Realistic or Modern Auburn Springs

[jasmyn]

M O O D : "What the hell is happening?"

O U T F I T : Fabulous outfit here.

L O C A T I O N : The closed funhouse.

I N T E R A C T I O N S : Raven.

T A G S : ???

Valerie should’ve just left the stupid fair after her public display of royal bitchiness, but she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t go home to her lying father, Roman had dropped her off so she didn’t even have her stupid car, and even if she had called one of her friends then what? Faith would call her out on her crap. Mer would ask too many questions. Karmyn would try to comfort her or some sappy whatever. Hard pass. Of course, she could've easily asked CK for a ride and she was certain he would've helped her but no.

Instead, here she was. Valerie Flores, hiding out in a damn carnival fun out like some loser. What had this world come to? Why the hell had she even just done that? She kissed Mason fucking Rivera. For what? To show that the girl couldn’t get to her because she would always one-up her? Was it a desperate power grab? Or was it something else? Was she trying to make Raven jealous? Ugh.

Like...she was treating Raven as if she were no better than gum stuck to the bottom of a pair of Louis Vuitton's as some sort of stupid defense mechanism. A way to hide the part of her that Raven somehow managed to sense was there. To hide her feelings and maintain that perfect image for not only her peers but her parents. Her parents. The people who had been out canoodling with bridgers and doing shady business. Who would condemn her for even less! Why was she following their ruling when they had so clearly not set the same standards for themselves?

Her mind was swirling with thoughts, each one torturing her more than the last. She let her head tilt back onto the glass behind her, trying to listen for the sounds of the fair to cease when- "... Makes enough sense that you'd pull a stunt like that and come here to hide." Val didn't even have to look to know exactly who had managed to find her. Raven's voice was distinct enough but it was already echoing in her mind on a stupid loop, haunting her, before the girl even made an appearance.

"You got that upset because I teased you in public? Because you're the one who decided to be...Whatever the fuck you are with everyone else with me, just because I asked for an apology you kissed my-"

Val rolled her eyes, trying to cling to that Queen B persona she'd worked so hard to create. "So what? Yeah, I kissed your disgusting friend. What about it? I paid like everyone else." she finally broke her own silence. "I paid and you didn't deliver. It's as simple as that. I'm not in the habit of giving my money away for free. You-" she snapped but was interrupted by Raven's next words.

"I knew you were a bitch, I just didn't expect you to act like one with me." Okay. Val was a bitch, hell, she prided herself on it half the time. It never bothered her when someone called her one. Sure, if they used it to insult her then she would insult them back but not because she was offended. It was just principle. Hearing Raven say it though, bothered her more than she cared to admit.

Normally the brunette would've thrown out some insult about how Raven shouldn't expect extra points for being the only one of her littermates without fleas or something. Maybe she would've even just walked away and told the girl that she wasn't worth it. Not this time. This time she found herself frozen. It was the same effect that Rae had on her the day they first met. Something about her just stopped Val in her tracks and as much as she swore she hated it, did she really?

Val's eyes remained fixed on Raven as the words continued to fly out of her mouth. She was right. Truth be told, Raven damn well deserved an apology but what was she supposed to do when Raven went in for a kiss then just embarrassed her? Give the apology speech of the year? And how would that look? Like she actually cared...? That was the thing though. She did care. Valerie Flores found herself caring what this girl thought of her and it didn't just annoy her, it scared her. Because why did she care? Val hardly cared about the opinions of people she'd known half her life so what made Raven so different?

"So why'd you do it? You wanted to piss me off? Get me jealous, huh? It worked. Is that what you wanted to hear? Did it turn you on? Did it give you satisfaction?" -- All of the above? None of the above? "Turn me on? I think the tainted water over in Ambridge must be getting to you if you honestly believe that. I did it because can. Because I-" she stopped and let her eyes trail away, trying to stop herself from letting the words come out, the words she really wanted to say.

Val knew exactly why she had kissed Mason. It was more than to just get her money's worth because let's face it, Mason wasn't worth the twenty dollars she'd paid. It wasn't just about showing she was above Raven and her petty attempt at embarrassing her or whatever. She wanted Raven to kiss her. In the one setting that she could pin it on doing it for charity, the one instance she could kiss Raven and get away with using an excuse, the girl had just...she hated it.

It wasn't the crowd standing by, it was the fact that Val realized at that moment that she actually wanted to kiss Raven. And in that same moment, she was overlooked like she was last year's handbag. It had pushed a button in Val that had never been pushed before. She wasn't the type of girl who got rejected and she didn't know how to react. So she'd done what she did best and pushed back.

The sound of Raven's bag hitting that ground startled her a little and brought her gaze back to the girl. "Did it give the validation you so badly crave?" --- "Shut up! Just stop! I don't need validation from-" she tried so hard to come up with something but every insult she could think of had dissolved into nothing. "You sit on Twitter and you flirt with me all day, act like you get me or something. You do all this but...you don't know me!" Val shook her head.

She couldn't keep it together anymore, she couldn't put on this show right now. She didn't want to. "I'm sorry! That's what you want, right? An apology from the 'bitchy princess of Auburn Springs', huh? God. I didn't mean any of it, what else do you want from me?! To be able to run off and tell all your little friends that you finally got me to crack? Is that it? I mean, why else are you so set on proving that I like you?" Val countered, taking a step towards Raven.

"Do you just want to hear it? I like you! Okay? I have a thing for a bridger. I have a thing for you," she said, her tone shifting at the end though her voice was still raised. "And I didn't want to kiss your idiot friend, Rae...I wanted to kiss you," she finally breathed. Val was unable to fight the urge to just say it, to just tell the truth for once without all the extra words or 'speaking in tongues' as Raven had put it.

She searched the girl's hazel eyes for a reaction, for a protest as Val took a few more steps toward her and closed the lingering space. Valerie wasn't waiting for the girl to make the move this time. Her hand found its way to the vixen's face and her lips followed quickly after, crashing into Raven's like waves did the shore. Two bridgers in one day. People would think she'd lost her mind, and maybe she had. This time it wasn't a kiss to be petty or to prove a point though. It was different. Raven was different.
.

VALERIE FLORES

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Soap]

mood :

Dreaming

location :

Funhouse

outfit :

slight badassery vibes

interactions :

Valerie
Nixiee ohdittoh jasmyn

Ambridge

Raven Rivera

She expected this.

The whole... 'I'm better than this' attitude.

"So what? Yeah, I kissed your disgusting friend. What about it? I paid like everyone else."

And if she was anyone else, Raven wouldn't give a shit.

But here she was.

So yes, she expected Valerie to stick up for herself, defend her actions that shouldn't even require to be defended simply because Raven wanted to know her reasonings. They weren't friends. They weren't dating. Far from it. It was more than just casual flirting.

But neither of them actually knew that.

Well, maybe Raven did.

Maybe that's the reason why she's here starting an argument instead of going home.

"I paid and you didn't deliver. It's as simple as that. I'm not in the habit of giving my money away for free. You-" However, she hadn't expected her to stay silent while Raven had went on and on. It only meant what she was saying was getting to her. That her words actually mattered, and more than that-- that Valerie actually cared.

And... was incredibly stupid of Raven to believe that. Out of everything that had happened this past week, that's all Raven truly grasped out of Valerie's actions. It was pathetic. It was as if she was a dog, pining at her owners feet and waiting for them to give in, throw her a bone.

"Shut up! Just stop! I don't need validation from-" She waited for the perfect insult to come her way.

'A selfish drugged up Bridger,'

'A shitty nobody,'

'Someone who couldn't possibly make something out of herself.'

Valerie hadn't been that harsh yet, but perhaps this was just Raven's way of preparing herself for the words that would actually hurt her the most. She shouldn't care so much about what she thought about her.

Especially when almost every action had been Valerie denying any kind of... anything for Raven. As much as she'd like to believe she could care less, she couldn't. Honesty something she values incredibly, even more so with herself.

"You sit on Twitter and you flirt with me all day, act like you get me or something. You do all this but...you don't know me!"

But I want to know you.

That's what she wanted to say, but Raven knew she couldn't.

It wouldn't get them anywhere. It'd only heighten whatever tension that was here.

The girl sucked in a deep breath, letting it throughout her nose while her gaze shifted towards one of mirrors, glancing over at her reflection instead of meeting Val's eyes, deciding to shut herself up before she'd went too far and made a fool out of herself. Raven wouldn't give a shit if she made a fool out of herself, but being rejected was a whole other ballgame.

She came here to... well, to be honest she's not exactly sure why she followed her here in the first place. But Raven didn't come here to sit here and mull over whatever feelings she obviously had. One moment she was fuming, the next her stomach churning, and the second after that she was considering telling Valerie something she couldn't take back?

And what would that even be?

Before Raven could even understand her own thought process, Valerie took a step towards her and Raven diverted her attention to their distance, a distance that continued to close with every word that came out of Val's mouth and it'd started to make Raven's heart pound. Whether it was out of sheer want or the fact their argument was escalating, successfully making Raven more aware of her feelings that continued to eat at her the longer she sat here.

Replaying that stupid kiss in her mind over and over didn't help neither.

"I'm sorry! That's what you want, right? An apology from the 'bitchy princess of Auburn Springs', huh? God. I didn't mean any of it," She knew she didn't mean it. Raven just needed her to say it. And now that she did?

Now what?

Did she feel better?

No. Not in the slightest. Nothing changed. It was her next words that set Raven off.

"What else do you want from me?! To be able to run off and tell all your little friends that you finally got me to crack? Is that it? I mean, why else are you so set on proving that I like you?"

"That's not it at all." Raven said, her nails digging into her palms before meeting Valerie's gaze as she spoke.

"You know why."

Did she?

Jesus, did Raven even know why? The only acknowledgeable thing here was the fact that she wanted to back down. It'd be so simple to just turn around and walk right out of that door. But she didn't. Thankfully, she didn't because Raven wouldn't missed this exact moment she'd been waiting for.

"Do you just want to hear it? I like you! Okay? I have a thing for a bridger. I have a thing for you,"

"And I didn't want to kiss your idiot friend, Rae...I wanted to kiss you,"

It was more than just finally winning the whole cat and mouse charade. It felt like more and for a second time today, Raven was rendered speechless.

She hadn't expected that.

Raven's gaze searched Valerie's while she racked her brain for a reply.

Valerie already knew Raven had her own thing for her, she knew she wanted to kiss her, there wasn't really a need to confirm that.

"So why haven't y--"

She'd barely gotten to finish her sentence before Valerie closed the distance between them, letting out the slightest of gasps in surprise as their lips met with as much tension-- if not more than was already in this room.

Holy shit.

Well, Raven didn't expect that neither.

It took her barely a few seconds to return the kiss with as much fervor as Valerie had already given off, but despite the surprise-- Raven was quick to return with the same energy, placing her hands gently on both sides of Valerie's waist before pushing her against the mirror behind her with force. Raven kissed many people today, too many to count. But this singular kiss was the only one that'd made her feel something and she didn't want it to stop.

The brunette didn't bother to pull away, shrugging off her jacket and letting it fall to the floor without a care in the world for whatever gross shit was on this funhouse floor. If anything was a mood killer, it was the knot beginning to form in her neck. Unfortunately the Princess had decided to wear heels today which made this a whole lot harder to enjoy. It was as if Valerie had read her thoughts and suddenly she was the one against the wall. Either the Princess had some sort of mind-reading magic or she just enjoyed being the one in control.

Whatever the case was, Raven wasn't complaining.

Articles of clothing were removed as quick as their hearts were pounding, and it'd took every single ounce of determination to not throw some sarcastic remark on how her 'dream' came true, a dream that Valerie was oh-so persistent on proclaiming it wouldn't come true.

... Hell of an apology, huh?

coded by reveriee.

 

[Nixiee]

HENRIETTA THOMAS

"Always leave them wanting more, Henri."

Henri was stunned as she watched the scene between Raven, Mason and Valerie unfold. Fuck. She briefly wondered if she should interrupt - Maybe there was something she could do to de-escalate the situation? However, the longer she hesitated the harder it was to jump into the fray. Henri could only watch the train crash in slow motion, glued to her stool. It took a moment for her to realise that both Raven and Valerie had stormed out of the booth, trails of hurt and anger lingering in their wakes.

I do hope Raven is ok... That was... Intense? Shit. Henri felt for Raven. Valerie Flores was... Something. Henri didn't personally care for the girl, but she knew Raven did - at least in some way. But these games they both play... They're only going to hurt each other. Henri briefly glanced over to Mason. And then there are the casualties. She was sure Mason wasn't intending on being dragged into that mess, heck, he looked pretty surprised and confused as the rest of them.

Then again, did any of them handle this well?

Even so, Henri couldn't be a judge on 'handling things well'. She threw hands the other day when logic went out the window. Hypocrite. She made a mental note to check in with Raven later. For now though, it was getting darker and she noted that some of the other booths were shutting up shop. Henri figured she could start to do the same, if only to avoid the chance of rehashing anything that happened today with Mason.

With a pointed look at the boy himself, she motioned to Ari. "Well. That was interesting. Anyway, feel free to take Ari and go on some rides or something, if you'd like. You're excused from your kissing duties, your highness." Henri mocked a curtesy towards Mason, before picking up some sanitiser and a wet cloth, spraying a mist of the sanitiser in Mason's general direction.

"Besides, the quicker I can count the cash and clean this place up, the quicker I can get home."

OUTFIT: Comfy hugs
INTERACTIONS: Mason
MENTIONS: Raven & Valerie
TAGS: Winona , Soap & jasmyn

 

[Soap]

mood :

Pretty okay, actually.

location :

Carnival, Twinkie stand to be specific.

outfit :

Cutesy outfit

interactions :

Drake, Winona

Auburn Springs

Mercedes Camus

Out of everybody. Drake is the last person in the world she'd expect to understand her-- and not because he was a dumb Bridger, and no, she's not calling him dumb, the whole idea that Bridgers were lowly and poor and depressing... it was stupid. Not all of them were assholes-- in fact, there's not really one Mercedes hated. Except Ryan. He was too... angry whenever he wasn't cracking jokes. Maybe humor was like his thing.

But like, also anger was his major thing.

Oh well, Mer didn't know him very well. She didn't know Drake very well either and here she is, relating to him more than she did with her own family. Mercedes was so tired of being labeled CK's little sister. She wanted to be something more than just someone's sister. Mercedes deserved to have her own label, she deserved to be defined-- but something good. Not something as dumb as a backhanded compliment as the sweet child of Auburn Springs.

"Yeah... actually, that's exactly what I meant."

Mercedes took a deep breath, letting it out throughout her nose before she glanced over at Drake, Howard the duck barely blocking her vision from his eyes. She related to him because they were the same. Nobody spared another thought about them, they barely even had gotten acknowledged unless they forced themselves into the conversation. Maybe it was the high, maybe it was the fact that Mercedes felt more like herself than she did today than she ever had in years.

"I say, we define ourselves... to hell with the Bridgers and Springers. We're our own..."

Her hazel eyes searched his as she racked her brain for the right word.

Mercedes expected to come up with this whole amazing idea that'd make them super excited, less down and about but the only thing she could up with was one word.

"Um... constellation."

Yeah! They were their own constellation.

They were the real stars.

"Imagine, Valerie, CK, Mason and like... Raven. They're like the main focus right? But! butbutbutbut--" Mercedes grabbed a hold of Drake's hand, and pointed towards the sky towards their nearest constellation. Tracing the sky with both of their hands until it ended up creating a shape.

"We're the bigger picture."

Mer smiled towards her newfound friend, while everyone else was making out, arguing and fighting Mercedes and Drake simply found comfort in the stars.

Maybe in each other, too.

But who really cared about specifics?

coded by reveriee.

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: it's called friendship. look it up.
outfit: casual wear
location: his house -> the bonfire
mentions: mer, val, sly, raven, and that rivera bastard
interactions: dex
tags: @hery

CHELSEA KADER FREUD

❯ 1 the king of auburn springs™

The fair had left Chelsea Freud thirty dollars down from of his endless bank account, but it had cost him far more than that.

Maybe there had been something in the food that he’d eaten (maybe some Bridger ended up being the one to cook it and had tainted it— he doubted that they knew how to wash), or maybe it was something in the saliva of that (albeit very hot) borderline prostitute that he’d solicited at the booth, or maybe it was the fact that he had done the same all week after any level of physical exertion; regardless of what it was, as soon as CK had stepped into his house, he had felt so much pain that he could barely make it up the stairs to collapse onto his bed.

Alright, he’d concede that it was the last option, and he’d also concede that it wasn’t the best idea to be walking around as if he was totally well whilst still enduring a bruised rib, a sprained pinky, a broken nose, a harsh abrasion to his right cheek, and a throbbing pain from the single bruise that remained on the underside of his jaw. He wasn’t going to try to claim that that was a genius move or whatever the fuck— his head wasn’t that far up his ass— but he only slightly regretted going to the fair, regardless.

In the end, the fair had been a total waste of his time. That…Raven chick, as hot as she was, wasn’t worth five dollars, though she might charge that price on her street corner, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy the kiss, despite the difficulty that his nose tampons had caused. (Fucking nose tampons— he was tired of hearing that. Nasal packing sounded more pleasant, anyway.) Seeing the seething rage in Mason Cocksucking Rivera’s eye had made the whole afternoon worth it. He would have paid to see that anger again, though it really couldn’t be manufactured. If he could have went back in time, then he would have taken a picture to capitalize on that moment. In his eyes, he’d seen pure, undiluted, burning, boiling, overflowing fucking rage; the look that wanted to kill but knew that it couldn’t handle even attempting an attack.

...and then Valerie had kissed him, which had ruined the moment. The Great Depression to that afternoon’s Roaring Twenties.

Did that make tonight World War II? CK hoped that it didn’t; he just wanted one night where he could beat up people not out of necessity but just for the hell of it.

The two weeks since the fair had passed without much more happening.

People passed him in the hallway quieter now, after all of the work he’d done to shut everyone up last week, which further proved to CK something that he already knew: that his method of dealing with shit— threats, pain, and violence— was the only way to really solve problems. Actions spoke louder than words, and his actions could crack bones.

Those who did laugh or think that it was fucking hilarious to laugh at him for a bullshit reason like his injuries yet again, he shoved into lockers, snatched up by collars, and pushed into walls. When he got called into the office, he gave a well-crafted spiel regarding accidents and his brute strength, and, thanks to his way of talking out of things, he was let go without too many questions.

There wasn’t much of that these weeks— of him having to beat up the underclassmen. He was able to walk down the hallway with something near contentment.

Except when he saw the fucking Bridgers— and, more specifically, when he saw that castrated, assfaced Rivera bastard walking down the hallway. Every second that Mason was in sight was a second that Chelsea considered running up to him and slamming his head into a wall, or shoving his face into the floor, or feeling his bones crunch beneath his fists, or doing any range of things to bestow carnal damage on the asshole.

Sure, Chelsea was fucked up because of the dirty fucking slug Sly, who he’d heard was in jail now anyway. (Good for that bastard— that was where he always belonged, even more than all of the the Bridgers did. That was the first step to making the school good again; the next step was to send the rest of them there.) When it came down to it, though, Sly had fought Chelsea that first time because of Mason— because of some fucked up version of loyalty that made the dog think that he had to answer to the slug and that he could have no deviation of thought whatsoever.

The “unfinished business” that had come from the first one was the reason that the second one had even fucking happened, which meant that that whole second escapade— the kidnapping, the near-death, the injuries he suffered now— was all thanks to Rat Face Rivera, who was so fucking dead.

So. Fucking. Dead.

As soon as he caught him alone, CK Freud was going to slaughter that nameless manwhore.

Chelsea just had to wait for the opportunity, and none of the passes in the hallway this week were right opportunities, so the weeks went on with nothing much, nothing much, nothing much. He hung out with Dex during the day, went to football practice after school, and then passed out on his bed as soon as he got home, day in and day out.

CK’s pain pill repertoire remained untouched by the one who was supposed to take the fucking medicine— by Chelsea, because, despite him curling up on his bed and writhing in pain every day after football practice, he didn’t want to burn out like his worthless brother— and yet his bottles were all but drained by the time that he got tempted to take some. He threatened Donna, but the pussy bitch wouldn’t respond to his shoving or his growling, so there was no point. Even more threats to break his wrists didn’t do anything. (If shit happened to his pills one more fucking time, Donna would find out that Chelsea’s threats weren’t empty once again, because he apparently hadn’t learned from the first wrist-breaking.)

Mercedes had told the whole fucking school on Twitter that he’d kissed Raven, and, somehow, an idiotic rumor had begun spreading that Chelsea was somehow a virgin, which as about the stupidest thing that he had ever heard (was he really a virgin? Ask half of the fucking school— he’d be known as Chelslut for a short amount of time for a fucking reason (he wasn’t anything like a slut, but the point was that he wasn’t a fucking virgin)), so he chose to ignore it— but if he found out who started it, he swore to God that he would snap their wrists, too.

A quick glance at the silver Rolex on his left wrist told him that it was time to head out to the bonfire. Chelsea didn’t want to go— he still fucking ached and pained, and he still fucking hated being anywhere near the Bridgers and doing so made him want to take every single one of them out— but it wasn’t like he couldn’t go.

For one, he’d promised Dex, and, even past his pain, Chelsea’s dutifulness— fuck that— his wanting to spend time with his friend made him want to go. Dex was, quite possibly, the only person who he enjoyed himself around, and that would make tonight much more endurable.

Number two, though, was that, as the king of Auburn Springs, he had to fucking go. He wasn’t going to just let them walk all over him like that. He’d shown up at the fall fair, which the Bridgers had all ruined, but he would assume control of tonight and actually enjoy himself.

Yes, enjoyment for Chelsea Freud was typically drinking, sex, and fighting, but even if tonight involved none of those things, he was going to have a good night.

A Rivera-free night— a pest-free night.

Just a night to relax.

With a pained sigh, Chelsea stood up from his desk chair, groaning softly at the shoot of pain from his side. He closed his calculus textbook, setting his pencils above it so that they didn’t roll off of the table. His designer socks softened his unsteady footsteps against the dark hardwood floor as he walked to his door, his black-and-white sweater and designer jeans already on himself thanks to his sudden motivation to get dressed a couple of hours ago.

“Donna!” he yelled as he approached his brother’s door, his deep voice reverberating in his chest. He slammed his fist against the side of his door when he walked by. “Get up, fuckhead,” he mumbled.

“The fuckhead is already up.”

Chelsea jerked his head back in surprise, his face shocked for a second and his heart jolting.

His brother was standing behind him, his neutrally sour expression on his face.

CK’s jaw clenched, and he turned to his brother, snatching his collar and pulling him down slightly. “Did you think that was funny or something?” he growled.

Donna, as usual, didn’t fight back. (Chelsea was thankful he couldn’t smell— being this close to his brother always made him want to vomit.) “Not particularly...I need to get to my room.”

CK looked over his brother, his eyes narrowing.

Donna was dressed, surprisingly. This may not have seemed particularly impressive, it being the late evening, but it was a miracle if the druggie was dressed at all.

“You went all out.” Chelsea scowled, releasing his collar. He gave him another once-over, then looked into his eyes. Wet, red...unsurprising. “Clothes. Round of fucking applause.”

Donna made no comment, moving past Chelsea and turning the knob to his bedroom. As the door opened, CK’s lip curled in disgust. The quick glance into his brother’s room told him that Donna did as little as fucking possible, as always. The bed was entirely unmade— a fucking bare mattress— and the floor was littered with laundry and wrappers of all kinds.

“Fucking rat,” he mumbled, knowing that Donna heard it as he disappeared into his room.

CK rolled his eyes, scoffing, and he walked away and down the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

Chelsea turned his head at his stepfather’s voice, stopping for a moment so that he could turn to him and answer. “The bonfire.”

“Your jeans are sagging. Pull them up,” his father commented in his stern voice. “Where is this bonfire?”

“The forest, near Union Lake.” It was tradition at Auburn Springs; he didn’t know why the hell his dad had to ask. He grabbed a blue jacket off of the rack at the bottom of the stairs and slid it on his arms.

“Are the Ambridge students coming?” The disdain in Ben Camus’ voice was particularly pungent on the word Ambridge.

Chelsea sighed, running a hand through the side of his neatly-brushed, dark brown hair. “Yes, sir,” he gave, and then immediately added, lest his father scold him for gallivanting with the putrid Bridgers, “sadly. I’m only going because I do every year. Trust me, I wouldn’t go if it weren’t—“

“Don’t go, then,” his stepfather said.

CK blinked, his brows knitting for a moment before he suppressed the angry confusion on his face. “Sir?”

“You need to have as little to do with those...people as possible,” Ben said, beginning to walk away and obviously expecting Chelsea to follow. The way that he emphasized “people” made it obvious that he used the word loosely. “Seeing as you’re still refusing to say what happened to your face, those Bridgers have already had a negative effects on you— and your well-being.”

“I fell off of a bike,” Chelsea said, trying to keep his tone un-scoldable though a tinge of his irritation seeped through. He zipped his jacket. “I’ll not do anything that I wouldn’t do in front of you, and I won’t engage with the—“

“As you shouldn’t.”

Chelsea averted his eyes when he was cut off, making his way to the hooks beside the door. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

“Speak up when you talk,” his stepfather griped in his stern voice, and Chelsea stopped following him.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. He grabbed his car keys, running his finger over the ridges of the key.

Ben stopped at the corner of the foyer, turning back to Chelsea. “Who’s driving Mercedes?”

I thought you didn’t want her to go.

“I’m not sure,” CK answered stiffly. Fuck if I know— I could care less who she goes with. “Donna, I’d assume.”

“If it isn’t you, then it has to be him, doesn’t it?”

Chelsea clenched his jaw at his stepfather’s comment. “Yes, sir...”

The greying blonde gave Chelsea a curt nod, walking out of the foyer and into one of the many branching rooms. “Whose idea was it to invite the kids who burned down their own school to an event with fire?”

A dumbass, that’s who. I don’t fucking know— if I knew, then they’d be dead.

“Not mine,” Chelsea said.

Another harshly-delivered word came from Benjamin: “Attitude.”

“Yes, sir.” His words were hollow and meaningless as he tried to mask his anger. “I’m heading out now.”

“Don’t do anything that I would be ashamed of,” Camus called.

“Yes, sir. Goodbye.” He twisted the knob, hesitating to leave as he awaited his stepfather’s response.

No response came.

Chelsea scoffed, walking out of the front door and slamming it behind himself. He knew that he would get scolded when he got home for doing such a thing, but it at least helped to get his anger out, if slightly.

His stepfather— or father, as he wanted to be called, because raising him from infancy demanded that title— pissed him off more than words could express. Chelsea couldn’t fucking help it. As much respect as he held for the man, he was a fucking pest— too concerned with every little, tiny fucking thing that CK thought or did, because “the future leader of our business needs discipline” and being the future leader of our business was all that mattered about Chelsea.

He threw himself into the driver’s seat of his vehicle, turned his key in his ignition, set his hands on his wheel, and pulled out of his driveway, and his hands didn’t move from their position until he arrived at the outskirts of his wooded destination.

The outdoors…Chelsea fucking hated the outdoors. Then again, there were very few things that Chelsea could say that he enjoyed, so that fact was probably unsurprising. The outdoors, he hated in particular. There was grime everywhere, and you could do nothing good except sit and stare at trees, or grass, or…yeah, trees and grass. That was literally all that there was— and, he supposed, a fire, though this was a one night event (if you were anyone stable).

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored the feeling, shoving his keys in there with it as he locked the vehicle before heading towards the noise.

Noise. It was already fucking noisy.

When the fire came into view, so did the shadowy figures surrounding it, and one figure in particular caught his eye— though this one wasn’t around the fire. Instead, this figure was…wacking the air between tree limbs with a stick.

“Fucking…,” Chelsea muttered beneath his breath in a long sigh, picking up his pace a bit.

Why did he have to be the thing that kept this idiot from injuring himself? Why did Chelsea Kader Freud have to be the thin line between Dexter Cruz’s life and his constantly-and-quickly-impending doo—

Hold on…what the hell was he even doing?

“What are you doing?” he asked, coming to a stop a few feet away from Dex, a light scowl on his face, one brow lowered. From what he could tell, he was just…swinging a stick around. “You’re going to poke someone’s eye ou—“

The stick swung in CK’s direction, and as he said the words, the damn thing came up and hit him in his

“Fuck!” he hissed, clutching his hand newly-healed eye. He lowered his hand as the immediate pain subsided to a throbbing pain, and he looked at Dei, huffing. “Drop the stick,” he commanded, and he brought his hand up to his eye again, blinking it. “Fuck— what were you even doing?” His tone was angry, but it was the familiar, friendly type of anger.

Yes, CK did have a type of friendly anger; yes, that was what this is.

He flung his hand down from his eye again, walking up to Dex and offering him a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for the greeting,” he said in his grumpy tone, letting out a puff of air. “It’s nice to see you, too.” He blinked his left eye, rubbing it once more before sighing.

He grabbed the stick, looking at the end of it, and then he looked up at Dex, his brow raised. “You…did…not…,” he muttered in disbelief, letting out a soft, amused puff of air despite himself.

Dex never failed to amaze him with new heights of dumb shit.

“What the fuck were you battling cobwebs for?” he asked, looking up at his best friend with a look of confusion, irritation, and amazement. He let out a single chuckle, poking at the air to mime Dex’s actions. “Are you poking the spiders’ eyes out, too?” His tone was serious, but the slight smile on his face made it known that his words were just a joke.

He glanced back at the fire before looking at Dex once again, still blinking his left eye. “So…,” he sighed, “have any of the Bridgers lit anyone on fire yet, or are they currently looking for the school building so that their arson efforts aren’t wasted?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Chimney Swift]

MOOD: Looking Forward

LOCATION: Starbucks -> Bonfire

basics

MENTIONS:
Faith @k o r o l

INT:




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



[/COMMENT]

tags

TL;DR Starbucks in hand, the Gene train rolls into the station just in time to party with the bridgers around an open flame. What could go wrong?

tl;dr

Eugene Kim

What can I say? I'm charming and irresponsible

It was pretty crowded in the Starbucks by the school. Strange… probably people coming out of work. It was a little late for coffee, wasn't it? Eugene thought so, but he wasn't here for himself. He glanced down at the scribbled note on his left hand, reminding himself of the order: caramel frap, extra caramel, lemon pound cake.
Faith had good taste in Starbucks. Really, she had good taste in everything.

By the time he got up to the front of the line, Eugene had rehearsed the order so extensively that he said it way too quickly and had to repeat himself. Whoops.
The cashier didn't look too concerned, though she raised her eyebrow, probably thinking the boy in front of her was way too overcaffeinated to be ordering Starbucks at this hour.
"What size for the frap?"
Oh. Oh no. Faith hadn't specified.
"...Venti?"
Great answer, he congratulated himself silently. That way if it was too much she didn't have to finish it, or she could hand it off to him or something.
The cashier finished ringing the order up.
"Awesome! That'll be $16.89."

Eugene paid for it with a folded $20 bill he'd tucked in his pocket, and walked over to the small tables to wait, flipping through his phone all the while.
Daaaamn. Bridgers were always going crazy, weren't they? He supposed they'd have to be extra excited about the bonfire, after all, considering what they did to their weird broken down rathole of a school. He just kind of hoped it didn't give them any ideas about Auburn Springs High. He was just starting to like that place. Maybe one of them was just weirdly obsessed with burning down schools or something. Eugene, though, still liked to think of it more as a blessing in disguise. They'd have so much more fun now that the bridgers were here.
He'd only pissed off maybe half of them.

"Order for Eugene!"
Oh shit, there it was! Gene's eyes lit up and he hopped back over to the counter to pick up Faith's order, but when he was just five steps away an older woman appeared out of nowhere from the line, swept up the drink and cake, and hustled out of the store at top speed.
What?
Who does stuff like that!
"Heyy!!" He snapped, pointing, once again more than a little too late for anything to be done about it, but the barista took notice of the twitterpated 16-year-old and set down a quart of almond milk to check in.

"Is everything alright?"

"No, dude. My order just got swiped."

"Just now? You were… Bailey?"

"Eugene." He rolled his eyes without intending to.

"Oh, got it. Hang on, we can get everything together again. No cost. It happens."

"Hey, thanks." Eugene was grateful, but his voice betrayed his fatigue. Why was it that whenever Eugene did anything, it ended up taking 20 minutes longer than it was supposed to!?

He finally made it out of the store with Faith's prized snacks 10 minutes later. He tucked the tray into the crook of his arm, zipping up his jacket and pulling a pair of gloves out of his pocket. It was kind of chilly tonight. The bonfire, he supposed, would help with that.

He had his ukulele strapped to his back. He considered bringing the guitar, or maybe even the lute, but didn't want to have to drag either of those around for the whole evening. But still, it would be fun if some people could be roped into an impromptu performance. That's what bonfires were for, right?

Really, Gene didn't know. This would be his first. Again, this was his first time at a lot of things. It wasn't that scary… he'd decided he liked trying new things, but all the same it was a little nerve-wracking trying to decide how to prepare for one adventure after the next.

By the time he bopped his way down to the lake, it seemed like things were already in full swing. The fire crackled and glowed, a scattered crowd forming around it as people continued to trickle in from their cars. Wondering if he was late but appreciating not being the first one there, Gene cradled his Starbucks wares and began hunting around for the radiant, brilliant and utterly hilariously perfect Faith Gomez. Shouldn't be too far off, but it was him who would be hard to miss. Showing up late with Starbucks was an incredible power move, he thought.
It was easier to think of it like that, rather than I got held up in a chain café and had to walk because I can't drive.


.

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Aristocrat by New Politics

Natalie

The definition of insanity was, what, repeatedly doing the same thing expecting a different result? Could Natalie be considered insane considering that this was now the... third weekend in a row or so that she had attended a social event alongside the rest of her fellow classmates, only to have the Bridgers be invited. Again. Because they just made everything so much better.

Could you detect the sarcasm? Good.

At some point, she was sure that she would be expected to get over this petty hatred of the Bridgers. At some point, everyone would completely forget which school they had originated from and become some kind of... disgustingly woven together school. However, that point wasn't today, nor could Natalie ever see her succumbing to the brutish charms of the trolls under the bridge -- unlike many of her classmates, who had started to clearly fall under the Bridgers' spell.

Aka Valerie and Chelsea and their Bridger kissing.

Absolutely disgusting.

If burning people at the stake was still allowed, it would have been Natalie's first suggestion -- unfortunately, it was a frowned upon practice, although that didn't mean they couldn't be burned at the social stake. Except, no one seemed to care that they had swapped spit with the diseased inbred mongrels from down under. Who knew what kind of STDs and other sicknesses the diseased rats were toting around? And basically the King and Queen of Auburn Springs had decided to give in and see.

Dis. Gus. Ting.

Regardless, Natalie had arrived at the party. Hur... rah? To be perfectly honest, she wasn't particularly thrilled to be here and her attitude was already soured as she had arrived. Things between her and Garrett had yet to start looking up -- as in, after they got into the little petty argument over that little incest loving Bridger who had shoved her, the two of them hadn't really talked. It was... lonely, to say the least, to have her best friend gone. Sure, Natalie had Mercedes, but...

It was far from the same.

Anyway, they had yet to make up following that little prick shoving her and taking off. If it had been up to Natalie? She would've shoved the little fucker off the bridge and watch as he flailed around in the water like a drowning rat.

It wasn't like his life was worth anything, anyway. Think of it as less Natalie killing a child and more as Natalie... ridding the world of a necessary nuisance. A blemish on the side of humanity that didn't need to continue to waste precious oxygen and resources by living, and certainly not living long enough to potentially reproduce.

Honestly, humanity would thank her for doing such a thing.

Now, however, she resided near the fire with a red solo cup full of a mixture of pop and rum in her hand. She peered over her cup as she brought it up to her mouth to take a sip, the corner of her lips twitching into a briefly disgusted smirk as she caught sight of a handful of Bridgers that had arrived.

Disgusting.

| mentions: idk a LOT | interactions: interactions | tags: tags |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: just a bad boy doing what bad boys do-- ladykilling, boutta raise some hell-- the usual
outfit: scope the drip hahaha
location: the bonfire
mentions: zane
interactions: rory and jade
tags: jasmyn Winona

IAN HANSEN

❯ the baddest boy to ever bad™

The fair turned out to be fudging fun as fudging heck.

Wait, no, bad boys said fuck, yeah— hold up, he needed another run on that.

Ahem…

The fair turned out to be fucking fun as fucking heck, and it was all thanks to Jade Jennings, who was the coolest girl ever ever. She was like a bad boy, but not a boy— ooh, she was a bad man.

Yeah!

Ian didn’t know why her sister was fussing about him hanging out with her so much, anyway. Rory liked to fuss about everything ‘cuz she wasn’t as cool as the people who Ian was hanging out with, though. Ian, you’re going to get yourself fucking killed didn’t really make a ton of sense, ‘cuz Ian was super responsible, and plus, she’d done the same stuff, too, just with lamer people. Rory was the opposite of a bad man. She was a…uh…good…fish. A good fish, yeah.

Ian liked fish okay, but they weren’t as cool as bad men, and they weren’t anywhere near as fun.

Oh, wait, but Ian was even cooler than Rory could even think that she was in her head now, ‘cuz Ian had dropped some balloons filled with paint— that he stole! Personally!— on some heads of unsuspecting victims, and he bet all that Rory did was play some dumb games and try to get dumb fish— and he’d tried to get fish before, but he’d outgrown that reaaaally quick, ‘cuz he was a bad boy who could develop in the blink of an eye into a bad man when aided by other bad men such as the baddest man who was in the form of a very, very hot girl named Jade.

Mmhm. Ohhhh, yeah. That was right. He had dropped balloons on the heads of random people while sitting on a roof with a super hot girl and laughed the whole time about it, and his heart had been pattering ‘cuz he was scared that he was gonna get caught, but that was nothing— listen, being a bad boy was harder than you’d think— and then they had gotten caught and then they’d both had to run away from the people chasing them who threatened to kill them.

Which was kinda fun as hell, even though he nearly tripped again— but he didn’t trip, ‘cuz bad boys didn’t trip, and he was the baddest boy— and they hadn’t gotten caught ‘cuz he was responsible.

Er, ‘cuz Jade got him away really quick.

Did he mention how cool she was? ‘Cuz she was super cool.

Anyway, the last couple of weeks had passed with baddest boy Ian hanging with baddest man Jade after school, just doing whatever she felt like ‘cuz she had the best ideas, anyway, and kinda just sitting and talking sometimes.

As cool as his brother was, he got tired of spending time with him, ‘cuz he had to deal with him all of the time, anyway. He didn’t know— Jade was just…eh, better than his family.

Except for maybe his wine aunt, sometimes. Well, not his wine aunt, but the sister of his foster mom who lived in the house. Janice acted like she didn’t see when he took her wine, so she was pretty fudging cool sometimes.

Except when she wasn’t.

But Jade was cool a hundred percent of the time, so it was just funner to hang out with her.

Tonight, he was gonna hang out with her, too— even if his sister was fussing about it the whole time. Ian could just turn his ears off and not listen to her, ‘cuz he knew that he was gonna be fine and what she was saying didn’t really matter ‘cuz none of the stuff that she was saying really ever happened to anyone except for the idiots, and Ian was the opposite of an idiot.

Anyway, his sister had driven him to the bonfire with his brother, and so that was kinda fun, he guessed, but now that he was out of the vehicle and walking with Rory, he could feel his heart thudding in his chest with excitement.

Bonfires meant fires, and so heck yeah! Fire? Fudging— fucking cool!

“…and so…yeah, that’s what I said,” Ian said, finishing his story as he came into the clearing.

His eyes searched for Jade, and they almost immediately found her.

His face lit up, a bright smile spreading across his lips.

He sped up his pace, bordering on running as he approached the blonde girl standing by the plastic drink table, the presence of his sister totally forgotten.

“Jade!” he greeted happily. “Jade!” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Hey!” He glanced down at the cup that she had in her hands, and then he grabbed himself a cup, ‘cuz if the bad man did it, then the bad boy should do it, too. He uncapped the bottle and looked at the label. “Oh, ho, ho…Mee-lee-er Lee-tay…” Miller Lite. “Beer, mm, tasty.” He put his hand on the top, giving it a gentle tug, but the cap didn’t budge. “Hngf,” he huffed in frustration, but, still trying to look cool, he looked at Jade with an “I got this” and then slammed the bottle into his head.

“Ouch!” he hissed when the glass hit his forehead, touching the spot that it’d hit. He looked at Rory, suddenly remembering that she was there, and he held the glass bottle out to her with a pleading look of “c’mon, help me look cool” before he looked at Jade with another grin.

“Jade!” he said. “So…" He lowered his voice, walking closer to Jade and shielding the left of his mouth with his palm, as if that would help to keep his sister from overhearing what he was asking. "What are we lighting on fire tonight?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Chimney Swift]

MOOD: Paralyzed


LOCATION: Dani's house -> The Lake

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:

tags

TL;DR Oliver, wanting to get away from his pile of homework for a bit, mistakenly stumbles upon the bonfire. Whoops.

tl;dr

Oliver Dreyfuss

Quiet people have the loudest minds

Oliver found himself slumped over the arm of Dani's couch, staring blankly into the corner of the room with glazed eyes. It had been hours since he'd moved. If it weren't for his tired hand movements and occasional dejected sigh, it might have looked as though he'd fallen asleep in the middle of his unfinished schoolwork.

One of his physics textbooks, a notepad, a few crumpled sheets of paper, and a calculator were cast aside on the couch next to him. The front page of the notepad was still blank even after the three hours he'd been here.
A sharpened green pencil flicked rapidly back and forth between his fingers… he'd apparently been at that a while, because the sharp end had scratched his hand a few times and his knuckles were red and starting to bruise.

The whole world seemed to have come to a standstill. After weeks and weeks of pain and fear, and injuries, and fighting with the people he loved the most, it had all come down to just him alone on the couch with his untouched AP Physics homework. He didn't even know where to start with it. It was already a few days overdue, and his teacher had put her foot down and declared this was the last week that late work would be accepted.

Oliver didn't remember the last time he struggled in a class.
It always used to be easy for him: getting to school early, listening with captivated attention, tending to every project, assignment and deadline with utmost care. School was the only thing he could ever confidently say he was good at.
Well, that and causing problems.
But one problem to many had started him down a spiral that seemed to have no end in sight. One slip-up just led to another, and another, and another… at this point, it seemed as though it wouldn't end.

The blank page of his notepad was glaring at him.
He glared back.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but for once he knew better than to answer it. Talking to his friends only ever seemed to make things worse.
Maybe he needed to be quiet. And far away. For a long time.

That was it. He had to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just not here. Not Ambridge. Not now.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, he had grabbed his shoes and jacket, running upstairs to his room to retrieve Garrett's noise-canceling headphones. Oliver was still in disbelief that Garrett had simply gifted them to him-- but truly, they'd been a big help. Nowadays everything seemed all the more overwhelming. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Oliver threw his backpack over his shoulders and was on his way out the door, forgetting entirely about the mess of homework he was leaving behind.

Halfway across the bridge, Oliver wondered briefly how much weed he could buy for three dollars. As weird as that experience was last week, he just wanted everything to slow down again… just for a few hours…

A stupid thought. He wasn't going anywhere he could buy weed, anyway. The whole point was to be alone.

His brain was sizzling like a dying light bulb, feet dragging him across the Union River Bridge and onto the pruned and nauseatingly cheerful side streets of Auburn Springs. Suburbs always felt strange to him: like walking through the set of a movie. Too clean, too orderly, too welcoming. Rows and rows of comfortable houses and trimmed green lawns and white picket fences.

What would he have been like if he'd grown up here? With a loving family, a good school, a therapist, a bicycle, who knows… maybe even a pet turtle.

As he went along in his tired fantasy of being a wealthy suburban kid, he found himself stumbling off in the direction of the lake. Oliver had always liked water: it was easy to collect one's thoughts, watching the quiet rippling depths.
Funny, then, how he still didn't know how to swim.
But regardless, that was really what he needed right now. Just somewhere quiet to be for a few hours, to think, if thinking was something he still knew how to do.

By the time Oliver could spot the shimmering lake over the treeline, he smelled smoke.
He stopped in his tracks, almost startled. Overhead of the bare mid-autumn trees, he could see it. Not the black acrid smoke of a car wreck. Grey, soft, billowy. More like a campfire, but it couldn't be--
Holy shit, was the lake on fire??
No way. No way.
Oliver's anxiety-addled brain immediately launched into investigator mode, forcing him forward through the open field up to the lake until he could spot the source of the flames, hear the crackling of embers… and talking.
Way too much talking.
The fates, once again, had decided they hadn't seen enough of the poor boy's pain and given him another slap on the cheek.
Being alone for a night was simply too much to ask of the universe, wasn't it?
Before he could even react to this latest run of bad luck,, his brain had simply given up on him and shut him down like a machine. He froze up, stalk still, clutching his backpack straps, watching the orange glow illuminate some painfully familiar faces…

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Superman by Boyce Avenue

Mason

It had been… what, a week or two since that bitch Valerie had decided to fucking kiss him? Something like that… it wasn’t as if Mason was keeping track of the fucking days or some dumb shit like that. It wasn’t as if he gave a damn how long it had been since Raven had stopped talking to him because of said dumb bitch Valerie kissing him.

Nope, it wasn’t any of that, not at fucking all.

And it wasn't like he was now using his child to try and get Raven to forgive him -- no, look, it was for Ari's sake. And fuck you if you thought it was anything fucking else, alright? With Ariana having grown up with basically no mother (save for the first few months, and here and there when Adriane would grace them with her presence), Raven had basically become her mother figure. Now, don't tell Raven that because quite honestly, Mason had a deeply rooted fear that mentioning that shit to Raven would make her bounce quicker than Adriane had, but it was true. Not to mention Raven was the only decent fucking role model that she had, and...

Mason had to fucking get Raven back to talking to him. For Ari's sake, not his. He could fucking care less if she wanted to bother with his presence -- at the end of the day, Raven was nothing to him but a babysitter. He could drop her easily -- if Ari wasn't involved.

So, he'd given Ari a piece of paper and some paints and let her go to town. The simple goal was to let Ari paint a picture for Raven and maybe then she'd just fucking forgive him for shit that wasn't even his fault. Why'd she get so worked up and angry over it, anyway? So what, the fucking Springer bitch didn't want to kiss her -- big boohoo. Raven deserved better than Valerie's sloppy ass kisses, anyway.

This was dumb as fuck, anyway. Why the fuck did Raven get to be pissed at him for Valewhore but he didn't get to be pissed at her for fucking kissing mother fucking Chelsea fucking Freud? She knew how much he absolutely despised that fucking Springer, and yet she'd still gone and fucking done it and made a whole fucking show about it. Fuck that guy -- Mason wanted nothing more than to be able to drive his fist straight into the prick's smug fucking face, over and over again until he stopped breathing once and for all.

He looked down at Ari where she was currently sitting on her knees at the cracked coffee table in the living room. Surprisingly, the fucking table was sturdy as all get out -- Mason had knocked Drake into it once and cracked it, but he'd just... kinda... duct taped over the crack when Ari was born so she wouldn't accidentally cut herself on it or something. The edges of the table had been cracked and broken, leaving sharp edges that Mason had caught himself on more times than he could count growing up -- so that, also, had been duct taped. The table looked like shit now, but everything in the apartment looked like shit.

"Good job, Ari." He said as he picked up the paper that was damp with paint. Ari had pretty much just mixed all the colors together to make a beautiful... sickly... grayish-brown blob, but hey, she was three. What else did did you expect from a three-year-old? "C'mon, let's--" his voice cut off when he heard someone fiddling with the door.

The way the small apartment was set up was that the front door led into the kitchen, and the kitchen led into the living room -- and by lead into, Mason simply meant it all occupied the same space, so he could clearly see the door from where he stood. He listened for a moment, trying to decipher if it was Drake or his mom that was at the door, but their mom hadn't come home the night before, and Drake would've headed to the party already, which meant...

He dropped the painting back to the table and grabbed Ari's hand, pulling her to her feet and dragging her towards the bathroom. Mason closed and locked the door after them, holding a finger up to his mouth to let Ariana know she needed to be quiet. He turned the water on and picked her up, holding her with one arm while he used his other hand to help her wash the paint from her hands. Washable my ass, he thought bitterly as he eventually gave up, setting her back down and helping her dry her hands off. The previously... mostly white towel was smeared with more stains of ugly gray-purple from her hands, and her hands still held the same tone, too.

Well, it was close enough.

While he cleaned her up, he listened with one ear to what was happening outside the bathroom. He could hear stumbling around followed by choice, angry cusses, which just cemented the fact that it was his mom that had come home and not Drake. She started screaming something mostly incoherent and Mason directed Ari to cover her ears with her hands.

He waited, crouched down in the bathroom, trying to smile and act like nothing was wrong for Ari's sake. But his heart was beating fast, his palms were sweaty, and if it wasn't for the towel clenched in his hands, Mason would've been shaking at the very least.

Eventually, he heard the familiar sound of her door slamming shut, and a wave of relief washed over him.

"Go grab your backpack and let's go," he whispered to Ari as he stood back up and cracked open the bathroom door. Mason peeked out to make sure his mother was in the bedroom and, when he didn't catch sight of her anywhere, he pulled the door open the rest of the way and let Ari scurry out and head for the bedroom.

Mason tossed the stained towel to the floor of the bathroom before he stepped out, his gaze focused on the floor. He'd grown accustomed to moving through the apartment and knowing where to step that wouldn't cause any floorboards to creak -- because every floorboard creak risked the chance of his mother coming out of her bedroom screaming. Ari was still small enough that she didn't make the floor creak like he did, and he would have them out of this apartment and somewhere that she wouldn't have to memorize the pattern of the floor to avoid being yelled at or slapped by her grandma by time she was older.

Ari came out of the bedroom, struggling to get her backpack on. Mason finished pulling on his shoes before crouching down to help Ari get the backpack on and put on her own shoes.

"Ready?" He asked, his voice a mere whisper, and Ari vigorously nodded her head.

Mason straightened back up and went to grab the door handle and head out of the apartment when he remembered something.

He tiptoed back to the coffee table, picking up the partially dry painting, and then walked back over to Ari.

-------------------------​

Mason had opted to walk with Ari to Raven's instead of taking an Uber or something. In theory, it was a better idea -- he saved money, he didn't have to wait around for an asshole Bridger Uber. However, it was only better in theory. In reality, it was fucking cold out. Ari started complaining about being tired, so he had to carry her which was all fine and good, except now she was three and carrying her through the chill evening air didn't do much to improve his permanently soured attitude.

When they finally got to Raven's, Mason's arms were tired from carrying Ari. He was pretty sure he hadn't gotten all the paint off and she'd somehow managed to stain his cheek with the ugly fucking paint.

Basically, by time they arrived at Raven's front door, Mason was bitter and angry -- which wasn't abnormal for the guy.

He set Ari down. "Alright, remember," he started talking as he reached out and knocked on the door, although his gaze didn't leave Ari's as he did so. "Give this to Raven and tell her how much you miss her, okay?" Mason explained as he held the painting out. He considered telling Ari to try and cry, but decided that encouraging your child to cry to emotionally manipulate others wasn't the kind of lesson he wanted to teach Ari.

... Unless this didn't work. Then he'd tell her to cry next time.

Mason's hand dropped away from the door and he stepped back, sucking in a deep breath while Ari and he waited for Raven.

| mentions: ekckekeghae | interactions: Raven | tags: Soap |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Rx (Medicate)

Drake

Partypartypartypartyparty.

Well, bonfire so it wasn't like technically a party because parties didn't usually involve bonfires or fire in general unless you were from Ambridge and you happened to be partying when the school had gone up in flames. In that case then yes, parties and bonfires were synonymous with fun-- well, not fun because the entire school had been burned down so it was more like being synonymous with being miserable. Except Drake wasn't miserable right now, no sirree, so maybe fire didn't equal miserable? But fire didn't equal fun because fire didn't taste very delicious and you couldn't play with it and you could only look at it so it was basically like an aquarium but a fire aquarium. He should get that -- like an aquarium but fill it with fire and it would just sit there and burn and--

Wait what was he doing?

Oh yeah, partypartyparty.

Bonfire party.

Drake had bounced from the apartment earlier this morning and had spent most of his day here and there, doing whatever it was that appealed to the boy with an attention span of non-existent. He'd woken up early, gone for a run, headed home and showered, smoked a bit to steady his nerves, and then basically spent the rest of the day fucking off until the sun had started to set and it was time to head to the one, the only, the bonfire party of the year by the poorly named Union Lake.

(Fucking off is Drake for he couldn't remember what the hell he'd done).

With the palm of his hand, Drake rubbed at his eyes. They burned a bit and he rapidly started blinking until the pain started to subside and he could look around at the party. Alcohol plus fire was literally the best mix he'd ever heard of and he could see a few others that had already arrived -- some of his fellow Bridgers, and some of the grrr we no likey you Springers.

Drake started to walk, meandering his way through the party. He paused here and there to say hello to this person or that person, until his steps brought him closer to the woods which were just creepy and kind of scary to look at. Like, they were dark and spooky and totally gave "owooowowo ghosties and hauntings imminent if you enter" vibes. Ya know the kind of vibes he was talking about -- the vibes that happened in every horror movie but the main characters still entered.

And then he saw it.

The fucking ghostie.

Well not ghostie, but clearly it was Slenderman, and Drake's heart nearly jumped out of his throat as he stared intensely at the lithe figure in the woods. His words wouldn't work, so he couldn't even yell out to warn everyone that monsters were real or they were in a really shoddy B-list Sundance film and no one had told Drake filming started today.

But then, he realized that he recognized that face.

A relieved smile cracked across his face as he started into the woods, carefully picking his way over broken branches and trying to be quiet and a little stealthy, ya know. However, that didn't work super well seeing as how Drake had the stealthy abilities of a... a... a walrus, so instead, he cracked every twig on his way and really, it was impossible to not hear him coming.

"Donna C!" He greeted the boy, his pitch perhaps a little too loud as he stopped by the guy, his grin broadening. "What're you doing way out here, buddy ol' pal?" Drake started. "The party's thata way," -- he pointed back towards the bonfire that was clearly visible through the trees -- "and you're lookin' like Slenderman in here. I saw you and I was like 'oh no, I'mma die right here, right now, to the tentacles of a Creepypasta horror guy that hasn't been relevant for years.' But then I looked again and I was like 'oh, that's just good ol' DC, Batman boy.'"

Naturally, Drake finger gunned at DC while he was incessantly chattering along.

| mentions: N/A | interactions: DC | tags: ohdittoh |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: drugs
outfit: some of the contents of his floor
location: the forest outside of the bonfire
mentions: mercedes
interactions: aaron drake
tags: Winona

DONNA CAIN CAMUS

❯ 1 the disappointment™

(tw: nondescript mentions of drug usage (because it’s Donna...so it’s kinda a given))

Early to bed and early to rise made a man healthy, wealthy, and wise, but when one wasn’t a man yet, one’s hands were constantly shaking, one’s personal account was always running on empty, and one was a straight C student, one grew to see how little being healthy, wealthy, and wise really meant. Being none of those things wouldn’t make one happy, and being all of those things wouldn’t make one happy, so there was no point in trying at all.

Thus, on the weekends, DC Camus often chose not to awaken any time before three pm and not to exit his room until at least six. His mother kept far away from him at all times and never spoke him in any capacity if she could help it, and his father knew to keep away during these times, at least; he’d caught him doing too many things too many times that he’d eventually given up, it seemed, which Donna wasn’t complaining about.

It was always awfully tense when one’s father walked into one’s room in the middle of one nailing down rails.

From six to eight, he would allow his sister into his room to chat, though he didn’t say too much, and then, at around ten, he could finally venture out of his room, trying to avoid walking past his father’s study. If he did happen to run into Benjamin, he would call him into his study, sit him down, and ask Donna if everything was okay in his demeaning voice, as if he cared about anything of the sort, and then proceed to lecture him on the mysterious entity that was his future that he held no hope for whatsoever.

Today, though, was an event that Donna was…perhaps not excited for, but was slightly less than indifferent about, and, so, he had roused himself from his slumber at twelve to begin his gradual shift to being willing to tolerate the presence of others.

On the 2019 calendar taped to his nightstand with half-ripped office tape, he’d scrawled the words bonfire at lake on today’s date. (He could have very easily changed the calendar from a ’19 one to a ’20 one, but he had never felt like it, and it was nearly ’21, anyway, so there was really no point in doing such a thing.) It was tradition for all of the students to go to this event every year— though, obviously, the same people didn’t get it rolling each year— but Donna had always found that it was a pleasant place to get high and pass out in some leaves, and so, he had made that his yearly tradition: smoking his allowance while staring up at the night sky, wondering if a badger or some other creature would come along and begin to eat him alive, and letting his morbid thoughts about his black future out in the tumbling long streams of grey curls.

It was one of the few days a year when Donna could be apart from being a part of something while still being a part of something, and he didn’t know how exactly to explain how that made him feel other than…not-exactly-excited-but-also-not-completely-indifferent.

Happy? Did it make him happy? Was that the word?

He wasn’t sure if he knew what happy was, so he couldn’t answer that.

He had picked up one of his discarded green cardigans, tugged it over his long-sleeved, baggy yellow sweatshirt, and he stared at himself in his tall mirror before he had headed to the bathroom to get ready. Though he knew that he’d grown immune to the smell, he could imagine how bad the cardigan, at least, would smell— the residual, lingering scent of cigarette smoke, the pungent odor of weed, and body sweat mingling together could not have been pleasant to people who found those smells particularly revolting— but he couldn’t’ve cared less. His brother, who was the only one who could do any harm to him for smelling the way he did, was too injured to have cared too much; he’d heard, from several sources, that having things shoved up one’s nose inhibited one’s ability to smell, and Donna was not complaining that his brother hadn’t beaten him or snapped his wrists.

He ran a finger through his disheveled blonde hair, peering into his mildly bloodshot eyes, momentarily mesmerized by how dilated his pupils were before he broke eye contact.

He wasn’t going to be attracting any attention tonight— he never attracted any attention, especially when anyone else was around— and Donna couldn’t say that he minded this fact.

As he exited the bathroom, the door to his brutish brother’s bedroom opened, down the hall, and he approached his brother as his brother approached Donna’s room. “Donna!” Chelsea yelled. He slammed his fist against his door as DC came to a halt behind him. “Get up, fuckhead.”

“The fuckhead is already up,” Donna delivered in his nonchalant tone, trying to move past his brother as his brother jerked in surprise.

Chelsea seemed to have other plans, and he snatched Donna down by the collar, which he did surprisingly often. “Did you think that was funny or something?” he growled, as if this would help the situation in any way.

Donna’s neutral, soured-looking expression remained on his face. “Not particularly…,” he said. “I need to get to my room.” He looked up from his brother and to his bedroom door, which he’d shut to keep away Chelsea’s prying eyes.

There were a few seconds of silence from Chelsea as he did whatever he was doing, and then his grip released from Donna’s collar. “You went all out.” Donna glanced down at his brother, who glared back into his eyes. “Clothes. Round of fucking applause.”

How mature that was of him.

Donna moved past Chelsea, his hand grabbing his doorknob, and he disappeared into his room without another word.

He only came into the hallway a few minutes later to grab his keys to leave.

When Donna got downstairs, his father poked his head into the foyer, asking, “Chelsea?”

“Donna,” he responded.

“Oh.” His dad’s head disappeared back inside of the doorway.

Oh…that was all that he got, just oh.

“‘Bye,” he said, grabbing his car keys and walking to his vehicle.

Mercedes had spent the night somewhere, so the ride to his destination went by rather slowly, though he didn’t complain. A lit cigarette in his hand the whole ride, Donna savored the ride as his pedal, floored, carried him where he wanted to go faster, faster, and even faster.

When he pulled up, he slammed on his brakes, the vehicle lurching at the suddenness and making a soft squealing noise. He yanked his gear shift to park and stepped out of his vehicle, discarding of his cigarette butt in the grass and tossing his keys in his vehicle haphazardly before realizing that he had some valuable materials stashed within it that required it to be locked.

After locking his vehicle, Donna began the trek to the campsite, and when he arrived, he plugged one of his ears with his fingers and began to walk away from it.

He’d seen enough of the actual party already; now it was time to make himself at home in his usual spot in the leaves.

As he went to get settled, his hands patting at his pocket to be sure that the stuff that he’d brought was still in here and feeling his worn lighter in the pocket of his grey sweatpants. He kicked at the leaves, trying to make a comfortable enough bed of then to sit down in, if not lay down in, and he lowere—

“Donna C!”

At the sound of his name, Donna’s ears pricked, and the high out of his mind Springer looked slowly back at the boy standing behind him. “It’s DC,” he said in his passive, dry tone, looking him over with his large, sad eyes. His face was familiar, but no name came to him...but, he looked like an...Aaron, or something along those lines. With dark hair and a wide grin, the boy looked relatively young and cute, and Donna was, frankly, mildly confounded at why he was speaking with him. His type, with high energy and a short attention span, as he seemed to have, didn’t often engage with his type...the background character, the one without too much depth beyond “I’m depressed and everything is pointless”, and the one whose presence one could forget about if one looked away from him.

"What're you doing way out here, buddy ol' pal? The party's thata way, and you're lookin' like Slenderman in here. I saw you and I was like 'oh no, I'mma die right here, right now, to the tentacles of a Creepypasta horror guy that hasn't been relevant for years.' But then I looked again and I was like 'oh, that's just good ol' DC, Batman boy.'" He shot him finger guns every couple of seconds, and his mouth rattled off so quickly that half of the words didn’t register with his unclear mind.

Aaron made Mercedes seem akin to a mute.

Donna dropped himself down in his bed of leaves, looking back up at Aaron. A mild confusion rested on his face. He had no idea what...Slenderman was, though he himself was, in fact, a slender man, so he wasn’t sure if it was an insult or not. “The party is right here,” Donna said simply, retrieving his lighter from his pocket and drawing it slowly out of his pocket. “The fire that I need is right here.” It was much less dangerous than a bonfire, anyway.

He withdrew a small bag from his pocket, which in it had two rolled joints and another small bag of weed, untouched. “It’s calmer, and I prefer it.” He folding his legs out from beneath himself, out-stretching them, and he pulled out his two pack of cigarettes to sit beside them.

Tonight’s plans.

He looked up at Aaron. “It’s much better out here,” he said, nonchalantly lifting a joint to his lips and lighting the end with his lighter. He coughed a moment, and then met his eyes.

He still hadn’t walked away.

He looked away from him and down at the leaves to his left, brushing a particularly orange one off of the top of the stack. “Are you planning to stay here, or...?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Angel with a Shotgun

Rory

After what Ian had pulled at the fair, Rory had taken to keeping even closer of an eye on her little brother -- which, to be fair, wasn't exactly an easy thing to do when she regularly kept an eye on him, anyway. And how could she not? Between Zane and Ian, Ian was clearly the dumber of the two siblings (which, again, wasn't saying much seeing as how both twins were idiots).

Ian had the survival instincts of a newborn duckling. He was the kind of kid that would run in front of a train because his ball fell on the railroad tracks, or would get his tongue stuck to a metal pole because he tried to lick it in the dead middle of winter, or any number of other dumb, idiotic things. Basically whatever you might say "surely no one is dumb enough to do that" to were things that Ian thought were perfectly normal, safe things to do. He must've been dropped on his head every day when he was a baby.

As usual, she'd driven the boys to the bonfire and Zane had taken off -- but at least Zane's self-preservation skills, although still not great, were better than Ian's. So Rory stuck to the dumber twin, walking with him towards the clearing as he told some story that Rory really wasn't listening to, but she nodded along as if it mattered.

So, naturally, her goal had been to keep Ian distracted. Yes, Rory was going to take one for the team. She was going to skip out on partying all night to keep an eye on her dumbass of a brother. They would have fun, they would go home, and they wouldn't run into--

"Jade!"

No.

"Fuck," Rory hissed under her breath before she followed after her brother. As they came to a stop by the blonde, Rory's arms crossed over her chest and she stared down the other girl.

Look, it wasn't like Rory necessarily disliked Jade. Jade was fun -- her and Rory used to hangout plenty and Jade had become one of her closest friends... by that, of course, Rory meant close as in the two would hangout at parties, getting drunk and... you know... dumb party shit. However, that was fine! Because it was Rory making the decisions and Rory at least had a couple ounces of common sense and she was far more coordinated than her little brother.

Ian, on the other hand...

She looked down at him as he brought the beer bottle into his head as if that would somehow twist off the top. Rory's eyes fell shut, a deep sigh escaping her lips as she shook her head. Her eyes opened back up right as Ian held the bottle out to her and, with a roll of her eyes, she took it from him.

But see?! Ian couldn't even open up his own fucking beer. He needed her there to keep an eye on him and keep the dumbass duckling from walking into oncoming traffic.

Rory gripped the bottle cap while she still only half-listened to whatever Ian was rambling about.

Except her dumbass brother was, well, a dumbass and his hand did nothing to stop the sound of his voice as he asked Jade exactly what Rory had fucking feared and fucking knew was coming up.

"What are we lighting on fire tonight?” Ian asked as the cap came loose on the top of the beer with a satisfying pop sound.

"You're setting shit on fire tonight?" Rory rephrased Ian's question as she held the beer out to him and tossed the cap into the grass beside her. Her arms crossed over her chest again, her piercing gaze first burning a hole into Ian before she looked to Jade, waiting for an answer.

| mentions: Zane | interactions: Ian, Jade | tags: ohdittoh jasmyn |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: you-- i-- DRINKING ISN'T LEGAL--
outfit: normal fit
location: bonfire
mentions: n/a
interactions: nat
tags: Winona

KATEE NAUSBAUM

❯ 1 the snitch™

It had taken two weeks, but Katee Naubaum had arrived at the conclusion that those brownies might have been laced. He didn’t want to throw around accusations all willy-nilly! And Xan seemed really cool! But...

Yeah, those brownies were...pot brownies.

Could Katee be arrested for getting high?! He was too young to go to jail! He had five months until he was seventeen— and then a whole year until eighteen, so if he was going to get arrested, he wanted to get arrested at eighteen! They’d eat him alive there, but he wanted to be eaten when he was a legal adult, not sixteen!

Constantly looking over his shoulder and trying to lay low, Nut spent all week trailing Nat— which is what he’d do, anyway, despite her telling him to go away. She was pretty, and there was a nice girl deep down in there. Plus, she was Nat, and he was Nut, so it was a match made in heaven.

Wasn’t that clever? Nut wasn’t super clever, but he thought that that was a testament to his growing cleverness.

And, the best part of these two weeks? He’d only been beaten up once— and his inhaler still have 011 pumps left on it!

Though his stress was really wearing on his nerves. But hey! He was just more hyper when he was antsy.

Which meant that tonight was so much better! A bonfire!

“A bonfire?” his mom had asked. “Why the hell do you want to go to that? They’re not going to want you there.”

He knew that they wouldn’t want him there, but he wanted to go, and so he’d left his laundry room bedroom at around lunch with a pep in his step and tried to ignore his dad and mom making out on the couch as he tried to leave without disturbing them, only for his mom to yell at him anyway for making noise while opening the door. He couldn’t help it, but he took it with a lot of quick “sorry”s and eventually left.

And when he left, he realized that he hadn’t thought of any way to get to the bonfire, and he didn’t really know what a bonfire entailed.

He would…walk. It couldn’t be that far away.

After a few, lagging commands into his cracked, ancient Android phone, Nut pulled up a map to the loca—

“Shiiiiitty titties,” he mumbled, stopping outside of his apartment complex.

It was…far. And no one would want him, anyway, so maybe he shouldn’t go…because he didn’t really know what a bonfire was exactly, and…

Oh, but it wasn’t too far for him, he assured himself as he began to walk again, trying to follow the compass in the corner of his map even though he sucked at navigation. He had won the track and field day in fourth grade— first place, and he’d gotten a medal— and plus, he had his inhaler in his pocket, so it wasn’t a big deal that he was going to have to walk.

…but it kinda had turned out to be, because it took him a whole five hours to arrive at the location, and by then, he was sweaty and parched and panting and red, and the chilly air burned his throat and made him cough every five seconds. A pump from his inhaler barely helped, but seeing the forest made the smile come onto his face again.

“Hyes!” he coughed, pumping his fist and smiling brightly. “Yay! Bonfire!” he said to himself, and he began to plod towards the—

Hwoah, there was a fire?!

He stopped short of going into the clearing.

He didn’t know that there was going to be a fire…

Eh, what was the worst that could happen? He just…he wouldn’t get near the fire, and he would be fine— and if anyone caught on fire, uh…duck, cover, and hold, right?

He stepped into the clearing. “Nut has arrived!” he called, though he knew that no one would really care, and he began to walk aimlessly forward.

His eyes caught on a blonde girl standing near the fire— and he’s know that three-quarters view from anywhere.

“Natalie!” he called, waving his hands all about himself as he approached as quickly as he could. “Hello!” he greeted, coming to a stop in front of her, his usual, bright, dumb smile on his face.

And then he noticed what she had in her hands, and he smiled brightly. “Soda! Getting the party st…wait a second…” He noticed a drink table at the back, and he looked at Nat, eyes wide, gaze surprised and offended. “You can’t drink,” he gasped in a whisper. “That’s…illegal!”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Soap]

mood :

Idk

location :

Home

outfit :

cold, casual and cute.

interactions :

Mason
Winona

Ambridge

Raven Rivera

Raven was on the couch, scrolling through social media trying to cure the boredom that dared to set in. Valerie came to mind and Raven genuinely considered texting her, but a glance at the clock had told her it'd seem like a booty call, something Raven wasn't very fond of doing... and whatever the hell they were doing, who knows. But Raven didn't want her to think she was just using her. Nancy was organizing many pills in one of those day-to-day cartons, she always made things a little easier before she packed up to go home to her own family, god knows where Raven would be today without Nancy.

Her grandmother was at her usual spot, sitting right next to Raven, mindlessly flipping through the channel to find a show that'd somehow interest her when there was a knock at the door. A knock that startled the brunette, it wasn't Mason, it was too late for it to be Mason... and she'd name a few of her other friends, but nobody really came over besides him. She didn't really like having anyone around at home besides Mason.

Felt a little too... personal, maybe? Especially to share with her friends. Raven kept to herself and kept her family in a very small circle.

"I'll get it."

She put a hand up, indicating Nancy to continue doing whatever she was busy with when Raven walked over, opening the door with the deadbolt still locked.

Had to be safe, right?

She opened it barely half-way to see a man, tan skin, slight stubble, he didn't look overly old, ten years or so years older than her, he was dressed in darker clothing, don't get her wrong-- he looked sketchy, but had a sense of professionalism.

And because of that, Raven had already started to get nervous.

"Raven Rivera?" He asked, resulting in a nod from her. "Detective Santiago. Could we talk?"

--

The fluorescent lights flickered, buzzed, and did everything but light the incredibly depressing room they were in. Ambridge's police station was everything you'd think it was, run down, extra precautions and guards in every corner, people waiting to give a statement that hardly anyone would give a real ear to. It was ridiculous. If Raven was going to be in an interrogation room, she hadn't expected it to be in this kind of circumstances.

Pictures of the table were of her leaving an apartment.

Dani's apartment, specifically.

"What? You expected me to lie? Yeah, I know her."

"How close are yo--"

"Why."

The man took a breath, sighing heavily and rubbing the temples of his forehead, clearly hesitant for the first few moments before meeting Raven's gaze, deciding to continue.

"We believe she's involved in theft of--"

"She's not."

Raven wasn't going to let him get the chance to get her to admit to something that wasn't true, that's what cops did, they craved any sort of information to close a damn case for their next raise. It was completely bullshit. Sure, not all cops were bad.

But this guy was getting on her last nerve.

"Look, this isn't going to work if you don't let me finish."

"You don't have to, I know her. She's not involved in any shady shit." When Raven was close to somebody, she protected them-- and she knew Dani, she wasn't involved anything. And if she was? Raven would've figured it out a long time ago.

"The reason to speculate is more than the fact that her father was--" History was a really good way at getting people to admit things they didn't mean, just because Dani's father wasn't the greatest guy, at least-- legally, that didn't mean she did anything wrong.

"I know. But she's clean. I've known her since I was a kid." His next words ultimately changed the whole game, Raven had became nervous enough that her hands started to sweat.

"What about Sly? Is there anyway he could've convinc--"

"She's not involved."

"Tell me what you know about him and she won't be."

--

It'd been a few weeks since then. Raven had practically been walking on eggshells with her friends. She'd stayed away from the group chats, outings, sat at a different table at school. Everyone most likely chalked it up to her being angry at Mason for kissing Valerie, and honestly? That's how she'd like it to stay. She didn't want Dani to know, and she didn't want to tell Dani either.

... Especially now that she was on some kinda trip that Sly was missing.

"Raven?" Nancy knocked at her bedroom door, and the brunette sighed, taking a last puff before killing the cigarette in the paper cup that laid the windowsill for days, multiple cigarettes practically filled the thing halfway.

This was her last cigarette, actually.

She'd smoked a whole pack in the matter of two days.

And she never does that.

Raven's hardly a casual smoker in the first place, but she was under a little more stress than usual, she had to do something instead of just sitting there and letting her mind run. "Are you going to that bonfire thing?" Her words caused Raven to knit her eyebrows together in confusion, opening the door to greet Nancy with a blank stare. "Why would I?" She replied, gently pushing past Nancy making her way out of the hallway.

"You can't stay holed up in your room, you're a teenager! Go out, have fun."

"I don't know if you noticed Nancy, but I don't exactly have the easiest life to go out and party all night."

"That's what I'm here for!"

"You have two jobs. Go home to your own family, go... watch a movie or something."

"You don't have to be so stubborn y'know."

"No, but it's one of my best qualities." Raven said, mustering up a grin, grabbing a blanket and laying it across Rose's legs. It was freezing in the house but messing with the thermostat was only going to mess with the bills more than it already has. Rose had pulled the blanket off and threw it to the floor, causing Raven to huff in frustration. "Abuela, it's cold. You're gonna get sick if--"

"Andrea, déjame en paz."

Raven lifted the blanket off the floor, and clearly Rose had believed Raven was trying to cover her again. "¡Basta! ¡basta!" The older woman threw the television remote in anger, making it's mark with the wall and creating the smallest of holes with the loudest impact.

"I said leave me alone! Bueno para nada, puta."

Raven put her hands up in defense, throwing the blanket to the opposite side of the couch she created distance with her grandmother. It was becoming harder and harder to deal with her the more Rose had seen her as her mother, Raven had known they didn't have the best relationship, but completely reliving it as her mother-- well, it's safe to say she understands what her mother meant when she'd call her family incredibly difficult to live with.

"Raven..."

"I'm fine. Although we might have to call a handyman, there's only so much damage this place can take." Raven teased, clearly trying to lighten the mood for Nancy's sake. A knock at the door had almost made the girl flinch, and as much as she wanted to just leave whoever the hell it was outside in the freezing cold-- the knocking continued, although very softly and she realized instantly who it was, at least it was enough for a smile to appear on her face.

She opened the door to be greeted by none other than Ari and Mason himself, while Mason probably expected to earn a glare, it was nothing more than a once-over.

"Daddy told me to say I missed you." The tiny human held out a piece of paper and Raven's heart could've melted, it was so odd how a few blobs on a piece of paper meant so much. "Wow, you made this for me? It's going straight on the fridge." The brunette leaned down and squeezed both of the redhead's cheeks together one-handedly, placing kisses on both, leaving the slightest lipstick stains on her face. "I missed you too, did you know th--"

A tiny gasp escaped the girl and she'd ran inside as soon as she'd seen Nancy.

"Anddddd just like that I'm replaced."

She shook her head, returning her attention to Mason.

"... You really put your kid to come talk to me? Were you afraid I wouldn't forgive you? Ah, I know what it is... you just miss me that bad, huh?"

coded by reveriee.

 

[geminiy]

RYAN MURPHY

@themurphman has set their status to:
not having a good fuckin time right now

@themurphman has set their outfit to:
I have exactly three looks and this is one

@themurphman has set their location to:
some intersection

@themurphman has mentioned:
Oliver

@themurphman has interacted with:
Dani, Lincoln

@themurphman has tagged:
jasmyn gh0stwriter

[Minor TW: familial abuse, drug use]

Ryan was not having a good week. Of all the weeks in Ryan Murphy history, the week he was currently struggling through ranked pretty high on the Shitty Week List. Well, t didn’t beat out the first time he got arrested (that really wasn’t a good week, he got his underwear stolen by his cellmate), or the second time he got arrested (now that was a truly bad week), or the time that his school got burned to the ground (double whammy considering that he still had to go to school AND said school was in Auburn Springs), or the time that his demonically possessed motorcycle launched him into a concrete highway barrier (the launching itself wasn’t that bad, it was more the fact that he had to go to school looking like he had lost a 1v1 brawl with fucking Mike Tyson and Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson’s lovechild).

Okay, so maybe the week hadn’t been that bad in the grand scheme of things. Sure, he had been dealing with the repercussions of dickhead Oliver calling out his criminal record for the world to hear and yeah, he smashed his face again and sure, he may have skipped class once or twice or practically all week. But realistically, things weren’t too bad. No one had tried to get his ass locked up again, Oliver hadn’t said much more (emphasis on the ‘much’), his facial bruising was like 99% gone, and no one had gotten on him about not going to classes (sans Dani but she gets on his case about him ignoring all of his responsibilities).

Plus, believe it or not, Ryan had finally fixed the damn demon bike. Clearly something was going right for once.

Ryan had missed the fair because of a stupid parole meeting. The meeting itself had been rather ironic, seeing as his parole officer had been telling his father all about the importance of staying on the legal straight and narrow as if he hadn’t been attempting to help the cancer taking over his body kill him faster with a cocktail of unknown (and probably unnamed) drugs the night before. Ryan simply sat there, smirking at the odd situation. How funny was it that his parole officer saw Ryan’s deadbeat drug-addicted father as a more responsible figure than the kid who had to raise himself in the streets of Ambridge for most of his life? It was a damn surprise that theft, trespassing, and burglary were the only charges on his record given the rather unfortunate circumstance that was his existence.

If he was being honest, Ryan felt like shit. Sure, nothing particularly horrible and life shattering had happened if you ignored all the routine crap that had begun plaguing Ryan’s waking hours. The anxiety and the anger and the dying father and the friendship turmoil was nothing new. No, nothing new that was particularly horrible and life shattering had occurred to put Ryan in such a foul mood. Yet he hadn’t been able to have a conversation without snapping on someone nor had he been able to pull himself together to get himself to his classes. He just woke up, worked on his bike until he was tired, tried to eat, and then slept again. It was an agonizing routine that he had really been wanting to break.

Luckily, a fine opportunity presented itself in the manner of an Auburn Springs bonfire. Were the Bridgers invited? Probably not. Was Ryan still gonna go just to rub it in their faces that he could? Abso-fucking-lutely!

So, after making plans with Dani to meet up so that they could ride to the event together, Ryan got to work on adding some flair to his newly remastered motorcycle. It had been freshly painted a few days earlier with some glossy black paint ‘borrowed’ from a local motor shop, the metal fixings shined until Ryan’s knuckles were raw and the surface was reflective enough to see your reflection. It would be difficult to tell that the bike wasn’t completely second-hand and had practically been nothing but a rusted bicycle just a few months earlier if he hadn’t been talking about it constantly.

For once, Ryan was proud of himself.

He needed to show off his hard work and, although the bike itself was beautiful, it needed some extra Ambridge spice. So Ryan got to work, painting the old Ambridge school crest onto the back part of his bike and fixing up the cracking leather seat to the best of his ability. He added details in the Ambridge colours with a careful hand, taking his time to decorate the motorcycle until it looked sufficiently badass.

The night of the bonfire rolled around and to say that Ryan was excited was an understatement. He was going to finally be cruising with his best friend again, leaving the world in his rearview as they chased each other down back streets and abandoned pathways, the whole night ending in crashing the stupid Auburn Springs bonfire. It was going to be perfect and Ryan was damn happy about it.

Well, he was until his dad opened his mouth.

“James, where d’you think you’re going?” He croaked, his voice garbled and filled with a thick phlegm that caused all crispness of sound to become lost.

“Out.” Ryan answered plainly, uncovering his motorcycle from underneath a canvas tarp and pushing it out from behind the dumpster. “I’m meeting Dani, we’re just gonna go for a ride.”

“Dani? Oh yeah, she’s the pink haired one right?” He asked as Ryan stiffened in anticipation of the insult that always came right after his questions. “Dunno why that bitch sticks around your sorry ass.”

Ryan’s fists tightened around the handlebars of his motorcycle, his knuckles turning white in the dull glow of the streetlamps. He was used to the insults, he was used to being torn down to size. But Ryan had never and would likely never ever get used to the insults to his friends, especially not someone as important as Dani.

“Well, maybe she hangs around because I’m not a fuckin’ deadbeat like yourself.” Ryan retorted, his face scrunching slightly at his own words. His mouth was moving before his brain could catch up and, in typical Ryan fashion, would likely land him in trouble. “You should try not being a prick all the time, I bet that’ll make you some friends.”

Ryan’s father struggled to his feet, reaching one track-mark covered arm out to the wall to hoist himself up while his other hand clutched a mostly empty Jack Daniels bottle. Some of the alcohol spilled over the lip of the bottle and down his dry hand from the sudden, jerking movements of his father. Ryan couldn’t help but laugh, though the fear in his eyes told a different story.

“I’m surprised you can even stand up right now.” Ryan spat, his heart beginning to thump rapidly inside his chest. “Though, it is early in the night. There’s always time for another overdose, eh Pops?”

Ryan’s father took a staggered skip forward, his empty hand still using the brick wall for support as he continued towards Ryan. As he got closer, Ryan could hear the wheeze in his lungs as he attempted to breathe, his cracked lips parted in an attempt to get more air in. Even sickly and frail, Ryan’s father was far larger than himself. There was no exiting the alleyway without pushing past him.

“The fuckin’ disrespect I get from you, James.” He snarled as his hand shot out to grab the collar of Ryan’s sweater, using his remaining energy to pull Ryan towards him. “After everything I’ve done for your sorry ass, you’re still runnin’ your tongue. Give it time, boy, you’ll be just like me in no time.”

Ryan couldn’t speak, his mouth running dry as his mind searched for words. If anyone else had said those words, Ryan would have had a clever comeback itching on the tip of his tongue before the person had even finished their thought. But not with his father. Every time Ryan’s father got going, he reverted back into the scared child that hid under beds and in closets to avoid drug-binging rage or parental arguments. No amount of time passed or wisdom earned fixed this issue.

“What’s the matter, James? Not so fuckin’ tough now, eh?” He continued, his lips peeling apart in a brown grin. “Thinking you can run around here mouthin off yet you shut up real quick when I get up, huh?”

The hand gripping Ryan’s collar shoved him backwards causing Ryan to release his grip on the motorcycle which clashed to the ground beside him. Ryan tripped over his own feet, struggling to stay standing as the fabric of his sweater ripped down past his collarbones. His brow was slick with nervous sweat as his breath picked up, preparing for a fight.

“Let go of me.” Ryan attempted to demand as his hands reached up to grab his father’s, though his voice lacked any power or strength. He was just a foolish, weak child.

“Why should I? Disrespectful fuckers like you don’t deserve anything and I sure as hell don’t owe you nothin’.” His father laughed as he downed the remaining alcohol in the bottle, his grip still ironclad around the ripping fabric of Ryan’s sweater. With the bottle empty, Ryan’s father gave him a final shove to the ground before whipping the bottle towards him. Ryan rolled out of the way, the glass shattering just in front of his face. A shard flew up from the concrete, slicing clean through the thickest part of his right eyebrow, droplets of alcohol flying up into his eyes with the sudden impact.

Ryan braced for a moment, his palm flying up to his forehead to stop the blood from dripping into his eyes. He could feel the top of his chest aching from the shoves and the pulls, his pale skin undoubtedly red and well on its way to bruising. He waited for a punch or a kick or anything to finish the job. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut as his other hand went to protect his face.

A final blow never came. There were a few clangs, a few gasps for breath, a thud, and then silence.

Slowly opening his eyes and sitting up, Ryan looked to where his father had been. He had passed out cold, spit dripping down the side of his face. The grazing on the back of his head indicated that he had hit rather hard, the skin on the side of his face ragged with scrapes. Struggling to his feet, Ryan stood his bike up and pushed it out of the way, rushing to his father’s side.

He should stay. He really should stay. That fall could have hurt him, it could have broken a rib or caused a concussion or anything of the sort. Why had he fallen in the first place? Was it a medical episode? Ryan nibbled on his lower lip as he thought, trying to figure out what to do. Lost in thought, Ryan had barely noticed his father’s fist flying towards his head until it was beside him, just barely giving him enough time to move out of the way, the hand whizzing by the front of his face before his father fell limp in his arms.

“No medical emergency,” Ryan spoke to himself as he carefully picked his father up underneath his arms and scooted him back over to his corner by the dumpster, “just a drunk jackass.”

Ryan wrapped a threadbare blanket around his father’s legs and placed a bottle of water beside him. He doubted that he would wake before he returned from the bonfire but he didn’t want him to go without water if he did.

Grabbing his bike, Ryan hopped on and attempted to pull the helmet down. Hissing in pain at the contact of the helmet with the cut through his eyebrow, Ryan decided to opt for a lack of safety and chucked the helmet up onto the fire escape with the rest of his things. Securing his bag around his chest, Ryan turned the bike on and carefully took off down the alleyway, peeling out into the street and losing his father far behind him.

Ryan ran every stop sign and red light on the way, not bothering to obey the specificities of traffic laws as he sped towards the intersection that he had agreed to meet Dani at. He tried his best not to think, to not feel the guilt that was gnawing at his stomach that would undoubtedly make him turn around to tend to his father. Ryan couldn’t understand why he still cared about his father, why he was a parent to the guy as if it wasn’t supposed to be the other way around. Perhaps Ryan was broken. Hell, he had hit his head so many times that brain damage wasn’t entirely out of the question as a plausible explanation of his behaviour.

The intersection came into view and a small smile formed on Ryan’s lips. But, the closer he got, the more confused his face became. Why were there two bikes?

Pulling to a stop in front of Dani in the middle of the intersection, Ryan temporarily turned his bike off so that he could talk to her more easily. The area was dark, lit only by the headlights of the three motorcycles in the clearing causing Ryan to squint to see the person behind her.

“Hey!” Ryan chirped as he attempted to fix his wind-tousled hair. He couldn’t look like a mess for this mystery guest. Ryan just hoped that this guest didn’t notice his significantly ripped sweater or the blood crusting on his eyebrow from the deep gash that refused to stop bleeding. “You brought a friend, did ya? Sup man, I’m Ry-”

Ryan stopped dead mid-sentence, his stomach dropping.

“Link. Hey.”

Ah yes, just who he didn’t want to see on a night he didn’t want to be actively participating in. Fucking perfect.

Ryan’s eyes flickered back to Dani, his jaw clenching with frustration. Why the hell hadn’t she told him that Link of all fricking people was coming with them? Ryan didn’t even have to ask the question, he knew the answer already. If she had told him that Link was coming, Ryan simply would’ve bailed. Hell, he still might. The night began with a fight with his father so the last damn thing he wanted to do was deal with his ex-boyfriend-fling-hookup-friend-dude after royally fucking everything up with him and then practically going MIA on his ass.

“You didn’t tell me Link was coming.” Ryan forced himself to speak, his hand reaching up to the cut on his eyebrow to wipe some of the blood away. “It’s, uh, good to see you man.”

No it wasn’t.

Nothing about his situation was turning out to be good.

So much for the exciting bonfire evening that Ryan had been anticipating. But what was new? Nothing ever worked out in Ryan’s favour.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Superman by Boyce Avenue

Mason

Mason had managed a small smile for when Raven opened the door -- although, smiles on Mason never looked quite right. Like, you'd expect a smile to make someone -- even the most hardened of assholes -- look at least a little bit approachable or friendly, right? Well, with Mason, it did the complete opposite. When he actually tried to give a decent smile, it just looked unnatural. He looked more reminiscent of an awkward middle schooler posing for Photo Day than anything else.

The horrible smile was washed away when Ari spoke up and his dark gaze snapped down to the little girl, eyes narrowing slightly at her. That wasn't-- he'd coached her, and the toddler had sold him out. Of course, had it been anyone except his own child, Mason might actually be offended or grow even a little angry. However, it was Ari, and looking down at her -- and watching Raven interact with her -- made any kind of anger he might feel melt away.

But no, he wasn't soft, so don't even fucking dare start thinking that shit. Mason was more abrasive than sandpaper, tougher than a fucking lion or some shit. It was just...

Ari was his anger's kryptonite.

And then... she was gone. Mason peeked around Raven to watch her run off to Nancy, the edges of his lips twitching into a smile -- different from the first smile, mind you, because this one wasn't forced. So it looked almost more natural, plus it was that little half-hearted smile that was commonly placed on Mason's face.

"Now," he quickly went to start and correct Raven, holding up a finger as he shifted his attention to her from Ari. "I didn't put her up to it. Technically, she did fucking miss you. I just exploited it." Mason explained, which really... exploiting his child to get Raven to forgive him? Not that big of a surprise. What else would you expect from a seventeen-year-old with a toddler?

At least Mason didn't use her to try and pick up older chicks -- he'd had "friends" try to do that shit but as it turned out, having a kid might be cute when you're a little older and help. But when you're in high school? It was fucking straight up chick repellent, so Mason kept his Ari exploitations reserved for Raven.

"And I didn't fucking miss you, alright?" Mason continued, and his tone was bordering on harsh -- and anyone that didn't know Mason well would believe him in a heartbeat, but there was still that faint, underlying tone that proved his words were a straight up fucking lie to try and preserve himself.

"Look, I'm..." he sucked in a deep breath, his hand going up to brush down his black hair. This right here was the hard fucking part, the fucking part that Mason would've rather not had to say. Getting his teeth pulled out, or having to fight Chelsea (actually, he'd love the chance to do that), would have been less torture than trying to form this word...

And Mason gave up. There would be no s-word that rhymed with worry spilling from his mouth.

"I didn't know kissing the Springer bi--" he cut himself off from calling her a bitch, instead opting to clear his throat and continue as if that bump had never happened, "meant so fucking much to you. I would've said 'fuck you, no,' if I had known," -- he wouldn't have, he was still a teenager boy who was weak to the demands of hot girls -- "and... I guess... yeah, I kinda missed you..." he grumbled the last part so it was almost inaudible, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck before falling to his side.

"You really been that upset over this shit?" He asked, his hands slipping into his pockets.

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Raven | tags: Soap |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

Bonfire huh? Well Lola hadn't made her way to the fair a few weeks ago due to...let's be honest she didn't have a good excuse she just didn't want to go. She didn't wanna run some sort of booth, nor did she feel like walking around paying money for the probably incredibly lame booths others made. Judging by the racket on Twitter throughout the whole shindig she made the right call.

Twitter was hot as ever that day and even once it quieted down over the week it was an eerie quiet. Like the calm before the storm. The storm clearly being this bonfire that was surely to be just as much of a mess as the fair.

The only different with this event for her was this included a fire, which is always fun when it's in a decently controlled environment, and most importantly it was free. Lola was a bit of a penny-pincher, but for good reason! Her money was hard earned unlike most of the springers she'd been surrounded by the last year.

Ugh their privilege left a sour taste in her mouth and a deep grudge in her eyes. It was bad enough she couldn't escape it in her new "home". It was a roof over their head, but it wasn't a home. There were people there, but they weren't a family. She rarely saw her sperm donner, and the live-in ugly step siblings with their even more horrendous mother were as unconcerned with her presence as always. They were a sight for sore eyes both inside and out as far as she was concerned. All the plastic surgery and make up in the world couldn't fix that.

The twins were nothing but a charity case they could brag to their brunch buddies about. Get their badge of "good will" for taking in the orphans the state shoved on them. Just one more year. All she needed was one more year and they'd be outta here. Where would they go? She wasn't sure but anywhere was better then this.

If she was honest even with all her preparations ...she couldn't see them going too far. There were some people in this hell hole who they kinda cared for. Link more then her (at least that's what she'd lead you to believe). Being one of the few voices of decent reason in their group of friends she figured it was kinda up to her to help keep the idiots alive and outta too much trouble. Avoid too much bodily harm if possible. A difficult and nearly impossible feat it seemed especially when they seemed to follow the logic if one jumps they all jump...but hell what else is there to do?

Speaking of fun without too much trouble Lola had taken the liberty during the week to sneak out a few minerals from the chemistry labs storage. They really should keep that better locked up, there are some dangerous things you can do with some of that stuff. She however wasn't looking for danger, just entertainment. Good old fashioned chemical experimental entertainment. A little Potassium chloride, Copper chloride, Copper sulfate cause her favorite color is green, and last but not least Lithium chloride. Once she was home she bagged them up, labeled them and stored them for today.

Most of her time getting ready was deciding which jacket would best conceal her bags, and her sling-shot. She wasn't too concerned with fashion or anything like that. Seemed like a waste to be always chasing the next trend. She hadn't gone last year since she'd been brand new and if you think Lola's angry about her situation now, you should've seen her when she first got here. Hell has no fury like a woman scorned and Lola was ready to scorch the earth with her rage. Burning down this dumb house was mighty tempting, but knowing it'd send her and Link back to foster care was enough of a sedative.

While her temper has cooled down to an ember just below the surface, she still wouldn't consider herself adjusted. She's pulled some strings to make herself less of a target, but she still doesn't see herself as one of them. A bridger at heart for what that's worth. however now with the worlds colliding she has opted to stand back and let the chips fall where they may for a while. It makes her head hurt seeing the interactions between the two.

She gave herself a once over in the mirror before sending a text to Link. She wasn't sure where he was...which was usual sadly, and so she wasn't sure if they were going together or not. To be honest he probably thought she wasn't going considering she'd skipped out on the last couple events. Still would it kill him to answer his phone? Whatever she'd see him there she guessed. Lola snuck out the window of her room cause even though she doubted her "family" would say anything to her, there was still a chance and she was not in the mood.

She'd made her way to the lake rather early. She enjoyed the peacefulness of it all. Tree's were like the roofs of the wilderness so there was a bit of comfort there. She made her way up to the top of a nearby try that was safely far from the fire but not too out of reach. As time went by more and more people arrived and got the bonfire started.

She spent her time absorbed in her phone playing various apps waiting for their to be enough people for a worthwhile scare. Maybe when someone she hated walked by she'd toss one of her bags into the fire using her slingshot to make their appearance match that of a Disney villain scene? Or help a nervous people out with a pink flame behind them? Whatever the case it was going to be fun for her because seriously if they thought they could have a bonfire and someone NOT mess around with it they were sadly mistaken. At least her idea wasn't going to hurt anyone. She hoped she could say the same for others.

She decided to kick things off with Purple because who doesn't love the color purple? She had the contents wrapped up in a piece of regular notebook paper inside of her little baggies and picked out the one labeled the color she wanted. She knew she wasn't going to remember the compound's name. She placed it in her sling-shot and lopped it high in the air to where it landed directly into the flame, and in a burst the flame turned for just a moment from it's orange glow to a purple one. Sadly she didn't bring enough for it to linger too long, so in the blink of an eye it was gone. How disappointing.

She decided that she'd just have to dump them all in at once, but she'd need to get closer for that. She hoped down from the tree branch and was making her way to the fire pretending to be curious and confused like the others who had briefly seen her little show. She was distracted from her mission however by the sight of Eugene with a Starbucks up looking lost. Or rather like he'd lost someone. She supposed her lightshow could wait a moment, as she walked over to him. As she got closer she was able to hear the name he was looking for.

"Did Faith send you on an errand?" She snickered as she approached him, "I hope you're getting paid, even Uber eats people get tips." She smirked sliding the cup from his hand curious as to what on earth she could've wanted from Starbucks at a time like this? Weren't most people here going to get drunk or something? It was weird to want to drink coffee this late. She examined the cup a moment before her eyes drifted back to him, "And nothing for you?" She hummed her assumption. It was really sad sometimes how the "popular" circle of this school just had flunkies to do their bidding without an ounce of self preservation in return. What did buy her coffee and snacks get him? However as a hustler herself? Game recognizes game, so she didn't hold that against the girl.

She returned the cup to him with a shrug, "I don't know if she's here yet, and I've been here a while." She added. Not her first choice in who she'd be hanging with while here, but hey he'd do nicely until she found her other troublesome friends or her brother. At least he wasn't completely unbearable as most of the springers where. Though that might just be because she's been conditioned by now to tolerate him.

Lola B.

"Breakaway"

Mood: I guess this is fun...
Location: Bonfire
Outfit: Casual but typical
Interactions: Eugene ( Chimney Swift )
Mentions: Lincoln, Faith

coded by incandescent

 

[Chimney Swift]

MOOD: Good Awkward Fun

LOCATION: Lake

basics

MENTIONS:
Faith @k o r o l

INT: Lola Kitsune2202




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



[/COMMENT]

tags

TL;DR Lola is here, asking some questions Eugene's empty head hadn't pondered.

tl;dr

Eugene Kim

What can I say? I'm charming and irresponsible

A skinny brunette broke from the crowd and walked towards him, hazel eyes sparkling in the firelight. Her zippered black jacket, made of some sort of leather or vinyl, immediately disclosed her identity.
Lola-- his classroom buddy, who had somehow been his partner on every single group project they'd had so far. He supposed they were both a little too eccentric for their other classmates to want to partner with. Lola was also one of the Bridgers. Eugene knew this probably didn't endear her to the rest of Auburn Springs, but to him, it was fresh and exciting. Growing up in that skeevy Gotham-looking town was unthinkable to him. The Bridgers must all be totally badass or something.

Lola was already snickering as she approached. Gene just smiled, shifting the Starbucks tray in his arm to offer an airy wave.
"Did Faith send you on an errand?"
He nodded, his smile turning lopsided and a little awkward. She continued, joking that he should be getting paid for his labor, that oh-so-familiar smirk appearing on her face.
"Paid? Nah, dude. I'm just like... doing a favor. It's chill. Franklin busted her car or something." He explained as Lola took the frappuccino cup out of the tray and examined it for a moment before sliding it back, asking why he hadn't picked up anything for himself.

"Oh. Uh... yeah. I'm, uh, not much of a coffee person, y'know?" Not true. It just kind of tumbled out of his mouth that way. God, talking to people was just kind of hard sometimes. He tried not to let on too much, but he was new to this.

Just as he was about to ask if she'd seen Faith around, she confirmed that she hadn't. Shit. How the hell had he beat her there? He got held up for like 10 extra minutes. "Whooooa, I'm early? I'm never early." He let out an incredulous gasp, reeling back to feign shock. He kept the mood light, but immediately a handful of unpleasant thoughts started to crop up.
What if Faith had just decided not to come?
She'd have said something, right?

He brushed it off, quickly steering the subject in a different direction. "So hey, how have you been? I mean, since the chemistry exam. I think even the smart kids cried over that one..."

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Aristocrat by New Politics

Natalie

"Natalie!"

No.

She'd recognize that annoying, grating voice anywhere.

Katee.

Her lips drew back into a look of pure and utter disgust as the came to a stop in front of her with a "hello" and that typical dumb look on his face. This right here, Katee Nausbaum, was the epitome -- the perfect example -- of why it was better than Ambridge's high school had been burnt to a crisp. It obviously didn't churn out anything but utter imbeciles with only two braincells to rub together and the cognitive abilities of a freaking toddler, but...

Why did it have to burn down and send the unwanted, drug-addicted, idiot Bridgers to Auburn Springs?

And why did those unwanted, drug-addicted, idiot Bridgers think that she wanted anything to do with their kind? It seemed that no matter how hard Natalie tried to shake the pest in front of her, he kept coming back like a cockroach. Except she'd rather have dealt with cockroach than Katee because, as it turned out, pest control wasn't willing to take out human beings.

"Katee," she greeted, doing nothing to try and cover up the sound of absolute disgust and hatred in her voice, or to clear the disgusted expression that had been permanently etched on her face since she'd first heard that the Bridgers would be attending her school. Natalie didn't make any move to walk away -- because she knew if she did, he'd still follow her.

Her disgusted expression was exchanged for one of absolute annoyance as he told her that she couldn't be drinking because it was... illegal...? He was a Bridger, and yes, maybe Natalie was relying a little too heavily on preconceived notions and stereotypes that she'd heard, but wasn't illegal basically the only thing that Bridgers did? Like, they were all one wrong move away from being sentenced to prison for life (and good riddance, as far as she was concerned), right?

But she quickly let that expression be swapped for one of complete shock and horror -- Katee was annoying as hell, but that didn't mean Natalie couldn't have a little fun with him. And maybe, just maybe, if she just... played along but in a lowkey bitchy way, Katee would finally get the hint and leave her the hell alone.

"What? I can't drink?" She echoed with a gasp, the hand that wasn't holding her cup going up to cover her mouth in fake shock. "Oh golly gee, I really thought it was legal to drink alcohol." Her voice was honey glazed sarcasm as she spoke.

And then, she brought the cup up to her lips, taking another sip as the look of shock dropped away. The whole time she was drinking the bitter beverage, she kept eye contact with Katee until she brought the cup back down with only a few swallows of alcohol left in the bottom.

"Oh well," the honey was dropped away and her voice was harsh and cold once more as she shrugged. "It's a party, Katee. Loosen up." Natalie said and held the cup out to him. "Go ahead, try it. Maybe it'll make you a little more fun to be around."

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Katee| tags: ohdittoh |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Rx (Medicate)

Drake

TW: minor drug talk

What was it that Mason was always telling him -- or had told him when he was a lot younger and it was a real threat? But still kind of told him now a lot because Drake had the reasoning of a five year old and often had the whole "ooh shiny" distraction factor that was normally only attributed to kids under six?

Oh, yeah.

"Don't accept candy from strangers in vans."

Was this considered the same type of thing? Like the teenager-adult version of that old warning. Something along the lines of "don't accept drugs from your brother's arch enemy's brother in the woods" except that there were so very many things between Drake's version and Mason's version that weren't the same which leant itself to Drake saying that it was a-okay to plop down in the leaves beside Donna.

Because one) this was the woods, not a van, two) it was drugs, not candy, three) it wasn't technically a stranger, just a distant acquaintance that Drake vaguely remembered because he made it his job to know everyone.

Drake and DC were basically like the druggie version of Romeo and Juliet. Bromeo and Broliet. Yeah, that's what they were. Drawn apart by two warring cities when all they wanted to do was be together and do drugs.

Clearly, Drake had already created a narrative in his head with the other boy when he'd not even known who he was until switching to Auburn Springs, but the two's story was simply too similar to that of Bromeo and Broliet to let Drake think otherwise.

"I'll stay if you're offerin'," Drake said with a laugh as he plopped down into the leaves facing Donna. Drake kept his knees up, his arms lazily resting on top of them, as he found his attention continually drawn to the joints laying on the leaves in front of Donna.

What was that other thing Mason was always saying?

Oh yeah.

"Don't do drugs."

Pfft, well. Look. Mason wanted him to fit in and have friends, right? And if his best friend was into smoking weed, then it would just be cruel of Drake to not also participate in said activity. It wasn't like Mason had room to speak as it was -- he was always lighting up a fucking cigarette, and that shit was way more unhealthy than what Drake did.

"That all you got?" Drake asked, and he felt himself growing a little antsy. His foot started tapping aggressively against the leaves and he brought his hand to rub at the back of his neck and then to smooth down the tangled mess of dark hair. Fidgeting. He needed to stop fidgeting, so he folded his legs criss cross applesauce like they'd taught him in preschool.

Drake folded his hands into his lap, all in an attempt to try and calm his shaky, fidgety nerves. His gaze wasn't sticking to DC as much as it had before (albeit, had his eye contact ever been good with the other boy to begin with?) and it was focusing more and more on the weed, but also in the hopes that maybe DC had something else.

"I-I got," he held up a finger to direct the other boy to wait -- as if DC was going anywhere -- and then reached into the pocket of his hoodie, feeling around but not finding what he was looking for. Well fuck. He then opted to pat at his pockets, and lo and behold, he felt it. He pulled out the pill bottle, shaking it triumphantly. "I got... I got uhh..." his eyebrows creased together as he looked at the little bottle, realizing that he couldn't quite remember what was in this particular one, but that also none of the pills matched.

Well fuck.

"I got uhh... fun candy! Drug candy. Candy drugs. Alright, I lied, it's not candy. It's just drugs."

| mentions: N/A | interactions: DC | tags: ohdittoh |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: drugs
outfit: some of the contents of his floor
location: the forest outside of the bonfire
mentions: mercedes
interactions: aaron drake
tags: Winona

DONNA CAIN CAMUS

❯ 1 the disappointment™

(tw: drugs. it’s drake and donna — what else would they be doing?)

“That all you got?”

DC’s eyes flicked up to Aaron as he blew out a puff of smoke. Was the boy complaining about his supplies...? It wasn’t like Donna was going to bring...other things to do in the middle of a forest on a weekend afternoon. There was a wide variety of things that were reserved for three to six pm in the confines of his bedroom, with the windows and blinds drawn and his door locked— as if anyone besides his sister would try to bother him. It wasn’t as if DC would’ve brought some weak shit, either. Thought Donna wasn’t exactly discriminate of what he consumed and inhaled, it took much less effort to get to the point that he wanted to get to— which was as high as possible for as long as possible— if what he had was of good quality and was pungent enough to get him there within the hour.

Besides, beggars couldn’t be choosers; users couldn’t be choosers, if they wanted to freeload.

Donna didn’t respond, his sour, neutral expression focused on the leaves at Aaron’s feet.

Aaron still didn’t feel like the right name. As Aaron shuffled around, Donna strained his burned mind to figure out what the boy’s actual name was. Taylor...? No. Taylor could maybe be his la...no, it couldn’t be his last name, either. He tried to look through the vague memories of Aaron trying to pawn Mercedes off on him on Twitter to find his actual name.

The kid that got Mer high...hadn’t Chels been nagging about him when he got home? Rivera’s drughead brother...

“Drake,” Donna stated as his brain finally recollected the name of his brother’s enemy’s brother. He drew another long drag from his joint, and he gave a glance at Drake-not-Aaron to add “duck man” before going quiet again.

What did he want to do with Donna...? DC wasn’t particularly interesting, he didn’t have much to bring to conversation, and he was, generally, unpleasant. Why was he still sitting with him...?

“I-I got—“ Donna looked at Drake as he shuffled through his pockets, and then he lost interest with that and looked up at the leaves. The noise of ruffling told him that his companion was still searching for something or other. “I got...I got, uhh...”

The ruffling stopped, and a soft rattle perked Donna’s ears. He looked to Drake, his eyes immediately focusing on what it was in his hand.

"I got, uhh...fun candy!”

Donna’s brows lowered in confusion.

“Drug candy. Candy drugs.”

Candy...? What...?

“Alright, I lied, it's not candy. It's just drugs."

“Drugs?” Donna asked quickly, his cool voice tinged with mild curiosity. He let out a long stream of smoke, holding the joint pinched between his forefinger and his thumb as he studied the bottle in Drake’s hand. His mind turned from considering why Drake was with him to being entirely focused on the contents of the bottle. For a moment, the things in his lap and his hand didn’t have his attention as much, and he held his hand out for the bottle. Whether it was candy or drugs, he wanted it.

He turned the bottle over in his hand, trying to make out a label in low light of the tree’s shade. He ran his unsteady, cracking thumb along the slick side, trying to see what was inside and around it to determine what it was. There was nothing helpful on it, and, when he popped it open with his thumb, he could only discern that nothing was the same shape of the same size.

Whatever it was, he wanted it.

He looked at Drake, considering his words for a moment. He supposed that he could give Drake something as thanks. “I have some stuff in my truck.” He put the joint between his lips again to free up his hand. He reached into the bottle, grabbing a pill between his two fingers and withdrawing it from the container. “If we want to do stuff along those lines, we’ll have to do it there.” He spoke surprisingly clearly for a boy with weed between his teeth.

He took the pill in his hand, then poured another two from the bottle into his hand and dry-swallowed it without a second thought.

He handed the bottle back to Drake, releasing the smoke from his lungs as he offered the joint to Drake. “Smoke,” he said in his cold voice.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: b-bottom’s up!
outfit: normal fit
location: bonfire
mentions: n/a
interactions: nat
tags: Winona

KATEE NAUSBAUM

❯ 1 the snitch™

Hearing Natalie say his name, even if she did sound disgusted, made Katee’s smile brighten further. He was glad to see that she was the same as always— if she had acted all happy to see him suddenly, he’d think that something was wrong. Then again, he’d think the same thing if anyone was happy to see him.

Her mock surprise didn’t fool Nut— he wasn’t a complete idiot, even if he kinda was— but it made him laugh. “Oh, yeah, it’s not good for you! It could lead to liver fai...”

The brightness of his face faltered as she lifted it to her lips, and his eyes widened when she tipped her cup upwards. His eyes went back and forth and back and forth between the red cup in her hands and her pretty brown eyes.

She was drinking?!

Her cup lowered, and his eyes continued to flick back and forth between it her eyes, his upper lip raised, his eyes wide, and his brows raised and knit.

"Oh well.” She shrugged. “It's a party, Katee. Loosen up." She held the cup out to him, and he looked back from it to her eyes again. "Go ahead, try it. Maybe it'll make you a little more fun to be around."

His gaze switched back and forth: cup, eyes, cup, eyes, cup, eyes, cup, eyes.“Uh...”

Nut the Narc, as he was far-from-affectionately dubbed, was used to people trying to get him to drink. Usually, it was the hot upperclassmen— the super buff guys, the cheerleaders— and they were always super mean about it. Like, “what, you’re so far up your ass that you can’t even have a sip” and pushing him around and stuff. He was used to rejecting those people, because they were mean people who he didn’t know, who he couldn’t look up to in any respect. What? They were buff and thought that they could push him around? Sure, they could, and, sure, he couldn’t do much about it, but he had won a medal at the track and field day in fourth grade and he didn’t drink, so that upped his value automatically. His convictions weren’t shaken whatsoever— just because they were hot didn’t mean that they could compel him to relent.

Mostly because he didn’t have any shot with them.

But Natalie?

Natalie was hot, and she talked to him! Like, even if she looked and sounded grossed out, she let him stick around. So, while Katee’s immediate, natural reaction was to take a step back, shake his head, and resume scolding...

This was shot to really impress her.

He gave her an unsteady, bright smile. “Oh...uh...”

One sip couldn’t hurt, Nut. Just a— just a lil...

His hand shook as he reached out for her cup. “It’s illegal,” he insisted as he took the cup, smiling broadly but nervously.

Illegal.

He laughed slightly, looking at the last bit in the cup.

Uh...

He shrugged, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting the cup up.

As soon as a drop hit his tongue, his eyes widened, and he started coughing, but he forced the sips down—

And then, as soon as he finished, he dropped the cup and fell onto the ground, slamming his fist onto his chest and coughing.

“I’m gonna die!” he choked, flopping onto his back and hacking, clutching his hands at his throat.

His coughing dwindled, his eyes squinted and teary, and he flopped his limbs out around himself, looking up at the sky before turning his head and looking up at Natalie.

He smiled shakily. “T-Tasty...!” he chirped weakly.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[SoftPunkin]

Madison Rae Davis

Location: Union Lake
Interaction: None as of now
Mood: High and Chill. Maybe even thinking of starting a fire of her own.~

The carnival was actually not all that bad in the end for Maddie. After meeting up with Bug, and making sure the damn kid didn't buy anymore sweets cause they already had enough stuffed away for a whole winter, she sort of lost time, and memory, after that. Maybe bringing a whole ass blunt that her mother rolled for her wasn't the best of ideas when it came to being out in public where other adults and kids would be cause she honestly has no recollection of what even transpired that night. After she got home late that, or early, morning, Maddie was met with a plate of hot fresh food and a cup of coffee. Her mother there waiting to hear how her night had been. Of course these were the moments she looked forward to every outing she could possibly receive.

Being a drop out had its pros and cons and in this situation that Maddie was currently in, it was a con. A week after her carnival get together Maddie was back to baby sitting and homeschooling the kids that wanted to stay home. Her mother was out to work for the day and that left her with house and kid sitting duty.

"Maddie! Get off!" her younger brother yelled, trying to hit her back but only managed to hit her side instead. Of course this didn't phase the young drop it in anyway as she scrolled through her phone.

"Madison, dear, I'm fairly certain that you're not suppose to actually sit on the children." Their mother stated as she walked through the house with her purse and a few grocery bags in her hands. "It's not a literal saying."

Maddie looked up from her phone with a tired smile as she pointedly wiggled on the boys back who cried out. Trying to claw his way from underneath the young woman. "He started it mom, I can't just let him get away with being a brat."

"What are we now? 5?"

Maddie stared at her mother evenly before shrugging, "Maybe."

"Mom!"

The woman chuckled and walked over to pat Maddie's shoulder, signaling for her to get up. "Go on and grab a 'special' treat from my purse. Go take a drive. I'll make dinner."

Madison didn't have to be told twice. She hopped on the kids back once more, grinning when he groaned in pain, before getting up and darting away from her mothers swipe, giggling as she went. Though on her way she got a notification about there being a bonfire at the lake. The word 'fire' caught her attention and after grabbing a neatly rolled up blunt from her mothers purse she snatched the keys from the key holder and raced to her room. Pulling on a pair of orange chuck taylors and an old baseball cap before running down the stairs.

"Mom! I'm going to commit arson! Be back later!"

"Okay sweetie! Don't get caught!"

Maddie left with a smile on her face, two blunts in her pocket and a full tank of gas. What crazy antics could this girl get herself into tonight? Hopefully she doesn't dive her mustang off into the lake.

code by valen t.

 

[natsukashii]

ambridge ~ seventeen ~ senior
Lance Donovan

@kingofambridge has set status:
idk felt cute, might set someone on fire

@kingofambridge has set outfit to:
Be jealous

@kingofambridge has set location:
Bus → Bonfire

@kingofambridge has interacted with:
Ian, Rory, Jade

@kingofambridge has tagged:
ohdittoh Winona jasmyn

The only thing that Lance Patrick Donovan hated more than obeying the rules (when they were too outrageous) and anyone who talked shit about his friends and/or Ambridge, it was making his mother, Ivanka, worry or do anything to make her worried about him. And as easy it would have been to sneak out of the house to go to either Valerie Flores’ party a couple of weeks ago or the carnival, Lance didn’t because that would make her worry.

So he stayed at home, watched some crappy television show, listened to music - basically did everything he could to occupy his time until his jail sentence had ended.

And guess what? Today was the day.

Lance was free to go wherever he wanted. He could get into some trouble. Maybe hit up Dani and go somewhere. Or even see if the one Springer, CK, wanted to get into a little trouble. But neither of those options seemed as appealing to him at the moment. Not that he didn’t think it wouldn’t be a good time. He heard Dani wasn’t in the best places and whenever CK was with Lance, fun was always a quick jog around the corner, but Lance had already made plans.

He had caught a bus to head to the bonfire, which proved to be a longer ride than he thought. So, as he pulled up the hood of his jacket and slid in his earbuds, Lance let ACDC carry him into another universe as he mindlessly went through his phone.

Starting with his usual apps: Reddit, Instagram, even Facebook for some of his memes, but Lance eventually made it to the Ambridge group DM, which was always a fun time. Never a dull moment when it came to the idiots he called friends. What started out as a cool, witty remark he had in his head turned into a running joke that just would not cease. He said what he said, yet now his friends thought he liked to give it to Goats in the say way he did with Jade and some others.

Yeah, hardly something he would call funny, but those were his friends. Whether he wanted to admit it to them or not, Lance loved them for that. Besides, he knew when it really mattered, they had his back.

But Mason? Yeah, that guy wasn’t a bridger - not in the way Lance was, anyway. Yet it didn’t matter to everyone else. They all say he is, all say that he’s “the king”. Lance refuses to believe that. Actually, there is no way someone who talks shit about where he’s from could be called the leader.

..Not like Lance thinks he’s the actual boss of everyone, but he takes pride in where he’s from. Or maybe his issue wasn’t even with the fact that Mason was a traitor to his home and more to do with the fact that Jade mentioned that she hung out with Mason at the party.

As he gritted his teeth, the thought of her with Mason went from a furious fire that had Mason Rivera screaming in agony suddenly morphed into a cheerful thought. “He was only an option because I wasn’t there. Mason isn’t her first choice.” That thought made him smile. It meant that had he been there, Mason would have been blown off like he deserves to be.

As the thought lingered and Lance pocketed his phone, soon he was at his destination and the tall fire in the distance brought something of a wide smile to his face. This was because he immediately noticed Jade with the Hansen siblings. Rory was cool but her brother tried too hard to be something he wasn’t. Not that he was bad, but Lance had a hard time buying the whole “bad boy” persona he was putting on.

Still, that smile of his was mostly for Jade’s benefit.

As he strode up, grabbing a beer along the way and popping the cap off in an effortless fashion, Lance took a spot beside Jade, slinging his beerless arm around her neck, smiling at the group. “Fire huh?” He repeated what he heard a few seconds before approaching. “Yeah, we can set some people on fire if that’s what you want, Ian. Take your pick - plenty of people who need to be reminded just who we are.” He took a confident sip from the beer in his other hand and turned his head in Jade’s direction. “Isn’t that right, J?”

º º code by ditto º º