Realistic or Modern Auburn Springs

[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:
Bonfire

@kingofambridge has interacted with:
Ian, Rory, Jade

@kingofambridge has tagged:
ohdittoh Winona jasmyn

After he made the suggestion to set someone on fire, it became obvious to Lance that his friends didn't see the subtle trace of his unique sarcasm, Lance laughed, seeing how Jade flat out denied it and Ian's face lit up like Lance told him to commit capital murder. Or admit that this whole bad boy schtick was his attempt of acting cool. And then Rory's scathing glare said more than anything that might've come from her lips.

"Clearly I was joking," he stated, clarifying his arson/murder joke of a suggestion.

It didn't matter to Lance if they thought he was joking or not. He knew that he wouldn't actually set anyone on fire ...no matter how much he wanted to.

Okay, Lance didn't want to set any of the Bridgers on fire.

Okay, maybe there was one who he might consider, but that person wasn't here as far as he could see. Besides, as much as he might get some form of cruel satisfaction seeing that one special person screaming in agony - at least, that worst part of him - it wouldn't last long enough for them to feel the hurt he endured so many nights before he swore off any and all feelings associated with that person.

Lance just silently sipped his beer, his eyes watching Ian and Rory exchange their own. He found some solace in knowing that Ian's composure was uneasy. He struggled to find the right words and when he finally said them, it was still without the confidence that little Ian probably thought he had.

Alright, it wasn't like Lance had anything against the kid. But no matter how much he tried, Ian wasn't bad. Both in the sense of his company and whether or not he had it in him to go through with any actual crime. And maybe that's whay the King of Ambridge liked to pick on him whenever he got the chance. SEeing him get flustered like that amused the king.

But back to what was most important: the activity in which would cure the boredom Lance was starting to feel creep up his back, but as Ian brought up fireworks, Lance laughed. "You can't be serious? All that time and that's all you managed to—"

"Actually,"

Rory's voice chimed in and Lance darted his gaze from her brother to her. "Don't you say it.."

"Fireworks doesn't sound half bad."

"And you said it, anyways."

Lance rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he didn't mind fireworks. He had fond memories watching shit explode.

When he was seven.

He wasn't seven anymore and he needed more satisfaction than just watching stationary, fixed explosives make loud noises. "Tell me you're not into this idea, too, Jade?" He asked her, turning his eyes on her. "I mean, I'm not saying fireworks aren't nice to look at, but unless we can score some roman candles and really make this a party, it's probably not gonna be that exciting."

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[jasmyn]

M O O D : "bonfire time, i guess."

O U T F I T : coming soon.

L O C A T I O N : karmyn's place

I N T E R A C T I O N S : karmyn. mercedes.

T A G S : erzulie Soap

Valerie's week had been interesting, to say the least. The news of her father's affair being blasted on Twitter had created a domino effect in the Flores' residence. The gossip didn't take long to spread and being that her father was well known in Auburn Springs it was being talked about everywhere. Her mother had decided to kick her father out of the house but Val could sense that it was all for show. Her mother wasn't shocked to learn of the affair or the secret love child it had produced, she was annoyed that it was public knowledge and tainting their family image. There was talk of divorce but Val hadn't been home enough to know if it was true or just more acting.

Then there was the fair...that was a whole different story. She'd kissed Mason Rivera in an attempt to...who knows what. Gross. Even just thinking about it made her want to gag. Honestly, she'd done it for a handful of reasons. To make Raven jealous, to piss off CK after seeing him kiss Raven, because she was embarrassed that Raven had practically curved her in public and wanted to hurt her back? Take your pick. Either way, it had led to a very interesting moment in the funhouse after closing. One that she surprisingly did not regret having happened.

Honestly, a part of her wanted to talk to Karmyn and Mercedes about it but something stopped her. Valerie kind of liked having something to herself. A lot of what she did and said felt so out there and this wasn't. It was just her and Raven's thing and so why did anyone have to know? Maybe that was just her wanting to protect her image but still, there was more to it. At least, that's what she told herself. Besides, whatever she and Raven were doing didn't seem to bother her either so no harm.

She found herself hoping she would see the girl at the bonfire at some point as she finished her winged liner. Only coming out of her trance when Karmyn addressed her. "It was fun actually. Even if Mer did force karaoke on us," she teased, a sincere grin tugging at her lips. She jumped up from the vanity and grabbed the clothes she'd pulled from Karmyn's closet off the bed. There were only two people Val would trust style-wise and that was Angie and Karmyn, so it was no surprise that she'd chosen to raid the girl's wardrobe for an outfit rather than going home to find something.

“I really hope that we made enough money to at least start on the construction for Ambridge High. There’s a lot of tension and it doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon.”

Val was looking her outfit over in the full-length mirror when she heard Karmyn's words. "It shouldn't cost that much to rebuild their crappy school. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if it took forever. I mean, they burn their own school down, come to reap the benefits of ours and now everyone is handing out money to the poor bridgers because they either feel bad or want them to leave. Sounds like a scam," she shrugged.

"Well, we won't find out if we never make it there, right?" she said when Karmyn brought up the bonfire, ignoring the mention of her party. "You ready?" she added, looking at her friends.

VALERIE FLORES

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[Soap]

mood :

Idk

location :

Home

outfit :

cold, casual and cute.

interactions :

Mason
Winona

Ambridge

Raven Rivera

It wasn't hard for her to ignore Mason's comments. It was a dumb question sure-- but it wasn't like Raven was going to demand a cigarette. He'd handed her one and the lighter not long after lighting his own, placing the cigarette between her lips she covered the lighter with her hand, allowing the wind to breeze past long enough for her to light the silent killer between her teeth. She felt his gaze on her and Raven practically knew he was about to say something-- ask something.

"Nothing."

An utter lie.

It's almost funny how Raven prides herself on her honesty and it's like she's spitting out lies left and right for the whole month. Maybe Auburn Springs really took a toll on her. She didn't know what to say, but it was more than nothing and the more it'd stood on her mind-- the longer Raven couldn't keep quiet about it, she knew she could trust Mason with the information too... maybe if it wasn't anyone else, she wouldn't of gave in.

"A detective came not too long ago." She said, taking the tobacco stick between her fingers, inhaling the smoke and blowing out the excess, ashing the cigarette onto the ground as they walked.

"They wanted shit on Dani or something. I don't know, I haven't told her." It was killing Raven, hurting her probably more than the few packs of cigarettes she'd smoked in the last few weeks. Naturally, it was probably going to sad overly terrible if she didn't continue, and so she did. Hoping Mason wouldn't blame her for what she'd done.

"It was either her or Sly, so... I told them whatever I knew, about Johnny's people, sticky fingers-- and now, he's fucking... gone or whatever and I don't really know if he got arrested or--" She came to a stop and Raven took a deep breath, taking a long last puff out of the cigarette before she'd deemed it enough, dropping it into the floor and squishing it with her boot.

"God. I don't know, I'm just... I don't know." She felt guilty-- to which, she should be. Raven ratted out on Sly-- while not explicitly, she'd still done it. No matter their history, he didn't deserve that.

Even if he was involved in some messed up stuff, Raven wasn't about to dislike him because of that. Sure, she created distance when he started hanging out with the wrong people, and a big part of her just wished he hadn't got involved with any of that in the first place. They were close as kids... maybe things would've been different if she hadn't drifted apart from him simply because he was in a circle full of the wrong people to be surrounded by.

coded by reveriee.

 

[Soap]

Wannabe

Mercedes

Mercedes's last few weeks were... really okay. The whole CK stuff blew over... kinda. The thought of still going to the police stood on her mind longer than she would've hoped, but it wasn't just something she could've dropped, okay? It was a really big thing! So... maybe she shouldn't of threatened Ren but they haven't had any problems so far so... maybe they're okay right now?

Oh come on, Mer.

You can't be okay with someone if you're willing to turn them into the police-- okay, fine, simply thinking about turning them into the police.

As much as she wanted to say she was totally a hundred percent cool with letting everything go, she just wasn't. Mercedes needed to do something. She just didn't know what yet. Her mind was preoccupied with her own thoughts for the first few minutes as she decided to go... crazy on her makeup.

What? Her mother wasn't here. Greatest thing about staying at Karmyn's house meant she had no family around her-- Mercedes was free to do whatever she wanted, at least... anything that wasn't doing drugs or... whatever crazy stuff she'd probably come up with.

Man, it was so cool.

Here she was! Putting on eyeliner, lipliner, EYESHADOW. This was great. She felt great. Pssssshhhhhtt. Mer LOOKED great.

So, maybe she should've chose an outift before she put on makeup but it's whatever, she still looked cute as hell and everyone-- okay fine, maybe not everyone, maybe just like... Mer will know she looks cute as hell. That's good enough she didn't need anyone else's compliments anyway.

Naturally, she always felt pretty good whenever she was with her girls. Yes, Valerie included. Her and Valerie had a funny relationship, but she was the sister she never had. Yeahyeahyeahyeah, Mercedes's step-sister doesn't count. She doesn't care who says what. She grew up with Valerie there was a difference-- same with Karmyn, their protective streak was sorta annoying but... Mer would do the same to them.

Mer's super protective.

She snapped back into reality at the mention of her name and moving to the mirror as Valerie went to dig in Karmyn's closet. "Karaoke was a MUST and it was a given since you didn't let me bring a machine to your party, spice girls is the way to go and you both know it." The younger girl said, Yup, Mercedes made them sing Wannabe. It was her absolute favorite song ever, but also... it brought back like, so many memories.

Soon enough, Valerie decided to hog the mirror again which led to Mercedes rolling her eyes and using the one across the room. Psh, how dare she. Although Mer wasn't going to question it or fight back for a little inch of a mirror, everyone knew that'd just end up in Valerie being stubborn as ever.

Sorry, but not sorry. Val's more stubborn than CK.

Maybe not as stubborn, she takes that back.

"It shouldn't cost that much to rebuild their crappy school. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if it took forever. I mean, they burn their own school down, come to reap the benefits of ours and now everyone is handing out money to the poor bridgers because they either feel bad or want them to leave. Sounds like a scam."

Alright well, maybe she was as insulting as CK was. Mercedes frowned at her words but didn't say anything, last thing she needed is for Valerie to think she had a crush on a Bridger. Even though Valerie totally had one. What a little baby hypocrite.

"Wait! I'm almost done, shhhh." Mercedes hushed them in an attempt to gain full concentration, allowing the eyeliner pen not to travel over her eyelid-- but on her cheekbone, rounding out the black smudge until it successfully formed a heart. "Okay, perfect." She capped the pen, turning her head to show off her artistic creation with practically the world's brightest smile.

--

Much to Valerie and probably, secretly Karmyn's dismay. Mercedes had full radio control. The girl's love for music was eternal, but little did she know, her taste in music and incredibly loud-- slightly tone-deaf singing was definitely something her friends didn't appreciate but that's okay, whatever Mercedes lacked in voice, she made up with personality. And boy, did she have one.

The song came to an end and she huffed a breath.

"Man, I love that song. I don't get why she won't go on tour already, I'd buy like every ticket there is and invite everyone-- Drake especially." Mercedes practically waited for the questionable glare from Valerie and when it came, she elaborated. "He's great. I don't care about your dorky dumb rival things you got goin' on. He's seriously awesome and I'm totally inviting him to every concert I go to-- but like, you guys too of course. OGs, duh." By now, she was practically rambling and neither Karmyn nor Valerie was listening. At least, that's what she believed anyway and Mercedes had gotten a little self-conscious and decided to turn the conversation back towards Karmyn, you know, being the best conversation partner there is.

"You excited to see anyone there? Oooooo. How about that Coda guy? I bet you his hair is as red as the fire." Mercedes threw a hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon over the guy she only found moderately attractive. What? She just wasn't into redheads. Mercedes had a very specific taste in guys. And that taste? Was any guy who remotely liked her. Welp, guess she doesn't have much of a type then.


The car had came to a stop and they arrived at their destination, which-- of course, led Mercedes to cup her hands and yell out the window.

"Codaaaaaaaaaaa we're hereeeee babeeeeeeeeeee!"

How her friends put up with her?

She has no clue.

| mentions: Coda, Drake | interactions: Valerie, Karmyn| tags: jasmyn erzulie Winona geminiy |

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[Winona]

Aristocrat by New Politics

Natalie

Watching Katee trying to pour himself a drink was equivalent to watching a toddler trying to get themselves a drink. Seriously -- how incompetent was this guy? How had he managed to graduate elementary school, let alone make it all the way to high school? There was no way that he had ever passed any grade in school without there being pity on his teachers.

Or, more likely and something she would expect from the scum of the earth that probably taught at Ambridge, it was probably a matter of "god, Katee Nausbaum? Don't want to deal with him for another year," which inevitably ended with them sending him through to the next grade. Not that Natalie could blame them. Dealing with this guy surely had to do something to one's sanity and will to live.

Eww and gross, she knew his name now. Disgusting. One second -- Natalie needed to go vomit.

She watched, arms still crossed over her chest, and top lip curled up in a look of disgust as he soda spilled over the top of the cup.

Absolute fumbling idiot this one.

And then, the bottle was falling. The absolute idiot was reaching out to grab it and, as if in slow motion, Natalie watched as his cup was flung out towards her and then--

Natalie let out a loud gasp, her arms uncrossing from over her chest as the pop dripped down her front. She was shaking -- out of anger, embarrassment, or just being plain upset was hard to say -- and she gave a couple quick flicks of her wrists to try and get rid of the pop all over her hands and dripping from the sleeves of her sweater.

He looked over at Natalie now, and his eyes widened. “Oh, shit, you’re wet.” He glanced at his cup, bringing it down in front of himself and glancing at the contents. “Uhm, was that me?” he asked, to confirm.

Normally, normally, Natalie probably would've gone off on Nut -- that's what was to be expected from the bitchy blonde, after all. She had a temper and she'd already been nothing but mean to Katee all night long. And part of Natalie still wanted to go off on him, but she was just... so... freaking... frustrated.

She didn't have it in her anymore to actually snap at the guy in front of her.

The first day of school had had that stupid argument with Lance over Twitter about a dumb pencil and her having to show around Katee and Dani. And then the first party of the year had her spending her time on her knees trying to coax a stupid kid out of a cabinet, only for him to crawl out and slam into her and then take off with her best friend following after the kid and not even bothering to help her up. And then the fair-- well, the fair hadn't been that bad, but Natalie had been faced with hours of grueling labor and all for what? To help this stupid school rebuild the school that one of their dumb students probably burned down on purpose?

And now the bonfire...

The bonfire was supposed to be fun for her, okay? It was supposed to be a night for her to finally let loose and maybe have some fun, but a stupid freaking Bridger, of course, had to come right up and just ruin that whole thing for her.

It was always the Bridgers' fault.

Another flick of her wrists and then her arms fell to her sides. Natalie opened her mouth to speak, but then her jaw closed and she just shook her head, unable to form words to the boy in front of her.

And, without a single word, she turned and started walking away -- although Natalie wasn't even sure where the hell she was going.

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

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[Winona]

Rx (Medicate)

Drake

TW: Drug use

Wow.

Being Chelsea Kader Freud's younger sibling must've been the worst thing in the world, Drake decided, as he watched Donna lean back and insist that he wasn't the best of company because he wasn't cool or whatever. Mercedes had had similar things to say when they'd hung out at the fair -- you know, after he got her so high that she could barely function.

Woops.

Good thing Chelsea still hadn't heard about that.

Donna continued to ramble and listening to him ramble made Drake think of like a really depressed poet. He wondered how often pretentious writers would stand by their windows, staring outside as rained pattered against the windowpane and lament about how everyone was just a waste -- naturally, the windowpane and the rain had to be happening for that sweet aesthetic (imagine that sparkle emoji around the word "aesthetic" because there were definitely sparkles in Drake's head when he thought it, just saying).

"Way to bring down the mood," he joked lightheartedly, although his joke wasn't really that great. Drake hesitated, a tentative smile wavering on his lips as he copied Donna's lead and leaned back in the leaves, resting on his elbows, and turned his gaze up to look at the sky -- hey, this really was turning out just like his adventure with Mercedes. Weed and stargazing.

"You're right," he said quietly. "We're uhh... wastes, yeah? We don't... me and you... we ain't gonna offer anything to the world. Nothing that's worthwhile, anyway." He chuckled, but his chuckle was hollow and forced. Trying to spin something decent out of absolutely nothing, but there wasn't an optimistic bone in Drake's body anymore. Optimism, he had learned, was the equivalent to hope -- and hope only existed until it was beaten out of you and squashed.

Hope did nothing but paint a false picture of the world. At some point, Drake had stopped staring at the world through rose-colored lenses and instead, he was blindsided by the simple gray shades -- gray, because nothing was black and white. Everything was a confusing mixture of good and bad with some things being darker gray than others.

That's how he saw the world, anyway. Shades of gray.

DC's words still weren't help his mood.

"Just…lost specks who assign meaning to…milestones, to…superfluous words, to…pieces of paper, to our children, to our…’friends’, and to…life, in general…?”

Well, fuck.

Drake had mellowed out by now. The somber conversation had put a damper on his own mood and he could feel himself sliding right back out of the light and into the darkness.

"Meaning because... everyone needs a reason to live..." Drake mumbled. He was trying to peer at the stars through the leaves, but the gentle rustling of the branches and the shifting of said leaves made it hard to focus on any single speck in the sky. He swallowed a lump that had started to form in his throat, eyebrows drawing together. "But there's no, there's no reason, we're just... borrowing space until we die, and no one will remember us, and that's just..."

He trailed off as his arms gave out and he collapsed flat against the cold earth with an exhaled huff of air as the oxygen was knocked straight out of his lungs.

“…thanks,” he said, “I guess…for…coming to hang out with me.”

"No problem," Drake mumbled. "Thanks for not making me leave."

He laced his fingers together and placed them over the beating of his chest. The gentle thudding of his heart against his ribcage was a sullen reminder that he was still alive.

"Does it suck being CK's little brother?" Drake asked without really thinking. "It's just... when I was hanging with Mercedes last weekend, she was talking like it was -- like it's just... hard... for people to not see him when they look at you."

He paused for a moment, considering how much to share.

Apparently, he might as well share it all.

"I get it," he commented, "if that is what it's like. I uhh.... back in Ambridge, I'm just... I'm just Mason's little brother. I don't... even... really have any friends that are just mine, you know? Most of them just kinda... put up with me because I'm Rivera's kid brother and I'm just... it's like we're a package deal, except Mason's the one that you actually want and I'm just the free add-on that they toss in the basket because they're like 'well, no one's buying these and we gotta get rid of the stock.'" He laughed at his strange explanation that really made no sense to Drake, and he doubted would make any sense to DC.

"We have different last names, you know," he continued. "But I uhh... well... I always have to correct everyone -- because they think it's Drake Rivera, because they just assume. No one ever assumes that with Mason, you know? No one ever assumes anything with him. But they just assume that I'm just this... this... carbon copy of him, but I'm... I'm... not, I'm... you know, I'm me, I guess..."

| mentions: Mercedes, CK | interactions: DC | tags: ohdittoh |

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[ohdittoh]

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

DONNA CAIN CAMUS

❯ 1 the disappointment™

(tw: drugs, downness in general. this won't cheer you up, that's for sure.)

"No problem," the boy beside him gave. "Thanks for not making me leave."

Thanks for not making me leave…

There was a moment of pause where neither of them did anything except for breathe and stare at nowhere in the sky in particular. In that moment, Donna didn’t think, didn’t process any of the information coming at him from his senses. It was one of those moments where he temporarily lost everything in a cloud of numbness, of hopelessness— of shared hopelessness— and he let it eat him and take him into that void as he closed his eyes once more and tried his best to prolong this feeling.

It was what he searched for, what he sought for in his escapes. This peak numbness, where he felt nothing and thought nothing, where he didn’t have to feel or think anything.

To call it bliss would be an understatement— it was euphoria.

“Does it suck being CK’s little brother?” the disembodied, echoing voice beside him asked. He’d forgotten for a moment that he wasn’t alone, and he was confused as to why someone was speaking when there wasn’t a body, but he opened his eyes again and looked towards the voice and was reminded of the other presence.

What kind of question was that…? Did he come here just to learn more about CK, like everyone else did when they spoke to him…?

“It’s just…when I was hanging with Mercedes last weekend, she was talking like it was— like, it’s just…hard…for people to not see him when they look at you.”

Oh…Mer had talked feelings with the other boy…

There was a moment of pause where Donna’s eyes trailed back to the sky.

"I get it," the other boy continued, "if that is what it's like. I, uhh....back in Ambridge, I'm just...I'm just Mason's little brother. I don't...even...really have any friends that are just mine, you know? Most of them just kinda...put up with me because I'm Rivera's kid brother and I'm just...it's like we're a package deal, except Mason's the one that you actually want and I'm just the free add-on that they toss in the basket because they're like 'well, no one's buying these and we gotta get rid of the stock.'" He laughed. “We have different last names, you know, but I, uhh...well...I always have to correct everyone— because they think it's Drake Rivera, because they just assume. No one ever assumes that with Mason, you know? No one ever assumes anything with him. But they just assume that I'm just this…this...carbon copy of him, but I'm...I'm...not, I'm...you know, I'm me, I guess…”

Donna was quiet for a long moment after…Drake finished speaking, his words taking a long time to seep past the haze of the high that Donna was nursing and even longer for him to figure out what they meant. They arrived in his head jumbled, in a total disarray, without any meaning, and he brought the joint to his lips in an attempt to clear it up.

Finally, he’d unscrambled the sounds and strung them together in something near a cohesive spiel, and he considered his response for a moment.

What could he tell him…? Vulnerability…wasn’t exactly something that Donna enjoyed.

…but he supposed that it was fine, just this once.

“Sucks is an understatement,” he said in his cold, numb, gravely, quiet voice. “It’s…it’s…”

Where were his words…?

“Our family history is…sordid…to say the least. My dad isn’t his dad, my mom isn’t his mom…I don’t even know my mom, though I’ve heard that she moved to Nebraska…” Her name was slipping his mind, and he didn’t feel like looking for it. It wasn’t important anyway; she’d’ve probably left him to die, from what he understood, though he was too young to really know if what his dad had said about her not wanting a child to the point of abandoning him were true or if they really mattered at all. “A lot of people in Auburn Springs know everything about my family…I mean, my parents are rich and well-known in the business world. Mer’s my only sibling, really…”

He realized that he was telling everything out of order and that his words probably made sense. He was just thinking aloud, and Donna’s thought process, while existent, was hardly intelligible.

“Chelsea’s my older brother, I guess, but it’s more like…he’s everything that I can’t ever be. I don’t see him as my brother. He’s just someone who’s there, over my head. He’ just someone I can’t be. He’s that…golden standard. I’m not even Chelsea’s little brother to everyone else; I’m Donna Camus, the wannabe failure and the blight to the family name. It’s more like…I’m the Camus’ disappointment. People don’t talk to me. I don’t have any friends that are mine or aren’t mine, because everyone looks the other way. People speak to me when they want something out of me. Drugs, information about my family…really that’s about it. They want me because of my connections. I don’t have anything else to offer.”

He brought the joint to his lips again, breathing in a long drag of smoke and holding it for as long as he could before he released it. He watched the abstract shapes curl and unfurl as they drifted into the night sky.

He closed his eyes slowly as the smoke disappeared from sight. “My whole life, they’ve expected me to be him, and, when I couldn’t be, they tossed me aside. My parents, and this whole damn school.” He breathed out a long sigh from his lips. “They tried to teach me finances. They wanted me to run the business alongside Chelsea, and, when I couldn’t grasp that, they gave up on it. They wanted me to play the violin like Chelsea did, and, when I couldn’t grasp that, they gave up on it. They wanted me to play sports and get good grades and have a lot of friends and speak eloquently and be everything that I wasn’t, and, when I wasn’t any of those things, they gave up on me.”

He opened his eyes, staring at the leaves above, and he didn’t speak for a long moment.

“I gave up on me, too,” he said finally. “When they stopped caring, I realized how meaningless trying was. No matter how hard I pushed and no matter how hard I pressed, I was Donna Camus, the boy desperately trying to be something that he wasn’t and could never be, because there was someone there ahead of him doing it all too well. Everyone saw me for what I was: a tryhard and a wannabe. ‘His brother’s name is CK, so Donna abbreviated his name, too. He continued in sports, so Donna did, too. He continued in violin, so Donna did, too.’ And I did…and that’s why I did those things, and that’s why I do those things— because there’s some…stupid little hope inside of me that i hold onto that…one day, Chelsea’ll fall, and, one day, I’ll take his place. And it’s…stupid.”

He looked at the lit end of the joint, staring at it so intently that he could see the way that the orange ate away at the paper. “And I’ve given up on that. It’s mostly something latent, something that I know will never happen. I know my place in the world, and it’s to be nothing at all. It’s to be the druggie in the background with rotting teeth and paper skin and a runny nose and hollow eyes. It’s to be that boy who knows the true purpose of life is just to exist until we die— that there is no meaning at all.”

He looked back up at the skyline. “Donna Cain Camus, the disappointment. That’s my role. That’s my place. That’s what everyone knows me as.”

He looked over at Drake again. “Being Chelsea’s little brother sucks, but it’s more like…”

More like…

“Being me, in general…sucks. Knowing that I’ll never be anything. Knowing that I can never be anything. Knowing that…even at sixteen, there’s no changing who I am. I guess…I guess that’s the worst of it.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: oops
outfit: normal fit
location: bonfire
mentions: n/a
interactions: nat
tags: Winona

KATEE NAUSBAUM

❯ 1 the snitch™

Natalie flicked her wrists and dropped her arms, and Nut cocked an unsure smile at her.

Maybe it wasn’t him! Maybe she was just…uh…maybe a cloud had suddenly opened up and poured on her or something.

And then, she turned and started walking away.

Oh, shit, no— instant regret.

His brows creased, and his smile fell. “Nat!” he called after her.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no. 


“Nat! Wait up!” He stumbled over the grass after her, struggling not to fall.

His heart drummed in his throat.

He couldn’t do anything except for fuck things up—

And right when he was being impressive, too, damn it!

He was so close to looking…normal! Or cool, or…some level of not abysmally pathetic.

He dropped his cup on the grass, trying to catch up with her.

“Nat! Hold on!”

His heart throbbed as he realized what he’d done, and he picked his cup back up and went back to the table to set it on it.

He couldn’t litter, no matter how distressed he was.

He rushed off again, tripping over his feet and damn near faceplanting a few times.

“Nat, can you please wait?” he called, drawing attention to himself and the whole escapade between the two

He reached out to grab her sleeve. “Nat, I’ll— I’m sorry!” he said, his voice whiny. The faces of those whose eyes had followed him to her became overcome with sneers and disgusted scowls. “I didn’t mean to! I was just— you see, I was trying to catch the bottle that I dropped, and then I caught it, but…I’m sorry! Stop walking, please! I’ll get you some more clothes— uh, I can give you mine?” He struggled to keep up, his distress apparent in his whiny voice and ragged breathing.

He reached out, catching her sleeve. “Please, please, please, please, please?” he begged, his brows knit upward. "Please, please, please, please, please?"

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

cool pirate cowboy 123123

Dexter Cruz

Auburn Springs

Dexter's kiddish grin faded the moment Chelsea shut him down, the light in his eyes dimming with every harsh word his best friend had to say about his newfound partner in crime, emphasis on the crime. Although lacking overt seriousness as usual, Dexter still retracted some of his foolish demeanor out of concern for what his friend had to say. "What? No!" he denied, waving an arm dismissively in the air, "You think everyone's a b-word!" He pursued Chelsea's gaze, even as the boy turned toward the fire they were seated around.

He leaned his head forward, putting on his best solemn expression to address him. "We just kinda stumbled on each other, why does it matter?" he protested defensively, making a point not to raise his voice above a normal volume, "Plus, I couldn't find you anywhere, like at the party." He meant it in absolutely no accusatory way, but it was hard to deny that Dex was a somewhat of a lost lamb without Chelsea around. In a sense, Ren recognized that, or at the very least didn't seem to mind it.

"I've been worried about you," he faltered, shamefully leaving his voice at a mumble. He felt a little silly mentioning anything at all. Of course he was fine. Chelsea Freud, King of Auburn Springs, was always doing well for himself. More than that, he'd committed to discussing the night of the party as little as possible, partially to protect Chelsea but partially to save himself from the guilt he felt the night of his own incident. Chelsea never asked questions about the night he'd saved Dexter's ass. Was that for Dex's or his own sake?

He'd almost forgotten the bonfire was there in the first place. Every time Chelsea looked away, Dex kept his eyes trained in the same direction toward his side profile. "She's not!" he insisted, pouting over something he honestly should have expected, "I know we hate the Bridgers, but that doesn't mean we can't like them!"

...

Look, it made sense in Dexter's head.

It sucked to hear Chelsea's words in such a blunt fashion. He knew not everyone got along—and for presumably good reason—but was there really no hope? Chelsea had already explained to Dexter why his trust in the Bridgers was misplaced, but he could never really retain the why. Usually, it was easy enough to just accept his best friend's word as the truth and move on, but when the time finally came to really think about it, he realized he couldn't recall any proper reasoning to show for himself.

It didn't have to be a bad thing; in fact, it wasn't at all Chelsea's fault that Dexter was a godawful listener. Barring his current hesitation, Chelsea had yet to steer him down the wrong path. It was a hard pill to swallow, but in the end his pensive friend always had their best interests in mind. "But, dude-" Before he had a chance to press the issue further, CK went on to list the most notoriously anti-Springer kids at the school, one of which included the ever-controversial Ren Jones.

He wanted to close his eyes and shut his ears as Chelsea went down the list, each name a harsh reminder of the hostility between their towns. Mason, who was sometimes a little too rough when they were pretending to fight and be enemies. Exhibit A: Dexter's formerly broken arm. Sly, who seemed just as concerned for Dex as CK was, yet at the same time insisted Chelsea was using him. And if that was blatantly false, what did that make Sly? A liar and a manipulator? Too harsh... Although, Dani wasn't exactly the kindest to Dex, intensely shutting down every single one of his attempts to make friends with her.

Where did that leave Ren? What had she done other than be a fake scary softy? She didn't have to go shopping with him nor wander around the fair all night. What could she possibly use Dexter for when she was such an ornery, independent girl? It didn't make sense, and Dex was beginning to wonder if Chelsea was merely mistaken based on a shortage of knowledge and context for the situation.

Bridgers and Springers weren't the same. They never were and they never would be. Of course he knew that. He never wished for it to be true, but that was the reality they faced. Bridgers were spiteful and violent and Spingers were the same but, well, better. In a sense, they all started the fire. Every last Bridger and Springer that made every threat, every scornful glance, every teeny tiny passing comment laced with a sense of superiority. That act and the chaos that ensued was inevitable, fostered by years of bitter mistrust only perpetuated by blind fear and resentment.

No, that was way too on the nose. Nothing is that simple. Otherwise, Disney would have already adapted their stories into a made-for-television movie.

Besides, what did Dexter know? Just pretending everything was fine and that everyone could get along was just as egregious of an act as, say, nearly killing a Bridger for looking at him funny. Ignoring the problems everyone faces is easy when you're on the side with the greener grass. You become so familiar with the landscapers and the neat little sprinklers that you subconsciously assume all grass is tended to in the same fashion.

In the end, Dexter always came home from seeing his friends covered in dirt and grass, so who really cares where it came from? Too many questions. Again. Is this idiom-turned-analogy going a tad too far?

"I believe you," he replied softly, furious with himself for wanting to know what this bullshit entailed. He was supposed to be better than that. Friends just empathize; taking words at face value is the highest form of trust, at least to Dexter. His only problem was that nearly everyone held his highest form of trust. "You're right," he admitted with a defeated sigh, "I never doubted you or anything. I mean, they're always so angry and upset... at us." He kicked at the dirt, his eye starting to drift to the ground. "We didn't even do anything..."

The brown-haired boy smiled, happy to reaffirm his agreement with his trusted friend. "Yeah... it's too bad, though. I think some of us could be really good friends if they weren't grimy Bridger scumbags," he stated with a lifted voice, unable to fully contain his lamenting.

That damn fire. Ever since, people were even more up in arms about, well, everything. Even from people who were supposed to be nothing. Dex couldn't help but wonder whether the fire was some stupid Bridger making trouble or a disgruntled Springer taking their vengeance. Either way, it was probably totally fun. He wished he'd received an invite, just for the excitement of it all, Springer or not.

He looked a little taken aback when Chelsea began to set up his question, cocking his head incredulously. Of course Chelsea could trust him! What kind of guy would he be if he didn't devote all of his loyalty to his best friend? That was arguably the strongest facet of their relationship. "Of course you can!" Dex answered with a laugh, unable to fathom why CK would ask in the first place. Their slight confusion over Ren and the Bridgers was a minute lapse in understanding; regardless of what Dex thought, he would always answer to Chelsea first and foremost. "What kind of question is that?" He playfully pushed his side, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

| mood: buddying | outfit: clothes | location: bonfire | mentions: Ren, Mason, Dani, Sly | interactions: Chelsea | tags: ohdittoh |

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: ...the truth.
outfit: casual wear
location: the bonfire
mentions: ren, sly, dani
interactions: dex
tags: hery

CHELSEA KADER FREUD

❯ 1 the king of auburn springs™

Dex’s answer was the one that Chelsea expected, because it was the answer that Chelsea wanted to hear.

CK breathed out a long sigh, turning his head to look out at the fire once again. He shifted his legs to cross at his ankles, his brows knitting at the smarting from his bruised rib. The dancing flames moved to the beat of his heart, the anxiety that came with not wanting to take the wrong steps or say the wrong words twisting the tension in his chest tighter and tighter. It wasn’t a flutter, it wasn’t a pound, and it wasn’t a thud.

It was a tick, tick, tick— it was a test, test, test.

Chelsea had asked, and he knew why he asked.

“I don’t know.” His words were low, his mouth was dry, and his tongue was heavy behind his teeth. “It’s just…nice to be reminded of.”

That was a fucking lie.

Ever since that night— ever since that night— Chelsea had been trying to tell himself, over and over and over again:

Dex saved your life.

Tell him what happened, you bastard.

He did the same for you.

It fucking hurt. It hurt like hell.

He wanted to trust him, with every fiber of his being. He wanted to be able to look Dex in the face and tell him what happened and get it off of his chest and trust that Dex would take it and hide it and let it be a secret.

But the thing was that Chesea knew Dex. Chelsea knew Dex, and he knew that he…couldn’t…handle…this.

This was something that could destroy Chelsea. It wasn’t something as petty as his reputation or his friendships were on the line. He could handle losing that shit.

But it was his life that was on the line. And, worse than that, and more than that— it was the life of his sister that was on the line.

Dex would let it slip to someone, and then Chelsea’s whole, fragile life could come shattering down. His whole future would be gone in a flash, and…

He wanted to trust Dex. He wanted to trust him so much.

Looking over at Dex, he studied his face.

Secrets didn’t make friends, but they made kingdoms, and they maintained lives, and they kept Chelsea from having to admit:

He was weak. He was helpless.

He needed…support.

“Dex…,” Chelsea said, “you…you and I have been through so much shit. You’ve…become like a brother to me. And, I…I’ve pushed you away, since the…party.” He noted the odd tone in his voice— how every word sounded stilted and separate from the others, and he coughed softly, the brows on his serious face knitting tighter. “You’re…my best friend, and I…haven’t been treating you right. I…I mean, since the whole…thing. I’ve done nothing except for go home and pass out on my bed. I haven’t answered your texts, I haven’t talked to you about any of it. Hell, I’ve hardly even talked to you at school. Football and lunch…I’ve just…” He shook his head, laughing softly. “I mean, I’m a bastard. Everyone tells me it, and I know it just as well as they do. But I don’t want to be too you.” He looked back out at the fire. “You saved my life, Dex. And you can say all of the shit that you always say like you did it for me or it’s the least that I could do or all in a day’s work, but I…Dex, I don’t even know if I would still be here if you hadn’t come for me. I…literally owe you my life.”

He felt himself shaking the more that he spoke, his voice trembling slightly.

He was so close to dying.

He saw his life flash before his eyes.

And Dex…had…come for him.

“I…you know, I…care about you, Dex. And I—“ He drew in a breath, shaking his head. He was growing frustrated with himself, and he tried to calm down the anger in his voice. “I didn’t mean to worry you; that’s the last fucking thing that I meant to do. And I’m…”

He shook his head slightly, bringing himself to say the words: “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry that I’ve closed off.

I’m sorry that I’ve…

Look, I’m sorry that I can’t bring myself to say it.

I’m sorry that I can’t trust you.

He looked out to the fire, the heat on his face putting more pressure on.

Trust…

“You remember the party.” He’d meant it as a question, but it hadn’t come out as one. He shook his head slightly, looking at Dex again. “You remember how…you remember.” He couldn’t even repeat it.

He…hesitated a moment.

Trust him.

He put his hand on Dex’s shoulder, pulling him slightly closer and leaning in, lowering his voice to speak beneath his breath. “You can’t tell. To anyone.” His voice had a sense of urgency to it, probably brought on by the ever-accelerating tick, tick, tick in Chelsea’s chest. “You have to promise me that. You got that?”

He shifted his eyes around, the paranoia that someone was listening in and could piece together what what going on causing him to glance over his shoulders.

Tell him.

It was going to hurt him. It was going to break him. He didn’t want to see what he did, or how he reacted…

But Chelsea had to tell him.

“Dex, I…”

He had to tell him.

He looked Dex in the eyes.

He drew in a breath.

“I have to tell you something,” he said finally, barely breathing the words:

“It was Ren, and Sly, and Dani.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Superman by Boyce Avenue

Mason

Mason had expected... look, he didn't know what got chicks all pissed off or upset. Crushes and shit, yeah? That's why he'd assumed it had to do with that bitch Val or whatever, maybe something to do with her grandma. Something was boohoo and Mason would casually pat her shoulder and pretend he had fucks to give when he was inwardly rolling his eyes.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was for Raven to say some shit about a fucking detective showing up at her place and asking about Sly. Mason was blindsided for maybe a single instance before he remembered that it was fucking Sly, and it had only been a matter of time before the fuckhead got himself in some deep shit. He shook his head, bringing the cigarette up to his lips and taking a drag. He exhaled slowly, letting his hand with cigarette dangle back by his side. The smell of cigarette smoke was relaxing in a way.

"I would've done the same," Mason stated after a moment. He lifted the cigarette up, inspecting the glowing tip as he spoke. "Sly's a dumbass. It would've caught up to him one way or another, and he's not... he doesn't have a chance of being anything but a fucker that's in and outta jail for the rest of his life."

Were Mason and Sly supposedly friends? Sure. Until the fucker called his kid a half-breed. Any sense of commodity or friendship from that point on was fucking burned and done. Sly meant as much to him as fucking CK did now.

Yeah, Mason didn't have a problem dropping people. Exhibit A: Sly.

"Don't tell Dani," he remarked after a minute. "No one's gonna be able to trace this shit back to you, so she won't fucking know if you don't tell her. Just gonna hurt her more if she finds out her friend sold him out like that. Dani think she fucking loves him or some dumb shit like that. I'd just play dumb -- act like you don't know where the fucker could be off to because hey," Mason shrugged his shoulders, "we don't fucking know if they got him, yeah? It'll..."

He let out a heavy sigh. The cigarette was brought back to his lips again, Mason taking a deep drag on the thing. He exhaled slowly and then dropped the cigarette to the ground. The tip of his Converse was brought down on top of it, grinding the thing straight into the ground until there was nothing left. When he spoke again, he kept his gaze on the ground -- like he was still burying that cigarette, because his next words hurt to say.

Less because what he was saying had any effect on him, but more because his words were gonna make Mason look fucking soft as hell and if there was one thing Mason Rivera absolutely fucking despised more than anything else in this whole goddamn world, it was looking soft.

He wasn't soft.

"It'll hurt less," he explained, his voice a deep gravelly grumble as he spoke. "For Dani -- it'll hurt less if she just thinks this was some kind of fucked up... whatever. Then you can be there for her because you know, she's going to need her friends if Sly really did get arrested. But she'll never forgive you for betraying them like that."

Dumb bitch. Sly and Dani had one of those unhealthy ride or die type relationships. Mason was all for loyalty in a relationship, but that didn't mean he thought you should stand by when your significant other was being a dumb ass. Getting arrested and shit. That's where Mason drew the line and he wished Dani realized that and could draw her own line there. Like Raven, Dani actually had a chance to get outta here -- even if she didn't fucking see it, Mason did. She had a chance, but she'd attached herself to an anchor and if she didn't cut herself from said anchor, she was going to drown here in Ambridge like their parents, like Ryan, like Mason.

| mentions: Dani, Sly | interactions: Raven | tags: Soap |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[r e i]

GARRETT KANE TIMOA

mood: ready to fight + location: bonfire + outfit: xxx + tags: Winona ohdittoh

"Get your hand off of her now." Garrett was in a better mood then he usually was. He was even going to socialize with other people for the simple fact of having fun. He had won a stuffed bear from that carnival and left it on Natalie's bed, after her dad let him in thankfully. As he knew that he was saying sorry something as his daughter hasn't exactly been the same during the week that they were not talking. Even he noticed the lack of Garrett at his house. Once he placed the bear, he left and waiting for Natalie to say something. It was long into the night, when she finally did. After saying sorry again, they were finally at a better place. They went back to talking normally, and seeing each other outside of school. Now he was at this bonfire.

He was trying to be more social, as his therapist oh so clearly stated, he needed to be more socialize. Having two friends do not count and that he needed to broaden his horizon or some shit like that. Garrett wasn't listening, he was too excited to get home and check out this new car that his dad had gotten at his shop. It would be badass as fuck. She probably noticed that which is why she told his parents and why he was being forced out of the house now. Afraid that their child would become an anti-social serial killer. He took his headphones as a reminder that he would drown out the noise if he needed to. Which is probably gonna be soon as it was very loud, and there was a lot of people. He could feel a panic attack coming on. His hand itched for his phone, to text Natty and tell her but he promised himself that he wouldn't involve her in his issues anymore. So he just swallowed his itch and tried to find a more quiet area to have a quiet freakout on his own. When something caught his eye. Something he did not like. Which brings him to the situation he's in now.

Katee or whatever from the tour, had his hand holding onto Natalie sleeve when she was trying to leave. Keeping her from leaving like she seemed like she wanted to. He immediately stormed up to them and started to talk to Katee. "Do I have to repeat myself? Take your hand off before I do it for you. And let know if I do it, your hand will get fucking broken." He says strongly glaring at him.

coded by natasha.

 

[Nixiee]

HENRIETTA THOMAS

So deep into her thoughts, Henri almost missed the... Eccentric-looking boy that had ducked past her.

Almost.

Then again, it was very difficult for her to miss the bushy haired guy that nearly fell flat on his face. I mean, a tree root? How more cheerleader-dramatically-running-from-an-axe-murderer can you get? Christ.

However, she couldn’t judge - She did fall down the stairs on Day One at Auburn Springs. Henri grimaced at the thought. And thats where things all started to go downhill. I fucking can't catch a break.

Realising that the boy had shuffled closer with a "Hey", Henri glanced up - She wasn't quite in the mood for small talk. Or long talk. Or anything, really. Fucking hell.

"Hey, I recognise you."

No you don't.

"Kissing Booth, right? I'm Xander."

Oh for fuck's sake. Henri's eyes narrowed at the boy as he mentioned the Kissing Booth. Is this what I am to be known as now? "Kissing Booth Girl?" Oh, if Henri could turn back time, she'd make fucking almond milk out of Katee. Faltering slightly, the brief flash of fury in Henri's gaze quickly faded. If I could turn back time... Her mind wandered back to Liz - Had she eaten yet? She tried to ignore the lump of worry that settled at the bottom of her stomach.

"Nice to meet you...?"

Sighing, Henri pulled out her earbuds and returned her focus to Xander, deciding to just get the pleasantries over with. "Henri." Her eyes flicked to his outstretched hand, but she made no move to shake it. Henri couldn't be bothered to be nice tonight.

"Look - Xander, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not quite in the best mood right now." Henri gestured to his backpack, which she figured was probably filled with all types of snacks or drinks. "You obviously look like you're planning a fun time, and the last thing I want to do is put a damper on that, alright?" Leaning back, Henri crossed her arms as she once more made herself comfortable against the tree trunk.

Briefly, Henri felt a dart of guilt creep into her. She didn't like how she was being so callous and rude - at least not to somebody who had done nothing but be civil towards her.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

OUTFIT: No fucks here
INTERACTIONS: Xander
MENTIONS: Katee
TAGS: Winona

 

[hery]

cool pirate cowboy 123123

Dexter Cruz

Auburn Springs

"It's just... nice to be reminded of."

A warm smile stretched across Dex's face. It seemed he'd done good after all, leaving him satisfied and a bit more relaxed. It was a rare occasion to witness Chelsea of all people opening up, even if it was just a brief glimpse of his mind. "I get that," he remarked cheerily, reaching an arm around and to pull CK to his side. It was somewhat reminiscent of the way his father used to hug him after little league baseball practice, bringing about feelings he hadn't recalled in years.

A lot of people hated Dex's dad. A lot of people hated Chelsea. Dex rubbed a lot of people the wrong way for defending the people he held close, but how could he not? In the end, they'd been there for him more than all of their critics combined. And so, in that cheesy father-son side hug, he felt just a sliver of peace knowing he'd expressed his fondness for his best friend in the most personal way he could.

Things would work out in the end. It was... alright. Dex had accepted he didn't need to know everything, and a part of him didn't really want to. As long as he did his part and Chelsea assured him that things were handled, they'd make it out fine. Chelsea always figured things out in the end—he had to, because Dex was essentially helpless.

But was that okay? It was what his friend wanted, but was he doing enough? CK had constantly assured Dexter that he had no reason to worry, so he didn't, but there as an undeniable tinge of pain in his voice that Dex wanted to just... beat out of him. After all, that was the extent his problem-solving skills ran, which he'd mostly seen as a blessing until the night he'd been called upon as the sole savior of Chelsea. That entire night his mind had been occupied with doubt and uncertainty, leaving him fully aware of just how powerless he was to the truths be averted his eyes from.

So maybe Dex wanted to know everything, or at least just a little more. Knowing he was not at all fit to handle a fraction of the mental strain Chelsea carried, he still had to try. He had to do something, if only to prevent another close call from occurring ever again. Not just for the two of them, but for Mer and all those whose lives were directly involved in the bloody feud that would continue to rage between Ambridge and Auburn Springs as long as the circumstances remained the same.

A phantom pressure weighing on Dex was lifted as soon as Chelsea spoke again, allowing him to release a breath he failed to realize he'd been holding in. Soon after, he found himself shaking his head vigorously, disagreement etched all over his pensive face. "You don't have to say that," he countered, but to no effect, "I know it's been a lot, a-and I trust you to do the right thing and stuff, and..." He moved his arm off of Chelsea's shoulder, looking away for a beat as he searched for the right words. "It's not your fault all this is happening, man. We're gonna find who did this to you and kick their ass and, well, you know... we'll show them. We always do. Right, dude?"

He forced a laugh, urging Chelsea to let go and smile with him. Nothing is as bad as people say it is. Even if his friend was in a rough spot, everything would work itself out. They always did, and maybe Chelsea had just forgotten to believe in that. Nothing changed, really. Nothing at all. It couldn't change. Dex was just getting ahead of himself, overthinking when he really didn't need to be thinking about anything. Maybe this conversation wasn't really necessary after all—

No. He couldn't ignore it, and the more Chelsea continued speaking, the further his heart broke. He didn't really believe that, did he? Dex knew better than anyone that his best friend wasn't the bad guy everyone made him out to be. Not that he was some soft teddy bear or anything like Ren, but... come on. It isn't so hard to give the guy a chance.

A layer of tears drenched Dex's eyes as his heart sank further and further down his torso. Never in his life had he heard an admission of any kind like this from Chelsea. He met his eyes directly, his bewilderment clear as day. "But you're not, Chels," he protested hoarsely, shaking his shoulder, "Quit saying that. They don't know you, and they don't know everything you've done for people like me."

He faltered, every word he wanted to say choking up his throat. "Who cares what you owe?" he cried sharply, cursing himself for being such a crybaby, "You know none of that matters to me. I mean, I always wanna repay you, but it's only because you've done right by me in so many ways you probably don't even recognize! I'm not gonna resent you because of some stupid missed texts!" He stopped himself from speaking more, staring at Chelsea's face as he tried to get a grasp of the situation. All of this had to be coming from somewhere, which only reminded him more why Chelsea had bottled it all up in the first place. Dex didn't want to know. And they both knew it.

"It's okay! Really! None of it matters!" he answered, wishing he'd just close his mouth and rid himself of all of these painful thoughts, "I was worried, but I get it! I'd never doubt you like that, and I know you're always right and you always fix things, and you're always there when I need you. You're way more capable than me and that's really, really okay. You're not always gonna need me like I need you."

He placed his hands behind his head and sighed. He was getting too worked up, especially with Chelsea's apparent lack of resolve and energy. The boy was holding so much within him, and it pained Dex to be so indecisive over which boundary he was supposed to cross. Isn't trust alone enough, blind as it is?

He nodded over and over as Chelsea started prepping him for his secret, each agonizing moment before the reveal speeding his heart rate faster and faster. "I promise. You can tell me anything," he answered swiftly, begging him to release him from his anticipation and spill the truth they'd been dancing around so long. It felt wrong to know anything at all, but the tension had to come to an end.

...

The tension did not come to an end. In fact, it was at an all-time high despite both boys' all-time lows. Dexter recalled this list of names, because Chelsea had just recited it sans Mason moments ago. Was that what he was referring to? How could he have missed it? Dex was an idiot by nature but to be so oblivious to all of these signs, he couldn't escape just how painfully blind and unaware he really was. And that was even when Dex was actually wearing his prescription glasses, which he'd conveniently left at home.

He'd had the wind knocked out of him, and it took a minute before Dex realized he hadn't said anything to Chelsea at all since this revelation. He regained focus, blinking several times before meeting Chelsea's eyes once again. "Oh... I see." Suddenly, all of his numbness faded and the weight of these words hit him like a truck. Dex's blood turned to ice, which in turn sent shivers down his spine so sharp he actually convulsed a little.

"Could you, ahh, could you repeat that?" he stammered, noting his increasingly irregular breathing, "Y-you-you're saying..." He looked around and touched the ground to make sure he was actually experiencing... whatever this was. It was nothing like anything he'd ever heard before, even past all of the drama and rumors he'd gathered at home and at school.

Or, rather, it was nothing like any of the memories he'd chosen to recall. Now he was there, seated beside Chelsea confronting the violence and fear he was sure he'd long escaped before ever engaging in this conflict.

"They tried to... they..." Unlike the sinking discomfort he'd felt for Chelsea earlier, Dex instead started to experience a new emotion: rage. Past his shock and confusion, Dexter was hurt to even consider the possibility that his peers who, despite having their moments, were never considered an enemy in his eyes. No one was ever supposed to go that far, no less to his best friend and practical brother of all people.

He wanted so badly not to believe, for the sake of preserving the joy he'd experienced with Ren and the solemn moment he'd had with Sly, as well as... whatever foolery went on in his DMs with Dani. However, that wasn't a possibility, as if Dexter couldn't believe Chelsea's words, he wouldn't be able to trust anyone else. He had to accept this truth, if not for this entire conversation they'd just had. It was more genuine and raw than anything they'd shared in a long time. and Dexter knew right away that his best friend believed these words to be true. "Why would they do that? They could have really..."

Fuck. It hurt. He couldn't say it. He began to tremble, his fists balled up so tight his nails began to dig into his flesh. Why did this have to happen? How could anyone do that to his best friend and his sweet, absolutely innocent kid sister? He couldn't begin to fathom how Mer was dealing with it and how she was able to maintain a level head when Dex had first come upon the scene.

Chelsea had almost died, and suddenly he began to understand the weight at which his previous words carried. It was never about debt. It was to let Dex in, to somehow address this problem before the mighty Chelsea Freud buckled under a pressure no normal human could ever withstand. He wanted to help and it meant more than CK could ever know that he was willing to place this trust in him, but god damn it he meant it when he said, in his head, that he didn't want to know anything at all.

Because the truth hurts. And it's easier to follow orders and simply place faith than to confront the painful reality they all lived in.

"I'm sorry, Chelsea," he croaked, overcome with guilt and sorrow for the truth his friend had kept hidden so long. It was all to protect him. To handle the issue himself, because it was undeniably easier on everyone else that way. He hugged Chelsea tightly, unable to fully express every bit of fury and anguish storming inside of him. "I should have known. I should have done something sooner so you didn't have to go through that."

He couldn't tell anybody. But... how could he not? How could he hold all of that in when he didn't have a speck of strength compared to what Chelsea possessed?

"We'll make them hurt too," he stated darkly through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a low growl in Chelsea's ear.

| mood: em0tion | outfit: clothes | location: bonfire | mentions: Ren, Mason, Dani, Sly, Mer | interactions: Chelsea | tags: ohdittoh |

 

[erzulie]

mood: happy/worried
outfit: here
location: the bonfire
mentions: henri, oliver
interactions: valerie, mercedes
tags: jasmyn , Soap , Nixiee ey Swift

Karmyn Darling

“don’t let others decide who you are!”

Karmyn knew how Valerie felt about the bridgers, especially after everything that had happened. She also knew that a lot of their fellow students felt the same way. But Karmyn couldn’t agree with them in the slightest. She had been blessed enough to grow up with two loving parents, a room over her head, and food on her table every night. Everyone didn’t have the luxury. Karmyn knew that people were shaped by their circumstances and everyone had a story to tell. She tried not to judge, she didn’t take their prickly behavior at face value. She was more than sure that there was more beneath the harsh surface. Karmyn was sure that with the right opportunities, a lot of the Ambridge kids could do better. She’s heard and seen stories of it all the time. For a brief moment her thoughts turned to Henrietta, who had talked about her dream of going to medical school. And there was Oliver, who wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with his life after high school but willing to ask for help in order to look.

By the time Karmyn had pulled herself from her deep thinking, her friends were dressed and ready to go. Again, she really hoped that things didn’t go south.

—​

So, letting Mercedes have control of the radio had been a bad idea, as usual. But thankfully for Karmyn she’d learned to block most of the “singing”. Her friend was talented in many ways but vocally was not one of them. And speaking of her talents Karmyn had no idea how Mercedes could speak so much in just one breath, it was amazing really. And even as she shrugged to listen the girl was already changing the subject.

“Mercedes!” Karmyn quickly shushed her, shaking her head with a smile on her face. “I don’t even know if he’s coming or not. But I’m looking forward to seeing everyone!”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Rx (Medicate)

Drake

TW: Drug use

A bit of a downer this one was, wasn't he?

A bit hypocritical coming from Drake Martin whose favorite thing to say was "I was born an addict, gonna die an addict" because he thought it was funny or something. Or not funny but just... the blatant truth, ya know? He couldn't remember ever being clean, save for the handful of months that he'd been in rehab following his overdose and that had just been...

A joke.

Fifteen years old and Drake really couldn't see his life getting any better, or getting any worse. He felt as if he'd both peaked and reached his lowest point all in one fell swoop. Bit of a strange feeling, wasn't it? It didn't make much sense and yet to his foggy, trippy brain, it did. Drake's highest point just happened to be his lowest -- because there was no going up.

Like Donna, he was a loser. A mess. A disaster. An addict. A nothing. He imagined that when he inevitably died, probably from drug use, everyone would be all boohoo oh no, not Drake for about two days, and then they'd all attend his funeral (or probably skip out on it, if he was being honest), and then they'd just... be... relieved. Relieved that they didn't have to keep an eye on him anymore. Relieved that they didn't have to worry. Relieved that he was somewhere better.

It was kind of selfish to keep hanging on when hanging on was just dragging everyone else down.

He looked at Donna, blinking for a moment. It was like looking into a mirror. A... rich, hotter mirror, but a mirror nonetheless

This conversation was starting to bum him out, though Drake couldn't necessarily complain, yeah? He was always kind of bummed out, anyway. Kind of always teetering between being so bummed that he didn't have the energy to move, and being so excited and happy that he was practically bouncing off the walls. One time he actually had bounced off a wall. He was all "parkour!" and then he tried to like do one of those run up the walls and flip things, but he feel and ended up spraining his wrist and it had been a whole thing but hey, you live some you learn some or something like that.

Drake learned he wasn't Spiderman and he couldn't climb walls.

... Yet.

"It sucks," he started and held out his hand for the blunt expectantly. "That like... we didn't ask to be born, you know? But here we are and we're dealt this shitty hand. Why do guys like CK and Mason get everything coming so easily to them while we struggle with everything? It's not fair." Drake said as he took the blunt, turning it over in his hand a couple times before he brought to his lips and took a hit.

The sweet smoke filling his lungs quelled his anger a bit. Drake couldn't even remember what life had been like pre-high -- he'd been nursing a never ending high for so long that sober Drake was something that had been lost. Sober Drake was.... he'd been smothered years ago, whenever the first blunt had been placed in Drake's fingers when he was, what, twelve? Thirteen? Something like that.

"Mason's all hot and big and everyone likes him even though he's a fucking dick, and he's got straight A's without trying and football captain without trying and just breezes right through life. And what do I got?" He took another hit from the blunt before he passed it back to DC and answered his own question. "I got drugs, struggle to keep my grades at a passing level, broken arm from football, and bipolar or some shit. I don't know. Doctors don't really know what they're talking about."

The weed and whatever pills he'd popped into his mouth weren't doing enough.

Drake wanted to be numb. He wanted to not even feel his lips pressing against each other. He wanted to feel absolutely nothing.

"Wanna get that shit from your truck?" He asked.

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

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Aristocrat by New Politics

Natalie

Oh my god -- he was so dumb.

If Natalie was marching away, as she was right now, why would he decide to chase after her like this? Like how absolutely dumb did you have to be to think that it was a good idea to just keep following after someone when they clearly had never wanted to interact with you in the first place?

God, and he was drawing attention to them, and Natalie's cheeks were burning red in embarrassment as her steps quickened. This wasn't how she wanted her peers to view her -- covered in Katee's stupid beverage with him chasing after her. The last thing she needed was everyone knowing that he had a crush on her or whatever dumb infatuation it was, and to start thinking the two of them were friends or something. Like, ew, disgusting, her reputation didn't need this hit.

He grabbed her sleeve and she was forced to a sudden stop. Natalie turned to face him, her pale eyes narrowed into angry slits as she glared at him, her lips pursed together in hatred. She was willing Katee to just fall to the ground, writhing and dying right before her.

Was he seriously trying to apologize right now?

Oh the nerve of him. She was going to--

"Get your hand off of her now."

Garrett? She looked over at her best friend, the anger dissipating from her gaze for a moment to be replaced by a look of shock and surprise. Look, the last thing she'd expected was for Garrett to show up here, especially when things were still... or things still felt strained between the two of them following what had happened with them at Val's party.

When he spoke again, she remembered the Bridger that was still hanging onto her arm.

The anger returned to Natalie's gaze and she looked back at Katee. This time, she yanked her sleeve out of his hand and crossed her arms over her soaked chest so he couldn't grab hold of her again.

"Stop apologizing," she snapped and then glanced over at Garrett. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you sticking up for me."

Apparently Natalie was in the mood of snapping at everyone and lashing out at everyone that was around her -- oh wait, that was her constant mood. Soft Natalie was an unheard of thing.

"Go away," she hissed at Nut. "I don't want your pathetic self anywhere near me. You're freaking annoying, no one likes you, and you'd be doing everyone a favor if you jumped in front of a train. So..." she lifted one hand, making a shooing motion at him. "Go. Away."

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Katee, Garrett| tags: ohdittoh r e i |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

mood: ...the truth.
outfit: casual wear
location: the bonfire
mentions: ren, sly, dani (not by name this post, but the whole situation with them)
interactions: dex
tags: hery

CHELSEA KADER FREUD

❯ 1 the king of auburn springs™

As soon as the words left his mouth, Chelsea felt the air between he and his friend grow dead. The arm around his shoulder tensed up, and Dex’s face blanked for a moment.

The bandaid had been ripped off; the truth was out now. The fragile secret was now in Dex’s hands. It hung with the leap of faith that Chelsea had taken in telling his best friend a secret that could very well be the end of his and his sister’s lives. If that sounded like a fucking exaggeration, then so be it; the bottom line was that they had said that they were going to hurt Mer, that they were going to kill her, and Chelsea had learned to take everything and every word at face value.

From what he knew, they were waiting right now, hiding behind the swelling fire and waiting for their time to strike.

From the tension in Dex’s shoulders, Chelsea knew: Dex understood.

He blinked, looking at Chelsea again, and, when their gaze met, he saw a look of disbelief, astonishment, and…

Was it…fear?

“Oh…I see.” His words sounded hollow, and then, as if it all dawned on him at once, his body convulsed.

Chelsea brought his arm around Dex, holding him in return, the stoic expression on his face remaining as he watched his friend’s reaction. “Could you, ahh, could you repeat that?” Dex’s breathing was labored and unsteady. “Y-you-you’re saying…”

This was why Chelsea hated vulnerability. This was why he hated the truth.

The truth was hard to hear.

The truth brought pain and misery.

The truth destroyed relationships.

The truth had consequences.

Chelsea knew that repeating it wouldn’t make anything any better. He knew that saying it again wouldn’t make Dex understand it any easier, wouldn’t make him believe it any more.

But he said it again anyway.

“It was them, Dex; they’re the ones who did all of this shit to me.” All of this shit. “They’re the ones you had to save me from.”

"They tried to...they..." He watched Dex struggle with what he knew the truth was.

Chelsea finished his words for him. “They tried to kill me.”

Dex’s expression faded into one that Chelsea had seen in the past only a handful of times: rage.

"Why would they do that?” His words were hurt and confused, and, behind them, Chelsea could feel a simmering anger. “They could have really..."

His friend began to tremble in his arms, his shoulders tense, and Chelsea watched his face.

He hated to see Dex like this. The last thing that Chelsea wanted to do was hurt his friend.

But he’d had to tell the truth. He couldn’t keep it in any more. After all of the times that Dex had blindly trusted Chelsea, Chelsea had had to give Dex this one moment of trust.

The truth fucking hurt.

"I'm sorry, Chelsea.” Dex’s voice was a croak, and, when he hugged him tightly, Chelsea could feel Dex trembling. "I should have known.” His voice was seething. “I should have done something sooner so you didn't have to go through that."

To hear those words from his brother, Chelsea felt…he didn’t fucking know. He didn’t know how he felt.

Vulnerability. Fuck vulnerability.

Fuck comfort, fuck…all of that shit.

This was real life; there wasn’t time to waste discerning what he could keep in and what he couldn’t anymore. With Dex, the one person in this world who he could unwaveringly trust, he didn’t have anything to throw away.

He had almost fucking died. He’d come face to face with his mortality, and he’d somehow, by some fucking miracle, came out of it.

Dex had to know, and so Dex knew, and now Dex hurt and now Dex blamed himself.

“It’s not your fault. It’s all fucking mine. This isn’t your bullshit to handle,” Chelsea said. “I shouldn’t’ve gotten you involved. I shouldn’t’ve called you, and I shouldn’t’ve…made you go through all of that trouble.” He returned Dex’s hug. “This isn’t for you to handle. This isn’t for you to have to deal with. This is all me.”

For a moment, there was a tense pause, and Chelsea could feel Dex shaking, and then the other boy spoke in a low growl through his gritted teeth:

"We'll make them hurt, too.”

Blood.

The way that he said those words threw Chelsea back to that night.

The rage in his eyes, the animalistic motions, and the blood all over his shirt.

The fucking blood.

He knew what that tone in his voice meant.

“No.”

Dex wasn’t going to do that again. No matter was, Dex wasn’t going to do that again.

“No,” he repeated, his voice firmer.

He met Dex’s glassy eyes. “No, you’re not doing that for me. Dex, if you do that, you’re going to get yourself hurt.” You’re going to get yourself hurt.

He couldn’t handle them. Dexter couldn’t handle them.

This wasn’t Chelsea underestimating him. This wasn’t him saying that Dexter was weak or feeble or any of that shit.

It was a different kind of couldn't handle.

Dexter was strong enough to take them down, he knew.

But he wasn't strong enough to deal with what came afterward.

The blood. He remembered the blood.

He remembered scrubbing out Dexter’s bloody handprints from where he’d clung to his shirt and how, despite the overcast day, the only puddles on the ground were deep, maroon voids.

He couldn't forget. He could never forget.

That night. That blood.

Dexter was too strong; he couldn’t stop himself.

Dexter couldn’t handle them.

Dexter couldn’t handle them, because Chelsea knew that, if he tried to, he wouldn’t be able to stop him again.

He couldn't stop him again.

That night, when he’d thrown Dexter off of that other boy, he’d been lucky enough to catch him before…the worst.

But Chelsea felt it deep inside of his soul: he’d be too late this time.

He'd be too late, and then even he couldn't fix the situation.

And then would come all of the aftermath.

And that would destroy him.

“If you try to take them down, you’ll get dragged down with them,” Chelsea said, his perpetually cold, angry voice much softer than usual as he looked into Dexter’s emotional eyes. “You’re not losing anything because of me. I don’t care how much I mean to you. I’m not worth it. You’re not going out there and getting hurt on my behalf.”

He drew in a long, shaky, deep breath.

Chelsea was supposed to be fearless.

He wasn’t supposed to bow to anyone.

Chelsea Kader Freud was supposed to be the king of Auburn Springs; he was supposed to be feared, untouchable, inpenetrable...

But now?

Fuck.

He knew what all of this meant. He knew what all of this bullshit amounted to.

Chelsea Kader Freud was losing his grip.

Chelsea Kader Freud was about to fall.

Chelsea Kader Freud was nothing but a fucking fraud.

He wasn’t going to go down without a fight, but he didn’t know how to fucking fight it.

It was a catch 22 situation.

Either he fought back and lost everything, or he stayed silent and lost everything.

He couldn’t fucking win.

But the last thing that he'd allow to happen was to let anyone who he cared about be destroyed alongside him.

“You know what they told me, Dex?” he mumbled. “They told me that, if I told anyone, they’d make it so that I could never play football again— and they acted like that was some big threat to me.” He shook his head slightly, looking out at the fire. Fire...fucking fire. “I don’t care about threats like that; I could live on without playing football. It’s not like that’s my fucking life. I’m not fucking scared of that. They could do whatever they want to me; they could hurt me, kick me around, kill me like they already tried to once. And I could handle that. I'm not afraid of any of that shit.”

It was true. Damage to himself, he could handle, because, in the long run, it hurt no one besides himself. He'd endured a lot of shit in the past, and he could pull through. He knew that he was strong enough to do that. He knew that he was strong enough to handle that kind of damage.

Even death.

As terrifying as that void had seemed when he had come so close to it that night, he was willing to jump into it again.

He wasn't fucking scared. He wasn't scared of that.

He looked into Dex’s eyes again. “But…Dex.”

I’m still fucking scared.

That was the worst thing to fucking admit, even to himself, and he'd tried to deny it for so fucking long.

But there was no point in holding it in tonight. He had to trust Dexter. He had to trust Dex with this, because he couldn't trust anyone else.

He had to trust Dex with this face:

He was fucking terrified.

Not on account of himself, not on account of the threats to himself. He could handle those.

It was…

“They threatened to hurt Mercedes.”

It was that. It was that that made him powerless.

It was that that made him their bitch.

He knew that, if anything happened to his sister, then he would be entirely at fault for destroying another life.

As much as he wanted to say that he didn't care about anyone or anything else, he knew that that was a stone-faced bullshit lie.

Mercedes and Dexter were the only two in the world who he could really say that he cared anything about.

Mercedes, his sister, and Dexter, his brother.

And they'd already threatened to take one of them.

“If you do anything against them…” I’m afraid that. “They’re going to hurt her. They’re going to hurt her, when she didn’t do fucking anything. When all she did was exist, when all she did was fucking exist.”

He looked away from Dex and out to the fire. He felt himself shaking, and he tried to calm it. “They’re…fucking insane. They’re bloodthirsty. They’re disgusting, low-down dogs who think that they can just play with whosever lives that they want to.” He gripped Dex’s shoulder tighter, involuntarily. “They don’t have any boundaries or any standards. They’ve got some bullshit unity. Something inside of them that brings them together, and you want to know what it is?”

He grit his teeth, trying to blink away the wet feeling in his own eyes. “They want to see me fall,” he muttered. “They want to see me fall, and they want to take everyone I love down with me.”

He looked over at Dex, his glassy eyes dead serious. “If you try to hurt them, they’ll hurt you. I don’t care how much damage you can do to them; no matter how hard you try, you can’t do anything to them that they can’t do right back to you. They’re dirtier than us; they don’t have anything that holds them back, because they have nothing to lose.”

He sunk his head. “And if you or Mer got hurt, I don’t know what I would do.”

This was his mess to clean up. This wasn't anything for Dexter to involve himself in.

If he got involved, the only thing that could come out of it was hurt.

And if Dexter got hurt...

He grit his teeth, closing his eyes to disallow any of the wetness in his eyes from escaping. "I really don't know what I would fucking do."

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

KATEE NAUSBAUM

shit

the bonfire

normal clothes

n/a

natalie & garrett

Winona r e i

(tw: implied child abuse, bullying; uh…it’s just depressing in general, too)

“Get your hand off of her now.”

Katee stopped in his tracks, confused at where the voice was coming from at first.

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

He turned his head toward the voice, and his eyes caught on the other boy from the tour, face dumbfounded.

“Take your hand off of her before I do it for you. And let you know if I do it, your hand will get fucking broken.”

Again?

Katee stammered, “Uh, I-I…”

He didn’t mean to…he was just trying to apologize.

His felt his face redden, his desperate expression fading into one of confusion and apology as he looked at Natalie. “Natalie…”

She glared at him, yanking her sleeve away from him, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Stop apologizing.” Her gaze shifted to the other boy. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you sticking up to me.”

She looked back at Katee with a look that was like a lash across his face.

It was the look that he got every time he came across his parents; it was the burning, seething look that made him want disappear into his own skin. Eyes that said words of their own:

Go die.

Go die, go die, go die, go die, go die.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” Nut stammered immediately, his brows knitting together.

“Go away,” she hissed, her words acidic. “I don’t want your pathetic self anywhere near me.”

He looked at his feet, face hot. “I’m s-sorry…,” he mumbled again, feet frozen in place, his hands sinking to his sides. “I…”

“You’re freaking annoying, no one likes you, and you’d be doing everyone a favor if you jumped in front of a train.”

Each word was burning cigarette extinguished against his skin, a burn mark added to the array on his back.

Fucking dumbass kid. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. Go do me a favor and do it now that you can.

His ears rang. He felt sick with himself, and he glanced up at Natalie and then at Garrett, tears growing in his eyes that he quickly tried to suppress, clenching his fists and his jaw.

He was sixteen years old. He’d heard things like this his whole life. He’d heard it from his mom's cut lips sober and felt it from his dad’s palm drunk; he’d been shoved down and had these words screamed in his ears, back when his mom cared enough to even do that much, before she got so lethargic as to only give him these spiels or mutters when they happened to bump into each other on the way out. It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle this. It wasn’t like he was a prissy little shit, some bitch boy, or…

He sniffled, his shoulders shaking.

The amount of times that he’d been sent to the nurse’s office with a busted lip or a cut cheek, with a scraped jaw or a broken finger, he couldn’t count on one hand, or…fuck, he didn’t even know if he could count it at all. It was what he got for being a snitch, what he got for being a clingy ass, overgrown child with the brain capacity of a toddler. It was what he got for being a dumbass, for not listening, bitch.

But words…words always hurt worse.

From his parents. From his friends.

And now…from…Natalie. The girl that he never had a chance with in the first place.

But…it was kind of the way that things were supposed to be. And he deserved it, he knew.

So he tried to push the tears in his eyes back as he looked up at Natalie, putting on a shaky smile and saying, in a wavering, wobbling voice. “But…I want to be around you…!”

His face was red hot, and he felt his eyes growing wetter by the second.

He felt sick. His hands moved to clutch his stomach as he tried to suppress his vomit.

“Fuck…,” the kiddish boy muttered, turning his face away, forcing a smile, and covering up his eyes as if that would mask the tears coming from his eyes as his entire body trembled.

He quickly brushed the tear away with his palms, looking down at the ground again. “I-I’m so sorry, I ju—…I…”

Katee Nausbaum, the clingy, disgraced, incessant snitch, struggled to hold back tears.

“I-I really didn’t…”

He let out a soft laugh, glancing up at Natalie, and then his stomach convulsed and turned the contents of his stomach out onto the grass below.

MONSTER (UNDER MY BED)

call me karizma

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: ck, mason
interactions: drake
tags: Winona

DONNA CAIN CAMUS

❯ 1 the disappointment™

(tw: drugs, downness in general. this won't cheer you up, that's for sure.)

Donna Cain Camus couldn’t recall the last time that he had been genuinely happy or anywhere close to it. Maybe it was because he was high out of his mind the last time that he was, or maybe it was because he’d never actually been happy at any point in his life, save for that one time when he was five and made Chelsea piss himself. He knew that he was far from someone who was pleasant or optimistic or anything along those lines.

A downer.

That was the word. Donna was a downer.

There was many reasons why he didn’t have any actual friends, and that was one of them, he supposed.

Among the others were the fact that he was a loser, a mess, a disaster, an addict, and a fucking nothing.

Donna Camus was sixteen years old, and he couldn’t see his life getting any better or any worse. He was at a stalemate, the high point and the low point at once, the climax and the nadir, and he didn’t see it changing, ever. He was in a fog, barely existent, hardly breathing. He’d fucked up his body enough to not feel half of the time. He’d fucked up his brain enough to not think half of the time.

And he’d learned enough to not care any of the time.

There was no going up from here, and he didn’t know how much further down he could go than ODing, as was inevitable, and dying because none of his family cared to go and check on him.

Mercedes would probably find his body. She was the only one who cared to come and talk with him.

That would be his only regret.

“It sucks that, like…we didn’t ask to be born, you know?” The other boy…Drake, held his hand out for the drug that Donna was holding. He passed him the blunt, the key to the slightest bit of euphoria, as he only vaguely listened to Drake talk, hardly grasping the blurry forms of words as they came to him, echoing in his ears. “But here we are, and we're dealt this shitty hand. Why do guys like CK and Mason get everything coming so easily to them while we struggle with everything? It's not fair."

Donna stared numbly at the leaves above as a breeze moved them rustled them. Not fair…that was an understatement.

Donna knew that life was pointless, and death was meaningless, and everything and everyone was just executing someone else’s cruel idea of how the world should work.

It wasn’t just unfair. It was cruel. It was disgusting.

It was just the way that life was. Guys like him and guys like Drake were the only ones who realized it.

The boys bound by the chains of their miserable lives were the freest of all. To Donna, that was disgustingly poetic.

"Mason's all hot and big and everyone likes him even though he's a fucking dick, and he's got straight As without trying and football captain without trying and just breezes right through life. And what do I got?" The blunt was being offered back to Donna, and he took it and breathed in its smoke, closing his eyes as Drake’s words faded in and out of his ears. “I got drugs, struggle to keep my grades at a passing level, broken arm from football, and bipolar or some shit. I don't know. Doctors don't really know what they're talking about."

Donna knew what Drake was feeling. This was as close to empathy as he could get.

Chelsea got all of the girls, even though he was the biggest fucking asshole that the world had ever seen. Chelsea got straight As in all of his classes, top marks on every pointless exam. Chelsea was the football captain, the head jock, the most popular boy in school.

And who was Donna?

A flaming, pussy burnout who nearly flunked all of his classes, had broken and injured himself more times than he could count thanks to the sport that Chelsea was so good at, and was the nobodiest nobody that anyone could lay eyes on.

He guessed the only real difference was that Drake had went to the doctors to have them diagnose him with some bullshit…something.

His dad threatened to take him to a psychiatrist or a therapist or something, but Donna had the drugs on hand, anyway. He’d tried the pills before, whether he knew what they were for or not, whether he even knew the names of them or not.

They helped to numb him. They helped to keep him out of everything. That was all that mattered.

He didn’t need a doctor to give them him. He could get them on his own.

A diagnosis wouldn’t help shit.

The air was still, and, for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Drake’s words finally broke the silence. “Wanna get that shit from your truck?"

Donna glanced over at the other boy. “It’s strong shit.” He knew that, if the other boy was anything like him, that would only turn him onto it.

The idea that it might get him so high that he wouldn’t come down was alluring, if anything.

Donna wouldn’t try to stop it.

He sat up in the leaves, looking down at Drake. He licked his thumb, pressing it to the lit end of the blunt and glancing down to make sure that it had extinguished before he slowly stood.

“Let’s go,” Donna said, and he began to trudge through the leaves and to his vehicle.

As he approached, he slowed his pace even further.

It was his good shit. He didn’t really want to share.

He looked back at Drake.

And he saw a reflection of himself.

A hotter, if poorer, reflection of himself.

Sharing might have been caring, but Donna didn’t care.

All he wanted to do was…spend a moment with someone who didn’t want to run away from him.

To spend a moment with…someone.

“In the back,” he said in his cold, tenor voice. “I laid the seats forward. The back doors make it easier to get to it.”

It was dirty and filled with cups and cans and whatever trash that he hadn’t discarded out his window, but he doubted that Drake would mind.

If he was anything like him, his focus was on the promise of the high.

He opened the driver’s side door, sitting in the driver’s seat and slamming the door. His eyes scanned the console, his hands going down to the small box in it, and he moved aside a few CDs and pulled out the ziplock bag that he’d been thinking about all night.

His good shit.

He opened the sunglasses holder overhead, grabbing an expired gift card from it.

The back would be flat and untextured enough that that would be easy enough to make the lines.

He turned around, sticking his leg over the console to climb into the back plateau with Drake, card and bag in hand. Making sure that the doors were shut and his windows were up, the stoic boy held the bag and the card out for Drake.

“Here,” he said, knowing that Drake would know just want to do with it.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

cool pirate cowboy 123123

Dexter Cruz

Auburn Springs

You know, as it turns out, Dex wasn't a big fan of the whole "truth" thing. Being the village idiot, the realization had never dawned upon him just how easy his life was, always believing in the truth that was easiest to swallow. Up until then, he'd been unequivocally inclined to pick the right side, because that's naturally what someone's son and someone's best friend does. Things were that simple, even more so for a simple-minded Dexter.

That was until he remembered that no bond he may have formed with his best friend's enemies was enough to cast doubt upon the boy that had saved his life on numerous occasions. One in particular seemed to perpetually hang on their consciences, yet virtually never came up in conversations. Dex knew it was better that way, but that didn't stop the memories from persistently invading his thoughts against all attempts to banish them forever.

Not once had he considered asking Chelsea if it weighed on him too, given the immense sacrifice he made that night. Just how many sleepless nights had the two endured to keep things from changing? In the end, Dex could never even hope to repay his friend given the fact that Chelsea had covered for him first, and everyone knows reciprocation doesn't carry nearly as much weight as the initial favor.

Dex didn't want to stick around CK because he owed him. He wanted to be there for the sake of brotherhood and nothing more. He wished upon every star in the sky for the capacity to communicate it all amid the copious fears of disloyalty Chelsea harbored within himself, yet the right words remained elusive to Dex. Being universally hated must suck, but paying the price for someone else's mistakes...

It just wasn't fair.

Like silently taking a knife to his chest, Dex listened closely to Chelsea's repetition, futilely searching for some change, some mistake in wording that ultimately damned the innocent people around them. But they weren't so innocent, and all apprehension melted off of Dexter, searing the protective layer of naivete that had once shielded him so effectively. He would never forgive the aggressors for chipping away at his obliviousness, but even more for threatening the life of his friend. "They tried to kill you," he repeated shakily, his shallow breaths mirroring his hummingbird heartbeat.

Although the images of that bloodied, wheezing boy from years ago crept into his conscious mind in exclusively brief blips, snippets of the experience he'd had following Val's party played on loop in his dreams, in class, and just about anywhere. When all was quiet, Dex could faintly pick up Chelsea's weak, frightened voice as though he was tangoing with Death all over again. He felt the aching in his heart for Mer's innocence. He recalled the grim, crushing notions flashing in his brain, forcing Dex to wonder, seconds at a time, what would happen if Chelsea died on him.

If he died before Dex had a chance to even see his face at the street corner. If he died in the backseat, rivulets of red gushing out of his body. If that faint, flickering light that had once been the mighty fire within Chelsea Freud was snuffed out, plunging Dex so far into a deep, lonely abyss his very world may cease to exist.

It was petrifying, but he had to move that night. He had to do something, if not for himself and for his friends, but for the tiny sliver of normalcy that remained in Auburn Springs.

That uncertainty, that fear, and all of that deep, primal rage had been stirred up by none other than Sly Cosgrove, Dani Monroe, and...

Ren Jones.

CK said it himself. They tried to take all of that from Dexter, from Chelsea, from Mer, and from this cruel, bitter plane.

And it just wasn't fair.

Dex was slipping. And, as hard as he clenched his plastic cup and held on to the back of Chelsea's coat, nothing could stop his grasp on reality from fading. Everything was so painfully numb, yet Dex still couldn't stop himself from shaking as silent tears leaked out of his eyes.

"Why...?" He wanted to ask why in the hell they wanted to do that, but the selfish voice in his head commanded him to say otherwise. "Why did you tell me that?" he breathed, nearly choking on the bulging lump in his throat, each word leaving his mouth a disjointed, guttural grunt. It hurt more than every punch and every broken bone Dexter had ever accrued to ask, yet they were the only words his voice could muster. He was sinking, deeper, deeper, deeper, suffocating in his own despair and betrayal. It was too much to bear, and the phantom whispering in his ear drew his attention to the wraith of empathy that still resided in his current state of mind. He didn't know if he could ever go back, even after the second chance at humanity he'd been granted as he stood over that fellow human, his vision fogged over by a red, frenzied lens screaming to finish the job.

His grasp on Chelsea's sweatshirt tightened further as he gritted his teeth, eyes shut so tight he couldn't even see stars.

Only red.

Only raw, unbridled disdain for everything that had to happen to the people unquestionably he'd give his life for.

"You're wrong," he snarled, with more conviction than any anything else he'd ever uttered, although it was difficult to recall the past when all he could focus on was the fury boiling inside, "I need to help you. Just let me help you. Let me fix it..." His eyes were glazed over and he began to grind his teeth with the same force as his tight fists.

He met Chelsea's eyes, but it was all red, every firm "no" leaving his mouth a faint, incomprehensible murmur. "You don't understand." His lip quivered and, for a moment, a shred of hurt crossed over his dull expression. "You don't know what it's like!" he shouted, taking his hands off of Chelsea and narrowing his eyes to accommodate for the tears breaking past his brittle defenses. "You don't know how it feels to have someone give up everything for you! You've never had to sit on the sidelines as someone destroyed themself to pick up your fucking mess!"

He pursed his lips and wiped his eyes with his hand, feeling himself crumbling all over again. "Fuck, man," he choked, slowly shrinking away, "I know that night sophomore year weighs on you. And we never fucking talk about it and that just makes it feel so much fucking worse." He gathered the courage to look up, demanding Chelsea's gaze. "Because I can hardly remember it. And you saw every little thing."

He coughed, his red face twisting due to the emotional overload he was bearing. He thrusted his face forward inches from Chelsea's, despite the other boy turning to face the fire. "You think just sitting and taking it is gonna make them stop?" he whispered hysterically, agonizing over the horrors Mer had gone through that night not two weeks ago, "None of that matters. We just... we just have to fucking show them, Chels. We have to really, really make them hurt, and then..."

He trailed off. He didn't know what came next, but the focal point was that he wasn't going to bow down after the hell they'd been through and were going through. For every smile and insignificant little compliment he exchanged with the people that had done this, he'd make them pay a drop of blood more. "We make them know what they did and that they can never do it again." He gasped, catching a shallow breath. "Not to anyone. But especially you, man. And Mer."

He sniffled, knowing all too well that he looked like a red-faced, snot-covered emotional wreck. "I fucking love you guys."

| mood: rage mode | outfit: clothes | location: bonfire | mentions: Ren, Dani, Sly, Mer | interactions: Chelsea | tags: ohdittoh |

 

[Winona]

Lost Boys

Xander

Henri. Totally nifty name, even if the name Henri made Xander kind of think about like old grandpas that handed out those butterscotch candies that he could never find in the store and that little Xander had convinced himself simply materialized in the pockets of old people.

Xander was smart enough now to know that wasn't true. Pfft. What a dumb kid he'd been.... Obviously, the candy came in the monthly subscription to grandparenthood that he assumed existed.

(Kidding, kidding).

"Look - Xander, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not quite in the best mood right now." Henri gestured to his backpack. "You obviously look like you're planning a fun time, and the last thing I want to do is put a damper on that, alright?"

"Well..." Xander started slowly, a mischevious smile spreading across his lips. Yeah, Xander wasn't put off by her slight attitude -- look, he knew that it wasn't directed at him really. Plus, well, she was probably used to fending off drunk boys at these kinds of events. Of course she'd be snappy at him! Xander would probably be the same way if their positions were reversed.

Okay, well, that was a lie. He wouldn't be.

"Obviously you came to this party because you wanted someone or something to brighten that mood of yours," he responded cheerfully and even added a little finger gun in her direction. "And lucky for you, you've been blessed with me. Xander the Fairy Godmother. Fairy Godmother of umm...." he brought his hand up to tap his chin while he tried to think.

A lightbulb popped over his head (not literally, that'd be weird, but figuratively and in his imagination and knowing Xander, it was probably a dick-shaped lightbulb) when it hit him like a ton of bricks. Or like a semi that just kind of went wham right into him.

"Fairy Godmother of Good Decisions That'll Turn That Frown Upside Down." He grinned widely at his cleverness, although the entire title had sounded far better in his head. Plus he was more like... the Fairy Godmother of I-Have-Spray-Paint-But-Only-Know-How-To-Paint-Dicks.

"Look, Henri, I can't force you to do anything, but if you wanted to tag along with me on my fun adventures of the night, I'd be thrilled to have you." While he talked, he swung his backpack off of his back. He held it up with one hand while he unzipped it with his other hand. Xander pulled out one of the cans of spray paint, wiggling it tantalizingly near her. "I was going to go start spray painting dicks on some shit. I don't have a target yet, but that's beside the point. If you wanted to come along, you totally could. Painting dicks is good for the soul."

Well, it was good for his soul.

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Henri| tags: Nixiee |

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[Winona]

Rx (Medicate)

Drake

TW: Drug use, sad stuff -- literally just a sad post in general

“It’s strong shit.” DC replied.

"Good," Drake answered.

Look, if it was weak shit, it wouldn't be worth the... hassle. If the drugs didn't give Drake some sense of never coming down, then what would be the point, ya know?

Drake stood up, brushing the leaves from him before he trailed after DC.

This hadn't been his plan for the night -- Drake wasn't sure what his plan for the night had been. He wasn't much of a drinker (alcohol just never gave him that same euphoric high that he could obtain with street drugs) and it wasn't like he was down for doing the do (sex was a dirty word, okay) in the woods or wherever like half of these damn teenagers.

.... Okay, so, maybe drugs had always been on the table.

But he figured he'd bum a few hits off of other people's joints. See, Drake's generally upbeat, positive attitude coupled with his ability to make friends when he really, really wanted tripled with the fact that he was the Mason Rivera's brother meant that, well, not a lot of people turned him down. Drake liked to think it was just because he was friendly and people liked his friendliness, but he suspected that it had to do more with people not wanting to tell Mason Rivera's baby brother no -- even if it was to something like drugs.

Look, it wasn't super common knowledge that, well... Drake had overdosed. And by not super common knowledge, Drake meant that no one knew. Fuck, he was pretty sure that Mason hadn't even told Raven, which was saying something.

Mason liked to keep up a wall. Like a thin veil that hid the details of their life. He was a private person and an independent person and stubborn, which meant that his need to keep everyone as far as fucking away far outweighed the need to ask for help.

So Drake's illness had been swept under the rug. And, well, Mason's whole aversion to drugs wasn't super common knowledge, either. Why would it be? Mason just didn't do drugs, but he was from Ambridge, which gave the illusion that he was cool with it.

Morale of the story: Drake bummed joints and drugs off of people like it was no big deal.

Still, he hadn't planned to do... you know... heavy drugs tonight.

Drake had planned on getting better, ya know. Well, maybe not better, but trying to like... slow down the slide to his inevitable second overdose.

Maybe part of him wanted to be around to watch Ari grow up. To get better so he could actually try and help Mason out. Stop being such a burden on their little family.

“In the back,” he said. “I laid the seats forward. The back doors make it easier to get to it.”

All thoughts of wanting to be there, of wanting to get better, all of... that dissipated when DC spoke up again. Drake rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He bounced ahead on the balls of his feet up to the truck. Look, he was excited. This was like a kid getting uhhh... candy. Yeah.

He opened up the back door to the truck, not even blinking an eye at the trash. Well, except to push back a couple sticky cups that threatened to topple out into the grass because wow, littering was illegal and Drake couldn't be caught doing that.

(It didn't occur to him that he was literally getting into the back of some guy's truck to do heavy drugs which was far more illegal than a cup in the grass).

He climbed in, pulling the door shut after himself, and rested on his knees while he waited for DC. His pale eyes darted around the cab of the truck, taking it all in while his fingers tip tapped against his knees in anticipation.

"Here," DC said and held the baggy and card out for Drake to take.

Drake didn't reach for it right away -- instead, he looked at DC, one eyebrow cocked up in question. Like, sure, he knew what to do obviously -- but why was DC dropping it on him? They were his drugs, weren't they? Didn't he want to make sure it was done right?

Well, Drake wasn't going to complain.

He took the bag and card from DC. He brought the bag up close to his face, squinting at the white powder. He gave it a little shake, and then nodded his head in approval.

Drake gave one last look at DC for some hidden permission and then he looked back at the card and the bag. Well. It wasn't what he would typically use (Drake was all about that classy drug use, ya know), but he could make do with what he had.

He looked down at the seat, brushing a hand over it to remove any dirt or whatever -- look, he only wanted to snort one thing and dirt wasn't it.

Popping open the bag, Drake spilled some of the powder on the back of the seat between the two boys. He glanced towards DC and then with gift card in hand, started to divide the powder into a couple different lines. Carefully. With great precision.

Once he was done, he sat back and gestured towards the white powder. "It's your shit, so... you first."

Proper druggie etiquette.

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

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[jasmyn]

M O O D : "fire and alcohol? what more could a girl want?"

O U T F I T : click to see jade's fit.

L O C A T I O N : by the drinks, naturally.

I N T E R A C T I O N S : ian. rory. lance.

T A G S : ohdittoh Winona natsukashii

Jade watched as Ian struggled to come up with something for them to do at this all-too-quiet bonfire only for him to land on fireworks. Obviously Jade was a fan of fireworks as seen by their previous weekend at the fair. They had spent most of that time tossing the loud ones next to people so they would scare them and shooting roman candles or blowing up stuff which was great.

In all honesty, it really wasn't a bad idea, plus, she did always have some on her. But then the thought of recycling that same plan? Ehh. Why not amp it up a bit? Come up with something ten times more fun. After a moment, Rory agreed to the plan which the blonde knew was only because it was the option that sounded like the safest route. Yes, Rory, playing it safe. It pained her to see.

As much as Jade enjoyed hanging out with Rory, the girl was notorious for dulling herself down when it came to her brothers. Yet here she was with Jade and Lance, of all people. Who was she kidding? Definitely the wrong crowd to hang with when trying to keep Ian out of trouble. If Rory wanted to play babysitter for the night then fine, but she was gonna have to toss a bib around Ian's neck and try to keep up because Jade wasn't gonna slow down for anyone. That just wasn't her style.

Her eyes flickered between Rory and Lance as he finally questioned if she was willing to follow along with the firework plan and she shook her head. "Fireworks are great but we've been there done that. It's a good plan, just not thinking big enough. Tonight we need something more interesting..." she said scanning the area. It wasn't like there were many options in a place like this. All they did for fun was spread gossip about each other and get their nails done and shit. "Although..." she trailed off as she recalled Twitter earlier.

"This place is crawling with Springers so I say we fuck with them. Lola did mention something about a smoke and light show? Sounds small but a decent warm-up," she shrugged. "Maybe after that, we can see what these fuckers keep in their fancy cars or what do you think?" she asked as she pulled out a joint. "Whatever we do, why do it sober?" she smirked, downing the liquor in her cup and pulling out a lighter. She had other party favors too but those she would save for later.

JADE JENNINGS

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[jasmyn]

M O O D : "in need of a distraction"

O U T F I T : click here to see dani's fit. ~ & jacket too.

L O C A T I O N : on the way to the bonfire.

I N T E R A C T I O N S : ryan. lincoln. jess.

T A G S : geminiy @gh0stwriter Winona

Okay, so Dani had expected the tension between her friends just because she knew the history that lingered there. Still, she hadn't expected it to be so...thick? It was stupid of her to think that they could slip back into the normal trio routine though. That it would be like old times before things got messed up. Honestly, she just needed to get out of her own head today because she was sick worrying about Sly and what the hell might've happened to him. Ryan and Link were the only people she could count on to help her to just not think as much, so she was trying to subtly (or not so subtly) mend a friendship.

At least, if they weren't happy to be around one another, they were willing to pretend rather than leave or fight and so she would take what she could get. For now anyway. There was still a lot to be said because despite what went down, Dani was not gonna lose such a long-standing friendship over their shit. They had been a trio for too long to just let it be a distant memory when it could be fixed. If she had to try and play mediator then so be it.

"I'm sure they are just dying to see us," she smirked, playing along with Ryan's comments on how the party wouldn't start till they arrived. It wasn't like he was wrong. What else would the Springers be doing besides sitting around braiding each other's hair or something? They were honestly lucky that the Bridgers wanted to turn their boring bonfire into a more lively event.

Dani followed Ryan's lead as he started his bike back up and took off. She knew where the bonfire was so when he decided to take a weird turn she wondered what the hell he had in mind. It wasn't like they knew anyone in these rich ass neighborhoods besides Link so where was he taking them? Either way, it wasn't like he had given them much of a choice in the matter which she was willing to bet was partially payback for her own actions. So, Dani followed after, Link not far off behind her as they drove, big houses and picket fences lining the street on either side.

This was unfamiliar territory to the Ambridge-born and raised, daughter of a gang member. Sure, she had ventured into Auburn Springs on multiple occasions but even so, Dani still couldn't help but feel completely out of her element when she was in the stupid town. Especially now because she had no clue why they were here although that changed when they came to a stop behind Ryan, and she heard his words.

“Sorry for the detour, there’s someone I wanted to stop and see.”

The pink-haired girl knew Ryan well enough to know exactly why they were stopping in the middle of a neighborhood neither of them belonged in. Jessica. The girl that her best friend had been simping for on public Twitter like an idiot. It wasn't that Dani had a problem with Jess, actually, it was quite the opposite. Even if at first she had been unsure about the girl, she had redeemed herself for the most part. Plus, Ryan seemed really happy when he talked about her so he clearly liked her a lot but still...

Look, Dani tried not to be the type to judge someone over where they lived because she hated that people did that to her and her friends. That didn't mean she trusted them though. How could she? Not to mention the fact that Ryan Murphy was Dani's best friend. He was one of the people she was closest to, that she completely trusted with every secret she had, who she had literally grown up with and would go to hell and back for. If anyone hurt him, she was right there with a bat and a body bag. So while she didn't mind Jess, she felt like she had to keep an eye on the girl's intentions in case Ryan was too blinded to do so.

Giving a sigh, Dani pushed out the kickstand on her motorcycle and climbed off. If Ryan was going to be walking up to random houses, she sure the hell wasn't staying too far behind him. She walked up to the house he had chosen to try out first, standing by the fence as he made his way onto the porch and knocked at the door. A grin appeared on her face out of pure amusement whenever he was greeted by an old lady who was obviously not thrilled to be bothered by him. To be fair, he was probably cutting into her soap operas and knitting time.

"You think so?" she teased whenever he announced he'd picked the wrong house, following him across the street and again staying by the entry fence. "Are you insane?!" she commented, a groan escaping her lips when he decided it was a good fucking idea to hop the fence. "He's fucking lost it, I swear," she shook her head, mostly muttering the statement to herself. With no clear view of her knuckle-headed friend, she retreated back to their bikes and waited for him to return.

When he did finally walk back to where Dani and Link were sitting, she threw her hands up. "You know, you keep that up and one of these days a Springer dad is gonna turn you into one of those fancy deer head things they hang on their fireplaces," she rolled her eyes. Soon enough, Jess appeared and Dani couldn't help but laugh at her comment. "Not like he can afford a new one. You're free to ride with me but I think Ry might cry if you did," she teased.

Dani held out her helmet to the girl, not really caring to wear it herself anyway. Plus, they needed it more with his demon bike being their ride anyway. "Better safe than sorry. You don't wanna end up looking like that, do you?" she motioned to Ryan with a smirk. What? Could they even be considered best friends if she didn't fuck with him just a little?

"Oh, uh, Link...this is Jess. Jess, Link," she said awkwardly, trying not to allude to the weird situation they were in. Why on earth Ryan decided to flaunt this new crush in front of Link, she had no clue but it was sure to make for an interesting fucking night, wasn't it? "Now that introductions are out of the way, let's get going. Hope you're ready to have actual fun for once, Jess," she added, starting her bike and revving the engine.

DANIELLE MONROE

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