i'm flying blind, and i'm making this up as i go @carchasesandbubblegum - Tumblr Blog

TEXT: ANYA

Gigi: happy birthday dude

Being in a bad mood wasn’t unusual for Peyton. In fact, it had kind of surpassed a ‘mood’ and become a state of being to the point where if she found she wasn’t feeling pissed off, she was a bit alarmed. In Texas, she’d been able to work a lot of that anger out helping Ethan with his boxing or Jonah with his football or whatever other assortment of contact sports her brothers were into that week. In Cherry Grove, however, she didn’t have that kind of help on hand; Jackson just wanted everyone to talk and be pleased to see each other again and the blatant smoothing over of over a decade of change constantly riled her up.

It wasn’t fair to take her frustration out on her friends - it wasn’t their fault they gave into the inevitable and grew up into almost-adult versions of their tiny selves while she mutated into… this. And while Ella and Sherrie might need a hugs to sooth frayed nerves, Peyton needed to punch something or scream or both. She’d been told repeatedly at counselling (before her stepmother rightly pointed out it was doing nothing and there was no point paying for it) to find a healthy outlet for her emotions, but since breathing deeply and counting to ten did absolutely fuck all, an act of violence or vandalism or sneaking into the boys’ locker room while the football captain was alone in the shower usually did the trick.

None of those options seemed close at hand though, what with her still acquainting herself to the town again, so she was aimlessly wandering the damp streets of Cherry Grove, frozen fingers shoved deep into the pockets of her leather jacket to try hide them from the cold chill. She paused under a lamppost, tipping her head back to stare directly into the glare of the light until her eyes stung.

She was tempted to head towards the Snuggly Duckling in case there was bar fight (she’d been told they could be quite frequent, but when she went there there was just a dude playing piano which was lame) but was distracted by a grating sound coming from further down sidewalk.

Squinting against the darkness, she recognised the sound as wheels against the concrete and strained to see what was causing it. A vaguely familiar figure skated into the outer edge of the lamppost’s glow as Peyton’s eyes adjusted better and she recognised her as the girl she’d had a drink with last week in a bar. Smirking, she pushed off the lamppost to catch her attention, affecting disinterest as the woman came to a stop in front of her.

“Y’know, in Texas we have shotguns for when we’re getting stalked.” She drawled, her tone dry but teasing. She’d enjoyed her company the previous week, appreciating being able to have a conversation with a total stranger with no judgement or attempts to compare her to the girl she’d been. The rage she’d been trying to walk off simmered down a little at the prospect of another evening without scrutiny with someone who was perhaps interested in who Peyton was now rather than who she’d been thirteen years ago. “Gogo, was it?”

carchasesandbubblegum

It was late, and there was barely so much as a street lamp to guide her through the town, but that rarely stopped Gigi when she was on a mission. Not that she actually had a particular goal set out tonight, so to speak. Nah, she had just gotten bored as hell holed up at home, and she needed an outlet. She figured she could head down to The Snuggly Duckling for a few beers if she really wanted to, but she wasn't feeling it tonight. The vast majority of her friends were busy, though she'd never had any real trouble in finding company when she strolled into those places, but she wasn't in the mood to deal with unwanted stares and gropes from skeezy men. She had no issue putting them all in their place, or landing them on their asses if necessary, but she couldn't really be bothered. So, instead, she done what she always did: she donned her skates, grabbed a jacket, and spent the past few hours rolling around town with the wind whipping through her hair, not a care in the world.

There was a kind of bliss that came with skating around town so late. Gigi had always enjoyed the thrill of the chase whenever she was racing; she loved the danger that resided in both skating and being on her bike. There was always that chance that a car would come out of nowhere, and that in a flash she'd been gone – it was probably kinda twisted that she enjoyed the adventure and the uncertainty of it all, but the adrenaline was a better buzz than any booze or drugs could give you. Hell, it was almost better than sex.

Almost.

She'd made a few adjustments to her newest pair of inlines and had, with the help of Fred, managed to wire a few lights into the wheels and the straps. She had her usual, glow-in-the-dark elbow and knee pads, as well as a light on the visor of her helmet, but she hadn't bothered with those tonight. Instead, she just had the lights of her wheels, accompanied by the occasional neon glow of whatever businesses happened to be open tonight. With no real destination, she rode around with reckless abandon, figuring she had enough skill and experience to know when there was the chance of a collision. With the streets as quiet as they were tonight – with most of Cherry Grove's residents either tucked up in the safety of their own beds, someone else's, or downing shots in The Snuggly Duckling and La Belle – she didn't see any real reason for concern.

Up ahead, she spotted one of the very few areas of town that seemed intent on keeping the towns inhabitants safe. With some of the bigger, local businesses littering this side of town – such as that one record store with the cute blonde, right next door to Madigan's place, which was tucked cosily between the former and he rather popular Writer's Stop – it seemed that the owners liked to ensure that there was some sanctity of professionalism around, and that there was no chance of flickering lights and customers being found unconscious in some dimly lit alleyway closeby. With the lamposts around here actually in action, Gigi's vision increased tenfold, and she spotted a girl loitering close by.

She was on her own, and she looked kinda familiar. She cut a pretty cute figure in her dark jeans and leather jacket, and as Gigi rolled to a stop she recalled just where she'd known her from, just in time to hear her comment.

“Oh yeah? In Cherry Grove we just bitch and whine about it on the internet,” Gigi retorted. She smirked, though never catching the girl's eye as she twirled on the spot, keeping herself warm while aimlessly performing miniscule tricks for her own pleasure.

She snorted out a laugh at the girl's attempt at recalling her name, eventually skidding to a halt mere inches away from her, cocking her head to the side as she looked at her. The same dark hair hung down, framing her face, that familiar look of indifference gracing her features. Gigi knew now why she'd been so drawn to her. There were pretty much the same, for all intents and purposes. No baggage necessary. The girl's comment about stalking held no real bite, 'cause neither of them had any real attachment to the other. No. Indifferent as they both were, it had been a meaningless run-in and a few drinks at a bar, soon morphing into a good fuck back at Gigi's place, with no strings attached. Just how they both liked it. Y'know, not that Gigi was opposed to another quick tumble – there was no harm in hooking up with the same person more than once, just as there was no concern about any feelings developing. That was how it had been with her and Sam, even when they'd tried to make a go of it. That wasn't what they wanted, and they'd soon realised that sex without feelings was a hell of a lot easier.

“Gogo?” she mused, raising a questioning eyebrow at the girl. “How many people you heard of called Gogo? Nah. It's Gigi, though I guess my tongue was a little too busy to share that little tidbit with you last time.”

She wore that same, blank expression that she'd worn when Gigi had first met her. She couldn't tell for sure what was underneath the mask; whether she painted it on and presented herself as the picture perfect image of indifference for everyone else's sake, or whether she really didn't give a single shit about the world around her. Gigi didn't care, though, not so long as that look slipped away, melting into looks of pleasure as Gigi gave her orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Still, there was something underneath it now. She looked angry.

“You look like you could do with a drink. Or, scratch that. You look like you could do with a good fuck.”

#moments: peyton1 #peyton

recklessjxstenough :

“But I have a coupon right here.”

Daisy barely flinched as the tiny little paper voucher was waved repeatedly in front of her face. Instead, she slowly raised an eyebrow, selectively forgetting what her boss had told her about ‘service with a smile’. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her unflattering khaki apron that declared her a corporate robot belonging to none other than Cherry Grove’s only mini-mart, and offered the woman in front of her a sympathetic sigh.

“I understand that, but your shampoos are already on a half-price offer,” she explained through gritted teeth. It was hard to keep her cool in situations like these. Naturally, the woman didn’t seem to be able to process this information.

“It doesn’t say anywhere that that means I can’t use my coupon,” she argued.

Daisy stared at her for a moment before reaching out, taking the coupon off the lady and flipping it over so she could show her the terms and conditions where it declared just that and totally debunked her argument. She tried to suppress her smug expression as she watched the woman, an evident soccer mom if her waterfall bangs and spiky up-do at the back of her head were anything to go by, flounder at this newfound realisation.

“Well, they should put it in bigger letters! No one is going to read that!” she said, slamming her hand down on the conveyor belt and knocking over a jar of pickles in the process, apparently determined that she wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. Daisy, physically present but mentally a mile or so away at her own house where Jenna was still suffering from a bad cold, wasn’t prepared to give her one.

“That’s something you can take up with Head Office,” she replied, her shoulders moving in a light shrug. Not bothering to hide her indifference, she simply watched impassively as the woman went beetroot red then snatched her purse back up.

“I don’t like your attitude! And this place is going to the dogs! You’ve lost a valued customer after this,” were her parting words before she shouldered her handbag and stormed out the door.

“Have a nice day,” Daisy called after her before rolling her eyes. She picked up a wire basket and shoved the woman’s unpurchased items into it before shoving it behind the counter, deciding to deal with it later. Removing her ugly ass square cap that was part of her dismal uniform, she wiped the back of her hand over her forehead then propped the hat back on top of her blonde bushy curls and tried to remember why taking a job in retail was worth it. Naturally, all she had to do was think of Jenna and the way she’d been treated to a gummy, half-asleep smile that morning after cooing a ‘hello, princess!’ into her daughter’s cot. She’d left her in the capable hands of Dougie who no longer fretted about dropping his niece when left alone with her, and went out to make a living and flip off any implications about the customer always being right. In her experience, there had never been a time when the customer was right about anything.

With a quiet lull cast over the shop now, Daisy let herself relax, a premature and poorly made decision as the door was soon thrown open and in whizzed a flurry of dark hair and darker clothes, accompanied by the clatter of wheels on tiles. It was a sound all too familiar to Daisy and she straightened up at once.

The lithe figure of a girl, windswept and grinning, stopped in front of Daisy’s till and all the blonde could do was gape at her. She stood there proudly in her roller blades, pointedly ignoring the sign outside. If she was back in Canada, Daisy would have applauded her on her gall and might have even been persuaded to join in but now the sight only stirred up feelings of irritation and jealousy. She missed sliding her feet into her skates, propping a helmet on her head and only barely remembering to add knee and elbow pads before she went shooting around a rink, throwing a ‘fuck you’ to gravity and swerving at angles that defied the laws of physics, skating at ninety degrees to the floor below her. She couldn’t do that anymore.

“Then that chick should probably bring other shoes with her instead of thinking she’s somehow earned a free pass,” Daisy said dryly. She bent down and picked up the basket left by her previous customer, hooking it around the crook of her elbow and stomping around the counter so she could re-shelf the items.

“That means: don’t break the rules,” she haughtily added over her shoulder to the brunette. It wasn’t just jealousy that drove her stand-offish manner; Daisy knew that her boss would kill her if he found out she was letting people skate around his store, and she really didn’t need to be at odds with the man who was paying her wages.

Well, shit. To be honest, Gigi hadn't been expecting a warm welcome when she'd rolled into the local convenience store. I mean, nobody worked in retail and spent their days smiling giddily and thinking about what a dandy ol' life they lead. That just didn't happen; it was bullshit. The blonde in front of her probably had to deal with assholes asking for refunds on used diapers on a regular basis, so it was actually pretty justified for her to be in a shitty mood. But, still; she hadn't anticipated such a cool response.

The thing was, though, Gigi didn't give a shit. Like, not an iota of a fuck. It didn't bother her a little bit. If that had been Barry, he'd have probably blushed profusely as apologies spilled from his lips, frantically working to make it known to all around him just how sorry he was – the soft bastard would've dwelled on the interaction for days on end, never ceasing to let it go. Had it been Holly; well, actually, she'd have been sweet as pie and would've never even landed herself in a situation like this in the first place. And, Fred? He'd have just gaped at the girl, droned out a 'woah, take a chill pill', or something equally as annoying, before retreating outside and doing as he was told. Gigi, however, found herself weirdly endeared by the blonde. After all, it took a lot of balls to actually be so snippy with your customers, knowing full well that Gigi could go all soccer mom on her ass and ask to see her manager. No, fair play, she was gutsy, and she wasn't wrong, either.

“Yeah, I probably should, you're right...” Gigi noted, watching the girl with careful eyes as she bustled around the counter, making herself busy. She smirked, noticing just how out of place the blonde looked. I mean, c'mon. She looked like she'd rather poke a screwdriver through her skull than serve another customer or stock another shelf, and she was hot enough that she'd look right at home on the cover of some magazine. But, money is money, or whatever, so I guess you do what you gotta so long as it pays okay.

No matter what the girl said, though, Gigi was still in her skates, and there was no changing that, so she figured she might as well head to the door and get outta there if the girl was so pressed about it. Even if she was feeling the effects of not having eaten all day. As her tummy grumbled – loudly, too – she rolled her eyes. With a shrug, she shot the girl a wink. “Alright, fair. Like, shit, rules are no fun, but it's your job, so I won't make your day even shittier. Though, I should probably remember to bring, like, a freakin' donut or some shit next time too.”

With that, she laughed, figuring there was no harm done and she'd be on her way. Like, hungry or not, it was her own problem, not the cashier's. She watched as she reached up, stocking shelves while Gigi contemplated her predicament. She moved slowly, with no real drive to actually get the job done. Man, Gigi felt for her. As much as she understood what it was like to need that next wage slip like air, and she'd spent enough time on the streets knowing what it was like to have sweet fuck all, she couldn't even bear to think of herself wiling away the hours in a hellhole like this. She was lucky to have the lab, that much was for sure.

With a quick twirl, she began making her way back to the door that she'd entered through, hearing the soothing sound of the blades against the floor beneath her. She stopped short as she passed the girl, though, coming to a halt beside her. Twisting her body so as to face her, she cocked her head to the side, a cheeky grin gracing her features.

“Gotta ask, though. That's a Canadian accent, right? Aren't you guys meant to be, like, sickly sweet and a little nauseating?” she teased, hoping the girl wouldn't try and land her on her ass for the comment.

#moments: daisy1

cherrygrcvegossip

What’s the deal with Jim? Is someone gonna snap him up soon, or can I?

(via cherrygrcvegossip)

Y’know, we’re trying… ;)

Are we now?

(via knowwhereyouare)

Tic toc, Jimbo.

#confessions;#jim

cherrygrcvegossip

What’s the deal with Jim? Is someone gonna snap him up soon, or can I?

(via cherrygrcvegossip)

Y’know, we’re trying... ;)

#confessions;

sebastiansource

#madigan you mad as a hatter son;

Gigi loved her motorcycle. She was sleek, gorgeous, with fully adjustable suspension – front and back – and the ability to help her glide around town, swerving in and out of tiny spaces without so much as a scratch on its stunning red body. It was a Ducati (of course), and she was a goddess. Gigi considered herself to be a feminist, much like most, which was exactly why she was all on board with referring to her engine as a she; it was fast, reliable, and a better ride than any dick she'd found in town (sorry, Sam). Legally speaking, it had a horsepower of 169mph, but that wasn't quite so accurate. With a lot of adjustments on her part, she'd already amped it up to a sweet 420mph – hey, she couldn't afford a Tomahawk for the life of her, but that didn't mean she couldn't mimic one – with a little help from Sam, Jim, and Tadashi.

That was the thing about Gigi; she never stopped. She liked speed in all aspects of her life. She liked the sensation that came with the wind whipping through her leather jacket, she enjoyed the way her helmet clung to her head, protecting her should there ever be any kind of collision – there never was – and she especially enjoyed the way the engine rumbled between her legs. She liked to feel like she was ahead of the game, never left behind; those days were long gone.

That being said, today's form of transport was a little different. 'Cause sure, she liked the speed. She loved the way the motor purred beneath her as she squeezed down on the throttle, twisting the handlebar and hearing that same, therapeutic growl as her engine revved underneath her frame. There was nothing quite like it. But, from a young age, skates had been her best bet. Long before she'd ever figured out how to hot wire a car or bike, she'd been able to rely on a pair of blades beneath her feet to get her going. There was an added bonus of rolling around town, nothing to cage you, no engine to spur you on; only your legs pounding beneath you, the miniscule, fragile wheels carrying you as you picked up speed. She felt free. There was a sanctuary that came with holing herself up in the gym and pounding a leather bag until the sweat dripped from her brow, much as there was something soothing about feeling the unmistakable iron between her legs as she perched on her bike, but nothing truly freed her like working up a sweat on her own two feet.

She'd been racing around town all day, avoiding pretty much any trace of responsibility she had. She loved her work for sure, but sometimes she just needed to wind down. She'd been going for a solid three hours, never stopping, when she felt the unmistakable rumble of her stomach. She hadn't stopped to grab a coffee, hadn't even deigned to scrounge a slice of toast from Holly; she'd flown outta the door after a quick shower and hadn't turned back. Figuring she'd be better to see to her stomach before further exerting herself, she eyed a store nearby and made a move towards it. Twirling on the spot and dodging an old dude and his zimmerframe, she poured all of her focus into the ramp that steadily guided customers to the entrance of the store. With a smirk, she kicked a leg back beneath her and tore forwards, sliding upwards and, with a careful twist of her frame, flung herself forward, flipping her torso in the perfect front flip, before landing squarely back on her feet. Earning herself a few fascinated oooh's and aaah's from some kids nearby, Gigi shouldered the convenience door open and rolled on inwards, taking no notice of the warning signs on the doorway.

Instead, she rolled straight towards the cashier – forgoing any browsing or purchases – and addressed the cute blonde behind the counter.

“So, the sign on the door says no boards, no bikes, and no wheels,” she noted, addressing the woman head on while her hand lazily slid into her back pocket and pulled a stick of gum free. Propping it straight into her mouth, she began chewing, before vaguely gesturing downwards. “What's a chick to do when those wheels are attached to her feet? We good?”

#moments: daisy1 #daisy

rottentothecxre

↳INSTAGRAM: @rxttenmal uploaded a photo:

not super into giving a fuck today

carchasesandbubblegum

liked by female flash, ritapark and 13 others.

#insta: mal #mal #ooc: POINTLESS BUT ALSO GIGI LIKES HER HAIR OK

knowwhereyouare :

He knew why he was there. Anna had dragged him along. She had pulled out those puppy dog eyes, and of course he couldn’t say no, and so he had allowed her to drag him along to a party that wasn’t really his thing. Despite the fact that he had come here as Anna’s guest, the redhead had ditched him somewhere along the way to sneak off to the chocolate fountain with her sister. That was nearly an hour ago though, and so by now she had found her way on the dancefloor with that Hans dude she liked so much yet he wasn’t sure of.

Looking around, his eyes falling on all the people who surrounded him, Jim almost couldn’t feel more like the odd man out. As if the way everyone was dressed didn’t already remind him he was from a different class than they were, the names of some certainly enforced it. Despite the tuxedo that Anna had put him in, Jim still felt so out of place, but thankfully the party was open to everyone, meaning that there were more regular people around. People he liked and was comfortable around.

Somewhere along the way, Jim had undone the bowtie that felt as if it was suffocating him, and now it was just hanging casually around his neck. He’d have take it of if it were not for the fact that he’d rather not lose it since he knew how much these things actually costs, and he’d wouldn’t want to be in that kind of dept with Anna, even though he knew that girl wouldn’t mind one bit.

Taking a sip from his drink, mentally wishing he was drinking a beer instead, Jim’s eyes fell on an annoyed looking Adam Valois, only to see the man get softly slapped in the arm by Patricia, followed by a light reprimand from the woman. Letting out a chuckle, Jim found himself freezing in his place all of a sudden as a certain someone suddenly moved a lot closer than they were a moment ago.

As her voice rang in his ear, he mentally told himself to pull himself together and just as he was about to plaster a grin on his face and reply to her, Jim heard her final words and couldn’t help but choke back on his drink a little.

“Make out?” He coughed awkwardly. It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before. Gigi was hot. She was ridiculously smart, really cool, and he’d come to really appreciate the friendship that had grown between the two of them over the months, their flirtations and all. Yeah - he wanted to make out with her, but wanting to and being able to were to entirely different things.

“I uh…” He started of before pulling himself together. “Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?” He spoke casually, as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, a smile growing on his face.

Noticing the way that he spluttered momentarily on his drink, Gigi smirked. She liked Jim; he was sweet, good fun, crazy smart – enough so that the two could tussle and tease one another, easily able to keep up with the other when firing off facts and figures – and easy on the eyes, too. Fun as their flirtation was, the gentle blush that graced his cheeks every so often didn't go amiss to her, and it only further fuelled the teasing that she fired his way. It wasn't often that people could keep up with Gigi, and Jim had long since shown himself capable.

“Yup. Make out. You, me, a little swapping spits as the old folks like to say,” she retorted, nuzzling against his cheek.

Despite the blush on his cheek, she knew he was easily well matched for her, and was more than capable of responding in kind to her flirting. She eyed him curiously, noticing the way his little redhead had decked him out in the finest tux she'd ever clapped eyes on. If Gigi were the time to feel insecure, she might have been questioning her own choice of outfit. While Holly was clad in a gorgeous dress, and Barry was looking particularly dapper beside her, Gigi hadn't shied very far away from her usual get up. Still donning her usual, token leather jacket, Holly had helped her pick out a pair of black, thigh-high boots, and a sexy little purple dress that matched nicely with the streak in her hair (which, in all honesty, had grown on her since the meltdown she'd burdened her friend with). She knew she looked sexy. It didn't matter if she didn't fit in with the general crowd littered around the party – it was open invite, the Kingsley kid had made it so, and she was going to wear whatever she liked. She wasn't here to impress anyone.

“I mean, I could buy you dinner first...” she mused, deciding to entertain him for the time being. Feeling him curve his arm around her shoulders, Gigi decided to make herself comfortable, stretching her legs out and laying them across his lap. “Or, Jimbo, I could start your 2018 off with a bang, and then maybe, if you're lucky, I'll treat you to a Big Mac to treat your hangover tomorrow.”

Playfully, she wrapped her arms around his neck, making herself comfortable with her legs sprawled across his leg, and let her hands stray to his hair, combing her fingers through the strands carefully. Flirting and midnight kisses aside, Jim was still her friend, and she felt comfortable enough to give the boy beside her a cuddle when she was bored. Besides, she'd had a little much to drink tonight and was feeling particularly affectionate.

“We're easily the hottest two here, babe. Why not give everyone something to be jealous about?”

#moments: jim2 #jim

Kit Kingsley, Katherine Plumber, John Smith, Wendy Darwin, Isabella Tingley – the list could go on and on. Those were the names of people that Gigi tended to never associate with; the kind of people who had trust funds the size of a tiny Island, and who could afford to throw glamorous parties and invite everyone and noone without even the vaguest regard to cost. Not that it necessarily meant they were bad people – with the exception of that Smith dude, Gigi thought he was an asshat, misogynist and he and Frenchy needed to focus less on sucking each other off, and more on becoming decent human beings – but they just weren't the type of people Gigi got mixed up with. And that's exactly why it came as a surprise even to herself when she allowed herself to be dragged along to Kit's New Years Eve bash.

She knew Jim would also be in attendance – his little redhead friend had talked him into it – and, with Holly on her arm, the Nerd Squad soon followed. All in all, she figured there was safety in numbers. That was, of course, until Holly and Barry abandoned her for the dancefloor, and Fred just sort of... dispersed. She'd gotten used to him zoning in and out and disappearing over the years, and she figured he was no doubt off flirting up a storm with some cute girl that he had his eye on. She couldn't justifiably begrudge her friends for having a good time, but she scowled all the same. After all, they'd dragged her along to this stupid party, and now Holly – who, by the way, had promised to be her New Year's Kiss – was off having the time of her life with Bar while Gigi was stuck knocking back glasses of champagne that cost more than a whole month's wages ever earned her.

Letting out a groan, she cast a glance at Jim, who was perched on the sofa beside her, eyeing his glass curiously. She figured he probably wasn't a big fan of the vintage Krug they were knocking back either, and so she leaned in and tucked her chin against the boy's shoulder, knocking her nose against his cheek to catch his attention.

“Jiiiiiiiiiimmmm,” she whined petulantly, her breath hot against his skin. Frowning, she tilted her head to the side and let her cheek rest against his shoulder, before leaning across to wrap her arms around his middle and pull him closer.

Gigi wasn't the clingy type, but affection was nice every so often, and the two of them had worked up a nice little flirtation over the past few months she'd gotten to know him. He was hot, smart, and he knew how to keep her on her toes. It was the perfect friendship, and it was some kind of wonder he'd not managed to talk her into bed yet. She wasn't sure what his game was, but she was sure they'd end up there some time soon.

Not missing a beat, she playfully blew cold air against his cheek. “Wanna make out with me?”