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Realistic or Modern Newcastle (Open!!)

Characters
Here









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new girl



Renee Alcott













mood

worried











outfit

Casual











location

Outside the party











interactions

Ophelia, Drake











tags

Winona Winona
















“Come on,” Ophelia pleaded toward them. Renee gave her a sympathetic smile, it all she could really offer.



“Next time we’ll do much better, Oph.” Renee reassured the founder of the band “Promise.”

Band practice was kind of a bust, but Renee remained an optimist. They had potential, and talent, they just needed organization and a bit of luck. She thought herself to be very lucky to be welcomed into a band after only being in town for a few months. She had Ophelia to thank for that, it had been an incredible way to make friends.



Speaking of friends, there was Drake. Her very first pal at Newcastle, though they met under some rather peculiar circumstances. Renee thought it was fitting, they were both rather peculiar people.

She’d been seeing Drake a lot since the beginning of their friendship, he was the one who really showed her around town, what to do, what not to do, so on and so forth. Tonight, though, he had a party to attend. Renee had been sort of informally invited by Ophelia, but it didn’t feel right showing up, considering the host had absolutely no idea who she was, and vice-versa. The plan tonight was just to go home, and possibly watch an old movie on the living room couch before hitting the sheets, and drifting to sleep.



That is, until things started going off the rails.



Renee hadn’t met Mason, but from the way Drake talked about his brother, she had some idea of what he was like. She didn’t judge the anger or impulsiveness- she related to it, if anything, but there was nothing good that could possibly come out of beating the life out of someone in the middle of a party.

Throwing on a jacket, Renee got on her bicycle and rushed toward the commotion. She could throw some punches if she had to, but obviously she had no intention of breaking up the fight. Her only real goal was to be there for her friend, to support him if things got ugly.



She just had this awful feeling that things were gonna get really ugly.



When she arrived, her fears were all but confirmed. It was pretty gruesome, seeing Mason beat down on the other kid, but there really wasn’t much time to dwell on that. She could already hear distant sirens approaching. Renee took out her phone, frantically texting Drake.



"Your brother’s fighting outside."

"I think the cops are coming."

"You should get here now."



♡coded by uxie♡
[/borde
[/
 
Ophelia Warren
These Days


her garage
fkin h8 my life
something hobo-esque
interactions

TBD, (Bernie)
@jazzyball

Ophelia didn’t even get to inhale before the joint was pulled from her mouth and her lips pursed over at Bernie, allowing a sigh to pass through her nose as she listened to the cold hard truth that her friend spat.

Their band sucked.

They didn’t just need more practice, they needed a miracle.

“Really? I think we were almost subpar, if we can convince the homeless guy outside of Starbucks to take Oliver’s place we might have a shot at winning battle of the bands after all…”

Her sarcasm was unappreciated– Ophelia was sure. Her gaze lingered on Bernie while her mind ran through the multiple outcomes of BOTB. What if they actually won? (at this rate, they definitely won’t) but what if they did?

The only people who probably believed in them were… themselves and Jace.

She’d count some of their mothers but c’mon, there was no way anyone in their right mind believed that TBD would win a participation medal let alone a record deal.

“Maybe we up practice to twice a week, sometime after work for you, I just feel like we gotta get into the groove of things y’know?”

The “for you” was needed, Ophelia’s schedule can bounce anytime she wanted it to– … sometimes. If Benji was in a good mood, that is. Oph worked at The Greasy Spoon, that little diner near the gas station?

The food sucked, but the pay was decent, the company wasn’t too bad either and it helped out with the bills. Which is all Ophelia’s parents wanted from her minus the occasional babysitting.

She’d taken the blunt back and inhaled deeply, letting it sit for a few seconds before releasing it towards the ceiling, it was only when she heard footsteps come near the garage that Ophelia panicked, sitting up straight and hiding the joint behind the couch, waving the smoke away with her free-hand.

“Ophie, your father told me–” The door to the garage opened to reveal a tired-looking, middle-aged woman who was clasping earrings in her ear, pausing mid-sentence when her eyes landed on Bernie.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had company.”

Company with a lack of clothes– it wasn’t like Bernie was naked or anything but… a half-naked girl hanging out in your garage with your lesbian daughter and the stench of weed was enough to make her mother raise an eyebrow.

Ever since she came out, Ophelia’s parents always wondered if a “friend” she brought over was more than just a friend. “Was the ill-attempt of music not a good enough indication that we were practicing?”

“Attitude,”

“Sorry, uh… mom, Bernie, Bernie, Mom, she’s my–”

“Your?”

“Bassist.”

“I… see…”

“Could you see somewhere else, we’re talkin’ band stuff, kinda need to brainstorm… alone.” Because that didn’t make it sound suspicious at all. But she’d only swore to her mother thrice already that she hadn’t smoked weed in the last three months.

She’d gotten caught more than a few times and her punishment was more of Rebekah’s than it was Ophelia’s.

Oph didn’t really do much except work, smoke, listen to music and hang out with her best friend– her mother usually wound up taking away Bex’s visitation rights instead of an actual punishment.

Still sucked, but y’know… at least she wasn’t grounded.

(Even if she doesn’t go anywhere, it’s nice to have the option.)

“There’s money for pizza in the kitchen,” The older woman said, cautiously eying the blonde on the couch. “Nice to meet you… Bernie.” The door shut and Ophelia let out a sigh of relief, handing Bernie the joint back.

“She thinks we’re banging.”

She didn’t really blame her mother, she thought that Bex and Oph were dating for the longest time too. It was just some boomer thing to be suspicious of every possible love interest in your child’s life.

“Ignore her though, she’s all stressed over the store or somethin’ I don’t fuckin’ know,” She did know, but talking about familial finance issues wasn’t a Bernie & Oph conversation topic.

“Oh shit, you know what we should do? Like start trying to get gigs, get used to performing with a crowd and stuff. I could talk to some people, see if they got any… cool connections or whatever.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. When she meant people she meant– Bex.

Alright, fine. Bex’s parents. People who owned stores always networked with other… people or something right?

… right?

“I’m waiting for my, “you’re such a genius, so glad you’re the face of our band,” praise.”
coded by natasha.
 
Livanna Moore
Find Me


Divinity Records
y’know
something cute and casual
interactions

Dalton, Ash, Maggie
Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202 Xed Xed Winona Winona

Sometimes we do things we can’t explain, like lying or kissing someone we shouldn’t. We rarely mean the outcome and in most cases, we rarely intend for there to be an outcome at all.

Liv wished that today was one of those cases.

Maggie denying her accusation had resulted in a puddle of guilt at the pit of her stomach. "What no! Why would I Liv!? We aren't even done with it."

“No, I know, It’s just…”

If it wasn’t you, who else would?

"I actually want to release all the collabs at once on a little EP. Like a friendship EP you know? But even so, I want to come after my first album drops.” Maggie said and Liv didn't even have a reply for her, what was she supposed to do? Tell her the truth?

She'd be met with the same speech Maggie had given her months ago.

"It's your music. Have fun with it."

Liv just didn’t have it as easy as some artists. She wasn't like Maggie, Ash, Nickie-- or even Carmen, they were free to write, sing, and release what they wanted to. Liv's image continued to become so tarnished that even the slightest rumor could make or break her right now.

Of course, she didn't come up with that on her lonesome, but she wasn't a one-woman show.

It was either find out who leaked the song, or take the fall and say she'd done it. Liv knew he'd be pissed but maybe it was for the best?

So why'd she record it in the first place? Why did she ever do anything in the first place?

Fun.

Livanna figured when Maggie wanted to get serious, she’d opt out to avoid the label causing a scene. Although it was more about someone in particular than just the label.

“So no I didn't leak it. Or do you need receipts of some kind?"

“No, Mags, I believe you, I’m sorry, it’s just–” The continuous buzz of her cell phone had tried and failed to come between their conversation, Liv was not planning to open those text messages until she found out how the song got leaked.

Dalton and Ash were banging on the other side of the studio door, but Liv was so focused on this one thing that she didn’t even process their words until Ash had joined in. “I can’t!” She told them, glancing at the pair through the glass and pulling her keycard out, scanning it for them to see.

“It hasn’t been working all week. I’ll…”

Who else had access to the studio they recorded in? It wasn’t Ash, she’d been busy with her own single for the past few weeks and hadn’t switched rooms in a bit– Liv was only perceptive when it came to her friends.

“I’m just worried that we’re gonna get backlash especially because it wasn’t ready to be released, I can’t handle bad press any more than you can,” After Maggie’s arrest, her own reputation had gone down a bit.

It wasn’t a card she wanted to play, but it was something Liv felt like she had to bring up in an attempt to make her accusations less targeted.

Even though they almost positively were, the last thing she wanted was to be forced to drop Maggie after a song leak.

“I didn’t mean to… make you–”

Liv sighed, scanning the keycard again for the screaming pair inside to see and (hopefully) be quiet for a few seconds, there was a serious conversation happening on this side.

“Look, look at me,” She said, tapping her card against the glass.

Liv wasn’t one to lose her patience so quickly, but her day was sky-rocketing down and she just… wanted them to… shut up for five minutes.

The light blinked green, unlocking for merely a few seconds before--

BEEP.

The light turned red and Livanna was unphased. It'd been happening all week. She'd spent more time with Liam more than she'd cared to admit because of it-- beyond the girls, only a select few had the clearance that they did.

“I’m not mad.” And it’s true, she wasn’t mad. Livanna was just… worried is all.

For her career.

Their career.

“... I’ll go downstairs and get another keycard, just…” Liv’s gaze bounced from Maggie to the pair in the studio, an almost exasperated look flickered on her features.

“... calm down.”

You know you were overreacting when Livanna Moore of all people was looking at you like you were crazy.
coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:






Elena Suarez





Drake leaned in conspiratorially and quite frankly if they weren’t at a party in a public venue and she didn’t have an inkling of what he was trying to do, it was an act that would get him side stepped and possibly leaning his way straight into the ground or slapped.

“You know ‘bout her undying love for Matty, too?” He whispered.

So he knew, and the whole thing was a scam. Some kind of joke or game as Drake explained, sounding mighty impressed with himself and most appropriately backing up and returning Elena her personal space as he spoke.

"Yeah, well, listen, you might know this, but we're too young for real marriage, ya know what I mean? But-- but, but, but, we can fake it 'till we make it, and then we can roll on out and exchange a couple of Ring Pop rings or somethin' real fun like that, ya know what I mean?"

Frankly if what he just described was his definition of fun, then he clearly was a sucker for punishment, because all hell would break loose and descend upon him and Mer, more likely him, if this joke of theirs ruined Valerie’s engagement party. Needless to say she would be part of the group raining hell down on them, not that much though, she had several pieces and collections to work on and she could count on Valerie to do the heavy lifting for that anyway.

“Now, c’mon… ya know ya wanna be the first VIP…”

Elena cocked an eyebrow. The first VIP at a fake wedding? If she was a free woman with nothing better to do and in desperate need of entertainment, then perhaps it would be on her list of considerations for things to do but frankly her schedule was too packed for her to have any interest in a fake wedding. That sounded like something more up BJ’s lane if only for the opportunity to hit on the other attendees.

“I didn’t know you were a mind reader in training, though I definitely see why,” the corners of her lips turned up in a tiny smile as she reached out towards the card, and plucked it out of his hands, toying with it for a moment before reaching back and tucking it into the pocket of his shirt, “your technique needs a lot more brushing up. Better luck next time.”

Elena didn’t bother to wait around for a response, flashing him the same smile as she walked off into the crowds before he could drag her into further discussion about his ‘fake wedding’. She had plans to get to, seemed like tonight people were determined to get in the way of them as no sooner had she walked away from Drake did somebody else come in and cut her off.

“Hey Elena,” the face of the person who stopped her was a vaguely familiar one that she couldn’t quite place or name and she certainly hoped whatever it was she was being stopped for was worth the interruption, “it’s been a long time.”

A very long time perhaps, she couldn’t remember so she simply smiled as she waited for the main point to be arrived at, preferably within the next line.

“I haven’t seen you and Toni together in a while.”

So unfamiliar, unnamed, fast approaching long winded territory and clearly out of date. She and Toni broke up on 4th of July. Last year that is.

Just who was this –

“Anyway I was hoping you could talk to Toni for me. He’s been dragging on the last few chapters of his book and I really need him to get them finished before the deadline.”

In the span of those two lines, she went from quizzical to confused to enlightenment and then disappointment. The last one was an understatement. The realisation she’d come to was cutting.

“His book?” she repeated, her brows starting to furrow and the hurt beginning to seep into her features like a leaking pipe.

“Yeah, we’re due to publish it soon but it still isn’t ready which is making things really stressful for us so it’d be great if you could help us out. I got to go but it’d really mean a lot, I’m sure he’ll listen to you. Thanks so much!”

I’m sure he’ll listen to you.

As if he would. He didn’t even tell her the truth.

How foolish. Then again, she supposed she should expect nothing less from someone so foolish they didn’t even know her relationship with Toni was long over, though now that was if there even had been anything in the first place.

The long flowing dress she wore felt like it had been switched out for a corset; wrapped around her entire body and growing tighter still, a boa constricting her movements. She hated snakes. Despised them– despised him.

Why?

All those times she had told him, encouraged him like a fool and he’d lied to her. Repeatedly. Brushed it off like it was nothing– let her break off their relationship like it didn’t matter to him. Maybe it never did.

She pulled out her phone and began to text him, taking calming breaths as she moved to a quieter corner. She wasn’t about to lose her composure over a man – correction – boy, at a high profile party, much less one who had lied to her, and was now arguing with her over text about technicalities, trying to spin the story to say he never lied to her, put the spotlight on other things, as if all of that hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t ended their relationship.

Elena couldn’t do this. She couldn’t read anymore of the bullshit he was trying to feed her. She couldn’t even – the words were just that. Words. A bunch of bull. His actions painted the reality, the only picture she needed to see not whatever he was trying to draw up now to explain away everything he had done.

Elena deleted the chat and shut off her phone as she turned her attention back to the party.

She knew where she stood with him. Where she had stood with him all along. To Toni his secrets had mattered more than her or anything they had ever shared, and she didn’t give a damn anymore.

Antonio Elizondo was dead to her.





mood
I just need space

location
engagement party

outfit
party dress





playing...
something

by someone​




mentions
BJ, Toni

interactions
Drake

tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 






Hunter




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)



































Green Day



American Idiot








Despite how the night started the minute Hunter had nearly changed the course of his life in all the wrong ways, it wasn’t going half-bad. Hunter even found some odd, dark humor-esque silverlining. He was almost a murderer and now he was chilling, hanging with the person who would probably have been the focus of some Netflix True Crime Dcouseries: The Run-Down Willow is probably what it might be titled.

Yeah, that sounds like a catchy enough title that even Netflix couldn’t pass up.

No, that didn’t happen. No infamous docuseries - just a couple of weirdly complementary spirits enjoying their pick of poisons in the gas station parking lot.

When Willow reached for the whiskey, part of him cursed but the other part of him, his voice of reason or whatever you wanted to call it, was cursing at him. To think he was bummed that she went for the alcohol considering what literally just happened.

“So what do you do outside of nearly mowing girls down?”

As he exhaled, Hunter coughed as he laughed uncontrollably. That wasn’t a question he was expecting and so soon. “Do I look like the kind of guy who doesn’t have other hobbies? How else will I meet cool girls such as yourself?” On one hand, Hunter was lax about it but at the same time, the way he spoke, it was also spoken in such a dead-serious tone. “That was a joke by the way. Today just was a special case. A meet cute romcom if it was directed by Quinton Terrantino.” Was that a bad comparison? Probably. Was it accurate? Yes. Yes it was.

Another awkward situation created by Hunter Drake brought yet another bad decision. Hunter looked at the girl in front of him, thinking about what Willow asked after the fact. About why he was at the gas station in the first place.

“Well, the smartass answer would be to get gas. And that’s not completely untrue. I was actually running low on gas. And I was gonna pick up a can of red bull since today has been all about bad decisions.”

That was honestly Hunter’s life in a nutshell. He made bad decisions with no way of telling if it would come back to bite him in the ass. So far what happened tonight, the only bad decision he made was mixing alcohol, weed, and driving. It could’ve ended badly, but the justification for all of it that Hunter was making was simple: Willow wasn’t dead and they seemed to be getting along.

“Okay it’s my turn--” Hunter looked at Willow, half grinning, “--what made you want to come here of all places? I mean, it’s not like this particular area is known for being a good hangout spot - at least, not to anyone I know. So what’s your reasoning, hmm?”






♡coded by uxie♡
 






Jace West


Ah, Jace recognized this type of customer. The kind that came in, confused about what they were looking for, finding themselves cast into a world they didn't understand. It was typically when family members or friends were coming in to find something as gift for someone they cared about, and Jace was always more than happy to accompany them and assist them in finding what they needed.

"Yeah, no problem," he said, giving a tilt of his head to indicate that Judd should follow him as he casually started to move deeper into the store, his feet following the familiar paths that he found himself treading daily.

The store was pretty much like Jace's safe space.

"What're you looking for?" Jace asked as they strolled through the store, thinking that maybe wandering past something might trigger this guy's memory and help Jace pinpoint exactly what he needed to help him out. "Gift for someone special? You need sheet music, records? I got some cool guitar picks if that's what you're looking for." Nothing really seemed to be clicking with the fella, so he thought maybe he should go a little further.

"Looking for a new amp? I've got analog, modeling, a couple hybrids just came in, or maybe--"

He cut himself short, letting out a casual laugh as he came to a stop. "Ahh.... sorry, what're you looking for?"




mood
okay

location
his store

outfit
clothes





playing...
insecure
by We Three​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Judd

tags
@jazzyball


º º code by ditto º º
 






willow.




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)



































tom petty and the heartbreakers



mary jane's last dance









Willow took another drag from the joint hanging delicately between her index and middle finger, blowing out a cloud of smoke. An amused smirk curled up on her lips as Hunter began to speak. “Do I look like the kind of guy who doesn’t have other hobbies? How else will I meet cool girls such as yourself?” She couldn't help but chuckle at his remarks. All she could muster up was a simple "You think I'm cool?" in response.

Willow didn't really think she was cool. In fact, she knew she had a drug and alcohol problem. She knew she depended on it to seem lively. But she wasn't about to have a heart to heart about that now. Rehab was not cool, especially before she managed to slide by with a 2.0 to get her high school diploma. Maybe once she'd graduate and get the hell out of Newcastle, she'd be able to get the help she needed. But right now, this blunt and this expensive whiskey was the medicine she desperately needed.

“That was a joke by the way. Today just was a special case. A meet cute romcom if it was directed by Quintin Tarantino.” Willow almost began to regret her last question - almost. Instead, she took another sip of whiskey, a look of intrigue dancing in her eyes. "Tarantino would never. But then again, what do I know about film? Pulp Fiction was so predictable I fell asleep." Some old ex-boyfriend of hers was a huge film bro - he thought he was hot shit, but he wasn't, really. The only reason she knew about the esteemed director was because he wouldn't shut up about him. No wonder they didn't work out (the mutual cheating had nothing to do with it).

“Well, the smartass answer would be to get gas. And that’s not completely untrue. I was actually running low on gas. And I was gonna pick up a can of red bull since today has been all about bad decisions.” Willow listened as Hunter explained why he had wound up at the gas station tonight. “Bad decisions, huh? I'm guessing running into me was just another one of them?" She gave him a playful wink at the end of her question to let him know that she was joking.

“Okay, it’s my turn," Hunter grinned at Willow, which prompted an eyebrow raise on her part, "what made you want to come here of all places? I mean, it’s not like this particular area is known for being a good hangout spot - at least, not to anyone I know. So what’s your reasoning, hmm?” His teasing tone made her chuckle. "Do I need any reasoning? Can't a girl go to the gas station without any suspicion behind it?" Willow grinned as well. "I was on a snack run. But that kinda fizzled out when you nearly mowed me down."





♡coded by uxie♡
 






Drake Martin


He scoffed, he huffed, he'd of blown a whole house down if he had that kind of power in his lungs, or if he was a wolfy kind of fella, 'cept that Drake wasn't real good at that kinda stuff, ya know how it all went.

Elena had the audacity to actually think she could just take the invite, and tuck it back into his pocket. There was a huff from Drake, and he pulled it out, crumpling it up into a ball, and tossing it at her head -- but she'd gone far enough well now that it kind of just fell to the ground a little bit behind her. He let out another huff, but that was distracted by some buzzing from the phone in his pocket.

He pulled it out to check, and Drake was back to reality by Renee's texts.

Right -- he had to go and stop his brother from killing some dude that had the gall to attack his niece on Twitter. There was a scoff from him, a bit of a wrinkling up his nose, and if there'd be no chance of Mason ending up in jail, well... Drake probably would've left him to take care of the fucker as he saw fit. But unfortunately, he needed his older brother to help him out with ya know... taking care of the apartment, and of course, taking care of his daughter.

Drake was just as annoyed by Jonas' words as Mason was, but at least he knew how to keep his hands to himself.

(Yeah, he'd totally passed kindergarten.)

"Here, pass these out, bro," Drake said as he shoved his phone back into his pocket, and the wedding invites into some random guy's hands who just looked absolutely confused. But a good ol' pair of finger guns, and then he was heading off to go and save his brother's stupid ass.

Running outside, Drake came across just 'bout what he'd expected -- a crowd 'round his brother, who he could hear screaming. His gaze scanned about, until they'd fallen onto good ol' Renee, and he ran over to her, coming to a stop beside her.

"Hey," he said, a touch breathless as he rose up onto his tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd. "Ah, fuck-- come on, follow me." Drake said and his hand took hers, and he started pushing through the crowd, offering apologies here and there, although he paused at one point to look back at Renee. "Hey, stay back, don't get hurt, 'kay?" He warned. "I don't want ya to be, ya know... we don't wanna go to the hospital, yeah?"

He let out a laugh, as if it was no big deal, and then kept pushing through the crowd until they got to the center, and Drake let go of Renee's hand. Drake started forward, and he reached out a hand towards Mason.

"Hey, bro, come on, let's--"

But instead of actually listening to him, Mason's hand shoved into Drake's chest and sent him stumbling back and ultimately falling to the ground, while the sirens of police cars sounded in the distance.

Well, fuck.




mood
extra happy yo

location
the party woot woot

outfit
clothes





playing...
Rx
by Theory of a Deadman​




mentions
Mason, Jonas

interactions
Elena, Renee

tags
Xed Xed gingersnaps gingersnaps


º º code by ditto º º
 






Reuben




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)



































Maximo Park



Apply Some Pressure








Reuben was smirking as he zipped up his trousers. Tabitha struggled back into the passenger seat.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be forgiven so easily, but he was glad she did. He wasn’t out to upset her, nor just to fuck her – though he did enjoy the latter. He was precautious about her; protective, though only to the extent she would allow. Hell, did he know about it the last time he overstepped the mark. One frantic call from a concerned neighbour, and a welfare check to follow-up – it was an invasion Tabitha did not take lightly.

“Hey, you good?” he asked, glancing at her as he turned the keys in the ignition. “I guess you want to get to your party now, huh?”

Tabitha gave him the directions, and they quietly departed the alley they so frequently visited. He would just as willingly take her back to his apartment, enjoy both the privacy and the comfort of some beer and a bed – Francesca, his dog, would be more than happy to have made a new acquaintance - but he knew half of Tabitha’s fascination hinged on the attraction of his complicated vocation. He’d be naïve to think that she’d give herself to him so willingly if he were just another one of her clumsy, over-confident classmates. Of course most young women wanted someone a little older, a little wiser, and a little more… risky.

Tabitha had her feet up on the dash, lighting two cigarettes between her lips. She handed one to Reuben, who took a long drag, rolled down his window, and exhaled the smoke into the night air.

The two chatted and laughed back and forth; Tabitha talked about the party at Val’s with a subtle excitement, mentioning names and gossip that he knew nothing about, nor had any interest in.

Their chatter was broken by the sudden ring of Reuben’s phone – an article usually muted on outings like these. One hand remained on the wheel as he brought the phone from his pocket, scowled at the number on the screen, and brought it to his ear.

“Hello? … No, sir, my radio’s not on, I clocked off an hour ago…” he spoke, his voice filled with obvious annoyance, “Well, I’m heading home, so, I don’t think – well, where’s Joe? … Then ask somebody else? … I don’t see why - … Am I getting overtime for this? … Yeah, well, I’d hope so… Alright, yes, sir, yes, okay.”

Reuben sighed, muttered under his breath, then threw his phone into the centre console. His grip tightened.

“Fuck sake. Looks like your party has descended into a bit of chaos.”

He flicked the sirens and lights.

“Now I’ll be attending, too.”

- - -​

The lawn was littered with drunk teens looking anxiously over their shoulders at the arrival of a cop car. Luckily, he had neither the time nor patience to do them all for underage drinking; he’d prefer not have to arrest anyone at all. What a disappointment his night would be.

With Tabitha following, confused and frantic, he made sure to lock the car before venturing up to the house – he couldn’t risk any nosey high schoolers deciding to take a peek at its contents. He’d known of officers on suspension pending investigation, or even in the cells themselves, only because of someone else’s misadventures.

Inside the party, music still boomed. Attendees exchanged excited whispers and clamours as Reuben shoved through the crowd, pushing them left and right out of his way. Some peered over the shoulders of others, trying to get a load of the action. Reuben could hear the sound of someone getting a good beating – but not much of them trying to beat back.

To his quiet delight, once he made it through the bodies all gawping at the spectacle, Reuben could clearly see Russo being pummelled by an unwavering Rivera. Funny.

Reuben knew of Jonas Russo through his stupid, fucking tasteless online behaviour. The boy couldn’t take no for an answer, couldn’t recognise a girl’s disinterest if she filed a fucking restraining order, and couldn’t listen to the half decent advice of the people that knew better. Seemed like he was finally having his ass handed to him.

“Hey! You – Rivera! Off him!” he bellowed, grabbing Mason by the shoulder and pulling him backwards. “Don’t move.”

As Reuben turned to look at the sorry state of Jonas, he heard a shout from behind. He felt the full force of two hands shove him to the side, near knocking him off his feet. He whipped round, a still fuming Mason poised at him.

He reached one hand onto his taser, his other pointing directly at Rivera.

“Are you deaf? I said, fucking quit it. I’ll get to you in a moment.”

Jonas was battered, blood smeared across his face and – fuck, a whole tooth missing. Mason had unleashed a whole load of hell that stretched way further than payback for harassing Tabs.

“Not looking too bright, Russo,” the cop commented nonchalantly, hauling the broken and bruised boy off the ground. He was almost out of it, snarling and spitting blood down his front like a wounded dog. “You haven’t got too many fans at the moment, huh?”

Reuben secured him with flexicuffs – there was no way Jonas still had the fight to break out of a couple of cable ties. He turned his attention to Rivera, watching Reuben as he approached.

“Hands,” he commanded, slapping the cuffs on. He chuckled lightly, "You've made quite a piece of work out of him, haven't you?"

Reuben turned so he faced both of them. “If it wasn’t clear enough already, you’re both under arrest for battery under California Penal Code two-fourty-two. You both have the right to remain silent…”

Reuben read the rest of the Miranda rights, each of his hands holding onto a set of cuffs. Back-up rolled in, dispersing the growing crowd of onlookers. He took a moment to look about, spotting Tabitha looking on from behind a few others. She looked pissed off, but that wasn’t unusual. He would give her a call in the morning.

“Here, take him.” he said, handing Jonas over to the arriving officers. It would be a long and boring process cleaning him up. Reuben would have a little fun escorting Mason down to the station himself.





♡coded by uxie♡
 







Lincoln Woods




If you would have told Lincoln Daniel Woods Jr. that he would be boarding a plane and leaving Kansas, he would have told you that you were crazy. The fact that he was moving to California? He would have just laughed in your face.

The truth was, he wasn’t the happiest about making the move, but he didn’t really have much choice. His father had fucked him over. The family farm…the one Link had been working on since he learned to walk…the farm that was supposed to be left in his perfectly capable hands…was handed to his sister and her husband.

She’d been apologetic, at first, but didn’t really care for Lincoln’s outburst. He’d worked his ass off. He’d given up on any other path a long time ago. He’d been groomed for this exact purpose and then his father just tossed it away. He’d always been a loyal son. Even now, the anger and distrust that coarser through his veins made him feel guilty for even thinking such things.

His dad had said that Brad was a good man. That he and Esther needed this more than he did. That they were a family and he was still “sewing his oats” and not ready for the responsibility. Fucking bullshit is what it was. Terrance was a joke. Piece of shit loser that knocked up his baby sister and needed a job that made him look respectable. Everything was about appearances. It’s why Nate was sent off. Why Esther had to get married. Why he had to keep himself in line for fear of his parent’s retribution.

He’d had ideas to expand the farm. Find himself a good piece of land and build something of his own…at least until his parents asked him to take over. And now that that was a pipe dream, he still wanted something to call his own.

Enter California.

His parents were…hesitant to say the least, but he didn’t give them much choice. There was a plot of land out there and he was gonna check it out. It was a slight coincidence that it was in Newcastle…where Nathan had moved to, but the other options weren’t as lucrative…at least that’s what he’d told himself.

A few weeks later, he found himself in the airport bar, getting hit on…which wasn’t unusual for him…except the bartender was a dude. And that…made him uncomfortable. More than he’d ever admit. Thankfully, a sexy patron had sat down and given him a much needed distraction. No names. Just harmless flirting. A hot bathroom hookup. And no talking afterward. His favorite.

And now, he was exiting the airport in California. He definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The blatant rudeness and self-involved nature of the other travelers was not a welcomed change. Had anyone heard of good old Southern hospitality? He made his way toward the pick up line with his bags in tow, readying to grab a tag when he saw a familiar face in the distance.

A small smile formed on his face as he made his way over. “Boy, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you. What the hell are you doing here?” He pulled Nathan into a hug. “ Did mom tell you I was coming?” He stepped back and took in the sight of his little brother. He hadn’t seen much of him since he left. Mostly cause Nathan always had been a sore subject around the house and didn’t seem to watch much to do with the family.






mood
Family Reunion

location
the airport

outfit
clothes duh





playing...
Figure Me Out

by The Summer Set​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Nathan

tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 






jonas.




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)



































muse



ashamed demo









Finally it was all over - the fight, at least, and Jonas was in bad shape. His front tooth had been knocked out, his eyes were bloody and swollen, and hell, he was pretty sure he had some internal bleeding. Was it worth it? Probably not, especially in the long run. But right now, he felt as if he had gotten what had been coming to him. He deserved to have the shit beat out of him. After all, he wanted to be the edgy one now.

“Hey! You – Rivera! Off him!” came the voice of the arresting officer, which ended up being Reuben as he made his way closer to them. Great. If it wasn't the most mediocre cop in Newcastle. But at least Mason had been pulled off of him. Jonas pulled himself up into a sitting position. “Don’t move.” Reuben told Mason. But Mason wasn't going to just stand around and do nothing. Jonas watched as he shoved the officer, looking for another fight. This would be the perfect opportunity for Jonas to run - if he could. He was a little too weak to run, let alone walk unsupported. He put his hand up to his head, grimacing in pain.

“Are you deaf? I said, fucking quit it. I’ll get to you in a moment.” Jonas glanced up at the sight of Reuben making his way over to him. This was the part where he'd get hauled off to jail. Not a good look for him. “Not looking too bright, Russo.” Now Reuben was addressing him. "Just get this over with, okay?" Jonas grumbled as Reuben pulled him to his feet. “You haven’t got too many fans at the moment, huh?” Reuben was getting on Jonas's nerves as he tied his wrists with cable ties. "Very funny. I thought you were a cop, not a comedian." Jonas winced as he tightened the restraints. "Do you have to pull them that tight? Jesus, it's not like I'm going to make a daring escape." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he spoke. He might be beaten and bloody, but he still had his right mind.

Jonas mocked the cop as he began to read them their rights, making a face and mouthing the words as if Reuben were a complete idiot (which was how Jonas viewed Reuben anyway). “Here, take him.” Reuben handed Jonas off to a set of officers, who promptly corralled him outside into a waiting cop car. The ride to the station was long and painful, but he finally ended up at the payphone for his one call. Who would he even call? Nobody, that's who. Meredith couldn't know, Rudy was dead, and he had no friends. Guess he'd spend the entire sentence in jail. Six long months in prison - he was too pretty for prison. (Well, not now, but usually, he was a pretty boy). He decided to refuse the call, getting locked up behind bars for the time being instead.






♡coded by uxie♡
 









scroll








cinnamon girl



Tabitha Cohen













mood

Pissed off!











outfit

Party dress











location

Cop car, Val's Mansion











interactions

Reuben @ dear.szmm dear.szmm
Mason, Jonas (mentioned)











tags

tags here















Tabitha slipped her dress back on, sighing as she looked over at the man she was previously very angry with. Reuben always did a good job redeeming himself.

"Fantastic." She responded, a smile appearing on her face as the cop turned on the ignition "I'm a little more than fashionably late now, thanks to you. So drive it like you stole it."

En route to Val's party, Tabitha made herself comfortable in order to prepare herself mentally for a night under the same roof with people who didn't like her, and whom she didn't like in return. Which, in Newcastle, tended to be most places. She handed Reuben a cigarette, enjoying her own kick of nicotine with her feet up on the dash, talking and knowing Reuben was not listening. It was fine. Tabitha had always been her own best audience.

"-and power to her, and all that. But engaged at 19? I guess I would just personally rather die." Tabitha blew smoke out the window as she spoke. Her poignant commentary was interrupted by Reuben's phone ringing- which was more than mildly irritating, she really didn't appreciate being interrupted.

Watching his expression and listening in the words, it became very clear that it wasn't going to be good news, for anyone. Reuben already looked very upset that he actually had to do his job, for once. But the entire thing left Tabitha with a bad feeling in her stomach.

"What the hell happened?"

- - -​
Tabitha got out of the car as soon as she could. Even in these extreme circumstances, being seen driving around with Reuben wasn't ideal. Only a handful of trustworthy people knew what they got up to together, and she had no intention of leaving the door open to rumors by arriving with the cop at a social event like this one.

She followed the noise of the commotion, feeling a bit frantic as she walked. Tabitha took longs drags of her cigarette, to calm her nerves and warm herself. It had been stupid to not bring a jacket, but she wasn't really expecting to do any walking at this hour. She could spot Reuben, pushing through the crowd of attendees- from this angle he almost looked like an upstanding law enforcement officer, fighting to keep the peace that the rowdy kids of Newcastle loved to break. In any other situation, it might have made her laugh. But not now.

Her feet came to a stop when she realized just who these rowdy kids were, and what stupid bullshit they were getting up to.
Mason. Of course it was stupid Mason, beating even stupider Jonas Russo to a pulp in an extremely public setting.

"Shit." Tabitha hissed through gritted teeth "Shit, shit, shit."

Walking faster, she was close enough to see Reuben bringing Mason in, and another policeman take Jonas away. Part of her wanted to jump in on the scene and stop it, but the logical part of her persevered: what could she even do? What would she say? "Hey, cop that I'm secretly fucking, please don't arrest my ex-boyfriend with anger issues or the loser that insulted him on twitter."

So all she could do was watch, hand closed in a fist.

"Shit."
This was not how she wanted tonight to go.



♡coded by uxie♡
[/borde
 






Damien Slater


The joint was passed between the two of them, slowly dwindling away until they'd arrived to the entrance of the club, so Damien put out the end between two damp fingers (and let out a couple of cuss words since it did burn his fingers a bit), and shook his hand before placing the joint back in his pocket (for later, duh). Once they'd gotten there, he followed Carissa in, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back.

Not as some kind of protective shit, but to make sure people knew that she was with him. And as they'd entered, Damien made sure to give a smug look to anyone that looked his way, and was so fucking impressed that he was here with the hot, ditzy blonde that dressed like slutty Cowgirl Barbie.

A glow in the dark necklace was placed around his neck by some hot chick, and she definitely didn't have a shirt, and Damien found himself staring at her boobs, coated in pink glow in the dark paint. His eyes finally dragged their way from there to her face, and he pointed down at her boobs and then tapped his cheek -- some kind of... weird way for him to ask for some paint in a place where the pounding music meant he could barely yell and get his words across.

She seemed to understand, of course, and he spread pink paint across his cheeks like war paint -- 'cause that was real fucking cool and shit, and then he turned back towards Carissa with a lopsided grin. They started to move into the crowd, and she was talking, so he'd leaned the measly distance down to hear her better, and he caught the tail end of her question, 'bout whether or not there were bars and shit.

Damien gave a nod of his head, his hand coming back to lay on her the small of her back. "Yeah," he shouted, "stay close." And they were on their way, fighting through the club until they'd made it towards the bar, which was nestled in a corner where it was a little easier to hear what was being said.

He pulled out a credit card labeled George Kirby and slid it across to the bartender before he crossed his arms and leaned against the bar. "Hey!" he shouted, "two kamikazes. And a whiskey sour for me, margarita for her."

The bartender seemed to hesitate momentarily, probably figuring they were underage, but then he shrugged and turned away to make their drinks.

Yeah, that's what he fucking thought.

He leaned back, glancing over at Carissa.

"Outfit looks better with the glow shit."




mood
; )

location
his car ; )

outfit
rave clothes





playing...
song title
by artist​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Carissa

tags
@jazzyball


º º code by ditto º º
 






Logan Cruz


It was always nice when others could take Axel, although there was always such a weird feeling that overcame her when she'd watch others interact with her child. Like for one, it was her kid, so maybe there was some kind of protective instinct? Logan didn't really know -- any kind of hormonal instincts that existed for others wasn't something that she'd generally taken an interest in back in school.

Rather, Logan had always been the type to roll her eyes and stick her nose up at it. Instinct and feelings and hormones had always felt like bad decisions that were made by one without thinking too much. Blaming them on the prior list had always felt like a stupid excuse, although now that Logan found herself face to face with a child, she realized that... maybe as much as she'd tried to logic her way out, there was still a part of her that was confused as to why those so-called instincts had yet to kick in for her.

She attempted to stifle a yawn as she picked up the dagger that Ciarra had previously been wielding. The woman was talking about her boss, all while she fussed with Axel, which sent a pang of jealousy through Logan's heart. When she picked her son up, it was... awkward. Uncomfortable. And he generally would cry when she attempted to do any of the things that Ciarra was doing with him, but Logan had a simple reasoning for that.

Axel took after his father.

He was a little dick.

"How much?" She asked, as she flipped the knife over in her hands, examining it, and then drew a finger along the sharp edge of the blade -- not enough to cut herself, but enough so that she could feel how sharp the blade was.

She really shouldn't be purchasing knives, especially given her current situation, but there was something so addicting about the glimmering blades that made her want to collect them all.

Childish, perhaps.

She carefully placed the knife back on the counter, a vague smile crossing her face as she leaned against the counter. "Ciarra, please, if I wanted to steal you -- or kidnap you -- I wouldn't give you any kind of warning." A dark humor type of joke that may have been funny if Logan had said with any tone of voice other than completely monotone, perhaps even a little snarky, and with a smile that fell as she spoke.

"Kidding," she continued, "do you... want to... hangout or... something? I could ahh... use someone other than..." Logan trailed off, her eyes settling on that damn child. "Someone that only drools and babbles nonsense."




mood
tired, surprise

location
that coven place

outfit
clothes





playing...
song title
by artist​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Ciarra

tags
KingofAesir KingofAesir


º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: ohmyf ... wait what

OUTFIT:
spicy heck boy
​
INFO
LOCATION: home

WITH: raven

MENTION: jade​
ACTIVITY
Soap Soap
TAGS
Deo V. Solomon
torture


Square root of 72…
… If 1 dollar is worth x French francs…
… What is the area of this triangle…
... 13…

Wait. No—the answer’s 18. Half of 36 is 18. Why did I write 13?

“Fuck,” Deo grumbled under his breath, restraining himself from pushing his pencil and notebook on the living room floor. Instead, he set aside his GED prep book. It was the fifth time he caught himself doing that in the practice test. He was sure he was writing 18, not 13.

Why do numbers eight and three look similar to each other?

Slouching back in his seat, Deo ran his hands over his face and blew out an exasperated heavy sigh. Three hours of looking at hundreds of words and numbers from several different study guides, plus being awake since five in the morning—he wasn’t surprised to feel a migraine slowly taking place. He suspected the Algebra and Writing Essays For Dummies were making him dumber.

He reached for his pants pocket, despite knowing there was nothing. His cigarette pack and Zippo were in his bedroom.

He stood up and strode across the room to some boxes in the living room. There were a couple of dozen more scattered throughout this old house, most he still hadn’t gotten through yet. The few boxes he opened today were delivered from Chicago. His dad had stopped by the city and found some of Deo’s belongings in a storage unit.

A used out-of-tuned acoustic guitar, a Stratocaster in desperate need of a new paint job and strings, his saxophone from middle school still shiny in its case, hockey gear that wasn’t much use now, family photos…

The photos stayed in the box.

Mostly, there were books. A handful of novels, like Frankenstein, a complete collection of the Brothers Grimm fairy tales, a leatherbound illustrated edition of Paradise Lost—Gustave Doré was the reason Deo became interested in drawing ‘cuz he was a weird kid. There were several worn-out yet well-maintained textbooks. Humanities, visual art, museum work, a bit of architecture. He remembered seeing all of them used by her, either for college studies or just reading for fun, sometimes with her sons…

Deo placed a few art history textbooks on the coffee table and picked up one that had van Gogh’s “Bedroom in Arles” as the cover. He viewed a few random pages without reading them and turned to the inner front cover. His jaw clenched. It was still elegantly written on the top, gently faded over the years:

Owned by Ella Vesper​

He wanted to throw it out the window.

A sudden knock cutting through the house’s cold silence interrupted his thoughts. He put down the textbook. (without throwing it.)

The living room was on the front right side of the house, next to the short empty foyer. Deo walked a short distance to the door and saw her through the peephole.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a mixture of pleasant surprise and confusion. He wasn’t expecting to see Raven today after their bathtub date was canceled. “What are you doing here?”

“I should’ve texted, just figured since you were so adamant on seeing the dog…” He hardly registered the small furball scrambling into his house. “I… wanted an excuse for the distraction, I’ll admit.”

OH…

Raven was right, Deo would’ve asked. He tried to as she steered him to the couch he was on not long ago, but he was more focused on not tripping while walking backward—for once, he was grateful for the minimal furnishing from his limited budget.

And then he forgot it entirely once he was caught in their intense kiss. Forgot his studying. Forgot Jade’s hobo puppy named Tomato or Pasta in the room.

This was the kind of distraction he needed, too.

As Raven leaned away to remove something from the couch, Deo took the moment to pull off his shirt in one swift motion. He hadn’t noticed what Raven was noticing. “I’m sorry, I should’ve texted.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing his lips against her collarbone. He lightly tugged the hem of her top…

He barely placed two kisses there when he felt her weight shifting, and the next thing he knew, Raven was sitting beside him. Her attention was on his GED prep book. This wasn’t the kind of foreplay he had in mind.

“I didn’t know you were going for your GED, you didn’t mention it.”

Deo shrugged. “You’ve never asked.” She probably had asked him what he’s been doing lately, but he chose not to say anything about it. “I… I haven’t told nobody. Er, anybody. Yeah.”

Not even to his dad. Or Jade. Nobody. Believe it or not, he didn’t want to risk getting laughed in the face for trying. He wasn’t known to be academically proficient or productive. He did try the high school diploma program thing in prison. Really. But he failed it. When he was released (on probation), Deo lost his chance once he’d decided against re-enrolling himself back to high school. He refused to be the guy repeating his senior year after going to jail (twice).

But he didn’t want to be known as that guy who quit school because he couldn't handle it either.

While picking up his T-shirt off the floor, Deo stealthily reach for his laptop on the coffee table and attempted to close the screen without notice. No, he's not hiding what some guys might try to hide.

“When you said you wanted a distraction,” said Deo, “I thought you meant we’d do something involving biology. Not mathematical reasoning.”
code by valen t.
 






Nathan Woods


The simp comments, the whipped comments, whatever other emasculating things that people would toss in his direction when it came to Evie were things that never really... stuck. Nate just kind of had brushed them off before, insisting to himself that they weren't true, and feeling as if he could move on. Except that now that he was standing here in the airport, waiting for Evie, he was kind of understanding the angle everyone was coming from.

Who did this for their ex?

Other than someone that had slept with them, and wanted nothing more than to have them back again, but were unable to put those exact feelings into words, so instead, they struggled. Doing things with none of the reward.

He was in the middle of texting Evie, trying to figure out where she was, when messages from Liv started to roll in -- messages that Nate wanted nothing to do with, especially after she started to ask questions regarding his family, something that was a sore topic. When she'd first contacted his mom, Nate had been pissed, but then started asking about his siblings, which just twisted Nate in the completely wrong way.

Nathan Leslie Woods absolutely despised his older siblings, Lincoln and Esther. They were both stuck up jerks, and they hadn't done anything to try and help Nate out when their parents wanted to send him to fucking military school. And all they'd ever done was bully him throughout the years, and all he'd ever done was fail to rise up to their level in his parents' lives, so Newcastle had been a pleasant freedom from the hell that was Lecompton, Kansas.

He huffed, shoving his phone into his pocket, and returned to waiting for Evie.

Except that instead of Evie, speak of the fucking devil (because Nate was convinced this guy was the devil), Lincoln. Fucking. Woods.

His fucking brother, was walking towards him.

It was as if he'd seen a ghost, and in a sense, Nate had seen a ghost from his past. His face turned whiter than normal, his mouth growing dry, his arms practically losing any sense of working, and his legs disobeyed his brain to run, run, RUN.

Nathan Woods was frozen as his brother came up to him.

“Boy, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you. What the hell are you doing here?”

Link pulled Nate into a hug, but as the boy was known for, he didn't move. He was pressed against his brother's chest, and he didn't bother to hug his brother back, or to respond in any way, until he was released, and Nate's dark eyes were stuck once more staring up at his older brother. His mouth was still dry, words failing to come out as they had in every previous instance with his brother.

It was like Nate was eighteen, sixteen, fifteen, twelve, ten, eight... all over again, all in the span of a couple minutes. Like he was that little kid standing before his brother while he teased him, or that teenager that was catching his brother's eye past his dad's shoulder, begging for help, or that preteen that was being pushed around on the playground, only to see his older siblings turn a blind eye.

“ Did mom tell you I was coming?”

Nate blinked, still unable to speak.

"No," he responded, his voice cold. "Don't talk to her. Don't talk to anyone."

Except Caroline, but that was something they mostly kept between themselves. Nate's heart always lurched when he'd think about his younger sister, the only one that had cried when he'd had to pack up and leave Kansas.

Nate slowly turned, his dark eyes scanning the incoming crowd once again for the person he was actually here for.

"Picking up my ex," he mumbled. He was sure that Link had heard about Evie, but Nathan wasn't very interested in continuing conversation with his brother.

He was just kind of hoping that his brother would walk off and leave him alone, and the two of them could go back to what Nathan thought they were best at.

Being strangers.




mood
not good

location
airport

outfit
clothes





playing...
song title
by artist​




mentions
Evie, Liv

interactions
Lincoln

tags
gh0stwriter gh0stwriter


º º code by ditto º º
 






Lucky DuBois




He’d won.

Elise was fuming…seething. And he knew that the last thing she wanted was for him to be living under this roof. He’d won. He could practically feel the steam Elise was emitting. Yeah. It was a small battle, but he’d still won. No. It didn’t compare to the massive war she’d started, but it wasn’t over yet. He still had plenty of fight in him. And plenty of reasons to want to make Elise West’s life a living hell. As he grabbed his bag in the foyer and made his way upstairs of the West Mansion, he felt like he was on cloud nine.

He found Jace’s room and set his bag down on the floor. He took a deep breath and replayed the scene in his head, the side of his lips turning up into a smirk as he recalled Elise’s face when she opened the door. The door slamming behind him. Ash. The kitchen. The…

The smirk quickly faded from his face as he relived the moments leading up to the following words.

“Talk later?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Why was he such an idiot? A moron. A fucking dumbass. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? It would have been simple. Let her believe that what they had meant nothing to him. That he didn’t love her. That he’d never loved her. That their entire relationship had been a lie. That he was just using her. It was that simple. Easy as pie.

But no. He had to go and fucking kiss her. He had to go and fuck everything up.

Ash was right. He was an idiot.

“Talk later?”

That smile on her face like they’d be able to pick up exactly where they left off. Like nothing had changed. That’d he would be able to maybe have a second chance. Okay, so he did love her. No big surprise there. And yeah, she’d been the only girl who’d ever managed to make him think that maybe he was more than just the poor kid from Brooklyn with the tragic past. That he could be happy. That they could be happy. It’s not that big of a deal because it wasn’t fucking happening. Elise made sure of that.

“Talk later?”

Fuck.

Those fucking words haunted him. Haunted him like a dream you never wanted to wake from, because if you did…it’d be over. And he couldn’t really let himself think that way. He couldn’t let him think there was a maybe. Maybe Elise was right. He was dead weight. Bad news for a girl like Ash West. His mom. His dad. His brother. Every single person in his life got hurt. Why would Ash be any different? He wasn’t able to protect her before. There was no reason to believe he could now.

He wandered the streets mentally kicking himself in the head over and over and over again. He wasn’t sure how many random pedestrians he’d shoulder checked and gave a half-assed “I’m sorry” before he finally stumbled upon a diner…in a gas station. Eat N’ Schmidt. He really fucking missed New York. He made his way inside and took a seat at a booth in the back when the waiter guy came over to take his order. “Coffee.” He said as he took a deep breath. Caffeine was probably the last thing he needed right now, but he was in a new town. Pissed at his cousin. Lived with his ex. He wasn’t having a good day, okay?







mood
defeated

location
eat 'n Schmidt

outfit
clothes duh





playing...
Light Em Up

by Fall Out Boy




mentions
Ash/Dorian/Jace

interactions
Benji

tags
hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 


















good morning...





Morality was a touchy matter for Benjamin.
He would make a pass at explaining himself at parties, or to whomever had the slight interest amid philosophical, oftentimes nonsensical conversations. It usually garnered a few good chuckles, maybe even a vaguely positive affirmation that he wasn’t insane.

But to tell the truth, his mode of operations was absurd. Logically and economically, the tethers of his virtue paled in comparison to the profits other dealers in town made. But out of high school, only an empty road ahead of him, Benji spent countless waking moments regretting the life he’d inadvertently created for himself. He couldn’t help it.

Now, here’s where the equation gets trickier: there’s a girlfriend. AJ. She didn’t understand the desperation Benji felt, and that was entirely by intention. So when the two of them pulled up to the park and witnessed what became of a helpless Jade Jennings…

After his eyes locked onto Jade’s, wide as a deer, as she was corralled into the policeman’s patrol car, a wave of nausea rippled down his stomach. The drunken girl stared right back, then whimpered with utter disbelief as the far-away couple absconded from the scene. It was too late. Her faith crushed like the pebbles crunching beneath Adeline’s Mustang. And Benji, the cowardly stand-in for a savior, was to blame.

The silence on the ride back was excruciating. It was small miracle he still had a girlfriend by the next week, even if it had to be spent working so he could afford blowing off his drug clients for an upcoming date. A date that could never happen if he was in school, which was just not even a thought at this stage in the game. Benji was a deathly hard worker, but he wasn’t out of his mind.

And just as life went on, so did a white tee and coffee-colored apron that was just loose enough to drape across him like a floppy short skirt. Boss wouldn’t order a better-fitting uniform, not under the pretense that something was too big. He would just tell Benji to go back to playing sports, work out enough to fit his outfit better. He was right, but fuck him. Oughta file a complaint for that one…

And plus, the tee was already tight enough around Benji’s arms as-is. They were probably the things making all his tips, in the end. Beauty is pain, and so is an honest living. But he could never do that full-time dealing shit. Not with crooked cop Reuben on the prowl, or addict Edgar’s disgraceful return to Newcastle. Not to mention all the kids begging for nose candy in his DMs as of recent…

How was he to tell Tabitha that this was why he couldn’t finish all the books she recommended?

Doing his best not to heave a sigh, Benji trudged his way into work at the diner, his dark-circled eyes boring holes into the checkered, Americana-style wallpaper. It was such an old, tacky place, but a beloved staple of Newcastle rapid cuisine.

“See you Friday,” the wiry man offered to a co-worker in passing, as he had the shift manager’s pleasure of sending the early morning workers home. He was going to be stuck there with Ophelia and a couple cooks he didn’t really know all too well. With luck, the shift would be slow enough to get some form of high and shut out the rest of his staff during autopilot.

As the day went on, there wasn’t much of a shot at a getaway with the influx of customers lumbering in for their desperately-needed burger or the $2.50 soda corporate dropped mere pennies to individually dispense by tap. It was hard not to be pessimistic in the epicenter of such a societal tragedy, but Benji wasn’t going to be that guy. Not in front of this crowd, at least. And especially not to the girl in the corner he served, and definitely maybe hooked up with last April at some rave downtown.

“Get the trash, Oph!” Benji shouted to the kitchen, doing nothing particularly productive himself behind the counter. Doodling on napkins had become somewhat of an addictive hobby, not that he would have any prior experience with those… It was just that times and places like these had a real acute way of sapping life energy.

A chime at the door erupted into the otherwise quiet environment of the diner, minus some idle chatter by the old denizens that came as stragglers from the brunch crowd. Benji’s eyes flitted upward, peering keenly at the similar-aged boy as he made a home within a booth in the back. He looked lost, besides the fact that he didn’t seem to fit in much with the current diner crowd. Definitely not someone a quietly nosy waiter would recognize day to day.

Tucking that thought in the back of his head, Benji held onto his notepad and checked for the pen nestled behind his ear, locked within a stray wisp of hair that curled sideways. He waited a little for the patron to scan the menu, then made for the booth. His height looked comical given the comparatively low counter and tables, even if he was only a couple inches over the norm.

“What can I get you?” he asked plainly, omitting the usual hi-how-are-you routine for the standoffish-looking man. He twirled a pen between his fingers, which skirted along the edge of his name tag. “BENJI” it read, bold and curled in an italic font ripped straight off a corny font website.

“Coffee,” the customer replied, finding it seemingly impossible to suppress the deep breath that trickled off his lips. Benji pursed his lips, not yet writing anything down. He could taste the stranger’s sour mood in the air like a spoiled peach.

“Cream and sugar?” He listened, but had a knack of not really looking like it. “Anything else?” he responded with equally-subdued energy, almost relieved this order was going to be simple and quick. The guy didn’t seem much like the lengthy-order type, but Newcastle was filled with plenty more surprises.

And so, no less intrigued than he was five minutes ago, Benji chanced at a few words. “This your first time here?” he queried, intentionally broad with the scope of the question, “If I were having a bad day, this would be way far from my first destination.”






























life: the biggest troll












♡coded by uxie♡

 






Reuben




filler



filler



filler



filler



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  • home (filler tab)



































Maximo Park



Apply Some Pressure








Reuben didn’t think much of it when Mason emerged from the car with a giant shit-eating grin on his face. He figured that after pummelling a guy into the ground, he was coming away pretty victorious. Even if it was to the police station.

Reuben had no plan to come down hard on him. It had tickled him seeing Jonas paying the price for being a little prick. He had to learn one way or another.

He also knew that Mason had a kid, and some fucked up relationship with Tabs, one way or another. Now, he wasn’t about to tear a family apart, or start upsetting Tabitha again or whatever. He’d play his part, bring him down to the station, hand him a fine and send him on his merry way. Everyone wins.

Reuben raised his eyebrow when Mason didn’t budge from the car. He just looked back at him, his head tilting slyly.

“Quite the collection of...” Mason started, bringing his hands up and tapping a finger against his nose. “… ‘candy’ ya got back there. Tell me...” Mason gestured towards the station with his head, “how much would your boss like to know you're fuckin' 'round with that shit?”

Oh, son of a fucking bitch.

There was no doubt that the earlier events of the evening had recurred, this time in less-than-ideal circumstances. Mason had seen the block of coke, still loosely stashed under the seat.

Fucking idiot, Bonilla.

Now the guy he was about to let off with a $100 fine was blackmailing him? Over his dead body.

A few yards further down the road, Reuben could see Tabitha pull up; unsubtly pulling to a screeching halt. Great. He’d warned her not to get herself involved, but of course she’d find a way, typical Tabs style. This evening was becoming very complicated. Too complicated.

Reuben stepped one foot towards Mason, a smirk appearing on his lips. He looked away toward the opposite end of the street.

“Listen,” he started lowly, sucking his lip in a little before continuing; “the only thing my boss is going to know, is that this car left here clean as a whistle. Then, as fate would have it, I pick you up from a party, and lo-and-behold there’s a package of damning white powder, just an inch from where you were sat.”

Reuben turned to the man, who’s expression seemed a little less chipper.

“I think it’s probably best you go home to your kid. You forget about what you did or didn’t see, and you enjoy not having to speak to your daughter through five inches of glass and a fucking phone in the wall.”

Content, at least outwardly, Reuben reached into his pocket for the keys to the cuffs. If this was a lousy shot by Mason to try get off scot-free, he’d just fucked himself over. Reuben hoped that the counter-threat would be effective, and that he’d be preoccupied with worries of Reuben as much as he would be with Mason.

Steadily, Reuben undid the lock on Mason’s handcuffs. He stood back, nodding in the direction at Tabitha.

“Looks like someone wants a word.” He said, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it, a smug smile still on his face.

“Oh, and Rivera?” he called as Mason wrung his wrists, starting down the street. “Fuck you.”





♡coded by uxie♡
 









scroll








cinnamon girl



Tabitha Cohen













mood

Worried, relieved, conflicted











outfit

Party dress











location

Outside the station











interactions

Mason, Reuben (mentioned) (mentioned)











Winona Winona dear.szmm dear.szmm

tags here
















The old red Mustang drove furiously through the roads of Newcastle, with Tabitha slamming the accelerator. It wasn’t smart, to drive this fast while her mind was racing, but it did make her feel better. Catharsis, or whatever the Greeks called it.

Driving dangerously fast while chain-smoking was to Tabitha what beating the living shit out of people must be for Mason, she guessed.

After a quick stop at the pharmacy, and another considerably large money transfer to Drake (that would definitely come back to bite her in ass later), she was almost at the station. The plan was to do exactly what her father did when there was trouble: throw money at the cops, say her last name and act like an overall bitch.

Her eyes narrowed, looking at the two figures talking in front of the cop car, one she was way too familiar with.


“What the fuck are they doing” Tabitha whispered to herself, watching as Reuben apparently let Mason go, just like that. Huh.


The bastard didn’t even make inside the station.

She felt a wave of relief, and equal parts embarrassment. She was more than glad to see Mason be released, but it also meant that she had been freaking out over nothing- and now Reuben and Mason had seen her make a dramatic fool of herself. Maybe she should start listening to Reuben, for once.

Unlikely, but maybe.

Mason made his way toward the Mustang, and Tabitha lowered her window, unable to decide if she was happy to see him, or furious at stunt he’d pulled.

“You can go home.” He said, as if it was that simple for her. "Didn't get charged for shit. I mean... what're you even doing here?"

“I was here to bail you out.” Tabitha sighed, glancing over at Reuben in the distance “But you seem to have got that covered. How did you even- no, actually, don’t tell me.”

Looking at his bloody face, she was still undecided if she wanted to punch him or kiss him.

“You’re a fucking moron.”

Grabbing the plastic bag, Tabitha got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. She took a deep breath before shoving the bag at his chest. World’s worst gift on a horrible night.

“Here, you can use these to treat your wounds, and it helps with the pain.” Tabitha explained, waiting for him to take it “You’ll feel a lot less like shit in the morning, trust me.” I’d know.




♡coded by uxie♡
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good morning...





It was Mer's birthday and, by unfortunate coincidence, the day of Jared and Val's engagement party.
What cruelty must the fair Mercedes Camus have committed in order to earn such a repugnant reminder that her special day was to be shared? There was no joy to be had in the older couple's imminent matrimony, not with the hatred and malefaction that stagnated in the air as a result of their shared disdain for anything outside of their "caliber". Such hypocrites. The truth was, they were just like everyone else.

And that's why Ed wasted no breaths congratulating the pair, even as his smarmy older brother hopped from guest to guest making idle conversation so as to seem like a socialite and not a disgraced actor on probation. He had to get away. Next to 6'5 Landon, he looked like a dwarf. Someone's well-dressed (thanks, Evie), lonesome-looking (thanks, Liv) little brother.

The decor was borderline regal, reminiscent of a ballroom interior or a building preserved by a historical society. Ed ran a hesitant finger along the wall's tasteful wainscoting. It felt wrong, like the dust and oils on his fingertip would leave a mark that would last forever. Like Val's obsessiveness over the dress code wasn't enough of an omen of verbal reamings to come.

His brother was pulling away, vulpine eyes set straight for the liquor. "Bye, Lan," Ed drawled, sarcastic as ever, even if his voice lacked its usual edge. Some wingman. But he didn't need his brother anyway, especially to talk to Mer, who would probably drop her chonies for the nearest guy with a boy band or a film franchise.

This many years in the game had rendered Ed immune to the pitfalls of adjacency to fame. His parents were A-listers. So was his brother. His sister could have been, if she wanted to. For her sake, Ed hoped her high-end fashion phase would come to a close. Some of her pieces were uglier than Deo's rampant toe fungus.

With the birthday girl's present in hand, Edwin made a home near the entrance in hopes that the host would pick him up and save him from his lostness. And to the rescue she came, apparently spotting her future lover from a mile away. Starstruck he was, frozen in place with a little box trembling in his shaky hands. He forced a warm smile, only to match the affection that kindled like a bonfire in his cocoa-colored eyes.

“Ed! Hi! I’m so glad you could make it," the girl greeted, sending a shock straight through his heart. It beat intensely, fervently, and it was no help to the tremors that rocked his nervous body. Her eyes couldn't stay still, darting between the guests and glitz and glamor of what was likely a small get-together for the Floreses.

"Hey, happy birthday," Ed replied coolly, his free hand clenched into a fist in his pocket. It was getting so hard to hide his feelings. Landon was onto something, making for the drinks first.

“So, this isn’t the rager I thought it was gonna be, but it’s fine! Because… it’s totally…” He cocked his head to the side. This seemed pretty standard for a rich person party, but maybe Mer had something else in mind. "My... day..." And then she brushed her hair out of her face and... wow... beauty was effortless to her, wasn't it?

"Yeah, it is." There was a beat of silence as he searched for words, already lost in Mer's doe-like eyes. "Try not to gawk at them so much. They like the attention."

"Did you come here with anyone? Or..."

Red filled his cheeks. He shook his head.

She spoke again. “You totally fit in though, not in like… a bad way, but in like… you don’t look like you’ll get dress coded by Val and her weird OCD crap.”

"Thank Evie," he quipped, scratching the back of his head. It displaced a few gelled strands, but it wasn't like he was keeping count. "I guess being her mannequin has some uses." He laughed, smiling fondly.

Yeah, good, be agreeable. Like you practiced with Liv.

He went to continue his thought, however a semi-frantic Mer beat him to it. "You're my boyfriend," she stated, like it was nothing. Ed's jaw immediately dropped to the floor, his eyes jumping open faster than his blood pressure could spike to an all-time high.

"I am?"

At first, he didn't believe he'd heard right, prepping himself for a punchline or a repetition. Instead, what he got was whisked away from the foyer in somewhat of a hurry. With Mer's arm slipped between his own, he nearly dropped the present he'd brought and set it on the nearest table. You don't know true stress until you've tried to mentally make your clammy hands stop leaking sweat. But with the hairs on his neck standing straight and the color drained from his face, there was no simply "playing it cool".

There was no time to plan the wedding as the pair not-so-casually stumbled straight into a few familiar faces' line of sight. "Justin! Hey!" the girl chirped in a suspiciously similar tone to the one she'd given Ed at the door. But when love makes a man blind, it makes a certain type deaf as well. "This is my boyfriend, Ed." Something was off, but it could wait.

Sensing his cue, the boy straightened up and gestured a friendly wave, still shaking in his boots. "Hey." His eyes met Justin's, instinctually narrowing with subdued malice. Oh, he knew this jerk. In the same way he knew all of Nickie's other exes. But nonetheless, he faked an award-winning smile. "You..." What was the shallowest compliment he could muster? "You look great!"

Am I a movie star now, Papà?

A minute in and Mer was already distracted. He tried his best to follow the girl's wandering eyes, but it was especially a feat not to be obvious when he was by her side, linked intimately between her arm. He held her a little closer, wrapping an arm around and squeezing her shoulder. It just felt right.

"Good to meet you, Amy. Your dress is..." He gave her an up-and-down, only because Mer had made a point of it. "Cool." These two randoms were a waste of energy. Whatever was going on, Ed was a million times more invested in his new girlfriend. His new girlfriend that was almost too good to be true.

And hell, he was in a good mood now. Hanging with the birthday girl. Couldn't have done it without you, Lando! Truly. Now to avoid scary, Big Bad Chelsea...






























hate yourself












♡coded by uxie♡

 









scroll








new girl



Renee Alcott













mood

worried











outfit

Casual











location

Outside the party











interactions

Drake











tags

Winona Winona
















Renee looked through the crowd on her tip-toes, looking for any sign of Drake among the party attendees.

“Hey!”



Renee turned around at the sound of Drake’s voice, hyperaware of her surrounding given the current situation. She rushed her way toward him, pushing past the crowd to get to her friend.

“Drake!” She called back,



“Ah fuck—come on, follow me.” With that warning, Drake took her hand and lead her through the crowd. Renee held on tight to his hand, forcing the most sympathetic smile she could manage as he turned back to look at her.

"I don't want ya to be, ya know... we don't wanna go to the hospital, yeah?" He smiled, he laughed but she could tell it didn't quite reach his eyes, it didn't sound right. Of course it didn't, nothing about this situation felt right.

“No hospital, for sure.” Renee assured him, squeezing his hand- hoping at least she could make sure Drake knew she’d be there to support him through the shitshow. “Everything’s gonna be fine, D. Honest.”

Renee didn’t swear it, because she had no idea if that was true.

Drake let go of her hand to go after his brother, and Renee stayed back, hugging herself as she watched. Realistically, that’s all she could do, though the sentiment left her with a lump in her throat. She hated feeling powerless, not being able to help someone who was so kind to her from the beginning. Just watch, and be there for the aftermath- whatever it was going to be.

"Hey, bro, come on, let's--"

So she stood there and watched as Drake reached out to his brother—



“Shit, Drake!” Renee cursed, not being quick enough to grab her friend before he hit the ground. Still, she rushed to his side, eyebrows furrowed in worry. Placing a hand on his back, she helped Drake sit up “You okay? Maybe you shouldn’t get-“

Too close.

The police sirens approaching, the blood, the frantic whispering of the crowd watching the fight unfold- it was all too much. Renee couldn’t even begin to imagine how Drake was feeling at the moment.

“Can you get up?” Biting her lower lip, she offered her arm as support “C’mere, hold onto me. I got you.”

She helped him up as best she could, mostly relieved the fall didn’t apparently hurt him badly. Drake wasn’t going to give up so easily on his brother. Renee sat back, watching the scene unfold: the Russo kid got cuffed first, while Drake took the time to bring Mason to his senses. Whatever he had said, it seemed to be working.

When the cop began taking Mason in, Renee ran up to the younger of the pair, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s fine, see?” Optimism was all she had to hold onto, so she attempted to smile again “All in one piece. And we’ll figure out a way to make bail and- I can help with the kid, if you want me to. It’s all going to be okay, I know it.”





♡coded by uxie♡
[/borde
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scroll








cinnamon girl



Tabitha Cohen













mood

Worried, relieved, conflicted











outfit

Party dress











location

Outside the station











interactions

Mason











Winona Winona

tags here
















“Don’t.” Tabitha said curtly, fighting back a smile as he cleaned up the blood from his knuckles- she wondered what percent of it was his, and what was Jonas. She focused on these things that made her angry, and not the stupid lopsided smile on the dumbass’ face “You’re not funny. Don’t make this funny.”

She watched his hands. Mason was not good at cleaning his wounds, for someone who got into as many idiotic physical altercations as he did. Tabitha could have reached out and helped him- but like the man himself said, she didn’t need any more people knowing she still wanted to fuck Mason, least of all Mason.

Tabitha settled on doing what she did best, taking a deep breath and complaining.

“Your hands are fucked. I hope the punching was worth it.”

"You didn't have to fucking come bail me out," Mason said, while digging through his pockets. As if she didn’t know that.

Tabitha crossed her arms, watching him work that caveman phone of his and text- Drake, Raven, whoever else cared if he lived or died, she guessed.

"I had it fuckin' handled. I don't need fucking anyone runnin' to come fuckin' help me."

What a complete fucking asshole.

“Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t have to. I didn’t have do shit.” She could feel the expression on her face start matching the anger “You didn’t have to do any of this. I’m here because you completely screwed over Maggie and got her into a shit-load of trouble for this little stunt.”

“And even while you were being a complete dickhead, she was worried about you going jail. ‘Cause she’s an actual good person, who doesn’t deserve this shit.” Tabitha’s nails dug into her arm, a physical manifestation of all the frustration she had bottled up inside “You have a fucking daughter, that you love enough to attempt homicide over, who doesn’t deserve to see her dad behind bars over something so stupid.”

“And Drake! Yeah, your brother? That you pushed to the ground? Fuck you for that, by the way. He didn’t deserve to see you go through this shit either.” Tabitha bit her lip, looking away from Mason’s face- it was a very punchable face, especially when he looked so smug, Jonas at least had that right “None of this had to happen, it’s all been very unnecessary, but here we are.”

Tabitha managed to get her eyes back on his face- all beaten and bloody, and not so smug as it had been at the start of this conversation.

“I’m not looking for any gratitude or whatever, and definetley not a fight. I don’t care that you don’t need help from anyone, least of all from me. ” Tabitha spoke as genuinely as she could, which was never something that came easy for the girl.

“But I wanted to make sure you were okay, and not rotting behind bars. ‘Cause I don’t think you deserve this shit either, for what it’s worth.”




♡coded by uxie♡
[/borde
 
willa
moreau
excited
https:///www.willa-moreau.com/did-someone-say-party/
The guy seemed tense when Willa made the apple juice comment. She had been making a joke and trying to flirt, but realized her delivery may have been off. She was used to her flat tone and blunt sarcasm rubbing people the wrong way, and it did bother her, yet she could not seem to avoid doing it again and again.

And there was something about his body language, as she was standing close to him, that made her hesitate a bit. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about him seemed...off. Rough around the edges, she guessed. But she really wasn't one to be frightened of people, and she really didn't care at this point--she needed this party.

As Elliott paid for his juice, Willa walked toward the door but waited. She tried to nonchalantly take a better look at him while he was focused on the shopkeeper. He was hot, for sure. He looked well over her age, but that was a plus in her mind. She was in the mood for some rebellious behavior.

"Shall we?" he asked.

She smiled. "Absolutely," she said earnestly.

They walked out the door together and Willa took a deep breath of the fresh air. Now where was this party?
coded by reveriee.
 






elliott.




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idkhbtfm



absinthe









Elliott took his bag of juice from the cashier before putting his wallet in his back pocket. Willa had agreed to leave with him to head to the party, which had him feeling good. She looked a little younger than the girls he usually lusted after, but he figured that if she was down to ride for him, she had to be at least eighteen. He opened the door for her to exit the store first, as what was expected of him. He usually wouldn't be a gentleman, but he was trying to get some action tonight. He had to seem like he had nothing but good intentions, of course. Willa couldn't know that he was crazy.

Elliott followed Willa out, clicking the unlock button on his key fob. He made his way over to his SUV, hopping in the driver's seat before reaching over to put the juice in the back seat. He waited until Willa had gotten settled in the passenger's seat before taking off towards the party. "So, any reason you're going to a party with a complete stranger?" Elliott mused, trying to make conversation as he headed down the road. If he were a serial killer (which he wasn't, by any means), it would have been easy to pick up a potential victim if they were all like Willa. He quite often had dark thoughts like that one, but he never acted on them. He was too good to get his hands all bloodied, anyway.

He let a comfortable silence fall between them as he got closer to the party. But, as he turned onto the road, he saw flashing lights. "Son of a bitch. The cops probably busted it up." Elliott cursed, slamming his palm against the side of the steering wheel. He had waited too long and now there was no point in going to the party. Two underage drinkers showing up to a party after the cops showed up wasn't exactly the smartest move to make. "What now?"





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