl she served on the fourth of July was the owner’s daughter. She did not enjoy her virgin martini.

Raven unbuttoned three-ish buttons, enough to show some cleavage when Mason pulled up outside of LUX and he turned to look at her expectantly. “Oh, are you waiting for something?” She batted her eyelashes and leaned in dramatically for a mock-kiss and he swatted her away, resulting in a small fit of laughter from Raven.

“Go bag groceries. I’ll get a ride home from someone else.” When Raven needed something– she tended to go to Mason. She hated asking anyone for anything but Mason’s been involved in herself and vice versa for years. It’s just… who they are.

Can’t have one Rivera without the other.

She kept her head down when entering, not wanting to draw attention from the she-devil for being twenty minutes late and rounded the bar, eying what needed to be restocked and what they needed out.

Pretending to seem busy enough not to be bothered all in all.

“You could make yourself useful and cut up some limes.” Raven muttered to Zach, feeling his eyes on her but not bothering to look his way.

Things have been… tense to say the least. Tense in the way that Raven wasn’t interested in keeping up their no-strings-attached situationship– because she felt like he wasn’t all that into it.

She wasn’t pissed or anything. It’s just her flirty demeanor wasn’t directed towards him anymore. Sort of like a switch. Which is… very unlike her considering it’s ninety-percent of her personality.

It was a bad idea in the first place, he was too quiet and Raven needed someone to speak their mind in order for her to feel comfortable engaging in something like this– which is ironic considering the no-strings-thing.

But the last thing she wanted is to feel like she was pressuring him into something he didn’t want– or worse and he considered her less of a good-time and more of a chore.

“In wedges, not quarters.”

She wasn’t pissed.

About him-- that is.
coded by natasha.
 
Mitchell Carson
C'est la vie


a park
...
clothes + a volunteer vest
hav | Soap Soap
“You mean besides relishing adorable company?” Havana tapped her clipboard, then gestured to an approaching family; Mitchell wondered where the “adorable company” was.

Pets were drains of money. All they did was eat, drool, piss, yap, and make you clean up their piles of shit. They developed Stockholm Syndrome, you grew emotionally attached, and then they ate the wrong thing and costed you hundreds of dollars. Then, in five to ten years, they died. There was no point.

“Cute” was not the word that Mitchell would use to describe that.

“Our job is basically to woo them into adopting them,” Havana continued, “write down their info and send them over to Joan or Hank to fill out some more boring paperwork — we do that on repeat while keeping an eye on the animals.”


“Great,” Mitchell said, thoroughly unenthused.

He could think of at least eighty other things that he would be doing elsewhere, and all of them, including cleaning out his filing cabinets, seemed more appealing than dealing with dog shit all day.

“Have you ever had a pet before?” Havana asked. “It helps to talk to potential adoptees about the kind of dog they might —”

A young boy interrupted, running up to the cage beside them. A woman, presumably his mother, smiled over at Mitch with a “hello”; Mitchell gave a weak, split-second smile back before his eyes flickered to the woman’s stroller.

Disgusted, Mitchell looked away. Families who insisted upon bringing their toddlers and infants in public were obnoxious.

“Ow!”

Mitchell glanced over to the cage just as the boy, teary-eyed, yanked his hand up from inside it. “He bit me!” cried the boy.

“I…” Havana looked clueless as to what to do. “He’s teething, it’s very common for pupp —”

“Come on, Ronin,” said the woman indignantly, grabbing the stroller and turning away. The boy and the man who was presumably his father followed after her. “I told you dogs weren’t…”

Havana sighed, looking down at the smush-faced disgrace in the cage.

God, it’s so ugly.

“You’re free to leave around six,” Havana said, looking at Mitch again. “Unfortunately, not all dogs have to be adopted before we pack up.”

“Six…,” Mitchell repeated, already feeling himself physically beginning to drain. There were too many people, too much noise, and too many damn dogs, and he had an entire day of it to go.

This was the last time he ever did anything like this.

“There’s a lot of people here who aren’t going to give patience a try,” Havana said, tapping her pen against her clipboard again. Her voice trailed into an indistinguishable mutter for a few moments, and Mitchell stared at her blankly and unconcernedly. “I should probably get used to dramatic kids, though,” she continued, her voice raising to a normal volume again, “especially if —”

At that, Havana seemed to have a revelation of sorts, and, with a new vigor, she turned to Mitchell with a question: “What is it like? At the high school, I mean, Is it hard? Do they drive you crazy?” Havana covered one side of her mouth as if to tell him a secret. “Are they overdramatic?”

Mitch stared at her for a moment, unamused by her actions. “‘Overdramatic’…,” he repeated, and then he sighed a small sigh, crossing his arms and looking to a tree. “Teenagers are…uninhibited versions of adults, discovering what it means like to have complex emotions and sex drive and angst and body odor,” he said, in a disinterested monotone. “‘Overdramatic’ sometimes, but more than anything…they’re who you would be if you had nothing to lose besides cafeteria clout.”

He looked over at Havana. “You’re going to be the new…art teacher, correct?” He breathed out a small sigh. “If you’re asking me for my honest opinion…” He studied her for a long moment, his eyes slowly scanning her, from the top of her head down to her shoes, and then he looked away with another small sigh. “They are going to eat you alive,” he deadpanned.
coded by natasha.
 
Chelsea Kader Freud
Pick Your Poison


in front of his house
...
clothes
mer | Soap Soap
Mercedes was quiet for a long moment before her figure, in Chelsea’s periphery, slumped back against the seat. She seemed to sink, to shrink, as though trying to will herself out of this situation. She muttered something indistinct, the noise of which was almost drowned out by the sounds of the road and of the wind outside of his windows. Now that they were out of the main part of the small city, glimpses of his sister’s face came in and out of view in the various hues and intensities of streetlights, her silhouette rapidly alternating between harsh and almost liquid. He noticed a tear, glittering in the light of an aggressive LED streetlight, fall from her eyes, trailing down the patches of sheen on her cheeks. She seemed to notice it, too, and reached up to wipe it away. “I didn’t do it because I miss Donna,” she said. “I didn’t do anything. I was just…”

Tick, tick, tick clicked the blinker, uninterested in the conversation, and Chelsea forced his eyes straight ahead. She wasn’t crying if he couldn’t see it; she was hardly even there.

“It was just some freak accident,” she said, the telltale signs of crying in her voice; Chelsea almost flinched.

He had been horribly ill all day, since last night, and was still presently nauseated. He had been delirious at several points and hadn’t eaten anything. In that suffering, he’d been jarred from the one moment of fucking peace he’d managed and been forced to come down to the jail to pick up his little sister from a holding cell, the same jail cell where less than half a year ago he’d had to do the same routine. Because Donna’d already set a fucking precedent, they’d probably be even fucking harder on Mer than they would normally — and it was Chelsea’s job to do the same.

It was always Chelsea’s job to do things like this — to be a stand-in for Nicholas Camus. After all, as the man said, “You will be me one day.”

Chelsea kept his face forward, willing himself to ignore his sister as he turned down his block.

For a few more moments, it was quiet between the two.

Then, Mer’s voice cut through the veil he’d put up: “I didn’t do it on purpose, but if you don’t believe that…” She gestured to him, then let her arm flop back to the windowsill. “Neither will they.”

Chelsea sat for a long moment, silent, his sister’s words reverberating in his mind.

So fucking what? was his first thought.

So fucking what if they didn’t believe her obviously flimsy cover-up? These were the fucking consequences of her actions, well-deserved and vital for the integrity of herself and of the family. She would improve from whatever came of this and would fucking stop it before she wound up in a place like their shithole brother. In the real world — hell, in court — people didn’t buy excuses of ”it was an accident”. Chelsea wasn’t an idiot; his parents weren’t idiots. With Donna, no one batted an eyelash before dishing out what he fucking deserved, because that was the way that the world worked. That was the way that things should have been.

But…this was Mer, and somehow, Mer had always been able to bend the rules.

He saw memories of when they were kids. When Mer would come to him crying, begging him to fix this thing or that thing that she’d stolen from their dad’s office that she’d somehow “accidentally” broken so their dad wouldn’t be angry. When she would fall and scrape her knees and come to him with her “boo-boo”s. When she’d come to him pleading for his help to climb up various tall objects, and even though he knew damn well that it would be a fucking disaster in the end, he just sighed and went along with it.

Because that was Mer, and he was Chelsea, and Chelsea was capable of being a huge fucking asshole to everyone for however fucking long it took to deter them except for Mer.

It was a fucking soft spot. It wasn’t a fucking soft spot, but he just…couldn’t.

“Fine, fuck it, fine,” Chelsea finally said, pissed off at himself for giving in at this point. He turned into the driveway, then drove up to the gate to put in the code. “It was a fucking accident.” He began to pull down the driveway, giving a long sigh. “That’s the story — it was a fucking accident.”

He parked his car in front of the garage, not sparing a glance over to Mer. “Just…make sure no more fucking ‘accidents’ happen, Mer,” he said before popping his car door and stepping out.

I don’t want to fucking lose you.
coded by natasha.
 






Spencer Gray



He had to get out of here. Before he was late. Scratch that. Before he was really late. Agreeing to help the old lady do her shopping was beginning to feel like a really bad mistake, especially as he watched the hands of the clock inch closer to the time he agreed to meet Maggie at the amusement park. He was supposed to be done breaking promises, with failing to keep his word, but he supposed some bad habits were just difficult to break. So much for changing…

No. He had to stop thinking like that. There was still some time, he was almost done here, just one last bag of groceries to load into her car. If he rushed he could maybe get there just a little late instead of really late. Now if this bag would just cooperate and let him move faster. The old lady had bought enough to open her own store.

Just. Had. To. Find. Space.

There.

Finally.

Spencer gave the lady a bow and quick wave goodbye before he rushed down the street, his phone buzzing with a message. From Maggie. Oh no. She was already there and waiting. Shoot. Way to start the day Spence. Way to repeat the past. Always late for appointments.

The old lady hadn’t even asked for help, he was the one who offered and insisted. Why? To pretend he was a nice guy? A nice guy who broke promises just to try and make himself feel better?

Ah shit. He hated this. These tailspins his mind often fell into. The cycle of getting sucked in and then trying to pull himself out that repeated itself like some cheap comedy schtick. Today was just supposed to be a fun, relaxing day out at the amusement park with Maggie. His friend.

They’d hop in and out of rides that would scramble their guts and strain their throats as they laughed about the overpriced food they’d take bites of in between and hopefully not throw up on the attractions. He just need to get there and they could get started, which was right around the corner.

Thank god the supermarket hadn’t been too far from his destination. Now he just had to find Maggie, which shouldn’t be difficult all things considered, especially given their proclivity for running into each other which had sparked this whole friendship to begin with.

A small smile crossed his face as he picked her out across the crowd and made his way over, one hand running over the back of his head sheepishly as he neared.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Let’s go in before the queues get too long.”

He walked in step with her towards the entrance where they were soon let in by the staff. The sights, sounds and smells of the park instantly assailed Spencer as he stepped past the gates. It was one of the wondrous things about amusement parks. Their ability to make you feel like you’d really been pulled into another world. He kind of missed it. The last time he’d been to an amusement park had been with his family, before his little sister Nat had gotten too sick to go. It was a happy memory though, not a sad one.

Don’t you dare go there, brain. He needed a distraction, something to keep him from spiralling into another tailspin. Rides, rides, rides. Roller coaster? Teacup? Viking ship? Food?

He turned and looked down at his friend. “What should we ride first?” he glanced down at the map the staff had handed him as he entered, covered in dots highlighting the rides. “It looks like this big roller coaster here is one of the main attractions, and this water ride over on this side.” Spencer looked up in the direction of the two rides, scanning the area to try and figure out where was more crowded. As his eyes swept over the scene before him, they passed over Maggie and he paused and smiled at his friend. “You look great by the way.”






mood
just have fun

location
amusement park

outfit
comfy and easy





playing...
WONDER

by Shawn Mendes​




mentions
nil

interactions
Maggie

tags
Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202


º º code by ditto º º
 
Brody Jesson
boat
cool cool cool
blue swim shorts
interactions

Sydney ditto ditto
There was something about being out on the open ocean, nothing but the watery expanses full of deadly sea creatures surrounding him, that really brought something to Brody that nothing else really could. There was a lazy, relaxed grin on his face as he looked around, taking it all in. And then his dark gaze drifted to his passenger, which was always the best part of these excursions.

Usually it was a hot chick, stretched out sunbathing on his deck. But when he glanced over now it was... his friend, Sydney, with Kleenex stuck in his nose to try and stop the nosebleed he'd had or something.

Yeah, see, unfortunately for Justin, his moves on Willa hadn't gone super well -- especially with the appearance of his older sister -- so he had yet to find a backup girl after his oh so sad breakup with Mercedes (which he had definitely been so upset about). So that meant, with the lack of a hot chick to take out on his boat, he'd instead taken out Sydney. Which was cool, which was fine. He was chill with taking his friends out on the boat.

Sydney was speaking, and there was a grin that grew on his face when he'd mentioned the Halloween party.

Ah, yes.

How could he forget?

"'Course, you 'borrowed,'" -- finger quotes were done around that one word -- "that chick's cheerleading skirt and showed up in it. How could I forget?" Justin chuckled at the memory. Another wave had come by, causing the boat to shake. Of course, growing up on the water meant that Justin didn't even lose his balance. In fact, he was able to walk across the boat to where Sydney was at. He'd turned it off, letting the boat just kind of float in the ocean as he made his way to his friend and passed him a beer -- 'cause you couldn't have a boat day without a little alcohol.

He flopped down next to his friend, cracking open said can, and then he leaned back, resting on his elbows so that he could get a proper tan across the rest of his bare chest. "It'll live on forever, right up here," Justin explained, tapping the side of his head. "You ever get rid of that uniform?"
coded by natasha.
 
Logan Cruz
party
exhausted
baby spit stained clothes
interactions

Dex hery hery
She knew that her dad acknowledging Dexter and how proud he was of him was just a way to get back at her -- like a knife slicing into her, although it held little power when she wasn't new to this. Her dad had always been prouder of her brother than of her, and it just brought a disgusted look to her face. She shifted Axel in her arms as he started to whimper, and she held him so that he was facing her, and his chubby little hands could grip her shirt.

Part of her wanted to speak up and really embarrass her father in front of his colleagues, but... he still held some kind of power over her. And so she kept her mouth shut, watching as they walked off, until it was just the three of them--

Err, four of them. She'd forgotten about the baby.

"Did you think parading around like a drunk, disheveled streetwalker and accosting my son would be a suitable way to get back at me?" their father hissed, "After every opportunity I've given you, you still insist upon being a liability to this family."

Shock. Shock was written across Logan's face, because she'd expected a lot to come out of her dad's mouth, but that... that was the only thing she hadn't really expected. She blinked up at him, her lips trembling as she struggled to find words to speak, but nothing came out. Dex tried to interject, but it didn't last long -- and not that she would expect her brother to do any kind of stepping up here. Their dad's grip may have been tight on her, but it was suffocating around Dex's neck.

"Is it money? How much do you want?" He asked as he pulled out a checkbook.

There was still silence. She blinked, looking away from her father's cold features towards Dex's desperate look of despair. Her gaze came back to rest on their dad, and... yeah, part of her wanted to take that money. It'd be so much easier to take care of Axel and herself if she had some cash in the bank, but it was the... the... principle of the matter. Accepting his money would be allowing herself to be written out of their family, and that wasn't something Logan wanted, no matter how hard he was trying, she was still hanging on by a thread. A single finger still keeping her from falling off the cliff.

"I don't... I don't want your money," Logan hissed. She was getting a little choked up, but she swallowed it, and did her best to keep her voice from wavering and faltering. "You... you... you can't stop me from having a relationship with my brother. You might have disowned me, but Dex is still my brother and as much as you want to erase me -- erase us -- you can't."

By the end of the sentence, her voice had nearly cracked, so Logan didn't bother waiting around.

She turned and stormed off, hugging Axel closer to her shaking chest.
coded by natasha.
 






Zach Lombardi





The 4th had been awkward and painful. To be honest, most major parties left Zach feeling that way but even then, it had been more so than usual. The combination of Havana drawing extra attention his way, to being caught between Kira and Remy, the former of whom had well… bullied him in high school and then asked him straight up if he thought she was a bitch, to which he sort of just… well how was he supposed to answer that. Even if she had said to be honest. Being put on the spot like that always made him clam up and sort of shut down. And then there was that whole conversation with Raven that just left him very confused.

People were hard. Girls especially so. You’d think, that perhaps growing up with a sister as spontaneous and upbeat as Havana, might make one something of an expert at managing and dealing with girls. But that would be neglecting the fact that said brother was Zach, and that Zach could not, in fact, handle Havana. At all.

If only there was a world that existed with only animals. Perhaps a move to the jungle. No, that was more like something Havana would do. Speaking of Havana, his sister was up to something. Again.

Whether that was multiple somethings or one thing or what it even was, he just, he had no idea. Havana always scrambled his brain. Most human interaction did. It wasn’t like with animals where he could read their signals and understand what they wanted and they in turn understood him even when he hadn’t said a word. Sometimes there were hidden signals or clues, other times there weren’t, and then there was a whole reading between the lines and double meanings and all that, and he just…

He was at work. He should be focusing on the drinks, not thinking about all this. But the thought that his sister was likely up to something and he had no idea what made him nervous as hell. Why did mom and dad have to take off on that road trip for the summer?

And where was Raven. Her five minutes were already up. It was a good thing that the boss had gotten caught up in an important phone call and hadn’t seem to notice yet, but the clock had already expired, and she was way late. Honestly, he had no idea what to feel about that or whether he ought to feel anything at all. He still didn’t have a clue as to what their 4th of July text exchange was about. No strings attached was supposed to mean sex and nothing else right? No emotions, no relationship, no extra baggage and such. He was certain he hadn’t brought up or indicated anything of the sort and yet Raven had seemed upset? He wasn’t sure, which made him uncomfortable and uneasy, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He didn’t like making people upset. Maybe he should have asked Havana after all?

…

No, that was a bad idea. The thought of Havana knowing and possibility broadcasting his personal affairs was horrifying. How had he even gotten into this situation with Raven in the first place? They were just coworkers at Lux. He shouldn’t have let himself get talked into it when Raven brought up the idea a couple of weeks back. She’d said no strings but adding to and complicating his human relationships was always going to be a bad idea. How did Havana make it all so easy?

The thoughts swarmed Zach’s brain as he remade a drink order for a cocktail that he had messed up. The boss was not going to be happy about that, especially since the error he made had resulted in a drink combination that wasn’t anything on the menu and thus, not going to be ordered. Ugh. If only he could erase the 4th.

Zach looked up as he served the order, in time just to see Raven rounding the bar and quickly busying herself. He glanced at the clock then over at her. She was really late.

…was she upset about the text exchange? Was it nothing? It was hard to tell. He was never very good at reading people and back in high school when he tried, he ended up being labelled a creep for staring too long.

“You could make yourself useful and cut up some limes.”

Her voice sounded like it held an edge of… irritation?

“In wedges, not quarters.”

Zach nodded, but he hesitated as he pulled out the knife and grabbed the limes. Normally he would just do as ask, no questions asked without thinking twice about it, but after recent events he was just very confused. And a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he was missing something like he seemed to have missed in their conversation on the 4th.

Only what kind of hidden message or hint could there be in a request to cut up limes into wedges and not quarters? He was overthinking this, he had to be, it was stupid.

…but what if he wasn’t?

…This whole thing was really messing with his brain in the worst possible way…

Zach moved, cutting up the limes into wedges as he pondered her words. If they did have any meaning, what on earth was it? Some kind of instruction? A move? What was that confusing line from that show Havana had left running on the tv the other day? Something about muffins or buns? The food references were weird. He really didn’t get them, but people were always using phrases and terms he didn’t understand.

And now he was done slicing the limes and he still had no idea. Their conversation had been about him going over, they had a no strings attached arrangement between them. Was it some kind of move he was supposed to use on her? While they were at work?

…

This was stupid, he was being ridiculous.

Sure, it wasn’t near peak hour yet and food related innuendos and such were a thing but there was no way…

…

……

………

The messed up drink order came into view as Zach put the lime wedges into the bowl. He still had no idea what to do and if what Raven said meant anything else, but it was still better to do something than nothing… right?

Zach moved the glass over then added a lime wedge and a jalapeno to the mix along with a little bit more syrup.

…

It was better than it going to waste.

He picked it up and turned around to look at Raven who still had her back turned to him. At least the bar wasn’t crowded. Taking a deep breath to ready himself, he walked over and grabbed her hand, almost pausing at the sudden contact with her skin before forging ahead and leading her to the storage room at the back.

The door swung shut behind them leaving them in the dimly lit room with a busted lightbulb. Shit, he’d forgotten to switch it out earlier when he’d come in to get prepped and the dim lighting only added to his nerves. His heart was pounding like a monkey beating on a drum and he had no idea what to do. He never did anything like this.

Zach could feel what little confidence and courage he had summoned quickly slipping away as he let go of her hand, back turned to her, drink still in the other.

Just give her the drink and go. His brain urged. Before things get even more awkward.

“Here,” he said quietly as he turned abruptly and handed her the drink. “For you.” He added, as if that wasn’t obvious enough. He remained standing there, watching her in silence for a few more seconds as he tried to see if he could figure out any hint from her earlier words but no. Nothing.

…

“I’ll go first.”

And then he moved to squeeze past her and head back out to the bar.





mood
don't know what to do

location
bar > storage room

outfit
bartender





playing...
nil

by nil​




mentions
Havana, Kira, Remy

interactions
Raven

tags
Soap Soap


º º code by ditto º º
 
Amethyst J.
mood
starting to relax

outfit
Casual

Mentions
BJ, Slut

tags
Winona Winona

She heard him before she saw him. As the door swung open a simple smile curled onto her lips seeing him standing before her, "Hey". She replied while stiffing a giggle at the fact he was so out oof breath. Had he run down here? See he did wanna hang out with her! She really should get a better handle on all those negative and doubtful thoughts of hers. Perhaps she should work on her insecurities...but everyone had their flaws right? and so long as she didn't make them his problem, then it was alright...right?


"Oh yah sounds great." She chimed at his offer for soda. She didn't drink it often at home since her parents rarely bought it. Then again she usually indulged in things she didn't when around Damien. He hadn't exactly become the best influence as they've grown up. His smile didn't faulter, but he was always a little extra nice when his mom was around. She didn't mind it, but it was noticeable. She felt like she understood it. If she had company over her parents would want her to be on her best behavior too you know? So she felt like this was normal. Then again she'd rationalized and normalized a lot of aspects of their friendship that some people might say wasn't the healthiest.

She followed him up to his room without a word and found a cozy spot on the small ledge of his window. His room was a bit messy and she didn't wanna move anything. If anything she might move to the floor rather then sit on his bed. He talked about sleeping around with too much for that to feel comfortable. Regardless she made herself at home in the familiar space. She wasted no time popping open her drink as he asked what she wanted to do. A dreaded question really. A question usually met with...dissatisfaction from him. She'd prefer to play a game, or watch something, or just talk maybe...but she already knew all of those things would be shot down.

Especially the talking or catching up aspect.

She noticed his screen and tilted her head with curiosity, "Latest work?" She chimed gesturing to it. She was subscribed to him like the supportive friend she was. She wasn't much for horror, but she always liked seeing the things her friends enjoyed. Just like how Justin loved the outdoors so she went outside. She'd watch gory or scary animations for Damien.

She shrugged a bit, "I don't know something fun. You said playing games sober was boring, so we could drink or smoke and play I guess?" She tried to suggest a compromise that wouldn't immediately get shot down. "Unless you have something you wanna do?" She asked curiously.
coded by reveriee.
 
Ashton West
the beach
ehh
bikini top, shorts, duh
interactions

Dalton Xed Xed
Talking with Jared had been fun enough. Like, he wasn't the kind of guy that she would usually find herself talking to, but it had been nice enough. If not a little too mature feeling for her. But he'd walked away to go over to his bitch of a girlfriend, so she found herself alone near the bar, sipping the last of her second drink of the night.

She was still by herself, minding her own business, when out of nowhere, someone's voice sounded near her. She jumped, head whipping around to see who it was while her heart pounded in her chest, only to come face to face with freaking... Dalton. A smile broke out on her face, followed by a roll of her eyes as he pulled away. She hated to admit it, but there was some part of her heart that had started beating faster when he'd leaned in close to her.

Ash simply blamed it on their past heated moments of passion, ones that she had... more or less forgotten and moved on from. Just mere... blips in the past, moments before her boyfriend when she'd had a little fun when she was on the West Coast.

"Yeah?" Ash scoffed at his words. She finished off her drink, setting the glass down on the bar. She knew that he was like... trying to be cool or something so that she would follow him. Like dangling a treat in front of her face, and expecting her to follow after him. And Ash knew that she probably shouldn't follow after him, because it was Dalton, and she was still oh so heartbroken over he ex, but...

She bit her lip, and then she followed after him.

"Really?" She asked. "You know fun? Please," Ash said with a roll of her eyes as she drew closer to him. "You're like... well, not fun. Kind of like a brooding stick in the mud, you know?" She explained with a smirk. "But go ahead -- try and prove me wrong."
coded by natasha.
 






Dalton Kirby



Dalton smirked as she made her way over. What was her name again? Anne? Ada? Amber? No. It was A but something else… A… A… Ash. That was it, Ash.

He cocked an eyebrow and rolled his eyes in return as she explained how he, was not fun. He did brood and he could be a stick in the mud at times, usually to the rat he shared a house with, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know fun.

“Good thing for you then. We’re on the beach. Far from any mud and I’ve proven you wrong before.” He smirked as he looked down at her. He was talking about their previous encounters in Newcastle of course, which hadn’t only been hookups.

Anyway, he never backed down from a challenged and she just challenged him. He was going to have fun with this. Dalton looked up and surveyed the beach, his eyes smiling as they fell on the water, some distance away. The cove. Perfect.

“Allow me the pleasure of proving you wrong again.” Taking hold of her hand, he led her towards the water in the direction of the cove which had a small cave hidden away, and if you couldn’t yet tell, was their ultimate destination.

It was a nice place and fun to climb and swim over to, especially at night. The added element of mild danger added to the thrill of the experience. Again, not an adrenaline junkie.

“I hope you’re ready for a little workout.” He grinned as they reached the part of the beach where the incoming waves lapped at their feet, the cool water refreshing on the skin. Letting go of her hand, he started to make his way deeper into the water, glancing back at her before returning his gaze to the faint shape of the cove in the distance.

“Try to keep up.”





mood
time for some fun

location
beach party > heading to the cove

outfit
surfer boy





playing...
song title here

by artist here​




mentions
nil

interactions
Ash

tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 
Raven Rivera
LUX
just hand me the paycheck
fancy bartender
interactions

Zach Xed Xed

Bottles of beer were replaced, tap was on— and since Raven didn’t work last shift… whoever has the tendency to waste and or use an entire bottle of whiskey was beyond her.

If she-devil Flores was so hellbent on getting anyone fired, it should be whoever’s stealing from the bar because there was absolutely no way that over ten people ordered over fifty glasses of whiskey each.

She hated jameson. It had such a strong taste and bitter outcome. Some people actually reacted differently to certain alcohols.

Many people don’t believe that, but Raven does— a few shots of jameson has her mother acting like a completely different person.

Worse than she already is.

She was eying the rest of the bottles when she felt someone grab her hand, before Raven could contest she was already being tugged away.

The look on her face said it all; why, where, and what the hell are you doing?

The light flickered in the storage room and the door shut behind them.

Her brows furrowed, cocking her head to one side and waiting for him to say something— do something, just give an idea to where this was going, because she had no clue.

Raven’s gotten around— not to make it sound promiscuous or anything of the sort.

She didn’t sleep around with anyone and everyone… but she was experienced.

But Zachery by far was the only person who puzzled her mind more than anyone.

That statement only became more true when he spoke; “Here,” he said, handing her a glass of… something.

The longer she inspected it Raven realized that it was a margarita of some sort.

“For you.”

“Um… is this something you’re trying out or…”

Raven was rarely speechless. Always a sarcastic quip to say, a witty comment to throw someone’s way or a compliment to have the conversation lean in her favor.

But this… you can’t blame her here.

“I’ll go first.” Zach said, attempting to move past her and Raven blinked in confusion, stepping in his path.

“What?” The brunette gestured to the drink and looked back at him, confused as ever. “What the hell is this? Don’t say it’s a margarita— wh—“

She felt her phone buzz in her back pocket and suddenly everything started to make sense.

His text message from earlier— why he felt like they had to hide in a storage room for this interaction.

The fourth.

“Wait, is this supposed to be an apology or something? Look… I don’t care.”

Raven laughed, though the lighthearted tone in her voice was missing.

“I…” Her gaze searched his for a few moments in silence and she sighed “Here.” Raven took a sip of the salty and hint of spice of a drink.

“It’s great, thanks.” She handed it back to him.

The interaction felt more and more awkward the longer they just sat here.

She thought about just turning to leave but Raven decided to take this as an opportunity to ask the question that needed to be asked.

“Zach,” She started, taking a breath and allowing it to escape through her nose before she continued.

“Do you want to do this?” Raven gestured between the both of them, continuing to talk with her hands.

“Is it something you actually want? I understand we said no-strings, but these aren't strings. These are like puzzle pieces I can’t place together because you don’t…”

Talk to me.

It’s only been a few weeks and sure, the sex has been… moderate.

But god, Raven was so tired of this back and forth between them when she didn’t even know if he… found her attractive at all.

And that was never something Raven worried about.

“I don’t know what you want and… honestly, I don’t think you know what I want either.”
coded by natasha.
 












  • filler

















It was hard to distinguish between knowing and feeling on summer weeks like this. A guy like Benji could take monotony and he could take variety, but it was all autopilot. His senses were so dull, and only half of it could be attributed to whatever was in his system at any given moment. And that wasn't for a lack of change, either, not with the wrecking ball Adeline was to his status quo. Sometimes he was just a little hollow is all. It would pass.

The night before was neither cold nor warm, or at least not enough of either to notice the temperature at all. He had biked home from work as a result of his car's constant state of disrepair. This time it was some issue with the power steering or transmission or something equally as terrifying to have explained as he sat in the driver's seat on the freeway, scratching his head at whatever lingo only his parents were well-versed in. And only one of them knew how to put it to practical use, which was unfortunately not the semi-present one.

So, anyway, the bike. The ride home wasn't a long one, not when Benji's side of town was pretty close to one of the main streets. The properties were small and densely-packed, perfect for Newcastle's "affordable housing" initiative. Thank you, Mayor Jameson, for your charitable and not at all through-the-roof rent prices. A real advocate for the poor that guy was. And don't even get him started on his delight of a daughter.

The sky was a deep blue and the moon glowed big and round through the clouds etched across the skyline. They were so clear to see, almost like it was midday after all. Benji, a cynic to a major fault, supposed that he could see all the clouds because of light pollution, but it was beautiful. On his ride home, all he could do was look up with a bemused smirk. It was a relief there was no traffic in this part of town.

The grease-covered worker took four laps around his block, reluctant to rip his eyes off of this phenomenon. He didn't know what he was feeling then, but he was feeling and that was more than he could ask for. If his will found its way, AJ was gazing up at the same clouds, taking in this wonder with a stolen breath just like himself.

He really did hope she was doing well. He would have to call her tomorrow and see what she was up to, maybe, if she wasn't tired of hearing from him every day yet.

He stayed up until dawn glancing at those clouds every so often, wasting the rest of his night on television and weed. He was just glad they were there, for when he closed his eyes, that extended moment would finally have to come to an end.

And when Benji woke up the next morning, the sky was back to normal. Blue, full of clouds, and dominated by harsh sunlight. He couldn't explain why it made him mourn so endlessly, but it did. And, given an off day's time, he resorted to the little orange bottle on his nightstand. He shook it into his palm, rolling a white, circular pill between his fingers. He wasn't trying to be dramatic or anything. It just felt good. At least it would in about twenty minutes.

And an hour later, the small-scale drug dealer was giggling on the couch, the cartoons playing on the T.V. absorbing every ounce of his constricted pupils' attention. His mom was already gone, leaving all prying eyes out of the picture. There was no one to disappoint but the baby photos on the mantle that stared back, taunting Benji with the innocence he held a lifetime ago.

The living room held many iconic images, such as Benji at his first baseball game and the one of him in overalls shoving a ball of strawberry ice cream into his mouth. Or shoving his face into the ice cream; it was hard to tell. There were a few of him with his smiling, gentle-eyed mom, but for the most part, it was all him. It felt so conceited to leave them all up, but what was there to replace them with? Surely not the father who walked out a decade ago. And on the fridge were his grade school art projects. His mom really was proud of the man Benji was, all things considered.

Benji's feet dangled off the edge of the sofa as his head lolled to the side on the other end, just barely fitting his tall form on the thing. But it didn't matter. He was so relaxed, so content that he could feel the fibers of his body stitching into the cloth of the couch. Now this, this was a real break. A refreshing one, even.

Siiiiighhh... yeah...

But all things must come to an end and, as the green koala on the T.V. screen sang her song, the sound of the doorbell resounded throughout the two-bed-one-bath Benji had once had all to himself. Mom wasn't supposed to be back until late. Like, glowing night clouds late.

Had he made plans? He didn't seem to recall having done so, but the opioid coursing through his system was a reminder that his memory wasn't always the most reliable. As much as he feigned it, Benji was not the clever, organized man his smooth talk suggested. That much was apparent from the clutter strewn across the house, which was uncomfortably warm from the intense sunlight filtering through every window. The light was additionally warm in hue like honey and abundant like the dust that coated most every drab surface in the place. The house's interior was straight out of a 70's catalogue, only more dull in color and far less fashionable or immaculate.

Hopefully he had locked the door, because getting up from the couch to fight off an intruder was the last thing the Perc-popping young adult wanted for his afternoon of relaxation. The working hope was that it was just the mailman dropping off a package, to which Benji would pick up after inevitably falling asleep until the early evening to the lullaby of these singsong children's shows.

"Don't come in, we have knives!" he shouted out lazily, the croak of persistent morning voice stifling the assertiveness in the statement, "Refer all appointments to my secretary or call 358-522-0918 to schedule, goodbye!"








Benji Bahi

















adeline










ditto ditto













♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:
Sydney Welsh
chasing cars


a boat
kind of thriving, kind of dying
hawaiian shirt & shorts
justin | Winona Winona
"'Course,” Brody answered, “you 'borrowed’ that chick's cheerleading skirt and showed up in it. How could I forget?" Brody chuckled.

“How could you forget?” Syd repeated, grinning at his now standing friend. A wave came, and Syd’s eyes widened, his heart dropping to his feet, but he quickly shoved the anxious, I could really quite die feeling from his mind. “We made a bet, too. And I won it. Can’t forget that part.” Tensing his arm muscles to hold his hand steady, he reached out with a small grin and took the beer his friend was offering him. “And you had to buy me lunch all week.” There were two crisp crack!s as both boys popped open their cans; Syd took a sip of his beer. “Victory is sweet.”

Syd’s eyes trained intently on Brody as the shirtless boy flopped down next to him. He drew in a long breath, trying to will himself to pry his eyes away from Brody’s bare chest as the boy leaned back on his elbows. This was a moment from a dream; Brody looked picturesque, like the subject of…Syd didn’t know, a really good painting or something. Like the Mona Lisa, but a man. The Man-a Lisa.

Brody was…Brody…but Syd was also Syd, and Brody was Syd’s best friend, and Syd wasn’t a little fucking creep; his eyes darted away from him and to the glittering horizon as he took another sip from his can.

“It’ll live on forever,” Brody said, and that was enough excuse for Syd to look back at his friend, “right up here.”

Syd cracked a grin, trying to keep his eyes on Brody’s face. “‘Cuz it was so iconic, right?” He pulled up one sleeve of his Hawaiian shirt, revealing a thin, only vaguely muscled arm. He kissed his bicep. “These bad boys never looked better,” he joked sarcastically, giving an overdramatic flex complete with clenched teeth and all.

“You ever get rid of that uniform?” Brody asked.

Syd adjusted his sunglasses. “Uh…”

No. The answer was no, and that much was obvious.

“Hey, look,” he started, holding up his beer can defensively, “before you say anything — in my defense, I worked my ass off to get that uniform.” He pointed at himself with his thumb, and the sleeve he’d rolled up slid back down. “Plus, you know how they put, like, iconic outfits that, like, Beyoncé and Celine Dion and Mariah Carey and Oprah and Ariana Grande and everyone up in museums? I had to keep that uniform for when I’m famous, you know?” He grinned, giving a proud shrug. “Yeah, see, so they can put that relic up in a museum and be like, ’Man, I wish I coulda seen it. I bet he looked so damn sexy.’” He gave a nod to Brody. “And then you can be like…”

His grin faded from his face as he came to a realization. “Ohhh, shit,” he said. His brows folded downward, the pleading expression on his face obscured by his cheap sunglasses. “Please tell me you deleted those photos, bro. My whole ass was hanging out.”

coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:
Juliette Jameson
brutal


JJ's place
when's the funeral?
I look good, so.
interactions

Nickie
ditto ditto

It was a special occasion.

Constance Jameson was in town.

It was up to her own family– and Nickie’s to satisfy some sort of picture perfect reunion that their grandmother had in mind. She knew that neither of her parents were happy about it and their mood only worsened when Juliette had attempted to get out of the dinner.

She was scrolling on her phone under the dinner table while meaningless conversation was going back and forth with the adults.

At least, it seemed meaningless.

“Jules,”

Their calls were falling on deaf ears while she continued to scroll through instagram, momentarily pausing to like some boy’s photo. He was sort of hot? His abs made it all the better but… did abs make him boyfriend material?

Maybe?

But barely. There is absolutely no way she’s ever going to date a guy with like, zero personality. She needed to know more about him before she even attempted anything with him– he wasn’t that hot to go in blind.

“Juliette?"

A subtle kick in the leg had made JJ look at Nickie with a death glare.

“What?”

Jonah Jameson, her father and mayor of Newcastle-- something that earned the smallest ounce of respect from her grandmother was quick to speak up, urging Jules to make some sort of effort in conversation.

“Why don’t you tell your grandmother about the school you’re going to next year.”

Ugh. Literally kill her.

Her and her grandmother didn’t have a particularly good relationship. If anything– Nickie was probably her favorite which said a lot about her. The older woman probably despised JJ because she spoke her mind and didn’t kiss her feet like most of the family had the tendency to do.

“Um, Briarwood Academy. It's this really prestigious place. like 40 percent or something who apply get in? The best of the best are accepted.”

“Then how did you get in?” She joked, earning laughter from around the table and diminishing Juliette’s forced but strained smile, sending a text under the table to her cousin across from her.

Can she die already?


A small silence took over and she noticed everyone, including her parents, were expecting her to continue.

“... It’s a school for like, arts and stuff. I submitted choreography they liked.” She said, picking up a fork and moving the vegetables around in her plate, her loss of appetite suddenly gone and replaced by the nauseous feeling that always appeared whenever her grandmother was around.

Fat fucking old hag.

“Maybe you can show us the video after–”

“No.”

Bull-fucking-shit if she’s gonna sit there and allow herself to be belittled and judged by some raggedy-skeleton walking two-faced bitch who pretended to care about her family. She just wanted a name to throw in her fucking will.

“No?” She questioned.

Juliette wouldn’t even be surprised if she set everything aside to play favorites for somebody else instead of dividing her assets evenly or whatever the fuck. It was like a sick game. Whoever can suck up to her the most gets a million dollars.

Jokes on you, bitch.

I’m not playing.

“You wouldn’t really understand it. It’s a mixture of contemporary and ballet– it’s not for frail minds.”

“Juliette.” Jasmine, her mother warned, the rising anger evident in her voice– allowing Juliette to quickly ‘fix’ her mistake.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I just know ballet isn’t your thing.”

There were a few instances where Constance graced her presence to a few of Juliette’s shows and talked the entire family’s ear at the end of the night how terrible the routine was, why JJ didn’t make the best of it– and why dance wasn’t something that she should make a career out of.

“Mm.” Constance said, holding Jonah’s gaze with what could only be considered as a shit-ton of disappointment in how he was raising his child.

A silence fell over and sooner or later the conversation changed while Jules returned back to her phone as they brought up Nickie. Which… she kept an ear out for because she wanted to hear just how much of a bitch her grandmother was allowed to be to her cousin.

Plates were taken away and dessert was served. One way or another memories were getting brought up between her father and Nickie’s mother. She never really understood why she was an only child. Juliette’s never wanted a sibling but never asked her parents why they decided to stop at one.

Thank god they did, though.

If she had a sibling anything like Nickie, she’d probably off herself the first chance she got.

“If I remember correctly, the only reason you got sent to detention was because Abigail…” Her grandmother’s voice was tuned out by Juliette’s miraculous talent of not giving a fuck.
This conversation sucks.

Dessert is the end of this, right? We’re not forced to do weird board games like we did five years ago??

Like, I’d still win and stuff? But you’re so bad at monopoly it’s literally just torture for you.


She had no idea what happened because when she tuned back into the conversation, they weren’t talking about old childhood memories anymore and the conversation had suddenly got tense. Even her grandmother seemed on edge.

“Abigail, I don’t see what the big deal is? I loaned you over five-hundred thousand. All I’m asking is when you’re able to pay that back. I think that’s a completely normal quest–”

“Jonah, enough.” Constance said, looking between her two children and attempting to ease some of the tension in the room.

JJ met Nickie’s gaze and mouthed;

"What's happening?"
coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:
adeline jumper
bubblegum bitch


benji's
...?!
a cute date outfit
benji | hery hery
The clock on the wall, black, sleek, and numberless, read 12:24.

Adeline studied her reflection in the mirror of her vanity, rubbing her lips together to evenly distribute her red lipgloss. Haphazardly draped across the deep red canopy bed behind her were several feminine outfits in varying shades of reds and pinks, all bearing the brands of prestigious designers. The scent of the Dior perfume heavy-handedly applied to her wrists and neck wafted through the air. From the bluetooth speaker on her nightstand came the suave vocals of Michael Bublé. Her small dogs calmly dozed in their respective beds to the side of her open walk-in closet.

Pulling her blonde hair behind her ear to admire her diamond earrings for a moment before adjusting the straps of her sundress, the young woman glanced up at the clock. An easy smile spread across her face, and she chuckled softly; any second now, he would be showing up on her doorstep, and when he saw her, he would be begging to forsake the plans that they had made today in favor of moving their date to her bedroom.

God. They really were the hottest couple around, weren’t they?

“Mickey,” she said, speaking to her elderly chihuahua-poodle mix, whose ears perked up at the sound of his name; Diva, beside him, also stirred. “I’m going to be leaving you in charge for a bit.” Adeline stood, walking over to her chest of drawers to grab her purse. “Benj and I are going out.”

Mickey yawned, and a small noise escaped from his throat.

Addie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know what Mom said. ‘Waste of my time’, he’s so far below me.” She picked up her purse, then bent down to slide on her heels. “And she’s right. He works a shithole job where he’ll be stuck for the rest of his life, and I’m Adeline Jumper, hm. The only thing he has going for him is his…” She trailed off, a smile completing her sentence for her, then shrugged, chuckling softly as she slipped on her other heel. She stood up, smoothing out her dress, and smiled down at Mickey and Diva, who wagged their tails at the eye contact. “But is there anything wrong with a little charity?”

After a few more moments of petting her dogs, she turned off her speaker and descended the grand staircase that emptied into the foyer, where she poised herself on the chaise lounge by the door. Her dogs followed her down the stairs and hopped up to sit beside her. As she continued to pet her dogs, her eyes watched the door, a slight smile on her face.

It was true, what she’d said about what her mother had said about her and Benji. Adeline had expected as much from the woman. There was a reason why she’d kept the relationship from her as long as she did; hell, even when she’d told her about him last night, she hadn’t truly intended to. It was bound to happen, AJ supposed — she was a girl after her mom’s own heart, meaning that her mom was a perceptive bitch with enough claws to get whatever information she wanted.

She was proud to be a daughter of such a stone cold bitch…but at the same time…

Fuck you, Mom.

“Bahi.”

The last name sent Adeline’s heart pumping in double time. She had looked up from her texts to Amanda Jumper, who sat sipping her wine and reading a magazine on the loveseat across from Adeline. AJ’s brows folded together. “What…?”

Her mother, a disinterested expression on her face, flipped to the next page of her magazine. “Bahi,” she repeated.

Adeline glanced down at her phone, where her message to Benji sat half-typed. “What’s…a Bahi?”

“You should know,” said Mandy. “You’ve been texting him non-stop; you tell me.”

Adeline sat entirely still for a few moments. She couldn’t remember her exact thoughts in the moment, but they were something along the lines of: Fuck.

Her mother still didn’t look up. “Oh. So he’s a boyfriend.”

Addie sighed softly.

“Bahi. Benjamin Bahi. He works at that decrepit health code violation at the end of town.” Mandy’s expression was unreadable. “Father’s out of the picture. Mother? …hm.” Her cool brown eyes moved up to meet her daughter’s gaze. “Benjamin Bahi, Adeline? Are you really doing that to yourself?”

Addie sighed softly. “Mom, look, I know.”

Mandy chuckled softly. “I would imagine you know. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’re fully aware that he’s a waste of your time who’s so far below anyone that you should be considering.” She took a sip from her wine. After a moment, she asked, “How long?”

Adeline knew what she was asking. “We’ve been dating a few weeks,” she answered.

“‘Dating’.” Mandy shook her head. “AJ, you’re going to be a doctor. Are you going to waste your time with…?” The disgusted scowl on Mandy’s face invited AJ to fill in the blank with the worst insult that came to mind.

Fuck you, Mom, she thought again at the memory, scowling slightly.

It occurred to Addie now that she’d been waiting for a time at this point. A glance at her phone revealed that it was now 12:32; she’d been waiting for eight minutes.

She breathed out an exasperated sigh. “Hurry it the fuck up, Benj,” she mumbled, clicking off her phone.

Surely, he didn’t have the gall to wait much longer.

• • • • •​

It was 12:51; ding-dong! sang the doorbell.

“Open the fuck up, Benjamin Ballsack,” AJ muttered beneath her breath, impatiently tapping her heel, “before I make you Benjamin Ballless.”

There was no answer.

Balling her hand into a fist and giving three slamming knocks on the door, Addie yelled, “Open the fuck up!”

There was still no answer.

“Godfucking —“

Ding-dong!

There was finally a muffled answer: “Don’t come in, we have knives! Refer all appointments to —“

“Oh my fucking Christ,” Adeline hissed, aggressively twisting the doorknob and shoving the door open.

The door hitched after it opened only a couple inches, letting out a loud chink!. Addie realized, with a pissed scoff, that the chain lock had been put into its place. “Oh, fuck you,” she grunted, reaching in with her sharp nails to fish the lock out of its hole.

The door gave way after only a couple of seconds of adjusting, and AJ shoved it wide open and stepped inside.

She stood for a couple of seconds, taking in her surroundings, her hand angrily gripping her purse. The wallpaper said 70s, the carpet said 00s, the decorations — the various pictures on the walls that would be funny or cute if Addie wasn’t fuming — said family home, and the current smell said fucking high school locker room.

But weirdest thing was the noise.

Her brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to place what the sound was. It was a television of some sort, coming from her left, but the music sounded like it was…from a kid’s show or some shit. Now somewhat apprehensive in spite of her overwhelming fury, Adeline slowly placed her purse down on the side table and walked toward the doorway from which the strange sounds streamed.

When she got to the door, she froze. “Oh…my…”

The living room floor was in utter disarray. On the television bounced a freakish walrus in a top hat shaking hands with a singing green koala. And laying halfway off the couch was a fucked-up looking Benji, dressed in fucking rags, looking like he hadn’t showered in a week.

Stunned, confused, and furious, all that Addie could yell was, “What in fuck’s name are you doing, Benjamin?”
coded by natasha.
 
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