❝ Yes, everbody's dying to be somebody else, but I'll live my life if it kills me. ❞
B A S I C S –
Name: Beckett Graves.
Nicknames: Bucket (most commonly known as), Beck.
Birthday: July 29, 2000.
Pronouns: He/him.
Gender/Sex: Cisgender/male.
Sexuality: Bisexual.
Occupation: Bartender at Rock & Bowl.
P E R S O N A L I T Y —
+ Captivating, playful, humble. - Self-destructive, impulsive, childish.
Incredibly outgoing and equally as charming. He's likely to talk your ear off, a big, dumb grin permanently attached to his face. In other words, a flirt. While he was a screw-up in high-school, he's always been incredibly playful, finding joy in every moment (especially those that shouldn't be joyous). Could do with a heavy dose of Serious Business but he'd likely figure out a way to make that un-serious, too. Deeply, deeply a stoner as well, which means this flirtatious smile is always paired with half-lidded eyes and a chill-ness not easily obtained soberly.
A R R I V A L — ( BORN & RAISED )
Born and raised in this coastal town. He has huge dreams of getting out of this place, but then he'd have to, like, become a functioning member of society and rely on more than just his charm to get around, so... We'll see when that happens.
E X T R A B I T S —
– Has broken every skateboard he's ever owned, but never a bone. It kind of pisses him off - he's 99% reckless and can't even manage to get a cool injury.
– For a very very very long time he did not have access to a car and simply drove around on an electric scooter. He still has the scooter and prefers it for daytime use, though he does have a beater now (with a roll-down top, thank you very much) so he can make longer drives in the winter without dying.
– Dipped town after getting dumped by the girl he thought was "the one" and went to Italy for six months before coming back a much better chef and a much calmer person. Also, he fucked sooo many Italian milfs, and he WILL tell you about it.
– LOVES the Spice Girls and other 90's pop girlies. Just something about jamming to bubblegum pop on a long walk
C O N N E C T I O N S —
Atlas Nolan: motherfuckers. Absolute chaos in a duo. Met through dubious means and have been pulling dumb shit together since. Most recently, they've been terrorizing the bowling leagues with disguises while Bucket howls from his bartending duties.
Cricket Campbell: friends. Met through Mack and buddied up easily because Bucket loves to eat whatever Cricket's cooking. They started cheffing it up together more often after Bucket's trip to Italy.
Leo Larson: former slut pals. Would hit the clubs together to skank it up. Now, Leo's taken it upon himself to personally lift Bucket out of his dry spell.
Mack Montgomery: friends. Bucket but stronger. Buddies, partiers, general nuisances for the Aurora Bay residents.
Santiago De Leon: papa y son. Bucket may just be a no-good troublemaker, but at least he has the head of the Four Leaf to look out for him.
B A C K G R O U N D —
written bio coming soon... tw: brief mentions of parental abuse, drug abuse, death, suicide.
- king of the milfs. literally will not shut up about fucking milfs. its a disease and i feel sorry for anyone who had to be friends with this guy in middle school
- has one sister, sarah, who is disabled. he speaks ASL after learning so they could communicate. if bucket graves is one thing, it’s a good ass brother
- 0 relationship with parents. his mother and father kicked him out for poor behavior in high school and their relationship never recovered. his father is abusive and his mother is complacent, choosing her life of luxury and her home over her son. sarah lives with them, and bucket has a habit of sneaking into the house just to visit her. brenda (his mother) pretends she doesn’t know this
- plays guitar well. has been in and out of bands through high school, but always goes back to the one he shares with his best friend
- very very talented artist. once had dreams of becoming a comic book artist and even got into a lucrative art school, but he dropped out after the first semester due to crippling self-doubt (and lack of funds, but that’s not the leading or most important reason).
- sort of fell into bartending. his drinks are too strong and sometimes he gives you a peach margarita when you asked for apple, but he’s just so cute it’s hard to be mad about it. somehow, he’s employed, and still bringing home big tips with lipstick prints
- (used to be a) casual drug dealer (weed and cocaine). unfortunately. and he’s good at it. a very charming man and a very charming smile vs. the cops? oh, he’s gonna win every time. he relied on the income in high school but now that he’s got bartending work it’s mostly a here nd there occurrence when he needs to make a quick buck
- huge bisexual and very proud of it. it took him awhile to get over the shame of liking men, but by the end of high school (and after a life-ending crush on his best friend) he was at peace with his sexuality and fucking both milfs AND dilfs
- (his older preference and voracious sex life is coming to an end - he’s growing up ok!!!)
- had an on and off long-term girlfriend but she killed herself this past early spring and he's been trying to find his place in the world since then
If that wasn't his attempt at sucking up to her, Delilah didn't want to know what it looked like when he was actually trying.
"Someone like me." She repeated slowly; not quite a question, though her eyebrow did raise curiously. "As in, what exactly?"
Her age felt like the obvious answer there, even if a look around the room promised that she was not the only one on this side of 40 participating that afternoon, but even that did little to relieve her when several of those already limited options happened to be directly tied to the one person she really didn't want to think about today.
"Unless they somehow got the street wrong?" Or more likely heard about her self-sabotaging tendencies and paralyzing fear of commitment? "Not that I've seen, no."
"Look, I'm flattered," her eyes dropped to his name tag just to make sure that it still said what she unfortunately thought it did, "Bucket, truly...but exactly how old are you? 22? 23? I'm pretty sure this dress is older than you are."
Bucket furrows his brows and frowns as though the answer should be obvious. " Uh, you're like, gorgeous? Even if you had a shit personality you're like, wicked beautiful, and most old dudes are like, sorta hot if you squint. An easy 10 shouldn't have to go to a speed dating event to find a date - they should come to you. "
He nods solemnly. On any other occasion, he'd be avoiding a spot like this like the plague, but being socially influenced by well-meaning friends left him living the life of a 6 or a 7 rather than his well-deserved true 9.3.
" Turning twenty-five this summer, Miss, " Bucket says sweetly, his smile layering charm into his words. " I'm in my prime. But age has never been an issue for me. Or for the people I've slept with. " His lips twitch, barely containing his amusement. " That is, if we're going to reduce everything to age rather than natural chemistry. "
"I can't say I met another 'Bucket'." It's an interesting name, definitely a decent ice breaker. “You probably hear that a lot, huh? No judgment, it’s just different. But it’s cool.” And an easy way to break the ice, even if that crack quickly freezes over at the next thing said.
Noah cringes and sucks in a quick breath of air, then says, “Ooo, so then… you probably don’t care to do the whole small talk thing.”
It won’t be a long five minutes, though, not with how Bucket talks about the whole thing. “I don’t love it. I just figured I could step out of my comfort zone a bit. No one’s caught your eye at all yet?”
" Naw, it's not the small talk, it's the like... shit, I dunno'. The energy or something. The people. The fact we're bein fuckin' passed around like a cheese board or something, I dunno'. "
He eyes Noah, feeling bad that he'd chosen this poor guy to complain to, seeing as how earnest he seemed about it all. " Sorry. I didn't mean to shit on it that bad. It's just not for me. " Bucket shakes his head, shrugs, fiddles with the straw he's been carrying around despite his distinct lack of a drink. " People are hot n' stuff, it's just like, not the environment for me. Like, I need to be loose. I need other people to be loose. Just like - everyone loose, you know? "
Cricket's eyes narrowed as she tried to sus out if he was fucking with her or not, despite his not very reassuring reassurance (a Bucket speciality) that he wasn't.
"Bucket, babe," her voice caught somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, "you know I love you, but like I need you to explain to me what exactly you thought star of a niece chicken was?"
Though she wasn't fully confident she actually wanted to know, Cricket just hoped it would distract him from her taking over control of their list and the swapping of the phone in his hand for the basket she'd been holding in hers.
"Yeah, I'm so sure it was just the pasta they rolled out." Cricket wiggled her brows, her shoulder bumping gently into his.
"Okay, but seriously though, I'm actually like way better with hands on learning than I am when I just have a written recipe. Like it's so much easier when you have an actual visual aid to go by and not just a description...oh my God, no, wait." She stopped short at the end of the aisle, free hand finding his arm. "Bucket, are you one of those people from TikTok who can't picture things in their head? Like if I told you to think of like an apple right now, can you see one or no?"
" Ummm. I just thought it was like a MommyBlogger recipe or some shit. Like she just loved her niece. Stop asking me to explain stuff, dude, I dunno'! "
If he'd given it any sort of thought, maybe he'd have realized that star of the niece chicken didn't make any fucking sense. That, of course, would've required him to think - something he only does occasionally, and rarely with anything other than his dick. As it is, he barely notices the swap, easily going with the flow and being Cricket's grocery caddy because he's too busy remembering exactly what he did with the men of Italy.
Bucket squints, and then closes his eyes, as though he has to test something that he already should know. " Yes? I mean, yeah. It'd be fucking hard to be an artist if I couldn't, like, picture stuff. Wait, people can't see stuff in their heads? Like at all? Damn. Do you think they can still, like, think? Hey, can we get ice cream while we're here? For our post-star of a niece dessert? "
Leo pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, which moved sideways as he searched his (admittedly very scattered) mental archive for any mention Bucket might've made about a hookup in the recent past. He came up empty, but decided not to call his friend on it. Instead, he just nodded. "Alright, so prove it."
He redirected his focus to the alternative Bucket pointed out and tried not to look super conspicuous even as discerning eyes raked over the guy's form — nice shoulders, really nice nose, little bit of a dad bod going on. "Hm. I approve." He leaned back against the bar and made a show of making himself comfortable.
"Since you don't think you need a wingman," he held his hands out to say 'have at it,' "Let me see you work your magic. I'll be here with a shot if you strike out."
" My magic. Yeah. My fuckin'... Bucket Magic. " Sounds stupid when he says it. Shit, this is embarrassing. Never in his life has Bucket felt anything like this. Insecure. Shudder. He tries not to show anything other than his usual relaxed shoulders and loose grin, but man it feels like he's sinking. Shit! He's losing his Bucket Magic!
No way. Bucket does the mental version of sticking his fingers in his ears and going lalala; nobody, not even himself, can deny his charm. All he needs to do is remember that.
" No problem. I won't strike out. See you on the flipside. And don't get sad and call your boyfriend while I'm gone, okay? I'll only be a few. "
Bucket never makes it to his target. The dance floor sweeps him into its grasp like a tentacle, throwing him into the throng of pulsing bodies. Usually, this packed, undulating crowd is Bucket's home. He loves the dance floor, loves the intimate proximity and the haze of lust that pulls strangers together. Drunk, or stoned, or high off of whatever Bucket's pulled out of his pocket that evening, this is where he feels closest to whatever he'd imagine a god might be.
Not tonight. Tonight it's suffocating. The most beautiful girl he's ever seen is eyeing him and it'd be so easy to meld against her, dance to the throbbing music. But he can't. Bucket's empty; his magic is gone. And his stomach hurts. With a thumping heart, Bucket peels himself away from the crowd and returns to Leo with an uncharacteristically distant look.
" I lost him in the crowd, but he totally wanted me bad. " Bucket shoves his hands into his pocket and tries to act super fuckin' chill about everything. He is for sure succeeding. " Can we like, go, dude? I'll buy you a hotdog or something. Or we can go to a different bar, whatever. Let's go anywhere tonight, Leo. World's our fuckin' seafood. "
Given she was seven months pregnant, Liza wasn't as fast as she usually was, but she hoped the bag she hand dangling in her fingers would make up for it as she wormed her way through the shop and to the table her friend was waiting at. "Hey!" She greeted with a grin as she held the bag up, "Will you forgive my lateness if I come with an apology in the shape of strawberry cheesecake cookies and some brownie bites?"
In all honesty, Bucket's ass has barely touched seat when he spots Liza coming. Hard to miss, what with a baby bump the size of - well, of a baby - leading the way. " Shit, no worries on my end. And free desserts? Dude, you're like, genuinely the best. You didn't need to bring these but you know I'm gonna' eat 'em anyway. " Bucket lowers his voice then, offers something more sincere than his casual cheer.
" I didn't smoke before I came in case inhaling would fuck with your system, you know. For the baby. I took an edible instead. "
Bo's attempts at ignoring the voice that he's certain was directed at him come to a sudden halt as he had to when face to face with it's source. His expression is as stone faced as always, unable to hide his disinterest at what he assumes is another attempt at being creative about job seeking.
( He's not someone who appreciates moxie, he finds it tiresome. )
"I'm Bora," He confirms with some resistance, reminding himself of why he remained behind the scenes rather than ever stepping foot behind the bar, "Why would you refer to yourself as a bucket?"
" Hi Bora, " Bucket says. His smile doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere; it rarely does. " Nice to meet you. I call myself Bucket because, uh, that’s my name! Pretty unique, right? Great for show business. " He winks, laying it on thick. From the intensity of the resting-bitch-face on this guy, Bucket figures he’s shit out of luck as it is, so he might as well rely on his old faithful (and only skill): flirting.
" That’s why I’m here to talk to you, actually. You book acts for this place, right? You’re the man in charge. " Bucket gestures to himself. " Well, boss, I’ve got a band that I know could sell tickets. "
Wren rolled her eyes at his antics but the corners of her lips pulled up just the same, an almost-smile gracing her features. "I try." She replied easily, failing to keep the smile at bay as it soon enough took over more on her features. "Multiple bottles and the promise of a party? Now you're definitely talking my language. Where's his place at?"
" Fisher's Cove, down by the docks. Nothing huge but it'll get the job done. Plus, he has a bonfire pit, so like, we can burn shit. In a small way, you know, s'mores style. I just hope no one falls into the water like last time. "
Tj hadn't considered his question to be that much of a head scratcher but it was possible the skateboarder had took too many knocks to the head when attempting to perform a half pipe and other skateboarding tricks. "Both?" Tj answers, squinting up at him underneath the white, hot glare of the afternoon sun. "Not a cop and even if I was I'd be shooting bigger fish in the barrel than some skateboarding dealer." @undervaalue
" Aurora Bay doesn't have any big fish. Shit's boring - trust. I've been tailed by way too many pigs with nothing better to do. I believe you though. Cops never wanna' see my tricks. " Bucket checks behind him, a gentle paranoia that has (so far) kept him out of jail kicking in out of sheer habit; when his gaze returns, he cocks his head. " You skate? "
CLOSED STARTER for @undervaalue at driftwood's speed dating event
By the third swap, Noah finds his stride. He thinks he does, anyway, even if he doesn't truly think he's in any way leaving an impression. The point is, the nerves are gone, replaced with a 'onto the next one' approach. It wasn't something new to try even with no real high hopes.
"Hi," he tries for friendly even if it's a touch flat. Unenthused, perhaps? Noah slips into the seat across from his new speed date partner. "I'm Noah, as the name tag obviously reads." He taps the sticker slapped to his t-shirt with a shrug.
Noah's eyes fall to the guy's name tag and he is silent for a moment, until he finally, slowly asks, "Does that say 'Bucket'?"
It's been a long ass night. Bucket's snuck out no less than three times to smoke a blunt in between dates (and likely missing some as a result) and that's still not enough to numb him from the boredom that's building in his stomach. He's never doing this shit again - not even for a twenty from Atlas.
Still, he doesn't have it in him to be a dick, so when the fifty billionth person tonight sits down and asks some form of is your name really Bucket, he just smiles warmly and nods. " Yeah, dude. The one and only. Probably, I mean, shit, there could be other Buckets in the world. Nice to meet you, Noah. "
There's a little pause, and after a second, Bucket sighs. " Can I be so real with you, man? I hate speed dating. This shit blows huge dookie. It's shit from a butt. Why do people do this? "
He couldn't have been much older than Sophie, if at all. That alone was enough to leave her hesitating to take her seat across from him, but the delivery of a cheesy line she was both curious and frightened to learn the success rate of had her truly contemplating, not for the first time that afternoon, just leaving altogether.
Before she could follow through on it, the sudden sounding of the buzzer to signify that the timer had begun startled her into taking her seat across from--
Did that say Bucket?
(Delilah was going to kill Bernie.)
"No, definitely not lost." Physically, though the same could not be said for her dignity. "I don't know if I'd exactly call this the right place, though."
Months of a dry spell left Bucket feeling off-kilter; a milf like this would've been easy-pickings if he was in his prime. Unfortunately, a dead girlfriend and the subsequent year-long depression has taken a toll on his confidence - though not enough to stop him from trying.
" I'm not tryin' to suck up or anything, swear it, but uh... You know you're like, the hottest person here? It's sort of blowing my mind that someone like you is at a speed dating event at all. Don't you have fuckin', like, lines down the block of people ready to take you out? "
The flames were pretty gnarly, though not due to any contribution of Drew's own.
It wasn't so much that he didn't have anything from any exes he could've brought and burned tonight--he did, and he could've--more than just a lack of a need to, not feeling as if he was holding onto anything by simply holding on to a t-shirt he still liked to wear or a smiling picture tucked into the edge of his mirror.
"Nah, I get it, man. Letting go's hard." He offered what he hoped was sagely, slowly nodding his head. "I'm sure you and your ex--"
He casts a quick look down towards the picture in hand mostly out of curiosity, and is only slightly delayed on the double take when he realizes he recognizes it's subject.
With an affronted noise, Bucket pulls the photo closer, out of Drew's prying eye-line. " Dude! That's like, reading my diary, or something! "
To most, this is deeply unserious. Bucket himself can find the humor in him standing here with a google'd image of - yes, the mom from Spy Kids - but he's being so forreal right now! With a huff, he holds out the picture.
" This is Carla Gugino. She is the ultimate milf. Hot, sexy, great body, great smile, super talented, super rich, no kids. Tonight, she represents all the milfs in the world. To me, at least. " Bucket looks over at the flames. " I'm giving up on my dream, dude. I gotta let the milfs go. I have to grow up. "
brûler (to burn): what are you most passionate about?
" Damn, uh, I don't know. Making people happy? I think I do an alright job. Don't ask my fuckin' parents or nothin', though - you gotta ask the people I've slept with. Most of them, anyway. "
" Everything I know about astrology I learned against my will. I don't really give a fuck about that star shit but when a girl hears I'm a Leo and she twirls her hair and bats her eyes about it, it's not like I'm gonna' say that, you know? "
P : PARTNER.what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?
" To lay the records straight, I am NOT looking for any committal bullshit. I did that once, it sucked, she literally died, and now I'll be the boss of my own life forever. Sitationships? I don't know. Hot, down for whatever. Preferably a good car dancer, although I've kinda got that on lock, so if they can at the very least take harmony vocals then we're good. I tried fucking those mean goth girls and it just hurt my feelings, and athletic guys usually want me to piss on 'em, so I avoid both. Unless it's a crazy weekend, you know what I mean? "
closed starter for: @undervaalue / location: the library
"Sorry," Peyton didn't bother looking up at the person who he felt hovering of his space. Some townies obviously couldn't read. "You have to sign up at town square." He stated since he had done it before his shift today.
Bucket blinks through his weed stupor, trying desperately to understand what was happening. He's never been in the library before, ever - hasn't stepped foot in one since he graduated high school - and his spatial confusion is only made worse by the horse tranquilizer levels of stoned he is. He puts his hand out on the desk, mostly as a chill way of stabilizing himself.
" Wait. What are we signing up for at town hall? I thought there were love letters in here. "
closed starter for delilah carreño / @delilahcarreno
located @ driftwood speed dating
" Mamma mia, " Bucket gasps under his breath, his hand resting over his chest as he takes in the sight before him. " Are you sure you're in the right place, Miss? You didn't get lost on your way to clock in to the beautiful woman factory? "
