Realistic or Modern The Grapevine - a gossip girl inspired rp - main

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  the grapevine

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
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  thegrapevine

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  trick or treat, stratford?

  
  
  
  

  
  Happy Halloween! ​

  
  Halloween has long been regarded as the scariest day of the year, but the Stratford community can rest easy knowing that the Grapevine—the monster that had haunted them for months—has been silent since its initial shutdown, thirty-five years ago to the day, and it's been diligently monitored by the school paper right here in Stratford.
  
  Perhaps the biggest treat in store for them tonight is that they can keep their secrets where they belong, but a close second might be the party our school’s shiniest new student has set into motion. The danger of your skeletons being released from your closets may no longer be looming over your every move, but remember to be safe and play nice this holiday weekend. Or don’t—the choice is yours.
  
  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and have a Fang-tastic Halloween!
  
  - The Stratford Spotlight
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

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    the thompson house

    
    
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    outfit!

    
    
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    spooky

    
    
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    Soap lvcid keeruh jasmyn Historia Calamatium @a z u l a @0k_mang0 Xed @tor.por. Qwertycakes @e v i

    
    

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
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[lvcid]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/the-queen-bee-overthrown

Is stratford’s queen bee about to be dethroned?

There’s more to our school’s reigning couple than meets the eye. From serial infidelity to familial upheaval, Lacey Sullivan has her fair share of skeletons in the closet.
(click for full story)

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The sound of muffled screaming and a whirring chainsaw could be heard echoing from the television in the Thompson family’s living room. Lacey stood at the kitchen counter, fishnet-clad foot coming up to absentmindedly rub along her calf as a deft hand twirled yet another cupcake upside down in the bowl of gooey chocolate frosting she’d set by the cooling rack. Not long ago, Halle had joined her, abandoning her post on the couch to scrounge through her parents’ liquor cabinet. Maybe it was her imagination, but Lacey could’ve sworn that Kass’ anxious muttering—what the blonde was saying, she didn’t know—had become more frequent in the time she’d been left alone with the horror movie they’d put on nearly an hour ago.

“God, Kass, don’t be such a baby,” Lacey scolded, sparing a glance over her shoulder; Kass’ nervous expression was unmistakable as she tried her best to melt between the couch cushions. “If you hate it so much, you could always come help me.” Lacey’s tone took on a sing-song quality towards the end of her sentence as she lifted the small pastry, suspending it above the container while her index finger raised to catch the excess icing that dripped off the side. She was licking away the frosting, cupcake barely situated on the tray, when there was a clatter in the adjoining room.

“What the hell was that?” Lacey asked, looking first to Halle, then spinning on her heels to see a frantic Kass leaning over a red puddle on the carpet.

Lacey crossed the threshold, biting back a laugh as she neared the scene of the incident, fake blood already seeping into the thick fibers of the white carpet. “It’s so not that big of a deal,” she assured. “I’m a total professional at cleaning up stains—not blood, obviously, but wine, throw-up, other things… Anyway, I can deal with this. You go make yourself useful.” With a pointed look at Kass, she shooed the other girls away before heading back into the kitchen for vinegar and a dish cloth.

The devil horns, sitting like a daunting crown atop Lacey’s dark waves, slipped down as she dabbed gingerly at the spot on the floor—nearly gone, thanks to her efforts. She pushed the headband back up with a huff, the front door opening going unnoticed until a shadow fell over her handiwork.

“You know, murder is a sin, Lacey, and I’m not gonna be your alibi.”

“Ha-ha, very—”

Lacey’s gaze traveled upward to meet her boyfriend, whose costume didn’t quite align with what she’d envisioned when he’d said he’d be dressing as a “Man of God.”

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Lacey asked with a scowl as she got to her feet, hand clutching the stained rag poised in a clenched fist on her cocked hip as the other reached out to snap the fake beard dangling from Ephraim’s chin. “I thought we were doing a couple’s costume.”

She had half a mind to snatch the hooked staff from his grasp and smack him with it.

As the night wore on, though, last rays of late afternoon sun replaced by the flood lights in the backyard glinting off the pool’s shimmering surface and the occasional candle or lamp lining the tables throughout the house, Ephraim’s costume moved down on Lacey’s list of grievances. In fact, there weren’t many troubles on the brunette’s radar as she threw back what was left of her drink.

How many times had she filled that red solo cup up now? Two? Three? She was losing count, but it didn’t matter. The warm, fuzzy feeling was better than grappling with the pent-up bitterness she seemed to carry around like a second skin. For instance, running into Sloane sober would’ve had Lacey rolling her eyes, a cutting remark on the tip of her tongue, but the alcohol in her system made even her worst enemies much more agreeable company.

Sloane and Lacey had a long and complicated history. The matching tattoos stamped permanently onto their hips were the painful reminder of a once tightly-knit friendship that had shattered as soon as Sloane wrongfully took matters into her own hands—leaving Lacey as nothing more than collateral damage—but no amount of hatred between them was enough to keep them out of each other’s way. Finn was all-too-willing to act as a buffer between them on the nights that Lacey found herself at the Vargas-Murphy dinner table, playing nice to both his sister and his equally unbearable girlfriend, fake smile plastered onto her pretty face while her manicured nails dug into the arm rest of her chair with a suffocating grip under the table.

She made a mental note to find Finn later, if for no other reason to point and laugh at the costume Prissy had saddled him with.

Lacey’s head tilted to the side as she gave Sloane’s outfit a once-over. The girl was donned in all white, a pair of wings sprouting from her back and a halo perched between her ears—the perfect antithesis of her own ensemble. The corner of Lacey’s red-tinted lips tipped upward, an eyebrow quirking ever so slightly—the strongest display of amusement she’d allow Sloane to bear witness to as the perpetrator of Lacey’s mild entertainment. “Nice costume,” the brunette observed. “Did they finally kick you out?”

Well, maybe not that agreeable.

facebook.com/laceysullivan

mood

literally how hard is it to not be annoying??

location

halle’s house

outfit

mm she the devil, she a bad lil bitch, she a rebel-

mention

halle, kass, ephraim, sloane, & finn

tag

keeruh jasmyn Historia Calamatium Soap

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© weldherwings.

 

[Soap]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/the-sociallite-exposed

Boston’s Sweetheart: is it all a façade?

It isn’t all sunshines and rainbows with little miss perfect.

(click for full story)

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Halloween was the busiest night of the year, it was the one night where anyone could be what they wanted, who they wanted, and who they wanted to be with. Not to say that's a free pass if you're in a relationship, but you get the point. Any and all socialites would agree; it was chaos, beautifully intertwined.

Speaking of beauty, Sloane adjusted the rear-view mirror, much to her brother's annoyance, as he navigated their father's cherished classic Cadillac. As she reapplied her nude-shade lipstick, she remarked, "The costumes, or should I say, your costumes," with a playful smile and adjusted the halo on her head.

"Not exactly what I would have chosen, but you both look incredibly adorable." She emphasized her point by playfully squishing Finnegan's cheeks with her free hand, causing him to veer dangerously close to the side of another car.

(Yes, she made Priscilla sit in the back. Sorry, Prissy.)

They arrived at the Thompson estate, and things were already in motion. This was the first year Sloane Vargas-Murphy wasn't the one throwing the party, so her expectations were dulled. And even though watching the hostess greet everyone with a smile tugged at her heartstrings...

Sloane was excited. To drink, sleep, and revel in the chaos without the worry of repercussions. After all, isn't it the hostess's job to ensure everything goes smoothly? Sloane was simply a bystander in tonight’s inevitable mess.

The door to the Cadillac closed softly after Priscilla exited, and the trio walked into the well-decorated foyer. She couldn't complain, but she was judging silently. "I hate third-wheeling," Sloane blew kisses toward Finn and Priscilla. "I'm not leaving early, don't try it."
__

"These, my friend, are White Tea shots—delicious but dangerous. Too many of these, and you end up in someone's bed." Sloane didn't consider the latter a bad thing, but it was more fun when you were drunk enough to enjoy it but sober enough to remember.

The first three shots went down easily. Tabitha had been her company these past few years—along with Rosalyn and Dylan. All three girls were excellent company, don't get Sloane wrong.

Anyone who knew Sloane knew she liked a little bit of spontaneity. "Pace yourself, girlie. I'm not spending the night holding your hair while you puke up tonight's fun." And anyone who truly knew her knew that behind the facade of brown curls, soft smiles, and charming hellos, there lurked a vain, calculated, and manipulative girl that very few had the chance to meet.

Those she considered friends were placeholders.

They knew it, too.

It was all a part of the game everyone was playing, even if they were too afraid to admit it.

(Author's note: Don't be friends with a politician's daughter.)

Just as she exited the kitchen, she came face to face with none other than Lacey Sullivian, her brother's— and her former “best friend.”

"They always warned me the devil would be pretty," Sloane pouted.

"Did they finally kick you out?" The irony wasn't lost on her. Lacey and Sloane were like two peas in a fucked-up pod, one could have a thought and the other would be able to finish it— that, and… their costumes were a pretty common choice.

Opposites tended to attract, is all.

Despite Lacey’s annoyance, a smile spread across Sloane’s lips. "Down here on vacation, I've been known to slum it with your kind on occasion. It wouldn't be the first time."

They hadn't been close for a while. It was complicated, and few knew the entire story, a fact that Sloane preferred to keep that way. "And you? How are you enjoying your fall from grace? It's too bad the ploy for power didn't work out in your favor."

"I would've been a faithful servant," Sloane added with a mockingly dramatic hand over her heart.

What happened wasn't personal.

It just felt like it.

And Sloane wasn't one to take responsibility or revel in affairs that required tiptoeing around someone's feelings, even if she wanted to spare them; all's fair in love and war.

"Everyone's going to assume we're a pair. I know it's hard for you, babe, but don't embarrass me?" It wasn't all passive aggression with Sloane; her body language was playful, and her tone was light, as if she was joking with an old friend.

In a way, she was. "I'm gonna continue to make my rounds—kay? Have fun, you look a little..." The angel smiled at the devil to fill in the silence before she was on her way.

Who was she even looking for?

Leroy? No.

Momo? Always, but no—although she did keep a close eye out for him. He was the highlight of every party, in different ways for many. "Oh. My. God." One half of a couple to the next, Ephraim Murray, Lacey's loyal pup—and boyfriend—was dressed as...

"Raim, wait, just..." Sloane took out her phone and snapped a photo of the two of them, but before she could upload it to her multiple socials, she had to ask.

"Are you supposed to be Jesus?"

facebook.com/sloanevargasmurphy

mood

amused

location

halle’s house

outfit

idk man she’s an angel

mention

priscilla, finn, tabitha, lacey, ephraim

tag

keeruh lvcid
Historia Calamatium
Qwertycakes

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© weldherwings.

 

[gingersnaps]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/a-little-bit-dramatic

Your Highness, The Drama Queen of Boston

A walking study in demonology.

(click for full story)

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Salt, drink, lime. The shot Sloane had given her went down her throat burning, though you wouldn’t be able to tell by the smile on Tabitha’s face. She bit down on the lime, just careful enough to not smudge her red lipstick, and chuckled at her friend’s warning.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing, love.” Tabitha opened a shark-like smile, the kind that draws you in just before she devours you. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’m definitely not the lightweight between us.”

Here there were, two girls who didn’t trust each other for shit, giggling and dancing together at the new girl’s Halloween party. Delicious and dangerous was a combination that spoke to Tabitha Cohen.



She enjoyed Halloween more than she’s willing to admit- Tabitha could roll her eyes at stupid costumes all she liked, but the truth was that she just adored the theatrics of it all. Her previous year’s Carrie costume had made a fucking mess, and she ruined a perfectly fine pink dress on the process, but every time she saw the pictures of herself covered head to toe in fake blood, she opened an embarrassing little smile.

The fake blood was, however, a lesson, so this year she settled on a simple nosebleed, combined with a Party City wig that fit her a bit too well.

Sloane had taken three shots, so of course, Tabitha took four. She wasn’t too worried about her friend’s warning, it took a lot to make a Cohen’s stomach turn.



After a few drinks she, naturally, was craving a smoke. The plan was just to find a balcony quiet enough for her to enjoy a delicious cancer stick by her lonesome. She probably should've been paying more attention, as her shoulder bumped into another party-goer, she nearly spilled her drink.

“Jesus, watch it.” The girl huffed, already placing the blame on the guy. Maybe it was the lightning, or the costumes, or the alcohol, but it took her a couple seconds to realize who it was…

Suspenders, a little checkered comically large glasses over a handsome face. She completely failed at holding back the laughter that left her lips, sounding, unfortunately for her, more fond than mocking.

“Come on, Harris, it’s supposed to be a costume party, you’re not allowed to come dressed as yourself.” Tabitha jokingly pulled at Leroy’s collar, more amused than she expected to be. Seems Sloane wasn’t kidding, the shots were pretty dangerous. "Aren't you just adorable?"

She blinked up to his face, feeling something rotten as it reminded her too much of their last encounter- which was one of many reasons drinking heavily and forgetting the world felt like such an enticing option.

“Oh, it’s fake,” Tabitha took a finger to the red liquid that was just above her lips. She knew it was a cruel thing to say,which is exactly why Tabitha was going to say it. ”It's more corn syrup than blood. So don’t lose your shit, yeah?”

facebook.com/tabitharosecohen

mood

happy, bitter, who the hell knows?

location

halle’s house

outfit

Mia Wallace

mention

sloane, leroy

tag

Soap
Xed

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© weldherwings.

 

[BloopNoodle]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/creed-in-the-21st-century?

Ice Queen has a New Throne: Her Manufactu-ring Empire

Is the Creed family joining the 21st century? Karlyle Creed has been OFFICIALLY de-throned by his sister (Thank God)… (click to read more)

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There was absolutely no way Rosalyn could even try to ride her motorcycle to this party. The idea of wearing no protective gear to ride at least thirty minutes down dark roads during halloween made her sick; it was practically a death wish. Plus, how stupid would she look In her (fake) tutu on her bike? No thanks. Tacky. So instead, she decided to drive her black Grand Sport Corvette. Not the best car, but she enjoyed it’s look. She didn’t like driving with people, hence her decision not to carpool, since she typically rode alone on her bike. There also was a sickening feeling in her stomach that maybe being the black swan wasn’t a good idea. She missed ballet, not in the sense of she had a passion for the art, but rather she missed the way it challenged her mentally and physically. The ache from working with her physical therapist was not the same as practicing routines for hours on end, or riding at the country club she kept her stallion at.

A bitter frown marked her face as she stared at her phone screen and started texting. “I didn’t think Daph was a big drinker.” Then again the two hadn’t talked in a very long time. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Daphne had suddenly become an alcoholic. Then again, maybe that’s excessive. Also, note to self, avoid the spot of puke. She parked on the side of the road, not wanting to get blocked in from the drive-way, and honestly hesitated to set her feet down on the asphalt. Putting her Italian ballet slippers against such a harsh surface felt like a cardinal sin, but it’s not like she could ever use them again. Well worn and well loved, very few people would want them anyway. Might as well add a touch of authenticity to her costume.

Taking steps inside and immediately going for a drink, the stone cold expression Rosalyn wore cut people like a knife if they were in her way. Her costume apropos, her posture pristine. She scanned the room for people she liked (or at least people she tolerated) and quickly landed on Sloan and Tabitha, though Tabitha seemed to be in conversation. So instead…

”Sloane, good to see you.“ She placed her feet in proper first position as she stood, the red solo cup matching her dark lipstick but otherwise glaringly out of place. “How long have you been here? I feel like the only people actually in good costumes are… who you would expect.” She threw glances around at some of their school-mates, mostly people she didn’t know. Dinosaur onesie? Too young. Slutty cat? Basic. God these people.

(Authors Note: Rosalyn’s opinions are not my own. She’s just a judgmental bitch)

facebook.com/rosalyn-creed

mood

Entirely Ambivalent

location

The Halloween Party

outfit

tchaikovsky knew what he was doing

mention

Sloane, Tabitha, Leroy

tag

Soap

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© weldherwings.

 

[Xed]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/counterfeit-or-real?

Boston's Golden Boy is Med Bound

The City's Golden Child is adding to his list of impeccable accomplishments, showing the world exactly what a flawless gentleman looks like. Frankly it all seems a little too good to be true and who knows? Maybe it is.

(click for full story)

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"What do you think Nala? Do I look good?" Nala had barked and pawed him hard, then barked again before running off. She clearly hadn't been a fan. It was probably the comically oversized glasses he was wearing, and the way he was wearing his pants sky high, nearly up to his chest. Then again Nala was never a fan of his Halloween costumes. Last year's Spock look had resulted in a lot of barking and the destruction of poor Teddy so this year's response was much tamer. When he left the house, Leroy had no doubt she wouldn't be the last person to object to his choice of costume, and how quickly he was proven right.

He smiled as the girl's initial annoyance at her running into him disappeared under a hearty laugh that he recognised as Tabitha’s. Memories of the summer, moments where Tabitha had laughed and smiled flashed in the corner of his mind along with less fond memories. Flashes of flurried movement. Vicious shouts and Tabitha averting her gaze in hallways with hints of disdain.

"I could say the same about you," he replied warmly, fighting to keep the easy smile on his face and the tension from his shoulders as she pulled at his collar. They were in public now and even if this was the balcony, you never knew who was watching or listening. He just had to be his usual self.

Putting a hand over hers, he gently guided it away from his collar and back down to her side before letting go. He hadn't had more than a sip from the glass he had been offered when he first entered the house but Tabitha's faintly flushed face and the knowledge he had gained told him she had probably had more than her fair share and her night likely wasn't over yet. A faint mix of concern, guilt and self preservation stirred up in him. It wasn't his business if she wanted to get wasted, he had no right. All he could do was show some concern if she appeared wasted later on but that was it. He couldn't have anyone suspecting anything between them and digging things up.

Leroy tensed ever so slightly as his eyes landed on the little streak of red on her face and again the memories flashed in his mind. Blood, bruises, sweat slicked hair and the hard gravel road. Tabitha pointed a finger to it and he reflexively stiffened.

"Oh, it's fake, it's more corn syrup than blood. So don't lose your shit, yeah?

He couldn't blame her for her response but at the same time a part of him wanted to tell her to shut up and punch the wall. He tried his damnedest even if that ultimately hadn't been worth shit, and he himself was disgusted with his efforts that day. He was still trying. Every fucking day. Nobody despised it more than him, this weakness that gripped him. But Leroy bit back the urge, he kept his perfectly practiced smile on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets, which didn't go or look as smoothly as he liked given that they were currently sky high, but it did the job of concealing the slight tremble that had seized them. More because of the memories the red streak had triggered than the streak itself.

Leroy ignored her words entirely and redirected the conversation as he glanced off into the distance. "I'm surprised you picked Mia Wallace. I thought you'd have picked something else. So what are your plans for the rest of the night? Surely it can't be to just talk with the nerd who came dressed as himself."

He didn't know what he planned to do here either if he was honest. He had come because it was a party, because even if he couldn't go completely crazy and spend the night like a wild child, there was something therapeutic about seeing others do that. Like he was living vicariously through them. And he couldn't go crazy but he could still indulge in a little fun, in some vices he wouldn't otherwise touch. But really, he was just killing time until tonight, when the Halloween race started and he could zip down dark corners of road without a care on his motorbike.

facebook.com/leroyharris

mood

Mixed feelings but pretending to be his usual happy and kind self

location

halle’s house

outfit

nerd but with larger, oversized glasses

mention

Tabitha

tag

gingersnaps

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© weldherwings.

 

[gingersnaps]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/a-little-bit-dramatic

Your Highness, The Drama Queen of Boston

A walking study in demonology.

(click for full story)

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She maybe would’ve smiled at the touch of his hand over hers, if it were under different circumstances. If her pride wasn’t so wounded, she might even have told the golden boy to keep it there. But Tabitha was herself, unfortunate as that may be, so she pulled her hand away quickly from his grasp.

Annoyance came easily for Tabitha, it was an easy, uncompromising feeling. She felt annoyed at Leroy’s fake, tense smile and the way his paranoia about jeopardizing his perfect little image was written across his forehead. She was annoyed that he didn’t react appropriately to her cruelness and that she would definitely, definitely still kiss him. And she was so very annoyed that he had seen her…

“Listen- just fucking listen to me! You have to leave, now-”

Tabitha had looked horrible, a real horror show, nothing like the fakes surrounding them tonight…she had been the real thing. She had nearly lost a tooth that day, no wonder Harris and his little phobia had frozen at the sight of her. Facing him after that was too difficult, it was too humiliating to know that he knew, that all the skeletons in her closet spilled out right in front of him. It felt pathetic.

“Oh, are you?” Tabitha chuckled, but there was more venom than humor in it. “You know so much about me, unfortunately. Tell me, what did you think I’d pick?”

Tabitha was no good at pathetic. She would much, much rather be cruel.

“Aw, Leroy, are you trying to get rid of me?” Tabitha shook her head in disapproval, the black wig swaying along with her. “Don’t worry, you should know by now that I can be very discreet when I want to. But yeah, I have other nerds to attend to…” She took a step closer, just close enough to make him uncomfortable, and lowered her voice down to a whisper. “And I’m sure you have a track waiting for you out there. You better change out of these before getting on a bike, though, you’ll look ridiculous.”

facebook.com/tabitharosecohen

mood

happy, bitter, who the hell knows?

location

halle’s house

outfit

Mia Wallace

mention

leroy

tag

Xed

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

© weldherwings.

 

[keeruh]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/a-bit-of-an-affair?

Has the mayor’s son been less than honorable?

Rumors fly that Stratford’s untouchable couple might not be so perfect.

(click for full story)

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Finn’s hands gripped the worn brown leather of Thomas Murphy’s prized Cadillac’s steering wheel and he made a quick check over his left shoulder as he merged lanes on one of Boston’s busy main streets. To his right, his sister Sloane reapplied her skin colored lipstick for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night, and behind him Priscilla sat quietly, resigned to her position in the rear. He shot his girlfriend a quick smile through the rearview before focusing back on the road, slowing down considerably as they neared a red light.

Finn didn’t often drink — he hated the taste of alcohol and if he were being honest he was a rather embarrassing drunk — and so he’d taken up the duty of designated driver without any hassle, much as he did most of the time they went out. He had admittedly tucked two joints into his coat pocket before they’d left, but weed hardly counted, in his humble (often wrong) opinion. The directions pulled up on his phone’s GPS application urged him to turn right and so he did, blinker clicking away as he pivoted the wheel.

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Finn in response to Sloane’s remark as he batted her hand away from his face and shot an apologetic look towards the car he’d nearly swerved into. “I’m totally rocking these boots.”

In all actuality, Finn despised everything about the ridiculous Puss in Boots costume Priscilla had chosen for him, from the nearly knee high boots to the large black hat with the feather sticking out of it. Regardless, he’d shut his mouth and put it on for Prissy’s sake and the light in her eyes when she’d first seen him earlier that night was enough to make it all worth it.

“Besides, I’m sure there will be six other halo slingers at the party,” he added after they’d made it safely onto a side road and out of traffic before shooting his sister a smug look. They were nearing their destination, and so he kept an eye on the slowly increasing house numbers on every mailbox they passed, half naked trees blurring the way in between.

“Though nobody does it like us Murphys.”

It was a thing their dad said.

Everything on this side of town seemed new and polished, shiny ‘for sale’ signs marking the fronts of many of the estates they’d passed. The long, winding driveways led to clean-cut massive houses, painted in varying shades of white and gray and blue. The porches held none of that nostalgic, worn down quality that made a home, the stairs too clean and the banisters unfurnished.

As they neared the Thompson residence, however, signs of life could finally be seen (and heard), and Finn’s eyes snagged on blow up decorations and bushes shrouded in fake spider webs. People dotted the freshly cut lawn, costumes of all variety obscuring their identities from this distance.

A thumping bass line spilled out from behind the cracked front door, seeping in through the car’s partially opened windows. Already red solo cups littered the ground and he was certain the state of the inside of the house was much worse — Sloane’s own many parties a case study in just how messy the human species tended to be.

He found parking where he could on the street and hopped out of the car, moving quickly to open both Sloane and Priscilla’s doors for them with a dramatic bow.

“M’ladies.”

He looped his arm around Prissy’s shoulders as they walked, a habit he’d had for so long now it had become second nature. He kept his eyes out for Isaiah or Lacey and Kass or any of his other friends he was sure would be there, and blinked as smoke from several fog machines blurred his vision as they entered the house.

The music was much louder inside, and he was hardly able to hear Sloane as she made her goodbyes and swiftly lost herself within the throng. Finn took his arm from Priss’ shoulder, though he looped his fingers through hers and turned to face her.

“So…” he began with a gentle smile, hazel eyes going squinty at the corners, “where to first? The dance floor? The kitchen for drinks? Or are you itching to lose at a round of beer pong — we both know I’m awful sober.”

facebook.com/finneganmurphy

mood

cheerful, I suppose

location

halle’s house

outfit

Puss in Boots

mention

Sloane, Isaiah, Lacey, Priss, Kass

tag

Soap Qwertycakes

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© weldherwings.

 

[Xed]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/counterfeit-or-real?

Boston's Golden Boy is Med Bound

The City's Golden Child is adding to his list of impeccable accomplishments, showing the world exactly what a flawless gentleman looks like. Frankly it all seems a little too good to be true and who knows? Maybe it is.

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"You know so much about me, unfortunately. Tell me, what did you think I'd pick?"

Leroy didn't answer. Like she said, he really did know a lot about her, too much in fact. Just as she knew too much about him. That had been fine over the summer, when things had been all fun and games. Just two dumb teenagers doing dumb things together without anyone knowing, until that day... when things go too real, too raw, too close to home. They never should have gotten that close to begin with, but it had been so easy to just get sucked into it at the time. Not having to be Mr. Perfect, getting dragged into Tabitha's pace, allowing her to push her way deeper into his world. Only when it was too late did he realise what a mistake that had been.

Tabitha took another step closer, effectively eliminating any distance between them and then whispered in his ear.
“And I’m sure you have a track waiting for you out there. You better change out of these before getting on a bike, though, you’ll look ridiculous.”

He reflexively grabbed her arm at the mention of his bike racing, then remembered where they were and let go.
"Sorry," he mumbled as he took a step back and to the side. The thumping of his heart eased as he glanced at her arm and saw he hadn't gripped it hard enough to leave any marks. Marks like the ones he had seen that day. Leroy fought to keep the guilt from seeping into his face as he averted his gaze and picked up a nearby drink to busy himself and cover his face.

He should have stopped things at the kiss after the race that summer. He should have drawn the line there and then, but he didn't. When he crossed the line, allowing himself to be pulled in by her, by the glimpses of sides no one else saw, he should have kept it physical. He shouldn't have gotten more involved than that and kept it a simple summer fling between two teenagers whose paths would otherwise never meet. He should never have let it get so complicated, for both his sake and hers.

"I should get going then," he offered her a polite smile, weak by his usual standards but it would have to do. "I don't want to get in your way. I hope you enjoy yourself for the rest of the night. The new girl seems to really know how to throw a party."

facebook.com/leroyharris

mood

Mixed feelings but pretending to be his usual happy and kind self

location

halle’s house

outfit

nerd but with larger, oversized glasses

mention

Tabitha

tag

gingersnaps

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© weldherwings.

 

[lvcid]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/more-to-the-outcast

Always on the outside looking in, a new perspective:

Is there more to the wayward son of Stratford’s beloved football coach than meets the eye, or is he truly as lame as everybody says? Even his own father is playing favorites, and Erik isn’t one of them.
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The slightly off-key melody of Taylor Swift’s Look What You Made Me Do echoed embarrassingly loud through the house’s lower level, Daphne’s and Isaiah’s voices carrying easily over the other guests’ chatter as they danced animatedly in front of the screen. It was inescapable—the sound haunted him in his own home, drifting through thin walls as he stared intently at his computer screen, trying to focus on finishing homework that wasn’t even his, and now it’d followed him here, to a party he didn’t even want to be at.

Each note seemed to send him back-peddling further away from the scene, eyes darting around for any possible means of escape as Erik’s hands wedged themselves deeper into the front pockets of his jeans.

God, he felt ridiculous. The annual tradition of trick-or-treating Erik upheld religiously alongside his sister and Isaiah was one thing, when the only people seeing their cheesy costumes—stitched together with love, courtesy of their Nana—were children half their age, but this? The cowboy hat—not his idea—on his head weighed down like a brick under the weight of his peers’ gazes, the boots on his feet uncomfortably warm, but for the time being, he was grateful that his sister and their likably idiotic friend were there to act as a temporary distraction as Erik slipped between the bodies blocking the doorway with a muttered, “‘Scuse me.”

Erik had no set destination in mind other than out: out of the tightly-clustered groups of people crowding the halls, maybe even out of the house entirely, down the street, and back to his own home—surely, Daphne wouldn’t notice his absence. In his haste, though, he bumped into someone. “Oh, shit, sorry,” Erik started, hands already raising defensively, but as they turned around, recognition softened his tense features, furrow between his brows wavering. “Tabi?” He snorted out a laugh as he took in the tall girl’s ensemble, her long, blonde curls hidden beneath a sleek, black bob, a trail of fake blood smeared beneath one nostril. “Wow. I didn’t take you for a Tarantino fan.” Erik stepped back, giving Tabitha room. “He’s got a foot fetish, you know.”

He could’ve left that part out.

Clearing his throat, Erik continued, “You look good, though.”

He probably could’ve done without that, too.

For whatever reason—perhaps his mother’s misguided interpretation of what Erik and Tabitha’s relationship was and could be held more influence over his actions than he cared to admit, or maybe a part of him wondered if she was right and wanted to see for himself—Erik felt the unmistakable urge, on rare occasions, to treat Tabitha kindly, which was saying a lot, given his typically sour disposition. It didn’t happen often, though—Erik and Tabitha threw insults at each other just as easily as sucking in a breath, but it was only ever in good fun. They had a bond more similar to siblings than anything else, after all.

At least, that’s what Erik had convinced himself of those many years ago when Tabitha became a more permanent fixture in the twins’ lives. Back then, he’d been too foolishly enamored with Dylan to even give Tabitha a second thought, anyway, but look how that had turned out.

He couldn’t risk history repeating itself, as it was so eagerly inclined to do at a moment’s notice.

The look of panic in Dylan’s eyes as the words had come spilling out of Daphne’s mouth faster than Erik could tell her to shut it lurked in the back of his mind still. No amount of denial could dig him out of that hole and smooth it over—the damage had already been done, and the visible embarrassment that flashed across his face like lightning as he lied through his teeth didn’t do him any favors, either.

No. Satiating his selfish curiosity or feeding into his mother’s delusions wasn’t worth the sacrifice of yet another friendship. Erik had more than learned his lesson in that regard.

facebook.com/erikparker

mood

get me tf out of here—oh hey tabi

location

halle’s house

outfit

there’s a snake in his boot and a stick up his ass

mention

daphne, isaiah, & tabi

tag

Soap Historia Calamatium gingersnaps

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© weldherwings.

 

[gingersnaps]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/a-little-bit-dramatic

Your Highness, The Drama Queen of Boston

A walking study in demonology.

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Tabitha flinched.

She recoiled as Leroy reached out and grabbed her arm in a sudden movement, as if she expected something else entirely- and she hated herself for it immediately.

Leroy let her go almost as quickly as he’d taken her, but it was too late. She could hear an apology leaving his lips, the sound of his voice mixing with the music blasting from inside and the ringing in her ears. But the reality was, Tabitha could not stand to look up at him right now- if she saw his expression, she was not sure what she would do, she was simply too embarrassed. She might’ve started yelling, she might’ve started crying- and if she cried here, in front of all these people, she would never forgive herself.

“Yeah, whatever.” Was all she could muster up saying, walking away with a flushed face and a pit in her stomach.

Why did you have to push his buttons? Why can’t you ever just shut up and walk away? It’s your fault, you bring out the worst in everyone. It’s your fault-

She pushed her way to the drinks table, pouring herself anything that would come down her throat burning and make her mind quiet. This was a party, this was supposed to be fun. Tabitha was not about to let her screwed up mind ruin everything for her.

The bottle in her hand nearly spilled as she felt a body bump into her. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been just enough to tip Tabitha over the edge and sent her into a verbal laceration of whatever poor soul had stumbled onto her-

“Tabi?” Erik asked, with a laugh that erased whatever insult she had at the tip of her tongue.

-had it been anyone else but him, of course.

This was not ideal.
Erik Parker, ridiculously smart, embarrassingly dense, and the reason Tabitha Cohen screamed into a pillow every time she came home these days. It was mortifying enough for her to be pining after someone like a stupid little schoolgirl, but everything was made so much worse by the fact that her very, very obvious attempts at flirting seemed to go completely unnoticed.

"Good thing I have amazing feet." Her smile was sharp, but it didn't quite reach her ears. She could only hope Erik didn't notice her state in the dark lightning of the party. "And I don't take shit from guys in leather boots."

The compliment was unexpected, and she silently cursed herself for the pink in her cheeks. With Erik, she was mostly used to witty insults and a fun, acidic back-and-forth- whenever he did say nice things, Tabitha had no idea how to react. She was used to making other people feel flustered and confused, not in a billion years did she ever see herself on the receiving end of that...especially not with Parker.

"You're not so bad yourself, cowboy. Although..." Tabitha couldn't help the feeling of endearment as she looked at the costume up and down, eyes settling on the silly cowboy hat for a second before she reached out and stole it. "I think we can both agree I wear it better."

Tabitha put on the cowboy hat, and maybe, just maybe, it made her feel a little better.
"Yeehaw."

facebook.com/tabitharosecohen

mood

barely-contained panic.

location

halle’s house

outfit

Mia Wallace

mention

leroy, erik.

tag

Xed
lvcid

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© weldherwings.

 

[jasmyn]

thegrapevine.com/more-than-meets-the-eye-or-mindless-minon

life in the queen bee's shadow

Everyone knows her name, but that might be all they know. Who is she really without her way more popular BFF? Is she just Lacey's personal barbie doll or is there more to her?

(click for full story)

kassidy hale - the follower - seventeen - senior

"It's just a movie, it's just a movie," Kassidy's ramblings were muffled by the purple, fuzzy blanket she'd practically buried her face into. Her eyes popped just above the top of it as she reluctantly kept them glued to the TV.

If it had been up to her, she would've chosen something more family-friendly like Halloweentown, but she hadn't dared to suggest it. She wasn't gonna risk being labeled childish for it. Which was stupid anyway, in her opinion, because it was a prime choice, okay???

Still, she had lightly protested against the horror-slasher film her friends had chosen for the night, but Lacey had quickly shut her pleas down with a simple "Don't be a buzzkill, it's Halloween," and as usual, Kass didn't even try to fight back on it.

She rarely did when it came to Lacey though so it wasn't a big surprise. Kass tended to let the girl "walk all over her" as people said, but in her defense, it wasn't even like that. Lacey always meant well and totally wanted what was best for her. Why wouldn't she listen to her?

Like when she said Kass shouldn't wear yellow because it washes her out and makes her look like the corpse bride. Like?? What a good best friend to keep her from looking horrible like that. Even if she did really really really love that yellow dress. Lacey was right, it did look better on her than Kass anyway...

The blonde sat nestled on the beige rug, her back against the leather sofa as she cowered behind her blanket. Lacey had wandered off to look for a snack, and Kass had wished she offered to go instead. Anything was better than this... luckily the scene was over and Kass let out a deep breath she hadn't even realized she was holding in.

Joke was on her though. Just when she thought the worst was over and the scene had faded-- BOOM, the jumpscare of her life! Kass had been caught way off guard because she didn't even like horror films, so she had never actually seen this movie before.

With a loud squeal, Kass jumped in her spot, tossing the blanket over her head to shield herself from the imagery. Her knee slammed into the coffee table in front of her, causing the bottle of fake blood she'd placed way too close to the edge to topple off it and onto the floor.

"Oops..." Kass said sheepishly as she peered out from the cover; the red liquid splattered all over it, and the rug surrounding her. "I'm totally sorry. I'll...uhh, my aunt will replace it. Shit..." she said, leaping to her feet. "Sorry-"

Luckily, as usual, Lacey came to her rescue. As the girl shooed her away, she quickly shuffled off towards the kitchen. "Yeah, I'll just go work on the spider web things. They need to look more... web-y." she declared, disappearing into the other room.

xxx

One. Two. Three. Four. Kass counted silently in her head as she sat the cups in order on the foldable table in front of her while Halle did the same on the opposite side. "Ten." she declared as she dropped the last cup in place.

Honestly, she wasn't sure how or when the idea of beer pong had come into play, but as most times, Kass had gone along with it. She wasn't sure why, though, this game wasn't her forte. In fact, she sucked at it so she just knew Halle was going to kick her ass. It wasn't hard to do.

"Okay, I'll fill the cups - you go grab the balls so we can play. Second drawer down, closest to the kitchen sink," Halle instructed, and Kassidy nodded, slipping into the crowd. "Excuse me, move please, coming through," she spoke over the music as she made her way to the kitchen.

Once she'd secured the goods, these little plastic eyeballs that were very much appropriately on theme for the night, she made her way back when she got the bright idea to look for Lacey. If they played teams, then her odds seemed way, way better.

Her eyes scanned the room as she bounced through the room until they finally landed on the familiar face she'd been searching for. "Lace! Hey!" she waved the girl over, dropping one of the balls and losing it within the sea of teenagers feet below without even noticing.

"Wanna play?" she held up the remaining two balls, a confused look flashing on her face briefly when she realized one was missing. Was she that buzzed? Hadn't she grabbed three? No way, she had only had one drink... Anyway!

"We can do teams. It'll be fun. Halle even got the good vodka out just for us!" she said enticingly as she motioned to where Halle was waiting. "It's sooo good with that fruit punch you suggested."

search: @heavenorhale

mood

buzzed or whatever

location

halle’s house

outfit

rapunzel vibes

mention

halle & lacey

tag

lvcid keeruh

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© weldherwings.

 

[lvcid]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/more-to-the-outcast

Always on the outside looking in, a new perspective:

Is there more to the wayward son of Stratford’s beloved football coach than meets the eye, or is he truly as lame as everybody says? Even his own father is playing favorites, and Erik isn’t one of them.
(click for full story)

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Erik hummed in acknowledgment. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said. “I’m not a big fan of feet—they don’t do much for me, other than walk, obviously.” He punctuated his statement with a weak laugh, as if that made it any funnier.

It wasn’t that humorous to begin with, if at all.

Sometimes, Erik wished his intelligence extended to the social aspect of his life, but he knew it was a vain hope. Daphne had always been the more extroverted of the two, but even then, it wasn’t saying a lot. Really, Erik shouldn’t complain—with the way some of the more popular people stumbled through their exams, he’d have it considerably easier in the long run. At least he’d be able to make something of himself beyond high school; there was no real danger of him ending up as a burned-out Waffle House line cook after being rejected from the fifth college he’d applied to.

“Good for you, Tabi. Glad to see you’re finally setting some standards. Unfortunately, these aren’t real leather.” Erik sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth in an exaggerated display of faux sympathy, then glanced down at his boots, shifting his weight for emphasis. He could’ve easily afforded a better pair, but it wasn’t worth the expense for shoes he had every intention of wearing only once, then throwing out as soon as he peeled them off later that night.

Erik was about to offer some deflecting form of gratitude, but the words died in his throat as Tabitha revealed a catch to her compliment. He should’ve known.

As the cowboy hat was lifted from Erik’s head, a wave of relief washed over him in its place. He’d wanted to ditch the hat before it even left Daphne’s hands as she passed it to him, but he’d tolerated it for the many pictures she and their mother had insisted on; he’d wanted to abandon the hat at the entrance of the party, too, but as he was reaching upward, Daphne had turned around with a bright smile, and he’d ceased the attempt just as quickly as it started. Now, though, as he ogled it atop Tabitha’s uncharacteristically sleek, black hair, it didn’t seem nearly the nuisance it had only moments ago, and Erik had to say, he agreed with her sentiment.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I was stiff competition,” Erik said, mouth cocking up into a sideways grin as his fingers raised to ruffle his hair. “You have an unfair advantage.”

Why, exactly? Erik wouldn’t say; he’d leave it open for Tabitha to interpret however she saw fit.

The boy’s gaze slid downward to the bottle in Tabitha’s grip, the label turned away from his prying eyes, then flickered up to her face once again. “What’re you drinking?” Erik asked. He wasn’t particularly one for indulging in alcohol—his vice of choice was, more times than not, bumming a cigarette from the crumpled carton his dad kept stashed in the top drawer of his nightstand—but he did so recreationally, on the occasion that he was in good company, and Tabitha was about as close to that as Erik could feasibly get.

Besides that, if he was going to be stuck at this party for the better part of his night, he sure as hell didn’t plan on suffering through it without the help of a numbing crutch.

facebook.com/erikparker

mood

yeehaw

location

halle’s house

outfit

there’s a snake in his boot and a stick up his ass

mention

tabi

tag

gingersnaps

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

© weldherwings.

 

[gingersnaps]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/a-little-bit-dramatic

Your Highness, The Drama Queen of Boston

A walking study in demonology.

(click for full story)

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He was so painfully unfunny, even with that little weak, forced laugh. Tabitha wanted to kiss him so badly, just so he’d shut up already.

No, okay, that was a lie, there were more than a few other reasons.

Tabitha was not sure when or how this debilitating crush on Erik Parker had started, but it was quickly becoming quite a plague in her already complicated life. One day, out of completely nowhere, she caught herself staring a little too much, laughing a little too hard at his dumb jokes, caring a little too much about what he thought of her. With every drink she had tonight, Tabitha hoped to drown the butterflies in her stomach.

This was a hopeless situation. A losing battle, and an extremely embarrassing one at that. But there was still a tug in the corner of her lips, watching Erik show off his boots.

“And you’re not a real cowboy.” Tabitha retorted, flicking the hat that now stood atop of her wig, following his gaze to the bottle in her hand. As he questioned her drink of choice, the girl was already pouring two shots. “Anything, everything…but right now, I’m having this...gross, cheap tequila.”

Erik didn’t have to ask, Tabitha was already handing him a classic red, plastic cup with questionable contents.

“And so are you! Drink up, Parker.” She was not in the mood to hear any protests, and luckily, it seemed Erik was at least willing to play along for tonight. “It’ll make you feel a lot less miserable about being here.”

It’s not as if she herself felt like the life of the party tonight, but there was no doubt Tabitha was a whole lot better at hiding her discomforts than Erik was. But if it all went bad, Tabitha wouldn’t mind simply being…miserable together.

Not that she would ever say it to his face. She was not nearly drunk enough for that.

"Why did you come, anyway?" It felt like she was sinking even lower, with a question like that. Whatever Erik's answer was, it was not going to be what she really wanted to hear. "It's not exactly your type of outing." But I'm glad you're here.

Being a heavyweight sucked. She could only pray the alcohol would start having an effect soon, and throw back another shot.

facebook.com/tabitharosecohen

mood

down horrendously.

location

halle’s house

outfit

Mia Wallace

mention

erik.

tag

lvcid

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

© weldherwings.

 

[lvcid]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/more-to-the-outcast

Always on the outside looking in, a new perspective:

Is there more to the wayward son of Stratford’s beloved football coach than meets the eye, or is he truly as lame as everybody says? Even his own father is playing favorites, and Erik isn’t one of them.
(click for full story)

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“Oh!” Erik started, wincing slightly at Tabitha’s adjectives of choice. “That’s really enticing. Thank you.” He grabbed the cup that Tabitha held out to him nonetheless, his fingers brushing against hers briefly as the drink was passed into his possession.

Erik snorted out a dry laugh. “If it’s as good as you say it is, I highly doubt that.” Still, he obediently raised the plastic container to his lips for a cautious sip, the bitter liquid sliding down his throat, punctuated by a cough and a grimace as Erik pulled away from the cup like he suspected more of the alcohol would jump out at him if given the opportunity. “Shit, you weren’t kidding,” he agreed. “This is awful.”

Misery loves company, though, and Erik couldn’t let Tabitha make a bigger wimp out of him than he already was.

Erik took another swig of vodka, eyes sliding from his friend to survey the room of jostling bodies before them. Tabitha was right—the loud and boisterous parties that their classmates so eagerly ate up off the silver platters handed to them by parents too occupied with business endeavors to care what their children were up to weren’t Erik’s idea of fun at all. He shouldn’t have been here now, and if not for Tabitha unknowingly intercepting his escape mission, he would’ve made his exit already, but he’d entertain her presence for the time being, however he couldn’t promise that if the chance to leave once again presented itself, he wouldn’t take it. Perhaps he’d feel generous by then and invite Tabitha to tag along.

The boy was fairly certain that his Nana would still have candy left untouched by the few trick-or-treaters that wandered her way before she promptly locked the doors and turned off the porch light at 8 o’clock, and he couldn’t possibly eat it all by himself, since his own sister no longer seemed interested in taking part.

“It was Daph’s idea,” Erik answered with a shrug. “I only agreed to make her shut up about it.”

Daphne was very persistent when she wanted to be. If only she used her powers to better the world—and Erik’s life—instead of trying to weasel her way into the good graces of those that weren’t interested in having her around. At least Erik was well-aware of his limits. He wasn’t blinded by the side effects of therapy, of sitting alone in a room with a stranger hell-bent on telling him that his feelings were valid and that there was nothing to be afraid of. His fight or flight instincts had gotten him this far, and he was doing fine! Why change his lifestyle now?

Erik leaned over, reaching past Tabitha for the bottle of vodka at the same moment a couple bumped past him, knocking into the wall yet too engrossed with each other to take note of the disturbance they’d caused before stumbling on their way. “Is this the part where it’s supposed to make me less miserable? Because I don’t think it’s working.” Erik shook his head, eyes rolling in annoyance over the rim of his cup as he threw back another shot, willing the alcohol to do something.

Anything. At this point, he couldn’t afford to be picky.

facebook.com/erikparker

mood

yeehaw

location

halle’s house

outfit

there’s a snake in his boot and a stick up his ass

mention

tabi

tag

gingersnaps

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

© weldherwings.

 

[lvcid]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/the-queen-bee-overthrown

Is stratford’s queen bee about to be dethroned?

There’s more to our school’s reigning couple than meets the eye. From serial infidelity to familial upheaval, Lacey Sullivan has her fair share of skeletons in the closet.
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Lacey fluttered her long lashes mockingly, fingers lifting to twirl a strand of her chocolate-colored hair. “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, her tone lilting playfully. Then, before Sloane could answer, “Duh, of course you do. Everybody does.” There was a time when Lacey would’ve valued the socialite’s opinion, but now she only shrugged, unbothered as she stepped around Sloane to reach the counter and the plethora of alcohol it had to offer.

Humming knowingly, Lacey twisted the cap off a bottle of blue raspberry-flavored vodka. “Careful,” she warned the younger girl. “One day, you might decide you like it too much down here and never go back. Heaven would be down its best angel.” Lacey pouted, one hand flying to her chest in faux sympathy as the other reached to pluck her poison of choice from its place on the tabletop, tilting it over the rim of her empty cup, though that was soon to be remedied.

It was ironic, really, that Sloane could talk about herself in such a righteous light—even jokingly—after what she’d put Lacey through. Of course, Lacey was no saint either—it was a classic case of pot and kettle—but at least she was vaguely self-aware.

“Aw, don’t worry your little head about me, Sloaney. I’m doing just fine without you, though I’m sure you would’ve made the perfect Judas. Do you have room in those boots for a knife, or did you leave it in my back the last time you stabbed me with it?”

Lacey topped her drink off with a cold can of Sprite from the fridge, giving it a test sip before fully committing. Her eye roll was barely visible above the edge of her cup, but it conveyed volumes nonetheless. “You know, they’d be a lot less likely to assume that if you were gone. So, go. Be elsewhere.” Lacey waved Sloane off with the sternness of a mother shooing away her petulant child while on an important phone call.

Sloane had always been one for immature theatrics, after all.

A humorless laugh seeped out from between Lacey’s lips as she once again brushed past the younger girl. There were any number of ways to finish that sentence—slutty, wasted, trashy, desperate. All of them would’ve likely been fitting in Sloane’s eyes, but Lacey smiled regardless. “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘hot’.” She sent Sloane a parting wave, a taunting smile gracing her mouth, and if her middle finger wagged just a bit higher than the rest, it was out of nothing but sheer coincidence.

It was also by coincidence that Sloane intercepted Ephraim, but it did nothing to hinder the scowl from creeping onto Lacey’s features as she slipped into the crowd, away from the pair.

Truly, Lacey had no right to be jealous—she had lost it not long after the connection between her and Ephraim had fizzled out, and she started looking for something to fill that void in other places. For someone so cold, Lacey wasn’t immune to the complicated affairs of the heart. She wanted little more than to be loved—it was human nature—even if she wasn’t well-versed in the art of reciprocating. Real love had never played a part in Lacey and Ephraim’s relationship—at least, not from her end. It had all been built on a foundation of physical attraction, and that could only get them so far before the overall lack of things to talk about caught up with them. They were like an old, married couple, beating around the bush of inevitable divorce. In their eyes, this was easier—keeping up appearances for status’ sake, falling back into a dull yet comfortable routine of familiarity.

Maybe Lacey should be grateful that Ephraim was distracted. She’d become rather skilled at entertaining herself in other ways.

A hand protruded from the crowd, accompanied by a voice she quickly recognized, beckoning Lacey closer. Holding her cup above her head, out of harm’s way, she elbowed her way over to where Kass stood, ping-pong balls clutched invitingly in her grip.

“Sure,” Lacey answered, snatching the third ball from the floor before someone could step on it; sure enough, her hand had just retracted when a spiked heel came down where it’d been only a second prior, and Lacey stood with a pointed glare at the perpetrator, silently urging the girl to move aside. Then, she continued, “If we’re doing teams, though, we need one more person.”

Dark gaze scanned the figures scattered around them for any potential additions. Outside of Kass and Halle, the choices were slim: Ephraim was busy, Finn was nowhere to be seen and likely had a parasite—sorry, Priscilla—attached to his hip, and Lacey wasn’t fond of many of the people she knew beyond that, so there was no point involving them in their game. She’d have better luck bringing in a near-stranger.

“You!” Lacey called, attention set on someone she vaguely remembered from one of her classes at school. What was her name? Darcy? It didn’t matter. “C’mere, cowgirl.” She raised a finger, motioning for the girl to come closer. Her costume was hideous—yellow plaid shirt and clunky boots—but there was something endearing about her nonetheless. “Are you any good at beer pong?” Lacey asked with a fake smile of the most convincing variety. She’d had years of perfecting it, lulling people into a false sense of security when she needed something from them, such as her current predicament.

facebook.com/laceysullivan

mood

howdy??

location

halle’s house

outfit

mm she the devil, she a bad lil bitch, she a rebel-

mention

sloane, kass, & daphne

tag

Soap jasmyn

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© weldherwings.

 

[gingersnaps]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/a-little-bit-dramatic

Your Highness, The Drama Queen of Boston

A walking study in demonology.

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Tabitha felt a tug at the corner of her lips as she watched Erik’s face twist at the taste of the very cheap alcohol. It really, really wasn’t good- but Tabitha was not feeling particularly picky. Passing the drinks back and forth between the two of them, Tabitha tried (and failed) to not focus on the lingering touches of her hand brushing against Erik’s bony fingers. Whatever. She just smiled, all natural and just slightly tipsy, and if he dared to question it, Tabitha would fully blame it on the cheap booze.

“Told you it sucked. It gets the work done, though.” She let out an amused snicker and poured herself another shot as she listened to the faux cowboy’s excuses. “So sweet. Parker #1 is obviously making the best of it.”

Tabitha’s eyes wandered to the other side of the party, where awful karaoke was taking place, and Daphne and Isaiah were currently butchering their rendition of a famous Taylor Swift song. It made Tabitha smile, but just a little bit.



She was no stranger to the well-meaning bullying that happened between siblings- only, more often than not, Tabitha was the one getting bullied by one of her older brothers into doing their bidding. She had frankly lost count of how many horrible parties Edgar had dragged her to solely so they’d have a solid alibi to use against their parents. Serves her right for being the "responsible" one.



“Hm,” Tabitha tilted her head to the side, staring at Parker from head to toe. He was only a single inch shorter than her, despite the many jokes between them. “It’s not kicking in yet? Maybe you could try some other party activity…playing shitty party games, dancing to really annoying songs, kissing random girls…”



The vodka burned down her throat as she threw the shot back, but it wasn’t as bad as the other times.



“Or maybe we’re beyond help, at this point.”

facebook.com/tabitharosecohen

mood

down horrendously.

location

halle’s house

outfit

Mia Wallace

mention

erik.

tag

lvcid

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[lvcid]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/more-to-the-outcast

Always on the outside looking in, a new perspective:

Is there more to the wayward son of Stratford’s beloved football coach than meets the eye, or is he truly as lame as everybody says? Even his own father is playing favorites, and Erik isn’t one of them.
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“Right.”

Sweet.

Erik knew Tabitha was being facetious—as usual—but it made him think. His apathy seemingly knew no bounds. He and Daphne had entered the world together, and while some people would’ve viewed that as an especially close bond worth nurturing, Erik couldn’t help but want to distance himself from his twin sister at times. Her personality was blindingly bright, the perfect antithesis to Erik’s doom and gloom, and it was exasperating. So, really, was he all that bad for giving in to Daphne’s pleads for socialization to satiate his own selfish gain? He hardly thought so, but the guilty pang in the pit of his stomach as he watched his sister prance around said otherwise.

Wait. Was that guilt, or was the vodka introducing itself to the half of a granola bar Erik had choked down as Daphne was rushing him out the door?

Definitely the latter.

“Yeah, unfortunately—hold on. Parker #1? Why does Daph get to be number one? I’m, like, nine whole minutes older than her.”

It was a fact that Erik was quite proud of, and he made sure Daphne remembered it just as well as he did on the rare occasions he wanted to win an argument against her award-winning pout and notoriously good way with words.

A scoff escaped Erik’s frowning lips. “Oh, great idea, Tabs,” he said, monotonous tone dripping with sarcasm. “Let’s add insult to injury, huh? Really pour that salt in.” He threw back what was left in his cup before crushing it, thin plastic contorting easily under his tight grip, and tossing it into the nearby trash can. “Seriously, though, are any of those actually supposed to be fun?” Erik leaned back to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter. “I said I wanted to be less miserable. I mean, if I was in the mood to be publicly humiliated, I’d be crossing every one of those off the list, but I have this much dignity left—” Erik paused, holding up his index finger and thumb, which he held in a pinch with little space between them. “—and I’d like to keep it. There’s a city-wide shortage, so I can’t take any chances.”

He didn’t outright say it, but he didn’t have to—Erik knew he’d have a much better chance at finding a million dollars in the pocket of an old coat than he would finding a girl at that party that wanted to kiss him. In theory, there was nothing wrong with that—Erik didn’t mind solitude; he actually preferred it—but to admit such a thing out loud was far too pathetic, even for him.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Erik agreed, dragging a hand through his hair. “The blind leading the blind never works out.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward in amusement—not exactly a smile, but just about as close to a genuine one as he might get. “But it’s the thought that counts. ‘A’ for effort.” Erik reached over, gently nudging Tabitha’s arm for emphasis before continuing, “If you wanna go do lame party shit, you can. I know it’s so tempting, but you don’t have to stay here and keep me company—I’ll survive.”

Of course, that wasn’t to say that he wanted Tabitha to leave, but he could handle it if she did. Erik was a big boy—he could take care of himself, despite popular opinion.

facebook.com/erikparker

mood

yeehaw

location

halle’s house

outfit

there’s a snake in his boot and a stick up his ass

mention

tabi

tag

gingersnaps

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[gingersnaps]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/a-little-bit-dramatic

Your Highness, The Drama Queen of Boston

A walking study in demonology.

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“So what?” A grin formed across Tabitha’s face. “You’ll just have to try harder to claim that number one spot, mon cher.”



She found herself forgetting about all the ugliness from earlier in the night. Maybe it was her blood alcohol levels rising by the second, or the amusement in Erik’s annoyed voice, but Tabitha started thinking that it was going to be a good night, after all.

After the scoff, she was certain that there was a whole lot of ranting to follow it. Erik talked her ear off about how miserable everything was all the time. She rolled her eyes listening to him (though she never really stopped grinning), taking the drink to her lips once again.


“Oh, wow, you still have all that left?” She widened her eyes and nodded, in mock surprise. “Huh, that’s so funny, I really thought you’d run out after the Star Wars incident…”

Her smile was teasing as she recalled one of the few times she managed to drag Erik out of his room and into a party. The highlight of said night, in Tabitha’s humble opinion, was when an extremely intoxicated Erik attempted to chat up a random girl by talking about one of his little nerd movies. The girl was promptly scared off, and Tabitha laughed so hard that tears smudged her eyeliner. Afterwards, she listened to him ramble about wars and stars for over an hour…and understood absolutely nothing and called him a nerd about a billion times, but she listened to the whole thing with a smile in her face.



“It can be fun. Depends on the company.” Tabitha shrugged, eyeing down the bottom of her plastic red cup for a second, before glancing back at Erik. “Mhm, I’m good.”

“I suppose I could go and humiliate Kass at beer pong, but meh. It loses it’s spark after the billionth time.” Tabitha smiled slightly at the lie- it was always fun to humiliate Kassidy. “And if you want to continue your escape, or whatever you were doing before, go ahead…or you could stop being a wet blanket and actually try to enjoy the party?” She tilted her head to the side. “Maybe give the lame party shit a try? Who knows, you might have fun, for once. Imagine the horror.”

facebook.com/tabitharosecohen

mood

down horrendously.

location

halle’s house

outfit

Mia Wallace

mention

erik.

tag

lvcid

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© weldherwings.

 

[Historia Calamatium]

thegrapevine.com/updates/2023/the-class clown-punchline

Stratford's Class Clown: Threat or Meance?

is there more than meets the eye for the clown prince of stratford? (click for full story)

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“I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!”

Isaiah could hear the smile in his voice as he recited the lyrics to the pop song. It was the right amount of silliness to shake off whatever apprehension he had about attending this Halloween party instead of going trick or treating like they did every year. And seeing the same smile reflected on the face of his duet partner confirmed for him he had made the right choice even if he was sure they looked kind of ridiculous. A cowgirl and a space ranger doing karaoke. The beginning of a bad joke if he had ever heard one before.

"I'm sorry, the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now! Why? Cause she's dead!” They both recited in unison as the song progressed into the final chorus and they mercifully had to give the mic over to Jack Skelington and Barbie. Maybe they didn't look as ridiculous as he thought. He'd have to remember to thank Nana for all her hard work.

“It seems like your brother ran off somewhere. Probably heard a loud noise and hid under a table. I did tell you we should've put a baby leash on him.” Isaiah chuckled as he turned to Daphne only to see her disappearing into a crowd of party goers. “Maybe I should've put a leash on both of them.”

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him as he pushed through the sea of strangers. His biggest concern coming in had been leaving the Parkers alone while he did his rounds but it looked as if they didn't need his supervision. His kids were ready to leave the nest.

Isaiah hadn't walked that far before he was greeted by the sight of the elder of the Parker twins chatting up Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction though judging from the body language and the constipated expression on Erik's face he could give three guesses as to who was actually under the cowboy hat. He had to intervene seeing that if anyone could snatch defeat from the jaws of victory it was Erik.

“Your first mistake, tabby cat, was pretending as if he has a choice in the matter.” Isaiah stared at the two cups and the bottle of whatever currently in Erik's hand. He already had an idea of how he would entertain himself tonight as he took the bottle emptying it in a few gulps. It wasn't a good idea but he'd cross that bridge when it was time to cross it or however the saying goes.

“We're playing spin the bottle in about five minutes. Would you mind spreading the word.” Isaiah asked the first person who walked by him, a very enthusiastically dressed nurse who wasn't all that interested until he slipped her a five.

His plan was foolproof. At best Erik kisses Tabitha and they can speed run whatever their relationship is and at worst Erik kisses someone else and he gets to witness a murder.

“What? Isn't Halloween all about mischief? And nothing screams mischief like kissing some random person you'll probably never speak to again or someone you've been dying to kiss since forever. What could possibly go wrong?”

facebook.com/IsaiahAugustine-Richards

mood

Chaos and mischief and a bit of tomfoolery

location

halle’s house

outfit

to infinity and beyond-

mention

Daphne, Erik, Tabitha

tag

lvcid
gingersnaps
Soap

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