[aidenwest]

Seeking out a job is deeming to be harder than Aiden originally thought, especially when he isn’t settling. The last thing he wants to do is to go from third in charge to being a kitchen hand, but a job’s a job and he’s learning to suck it up and fast. He’s starting to lose his mind not working most of the time; he went from being at his place of employment from eight in the morning to eight at night, and that’s how he liked it in a sense. He had weekends off which he spent most of the time going out clubbing, getting laid or drinking and occasionally having a few smokes out in the garage of a friends house. Now however, during the day he’s bored out of his mind. It’s nice to have some spare time but jeez, he doesn’t need this much spare time. After an unsuccessful day of interviews, he decides that a cheap and decent coffee  is in order. It’s late and the diner is the perfect place to head to.

He hasn’t been sitting down with his coffee for long, in fact the coffee is just a bit too hot for his liking. For once he keeps the complaint to himself, being wrapped up in his own thoughts to express the negativity. His thoughts are being ripped from him however as the sound of glass breaking fills the diner, his interest piquing instantly as he lifts his head to see where the noise came from. He notices the distress on the poor waitresses features and it brings an amused smirk to his lips; this is probably the most entertaining thing that’s happened all day and he just cannot keep his smart-ass remarks to himself after the incident. “Nice one, love,” he comments, fingers delicately resting on his mug. “You should probably pay attention to where you’re waving your hands then these things wouldn’t happen. Imagine the amount of paperwork you would have to complete if it were to hit and injure someone.” He hisses at the thought of just how much paperwork there would be for an incident report. “Plus, it’s cute seeing that you’re blushing.” 

[elliiots-blog]

“I — yeah,” she mumbles out in complacency, not bothering to drift off into great detail about her entity of an employer. It’s not like he cares; even she doesn’t have much desire for explanations. She’s too busy trying to make sure she doesn’t accidentally crush a piece of glass underneath the pair of sneakers she’s owned since she was in high school or impale herself in the hand and bring about even more humiliating behavior. God forbid she give anyone else an excuse to look in her direction that isn’t to ask for a refill or to get the check to hurry up. She doesn’t even enjoy the people aspect of her job, no reason to involve herself with them even more. 

“Wait, sorry?” Almost consciously, Elliot reaches up and feels her cheeks with the back of her hand, to see if he’s right. Sure enough, he is. “Oh,” is all she utters. “Just...tired, that’s all. Late shift and everything.” She tries to keep her head cast downwards, focused on her pile of napkins that are drenched with what was formerly her coffee in the slight prayer that it serves as a deterrent to any more conversation.

[eviegdi-blog]

She’s left Brooklyn with Payton for the night. Ordinarily, it’s so she can have a night on the town – maybe call someone up to go get absolutely plastered with her. Payton never judges when Evie comes stumbling home with a few hickeys as her trophy of a successful night clubbing. Tonight, however, she’s just emotionally drained and needs to step away from her ray of sunshine daughter so she can feel at peace in her naturally brooding demeanor without dragging the tiny blonde down with her. She knows the diner is open late and fits within her price range since she’s not going to be paid for a few more days yet. Her sketchbook is splayed out in front of her, graphite smudged on the side of her palms as she doodles tattoo ideas with a run down pencil. For the most part, the traffic to the dining establishment has been abysmal which is just the way Evie prefers it; the less contact with people, the better.

It’s that desire for a solitary evening with her own cup of coffee and her art that has her eyes snapping up accusingly at the disturbing clatter and the sound of breaking glass. “The fuck?” she hisses automatically before her gaze properly assesses the situation. It would seem that the waitress is the clumsy sort and her next scathing retort melts away into a little smirk. It’s not that she’s especially glad that the worker has spilled her drink. The liquid spreads quickly and even requires that Evie lifts her heeled boots onto the chair across from her own so as to avoid getting them damp. She simply finds joy in the misery of others in a general sense; it’s not a crime. She takes another slow drink from her own cup to hide her self satisfied expression, waiting a beat after swallowing before addressing the kneeling girl. “You know, it’s a good thing this place is dead as a ghost town – or else your projectile coffee cup could have recklessly endangered other patrons. Does that come out of your paycheck?” She isn’t sure why she’s initiating conversation; maybe it’s simply because her amusement at the scene in front of her is overpowering her aversion to interacting with the human race.

[elliiots-blog]

Elliot had only briefly noticed the other woman when she had walked in — the jingle of bells that reverberates through the diner every time someone steps foot isn’t the quietest of noises, but now her presence has gone from being in the background of Elliot’s mind to the forefront, a thorn now stabbing her in the abdomen. It seemed as though tonight’s drastically tipping from a quiet evening that provides a space of empty time that could be spent writing until being relieved from her duties to playing the role of a people person, scrambling to fix her absent-minded mistake before it garners any more attention.

Her cheeks start to burn, and whether it’s out of frustration with herself that she’s done something so stupid, embarrassment that someone has drawn more eyes in her direction, or irritation at how she’s quickly gone from the same color as her surroundings to the butt end of someone else’s sharp laughter. Elliot continues to gather shards from the once-cup, careful not to clench her fist around the edges. “That would insinuate my paycheck was of a decent value.” The words roll off Elliot’s tongue quickly, directed towards the legs of the chair rather than her company. Smoothing out her apron as she rises from the floor, she glances at the other woman’s coffee cup, her shoulders square. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks, her voice a bit too stiff and a 

[elliiots-blog]

Drumming her fingers along the counter top, Elliot watches as the slow trickle of people pass by the expanses of window lining her place of employment. It’s always stragglers, she notices, always aiming to blend in with the shadows and avoid the small patches of light lining the street. She had always anticipated a night life that thrived, flourished when the moon replaced the sun in the sky, but in this part of town, any sign of life was more than what was expected. Short fingernails click against the counter hypnotically, the brunette quickly falling into a rhythm. 

It was easy to fall into a state of absent-mindedness, it was why she preferred the night shift. The tips were mediocre any time a customer stepped in the door, and it wasn’t as though the pay was high to begin with, but it gave her a little money and she didn’t have to deal with unruly customers who were desperate to pick a fight with their underpaid, under-appreciated waitress that wouldn’t defend herself to save her own life. Chocolate-colored eyes still glued to the window, her hand starts knocking around for the mug of coffee she’d prepared for herself, in attempt to keep her moving through the shift without wanting to doze off. She only realizes that her hand had met contact with the ceramic when she carelessly waved around, sending her drink off the counter with a shatter. Coffee went everywhere, and the rush of color to the girl’s cheeks was almost a natural response to the incident. “Shit,” she murmurs under her breath, spinning around on the stool to grab a handful of napkins from the dispenser. Elliot kneels on the ground, careful to pick around the shards to avoid furthering her embarrassment with an injury. Head down, bangs starting to fall in her eyes, she grabs a napkin from the pile in her lap and begins to try to soak up her spilled drink without additional witnesses.

[elliiots-blog]

hi beauts! my name is taylor and i’m really super excited to be here; it’s been an interesting week to say the least and i’ve been itching to roleplay somewhere that’s, well, pretty much everything this group is! and thus, i arrived

this is elliot, my small writing child who is pretty accustomed to loneliness and works the late night shift at a local diner just because she prefers not to have to deal with customers (and she’s a night owl, but besides the point)

a little on her, since it’ll be a bit before i can get that handy dandy bio up:

elliot was a foster child for most of her life; her birth mother was raising her alone up until she had to put her up for adoption when el was about six months old

she never really found a home while bouncing around from foster parent to foster parent, it was either she wasn't a right fit for the family or they had enough kids already and were merely holding onto her until they could find another place for her

that was the root of longing, her never being able to find the love that she so desperately sought for and dreamed about

elliot was rather kept-to and didn't socialize with many of the kids in her grade growing up, mostly because she saw no reason in making friends she'd just have to say goodbye to in a few months when she was shipped off to a new home

when she was eighteen and old enough to legally leave foster care, she barely had enough cash on her to find a place to stay, so she decided to stay in baltimore so they wouldn't reroute her back into the system

when she was eighteen, she was a relationship that she thought she was getting the most out of and would be it with a capital i for her, but ended up turning into an abusive situation that she couldn't get out of because a) she thought he would change and she clung to the hope that things would work themselves out in the end and b) because the minute she left the relationship, she was out on the streets and the system had their eye on her, already wary of the living situation she was in and colors is a way to describe her feelings towards said relationship

that's how she ended in marlborough, the minute the foster system stopped keeping such a close eye on her and moved onto other cases she left her boyfriend in the middle of the night, travelling to the other side of the city and wandering into the complex late at night with only a couple hundred dollars to her name and a desperation in her tired eyes

she so desperately wants to write for a living; she wants to write novels and poetry but no one has ever taken a chance on her and she can hardly find the inspiration to finish anything due to the low lack of muse thanks to the lackluster life she lives

for the most part, elliot is a gentle spirit; she doesn't like confrontation and avoids it as much as possible, quiet in her words and often detached from the rest of the world mostly because she sees no reason to trust the very world that has screwed her over so many times and is very, very pessimistic 

i’m getting ready to hit the hay since i’m getting up early in the morning to set out for the beach, but i really really really want to start plotting with you all! send me a message or like this post or whatever you prefer and fingers crossed i’ll have a starter up very very soon

i cannot wait to start roleplaying with each and every one of you! xx

[got-news]

Selena Gomez as Dot in The Revised Fundamentals Of Caregiving (2016)