Realistic or Modern &nbsp; Auburn Springs

º º code by ditto º º

hery · May 29, 2021

fluent in buzzkill

Theodore Virtanen

Ambridge

"I did offer to be your therapist," Theodore confirmed with a nod devoid of surprise. From his own baseline manners, he expected everyone to remember names, faces, and other important details after the first time. Donna had done well in meeting these expectations, however he lost points for nearly forgetting his name and treating the matter with an almost arrogant nonchalance. Had the roles been reversed, Theo would have at least offered an apology instead of this slow, curt stream of replies.

As the impassive boy across the table answered his questions, Theo couldn't help but grimace a little. He didn't go to school. Or eat breakfast. It's like he had a death wish or something...

Did he?

Therapy was still on the table. And free, to boot. It wasn't the blonde boy's mission or civic duty to lift anyone out of their tragic slumps, but it was always polite to offer. In remembering Theo's offer, Donna had indirectly pointed to the significance of their last conversation. Was his offer really that out of the ordinary? Whatever this world was coming to, it had a grim future.

He knew DC had issues based on what they'd spoken about, but the warning signs seemed to flash brighter as they spoke in the present. He frowned while his use of the word "risk" was taken lightly, but that disappointment paled compared to the oddity of such a glum boy suddenly smiling. Theo didn't enjoy the feeling of being a stranger. Was he not speaking English? Who reacts to a serious piece of advice with a smile?

“You ask a lot of questions,” Donna said bluntly. “It’s annoying.”

In an instant, he'd been thrown back into reality, the familiar sense of... well, familiarity, creeping over him. Theo recognized that the forwardness of Donna's statement was supposed to be jarring, at least to the average person. Not only was he numb to it, but he much preferred this directness rather than the beating around the bush that came with upholding typical social protocol.

Wait... he preferred it?

That didn't make sense. The stony-faced boy (the foreign stony-faced boy) shifted uncomfortably upon his realization. If he appreciated such bluntness, why did he himself feel the need to regurgitate traditional manners...? Time to time, his own directness had shone through his pleases and thank-yous, but to such a degree as Donna's? Never.

Well, maybe not never. Maybe Theo really did struggle with balancing bluntness and manners. He'd always assumed it was the language barrier, but...

Oh, god, he was a hypocrite.

At any rate, it had occurred to him that he'd spent an unacceptable amount of time staring off pensively following Donna's obnoxiously rude statement. Ironic after what he'd just spent the last few seconds thinking about, right? "That is the point of conversation," he countered, politely challenging his peer, "I tell you thing, you tell me thing. You, I must ask questions, otherwise you say nothing."

“What are you asking? Why do I vape? Are you asking for me to allow you to be my therapist again?”

Theodore nodded yes, then shook his head no. He really was curious from the standpoint of a concerned acquaintance, but also from a place that just couldn't comprehend the value in putting oneself in harm's way for a cheap thrill.

Well, okay, he could, and he'd been struggling over it for the past couple weeks since his brief stint with Silas, but, well...

And now Theo was just doubting everything he thought, which is exactly why he never should have left his comfort zone in the first place.

"I am only suggesting that you try therapy. I simply offered myself for your convenience." That felt like a pretty reasonable offer. "Always acting like you do not care. Do you not struggle with being..." He ducked his head down low, parting his lips before abandoning the idea of bringing up a topic undoubtedly at the forefront of both of their minds. At least, that was Theo's deduction. Donna cared that he was closeted, right? He had to have cared if he went so far as to ask a favor of Theo, who may or may not have grated on his nerves. For such a complicated guy, who was to say?

“Health isn’t my concern. Nothing is really my concern.”

Nihilism. Theo had figured as much from first glance, but it still pained him a little to here. How could Donna simply... not care? Wasn't there so much more to life than existing for the sake of spiting himself and others? If the guy had truly wished to be left alone, he'd have gotten up and walked away already. There were a million other places to vape in this school, and that surely trumped the laziness of enduring an unfun conversation out of a reluctance to get up.

All he had to offer was another frown mixed with disappointment and judgement. He wondered if the other boy was used it, and it made him somewhat hesitant to press the matter.

"It gives me a relief," he added, much to Theo's surprise. After finally resolving to put the concern to rest for the moment, Donna had actually managed to give him one more bit of insight, free of charge. It was only a short phrase meant to wrap up the answer, but he felt oddly appreciative of it. Like he was working with him a little.

"Relief? From what must you seek relief if you exclusively surround yourself with nothing?" he probed, immediately realizing he'd asked two questions in succession. Before he got an answer, Donna had already lifted his head to stare back at him with another oddly-placed smile. Another social cue one of them had missed, it seemed. Who it was was beyond Theo, and he made an effort not to dwell on it again.

He winced at the vague mention of Silas, suppressing anything past only a slight reaction. He clenched his teeth, letting out a short breath. Rumors like that shouldn't have persisted when all was long said and done. Whatever happened between Theo and Silas didn't deserve a second mention, and up until that point he'd held his hopes out that no one would bother dredging up that short period of time.

"I was not—"

"You're not innocent, don't feign it. That doesn't seem to suit you all that well."

The fact that Donna seemed to be amused by his conflictingly-valid point left a bitter taste in Theodore's mouth. He couldn't hold the boy also bringing up personal information against him, but it still left him in an uncomfortable position. There was an unspoken smugness in that perfectly-timed rebuttal, yet there was no venom to be found. Who was reading who here...?

Theo faltered, staring back at the boy dumbstruck as his mind sorted out all of his thoughts. He sat frozen in a reflective stasis, engaged in a stalemate between his intuition and the section of his cognition prodding him to say something he'd regret. Rushing himself fruitlessly to come up with a proper response, the dense silence halted at a standstill until—

RIIIIING!

Startled, Theo blinked a few times. The sound of class starting kicked him into action, and he began to stand up from his seat. He released his breath, bathing in newfound relief as Donna moved past the question. He smiled. There was mercy in the way he'd shifted gears so easily.

"Are you going to go?"

Theo didn't answer. He'd almost forgotten he could make the choice himself. Every day he got up from that seat and trekked to his first period, because it was just something he did. It was something most people did. What was the point in Donna asking? Was going to class on time not the default?

Perhaps it was that distinction that liberated the vape-toting boy. There was always the option to do what shouldn't be done, but very rarely was it acknowledged. No one ever had to go to class, but they made the choice. Theo had to ask himself whether that choice was invisible and answered automatically without a thought, or whether he'd elected to fall into that pattern long ago.

“If you’ve got more questions, you can ask…though I don’t like to talk much, and you probably won’t get answers,” the smoker said in his stoic monotone.

The blonde boy avoided his gaze, looking to the side reluctantly before placing his eyes back onto Donna. If it was Silas, he'd have just insisted upon the two skipping and going somewhere. If it was up to his ignorant self, he'd have simply walked to math without a second thought.

Instead, he was being offered a choice.

Did he take it?

“Or you could drop that innocent act…” He reached into his pocket, and he pulled his pocket down just enough to flash a lighter and the top of a ziplock bag. “…and there’d be more that we could do.”

...

What?

Did he have to choose now? The cafeteria was nearly empty, as most of the students had already filed out and began their thoughtless, invisible-choice walks to class. There were minutes until he was marked tardy, and Theo wondered where he'd have been in the next five minutes, having already reached a decision.

Without waiting for an answer, Donna had already made his way to the door.

Well, Theo was never one to complain, nor turn down an invitation.

And so, he'd made his choice. With a delayed nod, he hurried himself up to catch up to the boy, eyeing the lump in his pocket housing his very, very illegal possessions. It felt a little too shameful to verbally agree to cut class, but as he stuck by the other boy's side, he figured he'd get the hint.

"It is not an act, by the way," he said as they stepped outside, "I know things. Not doing things makes me sensible, not innocent." Even so, here he was, and there was no denying the impulsiveness in his decision.

But, it was his decision and he'd see it through wherever it went. He scratched the side of his arm, unsure where to go from there. Despite the few things he'd done with Silas, this was mostly uncharted territory. He felt more on his own in the moment, as before it was always Silas leading him around and holding his hand (figuratively, the guy was in even more denial than Donna) while they went and made their mistakes.

"Me doing this does not confirm any of your conjecture about my innocence, might I add. It is not often—if ever—that I do this."

natsukashii · May 29, 2021

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how he's feeling...

Ready to have fun bro!
what he's wearing...

https://i.imgur.com/uzn16mf.jpg
T-shirt, Jeans + backwards baseball cap
where he's at...

Near the lockers
in the conversation...

Lola @Kitsune2202

Caleb Walker

Auburn Spring's Pizza Boy

As the sounds from Caleb Walker’s 2020 Nissan Titan engine melded almost perfectly with his somewhat out-of-tune harmonies as he sang along to Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up, he was doing so without a care in the world. His voice went up high, he pounded on his steering wheel as he came to a stop at a red light, which had him just a few blocks shy of the glorious high school he took pride in.

"Never gonna give you up! Never gonna let you down!"

He sang with pride, smiling and bobbing his head to the synth beat.

And this, among other reasons, was why he might’ve been running just a little late to school.

But this was Caleb’s morning routine. Regardless of the presence of his sibling, who he would have loved to have ridden with him, he knew that he still had a lot of work to do there. It pained him, but to win them over, he had to pull out all stops. So it made sense to him why they didn’t ride with him. Given how little the positive reaction all attempts so far to bond with them he’s been met with, he couldn’t imagine they would’ve been happy with his choice of songs nor him taking a detour to get a whole pie of Hawaiian pizza before he finally got driving to school.

Plus, there’s also the fact that he was out of the door before they were even up.

Yeah, you can say Caleb Walker was an early riser. He had to. As a football player and someone who liked his breakfast as fresh as possible, he had to be the first customer at his favorite pizzeria in town. Oph wasn’t working there this time, which was why his mood wasn’t shot since she always liked to shit on him for his choice in toppings.

Hallelujah for that. Much love for Oph, but he needed to be in his best spirits today.

Anyway, he was pulling up into the parking lot and, of course, he took the spot closest to the sidewalk because, well that was honest-to-god something Caleb always had done. He never took, say Mason or Link’s spot. Yeah, he would never dream of it, but everyone knew the slot closest to the cafeteria was Caleb Walker’s spot. At least they knew ever since he got his license and his dad “bribed” him for not being at his birthday by getting him a nice truck.

Yeah, it sucked having a selectively absent father and a mother who only used him and Cait as props -- cait, who probably was at school already (again he was the early riser, so no way in hell his baby sister would ride with him an hour before her alarm went off.

But hey! At least he had the chance of being close with Link--Lincoln-- and Lola!

And then as he got out of his trucks, he threw his backpack over his shoulder, securing its old with his arm. He smiled, threw his backward cap on as if he was Ash Ketchum. He often felt like that Pokemon Master-to-be in all honesty. And, well he was someone who tackled the day head-on, too. Like Ash Ketchum every time he woke up.

But instead of Pikachu on his shoulder, Caleb was Ash Ketchum if he had a pizza addiction.

How often was it that you saw someone carry a whole large pizza in the morning? Not often, yet here he was going down the halls, carrying the pizza in his arm. It was hot and definitely still warm. It stung, especially since he wasn’t wearing a long-sleeve shirt like he normally did. T-shirt and jean pride baby! Of course, he was wearing a red shirt, too.

With half of a slice of pizza he had gotten out of the box resting comfortably on his forearm hanging out of his mouth, Caleb was en-route to his locker. He didn’t want to be carrying around the pizza box and he had a few ziplock bags in his locker that he could put the extra slices in. It would also give his arm a bit of rest. He had to do something or else he might actually get some kind of hot pizza-induced burn.

But about ten feet away from his locker, he saw his sister.

No, not Caitlin. Her locker was on the other side of the school.

"Lolaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

He called out to her as he took to a half-run. He didn’t want to drop his pizza.

"What’s good, Lols?"

He smiled widely at her in his usual genuine way as he raised up the half-eaten piece of pizza to his lips and took a casual bite.

♡coded by uxie♡

ohdittoh · May 29, 2021

KATEE NAUSBAUM

the snitch

Nut’s smile brightened at Xan’s laugh.

Xan, this cool superdude, laughed at his joke! And gave him a nickname!

Watch out, Mason and Raven and CK and Valerie! The new, up-and-coming popular boy nicknamed after a snack food was on his way to take his rightful seat on the throne!

Well, uh…maybe beside it? He liked Mason, and he didn’t wanna push him off from that position. Mason was cool. Mason was nice. Mason deserved that spot. Nut could, like…squeeze onto Mason’s throne. The guy was burly, but Nut wasn’t that big. He was sure he could fit.

Yeah! He could rule beside him!

So it was more likeee…watch out Ryan!

Except Ryan threatened him.

So he was kinda scared of him.

So maybe…not watch out Ryan?

Nut could rule from the, uh, left side, and Ryan could help from the right.

Yeah!

To Nut’s question about the drugs, Xan shook his head. “Nah, I just thought Xander sounded really cool, but I never thought like…’oh, shortened to Xan, which is also the shorthand version of Xanax’, so now I am Xan, drug nicknamed man, but not the doer of drugs.” He nodded his head. “Well, ‘kept weed, but that hardly counts.”

Nut laughed. Oh, okay! “Ooohhhhhh, gotcha, gotcha! Yeah, Xander is a really cool n— wait.” He paused as the last part of Xan’s words registered with him.

Whaaat?

“Did you say…” He lowered his voice, shielding the right side of his mouth with his hand. “Weed?” he whispered.

Nut should have known that— he did give him the weed brownies at the, uh, fair thingy.

“Weed is a drug!” he hissed. He covered his lips with his hands, shaking his head. “It counts!” he said, but the words were muffled by his fingers and sounded more like, “Ihbouns!”

But Xan was moving on, and Nut, once again, swallowed his convictions.

He was already skipping school, and if he started to think about how bad weed was, he’d start thinking about how bad skipping school was, too, and then they’d never even get off of the premises, and then Xan would be all sad, and then Nut wouldn’t have any friends again, which he was used to but he also reaaally didn’t want that to happen again.

Because that led to him sitting alone at lunch, which led to him getting dragged up by the bigger kids and tossed around like a rag doll because there wasn’t much self-defending that he could do, and he’d promised himself that that wouldn’t happen ever again once he came to Auburn Springs.

Big, fancy schools, big, fancy places, and big, fancy people could probably do more damage than the small, rundown school that he was used to.

Yeah, because it was like a Walmart fighting a Dollar Tree. Walmart could kick Dollar Tree’s ass before Dollar Tree could even realize what was going on.

Where was he?

Oh! Xan!

Xan swung his bag over his shoulder and unzipped it.

“So, guess I can tell you what I’m thinking,” Xan began.

“Yuh-huh,” Nut said, nodding. “Are we gonna be, uh…”

What was something that skippers did?

“Oh!” His face lit up with an idea. “Are we going to beeee looking for frogs or something?” Looking for frogs was fun and not illicit. Looking for frogs would be a wonderful way to spend a couple of hours before math class.

"I was thinking we're gonna go and graffiti some uhh…well I haven't gotten that far, but I was thinking maybe train cars? Like cool people do, so then our artwork can be seen across the country.”

“Gra—“

Ffiti?!

Nut’s eyes were wide, his jaw agape. “Graffiti?” he squeaked again.

Nonononononononononononononononononononononono, that was—

That was illegal!

Xan looked at Nut with a curious expression. "What's your favorite color?"

 “Orange,” Nut answered breathlessly, and then he repeated. “Graffiti?”

Nut had drawn on a wall with crayon in first grade and gotten sent to the office. He’d sobbed, and the principal told him just not to do it again, but Nut knew that they were probably just waiting with some kind of bigger punishment. Like, like…they were probably lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to just think about putting a crayon to a wall— or worse.

Nut shuddered.

No, graffiti was something that Nut couldn’t even stomach the thought of—

But…

B-but his friend was suggesting it.

Paranoid, Nut looked over each of his shoulders.

He couldn’t see anyone looking at him, even though he felt like he was being watched by the eyes of a whole crowd of people.

He swallowed hard.

And he put on a smile. “Yeah, graffiti!” he exclaimed. “Orange! Yeah!”

His voice was shaky, but— but he was cheering! 

Look, Xan! He was supportive! Not apprehensive in the slightest!

(Please don’t get sad!)

mood
goodgoodgood

location
the front of the school

outfit
something

playing...
monster (under my bed)

by call me karizma

mentions
n/a

interactions
xander

tags

Winona

º º code by ditto º º

Soap · May 29, 2021

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how she's feeling...

Upset, agitated, annoyed, humorous?
what she's wearing...

This works.
where she's at...

Cafeteria
in the conversation...

Ange, Val & Kass (Mentions) ohdittoh

ophelia warren

'Phillie Cheesesteak'

You'd think knowing the devil since you were in diapers, you'd know how to deal with her.

Nope.

Ophelia has no idea how to deal with Angie's attention hungry, gossip starved, sociopath self.

Wait.

Is it like... time of the month stuff? Alright, alright, alright. So, everyone knows Oph's a chick-- okay, most people do. Maybe that one kid in band doesn't but that's irrelevant. Point here being, maybe instead of chocolate or cramps.

The devil craves chaos.

Ophelia leaned one elbow onto the table, resting the bottom of her jaw in her palm, moderately calm now that she’s had some time to herself and not backed up into a corner like she was a scared kitten in an alleyway.

“I’ve been thinking about that poem that you wrote, actually— all morning.”

Oph blinked, shifting her gaze to the side of the table before meeting Angie’s eyes again, trying to piece together her interrogation— of course she knew why she wanted to know.

But why did she have to?

“What were the words…summer rain…? I can’t get it out of my head. Beautiful, really.”

Ange let out a laugh and Ophelia raised an eyebrow.

Was this shit supposed to be cute? Whether or not it was— which, it wasn’t. Didn’t matter. Out of all people today, why did Angeline fixate on her? What did Ophelia do so bad to deserve this type of karma?

Oh, what was that?

Just exist?

Got it.

“However, judging by the way you were shifting so much… I think I was on the right track.”

She giggled.

Her laugh was really getting old.

Alright look; she’s always liked Ange. She was funny, chaotic, a little hot— it was hard to hate her. But Oph was a private person.

Mostly a private person anyway.

She hated when people pushed for information.

Ophelia was practically hanging on the edge of a cliff with a branch that was about to snap because there was a weight on top of it.

The weight being? Big Ange.

A stiletto on the other end of the branch, threatening to end her life.

Angeline stepped to the side, Kassidy in full view behind her and Ophelia redirected her gaze to her food, picking up an apple slice and taking a bite of it without peanut butter— she was distracting, alright she didn’t have time to dip and eat.

“You were staring at my cousin—“

“I wasn’t.”

A bold faced lie, but what else is she gonna do?

‘lol yeah I was.’

Who the fuck would do that? See, is that what Ange was expecting of her? To admit to it? Unless she was planning on torturing her in hell for the information, there was no way Ophelia was gonna say anything about anything.

“What’s your weird obsession with her?”

Here it goes…

"It’s creepy, if I’m honest— in an almost obsessive way.”

She giggled, again.

Ew.

“Are you jealous of her?”

Come on, Oph. She’s eating you alive at this point.

“Or…hm...”

Don’t say it.

“Is it something more?”

Ophelia’s gaze fell back onto the blonde a few tables away before it returned to Ange, allowing her to finish her big monologue moment she’s been waiting for all day. Angeline had a smile that reminded her of the joker. A smile that only widened with every piece of the puzzle she was putting together.

“Summer rain?”

Strong finish, satan. Extremely poetic. It was one for the ages. Ophelia stood quiet for a few seconds, taking another apple slice-- but taking her sweet time to grab an appropriate amount of peanut butter onto her slice.

Ophelia took half a bite, the satisfying crunch had almost calmed most of her alarm.

The only alarm there being, if Angeline had convinced herself of something and told that something to her cousin. Well, that wouldn’t be very great.

“Alright, Regina George-- let’s be serious for a sec.”

Ophelia leaned in closer to Ange, attempting to wash away whatever intimidating thing she was trying to throw on her, sure, the height difference here was messing with her head a little but that’s only because Angeline was standing, so.

“Say you’re right. Right? Ophelia Warren has a crush on the popular girl--crazy, huh? What’s the game plan? What do you get out of knowing? Are you just curious?”

Ophelia couldn’t help but mock the slightly older girl, placing a hand under her chin.

“Or… hm…”

If she hadn’t known Big Ange for most of her life, this whole situation would probably be a whole lot scarier. Imagine having this conversation with Valerie Flores. The thought alone had made her cringe internally.

“Is it that you’re a little too curious? … I didn’t think you were into girls. That’s a shocker. Did you experiment with Val, is that what’s happening here? Are you just genuinely interested in lesbians? I mean, look, who isn’t-- but Ange…”

Oh, Ophelia.

How funnily stupid you are. Hiding behind humor? Sarcasm? A terrible attempt at playing Ange’s little game?

Hey, whatever it was, if it was working, it was working. Ophelia finished off her apple slice, popping the thing into her mouth and dusting off her hands.

“You could’ve just asked.”

It wasn’t like Ophelia was very experienced, but Ange didn’t know that. If anything-- Ophelia could’ve been out here doing-- Whatever good lesbians do.

“It means the world to me that you can’t get me-- I mean, my poem out of your head. It's a little creepy if I'm honest... in an obsessive way, but downright adorable."

Oph put a hand to her heart, pouting, channeling the best mean girl possible-- Maybe she could take up drama.

Eh.

Nevermind.

She’s got too much of it already.

♡coded by uxie♡

Winona · May 29, 2021

Lost Boys

Xander

Oh... right. Xander had kind of forgotten about Nut's opposition to weed, something that he'd never quite understood. For one like... Xander had kind of thought that everyone from Ambridge smoked weed, or at least tried it once in their life. It was just kind of the vibe that he'd gotten when he'd heard about them from some of the local Springers (and then the vibe that he himself had picked up on the couple occasions that he'd ventured down into the city that was far more fun and far less stuffy than those that made up the community of Springers).

Xander kind of gave a laugh at Nut's suggestion, though. Pfft... frog catching, that was--

Actually that sounded kind of fun. Reminded him of when he was a little kid a little bit, and he'd go wading through streams and down by small ponds to try and capture the little frogs in the spring. Except one time, when Xander was really little, he'd kind of picked one up and it tried to escape, so he'd just... squeezed it too tightly, and then... well, you can guess the rest. He'd cried a lot until his mom had come over to see what the issue was.

RIP Frogette. Gone but never forgotten.

(Xander sent a mental fist bump towards her up in froggy heaven.)

But nah, frog catching was for kids, and Xander and Nut were far from kids.

Well, Xander was a junior, so he really was. Nut was a little sophomore, so he was still kind of a kid, but that was fine. Xander would teach him the ways of... uhh... big boyhood soon enough.

"Graffiti?" Nut squeaked out.

Oh....

Was this another no no?

Woops.

Xander hadn't--

Look, he really hadn't intended to step on his friend's toes again with another bad idea, and yet here he was... apparently with his only ability being that.

A little part of Xander was starting to wonder if the lack of friends over the years hadn't been others, but had actually been him all along. Maybe there was something really wrong with him and the types of activities that he found joy in, and that was why he always found himself eating lunch alone, or sitting under a tree by himself during recess.

Well, save for Darcy, because she always had his back.

Except for the last year.

"Orange," Nut responded to his question about his favorite color, but repeated the phrase again, "Graffiti?"

"We really don't have to," Xander was quick to start, although his hand was fishing around in the backpack once more in search of the orange can of spray paint. After a moment, his fingers closed around the unopened can and he pulled it out, looking up at Nut, but didn't offer it to him quite yet.

Look, Xander really, really didn't want to force Nut into anything that he was uncomfortable worth. Sure, he'd be bummed if Nut didn't want to, but it wasn't like Xander was asking Nut to do something like... sneak into an R-rated movie. Graffiti was a kind of serious deal (made less serious by the number of times that Xander had gotten arrested, or at least to him -- like the adrenaline rush when getting arrested was no longer there), and the last thing he wanted to do was to force anyone into committing crimes, no matter how small.

Unless they really, really wanted to.

If they really, really wanted to, then Xander was all for it.

“Yeah, graffiti!” Nut exclaimed. “Orange! Yeah!”

Xander's smile returned full force and he held the unopened can of orange spray paint out to Nut. Orange wasn't really a color he ever used in his typical defacing of property, hence why it was still unopened while so many of his other cans were half-empty with the outsides stained with color.

Orange was just a blah color to Xan. He preferred blues, greens, dark purples. Those kinds of colors.

"Okay, okay, don't worry -- this place is totally easy. Like there's no one around to really judge or like... call the police on us or whatever, so we'll be so safe. I promise." Xander started to chatter away as he fished around in the backpack until he found a dark teal color, which he pulled out and tucked under his chin for a moment as he zipped his backpack up and then flung it back over his back.

"But if we do happen to get caught, I just want you to start running and don't look back, okay?" Xander said as he took the can of spray paint into his stained hand. He pulled the strap back over his other shoulder and started walking again, with a bit more pep in his step as he started walking. Preemptively, he started to shake the can of spray paint. "I'll distract the cops if it comes down to it. My parents kinda expect me to get caught and arrested, but they don't really think too much on it 'cause I guess I'm not as bad as Darcy or something. I dunno."

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Nut| tags:

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · May 30, 2021

DONNA CAIN CAMUS

the disappointment

“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.”
— Albert Camus

• • • • •

Donna Cain Camus mostly expected Theodore— if that was his name— to walk away.

For one, Theo was at best an acquaintance who knew far too much about Donna and at worst a total stranger who still knew far too much about him. There was a line somewhere about keeping one’s friends close and one’s enemies closer, but Donna wasn’t exactly sure where a Bridger who knew about his repressed sexuality fell in regards to those lines. He wasn’t like his I hate all underprivileged “slugs” brother, but it was mostly because he didn’t particularly like any people, be they filthy rich or dirt poor. He wasn’t sure that his disdain for the human race was enough to tip Theo in the “enemy” direction, though.

Another point was that Donna was a stranger. Theo, though he seemed to want to know more about Donna thanks to his odd “therapy” comments, didn’t know anything about Donna. As far as Theo knew, Donna was just another rich, closeted gay boy with a proclivity towards smoking, and Donna was sure there were several others in the school who fit that description in some capacity. He doubted that the other boy knew about his drug use, though it was far from a well-hidden fact, so in a way, it was quite possible that Theo knew even less than the average Springer did.

Or…hm. Donna supposed that he did now that he’d flashed him some of the bag, but it was a recently-gained knowledge.

Besides, whatever small, quiet part of him wanted for his company for whatever reason was not strong enough that it fooled Donna into hoping that he would be followed. That was a distinction that he had to make: a want was not a hope. A hope was an expectation that something would happen; a want was latent, passive, and required no such expectation. Even beyond that, Donna wasn’t even sure if he particularly cared to listen to the part of him that was so desperate as to wish for the company of some strange boy just because he paid him some mind, though that was more thought than anyone had really shown him in recent memory besides the Drake boy.

…the one that he’d shared his drugs with.

Was it a given that anyone who did more than spend upwards of thirty seconds berating him, bullying him, or mocking him would be offered drugs of some variety? It may very well have been. He didn’t really know, seeing as, until the Bridgers came, it never really happened. Donna seemed to be establishing a trend.

An allowance-drying one, at that.

The point of all of that was to say: Donna Camus mostly expected Theodore to walk away, go to class, and carry on about his day.

However, the boy surpassed Donna’s expectations, and Donna’s brows flicked up for a moment as Theo caught up with him, his steps falling inline with his.

“It is not an act, by the way,” Theo said as Donna shoved open the door. Donna cocked a brow for a moment, eyeing Theo. “I know things. Not doing things makes me sensible, not innocent. Me doing this does not confirm any of your conjecture about my innocence, might I add. It is not often—if ever—that I do this.”

“Sensible?” Donna repeated, and then he snickered snickered, his expression still stone as he turned away and began to make his way across the cracked concrete of the neglected school dumpster, through the maze of tall, green, steel canisters housing countless black bags on the edge of bursting, and past the wooden fence tinged green from years of grime and disregard.

Sensibility.

“Sensibility,” Donna started, “is overrated.” That sounded cliche; he wasn’t a flat character from an online fanfiction. He tried again. “Where has sensibility gotten you, Theodore?” His question sounded a bit more like a statement due to his low monotone, but his pause showed that it was a question. “Sensibility is just an excuse for never opening your eyes, never veering off the road, and never straying from the path that everyone tells you is right…”

He kicked at a pebble, stepping through the grimey fence and making his way down the small, forgotten sidewalk to the back of the visitor’s bleachers. The pebble landed a few steps in front of them, and he approached it as he continued to walk. “Sensibility is safety,” he said. “You’re just afraid.” He kicked at the pebble, and it kicked fairly far away. “I used to be like that, too.” He sighed softly. “Uptight, sensible…I did everything as I was told, when I was told, and I never questioned anything. I never stepped out of line, never did or tried or said anything that I wasn’t supposed to.” He kicked the pebble again.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

“But you realize. I realized.” He stopped walking for a second, and he looked over at Theo, expression cold and dead. “People don’t care about you. They care about themselves and protecting themselves. The sensibility that they tell you about— that they tell you to have? It’s just to protect their image. Your mom, your dad, your sister, your brother, your fucking third cousin. It doesn’t matter. They want you to act good. They want you to hold your chin up, to be better than, so that they’ll look good, because it makes them feel better about themselves to show how well-trained you are. You deviate from the path they’d like, and they’ll only be upset because you’re making them look bad.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He flipped open the flimsy top, choosing one from inside and poising it between his lips. He held glanced at Theo, and he tilted the box towards him slightly. “Take one, if you’d like,” he said.

Closing the top, he pocketed the box again, and he found his lighter. Holding it up to the end of his cigarette until it lit, Donna breathed out a sigh. After the cigarette lit, he slowly inhaled, then blew out a long stream of smoke, poising it between two fingers and lowering it as he offered the lighter to Theo, if he needed it.

He then pocketed the lighter, continuing his walk down the sidewalk. “When you throw away your sensibility, you realize damn quick that no one gives a shit about you. You’re living from moment to moment because of chance. You’ll die because of chance. It’s hopeless, sure, but it’s life. Not the life they want you to live, but it’s what life really is.”

He came to a stop at the bleachers, and he touched his hand to the links of the fence until he came to the cap between them. He pressed his shoulders to the spot, stepping in through it sideways, and he walked over to and dropped himself onto one of the cement globs anchoring the poles of the bleachers to the ground. He took another puff of his cigarette, breathing its smoke into the air. “’Things hold value only if you attribute it to them’…that’s the saying,” he said in his deadpan voice, “and I believe it. It makes sense: everything is worthless, but you can tell yourself it has worth if it makes you feel better."

Breathing in another breath of the cigarette, he looked over at Theo. He released the cloud in a sigh. "They can drive themselves crazy with their sensibility and push it on people like me and people like you in an attempt to make everything seem worth it..." Donna trailed off, and then he looked up at the ceiling of the underside of the blears. "In reality, nothing is worth shit and you and I and that whore on the side of the road and that bitch laid up in a mansion in LA are all the fucking same: headed towards death, fucking clueless about what's on the other side. The only difference between us is how reluctant we are to admit it— and how afraid we are to admit it.”

These were the ramblings of a drugged up teenager, and that much was painfully obvious, but the hopelessness of it all— or what Donna saw as the truth— was palpable.

mood
high & ...?

location
behind the bleachers

outfit
sweatshirt & sweatpants

playing...
fuck up

by gabriel black

mentions
drake

interactions
theo

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Xed · May 30, 2021

i'm in love with an e-girl...

Conan

subtitle

Had it been more than a year since he walked through the halls of this place? It felt weird to be back again after what went down and with all the changes that had happened since. Don’t get him wrong now, Conan had nothing against the Bridgers, hell the whole rivalry? Utterly idiotic in his opinion. But you didn’t grow up in Auburn Springs or Ambridge without being aware of the bad blood that ran deep between the two places. Seeing both Bridgers and Springers walk the same halls of Auburn Springs was unusual to say the least. Then again, the stranger matter for him was the fact that he was repeating his Junior year thanks to the suspension and his subsequent leave of absence to look after Cassie which effectively took him out of school for the entirety of the school year. Watching the others in his original year group graduate ahead of him would probably feel like a weird almost out of body experience. Thinking about a school year without the condescending ass that was CK around was an alien concept that he was looking forward to. Yeah if it wasn’t clear, he hated the guy, certainly didn’t try to hide it. Hell, their football coach had given them warnings for some of their fights in the past. When they reunited at practice, well it would be a good day if Conan didn’t try to throw any punches, which given CK’s penchant for provocation and his own horrendous temper, such an outcome was low on the probability scale to say the least. Still that was one thought that made him happy about this whole mess with him repeating Junior year. After the year ended, he wouldn’t have to deal with the ass anymore, at least not at school. One less infuriating schoolmate to deal with.

Speaking of schoolmates, Conan quickened his steps, closing in on the back of a dark-haired girl who was now in the same grade as him. “Morning Jess.” That’s right, he was talking to Jessica Jake. She’d been his partner for a project in a class that he had failed and had to retake back when they were still in different grades. Studying and getting good grades? Not necessarily his strong point, and in his defence, that class had been difficult as hell. Over the time they had worked together for that project, he had gotten to know her and one thing he had learned about Jess was their shared belief about the ridiculousness of the whole rivalry between Ambridge and Auburn Springs. And seeing as how the two sides of that said rivalry now resided in the same building, of course that was his opening question. He offered her a friendly smile as he started. “So, what do you think of all this? Springers and Bridgers, walking the same halls, sharing the same classrooms? Almost kinda like a social experiment isn’t it? How are you handling the change?”

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · May 30, 2021

Say You Like Me

Jess

The bonfire? Not a half bad party, although Jess had ended up walking home at some point following... yeah, she didn't really wanna talk about it, let alone think about it, so she pushed any memory of... that... from her head. But hey, she had had a decent time hanging out with Ryan and his friends -- well, Dani. His other friend was kind of quiet and hadn't really talked to or acknowledged Jess, not that she had particularly cared.

Let Link not acknowledge her. The less social interaction that was expected of Jess, the better in her opinion.

Now, she was aimlessly wandering the school hallways before the first bell rang. Sure, she could've headed to her class and sat in her seat in the very back with a book, but she... felt like walking today or something. Shut up. Look, since the arrival of the Ambridge students, all of the classrooms just felt more... crowded. Because they were, because the school was trying to accommodate their typically small classroom sizes with the addition of an entire new set of students.

So everyone was all jampacked together, and it was kind of claustrophobic, and Jess just hated it. There was no more sitting alone in the back freely. Nope, because there was another student within arms reach to either side of her. And the classes she swore were more rowdy, and the students were louder, and there was more fucking off, and she just--

It gave her a headache.

"Morning, Jess," came a guy's voice, and Jess nearly jumped out of her skin. Her heart pattered faster, her arms tightening on her books, and yeah, she even physically jumped a bit in her spot, before she glanced over, recognized Conan, and relaxed -- or relaxed as much as the brunette could relax.

She was pretty much always on edge a bit.

"Morning, Conan," she returned his greeting, her tone less than pleasant and welcoming, naturally.

“So, what do you think of all this? Springers and Bridgers, walking the same halls, sharing the same classrooms? Almost kinda like a social experiment isn’t it? How are you handling the change?” He asked out of nowhere, and she looked up at him, her expression curious.

Well...

At first, Jess had held the same kind of feeling that everyone else had had regarding this whole... converging of the schools. And yeah, she'd thought the same thing so many others had thought about the people under the bridge. Jess had even gone as far as to call them, well... crackheads on Twitter.

Not her proudest moment.

But now Jess was actually like... friends with some of them -- well, friends with Ryan. Or whatever it was that you could consider their strange little relationship. And Dani was cool, and... she didn't really know what she thought anymore. It was almost weird to her because the Ambridgers had gone from "eww, crackheads" to... like... actual people, so she almost like... had to admit that she... didn't understand the big deal some Springers were still making about it.

"Hate how crowded the classrooms are," Jess answered immediately. "But I don't... mind the change. Most of the Bridgers are way nicer than the Springers, so I mean..." She shrugged her shoulders. "Guess I'd rather be around the Bridgers at this point than the Springers, you know? It's dumb to be having this stupid little feud, anyway. Like, what did they ever do to us other than just exist, you know?"

She shook her head.

"What about you?"

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Conan | tags:

Xed |

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · May 30, 2021

angeline jumper

the bitch

It was often remarked (typically in a somewhat reverent way) that Angeline Diana Jumper couldn’t keep her highlighted nose out of anyone’s business. As it went, the right hand of Auburn Springs’ undisputed queen (or, at least, undisputed until the Bridgers decided to attempt to do some renovation to their shitty town by torching their rat nest) had a reputation for being able to obtain just about anything she pleased from just about anyone, one way or another— or, depending on the case, obtain just about anything she wanted, whether the anyone who she wanted it from would give it to her or not.

Hm. Angie would rather not toot her own horn, so to speak. People could say whatever they wanted or think however they wanted, and Angie wouldn’t stop them.

(Hm, but the people who said such things were very smart— she’d at least give them that.)

Of course, Angie’s methods for prying information out tended to work well for the weaker ones of the crowd— or, hm, the smarter ones.

The ones who knew who Angie was and feared her.

However, Ophelia Warren, the little half-breed, had a disgustingly and frustratingly strong personality. She was one of those types: the types who thought that they were smart and cute and funny and clever, who thought that their quips could match hers, and who thought that they could deter her.

Or, as Angeline liked to call them, the wrong types.

“Alright, Regina George,” Ophelia began. “Let’s be serious for a sec.”

“Oh, please do,” Angie said with a light giggle.

Oh God, this was going to be rich.

Or poor, be as it may; Ophelia was as good as a Bridger, anyway— they didn’t know the meaning of the word rich.

The small, fifth-grade-bodied girl leaned in closer, and Angie cocked a finely-plucked brow at her.

“Hm?” Angie hummed through her venomous smirk.

“Say you’re right,” Ophelia said. “Right? Ophelia Warren has a crush on the popular girl— crazy, huh? What’s the game plan? What do you get out of knowing? Are you just curious?” The girl, obviously trying to mock Angie, put a hand under her chin. “Or…hm…is it that you’re a little too curious?” She paused, really thinking that she’d done something there. “I didn’t think you were into girls. That’s a shocker. Did you experiment with Val, is that what’s happening here? Are you just genuinely interested in lesbians? I mean, look, who isn’t— but Ange…” She popped an apple slice into her mouth. “You could’ve just asked. It means the world to me that you can’t get me— I mean, my poem out of your head. It's a little creepy if I'm honest…in an obsessive way, but downright adorable."

Angie stared at the girl for a moment, a bemused expression on her face. Her smirk had faded into a small curl of the lips, but now, it broadened into a lipglossed smile. The eyebrow she’d poised upwards fell, and she let out a light laugh. “Ha!” She crossed her arms, tapping her red-painted fingernail against her elbow to a solid beat. “Oh, Ophelia, sweetie…how did you know?” she said, voice overly-sugary.

She slowly walked around the table to stand beside Oph. At 5’10”— and standing— the junior towered over the girl who might as well have been a toddler.

A smirk cracked across her face. “Yes,” Angeline sighed dramatically. “This was all a ploy for my repressed sexuality, of course.” She shook her head, feigning embarrassment. “Oh, the fact that you’re the first to notice…it says so much for your character, Warren!” She curled her sentence up at the end, all but manifesting a heart emoji for punctuation. “I came over here because I was contemplating the ways that I could seduce the girl and figured that this was the only good way to do it: by chattering to her whilst she creepily checks out my cousin, vehemently denies doing so, and then eats an apple slice in what she thinks is triumph.”

She put her weight on her hip, moving her hand from her elbow to tap the smaller girl on the nose. “You’re so adorable, I could just eat you up!” She tapped her on the nose of each word of “eat you up!”, accentuating the final word with a wiggle of the finger before refolding her arms. “There’s nothing cuter than someone who thinks that they’ve really done something! It’s the cockiness and self-importance that really does it for me. Though I know it’s all an act, it’s certainly a pleasant change of pace. If you pissed your pants right off, it would be such a turnoff, you know.”

Angeline leaned closer to the girl, dropping her arms in favor of putting one hand on each of Oph’s shoulders. She scrunched her nose up, giggling, and then she leaned down to whisper in Oph’s ear: “Don’t get too excited; that was called sarcasm. No one would be interested in you unless they were into twelve-year-olds, and I, unfortunately for you, am not, and neither is my cousin. Oh, boo.”

She pouted in mock sympathy, and then, giggling, dropped herself into the seat beside Oph, poising herself on the edge of the chair and reaching across the table to grab her salad. Her fingers were barely able to grip the plate, but she managed to pull it over to herself gracefully, and she fluidly ripped open the package of plastic silverware and stabbed into a tomato and some lettuce.
 Taking the bite off of her fork without messing up her red lipgloss, she studied Ophelia. She swallowed, and the smirk came onto her face. “You really need to work on your comebacks if you plan to deter me,” Angeline said. “Haven’t you heard? I’m utterly relentless.”

She looked over at where her cousin was sitting, and she took another bite of her salad, chewing thoroughly before she spoke again. “Hm, how about we review what I know, and you can start giving me some answers?” Angie said, narrowing her eyes. She paused a moment, then turned to Oph, poising a hand beneath her chin whilst the other forked some more salad. “So, you and Kassidy haven’t been speaking since…hm, was it this summer or last summer? You’re obviously upset about that…yet you can’t stop thinking about her, can you? You just can’t stop staring at her. You miss her, you really do.”

(Having a dad as a psychologist really proved to be useful in her interrogations.)

She swallowed another bite of salad. “And why is it you miss her? Do you miss your friendship, or…hm…do you have some kind of regret?” she pressed, smiling, brows knitting in sympathy. “What do you have to regret, Ophie? Come on, you can tell me.” Her smile spread wider. “After all, I’m as close to ever talking to Kass again as you can get, am I not?”

mood
hmm? < 3

location
the cafeteria < 3

outfit
yes, i'm a rich bitch. yes, i wear sweatshirts sometimes. yes, we exist. < 3

playing...
(you're the) devil in disguise

by elvis presley

mentions
kass < 3

interactions
ophelia < 3

tags

Soap < 3

º º code by ditto º º

jasmyn · Jun 1, 2021

.
.
.
.

how she's feeling...

mixed feelings
what she's wearing...

very val
where she's at...

empty art room
in the conversation...

raven ( Soap )

valerie flores

auburn springs ~ 17 ~ senior

Bonfires weren't exactly Val's idea of fun so she wasn't even sure why she'd bothered to attend such an immature and bug-infested gathering over the weekend when she could've been shopping for the newest Prada bag. Okay, so that was a lie. There were two reasons that Valerie Flores had traded her heels for sneakers that night; one being that Mer wouldn't stop pushing for her to go (only to ditch her as soon as they got there) and two...well, two was because she had been hoping to run into a certain someone.

Yes, that certain someone. The same girl who had caught her attention on Twitter before the Ambridge strays even stepped foot into AS High. Val had attempted to deny that for as long as she could but there came a point (look back to the funhouse scene) where she couldn't anymore. Val found Raven absolutely captivating although she hadn't used those exact words out loud and she didn't plan on it anytime soon. Look, she might've given in to her temptations but that didn't mean she was all in. Or that she was willing to let anyone else know.

Not sorry.

By the time she had actually found the dark-haired beauty, someone else had already decided they were willing to very publicly stick their beer-soaked tongue down her throat. It was disgusting if you asked Val. The girl wasn't even pretty, she looked like a knock-off version of a knock-off. Kinda like one of those barbies that you find at the dollar store made out of that cheap plastic. Ew. Val didn't get it but hey if that's what Raven was into then whatever.

And no, Valerie wasn't jealous. That would be dumb.

According to Raven the kiss "wasn't what it looked like" which was typically a thing people say when it definitely was what it looked like but they wanted to pretend that they hadn't been discovered. Still, she had let Raven explain it to her before she decided to brush it off and agree to let the girl "make it up to her" though she hadn't decided on how yet. What? Val wasn't simple-minded enough to get played, she just knew that Raven had to be telling the truth because, well, who would choose coach over first class? Get real.

Shoving her phone into the purse that hung off her shoulder, Val stood at her locker and messed with her hair in the dainty mirror that hung on the inside. The frame was a dusty rose color now but you could tell it had been gold before because some of the paint had flaked off with time. It was a gift from her grandmother who had it since she was a teenager so it was all vintage. The older woman had told her that you should always keep a mirror handy so that you can be sure you look your best at all times. Vain? Shallow? Maybe but so what?

Only a few minutes passed before she caught sight of Raven in the mirror and she nearly let a smile tug at her lips before she caught herself. She did allow the brief moment of the silence to pass as she studied her though, taking in every feature.

Like the way her chocolate gaze always seemed to hold just a bit of mystery which managed to leave Val curious or how her skin was perfectly smooth and free of any imperfections, especially for a Bridger. Then there was the mixture of Jasmine and hints of vanilla in the air around her, subtle enough for Val to realize it was a body spray rather than an actual perfume but sweet enough for her to still not hate it.

Of course, she was interrupted by the questions Raven presented of what was and wasn't allowed which pulled her out of her thoughts and caused her to raise a brow. "PDA?" she repeated, though she was pretty certain that Raven was joking. She had to be, right? "I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm not like your little bonfire friend. I don't go around shoving my t-" her words came to a halt as Raven spoke again, this time about making out against the locker.

Slamming the metal door shut, Val spun around to face the other brunette with a look that almost resembled amusement painted across her face. "Aw, Rae. You've been dreaming about making out with me again? Got a taste and you just can't help yourself, huh?" she quipped, taking a step closer.

Her eyes left Raven for a second to look around the hall. It might not have been super crowded but the lack of familiar faces didn't mean no one was watching. You were stupid if you ever believed you were completely free of prying eyes. Another lesson she'd taken from grandmother dearest. Luckily Raven's glance in the direction of the empty art room caught Val's attention and gave her an idea so she grabbed the girl's hand, pulling her quickly behind the closed door.

It didn't take long for their lips to crash together passionately as if they had both been desperately craving the other's touch. Val's hands found their way to Raven's waist, pulling her in closer as the kiss deepened, only letting go when the kiss was broken. “So, care to tell me how to make it up to you?”

Normally Val's idea of making up for something didn't involve clothes being torn off but then again...maybe she just wanted an excuse. Before she could even say anything else though, a voice interrupted over the intercom and the moment felt like it had already passed. The announcement of all the current homecoming king and queen nominees taking precedence over the thought of classroom sex.

Heather Marshall? Kayla Rockwell? Please! Neither of them would get even close to half the votes she would. The only reason they hadn't read Val's name yet was because she'd decided to wait until the last minute to sign up this year. Valerie thought it was amusing to let the other girls think they actually had a chance at being crowned before she crushed their hopes by putting her name on the list.

There was also the fact that she hadn't decided to run with anyone yet but that totally had nothing to do with it. Naturally, she and CK would’ve made the perfect pair as they had won in the past but despite them being friends there was still an awkward tension there that Val just didn’t want to deal with so that was out. Angie had said that running alone wasn’t pathetic which was true but only because it was Val. Anyone else could never pull it off but she was going to because who the hell needs a running mate when you’re Valerie Flores?

But then...

“Is it another rule not to run together?”

“Us? Go to homecoming...together? I mean, we'd be the hottest pair there obviously,” the words spilled from her mouth before she could stop them. It was more than a simple no which was what her response should've been. “We have personality...” Raven's fingers on her neck sent a jolt of electricity through her body, “Looks...” they moved to her chin and Val almost forgot the conversation at hand in favor of letting her lips crash back into the vixen's.

Raven was convincing, Val would give her that because here she was entertaining the idea of possibly running with a Bridger. Someone who had so confidently claimed she could charm the Queen Bee into liking her, who people had insinuated was earning special treatment from the token mean girl. How would she look if she showed up to homecoming with her now? Not just because she was a Bridger, because Val could manage that but because of the actual feelings that she couldn't shake. It would look like Valerie Flores had gone soft.

"No. No, we can't run together," she said coldly, moving out of the girl's reach and across the room to where the desks were perfectly lined up. "Homecoming queen might seem shallow to you but it's a big deal to me. Not that I couldn't win with anyone but we aren't-" another pause, "We just can't." she added, shaking her head as she leaned against one of the desks.

♡coded by uxie♡

Xed · Jun 2, 2021

i'm in love with an e-girl...

Conan

subtitle

Ever since he had gotten to know Jess, he had come to realise that her tense reaction to him was the norm. The first few times it had happened, well needless to say it stung and he felt insulted by her reaction suggesting he had done anything that would warrant such a response from her. Having a reputation for a terrible temper didn't help either since it just made people all the more likely to misunderstand and assume he had actually done something terrible to the girl which he never would. Ever.

She returned her greeting in a less than pleasant and welcoming tone that he also had come to understand was standard. Not that he was a fan of it or that it stopped him from pointing that out.

"Hate how crowded the classrooms are,” Jess answered immediately. “but I don’t…mind the change. Most of the Bridgers are way nicer than the Springers, so I mean…” She shrugged her shoulders. “Guess I’d rather be around the Bridgers at this point that the Springers, you know? It’s dumb to be having this stupid little feud, anyway. Like, what did they ever do to us other than just exist, you know?”

A smile cross Conan’s face as he heard Jess’s response and it couldn’t be any less obvious that he agreed with her sentiments, especially her last line about the feud. The guy couldn't hide his real feelings anyway if he tried.

“What about you?”

“Me? I feel the same. I got to know some of the Bridgers during my year out of school and they’re a good bunch. I’m in a band with one of them in fact, Chris and Oph. You should come down to the school events to support us!” He continued to chatter away happily as they made further headway down the corridor.

“The feud really is just idiotic though. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand it. Like there isn’t even a proper reason is there? It’s just, we’re rich and they’re poor, blah blah mortal enemies you know. You said most Bridgers are way nicer, any Bridgers you thinking of in particular?”

Conan was cut short by the sound of the speakers coming alive as an announcement about homecoming blared the halls. Right, he’d returned to school just in time for homecoming. The big dance was right around the corner as was the big game. Which meant tensions were going to be high as hell during practice, probably even more than usual. Sigh. Look, he didn’t give a damn about Mason or CK, one was an arrogant asshole who needed to be put in his place and the other was an equally arrogant asshole who treated him like some jackass for offering him supplies that would help his baby daughter, a lovely little girl who was one of Cassie’s best friends. If they went to war with one another, he wouldn’t give a damn, but he hated this idiotic rivalry between the schools even more than the two teens and it would just cause a greater divide at homecoming and more good people who didn’t deserve to have shit happen to them would get dragged into the mess.

“Are you going to homecoming?” He asked Jess once the announcement finished airing. “You should go with one of the Bridger boys. Show that us Springers and Bridgers can get along and just how stupid this whole rivalry is.”

º º code by ditto º º

Xed · Jun 2, 2021

I suck at songs so no song

Kelia

Rory broke into a wide grin and Kelia felt equal parts happiness, regret and surprise.

Wipe that grin off your face.

Look, she never made a suggestion that she didn’t think had a chance of working. That just wasn’t how she worked, but the fact that Rory was readily agreeing to her proposal so quickly and with such enthusiasm was shocking.

She had expected at least an attempt at a little haggling from her friend about trying to change the two hours to one or you know, a far less enthusiastic response than the one she was getting.

Ok, then again this was Rory, and unlike people who didn’t know Kelia as well, she’d known her for more than half her life, and so she knew more than most did, that when Kelia said “take them or leave them” she wasn’t going to budge, not unless you had a very impressive and convincing counter offer.

That and Rory must have been a lot more desperate to keep Ian away from Jade than she first thought. She knew how much what little family Rory had left meant to her, but well, Kelia was still a little caught off guard.

At least she would get something out of this, by making sure that Rory would at least study for two hours, but that grin on her face and the smugness of her voice?

Kelia didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

“First off all, I’m not taking anyone out, second, don’t celebrate too early.” She warned, cocking an eyebrow at her to impress upon her the seriousness of her words, not that she really needed to since Kelia was rarely anything if not serious.

Rory let her head slam into the cold metal locker, her eyes tilted to the ceiling as she grumbled out a response. “Fine, we’ll fucking…studying or whatever. What test is it over? What class?”

Kelia’s lips curled into a faint smile and look, she wasn’t a sadist ok, let’s get that out of the way first.

This was just more like the response she had been expecting which, while Rory readily agreeing to study made her happy for certain reasons, thanks to the enthusiasm of that response, Kelia’s mind ended up just buzzing with thoughts of all the nonsense and trouble her friend was surely plotting to get up to.

Now that she was grumbling though, Kelia could focus more on the fact that she would be able to actually get Rory to do something productive and stay out of trouble, even if it was only for two hours.

“We have the geography test tomorrow, and once we’re done with that we’re covering calculus and biology, and don’t think I forgot about history.” She shot Rory a firm look that said she wasn’t playing around. “We’re covering your mistakes from the last test as well so prepare to put your nose to the grindstone for those two hours and keep it there Rory Hansen. I missed my study session thanks to the bonfire so I’m going to be much stricter than usual.”

Was she really going to make her friend cover four different subjects in two hours? Yeah. She effectively just agreed to a proposal that would free up more time for Rory to get into trouble. Of course Kelia was dead serious, her mother didn’t call her a study demon for nothing, and Kelia was very good at following through on her words.

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 3, 2021

Say You Like Me

Jess

Jess glanced over at Conan, nodding her head slowly as if she were listening and really, really interested in the words that he was saying. Of course, she was only partially paying attention so... woops. The other part of her brain, the part that wasn't focusing in on his words, was more focused on where her steps were going. Keeping her from walking into people. Keeping her from anyone passing by accidentally brushing against her.

He was talking about the Bridgers, anyway, and a couple good ones that he was apparently in... a band... with? Conan sang? Or, well, played some kind of instrument? Huh. The more you got to find out about people. There was a surprised expression on her face as he spoke, and she looked over at him again as he--

Go to the school events to support them?

Had he really just suggested that to Jessica Jake? To Jessica Jake, who hadn't willingly attended a school event since the eighth gra--

Okay well, it had been since the eighth grade, but the weekend bonfire had kind of thrown that out the window. It was kind of like those signs that they had at some businesses -- the It's Been [Insert Days] Since Our Last Accident -- except Jess' would've said something like It's Been 765 Days Since The Last Social Event, and every day, there'd be a little party that cheered. Except she wasn't social, so it was a single person event.

Just as she liked it.

"Yeah, definitely, definitely," Jess said with a sarcastic snort of laughter at his suggestion and a disbelieving shake of his head that he'd even have the nerve to ask her such a thing. "I'll totally come to one of them. Front row to cheer you on and everything." That was also sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell.

There was no way in hell she was going to be caught dead at one of these so-called events that he was speaking of. Nope -- if Conan really wanted her to attend, he was going to have to hire someone to drag her there by force, because the only way she'd enter would be kicking, screaming, and fighting the entire way.

(Could you tell that she really, really didn't like hanging out with people?)

He then launched back into the whole feud between the Bridgers and Springers, which seemed to be the main topic of conversation everywhere that you turned these days.

“The feud really is just idiotic though. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand it. Like there isn’t even a proper reason is there? It’s just, we’re rich and they’re poor, blah blah mortal enemies you know. You said most Bridgers are way nicer, any Bridgers you thinking of in particular?”

Jess hesitated.

Part of her was stopping from saying it -- perhaps some of Val and Angie's words had started to get to her. You know, the consistent he's a crackhead and you're going to become a crackhead with him, and blah, blah, blah nonsense that they seemed to consistently enjoy bullying her with.

Maybe that was one of the things that was holding her back when it came to like... anything and everything with Ryan. The consistent taunting of her classmates, of two individuals whose opinions she may have held above all others many... many years ago, and whose opinions obviously still held some weight to her.

"I..." she started, but dropped the sentence after a moment. She was still warring inside her own head, debating on whether or not she should admit it aloud, but... oh well. At this point, everyone and their brother knew that Ryan had some kind of dumb crush on her, and that the two of them were... could she consider them friends?

"Ryan Murphy," Jess finally admitted with a heavy sigh. "You know the guy. Says he's got a peg leg, twitchy eye, breaks his face a lot on his motorcycle. Oh, and he's got a friend -- Dani. She's like... she's super freaking cool, too, although I haven't really hung out with her much. I uh... they dragged me to the bonfire, and I umm... yeah, they're both like... they're really cool. Nice. Well, 'nice' although I think they'd like... totally beat someone's ass if they had to."

She nodded her head, satisfied with that answer.

Plus Conan had asked, clearly because he thought this entire feud was ridiculous, so surely he wouldn't start judging Jess for her own opinions on the matter.

As her thoughts finished, the announcements over the speakers reminded everyone cheerfully of the Homecoming game and dance that were coming up. Cue Jess gagging because gross. Just... just fucking gross. And she didn't want to go because dances were dumb and stupid but--

“Are you going to homecoming?” He asked. “You should go with one of the Bridger boys. Show that us Springers and Bridgers can get along and just how stupid this whole rivalry is.”

Jess let out a snort of laughter. "God no," she replied immediately and without hesitation. "I'm going to the stupid dance because I got stuck running coat check. Long story, but I'm not... gross, no date." She wrinkled her nose up in disgust. "Not even like a stupid friendship date or something. No, I'll be going solo."

She glanced over at him.

"What about you?" She asked, echoing his own question. "Are you going? Got any hot date?"

| mentions: N/A | interactions: Conan | tags:

Xed |

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 3, 2021

Angel with a Shotgun

Rory

Literally though, like... Rory didn't want to come across as super fucking rude or some shit, but... Kelia was kind of a bitch sometimes. And one of those times was right now, as she made the most unfair of demands over something that shouldn't have even been some kind of fucking discussion.

Honestly, the audacity of some people. Like how dare Kelia use Rory wanting to keep her baby brother safe as leverage in some kind of sick... sick, what? Sick fucking game to make sure that Rory passed her classes? How dare she think that she had the right to do something so atrocious.

(She was totally being sarcastic -- obviously, Rory didn't want to have to fucking study, but it wasn't like she really did think these were unfair demands or some shit.)

“We have the geography test tomorrow, and once we’re done with that we’re covering calculus and biology, and don’t think I forgot about history.” She shot Rory a firm look that said she wasn’t playing around. “We’re covering your mistakes from the last test as well so prepare to put your nose to the grindstone for those two hours and keep it there Rory Hansen. I missed my study session thanks to the bonfire so I’m going to be much stricter than usual.”

Rory's jaw nearly dropped open when Kelia listed off all of the fucking subjects that they were going to do.

She couldn't be fucking serious.

She just--

She was fucking serious.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there," Rory said and held her hand up to stop Kelia in her tracks. She was shaking her head just a touch as she did so, her expression one of pure what the fuck before she started to continue her thought. "That's a lot of fucking shit to cram into a couple hours. I thought this was gonna be something like, you know... we study one fucking subject. Not the entire fucking curriculum."

Rory let out a heavy sigh of annoyance, her shoulders slumping forward as she realized that, well... if Kelia wanted to make it that many fucking subjects, there was nothing she was going to be able to do about it.

"Plus I'm doing fine in my other classes," she added with a loud groan as she spun where she was standing so that her back was against the locker, and she slammed her head back against the metal. The locker rattled from the impact, but Rory didn't flinch. Hansens were known for being hard-headed -- both physically and mentally (see: Ian Hansen).

And by "fine," she meant that she had... C's in biology and calculus and definitely a D in history. But hey, it was really early in the school year and shit, so it wasn't like Rory was all that fucking worried about keeping her grades up. Plus, if she failed, who really fucking cared? She'd either redo the fucking school year, or she'd drop out and get her GAD at some point or some shit. There were plenty of options and really, Kelia putting so much emphasis on grades was just dumb.

There were other avenues, especially for people like Rory who were never going to do anything with their lives. Rory didn't have any dreams of higher education or some shit. She wasn't blinded by false hopes and silver-lined dreams, thinking that she could be one of those people that dragged herself out of Ambridge.

She was fine with that, though. She really was.

Rory turned her head against the locker so that she could look over at Kelia.

"Seriously, do you ever chill out? Have fun? And no, reading a fucking book doesn't count as having fun."

| mentions: Jade, Lance, Ian | interactions: Kelia | tags:

Xed |

º º code by ditto º º

hery · Jun 9, 2021

responsibly impulsive

Chris Harris

Ambridge

"And the man in the back said, 'Everyone attack!'
And it turned into a ballroom blitz!"

Chris Harris liked to start her mornings with a fresh cup of anger; this morning's special was the "Where the Fuck is Gerald?", featuring a manhunt for the pet snail with a particular taste for the darkness under Chris' bed.

"And the girl in the corner said, 'Boy I want to warn you!'
It'll turn into a ballroom blitz!"

After an eternity of pacing and ducking her head under surfaces, the groggy high school junior seized the snail, then dumped him back in his terrarium. She heaved a sigh, shaking her head as she tightened the lid on the small, clear box. "You break the rules, you forfeit your rights," she informed the snail, "Consider yourself jailed."

"Ballroom blitz!"

Chris had triumphantly beaten her alarm, gaining the privilege to shut it off before the noise frightened her from behind. She threw on a tee, ruminated over wearing a coat, then made the executive decision to wear one because it was October in New England.

"Ballroom blitz!"

"Chris! Chris, it's time to go!" a feminine voice sounded from behind the door.

"Ballroom blitz!"

"What?" Chris shouted, both ears plugged into ear-splittingly loud music. She dove for her phone and pressed pause.

"Ballroom—"

The bedroom door opened wide, revealing a familiar, dark-haired figure. "It's 7:30, we need to get going."

"Yeah, Mom, uh, let me just..." Chris grabbed her bag, then shoved a pair of chocolate bars inside to replenish her reserves. She always sought out to share it with Oph or Syd, but the majority of times it ended up lost along the way...

For more reasons than gluttony, for your information.

With that, she headed out the house and into the car, now the smug one as it was her mother who wasn't ready outside. It was a daily ritual, the woman being ready to leave and then losing her keys, sunglasses, or phone at the last second.

A cocky grin was plastered onto her face as her mom got into the car, but she looked forward and held her tongue. It was more satisfying reveling in her self-righteous rightness instead of laughing, and Chris would receive the inevitable "I know, I know" from her mom anyway.

"Dad's working late again tonight," she stated, breaking the silence once they were on the road.

"Yeah?" Chris responded with mild interest.

"Cheese plate and true crime?"

Chris smiled. "Sure." Hopefully she didn't have any plans with Syd that night. Or... band practice. The past few weeks had been such a mess, she'd fallen out of the habit of being on top of her schedule. It was a wonder how she could even recall the day of the week.

It was Monday, by the way. She was pretty sure it was, at least.

Once they'd pulled up to the school, traffic plus the cross-town drive had landed Chris on the verge of being tardy. Just as she was getting out, she spotted the dumber of her cousins loitering around outside with that Katee kid. She didn't know a whole lot about him, but just looking at him made her feel kind of bad, but weirdly hopeful. She was a supporter of the underdogs at heart. Always had been, ever since "The Tortoise and the Hare".

Upon the advice and observations of her ever-worried mother, Chris made her way toward the two boys in hopes of getting them to class and out of trouble. She turned around and waved a goodbye, having been officially entrusted to do the right thing. Well, she really did intend on sending Xander and his friend to class, but who knew what they were up to? Every day is a new day.

“Yeah, graffiti! Orange! Yeah!”

So, she knew exactly what they were up to.

"Someone say graffiti?" she queried, sneaking up behind Katee and maneuvering to rest her arm around Xander's shoulder. She raised a disapproving eyebrow, even if the fun-lover in her was currently debating whether or not to heed her mother's request or partake in some much-needed stress relief. After all this talk with and to Em and the whole Darcy situation, her brain was begging for anything but drama.

Even if all she could think of was a burning, unfair jealousy toward Syd's best friend.

But that wasn't important in the moment.

She glanced at Nut with a sly smirk. "Now Xan I expected this from, but not you, uh..." She trailed off, the words she wanted to say hopping on the edge of her tongue like hot potatoes. "People call you Nut, yeah? Sick name."

Her eyes finally found Xan, meeting him with her devilish grin. "My mom saw you guys loitering around outside when she dropped me off. Said it looks like you're ditching." She crossed her arms, the look on her face growing more serious and scolding. "You two aren't getting into trouble, right?" She looked back at Nut, silently demanding the truth from his earnest little eyes.

A few moments passed, then she burst into laughter. "Just kidding!" she exclaimed, raising a hand to Xander for a high-five, "Don't tell me you're being a bad influence again. Not this early in the morning." She shook her head judgmentally. "If so, you two are gonna need chaperoning."

ohdittoh

Soap · Jun 9, 2021

.
.
.
.

how she's feeling...

Humorous, uncomfy, sad.
what she's wearing...

This works.
where she's at...

Cafeteria
in the conversation...

Ange, & Kass (Mentions) ohdittoh

ophelia warren

'Phillie Cheesesteak'

Did you ever play minecraft?

Maybe you were just gardening, trying to get enough wheat for your little hunger bars that keep deteriorating and suddenly, you hear an evil laugh.

Your heart drops, panic sets in and you start looking around.

A splash potion is thrown at you and your hearts start dropping faster than your heart rate as you begin to panic.

You glanced up and see--

boom, a witch.

In Ophelia's case...

She wasn't playing minecraft, this was reality. But Angeline Jumper was indeed, a witch. The blonde stood up from her chair, and Ophelia watched her move around the table in curiosity-- and slight, very slight fear, okay? Look, she wasn't scared of her. She was just a little afraid of the information that she desperately wanted to know.

“I came over here because I was contemplating the ways that I could seduce the girl and figured that this was the only good way to do it: by chattering to her whilst she creepily checks out my cousin, vehemently denies doing so, and then eats an apple slice in what she thinks is triumph.”

It was triumph.

And she wasn't 'checking out' Kass. God, this girl is as blind as she is vain.

“You’re so adorable, I could just--" Ange tapped a finger on Ophelia's nose with every word that came next.

"eat,"

Boop.

She cringed her head back slightly, narrowing her eyes in minor disgust at the girl.

"you,"

Oph attempted to swat her hand away, but failed pathetically.

Boop.

"up."

At the last tap of her finger, Ophelia didn't bother to swipe at her hand, instead looking up at her with big, pleading eyes.

"Promise?"

She pouted before the corners of her lips suddenly lifted, turning into an amused smile.

"There’s nothing cuter than someone who thinks that they’ve really done something! It’s the cockiness and self-importance that really does it for me. Though I know it’s all an act, it’s certainly a pleasant change of pace. If you pissed your pants right off, it would be such a turnoff, you know.”

Ophelia sighed heavily with a roll of her eyes. "No? You're not into that? Damn." Yeah, she was kinda enjoying this back and forth thing. What? Okay, yeah Ange was supposed to be torturing information out of her, pretending to be all scary and stuff. But it was kinda funny. Really funny. What wasn't though, was her little whisper that she did, leaning down to Oph's ear while she focused her attention back to her lunch, pausing mid apple bite.

“Don’t get too excited; that was called sarcasm. No one would be interested in you unless they were into twelve-year-olds, and I, unfortunately for you, am not, and neither is my cousin. Oh, boo.”

Alright so it hurt a little.

A little more than a little but she wasn't gonna show her that.

Instead, when Ange pulled away and sat down. "Sorry... I just..." Oph sniffled, taking a hand to wipe away an imaginary tear that fell, wiping across the bottom of her eye with one finger in particular and in a swift motion her dramatics was over and Ange was just left with a middle finger to the face.

Ange pulled her salad closer to her and Ophelia internally groaned. Couldn’t a girl just sit at the lunch table, eating her lonely meal in peace?

In an incredibly introverted way, Oph liked being alone. Nobody was pestering her, needing favors, no kids screaming in her ear. Just her, and her food.

Angeline was ruining Oph’s alone time.

“Hm, how about we review what I know, and you can start giving me some answers?”

“Is this being recorded? I want a lawyer.”

Her small humorous quips could only do so much to ease her worry. But this was far past Angeline finding out.

Clearly, she already knew.

Why was she so curious though if she didn’t have a huge lesbian crush on her?

That was a joke. Let her live.

“So, you and Kassidy haven’t been speaking since…hm, was it this summer or last summer? You’re obviously upset about that…yet you can’t stop thinking about her, can you? You just can’t stop staring at her. You miss her, you really do.”

So, Ophelia’s taking another approach.

Honesty.

…

That was even more terrifying than young little Angeline in braces.

“I do.”

She shrugged, nonchalantly.

“Miss her, I mean. We were close. Only someone as wicked as the witch of red lip gloss wouldn’t miss their best friend.” Suddenly, Ophelia wasn’t very hungry anymore. She didn't make a move to push away her tray though.

“And why is it you miss her? Do you miss your friendship, or…hm…do you have some kind of regret?”

“Dude, could I just know why you’re practically shaking to know? It was fun at first, but come on Ka—“

“Ange. Come on.”

Yeah, yeah. She almost name-slipped.

But that wasn’t like it meant anything. They were talking about her. Everyone’s brain is a little slow to catch up sometimes… Alright, maybe just Oph’s but that didn’t matter.

“What do you have to regret, Ophie? Come on, you can tell me. After all, I’m as close to ever talking to Kass again as you can get, am I not?”

She was.

And Ophelia hated it, but she made peace with it a while ago.

She got over it.

It was alllllllllll over.

Good and done.

Zlich happenin’

Nadaaa.

“I— look, I did something dumb. Everything got weird. Kass was…” Oph gestured to the table where she sat, probably smiling and laughing or whatever.

“Grieving and… didn’t wanna hang. I don’t know. We just grew apart. Happy?” Psh, if she was— Ange was probably the only one who ended up happy in this situation.

Oph glanced up and snuck a peek at the blonde across the table.

…

Okay, so maybe Oph’s the only one who didn’t end up happy.

♡coded by uxie♡

ohdittoh · Jun 10, 2021

KATEE NAUSBAUM

Nut took the can of orange paint, staring at its cap and studying it intently.

There was a pit of something in Nut’s stomach, and he couldn’t really tell if it was nerves or dread or excitement or what. As good as he was at figuring what others were feeling from the most minor of things, the boy struggled personally with differentiating between this feeling and that feeling.

In the end, he guessed it didn’t matter— he was headed to experience whatever this whole graffitiing adventure entailed regardless, because otherwise, Xan would be all frowny and upset, and it’d be Nut’s fault, and then he’d feel bad for even being his friend, and then Xan wouldn’t even want to be Nut’s friend anymore because what kinda guy wants to be in a friendship where they don’t get anything out of it?

At least, that was Nut’s experience with friendships, as short-lived as every “friendship” he’d had was. They all told him about how he wasn’t doing anything except being annoying and making them mad, and then Nut felt bad for making them feel bad and left them alone until he got the courage up to talk to them again and maybe try to right the wrongs that he’d committed. He couldn’t really expect Xan to be any different— which was okay! That was okay if he was the same. In fact, Nut wanted to be the same sometimes— a lot of the time.

Which was why he couldn’t mess this up with Xan, even with the pit-in-his-stomach-that-he-didn’t-know-the-identity-of-oh-look-we’re-going-in-circles-again.

The cap was shiny, though. That was cool.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry— this place is totally easy,” Xan said. “Like there’s no one around to really judge or like…call the police—“

“Police?!” Nut whispered in shock, his eyes widening.

“— on us or whatever, so we’ll be so safe,” Xan finished. “I promise.”

“Po-lice?” Nut repeated. “You mean…you mean, we could get arrested for this?” He knew this already, but hearing it again made him…well, realize it again. “I could go to jail?! I— Xanny, I wouldn’t last in a prison cell!” He sunk his arms and drooped his head, then pressed his hands to his chest, an expression of genuine worry on his face. “I’d get— I heard about this dude who got fry oil thrown in his face and was, like, permanently fuuuuucked up from it, man! That’d be me!” he squeaked.

Xan continued. “But if we do happen to get caught, I just want you to start running and don’t look back, okay?” He pulled his backpack strap back over his back and began walking again, and Nut confidently pointed his can floppily at Xan, holding it by the bottom. "I'll distract the cops if it comes down to it. My parents kinda expect me to get caught and arrested, but they don't really think too much on it 'cause I guess I'm not as bad as Darcy or something. I dunno."

“Running?” Nut said almost cockily, and he shook his head with a “psh”. “Running.” He crossed his arms, giving a nod. “Running is easy-peasy. I got a medal at track and field day in fourth grade.” He paused a moment to let it set in, nodding surely a few times, closing his eyes proudly. He stumbled a step and opened his eyes, flailing out his arms to catch himself but not actually fully tripping, and then he gave his cockiest chuckle and recrossed his arms. “Yeah, I’m kiiinda a track star. No worries from me. And I’ll carry you and save you when you get caught, too! No need for distraction!”

He didn’t realize that he’d said when you get caught and not if.

"Someone say graffiti?"

Nut turned to look at the owner of the familiar-but-not-quite-familiar voice. He vaguely recognized the girl as…uh…well, someone.

She threw her arm around Xander, and he moved away to give them enough space.

She glanced at Nut, smirking. Nut gave her a wave as he felt the pit in his stomach grow larger.

Was she here to bust him?

"Now Xan I expected this from,” she said, “but not you, uh..." She trailed off, and then spoke again. “People call you Nut, yeah? Sick name."

Nut smiled brightly. Pretty girl calling his name cool? Neatneatneat! “Yeah, Nut!” he chirped. “And you’re…uh…someone!”

He had no clue who she was.

She looked over at Xan with a grin. “My mom saw you guys loitering around outside when she dropped me off. Said it looks like you're ditching." She crossed her arms, and she looked like she was going to snap or something. "You two aren't getting into trouble, right?" She looked back at Nut.

His eyes grew wide.

Shit!

Nut immediately caved under the pressure. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he said quickly. He held the can out to her, a look of fear on his face. “Please don’t tell on us! We-we’ll go inside! Like, lickety-split, and nothing ever happened! Please, I’ve never done anything like...”

He trailed off when she started laughing, and the arm holding the can slowly sank.

Was it…was it funny?

“Just kidding!” she said, and she held her hand up to Xan for a high five. “Don’t tell me you’re being a bad influence again. Not this early in the morning. If so, you two are gonna need chaperoning.”

“Chaperoning?” Nut repeated, still somewhat dejected and frazzled from having thought that he’d been caught and suddenly finding out the opposite. “Uhhh…” His voice and hands trembled. He clutched the paint can to his chest and began to stroke it nervously. “Y-Yeah! Y-You can come with, right, Xan? I…I mean…v-vandalism is a g-group effort, right?”

mood
uhuhuh

location
the front of the school

outfit
something

playing...
monster (under my bed)

by call me karizma

mentions
n/a

interactions
xander & chris

tags

Winona

º º code by ditto º º

Xed · Jun 10, 2021

I suck at songs so no song

Kelia

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there,” Rory said and held her hand up to stop Kelia in her tracks

Was this where Rory tried to bargain her way into covering less? Because that was not happening.

"That's a lot of fucking shit to cram into a couple hours. I thought this was gonna be something like, you know... we study one fucking subject. Not the entire fucking curriculum."

“Well we aren’t covering the entire curriculum. I’m not that unreasonable.” Oh yeah, she was dead serious, and her tone conveyed as much too. There was no joking happening here.

Besides if she was going to cover just one subject over two hours, she’d cover everything they had ever gone through which Rory would probably detest even more.

“Plus I’m doing fine in my other classes.” Rory added with a loud groan, letting the back of her head slam against the metal yet again.

The girl was going to give herself a concussion at this rate.

“That’s precisely why we’re not covering them yet.” Kelia chipped in, rolling her eyes. They were definitely talking about different subjects but Kelia didn’t care.

“And stop trying to give yourself a concussion with all the headbanging. I’m not going to accept any of those silly lost my brain cell or whatever excuses.”

Look, the Cs Rory was getting in biology and calculus (yes Kelia knew Rory’s grades, she kept track of them) was excellent by Rory’s standards, especially given the way she struggled with some of these subjects. But her friend had the potential to do better, she was clever, she just needed a little extra push.

Even if she wasn’t planning or going to be graduating from a major college or anything in the future and at this juncture it might be a little unrealistic to expect otherwise, especially with the way she was going about everything, there was no way a little extra studying could hurt her.

And if in the event that Rory changed her mind, or even if she didn’t, that one letter jump in her grades could potentially help her in the future with whatever she chose to do or at least expand her options.

Plus the experience of working hard through something you struggled with and hated, and conquering it would surely be valuable one way or another.

In other words, there were no ill effects to pushing Rory like this.

"Seriously, do you ever chill out? Have fun? And no, reading a fucking book doesn't count as having fun."

Kelia cocked an eyebrow at Rory. Of course they were back on this subject again. Everything seemed to always be about fun nowadays. First it was her mother, now it was her friend, next minute her teachers and the school dean would be telling her the same thing. 'Go and have fun.'

From the way people harped at her about it, you would think she was incapable of having fun. Well news flash, she wasn't, she just didn't see the point to obsessing over having fun.

“Reading books can be fun Rory. You just don’t know how to enjoy anything that isn’t boom.” Inaccurate of course but she got her point across. No trouble, nothing a little wild or potentially rule-breaking about it and the Hansen’s would probably write it off as boring.

“And I do know how to relax and have fun.” Like take a swim or make something to pass the time. “But that’s besides the point. Look you might not want to continue your education after high school but you should at least graduate with a decent grade.”

And no, straight Cs did not count as a decent grade in Kelia’s book. Rory could do so much better than that.

Was she being excessive and a bit of a slave driver at this point? Probably.

Did she care?

Not at all.

º º code by ditto º º

Xed · Jun 10, 2021

i'm in love with an e-girl...

Conan

subtitle

“Yeah, definitely, definitely,” Jess said with a sarcastic snort of laughter and a shake of her head. “I’ll totally come to one of them. Front row to cheer you on and everything.”

Normally Conan would have noticed the sarcasm in her tone, but he was a little distracted at the moment and so it flew right over his head.

“That’s great! I can help save you seats and everything. You really should come down to these events more often. I’ve never seen you at many of them before.”

He’d also been out of school for over a year so if she had been to school events during that time, he wouldn’t have known, but back before his suspension happened, Jess’s face wasn’t one he saw at parties or around the social scene.

A great big smile crossed Conan’s face when she named Ryan Murphy as one of the nicer Bridgers. He didn’t know Ryan personally, but he’d heard bits about him, had seen him out and about, and he certainly seemed like a guy who knew how to have fun if nothing else. Could probably do with less of the whole breaking his face on his motorcycle though.

That little titbit that Jess shared made him laugh, not in a malicious way of course. Conan had his own share of accidents on his bike but so far nothing like breaking his face on it.

Still it was nice to see Jess talking about the Bridgers, praising them even. He got into his fair share of fights thanks to his temper so he was probably the last person who ought to be saying this, but if Springers and Bridgers could get over the stupid feud and get along like Jess seemed to be doing with Ryan and Dani, then maybe there would be less stupid fights and ridiculous arguments going around.

“Good on them inviting you to hang at the bonfire at all, must have been a fun time with those two for company. I’d be hard pressed to believe otherwise from what you’ve told me about them so far.” He sighed wistfully as he let the words sink in. “It’d be great if there was more of that. I hope they don’t ever try to beat my ass though.” If they did he’d go down fighting, but there was no need to add that to his comments. Besides he doubted that would happen, especially since Jess seemed to like them and they hadn’t let the stupid feud get in the way of dragging her to the bonfire.

It was unfortunate that she was stuck running coat check duty at the dance though but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still have a date, although she’d clearly expressed her sentiments about going to the dance with a date. But come on, it was homecoming.

“You’re not going to be stuck on coat check duty all night Jess. Come on, you should go with someone or at least make sure you hang out with friends. It’ll be more fun than hanging solo. Who knows, maybe that Ryan guy is planning to ask you even.”

Yeah, he was really being a nosy parker and pushing her to attend homecoming with someone, big smile, bright voice and all, even after she said otherwise.

Jess turned the question back to him and he pondered over it for a moment. He didn’t have a hot date no, he hadn’t asked anyone yet and he hadn’t thought about who he’d ask either, so he didn’t have an answer for her. But since he’d suggested that to Jess… “I’m going for sure, haven’t got a date yet, but I’ll probably ask one of the Bridger girls.”

Conan wasn’t amongst the upper echelon of the social hierarchy at Auburn Springs, but he wasn’t too far off, being a football player with a reputation and all, so it wouldn't go completely unnoticed if he showed up with a Bridger, at least that's how he saw it playing out in his mind.

The only question left was which Bridger to ask, the first Bridger name that popped to mind was Chris, but she had her boyfriend Syd, so she was out of the question, which left him with…he was out of names at the moment but he’d find someone soon enough.

º º code by ditto º º

hery · Jun 10, 2021

the grass is always greener

Edwin Jarvis

Auburn Springs

Ed was fuming, the furious red in his face fading back to his typical complexion as Ian dug through his things. He turned his desk chair to the side and rested his elbows on his knees, gaining an odd sense of satisfaction and power in looking down at his friend on his knees.

...

Not in that fucking way.

“He-here. I think that this is it," he stuttered, handing over a thick, folded sheet of paper. Ed sat with silent fury and refused to open it, already fed up from the arduous process this was becoming. Fortunately for dumbass baby Ian, he realized his error and took the paper back, unfolded it, then handed it back.

“I did problems, uh…problems seven and twelve. And I drew that ninja.” Ed held the sheet with both hands, squinting with a scowl as he skimmed the page for anything of use. His firm grip crinkled the sides of the paper permanently, and it was obvious solely based on his stern expression how disappointed and judgmental he was feeling.

He looked up at Ian, his gaze softening to an uncharacteristic extent. He almost appeared weary, defeated, and at a loss for any sense of faith in the world. Probably because he was. The neutrality of his expression was somewhat nerve-wracking in that his next words were unpredictable. His silence and impassiveness was a door leading to endless possibilities of praise, rage, sadness, fear, however the reality was that it was most likely a mixture of the latter three.

The short boy set the math sheet to the side, then turned his chair around to face his friend. He clasped his hands together, then spoke in a cool voice, "Ian."

“He’s getting stabbed,” the aforementioned boy added, a hint of apprehension and the desire for positive reinforcement written all over him. Ed looked back to his side, noting that the ninja was indeed getting stabbed.

"Ian," he repeated, and the boy fell silent. The area surrounding them fell silent. Tension hung in the air like a thick miasma.

"We're FUCKED!" he cried, slamming his fist on the desk, "Give me that shit. Where did it—" He turned around, having trouble locating the paper he'd set down just moments ago.

Once it was in his grasp, he held it up for the other boy to view, jabbing his finger through the middle. "This is USELESS. Those answers aren't even numbers." With gritted teeth, he grabbed an eraser and roughly rubbed it against the pencil markings on his sheet, scraping the pink prism extra hard on the ninja doodle.

"Print a copy," he barked, shoving the page in Ian's face and pointing over to the librarian behind the counter, "Go ask."

Fucking HELL, Ed was better off alone. He couldn't trust a damn idiot to do anything right. While he'd failed to do the assignment and then lost the page, Ian had only managed to do two problems incorrectly, then scribbled uselessly all over the margin. Why didn't he scrawl his social on the side instead? At least that would have been useful.

Everyone was so fucking beneath him, Jesus Christ. Now he had to do his math all by his goddamn self NOT because of his own mistakes, but because everyone was too fucking idiotic to do shit for him. As they should. Ed deserved better.

ohdittoh · Jun 11, 2021

IAN HANSEN

“Oh…,” Ian said, brows upturning as his friend looked to him. Ed’s face was soft, almost tired, and Ian swallowed hard. “I-It’s a samurai sword…?” Ian offered, smiling nervously.

He swallowed hard again.

He, uh…Ed, uh…looked…

Ian couldn’t even read his expression, which didn’t do anything but make him antsier.

He gave a sheepish laugh, and he looked down at his camp cargo pants, grabbing ahold of the flaps of the top pockets. He decided to focus himself on those, and slowly, he began to un-velcro them one by one, bit by bit.

Ri-i-i-…

A quick glance at Ed, then back down at the pants.

….i-iiii-i—…

Another glance, but there was still no reaction from the other boy.

…ip…

Ian moved his hand to the other pocket.

Riii-i-i-ii-i-iii-iip.

“Ian,” said Ed in a cool tone, and Ian quickly looked up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

It fell dead silent between the two, and Ian felt his heartrate pick up.

Ian smiled hopefully. “Ed…?“ He blinked a couple of rapid times, thinking that maybe fluttering his eyelashes would help.

There was another beat.

Ian pulled a hand from his pocket to point a finger gun at Ed, laughing in his syllabic way and slouching slightly in a forced casualness. “Ahaha, you wanna m—“

“We’re FUCKED!” Ed yelled, slamming his fist on the desk, and Ian flinched, clutching his finger fun to his chest and balling up the fist in his pocket instinctively.

“F-Fucked?” Ian asked, opening his eyes and blinking a couple of times. “Ya mean, my ninja di—“

“Give me that shit,” Ed demanded. “Where did it—“ He looked around for the paper.

Ian stared right at the paper. He made longing eye contact with his crudely-drawn ninja. The lovingly-drawn hypens— er, specks of blood emanating from its stabbed abdomen expressed such deep, inexpressible emotions that even today’s biggest art critics could never even hope to capture it in words. Shit deserved to be in an art museum, right next to the Mona Lisa and…uh…Ian didn’t know any other paintings, but it also deserved to be beside that one, yeah, hahahaaa.

And then Ed jerked up the paper and held it out to Ian, which caused Ian to jump slightly in surprise. Ed jabbed his finger into the center of the paper, right beside the ninja. “This is USELESS. Those answers aren’t even numbers.”

“Hey!” Ian started defensively, but Ed grabbed an eraser. “Hey, what are you do—“

Ian’s eyes grew wide, and he felt his heart freeze in his chest.

The next moments happened in ultra slow-mo.

Ch-kk-ch-kk-ch-kk-ch-kk.

“No!” Ian gasped, but it was too late.

Limb-by-limb, rapidly, the ninja— Ian’s proud creation— was erased, and now, it was gone.

And then, time seemed to resume, and Ed held out the paper for Ian, who stood, wide-eyed, in shock, rigid. “Print a copy,” Ed barked. He shoved the paper at Ian’s chest, and Ian put his hands on it, though his eyes were still frozen on the spot where his ninja had met his cruel, unwarranted demise. Ed pointed at the librarian. “Go ask.”

“My…nin…ja…,” Ian squeaked. “You…killed…him.” His pale eyes darted to Ed.

His lip curled up into a snarl. “Sonuvabitch,” he huffed, taking the paper in his fist and slamming his fist down by his side. He started to make his way towards the librarian. Beneath his breath, he spat, “I’ll print off your stupid worksheet for your stupid face for your stupid math for your stupid teacher for your stupid grades, stupid.” He glanced over his shoulder at Ed, then set his eyes back on the librarian. “Erased my ninja, little— fffffffff…I’ll show him eraser…”

He slammed his paper down on the librarian’s desk, and his eyes flung up to the dead-eyed man behind the desk, who was just now turning to face Ian with an unamused expression on his face.

Immediately, he smiled a pleasant, if nervous, smile, dropping his hand from the table and tucking them behind his back. “Hello, Mr. Schwartz,” he said, his voice cracking on the —wartz part.

The man folded the thick book in his lap with a clap! and sat it down harshly on the desk— thud!

Ian flinched at the noise, and he put his hand back on top of the paper, sliding it closer to the man. “Hahaha…just, uh…need a copy,” Ian said sheepishly, and he quickly added, “sir.”

Mr. Schwartz hefted himself up from the chair, as if it took a lot of effort to pry his small frame from the cushioned thing. He flopped his hand down on the paper, and Ian quickly retracted his hand as the man snatched it up, glancing— er, more like shooting a glare— at him. Schwartz turned away from the desk and started towards the printer, each heavy, slow motion he made conveying that he did not want to be here and he especially did not want to be dealing with kids like Ed and Ian.

Ian gave another nervous smile accompanied by another nervous, syllabic laugh. “Hahaha, yeah…,” he sighed softly, as if he’d heard a joke of some sort, and then he gasped. “Oh, oh!” He held his hand out. “Hold up.”

Schwartz turned around, inclining an eyebrow. His stone-cold gaze gave Ian the chop-chop-you’re-wasting-my-time speech, and Ian laughed again. “Hahaha, uh…” He held up three fingers. “Two copies, please…? Y-Yeah…?”

Schwartz glanced at Ian’s hand, and then at Ian’s face, and then he pursed his lips, his brow falling. He gave Ian another beat of thoroughly unamused staring before he turned back around and made his way to the printer.

Ian put his hands behind his back again, twiddling his fingers and tapping his feet. He looked at the ceiling to occupy himself for a couple of seconds as he listened to the loud noises of the printer being fired up, and then he looked back at Ed, who sat at the computers.

He gave him a big smile and two thumbs up, and then he started tilting his thumbs to the side, and then he— oop— tilted one thumb up and tilted one thumb down, and then suddenly his hands were fighting airplanes, and “krrrr” went his mouth as they crashed together, and—

“Ahem.”

Ian turned his head to see the librarian back at the desk, two warm papers in front of him. Schwartz flopped the crumpled mess of an original copy beside the fresh ones, and he shot a glare at Ian— hurry up.

“Hahaha,” he laughed, turning his body around and walking up to the counter. He took the papers gently from the desk. “Than—“ The thin man dropped himself into the chair, and the sudden motion took Ian aback enough to make him cut his words off. He put on another nervous smile the next moment. “Hahaha, thank you, man. Er, bro. Er, um, sir. Sir.”

He gave him an awkward wave and started back towards Ed, papers in hand. His footsteps were quick and accomplished, and he held his head high with pride.

When he reached his friend, he hid the papers behind his back. “You…owe me,” he said with a grin, looking down at the sitting Ed. “Hahahahaaa,” he laughed slyly.

mood
hahahahahaha u owe me

location
the library hahahahaaa

outfit
hahahaaa this probably violates dress code but i dont give a fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck hahahaaa

playing...
rebels

by call me karizma

mentions
n/a

interactions
ed

tags

º º code by ditto º º

hery · Jun 11, 2021

fluent in buzzkill

Theodore Virtanen

Ambridge

Theo's passive gaze shifted into an indignant glare as Donna started snickering over his self-proclaimed sensibility. He shouldn't have expected the drug-crazed slacker to comprehend any of his philosophy, but it still cut him to be taken with such a lack of seriousness.

“Sensibility,” Donna started, “is overrated.”

Well, that was just plain, unequivocally incorrect. Whatever point Donna was getting at, Theo had the mind to take it with a grain of salt. As a small act of defiance, he removed himself from the conversation for a moment to inspect the area, crinkling his nose at the dumpsters they passed by. He felt out of place, and his grip on his bag tightened with subconscious apprehension.

"Where has sensibility gotten you, Theodore?”

"Is it not about where it has kept me from, not where it has gotten me?" He cocked his head slightly, his brown eyes peering upward at Donna expectantly. The contents of their discourse felt so elementary that it didn't even bear repeating, yet there seemed to be a plethora of points of contention between the two. Did that mean at least one of them was, without a doubt, wrong or did that mean they were on entirely separate pages altogether?

“Sensibility is just an excuse for never opening your eyes, never veering off the road, and never straying from the path that everyone tells you is right…”

Theo stopped in his tracks. The pace of his heartbeat sped up, and he felt as though the lethargic boy was peering into his soul. He felt exposed, as well as invasively analyzed. As Donna continued in his path without interruption, he steadied his nerves. He wasn't talking about Theo. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but the more likely alternative was along the lines of a Freudian slip.

The blonde boy had a guilty conscience. Donna's words hit far too close to home to deny it. "Yes, this way of thinking was assigned to me, but there is a reason for it. My lack of... hm..." What was he missing, exactly? That was the million dollar question. "...divergence from the rules is not invalid simply because the rules do not represent my core values. Maybe there is a reason why I reject my own liberty."

If he knew that reason, then he wouldn't have been loitering around the back of the school debating semantics with a cynic. It was true that Theodore didn't know who he was, but he wasn't inclined to imitate or even entertain the values of this quietly hedonistic burnout. Pessimists like him were self-absorbed and rarely peeked into the future. Theo had long abandoned the desire for instant gratification, because maybe one day his release would come.

Were the only releases Donna perceived death and slumber? How was that any more fulfilling than Theo's life?

He had previously fallen behind the taller boy in their amble, but caught up to walk by his side. For such a seemingly aimless guy, his walk really did seem to have a firm sense of direction. He must have traveled this path often.

“Sensibility is safety. You’re just afraid. I used to be like that, too.” He sighed softly, and for once, Theo caught a glimpse of his humanity. It was unnerving, and it frustrated him a little that he was allowing himself to be so receptive to someone who held such starkly different beliefs from his own. Theo never shut up. Why had he now? “Uptight, sensible…I did everything as I was told, when I was told, and I never questioned anything. I never stepped out of line, never did or tried or said anything that I wasn’t supposed to.” He watched the pebble being kicked along its course, traveling wherever Donna's shoe deemed fit.

"It must have been peaceful," he observed, almost speaking into the air. The wind lightly whipped against his short, blonde locks while the sun peeked through the morning sky's gloom. Class must have been in for about ten minutes now. "And easy. I hope someone was proud of you."

“But you realize. I realized.” Donna stopped, and Theo looked back at the stationary pebble being released to its freedom. Or demise. “People don’t care about you. They care about themselves and protecting themselves. The sensibility that they tell you about— that they tell you to have? It’s just to protect their image."

Theo liked his image. And he liked his family's image. It wasn't just for them, at least that's how he saw it. If someone was pleased with him and if someone was better off because of him, then his actions carried meaning. He had a purpose. Even in pouring hours into reading Sartre and Nietzsche, he was expanding his surface-level intelligence and thus impressing his parents. It made them feel good, even if it was never enough.

His current living situation with his aunt and uncle was a bit different, as they didn't show much of an interest in his education. In fact, it was a well-known fact in the house that they'd secretly hoped Theo would drop out and work at the deli and raise their kids full-time. While there was no pleasing them on a scholastic end, his free time helping them around the place did not go unnoticed. In fact, the rare praise he received from his aunt was all the more rewarding after a long day of school.

His suffering and weariness was self-imposed, but all that did was lessen the toll taken by burnout.

"Your mom, your dad, your sister, your brother, your fucking third cousin. It doesn’t matter. They want you to act good. They want you to hold your chin up, to be better than, so that they’ll look good, because it makes them feel better about themselves to show how well-trained you are."

Well-trained...

Theo frowned. He wasn't trained. Sometimes it felt like none of his actions were his own, but he wasn't trained. "Solely self-serving outcomes are not the only ones that arise frim selfish motivations. All my knowledge of the world comes from being pushed into it. Does that account for nothing?"

It was merely easier to comply than it was to dissent. It was easier to stay put than to rock the boat. It was easier to try hard.

He could tell himself all that and it would still make absolute sense.

"You deviate from the path they’d like, and they’ll only be upset because you’re making them look bad.”

He hesitated before speaking, doing a horrid job at concealing and an even worse one at not feeling. He was visibly hurt, not by Donna's words, but by the conflict raging inside his head. He recognized and even sympathized with the boy's points, but it was painful to acknowledge them as truths of their own. It was easier to disregard. In all that triumph, he'd still been fruitless in his effort to come off cool and neutral.

And so he stopped trying. He sighed, avoiding eye contact until his silent response ran too long.

"You could be right," he admitted, which was a struggle to utter in itself, "But what is the use? What do I do if not what I have always done?"

Donna looked over to him with his stone-cold gaze, then brandished his pack of cigarettes. Savukkeita. Like his uncle smoked. “Take one, if you’d like."

He'd already made it past the first hurdle back in the cafeteria. At this point, he'd already resolved to take a sledgehammer to the entire foundation of obedience he'd rested upon. "Thank you," he said politely, shoving his fingers in the box until they pulled out a single stick.

He fumbled with the lighter as it was offered, learning to inhale right then and there. As the cigarette reached his lips, his hand quivered a little. His eyes flicked over to Donna nervously, and he felt all the more ridiculous making a spectacle of it. Nothing was supposed to matter anymore. At least, based on the sample of Donna's philosophy he'd immersed himself in.

After taking a puff, Theo felt a tickle in his throat, hurriedly releasing a steady fume of smoke just before raising a fist to cover his cough. It didn't stop, and he found himself choking a bit more violently, a few stray flecks of spit flinging into the air. He looked back from where they'd came from.

That was foul.

Still, he continued forth with the ritual, inhaling and releasing and allowing his coughing to gradually worsen until it subsided. Then, it would start all over again. He was parched, but it felt rude to interrupt Donna's impending monologue to beg for water. The boy had a number of tells tipping Theo off to when he'd next speak. His phrases were always preceded by an uncomfortable silence, and he stopped walking every now and then to gather his thoughts.

Did he think a lot or were his few words simply the only things ever on his mind?

“When you throw away your sensibility, you realize damn quick that no one gives a shit about you. You’re living from moment to moment because of chance. You’ll die because of chance. It’s hopeless, sure, but it’s life. Not the life they want you to live, but it’s what life really is.”

"So what? How can someone take comfort in that?" he croaked, taking a seat a few feet away.

“’Things hold value only if you attribute it to them’…that’s the saying,” he said in his deadpan voice, “and I believe it. It makes sense: everything is worthless, but you can tell yourself it has worth if it makes you feel better."

Theo shook his head. "Does it matter who the worth of something is attributed by? You reject sensibility as a means of defiance? You are no better than I am, deriving your motivations from the whim of another." He raised an eyebrow. "An inverse still mimics its sister function. It is merely a reverse image."

"They can drive themselves crazy with their sensibility and push it on people like me and people like you in an attempt to make everything seem worth it. In reality, nothing is worth shit and you and I and that whore on the side of the road and that bitch laid up in a mansion in LA are all the fucking same: headed towards death, fucking clueless about what's on the other side. The only difference between us is how reluctant we are to admit it— and how afraid we are to admit it.”

A life dictated by its end is pointless. If that was the truth for everybody, nobody would be alive. It sounded to Theo like Donna was frustrated, and it was an understandable frustration. There was no sense in a directed life to him, but a directionless life seemed to leave the cynical boy with the same pit of dread in his stomach.

"In my hundreds of hours spent contemplating existentialism, nihilism, nominalism, physical science, the mind, and language..." he began without a conclusion in mind, "Not once have I or anyone else properly defined or put anything into terms that really matter." He shifted his weight, then took another painful puff of his cigarette. "You speak the cynical, angry blather any jaded teenager on the street could offer me. It is a waste of time finding the why and the how of anything, yes, but to simply reject the search and waste time wallowing in your own angst instead?"

The blonde boy turned his nose up in disgust, which is important to differentiate from disdain. He felt no contempt for the other boy's philosophical explanations, but there was no excuse for ignoring such blatant negligence and naivete. "You are fortunate to be able to sit here, shirk everything, and tell me why your life and my life has no meaning. You live cozied up in your mansion, rotting away with drugs paid for with your family's riches without a worry for where you end up the next day because you do not need to worry. You live in an ignorant, uncaring stasis."

His throat burned. He needed water. He coughed a bit, realizing after the fact how hoarse his voice was. "I let myself slip and I ended up here in this shithole town in this godforsaken country working overtime seven days a week because if I did not..." He faltered. He didn't know what would happen if he didn't, because he always had listened. The only time he didn't, he'd faced his consequences.

What would happen if he got in trouble again? Would his family ship him back to his home in Helsinki or would he end up with another set of relatives in another country, scrubbing their floors like a tragic, sharp-tongued Cinderella? Where was his nihilism then as he lived with the fallout of his rashness?

"I need water," he finally told Donna, his tension fading once more.