#sound:start

[tinycameron-blog]

“It’s no wonder I never went very far with, um, sports after middle school. I’m so terribly uncoordinated, I’ve managed to injure myself in the shower of all places.” He rubs his elbows with a hint of a pout; it’s too warm or else he’d have them covered up most definitely. “They really ought to put a warning on those things -- watch your step or slippery when wet or something.” It’s a well orchestrated fib, or at least he thinks so. At least the swelling has gone down.

[caspartho-blog]

“Hypothetically speaking-- would you let someone who’s still in med school do surgery on your mouth, if it meant you got a huge discount? I have this, um.. friend, who needs their wisdom teeth out, and they can’t even afford to put gas in their car to get to work so they can afford to put gas in their car. Life is ironic that way...” 

[smdeloy-blog]

family had always been important to eloy for as long as the male could remember. he had three younger sisters, a mother who was working multiple jobs, & a step-father who was always gone due to working construction. it was a messy house-hold that eloy never wanted to be in from the start. he couldn’t afford a single thing & often resorted to staying at his friends’ places rather than his own for the simplest of reasons. one friend had an xbox-- something that the dean family could never afford. while another friend had four cats & a dog-- animals or pets of any sort weren’t allowed in the apartments eloy lived in. soon enough making friends was just a battle of finding the people in town who had more than eloy ( which wasn’t very hard to do honestly ).

there was only one item that eloy had that he didn’t have to share with his sisters or with anyone else as a matter of fact. it was a bow that his parents saved up for once he entered high school. throughout the years it was also an object that eloy debated, many times, selling to make a little extra cash. to this day though; he was happy that he never went through with selling it. it was the only beautiful thing that he got to keep in his life. if anything it was more like an anchor to him, reminding him when everything was still a struggle, but more simple. 

peace & quiet were needed when getting his anger out with his bow & arrows. with the sound of footsteps behind him though, while he was taking aim, eloy lifted his green eyes off his target - however not moving his arms down to lower the weapon. instead he turned his eyes to the person besides him, a smirk spread over his lips. “ i’d be careful if i were you. getting too close or being too annoying may result in you getting in trouble. ” & just as the word trouble rolled off his tongue, with his green eyes still on the person, eloy shot the arrow. landing just an inch off the bullseye. 

[elliiots-blog]

Drumming her fingers along the counter top, Elliot watches as the slow trickle of people pass by the expanses of window lining her place of employment. It’s always stragglers, she notices, always aiming to blend in with the shadows and avoid the small patches of light lining the street. She had always anticipated a night life that thrived, flourished when the moon replaced the sun in the sky, but in this part of town, any sign of life was more than what was expected. Short fingernails click against the counter hypnotically, the brunette quickly falling into a rhythm. 

It was easy to fall into a state of absent-mindedness, it was why she preferred the night shift. The tips were mediocre any time a customer stepped in the door, and it wasn’t as though the pay was high to begin with, but it gave her a little money and she didn’t have to deal with unruly customers who were desperate to pick a fight with their underpaid, under-appreciated waitress that wouldn’t defend herself to save her own life. Chocolate-colored eyes still glued to the window, her hand starts knocking around for the mug of coffee she’d prepared for herself, in attempt to keep her moving through the shift without wanting to doze off. She only realizes that her hand had met contact with the ceramic when she carelessly waved around, sending her drink off the counter with a shatter. Coffee went everywhere, and the rush of color to the girl’s cheeks was almost a natural response to the incident. “Shit,” she murmurs under her breath, spinning around on the stool to grab a handful of napkins from the dispenser. Elliot kneels on the ground, careful to pick around the shards to avoid furthering her embarrassment with an injury. Head down, bangs starting to fall in her eyes, she grabs a napkin from the pile in her lap and begins to try to soak up her spilled drink without additional witnesses.

[tinycameron-blog]

It’s been ages since his last cigarette. Having used them primarily as a comfort and to stave off bad habits, he hasn’t found a need to light up until now. With everything caving in on itself in his life lately, the little stick of familiarity is a well needed anchor, returning solid ground under his feet. He doesn’t feel comfortable doing on the little balcony of his and Izzy’s apartment; he doesn’t want to subject his lover to the secondhand effects of his vice. So he’s crouched on the curb just outside the entrance to Marlborough, a safe enough distance away to not bother anyone nor get him into any trouble. Or so he thinks. As he hears footsteps nearby, lit cigarette dangling between his fingertips, Cameron turns his head in the onlooker’s direction. “I’m, um, I’m really sorry,” he instantly apologizes before the other can even speak, smoke coming out of parted lips in curling tendrils. “Am I bothering you? I can, uh, I can move.”

[jacoberickson-blog1]

Jacob hates getting check ups. He’s always afraid there’s going to be something truly wrong with him, this fear only growing after he found out his dad had the big C. What if it is hereditary? What if he’s going to get it just as quickly as his father seemed to? Maybe it’s a stupid thing to worry about, but it still stresses Jacob out. 

So the smell of  s a n i t a t i o n (which was a strange scent entirely. It could be nothing or it could be everything: rubbing alcohol, latex, that metallic scent of blood that’s always just lingering around a hospital) puts him on edge. But he knows it’s important-— especially for him-— to take advantage of any free check-ups at the clinic. If not the general physical at least for any STDs ( @ durex thank you for protecting me from any this far. xoxo jake ). 

He turns to the person beside him, recognizing the awkward silence that’s hung over them for the past few minutes. Why not start a conversation? 

-— “ So . .  .  what are you in for? ” he says, trying his best to make a joke.

... Why not? Well, probably because you’re both just trying to get through this check-up without finding out you’re dying. Fuck, he thinks, hoping the other person doesn’t just get up and leave his annoying ass behind. 

[grayccle-blog]

Gray is exhausted. He’d woken up this morning only to find he was out of milk (and most other things), and despite knowing he probably should wait for some assistance in going to the shops -- either from his mom or his sister -- he’d stubbornly decided he wanted to do it himself. He didn’t want to bother them, and it was only a small trip to the grocery store after all. He’d thought he’d be fine. He isn’t. He’s managed to make it inside the doors of Marlborough apartments, arms laden with brown bags filled with the cheapest items he could find on the shelves. He’s completely out of breath, sweat sticking hair to his brow, and spots blurring his vision -- likely as pale as his white tee. He feels nauseous, even before the bottom of his bag gives up and adds insult to injury as the contents empty onto the floor. He isn’t even close to the elevator yet, and he has no doubt that if he bends to retrieve the items, he’ll tumble down to the ground right along with them. He needs a breather. He needs to rest, and he finds himself sinking to the floor, back against the wall, to sit amongst his abandoned groceries to do just that. Still, he’s accomplished his mission (almost), and his spirits are high. High enough that he flashes a smile at the next person to enter the lobby, genuine and bright as always. “Hello. Don’t mind me, just having a bit of a sit down with my chicken soup, contemplating the meaning of life, the universe and everything. The bananas seem to have some very insightful input on the matter, but the loaf of bread is not to be trusted.”

[ardcnn-blog]

Arden’s sort of new to this. The ‘straight and narrow’ has never been a path that particularly appealed to her -- in every sense -- and even now, fresh out of rehab with her case manager breathing down her neck, she finds her mind wandering to old, darker places. Marlborough itself isn’t in the best of neighbourhoods, and as she sits outside the building on the curb trying (unsuccessfully) to light her cigarette, she thinks maybe a little walk to a street she used to know might do her a restlessness a world of good.

Or maybe just an appropriate distraction.

“Do you have a lighter?” She asks of the first person she notices, not particularly caring to look at their face just yet. She had to give up all of her other vices -- she’s not giving up her cigarettes too.