#chstart

[nvnchalants]

charlie sat down angrily at the bench in the park, his arms crossed in a huff. somebody in his apartment complex stole his skateboard during the night, and he was peeved. to be fair, he shouldn’t have left it outside his door -- but what happened to the honor code?! “ugh, this whole day sucks!” he cried out to himself, never shying away from the drama.

[pwrslides]

text 🍏 open.

solomon: should i start a youtube channel

solomon: i want to start a youtube channel

[bruisedcamo]

“put your phone down, this is supposed to be a self-care night!” francesca protested, though she still had her own phone in her hands. just one more story post, she promised herself, and then she’d be completely and totally devoted to her present company. “what’s more important than me right now?” she asked, trying to sneak a look at the other person’s phone screen.

[jacekhouris]

text; open

jace: guess who's back in town babeyyyyy

jace: let's catch up!!! wyd tonight

[mechanicvl]

-- “impara a leggere un cartello la prossima volta, coglione (learn to read a sign next time, asshole)!” harley snarled, throwing the crumpled bill in the direction of the slamming door. it was way too late for this bullshit; the garage needed to be closed up, the cars accounted for, and the place cleaned. muttering under his breath, harley marched out from behind the counter to pick up the fliers that had been swept off in his...debate with the latest customer. the quiet, however, didn’t last long; a moment later, there came a chime from the little bell atop the front door, signaling another entry. instantly, harley was on his feet and turning, eyes murderous. “va’ a far-- i said the shop’s closed!”

[antiquatcd]

finn’s rain soaked curls clung to his cheeks and forehead, his eyelashes dripping with water. it was hard to believe that the summer sunshine had only been a few weeks ago. at this point, it seemed like they were deep in spring. “hello! anyone in there?” he knocked on the door with a heavy hand, hoping his pleas for shelter would be heard through the thunder and torrential drops of rain. “i’m stuck out here! help!”

[julianmcrtinez]

Julian flipped his tiny sketchbook open to the newest page, passing it over to the other with an expectant grin. “So, what do you think?” He pressed eagerly. It was a wobbly sketch of a Pikachu (Or, at least, that’s what he originally intended it to be. The Pikachu didn’t even resemble a Pikachu, except for its zigzag tail.) wearing an astronaut’s suit, floating around in space. It wasn’t the ugliest drawing he’s done, but it wasn’t the best either. With the small size of his sketchbook, Julian had to utilize two, full pages to draw the whole thing, which made it look worse. “I’m thinking of colouring it, but I don’t want to fuck it up.”

[veraxlynch-blog]

Admittedly, it had taken far too long for Vera to realize just why her houseboat had been filled with a veritable ocean of multi-colored balloons. Plastic and mylar burst forth and pooled around her ankles as soon as she’d managed to slide the front door open. Though her first instinct was to stare dumbly into the neon abyss, her next move was to wade into the chaos for any indication of what had transpired. Even her at her most drunk, Vera couldn’t imagine she would whip out her AmEx just to buy what must have been a couple hundred dollars worth of balloons. Which left the question of who had the time to bother? More than that, how had they gotten into her home? 

It was something worth pondering with a martini in her hand. 

By the time she’d kicked aside enough balloons to fix pull down a glass and fix her drink, she’d decided the best course of action would be to wade back through the small space and take up residence on the deck. The problem would still exist once she’d reached the bottom of her glass, and she could just as easily take care of the issue after munching on the three saturated olives that would serve as her lunch. Better that than the days-old take out in her fridge. 

Somewhere between her first and second olive, she found the opportunity to lazily bat balloons in the direction of passersby. It was harmless -- - annoying, sure, but harmless - -- and slowly chipped away at the issue of balloons in her home. It didn’t take long before she hit someone squarely in the back of the head, though Vera didn’t miss a beat in draping herself over the rail of her boat and leaning into an shrug that might’ve come off as unaffected if she hadn’t given into a self-indulgent grin, “You look like you could use a balloon. That one’s free. It’s fifty cents a pop after that -- - a dollar if you want one with words on it.”