Realistic or Modern Cities Never Sleep

[Qwertycakes]

MOOD: Flustered but mostly chill

OUTFIT:  Here

LOCATION: Wandering the streets, outskirts of the Industrial District

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:

Charlie doedeer

tags

TL;DR:

tl;dr

Dustin Thackery

All the best people have gone mad

"Spill it, I know you have a crush on Ashley. And don't even try to cover it up, it's plain to see." The accusation made Dustin blush profusely, and suddenly he was the one who was having a hard time maintaining eye contact. Pausing on his skateboard, he looked down at his feet, fumbling for a way to answer that didn't confirm anything. Yet he couldn't bring himself to outright deny it either. Charlie already told him that was a useless endeavor.

Did he have a crush on Ashley? Yes, he had a massive crush on Ashley, but that wasn't something he should ever share with anyone. What if Charlie ended up relaying the news to Ash? Not that he expected his friend to run out and deliberately betray his confidence. But things happen. Ash knowing about his crush would only make things weird between them, and the thought of losing her as a friend was devestating. Because there was no way Ash liked him back the way he liked her. Sure, they flirted and stuff. But he was strictly her goofy loser friend, and Ash was a gorgeous girl. School was just starting, her freshman year, and she was surely about to be swarmed with people that were interested in her. It'd be a miracle if she even remained friends with him til the end of the year.

Dustin lifted his gaze after taking a moment to compose himself, flashing an arch smirk smirk. "Why, you like her or something?" He deflected to hopefully fluster Charlie into breaking her quizzical stare, poking her gently in the shoulder.

"Hey, didn't you say you wanted to learn how to skateboard?" He asked suddenly, making a grab for her hands to drag her up onto the board. His friend had not, in fact, ever expressed that desire to him, not as far as he could recall. It was just a way to not only change the subject, but completely obliterate it by keeping Charlie's focus on maintaining her own balance instead of who he was crushing on. And to try to flirt with her at the same time, while he still could. Charlie was cute. Dustin reckoned she was also on the precipice right there with Ash. It was only a matter of time before her stock began to soar, and soon she'd be too pretty and cool to be seen with him anymore.

He pulled her up on the skateboard as he stepped down, still holding her hands to keep her steady. "Ready?" He asked, swinging her arms back and forth playfully, as she looked a tad bit unsure. "Don't worryyyy, I'm not gonna let you fall or anything," Dustin laughed, and promptly began to whip Charlie around in a slow circle, still holding onto her hands.

"Okay so, I'm gonna let you go now, and you just try to stay balanced" He joked, increasing his speed but still holding onto her hands. He wasn't about to actually let go and send the poor girl flying.

"Okay okay, I'm joking," Dustin snickered, slowing down to a stop. Quickly letting go of her hands to grab her by the waist when she lost her balance for a second and nearly toppled forward. "Okay yeah, I'm sorry. This isn't how you learn to skateboard," He chuckled, blushing a bit as he finally remembering to take his hands off her now that she was standing securely atop the board. "Uh, I can teach you for real if you want?" The curly-haired boy asked, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

code by valen t.

 

[doedeer]

charlie vodianova

♫/yam yam - no vacation/♫

mood

:'D

location

outskirts of industrial

oufit

tag

dustin Qwertycakes

charlie could count on dustin to deflect a charged question with a wisecrack. she furrowed her brows and returned his smirk with a gritted smile before turning away with a roll of eyes. he does, i know he does. making her own conclusion caused an anxious twist in her stomach.

before she could rebuttal the curly blonde was quick to distract her–coming up in front of charlie to guide her on his skateboard. she kept her eyes on her scuffed converse though–trying to keep a straight face as she balanced herself on the chipped wood. the act of skating wasn’t alien to her, but a skateboard sort of was. she’d spent a lot of her childhood riding a longboard, but it was bigger–wider in comparison to the skinny board. it dawned on her that drew–being the skater kid he always was–never even bothered to teach her such things. maybe once in elementary, she recalled, but only for a second before pushing her off out of his own impatience. there really was a difference. but she felt more silly than anything with the boy guiding her.

dustin moved to the side of her and took hold of her hands–the feeling of touch caused an immensity of fluster in her. if completely diverting her attention off his feelings for ashley was his goal, he’d accomplished this instantaneously in that moment.

as he sped up into a run, she felt her knees weaken–”oh my god–wait wait wait!!” she exclaimed in nervous laughs until he finally slowed down. she felt her body lean back at the break in momentum, but dustin was quick to save her from falling. “jesus..”

in her mind, the feeling of his hands transcended the thin fabric of cotton and she held her breath–anxiety doubling in her stomach but not in the same slight envy from before.

she exhaled when he finally let go. dustin!! !!!!aghhhh —keyboard smash of emotion ran it’s course for that small trice. feelings swelled inside her like a balloon about to pop. she wanted them to stop, but it just felt like driving fast through a street full of yellow lights. this boy was going to be the death of her–and she couldn’t let that happen.

he coyly asked her if she actually did want a lesson.

charlie sighed, hopping off the board to retie her shoe lace. she realized the sunset was nearly gone as a weak gust of warm wind passed through them. she paused for a second to finish as neatly as possible, but also to extend any amount of time she had away from the gaze set upon her. and not to make eye-contact just yet. her thoughts returned to their prior subject–dustin couldn’t escape it that easily.

neither could charlie, though. the subject seemed to always mar her mind these days.

the mousy girl sat on the pavement and looked up at him, looking slightly defeated. “you know… i won’t tell her. i just–like–wanna know.” she started. charlie realized this little comment sounded a bit suspicious. why would she want to know if she wasn’t going to tell ashley?

charlie grabbed a chunk of hair to play with–the nervous tick helping her deal with the matter at hand, her eyes narrowing in on the dying sky above them. “and besides, if you really do like her.. what’s so bad about making a little move?” she interjected before he could even answer–hoping to divert any skepticism her brain assumed dustin could muster.

“i could help you, you know.” charlie continued softly with a weak offer, feeling that anxiety well up again as she felt the twinge of a body that wanted to shake, but didn’t. did she really want to help?

of course.. why wouldn’t i?

dull pain. and guilt. useless feelings confused with shallow regret.

it was better this way. she wanted these butterflies to go away. what else was there to do? she decided in that moment that this was the route that best fit. the route that made sense.

she forced a cheeky grin at him, her eyes lighting up. “seems like you need a lot of it.”

tucked in her socks was the pack of cigarettes and baby blue lighter and the girl reached for them both–pressing the box against her lips the same way she’d seen drew do it all these years. lighting it swiftly, she realized she’d never smoked a cigarette in front of dustin. he’d probably seen the items tucked away, but smoking in front of him was going to be new. of all the things she usually cared about–in that moment she just didn’t.

acknowledgement to surrendering her feelings impromptu–she found it deserving to let herself go for a second. charlie wouldn’t flinch at the act anyhow. she took a puff and returned her attention to him with a grasp of more confidence–obscuring the thin film of anxiety that could have adverted their conversation entirely.

a childish smirk to throw his teasing back in his face. “oh–and to answer your question. you are showing me how to skate, but not before you fess up.”

the turn of events this last month was truly revealing a new person in charlie that was approaching fast. so fast she could barely acquiesce.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[doedeer]

jane müller

♫/c'mon - ke$ha /♫

mood

delighted, eager, happy

location

cave rave babyyy

oufit

tag

stella dear.szmm

“BABE. you look…” jane sparkled at the sight of her friend standing in front of the mirror in a jane-esque ensemble. it was a good thing they were similar shoe sizes. “--ADORABLE AHHHHHH” she squealed–though a bit offputting to stella’s body language of slight annoyance. jane could barely attend to that though–her attention was completely encaptured by her pride and affection for stella’s willingness to let her take over the fashion wheel.

“right–enough of this. let’s fucking go. give me that bag of pills. fuck it, bring the green too,”

“you got it!” jane swiftly threw both the tiny plastic of yellow smiley faces and silver weed tin in her star-printed satchel, matching stell’s impelling orders with dog-like obedience and a contended grin. no second thoughts of a bossy nature upon stella’s words–their dynamic worked this way often. jane was just happy to be apart of it all.

the now-towering girl stomped around the vicinity to gather the array of random essentials before their descent.

“jane.”

placing the last item and securing her bag, she looked up.

"thank you, and i love you, and if at any moment you see me and think i look sober–i want you to give me two pills and light me a spliff. got it? i do not want to have one single thought this evening, capisce?”

jane beamed at her endearing, yet austere choice of words. after stella’s forehead kiss, she grasped the curly-haired girl in a firm hug before gripping her shoulders. “stells–we’re about to get intensely belligerent… if my name isn’t jane–” she grinned as she raised her voice, slipping the big blue-tinted glasses off her head and sloppy onto her eyes in comicality, –”fuckin’ müller!”

the two made their way into her car and spent the whole drive blasting ke$ha’s new album–jane’s current obsession–and passing a messily rolled joint back and forth.

“i thiiiiink we’re here..” jane said coughing at the last joint puff before throwing it out the window to park her car inbetween two other sedans on the clearing.

“ok ok.. for now…” she fumbled in her satchel for the bag of mdma and broke a smiley in half for the two of them to take, “--just to start the night off.” they were two small girls–a whole all at once would put their hearts into overdrive, but surely if the night was going the way jane envisioned? that tiny plastic bag would be empty in about a couple hours TOPS.

after they took it with a swig of cherry nip–the two were out of the car and practically jogging through the sand and into the lit-up cave that seemed to already be brimming with dancing bodies.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */
© weldherwings.

 

[Qwertycakes]

MOOD: Wary

OUTFIT: Here

LOCATION: The Playpen

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:

Oliver Chimney Swift

tags

TL;DR:

tl;dr

Kaz Milyukov

You want it, you take it
You take it, you got it

"Krasivoye," Kaz said softly with a grin as the toddler on his lap held up her masterpiece of scribbles, pulling the child close to cuddle her. He dropped a kiss upon her soft brown hair before placing her down gently, and the little girl scampered off to retreive her juice box amongst the pile of scribbled-on papers and crayons that littered the concrete floor. The dark-haired fellow then stood from the desk himself to stretch and pace idly while he continued his phonecall, speaking Russian into a burner phone.

The Playpen was quiet, no customers currently milling around or asking for a viewing booth, which wasn't the least bit unusual for this time of day. Upon hearing the sudden jingle of the door, Kaz peeked out curiously from the back room to see who'd entered. Continuing to speak but only half paying attention to the conversation as he watched what looked like a middle school-age child walk into the shop.

His attention was momentarily drawn away away from the kid, however, when he caught a glimpse of Katinka in his periphery getting ready to draw on the wall. Kaz snapped his fingers a couple of times to get his daughter's attention, the sudden sharp sound making the guilty child look up sheepishly. "NYET," He said firmly with a stern look to match and a quick shake of his head. It was enough to make the toddler abort the attempt and go back to her coloring and animal crackers, plopping back down on the floor to continue her scribbling.

Elizaveta calling him from the cashwrap made Kaz peek once again out the open door, bidding the other party a hasty farewell before hanging up the call. "Whatta ya need, my love?" He turned to make sure Katinka was still safely coloring in the back room before strolling up Veta, covertly palming her behind as he glanced over her shoulder at the kid on the other side of the counter. Veta promptly filled him in on the request with a smirk, clearly glad to pawn the annoyance off on Kaz.

He looked over the kid with narrowed eyes, about to tell him to get lost. This was obviously not a cop, and sure, Kaz sometimes provided guns to those wishing to avoid the red tape and background checks needed to obtain one legally in the state of Washington. But he didn't have much use for fucking around with selling knives; the demand just wasn't there. Still, that didn't mean he didn't have any knives handy. And perhaps it was his dejected look or the bruises and scrapes that covered him, but something about the boy made Kaz reluctant to turn him away.

"Come with me," He commanded, motioning for the boy to follow him behind the counter to the back room. Sharing a quick glance with Veta that silently bid her to stay close to the open door, as if to say keep your eye on this kid, in case he tries anything. Kaz led him to the back room where the toddler glanced up from her crayons, big blue eyes studying the new arrival curiously. Her father still looking casual as ever, not even having the decency to register an ounce of shame for having a child here in the back room of an adult shop. He always argued to anyone that might object, mostly fussy mother hen types like his brother Alexei, that Tink's innocent eyes weren't seeing anything unseemly. All that stuff was back in the peep show booths, and Kaz would never give it away for free by allowing any of the girls to prance around the sales floor undressed. Plus she was strictly confined to the back room, not allowed to run amok and play with the merchandise. And if she happened to catch a glimpse of any toys from afar? Well, she wouldn't understand what any of it was or its purpose anyway, so no harm done.

"What's your name, kid?" Once in the back room, Kaz eyed the lad with arms crossed standoffishly to question him before he himself made a move to show off any wares. "And what's the knife for? You just get mugged?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, throwing a nod back towards the disheveled boy to acknowledge his injuries.

code by valen t.

 

[Chimney Swift]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood nervous

location The Playpen

outfit probably overheating

fun fact The most endangered sea turtle is the Kemp's Ridley. Only about 7,000 to 9,000 nesting females exist.

tag Qwertycakes

Oliver Dreyfuss

/* ------ right side ------ */

Once directed to do so, Oliver followed the tall broad-shouldered young man to the back room, keeping a cautious pace behind as if he were a bit afraid that he was going to get jumped as soon as the door shut behind them. They weren't alone in this room, however– Oliver quickly caught sight of the toddler coloring in the corner and narrowed his eyes, recoiling a bit.

He could feel his blood turning cold, a chill running down his back that seemed to warn him that this wasn't a place he was supposed to be. But where else was he supposed to go? He couldn't just go back home tonight after the trouble he'd gotten into, and he wasn't going to risk sleeping outside in the park with no knife. He wasn't going to be leaving this place until he got what he needed.

How was he even going to pay for this? He only had $10 to his name... he might have to end up scrounging up a bit of extra cash for this, probably by way of doing something illegal. This man didn't seem like someone Oliver would want to be in debt to.

"What's your name, kid?" Kaz's first question went unanswered for a few seconds, as Oliver looked a bit startled to have been asked such a thing and couldn't bring himself to speak up right away. "And what's the knife for? You just get mugged?"

That was 3 questions. Oliver didn't do well with answering multiple questions at once. He was visibly taken aback and overwhelmed, staring off into space and anxiously tugging at a lock of his hair.

"No." He said flatly, not looking up and offering no counter-explanation. He didn't know why Kaz would assume that he'd been mugged, nor did he realize that Kaz had noticed the bruises and scratches, though one would have to be at least half blind to have missed them: the boy looked as though he'd been mauled by animals. "The knife is f-… th-the knife is for me. I… I need it. Something I can hide, like… I had a small sw-switch. Like this." He gestured vaguely, trying to convey the proportions of the blade that had been stolen from him. It came to light then that Oliver didn't really understand the questions Kaz was actually asking or why they had been asked, but he continued on, afraid of what would happen if he fell short in his answers.

He'd already gotten into physical altercations with two different people today, and he didn't know if he'd survive a third. This had to go off without a hitch.

"And… I'm Oliver. Oliver Ferris Dreyfuss." He smiled, a slightly lopsided and gap-toothed grin that seemed oddly genuine for how clearly uncomfortable he was. "So wh-what do you have?"

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[dear.szmm]

stella

filler

filler

filler

filler

filler

filler

• .
• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

• home (filler tab)
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  mood

  
  
  

  comin up

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  

  outfit

  click

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
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  location

  
  
  

  cave rave

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  interactions

  
  
  

  jane, river

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• 
  

  
  

  
  
  

  tags

  
  
  

  doedeer qunqun

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• home (filler tab)

CBAT

Stella could have sworn the cave was shaking as they slipped through the crowd of ravers. Strobes and lasers flooded her senses, blurring slightly under the effect of the molly. Jane was more sensible than her – Stella would have taken a whole one, if not more, and just dealt with whatever hellish consequence came her way. Jane knew better, of course. Stella did too, but cared less for the repercussions.

She was halfway through the crowd when she sparked up another joint, turning behind to pass it to Jane, though Jane was nowhere to be seen. She contently stuck the lit joint back between her own lips. She didn’t panic - it was rare for the two of them not to get distracted or separated at some point during these events. Jane’s motivation for the possibility of little green men descending on the planet had clearly piqued her curiosity.

Coop was here somewhere. That piqued Stella’s interest. She knew things weren’t good between him and Silv, which wasn’t anything to celebrate by any means; Stella also considered Silvana a friend, but never quite understood their relationship. She knew Silv had taken Coop’s priority, so maybe the relief came from knowing that there was one less distraction between the two of them. Cooper seemed kinder, more interested, when she wasn’t around. Maybe Stella’s luck was turning around.

Every face she saw in the crowd seemed to get younger and younger. Fuck, where were their parents? These kids needed fucking leashes. Some of them looked like they’d seen better days – ah, she remembered the first time she tried ket too. They just needed some words of encouragement and another hit; that’d sort them out.

“Coop!” she yelled out suddenly, spotting the unmissable blond stumbling around the outer edges of the dancers. She tried pushing her way through to him, but within seconds he was gone again.

What was his game plan? Just fuck her around some more, lead her on a wild goose chase before finally submitting to – what? Another casual encounter, before being turfed back out before morning? She’d even gotten her fucking hopes up. Well, fuck that and fuck him.

She turned back the way she came, suddenly colliding chest-to-chest with another body.

“Excuse me, watch your fucking ssst-”

Stella looked up and down at the person in front of her. They were tall, with slick black hair and the sharpest cheekbones she had ever seen. Very interesting.

“It’s River, isn’t it?” she recanted, her tone changing significantly. “The one against encouraging minors to take drugs? That could’ve been funny, y’know.”

She nodded her head a little to the beat of the track blaring overheard, leaning in to River to make herself heard.

“You come for a dance, or what?”

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Qwertycakes]

MOOD: Curious, concerned

OUTFIT: A perfectly pressed official Joplin issue police uniform

LOCATION: On patrol

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:

Trevor thorspuddingcup
Alex Chimney Swift
Kenzie neverbackdown

tags

TL;DR:

tl;dr

Wolf Thackery

There's a reason people die out here

"Whatcha got there, Trev?" Wolf asked curiously, trying to casually peek over his shoulder at the bag Trevor was examining. He fastened the last button on his own Joplin police uniform shirt, flashing a grin as the fellow officer whirled around to face him.

"Just the guy I wanted to see. We got patrol duty together. That your collar, by the way? The uh...public defecator?" Wolf asked, throwing a nod at the door to indicate he meant the homeless man Trevor had arrested earlier. "You gonna let him go before we leave? I doubt he can get anyone to bail him out," He continued thoughtfully, brows furrowed in a way that fully broadcasted his empathy for the poor schmuck.

Wolf tapped away at his cellphone in the squad car as Trevor drove, messaging his sister, Hannah, to nag her ask her politely to take Benji out for a walk later. Wondering if she was already out for the night, if she'd indeed gone to that rave thing out by the meteor crash site. The chief, nor any of their superiors really seemed too concerned with breaking that thing up, even though it was clearly a dangerous situation. Youths running amok, getting drunk, probably taking all kinds of drugs.

Not that Wolf was in any rush to ruin their fun; he himself probably would have been the first one out there in his high school years. But the thought of it now just gave him an uneasy feeling, to simply sit back and let this go on when so many disasters could come of it. Then after tragedy strikes, everyone will be wringing their hands, wondering how this could have happened. Such was life in the backwards ass city of Joplin.

He snapped out of his thoughts just as Trevor pulled into a gas station, mentioning the need to fill up. Wolf stepped out of the car as well, perhaps he'd grab a coffee or something. That was half the job anyway--well, on most normal nights, when town-wide illegal outdoor raves weren't happening. Loitering around convenience stores or wherever, killing time when there wasn't much going on.

Someone shouting nearby caught his attention, however, and the officer turned around to spot a teenage boy falling to his knees in distress. A girl that appeared to be about his age was trying to comfort him, though she looked confused and increasingly bewildered herself. She kept glancing frantically between the other kid and the busy road, cars whizzing by beside them.

"Everything okay here?" Wolf asked, concern painted across his face as he ambled over to the pair. Now up close, it struck him just how familiar the brunette girl looked, though he couldn't quite place where he knew her from.

code by valen t.

 

[neverbackdown]

scroll

The Rebel

Kenzie

mood

Have rathered a murderer please

outfit

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/5e/a5/4d/5ea54dc11a9d86764a7e9f584cc34d60.jpg

location

Fucked if I know

interactions

Mentions: Mateo
With: Alex and Wolf

tags

purplecowdutch
With: Chimney Swift Qwertycakes thorspuddingcup

Kenzie wondered how long they had been tripping for, she knew that shrooms lasted hours but she wasn't sure how much longer this was meant to go on for. Now, don't get her wrong she was definitely enjoying it but being able to actually see objects rather than moving and swirling blurs would a plus right now, especially since they needed to get Alex's bag. Kenzie bit her lips in thought as she tried to figure out who they could get to bring the bag here, her and Mateo were on ok terms now but she didn't even know if he was at the rave, she hadn't seen him, actually she didn't remember seeing anyone. In fairness they had spent their entire time there in a hole, a small giggle escaped her lips as she thought about the chats in the hole, it was a much more peaceful time .. .why did they ever leave the safety of their hole? That was a rookie mistake.

"Right maybe we could...." Kenzie was interrupted by a voice looming over them and she looked at Alex with wide eyes, almost frozen in place as the fear rippled through her body, was this how they were going to die? Was this person going to murder them, would they end up as a missing poster on a milk carton?. Kenzie blinked as she tried to clear her ramblings thoughts, she did not need to go down this rabbit hole right now, before slowly lifting her head to look at the man in question, who she noticed was in a very recognizable blue uniform. Kenzie internally groaned as she realised the situation they were now in, this was worse than a murdering psychopath this was the cops.

"All's good Officer, thank you" Kenzie smiled brightly trying to wipe any remnants of how high she currently was off her face. She subtly nudged Alex hoping he would get the message to try act normal in this situation, the last thing they needed was the cops realising they were on drugs. Little did Kenzie know that this message was written loud and clear on both their faces, eyes like saucers and no matter how hard they tried, the look of amusement and bewilderment would not be hidden. They needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.

"We better get going, but thanks Officer". Kenzie gave Alex a stern look as she said this, trying to convey the message that they needed to leave without raising any more suspicion. Kenzie rocked back onto heels before standing up slowly, she reached down to help Alex up but the sudden movement caused her to become dizzy and she stumbled nearly falling back down onto her friend. "Shit" she muttered quietly, she had fucked it.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Chimney Swift]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood out of it

location very busy street

outfit low budget party fit

fun fact Public intoxication is in fact not legal

tag neverbackdown Qwertycakes

Alex Cappelletti

/* ------ right side ------ */

Luckily, someone noticed the two stranded teenagers flopping about dangerously close to a busy intersection. Help had arrived, and time would only tell if they'd be sober enough to accept it.
Already, though, things looked a bit grim.

"Everything okay here?"
At first, Alex didn't realize that the man who'd just stepped out of a police cruiser and walked over to them was a cop. His vision was tilting and swirling with shades of yellow and brown and green, making it seem as though it could be anyone who approached the two of them. But whoever it was, he wanted to help... and oh boy, did Alex have the dilemma of the century on his hands. "I lost my Capri-Suns, man..." Alex lamented, slurring his words a bit as he dizzily leaned forward onto his elbow, "and there's no going back because... because bro, the bees are gonna get 'em. We're gonna go back to the beach and they're just going to be FILLED with BEES--" He went to bury his face in his hands, as if to sob, but seemed to forget one of his arms was a prosthetic and nearly hooked his own eye out. "OUCH! IT BIT ME!" Suddenly in a panic, he yanked the prosthetic from its attachments and threw it down, where it bounced lifelessly onto the curb.

"We better get going, but thanks Officer". Kenzie tried and failed to help Alex off the sidewalk, to which she nearly toppled over him and he melodramatically flopped backwards onto the pavement, rolling limply side to side. The gravelly feel of the concrete beneath him seemed to melt and become softer after a while, like it was inviting him to stay. It was nice. Maybe he could just live here or something. "Nooooo, we're good. We're fine. We're gucci. Thanks though, Office Man."

The stars swirled overhead, as if being stirred like soup. It seemed to be a totally different sky he was looking up at now, nothing like the one he'd seen before with Kenzie when they were lying in the crater. Had the sky somehow been swapped out and replaced while they weren't looking? The thought filled him with unspeakable dread. "We're gucci." He repeated, less sure of himself this time. "You guys should lie down with me. We save blood this way."

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[thorspuddingcup]

Trevor Tate​

Startled by Wolf's sudden appearance, Trevor hastily put the baggy of goods into his pocket as he turned around. "Getting bad headaches again, Reuben left some pain pills in my locker for me." Trevor patted his pocket for emphasis. Someone hiding drugs wouldn't just bring attention to the goods, would they? It seemed like Wolf's mother had named him well, since he kept sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Like some kind of fucking hound.

Wolf brought his attention to the homeless man Trevor had just brought in. Considering Trevor was going to have to spend a good amount of time with Officer Goody Two Shoe's, he decided he would let the man go. Just so he didn't have Wolf nagging him about it all night. "Yeah, I'll meet you at my car after I get that squared away." Trevor checked to make sure he had his police essentials on him before going back to the officer he had just handed the homeless guy over to. "Hey, just keep him for an hour or two and then let him go. Enough to make him learn his lesson" Trevor didn't wait for an answer, he just walked out of the precinct and slid into the drivers seat of his squad car.

The two officers drove in silence. Wolf was texting somebody, and to be honest Trevor was insanely curious who he could be talking to. Did Wolf have a girl? Fuck, if he did then Trevor needed to step up his game. When was the last time Trevor had even been with a woman? Too long. Far too long.

"Hey I gotta gas up real quick." Trevor told Wolf as he pulled up to a gas pump. Wolf got out of the car, and Trevor began filling the tank. He scrolled through his social media, looking at the pictures of hot girls in bikini's that graced his Twitter feed. Saving a few of them to his phone for some private time later. The pump stopped, and Trevor put his phone back in his pocket and replaced the handle. Turning around, Wolf was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he went in to get a drink? Use the bathroom? Fuck, poor bastard. That bathroom was probably ground zero for the next great plague.

"Everything okay here?" That was Wolf's voice. Locking the car, Trevor made his way towards the side of the busy roadway. Two teenagers were in front of them, with the boy going on very loudly about bees. There were no bees to be seen, and Trevor watched as the boy wacked himself with his fake arm and the girl (very, very pretty girl at that) promptly fell forwards. Trevor let out a low whistle as he watched the kids absolutely fall apart before him.


"Everything seems fine when your high as hell." Trevor said. "Which the two of you most certainly are." Watching the two Trevor made a mental note that he would stay away from harder drugs. Watching the boy going on about juice and blood and bees was a good little warning about the weird shit that could go down.

Gently, but firmly, Trevor grabbed Kenzie's arm and slowly brought her to her feet. "Why don't the two of you ride the rest of this out in the back of our car, and then we can tell you parent's all about it later. Sound good?"

Location: On Patrol
Tags: Chimney Swift , neverbackdown , Qwertycakes​

 

[Qwertycakes]

MOOD: Hyper, pumped, nervous

OUTFIT: Missing the mark but still ready to party

LOCATION: THE RAVE CAVE

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:

Leah tamarapasek
Teo weldherwings
Mateo purplecowdutch

tags

TL;DR: Cave rave!!

tl;dr

Jenelle Kennedy

Let us be young, let us be wild
until the summer's over

Jenny threw her arms around Leah with a little squeal of excitement when her friend agreed to hang out with Teo and get a personal lesson on how to smoke weed. "You're the best!" She gave the blonde girl a squeeze, an extra hug in gratitude when she offered to pay. "Thank you, sir," Jenny giggled as she perched daintily on the rock the older boy told her to sit on.

Teo turned out to be a great teacher, as it wasn't long before Jenelle was stoned as hell and cackling at nothing. Her first time in such a condition, and it seemed all the girl's inhibitions had completely left the planet. "Thanks again for the lesson, ah...Mystery Man," Jenny purred flirtatiously at Teo with a casual toss of her copper hair. "Sooo do you have a girlfriend?"

She didn't even give the fellow a chance to answer, however, when she suddenly hopped up from her rock and took off running. A short distance away, Mateo Milyukov was trudging through the sand, a tad bit unsteady on his feet, as he'd no doubt just left the debauchery of the rave cave.

"Matty!" Jenny squealed as she caught up and flung her arms around him with such force that she knocked Mateo straight into the sand, toppling down on top of him. "Hii!!" The redhead giggled wildly and kissed the boy's cheek in greeting before she sat up, straddling his hips so he was still pinned beneath her. "Caught you!"

code by valen t.

 

[Qwertycakes]

MOOD: Tipsy

OUTFIT: Here

LOCATION: Rave Cave

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:

Leah tamarapasek

tags

TL;DR:

tl;dr

DJ Starr

You're the one thing I don't hate

"Yeah, later," The boy grumbled as Scotty waved goodbye and took his leave, heading back to catch a bus bound for the Industrial District. DJ wasn't annoyed his mother's dweeby cousin had ditched him to go meet up with a girl, even after he'd gone out of his way to invite the dork to this cave rave thing. DJ was fine walking the rest of the way by himself. It gave him a chance to think, even though his pregaming had left him so tipsy his brain now felt like static on an old TV screen.

As his phone chirped with an incoming message, DJ grinned seeing it was Leah. Her third or so message urging him to hurry up and get there. It wasn't like he had to wonder what her true intentions were, his friend had made it quite clear she wanted to hook up. That was nothing new, really. It was always more of a long-standing, open invitation with Leah. Since they were in elementary school, she was never shy about letting the boy know she had feelings for him.

Even if they fooled around here and there, his subconscious kept Leah at arm's length. It was so stupid; if he was a sensible person, he would have just asked Leah to be his girlfriend a long time ago. It wasn't as if he didn't have feelings for the beautiful blonde. He did, and it was actually kind of scary to think about just how deep they ran. So he preferred not to. And it was easy for him; even at such a young age, his heart was tucked safely behind bulletproof glass. Because nothing good could come of handing it over unprotected, even to someone as perfect as Leah. His own father couldn't even love him, so what would make him think anyone else could?

DJ broke into a light jog crossing the beach, though he quickly realized galloping over sand wasn't the easiest thing to do in his condition. He'd caught sight of Leah, who was luckily still outside the cave, and trotted towards her as she got up from the rock she was perched on to follow dutifully after her best friend. The girls were with Teo, a fellow delivery boy, another kid that did small-time jobs for the Bratva. DJ regarded the platinum-haired young man with a slight nod as he approached the group.

Jenny clearly had her own agenda though, and DJ watched as she suddenly took off running at an unsuspecting Mateo Milyukov and tackled him to the ground in the most aggressive cuddle he'd seen in a while. How did Mateo get so many girls? Mallory put him at the top of her "hot guy" list, Kenzie obviously wanted him enough to fuck Drew over for him. He was such a tool, but here was Jenny literally throwing herself at him too. Leah had never seemed interested in him before, and she certainly wasn't making a beeline for him now that her friend had claimed him for the night. Honestly, it only made her more appealing in that moment.

As he caught up to Leah, the boy slipped his arms around her, hugging her from behind. "Oh look, my favorite Leanna," DJ remarked as she whirled around to face him, catching her lips in a quick kiss as she did so. "Come on, Jenny's busy. Let's go....somewhere we can make out," He smirked, leaning in to kiss her once again before she could give an answer.

code by valen t.

 

[Gao]

• .
• .

• 
  
  
  

  Cave-Rave

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  LOSE YOUR SOUL

  
  
  
  

  Dead Man's Bones

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  These days, knowing more makes you more miserable.

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  Axel the Dad actually listened to Rat’s demand.
  
  Why would anyone do that.
  
  Most worth their salt (and mental capacity) would scoff in dismissal to anything that spilled from the rodent's chatty maw. Have enough rationale to walk away after the first, second, third nickname. Maybe call a psychiatric ward in question of weird blonde escapees.
  
  Steeped in perpetual plaintivity, Axel committed naught. Only furthering the path of growing chaos by actually listening to Rat’s idea: get up on the stage.
  
  As to what compelled such an order, two reasons:
  
  One. If anyone had any physical qualms about Rat going up there, even a gentle breeze would’ve flung the blonde into the abyss. Nobody was going to go up against the staunch silhouette of Dad in a funereal ambience. A pair of rhinoceros arms deterred most.
  
  Two. Not only an advantage of height, but the draw of attention towards the stage won the faces of many. Turned heads, equal portions curious and wary the robust man was about to leap and flatten the crowd.
  
  And an undisclosed third reason:
  
  It was funny.
  
  Axel holding centre, intensely dismal and cut with a bedlam halo of colourful rave lighting. Looking as if he’d prefer to be anywhere but here, Rat struggled to stifle down the evil bubble of amusement that was brimming in a wide smile.
  
  “Righto Marcy Moo, don’t be droppin’ me nows! Dainty as a feather, Ratalie be.” Taking their hand for assistance, an unheard, “wee!” —was drowned by torrential rave music during the ascension to the stage. Footing found next to Axel and gaze intent, once again the blonde took note of their weird combination.
  
  “Gods, lookin’ like child grabbers, we is.” Human-trafficking vibes. One scrawny harmless (dainty as a feather!) thing to provoke pity from unsuspecting victims, one all muscle and meat to grab and sequester them into a van. They best not make a habit of finding each other’s shady company.
  
  And speaking of shady company—
  
  “There!” A squawk, one hand grabbing Alex’s shoulder like a naily parrot foot, the other pointed over the crowd at the very source of all this ire. Hustled closer to the edge, a short figure drowning in a leather jacket, the spike of a faux hawk turned away to speak with a tag team of fellow ragamuffins.
  
  And, god forbid, perched in their twelve-year-old hand: a red cup.
  
  Rat thought his heart might give out then and there.
  
  Fuelled by annoyed spite, eyes narrowed into serrated sea shoals and slid to Axel.
  
  “You.” A gleam of something malignant, as always. “Mommy Marcy. Do sweet little Rat a favor, nyes?” Voiced happy, talon fingers once grabbing the poor man by the shoulder now gave it a nice encouraging pat.
  
  “Grab the kid and drag him outside. It’ll scare the little twerp from doing this again.”
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  DO MY EVIL BIDDING

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  Lazy

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  Axel !

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  Twin Fantasy !

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  Rat

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

@RodeoRat

9 minutes ago

nine lives

 

[Chimney Swift]

SEPTEMBER

s

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t

f

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4

5

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Today

Opening Night!

get ready bitches

Notes

CAROL'S STUPID PLAY
All call 4:30 PM for final dress, show starts 6 PM

Shopping list
Tickets ($7)

10 September 2013

It's no secret that Marsha J. Clark High School has a bit of a discipline problem.
The students of this underfunded public school are always getting caught smoking in the bathrooms, hiding pills in their lockers, trying to sneak alcohol into their water bottles, and smuggling just about every substance known to man into their classes right under their teacher's noses.

Principal Kozlowski knows as well as anyone that expelling all these students or reporting to the authorities will just empty out the classrooms, so usually drug-related offenses are treated rather lightly: with a few week's detention... or perhaps suspension and a recommendation of rehab at the worst.

But Carol Harris, local church mom, had other plans. With the help of a few of her fellow Christian lady friends, she penned a script for a 40-minute long dramatic play replete with absurd characters, nonfunctional plots, inexplicable rapping, and lots of not-so-subtle religious allegory. After sharing it with the principal and school guidance counselors, they launched an ambitious project to force all the "problem students" to give acting a go.

The idea was that it would give the kids an emotional outlet for their various drug-related traumas while also giving the public an eye-opening testimony to the tragedies affecting the youth of Joplin, but Carol's clunky Bible-laden script and the actors' absolute refusal to unlock their inner thespians, what resulted was something more like Reefer Madness than Trainspotters.

After 4 weeks of grueling rehearsals, the finished product of Finding Grace is ready to hit the stage. The cast is already sick of it, the crew is exhausted, and the audience is blindly unaware of what kind of nonsense they're about to witness.

Raise the curtains, folks. The show must go on.

Joplin News

Local news radio reports on local high school students' dramatic production on preserving faith and community despite the drug crisis. Stay tuned for interview with Sheriff's wife Carol Harris...

Joplin

55°

Cloudy
65 / 49 ° F

Breaking news

DNA Evidence Found Inconclusive
DNA evidence thought to be linked to a series of Washington murders fails to narrow down a suspect ... read more

marfgin:

FINDING GRACE

At Marsha J Clark High, 9/10

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

weldherwings Gao temporarybliss thorspuddingcup dear.szmm tamarapasek Qwertycakes neverbackdown floralmoon qunqun doedeer Twin Fantasy purplecowdutch roxybirdie Miaow TheVoidQueen Nightmarish honeycomb q r o w lion. sunnieside

 

[qunqun]

Modern Day Cain

idkhow

River Malkav

• aaaaaa
• aaaa

• .
• 
  

  incoming message!

  
  
  

  
  

  Mood greetings o your visage is but a vision from Aphrodite
  
  Location Dionysian Delights
  
  
  
  
  
  
  tag

  
  

  dear.szmm
  
  
  
  outfit

  
  
  
  

River, despite their more eccentric moments, was a people person. A person born for the stage with dramatic flairs and an eye for the spotlight. That was just what they were, and it wasn’t any use in trying to be something that they weren’t.

So instead, they went to parties and got drunk and hung out with a bunch of hyped up idiots. After all, when people were high, they usually found River’s antics far more amusing than when people were sober.

So, that is what they were doing, floating from one friend group to another, dancing with some people, playing beer pong. All the types of things that you do at these parties to have a good time. Floating about and not really caring about life’s deep dark secrets. Eavesdropping and watching who was hooking up with who. What fights were breaking out. Little morsels of information that would be key to fun little bouts of gossip late at night.

And then they ran smack into a woman.

There was a head tilt. A blink. A stare. The slow spread of a smile with far too many teeth, but at the same time was far too authentic to be faked. Creepy.

“Greetings, dear.” They said, another slow blink of smokey eyes. They’d put far too much effort into this makeup, thank you. “How goes the Dionysian party?”

They’d always had a flair for the dramatic turn of phrase. Though, she responded with much more aggression than the ever passive and calm River could. It just wasn’t in their style to be like that.

“The struggles of youth… There are plenty of examples of such mistakes around, why not observe them instead?” But instead, this was brushed over by an invitation to dance. Another creepy too many teeth smile.

The grasp of her hands with rougher calloused ones, a surprisingly gentle way. “If the lady would wish to dance, than dance we shall.”

Ballroom dancing to club music, perhaps not the best of decisions, but somehow between complicated footwork and a willingness to stumble into fellow drunk partygoers, River made it work. At the very least, perhaps making Stella regret her decisions to invite a mad man to dance.

And so, River bent her over, murky eyes fluttering about her face, and gave her a little peck on the nose. "Lovely dance, dear." And released her back into the wilds of the throngs of people.

Let her meet them halfway.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[neverbackdown]

scroll

The Rebel

Kenzie

mood

Have rathered a murderer please

outfit

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/5e/a5/4d/5ea54dc11a9d86764a7e9f584cc34d60.jpg

location

Fucked if I know

interactions

Mentions: Mateo

With: Alex and Wolf

tags

purplecowdutch

With: Chimney Swift Qwertycakes thorspuddingcup

Kenzie watched as Alex rapidly began to lose his mind, her eyes wide as she listened to him ramble about bees in his juice. Was she beginning to sober up or was he deteorating quickly? One look at the road and the blurring lights of the passing cars confirmed she definitely wasn't sober and just in perfect time to confirm that fact to herself, Kenzie hit the ground head first when trying to grab Alex.

She couldn't help the amused smirk that crossed her lips as Alex suggested the cops lie down with them, her fear of the current situation hidden with the amusement she was now experiencing.

She felt someone grab her arm and lift her and turned to fact them with a raised eyebrow. She pouted her lips for a slight second as she took in the cops features, he was cute, very cute , they both were in fairness and ... Kenzie squeezed her eyes shut for a second trying to shut the thought out of her mind, they might be good looking but Kenzie needed to remember that they were cops and she was also a teenager. But they were ... No , she could not go down this rabbit hole now, she needed to get her and Alex out of this situation and the mention of parents pulled her straight back to reality.

She bit her lip in thought for a second as she tried to figure out how they could get out of here, Alex couldn't run right now but maybe she could get away. Although she couldn't leave Alex alone right now either and would not leave him with the cops in any event, after all she was the reason he was this fucked up.

"How about I take my friend home and you's forget you ever saw us?" Kenzie said with a smile playing on lips, a tone of innocence dripping from her voice.

"Ive got this" she assured them confidently as she shook her arm out of the man's grip and moved forward to get Alex to his feet "c'mon get up"

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[qunqun]

Tw: Suicidal thoughts, mentions of a suicide attempt, self-hatred, death of a sibling​

Ship In A Bottle

fin

Graham Byrne

• aaaaaa
• aaaa

• .
• 
  

  incoming message!

  
  
  

  
  

  Mood
  
  Location Hospital
  
  
  
  
  
  
  tag

  
  

  floralmoon
  
  
  
  outfit

  
  
  
  

The magic was broken. And maybe this was something good. It was good that the spell had been broken. The words bubbling to his lips, the quiet admittance that maybe he wasn’t okay. Because that required vulnerability. And the last time he’d unloaded his feelings onto someone it had been Aoife. And Aoife was dead.

She was dead.

What else was there to say?

She was dead and she was gone and she was never going to come back.

And nobody was ever going care like she did. He was never going to have such a bond with someone, how could he? She’d shared a womb with him, shared a life with him. Graham was just… going to have to live out his life as a man torn directly in half.

That was all.

And it was better to not burden any of his problems onto an 18 year old. Because Abi wasn’t Aoife. He wasn’t dealing with an equal. He was dealing with an 18 year old who wanted to go star gazing and have a nice time and not deal with his internal fucked up bullshit. And that may have sounded mean or rude, but that was the fact.

Abi wasn’t going to tell anything about her life, of which he was sure there was something. Graham wasn’t going to tell her about his. That was the equal exchange, and that was all that it had to be.

It could be simple. Their relationship – sibling like by nature – was going to be simple.

Simple.

Graham smiled as he sat up, starting to dust grass and dirt off of himself. “Yeah. That sounds good, lass, you have any suggestions?”

And so they had dinner.

And Graham drove her home.

—----------------------------------------------------

Graham woke up feeling like shit.

But most days he felt like shit, if he was being completely honest with himself.

Most days, he tried to drink until he could forget about his entire self.

He hated his act that he’d put on, he hated his obsession with his looks, he hated his sarcasm, he hated his propensity for shallow relationships, he hated his cowardice, he hated his entire being so thoroughly that it was really all he could do to numb out the tiny voice in his head that spewed nothing but hate.

He really fucking hated himself.

But more than anything, he hated that he was still breathing in a shite half-alive existence with nothing but a hollow empty void inside that he was desperately trying to fill.

To live, he’d had to give up his entire life purpose and his goal and his confidante and his sister and his best friend all in one.

She’d begged him to. Screamed at him to leave her behind.

It’d been her dying wish.

He hated that she still got her way even when she was layered in dirt and eaten by worms and foxes. He hated that she still won out even though his greatest wish in life was to stop it all.

So maybe, he acted upon that wish.

Just a little bit.

Tried to be selfish for once in his life.

But life was cruel, and even though he shouldn’t have, Graham woke up.

In the hospital.

Fuck his life.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Qwertycakes]

MOOD: Wary

OUTFIT: Here

LOCATION: The Playpen

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:

Oliver Chimney Swift

tags

TL;DR:

tl;dr

Kaz Milyukov

You want it, you take it
You take it, you got it

Kaz blinked, slightly puzzled as he watched Oliver tug on his own hair instead of answering at first. This lad was either high on meth or...had some other issue, Kaz reckoned. He just didn't seem to have the same cracked out energy as a tweaker. Credit where due though, the kid had balls to waltz into a mafia-run adult shop for this purpose, considering how terrified he looked to be there.

Kaz wasn't exactly known for being the empathetic type, but he couldn't help feeling for this poor bedraggled and beaten down little creature. Perhaps needy kids could tug on his heartstrings a bit easier these days since becoming a father himself, or maybe he was just getting soft in his old age. Either way, the urge to help the boy nagged at him no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

"How much money ya got?" The young man asked as he turned from Oliver, stepping towards the steel door on the other side of the room. After quickly punching the code into the keypad beside it, the door beeped and Kaz pulled it open to step inside the darkened room.

Katinka was still watching Oliver curiously, and since he didn't seem to be going anywhere just yet, the child stood to get a better look. Being a friendly little thing, the toddler offered a shy smile and held the small box of animal crackers up to the twitchy kid to offer him some.

"That's Katinka," Kaz returned from the connecting room, pulling the heavy door shut behind him. He smiled adoringly at his daughter, ruffling her dark hair as he approached. "She won't bite you. Probably," He joked, noticing how wary Oliver seemed of the younger child.

"Sounds like you could use some cash," He remarked casually, a delayed reaction to Oliver's claim he only had $10 to his name. "Tell ya what, I'll give you this for free...if you come back tomorrow and do a little job for me," Kaz offered as he held up the knife, a brand new switchblade with a black handle. He flipped the blade open to show him it worked, closing it up securely again before tossing it to the boy. "Here. You look like you need it now."

"Now scram, before some asshole sees a kid in my shop and reports me," Kaz added gruffly, nodding his chin toward the back room's only exit, the same door Oliver had come in through.

code by valen t.

 

[weldherwings]

mary jones

• aaaaaa
• aaaa

• .
• 
  

  incoming message!

  
  
  

  
  

  Mood whyyy!! whhyyyyy with josh!!!!
  
  Location Getting ready for the play
  
  
  
  tag

  
  

  None - open for interactions!
  
  
  
  outfit

  
  
  
  

The room was silent, only with the occasional sound of the scraping of a knife against the plate and the settling of utensils as one would grab a drink from their glass. It was just like any other night at the Jones’ house. Simon sat at the head of the table and to his right was his adoring wife, Grace. From there on in rotation sat Martha, Joshua (at the other end of the table’s head), Mary and then Alexandra. It was their routine sit-down meal; everyone sat in the same spot and they would start it all off in the same way. Began with a prayer and then sat eating their food in complete silence for ten to fifteen minutes. Talking wasn’t something they would often do at the table.

Mary sat there, her insides swirling with anxiety and passion. The note kept in her jacket pocket was burning a hole straight through. Her drama teacher handed her the flyer today, encouraging her to participate in the upcoming school play. Her eyes had lit up and her soul felt like it was flying over the moon. Nothing else in the world would make her this happy - not even Jehovah. Ever since she was little, she had always dreamed of performing for others. Something which her parents had always frowned upon. It made her stand out - it made her noticeable. Something which was forbidden not only within their family but within their faith.

“Umma… Papa,” She began, feeling her throat instinctively becoming tight. “I uh… I was wondering something”. Simon and Grace lifted their gaze towards their eldest daughter, their brows raised in curiosity. “It’s just… Well…” Well, damn, she was speaking like Joshua now. Just spit it out, she mentally cursed herself. Her hand dug into the pocket of her jacket, ripping out the flyer that had been shoved and handled by sweaty palms throughout the day. She leant over and handed it to her mother. “There’s this play at school.”

Grace unfolded the paper, a frown forming upon her face as she struggled to read without her reading glasses. “Finding Grace… A production on preserving faith and community despite the drug crisis…” She hummed as she read the flyer. “Oh, it’s been organised and directed by Carol Harris. That makes sense-” Grace turned to her husband and gave him a look. Mary wasn’t sure what the look was about, but whatever it did mean, it caused Simon to stifle out a small chuckle and exhale a ‘Oh, Carol’. Grace turned back towards Mary with a smirk on her face. “Did you want to go and see it?”

“Actually…” She felt the need to fidget with her hands, pressing down on her knuckle until she heard an air bubble pop lightly. “I want to audition”.

The smirk fell from her mother’s face instantly. “Absolutely not” Grace responded without missing a heartbeat.

“But i thought it would be good for my college resume! And it would give me -”

“You heard your mother,” Simon interrupted, pointing forcefully at the paper “No means no. And that’s final.”

The tension was thick within the room. Disappointed, Mary nodded softly and turned her gaze back to her uneaten roast beef upon her plate. Grace looked at her daughter, pressing her lips firm. She hated seeing her children upset like this. Living the life of a Jehovah's Witness wasn’t all fun and sunshine as many would believe so. She turned to give Simon another look; it seemed as if the pair were able to talk through their irises, and they had come to a conclusion. Turning back towards Mary, Grace shrugged “I suppose you could apply for a stagehand. It would go towards your college resume, after all.”

A stagehand? Really?

“Oh…” Mary paused, turning to face her parents. “Oh wow, thank you. I’ll uh… I’ll talk to Carol tomorrow about helping with stage hand, I suppose”

“Excellent. Joshua, you will be applying too”

What?!

She snapped her neck turning towards her brother who sat there like a stunned mullet. He had been so quiet that she had almost forgotten that he had been sitting at the table with them. His stunned complexion and curious brow led Mary to believe that he hadn’t even been listening to the conversation at all. His little “huh? only confirmed it too. “You’ll be applying to help with stagehand for the school’s play,” Simon said firmly to his son who sat parallel from him. “To make sure Mary is safe and to add onto your college resume. Do I make myself clear? Make sure Mary doesn’t get into any trouble”

Hazel brown eyes flashed from their father and towards the eldest sister; Mary and Joshua looked at each other for a couple of seconds without exchanging any words. Like their parents, they seemed to be able to communicate through glances. Well, it seemed that way. If only they really knew what the other was thinking. Joshua; who was internally screaming that he was going to have to spend time with new people. Mary; who was cursing and stomping around in her mind, wondering why the hell did she have to be stuck with her dim-witted brother once more.

- - -- - -​

She watched from afar, raging with jealousy as the girls were being prepared to go on stage. A little bit of make-up here, and a bit of hair spray there. They were perfect. Every time they took the stage to perform, Mary could just envision herself in their shoes. Standing in their place. Acting out their roles. And receiving the praise and cheers of the audience, not them. Jealousy is a terrible sin, she reminded herself as she let a huff of air. Her chin rested upon her hand as she propped it up with her arm on a stage box. But if Jehovah gave us such big emotions, why aren’t we allowed to feel them?

Okay, she needed to snap out of it.

Standing back up to her full height, she gazed to her right-hand side. Ugh, Joshua. He was leaning against one of the smaller black stage boxes and just… was he daydreaming? His face was still, unmoving, and his eyes glassed over like he was in some sort of trance. What is he even looking at? Mary frowned in disgust at her older brother. Why is he so damn weird all the time?. Bringing her hands, she clapped loudly in front of his face, startling him. “Hello, space cadet.” she chimed at him “Come back down to Earth! The show is starting soon!”

“I know…” he turned to Mary and mumbled, still shocked by the sudden violent clap in front of his face. “I was just…” he turned his eyes once again towards the direction he had been staring at before. This time, he wasn’t off with the fairies as he did so. “... Nevermind.”

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Chimney Swift]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood lost

location MJC School Auditorium - Backstage

outfit dear god someone help this kid

fun fact In 2009, Russian mafia groups had been said to reach over 50 countries and, in 2010, had up to 300,000 members. Now Oliver is one of them.

tag tamarapasek Qwertycakes

Oliver Dreyfuss

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In the weeks since we last saw Oliver, he'd actually been doing quite well for himself. He'd gotten a brand new knife, was making some money for himself with some very nice new people he'd met recently... yes, he was doing well, right up until his mother went to the most recent PTA meeting and volunteered him for the new school play.
Whatever idiot had chosen to cast Oliver Ferris Dreyfuss as the violent misogynistic weed-peddling antagonist of Carol’s drug play had made a sore mistake. Oliver was terrible for this part in every conceivable way: he was easily the smallest in his class, an awkward stammering boy with an obsession for sea turtles. The idea of him portraying a crazed abusive drug lord was simply laughable– And he did get laughed at. A lot. Practically every rehearsal his line delivery or his mannerisms would be the subject of uproarious hilarity amongst his classmates.

In addition, now that opening night was upon them and all the cast and crew was lined up backstage ready for their entrances, the costume poor Oliver had to wear was ridiculous. Whoever put this look together clearly hadn’t laid eyes on a teenager since the 1990s, and had certainly never seen the poor soul who was going to have to wear this. Oliver looked like what a conservative mom thought a gangster looked like. He looked like the villain of some early Flash computer game. He looked pathetically stupid to the point of being almost adorable.

He grimaced, picking at the loose threads and uncomfortable fabrics, feeling as if ants were crawling all over his skin. It was stupid, he thought, to be wearing something so bizarre and atrocious if he was supposed to be covertly selling illegal substances.

See, Oliver had definitely learned a lot about drugs and contraband smuggling since he landed this role, but he hadn’t learned any of it from the script.

Just before his mother got him roped into participating in this theatrical torture fest, he had taken on a little side hustle for the man who sold him the knife a few weeks ago. The prices of Kaz's wares were far out of Oliver’s budget, so instead he’d agreed to do a few favors for the man and a few of his… family members.
After running a few errands for them, he’d paid off his knife debt in no time, but he stayed. He kept asking for things to help out with, ways to earn a little extra pocket money. He liked it. Kaz and his entourage were nicer to him than he expected from most people, and he liked the feeling of independence that it gave him, plus a couple extra excuses to be away from home.
It hadn’t yet occurred to him that he’d stumbled into being an extra set of hands for the Russian Mafia.

Hey, perhaps he wasn’t so badly cut-out for this role after all.

He was still nervous though, as evidenced by his restless pacing back and forth backstage, fidgeting with his awful costume and biting at his fingers. He couldn't help but feel like this opening night was going to be a disaster. Rehearsals hadn't exactly been going smoothly, Oliver wasn't too confident in his own acting skills, and worst of all he was going to have to kiss his friend Ashley.
In front of the entire audience.
Including his mother, Ashley's father, and god knows who else.
His first kiss ever.

Clearly this wasn't going to go well. He was right to be worried.
But with only 10 minutes to go before places, there was nothing to be done about it now except find Ashley and tell her to break a leg or whatever theatre people do when they're about to be socially eviscerated in front of a live audience.

"Ashley?" He called out into the milling crowd of actors and crew kids, to no immediate response. She must not have heard him, or maybe she'd already run away in fear of the mess that was about to ensue. "Ashley." He said again, louder. He was beginning to feel lost, like he wasn't supposed to be here after all.
Where had she gone?

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Chimney Swift]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood gleeful

location MJC School Auditorium - Backstage

outfit artsy black turtleneck

fun fact The fastest gust of wind ever recorded on Earth was 253 miles per hour

tag Twin Fantasy tamarapasek

Ivy Dawkins

/* ------ right side ------ */

"10 minutes to places, everyone!"
Mrs. Kendrick, the old and much-beleaguered drama teacher at Marsha J. Clark High School, sounded exhausted and badly in need of a cigarette as usual. There was no excitement in her for this production that was about to hit the stage.

Ivy, though, was cackling and running in hyperactive circles as if this was her Broadway debut.

The young gremlin's role was simple, really: in an offstage monologue, she would be portraying the deceased unborn fetus of the protagonist (played by her ride-or-die sisterwife for life Ashley, which just made this even better.) A one-scene-wonder, a role that seemed to beg the question of its own need to exist. Why on earth was there a fetus monologue written into a high school play? Especially in the relatively liberal state of Washington, at a public school nonetheless, in this most progressive year of 2013, such a blatantly Christian Fundamentalist moral was so odd and out of place that it was hilarious. Hilarious especially to Ivy, for whom the subjects at hand in the play were a complete joke.

Technically, this role was supposed to be her punishment for inhaling nitrous oxide out of whipped cream cans in the bathroom with Bug when the two freshmen were supposed to be in Biology class, but Ivy was living it up. It was less of a punishment for her and more like the sweet icing on the cake of her crimes. She was determined to make this small part so grandiose and horrifyingly overwrought that it would convince the Academy to consider her for a Reverse Tony Award. She set out to create a performance so profoundly jarring that it deserved recognition in the arts for decades to come.

She’d tested the old, dusty mic 10 times over, making sure it was in fit condition to send her most heart-wrenching warbling baby voice booming out over the audience.
This audience would know her name by the end of this shit circus whether they wanted to or not.
They would remember the earth-shattering magnitude of the fetus monologue.

And hell, maybe there would be time to set off some other fun pranks in the meantime. Surely no one would mind if Ivy fiddled around a bit with the sound recordings, or rigged the curtains to fall on top of Mark Berkinstock's head or something...
Something fun. This show had plenty of pizazz, but Ivy wanted more. This could be a real, literal showstopper, and she was sure she could get just about everyone in on the act.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[floralmoon]

abigail hargreaves

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  Mood is it too late for a bathroom break?
  
  Location MJC School auditorium
  
  
  
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  Max - Chimney Swift
  
  
  
  
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Sweat dripped down the girl's forehead as she hears someone call out that the show was about to start, you could hear the chatter of the crowd from backstage. Although she hadn't stepped foot in front of the lights yet, she was already collecting sweat in various places. Dabbing a napkin carefully on her forehead, trying not to smudge the makeup that had been carefully applied, a sigh is released.

"You signed up for this, Abigail. Your parents are out there for you as well, you can't back out now." She thought to herself as she paced back and forth behind the curtain that was blocking her from the front stage. Tonight was the big night, all the practice that the group had put into this play would pay off, hopefully.

Abigail's phone buzzes and she tilts her head to look down at it, her mom had texted her, "Break a leg, sweetheart, you're gonna do great!!" A smile crept onto her face as she clutched the phone to her chest and locked it. Somehow her parents always knew how to make her smile, even after years of being unhappy.

Twisting open her water bottle, a long sip is taken from it, somewhat cooling off the girl who was both overheated from anxiety and the heat of the stage lights. Her mind drifts off to the night she and Graham went stargazing, it was probably the last night that she had felt completely at ease with the world. Though that didn't last very long as when she got home, her parents weren't too pleased with the late hour.

Shaking her head, she makes her way over to Max, there was just something about the boy that helped her get through trying times. She smiles at him and gives a little wave, her hands start to form sentences, "I'm sure you're just as nervous as I am, but I know we will get through this!" Abigail wasn't really sure if she was reassuring Max or herself, but either way, it would have to do some sort of good, right?

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Chimney Swift]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood nauseous

location MJC School Auditorium - Backstage

outfit Sad cold boy

fun fact around 77% of the population has Glossophobia, fear or anxiety around public speaking and performing.

tag floralmoon

Max Berkowitz

/* ------ right side ------ */

Just breathe, Max.
Just breathe.
That’s what Max’s parents would have told him if they could see him now, slumped against a stack of black wooden cubes, hyperventilating as if he were about to vomit or pass out.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe.
Not right now.
This was going to have to be the fastest panic attack of his life, or he’d be in trouble.
He only had 10 minutes to pull it together before the opening scene, but since he wasn’t actually in the opening scene, he had a little bit more time.

Truth be told, Max was barely in this play at all. He originally was only cajoled into doing prop building by the school counselor, but then the drama teacher made him take a bit part at the end of the play because one of the actors quit or something… it had been made very clear, to him at least, that no one really wanted him here. It meant they had to pull in Summer to volunteer to interpret the play, they had to work with him one-on-one to make sure the cues made sense to him, and throughout the whole process he felt like he was just a huge inconvenience on the whole project.

“You need involvement,” the counselor had said to him at the start of all this, “It seems like you need something to focus on or you’re just going to keep getting pulled back by all this anxiety.”
Well, now he had enough involvement to last him a lifetime. As soon as this was over, he just felt like hiding in his room and never volunteering to do anything ever again.
He'd never wanted to flip off a counselor more in his entire life.

The dread of this upcoming event loomed so large that it threatened to swallow him whole.

He thought he’d hidden himself pretty well behind the stacks of cubes. Well enough to calm down, dry his eyes, and get back out there… but it hadn’t occurred to him that everyone could probably still hear him since he was still backstage with everyone else. He had no idea how noisy his labored panic-breathing could be. Still, it was a shock to him when someone rounded the corner to meet him behind the cubes, someone familiar…
Abby?

She looked almost worse than he did, if that was even possible. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her cheeks flushed a nervous pink… seeing her this upset immediately sent a jolt of worry through Max. He matched her friendly wave, but his soft blue eyes showed deep concern.
Was Abby just going through the throes of stage fright like he was, or had something more serious happened?

"I'm sure you're just as nervous as I am, but I know we will get through this!" Her words looked far more optimistic than her sweat-stricken face would allow them to come across.
“Abby…”
What he had wanted to say was “I actually don’t think I can do this.” What actually tumbled off his arms was “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I didn’t even have to memorize that many lines, anyway…” He laughed awkwardly, trying to shake off some of the burning anxiety. “You’re going to be great. I promise. I mean, you look…” he gestured shyly towards her ultra-conservative costuming, feigning a smile that faded quicker than it had appeared. “...Hot?”

Max flinched at his own phrasing yet again, unable to believe that that was the best he could do. Hot? God, that just made him seem even more gay. "I'm so sorry."
This was going to suck.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[weldherwings]

joshua jones

• aaaaaa
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  incoming message!

  
  
  

  
  

  Mood Are... are they ok?
  
  Location Backstage
  
  
  
  tag

  
  

  Max - Chimney Swift
  Abby - floralmoon
  
  
  
  outfit

  
  
  
  

It had been eight weeks - or was it nine? - since the fiasco at the Joplin Assembly Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Despite how long ago it was, the whole scene was still creating ripples and aftershocks. On a daily basis, Joshua and Mary were reminded to stay away from people like the giant Irish man who will lead you to a life of sin. The holes in the ceiling were patched over and fixed, but there was a lingering scar upon the ceiling that reminded everyone of when the waters came flooding into their kingdom hall. And along with the ‘teachings’ of his father, and the physical marks left over from that day, there was something eating away deep down in Joshua’s gut. It had been eight weeks since he had any contact with Abigail and Max.

Now, it wasn’t intentional at all. Things just… didn’t align up.

During the school break, the Jones’ had gone off on their missionary camp, which leaked into the first week of school. Upon returning, both Joshua and Mary had been struck down with some sort of cold (Mary insisted it was caused by the mould found at the Chalamet Apartments they had been witnessing together) and so were out for another couple of days. Once they returned back to school, it just… It was hard. The only time he would see them would be in the hallway, on their way to classes. The anxiety drove him mad, trying to muster up some sort of confidence to approach them. Not only that but the extreme stress of what if he didn’t make it to class on time? Once again, it seemed just better off if Joshua Jones did what Joshua Jones did best; stay invisible.

Even with the school play, it would’ve been a perfect opportunity for Joshua to find some sort of moment to breathe and talk with the pair of them. But being a part of the stage hand meant he had different jobs and duties to carry out from the other two. And so, he just watched them afar. Daydreaming and wishing that he would finally have the opportunity to build up the courage to tell them how he really felt about the whole situation. How he was incredibly sorry if they had felt like they had been unwanted or shamed in any way. He had thought about it a thousand times; how he would approach them, what he would say, how he would say it, and then… there was never an outcome. He was too scared to come up with an outcome even though it was fictional.

Hazel brown eyes watched Abigail from afar. He wanted to go over and comfort her in some way, seeing how anxious she was looking. He wanted to go over and tell her that she’d do a great job, that she was amazing in practice, and would be on stage too. He wanted to make her smile and then tell her that she looked like she had raided his family’s Sunday best closest, just to try and make her laugh. (Joshua Jones cracking a joke? So out of character). He watched as she twisted open her bottle of water and placed them upon her plush lips -

Clap! Clap! Clap!

“Hello, space cadet! Come back down to Earth! The show is starting soon!”

Startled, Joshua turned to Mary with a wide-eyed expression. Why did she have to be so rude? “I know…” he mumbled to her, slowly turning his gaze back towards where Abigail had been… Only to see that girl was now gone. Oh, great. “I was just…” Did he really have to explain himself to Mary? Did he have to go into such great detail of how he wanted to at least attempt to talk to Abigail? “... Nevermind”

“Well, here,” With a swift movement, Mary handed over a boot that she had found next to herself. “I’m pretty sure it’s one of the boys’ shoes. Be a lamb and return it, please? Don’t want father finding out I’m talking to boys”

Right.

Without hesitation or a word, Joshua took hold of the boot; he pushed himself off from his leant position on the stage boxes and made his way forward. Right. Who the heck was missing a boot? Venturing further into the backstage area, he could hear movement around the corner. Curiosity got a hold of him and prompted him to turn the corner, just in time to see Max signal to Abby hot. Wait… wasn’t he…? A brow arched, Joshua felt like he may have stumbled into the conversation at an awkward time.

But, alas, he was there. All those days daydreaming how he could simply hunt them down at school, and all those nights trying to figure out how to express his feelings to the pair of them, rehearsing them in his sleep… it was finally here. “Are… are you guys… okay?” he slowly asked, signing in time with his words all the while holding the boot firmly in one hand.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Twin Fantasy]

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  extremely dated day-glo get-up (click!)

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  backstage at school
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

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mia

the battleship potemkin

(TW: body checking/body image issues)

Mia rolled her eyes at the outfit she'd been put in. She was all for vintage fashion, but this made her look like some kind of drag queen Grinch from a 90's drug PSA. It sagged and hung loose in all the wrong places, making her look like even more of a frumpy old bitch than she normally did. The skirt was stupid, the shoes were stupid, and Carol wouldn't let her wear any of the outfits she wanted to wear.

This is all too... Sultry. Why do you own so much provocative clothing? Modest is hottest, Matryona!

Who the hell gave her the right to use her full name?

Not that her fridge bod would look good in much of anything, but at least she wouldn't look like a plastic bag full of oranges hanging off of a doorknob. She curled her lip in disgust, eyeing herself up in a standing mirror like she was a piece of rotten meat.

Mom and dad weren't going to make it. As a kid, she'd be miserable whenever they wouldn't come to some school event. She played Miss Spider in an elementary school production of Miss Spider's Tea Party, which had been her idea, because it was her favorite book. She'd stood there peeking out from behind the curtain in her janky spider costume up until the show started, and nobody came. But this wasn't something to be proud of. This was a sham.

It all started when she lit up a joint behind the school and got caught. Despite the fact that she was now 18 and could make her own decisions, she got in some serious trouble for it. Her parents got called in, and as usual, they didn't bother to come, but her old man was told via phone call and didn't take it too well. They were talking suspension, or even expulsion.

In a way, Carol saved her ass, because doing this play meant she wouldn't get in any further trouble as long as she wasn't caught using. And she'd at least kept that shit private. Stayed home to smoke, or did it somewhere where no teacher would be seen. She only had a couple of lines, like, one or two, but she wasn't allowed to go home until after the show ended because Carol desperately wanted everyone to stay for the curtain call so they could celebrate her hard work and blah blah blah...

Not much to celebrate.

She smoothed her hair back, and watched it spring up. The one thing she wouldn't do was change her hair, no matter how hard Carol begged. Apparently the 'fro looked "childish". What a load of fucking malarkey.

She took a seat and allowed herself a load off. God, all she wanted was a fucking smoke.

♡coded by uxie♡