nectar & salt.

josephine ryan. xxiii. waitress.

[sororiitas]

joey & kitty, kittybriar.

She wasn’t invited, but when has a missing invitation ever stopped Kitty Briar from doing whatever she wanted anyway? Honestly, a Boot Hill party isn’t worth shit if Kitty’s not there to turn up it a notch past nine and really make it a party. Kitty’s presence ensures that everyone in attendance will most likely wake up in the morning in some unknown location with a pounding headache. That’s her contribution to the town; a headache from a damn good time. 

She’s almost offended by the nonexistent invite as she single-handedly invented the party scene in Boot Hill (or so she likes to tell herself). To spite the host, she’s decided to crash it with a few of her old henchmen and cronies from high school (namely the five and a few ex football players) to really make them regret ever leaving Kitty Briar out of a party. They, of course, leave a mess wherever they go and proceed to damage the property without a second thought. They’re obnoxious, but it’s a plague that the party goers must endure because Kitty never forgets a slight. No one ignores Kitty briar, and ike a sore, she always makes her presence known. 

The party is…mediocre at best and it’s not her fault. Had she learned of its existence prior to today, she might have been able to take control of how it was planned. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to have a party in a trailer? Sure, not everyone could afford to live in Villas Adobes like Kitty but a trailer was just pathetic. The monotony of it all just became too much for Kitty to handle, so she made her way out of the dingy little shack and onto the hood of someone’s car with a few of her cohorts.  She isn’t too keen on sharing her weed with the rest of the rednecks inside so she takes this opportunity to light up a joint outside. Bringing it up to her lips, Kitty takes a long drag before passing it to one of boys in the group. Just before she can even blow the smoke past her lips, she’s met with the sight of Joey Ryan approaching the car. Joey’s annoyed and for a good reason, the hood of a car isn’t a chair but it’s not like Kitty even cares. 

“Relax, Ryan. I’m the prettiest thing that’s ever been on the hood of your little hooptie.” Her jest earns a few chuckles from her entourage as the joint is passed around. It’s said in good fun, not even remotely resembling her true cruelty. At least Joey has a car, Kitty’s been relegated to walking everywhere or bumming a ride from Sonny or whatever flavor of the week she’s entertaining. Once the joint makes its way back to her, Kitty extends it to Joey before sliding off the hood of the car. “Go on, have a drag.” Everything that comes out of Kitty’s mouth sounds so tempting, she could probably sell the ocean a cup of water. “I won’t tell.”

joey bristles at kitty briar’s presence, hackles raised even higher when she sees that boot hill high’s queen bee is, as usual, with her entourage. did kitty briar exist at all if she wasn’t demonstrating something for them? she was certain she didn’t. just as certain that if kitty opened her photos to show joey a picture, that the largest percent of her camera roll would be filed under selfies. kitty’s entire persona, as far as joey is concerned, is performative. it’s beautiful, but it lacks depth, and joey isn’t interested. if anything, there’s a part of her that resents kitty--not only for the reasons she’s generally misliked, but because she represents a certain narcissistic frivolity that joey can never indulge in herself. 

kitty briar is boot hill’s marie antoinette and, perched upon the ryan family station wagon, her every batting of her eyes screams to joey let them eat cake. no doubt, she is right; she is the prettiest thing ever to be on the hood of the ryan station wagon and her chittering group of sycophants are quick to agree. it’s not like joey is a prude. sure, she takes impaired driving seriously and doesn’t get out to party very often because of the kids, but she’s not too good for a joint or shots. it just has to be in the right setting. stranded without her keys in the freaking trailer park is not the right setting. 

beyond anything else, joey is annoyed that she’s having a murphy’s law kind of night and kitty fucking briar is sitting on her car like it’s a goddamn lawn chaise lounge. she can remember when her mother would lie out in the yard in hers during the summer with a sun reflector and some danielle steele paperback. it makes her wonder if felicity ryan was anything like the false idol of teen dreams before her back in the day and, she decides, she probably was. “i don’t know.” joey shrugs, face flat. “the original hood ornament was at least real metal.” her tone is so even that it’s hard to say whether she’s simply recalling an old memory or telling a mean joke. that’s really the best way to deal with girls like kitty--tell a joke so straight-faced that they can’t tell if you’re an idiot or a bitch. joey ryan doesn’t really care either way. 

bristling at the joint, she considers the offer. she smoked her last dub at least two weeks ago and it’s not like she can find her car keys anyway. she’ll be forced to call someone for a ride home and a ride back in the morning anyway. the offer itself is a double edged sword--she’s a square if turns it down, but she’s just another sycophant if she accepts it. too bad she doesn’t have her own joint buried somewhere within the bag. then she’d really make a statement. with all of the girls descended upon her car like a flock of hitchcock’s eponymous birds, it seems like a safer bet to just accept the offer. with a sigh, she lets her bag slump over her shoulder in resignation. “sure, kitty. i can’t find my keys anyway.”

[sororiitas]

Okay I’m really going to be doing replies on all my girls tonight !! I’ve been neglectful ! I got bangs ( sort of ) !! I have a ton of errands to run but I got up at 9 am and I gotta stay up at least til 4 am because I work nightshift tomorrow !

[sororiitas]

MAKE YOUR MUSE.

tagged by :  literally none of you, but as such--all of you. tagging :  anyone left !! i’m late to the game.

[ncutilus]

[tellmenoliesboutique]

[adrenaline]

by Lumi Tuomi

[sororiitas]

joey & forrest, forrestparker.

Forrest wasn’t sure how he found himself at a strangers trailer late at night but he chalked it up to his own inability to resist a party. In comparison to other parties Forrest had been too, it was only okay but having something to do that broke up the monotony of living in Boot Hill, made it great in Forrest’s mind. Maybe, he just hadn’t noticed that he needed to burn off a little bit of steam? When he stood to take his way to the bathroom, he realized that maybe he let loose a little bit too much. He wobbled to the bathroom but took a wrong turn and just ended up outside.

The chilly night air whipped across his face as he turned bleary eyes towards the parked cars sitting outside of the trailer. He was trying to do something but he couldn’t quite remember what it was at the moment. Suddenly, he felt quite tired. Just a short nap couldn’t hurt to bad, right? Somehow, someway, he managed to put one foot in front of the other until he found his car, or at least he thought it was his car. He fumbled around for his keys originally intending to nap in the back but finding none, he settled for the hood of his car. It was cold against his face but it wasn’t too bad. His eyes closed and he relaxed there, half asleep and half listening to the muffled sounds of partying coming from the trailer. He must have been out there thirty minutes before he was awoken by the sound of someone. He turned his head and peered from under heavy eyelids at the women. “Do I what?” he asked her still not completely awake. It took some time but eventually, Forrest brain caught up with his eyes. He recognized her from somewhere but he just couldn’t put the pieces together so he settled for,”hey! I know you. Right?”

unable to find her keys, the half asleep figure should have inspired more fear in joey, but she’d been to enough house parties. she didn’t recognize the guy, but that wasn’t entirely abnormal in the context and it was really too dark out in the trailer park to really glean any recognition from his sleepy face. it wasn’t as if there were really any obvious dangers to boot hill. on the surface, the town was as beautiful as any small town on daytime television. there were secrets and gossip, but they were all the types of things joey imagined were simply unavoidable in human life. perhaps it was just the desert and the sounds of coyotes, but boot hill could be frightening at night. more than ever since her father disappeared and the desert had swallowed him up as if he were a gnat on a slice of fruit. boot hill forgot as boot hill forgets. the town is like any other town only it eats its children.

prone to hyperbole, joey didn’t really feel like anything was terribly strange during daylight hours or when she was curled up reading charlotte’s web to her niece and nephew. it was almost always in the dark and, often alone, that she waxed poetic in soliloquy about the town’s hungry belly and felt its greedy eyes drinking her in. sighing as the man spoke to her, joey was broken from her dark reverie ( almost gratefully ) and reminded of the annoying reality of her situation. “do you mind?” she repeated only, this time, without much of a bite. he was clearly just some party goer who’d chosen the hood of her car to make a nest upon like a lonely lost bird. “uh, i don’t know. i don’t think so.” she was still unsure. he looked familiar enough, but working at the turquoise star meant that everyone looked familiar to her. “maybe from the diner?” she offered. still digging through her bag’s contents in search of her keys.

[bob-belcher]

[sororiitas]

joey & mitch, mitcheovaldi.

Mitch had been wandering through the desert night, exploring the town that had become home. It had become a habit when he felt the need for a certain level of solitude that the town didn’t, otherwise, provide. Wandering through the trailer park, it was obvious, the further down one street he got, that someone was having a party. Whether it had spilled out onto the street, or people were just coming (or maybe leaving) was hard to say, but there seemed to be plenty of people out in the street. As someone spilled the contents of their bag onto the hood of a car, he couldn’t help but approach — there was a certain level of distress in the action that made him curious if he could somehow help. “You alright? Need some help?” he questioned simply, clearly, before he’d even gotten within ten feet of the blonde, trying not to startle her.

the person who spoke to her was a stranger, but appeared to be someone she’d seen around town before. maybe in the diner or around town, but in the frustration of having lost her keys, she couldn’t quite place him. continuing to rifle through the pockets, nooks, and crannies, she tried to steady her breath with some dumb yoga breathing technique she’d picked up from the girl at iron fitness. that’s how she keeps a level head when her mother won’t get out of bed on the kids’ birthdays. or how she keeps it together when she has to pick which utility can stand to be paid last ( if at all ). joey ryan is exceptional at seeming like everything is fine with her heart strained within a vice, but one beer and a ring of missing car keys were enough for the month to make little crescent appear on the palms of clenched fists and, jesus, even make her feel like something wasn’t right in the trailer park. 

it tends to go that way anytime joey gets too far out into the outskirts. stress makes it worse, she thinks, that’s why her mother said her father did it. he’d been under too much stress and simply walked out into the desert. joey remembers being incredulous as a child. as if her mother, who was sleeping through his unceremonious disappearance as she does with all important things, would have any idea as to what sent him away. joey had been incredulous, yes, but the story has enough witnesses through the town, that it is part of boot hill’s legends. bad enough the power bill was a month out, now she’d have to pay for chuy to send someone down and get her door open and get her a new set of keys. “i’m alright, i’m just--” voice staccato with frustration, she puts her things back into her back and she lets out a long breath. “--i can’t find my keys and i can’t really afford any more of this shit right now.” it’s not his problem and joey remembers how to swallow her feelings like an ice cube; it hurts on the way down. “i’m sorry, i’m just having a bad night. i should probably go back to louisa’s and see if she has a coathanger or something i can unlock the door with.”

[sororiitas]

the shining appeal of the house party ( a term they all used loosely, as her friend louisa lived in the miracle mine trailer park ), decorated in flashing lights in some year-round, macabre amalgamation of christmas, had tarnished before she’d even finished her first beer. a group of guys from high school that she could never quite stand had crashed and were making themselves at home in louisa’s trailer because that girl was too goddamn spineless to say anything. after her sister’s death, joey’d never laid her hands on a car key after drinking, but there had been an unease in the desert night air since she’d arrived at the party on the outskirts of town. it was only half a beer and a shot anyway and she was glad that she’d been conservative about her drinking, even if it meant leaving home early.

the hairs on her neck stood at attention, and as she dug through her purse for her keys, she felt the distinct sensation of eyes on her back. picking up her pace, she cursed as her search for her keys became more frantic. as she finally approached her car, keys still nowhere to be found, she was surprised to see a figure in her path and she jumped, turning to find no one behind her after all and meeting the person who lounged either near or on her car ( it was too dark yet to tell from where she stood ) with an annoyed glance. “christ jesus!” the words came out in the breath she didn’t know she was holding before steeling her resolve. “do you mind?” she asked, before trudging closer and dumping the contents of her purse on the hood of her car. no keys. none. nada. with a loud groan, she kicked the fire of her car and spun slowly, leaning against the hood of the car and raking her fingers through her messy blonde curls. “goddamn it.” she whispered, more to herself than to present company. ( @boothillstarters​ )

[natalie-clark]

Late at the Drive-In | Natalie x Open

[sororiitas]

joey & natalie, natalie-clark.

Natalie smiled as she watched the third movie of the night begin to play. It was late and late night is for the lovers so it wasn’t often people came to the snack bar for anything once the movie started which meant she could sit back and read her book. Aaron was staying with James’ mother for the night so Natalie was free able to help out and work late without any worries.

She had just sat down in the lawn chair she’d set up in the box office when someone came up to the window. “Hello, How can I help you?” She asked standing up to greet them.

eyeing the candies, joey searched for the family favorites. her sister, katie, always wanted junior mints--even better if they were frozen first. eddie liked peanut butter cups and her niece and nephew would take whatever was fruity, but usually it was twizzlers or skittles. she made her selections and offered a smile to the drive-in’s owner. “do you have any coffee brewed?” there was no way she’d be able to stay up for the last movie and be able to drive home if she didn’t have a cup. “and four hot chocolates if it’s not too much trouble.”

[valtsv]

*slowly removes my heart-shaped sunglasses* i beg your fucking pardon

[dailystrangerthings]

[bioshockinfinites-deactivated20]

Maika Monroe photographed by Drew Barrymore for V Magazine

[74flawsasofyesterday]

[sororiitas]

joey & hector, hedonest.

sleep where and when you can get it. that’s one of the first things hector learned the moment he left the ibáñez household, adapting quite well to no longer having a warm bed to go home to every night. on the floor, on the couch, under overpasses, against doorsteps, in unlocked cars. the latter, it’s a good trick when there’s nowhere else to go, a bit of shelter and a soft seat to put your head on. in the desert, where he’s spent most of his time since oklahoma, there are tricks to the trick. only sleep in cars at night, when it can be balmy or sometimes even freezing, but clear out before the sun rises; owners of those cars typically have somewhere to go in the morning, naturally, but it gets too hot during the day to sleep in a fishbowl with no a/c running. don’t pick cars that are too nice, they’ve got alarms, but don’t pick cars that are too messy, the owner might notice if their tenth discarded mcdonald’s bag has been moved off of the backseat. and most of all, the most important part of car-sleeping, or just sleeping anywhere, be a light sleeper!

hector’s usually quite good at this, awaking at the merest hint of a presence in the room or the softest sound, but there’s nothing that can rouse him when there’s been too much tequila and a bit of pills in his blood, not even the heat of the arizona sun and the anger of a leggy blonde. the sounds of someone yelling are not foreign to hector, especially not anger directed at him, but it takes a good bit of time for one eye to flutter open. his groan is loud and protesting, muscles aching from the uncomfortable position of his body (another tip: get used to sleeping in uncomfortable positions) as the slapping of the hood made his ears ring like church bells. “jesus,” he mutters, eye shutting closed as tightly as the other, perfectly content to ignore the woman and stay right where he is. groggy and slow, he listens to her outburst and finally responds though his eyes stay shut. “sorry, man.”

of course, hector has a motel room at the coral cactus or whatever it’s called. he’s remembering that now, back straining as he makes minute movements to wake up, but all he remembers from last night is the need to sleep after too many shots and not knowing where he’s at. that’s the problem of unfamiliar places, and hector tries to make sure that every place is unfamiliar to him; he’s gone before he can commit any name to memory. “alright, fuck!” finally, he sits up and takes a bleary look at his surroundings. he looks at the owner of the car with sleepy eyes, curls messily hanging over them. “where am i?”

“sorry, man? are you serious?” joey can practically hear the adrenaline coursing through her veins. if it wasn’t somewhat terrifying that some random stranger was using her car as a hotel room. weren’t there plenty of those around a town that seemed to devour its own tourism industry? god, her pulse is practically bounding in her throat. she’s never been in a fight, unless slapping her sister in the back of her parents’ station wagon over music choices counts. smacking the top of her car a few times, she continues to work on ushering him out. what is wrong with him? somehow this guy has the audacity to act like she’s the asshole for waking him up.

“where are you?” her voice cracks dubiously as she raises it and she’s suddenly super aware of how stupid this is. “outside the turquoise star diner, and--” swallowing hard, she pulls her bag over her shoulder to stabilize it in case she has to run into the diner and call the sheriff’s office. “--still in my car.” as he looks around, the threat of him seems to subside a little bit. maybe he was just too drunk to find his way around last night and her car looks like his or it was just the only one with an open door. joey knew how eerie the town could get at night, especially a few drinks in. it wasn’t out of the question.

as she realized that maybe he wasn’t a threat, but rather some poor passer-through that probably got caught up in too many creepy tales of the shrieker and hunted courage in the bottom of the bottle, she let herself relax a bit and took a seat onto the curb next to them. swallowing her pride, she takes a deep breath and prepares to speak. “look, i’m sorry if you like ... passed out in here or something thinking it was your car, but you just really freaked me out and--” still half-ready to run to the diner as if it were home base and this whole freaky situation was merely a game of tag, joey tries to look casual. “so, are you okay? do you need me to like call somebody for you?” or maybe he just needed some breakfast.

[be-your-luve]

Your father… Was an awful human being, and thank god he’s dead.