#stv:start

[deputy-carter]

“Fuck!” 

The word is unleashed from Hayley in a twisted scream, slamming her fist against the trunk of the nearest tree. It had been an hour since she first spotted the gang of Graingerville’s resident hooligans - a group of local teens who now believed themselves to be high class criminals - attempting to rob the local liquor store (or, Hayley’s second home - this was a personal affront). With no time to call back up, she’d chased them full pelt, taking a detour through the woods. However, not even she could keep up with a group of six, especially when they all dispersed in different directions. “Fuck! Shit! Crap!” She punches the trunk with every syllable. She’d never used to be this angry, but there was something about the adrenaline of the chase and the blood dripping from her knuckles that causes her pulse to race, the disgusting feeling of a shifting in her skin. As if she could just reach inside and drag that beast out from within her, really show those kids a lesson then-

Crack. The sound of a stick snapping just behind her snaps her out of her tirade, causing her to suck in a sudden breath when she realises just what she’d been thinking. Her eyes quickly move from her bloody knuckles to the stranger, shaking her head as she tried to come back to herself. “Sorry - didn’t mean to scare you there. Just stupid kids getting under my skin. Best be careful around the woods right now, there’s a group of wannabe thieves on the loose.”

[vhshawn-blog]

conversations five times relived.

Honey’s Diner. 7:32 PM. @scull-kid.

Moments of normalcy shaped Shawn well. Though he was more than used to that specific word, normalcy, it was still strangely deafening all the same.  It had been, of course, nothing was new. The past year had been a weight both lifted and blown onto his pretenses of what was good and not, and though shaping his worldview more than it already had been was fantastical in itself, he didn’t appreciate the effect it had had on his demeanor. In his life were now thirteen others that shared his connection, deafeningly similar in the fucked sorta’ way that those who participated in the BFE could only share. They had attempted to fall back into their previous lives beforehand (of course, relationships changed and added and shifted along with it), but it was all the same to Shawn: nothing could really be the same when even Portland itself was a whole new world. Thinking about it sent you into a portal, a loophole similar to that of the same one that had unleashed the very same creatures they fought, and one that Shawn didn’t quite want to find himself in that late in the evenings.  And when times got like that, he went to pay an old friend a visit.  The little bell above the door tinkled as Shawn pushed it open, placing his hands into his pockets. He had a hand on his wallet, and pressed his license out of the little plastic pocket on habit, pushing it back in like a broken record. He was almost certain that Sadie’d be working tonight--her hours were weird these days, and when your parents owned the place you worked in, he considered you didn’t have much of a choice in schedules to begin with. The convenience was uncanny in that matter--it seemed in Graingerville that whenever you needed someone, they were always available.  Shawn pretended that was fate’s decision and not the fact that the town was practically full of ghosts, but perhaps that was due optimism.  “Sadie Scully, do I have a story for you!” Shawn hummed, his voice just below a yell as to not quite disturb the other patrons of the diner. If Sadie was in the kitchen she’d sure as hell hear him--Shawn never had a problem with volume--and his low-rate opening gossip would be an easy transition into what he was moreso getting at. Either way, he was almost sure Sadie’d know why he was there...other than the milkshakes, of course. 

[jackiforjustice]

honey’s diner, 11:27 PM

There was nothing in the world that biscuits and gravy couldn’t fix. Jacki firmly believed that - when she was growing up, her mama would make the biscuits from scratch while her papa worked on the gravy. James and Jonathan, her younger brothers, would dance around the living room with her to whatever record her parents had put on for “family cooking time.” Yes, Jacki was convinced that there was nothing in the world that biscuits and gravy couldn’t fix, including another day filled with nothing but paper pushing, coffee runs for the bosses, and being blatantly ignored. Again.

It was times like this that Jacki thanked whatever type of god was up there for Honey’s Diner. Their biscuits and gravy had saved her many a night since returning to Graingerville, and even though she sat alone in a booth, she was grateful to have a little time with her own thoughts. The bell right above the door chimed just as the waiter skated over to bring her biscuits and gravy to the table, placing the hot plate right next to her open notebook and textbook. She said a quick thank you as she kept taking notes, only stopping when someone cleared their throat right next to her table. She looked up, wondering who had interrupted her late night yummy-study session.