"Since we're both off today, eventhough we might be on call but we'll ignore that for a second, there is just one question I need to ask you." Logan grabbed a diet soda out of the fridge before sitting down at the kitchen table opposite his roommate. "Do you want to stay in and watch some movies and just have us stuff ourselves with all this junk food or go out and have a drink and maybe even get the whole wingman thing going on?" Taking a sip of his drink, he leaned back into the chair. Both options were pretty good but he couldn't make that decision on his own. It was always nice to stay home with Indy, just watch some movies and have a good laugh whenever one chooses a horror movie and the other just sits there watching it in fear. But going out was great too. He's had a few fun nights when he let Indy play his wingman.
home sweet home. an oasis filled with varying forgotten take out containers and finite hours to devote to making it truly a lived in space. between the two of them, they barely logged a 40 hour work week's worth of time spent in their own beds. indiana didn't wat it any other way. no strings or hang ups; just two plucky young men trying to make a living while attempting to live a little. indiana hung his head back against the soft curve of the couch, counting the first few squares on the ceiling before turning his gaze to the stocky blonde to his left. "logan, my friend, when you phrase it like that you make it sound dirty. plus, let's peel that thought of being called upon out of the mother fucking universe, yeah? all the cats in the neighborhood remain on the sidewalk and out of the trees for me. no dog eatin' grapes or grass to be plagued with explosive vomit for you. i did see they dropped that new b rated slasher on tubi. i know that it's horrible but the art has heart with a mcdonald's budget..." he hummed. "...but when was the last time we had a day off in the same week? i can dust my wings off to hook you a beauty, if you're askin' for the help."
Open to anyone, they're at LouLou's for lunch! Either there together or she's just chatting to whoever is closest lol
@pinehavenstarters
Sometimes Kitty couldn't help but read through the comments people left on her videos, especially the hate comments. She'd learned by now that there would always be nasty things said about her on the internet, because people simply couldn't help themselves. And she'd learned to ignore them. But sometimes people's creativity when it came to being a hater was too good to pass up. "She looks like a fish..." Kitty read aloud, looking up at the person closest to her. "Do I look like a fish? Tell the truth..." She didn't even know in what way this stranger thought she looked like a fish, but she didn't, did she? And if she did, what kind of fish specifically? Like, one of the really cool looking pretty ones? Or was she giving Blobfish?
"mermaids are fish--and they're the most beautiful creatures in the sea. you give off mermaid, if you ask me, so yeah you look like a fish." vivienne flipped lazily through the magazine she had snagged off the counter. she needed something to hide behind; the last thing she needed was a "fatherly" lecture from rocky. she promised that she'd stop being a stranger but stumbling into lou lou's three sheets to the wind after some rhubarb pie did not exactly bode well with her intended crowd. she slide into space beside the young woman, a sly smile curled up on her lips. "did you order yet? I'm starving.." she held for a beat before holding her hand out. "i'm vivienne but you can call me vivi."
francesca's gaze lingered on the small wedge of visibility into the kitchen as the heavy black doors slowly swung to a close. a soft, mischievous smile furled up on her pout lips. "oh my love, you haven't laid eyes on the elusive creature in the back? blonde curls, stamped with tattoos, and a look of pure toiling mystery. you'd want a bite too.." she paused with a brief, shallow inhale. "..but you're right. we're in pinehaven on a life saving mission for great success and the safe return of a woman's mojo. the woman being tris but that doesn't mean we can't play the field without strings." with a soft click of her tongue, she had agreed silently. "rocky does have one set of buns on him but we're cute and demure--so we won't lust openly. although, it's a race babe. whoever gets him to bed faster wins all the bragging rights. do you think the carpet matches the beard or he's a bald eagle in the downstairs department?"
"no more shots for you," he hummed softly. indiana pushed the frosty glass of water towards indy with a knowing kink in his brow. "drink up indigo. you've been buffering at the table for fifteen minutes now and if we're going to live to see the next morning you need to sober up. i suggested pre-gaming at some fancy gastropub since we're avoiding the same bartender at mcnastys but that didn't mean i want you to get too fucked up to support ginger."
the swelteringly oppressive heat carried relentlessly through twilight, bidding farewell to setting sun, in great anticipation of the rising moon. a defiant and stubborn spike in weather unnatural for this time of the year. it seemed even in pinehaven, no one was safe from the winds of change. indiana sat back against the stool observing the maniac pulse of the evening crowd at mcnastys. his fingers curled delicately around whatever hipster IPA bullshit this evening's bartender wanted to peddle. the condensation dribbled down the smooth glass neck and seeped into the callused pads of his fingers. a soft light broke through the heavy hazy and a spark of recognition fired in his brain at the soft silhouette basking in the backlight of the balmy evening. "well look who it is. i thought the rumors are false that the ari kaplan dared step foot on familiar soil. I'd be damned."
with each soft tick of the clock, the euphoria evaporated into vapor before becoming an untraceable element in the ether. he desperately attempted to hoard whatever thrill was left but came up short. her drowsy frame suddenly drifted into view. a soft rise and fall of her chest deep in the shallow waters of the dreamland. this was his moment to make his grand exit; or whatever that would look like slipping through the high tech alarm drilled into the wooden door frame. he couldn't help but notice the stark juxtaposition of his scuffed work boots and patched jeans beside her manolos--fuck they cost more than his monthly salary. indiana grabbed at his jeans, shimming ever so gingerly into them, before rising from the bed.
Open to anyone! Feel free to assume a prior connection
A stack of flyers in hand, Kick headed into town to make sure every single resident of Pinehaven knew Afterglow had a show coming up. They'd played McNasty's plenty of nights, enough that everyone of age had probably seen them already, but Kekoa still acted like it was their first show ever. He boarded down the street, holding out a flyer for anyone willing to take one. When one fluttered to the ground instead of making it safely into someones hand, Kick skidded to a stop and scooped it up. "Hey, you've got to come... it's going to be killer." He gave them a cheeky grin, waggling his brows as he offered them a flyer.
for about half a block, he had watched the chaotic creature weave in and out of view with a heap of material haphazardly blowing in the mind. indy, a natural observer, couldn't help but trail behind under the guise that it was simply apart of his normal walk back to the station. he couldn't help the low reaching laughter that vibrated warmly in his belly. it didn't take long for him to identify the strange fellow. his movements were sharp and goofy; almost like a baby deer just figuring out to walk on his own. had indy not known kekoa personally, he would have assumed the person capitalized on the half priced pints at Mcnasty's. "i don't think the flyer is necessary, kekoa, you know i'll be there. don't waste the good paper on me. who tasked you with this job? don't you have an instagram account? you know the kids here begging for something to go feral over, why not a good rager with good music."
the fluorescent lights of the pinehaven value village racks hummed a steady b flat, matching the low end vibration ginger usually coaxed out of her fender. she parted a sea of scratchy, seventy percent polyester prom dresses with a loud clack clack clack of her ring adorned fingers, eyes scanning the goods faster than she could thrust the fabrics aside. "i'm telling you, the vibe for the mcnasty's gig needs to be totally immaculate," ginger said, her jaw working absently on a piece of gum wedged between her back teeth. she peered through a gap in the hangers, eyes locking onto a chaotic row of pastel tulle. "i can't just hit the stage looking like regular degular human being. i need some serious theatrical seasoning. otherwise, what am i even doing up there? just making noise in the back of a pub, lame." she paused for a fraction of a second, fully aware and entirely unapologetic about the fact that her companion was likely completely accustomed to, and perhaps slightly exhausted by her rapid stream of consciousness monologues.
"i feel like i can feel a very anti supportive vibe coming from your side of the rack, and to that I say. oh ye of little faith," with a dramatic flourish, she dove past a puffy, neon peach monstrosity that smelled vaguely of forgotten mothballs, ancient aqua net, and stale seventies hairspray. sinking deep into the unsorted, claustrophobic jungle of thrifted fabrics, she disappeared for a moment. then, from the absolute depths of the mountain of clothes, her voice suddenly emerged, singing out a soaring, mock angelic hymn of pure victory that was surely an indication she had discovered something worth exalting. a triumphant hand shot straight up into the fluorescent light, a pair of radically baggy plaid trousers emerging victoriously from the clutter. "boom!" she cheered loudly, surfacing from the rack and holding the massive trousers up against her frame with an expression of total, absolute satisfaction. "tell me this isn't a certified thrifting miracle."
the audible warnings that blared through the lazy, shag carpeted alley with an uncanny predicability. a low hum worming its way through the stale air with ease in tune with the rhythm tapping of cheap gold plated silver. the air on the back of his neck raised in attention with each scrapping screech of the hanger's hook against the stall rack. when cobbled together, the symphonic blend clearly announced the landfall of hurricane ginger rose. a storm that raged with such intensity that it rattled any living being with a heart beat into submission. thankfully, he never minded the cyclone of spontaneity; call it in vitro indoctrination. indy loved his sister with every fiber of his being. enough to pull him out of bed on the his first day off in a week. who knew how fertile firemen were or maybe it was just the emergence of a winter's long slump in pinehaven.
nevertheless, she requested an audience and he rose with the dead to oblige. his broad shoulders melted into the well worn wooden panels that screamed a fire hazard. his thoughts lazily circling the various infractions that barely scraped past the codes for the region. indy tapped the toe of his steel tipped boots against the clawed foot of the thrifted recliners that nestled in the valley of delicately loved clothing. "does mcnasty's really have a vibe?" his question bounced off the towers of flammable bunches of tulle and spandex. indy followed the crest of her head before it dove back into the racks. he picked at his cuticles, an absentminded habit, while he hummed along with the generic pop blend playing overhead.
with a kinked brow, he accepted the overabundant joy that blossomed in her rising cadence. "i don't know, gin.. they look like pants you sweep chimneys in. pop definitely has one of those oliver twist paperboy hats for you. you can revive newsies in the middle of your solo; a real "artistic" twist on heavy metal."
pet peeves: the first and middle name his parents so gracious bestowed upon him, boat shoes without socks, the taste of mint, people who eat the creme filling of an oreo first, .
BIOGRAPHY:
there was nothing less magical than being the child born in second place. indiana broke into the fragile bliss of virginia's existence like a hammer through glass. he announced his arrival with an unbridled scream, a hollering hello, to show the world that second didn't have to be dull.
the family had become a complete square, four different souls all mingling comfortably in the world they built. indiana wouldn't have it any other way. aside from the god awful name that followed him like a shadow. indiana jones rose wasn't exactly an action hero but it always brought laughter to his parents.
where viriginia was soft and creative, indiana was brash and hard. he believes that only he's allowed to tease her for all of her wilds traits. if anyone dared to speak ill in her presence, he would happily cram his fist down their throats.
indy was dreamed about the ice. before he could run, he could skate, taking to the ice by the age of two. his prowess on the ice came from his father's rooted love for the game and the twist of the generic wheel. by the time he was ten, indy already outranked all of the kids in his age range and began playing for with the older boys on his traveling team. indy had a dream to taste gold and play for the NHL.
since his family wasn't the most financially abundant, his father and mother worked hard to shield him from the dramatic toll of the cost. him and viriginia wanted for nothing when they were growing up. by sixteen, indy was spending more and more time away from the family to pursue his dream. one day, he searched around his father's den for the tape for his stick, when he came across the refinance paperwork on their family home. in that moment, his desire for the glory of the game faded. he couldn't stomach the sacrifice that his parents were making on his behalf.
in that moment, indy chose his family over the game. indy purposely took a gnarly check from the opposing team which resulted in a torn ACL. indy informed his parents that after his injury he didn't want to return to game. if he couldn't be great, he didn't want to do it.
deep down, he regrets his decision to walk away.
indy plays for a beer league hockey team (amateur adult hockey league) in town --which is really just the boys shooting around and hoping not to break their necks.
with a new direction, indy graduated unremarkably from high school. with all of the days he missed, he was by no means valedictorian but he was smart. he took a couple community classes at the local college before he took his firemen's exam. due to his athletic build and quick thinking, he aced the exam at the top of the class.