Realistic or Modern 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕝 -- roleplay

Winona · Dec 19, 2020

Well, the rp page for The Night Stars Fell. I'm too lazy to put anything fancy here.

ohdittoh · Dec 19, 2020

a wrong-doer
is often a man
that has left something
undone
not always one who
has done something

LEEA PRESCOTT

Mood
{ 19-5-5-11-9-14-7 }

Location
{ 20-8-5 13-1-12-12 }

Mentions
{ ??? }

Interactions
{ Connor }

Tags
{

Last night, when Leea had been preparing her pallet of blankets in the back of her station wagon, she'd seen it, in flashes:

A jingle.

Glass cases, full of glistening rocks.

A chime. A slam.

A name badge reading Paul.

A silver snake coiled around a dark-skinned finger.

Someone's mouth, opening to scream.

White-- pain.

When she'd fallen back into consciousness, her heart had been beating out of her chest.

She'd had another vision.

She had sat in the back of her vehicle for a few moments, trying to discern what she had just seen. Visions were like puzzles that only she could solve, with pieces that only she could see and intricacies that only she could sense.

(They were total burdens, really.)

Where? Where had whatever happened happened?

That was the first thing to figure out, and it wasn't that difficult. From the things within the case, she could discern that it was a jewelry store. It seemed to be a very fancy one, too, with stones shined to the point that they were blinding and glinting.

Great. Some bougie jewelry store. That was the where.

(Fucking great. Now she had to go to some bougie jewelry store or whatever.)

As for where that jewelry store was...

Well, shit.

Ah...h--

Wait.

The name badge-- what color had it been?

Teal.

Teal and...

Teal and dark blue.

Now what could...?

"The mall," she muttered to herself, recalling its dumb-looking, bird-like, teal-and-dark-blue mascot that she'd seen driving past it nearly every day.

She flopped down on her pallet with a sigh.

Damn. To think that she and Connor were going to go there and peacefully...

Hm. Well, looked like there would be a slight deviation in plans. No big deal.

(Plus, there was always fun to be had in danger.)

• • • • •

Step one to changing the future: show up fashionably early.

The digital clock's cyan letters shone 2:45 from their spot on her antique car's head unit.

"Fifteen minutes," Leea chuckled, smirking, as she shifted her station wagon into park.

Step one: complete.

She looked over at the man in her passenger seat. "You remember everything I told you?" she asked. "Jewelry store, silver snake ring?"

She looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror as she listened to his answer, prodding at her hair, still tangled from her previous night's sleep. She tugged a sticky tag off of her hair. Clearance! 50% off!

She cranked down her window, flicked the tag out with an eyeroll and a soft sigh, then cranked it back up.

"That's all I expect," she said, sounding nearly disinterested.

She looked back over at him, turning her body in her seat. "Keep an eye out. If you see anything, tell me."

She popped her door open, shoving her keys into the pocket of her jean jacket and making her way inside, certain that Connor was following.

An unfamiliar smell hit her-- a mix of cinnamon and cleaning supplies-- and she scrunched her nose up. Ew. Gross.

"Where's the...," she muttered to herself, and she glanced to her side as Connor approached. She looked up at him, brows knit. "Directory," she said in a low, commanding voice.

There was no time to waste with niceties.

(Plus, fuck being polite.)

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

hery · Dec 23, 2020

Aster

MOOD: washin
LOCATION: laundry room
OUTFIT: clothes
TAGS:

ohdittoh
MENTIONS: n/a

After a week of settling into his new apartment, needless to say, Aster was having a troublesome adjustment period. There was a vast array of differences between Wilmont and Boston, and none too favorable for the small Washington town. Why couldn't the rumors of the stars led Aster somewhere more interesting? The 22 year-old was no stranger to spending long amounts of time with very little activity and excitement, but really, Wilmont had absolutely nothing going on for it.

At least the diner down the street had decent waffles. And that was coming from a guy that grew up craving Eggos every waking moment in soccer season.

Over the phone, the landlady seemed like a nice lady, albeit eccentric. Then again, what fun landlady doesn't have a few quirks? Her attempted recruitment for her beef tartare and other raw meal enthusiasts' club was honestly a little cute. Paired with the pink sunhat she'd adorned on their first time meeting face-to-face, Brenda seemed alright. Aster knew from the moment he'd laid eyes upon the landlady in person, his first impression was bound to be soured. This was no new experience to Aster, as his attempted pleasantness would always be overshadowed by the disconcerting aura he gave off since gaining his keen awareness for fear. People seemed to avoid him, sometimes act unnecessarily suspicious of him. Animals were reluctant, if not terrified, to make his acquaintance.

And the landlady was no different. All of the pleasantries they'd exchanged over the phone would go down the drain thanks to this property about him, which only seemed to work with physical proximity. Aster liked to think he acted extra forthcoming to make up for this weird vibe he gave off, but the silent, sideways glances people gave him after moving into town suggested it didn't work at all. It was quite unfortunate, really, considering he'd been keen on wooing the waitress at Ruby's down the street. At the very least, the landlady couldn't (or well, against her better judgement, chose not to) turn him away based on general discomfort alone. As frequently unlucky as Aster was, he'd secured his living arrangements for his endeavors in Wilmont with little trouble.

Of course, moving cross-country did not at all help Aster in securing any interior design knowhow. His apartment was painfully drab and bare-bones, but really, who was he trying to impress? It didn't change a god damn thing that no one wanted anything to do with him anyway. After being a social chameleon for half of his life, then a spiteful shut-in for the latter half, Aster had finally began to refine his understanding of superficiality. Since gaining his power—or peculiar quirk, whatever it's called—he'd found some way to blend those two sides of him into a consistently affable, yet hateful, yet driven, yet caustic state of mind.

For now, Aster resolved to trying out the apartment's laundry room for the first time. Clean clothes add to presentability, right? It was somewhere to start, especially since he had yet to come across anything at all relating to the stars incidents, or at least something that could tell him anything about the changes going on inside him. God, it's puberty all over again. Aster would rather lose control of his power forever than revert to the absolutely unpleasant bastard that was teenaged Aster.

The sweatpants-clad vicenarian ambled over to the laundry room, wary of dropping his hamper on the stairs down to ground level. He was fortunate enough not to spill his undergarments into the hallway, but instead onto the ground right as he'd stepped into the laundry room. The coast was clear, yet Aster still grew hot with shame as he swiped his Nick Cage underwear off of the floor. He felt painfully watched, given the fact that this apartment complex had the same quiet, sterile (if that makes sense?) vibe a nighttime hotel hall gave off. He was sure it was only the early afternoon, though.

After tossing the week's clothing into the laundry machine and fumbling with the buttons for a bit, Aster couldn't manage to get the stupid thing working. He would have kicked the appliance in frustration if it wasn't for the sneaking suspicion that someone could be lurking about the halls at any moment, waiting to catch Aster in the act of something unsavory. The last thing he needed was to reaffirm the landlady's misgivings for his motives. As if Aster had the time or necessity to plot something dastardly that would disrupt the goings-on of Brenda's fine apartment complex.

Now irritated and without a clue on what to do, Aster tuned out the rumbling of the laundry machines around him and stared intently at the laundry machine, going through every possible combination of buttons that could kick the thing into operating. "The hell do I do..." he muttered, crouching down and looking to the machine's sides for some sort of hidden button or clue it was broken.

code by low fidelity.

Winona · Dec 23, 2020

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Connor

INTERACTIONS

Leea

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

ohdittoh

Why was he currently with Leea on his way to the mall? A place that Connor quite frankly despised due to there being far too many people, far too inflated prices, and, well, it wasn't like he had actual money to begin with.

However, here he was. Because Leea had some kind of "vision" and insisted that they had to head to the mall. So here Connor was, sitting in the passenger side of her vehicle. He sat forward in his seat, his shoulders slouching as he peered out the front windshield with his hands in the pockets of his dark green jacket.

Jewelry store, silver snake ring.

Yeah, yeah, he got it. Connor glared at Leea out of the corner of his eyes, his lips twisting down into a small frown. "Yeah, I got it." He grumbled before his gaze shifted back to looking out the front window. It was like this every time they had some person Leea needed to find from a vision -- she got so worked up about it, not that he could necessarily blame her.

Imagine getting visions. That would be a cool power. Seemed more useful than whatever the fuck he did. Body regen. Well, it was nice, but the lack of pain had ended up causing more issues in his life than he'd like to admit. Such as that time he'd leaned a hand on a stove top that was apparently on. He hadn't realized until he smelled burning flesh, and...

Well, look, anyway...

"Jewelry store. Silver snake ring." He echoed.

Easy.

Leea pulled the car into the parking lot and managed to find a parking spot in the godawful parking lot. It had to be on a Saturday when everyone was out at the mall, didn't it? Couldn't of had her vision set for a nine thirty in the morning on a Tuesday? Nope. Had to be for the middle of the goddamn afternoon.

Connor kept his grumblings to himself as he opened the door of her car and squeezed out. There was hardly any room between the two cars -- or maybe his bulky frame just made it feel more cramped as he scooted sideways out from between the two cars and fell into step beside Leea. He walked with his shoulders slouched and hands in the pockets of that jacket.

He trailed after her as they stepped through the automatic doors. Connor almost walked right into a lady with a kid and, after dodging her with a little mumbled sorry, he looked up to see that Leea's determined footsteps had taken her quite a ways down the mall already. He let out an annoyed huff of air as he sped up to catch up with her, falling back into step beside Leea. No sooner had he done that than she was looking up at him asking about the mall directory.

Well. Fuck.

He looked past her to peer down the store until... Aha. Through the throng of people, he managed to locate what had to be the directory. Connor glanced back at Leea and with a tilt of his head, gestured for her to follow after him as he wove his way through the crowd. Connor only had to come to an abrupt halt a few times as people rudely stepped in front of him and he did his best to, well, not run into them. Every stop brought a small string of cusses muttered under his breath.

Finally, eventually, they made it to the directory. Connor's eyes flicked over the board, trying to make sense of the symbols, until falling on the one that had to be the jewelry store in question. "Kay," he said and reached out to tap the map. "That's gotta be it. Can't imagine they got more than one store." Then again, he was surprised that this tiny, godforsaken town had the one. But a jewelry store was almost required in a mall, right? After all, where else would everyone go to spend months worth of salary on an overpriced rock to try and repair their faltering relationship?

"Come on," he said and then yet again, the two were back on track -- back on their mission to try and find the jewelry store. He followed what the map had said, reading each sign that they passed until...

There it was.

Jewelry store? Check.

"There you go, Leea." He mumbled, glancing down at the short girl beside him. "Your jewelry store."

Snake ring? Soon to be check.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

Winona · Dec 23, 2020

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Camila

INTERACTIONS

Val

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

Soap

For the... honestly, she'd lost count. For the umpteenth time in the last couple months, Camila had arrived home right as the sun was rising. And for the umpteenth time in the last few weeks, she'd clumsily tried to sneak her way back into the house. Which, well, would've gone a whole lot better if she hadn't walked into a table and sent a vase to the ground. So, at way too flipping early in the morning, Cam had cleaned up broken vase as the sun continued to rise and she tried to be stealthy.

Stealthy was evidently not her strong point.

When Cam had finally made it to her bedroom, she'd been too exhausted to even change out of her clothes. So she had just drawn the curtains to block out the too bright sun, dropped her backpack to the ground, and then collapsed into her bed to try and get a couple hours of sleep, although... it was hard to sleep.

Yet again, she had failed. She'd spent her whole night trudging through cemeteries, the woods, and Wilmont's downtown in an effort to follow useless leads from angry ghosts to try and find her mother and, like every other night, she ended up coming home and collapsing exhaustedly into her bed without being a single step closer to actually finding her.

Eventually, she managed to drift off.

---------------------------

Camila woke up several hours later. She felt around on her bed until her fingers felt the cool plastic of her phone case. She brought it towards her, eyes squinting at the screen as she checked the time -- Cam had expected it to be eleven, maybe noon. Surely she hadn't ended up sleeping in for that long--

2:45 PM

Cam rubbed at her eyes with the palm of her other hand before blinking at the phone screen again, but the time hadn't changed. She'd slept the entire day away... or, well, a good portion of the day.

She plugged her phone in before, begrudgingly, rolling out of bed. Cam considered for a moment changing her clothes, but she was just tired. And hungry. So... food first, change of clothes and probably a shower later.

Camila shuffled out of her room, pulling the door to her bedroom quietly closed after her. She tiptoed down the hallway, listening for any signs of her sister or her father, but she didn't hear anything -- at least not yet. The last thing Cam really wanted right now was to be reprimanded by either one of them for sleeping in so late.

Maybe she could convince them that she hadn't been sleeping. She'd just been... working on homework all day.

Yeah, that was totally believable.

She managed to make it to the kitchen without running into Val or her dad, so hey! Maybe things were starting to look up for Camila de Valdez. One could hope, anyway, as she reached up into the cupboards to pull down a bowl, which she dropped to the counter with a loud clatter. So much for being quiet.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

ohdittoh · Dec 23, 2020

there is not
always a good guy
nor is there
always a bad one
most people are
somewhere in between

BRAHM LOVELESS

Mood
• Nudism would be much more cost-efficient •

Location
• Laundry •

Mentions
• N/A •

Interactions
• Whoever this is •

Tags
•

hery •

Though he had only been in Wilmont, Washington for two weeks and in the apartment complex for even less, Abraham was having no problem getting comfortable. He was, after all, an adaptable man. His room, though it smelled deeply of cigarettes, was hardly any different from the room back at the house in Missouri, though he had to pay for this one. Abe Loveless, Sr., didn’t help his son out very much, either, so it was mostly out of pocket, which wasn’t much help for a broke college student who was currently struggling to do his basic online courses. There still wasn’t much need to worry for finances, because Brahm’d picked up a job at the Starbucks down the road, but still…damn, what ever happened to helping your children out? Was that a thing of the past? It seemed to be so.

When he’d heard that the stars had fallen in a podunk town in the middle of nowhere some 2,233 miles from his current residence, Brahm had been reluctant to go, though he knew it was the best thing to do. Certainly, he was used to moving about— that much came with chasing the stars— but he had only recently just made his place where he had been. Even so, he’d made himself head there, carrying nothing more than seven suitcases and a red 1990 Chevy Silverado.

That might have seemed like a lot, but two were just full of fishing gear.

After staying in a motel for only about a day, he’d managed to get ahold of the lady over these apartments, though it took him a solid five minutes to figure out how to input her number on his stupid phone. She had been pleasant, and her prices were reasonable, and by Wednesday, he’d secured a nice little spot at the tail end of the apartment complex, which seemed just enough away from the other occupied rooms that no one would find it odd to hear pained groaning in the dead of the night.

Of course, some other new resident had moved in to his right, which rendered his thought process on picking his apartment meaningless, and now he was just stuck with an apartment that was inconveniently placed away from the door to get out and into the parking lot, which meant more walking when he was tired and needed to go places.

The presence of this new resident had also inhibited his…practice. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, Brahm was yet unsure. After all, he had managed to avoid having to patch up his shirts in the past week. That had surely saved him a buck or two. This ability that he had was inconvenient in that sense, so that, at least, was a benefit of not using it.

Still, he hadn’t been able to work on his ability, so it was quite possible that much rendered his coming to Wilmont in the first place pointless.

In addition to this, the lack of having to patch up his shirts had lent itself to leaving Brahm to decorate his apartment with the various knicks and knacks that he’d toted along with himself, which just meant that he was making his apartment very fishy. A singing bass went above his headboard, various squishy, neon-colored bait rested on his nightstand, and his bass-shaped slippers sat on the carpet beside his bed. He only stopped decorating and situating when he passed out, had to pee, changed his clothes, or got hungry, and even then, he never looked to glance at the clock or at the date.

Decorating his new man cave— man cove?— was serious business.

Only after he had placed the cherry on top of his fishy sundae did he glance at his phone to see what date it was, and when he saw it, he cursed himself.

Saturday. It was Saturday. Since the neighbor moved in, he had been constantly decorating, and now, it was Saturday.

Time was wasting, and he needed to do something about it.

The first order of business was to shower, which he spent thirty minutes doing. Listen, he needed a deep cleanse; a week’s worth of sweat and grime were settled within his pores, and it needed to come out. Afterwards, he neatly shaved, his refined technique allowing him to knock that out in two minutes max. He brushed his hair, dabbed a bit of oil onto his hands, and ran it through it. He went to his makeshift chest of drawers (just his suitcases stacked upon one another, but it worked) to get a new pair of clothing.

Only to find that there was none there.

With a sigh, he looked at the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of his room, which had been steadily growing for the past two weeks. Typically, he’d do the old sniff test and call it good, but he was a new guy in a new place who needed to leave a good impression.

He grabbed his fluffy, periwinkle bathrobe and tugged on his last pair of clean boxers. He tied the bathrobe as tight as he could, then plodded over to his bedside and shoved on his bass slippers.

He didn’t exactly know how to lug his clothes down to the laundry room, so he just shoved them in a suitcase and popped out the handle, then began to drag it down the hallway.

When he turned into the small laundry room, Brahm immediately noticed a young man, crouched at the machine. He tugged his suitcase behind him and came to a stop to the left of the other man.

Unzipping his suitcase and shaking all of the contents of the bag into the machine, Brahm hummed Staying Alive softly beneath his breath, though off-key. He grabbed the deodorant and poured it in to the beat in his head, then went to start the machine.

Oh, right. He had to pay.

And where was his wallet? Back in his room. And where was his will to get it? You tell him.

His eyes moved to the man beside him, who was…

What was he doing? Trying to start it?

“It’s not shut,” Brahm said casually, slamming his fist down on the top of the machine with a chuckle to close it. “And then, ya just hit the….” He reached over and pressed the button that looked like a play button. “There ya go, she’s runnin’.”

He looked down at the man with a grin. Well, here it went. “Now’t that’s over with, I kinda gotta ask ya som’n’— any way I cun bum a buck-fifty off’ ya?”

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

Winona · Dec 23, 2020

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Liam

INTERACTIONS

Clarissa

MENTIONS

Logan

TAGS

jasmyn

He'd been back home in Wilmont for a few weeks at this point, and...

Liam hated it.

Every moment of it was hell for him. He'd fallen out of touch with the friends that had remained in Wilmont, and the ones he still talked to, well, they didn't live in Wilmont anymore -- and for good fucking reason. After living away from home for so long on the East coast, Liam had completely forgotten what it was like to live in damp, always overcast Washington. He was... he was homesick. Yep, because this place was no longer his home. The last tie he'd had to this place had died.

Well, there was Logan technically, but Liam really didn't care what happened to his little brother anymore. Well he... did and he didn't. Liam cared, of course -- it was his little brother -- but he was too exhausted to keep fighting and arguing with his brother over this or over that, so Liam had cut ties with him. It was amazing what cutting ties with toxic people did for one's mental health.

And it was amazing what ending up back in the same place you had tried to desperately to escape five years prior also did for one's mental health.

Had he mentioned how much he hated Wilmont?

Yes, it was in the middle of the afternoon, but hey, there was always time for one of those overly expensive drinks from Starbucks. And that's exactly where Liam was heading now. He was walking down the street towards said Starbucks when--

Oh no.

Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe that wasn't her.

But the closer he got, and the closer she got coming from the opposite direction...

Oh it was her.

And now Liam had definitely been staring long enough that they'd accidentally made eye contact, so it would be rude or weird if he just turned and walked away now. Plus, maybe speaking to her would work in... some way to help him get over the bitter anger he still felt in heart towards her. Err, no anger, actually. Yeah, no. He was... he was totally over what had happened.

"Clarissa," he greeted as his footsteps brought him to a stop just in front of her and just in front of the Starbucks. Stupid Starbucks. Nothing good ever came of the overpriced coffee shop and he was inwardly kicking himself for deciding to come here -- really, he could've attempted to make himself a similar drink in the safety of his home.

Well, not that he could've taken being at home. Logan was there. However, dealing with Logan or having this confrontation...? It was hard to say which Liam would've preferred.

"Cheat on anyone recently?"

Ah, yes. Excellent opening there. Way to really let her know that he harbored absolutely no ill feelings anymore regarding what had happened years ago.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

geminiy · Dec 24, 2020

Elizabeth Bailey

Elizabeth Bailey despised being home. Every second she spent within the labyrinth of walls, she could feel herself suffocating. It was bizarre how a place that previously held nothing but love and comfort had become a sort of jail cell, imprisoning her in an attempt to stomp out any flicker of independence she had left. Every time one of her family members looked her over, a myriad of thoughts raced through Eliza’s head. Were they judging her? Were they afraid? Did they even want her in their house? And, though the questions were endless, there was never a satisfying answer for any of them.

There were moments that Eliza almost missed military school. She missed the familiar schedule of morning runs, long classes in crowded lecture halls, training long into the evening, and sleeping for a few hours to re-energize and do it all again the next day. She missed the feeling of coldness from the strangers she shared her bunk with, the knowledge that no one wanted to be there but that they all had no choice. Eliza missed being faceless, just another student in the crowd with more awards in her record than letters in her name. There, she was whoever she wanted to be. There was no hiding at home, her secrets laid out like a tapestry hung on the wall for everyone to see.

Elizabeth was the black sheep of the Bailey family, she always had been. Where her siblings worked hard and dedicated themselves to their studies or passions, Eliza preferred to stay in the fast lane of life, never stopping unless it was for fun. She was a smart enough person, excelling in school with little effort. She was sociable, always joking around and trying to make others happy. Eliza would have been the perfect daughter if it wasn’t for her uncontrollable mouth that was often dripping with sarcasm or troublemaking nature. And then there was the catalyst to all of Eliza’s current problems: her father.

Pro tip: do not almost get killed because you are working for your vigilante father. Chances are, someone is gonna find out and you are gonna get sent off to military school. Then, you’ll probably get kicked out for poor behaviour (and maybe sleeping with the Dean’s son, but you won’t mention that to your parents).

Ever since Eliza had returned from military school, there had been an unspoken tension hanging over her head. It took weeks for her to say anything outside of “yes, no, maybe, and fuck you” to her family members. She holed herself up in her room or climbed to the roof to smoke weed while her mom was out at work and her younger siblings at school. Eventually, the fear of being the chronic family fuck up subsided. Eliza had gotten herself a decent job at a local mechanic’s shop while she attempted to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. She had a step by step plan, absolutely foolproof, ingrained into her mind:

Step 1) Get out of Wilmonte;
Step 2) It doesn’t really matter, as long as she’s not in Wilmonte or jail.

Eliza’s days had begun to blur into a cycle of work-out, go to work, eat, sleep, repeat. She stopped counting the days until the weekend, instead taking on extra hours to get out of the house to avoid her parents, spending a great deal of her time off of work just walking through the nearby woods to clear her head. There was something so calming about padding through the forest or perched in trees watching passerbys, indiscernible from the natural wildlife. No one would suspect that the owl on the branches above their head or the stray dog peeking through the bushes was Eliza. Inconspicuous, concealed, indentityless: just how Eliza liked it. At least her powers from the stars had finally come in handy.

It was from one of those walks through the forest that Elizabeth was returning from, her hair damp from the dew in the air and her jacket tugged closed across her chest with crossed arms. Eliza hovered outside the front door of the Bailey house, her hand resting on the brass doorknob. She could just turn around and skip the awkwardness of the family dinner, grab some vodka and go back to the woods and drink her worries away. Surely her family wouldn’t come hunting for her, dragging her back to enjoy the stiff silences and bitter conversation.

If it wasn’t for Atticus, Eliza would have likely done just that. But she didn’t want Atti to go through that alone, she had already put him through enough.

“Honey, I’m home.” Elizabeth called out plainly as she stepped through the front door, kicking her boots off onto the mat by the door and hanging her leather jacket on the coat tree. Walking through the house, Eliza stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, her hands tucked in her back pocket. Her mother was at the stove, stirring away at something delicious smelling in a pot.

“You were almost late, Elizabeth.” Her mother spoke, the warmth mostly having been drained from her voice. She did not look up from the pot as she spoke, her back to Elizabeth. Perfect. Eliza took the opportunity to roll her eyes dramatically.

“Seth kept me late. We had a car last minute that broke down.” A lie, of course. Seth, Eliza’s boss, never stayed late. But her mom didn’t need to know that.

“Well, you’re here. Go get cleaned up before dinner. Your father should be here soon.”

Ah yes, the father. Evan Bailey. The only other person in the family that was on worse terms with everyone than Eliza was. At least he would make dinner interesting.

Eliza didn’t bother responding, instead taking the stairs to the second floor. Stopping outside of Atti’s bedroom door, she called out her signature verbal ‘knock knock’ before carefully opening the door and peeking her head in.

“Hey. You wanna go chill on the roof for a bit before Dad gets here? Mom’s in a mood and I really don’t wanna face her bullshit yet.” Eliza offered quietly so that no one would hear her besides her brother, leaning against the doorframe as she asked. Atti never failed to lighten up the mood and hell, Eliza could use the chill in her life, especially if she was going to have to sit through the torment of sitting through the classic torturous Bailey family dinner.

| atticus mogy |

TEMPLATE © BOKEH

fancries1 · Dec 24, 2020

Angela Hayes

mood

fancy

outfit:

here

location

jewelry store

tags

here

"And give him a raise, will you? He's a good kid, he deserves it."

And with that, Angela Hayes walked out of the cafe's bathroom, leaving the still-enchanted manager to sort himself out before following her instructions. It was her second time doing this; going to her brother's shop and using her powers on his manager to give him back the job he'd stupidly lost out of his sheer incompetence and laziness. A job that, truly, he didn't need anymore - she already made enough to support both of them. But making sure he had a job was an easy way to keep him busy, and keeping him busy meant she wouldn't have to worry about him wasting his life doing drugs with his loser friends or getting in trouble that she would have to bail him out of. Not that she would ever tell her brother that, of course. He was already aprehensive of her using her powers at work, there was no telling how upset he would get if he'd found out the reason he kept being called back to work after being fired was her sister. More importantly, her sister abusing the very dangerous powers that could be disastrous if they fell in the wrong hands.

Well, good thing they'd fallen into the right hands, then. The hands of someone who could do her new abilities justice.

Truth be told, she had no idea why she'd been blessed with powers, out of all things. She'd heard of people going blind after seeing bright lights in the sky, and people who just saw them as signs from a higher entity. But powers, really? Very specific ones too, something she'd found out while exploring what she could do. She couldn't control people by just talking, she had to be singing. And she had to make sure that whoever she was trying to control was truly listening to her. Meaning no deaf people, or people with headphones playing loud music. She'd also found that the force of her voice had its limits. She could project her voice much more than before, to the point where she'd actually broken mirrors and pushed herself back from the force, but her throat couldn't handle that much, hence the hours she'd been forced to spend in vocal rest just a couple of days ago.

Still, she figured that the reason she'd gotten them wasn't important. The only thing that mattered was that she'd gotten them, no one else. If it was a matter of being chosen by a higher power or the universe itself, then it meant someone or something out there knew that she deserved it. Her, Angela Hayes. The most special person in Wilmont. No, the whole world.

The world simply seemed much brighter since that fateful day. Gone were all her insecurities, her economic problems, hell, even her unemployment status. All it had taken had been a quick audition for some lounge owners, and soon enough she'd had a steady job and all the tips her greedy hands desired. She was starting small, yes. Much smaller than she wanted. But she wanted to be cautious. If she'd immediatedly moved out of Wilmont and gotten record reals despite being a complete unknown, people were bound to notice something was off. No, better to stay behind for a while. Plan her slow but steady rise to greatness and then leave the sorry town behind for good.

That, and the fact that staying around for some time gave her the chance to show off her newly adquired wealth to everyone else. Mainly the people she grew up with and was known for bullying. Angie always knew they were jealous of her before, even when she had nothing but her good looks and amazing personality. But now? She could only hope to see their sad faces as the person who made their lives hell as children only became more and more successful, while they stood back and watched their boring lives pass them by.

This was the reason she stuck around the mall rather than just going back home and resting before going to work. Shopping was something Angie had always loved, even before having money. The mall was her world, and every store reeked of new opportunities to present herself as the best, most fashionable, version of herself. Really, the only thing that had changed in that regard was the fact that her shopping trips were not only much more frequent, but the stores she used to be a regular at saw themselves being abandoned. All in the name of flashy signs and outrageously expensive designer clothing. "From Wallmart to Gucci!" Angie would say, if only that didn't involve her admitting she'd ever shopped at Wallmart.

Walking around the mall with shopping bags from the most expensive stores Washington had to offer, watching as everyone else passed her by with their more affortable purchases only told her one thing: this was it. How she wanted to be and feel for the rest of her life. And this wasn't even the full extent of what she knew could be achieved with her powers. All she needed to do was wait, bide her time, and continue working hard. Soon enough, even the flashiest stores at the mall would be too miserable for her.

It had been hours since she'd spoken to her brother's manager. Hours she'd spent going from shop to shop, to the point that her arms were already starting to feel worn out from the sheer weight of all the things she was carrying. But still, she wanted more. She didn't want to stop until all the money her clients had... donated to her was gone and inside the cash register. But where to go now?

Ah, the jewelry store, of course. Angie stood in front of the establishment's grand entrance, so elegant it almost looked out of place in the Wilmont mall. With its ostentanious sign, security guard at the door looking like he really wanted to end it all and, oh, what was that? A marble floor? Yes, this was certainly the store she wanted to be seen in. With a slight jump to her step (she had to control her own legs to stop her from skipping to the store like a little girl), she walked inside. Marveling at the glamour and elegance of it all. Only to be stopped by the stern, elegant lady behind the counter asking if there was anything she could help her with.

"Yes, show me your most expensive rings." Angie stated, a bit too over-enthusiastically than what she would've wanted and, judging by the other woman's reaction, clearly not what people who entered stores like that tended to start with. "Please," she added, almost as an after-thought. More composed, yet still beaming on the inside.

Rings were brought out, rings were tried. All beautiful, yet none really seemed to fit her. She didn't want any boring old ring, she wanted something out there. Something new. Something like... the beautiful, silver, snake ring in one of the selections. Expensive beyond all reason, but certainly the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen in her life. Beaming, she tried it on, with only one thought going through her mind.

"God, I love being me!"

coded by reveriee.

"And give him a raise, will you? He's a good kid, he deserves it."

And with that, Angela Hayes walked out of the cafe's bathroom, leaving the still-enchanted manager to sort himself out before following her instructions. It was her second time doing this; going to her brother's shop and using her powers on his manager to give him back the job he'd stupidly lost out of his sheer incompetence and laziness. A job that, truly, he didn't need anymore - she already made enough to support both of them. But making sure he had a job was an easy way to keep him busy, and keeping him busy meant she wouldn't have to worry about him wasting his life doing drugs with his loser friends or getting in trouble that she would have to bail him out of. Not that she would ever tell her brother that, of course. He was already aprehensive of her using her powers at work, there was no telling how upset he would get if he'd found out the reason he kept being called back to work after being fired was her sister. More importantly, her sister abusing the very dangerous powers that could be disastrous if they fell in the wrong hands.

Well, good thing they'd fallen into the right hands, then. The hands of someone who could do her new abilities justice.

Truth be told, she had no idea why she'd been blessed with powers, out of all things. She'd heard of people going blind after seeing bright lights in the sky, and people who just saw them as signs from a higher entity. But powers, really? Very specific ones too, something she'd found out while exploring what she could do. She couldn't control people by just talking, she had to be singing. And she had to make sure that whoever she was trying to control was truly listening to her. Meaning no deaf people, or people with headphones playing loud music. She'd also found that the force of her voice had its limits. She could project her voice much more than before, to the point where she'd actually broken mirrors and pushed herself back from the force, but her throat couldn't handle that much, hence the hours she'd been forced to spend in vocal rest just a couple of days ago.

Still, she figured that the reason she'd gotten them wasn't important. The only thing that mattered was that she'd gotten them, no one else. If it was a matter of being chosen by a higher power or the universe itself, then it meant someone or something out there knew that she deserved it. Her, Angela Hayes. The most special person in Wilmont. No, the whole world.

The world simply seemed much brighter since that fateful day. Gone were all her insecurities, her economic problems, hell, even her unemployment status. All it had taken had been a quick audition for some lounge owners, and soon enough she'd had a steady job and all the tips her greedy hands desired. She was starting small, yes. Much smaller than she wanted. But she wanted to be cautious. If she'd immediatedly moved out of Wilmont and gotten record reals despite being a complete unknown, people were bound to notice something was off. No, better to stay behind for a while. Plan her slow but steady rise to greatness and then leave the sorry town behind for good.

That, and the fact that staying around for some time gave her the chance to show off her newly adquired wealth to everyone else. Mainly the people she grew up with and was known for bullying. Angie always knew they were jealous of her before, even when she had nothing but her good looks and amazing personality. But now? She could only hope to see their sad faces as the person who made their lives hell as children only became more and more successful, while they stood back and watched their boring lives pass them by.

This was the reason she stuck around the mall rather than just going back home and resting before going to work. Shopping was something Angie had always loved, even before having money. The mall was her world, and every store reeked of new opportunities to present herself as the best, most fashionable, version of herself. Really, the only thing that had changed in that regard was the fact that her shopping trips were not only much more frequent, but the stores she used to be a regular at saw themselves being abandoned. All in the name of flashy signs and outrageously expensive designer clothing. "From Wallmart to Gucci!" Angie would say, if only that didn't involve her admitting she'd ever shopped at Wallmart.

Walking around the mall with shopping bags from the most expensive stores Washington had to offer, watching as everyone else passed her by with their more affortable purchases only told her one thing: this was it. How she wanted to be and feel for the rest of her life. And this wasn't even the full extent of what she knew could be achieved with her powers. All she needed to do was wait, bide her time, and continue working hard. Soon enough, even the flashiest stores at the mall would be too miserable for her.

It had been hours since she'd spoken to her brother's manager. Hours she'd spent going from shop to shop, to the point that her arms were already starting to feel worn out from the sheer weight of all the things she was carrying. But still, she wanted more. She didn't want to stop until all the money her clients had... donated to her was gone and inside the cash register. But where to go now?

Ah, the jewelry store, of course. Angie stood in front of the establishment's grand entrance, so elegant it almost looked out of place in the Wilmont mall. With its ostentanious sign, security guard at the door looking like he really wanted to end it all and, oh, what was that? A marble floor? Yes, this was certainly the store she wanted to be seen in. With a slight jump to her step (she had to control her own legs to stop her from skipping to the store like a little girl), she walked inside. Marveling at the glamour and elegance of it all. Only to be stopped by the stern, elegant lady behind the counter asking if there was anything she could help her with.

"Yes, show me your most expensive rings." Angie stated, a bit too over-enthusiastically than what she would've wanted and, judging by the other woman's reaction, clearly not what people who entered stores like that tended to start with. "Please," she added, almost as an after-thought. More composed, yet still beaming on the inside.

Rings were brought out, rings were tried. All beautiful, yet none really seemed to fit her. She didn't want any boring old ring, she wanted something out there. Something new. Something like... the beautiful, silver, snake ring in one of the selections. Expensive beyond all reason, but certainly the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen in her life. Beaming, she tried it on, with only one thought going through her mind.

"God, I love being me!"

ohdittoh · Dec 27, 2020

a wrong-doer
is often a man
that has left something
undone
not always one who
has done something

LEEA PRESCOTT

Mood
{ 19-5-5-11-9-14-7 }

Location
{ 20-8-5 13-1-12-12 }

Mentions
{ ??? }

Interactions
{ Connor }

Tags
{

Winona }

The biggest positive of having a lackey, Leea had discovered, was never having to be your own navigator.

(That, and roughing up whoever you needed them to, but right now, only the former was useful— though it was quite possible that the latter may come in handy very, very soon.)

“Lead the way,” she said, trying to appear as inconspicuous as she could as she followed the towering man. He walked like a beast, so it was a bit difficult to appear inconspicuous with him; regardless, she tried.

The biggest negative of having a lackey was that they were all brawn and no brain.

(If there was a brain in there, it was about as useless as her degree in cosmetology; it was more for decoration than anything, and it wasn’t even being used for that.)

“Don’t say my name,” she said casually through an easy smirk, not looking up at the oaf above her, “but looks like you did a goody.” Her usual, mildly self-important tone tinged her voice, as she pushed open the door.

She felt a lurch in her throat as soon as she saw the glass cases.

The images flashed in her mind again as she recalled them.

“This is it,” she said in barely above a mutter, tapping Connor on the shoulder and saying, as near to his ear as she could get, “You know what to look for. Don’t let the sight slip you. Pay very, very close attention. If you see what I told you about, don’t come over and tap me— just speak up. I’ll come over and handle it once you do that much.”

“Hello! May I help you today?” asked the store clerk.

“Just looking around,” Leea said, stepping back from Connor a bit to force a (hopefully not too scary) smile at the store clerk.

She smiled up at him. “I’ll look this way,” she said a bit louder, “and you can look that, Connor.” She gave him a small laugh— though it was rather forced. “I’ll chat with you later. If you find anything, call me over.” She gave him a wink and walked off to stand at a case that was near a couple of customers.

Hopefully, if anyone was watching, they’d see the two as lovers or something along those lines, walking into a jewelry store to scope out rings, not a woman and her lackey.

(She just hoped that they didn’t ask the dimwit what he was here for. She didn’t trust that he wouldn’t blow it if that happened.)

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

hery · Dec 27, 2020

Aster

MOOD: socializin
LOCATION: laundry room
OUTFIT: clothes
TAGS:

ohdittoh
MENTIONS: n/a

Aster dropped his hands to his sides, just about ready to give up on ever having clean clothes again. Before he could mutter a few curse words and mope on the floor, he was alerted by the tapping sound of footsteps growing near. Still crouched, he straightened up and resumed troubleshooting the issue with the laundry machine in front of him. He was still losing hope at a rapid rate, as he knew all too well how fitting it would be for the machine to break on him after he'd already inserted his cash.

Aster could hardly focus with the sound of this clown beside him humming the Bee Gees. Probably some happy-go-lucky prick without a trouble in the world, successfully operating his laundry machine on the first try every time he attempted it. He ground his teeth, trying to restrain himself from allowing the tune to pierce his brain and send him storming out of the room. He kept his eyes trained intently on a button he'd pressed at least a dozen times, willing the godforsaken piece of junk to get started already while simultaneously shutting out all of the noise around him.

His intricate thought processes were shattered into pieces by a voice coming from beside him, one far too obviously directed at him to simply ignore. Stifling a sigh, he got up and turned his attention to the man speaking to him. He instinctively put on his casual active listening face, his brown eyes smizing at the boyish face in front of him. Although the voice was alien to him, Aster could immediately recognize that this guy was next-door neighbor. The two had yet to meet and Aster was fine keeping it that way. He seemed odd; reclusive, or perhaps he just had strange sleeping hours.

Aster wasn't one to talk, of course, and was actually a little surprised about the fact that this guy had willingly spoken to him, even to help him out for a brief moment. He didn't mind the inexplicable lack of approachability that came with his power and was truly fine being left alone, yet it was still refreshing for someone else to reach out to him.

"Ah, well, that makes sense," Aster remarked with an overly-friendly chuckle, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "Thanks a lot. Guess these things are real..." He heaved the lid open one more time just to test it, then slammed it shut. "... sturdy." He patted the washing machine roughly, secretly finding his harsh treatment of the apparatus a bit soothing for his frustration. He laughed it off, shaking his head at himself.

Then the mood was suddenly spoiled by the audacity this man had to ask for a handout. Of course nothing comes free. It never does. Whatever value there was in shutting a washing machine door, it certainly wasn't enough for a quarter, let alone a buck fifty. What a greasy slimeball. Suddenly, his heavily accented voice went back to being a grating nuisance, threatening to make his ears bleed forever. Aster would have ignored him and left if it wasn't for the fact that he'd committed to being a good guy during his stay in Wilmont. Cursing his spinelessness, he fished his wallet out of his pocket and dropped the exact amount in the man's hand. "Will do, good sir. Too bad I brought spare change this, or else you'd end up with a fiver." He winked facetiously and let out a burst of laughter, almost as if on cue.

Although this guy had succeeded in mildly pissing him off, Aster figured this would be a good opportunity to integrate himself into some sort of cordial relation within the community. He hadn't done much of anything besides moving in the past week, so he was severely behind schedule. "You're my neighbor to the left, yeah? I'm Aster. Just moved all the way from Boston." He extended his arm out for a handshake, doing his best impression of the Ned Flanders-type neighbors he'd seen on T.V. His grip was soft—it always had been—as a kid his father had taken a firm stance that Aster's weak handshakes were a product of his meek nature, something about him he had yet to change between his phases of personality.

Greetings were never really Aster's thing anyway. He loathed having to introduce himself by name first, as his given name of "Aster" always felt too... hippie. And it probably did come from some cheesy hippie mentality given the fact that his older sister was named after cherries in some foreign language and his younger after, well, sage. Man, having weird parents sucks sometimes.

Aster, for one, was named after a flower named after a star. He felt he'd failed in living up to the glamourous meaning behind the name, but then again, he couldn't really see how asters looked all that much like stars anyway. They come in pretty colors, they're small and dainty... overall fairly pleasant little things. Until one recognizes them for what they are: they're pests and nothing more, becoming the bane of one's garden in no time given the chance to run rampant, often far too late to remedy.

Despite the flower's insidious tendencies, can one definitively say they're all bad? They're late bloomers, often cropping up in late summer and early fall to provide a splash of purple in the landscape. Purple is most definitely not the only color they appear in, but Aster was always partial to its deep lilac shade and tended to focus on the one color rather than all when explaining the relevance of this obscure perennial to others. Perhaps it's the novelty of its many colors that allows it the chance to breathe in these months, because seriously, who thinks of blue in autumn? And the latter months of summer, no less. Being a little off—and occasionally too much to handle—shouldn't be features that completely condemn the prosperity of the aster. When all other flowers seem to be fading and dying off, the aster grows to its full potential, almost aggressively so, encroaching on the space of long-wilted zinnias and begonias.

So, in short, Aster had mixed emotions about his name, served with a whole swath of details he had the courtesy to spare others. "Yeah, heh... The name's a bit uncommon. It's something about a flower, I think."

Yeah, it was better that way. No one in elementary school seemed to grasp the finer details of the flower he'd been so lovingly named after, so the idea to skimp on the details had come naturally at that point. After all, most of the other boys just understood Aster was named after a flower and really harped on that for about six miserable years of his life. Kids are cruel, but so are adults, really. Aster hoped this guy would have a bit more maturity about him, although the whole money-grubbing sleazebag shtick wasn't doing him any favors.

code by low fidelity.

ohdittoh · Dec 27, 2020

there is not
always a good guy
nor is there
always a bad one
most people are
somewhere in between

BRAHM LOVELESS

Mood
• Conversatin' •

Location
• Laundry •

Mentions
• N/A •

Interactions
• Aster (not the flower, the person, apparently) •

Tags
•

hery •

Brahm’s lips formed a grin as he took the money from the other laundry-doer. “Exact change— neat,” he said, turning back to his washing machine, paying the fee, and pressing start as he listened to the other man speak.

He took a couple of steps backwards and rested his backside against a rattling dryer. “Yer m’neighbor? Neat. Ah knew sum’un’ moved in nex’ door, jus’ ain’t wen’ over ta check thin’s out.” He smiled easily at the other man. “It’s Abraham. Muh pleasure, Aster,” Brahm said, taking Aster’s hand and giving it a firm shake that probably crushed Aster’s bones a bit. His thick, Southern drawl made his name sound more like Ahyuhstur. “Thas’s a…type uh flaher.”

One wouldn’t know that he was studying to be a botanist from the way that he said that sentence.

“Mos’ people call me Brahm. Abraham’s a family name. Senior’s Abe, junior’s Brahm,” he continued. “Came’p here from Missouri.” He chuckled softly. “Misery.” He looked Aster over, grinning. “Ya said yer from Boston, ‘uh?”

Had he come here for the same reasons that Brahm had?

Did he have abilities, too?

Was that possible…? After all, it was mid-semester for college, and Aster had arrived just a week ago.

He supposed that it was possible, and, hell, even plausible.

Stars fell everywhere, after all, and they didn't seem to pick and choose who got powers. As unlikely as it was that the stringy, awkward man beside him would ever have any particularly remarkable abilities, it was certainly possible that he had abilities in general, and, no matter how unimpressive it was, it would be nice to know of.

“Thur’ve been a buncha arrivals in town recently, accordin' ta tha landlady,” Brahm said. He drummed a soft beat on the dryer behind him with the fingers of the hand he had resting upon it. “She’s a total sweetheart, ain’t she? Lovely hats she has— quite tha character with her anecdotes’n tha like.” He grinned, looking at the ceiling. “These apartments're nice, too. Can’t believe I snagged tha one I’m in fer tha price I did.” His fish slippers made a soft duh duh duh against the ground to the beat that his fingers were tapping. “Tha people I’ve talk’ta’ve been perdy nice so far.”

Giving too much needless information and responding to simple sentences with an entire life story was not only something that Brahm tended to do, but it was also a tactic.

A tactic to what?

A tactic to butter him up and get an answer, of course.

He paused a moment, choosing the current time to drop what he needed an answerr to. “Is thur any reason ya came here in perticalar?” Brahm asked, concocting an answer for when— if— the question got turned back on him. (Brahm came here for some field study, and that was all. Plant life in Wilmont, Washington was riveting. The climate here was blah blah, et cetera, et cetera.) “’s thur…som’n’ here fer work, er are ya lookin’ ta do some soul-searchin’, er ya jus’ wanna scope out tha area, er…?”

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

Winona · Dec 27, 2020

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Connor

INTERACTIONS

Leea, Angie

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

ohdittoh

fancries1

He rolled his eyes at Leea's worrying -- don't say her name. Right. Because knowing her name would be such a bad thing. In his opinion, she was overreacting a bit, but he played along. Wasn't like Connor had much to do today and the last thing he really wanted to do was just start repeating Leea's name over and over again until she was pissed at him. She was pretty much all he had in this fucking world now, so fucking that up would result in leaving him... totally alone.

Actually, maybe not such a bad idea. Connor kind of missed being totally alone.

Right. Mission. Silver snake ring.

He turned and started in the direction that Leea had ordered him in. His hands slid into the pockets of his jacket and he was sure that he looked completely out of place in here. A tall, bumbling idiot that was trying very hard not to knock over anything because there was no way he'd ever be able to pay off any of the overly expensive shit in here.

Connor paused a couple times to peek into the display cases, but everything looked the same to him. Shiny and useless.

As he passed people, he found himself faltering in his steps so that he could try and peek at their hands to catch a sight of any silver snake rings. This earned him more than one weird look from the people that he was staring at, followed by Connor mumbling awkward apologies. Well. So much for being inconspicuous.

Eventually, a rather loud, obnoxious, and very annoying girl caught his attention -- probably because she was fucking loud and wouldn't shut her goddamn trap. He looked at the rings in front of her and almost kept walking... until he saw the one that she picked up and slipped onto her finger -- and every fiber in Connor's body started panicking.

Silver snake ring. She was right there.

Right, alright, he just had to start talking to her -- loud enough for Leea to hear.

Connor moved rigidly towards the display case and next to the girl. He looked at the ring again, trying to give a smile. "Nice snake ring," he said, his voice a little louder than intended and he brought a fist up to his mouth as he cleared his throat and continued to speak. "Looks good on you -- really fits you."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Where was Leea.

He was fucking blowing this.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

beeswaxie · Dec 29, 2020

MOOD: irritated

OUTFIT: x, sunglasses

LOCATION: Mom's house
basics

MENTIONS:
mogy , geminiy , & jasmyn

INT:
mogy , geminiy
tags

TL;DR family dinner! also light = pain
tl;dr

Aurelia Bailey

Umbrakinesis

BEEP! BEEP! BEE- slam.
Aurelia groaned as her hand slapped at her alarm clock lazily, wishing for it to stop. She hated morni-- afternoons, or at least waking up during them. Moving her head from under her pillow and sitting herself up, she rubbed at her eyes groggily while squinting around the room. Although it was only 5 PM, light still poured into the window adjacent to her bed and seemingly into her eyes which made her entire body throb with pain. She couldn't quite remember the day that light started to hurt, only that she had originally thought she was just hungover. But then the hangover never went away unless she was in darkness, and only darkness made the pain subside. She assumed her eyes must've been messed up or something like that and simply told herself to tell mom to make an appointment with the optometrist sometime in the future. Giving a big stretch with a rather loud yawn, she got up from her bed and slammed the curtains shut in her room, blocking out the light. Even though they were labeled as blackout curtains from Walmart, light still peeked through, making Aury even more irritated from the impervious. Huffing, she headed towards her closet, her nice and dark closet with no lights.

Aurelia wasn't sure how to feel about the family dinner that was about to happen, after all, she knew Eliza, who had just come home, and her dad, who her mom had divorced, would definitely be bratty towards her and she would for sure return the favor... But maybe it would turn out alright. She'd have Ellie on Mom on her side anyway, while Atti would definitely be on Eliza's side... but he was definitely a momma's boy. Tossing aside a t-shirt, she rolled her eyes thinking how stupid this family feud was. Steve Harvey would probably have a heart attack trying to understand it. Finally, she ended up deciding on a plain white t-shirt with some black leggings as well as a pink knit cardigan. It wasn't like she was in the mood to look super nice and besides, it was just her family. Grabbing a pair of sunglasses to block out the painful light, she decided to make her way into the hall where she found Eliza knocking at Atti's door.

"Oh, you're back," Aury commented looking Eliza up and down. It had been a while since she'd seen her, seeing as Eliza was shipped off to military school thanks to Aury. It was right before Eliza was shipped off that their relationship had crumbled. Pushing past her eldest sister, Aury made her way to the bathroom, tieing up her reddish-brown hair into a simple ponytail. "Was military school worth it?" She asked rhetorically before heading downstairs to help her Mom with setting up the table.

"Hey mom, I'm up, need help?" Aury offered as she entered the kitchen. Her mom was hunched over a pot, stirring whatever goodness she had created.

"About time," Her mom joked with a little bit of a snort. "Did you enjoy your nap? Go set up the table for me, won't you? Your father will be here soon. Also what's with the sunglasses, those don't look very classy dear." She nodded towards the empty dining room table.

"My nap was fine. And the sunglasses are just a new fashion statement." Aury explained, avoiding telling her mom about the lights as she carefully set down plates and utensils. The first time she mentioned how bright the lights were, her Mom had nearly panicked, thinking that she needed to go to the hospital or something. Instead, Aury downplayed it and took some Advil to make her feel better. It wasn't like it was a big deal or anything, the sunglasses helped her. As soon as the dinner table looked presentable, she flopped on the family sofa in the living room while turning on the TV. Maybe some of Grey's Anatomy would pass the time.

code by valen t.

fancries1 · Dec 30, 2020

Angela Hayes

mood

fancy

outfit:

here

location

jewelry store

TAGS

Winona

I've been tryna call, I've been on my own for long enough,

Her chest started to ache and her pace slowed.

Maybe you can show me how to love,

Valencia squeezed her eyes shut, coming to a stop leaning over balancing with her hands on her knees.

Breathe in, breathe out, V.

"Miss?"

The muffled voice somehow found it's way through her earbuds.

"Uh... miss?"

Maybe I'm going through withdrawals. You don't even have to do too much, you can t--

She reached up and yanked the earphone out, ignoring the ringing from her ears due to the incredibly loud volume. "What?" Valencia snapped, her sentence was forced and full of venom aiming for the stranger who had just interrupted her run.

"... I-I was wondering if you know the exit trail. I ended up going in a circle for the first few..." The two had kept eye contact and the man rambled on, his voice had began to fade while Valencia attention was suddenly pulled away, it was as if she was zoning out. Everything had started to become quiet and the only thing she could feel was slight fear.

Fear, relief... grief? It was a mixture of the three and it wasn't hard to piece together that whatever she was feeling, was radiating off of him. And there was nothing more than Valencia wanted to do than to rip off his glasses and tell him to go take a hike. Well, it only made sense. Hiking trail and all. Her gaze softened despite the annoyance she had for the slightly older man moments earlier. "Once you reach the lake, take a left, it leads you to the parking lot. I trust you can find your way to your vehicle from there." At least, she hopes so.

Idiota que no puede entender su izquierda y sus derechos.

"Oh... right. Of course. Thank you." He was tall, maybe around 6ft or so. Shaggy brown hair, light eyes, thinly framed glasses. His hands were shoved into his pockets only seconds after speaking, Valencia had noticed he was shaking moments prior to replying, while it had made her curious as to what the man might have witnessed, or rather-- what he experienced. Curiosity wasn't worth feeling what he was feeling.

And so she had stayed a safe distance from him.

"Could I... uh, borrow your phone? I need someone to pick me up. I kinda... walked all the way here."

A glance down and Valencia had noticed he... had no shoes on.

Interesting.

"Uh, I... please?"

The Bluetooth earbuds were disconnected with a touch of a button, handing over the pink smartphone with minimal contact.

'Nobody to call. I have no one.'

"What did you say?" She asked on instinct, to which he didn't reply, instead looking at her rather confused.

Oh.

"Sorry, ... thought you said something. But go on, I have places to be." She lied.

The barefooted man stared at the phone for a few seconds, barely even moving his fingers to the dial pad.

'I can't do this anymore.'

Valencia snapped her gaze away from him, focusing on the sounds of the birds chirping, the wind, the gentle brushes of the plants hitting another.

'... I'm better off dead.'

The brunette grit her teeth so hard she could've sworn she heard something crack, redirecting her attention to him, Valencia placed her hand on top of his-- seemingly going to yank her phone out of his grasp. Whether if it was for her phone, or for another reason-- it didn't matter.

It hit fast.

It was one of the most intense feelings she had ever felt, Valencia wanted nothing more to be alone more than this moment. It wasn't fear, relief, guilt.

It was darkness. And a whole ton of it.

"Go... somewhere." It was a suggestion, it wasn't as if her powers had that much of a hold on someone, but when all feelings were stripped from that someone, they were indifferent. Indifferent to opinions, suggestions, wants, needs. "Go home. Go to a family member, go to a friend, go to the damn bum that lives across the street for all I care." He blinked a few times, looking at his surroundings with a deep breath. It was still there. She could feel it, but it wasn't as bad as it was before. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you, I... I don't really know what I'm doing here." Whatever plans he had was gone. At least she had a clear conscience.

Valencia pulled away from the older man, taking her phone, reconnecting the earphones and running off without another word.

--

She had been locked up in her room for hours. Early morning runs had become a habit of Val's, at least since she figured out what the hell was going on with her. It was a good way to distract herself from... everything. Today was the first day something like that had ever happened. Usually those trails were empty, it was an old tale how people went there to... suddenly, the interaction she had made a lot more sense now.

But what she took from him didn't fade just yet.

Valencia was suffering, less intensely than he had, of course. But it was there. And she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and be rid of it. But unfortunately, it didn't work like that.

Breathe, V.

Just breathe.

She knew what she needed.

... comfort.

And Valencia knew just where to get it.

~~

A shaky sigh escaped her when she walked into the kitchen, glancing at her younger sister before reaching for the kettle, filling it with water and placing on the stove, turning the knob and leaning her arm against the marble countertop.

She could feel it.

Emotions, strong positivity, or in this case, should she say negativity had a way of clinging onto things. Think of it like... a virus. One you couldn't get rid of with antibacterial soap.

It was in the air.

It was... everywhere.

Valencia closed her eyes tightly, rubbing the side of her neck to release whatever tension was hiding, turning her body slightly to face her sister. Hesitating before placing a hand on her shoulder, but... nothing happened. At least... she didn't feel anything. Maybe they didn't work like that? Maybe she had to wait before she could... do it again. Maybe the feelings she'd taken was too strong to leave out of her system so soon?

'I'm hungry.'

She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to say something as another thought rolled in.

'I hope she didn't realize I snuck in.'

Qué increíblemente irresponsable.

"Do you want tea?" Camila knew what those words meant. It wasn't just any normal phrase. It was a phrase their mother would say whenever they were upset about something. After all, Valencia just had to test the waters...

Just a little.

"You might need the caffeine after the night you've had. Care to explain where you were?"

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

0k_mang0 · Jan 4, 2021

HELLO

MY NAME IS

LUCIO

Lucio Asra picked up his third cup of coffee this afternoon. Last night, he had 6 hours of sleep, which was the most he’d gotten this week, but he still needed to catch up. When he’d gotten his powers, Lucio had stayed awake for the first two days. He had to skip school a couple of times, the first time, he missed school entirely when he finally did fall asleep, and the second time, he just ran out before his second class began when he thought that creepy shadow creature was following him, only to learn later on that the creature-thing was stuck on him.

He found a table to sit alone. While sipping his coffee and reading from his phone, Lucio heard two guys nearby talking.

“Hey, did ya hear? Gio ditched town.”

“I think Tank went with him, too. I wonder what made ‘em leave...”

Lucio put on his headphones. He knew what happened, and was probably the only one who did. Gio and Tank were local troublemakers of Wilmont, both semi-known drug-pushers, the latter being an arrogant senior at school. Lucio never cared for either of them. He’d always avoided them, especially since his uncle was a cop. Until last month, on the same day he discovered his superpowers. Lucio met them for the first and most likely the last time just a few minutes later. He still couldn’t believe what had happened. He just wanted them to go away so he wouldn’t get hurt, but his living shadow took that desire to the unexpected extreme: the shadows in the warehouse coming to life and clinging to the two drug dealers like tar shortly after they tried to mug him, vaporized them into dark mist before his eyes. He still remembered their haunting cries—of pain, fear, or a mixture of both. He wasn’t even sure if they were alive or not. No blood or anything left behind, except two blobby oval-shaped scorch marks on the spot where Gio and Tank used to stand.

Lucio had read several occult sites and library books, searching for a way to get rid of his living shadow, but he found nothing but nonsense. He couldn’t tell his friends or family about what’s happening to him, unless he wanted to give them a reason to throw him in the psych ward. He couldn’t go to his cousin Arta, the family’s nerd who was okay with weird stuff. But Lucio didn’t want to burden her with his issues when she was trying to handle the disappearance of her mom and brother.

He’d tried demanding the Shadow for answers, but it always just stared at him instead, possibly glowering—it was hard to tell since it didn’t have any facial features, like a mouth, with the exception of its two glowing dots for eyes. It didn’t seem like it could speak in any way. Although, if it could, it was too stubborn to tell him. It never seemed to express or hint Lucio anything about what it wants, except until it takes whatever or do as it pleases. Like just now, as Lucio drank his coffee after looking at his phone, he discovered his cup was now less than half-empty despite only having a couple of sips just two minute ago, and the remaining few ounces tasted almost ice cold.

He heard a tiny burp—sitting on the table surface next to his elbow, a 5-inch jet black figure that resembled a Funko doll template looked up and stared at Lucio, who stared back in annoyance. Judging by the crumbs around the Shadow, Lucio guessed it also ate the turkey sandwich he’d bought with his coffee. How it ate them without a visible mouth, he didn’t want to know. Maybe it didn’t show all the time.

“Asshole,” Lucio tsked under his breath. It said and did nothing, though he was certain its dotted white eyes squinted at him for his remark.

While Lucio got up to buy another sandwich, his coffee-stealing shadow waited on the table, slowly swinging its tiny legs over the edge like a nonchalant child. It only looked innocent and somewhat tamed due to the sun still up in the sky—its small appearance, just because it wanted to look like that.

For some reason, nobody else could see it but him. Lucio realized after the first week that it was invisible to everyone around him. The Shadow did look a little transparent at some angles and it blended with other shadows sometimes. He’d once asked a few classmates if they saw the Shadow (referring to it as "that") while pointing at its direction, but they couldn’t. But Gio and Tank were able to see it before their mysterious and traumatizing demise, so maybe the Shadow can willed itself to be visible or not to others…? Not sure. He was still trying to figure it out. It didn’t help when his new friend was incredibly uncommunicative.

After returning to his table, (with the Shadow now sitting under his legs for more shade, nibbling a warm croissant that came from another customer that sat across the store), Lucio glanced at the last recent text message he’d received from Aria. Ironically, he was sort of uncommunicative lately, too. He hadn’t spoken or sent any text replies to her since the day before seeing the strange lights on that strange night. He just stopped contacting her, avoided and ignored her when she was at school. There was no way he could explain his superpowers to her, especially not after what the Shadow had done to Gio and Tank. Who knows what it would do if he tried to see her? It didn’t even want him to get anywhere near her. At least, he had a strong feeling it didn’t.

Mention: Aria

Winona

hery · Jan 5, 2021

Aster

MOOD: secretizin
LOCATION: laundry room
OUTFIT: clothes
TAGS:

ohdittoh
MENTIONS: n/a

It took everything within Aster to fully comprehend the heavily accented words flowing into his ears. He did his best not to stare through him blankly out of politeness, but it was hard not to when he was focusing to intently on what was being said. Something about internally mocking the guy's accent felt a bit harsh, even if he'd shared many moments in the past laughing at his relatives' much thicker Boston accents with his sisters. The more he thought about Boston, though, the further he fell into the habit of talking about his hometown every five seconds like Aunt Sue and Grandma Pat. He didn't even like the city all that much, but here he was gushing about the goddamn Freedom Trail to the old guy next to him on the plane trip to Seattle.

"Likewise, Abraham. If you haven't seen me around yet, I wouldn't blame you. I don't really get out much," he admitted jokingly, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth. The ever-diffident Aster's grip on their handshake left much to be desired as always, and he could have sworn he heard his bones shattering when this "Abraham" guy crushed his hand like putty. He wasn't particularly surprised that his new neighbor wasn't familiar with his face yet; Aster was always somewhat of a nosy character, remaining in the shadows while observing others. The hobby was often dull, but it was always something to do with spare time.

He was thoroughly impressed that the man in front of him even vaguely recognized the flower he was referring to, although an ounce of botanical knowledge would look genius-level compared to his grade school bullies anyway. "Yeah, I thought 'Aster' would have some astrology-whatever meaning, but turns out it doesn't even coincide with my birth month," he remarked, realizing he probably sounded like a lunatic trying to decipher his fake-spiritual parents' reasoning, "My birth flower is a pansy... or was it lily of the valley? Lily of the... river?" He shook his head. "Not sure. I don't know much about floriculture beyond my namesake, if I'm being honest."

It was a bit concerning how compelled Aster was to freely divulge such trivial details about himself to Brahm. The guy just gave off such a goofy and inoffensive aura and, paired with his infectious laughter, Aster was almost willing to look past his sordid request for spare laundry money. At first it had irked him that he'd asked for his own hard-earned cash in such a cheeky, lighthearted manner, but after a quick assessment of his personality, Aster couldn't detect a trace of malice in his soul.

The instant the sudden influx of travelers to Wilmont was mentioned, Aster felt the hairs on his back stand up straight like spines on a cactus. For an instant, he began to wonder if Brahm had any idea why that was the case with all the newcomers, but immediately afterward he came to the conclusion that there was no chance any ordinary person would ever have any knowledge on the stars. "Oh, really? That is interesting. I don't suppose fall is the time of year for travel, usually... " He had no intention on seriously delving into the reality of Brahm's observation, as hashing out conspiracies and widly sci-fi-esque theories on the stars and his newfound ability would be a social death sentence. Even so, Aster had to wonder what Brahm was really thinking about the new arrivals in Wilmont, especially since he was one of them himself. Surely such a kindly gentleman had a completely mundane, typical reason for winding up in The Middle of Fucking Nowhere, Washington.

"I think it'll take me some getting used to with this town, but yeah, I'd say it's pretty alright," he agreed, relieved Brahm had dropped the previous topic at the blink of an eye. So, he didn't have too much insight on the topic after all. That was good for Aster, but he couldn't deny the sliver of intrigue nestled in the back of his head at the possibility of coming across another person with abilities like his so soon during his stay. The stars events didn't seem too well-known based on his extensive online research, but surely someone else had to have the same idea Aster had? The dazzling prospect glaring at the forefront of his mind was the hope that he'd get to see the stars again, or at the very least gain some insight on what had happened to him since he laid eyes upon the shining orbs that night years ago.

If only amassing more of that sweet, sweet power was as simple as asking around a few townies. Then Aster wouldn't have to be all secretive and on-edge all the time.

"No reason in particular," he swiftly responded, his tone of voice much more uplifted as he flashed a cheery smile, "When you're 22 with no job and no real drive for school, why not just... go?"

Gee, that's flattering.

"And yourself?"

code by low fidelity.

jasmyn · Jan 5, 2021

OUTFIT: xoxo

MOOD: "i have more important things to do."
basics

liam.
mentions

Winona
tags

Clarissa Taylor

claire ~ 22 ~ pansexual ~ pain inducement

As Clarissa drove the same route she normally did towards the Starbucks, the only sound that filled the empty space around her was that of her nails tapping against the steering wheel. To say her morning was interesting would be, in her mind, the biggest understatement of the year, and it brought up a million questions for the blonde.

Why was she still here? Why hadn't she left this town when she had the chance? That's what most everyone who lived in Wilmont wanted, right? To eventually escape? You'd think so but here Claire was, one of the few in her friend group to stay put after graduation. And so as expected she was driving the same boring route, passing the same boring buildings, and it just felt so routine.

Sometimes she wished she'd gone off to college or something. The girl was actually book smart and her family had more than enough money to avoid student loan debt. It wasn't like she just couldn't get in because she could. Claire had never really been focused on all of that in her teenage years though. She never saw herself as someone who moved on to do more schooling just to end up in corporate life.

Most of that was due to her always having been much more invested in the idea of partying and living it up. That often consisted of bad habits, worse friends, and a severe lack of responsibility. This is also probably why when she'd declared she wasn't going to college and decided to remain and continue her irresponsible behavior, her mother had made the decision to cut her off from her inheritance and kick her out.

They had always looked out for their family reputation first and foremost. Come to think of it, that's why they had been so fond of her relationship with Liam back in high school. He grounded her in ways and without trying pulled her into a better mindset. Her grades were better, her partying was less frequent and she wasn't running with the wrong crowds. At least that's how it was in the beginning but all good things come to an end, don't they?

It wasn't a bad relationship if she was honest, in fact, it was actually the opposite. Claire and Liam were good together when they first became a thing. It only started to be evident that the pair weren't exactly a match made in heaven in the last two months or so.

They had started to fight more often than before, even over the smallest things. Claire started to revert back to her wild ways, Liam became increasingly overbearing. Despite this, for some reason, neither of them could seem to just end things. Until the day he caught her cheating with his brother that is.

Ugh, moving on. The blonde couldn't afford to let her mind wander back to Liam right now. It was all in the past and she had bigger things than her dating history to think about. Claire had already parked and started making her way towards the building when-

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

As much as she wanted to believe her eyes were deceiving her, they weren't. Liam Townes was walking right towards her and neither of them could stop the inevitable from happening. This is not how she'd wanted to spend her day, in fact, she had planned on meeting...someone else.

Her name sounded so different coming from him than anyone else. Maybe it was because it had been so long. She hated her name, especially because she was named after her mother whom she didn't exactly get along with. It was why she went by Claire. Even so, she still didn't feel the need to make a big deal of it but she couldn't pinpoint why. She would've corrected anyone else.

"Cheat on anyone recently?" Her jaw clenched at the question which was a fair one but...whatever. Two could play that game. "Good to see you too, Liam. No, I haven't but I have fucked your brother recently," she spat out, the words tasting like poison as they left her lips. As usual, her British accent got thicker as her blood boiled and her anger seeped through.

Talk about bringing up the past tensions. Honestly, if she could, she would take it back. There was a feeling of instant regret as soon as she realized the magnitude of what she'd said. But Claire wasn't the type to backtrack and to be fair, he had started it. Not her. Well, that sounded overly childish. Ugh.

"It's very interesting that you still have such strong, compelling feelings about me after all this time. But if you just felt like rehashing the past then I'm afraid I can't be of service today. I have much more important things to do than have a verbal spat with my ex in front of a coffee shop," Claire added, her tone making her seem much more confident than she actually felt.

code by valen t.

Winona · Jan 6, 2021

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Camila

INTERACTIONS

Val

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

Soap

"Do you want tea?"

Cam didn't respond right away as she opened up an overhead cupboard to reach in and grab a box of cereal. Her fingers clenched the box of Froot Loops tighter than necessary as she dropped back to the flats of her feet and closed the cupboard. She still didn't reply quite yet as she opened up the top of the box, trying to settle her thoughts.

Mom...

Mom used to say that...

It was dumb to still be so caught up, but some of her warmest and clearest memories of their mother had been curling up on the couch with a warm cup of tea to comfort her. Cam had thought that she was over all of that by now, except that... that she wasn't. Maybe if she could just find her and just get to say goodbye again...

If I can say goodbye, will I stop thinking about her?

Val's next words caught her even more by surprise. They blindsided her, but then she thought back to the broken vase and it really wasn't that much of a surprise that Val would've caught on. She let out a heavy sigh as she poured the Froot Loops into her bowl, her fingers still digging into the colorful cardboard as she did so. By now, there were slight indents in the box from her grip.

"Yeah, I'd like a cup." Her voice felt hollow.

I can't tell her I was in the cemetery.

"I was just... hanging out with some friends." She swallowed the lump growing in her throat. Cam hated lying and before, she really hadn't been that great at it. Her palms would get sweaty and she'd start getting all shaky, but something about having a big secret like I can talk to ghosts really turned someone into a good liar quickly.

"I was home by midnight. You and dad were just sleeping."

She hoped that was true as she closed the box of cereal back up and placed it back into the cupboard. Now, Cam had to actually turn around and look at her sister. Well, just because her sister was near the refrigerator, but whatever. She pushed away from the counter towards the fridge and opened it up to pull out the gallon of milk.

"Or maybe it was closer to one. I don't know. Just a get together with some friends."

Ghosts that she talked to on the regular counted as friends, right?

Like technically she wasn't lying.

She brushed back past Valencia towards her bowl and poured the milk over the cereal. Her eyes were glued to the bowl while her mind was churning, trying to come up with more lies to feed to Val in hopes that she'd actually bite on one of them and not press any further. Or, you know, come up with something that could change the subject.

"What about you? Did you do anything last night or did you just stay home again? You know, it's really not healthy to just stay inside all the time."

It also wasn't healthy to spend all of one's time in cemeteries but hey, that wasn't the point.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

Winona · Jan 6, 2021

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Connor

INTERACTIONS

Leea, Angie

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

ohdittoh

fancries1

He let out a small exhale through his nose when Leea approached -- a thank god, I'm not alone trying to talk anymore type of exhale. Socializing? Not exactly Connor's strong suit. He was the kind of guy that typically gave short, one word answers if a simple grunt wouldn't suffice. So trying to talk and get to someone wasn't his specialty in the least bit.

Connor was... he was the brawn of an operation. You know how it was -- the stereotypical all muscles, no brain type of fellow. He knew this, alright? And it wasn't like he was necessarily dumb so much as it was just that Connor was severely lacking in the whole socializing effectively department. It was like he'd never learned how to socialize past the basic skills of a toddler.

Great crony, wasn't he?

So Leea's presence was a welcome reassurance. He tensed a little bit when she touched but relaxed. Like with most sensations against his skin, they were dull and numbed. When he'd first gotten his powers, that had applied more to just pain and he was still able to feel other things normally but, the more stars that he ran into and the stronger his powers grew, the duller sensations against his skin grew. To be honest, it was normal at this point to have such a faint feeling and he really couldn't remember what it had been like before.

Oh, so she can use my real name but I can't use hers.

He fought against the urge to glare down at Leea, instead keeping an easygoing smile on his face as he let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, it really does, Leea." Ha, take that. Real name said twice. Mic drop, Leea. At least now his tone had taken on a quieter edge. He wasn't as loud or obvious as he had been before -- instead, his voice had returned to that deep, quiet rumbling that was normal of him. Basically, it was no longer obvious what he'd been trying to do. He was smoother now.

He'd gone from being as smooth as a cactus to as smooth as sandpaper.

Okay but problem: how did one... continue this... conversation in a... normal and non-obvious way....

Fuck, Connor hated small talk. Connor hated all talk, but small talk was the worst, especially when it was forced in any manner.

"Mind if we take a look at it? Let Leea" -- ha, name dropped three times, take THAT -- "try it on for size. This is our third jewelry store today looking for that ring in particular."

Did he do it?

Kill him now. This was horrible.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

beeswaxie · Jan 7, 2021

MOOD: somber

OUTFIT: x

LOCATION: mall
basics

MENTIONS: - INT: Winona ohdittoh fancries1
tags

TL;DR selling a ring
tl;dr

mara evans

raising the dead.

Mara couldn't stop looking down at the ring box and receipt that lay in her delicate small hands. The weight seemed to grow as the bus continued forward, bumping and jostling every few seconds. She knew she held onto it for too long and it would probably be impossible to return it for a refund, but she didn't really want a refund. She just wanted him back... But a ring store couldn't raise the dead, and so instead she was going to sell it.

Theo hadn't actually given it to her, but he was planning to. If they had never gotten into that car, she would probably be wearing the ring on her left hand right now, while her right hand was holding Theo's. But they did get into the car. She never meant to keep for it so long, after all, it wasn't truly hers. His parents had given it to her, thinking it would mean something, and it did, but all it did was ring the constant reminder of him being gone. Selling it would mean she could stop looking at it and stop being reminded-- as if he didn't haunt her in her sleep. Taking a shaky sigh, she carefully placed the ring box and receipt back into her purse and glanced outside.

She was almost at the mall which meant it would be time to face the moment she'd been avoiding for so long. It took her a few months to leave the house and even longer to dare get in a vehicle. If she hadn't completely burned all bridges with her friends, she would've brought them for emotional support, but she burnt her bridges and now she was alone.

Alone.

It had been almost a year that she was alone. Theo's parents tried to comfort her and offered her love and support but Mara pushed them away. She needed to be alone, but she needed everyone she had lost at the same time. Her friends would call her nonstop, even stopping by and knocking on her door. But she never answered, she couldn't. Her parents would have scolded her for cutting everyone off, Theo would have too. But they weren't there and so nobody scolded her.

Pressing the button to signal the bus driver that her stop was coming up, Mara stood up, holding onto the bars on the bus to keep herself steady. Eventually, the vehicle lurched to a stop in which she exited. Her eyes glanced up at the mall, full of people buzzing about happily. It was odd leaving her isolated apartment of solidarity and solemness to seeing the bright lights of a city. It was like she was the only one in pain. Shaking her head, she tried to brush those thoughts away and headed into the mall. It was busy like she remembered it to be. Memories seeped through, and flashes of her parents taking her to the ice cream shop on the left hit her like a brick wall. Blinking the tears away, she kept her eyes to the floor and made sure to beeline it to the ring shop.

Normally she'd expect the store to be empty, but instead there seemed to be a small group of people. She knew she had slim chances of giving it to the employee... Maybe she could sell it one of them. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to them.

"Hey are any of you looking for a ring to buy? I've got one that's never been worn but it's a few months late on the receipt... I have the receipt right here." She pulled out the small piece of paper that she kept in good condition. There were times she felt like burning it, or crumpling it up and throwing it off the balcony, but never committed.

code by valen t.

Winona · Jan 7, 2021

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Liam

INTERACTIONS

Clarissa

MENTIONS

Logan

TAGS

jasmyn

Ooh. Ouch.

Did she intend for those words to hurt him?

If she had, they hadn't. His failure of a little brother and his bitchy whore of an ex-girlfriend deserved each other. They could spend the rest of their lives here in Wilmont, trading needles and STDs until they eventually died and their names were forgotten. It wasn't like either of them would ever contribute to society. They were both nothing more than a waste of space, oxygen, and resources -- it's all either of them had ever been, and it's all either of them would ever be.

Pity, really. Claire could've made something of herself but instead, she'd allowed herself to be dragged underwater by the anchor that was Logan Townes and now they would both drown there together.

Ah, well, the bitch deserved it.

Liam was completely over the entire situation, anyway. It had been a hurtful predicament at the time, of course, but years away at college and being well on the way to making something of himself had helped to heal that wound.

He let out a small chuckle, his lips drawing back into a casual smile. "Come on, Claire! It was a joke. Simple playful banter. You really need to learn how to loosen up." Well, the bitch needed to learn how to loosen up as in be less of an aggressive bitch, but was too loose in the other aspects of her life. See: the upper paragraphs about her being a waste of space.

"Come now, I'll buy you a cup of coffee and perhaps we can catch up. I would love to know what has been happening with you since we last spoke."

He wanted to know all about how she'd gotten nowhere in life, how her existence was an utter drag. He wanted to hear about how she had been spinning her wheels in place, getting nowhere, and then he could spin his own tale. About how college was going amazing, how he was about to graduate, how he was perfectly set up to have the kind of life that Claire couldn't even begin to dream of.

Okay, so maybe he was still a little angry.

"Time to bury the hatchet, wouldn't you say? Especially if you're still... dating my brother." Or whatever it was that the two of them were. To be honest, Liam had been surprised to hear that they were even still talking to each other when he'd returned home for his father's funeral. Liam would be lying if he didn't admit that he'd been a little angry that she hadn't broken his brother's heart in the same way she had so carelessly broken his.

Liam stepped away from Claire to the door of the coffee shop and pulled it open, stepping aside to let Claire in if she decided to take him up on his offer.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

ohdittoh · Jan 7, 2021

there is not
always a good guy
nor is there
always a bad one
most people are
somewhere in between

BRAHM LOVELESS

Mood
• Conversatin' •

Location
• Laundry •

Mentions
• N/A •

Interactions
• Aster (not the flower, the person, apparently) •

Tags
•

hery •

Abraham leaned back against the shaking machine behind him, chuckling as his hands tapped a rhythm against the metal. “Brahm, please,” he said politely, smiling at the other man. “’t’s what mos’ people call me. It’d probalee be easeyur ta jus’ cawl me that.”

He paused a moment, his eyes searching the various detergents on the white rack above the washing machines. Tide pods…hmm. Those were expensive. How much did the landlady lose on the laundry alone?

Probably not much, he concluded quickly— after all, the fee for a single was one-fifty.

“Yain’t got no job?” he asked, looking back to the man for a moment. “Ah here’d thur’s plennya openin's places. Ah m’self got m’self a job’t that Starbucks. Applied ownlahn about a month ago, Ah s’ppose. Ah called in ta interviah, they chatted with me fer quite a bit, ’n they hired me. Ah said Ah’s comin' in a few weeks, they said they’re low on staffers’n expected a cawl from me once Ah got settled in. Kinda odd fer a perfessional establishment, but Ah’m not one ta be picky much, ya know,” he chuckled, making easy conversation. “Ah could point ya in that direction, if ya wanted me to, by tha way. Ah know student life— actually, student life is why Ah’m here, anyway— so Ah might’s well help someone in the same situation as me out a bit.”

He shifted his left hand into the pocket of his bathrobe. “Like Ah said, Ah’m a student. Twenny-one, yer either a student, a dropout, a deadbeat dad, er a worker at a greasy spoon or a factory, slavin’ away fer pennies on tha dollar. Sometimes, yer even more’n one uh ‘em. Thankfully, though, I’m jus’ tha first’n.” He grinned at the other man. “Plant science major,” he explained. “Came up here ta collect samples fer a personal project’a mine. The weather’s amicable, too, ’n Ah’ve been schoolin' awnlahn, anyway. Done my work fer tha ahead fer tha next couple’a weeks before Ah moved so that Ah’d have plenty’uh time ta settle in before Ah start my research.”

The other man had lied to him— Brahm felt it— and, so, there was no problem in Brahm lying back.

There was, however, the problem of getting the true answer from him without appearing too suspicious.

“Ah heard from tha residents here, though, that odd thin’s’ve been happenin’ here recently,” Brahm began. “Thin’s in rapid succession’a one another, too. Power surges, power outages, damage done ta buildin's. They considered that it could’a been someone playin’ pranks er som’n’, but som’n’ made tha odd suggestion’a superpowers.” He said the word superpowers as if it was a wholly ridiculous idea. “Some…Ah dunno, conspiracy theory or som'n'. Som’n’ ‘bout stars fallin' from tha— Ah dunno. Ah jus’ know about tha rumors Ah’ve heard about here.”

Brahm’s eyes studied the other man carefully as he spoke, and once he finished, he gave a soft laugh. “Ah dunno about all’a this myself. Guess’t seein' is believin'.

He had pulled that out of his ass, but he hoped that it worked to get him his answers.

He looked at the other man. “You don’t happen ta know anythin' ‘bout that, would ya?”

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

Realistic or Modern 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕝 -- roleplay

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the fool

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livin’ la vida loca

i was gone and now I’m back

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faisons un vœu

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the fool

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livin’ la vida loca

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still kicking :)

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