the moment the rusted, copper colored sedan swung aggressively into the gravel lot, the ancient silver amplifier on the back shelf began to hum with a low voltage, electric menace. saffy’s thumb brought the volume dial up with a slow, ruthless twist, unleashing a wall of sound that transformed the dusty corners of the shop into something resembling a haunted assembly line. a high pitched dental commercial from 1987 collided violently with the rapid, metallic stutter of a broken smith corona typewriter, bouncing off the old concert posters and turning the air thick with auditory confusion.
saffy kept their face expressionless as ralphie practically kicked the front door open, the bell above the frame letting out a tiny, smothered jingle against the noise. the poor kid looked entirely out of his depth, his gaze darting frantically from the heavy crown of saffy’s dark dreadlocks down to kick’s frozen grin. it was a beautiful, terrible piece of localized performance art. saffy didn't even blink, methodically sliding a pristine copy of an old blue note reissue into a plastic sleeve with the solemn precision of a monk, completely ignoring the fact that a looped car alarm sample was currently drilling a hole through the store's atmosphere. saffy’s left ear caught the exact second the bill changed hands, followed immediately by the desperate, rubber soled squeal of ralphie’s sneakers as he executed a flawless retreat.
the moment the door slammed shut and the copper camry peeled out of the gravel lot, saffy’s stony composure completely fractured. they hit the kill switch on the deck, plunging spin cycle back into a deep, hazy silence, and instantly doubled over against the counter, bursting into a rare fit of laughter that had their locs spilling over their shoulders as they leaned heavily on the glass, completely wrecked by the absurdity of the last sixty seconds. "a masterclass," saffy pronounced, wiping a tear from the corner of their eye as they reached across the glass for the steaming cardboard box. a unhinged grin still splitting their features, a silent admission of how much they loved having kick as a co conspirator who would willingly drown in avant garde noise just for a joke.
"your delivery was a little shaky on the brother, but the smile really sold the psychological damage. he’s going to be thinking about that typewriter tape for the next three business days." they flipped the box lid open, the heavy scent of caramelized fruit and extra dairy immediately hitting the air. saffy grabbed the first slice, the cheese pulling away in a long, dramatic string that they caught expertly with a napkin. "all hail the cheese loyalist."
"I was literally about start laughing or, like, crying in poor Ralph's face! We genuinely might have done some psychological damage on that kid," Kekoa laughed, watching as Saffy flipped open the pizza box and giving him his first glance of the oh so beautiful pie. His mouth started to water. He fucking loved pizza so much. Even more when he was high as a kite. "I'll have to ask my boy later if Ralphie said anything when he made it back..." It wouldn't be the first time Harun would hear about Kick's antics secondhand, and it wouldn't be the last.
Kekoa grabbed a slice of pizza and took the biggest bite he could manage without being obscene about it. He chewed slowly, savoring the cheese and pineapple and everything else that came together to make such a yummy food. "I love Italy," Kekoa said once the first bite went down. He immediately took another, still talking even with food in his mouth. "Like, they really got their shit figured out over there... food wise, anyway."
Finishing off his first slice, Kekoa remembered they'd also ordered lava cakes. The smaller box had gotten hidden when the pizza box was opened. He closed the lid of the pizza and grabbed the desserts, popping it open. "Gotta eat these while they're hot!" Kick said, picking up one of the cakes. He took a bite, leaning his head back so the chocolate inside would pour down his throat and not down the front of his shirt. "I love eatiiiinnnnggg!" He shouted, pumping his free fist in the air. Being high, eating, and hanging out with one of his favorite people. That's a good ass day in Kekoa's book.
the monotony of the day could really drag on if not for little moments like this . best friends interrupting the midday quiet , and bearing gifts , no less . it was out of her control when she smiled , arms crossed as kick danced his way toward the counter . with anyone else it might have been annoying , but with someone who was borderline a sibling to her , it was more endearing than not .
“ yes to coming over , yes to the chameleons , no to ‘ schmoking ’ a bowl . i'm on a tolerance break , ” she sighed , as if that was truly something she needed to be sad about . she got to hang around the stuff all day , if nothing else . she'd be back to her regular antics in a week or so . “ but i'll gladly sit around and watch you turn into even more of a goofball than usual . what's new at spins ? ”
"A tolerance break? Boo... tomato, tomato!" Kekoa stuck a thumb down and wrinkled his nose. He should probably do the same but, alas, he likely wouldn't. It was fine though because he'd hang out with Davenia cold stone sober any day of the damn week. "Probably for the best, though, you can stop me from eating all of my granny's cookies... they're those brown butter chocolate chip ones that are fucking good! They're gonna be calling my name once I get a little silly..." And then sober Kekoa would feel bad about eating all of his granny's treats!
"Same ol' same ol', man," Kick said, leaning an arm against the counter. "Oh, but someone did bring in, like, three boxes of vinyl's the other day... I guess their dad passed or something so they donated his collection... so we've been going through those to see if there's anything worth anything." That was one part he liked about the job. He and Saffy had been appraising the albums and then listening to them one by one. Whoever they belonged to had good taste. "What about here? Comin' up with any new strains?"
finger guns pointed at kekoa , she nodded . “ the works , coming right up ! ” it was truly an art form , putting together a sandwich that could clog an artery all on its own . no matter how bad it was , though , it still tasted amazing . all of the flavors really came together , melding into one beautiful blend that set off fireworks in the mouth . she had only had one . . . or two of them during her stint working the booth so far , but she was sure she could hike that number up to three by the end of the summer bash . they were too good to ignore , and her employee discount plummeted the price down to zero . free food was free food , after all .
“ i actually did calculate the calories one morning , ” she said with a nod . “ and you're right . you don't want to know how many this contains . ” it was at least the daily intake , plus some extra , but hey - it had protein in it , right ? that had to count for something ! “ stuck isn't the word i would use . more like happily glued . let's go with that , ” she added , drizzling on another layer of aioli as requested before handing the finished product over to kick . “ eat up ! i do have a barf bag at the ready , should you need one . ”
"Keep that to yourself, please and thank you!" Kekoa laughed. The amount of calories in this thing was simply none of his business. He'd probably have to fast for a week just to make up for it. He didn't follow in strict diet, but he kept it pretty healthy at home for his granny. It was entirely possible he'd pay for this potential mistake later. Alas, wasn't going to stop him from eating it. Kekoa took the sandwich greedily, licking his lips in anticipation.
"I'm a man," Kekoa said in an overly macho and extremely teasing tone. "Men don't barf!" He opened his mouth wide and took the biggest bite he could manage of the chicken sandwich. Kick moaned in pleasure. "Fucking hell..." He said as he chewed. "This shit is crazy..." Truly unlike anything he'd ever tried and he could probably eat six of them without breaking a sweat. "Where's that boss of yours?" Kekoa took another bite, making a show of looking around for Rocky. "Rocky Hughes! Give this girl a raise!" He shouted once the bite went down.
vada adjusted her stance, ensuring her silk trousers remained free from any errant dust devils kicked up by the passing foot traffic. "i'd hire him an assistant, but it wouldn't be altering his fundamental nature. it would simply be installing a necessary guardrail," she murmured, her voice a cool contrast to the stifling humidity under the canvas. "but, the current alternative is allowing him to drift through life like a very charming, heavily tattooed tumbleweed." she watched the younger girl take a theatrical breath of the heavy, saturated air, a display vada found almost exhausting to witness. to her it smelled like a tactical assault on her sinuses, a chaotic collision of melted wax and artificial sweeteners that threatened to compromise her pristine composure.
yet, as katherine stood there with her curls fluffed, her bag clutched tightly, and her face lit up with an unironic, sunny enthusiasm for local crafts, vada felt a sudden, unexpected crack in her icy facade. beneath the calculated socialite exterior and the relentless need to critique everything in her vicinity, her secret, soft heart gave a small, defeated tug. there was an earnestness to katherine that was, quite frankly, entirely adorable. it was infuriating how quickly the girl’s bright energy could disarm a room, making vada feel less like a weaponized litigator and more like an indulgent older sister. she quickly smoothed her expression before anyone could witness the lapse in her defenses. when katherine thrust the amber jar toward her face, vada recoiled by a fraction of an inch, her gaze dropping to the neatly aligned typography on the label before she allowed her nose to evaluate the product. she took a brief, controlled breath.
"it lacks the chemical harshness of a synthetic limeade, i will grant you that," vada conceded, her tone dropping into a calmer, more reflective cadence as she reached out to lightly touch the smooth rim of the glass. "the citrus note possesses an actual sharpness, likely a cold pressed bergamot rather than a standard lime. which anchors the sweetness of the fruit before it becomes entirely unpalatable." she looked at the vendor, offering a brief, polite nod that signaled her approval of the technical execution, before turning her attention back to katherine.
"your previous description of a celestial aroma involving stationery was far more sophisticated than this particular concoction," vada noted, a slight, almost imperceptible soften in her posture as she gestured toward a different, more subdued jar on the shelf labeled driftwood and sea salt. "this one is pleasant enough for a patio on a summer evening, but if we are discussing true indulgence, one should aim for something with a heavier, more grounding wood base. set that one down for a moment and sample this. it has a much cleaner silhouette."
"Let's be honest, he'd probably sleep with whoever you hired," Kitty laughed, then grimaced. "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear that." She was still grinning, though, because she couldn't help it. Jazz was so charming, you couldn't help but love him. Vada surely knew that better than anyone. Kitty had a soft spot in her heart for older siblings. Christine was her everything, and she felt bad for the younger sister's out there who may not have a good relationship with their older sibling. As exhausting as Jazz may be, she was positive that Vada wouldn't have it any other way.
"That's a compliment," Kitty said towards the woman behind the table, smiling and nodding at her. Vada's nod only confirmed it. Handing the candle over to the vendor, Kitty opened her purse to pull out the cash she'd brought along with her today. She loved to shop, and often times didn't need to be talked into buying something. She made her own money, she could do whatever she wanted with it! Kitty especially loved supporting small businesses in her own community.
Kitty leaned in, taking a sniff of the candle Vada held. She hummed her approval, and nodded her head. "That one is really nice!" There was something clean and simple about it. It wasn't trying to smell like a fruity drink, it was just classic. Kitty loved a fun candle as much as the next girl, but you could never go wrong with a timeless scent. "It reminds me of the ocean..." And Kitty loved the ocean.
"Do you want that one?" Kitty asked Vada as the vendor turned around to wrap her candle up in bubble wrap. "My treat, I insist!" Vada could afford her own candles, but Kitty still insisted. Even if helping her take pictures wasn't that hard of a job, she still wanted to thank Vada in someway more than words. Plus, shopping for her friends was almost as fun as shopping for herself.
a quiet, ghost of an amusement brushed against the corners of orion’s mouth at the suggestion of an inevitable compulsion. she had watched it happen to a hundred different bodies under her needles; the sudden fracture in the hesitation, the quick transition from a single, cautious drop of ink to an insatiable craving to map out the entire wilderness of the skin. "it's a particular kind of hunger," orion murmured, her dark eyes tracking the slow, fluid way kitty turned her wrist in the fading solstice air. "once you realize you can rewrite the blank spaces of your own frame, the quiet of the unblemished skin starts to feel a bit too loud. it wouldn't surprise me if you ended up a regular at my station."
she didn't pull her fingers back immediately, letting her pale touch linger just close enough to guide the invisible geometry of the piece along kitty's inner arm. under the heavy indigo of the sky, she could feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere between them. when kitty snapped her fingers, the sudden brightness of the sound sliced cleanly through the low murmur of the nearby lake water, pulling a rare, genuine huff of a laugh from deep within orion's chest. "marcus would probably tell you that your devotion is the only commission i'm permitted," orion remarked, a incredibly exaggeration for the man who she considered a father figure. "but feel free to complain to him if it speeds up your arrival. the shop has been entirely too quiet lately anyway."
the promise of the honey cake brought a surprisingly warmth to the hollow space behind orion's ribs. mamaw grace’s baking was legendary within the small geography of pinehaven, a sweet, heavy tradition that tasted of things orion had never quite been allowed to keep for herself. to have that sweetness brought directly into the sharp scented air of swept away felt like a bizarre, beautiful offering. "if you bring a whole honey cake to the shop, the other's will probably mutiny to steal your appointment," orion warned softly, though her dark eyes remained fixed on kitty with an uncharacteristic tenderness. "but i'll protect the table. tell your sister that the ink is already waiting for the two of you, whenever the night finally calls you in."
"What do you think fuels it?" Kitty asked. She reached for her flask again and open it to take another swig of her whiskey. Before she put it away, she held it out towards Orion, then continued. "Like, is it the thrill of the pain? Or our collective innate desire to be unique?" Everyone wanted to be at least a little different from the people around them. At least, that's what Kitty thought. Sure, there were trends that the masses followed, but even so, no one wanted to be exactly the same. Getting tattoos set people apart from each other. "Or just... is it just biology? Like, literally, it's addictive because tattoos release dopamine?" Probably a mix of all the above.
"Ugh Marcus," Kitty groaned playfully, dropping her head back between her shoulders. She looked back up at Orion when the other girl mentioned how slow the shop at been. That was kind of surprising to her. She felt like she saw a new tattoo crop up on another friend every time she went out! But Kitty would take Orion's word for it. "I'll talk to Christine soon," She promised.
"You know I love being fought over," Kitty teased, flipping her hair over her shoulder. That wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely false either. She liked attention, and wouldn't deny anyone from giving it to her. She mostly loved giving things to the people she cared about. Kitty was a friends girl. She had a lot of them, and she liked to treat them when she can. That's what being from a small town was all about, right?
"I'm sure you'll get a text from me soon," Kitty said. "You and Jazz, he'll riot if he finds out the idea he put into my head bypassed him completely."
"it's an internal catalog, not a rolodex. index cards are a inefficient," shreya muttered. the reprimand lacked any real venom, the words flowing mechanically as she secured her equipment case. she snapped the heavy canvas buckles with sharp, steady tugs, her focus already detaching from his impromptu monologue on scent and pivoting back toward the immediate, shadowed perimeter of the graveyard. she offered a dry, mock serious look at his threats of a gamma irradiated power ups, a involuntary twitch at the corner of her lips giving away her amusement as she stood up and brushed the loose pine needles from her knees. "please try to maintain your regular human shape until we at least reach the main gate."
her attention caught instantly as the plastic cylinder was hoisted into the air like a minor, triumphant holy grail. the green tinted luminescence of the overgrown canopy snagged on the amber fluid inside, transforming the murky condensation into something that genuinely resembled a vial of bottled magic. his loud, unbridled celebration ricocheted off the weathered marble headstones, puncturing the heavy solemnity of the cemetery with a burst of pure, contagious energy.
she was acutely aware that this was not how normal twenty somethings spent their free time. it was one thing to be at the mortuary during her official apprentice hours, surrounded by the structured, professional logic of death, but sneaking into a cemetery after dark to hoard bug moisture was an entirely different brand of bizarre. she had always an anomaly in pinehaven; the girl with the sharp edges, the strange fixations, and a total indifference to local opinion. yet watching a grown man champion a tube of graveyard water with absolute, uncritical sincerity did something strange to her defenses. a sudden, quiet warmth bloomed in her chest, melting the rigid symmetry of her posture.
"keep your voice down, you're going to wake up the crows," she chided, though the warning carried no real authority as she closed the distance between them and held out her hand. she looked from the vial up to his wide, triumphant grin, her own mouth curving into a small smile. "and it's mostly just highly acidic rain and moss runoff. but...yeah, we're saving the bugs. the data from this means the county can't push that highway construction through their habitat next month. so you can officially take some of the credit."
"A rolodex spins... that makes it more efficient automatically." Kekoa said matter-of-factly. Anything that moved when it could stay still seemed like a more efficient way to go in his opinion. If he was being entirely honest, he didn't really see what the difference was between an internal catalog and a rolodex. A catalog was a list of items, a rolodex was a circle of items. So... same thing, just a different shape. Everyone had a different way of keeping things straight in their head, some people had a list, some people had a spinning wheel. Kick's brain was like a giant cork board with strings connection shit together.
"Good, I want to be friends with a crow!" Kekoa said, glancing around to see if he could spot one. Ever since he learned that crows remember faces, he was hellbent and determined to be friends with one. He wanted a bird to bring him shiny things just because he was nice to them. He didn't discriminate when it came to making friends. If a bird wanted to be his friend then hell yeah, he was down.
Kick handed over the vial, his smile growing even wider when Shreya agreed that they were saving the bugs. He wasn't that up to date on the county news, and wasn't even sure he knew what construction Shreya was talking about, but he was on board with keeping their quiet town quiet, for both the people and the bugs. "Take that, county!" He called, holding up his middle fingers to the imaginary county officials.
"What else is there?" He asked, looking back to Shrey. "Is that all? Should I quit my job and become a scientist now? I was pretty good at that..." Said the most unscientific person to probably ever walk the planet. Kick had tutoring in science all 4 years of high school because it was so damn complicated. He liked learning about biology and chemistry and whatever else, but it was hard for him to retain.
the local post office smelled faintly of damp cardboard and old adhesive, a distinction to the brilliant morning sun filtering through the streaky front windows. genie was leaning against a counter, lazily flipping through a booklet of decorative stamps she had absolutely no practical use for, when a low, musical friction caught her ear. a few feet away stood a woman with intense eyes who looked like she had stepped straight out of a moody european indie film and gotten lost in the american wilderness. her lips moving in a rapid, agitated stream of consciousness. in italian. italian! in pinehaven!
genie’s head snapped up, her eyes igniting with the immediate, electric joy of a traveler stumbling upon a hidden oasis. the stamp booklet was instantly abandoned on the counter. she turned, her entire posture shifting into a welcoming invitation. "oh, la burocrazia americana è un mostro completamente diverso, credimi, american bureaucracy is a completely different monster, believe me," genie chimed in, her italian flowing with a easy confidence that practically bridged the distance between them. "se non compili il modulo con la penna del colore esatto che vogliono loro, ti guardano come se avessi commesso un crimine. if you don't fill out the form with the exact color pen they want, they look at you like you've committed a crime."
genie was patient, a broad grin splitting her features as she watched the woman process her imposing presence. she leaned a fraction closer, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "if you need to smuggle whatever is in that box past the counter clerk, i’m excellent at creating a distraction. what part of italy are you from?"
Flora was beyond frustrated. God forbid she try and do something nice for her husband on the anniversary of their first meeting. God forbid she try and order something special from Italy and get it shipped to her. Now the post office wouldn't give it to her because the package was sent to Flora Copeland and her passport said Flora Morelli. "My name change when I get married..." She was trying to explain in the clearest tone she could. They told her she had to fill out a form, and then handed her one in Spanish. She didn't speak Spanish.
"Gesù Cristo, questo è impossibile/Jesus Christ, this is impossible..." Flora grumbled, snatching the English version of the form from the woman behind the counter. When another stream of Italian came from a woman a few feet away, Flora's head snapped up in surprise. "A quanto pare devo dimostrare di essere sposato.../Apparently I have to prove that I'm married..." She didn't know how filling out a form was going to prove that but, sure, anything to get her package so she could get the hell out of here.
Taking the form over to another counter, Flora began to fill it out. Trying to decipher the overly complicated words written on the page. She'd only been speaking English for a few years, and reading it still wasn't easy for her. "Would you?" She asked, offering a tired smile. "It's a gift for my husband..." Flora kept filling out the form as she answered the question. "Born in Ancona, but moved a lot... came here from Siena at the beginning of year." She looked up again, nodding her chin towards the woman behind the counter. "Lei conosce i genitori di mio marito, ne sono sicura.../She knows my husband's parents, I'm sure of it... that is why she won't give me my package." Flora chuckled dryly, only half believing that was the reason the worker was being so difficult.
city is typing
✉︎ ➜: mcnasty’s with live music sounds like a beautiful disaster. we are absolutely going there.
✉︎ ➜: saturday works perfectly. gives me a few days to unpack my suitcase and whatever is left of my sanity.
city is typing
✉︎ ➜: and thank you, odette. truly. i don't think i would have left that coffee shop if you hadn't given me the push.
✉︎ ➜: who knew i'd find an lifeline after just hours in town
odette ➜ Perfect, Saturday it is then!
odette ➜ What time?
odette ➜ Apologies for the questions... I don't really know what time people "go out"
odette ➜ I haven't actually been "out" here
odette ➜ Oh, you're welcome! You should give yourself more credit, City. You got all the way here, you would have made it to him eventually. All I did was listen for awhile 🙂
odette ➜ I am happy our paths crossed though
ah , how she wished she could answer that question . the company had been brought to town for an ‘ indeterminate amount of time ’ , so how long they would be there was completely up in the air . it was all growing on her , though . even as she wished to return to her home in switzerland , the one place she'd ever truly felt like herself , she was slowly getting used to the bed and breakfast . small town living wasn't as awful as she had imagined it would be . she had learned long ago that sometimes what she wanted wasn't always what she needed . perhaps she needed to be uprooted , moved somewhere new . whether or not she would stay remained to be seen .
“ i don't really know , ” she admitted . “ don't stick around on my account , though . if you've got obligations , i wouldn't want to keep you from them . business is important . ” it seemed like sachin was doing well enough for himself , at least . he owned his own bookstore and was a successful writer . though she may not say it aloud , she was proud of his accomplishments . “ i'm sure i'll be here long enough to outstay my welcome in town , ” she smiled . “ as for us , maybe we could catch dinner later ? you could show me around , give me a bit of a tour if you're up for it . ”
"Ziva," Sachin said, giving her a look that said come on. "When my sister arrives unannounced in my small town all the way from Switzerland... I can take a break to talk to her for longer than five minutes." The beauty of owning the place was that he could do whatever he wanted. If he needed to call his employee out from the back, he would. But the store was slow right now, so Sachin had a minute. "Oh, don't count on that," He chuckled. "There is no such thing as overstaying your welcome in a place like this... it's practically a guarantee that fifteen people will beg you to stay when you do announce you're leaving."
"Dinner, yes, of course," Sachin pulled his phone out of his back pocket, pulling up Apple Maps so he could get a proper list of restaurants. "What are you in the mood for? We can keep it casual and go to the diner... or Ember & Pine is more upscale... both quite good." He looked back up at Ziva and smiled, nodding his head. "Of course I'll give you a tour... I'll make the time, you just let me know when you're free." He considered that and then ask, "Are you still dancing? Or is this a break from... well, everything?"
he'd barely been in town two weeks and he was already overwhelmed and lost in the noise, and the crowd, as he walked a carnival; like a deer, wandering wide eyed onto a busy highway, frozen in fear and confusion. eventually enough bumped shoulders and whispered excuse me's pulled amos out of his head enough for him to start moving again. he might not have known where he was going, or what he was doing, but at least he was getting out of the way.
after some time, he managed to find a spot tucked away against one of the carnival's gimmick rides. there was a steady enough crowd, people clamoring into line to try their luck while their friends and family gathered around to watch and cheer them on, but compared to everything else he saw the mechanical bull had the smallest hoard of people around it; at least, it seemed to be the most manageable.
approaching, his stetson hat helping him blend in with some of the other's gathered around, he settled into place against the barrier and watched. half paying attention to the teenager currently trying their best to hold and half just disassociating, his eyes staring off into the distance, a man's voice pushed through the void of his thoughts and pulled him back into the moment.
“wasn't plannin' on it,” he admitted honestly, his tongue pushing at his bottom lip; his southern drawl pulling his words back and making them sound longer than they should have been; lazier. “but if that will getcha up there i guess i can.” he offered with a loose shrug of his shoulders. “worst case scenario, i'll call for both of us and we can just carpool.”
You didn't see a ton of cowboy hats in this neck of the woods. In fact, Ebon couldn't recall if he'd seen one before today. When he was living in Texas, and competing in the rodeo, his cowboy hat had practically been glued to his head. Even in Colorado he hadn't given them up completely. But he'd given them up before his move to Lebanon, simply not having the room to pack such a large and shapely hat. These days, Ebon stuck to ballcaps. But it was a sight for sore eyes seeing the Stetson perched on the other mans head.
"I'll probably go up regardless," Ebon admitted, chuckling. It had been far too long for him to just pass up the opportunity. He didn't necessarily miss the rodeo and bull riding, but he couldn't say he wasn't curious to see if he still had the skills. Getting on the back of a bull was kind of like riding a bike. Once you knew how to move your body, and position yourself, you could do it for life. Well, at least that's what Ebon was assuming.
"Texas?" Ebon asked, nodding his chin towards the hat. Sure, other states had cowboy's too, but Texas was the largest and a pretty solid first guess. "Don't see a lot of Stetsons around here." Unless it was part of a woman's outfit aesthetic or there was a Western night at the bar. If one of those popped up, Ebon would be avoiding it like the plague.
Open starter from ✨Kitty✨ @pinehavenstarters
Location: The pool at her parents house!
Feel free to assume a connection, she invites people over to swim all the time even if they just met!
Today was a perfect day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the temperature was warm enough to be outside all day. So, naturally, Kitty was by the pool! She'd just lathered herself in body oil and was going to float around on a raft to get some sun. What she didn't realize about the oil she'd been sent by a brand, was that it shimmered. "Oh my god," Kitty laughed, standing up from her chair and turning towards where her companion was with her arms held out. "This is the skin of a killer, Bella..." She quoted in her best Edward Cullen voice. She totally looked like a sparkly Twilight vampire right now.
"Incredible, truly," Kitty said, bringing her pool float over to the edge of the pool and flopping onto it. "I admire a woman's obsession with glitter as much as the next girl but, like, do I need to be blinding all my friends while I'm just trying to tan?" Using her foot, Kitty kicked off the side and floated out into the middle of the pool. "Keep those sunglasses on, I would hate for my glorious shiny skin to damage your retinas."
would you believe us if we said that wasn't really JUSTIN H MIN? well, it isn't .ᐟ.ᐟ that's ZACHARY JIN, a proud resident of pinehaven for the last 8 YEARS. you can find them working over at BREEZY PINES B&B as a/an HEAD CHEF. they're 36, but they hardly look that old! it must be the washington weather that keeps them looking so young .ᐟ.ᐟ word around the town is that they're OVERSENSITIVE, RELUCTANT TO CHANGE, OVERTHINKER, but we think that's silly. we feel like they're much more SUPPORTIVE, FORGIVING, STEADY. if we had to pick one song to describe HE/HIM, it would be WHAT I WISH I COULD FORGET BY TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH. see ya 'round, ZACH.ᐟ.
basics:
full name: Zachary Taeyang Jin
nicknames: Zach
pronouns: he/him
sexuality: heterosexual
age: 36
date of birth: march 8th
zodiac sign: pisces
occupation: Head Chef at Breezy Pines B&B
personality type: ISFJ-T (The Defender)
face claim: Justin H. Min
backstory:
Born in Southern California as a second generation Korean-American, Zach had a pretty typical upbringing. A house in suburbia, an annoying older sister, and two hardworking parents. He wasn’t always the most outgoing kid, usually opting for quieter hobbies like playing board games with his friends, or riding his bike around the block. But he had a happy life where nothing bad ever happened. That was until middle school, when his newly licensed older sister accidentally ran over him with the family van.
Zach had breaks in both legs and arms, and had casts on all four limbs. Suddenly, the shy kid in school was popular. Everyone wanted to know what happened and wanted to be the one to push around his wheelchair between classes. Luckily, the breaks weren’t terrible and after physical therapy he was able to get back to a normal life. While it was traumatic at the time, Zach mostly remembers how cool everyone at school was and how much attention he got from the girls he thought were pretty. The thrill of it eventually wore off, and Zach went back to being the quiet kid. Now it’s just a fun fact he can share and something he can bring up when his older sister is getting on his nerves.
Zach met his first and only girlfriend in his first year of college and fell quickly for her. He thought she was the one he’d be with forever and was reasonably devastated when he learned that she’d cheated on him after 2 years of dating. She begged him not to end things, and because he loved her, Zach agreed to work through the betrayal. He’d always been the type of person to give out second chances, especially to people he loved so much. They eventually got back to what he thought was a stable and happy relationship. He forgave her on the condition that she never cheated on him again and she agreed. Understandably, Zach was devastated to learn that she did, in fact, cheat on him again. This time around, he didn’t listen when she begged him to give her another chance. He ended things for good, and cut her off completely. The worst part of ending the relationship was the dog he lost. Her parents had given her the dog for a birthday, and she refused to let Zach take him even though he cared for the dog the most. For Zach, it felt like losing a child. It hurt far worse than losing his girlfriend did.
Zach persevered. He kept his head down, finished his last year of college, and focused on rediscovering his passions. He’d put so much into his relationship that he’d lost sight of who he was and what made him happy. He started cooking and gardening more and ultimately decided to give culinary school a try. He enrolled in a program in Northern California so he could get away from all that haunted him, and found his purpose in the kitchen. For the next few years, he got experience working in kitchens, he honed his skills, and pulled himself out of the dark place he’d been living in post break up. Zach was developing his own recipes, growing all his own produce, and impressing each chef he worked alongside. Eventually, he started looking for a small kitchen that he could run himself. His lease was up in his NorCal apartment, so he started expanding his search parameters. He landed on the job application for the Breezy Pines B&B in Pinehaven and was moving to Washington a month later.
In Pinehaven, Zach is happy and has moved past the betrayal of his former relationship. His guard is still up, though, and trusting people isn’t easy. But he’s working on it because he doesn’t want to be alone forever. He’s got a lot of love to give, and wants to spend his life with someone, but his anxiety over being hurt again stops him from moving forward with anyone. There have been a few dates over the years, but none of them have led to anything more than a one night stand. But one day he will find a woman who is charmed by his extensive knowledge of vegetables, and who will mean it when she says she won’t hurt him.
would you believe us if we said that wasn't really FINN BENNETT? well, it isn't .ᐟ.ᐟ that's SEAMUS FITZPATRICK, a proud resident of pinehaven for the last 15 YEARS. you can find them working over at ROADY’S GUITAR REPAIR as a LUTHIER . they're 25, but they hardly look that old! it must be the washington weather that keeps them looking so young .ᐟ.ᐟ word around the town is that they're SARCASTIC, PERFECTIONIST, QUIET, but we think that's silly. we feel like they're much more CALM, OBSERVANT, DEXTEROUS. if we had to pick one song to describe HE/HIM, it would be COUGH SYRUP BY YOUNG THE GIANT. see ya 'round, SHAY.ᐟ.ᐟ
basics:
full name: Seamus Tadhg Fitzpatrick
nicknames: Shay
pronouns: he/him
sexuality: bisexual
age: 25
date of birth: august 20th
zodiac sign: Leo
occupation: Luthier at Roady's Guitar Repair
personality type: TBD
face claim: Finn Bennett
backstory:
Shay has always been the quieter half of the inseparable Fitzpatrick duo. Everyone knows that without Shay, there is no Malachi. And without Malachi, there is no Shay. Born just two minutes after his twin, Shay grew up feeling like those moments were the only thing that ever truly set them apart. They had different personalities right from the start, but they were two sides of the same coin. Long before they could speak, they had their own private language. A scrambled mix of half-words and gestures that even their parents couldn't decode. Even now, watching them communicate feels like looking through the morning fog. No one else but the other twin can decipher the raised eyebrow or a quick tap on the table that is enough to carry an entire conversation without a single word being said.
The first ten years of Shay’s life were spent in Cork, Ireland, surrounded by music, rain, and a family that were as thick as thieves. His parents are still his anchors, and they’ve worked hard to keep Irish traditions alive since moving to the States. When they moved to Pinehaven when the boys were 10, it came as a total shock to the system. The town was small, yes, but everything else still felt too loud and too fast. While Malachi disappeared into his antics and the drums to cope, Shay adapted by becoming a quiet observer, learning to blend in even when he didn't quite feel like he belonged. And his instrument of choice became the guitar. If Malachi is the loudest in the room, Shay is the one in the corner with an amused smile, waiting for the perfect moment to drop a one-liner that catches everyone off guard. He’s happy to let others take the spotlight until he plugs in his guitar. Behind a microphone, he transforms. His reserved nature disappears, replaced by a confident, soulful energy that says more than words ever could. His voice has an understated warmth that draws you in rather than demanding your attention, making him the perfect balance to his brother’s high-voltage energy.
The boys are both brothers and best friends. Even when they drifted toward different social circles in high school, nothing ever touched their bond. Malachi was the class clown and center of attention, while Shay preferred the quiet company of a few close friends. They grew into their own people without ever losing that invisible thread between them, always meeting back at home at the end of the day to catch each other up.
Music is the language Shay speaks best, yet another language that he and Fitz can communicate seamlessly in. They use Malachi’s artistic nature to write the lyrics, and Shay’s gift for translating those raw feelings into melodies and intricate guitar parts. They work together perfectly to create something that people actually want to listen to. In the band, they don’t even need to discuss arrangements; they just instinctively know where the other is going. They can change tempo or extend a section during a live show with nothing more than a quick look.
People often mistake Shay’s calm for shyness, but he’s just deeply observant. He notices the little things… a nervous habit, a fake smile, or a guitar that is just slightly out of tune. He’s the person you go to when you need steady, honest advice rather than just being told what you want to hear.
When he’s not playing music, Shay is usually doing something with his hands. He’s incredibly dexterous and can shuffle cards with impossible speed and precision or fix just about anything with moving parts. He loves sleight-of-hand tricks, though he’s not a show-off, he just likes the way people light up when a coin or a pen disappears and resurfaces in a ridiculous place. He started helping out at Roady’s Guitar Repair after he graduated high school and realized that he could make use of his hands as a profession. He worked hard and worked his way up to being one of the few in house luthiers. People come from all around Washington to get their string instruments fixed at Roady’s.
Shay and Malachi are two halves of a whole, one loud and spontaneous, the other measured and quiet. On their own, they’re complete people. Together, they share a connection that’s almost impossible to explain, a bond forged before they could even speak, strengthened by crossing oceans and growing up without ever growing apart.
