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Realistic or Modern Newcastle (Open!!)

Characters
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  • filler

















Like a cartoon character discovering inertia, Dex's body jerked to a staggered halt. With his sister's hand clasped around his brawny shoulder, his head lurched forward, then slingshot back with the rest of his now stationary body. Axel bounced in his arm, somehow exhibiting a more peaceful demeanor than the tall boy had ever seen in his few visits with the kid.

"Dad doesn't know what he wants," he tried to explain, shaking his head with misplaced pity. He inched closer to Logan, offering an easygoing smile. Some people just weren't content trusting that things would be okay. Dex could never sympathize with that sentiment, but the very least he could do for his poor sister was try. No one in his life liked to admit it, but the truth was that a bit of faith could go miles further than a calculated maneuver. In the end, Logan still was her father's child and it showed.

It was in that philosophy that the high schooler naively believed he could become an attorney like his dad, if only to cheer on his clients with blind trust. As long as they didn't mind the probability of a few extra years of jailtime, that was. But in his opinion, the fun was always worth it.

Though Logan appeared crestfallen as ever, Dex couldn't let this rare one-on-one go to waste. "Things are hard, but... it's fine!" Probably. "Listen, we'll get all that baby goop off your shirt, maybe you can grab the two of us a couple drinks..." He did a little shimmy, a callback to all the dancing in the living room they'd done as kids. Back when grades and opinions and conditional love weren't quite so relevant as they were now.

"Come on! Bar time, bar time!" he cheered, his infectious, trademark jubilance spreading in the air. The baby bounced up and down as his holder jittered giddily; the three of them looked so natural, like a fractured but complete family. Without the added context, Dex almost looked like a doting big brother, the kind he always wanted to be. What a curse it was, their father's promiscuity ending at his conception.

There was no place for worry in Dex's world. "Now hurry up and smile. Race you!" Without waiting a single beat, he turned on his heel and dashed into the crowd, baby in tow. If Logan was going to sit still, sulking and stagnating in her own exaggerated powerlessness, then Dex would just have to kickstart her heart. Hope the baby got all the puke out of its system...








Dexter Cruz

















logan










Winona Winona













♡coded by uxie♡
 




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/* ------ tabs ------ */









  • /* ------ sticky note letter ------ */
    This is new to me. I’m trying my very best.
    Blake Prince​






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


There was a party happening tonight, at the beach. Just the sort of scene Blake would typically find herself in the middle of.

But she wasn’t going.

It didn’t matter that she’d spent the last few hours painstakingly applying makeup and choosing the perfect outfit, or that she now sat ready to go on the edge of her bed, phone in hand. It didn’t matter that it was the Fourth of July and all of her friends—if you could call them that—would be having fun without her.

Mason was coming over.

When that would be Blake hadn’t an idea, he had a habit of coming and going as he pleased. He had his own life and a thousand important things to do, and she’d have to wait. She wondered if he knew how different this was for her. Making friends, and being nice and keeping things civil.

But she was trying.

Trying her damn hardest to drop the attitude, and to open up more. To let things slide. To be a person worthy of the praise she desired, instead of simply scaring it out of people. She’d even been kinder to Mer and Drake, and tried making plans with that one girl…what was her name? Raven? And that baseball boy. Caine.

Jade, on the other hand…the girl was a whole other story. It was like she always found the easiest ways to get under Blake’s skin. And yeah, maybe she was a little jealous. Jealous of her loving friends who jumped to her rescue in a heartbeat, and her ease talking to people, and her relationship with Mason.

Why was she jealous?

She was Blake fucking Prince, Hollywood princess and Little Miss California not one, not two, but three years in a row. She had everything she needed and more. She had the fame, grades and money. She lived in a mansion in the best part of town, and drove a sports car. There were people out there who’d kill to have a life like hers.

So why was she jealous?

With a disheartened sigh, Blake stood up, thin legs wobbling under her a bit before steadying, a familiar dizziness filling her head. She needed to eat, probably. But that could wait.

Crossing the room to where her massive mirror was leaned against the wall, she smiled at her reflection. Her silky black hair was left down, and hung almost to her navel. Her outfit, chosen for the party originally, clung to her figure in just the right ways, the green silk of the two piece dress set one of her favorites. She’d gone natural on the makeup, but…she looked hot.

Who was surprised?

With a slightly more content sigh, Blake turned from the mirror to inspect her bedroom. Immaculately neat, like everything else in the house. Everything—from the massive makeup collection that sat on her vanity to the art supplies stacked in the corner—had its place and followed her sage and cream color scheme. The king sized bed held an excessive amount of pillows and blankets. The entire space was lit by the various lamps placed strategically in different areas, casting everything in a warm golden light. Wax melters and candles lended to the lemon verbena and campfire scent that pervaded the luxurious space.

Blake was nothing if not a creature of comfort. That much was apparent.

Satisfied that Mason could come over and not tell what a gigantic mess her life was, Blake left her room and made her way into the living room, where she plopped down on the soft white couch. A bottle of rum sat on the coffee table in front of her, courtesy of last night’s movie night and she leaned forward to grab it. Twisting off the metal cap, Blake took a generous swig before laying her head against the back of the sofa, wincing.

Now she’d wait.

What the hell was she doing?





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

© weldherwings.


 
Lorelei Gardner
Lotta True Crime


somewhere on the beach
i want to go home
we’re wearing sweaters in 90 degrees
interactions
mikaela Xed Xed also hewy shh hery hery


Lorelei had given up on finding Xander within five minutes.

Her parents had driven her and her siblings here, something about a family bonding experience and somehow everyone had split up faster than usual. Which she was both glad and upset about-- she was alone, but since both of her siblings were A-WOL…. The chances of going home early was 1 in a million. Unless a health emergency had come up...

No, too difficult.

There were too many people around, grown-ups and kids her age alike, she sat in front of the fire for a few minutes, staring into the flames and enjoying the heat that emanated from it until a couple had come to sit on the logs near her and began making out.

She left instantly.

"Tick tock.” She muttered, inserting a pair of earbuds in her ears and the sound around her, including her own voice, was drowned out by music while she hummed along.

Lorie walked around aimlessly in the sand with an unmarked journal, the other hand lifted to her lips, biting the cuticles around her fingers.

Social... outings weren't really her thing. She hated crowds and Lorelei didn't see the point in forcing small-talk with a bunch of people she didn't know-- or really care to know. Nobody here was remotely decent enough to capture her interest. It was rare when someone actually did, though.

And he was so fucking sure he had the right

The people she had conversated with were mainly just her voicing her thoughts, she wasn't... attempting to keep up the conversation or initiate it in the first place, she was just thinking out loud.

She supposed that's what conversation was, though.

A bitter taste had filled her mouth and she removed her hand, mistakenly chipping off bits of black polish with her teeth, picking them out of her mouth.

But he’s ugly and I’m glad he’s dead

As far as nail polish went, Lorelei usually went with black or... a dark purple.

Or red.

Or--

Her face contorted into a grimace, waiting for the taste to fade. That was the main reason why she didn't really enjoy getting her nails painted-- that, and she hated the way the workers would poke and prod at her hands and toes. Felt weird. Hurt sometimes, too. But since Xander and Artie didn't really qualify for the whole mommy-daughter days, the expectations had fallen onto Lorelei.

Cuz’ there was no fucking candle in his pumpkin head

Her mother wasn't very keen on the color black in general, so that's why Lorie would go for 'dark' that weren’t black but seemed like it.

For some reason, her mother was fine with a color that looked like black, but as long as it was a dark version of a color other than black? It didn't make sense.

You’re not special for winning a game

Come to think of it, a good amount of things that involved her family didn’t make sense.

A girl who believed in magic had a fine line of logic and when to cross it.

With someone who you know was never playing

It was typically something she balanced on carefully, always curious to fall off and face reality as it was.

Senseless, emotional, and messy.

She could’ve killed you
She had every right

It always felt like Lorie was glued to that line, the curiosity was like a gravitational pull ready and willing to yank her down, teetering and tottering along it and every so-often she was like a child learning how to walk for the first time.

Gravity was different in Lorie’s world and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fall off.

Wheels rolled against the sand, getting stuck on a towel that someone had left from earlier in the day and Lorelei yanked the handle, dislodging it.

She didn’t steal the cooler.

It was left unattended— and it wasn’t like she was taking it home.

Lorie sat a little ways away from everyone, it was starting to get dark, but from the many torches they had set up for the party and the sunset, she had enough light to work with.

She was cross-legged, using the cooler as a makeshift table for her journal while she drew intricate lines, slowly and slowly it began to form a humanoid figure, smile lines existing without a mouth.

She had overheard a voice, but Lorie was too entranced to think anything of it.

You just caught her off guard tonight

Lorie glanced up to see a girl standing in front of her, speaking but she couldn’t hear what she was saying.

We listen to a lotta true crime—

One earbud was pulled out, staring at the girl emotionless.

It had taken a few seconds to piece together what she wanted.

Lorie had removed her book to open the cooler, grabbing a bottle of… pink lemonade.

What was the difference between pink lemonade and regular?

Lorie had thrown the bottle at her feet and closed the cooler, returning to her sketch.

“Go away.”
coded by natasha.
 
Mason
party
....
flannel, jeans, the norm
interactions

Blake HolliSter HolliSter
He was only here for one reason, and that fucking reason was simple. It was to keep an eye on his little brother, although Drake had taken off to who fucking knows where very quickly, so... guess there wasn't really any reason for him having shown up.

Except maybe if he was near this time, he could keep his brother safe.

The last couple months had been nothing short of a fucking disaster. He was pissed. He was angry. He was perpetually hurt. Not only had he failed his fucking classes, not only had Drake nearly died, but he'd also ended up breaking up with his girlfriend. Not that it was all that big of a deal or some shit. He was... well, it wasn't like it'd felt like there was really anything between himself and Maggie that would've caused them to last.

They were just too different, in every way.

But it was fine.

Here he was, just a little over a month since everything had crumbled apart, and he still didn't feel like he had his life really under control. Not that it ever had been. But now he was standing here, watching his daughter playing in the sand with a few other kids as the sun set, while his attention was divided between herself and texts from Jade. The bitch wasn't someone that he necessarily cared about, but ahh... well...

There was the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

Closest thing to a smile he usually got.

Well, until things got wild. Until Jade fucking lost it, and he had kind of a headache, but she was fucking fine. Some place. He didn't know, and he clearly didn't care to know.

Sure, he would've gone to get her if she'd really needed it, but she didn't.

And he had better things to do.

(Better girls to do, rather.)

After dropping Ari off with Raven, or at least making sure she had an eye on the little four-year-old, he was gone. Struggling to drive his car out of the crowded parking lot. Cursing under his breath on more than one occasion, and then he was driving his little car in Blake's direction.

It wasn't a super long drive, and he knew the direction well. As he parked in front of her house, there was a deep inhale, followed by an exhale to calm unnecessary nerves, and then Mason was opening the car door and stepping out.

A vague expression crossed his face, one that could probably be considered almost a smile as he made his way up to the house and knocked, then remembered she was kind of rich. So he pressed the doorbell and stepped back.

One she'd answered the door, the definitely not smile on his face warmed up.

"Hey," he greeted. "Not feeling the party tonight?"
coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:
willa
moreau
playful
  • outfit




    tee, jean skirt, boots



https:///www.willa-moreau.com/lets-get-our-drink-on
Willa eyed this kid with suspicion. He was handsome, for sure, but she got the feeling that he knew that all too well. She could tell he was eying her up and was mildly annoyed, but tried not to let it show. He certainly seemed like a sweet guy, and she was relieved by his response to her question about the flask.

Once they stopped walking, she looked around. They were lit by moonlight and fireworks, but everyone was looking at the fireworks anyway.

She had an urge to roll her eyes when he asked if she wanted swim lessons, but was also a little impressed by his gall. After all, she wasn't one for subtlety, either.

"I can swim well, thanks," she said. "I love the ocean. I just...well, my bathing suit is in tatters at the moment. Haven't had a chance to buy a new one."

She grinned and said something she probably should have kept to herself. "But who needs one, anyway? Clothes work just fine."

As to the beers, Willa lifted her arms, showing her slim, unencumbered figure--spilling a little of her lemonade as she did. "See any beers here?" she asked playfully. Then she pulled her flask out of the back pocket of her jean skirt.

"Nothing good, just a little vodka," she said. "I guess I'll pour some in my lemonade. Gotta look like a good little student, eh?" She screwed open the cap and was about to take a swig first, but then remembered most people don't want to share drinks. When you hang out with people hiding on trains and squatting in abandos, you sort of have to lose your sense of disgust.

So she held the flask toward Justin instead, saying "Wanna add a little fun to that Coke?"
coded by reveriee.
 
Casper Deering | Artie Deering | jazzyball jazzyball

The emotions, they were mixed. On the one hand, Casper wanted to melt. On the other hand, they were being really nice to him. He leaned into Artie as they looked, watching their face. He took his sketchbook back eagerly, hugging it close. He stared for a moment, taking in their appearance, lips pursed, before he said lamely, “You’re welcome.”

Then they repeated his name and again he wanted to melt into a puddle, though it wasn’t quite as negative this time. He nodded, hard to process emotions crossing him for a second before they settled back down. “Mhm! Though I was supposed to be in the same grade as you to start with…” He shuffled his body, fingers twisting around his pencil. He smiled, a wide, watery thing. “So I guess we’re back in the same grade!!”

A silence lapsed for a half a second of awkwardness before Casper asked, “Are you having fun at the party?”
 
Esther Deering | Petra Wolff | jazzyball jazzyball

A smirk slipped across Esther’s face as she returned Petra’s curt nod. “Glad to hear it,” she said, following the fucking dork and obeying her directions happily, though she… could’ve set the watermelon down lighter.

She took her half, making… as quick work of it as she knew how, though it was admittedly still pretty slow-going. As soon as Petra’s question cut off, she looked up to her face, then followed her eyes down to her finger.

Now, it’d be very easy to freak out. Instead, Esther wordlessly grabbed as many napkins as she could grab as she put down her own knife and handed them to her. It took half a second to realize that no, that wasn’t going to work for her to curse under her breath and take off her shirt. Her sports bra kept her more than decent, even with the rest of her body on clear display. Fat overlaid muscle, subtle rolls to her sides and dips beneath her ribs, high-waisted pants cinched almost level with her bellybutton. More of the underlying muscle in her upper arms was visible as she pressed the shirt into Petra’s hand. She stared into her, attention rapt as she said with all the clarity and force she could, “Keep pressure on that and follow me.”

To be clear, Esther was freaking the fuck out herself. But her and Aaron were killer at the whole ‘handle the crisis and cry when it’s done’ shit—They had a lot of practice. Which is how she’d already texted her aunt and mom about where she was and was a finger’s touch away from calling Petra’s mom as she opened the door to her grand cherokee and shuffled Petra in, making sure she was buckled in before she shut the door and pressed dial.

Now, driving while on the phone might not have been the best idea, even with Petra’s mom on speaker, but it was the best option she had. She very quickly relayed the whole knife thing as she buckled in, started the car and, after a half-glance at Petra, rolled down her window. “Got a garbage can in the--” She looked to her finger. “One second.” And after a moment of shuffling, a garbage can in Petra’s lap.

Quicker than was likely wise, she backed out, maneuvered out of the parking lot and onto the main roads.
 






Zach Lombardi





Zach didn't like crowds or parties. Too loud, too noisy, too much people. The one place he felt comfortable in situations like these, was behind the bar, his little safe haven that kept the crowd a good distance away and limited his human interaction to drink orders and the occasional rambling drunk.

He had figured tonight would be a nice, eventless night working behind the bar, except he had completely forgotten to account for one thing, or rather, one person. Havana Rose Lombardi. His little twin sister.

Her parting declaration of "He's single, ladies!" had several heads turning and looking in his direction, drawing the very attention he sought to avoid by working the bar because people thankfully, rarely remembered or paid attention to the party workers who served food and drinks.

Zach immediately dropped his gaze to stare down at the counter as he polished off one glass, than another, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, all the while hoping that no one would pay any real attention to Havana's little stunt and quickly lose interest and go back to partying. His bright red ears, were perhaps the only obvious giveaway that the declaration and subsequent stares had made him nervous as his face remained as stony and impassive as ever as he continued to busy himself with various tasks behind the counter.

The greeting of a new customer had Zach looking back up and staring right at a curiously familiar face, and it took several seconds and her mention of his name before everything clicked into place. Kira. One of Havana's friends back in high school who had well... how did you put it? She'd seem to enjoy disturbing him back then, little comments, a few things here and there, some of it was fuzzy, some of it was as clear as if it happened yesterday. Needless to say he was never good at dealing with her, not that he was ever good at dealing with anyone but, she had been among the more difficult ones. One needed to look no further than his last conversation with his coworker Raven, than to understand just how awful he was at conversation, which by the way, he was still rather puzzled by that interaction. She seemed upset by the whole thing but then if he was disappointed wouldn't that just be troublesome? After all, it was 'no strings attached'. He'd thought about apologising but then she'd said not to talk to her and well, now he wasn't entirely sure what to do, not that he was ever sure anyways, conversation was, again, far from his strong suit.

Which was why, when he saw the smile that stretched across Kira's face, Zach mentally braced himself for the coming interaction because it seemed like this wasn't going to be the usual routine of order, drink, done.

"Hey... it's been a while. How have you been?"

"Ok."

"You haven't forgotten me yet, have you?"

"No."

"It's been so long since high school. I hope Hav's doing good, whatever she's doing."

"..."

Was she doing good at college? Honestly he had no idea. They were studying in different places and he'd never been good at keeping up to date with what people were doing, most of their conversations and interactions were initiated by Hav, usually when she was curious, bored or had... you know, done something...

Zach just stood there and waited, staring quietly at his former schoolmate, waiting for her to deliver her next line, her next words, hopefully an order. She looked... different, older, then again, they were all older now so it was only natural that she looked older. He did too and so did Hav. There was something though, perhaps it was her gaze... he wasn't quite sure.

The silence continued until finally Kira spoke again.

"So, Zachy, what've you got?"

What had they got? Was she expecting him to list out every drink they had available? That did sound like something she'd do. He really didn't want to-

"How about a cosmo? Extra shot of vodka, if you could."

"Ok."

That, was not what he expected. Still, Zach was all too thankful that she hadn't made him recite every drink they had at the bar just for the kick of it.

He made quick work of the order with the finesse and expertise of a seasoned bartender. He'd always been good with his hands and then there was experience he'd accumulated from working at the Lux every holiday after he finished high school. Zach topped off the drink with the extra shot of vodka and the slice of fresh lime before sliding the glass over to Kira.

"Your cosmo."





mood
just keep working

location
bar

bartender
here





playing...
nil

by nil​




mentions
Havana, Raven

interactions
Kira

tags
hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 









scroll








the hothead



Ivy K.













mood

high & hungry











outfit

Cute!











location

Bonfire Party











interactions

Antonio











tags

Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202















Oh, how Ivy loved the sound of her Mustang’s engine as it resonated through the custom exhaust system; it was like music to her ears. She couldn’t help but grin as she pushed the sleek black vehicle twenty miles an hour over the speed limit, her tinted windows rolled down and her left hand waving in the wind. It was a miracle that she had yet to drop the joint that she’d been smoking on the way to the beach; she pulled her hand back inside momentarily to take another hit before returning it to its original position.

“Please don’t smoke and drive,” her mother had told her about thirty minutes earlier as she and her husband began to pull out of their driveway, “You know I don’t mind you smoking… even though it is a nasty habit. But please, not while you’re on the road. It isn't safe.”

Ivy couldn’t help but snort and roll her eyes at the brief memory. “As if,” she muttered, before taking another drag and pressing down harder on the gas pedal. She knew that she needed something in her system in order to get through the rest of the evening; While she didn’t mind going to a bonfire party (despite not being a big fan of the holiday being celebrated), the idea that she’d probably be under constant watch by her mother and step-dick was almost enough to make her wish she’d stayed home instead.

It wasn’t long before Ivy had reached her destination, where she sat in the parking lot for an additional ten minutes watching the fireworks and finishing her smoke sesh before deciding to leave the comfort of her car. And when she finally did, the young woman made a beeline for the nearest food stand.

Her high had just begun to set in, and she was developing a serious case of the munchies. As she waited in line, she pulled out her phone and shot a quick text to her friend Amy, who’d mentioned something earlier about getting funnel cake.

The line was moving steadily, and soon Ivy found herself nearing the counter. She’d just reached the front when something–or rather someone–prompted her to leave her spot. “Is that who I think it is?” Ivy called out once she drew near the tall, curly-haired boy she hadn’t really seen all that much since he graduated. Once she came to a stop in front of him, she offered Toni a bright smile and a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite smoke buddy! Kinda surprised to see you here… it’s a good surprise though. How’ve you been?”


♡coded by uxie♡
 
Remy Bates

1656383342977.png

​
Remy wasn’t ready to rejoin society here, but he would never really be ready, would he? Unfortunately, his mother was no longer giving him a choice. She was annoyed with him, and she made it obvious, huffing when she came home to find him slung over the couch, scrolling mindlessly on his phone or rewatching games. He dropped his brothers off at school and picked them up, but that was the one thing he actually seemed to do around the house these days. Even that was done halfway - he dropped both boys off at the middle school, even though one was currently attending the local high school. The one that still had students that knew Remy.

After a lecture about this, Remy had started to do more around the house. His hardworking mother deserved the help. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough for her and she had finally given him no choice - he was going to the party tonight. He was going to get over his fear of seeing his old classmates. He was - hopefully - going to become more like the old Remy. Except Remy knew that wouldn’t happen. He had planned to just avoid the party altogether and spend the night somewhere else, telling his mother some lie to cover up where he had been all night. Of course, Andrea Bates knew her son better than that and foiled his plan by driving him to the party, dropping him off and refusing to leave until he walked into the group of people already congregated.

Remy ducked his head as he joined in the party, almost more embarrassed that his mother dropped him off than afraid of being recognized. Once she was satisfied and drove off, Remy looked around, his eyes landing on the bar. Perfect. Alcohol would certainly be the easiest way to get through this night. Plus, in his experience, bartenders made the perfect friends. They would listen to your problems with no complaint and kept the alcohol coming. Remy couldn’t even count how many bars he would sit in, talking the ear off of whoever got stuck listening to his problems. Back at school, half of the time his laundry money would end up in some bartender’s tip jar.

He sped up, putting on the brakes when he recognized the two people at the bar. Zach was no issue - Remy had no issue with him back in school and had no relationship to ruin with his former schoolmate. But Kira? She was the absolute worst person for him to face right now. Remy had no idea if either of them had seen him, but he refused to back down. Allowing Kira to see him back down and run from his problems was the worst thing he could imagine right about now.

He fixed his posture and continued to approach the bar, doing his best to keep a straight face. He ignored Kira at first, leaning up against the bar. He turned to give Zach a charming smile. Just like Logan, Zach was someone that Remy could face right now. His old friends, teammates, and Kira? Totally different story. “Zach, buddy, good to see you again. I’ll take the strongest thing you got.” The quicker he got drunk, the easier he could get through this night.

The last thing he wanted to do was face Kira, but he knew that there was no way out of it now. Maybe it had been reckless of him to approach the bar, but he couldn’t back down now that he was here. He turned to face her and immediately regretted it. A rush of emotions surged through him as soon as he was face to face with her - pain, regret, anger, frustration. He couldn’t even put a name to most of the emotions. Still, his smile barely faltered, as a result of practice from the many interviews he had done after rough losses. Be graceful, grateful, and gracious on the outside, regardless of whatever is inside.

“Kira,” he said, keeping it short and simple. There was nothing to say to her, there was everything to say to her. He wanted to cut her out of his life for good and he wanted to revisit their relationship, try to make her see how she had hurt him. He didn’t know what to say or do.

All he knew for sure was that he needed a drink.
 
Xander Gardner
the party WOOT WOOT
wooot
t-shirt and swim shorts
interactions

Aaron mikaluvkitties mikaluvkitties
Right. The fellow wasn't really giving Xander much to work with, so the boy awkwardly dropped his hand, letting it fall back to his side. The grin on his face had kind of faltered, and his previous upbeat, chipper attitude had certainly taken quite the hit.

He'd texted Lorie and told her to come and find him when she was ready, but he wasn't really seeing her. There was a little seed of worry inside him, like maybe he should find her and keep an eye on her, because maybe Xander was kind of an overprotective brother sometimes.

Also, he figured, it would be better than this.

This was just awkwardly uncomfortable.

He couldn't explain why.

"Oh, I ah..." he didn't really want to delve into the reasons why he'd been away from high school for... well, the majority of the time he'd been in it. It was kind of a personal tale, one that Xander didn't feel particularly comfortable sharing, and he worried that Aaron would be able to pick up on that. With a little shrug of his shoulders, he just gave a casual, basic explanation:

"Homeschooled."

Well, it was true, and Aaron didn't need to know the reasoning behind it.

"I'm coming back for my senior year, though."
coded by natasha.
 
Evelyn Sinclaire
@ s i n c l a i r e
beach or whatever
click for outfit
nathan
tags

Winona Winona

The longer Evelyn stood with her feet dug into the sand listening to this idiot talk about how he'd "totally jumped off the roof and did a cannonball in some pool" as if that was supposed impress her, the more she regretted ever coming to this party. The brunette would much rather be at home working where she wouldn't be getting hit on by Justin Bieber wanna-bes, and like, at least her designs were actually interesting???

In between everything she was juggling for her new job as an assistant stylist at Vouge, Evie had also been working on a really important line. After being inspired by her friend, Jared Darrington, Evelyn had been trying out new professional, work-friendly attire but with some color, risk, and a little bit of boldness to it. "Professional doesn't have to be boring" type vibes or whatever.

She was hoping that it would gain some attention on her socials, and that maybe her newly formed ties would take notice and you know, well the vision wasn't to just work for Vouge and run an online boutique forever. She dreamed of being one of the youngest, most successful fashion designers sitting at tables with the big names. She wanted to have her own stores in all the major cities and showcased on the biggest runways and for SinClaire to be a household name and she was putting in the work for it.

Just as before with Dei, Evie's recent, like super fresh just happened a month or so ago recent, break up with Nathan Woods had thrown her into a workaholic mode. It wasn't something that she'd admit though, that she was throwing herself into work to avoid the heartbreak or whatever. If it was brought up or pointed out, she'd just claim that it had nothing to do with Nate and that she didn't have time to let some failed high school relationship get her off track and that she always worked like this blah blah blah.

"It was EPIC. You should make an appearance next time and show me your skills," his voice echoed in her ears, causing her to tune back into whatever the hell he'd been saying this whole time, though she only caught the end of it. The beer in his hand had been boosting his confidence apparently because he added a little "I can introduce you to my friend" with an attempted wink at the end. Was he seriously still trying to hit on her?

She'd already insulted his swim trunks the seconds he walked up which he brushed off and probably took as flirting, she'd spaced out as he tried to talk to her but he'd just continued to drunkenly ramble and not even notice, and now... Jesus. Could this guy just take a damn hint? Evie could only entertain the frat kid for so long before she was over it.

"Look, Chad," she had no clue if that was actually his name or not and she didn't give him time to correct her if it wasn't. "I hate to break it to you, but I doubt your little friend would be worth meeting even if I could manage to squint hard enough to see him," she said, glancing down with an eye-roll.

His face changed from one of sheer confidence to well, sorta that embarrassed look a kid has when they get caught doing something they knew they shouldn't do. "You're not even hot enough to be this much of a bitch dude," he muttered, obviously trying to salvage what he could of his ego or whatever. "Yeah, I am. But I'm not desperate enough to let you touch me so run along," she said, making a shoo-ing motion before turning to walk away.

As she did, she crashed right into someone and what was left of her drink splashed everywhere. "Stai scherzando!" Evie groaned frustratedly. Evidently, the universe had jokes... but they weren't fucking funny because when Evie finally looked to see who she'd run into it was none other than her goddamn ex. Yeah, if she hadn't already been wishing she'd stayed in, she was now.

"Nathan... I know your brain is all scrambled or whatever but maybe try to use some common sense next time and actually watch where you're going?"

coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:




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




/* ------ tabs ------ */









  • /* ------ sticky note letter ------ */
    You should smile more, it looks good on you.
    Blake Prince​






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


The resounding clang of the house’s ancient doorbell shook Blake from her silent, half asleep stupor. Mason was the only person who insisted on ringing the doorbell every time, even though she’d told him (every time) that he could just walk in.

Heaving herself up from the comfort of the couch, Blake crossed the house to the foyer and threw open the large wooden door that led to outside, revealing Mason standing there with the barest hint of a smile on his face.

Psh. He was cute.

“Not feeling the party tonight?”

Blake shook her head, her own smile lighting up her face as she moved aside to let him in. He was dressed in attire so typically Mason (a flannel that had certainly seen better days and blue jeans) that her smile grew wider as she shook her head again, laughing.

“Not particularly, no. There’s just…a lot of people there tonight that I’d rather not deal with,” she replied, shrugging. To be fair, Blake, in all honesty, preferred to not deal with most people. With a few exceptions. “Besides,” she continued, nudging him with a shoulder, “we can have a party of our own here.”

Calling whatever they’d end up doing a party was certainly an overstatement, but Blake was determined to make him have fun. Especially since despite the smile, Mason looked tired. Like doing everything for everyone all the time was finally catching up to him. It broke her heart a little.

Grabbing his hand gently, she led him to the living room and threw on the lights, before snatching the bottle from the coffee table and offering it to Mason.

“You look like you need a drink,” she said, though it came out as more of a question than a statement. The fire that one of the house staff—Charlotte, if Blake knew her at all—had started in the massive fireplace was crackling, casting golden light onto everything. It was summer, yes, but surprisingly it didn’t warm up the room enough to be uncomfortable.

“So…no party for you, either?”




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

© weldherwings.


 












  • filler

















Kira's smile wavered. Zach was as taciturn as ever, minus the fear that used to bleed out his eyes when they landed on her teasing grin. Kids could be mean, but never quite as cutting as a high schooler's opinion. The former queen bee knew better than to expect more forthcomingness from a guy she conditioned to flinch in her presence.

It was really silent and really, really awkward. It came to the point where the silence was so oppressive that Kira had no other choice but to clear her throat, her eyes darting side to side in a plea for rescue. This was a terrible idea. She wasn't even trying to make amends here, so why she bothered, no one could know. Wouldn't they both have been better off if she'd just ordered her drink and booked it?

"Thanks," the brunette mumbled, stewing in the discomfort she'd created for herself. Zach probably hated her, even if he couldn't muster the words to show it. She kept a close eye on his nimble hands, wary of a hateful glob of spit landing in her drink. Her neck was sore, but if she moved her head for even a second, she was sure she'd come to regret it.

When the drink slid in her direction, Kira's lips creased into a grateful smile. She glanced at the bartender for a flash of a second then focused back down on her drink, observing the warm red pooling in her cocktail. Her conflicted face was an unwelcome presence on the liquid's reflective surface. It didn't look it, but there was double the amount of alcohol in there. Didn't taste like it, though.

A third presence made itself known, but she was too defeated to lift her head immediately. A dainty finger ran along the glass' edge, tracing it down to its base. Even at a party, she couldn't help but look so contemplative. Her ability to hide her feelings was long lost in time, discarded in Wisconsin never to be seen again. She was tired.

“Zach, buddy, good to see you again," a voice greeted, following a figure leaning against the bar. It was charming, husky, and burrowed itself in Kira's ears like a brain parasite. "I’ll take the strongest thing you got.” It was only then that her body twitched and a shiver ran down her spine, her head rising in a hesitant jerk out of impulse. Slowly, carefully, she turned her head to her right.

That voice...

He was already turned toward her, so her quick peek turned into a stare that could only be described as jaw-dropping horror. "Remy?" she breathed, the color draining from her face. That eye contact lasted a long moment while Kira's face warped between stages of shock, disbelief, and anguish. And then he looked back at Zach, calm as ever.

"Y-you're back?" she stammered, more as a cry of dismay than a question. And while her voice didn't raise to be very loud, the uncertainty laced within was enough of an indicator of the fervent, unspoken emotions hanging in the air. For someone who was so proud of how easily he could abandon his friends and family in another state, he sure was terrible at committing to it. After Kira left, he was all alone back there. Wasn't that how he wanted it? Why come back, and so soon?

What bullshit. Not even the rest of Zach's cosmopolitan could wash the bitter taste from her mouth. Sure, chugging a cocktail and slamming it on the counter wasn't the most flattering move, but it wasn't like Kira had a man in her life to impress. Those years of her life wasted on countless men were all but useless as the two of them existed side by side, their heartbeats drumming so fast one might nearly rupture from the pressure.

It hurt having to play it cool with someone who used to know her. Every inch of her, from her deepest desires to her darkest fears. All in an instant, whatever sleep Kira had last night dissipated in place of a burdensome fatigue. And still, there Zach stood, watching, observing. How much does he know?

The wide-eyed woman choked out a laugh, raising a fist to her mouth while she cleared her throat. Back to the bartender. "One more cosmo, please? Same as the last one." It seemed she and Remy had the same idea, but not quite. Tonight was an exercise in breaking habits. She had to stop gravitating toward her ex, be it in mind or body. And more, she was determined to hold in the tears that had begun to accompany her drinking.

While she waited, she made another effort at Zach, putting Remy's debilitating presence on hold for just a moment. "You know, you haven't really changed very much since I last saw you, have you?" she addressed with another laugh, like it was still a one-on-one between the two of them. Well, this was a great start to the high school reunion.

It was like Kira was fighting a war on two fronts, Remy on her right flank and Zach straight ahead. If she could at least quell the discomfort coming from in front of her, then she could tackle the massively unexpected thing to her side. "Wish I could say the same for myself. And others." A quick sideways glance would do. She knew Remy was listening, and close, too. Firm in her words, her eyes made no move away from the soft-spoken man in front of her. "I also wish I knew what to say to you right now. I'm... at a loss, truly."

Another sheepish glance confirmed that all attention was on her. Well, fine then, let them think their scary, silent thoughts. At least the two of them had open ears. "Zach, do you think I'm a bitch?" A jarring, random question, but it would do. Even off the clock, Kira was still a woman of the press. If it was anything anyone knew, it was that she always got her answers and she got them at all costs. To be interviewed by the tenacious Kira Gauthier was practically an admission of guilt from the get-go. "Answer me honestly."








Kira Gauthier

















zach, remy










Xed Xed Beeze Beeze













♡coded by uxie♡
 
Damien Slater
the party
boooored
shorts and a t-shirt
interactions

Matt jazzyball jazzyball
God, when was the last time he'd fucked up and gotten this fucking high this fucking fast? He felt like an idiot -- haha, shut the fuck up, he knew exactly what you were probably thinking. Oh, Damien's always an idiot. Yeah, well one of these (imagine a middle finger inserted here in his narrative) was for you, you jerk.

There was a snort of laughter from him at Matt's words, his lips curling up into a little grin. Although he looked anything but happy -- rather, his expression almost resembled one of those snarling gargoyle statues that were situated on the corners of churches or wherever the fuck they usually were.

His eyebrows drew together in annoyance at Matt's words.

"I'm not a fucking psychopath," he spat, although he was sure that people would disagree at this point. Damien the last three or four years or so had quickly embraced his rather demonic nature, even going as far as to smugly make sure that everyone knew he was one with the demons by changing his username on all platforms to reflect just that.

(Sure, it was Slayter, which implies he was anything but friends with demons, and he also did quite a few cartoons of demons being stabbed, but I digress.)

"Fuck off, ya bastard," he snapped, his words slurring somewhat, although there was no venom or push behind his words. Surprise surprise -- he didn't actually want Matt to fuck off and if the ginger were to try, he'd undoubtedly whine and trail after him.

"You don't need swim trunks to swim," Damien added in a hushed whisper, or rather, nearly a hiss. "What? They some kinda... kinda... fuckin' blow up... swimmy... shit... things? Can't swim, Lukeson? Gonna drown?"

This teasing was anything but nice, really, and just really showcased Slater's rather... ahem... asshole-ish ways.
coded by natasha.
 






Elena Suarez





Ahhh parties. The perfect opportunity for networking, especially in Elena’s line of work.

Not the one that was printed on all official documents since for all intents and purposes, she still had one more year of high school to go, but the one that made people ooh and ahh with delight, and if your mind just went to the gutter, it could wash away with the sewage because she was talking about jewelry, not anything else.

Rare and beautiful, handcrafted masterpieces. Wearable works of art. It could also be ridiculously expensive which was part of the reason why she had ended up in the jewelry making business to begin with.

See Elena’s family situation was… unique. All the gory little details aside, the meat of the story was basically that one day, little her had gotten mad with her dad and in a moment of well… pettiness… she’d gone on a shopping spree. How little she was didn’t matter, nor did whatever it was that sent her on that spree in the first place. What mattered was that on that spree in which the sole goal was to burn through as much of her dad’s wealth as possible, she’d come across a jewelry store filled with gorgeous eye-catching accessories and precious stones. One thing led to another and that little shopping spree became her launching pad into her own little jewelry making business.

It was lucrative, fun, also expensive to fund and time consuming to do but that was what Daddy Suarez’s deep pockets and the day’s twenty-four hours were for. Anyway, she’d made good progress on the business front tonight. Living in a town that wasn’t massive, meant word of mouth spread a lot more quickly, more easily and so tonight, she’d found some customers, and some found her making her wallet a very happy diner. There had been some temptation to head on back to her little studio at home and finish up some more pieces before turning in for the night, but it was the fourth of July, she’d made a nice profit, it was time to have a little fun, just enjoy herself and relax.

Plan all decided on and settled, Elena had started to make her way closer to the water, away from the crowd in search of a nice spot when of course she had to run into Brody… well Justin. That was also part of another long story that didn’t need explaining beyond the fact that dear Justin was her half brother who had an incurable habit, disease, whatever you wanted to call it, of hitting on anything with a bust, butt and walked on two legs. It had led to her gifting him a mannequin at his most recent birthday but that was a story for another day, maybe never depending on whenever, if ever, it came up again.

The potentially poor, unfortunate soul her brother had set eyes on for the night was a pretty little brunette who likely had no idea that Justin’s style was… well to put it very crudely; taste them and dump them. He wasn’t that much of a douchebag, but also, he kinda was. All of his relationships and flings were like speed dates on fast forward, those supermarket bargain deals where the expiry date was typically the next day or the day after.

He wasn’t a cheater, and it wasn’t like he set out to woo a girl just to get into her bed and then ditch her immediately afterwards; he just had a horrendously bad case of ADHD when it came to relationships.

How was it that all these girls kept falling for him anyway? Whatever, didn’t matter, she didn’t actually want to know. For now, the plan was to just sit, watch and listen like she was viewing an episode from the latest third – well, maybe second-rate romcom. A nice little backdrop to give the dazzling fireworks display a little more ‘pizzazz’.

Elena sat down on the soft sand, the couple in the corner of her eye some feet away and their conversation drifting into her ears as she watched the fireworks go off. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips when she heard the girl mention vodka and offer some to mix with his can of coke.

“You should mix in a little sea water as well.” Elena called out from where she sat, relaxing on the sand.

She gave the girl a little nod in greeting, the playful smile still pulling at her lips as she glanced at her brother before returning her gaze to the girl. “Justin here loves the ocean, and it should give the drink a unique little kick. Perfect for a fourth of July party don't you think?”





mood
it's a party, time to have a little fun

location
beach party

outfit
dress with flats





playing...
something

by someone​




mentions
n/a

interactions
Justin, Willa

tags
Winona Winona starkravingsane starkravingsane


º º code by ditto º º
 
Nathan Woods
party
was better two minutes ago
swim shorts, shirtless ;-)
interactions

interactions come here
Let's make something very clear. Nathan Woods had arrived with a date, but it just... so happened that his date had kind of... wandered off. Probably to hit up some hot chicks, because you got him, it wasn't actually his date. It was just his roomie and total bestie, Michael Reid, who'd disappeared off to who fucking knows where and had... left Nate to wander around alone.

He didn't really a know anyone, and it wasn't like Nate was really in the mood to fucking... well, fuck, or do any kind of flirting. Some chick had tried to talk to him, but his basic answers and stoic expressions, refusing to let up, had eventually made her uncomfortable enough that she'd slipped off. Only then had he had actually bothered to smile.

Unfortunately, his night of quietly drinking and watching the illegal fireworks go off in the sky was interrupted when someone turned, bumped into him, and drink was splashed all across him. Well, it could be worse. He could've ruined a shirt or something.

(Listen, he'd really thought this would've had more swimming, so he hadn't thought that there would be any reason for him to wear a shirt... and maybe he'd forgotten to do laundry, and none of his shirts were clean.)

The more interesting part of this, though, was seeing who was attached to the cup -- and it was none other than his messy ex-girlfriend, Evelyn Sinclaire. His lips pressed into a frown, jaw kind of clenching as she spoke.

He listened.

He blinked.

"Funny," he said, his tone monotone as he spoke.

"This was your fault," Nate corrected, his hand coming up to try and wipe some of the dripping liquid from his chests, which... didn't really do shit. Great. Now he was sticky. "Makes sense you'd try to blame me, though. Can't ever admit when you're wrong, huh?"
coded by natasha.
 
Logan Cruz
party
exhausted
baby spit stained clothes
interactions

Dex hery hery
Perhaps a little part of Logan was legitimately jealous of her rather clueless brother -- who wouldn't be? Dex got to live his life day to day, and the carefree attitude that he consistently had was something that felt like a memory from long ago.

Except that, well, had she ever been carefree? Save for the night that caused her to end up here, with Axel's slobbering mess cradled in her brother's arms. A bitter frown pursed her lips.

"We're not--"

But before Logan could finish her thought, which was simply pointing out the simple fact that they weren't of legal drinking age, Dex had taken off with her son in his arms and declaring a race. She couldn't help it. There was actually some kind of smile that came to her face, and the exhausted mother actually felt young again as she chased after her brother and her bastard son.

Even with baby in tow, there was no way that she was going to outrun Dex -- and that point was made all the more true when he reached the bar while she'd stopped part way to struggle to catch her breath and came walking up slowly to catch up. There was, however, a wistful grin on her face as she came up by him and leaned against the bar counter. Her chest was still heaving, though, of course.

"I don't know if I can drink," she started, but quickly realized that her brother's rather.... large lack of intellect meant that there was simply no way he was going to understand what she was saying. Or, well, he also wasn't a mind reader, so how was he going to know her fears? "Like... because... isn't it... would the baby get drunk?"

It went to show just how little the bookworm actually knew about childcare.
coded by natasha.
 
Mason
party
....
flannel, jeans, the norm
interactions

Blake HolliSter HolliSter
There was some part of him that definitely felt shitty for leaving his daughter with fucking Raven just so he could come here, but the guilt that he felt dissipated when she took his hand and led him into the living room.

There was a heavy sigh from him as he fell into the couch, followed by a faint smile forming when she passed him the alcohol. He hadn't been planning on drinking tonight -- he needed to keep a clear mind to take care of Drake or whatever the fuck, but well... looked like he was tossing that fucking idea away as he took a swig of the presented bottle. It burned going down, and was a disgusting reminder of why he typically stuck to beer.

He gave a shrug at her question, passing the bottle back to her. "Not much going on there," Mason explained, "and Jade's a fuckin' bitch. She's just..." he trailed off, shaking his head in annoyance at the very thought of the bitchy, psychotic fucking brunette. No reason in souring his own mood thinking about her, although when he looked back at Blake, he couldn't really keep himself from talking way too much.

"She's all pissed 'cause I'm talkin' to you -- dumb as fuck, right?" he asked, even though he didn't need any kind of backing on this -- he knew it was dumb as fuck, and just thinking about their conversation had his blood damn near boiling.

"Or that I was... comin' over here or fuck, I dunno, she's just fuckin'...." he trailed off once more, shaking his head in annoyance as his jaw clenched. But he took a breath, forcing a vague grin to his face, and returned his attention to Blake.

"Doesn't matter."
coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:
CASSIE CARSON

Cassiopeia Janelle Carson was certain of two things in life. One: Tupac was still alive on a private island somewhere in the caribbean. This one was nonnegotiable. Two: she’d forgotten all about the stupid beach party that was happening tonight, the one she’d promised all of her friends she’d make an appearance at.

It wasn’t her fault. Ken (her boss and Newcastle’s artist extraordinaire) had been showing her new brush stroke techniques this morning, and with a slow day like today…it was only natural that she get lost in her current project, a charcoal and acrylic painting of Icarus and his father, flying too close to the sun.

Despite the relative happiness and placidity of Cassie’s life, she couldn’t help but to feel it was a metaphor for her life, constantly one wrong move away from burning up completely. She had a tendency to be melodramatic, sure, and chances were this were the case now, but for some reason she just couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had followed her around since her mother had died, all those years ago.

It was why she loved the Greek tragedies so, with their flowery renditions of love and war and hate and hope and dreams broken and fulfilled. Of lives so horrible and deaths so beautiful it made you question everything you were made to believe. She’d give everything to live a life like that. But she’d stick with the painting. And…partying.

In the dim yellow lighting of the warehouse—courtesy of the building’s ancient electrical system that hadn’t been updated since the Civil War—Cassie observed her now mostly-finished painting. It showed Icarus, bathed in golden light, white wings stretched towards the sun as he plummeted to his death. Everything—himself, the clouds, the air around him—was ablaze.

So he fell, but while he was falling he laughed.

It was her fathers voice, reading it to Cassie for the first time when she was in the third grade. It had never been picture books with them. He’d given her the greats—Homer, and Plato and Shakespeare and so many others—and she’d forever be grateful for it.

Stepping back from the easel and setting her brushes down, Cassie stretched, light brown, slender fingers reaching towards the sky lights far above the ever-fading sunlight to trickling in. Black smudges of charcoal coated her arms along with dashes of colorful paint. She was sure that if she were to look in the mirror the rest of her would be much the same.

“I ought to start calling you the witch of the art shop,” Ken had told her the other day. “You look like you come with the place.”

Cassie snorted at the thought now, moving towards the exit and flipping the lights off. She wouldn’t have time to go home and change, so she supposed what she was wearing now was fine and dandy enough for the party. Maybe a cute girl or boy (Cassie didn’t have a preference) would find it charming.

Yeah, right, who was she kidding?

The art shop happened to be conveniently located on the boardwalk strip that housed most of Newcastle’s more “touristy” small town shops, and was only a five minute walk to the party. She’d leave her car in the lot here, where it would be safe from the likes of drunk, idiotic high schoolers like Drake and his crew, and get it after the party. Awesome.

The summer sun was putting on a show as it set, casting the entire town in golden light as the sky was a blur of pinks and reds and blues and oranges and so many colors that it made Cassie’s heart swell. Large, fluffy clouds wove through the sky, and though she didn’t know the name for what kind they were she wished she did. The smell of ocean brine and salt filled the air, backed with the sweet smell of the red wildflowers that grew in droves in this part of town. The never ending chatter of seagulls could be heard, as well as the sound of the now retreating tide slapping against the sand.

The walk was over as quickly as it had begun, and before she knew it she was at the location of the party, just hovering on the edge. Cool.

Now who was she going to hang out with?

Location: party | Mood: who knows | Interactions: none | Mentions: Drake | Outfit: work clothes covered in paint


.
coded by kaninchen
 
Last edited:

  • by bad ending.
    Dante Evans
    Being moved out of his mothers place Dante had gotten his own apartment. Something most people his age couldn’t do. He didn’t brag or even post about it. No one, except people close to him knew he had moved away. He was new to this city and hoping to make connections out here and start fresh.

    Considering the last state he was in Dante was on the run. Having multiple charges plastered on his name and constant troubles with the law enforcement force Dante to end up out here; I’m not sure where we are. With lots of cash left over from his long efforts in hustling, wallet, fake ID, game console, phone, and bag of clothes there he was in his empty apartment.

    Dante sported a black tracksuit, black durag, black dad hat, all his jewelry, fresh cut, dreadlocks freshly hit, and his black air forces. A 3.5 backwood already rolled tucked in between his ear. Taking a hit from his E-pen then releasing the smoke, Dante gave a sigh of relief.

    “This ain’t so bad. Shit I definitely gotta break this place in.”

    Taking his belongings to his now bedroom, he took a moment to fully embrace his new home. His bedroom already was set up, King sized bed taking up most of the space in the right corner of the room. Covered in all red bed sheets, and a black blanket sporting a golden crown symbol in the middle. A 42” size tv hanging on his wall supported with a mount, and wall mounts under for his dragon ball pops; Goku, Vegito, Beerus & Whis, and Golden Shenron. A painting made by his auntie above his headboard. LED Lights that outlined the corners of the room, a nightstand by his bed, a decent sized closet, and a small computer desk that he kept his bong on.

    Looking through the empty refrigerator in hopes that maybe the next glance food would appear. Sadly Dante wasn’t fancy with cooking, it didn't really matter since there wasn’t anything to cook with.

    “Damn man.”

    Closing the refrigerator's door he turned to the counter, reaching in his emptyless pocket. He grabbed a ziplock bag filled with weed, throwing it on the counter doing the same to a pack of wraps; woods. Scratching the top of his head Dante had to figure out what he was going to do.

    Spark the blunt of course.

    Taking the blunt from atop his ear, Dante pulled the lighter which was attached to the leash to spark his blunt. Inhale, exhale and repeat.

    Taking his backpack off throwing it on the bed, Dante followed after it. Continuing to smoke his blunt Dante thought to himself.

    Bro what the hell are you doing laying in bed? GO OUTSIDE! IT'S FOURTH OF JULY!

    Finishing his blunt completely ashing it out, Dante headed to the bathroom to make sure he looked somewhat decent.

    “Booooy yo mama blessed yo sexy ass. Aight bet we outside.”

    Rushing to grab his backpack he maneuvered through his apartment grabbing everything he needed. Locking the door behind him Dante headed down to the parking garage. There he was faced with his pride and joy. Red paint with black stripes striking throughout the middle, and a v8 engine swap. His 1976 Camaro, a gift his father gave him for graduating high school considering his hardships. All of his windows were limbo tints. Jumping in the car Dante revved the engine up gassing off driving to who Newcastle?

    With his windows down slapping old school R&B, he had four MTX Terminator TNP212D2 1200 Watt 2 Ohm Dual 12”; very loud speakers. Making his entire body vibrate whenever the beat dropped. Seeing fireworks going off all over Dante enjoyed the ride using his knee to steer. His two free hands were rolling up another blunt, while his eyes trailed off to the show.

    Pulling up to the nearest liquor store near his place, in search of drinks. So he succeeded using his fake ID and quick thinking to grab a bottle; Hennessey, his favorite and secret weapon to a good time. Along with those he had a modelo for a chaser. Taking the black bag filled with his supplies, Dante hurried out when he met with what seemed to be a asian guy?

    “Aye man can you do me a favor?”

    “Sup?”
    “I need you to grab me and my friends a bottle and some blunt wraps. Can you do that for me?” He pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his back pocket.

    “Sure do me a favor and hold my shit. What bottle you want?”

    “Bet, thanks man. Grey goose.”

    “All good bro.”

    Dante handed the guy his bag and took the cash, walking back into the store.

    “You back again? Man you drink fast, I’m not mad bring me money!” The store clerk shouted.

    “Heh man you know it’s the fourth, gotta do it the right way.” Dante shouted back getting the man to laugh in response. Dante shuffled through the store grabbing a bag of hot fries before stepping up to the counter getting the grey goose and honey backwoods. Meeting back up with the guy from outside they exchanged bags.

    “Really appreciate you man, aye, you pulling up to the party?”

    “Party nah? Which one?”

    “Ah man! You don’t know? The one at the beach, everyone is there man! What’s your name by the way?”

    “Just call me Pluto, and you?”

    “Ryan Padre, call me RJ for short.”

    “Got it, nah I ain’t know about this party, see I just moved here and shit. It ain’t a bunch of young folks right?”

    “Oh for real? Where’d you move from? I mean there’s people of age if that’s what you're asking? It’s definitely a vibe there though.”

    “Oakland, and yeah that’s what I meant. Aight, I’ll slide through then, It’s cool I follow you there?”

    “Yeah you gotta ride?”

    “Of course man, what do you take me for?”

    “I don’t know Pluto. I just met yo ass five minutes ago. It’s cool I just ride with you then? I’ll tell my friends to meet me there.”

    Dante chuckled.

    “Ain’t yo mom ever teach you to never go into a strangers car?”

    “Yeah, but never said to not jump into a “cool” strangers car. Plus we headed to the same place.”

    “You're funny, sure, let's go.”

    Dante jumped into his car waiting for Ryan to exchange words with his friends that were parked right in front of his car. Finally Rj jumped in the passenger seat and the two drove off towards the party.

    The drive was nice since the two got to know each other. Finding some similarities, Dante showed Rj his weed, and in exchange Rj showed his baggy of white powder.

    “You fuck with that shit?”

    “I mean who doesn't from time to time? Shit we’re in Newcastle for fuck sakes.”

    “I guess man you wild for that though.”

    “You don’t want a bump?”

    “Of course I do pass that shit.”

    outfit: Hat, Chain, Chains, Top & Bottom, Shoes
    mood: Feeling pretty good
    with: RJ
    where: The Beach



    THE STONER.


    WANNA GET HIGH?


 
Last edited:






Mikaela Ainsley



FOURTH OF JULY BABYYYY. IT WAS TIME TO PARTAYYYYY. CAPITAL P-A-R-T-A-Y, PARTAYYY, and no, that was not a spelling mistake. She wasn’t that drunk. If anything, she hadn’t had enough alcohol yet, especially since this was a rare Fourth of July party without either of her siblings or her mother around to supervise. Despite their busy schedules, one of them always found the time to be in town for the Fourth and typically she didn’t mind, but today, this year, she wanted to party, really party.

There was no way she was letting this golden opportunity slip by, but first. Alcohol.

Unfortunately, the bar was crowded, and Mikaela was not in a waiting mood, she was in a ‘load me up with bubbly right this instant’ kinda mood, which meant she was going to have to look for another source of alcohol. A surprisingly difficult and annoying task as evidenced by the fact that she had been walking around for the past ten minutes in search of a nice bottle of bubbly to no avail, all she found were half drunken glasses or the cheap, weak stuff which wasn’t worth downing.

There had to be good alcohol readily available for her immediate consumption and enjoyment on this damn beach somewhere. Perhaps a bit further from the crowd, somewhere slightly darker, quieter… aha! Jackpot.

Mikaela’s lips widened into a grin as she walked over to a girl sat in front of a cooler, head down as she wrote on something, perhaps a ledger or accounting book of some sort that tracked her earnings for tonight? Anyway, her interest wasn’t in the girl or the book but the cooler which she was certain had to have a good old bottle of delicious bubbly delight. It was the freaking Fourth of July, it would be criminal otherwise.

“Hi there!”

Odd. No response. Not even a glance up. Perhaps she was one of those all-business types. State your request and then she’d respond type of thing.

“Can you hook a girl up with a bottle of good bubbly?”

The girl looked up at her mid-sentence, this almost dazed, blank look on her face that was impossible to read.

“I’ll pay you however much it costs.” She tossed in for good measure. Money always seemed to grease the wheels and get people moving faster, plus there was that book possibly ledger, money checker, etc, that she’d been writing in so…

Finally the girl moved, removing her book and opening the cooler, the movement putting an even bigger smile on Mikaela’s face as the girl’s hand emerged from it and promptly threw the goods at her feet – except the ‘goods’ was a bottle of pink lemonade.

What?

Pink lemonade was tasty and all, but also very much alcohol free, and for a moment Mikaela wandered if Kieran had sent out some kind of mass message or something telling every drink seller on the beach not to provide her with a drop of alcohol. It did after all, sound like the sort of thing her overprotective older brother might do.

“Go away.”

Oh hell no. She was getting her bubbly tonight Kieran and any possible messages he sent, and grumpy drink seller be damned. Mikaela Ainsley was getting that alcohol in her bloodstream now.

“Oh, come on,” Mikaela walked around behind the girl and threw her arm around the girl’s shoulders, leaning her body weight onto her a smile on her face, “share some of the good stuff with me too.” She pleaded. “Us girls gotta look out for each other, right? It ain’t a true Fourth of July until you’ve popped open a delicious bottle of bubbly, surely you won’t rob a girl of the pleasure and experience, would you?” She said, to a complete stranger, whose personal space she had completely invaded.





mood
HAND OVER THE BUBBLY

location
Beach party

outfit
beach babe, the kinda outfit that would make big brother Kieran faint





playing...
song title here

by artist here​




mentions
nil

interactions
Lorelei

tags
Soap Soap


º º code by ditto º º
 












  • filler


















For naught were all efforts to ride with Evie and in vain was Ed’s final attempt to escape the clutches of the intense, sunshine-filled Livanna Moore. And so, tragically, the injured boy crossed his arms in the back of their taxi, wincing as his bulky crutches rattled on their laps. He hadn’t the opportunity to get out much following his top-secret, classified leg breaking (courtesy of CK Freud). And though he wanted so badly to share his dilemma with his sister over a bowl of Blueberry Kush, he was sworn to secrecy. The enchanting Mercedes Camus tugged the boy’s heartstrings to no end; anyone with a rudimentary understanding of observation could surmise that. The problem was that Mer’s attention required more of a… gentle nudge. And CK made it very apparent that any such advance would be met with another broken leg, but not the ones with feet attached.

Liv stirred in her seat, displacing Ed’s crutches long enough to whack his stomach and knock the wind out of his fragile, weakened form. A heaving gasp sighed from his lips and he gritted his teeth, not expecting a display of remorse from the other, very distracted passenger.

“Obviously it’s her song,” he grumbled, rolling his head to sullenly rest against the window, “It’s got that cutesy autotune glitter sprinkled all over the vocals.” He shook his head. That was totally not his style. But, in a weird way, some part of Liv herself wormed his way into his style. Obviously besides the many literal outfits Evie prepared for him in the morning. “It’s for stupid losers like you and my sister.” A facetious smile was streaked across his face, devoid of any real seriousness.

The car came to a steady halt and, before the conversation could move on from Ed’s cutting remarks, he hauled his crutches out as best as he could and made his way off. He was… really slow getting down. Thankfully Liv seemed to have her own plans for once, so she didn’t waste time trying to sweeten his sourness.

The least this party could do was be entertaining and maybe not open him up to another all-out pummeling. What would Mer have said if she saw him getting carted off the yard, groaning and grunting in pain? And by her own flesh and blood, no less. Maybe she was off limits for this night, if only to allow Ed some time to come to terms with lying to the girl so blatantly. To everyone. CK’s “trust” meant one thing, but it was the broken sophomore’s pride that held him by the toes, dangling over a terrifying flame.

So, tonight was about jumping into the fray. Entering with nothing and leaving with… something. Call it networking, if one must.

Whatever the case, Ed carried himself across the sand, taking in his surroundings with a resting scowl. He was careful not to step into the little stories unfolding before him, consistent and unchanging in his personal passage through time and space. And as is customary with time’s onward march, it was Ed who lost himself moment by moment, straying further from the lingering light of the bonfire party’s titular flame. Time ticked on and the sun lowered.

Two girls were loitering beside a cooler in an especially dark patch of land, caught like pebbles tumbling in the riverbank. The chilled container was a magnet for prospective partiers, luring teenagers toward poor decisions like a particularly vicious siren song. But few things were too duplicitous for Ed. His curiosity was one thing, but the true voice of his calling was a chance to initiate his social venture, because everyone knows that an occasion to forget starts with a drink in the hand. If a risk was the answer, then so be it.


The girls’ voices rose on the horizon, amplifying in annoying, shrill volume as Edwin drew closer. Contrary to his initial survey, the two strangers had a peculiar sense of acquaintance, with the standing girl far more visibly comfortable than the seated one. At least, that seemed to be the case. Whatever. As long as he could get that cooler open, he’d be on the right path tonight.

“What, is that cooler a prop or something?” he sneered, his spoiled rich boy voice hacking through the air like a dissonant piano chord. “Open it up or you’re a freak.” It wasn’t really up for debate with this chick, but at least Ed was being kind in suggesting so. “I need to be fucking wasted before the fireworks start.”

The short boy came to a stop beside the girls, digging the rubber bases of his crutches into the sand. It felt good to lean and just focus on what was in front of him without the fear of fighting gravity. But it was still embarrassing as shit.

“So wasted I’ll forget your names the moment you tell them to me, so don’t bother.” He looked back toward the beach, placing no interest in the plain girls taking up the space in front of him. They knew who he was, obviously. Their area had a lot of famous people, but a town as old as Newcastle was no stranger to the wildfires spread by word of mouth. “Hello? Coglioni? Move.” Hopefully they didn’t speak Italian.








Edwin Sinclaire

















lorelei, mik










Soap Soap Xed Xed













♡coded by uxie♡
 
Brody Jesson
party
cool cool cool
blue swim shorts w/ unbuttoned shirt
interactions

Willa starkravingsane starkravingsane Elena Xed Xed
See, Willa was basically the perfect chick for him. She loved the ocean. You hear that? Loved it. Which just brought a wider grin to Justin's face, because well... he loved the ocean.

Not that he was trying to make some kind of love connection, but it was always so much nicer to talk to girls that shared his interests.

"Really?" he said. "We should hang some time. Take you out on my family's boats or something."

There was a grin on his face when she offered the alcohol, and he was just about to agree to take it, when everything kind of crumbled around him. The smile vanished, and he looked over to see the source of the voice, although he of course would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Ignore her," Justin was quick to say. "That's just Elena, she's kind of... ya know." He didn't know what to say -- as in what did he want to say? Call her a bitch or some shit? No, of course not, because it was his sister. But he wanted to imply that she wasn't someone that could necessarily be trusted.

"C'mon," he continued, and started to turn away from Elena, gesturing with a tilt of his head for Willa to follow his lead. "Let's go somewhere with less judgy people."
coded by natasha.
 
Lorelei Gardner
Lotta True Crime


somewhere on the beach
i want to go home
we’re wearing sweaters in 90 degrees
interactions
mikaela Xed Xed also hewy shh hery hery

Her gaze was glued on the journal instead of paying attention to the girl in front of her. Normally, Lorie would’ve just ignored her until she had walked away, it wasn’t until Mik’s arm wrapped around Lorie’s shoulders that broke her out of the trance of the faceless demon in the making.

Lorie had a bubble. And in this bubble was her, herself, and her own thoughts.

And when that bubble was intruded, her head immediately snapped towards the girl’s.

“Oh, come on,” She said, with a hint of disgust Lorie shrugged the ‘stranger’s’ arm off of her shoulders.

Stranger in the sense that they didn’t talk outside of school– or even in school. They didn’t talk, period. She didn't talk to many people, really. Her family was an exception-- she guessed Damien too, but that was only because she liked proving him wrong.

Or getting him angry.

It was funny.

“Share some of the good stuff with me too.”

Good stuff?

Lorelei couldn’t piece together what exactly the girl had wanted until she continued.

“Us girls gotta look out for each other, right? It ain’t a true Fourth of July until you’ve popped open a delicious bottle of bubbly, surely you won’t rob a girl of the pleasure and experience, would you?”

There wasn’t any alcohol.

At least, none that Lorie had seen, but that was only taking a small peek. She’s never been drunk before, always sounded like some sort of waste.

Why wouldn’t she want to be able to think clearly?

For fun? What fun would that be?

Is that how stupid people felt and all?

The lower the IQ the more fun they had, the more they enjoyed life or something?

“Go. Away.” Lorelei had taken Mik’s hand, pushing it further away and letting go, allowing it to fall back to her side, hoping to create some distance between them.

“I’m not robbing you of anything, if anything you’re the one who’s robbing me of my personal space.”

…

“And that’s not true, champagne is usually for new years, not Fourth Of July, so the connection you made doesn’t make sense. It wouldn’t be the Fourth Of July without fireworks.”

…

“Or hot dogs. But I’m a vegetarian.”

Lorelei gave Mikaela a once-over, not exactly confident that she wouldn’t invade her personal space again, but deciding to return back to her journal, the pencil was already creating intricate lines behind the figure, from a distance it probably looked like a bunch of scribbles, but with a closer look, the scribbles were starting to resemble a crowd of faces.

Whatever the girl was saying, if she was saying much of anything, Lorie had tuned her out, focusing on the music that was only playing in one-ear.

She couldn’t decide whether or not to go with the stereotypical demon, feeding on souls for ‘pleasure’ or maybe deciding to delve deeper and make them troubled.

Demons didn’t have souls.

Maybe it wanted one?

“Not to feed, but to feel.” Lorie paused, halting on the sketch for a mere moment, completely still and emotionless before delving back into it, seemingly making a decision.

She didn’t hear him the first time, but the second time she’d heard a different voice that wasn't the overly touchy girl's caught her attention.

“Open it up or you’re a freak.”

A freak.

It wasn’t the first time she was called that. It also wasn’t the first time she didn’t feel offended.

She had gotten used to it at a pretty young age, so Lorie had just… stopped caring pretty early on.

She didn’t exactly know what it was about her. Maybe it was her interest in death or… insects or… it might’ve been wiccan-based.

Definitely.

It wasn’t her fault that her classmates were boringly ordinary pussies who were afraid of death as if reincarnation didn’t exist. “I am already.” Lorie replied, eying his crutches and finishing the last detail on one of the souls’ faces, not bothering to glance back at him.

“I need to be fucking wasted before the fireworks start. So wasted I’ll forget your names the moment you tell them to me, so don’t bother.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Lorie didn’t even know Mikaela’s name. Not properly, anyway. But they did have English together. The teacher had a tendency to call them out by name in an attempt to shame them for being late to his class.

She doesn’t really know why somebody would be ashamed to show up late. There was either an inconvenience or they just didn’t care enough to show up on time.

The latter made himself look bad.

“Hello? Coglioni?” He said, taking another step closer and blocking the little light she had from the sunset and torches alone. Lorie ignored his demands, squinting her eyes and leaning closer to the book.

“Move–"

Lorelei shifted slightly, her elbow hitting his right crutch with enough force for it to slip, falling to the sand along with the boy, she glanced at him and away, the corner of her lips giving the slightest hint of an amused grin.

Suddenly, her light wasn’t being blocked anymore and Lorie had enough light to start sketching the pupil-less eyes of the demon.

“Crutches don’t work well with sand. They’re sort of like high heels. They sink and you don’t have much…” Lorie paused, brushing off a net that landed on the paper.

“... support.”

It wasn’t her fault that he fell from the little force she provided.

But…

He was in her way.

The universe always provides a balance, doesn’t it?

…

“To everyone but him, it seems.”
coded by natasha.
 
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