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Realistic or Modern Cities Never Sleep

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LEON PIERCE
not understanding that you’re a horrible person doesnt make you less of

a horrible person
the sinner
fell asleep and forgot to die
the weekend
— mac miller
mood: no this is perfect fr
location: outside peaches
outfit: surely u couldve done better.
interactions: neverbackdown neverbackdown - Faye | Twin Fantasy Twin Fantasy - May | Chimney Swift Chimney Swift - Max | thorspuddingcup thorspuddingcup - Trevor | Nightmarish Nightmarish - Raevlyn
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Leon blinked. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession. His expression and demeanor mirrored that of the boy's mere seconds before he'd spoken: dumbfounded and slightly awe-stricken.

He should've just taken his chances with the cop. The cop wouldn't have talked to him about an insemination and considering the fact that he was drunk on his ass in front of a strip joint, the cop probably wouldn't even pat him down too bad.

Instead, he was left wondering what he'd managed to get himself and Faye into by approaching the black noodle-boy and the rocker cloud-girl. There was literally no fucking way he'd heard correctly. Who the hell goes to a strip club for any reason other than some light ogling, anyways?

The cop, probably. And this guy.

And then there was the girl. He recognized her hand movements as ASL and wished he'd taken up his ex when they'd offered to teach him. Maybe if he knew what the fuck she was saying, this wouldn't be so confusing.

Even as the children shepherded him and Faye towards the bouncer - idiots - Leon found himself at a complete loss for words. He had to hand it to the emo kid; it wasn't common for someone to be so profoundly oblivious that Leon was rendered speechless. He himself walked through life wearing a mask of heedlessness, but Max had clearly surpassed him. He could only hope to be like Max when he grew up.

Had he really expected the bouncer to just let them in? Did he know where he was? Had he looked in a mirror recently?

He glanced over at Faye, apology written all over his expression. He really hadn't intended to get them stuck with the illustration squad or whatever. He went to speak and-

And suddenly there was a broccoli child. Leon was overcome with an overwhelming sense of relief when they began to speak, and their words were making sense! And they seemed to be signing. Okay, maybe this night wasn't, like, totally fucked. They could still have fun with a gang of minors with still unknown ulterior motives in a strip club.

Precisely how he'd pictured his night out with the pretty rich girl.

Just as he was about to find his voice once more, he heard a pathetic sounding whisper coming from the body on the ground. They'd ended up much closer to him since getting tossed on their asses, too. Having that much in common with a probable pervert was slightly unsettling. He watched as the man fought to get back on his own feet, amusement tinging his expression.

Confirmation that entering through the window was their best bet arrived, which was a fucking bummer. As the group began moving towards the back of the club, Leon maneuvered his way closer to the man with the solution. "Who should we tell her you are?" he began asking, "and what's your angel look like?" He had no intentions of finding her; he wanted to do his best to keep the rest of them away from her, in fact. Leon doubted the dancer wanted to hear from him again.

He looked towards the teen with the bomb ass green jacket before another question spilled out of his mouth: "And, uh, what're we doin?"
© reveriee
 













aurora underwood
a witness
























damn ur just a mess dude




peaches



[/tab]




but if i gave up on being pretty...

Aurora watched as whatever cogs remaining in Teo's head turned, Kenzie's question seemingly stumping him. She couldn’t really blame him; it was a heavy metaphor. Here he was - they were - sitting perfectly still, and yet running all the same.

She found herself wondering how well the pair knew each other and how much information she wasn’t privy to. He was clearly troubled by something, but Aurora had a feeling Kenzie knew more about it than she did even if she wasn’t fully aware of it.

The moment of silence forced her into some much unwanted pondering. Running could be two-directional: away and towards. She’d spent years convincing herself she was running towards something better for herself rather than away from the shadows of her past. If that was true, though, why had she been feeling like something was catching up to her for so long? Why was she in such a rush when the future would always be waiting for her?

Clinking bottles pulled her from her spiraling thoughts, prompting her to return to observing Teo. She watched him force his eyes dry, the motions of living with a mask on all too familiar. Her own forced smile at his attempt at humor quickly turned real as she watched him dive for Kenzie’s drink and make a graceful landing on the floor.

Still in her seat, she raised her glass. “I’ll cheers to that,” she said, downing what remained of her Cosmo before switching over to the seat Teo had previously been occupying.

Kenzie’s question caused a chuckle from Aurora. “He’s not buggin’ any of the dancers,” she responded, looking down at him with an amused half grin, “so he’s straight.” It was true; though Peaches had some notoriously shady business practices, security didn’t fuck around with the girls’ safety. And Teo was clearly only a threat to himself. In his state, she didn’t doubt that even the smallest of girls could tear him open.

“You want some ice, baby?” she asked the man one the ground, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Or just another drink?” She wasn’t planning on trying anything with him, but the habit of enabling men’s idiocy was a hard one to kick.







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

© weldherwings.
 













Graham Byrne
the survivalist














Angry




His Home



[/tab]




If it takes time to get to you, I'll get to you
tw: deals with grief, depression, death of a sibling, slut-shaming, and suicidal thoughts, actions, and attempts. It also mentions alcoholism and abuse.

Okay so here was the deal, the kids coming to see him was never part of the plan.

Graham was a lot of fucking things, okay? And people called him a lot of fucking things that usually didn’t fucking matter in the slightest: easy, a manwhore, a little slut, an adrenaline junkie, a bad influence, a piece of shit, a deadend guy that most likely peaked in high school.

Whatever, none of that really fucking mattered.

Like, when people really really thought about it, it was better if people easily polarized him. Because then that was like… that was just easier for everyone to put him into a simple little box and write him off: a whore, a fuckboy, an asshole, not a person to worry over.

He didn’t need that, he didn’t want people worrying about him. He had always been the fucking responsible one. The melancholic one. The gentle hand to Aoife’s fist and fiery temper. Don’t get it wrong, both of the Byrne twins had been delinquents, it’s just Graham used to be quieter about his specific brand of delinquency.

And then Aoife died, and it gutted him in a way that he could never let anything gut him ever again. So he started pushing everyone away. He’d been a mopey guy. Morose and angry at everything.

And the worst thing in the world started happening: Everything changed.

He wasn’t just the goofy, approachable delinquent who could sneak people booze behind the backs of the nuns that was his Catholic school. He was the guy whose twin sister just died.

And everyone changed the way they looked at him. Everyone was so disgustingly sorry about everything that had happened in a way that made him nauseous.

His parents had been even fucking worse. Because they’d taken on a vow of silence – they were to pretend like Aoife never fucking existed at all. And it tore him up inside and made him sick because that was his sister. His other half, his better half if he was being completely honest. Before she died, she’d been the one to stand up for the two of them against their parents. She’d been the one to fight and thrash and rage at them on their behalf, and Graham would come in and smooth things over and get what they wanted in the end.

Good cop, bad cop – on their own parents, but fuck. Graham looked like a fucking saint next to Aoife.

They’d told him that she was his responsibility. That it was his job to make sure that she didn’t fucking kill anyone, and then when she died, all of the sudden his reason for existing wasn’t there anymore. And the person that had been labeled his other half since birth was… gone.

What happens to a binary star system when one of the stars burns out too early?

Aoife was a star. She could be nothing else. A ball of fucking fire that burned everything and everyone in her path, but also was probably the most warm and caring thing on this goddamn planet and it wasn’t fucking fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair that the brightest stars – the ones that burned the fastest, were also the ones that died the quickest.

If Aoife was his other half, larger, brighter, and better than him, then when she died, it tore something open inside of him.

A vacuum that could never be filled properly.

When stars died, they created a black hole, after all.

And perhaps when it was late at night, Graham thought a little bit too much about space. About how easy it’d be to die there – you just step outside and allow the pressure and the radiation and the heat and the lack of oxygen to immediately fry you.

Easy. It would be so easy to die in space.

Even better, he’d gotten the feeling that he stepped past the event horizon a long time ago, and was slowly getting sucked into a black hole, crushed under the weight of it all. How easy would it be to actually throw himself in? A surefire way to die, so quick and easy.

Fuck if he cared about school enough to actually get an engineering degree in order to fulfill his fantasy of dying out there, though.

So then, what was his entire plan?

Well, the thing about being half dead, is that Graham figured that that was mostly dead. When rounding out, he was pretty much dead. A 0.5 dead would be rounded up to an entire person. So therefore, he was dead.

His life was already over.

This was just one massive fucking inconvenient interlude until he could actually rest.

So, when you’re just a dead man walking, you might as well have some fun before you go party it up with Satan.

In his mind, he’d already figured that he was responsible for Aoife’s death. He was destined for Hell no matter how much he repented, no matter how much he tried. There was no fucking point in trying to follow his God anymore.

He might as well fuck some blokes as well.

His parents did not take very kindly to the idea that Aoife was a lesbian, and Graham was… well, to be completely honest, Graham wasn’t sure what the fuck he was. But he sure as fuck wasn’t straight.

So he fucked some blokes, got kicked out of his house, graduated university with a fucking English degree with a focus on poetry of all things and wandered into opening up a gardening business in a foreign country, all the while chasing death like one would a dream by drinking way too much, partying way too hard, and experiencing way too many near death experiences.

Some, self-inflicted. Some, situational. Either way, the end result was always the same: he could not follow Aoife where she’d gone. And it tore him up even more, a wound that just continued to fester and fester underneath the surface.

At this fucking rate, he was getting a knack for surviving things that he, honest to God, really should not have had any chance of surviving. And to any outside observer, he was just insanely fucking lucky. But to him, this had to be the most torturous, drawn out, horribly ironic fate in the whole goddamn universe.

But fuck, somehow he’d gotten wrapped up in a group of teenagers… and fuck.

Fuck.

He couldn’t be a dick to them. He fucking tried, okay?

He fucking tried to be a complete and total arse, the picture of a fuckboy: all superficial charm and flirtation mixed with arrogance and singling out one to bully and it was all so fucking easy but it felt disgusting

Because these were children.

They were children, and even though everyone around him whispered behind his back that he was an irresponsible piece of shit bad influence manwhore who flirted with everyone and everything and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone’s feelings and had his head up his own arse….

He didn’t have the heart to be an actual bad influence.

They weren’t supposed to know about how much he just wanted to fucking end his misery already.

Nobody was supposed to know.

Because if he acted enough like an adrenaline junkie slut and he ended up dead because of it, people could roll their eyes and shake their heads and go “Damn, that’s a shame. But he had it coming, what was he to expect when he engaged in such risky behaviors” and that would be the end of it.

Painless for anybody who had the displeasure of becoming his acquaintance.

Nobody was supposed to know.

And then they fucking showed up to his hospital, and chose to not fucking believe his fucking bullshit lies that he was trying to tell and fuck him…

They weren’t supposed to know.

He hated that they saw him like that. Because children needed to be protected for fuck’s sake. They were at the age that they were going to make some fucking mistakes – God knows he made some massive fuck ups when he was their age – but they should be able to do it in an environment that allowed them to do so without ruining their entire lives and scarring them for their entire existence.

They shouldn’t be showing up to a 20 something year old’s hospital deathbed trying in vain to make him actually feel good about himself for once in his fucking pathetic, prolonged existence.

They just… they shouldn’t. Okay? And Graham firmly believed that they should never NEVER be forced in a position where they had to give him a fucking pep talk EVER again.

So he went through rehab and got… sober or whatever. Went to the mandated therapy. Stuck around in the mental hospital for as long as he could afford it while therapists prodded at the dark, ugly wounds that he protected deep in his heart that festered slowly, poisoning his veins and eating him from the inside out where nobody could see.

They broke his bones in order to reset them properly.

And it fucking sucked.

It sucked so fucking much.

He’d never felt worse about himself in his fucking life.

But somewhere after all the pain and the scars that had been torn up, there’d been some kind of vindication.

He wasn’t fucking insane, his parents were just fucking abusive.

And yeah, he did feel a little pathetic about sobbing for a solid hour after figuring that one out, his assigned therapist gently rubbing his back as he realized that he wasn’t actually fucking crazy and that they kinda sucked.

Thanks for asking.

But something in him had also hardened.

Because children should never have to play Therapist to comfort the adults in their lives.

What had happened was fucking unacceptable.

And his therapist’s lips always pursued whenever he talked about how them showing up was an awful fucking thing that should’ve never happened and he felt so genuinely guilty that they had to see him like that and he felt horrible that they were trying to give him advice, but she seemed to accept it as “growth” or whatever.

So he was taking it as a win.

In any case, he was being allowed to go home now. And he immediately threw out all of his alcohol and scrubbed his entire apartment clean and went to work getting all of his affairs in order like a proper responsible adult that actually did proper responsible adult things.

He needed to be an actual good influence on these kids.

He needed to be better.

And that started now.







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

© weldherwings.
 






Max




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






















































Just a few moments after the door of Peaches slammed shut in front of them, the final member of the investigative team rolled onto the scene not a second too soon.

Raven, Max’s neon technicolor school friend, was dressed like they were on their way to a Muppet-themed gala rather than a homicide investigation. They looked like a very glamorous Worm On A String. Between her and the Hello Kitty guy (whose name Max still hadn’t been told), and the older girl who looked like she had just walked off of a high-class fashion runway (who was also anonymous to him at this point in time), it was starting to seem like everyone had just decided to dress up in costume for the occasion as a surprise.
Was this what people normally wore to strip clubs? Max had no idea. This was all a completely alien environment to him. Maybe that was why the bouncer slammed the door in his face… unlike his teammates, he was dressed like an advertisement for Prozac.

“You guys didn’t try to go in the front, did you?” Raven asked them, signing along with her speech so that Max could understand… Max could also see that she was laughing, the corners of her sparkling eyes turned up gleefully.
Still reeling from the crushing embarrassment of being mocked and turned away at the door, Max pleaded the fifth on that question and shrugged, leaning the back of his head against the brick wall of the club to try to collect himself.
"Yeah, there's no way they'll let us in, but I can show you guys to the back door if you want? We can sneak in where the dancers go in!"

Wait, a back door? Now there was an idea.
Max's eyes widened, his posture perking back up. "There's a back door?" If the back wasn't guarded by bouncers like the front was, maybe that could work...

But then May had an even more stealthy plan: the window just above them.
“Max could stand on my shoulders, and then… we could tie all our coats and stuff together.”
What!?
“May, I can’t stand on your shoulders!! I’d crush you!” Max signed rapidly and emphatically, the whole ‘pretending he could hear people’ act entirely slipping his mind for a split second before he remembered that Hello Kitty and Gucci Model were still there with them as well, and probably didn’t understand their ASL– Max blushed a deep crimson, clearing his throat and switching back to voice, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets as if to remind himself not to talk with them.
“Sorry. I mean, if we… if…” Caught up in the throes of being ashamed of his own identity, he’d totally lost his train of thought. But it didn’t matter: the next thing he knew, everyone had turned around to pay attention to the drunk man who’d been lying a few feet away on the pavement, who Max had barely even noticed until just now…
Had the man said something to them?
Max cringed back a bit, unable to help the feeling of being a little bit out of place in his own operation. Whenever he had to do things with a group, even when things were his idea, and even if at least half of his group understood his language, he always had that lingering sensation in the back of his head that told him that everyone would prefer it if he wasn’t there at all.
For someone who had as many close friends as Max did, it was almost offensive how much he worried that no one liked him or wanted him around. After all, Josh had shown him just how much people could lie with their lips...

The man from the sidewalk, though, didn’t seem to mind the hastily-assembled bilingual troupe of amateur detectives. He had peeled himself off the pavement and stumbled over, still talking. He held out a hand for Max to shake, and Max, too afraid to admit he hadn’t understood a single thing the guy just said, smiled awkwardly and gave him the most professional handshake he could muster up.
They’d acquired a new member. And even if this guy looked even drunker than Max had been on Halloween, something told Max that it was worth it to accept this guy's help. They needed all the hands they could get if they were going to catch a killer.

“Okay, so, uh… at least we’re all here. I think.” Max announced with uncertainty, his slow lisping uptalk starting to crack a bit.This would be so much easier if he just allowed himself to use his native sign language… “But if we’re going to do this, we have to do this now.”

The window. That was still their best bet.
Max looked up skeptically, trying to gauge the best way to do this. Thankfully it looked wide open enough for all of them to climb through, but it was a little bit above Max’s head… if he took a running jump, he figured he could just about grab onto the ledge, but he knew full well that he didn’t have the upper body strength to pull his entire weight up by his arms and get through the opening.

He hated to admit it, but he was going to need a boost.

Granted, it would’ve been a little smarter to let the tall people go first, so they could help the shorter people through from the inside; most likely using May’s jacket rope method. But Max, desperate to hold onto the idea that he was the leader of this investigation, insisted on being the first.
He wouldn’t be standing on May’s shoulders, though. No way. Max was small for his age, sure, but still much bigger than the tiny platinum-haired pixie. He was terrified that he’d snap her delicate spine, so he instead asked the member of their ensemble with the sturdiest-looking physique.

“Hey, uh… you.” He pointed at the drunk sidewalk cop. “I’m going to need to borrow your shoulders for a second.”







♡coded by uxie♡
 
1661897859485.png


Trevor Tate​
Was Trevor really drunk, or had more children appeared? Who fucking knew.

"My angel...shes..." Trevor did his best to call up a description of the dancer inside. "Long blond hair, like...like Spongebob. And her ass is like this-" Trevor held out his hands as if mimicking an explosion, and puffed out his cheeks to get the point across that this girl had an absolute bubble butt. "I think....I think some guy in there broke her nose...there was blood?" Trevor's memory was getting hazy. Likely, he wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow.

One of the teenage boys shook his hand. Oh, he hadn't taken the emo one to be their leader. He thought it was the one with all the neon. Huh, kids really were breaking stereotypes these days it seemed. That sucked. If he had still been in school, that wouldn't be a problem.

There was some debate about how to go about things. The more the kids spoke, the more Trevor's head hurt. Emo boy looked at him and asked if he could climb him like a ladder to get in the window.

"Yeah...yeah follow me." Trevor began walking towards the back of the building where he knew the window to the men's bathroom was always propped open. Why? Because men stank. I mean, women too, but men really stank. Trevor knew, he was one. The window was a little over six and a half feet of the ground. But with their combined heights, thing's shouldn't be a problem. Also these kids looked skinny enough to not get stuck in the window frame. Hah, what a high-jinx that would have been. To be a teenager getting stuck in a strip club window to sneak in and see some titties.

Man, Trevor wanted to see some titties.

Trevor bent over so that the first kid could climb up onto his back like a cat on a scratching post.

"Gonna have a hard time leaving. Through the window." Trevor said as the teenagers used him as a jungle gym. " 's an emergency exit in the storage room. Alarms broke. Leave that way." Trevor knew this because of his occasional shady dealings with the Peaches staff. Oh man, would tonight's bender ruin his deals? He hoped not.

"Dont tell 'em I helped ya." He called after the last kid. " 'll loose my job." As if that wasn't already on the line already.

Location: Peaches
Interactions: Max, May, Rae, Faye, Leon. Chimney Swift Chimney Swift neverbackdown neverbackdown Nightmarish Nightmarish TheVoidQueen TheVoidQueen​
 







teo choi






As Kenzie denied the request to give him another drink, the boy looked up at her with a pouted lip and doe eyes. Just like that damn bartender he cursed to himself internally, preparing to come up with some sort of speech about how he was being denied something that he desperately needed in his life. However, it seemed as if the girl was teasing him once more as she handed the cup down to him. Life sprung into his face, his puppy dog eyes now full of joy and radiating sunshine that was just so typical Teo. “Yessss” he hissed to himself, resembling Smeagol taking hold of the precious ring he desired. Placing the cup to his lips, he took a gulp of the precious liquid, frowning at the sting that followed as he handed the cup back up to the girl. “That hit the spot” he breathlessly exhaled, smacking his lips together to savour the burn.

He saw the hand being offered to him, taking a moment to process it before - “Oh!”. Teo took hold of it, hoping that in doing so, it would magically make his whole body move up and back onto his feet. That was not the case, sadly. As he just managed to find his feet, his legs began to wobble like a newborn foal, and he found himself on the sticky club floor once more. “No. It’s okay. I live here now” he told Kenzie, tucking himself up against the bar stand, leaning his back against it for support. “It’s probably safer for me anyways” he muttered to himself in defeat as he rested in comfort. His eyes darted towards the ground where - oh my God. Is that food???. Before anyone could intervene, Teo reached forward with raccoon-like skills and took hold of the salted peanut on the floor and straight into his mouth. Delicious… and salty.

As the pretty bikini-clad girl tilted her head and gazed upon him on the ground, Teo brought his attention towards her. Baby. It was the only thing that he heard and felt. Butterflies ran through his stomach and a fire in his chest, feeling it ignite through his body. She just called him baby. Words of affirmation was most defiantly one of his love languages, and it was evident from the gushing look upon his face. There was only one other woman who called him baby, and that had been his mother. Well, granted, she used to call him aegi which meant baby in Korean. But it had been her endearing pet name for him, and it sparked so much joy in his life whenever she did.

He turned his gaze to Kenzie for a moment, feeling his face beginning to flare up. “Hey. Hey-” he began, reaching his arm to nudge the girl’s leg before pointing towards Aurora with a bashful expression on his face. “Did you hear that? She called me baby” A wide, toothy grin spread across his face like wildfire before he turned his attention back towards the one who dubbed him baby. Her next words made his face melt from giddiness to one of awe and adoration. Did he want another drink. His eyes widened as if she had just asked him if he’d like her to pay off all his debts and go on holiday to Hawaii or something.

His mouth slowly dropped in surprise, gracefully gazing around himself for a moment to ensure that she had been talking to him. Finally, he turned his gaze back to her, and lifted his hand to point to himself. “Me?” he half whispered and hissed towards her, in complete shock that she was offering such a thing to him. With wide eyes, purely baffled that he was getting so lucky (after all, he had not been kicked out as of yet and now he was being asked if he wanted more drinks even though the other bartender had told him to slow down), Teo began to gradually nod his head as a grin spread across his face. And then - suddenly! - an idea! “Oh, and more peanuts too!”






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

© weldherwings.
 









scroll








The Brat



Faye













mood

Not a chance











outfit

Outfit & Shoes











location

Peaches Carpark











interactions

Leon, Max, May, Rae and Trevor











tags

TheVoidQueen TheVoidQueen Chimney Swift Chimney Swift thorspuddingcup thorspuddingcup Nightmarish Nightmarish Twin Fantasy Twin Fantasy















Another child came bouncing over to join the ragtag bunch of misfits in the carpark and Faye took a step back as she really allowed herself to look at the strange grouping she had found herself in thanks to Leon. A mix of confusion, amusement and awe took over her features as she looked at each person in turn, there was a fairly standard normal looking blonde girl, next to her was a 1970's grinch, a my chemical romance wanna be emo kid (that may or may not like Hello Kitty), a tall older looking man that was dressed like a 6 year old girl and herself that looked as though she had just come from Upstate New York, or a side street prostitute for the wealthy, depending on how you viewed her outfit.

It was only in that moment she kind of realised the shortness of her skirt while standing with a bunch of kids, who in reality were not that much younger than her but also seemed like they were about 10 years old. She tugged her skirt down a slight bit before her attention was drawn back to the kids, who were now throwing .. gang signs? With a raised eyebrow, Faye looked at Leon in confusion before looking back at the hand movements. It took way longer than Faye would ever care to admit for the realization that it was ASL and not gang signs to hit and her mouth opened in a visible O for a second before she hid the shock behind a smirk.

Faye's attention was drawn towards the drunk man as he pathetically tried to stand with an amusing amount of difficultly and she couldn't help the amused smirk playing on her lips. He confirmed that they should enter through the window and Faye's expression changed to one of somewhat annoyance as she looked down at her boots Off all the days for this happen, it's the day i wear my new boots.

Now Faye could have just given up at that point, dragged Leon away and went about their original plans but there was something so strange and so amusing about this group and their plans that she wanted to stay, needed to join and be apart of whatever madness was sure to go down. When else would she ever sneak into a strip club. It was an opportunity that would probably never come again. One look at Leon confirmed to her that he also wanted to stick this out and so she followed Max as he led them towards the window. She spotted Leon stopping to speak to the man and smirked as she listened in but as he described the girls butt Faye rolled her eyes and a look of disgust took over her features "Pig" she muttered quietly to herself.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at the window they were now expected to climb into, a look of disbelief splayed across her face. Three things came to mind as she looked up at the destination;- (1) she was only about 5'5 in the boots and so couldn't each reach the window sill, (2) she was wearing heels and they were new; and (3) If she took the boots of so as to avoid scuffing them then she would be almost an entire foot lower than the window. The emo kid seemed to have similar ideas as he called the drunken idiot over to help them and surprisingly he obliged, bending down to allow the kids to step on his back to get up.

"nuh uh, not happening" Faye muttered as the rest of the group started the climb to the window. Her eyes were still trained on the man and while he seemed harmless she couldn't forget that this very intoxicated man had been kicked out of a stripclub, which normally only happens for being a perv and harassing the dancers, and based on his story had probably broken some poor girls nose. It didn't sit right with Faye and so she stood her spot as she looked around for some other way to get up there.





♡coded by uxie♡
 



















may gu



heavy metal high school girl












(TW: internalized ableism)

May couldn't help but be a little irritated at the couple of interlopers -- the DDLG couple. (Or whatever the reversed version of that is. MDLB?) They seemed to be looking at her like she was some kind of irritating ant. It was their fault for being here!

Jeez. When did I become so hostile?

She took a deep breath. No need to judge strangers. They seemed willing to help out, after all -- at least the tall boy did. And, well, if the girl wasn't willing to help she could just stay outside and piss about it. (Wait. Don't be mean. She doesn't have to piss about it if she doesn't want to.) Max was beginning to use this drunk-as-fuck cop as a springboard to get inside. She tapped the cop and held one finger up, indicating "one second".

Sometimes she wondered if being able to hear was worth not being able to talk. She had no way of telling these three strangers what she was thinking or doing or saying, beyond going back to carrying a notebook around and writing in it like a weirdo. At least her and Max fit together into something resembling functional.

"Max, wait." She quickly tugged her arms into her longsleeve shirt and pulled it out from under the shortsleeve, though the autumn chill immediately hit her like a ton of bricks. She then handed it over to him. "Send this down after you get in. And good luck."











































♡coded by uxie♡
 







abigail hargreaves



  • .



The phone rang, once, twice, five times, and went straight to voicemail after each dial, Abigail came up with every excuse that she could as to why Josh wouldn't be answering her phone calls. Maybe he was in the restroom, or maybe he was out of the room, there were a million different reasons that came to mind, except for what was actually going on.

It took some time, but the girl had finally decided that she would just pull up to his house, he knew that she would be coming over, he just wouldn't have any verbal warning as to when she would be there. As she gathered her things, Abigail made the final decision that coming over without a heads-up isn't the worst thing that she could do, so she slipped her shoes on and headed out the door.

While driving over, the bad reasons that Josh wouldn't be answering the phone started to flood her mind, maybe he stood her up, or maybe he died, there was no way for her to know until she arrived at his house. Thankfully the trip didn't take very long and she was pulling into his driveway after about 10 minutes of driving, had she known he lived so close, maybe they could've hung out sooner.

Looking around, there were no other cars to be seen, so his family was definitely out of town, which was another one of her worries, that maybe his sister was trying to get the two in trouble. Making her way up to the door, all she could smell was something... burning? Abigail couldn't exactly tell what was burning, but it was definitely not a good smell.

Knock, knock.

Knock.

BANG.

There was no reason that he wouldn't have heard any of the knocks she had given to the door, so something was definitely wrong, grasping the handle of the door, she gives it a twist. With the slightest amount of push, the front door swings open, and the burning smell smacks her right in the face, full panic mode set in as she rushed over to the kitchen.

It was filled with smoke, so she looks into the oven and sees something inside, and without second guessing she reaches in with the oven mitt and pulls the tray out. The next step was to open up a few windows and doors to allow the smoke to escape the house, she opens a couple of windows and the front door then turns to open up the backdoor.

As she enters the living room, she notices Josh slumped over on the couch, it didn't really make sense for him to have fallen asleep while cooking something. Quickly, Abigail opens the backdoor and makes her way back over to the sleeping boy, giving him a good shake to try and wake him up. It didn't seem like anything was working.

She shook his shoulders, and his face, and even tried to pick him up, but none of it was seeming to work out, so she decided it might be best to just sit and wait for a few minutes to see if he woke up on his own. At least if he does he wouldn't be alone, and if he doesn't... with a shake of her head, Abigail puts that thought to the side.

He will wake up.





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

© weldherwings.
 







joshua jones



  • .



Fourteen years ago​


The afternoon breeze combed it’s fingers through the softness of the Jones’ boy’s hair as they took their turns on the trampoline. The eldest at eighteen, Simon, was busy inside studying for an upcoming test while Matthew and Aaron leapt into the air with great momentum. Matthew, fourteen-years-old, was hell-bent on attempting a front-forward flip he had been taking his time to perfect over the weekend. And Aaron, who was twelve, had already mastered the skill and was giving his older brother some tips. The two Jones girls, Mary and Martha, were fast asleep having their afternoon naps while their very heavily pregnant mother laid in her own bed fast asleep. Mr. Jones was off at the Kingdom Hall, preparing for the weekend, and had told his sons to keep out of their mother’s hair while she was resting. After all, it wasn’t easy looking after six children, especially with one on the way.

And then there was Joshua.

The five-year-old waited patiently on the grass, looking up in awe towards his brothers as they took their giant leaps into the air. He had been sitting there for the past half an hour, cross-legged and in absolute silence as he waited for his turn. There was a rule within the household that only two people were allowed on at a time. Matthew and Aaron had insisted that they would be the ones to go first as they were the eldest out of the three of them. So, Joshua did what he was taught and what he did best; he sat there, quiet, still, waiting and keeping to himself. To be seen and not to be heard. It would be his turn soon; honestly, there was only so much jumping his brothers could enjoy.

No sooner than he thought it, Matthew announced that he wanted to get a drink of water, to which Aaron also agreed and said he too, needed a drink. They both climbed off the trampoline before looking down at their baby brother. “We’re getting a drink. You can jump on it while we’re inside but as soon as we’re back, you gotta hop off” Matthew informed Joshua before turning and heading towards the kitchen. Joshua sat there, stunned for a moment. He had never been on the trampoline by himself before. He had always had someone help him up and jump with him. After all, he wasn’t the tallest of five-year-olds; he was just average. A sense of fear overcame him for a moment or two as he turned back to the large trampoline, questioning if it was even worth it.

Then again, it was now or never, right?

Pushing himself up off the grass, he made his great attempt to pull himself up onto the trampoline. With a great heave, Joshua was able to pull himself up onto the old-school, no-netted trampoline. A sigh of satisfaction slipped past his lips as he sat there, allowing the mesh to flex under his weight and bring him to a gentle bobble. He had been so caught up with the thrill of his achievements, taking in those sweet moments of bliss as he gazed up at the swaying tree branches that he had forgotten that his time upon the trampoline was limited. Matthew and Aaron came racing back, jumping up with ease and announcing to Joshua it was time for him to get off as they were back. They began to jump once more, completely ignoring the fact that their littlest brother was now attempting to climb back down himself. All it took was for one giant bounce from Aaron, and Joshua folded like a lawn chair through the cracks of the trampoline springs.

He could remember the immense pain that ran through his wrist, instantly bringing it up to his body to care for it. The way his brothers came to his aid, repeatedly telling him “You’re fine, you’re fine.” and telling him not to even think about crying because he’d get in trouble with their mother. Matthew had brought him inside and placed a bag of ice on it, instructing him to sit down at the dining table with it before proceeding to go back outside once more with Aaron. And Joshua did as he was told. He sat there, placing the ice upon his wrist, believing that he was okay and that he wasn’t allowed to cry because he’d get into trouble. His father returned home shortly after to find the boy sitting at the table and, when examining the bruised wrist, simply stated that “it must be a sprain. If it were broken, you’d be crying non-stop about it”.

And that’s what his family kept saying. They kept insisting that because he wasn’t crying, it wasn’t broken. But Joshua wanted to cry. It hurt so much that he felt like nothing in the world could make it better. However… he wasn’t allowed to cry. If he cried, he’d get in trouble. So, he remained silent. It wasn’t until a week later, while he was at school, that his teacher began to notice that he wasn’t using his left hand. Of course, he was right-handed, but it was evident that he was going out of his way not to use his left hand at all. When she examined his wrist, it was evident it was broken, swollen, scattered with watercolours of purple, blue and yellow, and with an irregular placement. And when she questioned him why he didn’t speak up and tell his parents just how painful his wrist was, the only thing Joshua Jones could do was shrug.

After all, he wasn’t allowed to cry. He didn’t want to get into any trouble.


He flowed between lucid dreaming and reality.

His body felt numb, far too heavy to move, but there had been moments when he felt awake. It flowed back and forth like the calming ocean waves kissing the shoreline before scurrying back into position. While in the waters, there was comfort. Peace. Tranquillity. But as soon as the waves dragged him towards the shoreline, the reality set, and panic overtook his body for those few seconds. He needed to get up. He needed to open his eyes. He needed to speak. But every time he did, a collection of mumbles spilled past his lips. His eyes felt heavier than he had ever imagined. And his body just would not cooperate. In those moments where he searched for some sort of aid to hold him, pull him back from the tugging waves, he could hear a voice. The voice was hushing him, telling him not to move. Not to speak. To do nothing. There was a disgruntled tone to the voice, often commenting on how something wasn’t going to work or how this was meant to be easy. Were they angry at him for some reason?

And just like that, his only lifeline to keep him from the waters, decided to let him go. He was dragged back into the depths of the waves, enveloping and cocooning him. This time, however, it was much longer as the water began to become still. He wasn’t sure how long he had been caught in the abyss of the ocean. Floating in the never-ending waters, he began to feel a tug once more. Was he moving back to the shorelines once more? Had the stillness of the water finally come to an end? As the shoreline was in view, Joshua tried with all his might to grab hold of it. His body was still heavy, unable to move. But by using all of his strength, he managed to grasp onto something.

Dark hazel eyes began to flicker, gliding half open as his eyelids struggled to close once more. The room was out of focus and blinding, but it was evident that he wasn’t alone in the room. A slow collection of slurred words began to slip past his lips, entirely and utterly untranslatable, as Joshua attempted to move his head ever so slightly. It felt like a twenty-kilo dumbbell was resting in the front of his skull, making it quite impossible to hold his head up without the assistance of the couch supporting him. He was a ragdoll, and his head flopped so heavily to the side as he tried to keep it raised. Surely the person here could help him keep his head upright, right? But then again… who was here? Who was the outline of the person that he could see by his side?

Panic once again ruled his body.

His parents were going to be so mad if they came home to see something like this. He needed to find out what happened and how he was going to fix this. There was one person who knew what happened, and therefore, she would the one who would have to fix his problem. You can do it he thought to himself as he managed to find some strength to bring his head back straight, chin tilted upwards to create a balance of the weight distribution in his head. However, in doing so, he had to give up the strength he was using to keep his eyes half open. The eyelids finally won as his eyes rolled back and closed once more. And, once again, he attempted to speak. Much like before, it came as a slurred mumble. He had so much to say - to ask - but the words all strung together into a muddy sentence. However, this time, one word came out clear as day.

“... Mallory…?”






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

© weldherwings.
 

















scroll
















The Rebel





Kenzie























mood


Amused





















outfit


Hoes dont get cold



















location


Peaches





















interactions


Her pedo husband & Aurora






















tags


weldherwings weldherwings TheVoidQueen TheVoidQueen































Kenzie really did try to pull Teo back onto his feet and she almost had him up before he turned into what could be described as a baby deer before falling back down again. Shaking her head slightly with an amused smirk Kenzie accepted the defeat along with Teo and sat back in her seat as she took a drink of her vodka.

She nodded as Aurora confirmed he would not get kicked out before looking back down at Teo once more just in time to watch him eat a peanut of the ground "Oh god Teo, that's disgusting" an amused but disgusted expression was present on Kenzie's face as she shook her head and sighed.

Taking another sip of her drink she watched the two interact. She wasn't sure if Aurora was just being nice since she worked there or if boredom had led her to hang with this motley crúe, either way she was happy to have bumped into them as she had needed a distraction, all her troubles seemingly washed away as they talked.

"She called me baby" Kenzie snapped from her thoughts and looked down at Teo who was staring back at her with doe like eyes and a lovestruck expression. Suppressing her disgust at this sudden tone of possible romance between the two, not disgust at the two oh no they'd actually be quite adorable together, just the general idea of relationships and love right now was enough to make Kenzie want to down her drink and then smash the glass on her head. She looked at the glass in her hand for a moment with a thoughtful expression before she fought off the intrusive thought and placed it back down on the bar. Instead Kenzie reached down and sort of ruffled Teo's head "I did" Kenzie confirmed with a soft tone to her voice and a soft smile on her features.

Aurora offered Teo another drink and Kenzie giggled as she watched his eyes light up in excitement and shock before she laughed as he requested more peanuts. "you can have as many peanuts as you want once they dont come from the floor" Kenzie told Teo in a mock scolding tone before an amused smirk played on her lips.





♡coded by uxie♡
 



















mia



the battleship potemkin












Mia couldn't help but realize that she was leaving a trail behind. There wasn't much distance between the waterside and the little nook she'd done the deed inside of, but it was far enough that she was making a goddamn mess. Even if she chucked the body, everyone would know what she did.

And then she heard a voice. She froze.

Oliver Dreyfuss. They were locker neighbors. She remembered making that joke, because he quite literally said "we're not neighbors, I don't know where you live". (It turned out that they were in the same building, so arguably, he was wrong.) So yeah, they saw each other a lot. Didn't talk much. Little autistic kid, reminded Mia a lot of herself when she was that age except replace "encyclopedic Siouxsie and the Banshees knowledge" with "encyclopedic turtle knowledge".

Well, now they definitely weren't gonna be on speaking terms.

"I- Um- it's not..." Her teeth clicked nervously, braces shining in the moonlight. "I didn't kill the police chief." Extremely dough-brained thing to say, because that wasn't the dead body that she was dragging across the pier. Not that saying "I didn't do it" would've saved her in this situation.

Oliver dropped his cigarette and flattened it.

"No evidence."

Mia's eyes blew out wide, and while she didn't really know what he was getting at, it at least seemed like he wouldn't screw her.

"Need to get him into the water." She jerked her head towards the river. She wondered if they could find something heavy, like a cinderblock, to tie to Rufus' ankle. As the corpse fills with gas, it'll try to float to the surface.

"Unless you have oil drums and a lot of cement... Yeah, the water." She paused. "Do you have anything like, really heavy? Probably not. Stupid ass question."











































♡coded by uxie♡
 






Oliver




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)



































syml



I wanted to leave











“I didn’t kill the police chief.” Mia blurted out, but Oliver only tilted his head like a confused bird.

“I know.” He replied flatly, his voice now somewhat recovered from having swallowed a cigarette butt. “I didn’t either. I just found him like that.” After having spent several hours of his morning being grilled with questions about the corpse he found in the dumpster, Oliver was painfully tired of talking about Police Chief Allen. Besides, the bleeding body that Mia had laid out on the pier wasn’t the police chief’s… this was someone else entirely. Someone who, by the looks of it, hadn’t been dead more than a few minutes. Oliver had no way of knowing that this was Chief Allen’s son. A whole corrupt little family, all fallen victim to the rough reality of Joplin. It would've been tragic if the Allens weren't all unforgivable pieces of human filth.

Oliver really hoped he didn’t get interrogated by the police again for this, because this time, he wasn’t just innocently stumbling across a body while digging through the garbage like a raccoon: he was willingly making himself an accessory to murder. And while Oliver was pretty good at hiding from trouble and refusing to answer questions, he wasn’t a talented liar. His new side job with the Bratva hadn’t successfully taught him that yet. And if there was even a hint of evidence linking him to this crime, he could be spending up to three years in prison for this.

"Need to get him into the water." Said Mia, returning focus to the task at hand.

“Right.”

"Unless you have oil drums and a lot of cement... Yeah, the water." Mia paused, thinking, while Oliver was already eyeing the boardwalk for potential corpse-hiding supplies. "Do you have anything like, really heavy? Probably not. Stupid ass question."

“No. No oil drums, or cement, or heavy things. B-but there’s bricks here. And rocks and stuff. And… we should– we should get something to put him in. Heavy plastic. Or maybe a lot of bags if he’ll fit. Or…”

A short distance away, down closer to the water, was a stack of large crates: full of fishing gear or boating supplies, most likely, but Oliver was sure no one would notice it was missing when the boardwalk steps were smeared with blood. Without a word, Oliver trotted down the docks, grabbed the crate, and carefully dumped out its contents into the one next to it, trying not to let his fingertips touch any piece. If he’d known he was going to be hiding a body today, he’d have worn gloves. And brought some lye to dissolve the flesh down into unrecognizable sludge. But, given the circumstances, this would have to do. Besides, this would be more turtle-safe in the water.

It was a miracle that they were alone, no people or cameras or even passing cars nearby to spot what they were doing. They really had gotten unbelievably lucky, all things considered… Oliver wasn’t unaware of that. His friends in the Russian Mafia would be proud.

He dragged the crate back over to Mia and the corpse, struggling a bit with the cumbersome weight. “Here. Good coffin.”

The dead man was much bigger than Mia and Oliver, making it fortunate that assembling his final resting place was now a two-man job. The two teenagers lifted the murder victim into the crate, curling him up into an awkward fetal position to fit him into the enclosure. Perfect. Now all that was needed was to weigh this thing down, seal it shut, and give this mangled carcass a dishonorable burial at sea.

“We did good.” Said Oliver, sounding oddly proud of himself for having just assisted in concealing a homicide. It was unclear whether he truly didn’t mind this gorey task, or if he was just trying to lighten the mood for Mia’s sake. He extended an open palm to Mia for a high-five. “We should never talk about this again.”







♡coded by uxie♡
 







abigail hargreaves



  • .



Movement.

At first it wasn't much, just a simple hand twitch, but then his eyes began to flicker open, this gave Abigail hope that Josh would be with her soon. A wave of relief washed over the girl as she watched his eyes finally open, she clasps his face between her hands gently and carefully watches him. His eyes closed once more, but in this in-between state that he had spoken up, his lips parted and smile appeared on Abby's face, he's okay. The word that fell out of his mouth was like a punch to the gut, it was the last name that she had ever thought he would speak of in a situation like this.

"Mallory...?"

Heat started filling her chest, Mallory? Why the fuck would he be mentioning her right now? Did she do something? Was she here? Did he think that Abigail was Mallory? All these questions rushed through her mind as she was still trying to figure out how to get Josh back to a normal headspace. Maybe some water would help him, if this was from alcohol, then it would probably be obvious, but thinking back to the party, Josh didn't really want to drink that much, so there's no way he would do this on his own accord.

"It's Abigail." She spoke out sternly to the boy sitting in front of her, honestly, Abigail wasn't even one hundred percent sure if he could understand what she was saying or not, but it was the principle of the situation. Abby is the one that is here taking care of him, and there was no way that she was going to put up being called someone else's name even if it's by someone who is incapacitated. Slowly, she stands up, "I'm going to get you something to drink, okay? Don't move."

Walking towards the kitchen, she notices that there were two glasses sitting out on the counter, another red flag. At this point, the hunch about Mallory having been at the house started to seem more and more plausible. There wasn't a lot of certainty if Josh would be able to recollect the situation or not, so really Abigail was playing detective until Josh gains back some lucidity. As she makes her way through the kitchen, she runs her hand over the counter top absentmindedly, but her hand stops when she feels something... crumbly.

Lifting her hand up, she tries to inspect the substance that she had just ran her hand through, they weren't crumbs from food, they were too grainy. She begins to collect the powder into a pile as best as she could and presses her index finger into it, gathering some on the tip of her finger. Taking her thumb to her index, she crushes the white stuff between the two fingers, revealing that it was definitely some sort of powder. Carefully, she brings it up to her nose and gives a slight sniff, it had no smell, so that really left one other sense for her to use.

Taste. Was she actually going to do this? Her hand slowly drifts down to her mouth, and for a moment she hesitates, but then thinks about Josh on the couch, she was doing this for him. Using the tip of her tongue, she reaches out and tastes the smallest amount of whatever this powder was. It was very bitter, resulting in Abigail to wipe her tongue off on her sleeve, the only time she has ever tasted something like this was when she was taking her medicine and it got stuck.

"This was some sort of pill." She thought to herself, maybe that would help Josh remember some of the things that happened when Mallory was here, but that would be when he was fully coherent and not in this in-between state that he was lulling in and out of. Ignoring the two glasses that were still on the counter, she searches for a clean one, one that hadn't been tainted by the she-devil herself. Retrieving the glass from the cupboard and filling it with water, she returns to the living room and sits back down on the couch.

Carefully she helps Joshua lift his head up, "I need you to drink some of this water, it should help you feel better." The glass lifts up to his mouth, ready for him to take a drink, to do something. Even if he managed to reach up and slap it out of her hand, that would still be better than him just... sitting there. Seeing him in this state was starting to put Abigail into some sort of distressed feeling, never in her lifetime did she think that she would be caring for someone like this, let the most innocent boy that she had ever met.





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

© weldherwings.
 







joshua jones



  • .



trigger warning: vomiting​

“It’s Abigail”

Her voice rang out in his ears, reverberating in his mind before slowly melting, trickling down his body until it enveloped his chest. Joshua felt his complete chest fill with air, as if hearing her voice had aided in inhaling so deeply; he had been lost in the sea for so long, desperate for a breath of fresh air, and Abby was that air he had been longing for. He wanted to inhale as much of it as possible, grasp onto it and never let go. To weigh him down to this world like an anchor and to give him that firm foundation he desired. The tenderness of her hands upon his cheeks and the softness of her skin upon his own felt like an eruption of fireworks exploding in his body. Joshua would never have admitted it, but from those few simple moments where she poured her care and empathy into simply holding his head to support him from flailing around like a rag doll was just confirmation that he had been raised as a touch-deprived person. Never had his parents nor siblings held onto him with such care. Never had they treated him like precious, fragile porcelain, easily broken under even the slightest bit of pressure.

The sensation and warmth of her hands left his face, causing him to frown as she instructed him not to move. Each passing second without her by his side was painful as she ventured to get him a drink. It felt as if the waves of the ocean were thundering against the shoreline once more, attempting to reach out and pull his feet from under him. The sirens called from a distance, their song echoing in the background as they strived to lure him back into the depths of the sea that had enveloped him prior. And just as he almost gave in to the temptation, having been so exhausted from struggling against it, he felt the radiant tenderness of Abby’s hand upon him as she assisted in helping to lift his heavy head.

Running from the waters as it tickled his toes in anticipation, he had only half heard the words that fell from the girl’s mouth. He had heard drink, water and feel better, leaving the dazed and droopy boy to come to some equation of what they may have all meant together. And then, he felt a slight pressure against his lips. It took a moment or so for his brain to finally connect everything together; it was a glass of water being offered to him. Despite being blanketed in the sea for god knows how long, his mouth felt like he had spent the last twenty years in the Sahara Desert. Joshua’s lips slowly parted, allowing the water to slowly run into his mouth and make its journey to the back of his throat.

The only issue was… his body had forgotten how to swallow.

In the midst of waking up, his body was still having miscommunications with the different connections. Wires were scrambled, tangled, and frantically rearranged as they attempted to connect a to b, and c to d. So, as the water hit the back of his throat, it pooled there and continued to do so as the water filled up his mouth. Finally, it was no longer able to hold anymore, and he involuntarily began to choke on the pooled liquid in the back of his throat. Water spilled from the sides of his mouth, flowing upon his shirt and the couch beneath him, as he spurtled and struggled to catch his breath. The hand that had been holding his head up now moved and placed upon his chest, directing him to lean forward as another hand began to beat in a rhythm upon his back firmly. He could feel the strength his arms slowly start to seep through, to which his hand automatically raised up and planted itself upon the arm that was supporting his front as he leant forward. Joshua’s firm grasp remained there, too scared that if he let go that he would drift off to sea once more. A wave of nausea ran through his body, feeling as if he had been stuck upon a boat during a raging storm.

As it washed over his body, he allowed himself to lean forward more, close to completely folding like a lawn chair as he continued to hold onto the life support of Abigail’s arm. A small gasp of air slipped past his lips as he attempted to see if any words - other than Mallory - would fall. But rather than words, he could feel something else fall from his lips. With zero effort, a flow of bile expelled from his mouth; contents of his breakfast and birthday cupcake batter that he had sneakily swiped in the middle of baking sprawled across not only the white carpet and parts of the couch, but splattered against his and Abigail’s feet. He could feel his body ache, a fiery sensation running up and down his oesophagus and throat as the sick had scraped down his organs in a rebellious fashion. With laboured, heavy breathing, Joshua let out a small welp of pain once everything had finally come out.

All the while, the only thing he could think about was how he was going to be in so much trouble when his parents got home.







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

© weldherwings.
 







abigail hargreaves



  • .



trigger warning: vomit

Finally, Josh had managed to begin sipping on the water, but something was wrong.. the water was just filling up his mouth rather than going down. The boy began choking on the liquid, causing Abigail to lean him forward, supporting his chest with one arm while patting his back with the other, hoping that it would help him somehow. Thankfully it did, but it was in the most undesirable way possible.

While holding onto his chest still, she could feel a breath being inhaled, but right after came a stream of bile, food, and water directly onto the floor... and her shoes. This caused her to freeze for a moment, not really knowing how exactly to react in this situation. Did she want to scream? Cry? Vomit? The possibilities were endless when it came to a reaction, but she managed to keep her cool, thinking back to when the two first met.

Granted, the circumstances were very different now than they were back then, so it was important for her to not really have a reaction at all. Carefully, Abigail leans Josh over onto the couch, laying him on his side, her first step was to make sure that he would be okay while she steps away. Her next plan of action would be to slip off her shoes and bring them into the kitchen and wipe them off.

Somehow she managed to make it into the kitchen with vomit-covered shoes, only gagging a few times. Carefully, she cleans them up and carries them to the front door to dry off, remembering the slippers she saw when first entering and putting a pair on. Returning back to the kitchen, Abigail begins searching for washrags, one to wet and apply to the back of Josh's neck, and many others to attempt to clean the carpet.

After collecting said items, she returns back to the living room, laying the cold wet rag on the back of his neck, and then kneeling down to begin cleaning. Before doing so she pulled out her phone, even though they haven't really spoken since Halloween, Abigail liked to think that she and Max were still friends. So, she pulls up her message app and begins typing.

"Hey, Josh is really sick right now, I'm not really sure what to do... Can you help?"

She tentatively presses the send button, hoping that she would get some sort of response, but she didn't get her hopes up too high. Abigail returns to cleaning up the mess on the floor, hoping that since she acted fast, there would be minimum staining. Occasionally, her head would lift up to check on Josh, making sure that he was still breathing.

Maybe soon he would be waking up, that was the only thing that Abigail was wanting at the moment, but until then, she would just sit and wait. After gathering up the cleaning supplies and returning them to the kitchen, she makes her way back to the living room. Finding a spare throw blanket to toss over the sleeping boy, she lifts his head up and lays it on his lap, combing her fingers through his hair.

He was going to be okay, right?





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

© weldherwings.
 
MOOD: Smitten

OUTFIT: Probably something like this in whatever the school colors are

LOCATION: Chalamet Building
basics
MENTIONS:

INT:

Zach thorspuddingcup thorspuddingcup


tags
TL;DR:
tl;dr
Jenelle Kennedy
Let us be young, let us be wild
until the summer's over
Jenelle whirled around with a startled squeak when she heard her name called out. "Zach!" She gasped breathlessly, her face instantly flushing at the sight of the dark-haired boy. To say she was unprepared to see him in that moment was the understatement of the year. She'd only been daydreaming about him since the Halloween party, still swooning over that night and his Augustus Waters "costume."

Ugh, he was so clever and intellectual. Naturally, Jenny had already mooned over that book when it first came out, and of course she went and read it again the first of November. And might actually be in the process of reading it for a third time, picturing Zachary as the charming yet tragic Augustus, herself in the role of Hazel Grace. Now it felt like Zach could see those fantasies written all over her face, and the embarrassment made her cheeks redden even more.

"What are you doing here?" Jenelle blurted out just as he was asking the very same thing, prompting the girl to laugh nervously and ramble a flustered response. "Oh...so you live here?" It made perfect sense why Zach would be there, he actually lived in the building. Jenny, on the other hand, had no excuse for skulking around his home like some weirdo stalker.

"I, um..." She began her chagrined explanation, glancing out the window. Officially, she was looking for that creepy guy from earlier, though it was also an effective way to avoid Zach's gaze.
"I was walking home and got a little creeped out, ya know, with all that's going in? So I...came in here," The redhead mumbled sheepishly, offering a lame shrug. Not a soul seemed to be milling around the street beyond the window. Making her appear even weirder and more of a nutcase in front of the boy she liked. Fantastic.

"What's all that?" Jenny asked innocently, her attention soon captured by the many boxes in his grasp. She bit her lip, trying to suppress an amused grin watching Zach readjust them, finally noticing he was in fact juggling a whole bunch of tampons.

"Need help with those?" She asked, breaking into a small laugh as she stepped forward to take a couple boxes off his hands before he could answer.
code by valen t.
 







joshua jones



  • .



trigger warning: mention of date rape​

His throat felt like it was alight, and each breath resulted in a fiery shock. Had it not been for his mighty grasp on Abigail’s arm as she held and supported his chest, he probably would’ve fallen straight onto the ground. His hand held tight against her arm as if she was the source of his final salvation, and letting go would result in his untimely exit from this world. He was a helium balloon, and she was the thing that weighed him down. As he sat there, trying to collect his breathing as it burned and his eyes tightly shut, a wave of exhaustion flooded over his body. It felt as if all the energy that it took to bring up whatever was in his stomach had been stolen, and he was grasping straws at staying awake once more. He didn’t want to go back to the sea he had been so freely floating in the back of his mind. He wanted to stay here; to stay with Abby.

The overwhelming tiredness that rattled his body had been so powerful that as the girl guided him to lie down on his side, he had barely noticed the shift in his posture. All he knew was that as soon as he felt his headrest up against something and his legs lifted up onto the couch, he was out like a light. Quite like a professional fighter getting into the ring and getting king hit in the head, Joshua was completely knocked out, all thanks to the work of the drug that was still circulating his system. The wetness of the cold cloth pressed against his neck would’ve been enough for anyone to shiver or wake up in slight distress, but Joshua was so far gone that as Abigail planted it down, he didn’t flinch nor stir.

Blissfully unaware of the mayhem he had left for the other, Joshua slept. And slept. And slept. His concept of time was right out the window from the moment he felt dazed and drowsy on the couch watching the Prince of Egypt. But much like the feeling of Abigail’s hands upon his cheeks bringing him back onto planet Earth, there was a sensation running through his body that was dragging him once more. It was thin, delicate fingers racked through his dark brown thick, lush hair, with fingernails softly scrapping against his scalp in a relaxing tempo and pressure. It, oddly, was a sensation he had never known before. Of course, he had combed his own fingers through his hair, and had scratched his scalp with delight. But never had he had someone else do it for him. The realisation of the feeling sent a euphoric shiver down his spine and swelled his heart.

Finally, with the energy he had been able to muster, his long dark lashes began to flicker slowly. Eyelids drawn open like a hibernating animal dreading the sight of sunlight, squinting to protect himself from the harshness of the room’s lighting. A gradual, lazy glance towards the window confirmed just how long time had passed with the sun finding its way towards the horizon in preparation for its goodnight kiss with the rolling hills. What happened? he questioned himself, feeling his eyes droop once again. But he fought back; those lashes flickering for a moment or so before he took back the power which the drug had taken away from him. Kaleidoscope vision shattered his vision, making it rather difficult to make the outline of anything within the living room. He was in his living room, wasn’t he? He was pretty sure he had been. Finally, with what strength he had in him, his body shifted upon his back and his head rolled along with momentum.

Joshua flinched at the sight of the light above him, closing his eyes for a moment with a scrunched complexion before the sting began to calm down. Slowly but surely, his lids opened up and once again, his vision was blurred with an array of colours and blur. The more he stared upwards with squinted eyes, the vision began to clear up, and he began to see an outline. After a moment or so, his eyes finally adjusted, and his tired, sullen hazel brown eyes were looking up at the person who was the source of the hair combing. He wasn’t sure why he did it - maybe it was just him coming back down from the high of the drug that was still ragging and running rampant in his system - but Joshua laid there and continued to look up at Abigail. Gazing up at her, he felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Everything and anything that had gone or was going to go wrong today had now evaporated. There was no need for him to fear; her calming face and caring eyes were the confirmation he needed.

He laid there for what felt like forever just staring up at Abigail. It was almost as if his brain was still trying to process what was happening. Why is Abigail here? Why am I lying on the couch with her? What time is it - isn’t Umma and the girls meant to be home soon? Wasn’t I cooking something before? And whilst his mind was running around like a headless chook, with these questions coming towards him like hurled eggs, his face remained calm and collected as he gazed up towards her. He wanted to ask her all these questions, but his throat felt raw (What’s wrong with my throat? Why is it so sore?). He also wanted to tell her that he was thankful that she was here. After all, he was completely unaware and incapable of trying to remember what had happened within the last six hours. Having Abigail there was some sort of good sign, wasn’t it?

So, instead of speaking, Joshua raised a hand - no matter how heavy and achy it felt - and moved for it to meet hers. He took Abby’s hand within his own and gave it a soft squeeze, along with a soft rub across her knuckles with his thumb. Holding hands often translated to many different things. Holding Max’s hand was to show him support in a time of need or crisis. Holding his brother’s hands as a child was to direct and control his movements, ensuring he wouldn’t get into trouble while under their watchful eye. But as he held onto Abigial’s hand, giving it the soft squeeze and gentle rub, the translation was simple: Thank you for being here.







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© weldherwings.
 






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Wedding!

John and Eileen get hitched!






Notes

Wedding present
Don't forget to buy a present for the wedding!!!

Christmas
Book in that haircut for Christmas







1st December 2013

December has finally arrived, casting the long bleak shadow of winter over Joplin.
As the city braces itself for the approaching months of ice and sleet and seasonal depression, one single event lights up the dreary cold darkness: a wedding; what could be more grand?

By the afternoon, most of the guests have arrived, dressed up for the occasion and awkwardly milling about to find their seats. The open-invitation event has somehow attracted quite a crowd, many of them more acquainted with the couple's children than with the bride or groom.

In the back of the Kingdom Hall (yes, somehow, the couple are still on their little fling of being Jehovah's Witnesses), Eileen Dreyfuss painstakingly adjusts her floral-decorated veil, feeling excited butterflies in her stomach for the first time in decades. John Park, her husband-to-be, waits for her in the main assembly room.
Both of them had been married before, once, and both of those marriages were shattered in heartbreaking betrayal, leaving them all alone with full custody of their broken delinquent teenage children... until they finally found each other. They'd lived next to each other for years before finally discovering that they were meant to be together. Though they were no longer young, that passion still remained.

Yes, truly, this was to be the happiest day of their lives...
...But not so much for their children.

Guests may wish to be prepared for this wedding to not go entirely according to plan.





Joplin News

Eight domesticated turkeys are still on the loose around Joplin after breaking from their enclosures at the local petting zoo. "Look, you can pat Andy. But that Reba? She'll take your eye out" says the owner.






Joplin

40°



Overcast
45 / 33° F




Breaking news


Giant Purple Chicken Stolen
Three men were arrested for stealing a 9-foot-tall purple chicken... read more





marfgin:
NEW YEARS CELEBRATIONS!
Don't miss the fireworks at the Waterfront this year!



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© weldherwings.

 







joshua jones



  • .



It had almost been exactly three weeks since Joshua Jones woke up with his head in the lap of Abigail Hargreaves, dazed, confused and struggling to remember the events that had led up to that exact moment. The uneasiness in the pit of his gut only swelled as he tried to connect the puzzle pieces together. Alas, he was searching for corner pieces but was left with double ears, incapable of completing the whole picture before him. He had been incredibly thankful for Abigail’s presence, thanking the girl over and over again like a skipping record as she assisted him up into his bedroom and to his bed. He had almost been worried he as going to fall while climbing those stairs and take the poor girl on a ride with him, tumbling downwards. He insisted to her that it was okay to go, as his mother and sisters would be home soon, and he would be in an immense amount of trouble if they were to walk in and find not only a visitor but a girl.

I mean, he still got into trouble.

Once his mother arrived home, her eyes had doubled down on the burnt cupcakes, leftover cups on the countertop, and the half-cleaned bowls in the sink. Despite feeling as if he was going to pass out and projectile vomit everywhere, his mother made sure he climbed out of bed in the late hours, she had arrived home to clean up the mess. After all, how could he tell her that he felt like death? He had zero knowledge of what had happened or why he even felt this way. His father’s words echoed in the back of his mind; if it’s broken, you’d be crying. If you were really sick, you’d be crying. The words morphed and circulated through his mind, increasing that nauseous feeling looming over his body.

Not being to tell his parents what had happened with the fear of retribution for his actions (no matter how innocent they were, or filled with good faith) meant he had no one to talk to about what happened at home. Sure, he could’ve told Mary. But there was still a deep, dark-rooted fear that she would tell someone else or he would make her scared or upset. So, he kept it to himself while at home. Every time he picked up a glass of water, memories sprouted of the grit in the bottom of his glass that day that he had just shrugged off, regretting that he should’ve further investigated what it was. He also altogether avoided the living room in fear of spotting any signs of where he had vomited, and Abigial - sweet, beautiful, kind-hearted Abigial - had painstakingly cleaned up. The only time he had been able to discuss with anyone about what had happened was that very day was the spare few minutes he had alone with Abby while at school. Which, surprisingly enough, was very limited.

Because Mary started to hang out with them.

Now, don’t get him wrong, it was great having Mary hang out with them. In a way, it felt like he was just discovering who his sister was. For so many years, there had been a great distance between the two. Joshua had always felt that he had lived in the shadow of his younger sister, forgotten about and overlooked. Mary had so many health issues as a child that it was only natural for their family to focus so much on her (despite Joshua presenting with his own issues, such as his lack of speech at the age of four). And, in a way, Mary felt like a safety blanket to Josh. He felt that if she approved of something, then he knew he wasn’t walking into something that their parents would disapprove of. Also, it did help that it looked like they were making some sort of Jehovah Witness group at school by joining Abigail for lunch every day; making it much easier to brush off their Martha and Alexandria.

But there was still one person missing from the bunch; Max.

It had been almost two months since the last time he had spoken to the boy. Waves of guilt and anxiety would pass over Joshua every time he saw Max in the distance, wanting to reconnect with him. But why had they disconnected to begin with? It felt him confused and quite concerned; what mean thing did he say or what horrible thing did he do to make the other so distant from him? And then, one day, as he was walking to his locker, fate collided and the two boys collided in the hallway. Joshua almost didn’t realise it was Max as he began to apologise to him, kneeling down to help pick up the scattered books and pages. As he did so, he gazed up to see the face of his friend, prompting him to say “Hey, how are you going? Haven’t seen you in a while”. The response was something he had not been expecting; a scurried apology and a quick get away. While that in itself was enough to cause a squeeze of pain to his heart, there was one thing that really got to Joshua. And it was the lack of eye contact. Max wouldn’t even make eye contact with him as he attempted to speak to him.

The thought wondered and tumbled in his mind through out class lesson, making it almost unbearable to focus as he hyper-fixated on that one small gesture. He wouldn’t even look at me, he continued to tell himself, feeling even more guilt each time it ran through his brain. Once at lunch, sitting with Mary and Abigail, his sister pointed out to him that he was off his little daydreaming land again - something that he did quite often at home, apparently, Mary liked to mention to Abigail. Apparently Joshua had missed Mary talking smack about him as they ate their lunch despite sitting right next to her. Coming back from this daze that Mary had claimed he was in, Joshua confessed to the girls what had been running in his mind. How he had seen Max, and how the boy intentionally chose to ignore his questions. But most importantly, how he refused to look him in the eye. It led Joshua to question them what did I do wrong that Max hates me so much?.

To which Abigail responded leave it to me.

Leave it to her? What did that mean?

It was the morning of the wedding, which just so happened to take place at their Kingdom Hall. The whole Jones family had been working hard throughout the week to ensure the cleanliness of the place. And while the rest of the Jones family had been getting ready to go out to the Hall for the ceremony, dressed in their wedding best, Joshua and Mary had been given strict orders to continue on with their missionary work by door knocking. It was an idea that Joshua had carefully placed in the mind of his older brother the other day after Abigail told him to meet her at Graham’s apartment to talk about Max. He had asked Matthew what type of people would be attending, which then led him to ask if there would be anyone his age going. And then proceeded to ask if there was anyone Mary’s age going.

More specifically, any boys Mary’s age.

A giant red flag hung above them, and Matthew began to insist to their father that Mary was not to attend the wedding. As they continued to speak on the matter, for once in his life, Joshua used his big boy voice and volunteered to go door-knocking with his younger sister. It was quite out of character for him to volunteer, with both his father and Matthew looking at him with confusion over this newfound confidence. But after a moment of silence, Andrew finally nodded and agreed. And that was how Mary and Joshua Jones were able to sneak away from the duties of helping with the wedding and make their way to Graham’s apartment, which Abigail had written down for them on a piece of paper.

As they approached the apartment complex, Joshua took a deep inhale, followed by an exhale, before gazing down at his clothes. He felt well overdressed for this, but they had to play the part so they could leave the house. Of course, his parents would’ve questioned them if they were dressed in normal attire as they were still at home getting ready when they left. “I hope people don’t think we’re actually doorknocking…” Joshua muttered more to himself more than anything. Mary extended a hand, patting her brother’s slightly padded shoulder before smiling widely.

“Oh, man. It would be so horrible if people thought we were actual Jehovah Witnesses, right?” she sarcastically responded, rolling her eyes as she exaggerated the word ‘actual’. Had Mary said this to him a couple of months ago, Joshua would’ve thought that his sister was being serious. But after spending time with her and actually getting to know her over these last few weeks, her response actually got a smile out of him, along with a soft chuckle.









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© weldherwings.
 







abigail hargreaves






It had been almost a month since she had seen Max last, and honestly, it was getting harder each day. The two of them had grown so close since meeting in the hospital and for their friendship to just drop out of nowhere, hurt a lot. Abigail tried to move past, hoping that maybe one day the boy would approach her, thinking that maybe he just had some personal stuff going on that he didn't really want to speak about, but that thought process was slowly coming to an end.

She spent her days at school with Josh, but it seemed like, after the incident, Mary had become really close to the two's friendship. The younger sister was almost like Josh's shadow at this point, if you saw Josh, you would find Mary right behind or alongside him. Their siblingship was admirable, Abigail wished that she had a sibling that she could be close to in the same way as those two, but alas, she was an only child and will be for the remainder of her life.

One day while the three were having lunch, Abigail and Mary were having a conversation about how Josh seemed to zone out quite frequently, and in all honesty, Abby found it quite cute. Though when he came back to earth and explained what he had been thinking about, she realized that the decaying friendship with Max wasn't bothering just her.

Almost on the spot, a plan was curated, and a text message would be sent to Graham, explaining the situation, and asking for permission to meet up at his place. There were many reasons for the location, but the two biggest were for them to have a neutral meeting place, and for Graham to mediate the situation if a problem arose.

A few days later, it was time for the meeting, Abigail got dressed and mentally prepared herself for this confrontation, there were high hopes for a resolution to this problem, but she tried to keep them at a normal expectation level. Once she had gathered herself and her things, she headed out the door and hopped into her car, heading towards Graham's.

It took longer than usual, as she decided to use the drive to help her clear the thoughts that had been running through her mind, many scenarios playing out, both good and bad. Arriving at the apartments, she pulls into a parking spot and takes a deep breath, while doing so, her eyes dart over to movement at the front of the building, Josh and Mary were just getting there as well. Hopping out of the car, Abigail met up with the two, sharing some small talk as they made the journey up to Graham's door.

The trio finally got to their destination, taking initiative, she stepped up to the door and gave two knocks, hoping that they were loud enough to be heard inside. Anxiety boiled inside of her as she waited for the door to open. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the door unlocked and creaked open revealing Graham who invited the group inside. Her eyes move around the living room, and land on the couch where someone was sitting.

Max.





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© weldherwings.
 
TW: Vomit/Getting sick



















scroll
















The Rebel






Kenzie


























mood


Make it stop






















outfit


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location


home/meeting point (i dunno where)






















interactions


Alex






















tags


Chimney Swift Chimney Swift































Finally feeling safe enough to leave the bathroom, Kenzie slowly stood up and flushed the toilet, grimacing as the putrid smell of vomit hit her nostrils and she quickly turned her head to stop the possibility of a round two happening.

Yawning Kenzie made her way downstairs, she hadn't really been sleeping well and that was what she had put down to her morning session, possibly a stomach bug as she'd had been feeling quite sick the last few mornings. She could hear her siblings talking and laughing downstairs and smiled softly to herself, it was nice to have James home again and for them all to be together. As she approached the bottom of the stairs, Kenzie used her sleeves to wipe her eyes, hoping to remove any evidence of what had just happened.

As she walked into the kitchen the first thing that Kenzie noticed was the overwhelming scent of sausages and bacon cooking, the second was the instant dropping of her stomach, like a ticking time bomb with only a matter of seconds before it exploded.

"Morning Kenz" James greeted with a smile, a smile that quickly turned to a frown as Kenzie turned white.

"Oh fuck" was all she managed as she turned and ran as fast as she could back to the bathroom, making it just in time.

After what felt like a century Kenzie leaned back from the toilet and rested against the counter behind her, placing her head in her hands she closed her eyes once more as she blinked away tears. If she had gone out last night maybe she would understand but she hadn't actually been out in over a week. Please god make it stop

Eventually the sickness passed and Kenzie stood up and flushed the toilet before washing her face and brushing her teeth. She just hoped whatever that was had gone now, because whatever it was it wasn't nice. She went back into her room to get changed, once dressed she sat on her bed for a moment as she decided what to do. She was supposed to meeting Alex now and felt bad if she met him while she was so sick. Kenzie gave it 10 minutes as she lay on her bed scrolling aimlessly on her phone.

Once she could confirm that the sickness had passed Kenzie messaged Alex to tell him she was leaving hers now before standing up and grabbing her bag.

"Right Im out, see yous later" she shouted as she walked down the stairs and out the front door as quickly as she could, terrified that the smell would kick it off all over again. Breathing in the fresh air Kenzie smiled to herself as she walked towards the meeting point. Realising that she got there first Kenzie sat on a low wall and kicked her feet as she waited for Alex to arrive.





♡coded by uxie♡
 
A CONTENT WARNING FOR MILD POVERTY MENTIONS + HATING ON STEPDADS LMAAOO ​





























DECEMBER 1ST.

On the fleeting instances he’d catch the man’s nervous gaze, the coal kiln of Ren’s eyes needled in silent warning.

The vibes? Atrocious.

And not because the kleptomaniac was in a Kingdom Hall certain to burst into flames for every lecherous thought— where was the half naked Jesus?! —and not because he’d fought tooth and nail to stop his mother’s stiletto nails from affixing the bow around his neck— Ren knew how to tie it himself, it's just laying there as a “rebellious statement” —but because of the third individual leeched onto what he thought was a two-people outing.

“Do they have cheese platters?” A woman would hush. “Ooo, I fuckin’ love cheese.” Listening to his mother, long hair curtaining the sharp corners of a red-painted smile as she fluttered enthusiastically at the wedding programme; the very stem of his love, sacrificial and independent, there was not much in this world he wouldn’t do for her.

“Well I'll be darned.” And then there was Greg. “Do I spy mozzarella?” A grown man that liked Lego. “What a hoot!”

Please get me out of here.

Greg; paired roach-brown jacket with denim jeans, glasses, balding, and passive as a doormat under rampant ire. Listened to Ice Ice Baby with no amount of rhythm, paid tax, and found mayonnaise too spicy— or as Greg liked to say: had some kick to it. Threatening as a wet piece of bread. A stupid little fellow who, most importantly, was not his dad.

Ren exhaled through the nose, lips and brows still coiled in a scowl as the two awed over the delight of crackers and sliced dairy.

He wanted to leave.

Having a creature resigned to habit for a son, the well-rehearsed play would repeat with every man who’d made their way into his mother’s life; step-dads never found credence with an intemperate Ren. He remembers the first, in a house coated with sepia light and stewing in smokey film. Held by walls of peeling newspaper and draft swept floorboards, a sickness would seep from the door frame to stoke the sting of a replacement father.

He asks his mom to leave them.

She says no.

By the third, he knew this phenomenon. Grew tired of its pattern, allocating scraps of fondness in inevitable disappointment only to watch them walk out the door months later. Reared on detachment, nurtured by discomfort, cells swarmed bitter with venom of acedia.

It sat with him quietly, most days, the resentment he’d tend like a well-fed animal.

It sat with him loudly, this day, when eyeing the man at his mother’s side. Cocooned in feelings he thought to— ought to have outgrown. Encapsulating all the aggression of a handbag chihuahua, primed for a lunge at any misplaced hands, words, breaths. Even a speck of dust would be flintlock ignition for the male to yap.

“Sweetie,” seemingly ignorant to the triangle of agitation, his mother turned to nudge an empty glass into Ren’s chest. “Could you get me another Whiskey Sour? With one of those little pink swirly straws, yes? And Greg will have…”

Glacial ice spidered the air between them, eyes dragging to the man who’d always held heavy discomfort in dishing out decisions.

“Honey Bun?” His mother called in a voice light as rain, “you want a milk with ice?”

Ren was gonna vomit.

How dare he have to witness this.

Turning slowly, mouth scoffed with crackers and sensing the blade of temper held like a pendulum, Greg— the Honey Bun in question, nodded and coughed back a choke. Yet by the time his mother had turned to relay this message, Ren had already stalked off.

Detoured on his own fancies in search of something to abate the encroached discomfort, he always found deep affection for familiar things. A rush of daybreak through tempest mood when finding purchase in crystallised lunar, a satiated hunger that’d tether him back to the present. It was certainly more pleasant than watching over the two cheese-eating freaks. Companioned with trouble, slinking through guests with both impatience and purpose, he’d often tread the spiral of this familiar path. Seeping waves of urgency, casting looks over the shoulder like the hunted.

On his journey around the venue, he’d borrowed something.

It was only a little something, a neck-laden something worthy of his magpie attention. Coiled like a silver eel, pressed tender to the roof of his mouth like pebbles of steel. Not entirely proud of the effort into retrieving it, yet triumphant all the same. Gaze drawn over the stretch of guests, his preoccupied glance had a collision meeting shoulder, risky jolt almost sliding the jewellery downwards.

A barb of malice for the clumsy fool, Jehovah must be testing him.

Anticipating a stranger, instead he was faced with a sharp-dressed individual, and upon sight of him— for sight alone was always enough for Ren to forget every coherent thought that could trawl his brain: (mango? mango!) —alarm struck him like a car to a deer.

Why are you here.

Eyes locked, reeling lost into the swell of the background. For in all its simplicity and woven complexity, the surprise of the lawyer coloured him pale. Panic bleeding into coal pupils, conflict of research had wrestled him nightly. It took him moments to blink, anchor himself back to reality to say something. But his voice catches. A muffled hello, maybe, a noise of horror, perhaps. Forced into the wall of teeth he’d clenched vice-tight.

This was horrible timing.

Lips pursed thin, intense and uncomfortable staring ensued from the quiet kleptomaniac. Acquiescing guilty defeat, the long intermission of awkward silence was only broken when he held out an open palm and leaned forward to spit a string of jewels into it; the pilfered necklace hidden away.

A cough, sheepish smile. A cat vomiting a shiny corpse.

“Was looking for that.”

Needing to claw back power of the interaction and any possible fraction of dignity, he pocketed the item from sight and hopefully, if Jehovah was especially kind, Dante’s memory forever. Ren did not want to be remembered as the guy who spat up gems.

“Hey Danny.” Gilding himself in the usual decorum of confidence, distraction shall be his saviour. “You stalking me?”

Knowing the lawyer’s apprehension with publicity, portions of space were mockingly kept between them. Acquaintance illusion despite dredges of tender heaviness remaining long after Dante had departed their sacred meetings. In a hotel room with bodies curled eye to eye, memories branded into the subconscious of touch and sight.

This busy environment left Ren’s preference proportionate.

Yet upon assuming they probably weren’t here on boring lawyer business, anticipation was next to flower in the dwellings of his mind. Lustful ambition to paw at the waters and check the temperature, he’d drift a hand to straighten the collar of Dante’s shirt.

“Never took you for the clingy type.”
























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♡coded by uxie♡


 






Alex




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He’d never admit to it openly, but winter was a rough time for Alex.

A couple of years ago, he wouldn’t have minded it all so much. In fact, when he was a kid, he used to love winter: the snow, Christmas, and hot chocolate… the season used to have a sort of whimsical magic. Funny, how quickly that all disappeared when a patch of ice and a drunk driver left him without a mother, a father, and a right arm.
Now he hated the cold.

Pausing by the front door on his way out of his grandparent’s house, hand on the doorknob, he glared down at the metal, plastic, and carbon fiber prosthetic that replaced his lost limb. It wasn’t even one of those cool cybernetic arms– something the remainder of the Cappelletti family couldn’t afford after the medical bills and the funeral costs for both of his parents. Instead, he got stuck with a simple metal hook for a hand. Granted, the pirate jokes were pretty funny sometimes and had granted him a shred of popularity in school for the novelty value, but this time of year, all he could think of was how it felt to have that piece of his body back.
Sometimes it almost felt like it was still there, aching. Phantom pain. Normal Alex would have joked around about how “aagh, the ghosts are biting my dead arm again!”, but not this morning.

This morning, it just wasn’t funny.

Despite this, though, he braced himself to put on his best possible imitation of his usual self for Kenzie. His best friend didn't deserve to have to watch him act all mopey and miserable. Dead parents aside, his relationship with Kenzie mattered more than emotional honesty. Besides, he was especially grateful to have her around on a day like today, when he so desperately needed a distraction from the season.

Over in the Industrial District, there was an old abandoned factory building that they discovered a few months back. The fire escape was still left untouched, so they could climb up to the rooftop and see the whole rundown city skyline with all its lights and bridges and smokestacks. On a clear morning like this, one could see straight out to South Seattle. Unsurprisingly, by the time he got off the bus from the waterfront, Kenzie had beaten him there and was already waiting for him on the roof. Alex waved over to her, mimicking his usual cheery persona, but noticed almost immediately that Kenzie looked ghostly pale and fatigued, as though she hadn’t slept well in days. Maybe she was getting sick, or something had happened…
She likely wouldn’t tell him anything if he asked. She was a lot like him in that regard, always pretending that nothing really fazed her. But still, he felt that he had to give it a try. That’s what friends do, isn’t it?

“Hey, uh… you doing okay, Kenz?” Alex asked, visibly concerned. He sat down beside her, hand on her shoulder to get a closer look at her face. “You don’t look so good.”







♡coded by uxie♡
 






Oliver




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syml



I wanted to leave










In classic Joplin fashion, November’s murders had been all but forgotten by the time December crept in. Police Chief Allen is now dead and buried in the city cemetery, his son’s body still “missing” in its secret underwater grave, and both killings now slapdashedly chalked up to either gang violence or the mysterious Rosenberg Street serial killer. In a city like this, homicide was simply old news. The people were bored of it.

A wedding, though, was something far more remarkable…
And no amount of worrying, fretting, and overthinking on Oliver’s part could have stopped this day from arriving.

Oliver Ferris Dreyfuss-Park. The new hyphenated last name left the taste of bile in his mouth. It sounded awful just to say it out loud, and the unpleasant change in his name wasn’t even nearly the worst part of this situation.
His mother was now his friend Ashley’s stepmother, and her father was his stepfather. Ashley was probably the only one of his friends who ever really knew the full extent of the situation that he was in with his family, because her own story was almost identical and just as miserable: just like him, she was stuck living with a single aggressive unstable parent after losing contact with the other. Oliver’s father and Ashley’s mother were both nowhere to be found now, having no interest in supporting the children of their ex-spouses. And now, finally, their remaining poor excuses for a parental figure were remarrying… each other.
Ashley and Oliver now had to share one broken family as stepsiblings.

Consumed by overwhelming hypothetical scenarios of what his life would be like after this unholy matrimony, Oliver had spent the last several minutes absentmindedly pulling at his collar, wringing his tie, tugging the buttons on his sleeves, twisting his hair around his fingers…
Formalwear, he’d decided, must have been invented as some form of torture to make formal events even more unbearable. Between his stiff uncomfortable wardrobe, the loud chattering of the arriving guests, the odd music, the bright lights, and his infant stepbrother Tony gurgling and rolling around in the decorated stroller beside him, Oliver was only one minor inconvenience away from a breakdown.

His mother and new stepfather had decided at the last minute that Oliver’s task for the wedding would be holding onto Tony for the entire duration of the ceremony. What, did they think that this event wasn’t already sufficiently disaster-bound!? This was an absolutely terrible idea: no one in the world was less suited to babysitting than Oliver. The fidgety young turtle expert didn’t have a single nurturing bone in his body, not even the slightest inkling of a paternal instinct. In a way, babies almost scared him. Baby humans were ear-splittingly loud, nauseatingly foul-smelling, and horrifyingly unpredictable, and worst of all they were deathly fragile and could expire at the slightest error. What a fluke of nature it was that humans had somehow become such a dominant invasive species when they all started out so helpless and soft. Baby sea turtles were born fully independent and armored, ready to scramble for their lives across the perilous beach where they hatched to the ocean they will spend the rest of their lives adventuring in… so why was it that 999 out of every 1000 sea turtles dies in childhood, but only about 40 out of every 1000 humans? It was ridiculous, nonsensical, infuriating…
Such a cruel irony. Or, perhaps, Oliver was just envious of Tony’s obliviousness to the grim situation at hand. He was far too young and naive to understand the hell that was to come of this… most likely, he wouldn’t even remember this day. While Oliver stood stiffly by the door trying to pretend that he could just run out the door of the kingdom hall and disappear, Tony held onto the wedding rings, safely seated in his decorated little stroller-wagon locomotive device that Oliver was tasked with pushing down the aisle in a few minutes' time.

Oliver was reasonably sure that at some point during this nightmare wedding, Tony was going to eat the rings. Babies couldn’t be trusted with small objects. Babies couldn’t be trusted at all.

If humans were just a little more like sea turtles, this never would’ve happened.







♡coded by uxie♡
 
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