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Realistic or Modern The Kids Aren't Alright | Main

Sub Genres
  1. LGTBQ
  2. Platonic
  3. Realistic
  4. Romance
  5. School
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HELLO
my name is
Colby
Dang it, he should’ve kept his mouth shut when he had the chance.

Well, too late to turn back now. Besides, he liked playing beer pong. But for some reason, this game felt kind of different.

Was it just Colby, or was Zach not as tipsy as he should be after losing half of his cups? They both started with 10 cups of beer and they both lost almost the same amount whenever their ping pong balls occasionally landed in them. Maybe it was because Colby had started the game already somewhat buzzed. He did have some whiskey earlier, and there was that other drink he’d made...

Welp, he didn’t think this through enough. Also, it never occurred to him that Zach might be cheating—like, who the hell tries to cheat in beer pong? Must be the alcohol clouding his judgment. Because throughout the first half of the game, Colby was enjoying himself, like that carefree guy he was. Even while he was feeling buzzed at first, his ping pong balls landed in Zach’s cup about, maybe, 70 to 80 percent of the time when it was his turn. Watching a near-miss was always exciting—a light, egg-sized ball tapping on a plastic cup rim once or twice, before making a miraculous baby splash. Then, Colby scored the fifth, and his beer pong partner scored as well on his turn.

“Can’t handle, Katzan?” Pffft, of course he can. He was still standing on his own two feet! However, his shot success rate slowly dwindled whenever Zach scored, and so did his tipsy euphoria as Colby drained his fifth or sixth cup of beer. Confusion began to set in—wait, wait... what was this game about again?

Colby angled his arm, positioning his aim as best as his focus could in its current state. He didn’t throw the ball right away. The gears in his muddled brain churned loudly with so many jumbled words, trying to make sense of that pestering question… he was playing… for a bet... I bet... If you win, I’ll let you dance with Tatum...

What kind of a boyfriend gambles his own girlfriend?

And what kind of idiot follows along with it?!


(And why did Zach keep referring to him by his last name like a cliche 1990s anime school rival? That sounded like another sign of passive-aggressiveness.)

Oh, no. No, this felt wrong. It was wrong. Trying to win a stupid, most-likely-rigged game of beer pong, just so he can win a dance with Tatum. (Plus not getting his hair dyed for a week.) The whole thing just sounded stupid now, even Tatum would agree—oh god, she would be so pissed if she knew what these two himbos were doing. And Colby had promised her that he would protect her from Ryan tonight. You goddamned schlub… what are you doing?

The ball flew out of his hand.

And missed. Bounced off the corner and plopped in the sand next to Zach’s feet. Colby just kept missing afterward. It wasn’t so hard to look like he was missing by chance or plain bad luck, with his vision making the world sway and all. Soon, his remaining cups disappeared one at a time. He had four cups left now. Then three... two... one…

Gulping down his last cup, with the spectators around the table hollering and encouraging him to keep chugging every drop, Colby remembered that he had also promised Maxine that he wouldn’t get too drunk to drive them home tonight. Oops.

He put the last Solo cup down, but it missed landing on the edge of the table entirely. Yep, he was that drunk now. As the spectators cheered around the winner, Colby staggered away from the area to the parking lot. He did mumble a flat congrats but doubted he was heard. Miraculously, he found his grandparents’ Chevy truck. Before he climbed over the tailgate, he took the car keys out of his pocket and dropped them, hearing them clinked on the pavement next to the back wheel. He may be drunk, but he was not that dumb.

He crawled across the cargo bed and leaned against the back wall. The back of his bed pressed against the cool glass of the window as he looked at the night sky, probably hoping to find a random yet meaningful answer in the tiny bright dots to a question he didn't have yet. After a minute or two, Colby pulled out his phone and messaged Maxine. She might not seem like the best person to console other people, but he needed someone he knew more to have some kind of heart-to-heart chat with, to have someone agree that he was an idiot. And someone to bring him a water bottle ‘cuz all of that beer made him thirsty.

TAGS: with Zach lion. lion. , Maxine Dazzle Dazzle
 
Last edited:

Elf_Ruler

Basically Santa ^_^
Tatum was drunk but not drunk enough to know what an advance on her was. She pushed Ivy away, “No. You’re too young and not my type kid.” Tatum’s words slurred. If she had been more sober, she would’ve yelled and broken the weird girl to pieces, but Tatum was drunk, tired, and sad. No one’s fault but her own and all Tatum could do was push off the advances of a child, and she wasn’t even flattered by the weird attention. Though it hadn’t been the first party where she had to push someone away, too bad this one wasn’t as cute as the last one.

She couldn’t have been sure how many minutes passed before she saw the blonde locks of her favorite boy, and her heart fluttered as he approached her. A drunken smile spread across her face, “Golden Boy!” The one nickname she had given him when they were friends and she still used it now. The one boy who made her smile most of the time, and the boy who gave her so many butterflies. How could one person make her giddy? In her drunken mind he looked more like one of those stupid Greek gods everyone talked about, but drunken minds can make anyone prettier than they actually are. Not, that she ever thought Zach was ugly, he was just better looking with drunk goggles on.

As he pulled her up from the sand, Tatum didn’t even take a second glance back at Ivy, the girl was far too drunk even for her own good. Once they got far enough away Tatum laced her hand with Zach’s before walking in front of pulling him towards the car, “Come onnnn Gollllden Boyyy.” A laugh escaping from her lips, seeing as he didn’t like sad her. She could turn her sadness into happiness, even if it was fake. That was how life was, faking it until you make it. The only way to at least survive the hell hole that was Parish Bay. Once they had arrived at his car, she placed her lips to his before quickly pulling away “I haven’t seen you this entire night. Pretty lame. But I have the rest of the night with you” her attempt at a wink had really been a blink. Zach had guided her into his car, and she knew it was because she was drunk, and he had dealt with her or more than one drunk occasion.

The car ride was short lived to Zach’s place, but she knew her way around. Knew the halls, the stairs, the location of almost every room, but she knew exactly how to get to Zach’s room and that was where she made a beeline to. Once in his room she had pulled out one of his shirts and his sweatpants, switching out of her party outfit, though her motions made it a little more difficult. As Zach arrived in the room Tatum waited for him to be closer before she reached up to kiss him. It was the first time all day they had been alone and as things had heated up Tatum knew this was her moment, or so she hoped. While at his bed she pulled away from him her hand tracing little circles along his face. And that was when she let the liquid courage take over and say those three words for the first time since being with him for over a year, “Zach.” She paused, “I love you.”

Mention(s): Chimney Swift Chimney Swift
Interaction(s): lion. lion.
 
"Soup of the Day: Revolution"

Dede

McNugget
Martin


Martin wouldn’t be a boomer if he didn’t spend five hours writing emails to community members about the soup kitchen, only to find them still sitting in his outbox in the next morning, because he turned the WIFI off “to save power” and forgot to turn it back on.

Well, that was what he did, and now nobody was coming to help with the soup kitchen, except for the kids he managed to recruit with his sideways Twitter account. But if there was one thing Martin knew about the kids of Parish Point, it was that they were completely reliable and capable of rising to any occasion, and would absolutely, 100%, not let him and the church down, or be irresponsible enough to show up hungover after a night of many emotions and excitements.

His own son showed early promise when he came home smelling of sewage, without his backpack, wallet lost, his phone broken, and with a bruise on his head because he had apparently been “slapped by a whale”. “I told you kids not to go near the whale,” said Martin, shaking his head. Kids these days.

The next morning he was growing anxious, wondering if anyone would show to help with the soup kitchen. There was some crazy talk on Twitter of the kids holding a protest at the town hall or some place, because they were upset over some whale. As if the town wasn’t going through enough already!! The storm had just delivered a hefty battering and people’s homes are in disrepair, and the next day the kids are out there protesting about a whale?!?!?!?!

“He’s not just any whale, Dad,” said Stu over cereal and orange juice.

“Huh?”

“He’s Willy. That’s his name.”

“Who named him?”

“I did.”

Of course he did. There’s Willy Wonka, Charlie, and the Chocolate Factory. A holy trinity of sorts.

Speaking of holy trinities, they arrived at church at 10 AM and found it empty, Stu crawling under a pew to retrieve a hat dropped by a previous congregant. Martin was still confident that the kids would show up to help. Surely most of them were raised well enough to know that helping the community in times of despair was more important than throwing hissy fits in public about some beached whale.

Stu went and started unloading food from the car. Those boxes weighed on a thin pair of legs and the slightest misstep would have resulted in death by canned beans. “Here, stack them along this wall,” said Martin. He glanced at his watch again. Lunch was still two hours away, so the kids still had a bit of time to come to their senses, but will they?
 

Chimney Swift

Allergic to Charisma











Max





location



The Calvet Residence



mood



Concerned



tags








Upon waking up from the most unfulfilling sleep of his life, Max found himself on the floor of Noémie's bedroom. Someone had been kind enough to place a pillow under his head, and pull the blanket over him. How and when he wound up down here, though, he had no idea. The last thing he clearly remembered was vomiting on the side of the road. Damn motion sickness...

Anyway, somehow the group had all gotten to Noémie's house in one piece. At least, they all seemed to have. Actually, now that he was looking around, a handful of people were missing. Isa, Maxine. Hadn't they been here too? Isa was the one who drove all the drunk kids from the beach. She must have just ducked into the bathroom or something, or she had already gone home to get ready for... what was she doing today? Not school. There was some kind of event or something happening, but he couldnt bring himself to recall.

He felt like absolute shit. He felt like he'd been run over by a cement truck. Every muscle in his awkward narrow body ached and cramped with a vengeance. His mouth had dried out so much that his tongue felt completely withered. The morning sun peeking through the blinds on Noémie's window was so unbearably bright that for a moment it felt too painful to open his eyes.

The night before was a jumbled mess in his brain. There had to be some way to retrace his steps, something around here that would illuminate the scattered memories a little.

Twitter?
Ah, yes. His old friend. His social lifeline in a town where only a small dozen people could use his language. Also an incredibly handy tool for retrieving forgotten conversations. The internet never forgets, after all.
Congratulating himself for this great idea, he dug through his pocket for his phone. But his phone wasn't in his pocket.
Neither were his car keys. Or house keys. Or wallet.

Fuck! Had he been robbed!?

There was, however, something crumpled in his other hand. A piece of paper? Huh... that looked like his handwriting.

- Parish Point -
KNOW YOUR RIGHTS!

PROTEST MAYOR FLINT'S VIOLATION OF STUDENT SAFETY
#StudentProtest


Also included on the flyer were the time and place of the event he'd drunkenly organized, along with his contact information. Yep... this was definitely his doing.
The hastily constructed poster brought back another shockwave of memories. He'd made like 100 of these around 2:30 in the morning and plastered them around town, then snuck back home to the garage for his bike lock, which now lay next to him with the crumpled poster. How did he even get back to Nomi's place? Someone must have gone with him. Who? That escaped him, much like almost everything else.

What didn't escape him, though, was his promise to chain himself to the doors of the town hall.

His head now ached all the more with worry. It was far, far too late to change his mind now, but sober Max was much more afraid of getting arrested or hurt than drunk Max had been.

Feeling as though he'd die if he didn't get a glass of water in his system immediately, Max dragged himself off the floor and felt along the wall towards the kitchen. Along the way he passed the bathroom, and he spotted his bright green phone case perched on the counter.
Oh. So that was where his valuables went.
Walking in to tuck his keys and wallet back into their respective pockets, he checked the charge on his phone, relieved to see it was still at 70%, and scrolled through his social media, eager to decipher the events of last night.

The one comforting thing he garnered from doing this was that he wasn't protesting the mayor alone. Along with Nomi and Liz, his friends, he'd gained the alliance of Ivy and Wendy... two younger girls he didn't really know at all. He vaguely remembered Wendy as one of the Hartfield kids, someone he'd seen around maybe a handful of times, but Ivy was a total stranger who seemed more than a little volatile based on her spitfire tweets.
...this really was going to be a rough day.

Wait! He totally forgot he was getting water, and the dry clawing in his throat rudely reminded him of this. Reluctantly putting his phone away, he continued on his little quest, wondering how long it would take for this miserable state to wear off. He wasn't going to be much good at tormenting the mayor and her entourage if he could barely function.

Finally in the kitchen (Noémie's house was so much bigger than he remembered, for some reason), he hastily poured himself a glass of water from the tap, draining it in a matter of seconds and immediately pouring a second, then a third. Oy... that small amount of alcohol he'd mistakenly consumed had totally wrecked him. What he deserved, perhaps, for neglecting to eat or anything for an entire day.

When he finally no longer felt on the brink of dying of dehydration, he sank into a chair at the kitchen table to continue scouring through his Twitter.

As the minutes rolled by, though, the messages that popped onto his screen took an ominous turn. Isa had logged back on, confirming that she'd left Noémie's house at some point in the early morning before Max woke up, because she was angry at Maxine for something that happened back and the party... And that she wasn't coming back. What did she mean, "I'm going to disappear for a few days"!? Max went cold, trying to keep talking to her just to get her to stay, but a minute later she simply logged back out and vanished just like that.

Max didn't know, couldn't know, when he'd see her again. Or if she was safe. And most nerve-wracking of all, the rest of his friends seemed completely unbothered by this.

This was Parish Point's problem, Max thought: everyone was just so damn passive about the things happening around them.

The mayor forced the high-schoolers to save an injured whale without assistance.
Some guy beat one of the younger kids into a coma.
Liz's mom was dying.
Isa was disappearing.
One crisis after another.

And, though it wasn't true, Max often felt like the only one who cared.






code by g o l d i e l o x x


Upon waking up from the most unfulfilling sleep of his life, Max found himself on the floor of Noémie's bedroom. Someone had been kind enough to place a pillow under his head, and pull the blanket over him. How and when he wound up down here, though, he had no idea. The last thing he clearly remembered was vomiting on the side of the road. Damn motion sickness...

Anyway, somehow the group had all gotten to Noémie's house in one piece. At least, they all seemed to have. Actually, now that he was looking around, a handful of people were missing. Isa, Maxine. Hadn't they been here too? Isa was the one who drove all the drunk kids from the beach. She must have just ducked into the bathroom or something, or she had already gone home to get ready for... what was she doing today? Not school. There was some kind of event or something happening, but he couldnt bring himself to recall.

He felt like absolute shit. He felt like he'd been run over by a cement truck. Every muscle in his awkward narrow body ached and cramped with a vengeance. His mouth had dried out so much that his tongue felt completely withered. The morning sun peeking through the blinds on Noémie's window was so unbearably bright that for a moment it felt too painful to open his eyes.

The night before was a jumbled mess in his brain. There had to be some way to retrace his steps, something around here that would illuminate the scattered memories a little.

Twitter?
Ah, yes. His old friend. His social lifeline in a town where only a small dozen people could use his language. Also an incredibly handy tool for retrieving forgotten conversations. The internet never forgets, after all.
Congratulating himself for this great idea, he dug through his pocket for his phone. But his phone wasn't in his pocket.
Neither were his car keys. Or house keys. Or wallet.

Fuck! Had he been robbed!?

There was, however, something crumpled in his other hand. A piece of paper? Huh... that looked like his handwriting.

- Parish Point -
KNOW YOUR RIGHTS!

PROTEST MAYOR FLINT'S VIOLATION OF STUDENT SAFETY
#StudentProtest


Also included on the flyer were the time and place of the event he'd drunkenly organized, along with his contact information. Yep... this was definitely his doing.
The hastily constructed poster brought back another shockwave of memories. He'd made like 100 of these around 2:30 in the morning and plastered them around town, then snuck back home to the garage for his bike lock, which now lay next to him with the crumpled poster. How did he even get back to Nomi's place? Someone must have gone with him. Who? That escaped him, much like almost everything else.

What didn't escape him, though, was his promise to chain himself to the doors of the town hall.

His head now ached all the more with worry. It was far, far too late to change his mind now, but sober Max was much more afraid of getting arrested or hurt than drunk Max had been.

Feeling as though he'd die if he didn't get a glass of water in his system immediately, Max dragged himself off the floor and felt along the wall towards the kitchen. Along the way he passed the bathroom, and he spotted his bright green phone case perched on the counter.
Oh. So that was where his valuables went.
Walking in to tuck his keys and wallet back into their respective pockets, he checked the charge on his phone, relieved to see it was still at 70%, and scrolled through his social media, eager to decipher the events of last night.

The one comforting thing he garnered from doing this was that he wasn't protesting the mayor alone. Along with Nomi and Liz, his friends, he'd gained the alliance of Ivy and Wendy... two younger girls he didn't really know at all. He vaguely remembered Wendy as one of the Hartfield kids, someone he'd seen around maybe a handful of times, but Ivy was a total stranger who seemed more than a little volatile based on her spitfire tweets.
...this really was going to be a rough day.

Wait! He totally forgot he was getting water, and the dry clawing in his throat rudely reminded him of this. Reluctantly putting his phone away, he continued on his little quest, wondering how long it would take for this miserable state to wear off. He wasn't going to be much good at tormenting the mayor and her entourage if he could barely function.

Finally in the kitchen (Noémie's house was so much bigger than he remembered, for some reason), he hastily poured himself a glass of water from the tap, draining it in a matter of seconds and immediately pouring a second, then a third. Oy... that small amount of alcohol he'd mistakenly consumed had totally wrecked him. What he deserved, perhaps, for neglecting to eat or anything for an entire day.

When he finally no longer felt on the brink of dying of dehydration, he sank into a chair at the kitchen table to continue scouring through his Twitter.

As the minutes rolled by, though, the messages that popped onto his screen took an ominous turn. Isa had logged back on, confirming that she'd left Noémie's house at some point in the early morning before Max woke up, because she was angry at Maxine for something that happened back and the party... And that she wasn't coming back. What did she mean, "I'm going to disappear for a few days"!? Max went cold, trying to keep talking to her just to get her to stay, but a minute later she simply logged back out and vanished just like that.

Max didn't know, couldn't know, when he'd see her again. Or if she was safe. And most nerve-wracking of all, the rest of his friends seemed completely unbothered by this.

This was Parish Point's problem, Max thought: everyone was just so damn passive about the things happening around them.

The mayor forced the high-schoolers to save an injured whale without assistance.
Some guy beat one of the younger kids into a coma.
Liz's mom was dying.
Isa was disappearing.
One crisis after another.

And, though it wasn't true, Max often felt like the only one who cared.
 

Chimney Swift

Allergic to Charisma











Oliver





location



The Dreyfuss Residence -> The Church



mood



Worn out



tags



here






That same stupid dream again: the one where he was stuck in the sand on the ocean floor, paralyzed, watching the last few bubbles of air escape his mouth and float to the surface. The weight of the water was crushing him; he couldn't try to swim up even if he knew how. Something scuttled over his chest, then another up his neck onto his face, into his eye...

For two minutes after he woke up, Oliver couldn't move, lying frozen on his back staring into the pitch darkness of the closet he called his room. Something tightened around his chest, twisting his mangled ribs and sucking the air from him, seeming to pull his very soul out through his mouth. In the pitch black, he felt eyes on him, hot breath in his face. He couldn't move, scream, blink, breathe...

And then it subsided. Whatever phantom creature crawled on top of him slinked back into the shadows, and he could move again. As soon as it had begun, he'd nearly forgotten the whole episode.

Still, the five hours of sleep he'd gotten seemed pointless now.

Weakly untangling himself from his sheets, he pulled himself upright, bracing himself for the jolt of pain that immediately cut through his torso, and the wave of nausea that followed it. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd woken up to broken ribs and a blinding headache, and it most certainly would not be the last, but dear god, it would always be just as excruciating as the time before.

What he did know, though, was that the pain would go away. Hissing through his clenched teeth to avoid crying out, he slowly, silently counted to thirty. By fifteen, he no longer felt like he was about to collapse. By thirty he could almost see straight again, though the bitter ache remained.

Cautiously sliding the closet door open so as not to let it creak, he crept into the bathroom for a very stealthy shower in the dark and then got dressed as quietly as he could. Without the light, he was spared a look at his face in the mirror: at his bandaged cheek, and the dark bruises marring the right side of his face from his eye socket down to his jawline. He tried to convince himself he didn't look that bad, and the best way to do that was simply not to look at all. Shyly running a hand through his hair, he slipped back out and ran for the door, stopping only to grab his shoes (which still had sand in them, much to his dismay.)

He stiffly walked through the streets towards the quieter part of town where the church was, guided by his beloved Google Maps. Well... sort of. Oliver was having a concerning amount of difficulty reading the map. As he looked at it, the street names seemed to melt together into unreadable text, the roads and pathways stretching and switching places every time he blinked.

This greatly distressed Oliver, who was absolutely enchanted by maps; always had been, really. Something about being able to see everything laid out and to scale, perfectly aligned to real life... He found it comforting. If only everything could be drawn out so succinctly. But now, even maps seemed to be failing him.

It took longer for him to get to the church than it otherwise might have, given that he'd been stumbling in circles around town in an effort to navigate through the brain fog. By the time he could see the building over the neighborhood rooftops, he was once again exhausted and terribly out of breath, his barely-healed lung unwilling to keep up his pace. After giving himself a moment at the fence to let the burning feeling of suffocation subside, he entered the church for the very first time.

The instant the doors closed, Oliver felt very out of place. Though a sizeable group had gathered, it was relatively quiet and peaceful inside, which he normally would have appreciated very much-- but this was a new place for him, and he had no idea how to feel about it.
He kept tightly wringing his hands, the only thing keeping him from biting at them. His eyes, cloudy and unfocused, stared off into an uncertain point on the farthest wall as his brain spun in circles trying to take inventory of everything happening in the wide open room: The smell of polished wood, some sort of electric humming (likely from the lights), the scattered movement of the gang of volunteers... Oliver looked very much like a deer caught in headlights, but he was in fact incredibly alert. He just needed time to process. Even more time than usual.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his trance. Oliver flinched, startled, but opened his messages anyway.
Colby was mad at him.
Wait, why!? Who the hell was Colby? What did he want with Stu? After being knocked into a brief coma for most of the night, Oliver didn't recall enough of the afternoon to know. He kept asking until Colby finally explained what had happened.
Oh. The café...
Oliver suddenly felt nauseous. He couldn't owe money. Not now. Not today. But then Colby threatened to get parents involved. Colby, of course, didn't have any way of knowing that for Oliver, this was very nearly a death threat. And, being himself, he didn't have the capacity to understand that Stu and Vered weren't also in grave danger if their parents were alerted to their accidental larceny incident. Most kids would simply get grounded or something, or have their allowances cut until their paid the money back... Not Oliver.

Come hell or high water, now Oliver had no choice but to pay back his debt to Colby by any means necessary. And, inevitably, those means would involve more theft.
Oliver had a natural talent for getting himself into situations that forced him into crime. He was by no means a kleptomaniac, but half the time if he wanted to eat he had to shoplift. Occasionally his family would also bleed him for money they didn't have, and he'd always end up stealing it. Then there was the unlawful switchblade he carried with him at all times, though he had never been called upon to strike with it until last night. Speaking of which, he had to ask some girl who already knew too much to go find it on the beach for him, lest someone else find it first, and now he owed her a service as well.

Oliver shut his phone off again, finding himself hitting the side of his head with his free hand. He didn't know when he'd started doing that, and it took a moment for him to be able to stop. He clenched fists and shoved them in his jacket pockets, the only thing he could think of to quell his embarrassing repetitive behavior.

He should go find Stu and Vered; make sure they were alright after last night, help them out with whatever soup kitchen task they volunteered for. Try to pretend like there was some semblance of normalcy left after yesterday.





code by g o l d i e l o x x


That same stupid dream again: the one where he was stuck in the sand on the ocean floor, paralyzed, watching the last few bubbles of air escape his mouth and float to the surface. The weight of the water was crushing him; he couldn't try to swim up even if he knew how. Something scuttled over his chest, then another up his neck onto his face, into his eye...

For two minutes after he woke up, Oliver couldn't move, lying frozen on his back staring into the pitch darkness of the closet he called his room. Something tightened around his chest, twisting his mangled ribs and sucking the air from him, seeming to pull his very soul out through his mouth. In the pitch black, he felt eyes on him, hot breath in his face. He couldn't move, scream, blink, breathe...

And then it subsided. Whatever phantom creature crawled on top of him slinked back into the shadows, and he could move again. As soon as it had begun, he'd nearly forgotten the whole episode.

Still, the five hours of sleep he'd gotten seemed pointless now.

Weakly untangling himself from his sheets, he pulled himself upright, bracing himself for the jolt of pain that immediately cut through his torso, and the wave of nausea that followed it. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd woken up to broken ribs and a blinding headache, and it most certainly would not be the last, but dear god, it would always be just as excruciating as the time before.

What he did know, though, was that the pain would go away. Hissing through his clenched teeth to avoid crying out, he slowly, silently counted to thirty. By fifteen, he no longer felt like he was about to collapse. By thirty he could almost see straight again, though the bitter ache remained.

Cautiously sliding the closet door open so as not to let it creak, he crept into the bathroom for a very stealthy shower in the dark and then got dressed as quietly as he could. Without the light, he was spared a look at his face in the mirror: at his bandaged cheek, and the dark bruises marring the right side of his face from his eye socket down to his jawline. He tried to convince himself he didn't look that bad, and the best way to do that was simply not to look at all. Shyly running a hand through his hair, he slipped back out and ran for the door, stopping only to grab his shoes (which still had sand in them, much to his dismay.)

He stiffly walked through the streets towards the quieter part of town where the church was, guided by his beloved Google Maps. Well... sort of. Oliver was having a concerning amount of difficulty reading the map. As he looked at it, the street names seemed to melt together into unreadable text, the roads and pathways stretching and switching places every time he blinked.

This greatly distressed Oliver, who was absolutely enchanted by maps; always had been, really. Something about being able to see everything laid out and to scale, perfectly aligned to real life... He found it comforting. If only everything could be drawn out so succinctly. But now, even maps seemed to be failing him.

It took longer for him to get to the church than it otherwise might have, given that he'd been stumbling in circles around town in an effort to navigate through the brain fog. By the time he could see the building over the neighborhood rooftops, he was once again exhausted and terribly out of breath, his barely-healed lung unwilling to keep up his pace. After giving himself a moment at the fence to let the burning feeling of suffocation subside, he entered the church for the very first time.

The instant the doors closed, Oliver felt very out of place. Though a sizeable group had gathered, it was relatively quiet and peaceful inside, which he normally would have appreciated very much-- but this was a new place for him, and he had no idea how to feel about it.
He kept tightly wringing his hands, the only thing keeping him from biting at them. His eyes, cloudy and unfocused, stared off into an uncertain point on the farthest wall as his brain spun in circles trying to take inventory of everything happening in the wide open room: The smell of polished wood, some sort of electric humming (likely from the lights), the scattered movement of the gang of volunteers... Oliver looked very much like a deer caught in headlights, but he was in fact incredibly alert. He just needed time to process. Even more time than usual.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his trance. Oliver flinched, startled, but opened his messages anyway.
Colby was mad at him.
Wait, why!? Who the hell was Colby? What did he want with Stu? After being knocked into a brief coma for most of the night, Oliver didn't recall enough of the afternoon to know. He kept asking until Colby finally explained what had happened.
Oh. The café...
Oliver suddenly felt nauseous. He couldn't owe money. Not now. Not today. But then Colby threatened to get parents involved. Colby, of course, didn't have any way of knowing that for Oliver, this was very nearly a death threat. And, being himself, he didn't have the capacity to understand that Stu and Vered weren't also in grave danger if their parents were alerted to their accidental larceny incident. Most kids would simply get grounded or something, or have their allowances cut until their paid the money back... Not Oliver.

Come hell or high water, now Oliver had no choice but to pay back his debt to Colby by any means necessary. And, inevitably, those means would involve more theft.
Oliver had a natural talent for getting himself into situations that forced him into crime. He was by no means a kleptomaniac, but half the time if he wanted to eat he had to shoplift. Occasionally his family would also bleed him for money they didn't have, and he'd always end up stealing it. Then there was the unlawful switchblade he carried with him at all times, though he had never been called upon to strike with it until last night. Speaking of which, he had to ask some girl who already knew too much to go find it on the beach for him, lest someone else find it first, and now he owed her a service as well.

Oliver shut his phone off again, finding himself hitting the side of his head with his free hand. He didn't know when he'd started doing that, and it took a moment for him to be able to stop. He clenched fists and shoved them in his jacket pockets, the only thing he could think of to quell his embarrassing repetitive behavior.

He should go find Stu and Vered; make sure they were alright after last night, help them out with whatever soup kitchen task they volunteered for. Try to pretend like there was some semblance of normalcy left after yesterday.
 

le reveur

𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘’𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

















mood



serene



location



abdella estate > soup kitchen



outfit





tags



interactions: npcs
interacting: n/a













hyacinth



she’s made of sweet tea & poetry






Mornings were always the favorite part of her day. The way the sunlight filtered through her curtains, casting a warm, golden glow throughout her bedroom was a sight that always greeted her as she opened her eyes. Sometimes she stayed in bed for just a minute longer to enjoy the feeling of warm light on her skin. It made her feel she felt warm inside, filled with that light which made her want to start the day. The sound of birds singing their tunes by her bedroom window brought up the urge to sing alongside them, and sometimes she did just that.

This morning in particular was even better since she would be spending it helping the community once again. Hyacinth was a frequent volunteer at the soup kitchen even before Pastor Martin had asked for help after the storm. With how often she went she knew many of the staff and those who came to eat by name. There were many times when, instead of serving food, she’d talk with some of them. Their stories were always interesting to hear and she knew how nice it was to have someone to talk to. She couldn’t wait to arrive and greet everyone. And this time she planned on bringing a treat as well. Hyacinth really hoped that they liked mini apple pies. Luckily she had Amir to help with carrying the other basket full.


Hyacinth looked down at the small child in her lap. She had gone from serving food to passing out her mini apple pies and then sitting down to chat. Little Sunshine and her mother were regulars at the kitchen. Hyacinth knew that Rachel and Sunshine were one of the less fortunate residents of town. When she would see them Hyacinth would always stop to speak with them, genuinely wanting to know how they were doing and if they needed anything. But each time Rachel assured her that they were fine.

“You’re such a pretty girl Sunshine. I love your dress.” Hyacinth smiled down at her, playing with a strand of her curly brown hair. Rachel sat in front of them, enjoying her food in peace now that her daughter was distracted. The little girl was fine with sitting on Hyacinth’s lap, talking on and on about anything and everything to someone who was more than willing to listen to her and keep up with her. Hyacinth soft brushing of her hair soon turned into braiding the wild curls.

As time passed more children began to arrive at the table, each of them wanting Hyacinth’s attention on them and she was more than happy to give it. Eventually the table was full of them, with Hyacinth sitting in the middle. Another child by the name of Elijah sat in her lap, his face tucked into her neck as he began to fall asleep. Another, Darius, leaned against her side as he talked about his visit to his grandma’s. Hyacinth was clearly happy with what was going on, humming quietly as two twins braided her hair.










nine lives

 

le reveur

𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘’𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

















mood



”I don’t wanna be here.”



location



soup kitchen pantry



outfit





tags



interactions: n/a
mentions: n/a













aisha



too glam to give a damn






The fact that she was here alone was enough to put her in a sour mood. If it was one thing that she couldn’t stand, it was being told what to do and being forced to do something. It was a sure fire way to make her not want to do something most of the time. Aisha was pretty sure that the soup kitchen would be fine without her being there. With the amount of people who usually volunteered it wasn’t like they were short staffed. But no, her parents had decided that their children needed to go out and help. The thought made her roll her eyes. She really couldn’t wait until the day came where she could leave Parish Point. Aisha was counting the days until it was time to graduate and head to college. She had been working her ass off, making sure that her grades were flawless in order to get into her dream school and far away from town.

However things could be worse for her. Luckily for Aisha she had been assigned a fairly easy job in the back, taking stock of all the food that was available and the food that was about to run out or needed. She had moved to the large pantry with her clipboard in hand, writing down everything that she counted. The door was kept open with a chair pressed against it because the pastor had mentioned something about it locking once it was closed or something. And the last thing she needed was to be stuck inside any longer than she had to be.

Every now and then her brother would come in with things to put away and when he commented on her grumpy face she’d only rolled her eyes and punched him. Aisha stopped what she was doing a few times in favor of getting on her phone and messing around. While easy, her task wasn’t the most exciting. So she leaned against one of the shelves with her back to the door. Fenty Skin was having a sale and she needed to stock up.









nine lives

 

tamarapasek

Member
Ashley tossed and turned in bed, not wishing to get up. For her excessive drinking last night had led to a pretty crappy rite of passage. The dreaded hangover.

Her head banged as if someone had taken a sword and stabbed her through the back, and the blade escaped through her forehead. The main difference was that this had a bright side. Her father didn’t have to know she was drinking last night, whereas being stabbed through the head would be significantly harder to explain. Not impossible, just harder.

She groaned, her hands reaching to cup her face as if that would help. And to the surprise of nobody,

And somehow miraculously things got worse. She unplugged her phone, to check the time and her eyes widened in horror. She had overslept. But much like the hangover there was a bright spot. She was a master at oversleeping and still making it through the door.

As soon as she had realized that she had all of 30 minutes to prepare, she lept to autopilot. What happened next was a curious dance between herself, her closet, her headache, and the furniture she banged her body into. She dashed around her bedroom, preparing the stuff she needed in advance so all she had to do was shower. Clothing, phone, power bank, notebook, bag, wallet. She checked the alarm to get a read on time. Crud.

10 minutes? She had 10 minutes to take a bath, dress up, and go to church? Oh hell no. It would take at least 5 minutes to walk to church, and she had a reputation for taking a long time to was her hair. It was time for a judgement call. She stepped into the bathroom for a very fast shower. Though a reasonable person might have considered that enough, Ashley was not a reasonable person. She took her shampoo, and conditioner and threw them into her backpack.

The church had a bathroom right? She could simply wash her hair inside the sink.

Satisfied that she wouldn’t have to sacrifice her routine, she quickly changed into a simple floral dress, and cardigan. Definitely church appropriate, without being ugly.For some reason the thought of not looking as pretty as she could possibly be, at the French’s Soup Kitchen was unacceptable.


She exited her house, wishing her father goodbye with as perky of a tone as she could muster. If he had any hint that his daughter had a hangover he......... he would be very disappointed and let it go. And somehow that was worse than getting into trouble.

She walked the streets, with her hand shielding her eyes from the scorching sun. She’d always been sensitive to UV rays, but the searing pain in her head made it all the more unbearable.


The town and it’s twists and turns in the road were all successfully navigated by Ashley. She’d gone to church many a time, though she rarely disclosed her belief in God to anybody. Truthfully she felt a puff of pride in her chest that she would at last be doing something to help them. She spotted the building, and started to head towards it. Only for her to stop and notice something in the corner of her eye. A convenience store.

It was the perfect place to wash her hair, since she knew for a fact that there was a bathroom in there. And she also knew for a fact that Stu the kid who ran away from her loved the Kit-Kat’s that happened to be sold there. And if she got him one, then maybe he would actually like her and not want to avoid her! So really even if she arrived late it was killing two birds with one stone.

Her mind made up, she entered the store, and asked for the bathroom. “I’m so sorry but you can only go in if you buy something.” The owner smiled, with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. “Four Kit-Kat’s please!” She dig into her wallet picking out her hard earned babysitting money to pay for them. One for her, one for Stu, one for Oliver, and one for the other kid who hung out with them. Satisfied, the owner handed her the keys to the bathroom. With a triumphant grin(as if she’d done anything other than buy free candy for a bunch of socially awkward nerds who didn’t give her the time of day), she stepped into the room to wash her hair.

After she’d throughly taken care of the hair that had been her pride and joy for years, she left the store to enter the church. There was already a decently sized group, though that was to be expected since her little escape in the convenience store had actually lost her time.

Ordinarily she would’ve stuck with the group, but today she felt differently. She had a mission to make Stu want to be her friend, and the best way to do that was by hanging out with their mutual friend Oliver who just so happened to be right there. “Hey Oliver!” She grinned, walking up to him. Sure her body told her to shriek like a demon, from her pain, but she’d spent her whole life pretending to be happier than she actually was, and this was nothing more than another challenge.

Chimney Swift Chimney Swift
 

Chimney Swift

Allergic to Charisma











Oliver





location



The Church



mood



Nervous



tags








"Hey, Oliver!"

Through the hazy distorted sounds in the room, Oliver heard his voice called by someone close-by on his left side. He didn't turn his head, mulling the voice over in his head until he identified it: Ashley. Someone friendly and relatively harmless, at least to the best of his knowledge. Oliver actually liked Ashley quite a bit, though he rarely said a word to her (one could blame the fact that she always seemed to find him at his worst moments). Still, he didn't look at her or smile or even outwardly acknowledge her aside from stiffening up a bit as she spoke to him. Rude, perhaps, but he absolutely didn't intend to be.

He seemed to struggle a bit, stammering softly under his breath before he spoke up properly. "...Hey, Ashley." He risked a glance in her direction, noting with some relief that she looked unhurt. Tatum was right, perhaps, that Ryan had been after Oliver alone last night. Evidently, Ashley wasn't too fazed by the fact that Oliver looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the side of his face, or that his posture was even more curled up and defensive than it always was.

He was shocked that she even wanted to talk to him... you know, after what he did. Did she know? She might not have seen. It seemed, though, that people knew. Ryan wasted no time in making the incident public on Twitter.

He kept his hands tightly clenched in his pockets, rocking back and forth slightly on his feet. "Ashley..." he started again after an awkward silence, digging his teeth into his lower lip. "You-- you were at the party, right?" He honestly wasn’t sure. He had only fragmented and disorganized recollection of the last few days, as though someone had hastily chopped up his recent memories with a pair of scissors. "Are people mad at me?" His voice cracked a little as he got to the point, still shying away from Ashley by keeping his gaze averted to the wall. He wanted to ask after Stu and Vered, but he didn't even know if he wanted to see his friends right now, after what Colby had threatened. He didn't know... perhaps they were mad at him too. He didn't know why they would be, but so much had gone wrong and he didn't even remember all of it, and it all felt like his fault. He'd had friends for one day. One damn day. And already he was doing a horrible job of it.





code by g o l d i e l o x x


"Hey, Oliver!"

Through the hazy distorted sounds in the room, Oliver heard his voice called by someone close-by on his left side. He didn't turn his head, mulling the voice over in his head until he identified it: Ashley. Someone friendly and relatively harmless, at least to the best of his knowledge. Oliver actually liked Ashley quite a bit, though he rarely said a word to her (one could blame the fact that she always seemed to find him at his worst moments). Still, he didn't look at her or smile or even outwardly acknowledge her aside from stiffening up a bit as she spoke to him. Rude, perhaps, but he absolutely didn't intend to be.

He seemed to struggle a bit, stammering softly under his breath before he spoke up properly. "...Hey, Ashley." He risked a glance in her direction, noting with some relief that she looked unhurt. Tatum was right, perhaps, that Ryan had been after Oliver alone last night. Evidently, Ashley wasn't too fazed by the fact that Oliver looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the side of his face, or that his posture was even more curled up and defensive than it always was.

He was shocked that she even wanted to talk to him... you know, after what he did. Did she know? She might not have seen. It seemed, though, that people knew. Ryan wasted no time in making the incident public on Twitter.

He kept his hands tightly clenched in his pockets, rocking back and forth slightly on his feet. "Ashley..." he started again after an awkward silence, digging his teeth into his lower lip. "You-- you were at the party, right?" He honestly wasn’t sure. He had only fragmented and disorganized recollection of the last few days, as though someone had hastily chopped up his recent memories with a pair of scissors. "Are people mad at me?" His voice cracked a little as he got to the point, still shying away from Ashley by keeping his gaze averted to the wall. He wanted to ask after Stu and Vered, but he didn't even know if he wanted to see his friends right now, after what Colby had threatened. He didn't know... perhaps they were mad at him too. He didn't know why they would be, but so much had gone wrong and he didn't even remember all of it, and it all felt like his fault. He'd had friends for one day. One damn day. And already he was doing a horrible job of it.
 
Last edited:

Soap

soap, master of hearts.
MOOD: Stressed, anxious.

OUTFIT: an outfit that’s bound to get stained, but that’s okay. She got it from goodwill.

LOCATION: Soup Kitchen
basics
MENTIONS: Clark, Isa @Iskolde k o r o l k o r o l


INT: N/A
tags
TL;DR Josie’s ordering everyone around and failing to peel carrots.
tl;dr
Josephine
Some day, I’ll be’ livin in a big ol’ city.

The party had been a disaster. People were fighting, crying, probably hooking up and Josie heard someone had gotten stabbed? After Isa had... essentially gotten her home— surprisingly safe. She hadn’t heard from her since.

It’d only been a day, so Josie wasn’t thinking anything of it. It was only when she had sat in Clark’s truck trying to convince him Isa would show for all around forty or so minutes before Clark had let her down with the news that Isabella was in fact, not coming. It felt a little dumb to wait around for a text all day as to why she decided to not show earlier this morning. But here she was, constantly checking her phone at every notification that would come through.

Josephine sighed, putting her phone in her back pocket and got to work. She’d gotten here hours ago, with the help of Clark of course— no way Josie was about to drive at the crack of dawn to arrive at the church all on her lonesome. Hopefully Clark didn’t mind, but Pastor Martin needed her here early so... Josie had to be early.

A people-pleaser was at the top of her list of personality traits. Josephine just hoped people didn’t see that as a negative one. Besides, it was for a good cause!

“Samuel, I need trays at the front and end of the serving lines. Eleanor, you can start peeling carrots— Or actually, I will. That’s fine. You can umm...”

It was kinda funny for Josie to be ordering everyone around. Martin had put Josie in charge earlier this morning, to quote him specifically.

‘You have good leadership skills.’

Which quite obviously shocked her, but she accepted the position nonetheless.

Telling people what to do wasn’t too hard, since most of them had actually listened to her. But Eleanor was a different story. She was... what? Four times her age? Josie feels a little bad because she knows that Eleanor isn’t exactly in tip-top shape to cook or serve and she was still volunteering? She had a good heart, but a heart she shouldn’t be overworking. Her tall stature, the more or less so raspy voice that she possessed would usually intimidate some people but it was common knowledge that Eleanor was a complete teddy bear. “Josie, I’m fine. I can p—“ The older woman barely got her words out before Josie cut her off.

“You can welcome them in, a meal isn’t a happy meal without a smile.” Woah, McDonalds should totally sponsor her. She made that up all by herself! Eleanor brushed her short wavy hair back, sighing out of the slight frustration that was one Josephine Baker.

However, Eleanor was too headstrong of a woman to outright listen to charity Barbie.

“Peel the carrots in an upwards motion—with a spoon.” She said, handing her a spoon in a way that only meant— peel them correctly, or else.

Josie watched as Eleanor left the kitchen and through the window she noticed she was setting up the foldable chairs.

How was it that the adults were somehow more stubborn than the children?

“Eli, I’ll...” She hesitated glancing around the kitchen.

“Go help her, I’ll handle the green beans.” Josie wasn’t a chef, she didn’t know how to run her own kitchen! Not without a little help of course. But alas, she’d sent away all her helpers.

“Chef Josie doesn’t have the worst ring to it.” She muttered to herself, already getting started on... spooning the carrots?

Leadership skills or not, nobody said she was an excellent peeler.
code by valen t.
 

tamarapasek

Member
Ashley paused for a moment, just staring at the back of his head. She didn’t let his lack of response bother her too much. From what she had seen of him, she wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t registered her presence yet. That was what had happened at the party as she liked to believe. His eventual reaction was still pretty cold, which bothered her a little, but it wasn’t worth the fight. Anything was better than ignoring her.

A warm smile spread to her face once more as he greeted her. So he didn’t absolutely hate her after all. One out of three of his friends wasn’t too bad. At the very least she’d have one friend in this town.

She sighed noticing his somewhat stressed demeanor. It was most likely because of those awful rumors Ryan was spreading about him on Twitter. She wasn’t too fond of thinking rudely of people but the little wiener deserved it. But even she had to admit that Ryan was far too awful to warrant the benefit of the doubt. How could that sicko get off on accusing Oliver of stabbing him?

“Hmmm?” She glanced at Oliver, curious as to why he was acknowledging her. “I was.” She answered honestly, choosing to omit that she had been with him that night. It was probably for the best he didn’t remember. In fact it was probably best that nobody remembered that night.

"Mad at you?" She repeated, her voice incredulous. “Oliver nobody’s mad at you but Ryan.” She answered, thinking that was a satisfying answer. “Nobody believes that you actually stabbed him” she chuckled to herself. The mere thought of the tiny figure in front of her getting the courage to stab somebody was laughable. Sure he had a knife, but.........holy crap Oliver might’ve stabbed somebody. She stared at the floor, then at him her face changing expressions from horror to a slow nonchalance. “I’m sure you had a good reason if you did.”

Chimney Swift Chimney Swift
 

lion.

an average nobody
MOOD: shocked

OUTFIT: -

LOCATION: Beach
basics
MENTIONS:


INT:

Elf_Ruler Elf_Ruler
tags
TL;DR
tl;dr
Zachary Lee
Surf's up.



(Night Before)

Zachary Lee closed shut many doors in his lifetime, but that night he closed his front door too softly. Easing the door shut, his arm prolonged out towards the hub of the light switch. Synchronizing with Tatum Browner’s midway step up his stairs, the recessed lights of the foyer furnished with light. By the tell of time, Zach paused at the bottom of his steps, the lamps in his eyes holding still over his girlfriend who rushed up his stairs, fingers rushing up the railing. She was an awful walker in her state, but with her buoyant curls bussing about her shoulders, going on about something extraneously unconnected, and laughing without reference: Tatum Browne made his house feel less lifeless.

Checking the locks of the backdoor, Zach ambled up the stairs to his room, where he found Tatum tugging her head through the neckhole of his shirt. Their eyes met alone at once- just him and her and her and him. The functionality of his feet gave away, and in a breakthrough of anticipation, Tatum’s arms stretched out. She ran them behind the back of his neck, and kissed him. He surrendered to her then, knowing no more than that she was the surety of someone who filled his empty spaces. Hooking his teeth into her bottom lip, he deepened their salivating kiss. In procession, one thing followed the other, until her back hit his bed. Descending down on her, he caged her between his arms. Breathing in the beacon of darkness, he felt the pad of fingers trace his face.

“Zach.” His name flowed from her mouth frequently, but it was the first time in his life her lips moved with, “I love you.”

His arithmetic heartbeat jumped in the expanse of his chest in a painful split between happiness and sadness. Why did he feel terrified? Why was he searching her irises, wading into the dimensions of her rain-soaked woods eyes with no compass out?

Don’t say that, Tatum. Don’t look at me like that, not when I don’t know how to.. how to ..


“I-I,” he wanted to say it back. He really did. Instead, he cut to a forced laugh, and his hands struggled to find a place, ending up catching the wrists of her hands that were stroking his face lovingly. He quailed at that thought. He loosely pulled her hand down, away from his face.

“You’re-You’re so, so drunk.”

Yanking closer, his lips plunged back down, and cambered back down on her trying to get himself under influence by tasting the second-hand shot of alcohol on her lips. One had just found love, and the other was already trying desperately to lose it. He undressed her lips with a somber friction; because he wanted to swap places. He would rather have heard it drunk, he contemplated as his lips trailed ragingly to the corner of her mouth than down her jaw. That way, he wouldn’t be able to remember by morning. Maybe his blood sugar was already madly drunk; that is why he didn’t feel the reeling sadness or the flippantly ache of her heart. Somehow, by miracle or curse, in the pitching sounds of silent eardrums and dark rooms, and crumpled white duvet, and blank ceilings, and utter and total mayfair of midnight she could not tell what Zachary Lee felt. It chilled his bones, those three words. He was slowly zoning out again, cycling back to wishing to see moments ago back on the stairs back to when life felt simpler.
But those times were gone.

Would he ever be able to say it back?

Turning over to the side later that night, his face rested against the pillow, watching the alarm clock turn digits. His eyes felt dry and something watery suspectedly glazed over his eyes. Through blurry focuses and doubling glares he let himself peg tranquility to the resting alarm clock adjacent from him on the nightstand.

He had already lost himself. Would he lose her too? The only light at the end of his tunnel?

code by valen t.
 

Dak

Dakiest Dak their is
Jack Hamilton


Jack slowly lifted his head up as the light was shining in through his window. He was plenty tired from the night prior. He laid in his bed for a few moments. Not wanting to get up from his comfy bed. His mind was going through the night prior.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the party was done, Jack needed to get Juliet home. But she was nowhere to be found. He searched for a little while. He had found her sitting with both Tatum and Ivy. “I’m sorry ladies, but I have to get Juliet home.” He said apologizing to both Tatum and Ivy.

She was obviously too drunk to drive. It was a good thing that Jack had stopped drinking after the fight. After pulling Juliet away from the dancing, he managed to get her into her own car and drive her home. He remembered the route and got her home safely. He hopped out and helped her into her home. That was when Poncho had rushed up to him. “Hey buddy. You wanna come with me?” He asked as he was carrying Juliet through her house. He brought her up to her room and laid her on her bed. He took off her coat and boots. He didn’t want to take anything else because he felt like it wasn’t the right thing to do. He patted the bed and watched as Poncho tried to jump on the bed. Jack chuckled lightly as he picked up the little dog and placed them on the bed. He sat down on the bed for a second. He looked at Juliet. She seemed happy. Jack smiled as he ran his hand through her hair. “Good night, sweet princess.” He said lightly as he slowly made his way out of the room. He went down to the kitchen and got a glass with some water in it. He walked back up and set it on Juliet’s nightstand. She was going to need that in the morning. With that Jack had walked out of her house. He could take Juliet’s car home, but it didn’t seem right.

Jack had opted into walking home. He had pulled out his phone and loaded google maps. He sighed a sigh of relief. It seemed like his phone was finally working. He carefully made his way home. He didn’t go through the woods. He took the main roads. After about 45 minutes of walking he had made it home. He took a shower and plopped down in his bed. Normally his bed felt like it was hard as hell to fall asleep, it was surprisingly easy to fall asleep. He softly fell into a deep sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack pulled out his phone and sent Juliet a text. “Morning… Hope your feeling alright…I had fun last night.” He sent her. She had a little too much so he would understand if she was still passed out. Jack had slowly pulled himself out of bed. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and made his way to the bathroom. He took another shower and got dressed. He opened his twitter and started to just scroll. Apparently people were going to be helping out at the soup kitchen today.

MissThuy MissThuy
 

Dazzle

just thriving...
MOOD: Completely exhausted, possibly delirious

OUTFIT: outfit

LOCATION:
Te soup kitchen
basics
TL;DR Sleep deprived sad boy hayden
tl;dr
Hayden Anderson
you get what you give

Hayden didn’t sleep much the night after the party. After getting Oliver to the hospital Hayden wandered around the front of the hospital for a bit, not really wanting to be inside, too many memories. He paced back and forth just waiting, for something, anything. He knew that he wasn’t going to be given any information about Oliver’s status, but he felt awful leaving him there alone.

Hayden watched a woman, who seemed to be cursing under her breath as she walked inside the buildings sliding doors. She didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, but even so Hayden followed her in. He walked close enough to the emergency room front desk so he could hear. It was Oliver’s mom, he was out of surgery, and stable. Hayden sighed a breath of relief, Oliver would be okay, though Hayden still blamed himself for it even happening.

If he hadn’t been distracted, arguing with Tatum, he could have stopped it. Even if he came out with similar injuries, at least Ryan would have been in the hospital bed next to him.

Hayden left the Hospital; Harper though, had already gone home. She could barely stand the sight of the building. Hayden said he would call when he was ready to leave, but Hayden wanted to be by himself for a bit.

He spent the rest of the night, into the early morning walking around Parish Point, just stuck with his own thoughts. His fight with Tatum that evening brought up a lot of feelings, feelings about his mom, feelings he had about Tatum. He never meant to hurt her, he just had always had so much trouble balancing, school and spending time with his mom.

It wasn’t until around six in the morning, when the sun began to rise, that Hayden had realized how late he had truly been out. He had never texted Harper, his phone was dead, and he was almost sure she was freaking out. Possibly sending out a search party.

Hayden ran home, knowing he had to be at the soup kitchen in four hours and he was still wearing the same clothes from the previous night. He desperately needed a change of clothes, along with a shower.

----​

Hayden was clean, with a fresh set of clothing, and completely sleep deprived. He wasn’t ready for a long day of serving and may have skipped if Harper hadn’t done what she does best. Harp on him till he gave in. She went into all the reasons he had to be there. The main one being that he promised Mr. French, along with that it was a good deed and looked great on college applications.

He had a headache, and he knew if he didn’t give in it would only get worse.

Hayden quietly listened to Josie giving out *chores*, the bags under his eyes were dark. His was exhausted, he kept putting the soup in the juice cups (that happened to be already filled by the Madi who was in the assembly line ahead of him). “I’m sorry.”

Hayden put his head in his hands, effectively putting soup in his hair. “Dammit.” He shook his head; his day just was not getting any better. “I didn’t sleep last night.” A small smirk grew on his face, he wasn’t sure if he found the entire situation funny, or if he was just becoming delirious from lack of sleep. “I didn’t see you at the beach last night, did you come?”
code by valen t.
 

Elf_Ruler

Basically Santa ^_^
He didn’t say it back. That had been the thought running through Tatum’s mind all night and sleep had been more difficult than she had expected. She had woken up on more than one occasion, her back facing Zach, she had messed up. She shouldn’t have said anything, she should have known. Her heart hurt and the only thing she could do was act like it never happened. She couldn’t pressure him to say it back so maybe she could pretend like she hadn’t? The thoughts ran through her mind all night whether awake or asleep. It didn’t matter because in the end the boy she loved may not love her back.

When the sun finally began to peek over the horizon Tatum decided to get up, she still needed to get back to her dads’ car and get back home. She couldn’t go to the soup kitchen in Zach’s clothes no matter how comfy they were. Before she exited his room, she glanced back at the sleeping boy. It wasn’t a new thing for Tatum to leave it was rarer of her, but she grabbed a pencil and a scrap piece of paper, ‘Went to my car to go home and get dressed. See you at the soup kitchen’ and set it by his alarm clock. Better than just disappearing on her boyfriend. The walk to her car was quiet, she needed the air to clear her mind, clear her soul maybe. As soon as she got to her car she slid into the driver’s seat and it finally hit her that all the strength in the world couldn’t prepare her for the pain she was feeling. She let a few tears slide before drove home.

The time for her to get home, change, and make her way to the soup kitchen didn’t take much time. Though she half expected Zach to text her back and he hadn’t responded to any of texts all of them saying read. He was mad. She was going to have to act like nothing had happened. In her last-ditch attempt, all she needed to know is if he was mad and behold! He responded. Before she had walked in, her phone had been going off from Twitter and the conversation was about Zach and Aisha, and that was enough for her to log out. She couldn’t handle that, not while she had to act like she didn’t say those three words to Zach. Act like her day was going well. Though, the second she had gotten back on Zach had messaged her and she had no heart to fight with him, or. Hear his explanation. She was fine, she would be fine. Right now, she wanted to know if she was a bad girlfriend, if that’s why things failed with Hayden, and she felt like she was failing with Zach.

Getting orders from Josie wasn’t bad, but Tatum’s head was pounding, in all of her thoughts she never thought to take any painkillers for her hangover. How had she survived this long without anything?

Mention(s): lion. lion.
Interaction(s): open
 

Dazzle

just thriving...
MOOD: hungover, hating the world

OUTFIT: last nights wear, bed head galore

LOCATION: Noemie's floor/Colby's truck by the beach
basics

INT:
@mel0_mang0 [
MENTIONS:
@Elf_Ruler
@lion.
@k o r o l
@Chimney Swift
COMMENT]



--------don't type anything after this comment--------



[/COMMENT]
tags
TL;DR Annoyed by people, thus annoying colby for fun
tl;dr
Maxine Rhodes
she wears darkness, like some wear the little black dress

It was a long night, Maxine of course had fun, like she always did. But, that came with consequences. Isa was now mad at her, over a drunken kiss that meant nothing. But that was what parties were for, letting loose, letting go, and finding someone hot to be with. She was annoyed that Isa of all people would judge her for that. It wasn’t like Isa deserved a say in who she decided to swap spit with.

Maxine hated how much emotion Isa was putting behind a drunken kiss, did she not know sometimes people kissed, just to kiss. Why did she keep mentioning people getting hurt, Noemie wasn’t going to hurt Maxine, and Maxine had no plans to hurt Noemie. She had no plans to pursue Noemie any further than they had, she was just there. Maxine was sure she felt the same way too… Right?

Maxine woke up early the next morning, on the floor next to her drunken name twin Max. She rolled her eyes, she had a slight headache, complete bed head, and sand in places she did not want sand.

Groaning slightly she lifted herself up onto one arm, unlocking her phone to find it was down to 15% ‘fuck’ she swore under her breath. “damn iPhones.”

She noticed a notification in her messages, from Colby, of course. Her eyes widened, remembering he was supposed to have driven her home. She thought he was likely looking all over for her.



No, no, she was wrong, he was completely hammered, and looking for help. What. A. Shock. At least he didn’t decide to drive home.



Maxine rolled back over propping herself up, yea. It was time to go. She didn’t want to hear anything else about the party the night before, she was done with Isa giving her the silent treatment. Maxine wanted to get going, and now was the time, plus she needed to find Colby.

The sun hadn’t even begun to rise, and Maxine was gathering her things, which was only a phone and her backpack. There wasn’t much Maxine needed, she swung the close to empty backpack onto her shoulder and made her way down the stairs of Noemie’s mini apartment.

Her feet stepped lightly and quickly down every step, in an attempt not to wake anyone. She pulled her hood up over her head. And took off working heading straight for the beach, now she wasn’t running. Her brain wouldn’t let her move faster than a speedy walk.

Stopping by a convenience store on the way, the only one that happened to be open at this time in the morning. It was now four thirty and she was sure Colby was dying, if he was even still alive at this point. She tossed two water bottles and a five-dollar bill on the counter. Barely making eye contact with the clerk at the desk.

The night early morning clerk exchanged her bills without a word, handing her back fifty cents in change. Maxine scooped up the water bottles and headed back out towards the beach. Keeping an eye out for Colby’s truck. She couldn’t wait to tell him the night she had. He was going to be so jealous that she got to make out with Noemie.

But then again, he did seem to have eyes for someone else…

Speaking of which, where the hell did Tatum go last night… Everything was pretty foggy before and after the kiss.. Maxine could only blame the whiskey.

She wondered if Colby had got to spend anytime with her, or if he had ever gotten away from Zach. That would have been pretty lame if he got stuck with him for the entire night…

‘Unless... That was the true blonde he wanted’ she chuckled to herself. Of course, she knew that Colby wasn’t into Zach… She was at least 89% sure of that.

Finally finding Colby’s truck, which turned out way harder than it should have been, she peered into the window seeing the poor baby. Curled up in a ball, under a giant coffee bean sack. Had that seriously been the blanket he had been talking about.

She rolled her eyes, she thought about how she should wake him before tapping on the glass. It felt like she was tapping on the glass of the fish tanks at the pet store.

When he didn’t even stir, Maxine did the only rationally thing she could think of in her hungover state.



Maxine balled her hand into a fist and started to bang on the window, until Colby woke up.



Of course this wasn’t long, as it likely sounded like a bomb was going off outside of his car to an extremely hungover Colby.



She stepped back as Colby swung open the door, obviously annoyed by Maxine’s Antics, but what else was new.



Maxine crossed her arms tilting her head. “Good morning sleeping beauty.” A sly smirk crossed her lips. “You move fast for being sooo hungover.” She tossed the water bottle to her friend, just so he wouldn’t choose violence after her rude awakening.



Maxine leaned against his driver side door, “So are you going to tell me what happened to you last night?” She raised her eyebrows, leaning her cheek against his car window. Damn was she tired.
.
code by valen t.
 

Chimney Swift

Allergic to Charisma











Oliver





location



The Church



mood



Tense



tags








Oliver nodded weakly as Ashley reassured that nobody but Ryan was out to get him. Why would she say that? His cheeks turned red underneath the bruises and bandaging, his shoulders rounding as he dug his fists further into his pockets. She didn't really think that, did she? What about the kid he nearly blinded with a crab? Oliver didn't remember anything about that kid: his name (Oliver was assuming they were a he), what he looked like, what he did after that... for all he knew it was Stu or Vered who got knocked with a rogue crustacean. That thought chilled him to the very core.

Ashley continued, alluding to the attack, first laughing off the idea that Oliver would pull a knife on Ryan, but then... “I’m sure you had a good reason if you did.” Oliver seemed to jerk back as if given a static electric shock. He gasped, a little too sharply for his five rib fractures and weakened lung, and devolved into wheezy half-breaths as he ducked his head to try and keep some composure. When he felt like he could breathe again without screaming, he straightened up and gave Ashley an apologetic lopsided smile. He offered in response only a barely audible "...Mhm..." Not the most convincing way to suggest he didn't stick Ryan in the gut.

Oliver was not good at lying. Or keeping secrets. Never had been, though he was called upon often to do it. He didn't even realize that his face and mannerisms gave it all away in an instant. That sort of knowledge was unattainable to him, but he made up for it with other areas of expertise. Like math, and navigation, and crime.

He had little else to say to Ashley, feeling somewhat as though his throat were closing up, but he continued anyway; mostly just to prove a point that he could speak after all. "Ashley, uh... so. I meant to ask, but..." he cleared his throat, eyes tightly closed as if he thought that would help him find words. "Last night, after... ah-- um... Vered and Stu, they're okay? Right? Tell me what happened. I don't know. I just... I don't know."







code by g o l d i e l o x x


Oliver nodded weakly as Ashley reassured that nobody but Ryan was out to get him. Why would she say that? His cheeks turned red underneath the bruises and bandaging, his shoulders rounding as he dug his fists further into his pockets. She didn't really think that, did she? What about the kid he nearly blinded with a crab? Oliver didn't remember anything about that kid: his name (Oliver was assuming they were a he), what he looked like, what he did after that... for all he knew it was Stu or Vered who got knocked with a rogue crustacean. That thought chilled him to the very core.

Ashley continued, alluding to the attack, first laughing off the idea that Oliver would pull a knife on Ryan, but then... “I’m sure you had a good reason if you did.” Oliver seemed to jerk back as if given a static electric shock. He gasped, a little too sharply for his five rib fractures and weakened lung, and devolved into wheezy half-breaths as he ducked his head to try and keep some composure. When he felt like he could breathe again without screaming, he straightened up and gave Ashley an apologetic lopsided smile. He offered in response only a barely audible "...Mhm..." Not the most convincing way to suggest he didn't stick Ryan in the gut.

Oliver was not good at lying. Or keeping secrets. Never had been, though he was called upon often to do it. He didn't even realize that his face and mannerisms gave it all away in an instant. That sort of knowledge was unattainable to him, but he made up for it with other areas of expertise. Like math, and navigation, and crime.

He had little else to say to Ashley, feeling somewhat as though his throat were closing up, but he continued anyway; mostly just to prove a point that he could speak after all. "Ashley, uh... so. I meant to ask, but..." he cleared his throat, eyes tightly closed as if he thought that would help him find words. "Last night, after... ah-- um... Vered and Stu, they're okay? Right? Tell me what happened. I don't know. I just... I don't know."
 
Last edited:

tamarapasek

Member
Ashley wasn’t even remotely flustered by Oliver’s reaction. They hadn’t interacted too much in real life, but this was pretty much how she’d expected him to behave. Though a bit selfish of her, she would’ve taken any amount of bizarre behavior over her own private humiliation the other night. She had specifically chosen the pale nerds because she thought they wouldn’t make her nervous. Now she was jumping through hoops in an effort to get them to like her. More specifically Stu, who utterly baffled her more than Oliver or Vered .

The mere thought of their behavior the other night infuriated her to no end. Oliver she could excuse. He was having a bizarre panic attack similar to the one he was having now. Again she might have been more flustered by this had she not previously interacted with him on titter. Vered? Well maybe he was just shy. She wasn’t mad as him too much. But he was on thin ass ice.

It was Stu that occupied her thoughts. She would’ve liked to befriend him, but that was not the main thing on her brain. It was the sheer audacity to look at her face and run away. She’d even heard that he’d rather piss in the sand than stay one more second with her. After all that’s what happened to Oliver before right? Stu hated him and avoided him. But rather than scowl in silence she decided to try and win him over with friendship. The mere thought of another person deciding she wasn’t worth being around was too much to handle. But unlike her mother’s refusal to let her visit since the divorce, she could control Stu not hating her.

Her eyes wandered the kitchen looking for him or maybe even Carol so she could ask about coffee recipes when Oliver suddenly sold. "Yeah?" her voice softened, similar to the way a mother would talk to a scared child. "Vered and Stu......” she trailed off trying to recall their fates. “I saw Vered on Twitter after the fight. Stu........” She paused again. “I don’t know about Stu.”

Chimney Swift Chimney Swift
 

Chimney Swift

Allergic to Charisma











Ivy





location



Town Hall



mood



Bored



tags



Team Protest






The Pinkerton Home, a decrepit sort of building surrounded by fence on the outskirts of Parish Point, housed some couple dozen hollow and disillusioned teenagers. They'd drift in and out, usually sent back to their homes or adopted out (or taken to prison) within a year. Most had been taken away due to abuse or neglect, a handful were orphans. A smaller handful, which included one Ivy Dawkins, had been cast off by their family's own volition.

It wasn't as though Ivy particularly cared. The wealthy Washington DC family that adopted her out of Russia wanted a sweet and charming little girl they could pat themselves on the back for saving.
Instead, they got an Ivy.

Ivy was actually sort of glad to have landed in Parish Point after that whole disaster. This town was fraught with chaos and she loved it. Just yesterday, she'd been drunk out of her mind watching strangers' friendships explode from a safe distance.
She'd also apparently eaten a fistful of sand. She'd woken up with sand on every inch of her body: in her mouth, her ears, her hair...
It took a good long while to wash it all off. Afterwards, she stepped onto the old bathroom scale, making a face at the number that flickered onto the digital screen, before getting dressed to riot. Most of the clothes she owned weren't that appropriate for the amount of running around and cop-punching she planned on doing, so she improvised with a purple gradient t-shirt, black jeans, lilac high-top sneakers, and an odd dark grey regency blazer (it was still pretty cold out, and Ivy was skinny enough that she needed to dress for it.)

The hangover wasn't that bad. Just the usual feeling of being halfway over a mild flu. Actually, she didn't quite feel over last night's bender at all. Perfect.

She didn't know who all else would be there to harass the mayor. She didn't particularly care about the whale incident, or about whatever it was the mayor was doing that Mark Berkinstock or whatever his name was thought was so horrible.
All Ivy cared about was how damn angry adults got when kids exercised their civilian rights. It was absolutely tantalizing.

Tucking her secret can of pepper spray into her blazer, she walked out of her dismal group home without telling anyone. They wouldn't miss her. If anyone asked, she was at the church soup kitchen being a Goody Girl Scout.

The walk to town hall was long without her roller skates, but Ivy trudged along anyway, caring not a button for the cold or the damp debris that still lay over the streets from yesterday's storm. At least the roads weren't flooded anymore. Finally she reached the center of town, where the narrow neighborhood streets widened into a more open square dotted with shops and offices, and towering neatly over the cobblestones was the pillared town hall. A cold, uninviting building with just enough historic charm to not seem brutalist. Ivy always hated the town hall, which stood aside the probate and family court buildings. She'd been stuck waiting for more hours on benches there than she'd like to reminisce on. Luckily, Ivy was not easily wounded by memory. She had a knack for brushing things off that was so impressive that it prevented her from learning a lot of important life lessons.

She hopped up the steps of the town hall, climbing up onto one of the window ledges and peering inside. Dark... looked like they'd beat the suits there. Should be fun when they showed up. She also beat the rest of the protest team. She took her position sitting astride the railing on the front steps, idly swinging her legs and surveying her surroundings for things that could be weaponized when they were inevitably demanded to leave the premises. Some of the cobblestones on the walkway looked loose, and there were still a few fallen tree branches strewn about from the storm. She climbed of the railing and jumped the side of the steps to pick up one about the length and width of her forearm, scaling her way back up to her spot and smacking it into her hand like a baseball bat. She probably couldn't do much damage with a half-rotten stick, but it felt cooler and more like a proper riot this way.

This should be fun, she thought. The party, while mildly amusing, had ended on sort of a sour note when Tatum shoved her aside to waltz off with her stale blond boyfriend. That was just insulting, and the whimsy of being drunk on a beach quickly wore off when nobody wanted to swim with her or blow up the kegs, and eventually everyone stumbled home guided by their sober friends.

That was how most teenage parties ended. Everyone just sort of gave up before anything really terrible happened. Well-- there was the part where that faint-hearted dork kid from Ivy's Computer Science class gored Ryan fucking Gustavo with a butter knife, but sadly Ivy hadn't been there to catch that one and no one had caught it on video. Lame.

Today, though, she wouldn't miss the chaos. She would orchestrate it.




code by g o l d i e l o x x



The Pinkerton Home, a decrepit sort of building surrounded by fence on the outskirts of Parish Point, housed some couple dozen hollow and disillusioned teenagers. They'd drift in and out, usually sent back to their homes or adopted out (or taken to prison) within a year. Most had been taken away due to abuse or neglect, a handful were orphans. A smaller handful, which included one Ivy Dawkins, had been cast off by their family's own volition.

It wasn't as though Ivy particularly cared. The wealthy Washington DC family that adopted her out of Russia wanted a sweet and charming little girl they could pat themselves on the back for saving.
Instead, they got an Ivy.

Ivy was actually sort of glad to have landed in Parish Point after that whole disaster. This town was fraught with chaos and she loved it. Just yesterday, she'd been drunk out of her mind watching strangers' friendships explode from a safe distance.
She'd also apparently eaten a fistful of sand. She'd woken up with sand on every inch of her body: in her mouth, her ears, her hair...
It took a good long while to wash it all off. Afterwards, she stepped onto the old bathroom scale, making a face at the number that flickered onto the digital screen, before getting dressed to riot. Most of the clothes she owned weren't that appropriate for the amount of running around and cop-punching she planned on doing, so she improvised with a purple gradient t-shirt, black jeans, lilac high-top sneakers, and an odd dark grey regency blazer (it was still pretty cold out, and Ivy was skinny enough that she needed to dress for it.)

The hangover wasn't that bad. Just the usual feeling of being halfway over a mild flu. Actually, she didn't quite feel over last night's bender at all. Perfect.

She didn't know who all else would be there to harass the mayor. She didn't particularly care about the whale incident, or about whatever it was the mayor was doing that Mark Berkinstock or whatever his name was thought was so horrible.
All Ivy cared about was how damn angry adults got when kids exercised their civilian rights. It was absolutely tantalizing.

Tucking her secret can of pepper spray into her blazer, she walked out of her dismal group home without telling anyone. They wouldn't miss her. If anyone asked, she was at the church soup kitchen being a Goody Girl Scout.

The walk to town hall was long without her roller skates, but Ivy trudged along anyway, caring not a button for the cold or the damp debris that still lay over the streets from yesterday's storm. At least the roads weren't flooded anymore. Finally she reached the center of town, where the narrow neighborhood streets widened into a more open square dotted with shops and offices, and towering neatly over the cobblestones was the pillared town hall. A cold, uninviting building with just enough historic charm to not seem brutalist. Ivy always hated the town hall, which stood aside the probate and family court buildings. She'd been stuck waiting for more hours on benches there than she'd like to reminisce on. Luckily, Ivy was not easily wounded by memory. She had a knack for brushing things off that was so impressive that it prevented her from learning a lot of important life lessons.

She hopped up the steps of the town hall, climbing up onto one of the window ledges and peering inside. Dark... looked like they'd beat the suits there. Should be fun when they showed up. She also beat the rest of the protest team. She took her position sitting astride the railing on the front steps, idly swinging her legs and surveying her surroundings for things that could be weaponized when they were inevitably demanded to leave the premises. Some of the cobblestones on the walkway looked loose, and there were still a few fallen tree branches strewn about from the storm. She climbed of the railing and jumped the side of the steps to pick up one about the length and width of her forearm, scaling her way back up to her spot and smacking it into her hand like a baseball bat. She probably couldn't do much damage with a half-rotten stick, but it felt cooler and more like a proper riot this way.

This should be fun, she thought. The party, while mildly amusing, had ended on sort of a sour note when Tatum shoved her aside to waltz off with her stale blond boyfriend. That was just insulting, and the whimsy of being drunk on a beach quickly wore off when nobody wanted to swim with her or blow up the kegs, and eventually everyone stumbled home guided by their sober friends.

That was how most teenage parties ended. Everyone just sort of gave up before anything really terrible happened. Well-- there was the part where that faint-hearted dork kid from Ivy's Computer Science class gored Ryan fucking Gustavo with a butter knife, but sadly Ivy hadn't been there to catch that one and no one had caught it on video. Lame.

Today, though, she wouldn't miss the chaos. She would orchestrate it.
 

Dede

McNugget
Stu

Stu was grunting from a back so sore he walked like the hunchback of Notre Dame. He had done all the unloading from the car by himself and THEN all the other kids decided to show up. If only they had arrived a few minutes sooner! If only he had waited a couple minutes!

As things stood (or barely stood) he dragged his broken bones back inside and began scanning for some familiar faces. He wasn’t sure if Oliver and Vered were coming, or if they even remembered about the Soup Kitchen. They were going to leave the party early last night, to go home and make popcorn and watch Star Wars. But thanks to Evie, he spent the night smelling of sewage and trying to wash himself clean, fighting his fear of the ocean.

By the time he returned to the party dripping like a wet puppy, both Oliver and Vered were nowhere to be found. They had inexplicably disappeared, beamed up by some UFO or something, and everyone he tried to ask were either too drunk out of their minds to answer or had already passed out.

Maybe Oliver was mad at him. This was a possibility -- a real possibility. He remembered vaguely having said something about Oliver’s dad being Tom Hanks that didn’t go down so well. You’d think it was a compliment!! But maybe Vered was mad at him, too, since he couldn’t find either of them. Maybe they left together because they didn't want to come to his place anymore. He wanted to message them to ask, but his phone which fell in the lagoon with him was out of commission, lying in a bowl of rice. His father had gotten the wisdom from a video he saw on Facebook.

In the hall the tables and chairs were being dragged out, and Stu quickly fled the scene so that he would not be recruited into any more hard labour. Last he checked child labour was illegal. If Max caught a whiff of this, maybe he’d burn down the town hall instead of protesting in front of it.

Still kneading the muscles of his back, Stu went into the corridor and bumped into what’s her name, Tatum. With her being an older girl and all maybe she’d know where Josie was.

‘Hey, um, hi,’ Stu said with a little waive. ’Have you seen Josie?’

Stu immediately regretted approaching the older girl. She looked miserable to say the least, as if she hadn’t slept in a couple nights. Girls were cranky and unpredictable enough, even when they were well-rested or sober. Some of them might even shove you into a bunch of petunias without the slightest warning. No gentle caution, no three strikes out, nothing! That's why he was afraid of girls, and rightly so!

Elf_Ruler Elf_Ruler
 

MissThuy

Junior Member
mood
hungOVER

location
everett condo>soup kitchen

outfit
ootd

tags
Elf_Ruler Elf_Ruler Tatum; Dede Dede Stu Mentions: Dak Dak Jack
juliet everett
Last night was foggy. First, how did Juliet even get home? Why did she write “Give clothes to dead kid?” on her arm? Oh geez, this was the worst headache she has ever had... ever. Her head felt like someone was constantly whacking it with a metal bat. A salty taste formed in her mouth and Juliet went straight to the toilet. She lifted the toilet seat lid and hacked up all that gunk she ate and drank last night. Once she was done vomiting, she sighed and thought that at least this was her first hangover, now she’ll know when to stop for next time. Juliet stood up to check her appearance in the mirror and gasped, she looked fucking awful. Normally, she doesn’t curse but today was the day when she did to emphasize she looked like a wreck. Her makeup was gone, one of her falsies fell off, hair was disheveled, fake bangs were gone, clothes covered in sand, and she was sticky from being layered in salt water. Juliet raised her arm to sniff herself and scrunched her nose, now she’s back to smelling like fish and salt water. She groaned, What happened last night??

Juliet shuffled into her room to check Twitter on her phone and tried to jog her memory about last night. There was talk about a soup kitchen, protest, and some kid getting beat up by Ryan. Maybe that’s where her little note on her arm came from. Juliet needed to give this unknown kid her purge clothes. But first, she needed a shower. Before she went, Tatum messaged her if she was coming to the soup kitchen. Tatum remembered Juliet? Jumbled flashbacks came pouring into the hungover girl’s brain. Juliet saw Tatum in a group. Tatum was about to be kissed by a girl. Other girls were kissing. Juliet was crying. Somebody called her a princess. Juliet fell asleep in the sand next to Tatum and goblin girl. Juliet said something dumb to Tatum. Jack was there. Jack danced with her. Jack carried her home. Jack drove her home. Oh my God, where did Jack go?

Juliet quickly apologized to Tatum for the dumb things she said and suddenly she received a good morning text from Jack saying that he had fun last night with her. Julie sighed in relief, she was glad that he had fun even though she was a total mess last night. She messaged the boy back by apologizing for being such a wreck last night and that she owed him big time, especially for making him walk home! Juliet sent another text saying, “I’ll pay the next time we go to Sleeping Hedgehog!!!”

She’s the worst.

Wait when did I give him my number..? Ugh never again will I get that drunk. Juliet hopped into the shower after seeing Poncho drinking out of the toilet. Julie rolled her eyes and snapped at her dog to stop. The time when she got ready was very short and quick since she was running late for the soup kitchen already. The shower helped with the hangover a little bit but not by much. Thanks to the God awful headache, Juliet threw on some clothes and hopefully it matched. Then she grabbed her bag of purge clothes to give to the dead kid, hopefully he wasn’t dead but if he is.... Juliet stopped thinking about it. Would the dead kid even be at the soup kitchen?

Before leaving the empty condo, Juliet stopped herself. She needed to get Tatum an apology muffin. Mrs. Everett typically had a stash of homemade desserts since she was a foodie and Juliet liked to snack on them as well as give them away as apology gifts. The girl snagged two blueberry muffins and waters for her and Tatum and headed out to the soup kitchen. By the time she got there, it seemed like most of the soup kitchen was already set up. Juliet grimaced, So much for trying to do something good around here. The girl looked around to find a familiar face and spotted Tatum... looking miserable as ever and a younger boy. Juliet frowned and glanced at her muffin, thank goodness she brought a muffin. Carbs are supposed to help with hangovers, right? Juliet jogged over to Tatum and the other boy with an eager, “Hey!”

Julie blushed realizing how eager she sounded, maybe Poncho’s neediness was rubbing off on her. The girl handed Tatum the apology muffin and water, “Um, sorry for the things I said last night but here’s a muffin. I heard eating helps with hangovers.” Juli noticed the boy standing there awkwardly and she laughed nervously, “Sorry.. I don’t really know you very well.”

Maybe Juliet should have brought the entire blueberry muffin stash to apologize to everybody she meets.

...and maybe find the nearest toilet.
coded by reveriee
 
Last edited:

Dazzle

just thriving...
MOOD: depressed/exhausted/distant

OUTFIT: outfit

LOCATION: Hospital/Home/Church
basics
tags
TL;DR Sad harper coming home after party @ soup kitchen
tl;dr
Harper Anderson
when you wear a mask for so long, you forget who is behind it.

Harper’s hands clenched on the wheel as she drove Oliver to the hospital. She couldn’t believe what had happened, the fact that Ryan got away without the entire beach tackling him surprised her even more. Harper was usually a rather relaxed driver, she took her time, and was always safe. But, Oliver looked horrible, he was covered and bruises and she couldn’t truly tell if he was breathing.

She had tried to convince Hayden to call 911 but, he convinced her that it would be quicker to drive than to wait for an ambulance.

When Harper pulled into the emergency bay of Parish Point’s hospital, her knuckles were completely white. While all the color had drained from her face, she could barely look up at the building with out her stomach turning, but yet she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

She stuttered as Hayden asked if she was coming in with him, saying she would wait in the parking lot. Hayden rushed the limp freshman boy inside. And Harper just starred up at the building before her.


Hayden came out a little while later saying he was going to wait till someone came for Oliver, Harper was honest with him. She could not be outside of the hospital any longer, looking at the place their mother died. Hayden just nodded slowly, understanding the anxiety this place caused Harper and promised to text her when he was ready to be picked up.
---​

Harper went home, sneaking into her house as quietly as she could. Hoping that her dad was asleep or wouldn’t notice her coming in. She wasn’t sure she could handle him tonight, after the visit to the hospital her heart hurt. And seeing her dad still hurting from the loss of their mother was just too much for her to handle in that moment.

She slowly unlocked the door, turning the doorknob as silently as she could. Harper took one step through the threshold, holding her breath as she did.

The eternity of her house was dark, she could barely see her hand in front of her face. The air felt silent as she made her way through the kitchen, she could hear the faint sound of static coming from the living room.

Harper peered around the corner, not surprised to see her dad passed out on the couch. His arm hung off the couch, reaching for the beer beside him. His face was unshaven, and he was wearing the same outfit as he had been the day before. But, that was nothing new.

Though, it was surprising to see him out in the living room. He rarely left his bedroom except to get more beer, or if there had been a game. However, Harper knew that there hadn’t been. She always kept a close eye on the schedules so that she knew when to be out of the house.

Though, she did wonder what had gotten in his head to bring himself out of his bedroom.

Harper was tempted to investigate what had gotten her fathers attention that evening, but as stepped towards the TV, she begun to hear him stir.

Her father coughed knocking over his beer bottle into the larger pile around the floor, they clinked into each other and her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to run, but her feet felt glued to the floor. Her eyes watched, waiting for him to wake up, for him to look her way..

But all he did was roll over onto his side. Harper wanted to breath out a sigh of relief, but she was afraid if she did, he truly would wake. She made her way quietly across the living room to the stairs, as she reached for the railing, she looked back upon her father who was now curled up against the back of the couch. She wished that he always was that peaceful, she wished that he could feel at peace again.

---​

Harper only got a few hours of sleep before she shot up in her bed. She rolled over looking at her phone to see if she had heard from Hayden.

Nothing.

Harper threw her blankets off and began frantically calling his phone, but she was unable to get through, it constantly went to voicemail.

She heard the doorknob to her room turn and she felt her stomach drop. Her grip on her phone loosened and it hit the floor.

“Hayden.” She said breathlessly. “Where the fuck were you!” Harper ran up to him, pounding on his chest. “Why didn’t you call me.”

Hayden only explained to her that he wanted to be alone, and his phone died. He had completely lost track of time. Harper just shook her head, sitting back down on her bed.

“I thought-“She said, looking down at the ground before looking back at Hayden. “I thought you were dad coming in.” She looked off to the corner of her room.


Hayden sat down beside her without saying a word, he wrapped an arm around Harper’s shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything to comfort Harper.

----
After Harper had forced her sleep deprived brother to get out of the house, as they had both promised to help with the soup kitchen. She had been helping pass out trays when the line started to disperse. Most of all who had came had received their tray or were eating already.


Harper stood against the backwall, trying to stay out of the way. But quickly realized she had picked a pretty bad spot as she was up against the bathroom wall. People were coming and going all too much for her bandwidth of the day.


Harper walked across the church’s cafe, accidentally she bumped into someone’s chair. “Oh I am so sorry!” Harper said before looking to see who she had bumped into.

“Oh, hi Hya.” Harper wasn’t sure she was prepared to deal with such a bubbly personality today. But at least Hya was kind and wouldn’t bite her head off for not watching where she was going.


“Uh.. How are you?” Harper was trying not to run off from human interaction. She pulled at her fingers. “Do you.. Know if Sawyer is coming?” Harper looked to the kids sitting on Hya’s lap. “Oh, who is this?” She bent down, forcing a smile on her face. “Hi! I’m Harper.” She smiled, leaning her arms on her knees.
code by valen t.
 

Elf_Ruler

Basically Santa ^_^
If you asked Lemon how the night went, she would say it went well, that she had enjoyed herself at the bonfire. She had made new friends, but she had lost AJ in the group, or AJ had left which wouldn’t have been new. Overall Lemon would have said that the beach party had gone well. When she had gotten home her mother had gone to sleep, but her father had been in the living sitting at his chair. The second she had turned the handle the light to the living room had clicked on drowning out the light from the television. There her father was waiting to interrogate her about the night. What she did, who she spent time with, if it had been chaperoned and Lemon had to answer each question.

Sure, it wasn’t new, but she had to make sure she didn’t mention Hayden or Ian because then there would be more questions and a lecture about how dating was forbidden for her as long as she was under his roof. Lemon knew the rules she breathed the rules and she knew the consequences if they were broken. It wasn’t like her father made it a secret about his distaste for AJ. He only tolerated her because Lemon was so close to her. That meant Lemon would do anything in order to be able to keep AJ as a friend and have her be allowed to come around without lying. Of course, she had dealt with Max disagreeing with her almost all night which hadn’t made her feel great and then she had to deal with her father interrogating her every action as if she was trying to break the rules.

When the next morning arrived, it was all disagreements on Twitter which made Lemon feel down about how people were. All she wanted was for everyone to get along and to not fight, but that seemed almost impossible. Her mother had made breakfast and it was probably Lemon’s favorite part of the morning a full breakfast. She had never gone anywhere hungry in the morning and her mother made sure of it. This morning was quiet as her father read through the newspaper grumbling about the news and whatever else he didn’t necessarily agree with. People being people and politics dividing person against person as always. It wasn’t quite a typical morning with the lively chatter like normal, but Lemon was ok with how it was going. Everyone was happy and she was still the beloved child of her parents. Her life was as good as it could get even if she couldn’t quite tell her parents who she was, that was okay. One day when viewpoints changed then maybe she could.

Of course, it was Mr. Pierce who had driven Lemon to the soup kitchen, “Have a fun time at the soup kitchen, sweet pea. I’ll pick you up in a few hours. Your mama and I have some errands to run in an hour. Be good” He placed a kiss on his daughters’ cheek and Lemon was out of the care waving goodbye to her father.

Now all she had to do was find Josie and get her assignment.

Mention(s): killer.queen killer.queen Chimney Swift Chimney Swift
Interaction(s): open
 

Elf_Ruler

Basically Santa ^_^
Tatum was in her own bubble, her own thoughts, trying to figure out where she went wrong. Was she a bad girlfriend? Was she a bad person? Was something inherently wrong with her? Her mind could go on for hours deep in thought, spiraling out of control as she tried to figure out what was going on with Zach. She had lied, pretended like she hadn’t said anything, and she had hoped it would fix everything, but it turns out he was going to ignore her. Treat her like he used to treat girls and she didn’t want to lose him. He meant so much to her, he had become a large part of her world. He held a large part of her heart and she couldn’t lose him. She would rather lie than lose him. But now, now he was treating her like just another random girl and that hurt her more than she could have imagined.

She only came out of her thoughts when she felt someone bump into her. Did no one in this town know how to walk? She turned and her eyes saw the boy in front of her. She believed he was one of the kids that went to Parish and he looked like he was a nerd. She had seen him around town, but his name escaped her. Her head was still pounding as he spoke, but she wasn’t going to be a bitch to him. She almost giggled at his wave to her, apparently, he wasn’t comfortable around girls. She thought for a second, “Yeah, I saw her when I came in. She’s giving directions to everyone. One might have been directed at me, but I’m not sure. Did you want to go figure out the tasks that need to be done?” Sure, not a great discussion piece but Tatum needed the headache to leave. She also needed her boyfriend to act like he used to. Really Tatum needed a lot.

As if on cue another person arrived. This time it was Juliet and she came bearing water and muffins. An angel. Even though Tatum wasn’t hungry, and her stomach was in knots she knew she should probably eat. She looked at the boy whose name she still couldn’t remember, “You can have half of my muffin.” Her eyes went back to Juliet, “Thanks for the food, and don’t worry about last night. It’s whatever.” Tatum could only give a half-hearted smile. Really, her night and morning weren’t going great, but she had her image to uphold. She could at least blame being hungover on almost anything. Or at least that was her plan. She had more than her own fair share of problems to deal with and she didn’t need someone feeling sorry for saying drunk words. In the grand scheme of everything it was nothing. She hoped this would make Juliet feel better and then all she had to do was suffer through the soup kitchen. She could do that right? She really wanted a smoke, but she could wait. She had to wait, too many people paying attention to her. Eventually she would sneak off and get a smoke break. All her stress was becoming too much and one cigarette could help.

Dede Dede MissThuy MissThuy
 

MissThuy

Junior Member
proud housewife
code by valen t.
carol
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow...” Carol hummed to herself before shouting for her young sons, Thomas Jackson, Robert Lee, and George (named after George Washington but Carol didn’t want her son to be revered as president at school), to hurry along and get dressed for the soup kitchen. She expected the Harris family to be dressed in their Sunday best clothing. Even though the event was just a mere soup kitchen, Carol believed that her family had to set a good example for the church. Her family had to put in the effort of looking clean and fresh while serving the poor and needy. That is what God would have wanted. The God-loving woman remembered waking up at 5 am to spray and flat ironed her hair to give it the right pump, to let everyone know that her hair is filled with her love of Jesus Christ. Goodness, waking up daily at 5 am to get the hair perfect took a lot out of Carol, but if it is to make her feel beautiful, then it is something she must do.

Carol glanced at her full sized mirror in her quaint bedroom that she shared with her beloved husband to scan if something was out of place. Her hair was perfect as always, her black “Soup for Christ 2020” was tucked in neatly in her denim skinny jeans, and she was wearing cute ASICs tennis shoes with a pink decal on the side. She was perfect! Carol remembered how hard it was to make matching “Soup for Christ 2020” t-shirts, since her husband frequently takes away her phone. Even though it irritated her, she would repeat Ephesians 5:23 to herself to make herself feel better. Carol couldn’t understand why Keith liked to take away her phone. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, just telling people the word of God like Mark 16:15-16 and advertising her Skinny Coffee company. Yes, it isn’t her company, but she can run the business however she wants and still earn money. Keith kept telling her that her business is a pyramid scheme, but if it’s a pyramid scheme...how is she getting the money from it? Maybe it’s because she kept telling everyone on Twitter that Keith was the sheriff when he is actually a state trooper. Carol shrugged, Aren’t they the same thing? She sighed and repeated Ephesians 5:23 once again.

The housewife checked the time on her wall and gasped, “We are going to be late for the soup kitchen!” She whipped her head at her family with all four of the Harris boys not dressed and playing on their phones and tablets. Carol burrowed her eyebrows, “BOYS! I HAVE TOLD YOU TEN TIMES TO GET READY! WE NEED TO LOOK GOOD FOR PAST-I MEAN THE TOWN!”

The Harris boys grumbled and headed towards their rooms to get ready while Keith headed for the bathroom to change. Carol groaned and plopped on her bed while making sure her hair wasn’t ruined. She sighed in relief that her cover wasn’t blown that her heart belonged to Pastor Martin. If Keith found out... he would be so heartbroken and she would have committed the ultimate sin next to homosexuality: adultery. Of course, on Twitter she shown kindness to the homosexual community. Yes, she doesn’t approve but as Jesus did for the sinners, she would love and accept them as they are and hopefully the homosexuals would open themselves to Christ. On the topic of adultery, Carol knew that she would be sinning if she acted on her sinful thoughts. So, her thoughts about Pastor Martin were just merely... thoughts and nothing more.

While the boys were getting ready, Carol hopped on her phone that her husband finally given back and talked with the future Christian leaders of America on Twitter. She talked about Bible verses, the soup kitchen, and advertised her Skinny Coffee company. The kids there loved interacting with her and Carol felt like she was sixteen years old again. Talking to teenagers helped Carol feel young and be up to date with the trends. Finally, the Harris boys were all cleaned up and wearing the matching “Soup for Christ 2020” t-shirts. Carol reared up and leaned in to give her sons a kiss on the cheek and then a kiss on Keith’s lips to which he evaded. The housewife pouted but then she realized he probably did so to teach their sons about public display of affection and how that’s frowned upon on by God. She beamed and patted her husband on the shoulder, “See boys? You should never show affection in public as it is a sacred thing that God has given to you and your future wife.”

Then the Harris fam bam drove to the soup kitchen and Carol could not stay in her seat. She was so excited to feed the poor and to see.. Pastor Martin. She blushed. That God loving man tickled the heart strings, but alas, it was not meant to be because she had a family and so did he. Finally, the Harris family arrived at the soup kitchen and the three sons went off to do who knows what while Keith drove off after saying a brief “Bye, I’m going to the protest” without letting Carol saying that she loved him and for him to be safe. Carol took a deep breath and murmured to herself, “Now, off to give free samples to the poor.”
 

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