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Realistic or Modern The Kids Aren't Alright | Main

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"The Calm after the Storm."
  • Iskolde

    Lord Szatan

















    The Kids Aren't Alright



    It was cold and rainy the morning after the storm ravaged the coast of Parish Point. Clouds still rolled over the sky above the town like a blanket layed over it to cover them from the burning sun. Every shop and home in town looked to be closed up for the day, the rain water still flooding the streets at almost ankle high keeping them from opening up for now. It seemed like a giant shadow was cast over the town, a dark and gloomy morning much more fit for a funeral than a normal morning. Only a few people ambled around the streets and those that did came into their destinations with shoes wet and and a deep frown marred onto their faces. On the corner of Farry Way and Hallow Street, a police officer stapled a very crudely made flyer to a telephone pole. The flyer was an all too bright and cheery contrast to the gloomy mist of the morning and advertised a beach clean to be held that morning. The cartoon whale plastered on the flyer smiled back against the dark sky and the officer hanging up the posters was getting tired of his perpetual optimism. Somewhere a teenager stopped his bike at the edge of the beach and balked at the sight laid out before him. A beached whale laid dying on the sand and the boy was quick to turn his bike around, rushing past smiling whale posters until he came to a stop in front of the police station. The sky rumbled and a light drizzle began again just as he barged into the place with news of the whale on his tongue. Far away from the police station, a man hefted a tree branch onto his shoulder as he tried to move away the pieces of a tree that had fallen on his workshed. The man wiped his brow and sighed as he gazed over the damage, it would take days to get the whole tree moved away and days more to salvage what he could of his shed. His wife emerged from the house and handed him a water bottle before they both went back to picking up pieces of the downed tree. Back in town, the officer who had been hanging up the flyers was now standing on the edge of the beach, staring at the whale just as the boy on the bike had been only a few minutes before. The whale was barely moving, it’s fins flopping about helplessly on the wet sand. It would take a while for them to get the thing back into the ocean and the officer was concerned about their decision to get a bunch of teenagers to do this job. He shook his head and we’re brought to another scene. A woman shakes her head as she looks over her poor garden, completely upheaved by the torrential downpour and months of hard work ruined. Again, we see the destroyed workshop and the beached whale in a quick flash. The devastation is immense.

    The students of both Parish Bay and Hartfield were being commissioned, or rather forced, to help clean up the devastated beach in the aftermath of the storm. Tensions between the townsfolk had been boiling over to an almost dangerous point and Mayor Flint had thought it a good idea to bring the students of the town together to do something important. Although the mayor had her heart in the right place, this idea also held potential to escalate tensions beyond what they already were. After all, it’s never a good idea to put a lion and a hyena alone together, one of them will always come out worse for wear, or dead. While it wasn’t likely that someone was going to die, fights were very likely, if not guaranteed, to happen. But Mayor flint was dead set on her resolution to get the kids to do it and no one was changing the woman’s mind. The rain picked up slightly outside, now a hard sprinkle with the potential for another downpour building up behind it. The time was coming up at nine in the morning and various students were beginning to make their way out of their homes with rain boots and jackets to keep the rain away from their skin. Several students had already made it down to the beach and were picking up debris from the sand and shoving it into trash bags or helping police officers and some few adults in their attempt to roll their beached whale back into the ocean. The sun was just barely visible beyond the thick coating of clouds in the sky and the visibility on the beach was low. Adult advisors walked the line of the beach with large flashlights in their hands, trying to make it a little easier to see for their teenage workers but it didn’t do much. The rain was only getting stronger, now more than a drizzle, it sprinkled down onto the beach with a renewed vigor and the sky appeared to get even darker. This was not a good setting for two groups of teenagers who seemed to tolerate each other at best and despise each other at worst. Perhaps this was a foreshadowing for things to come, but for right now it was just dreadfully dreary.



    code by ditto (head empty go bonk)



    It was cold and rainy the morning after the storm ravaged the coast of Parish Point. Clouds still rolled over the sky above the town like a blanket layed over it to cover them from the burning sun. Every shop and home in town looked to be closed up for the day, the rain water still flooding the streets at almost ankle high keeping them from opening up for now. It seemed like a giant shadow was cast over the town, a dark and gloomy morning much more fit for a funeral than a normal morning. Only a few people ambled around the streets and those that did came into their destinations with shoes wet and and a deep frown marred onto their faces. On the corner of Farry Way and Hallow Street, a police officer stapled a very crudely made flyer to a telephone pole. The flyer was an all too bright and cheery contrast to the gloomy mist of the morning and advertised a beach clean to be held that morning. The cartoon whale plastered on the flyer smiled back against the dark sky and the officer hanging up the posters was getting tired of his perpetual optimism. Somewhere a teenager stopped his bike at the edge of the beach and balked at the sight laid out before him. A beached whale laid dying on the sand and the boy was quick to turn his bike around, rushing past smiling whale posters until he came to a stop in front of the police station. The sky rumbled and a light drizzle began again just as he barged into the place with news of the whale on his tongue. Far away from the police station, a man hefted a tree branch onto his shoulder as he tried to move away the pieces of a tree that had fallen on his workshed. The man wiped his brow and sighed as he gazed over the damage, it would take days to get the whole tree moved away and days more to salvage what he could of his shed. His wife emerged from the house and handed him a water bottle before they both went back to picking up pieces of the downed tree. Back in town, the officer who had been hanging up the flyers was now standing on the edge of the beach, staring at the whale just as the boy on the bike had been only a few minutes before. The whale was barely moving, it’s fins flopping about helplessly on the wet sand. It would take a while for them to get the thing back into the ocean and the officer was concerned about their decision to get a bunch of teenagers to do this job. He shook his head and we’re brought to another scene. A woman shakes her head as she looks over her poor garden, completely upheaved by the torrential downpour and months of hard work ruined. Again, we see the destroyed workshop and the beached whale in a quick flash. The devastation is immense.



    The students of both Parish Bay and Hartfield were being commissioned, or rather forced, to help clean up the devastated beach in the aftermath of the storm. Tensions between the townsfolk had been boiling over to an almost dangerous point and Mayor Flint had thought it a good idea to bring the students of the town together to do something important. Although the mayor had her heart in the right place, this idea also held potential to escalate tensions beyond what they already were. After all, it’s never a good idea to put a lion and a hyena alone together, one of them will always come out worse for wear, or dead. While it wasn’t likely that someone was going to die, fights were very likely, if not guaranteed, to happen. But Mayor flint was dead set on her resolution to get the kids to do it and no one was changing the woman’s mind. The rain picked up slightly outside, now a hard sprinkle with the potential for another downpour building up behind it. The time was coming up at nine in the morning and various students were beginning to make their way out of their homes with rain boots and jackets to keep the rain away from their skin. Several students had already made it down to the beach and were picking up debris from the sand and shoving it into trash bags or helping police officers and some few adults in their attempt to roll their beached whale back into the ocean. The sun was just barely visible beyond the thick coating of clouds in the sky and the visibility on the beach was low. Adult advisors walked the line of the beach with large flashlights in their hands, trying to make it a little easier to see for their teenage workers but it didn’t do much. The rain was only getting stronger, now more than a drizzle, it sprinkled down onto the beach with a renewed vigor and the sky appeared to get even darker. This was not a good setting for two groups of teenagers who seemed to tolerate each other at best and despise each other at worst. Perhaps this was a foreshadowing for things to come, but for right now it was just dreadfully dreary.
     
    Last edited:
    "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?
     
    "Don't Reign On My Parade."
  • PenguinFox

    The one an' only

    Lulu could tell very quickly that she was going to appreciate Lemon's company. She just had an aura that was bright and happy. More people in the world needed to be like that. The younger girl couldn't help but to smile. It was like waking up to a bright sunny day on a camping trip, bright eyed and ready to enjoy the day. Maybe her name had something to do with it but Lemon's presence was refreshing to Lulu, especially after last night and this morning, like a cold lemonade on a warm day. Overall she was just a pleasant person and the brunette appreciated that.

    Brown eyes watched as the blonde clambered up onto the counter fearlessly in search of mugs. Lulu tilted her head in amusement a warm smile resting comfortably on her face. "They usually use the excuse of step stools. In my house mother puts anything that I wouldn't need on the higher shelves and everything else lower. Alcohol, wine glasses, things of that nature..." she trailed off for a moment before continuing her explanation. "She isn't keeping them out of my reach because I might take them, it's just more convenient for everyone that way. She knows I like to cook and it would be a hassle to have to use a step stool all the time." As Lulu finished her thought Lemon found cups.

    Gingerly taking the ceramic mug, Lulu inspected it. It was white, but was it the right shape? Did the shape matter? She couldn't exactly remember. She nodded quietly to herself. "Yes this might do..." She bit her lip in thought as she poured a cup of peppermint tea for both herself and Lemon. The other girl's compliments received a bashful smile with a hint of a blush in return. "I just poured water in to a cup...it's no big deal..." her fingers tapped on the mug anxiously as she peered in at the leaves swirling around.

    Lulu brought her mug to her face and inhaled the sinus clearing aroma. She loved tea. She was convinced it held the tiniest morsels of magic within, part of why she had become so interested in Tasseomancy. She had really wanted to try it but felt it wouldn't be accurate to do so on herself. "I can tell your future with tea leaves..." she said absentmindedly. That wasn't entirely truthful, she had no idea if she could or not yet but no one wants to get their fortune told by someone who can 'maybe do it'. "Think of something you really want to know the answer to. Focus all your energy and thought into that question. Make sure it's as specific as possible because the reading will match your specificity." Lulu let Lemon come up with her question while getting a plate. Another slight deviation from what she had read, hopefully it was okay to make do with what was on hand.

    The Woods girl guided her (hopefully) new friend through the steps of setting up the leaf reading. As they continued the excitement became more and more evident on Lulu's face. She was thoroughly enjoying herself as she would never get the chance to do this kind of thing at home. Her mother didn't really like hearing about 'whatever new weird thing she was into'. Once everything done, to the best of Lulu's memory that is, she peered inside the cup...and realized she didn't remember any of the symbols meanings. A frown formed on her face that was turning red with embarrassment. Realizing how that may look she stammered out an explanation. "I-I've seemed to have forgotten the symbols. It's not bad, at least I don't think it is." this was so embarrassing. "I have a book at home, I'll take a picture and send you a message with the results...sorry if I got your hopes up for an answer today." Hopefully this wouldn't tarnish the friendship that was hopefully forming. Elf_Ruler Elf_Ruler
     
    "Diners, Dates, & Daunting Adventures."
  • Chimney Swift

    Allergic to Charisma
    MOOD: What the fuck, Zach!?

    LOCATION: The Berkowitz Residence

    basics
    MENTIONS:
    Lulu PenguinFox PenguinFox
    Sawyer Iskolde Iskolde
    Stu Dede Dede

    INT:
    Zach @lion.
    Harper @Dazzle




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



    [/COMMENT]
    tags
    TL;DR
    Zach and Harper are here to rescue their dumb friend. Zach makes an uncomfortably risque request. Max tries not to lose it.
    tl;dr
    Max Berkowitz

    How do you run from your own mind?


    It was good that Zach knocked on doors so obnoxiously hard that it could be felt. Max, who had been slumped like a corpse over his desk, lifted his head to see the door shaking as though someone was trying to break it off its hinges.
    At long last, the rescue squad was here. So he could accompany on what was probably the single most dangerous thing any one of them had ever attempted.
    Something that might very well end in a death, if it meant sparing themselves.
    And more so than he would ever be able to say, Max was scared. Scared for his friends, and Zach, and for that kid who insisted on coming along to hunt for a missing backpack... hell, even for the girl who spoke in code with the criminal and insisted on coming along despite not being one of his stalking victims. Whatever she was up to, Sawyer trusted her so he had to shut up about it and play along.
    The thought of something happening to them, after everything that had happened, was too much to carry. As much as he could, no matter the risks or the odds (or the repeated requests for him to sit the fuck down), he had to be there to defend them himself.
    He wasn't scared at all for himself.
    Perhaps he should have been.

    Zach kept shaking the door, and Max, not wanting to waste another second, ran up to open it. He shot Zach a confused look, but softened when he saw Harper. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. Harper: one of maybe three people he could speak freely with, who he felt really cared what he had to say. Harper was more than he could ever have asked for in such a small and insular town. Anything he could do to stand by her, anything at all, he'd do it. She was everything his best friend, and it worried him that she'd volunteered for this treacherous mission too.

    Max was prepared, but not... ready. That much was evident in his appearance.
    He'd slung his backpack over his shoulder with the flashlight and first aid supplies, and Isa's knife was safely stowed in his pocket. He had managed to dress appropriately in a dark jacket over a green sweater, durable grey jeans, boots with heel support and good treads. At least he'd remembered all of that.
    But despite all of this, he looked unmistakably shaken and exhausted. Though it had only been a day, he somehow looked like he'd lost 10 pounds and hadn't slept in a week. Dark shadows under his eyes, hair unkempt and falling in his face, shoulders tensed, hands trembling ever so slightly as he gave a weary "Hey. Thanks, both of you," but before Harper could interpret that for Zach, Zach had already started talking. The blonde's eyes were glinting with a disturbing amount of mischievous excitement. Oh, no... that was never a good sign.
    Even Harper couldn't keep the discomfort off her face.

    "Nice catching you in your room doing nothing, but I need you to strip.”

    What!? There it was. Max choked and stepped back away from Zach as if being too close would give him an allergy attack.

    Zach's next bit was not at ALL comforting: “So, I can strip...”

    Max fought down the instinctive 'Fuck off, Zach', in favor of the slightly more constructive "Zach, what the fuck!?"

    Harper turned around to face the door again. Max didn't question it... maybe she was just checking to make sure his parents weren't onto them. It didn't matter that much as long as she turned back before Zach had more bullshit to say. Anyway, there were much bigger confusing things on his plate right now (like why Zach was suggesting they strip their clothes for what was supposed to be a simple rescue mission).
    There was no way Max could have known Harper was actually doing this to give Zach a furious "What are you doing!?" As far as Max knew, Harper was just as versed on this crazy scheme as Zach was, Obviously, it wasn't her idea-- This was the kind of nonsense humiliating bullshit that only Zach would come up with. But Harper had to have agreed to it at some point... so there had to be a reason. Harper wasn't one to be easily swayed by Zach's awful ideas.

    Max, rolling his eyes and groaning louder than was polite, knew that whatever Zach wanted to do was his only chance at being there to protect his friends.
    After the beach party, the protest incident, and everything that had happened in between, Max was on strict house arrest. He was also probably the least sneaky person in the world, his parents had eyes in basically every inch of the house, and he had no chance of breaking out without Zach and Harper's helping hands.

    If Zach wanted a fucking striptease, then fucking fine. Max could punch him about it later.
    "You know I don't want to see that." Max started aggressively as soon as he knew he'd regained Harper's attention. "What, you want my clothes? Can't I just pull you something out of my closet?" He stopped to let out a sharp frustrated exhale, hands clenching and unclenching rapidly before picking up. "Why!? Why this!? What reason?!?!"
    Didn't matter.
    Zach had the floor.

    code by valen t.
     

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