#hollidaycarlson

[chandler-rawlins1]

✉︎: Chandler⇄ Holly

Chandler: Hey Holly. It's Chandler. We met at the school a few weeks ago, and I just wanted to say hi.

Chandler: So, hi. :)

[jackadler]

STARTER FOR: @hollidaycarlson​ LOCATION: Carlson Estate, Ventura. SETTING: Early evening.

Panic was the only thing Jack could feel right now. The feeling, the sensation, had come out of nowhere. He was sitting alone in his home, pondering over the future and what it may hold. Over songs, over his addiction, over what goes on inside his head, over Marion. The list was extensive and worrisome. At first, he takes to pacing the carpet, breathing deeply to ensure some sort of false sense of calm. It works a little, but not entirely, not when his thoughts were so all-consuming. Blue eyes dart back and forth between different patterns on the carpet beneath his feet, then to random items inside his home. TV, the little statue of a bird resting on the side table, DVD player, water bottle, guitar, couch, chairs, blankets, pillows. 

Before his mind has a say, Jack is grabbing his coat, heading to his car. The singer drives for a little while, which does calm him. But it has the same impact as breathing. It’s slow and steady but comes crashing down in quick moments, no match for his anxiety. He’s not sure how and why he ends up at Holly’s house, parking just outside, but he’s here regardless. Jack steps out a little shakily, suddenly nervous, feeling as though he may not be welcome. But why wouldn’t he be? The two have been on good terms for quite a while now, even with a fleeting affair under their belt. But maybe that was just it, this moment feels ghostly reminiscent to the days where Jack would come to her for comfort, which inevitably lead to more than just comfort.

A hand knocks at her door then, gaze cast down towards his shoes before it steadily lifts as the light from inside cascades over his frame and surroundings. “Hi,” He says, which feels and sounds pathetic the moment it comes, “Are you busy?”

[susancarey]

STARTER FOR: @hollidaycarlson​ LOCATION: The Brunch Bunch. SETTING: Late morning.

Everything was a tad overwhelming to Susan Carey. To her, every little encounter was like staring into the face of her deepest fears. Even while doing something she loved, there was always a lingering sense of doubt threatening to dampen her each and every move. Though today seemed to iron out quite nicely. She started the day by tearing a new blouse, which caused an array of new sorrowful emotions to come crashing over her like a tidal way. But she soon came down from those feelings and processed them without popping like a balloon. Now she was working, cooking up delicious meals for patrons that come and go. It was a good day and it will a remain a good day, her grandmother’s voice rings through her mind, saying one of her notorious mantras. 

That’s until a waitress comes through the door of the kitchen, holding onto a dish Susan had just prepared to be brought out. Light brows furrow together, “What happened?” She questions, the rate of her heart beginning to pick up. The waitress says it’s not what she had ordered and has asked to speak to the chef or whoever was in charge. Susan swallows hard, loosening the apron from around her petite waist and walks out. No eyes were on her but Susan feels as though they might be. The waitress points to the woman in question. She was gorgeous, tanned skin with dark hair cascading down and over her shoulders. Susan swallows once more, “Hello,” The blonde greets, “Was there a problem with the dish, ma’am?”