#ashdenstarter

[audreydarlingashden-blog]

“Well if he keeps trying to change things, tell him he’s fired.” Audrey said tersely into her phone. “I don’t care what expertise he thinks he has, I own the place. He’s barely even walked into his job and he’s most certainly replaceable.” There was a beat where the person on the other end must have been replying. “Good. See to it.” With that she slid the annoying device away and forced herself into the pretence of taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Sometimes she found it did actually help. Of course, her annoyance still read somewhat on her face. 

[loganrsterling]

Logan got out of the car he’d just parked with a sigh. He always felt a little dirty when he visited home and then got straight to work (or attempting to) after. But he’d just dropped off any money he had so it was time to make more. He had a shift a little later on at the Crimson King’s Club but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a few bucks beforehand.

Looking around, he tried to see if he could spot any regulars, or anyone who seemed interested. You’d be surprised where you could pick up clients. He seemed to have a particular knack for finding them. Apparently in that moment he also had a knack for clumsiness, fumbling his keys and immediately dropping down to pick them up. Yeah, that was sexy alright. Not.

[jericohudson]

Something smelled oddly familiar in Ashden. It wasn’t Levi, he recognised the scent of the wolf he’d turned probably more easily than anything. He was damn well going to turn the boy into a pack member eventually. Other pack members were making their way into town but it wasn’t them either. He couldn’t quite put a name to the scent but he was sure when he found the owner he would figure it out. 

Of course, standing in the middle of the street and inhaling deeply while looking around him probably wasn’t the most subtle thing in the world he could have done to find the owner of said scent either. Jerico was somewhat past hiding these days though. 

[remingtonism-blog]

A pad of paper over his knee, an earbud in one ear, a cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of them — with as much like a hipster that they looked, was it any wonder at all that they’d fit so well in the café? Unlike the company that he resembled that would be, Remington was not drawing or writing poetry. The ghost of a grin on their lips was from the dramatic cries for help he’d been sent as the manager of the Serenity Café. There were some that he was understanding of — even sympathetic for. Workers asking for days off for funerals, or weddings, or other important life events. Others, however, left them with that amused expression. They all knew already that he loved this job. Remi picked up his coffee as he moved to the next e-mail, bringing it to his lips and nearly choking on it when he realized it was still too hot to drink ( as it had just been served, but he wasn’t thinking as he was preoccupied ). Swallowing hard, he shook his head and, in the ordeal, Remington spilled a little on the table and on his pants and on the floor. He glanced up, realizing that he’d caught someone’s attention. “My apologies if I disturbed you.” He said, a smile still on his lips as he desperately looked around for napkins to clean up his mess.

[axeldwish-blog]

“Really? Tastes fine to me.” Axel says slamming the half-empty glass on the counter. One of the worst parts of their night is when people try to get free drinks by consistently claiming that Axel had screwed their order up. Axel had, had to remake this person’s Manhattan a grand total of three times now and Axel is one hundred percent sure nothing was wrong with a single one of them.