— high dive.

P A R K E R C A R S O N. 30. // i go up to my room and there's girls on the ceiling; cut out their pictures and i C H A S E that feeling of an eighteen-year-old who didn't know what loss was [ now i'm a stranger. ] and i miss the days of a life still permanent, m o u r n the years before i got carried away ; now i'm standing on the o v e r p a s s, screaming at the cars, hey ! i wanna get BETTER.

[prkers]

♕ ( muse s / 30 / cis man / he/him ) — did you see PARKER CARSON wandering around the island today? they kind of look like MATTHEW DADDARIO from certain angles? i heard around town that the INDIE COMPOSER is MAGNANIMOUS and STEADFAST, but also MOODY and FLIGHTY. people say that they remind them of COMIC BOOK COVERS ON THE WALL, THE FIRST BLUE LIGHT OF DAWN, and A FRIDGE FULL OF TAKE-OUT CONTAINERS, and ALL MY HEROES by BLEACHERS is definitely their theme song. they seem like a nice enough person, but we all know how hard it is to keep a pristine reputation in a small town. 

okay for anyone who doesn't want to read that very long description down below here's the quick run-down:

parker carson. 30. king's haven local -- born and bred, baby!

BIG nerd. big big big nerd.

was extremely a dweeb in high school then left for college and came back uhh slightly more normal and well adjusted

serious chatterbox. constantly talking your ear off.

he's a musician but not like a cool rockstar or a dj he composes for movies, video games, you name it.

terrible manchild

recently divorced. tragique

extremely reliable friend (e.g. the kind of guy who will pick you up at 3am from the bar or drive you to the airport even if you don't know each other that well, will 100% go to your shitty level 1 intro to improv class show, etc.); extremely unreliable in pretty much every other aspect

ALL RIGHT. the lengthy details:

let’s meet mister parker carson. probably the most important thing to know about him is that he’s a garbage manchild ! look, parker doesn’t know how to do his laundry or scramble an egg. he does make an incredible philly cheesesteak and occasionally has dreams of opening a cheesesteak/mac and cheese food truck, but otherwise? he’s a disaster. he still eats like a teenage boy despite the fact that he just turned thirty, he subsists almost solely on instant ramen, and he has a severe vitamin d deficiency.

for the background ! parker’s a pretty ... average dude, who has lived a pretty average life. he has three brothers ( one older - ryan, two younger - mason and jake ). his parents are still married and as functional as, like, two straight white people can be; he grew up in king’s haven, so he’s a local boy. with four kids, most local folks certainly knew a carson, even if it wasn’t parker.

parker has the good fortune of living a life most of us Wish we could have -- or at least that i wish i could have : being amazingly unremarkable in high school and then getting super hot, god bless.

since people would’ve known parker in high school, here’s the nitty gritty! he was VERY MUCH a loser. i don’t think he was, like, bullied aggressively or anything, but he was socially awkward and rarely went to school at all -- badly enough that he almost failed both because his grades were terrible and because of truancy laws, whoops!!!

he was also, in a word, ugly.

or at least, you know, gawky and awkward. he was also a huge nerd. this was before being into comic books and basing your entire personality on the legend of zelda was kind of cool.

but parker has always been a semi-talented musician so he would play the piano for the school musical/rehearsals, he was in the band (rip), etc. etc. -- his only real points of social interaction

so anyway you know he lived, he grew up, he nearly failed out of high school and never went to class, somehow squeaked his way through sheer force of will and portfolio into berklee college of music, and NOW he makes his paper as a film & video game composer ! nothing like, big or flashy -- indie productions mostly

he plays A Lot of instruments but most of them aren’t very sexy. like, he can play the marimba.

anyway in college he came out of his shell and realized that he actually isn’t SO unfortunate looking that he can never be loved and fell into a trap of dating a lot and thinking he was in love Every Time. no wonder he got married young. pour one out for his divorce, he has a lot of feelings to work thru about it

.... but not feelings that he’s willing to contend with or address because parker carson is just not that kinda guy ! you know what kind of guy he is ? the kind of guy who takes his switch to the bar so he can play pokemon snap while everybody else is getting drunk. it’s not that parker hates parties, it’s just that he’s so fucking embarrassing

he is......... such a nerd his claim to fame is that he can make literally any conversation about the flash or the green lantern, intentionally or not

ask him about the giant pokemon tattoo on his left side ! just kidding do not do that. don’t ask him about anything he talks so much. he really talks SO MUCH. i’m sorry in advance.

will do pretty much anything ! shockingly, despite idk everything about him, he is actually a very sociable, friendly, and outgoing person with no fear of talking to strangers or assuming friendship with everyone he meets ( whether they want that or not -- parker is what you might call ‘ annoying as hell ’ ) and thanks to having both too much adhd and too much clinical depression ( ayoooo ) to think about the longterm consequences of anything, he will never back down from a dare. as a result ? tons of bad decisions are made . so many bad decisions . but hey it’s a story right

he’s v flighty like he has a hard track keeping time of things ( honestly that was a typo but i thought i should leave it bc it is very accurate ) and flits from passion to passion a Lot he’s so wildly irresponsible

in a similar vein parker is a serial monogamist who is terrified of being alone ! you can guess how well this boded for his marriage ! anyway this has already gotten bananas long so let me just finish it off by saying —

wanted connections.

a partner in crime, my absolute favorite type of plot

friends in general bc parker hates being lonely so he likes to worm his way into people’s lives !! he is a Very Loyal friend. he’s the guy who will show up at the bar at 3 am to make sure you get home okay or will help you move even if you only talk once a month.

exes of all varieties-- as i said he’s a serial monogamist ! he dates a lot and not always for extended periods of time -- in fact usually he has many short-lived and extremely disastrous relationships because he loves to get overly invested in women who are Not looking for a commitment or who just are not good for him / he’s not good for them. we love toxic exes

neighbors who do not get him at all because he can be PRETTY annoying and also because he doesn’t take things very seriously -- i am obsessed with the idea of him interacting with someone who is much more ambitious/intense about professionalism because idk he will go out in like a beanie, a t-shirt, and swim trunks sometimes depending on how the laundry pile is going

a mom or dad friend type who will force him to get his shit together

other king’s haven townies who grew up there, who knew him in school or who know his brothers

since i am broken and can only think of things in the context of tv shows, basically i am seeking the rosa & gina to his jake peralta, the schmidt & jess to his nick miller, the cece & coach to his winston bishop ( bc yes he is both of them ), the hyde / jackie / fez / kelso / donna to his eric forman, the ryan to his seth cohen, etc. etc.

really anything and everything we love plots

[prkers]

leonamos​:

“so you’ve tried it?” leon questions. he’s had friends who are into coke, like the aforementioned ahmal, and he doesn’t really have a problem with it. it’s himself he doesn’t trust. the blond laughs at parker’s word. “i’m the only motherfucker who was dumb enough to get addicted to pot, you’re right,” he shakes his head. he knows the other one is just joking, but sometimes leon feels like he has a problem. well, he knows he has a problem. but he doesn’t really wanna quit. besides, it’s not like it’s affecting his social life or his work. he’s never high when he needs to record someone, or when he plays live. but after that, man, his eyes are burning red. not now, though. it’s too early. “right,” he chuckles. ahmal always had a lot of energy, which made him a better drummer. “i don’t really know what he’s up to now. i think i saw an ig story where he was in a studio in nyc. or maybe it was someone else, i don’t really remember,” he shrugs his shoulder before taking out his vape from his pocket and inhaling the fruity smoke. he’s trying to quit cigarettes and vaping sounded like a good transition to eventually quit altogether. leon rolls his eyes at parker. “listen, man. she’s not into dating right now. and she’s cute, and funny. you know what you need?” the blond pauses for dramatic effect, “you need to get laid.”

"i'm gonna be honest, i thought everyone had tried it. like weed. or ketamine," he laughed. unfortunately, all those 'don't give in to peer pressure' PSAs from his younger years had done little on parker—if someone offered something to him, he'd usually say no without second thought just for the sheer curiosity. and to not look like the lame guy who couldn't keep up. "it's the same reason i always end up becoming a smoker in europe, which is one of the bougiest things i've ever said. but, i mean, i don't think it did much for me. maybe because it's just a stimulant and i wasn't on adderall yet? i was dating this girl who would drink all night and then do some coke to sober up and go to work." at his impressionable age of, uh, twenty-three, parker had thought she was the coolest, most punk rock baddie he'd ever known. that'd been his type, once upon a time—girls with tattooed knuckles and many piercings. oh, how times change.

"shit, even if he's just a studio musician, good for him," parker whistled. "it's fucking hard to try to make music as more than just a hobby. that's how i ended up producing podcasts on the side for so long, man. it pays the bills but there's only so much time i can listen to a walking sweater talk about horrific murders. what's with white girls and their murder podcasts, anyway? is leah a murder podcast kind of girl?" he wasn't supposed to care if it was just for a sloppy hookup, probably. people were always telling him he needed to get laid—they might have been onto something, if multiple people saw it. "i just figure 'i'm recently divorced and now live in a shitty apartment with a roommate i don't know' isn't exactly the most panty-dropping line, so i should probably find a different in."

[secondscns]

“orange makes you look like a corpse. an undead crawler.” theo rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "if you want to look like a dandy you need more ruffles. a hat. a pattern. but you don't want to look like a victorian dandy because you're just being obnoxious."

he did think that everyone needed a decent suit. as far as he knew, parker's only suit was his wedding suit which had the stink of divorce on it. "lottie has taste, at least. we all know you'd wear the same outfit every day if you thought you could get away with it. and not in a steve jobs way. in a basement boy kind of way."

[prkers]

"an undead crawler? this is why i keep you around. who else in my life is gonna cut right to the heart of a problem, no matter how brutal it might be?" the description made him laugh, and he quickly pivoted to a probably-more-acceptable pale blue silk. "do you want me to look like a dandy? do you want to look like a dandy?" these were the real questions. he eyed theo up and down. not enough ruffles or pattern, in parker's uneducated opinion, and yet... "i think if anyone could make victorian mainstream again it's theo benites."

parker glanced down at what he currently wore and wrinkled his nose. "uh, i'm pretty sure i do wear the same outfit every day. and i do get away with it." of course, saying that meant that theo was about to prove him wrong—but parker's uniform had become, embarrassingly enough, ninety percent lululemon. it was either a plain black t-shirt and lululemon pants or some uniqlo collection designer graphic tee and black jeans. nothing else. largely his now-ex-wife's influence—he could be comfortable as long as he made it look smart, or whatever. "in an 'effortlessly sleek, man of today' way," he added, with no conviction whatsoever.

[blackcatxmagic]

Lying there on the sidewalk tangled up with his bike, Winter looked up at the man he'd nearly ran into. He was handsome, but what Winter really noticed was the fact that he was holding an order of chicken nuggets and seemed to have been mid-dip when catastrophe had nearly struck. It was almost comical, and despite the circumstances, Winter couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm okay...I think," Winter replied, standing gingerly, and he nearly stumbled and fell before managing to right himself. Fuck, his ankle hurt, and Winter tried not to wince even though pain was shooting up his leg. The stranger lifted up his bike, and Winter examined it, which was difficult since he couldn't exactly bend down to get a closer look. "I think...I think it's okay?" Winter replied, but it was more of a question. Grabbing the handlebars, Winter realized the frame looked just a little bent, but it was still useable, and the bike shop could probably fix that for him. "I think it'll be alright," he said more surely, "which is a good thing because it's my only ride." Now that he had assessed his bicycle, Winter turned toward the nugget man and asked, "What about you? Are you alright? You didn't drop any of your nuggets, did you?"

[prkers]

"oh, thank god. was worried i was about to get charged with a hit-and-nug." he reached down to clasp a hand around winter's forearm and help pull him up to his feet. now, parker carson may not have been the world's most observant man, but he was in his post-thirty era and had a questionable knee from winters spent recreational snowboarding. and that meant he recognized all too well the awkward gait of a man trying to act like stepping down didn't send shooting pains through his leg. "dude. be real with me right now, can you put weight on it? because if you can't put weight on it we're going to have to go get that thing x-ray'd or mri'd or whatever it is they do to make sure all the innards of your leg are in working order. legs have very complicated guts, you know? all those tendons and ligaments coexist in a very complicated ecosystem." parker's free hand steadied the bike, gave it a once-over. nothing too dramatic that a bike shop couldn't handle, right? that was fine—he'd offer to foot the bill once they had the more pressing injury scenario worked out. "nuggets are all squared away. not a stray chick in sight." a beat. "do you want one?"

[findtomorrow]

"right, and that's how you started," lottie pulled out a collector's tin with mewtwo on the lid and opened it—empty, of course; she was sure somewhere in the unit there were several binders with hundreds of pokémon cards carefully protected by plastic sleeves. she grinned and put the tin back in the box, "but this is storage, so the observer can assume the sad white nerd boy became a sad white yuppie man with a nice car—how 'bout 'the assimilation of reddit'?"

lottie had known parker carson for a long time, and in the entire time she'd known him, she could count on one hand the amount of times she'd seem look like this. what this was, she still didn't have a name for, but the closest descriptor she could come up with was lost. he looked a little lost, for being in such a tiny room, and he looked a little small. strange, again, because a guy his size ever be small, but it was like he was curled-in on himself, somehow in the fetal position while he was standing. she really didn't like that look on parker's face; people with big hearts shouldn't ever look like that.

"hey, wait a minute," lottie grinned a little, attempting cool, mischievous, and aloof all in one toothy smile. "you've got some seriously cool shit here. i mean, it's a total waste to keep your flash collection in a storage unit. i didn't come all the way down here to just look at boxes. come on," she flexed her biceps, "i'll even do the heavy lifting."

[prkers]

"the observer can assume the sad white nerd boy acquired more sad white nerd boy stuff and not enough money to buy a house big enough to store it all." not entirely true—the basement had had storage aplenty for his collections, as nell had put it, but certainly true now. even then, his compromise had been to put half into storage along with their—her—carefully selected seasonal décor, and some of her own personal memorabilia. parker thought about those guys who could shell out twenty-five, thirty thousand for a single alex ross painting that would turn into a comic book cover. who were they? since when were people like that reading comics, an industry slowly dying because there was no money for it? none of that mattered now, of course. but it was easier to wander down that train of thought than deal with the issue at hand: the categorized downsizing of his life, packed away into neat little boxes.

worse still, he didn't like being this guy around lottie. one of his first girlfriends had told him she liked him because he had sad, soulful eyes, and it had made him feel so distinctly like a creature observed, a bug under a microscope, that he resolved to brighten those motherfuckers up. he didn't know if it worked, exactly, but at least he didn't worry about his smile not reaching his eyes anymore. now here was again, sad-eyed, like someone's old family basset hound. ugh. he scrubbed a hand down his face, as though that might wipe the feeling away and let him replace it with something bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

"man, now i have to prioritize, though, and that's a pain in the ass. because it's not like i can shlep all of this shit into the apartment, and my prospects of being able to buy another house any time soon are..." he pulled a face. "let's be honest, it's impressive enough i ever made it to the first mortgage." dear god, it was chaotic in here. sure, his green lanterns were carefully bagged and boarded, but he'd shoved everything in haphazardly in the process of his move. "you wanna see my pokemon cards?" he fished around a selection of binders. "i remember for my... what, ninth birthday? ryan had made all these trades and cashed in a bunch of favors with his friends to get me an all-holographic deck." his smile grew wistful at the memory, and he dragged out a plastic bin full of binders, unlatched the lid. "i never knew he went to all the trouble 'til, like, years and years later. just one of those things, i guess. you ever think about how you can't ever really know someone?"

speaking of—mistake number two. because alongside his binders of pokemon cards were left behind photo albums of nell's earlier modelling shoots, the ones she didn't care enough to keep because she didn't approve of the final photos or because they made her too depressed about aging out of her career or the fact that she never made it much bigger than print. parker pulled out a macy's catalogue where he'd dog-eared the pages she appeared in. "here's another riddle for you, batman, you ever think about how—" he stopped himself. how fucking insane it is that i was ever in a relationship with someone whose whole job was being conventionally beautiful was a step too deep into self-defeating for the current environment. "like, who even buys clothes from a print catalogue anymore?"

[prkers]

leonamos​:

“you remember ahmal? he was this drum guy in berklee. that dude tried to get me into coke, but i feel like it would be a terrible idea. i’m just human. can’t overpower that drug, you know what i mean? i’m such a fucking addict to everything,” leon laughs. “you name it. weed, smoking, girls… which reminds me, did i give you leah’s phone already? told her you’d call her.” the blond is always playing matchmaker with parker. but not for love, but for the man to get laid. he needs it, leon reckons. “cold? sometimes,” he nods his head and shrugs as they start walking down to the coffee shop. 

"i remember ahmal," parker nodded. his memory might've been shit, but he'd always had a knack for names and faces—too much so, actually, enough that it could get weird. nobody wanted someone they couldn't remember for the life of them to walk up to them in the grocery store saying hey, remember me? we went to elementary school together, only to flounder their way through pretending to remember them, too, or awkwardly admit they didn't. that was one of the worst parts of living in the town he grew up in. parker remembered everyone.

"i don't think coke is actually as addicting as, like, DARE tried to make it out to be," he laughed, "but i do think you specifically would be fucked, considering you're the only dude i've ever met who lowkey got himself addicted to pot. and man, it tracks ahmal was a high-functioning cokehead. i guess if you're gonna be real into something as a drummer, you're better off with uppers than downers." leah's phone. leah's phone. leah's phone. parker dug through the holes of his memory—great for names and faces or useless facts like the years movies came out or first appearances of comic book characters. less great for, you know, the basic occurrences of his day to day life. "ah, shit, yeah. i remember. wait, you told her i'd call her? you're making commitments for me? if you're gonna make follow-up appointments on my behalf i'm going to need you to start keeping a calendar." leah was cute. she had a nice smile. there was nothing wrong with leah, but... "i'm not really looking for anything serious," he mumbled, glancing up for signs of the coffee shop.

[wncrppromos-deactivated20260127]

closed starter @prkers​

“You better be ready in there,” Kai stated with a snort. “I’m too hungry to wait for your preening.” He stood outside Parker’s door, impatiently knocking and yelling for his friend to come out. He was ravenous, and the thought of waiting any longer as Parker got ready, made his stomach growl even more. He’d called ahead to make plans for dinner, and prayed like hell Parker was about done. Shifting from foot to foot, he used the motion to distract him from the gnawing pang of hunger.

[prkers]

"my preening?" that was an especially polite way to describe what parker would call his chronic adhd inability to start getting ready earlier than... ten minutes after he should have left. fortunately for kai, he was also anxious, which meant kai's impatience put the fear of god in him and improved his hustle. "i'm ready, i'm ready," he said, opening the door, only to immediately turn on his heel. "ah, fuck, i forgot my wallet—one sec." a mad dash to retrieve the offending leather and he reemerged, heaved a sigh, and gave kai two quick pats on the cheek. "not all of us can be as naturally handsome as you are, you bastard, have some sympathy for those of us who have to work for our middling good looks."

[blackcatxmagic]

It had been a long day. Winter had spent it on the beach, and while being a lifeguard might have sounded like a cool job to some people, it could be quite boring. It wasn't like Winter wanted someone to be in trouble, but he wished he could read a book or something. Alas, part of the job was keeping an eye on people out in the ocean, and he took that seriously. Even so, by the time he was done, Winter was ready to go home, and he was in a rush to get back and to just relax. So he was riding his bike a little faster than he might normally, which probably explained why he didn't slow down as he saw the door to a shop open in front of him. "Oh shit," he hissed, putting the brakes on immediately, but he was going too fast. So Winter tweaked the handlebars and did a sort of drift as he turned the wheels, stumbling off the bike as it clattered to the sidewalk. It was not graceful, but luckily it narrowly missed the person coming out of the shop. "I'm really sorry," he apologized. "That...that could have been bad."

[prkers]

normally, when these kinds of incidents occurred, people asked what the idiot pedestrian opening the door was up to. texting was the greatest culprit if the "don't text and walk" PSAs were anything to go by. another, maybe reading a book—not everyone had the grace to avoid disaster and pitfall mid-reading stroll like belle did in that scene in beauty and the beast. but parker? no, no—parker was just way too invested in his chicken nuggets, the kind of behavior that normally could wait until someone had arrived safely home. ah, yes, parker carson—the sort of animal who would go full nuggets-and-dipping-sauce while opening the door. and that was when calamity struck, a cacophony of clamoring metal and jingling doorway as the bike crashed to the ground, skidding a little across the sidewalk with leftover momentum. "oh, holy shit, did i almost just bean you with the door?" his mouth dropped into a surprised 'o' to match his widened eyes, delicately reaching for the bike to lift it upright once more. "are you okay? i'm sorry, my man, hope your ride's still sailing smoothly——"

[secondscns]

theo’s taste has been described many ways. archaic for one. he’d put a throne in his house if he thought he could get away with it but the comments about his rampant ego would drive him insane. he liked dramatic scenes and ornate decoration and romantics. but he was sick of looking at fancy clothes and swatches of pocket squares.

“when i offered to pay for an outfit so you didn’t look terrible at the next gala in town, i didn’t think it meant i’d have to be here for all of it.”

[prkers]

"you went out of your way insult my wardrobe, man, that means we have to get something theo benites approved." not that parker would ever actually let theo pay for anything besides, like, the occasional bar nachos. look, he may have been a total soyboy or whatever it was that men whose twitter icons were pictures of them in their cars wearing reflective sunglasses referred to guys like parker on the internet, but that was a level of emasculation even he could not tolerate. being dressed by another man and letting him pay for it? that was the kinda behavior that got you expected to put out once upon a time. "what about this?" he said, holding up a particularly ugly burnt orange pocket square with a floral print. "is this up to your standard? am i a victorian dandy yet? you and lottie, i swear."

he assumed the gala bit was a joke. parker carson was not interested in going to any gala. but if he'd learned anything from ted lasso, it was that every man needed a decent suit. even evil ones like nathan shelley.

[leonamos]

“how are you so awake right now? i’m falling asleep over here,” he rubs his eye and pinches the bridge of his nose. “i’m going to get a coffee, of course. you in?”

[prkers]

"one day, my young padawan, you'll learn to embrace the cocaine culture of your rockstar brethren like i have for this incredible burst of energy." just kidding. parker was a recent divorcee; in what world would he be able to fund a cocaine habit now? he snorted in amusement, stretched his too-long-and-too-stiff—thanks, thirties—body, and grabbed his wallet. "just kidding, my particular brand of the shakes are the jitters i get when i haven't slept in a full twenty-four hours. does that happen to you? and i get cold. yeah, let's go get coffee."

[findtomorrow]

@prkers

"i know i don't have a lot of room to talk, but this is just...sad." she couldn't decide what to look at first in the crowded storage unit. it was an eclectic hodgepodge of a nerdy 12-year-old boy's fantasy and a crumbling marriage that was clearly organized by someone with parker's level of attention to detail. lottie barely resisted the urge to start sorting things into a system that made some semblance of sense ( really anything would be better than shoving boxes and boxes of comics underneath strings of broken christmas lights and a particularly hideous lamp; was there any sort of rhyme or reason behind the piles? seriously, not even seasonal? or by room? color even? ). she blew the dust off of box before opening it, snorting at the tins of pokémon cards inside. "this could be a very specific kind of art instillation, y'know, like: the gentrification of reddit, or the life-cycle of a dweeb."

[prkers]

parker had sprung for one of those climate-controlled, indoor storage units—too many horror stories of rainstorm leaks or pests destroying people's long-loved lifetime collections. stupid, probably—in hindsight, what did he really have to lose besides the idea of them? what were the odds he'd pick these up to read them? the high-end figures and most revisited games and comics stayed with him; the rest of it was...

well, he'd never be able to throw them out anyway. every time he ended up in a situation like this, poring over the remains of his collections ( how much money had gone into this storage unit? ), he ended up sitting on the ground for hours, rereading, turning things over in his hands, and taking a few home or returning them to their resting place. once upon a time, he'd made the justification that these things might be incredibly valuable one day. but that was never why parker kept them, why he was gentle with their conditions—they were incredibly valuable to him right now. and he doubted he'd ever get around to selling them, anyway.

"reddit was created by and for sad white nerd boys like me, what do you mean gentrification?" he scoffed, hauling one of the longboxes aside and setting it atop a desk that hadn't survived the downsizing from his marital home. it was funny—for someone who couldn't get his life together and struggled to put away his laundry, parker still managed to meticulously organize his collections: comics bagged and boarded, arranged by company, title, and run. but as a whole? ... haphazard. "this was a bad idea," he mumbled, twirling the keyring of his storage unit keys around his finger. "we should just go. you want a beer?"

[prkers]

findtomorrow​:

lottie stared, mouth gaping, eyes venomous, as parker sunk his teeth into her ‘world’s best’ turkey leg. the fact that she habitually ate whatever she wanted off of his plate ever since she was just the weird freshman in the black t-shirt dress and fishnets who wanted the last slice of pepperoni was irrelevant. “okay, bobby flay, you’re buying me another one sans any whirling rides.” she held still as parker wiped the taupe smear off of face and rolled her eyes, but all derisiveness was lost in the smile lines crinkling in the corners and her toothy grin. yartzed. who said things like that? sometimes, she still found herself waiting to discover what animated world parker escaped from. probably something clamp, judging by his limb-to-body ratio. definitely not wherever monstrosity this deformed yoshi came from. she took the pink lump from his hands and patted the top of what supposed to be his head. “my hero,” lottie replied drily with an exaggerated bat of her eyes, but she was careful to keep the toy in her lap, away from any grease or spilled condiments on the table. she studied the plush’s misshapen face and hummed, “i’m gonna name him blobert.” she clutched blobert to her chest as pushed herself to her feet, despite the half a turkey leg and two funnel cakes protesting in her gut. “this doesn’t exonerate you from your petty poultry theft. i still want retribution.”

lottie could keep taking offense at his eating her food all she wanted—that wasn’t going to stop parker from doing it. it was, in his opinion, only fair; lottie ate off of his plate at least three times as often, and he was twice her size and required far more caloric input just to keep this gangly body of his up and running. “bobby flay? you wound me.” just for that, he was taking another bite. “you and i both know i’m guy fieri”—pronounced the proper way, with the flipped r, like a real fan—“and i’m here to take you on a road rockin’ trip down to flavortown.” 

he watched with a pleased little grin at her newfound protectiveness over blobert—the only fitting name, of course—only to switch promptly to confusion as she, excuse him, abandoned the remains of the turkey leg in favor of getting another one. “i didn’t realize my bite-mark was so cursed and offensive that you would just abandon a turkey leg over it.” needless to say, he picked it up from the now-abandoned picnic table and took another bite. “yeah, yeah, i’ll buy you another. i’ll buy you two, if you’re so insistent, since apparently your glamorous hotel job isn’t cutting it for affording the lifestyle you crave.” 

[secondscns]

there was a moment where diego thought, for nell's sake, he should be an asshole to this guy. the problem was, parker had never been bad to be around. he was kind of dorky, mostly awkward, and he gave mediocre white elephant gifts, but who didn't. and he was a prime example of exactly why diego was so opposed to a divorce in a small town. it made every interaction with anyone who was involved in the marriage the worst thing possible.

"yeah, might do. you want to give it to your girlfriend? i could probably win another, i'm on a hot streak." at the very least he'd find out if there was a girl friend and he could take tequila to nell's place and rile her up about it. she'd be happy to rant for an hour and he'd get to be the guy getting everything right for a while.

"come on, don't look so sour, it's a fair. why the long face?"

[prkers]

“no girlfriend,” parker answered, punctuating it with a slurp of his frozen lemonade. he was stupid, yeah, but not stupid enough not to know a test when it was staring him in the face. maybe it would’ve looked less pathetic if he lied and said he did have a girlfriend—was nell seeing anyone? nell deserved to be seeing someone—but, at the end of the day, the boat had long since sailed on trying to pretend he wasn’t pathetic. parker didn’t care about winning the divorce. hell, he was a lot more invested in nell winning it. “nah, you should give it to your wife. jos would love it.” 

“lying” was close to the top of the long, long list of things that parker was miserably bad at. he was friends with diego’s wife. and he was friends with lottie. hearing the phrase “diego something, reyes?” come out of her mouth when she told him about the married man she’d been seeing nearly popped his eyeballs out of his skull, and now, he felt completely see-through, a walking billboard with flashing neon lights that said i know you’re cheating on your wife. the wife he’d broken bread with. the wife whose green bean casserole he’d enjoyed at thanksgiving. 

“long face, me? nah, man. it’s brain freeze.” he shook the frozen lemonade to prove his point. “you want some? it’s sour as fuck but, like, in that delicious way.”

[stcrrylxghts-deactivated2023031]

status: open for all (capping at 4) location: the drunk fish

It had been a long day and heading back to an almost empty home didn't seem to be what Raina wanted tonight. That was precisely how she found herself at the dive bar, seated at the bar with a drink in front of her and a large order of tater tots too. She was munching on them slowly, almost as if contemplating her life and the choices she'd made thus far. When someone took the seat next to her though, she quickly cleared her throat and pushed over the basket of tots, "please...have one. God knows I didn't need to order this huge amount for myself." And maybe she'd also come here with the hope to get rid of that lonely feeling that seemed to be settling in with a case of seasonal blues. "Oh and just so you know--this bartender has a bit of a heavy hand with he's pouring so do what you will with that information," Raina told them in a conspiratorial tone as if it was a big secret.

[prkers]

every now and then parker got swept up enough in his work that he had to remind himself that it had been a couple days since he spoke to another real-life human in person, and when that happened, he hauled himself out of the cave of his home recording studio to one of the comfortable local king’s haven haunts and sat among the people. not unlike a stray cat, sometimes this landed him with free food. case in point: the basket of tater tots that suddenly appeared at his side. “for me?” just to be certain, he glanced around the bar. “raina sanghvi, you’re my hero,” he declared in his best cameron frye impression, immediately popping one of the offered tots into his mouth. “drunk fish has the best bar food. have you noticed that? it’s fucked up. you’re not allowed to be good at tots and mozz sticks and tendies. pick one, drunk fish.” at her little pro-tip, he sat up a little straighter, glanced over at the bartender. would he be drinking tonight? apparently so. “yo, mezcal margarita?” he turned back to his companion of the night. “i’m in a mezcal phase of my life,” he explained, answering a question she absolutely had not asked. “i went through the rum phase and the vodka phase and now we’re in the mezcal phase. i’m pretty sure that makes me sound like an alcoholic, but here we are.”  

[findtomorrow]

lottie's brows pinched together as she studied the hunk of meat in it's red and white checkered bed and frowned at the way it completely fit inside the paper tray. "i'm just saying if they're going to advertise their product as the 'world's best turkey leg', i shouldn't be able to fit the whole thing in my mouth. my lipstick should be entirely replaced with grease by now, but here i am, perfectly intact."

[prkers]

“they said best turkey leg. not biggest. those disney ones are fucking gigantor but they don’t taste as good as they smell.” not that it mattered to parker; he’d eat one in its entirety anyway. however, the superiority of a turkey leg was up for debate here, and so he did what any concerned, food-loving citizen would do and took the turkey leg in question out of its paper prison and sank his teeth into it. pretty juicy, he thought. not bad. he hummed in deep, concentrated thought as he chewed, returning the rest of the turkey leg to its rightful resting place. “the skin crisp to juicy meet transition is pretty solid. i’m impressed. i’ll give them that one.” folding one of the napkins in his hand, he dabbed at the corner of lottie’s mouth—it had brought on some lipstick smudging, it seemed—and then his own. “yeah, i’d still eat, like, five or six of those and then ride the tilt-a-whirl ‘til i yartzed.” a king’s haven fair classic. “by the way, i won you this.” he reached inside of his coat, where he’d been hiding his plush-of-choice until such time as it could make its grand entrance. “if you can believe it, i think that’s supposed to be a pink yoshi.” in practice, it looked closer to a blobfish. it was horribly ugly, a sad, off-brand version that would never pass brand guidelines. parker loved it. 

[secondscns]

kings haven fair | open

"see, i've always been pretty good at the ring toss. i can get it. i'm just gonna need one more try." diego lined up his shot, closing one eye, twisting his mouth just a little. "just one more..."

the fair was far too cold for his liking, wearing a warm hat on a street decorated in big pink and yellow flowers seemed like a natural oxymoron. but he was more than happy to play carnival games for prizes he didn't want or need. "watch it go." he tossed the ring, watching it spin around the neck of a bottle with a 'clink'.

[prkers]

“heeey, congrats, i’m pretty sure that means you win the big teddy—” 

parker had this habit of just starting a conversation and assuming that someone, anyone, would answer it eventually. and if they didn’t, that was fine; he had a phone to protect him from the pains of awkward silence. after his teenage years as a misfit hermit, this new philosophy of moving through the world like people wanted to talk to him had served him pretty well—but his luck had to run out eventually, and eventually, it turned out, was right now. 

see, he’d spent the last several months decidedly avoiding diego reyes. not enough to turn around and leave if he walked into a store and diego was there or learn his schedule to work around it, but, you know. if he knew they were in the same space, he gave a wide berth. here? he’d already stepped in it. there was no wide berth to give. 

“you gonna give that to somebody special?”

[prkers]

findtomorrow​:

lottie’s expression soured slightly, “i came here for an alibi, not a lecture.” parker’s tone was, in fact, the correct reaction to her story, but she didn’t need reminding that her morning sounded straight out of harlequin novel or some really bad fanfiction. ‘they broke the bed’ was probably a tag on ao3; she’d have to check when she wasn’t feeling so incredibly judged. “there might be some … distinct cracking, but that’s why i really think i might have the grounds to sue for false advertisement because there’s no fucking way solid wood can crack under a little pressure.” it wasn’t like it had been particularly good; it was just particularly … unstable, and quite honestly a little boring until she heard the sound of 'wood’ splintering. under oath, she’d swear it was laminate. “whatever, stop looking at me like that, or i’ll text your mom that you saw the cutest backsplash at home depot,” she rolled her eyes because she really wanted to let the chair swallow her whole. it was one thing for arlo or nadya to look at her like she was a degenerate; it was another for parker to choke on his breakfast.

“who’s lecturing? this was sheer disbelief. awe, even. awe in the biblical sense. awe has been inspired. i’ve never fucked a crack into a bed.” the words came more like a sheepish confession than he would’ve liked. it wasn’t that parker was squeamish about talking about his sex life--least of all with lottie, who was blessed with the kind of intimate best friend knowledge that included a play-by-play on the time he was terrified he’d somehow contracted genital herpes (including the grand reveal that it was, in fact, an ingrown pubic hair; manscaping had betrayed him). but, well. it’s one thing to joke about your sex life when you’re in the throes of marital bliss; another to compare notes with an objectively hot twenty-five-year-old with no one to answer to when you were distinctly, remarkably single. “but i wouldn’t be surprised if it was shoddy craftsmanship. ‘luxury hotels’ are all about the illusion of expense, not the reality, right? if white lotus has taught me anything, they gotta be cutting corners left and right. speedrunning just doesn’t work in the real world--all it gets you is under a pile of rubble. or, y’know. under a broken-ass bed frame. is it, like, obvious? or did you just hear a crack?”