injaws

[injaws]

No Wizard That There is or was.

[injaws]

briar  is  probably  the  last  person  anyone  wants  to  see  when  they  feel  like  shit,  boisterous  and  bothersome  with  a  shit-eating  grin  to  match.  it's  endearing,  in  a  way  (  or  so  he  thinks.  maybe  the  older  ladies  just  flatter  them  ).  spencer's  manifestation  might  as  well  have  been  a  call  for  briar's  action,  his  skateboard  skidding  to  a  stop  right  next  to  the  other.  any  farther  and  he  might've  flown  clean  off  the  dock,  but  they  think  the  risk  is  worth  it,  "  dunno,  can  it  ?  what  happened,  man  ?  "  briar  likes  to  bug  spencer  —   since  the  time  he  moved  here,  really.  they  like  his  vibe  and  briar  operates  like  a  moth  flitting  towards  any  shiny  thing.  it's  fun,  and  he's  nothing  if  not  hedonistic.

open to: anyone (if nothing is settled beforehand, you could also just assume connections) where: the docks

it was utterly irritating, everything was. from the screeching of the seagulls to the mumbled conversations scattered around him. it was safe to say that spencer was out of his comfortzone && he made sure that it was visible to just anyone walking by, clear as day && unspeakably plain. "man, that's just..", his gaze shifted from where his hands tried to force his notebook down the half opened flap of his bag to the yacht straight ahead. annoyance seeped from every fibre of his being at how much the object clutched in his palm fought against his efforts. the sight of the pompous boats, don't tell any of the owners he called them that, didn't do any better to his current state. "can this day get any worse", and spencer knew the second it left his mouth, he would regret it.

@kilmerstarters

[injaws]

Bear S1E4 // S3E1

He's charming and, yeah, he can be really funny. He's your dad. But he is not a father and he never will be. And if you want him in your life, it is not gonna be on your terms, and that is not your fault. If you can handle this, that's cool. But if you do not want to deal with this, I will cut him off. I will cut off all communication and he will not be welcome here. I love you, mom.

[injaws]

i don’t have rizz i have big brown eyes and a loving heart

[injaws]

esme's  got  her  cane  today.  her  glasses  have  been  giving  her  a  headache;  it  wouldn't  be  a  problem,  normally,  but  echolocation  doesn't  work  in  a  place  so  loud  – a  market,  for  instance.  but  esme  needed  to  get  some  shopping  done,  and  she'd  promised  to  see  a  friend  who's  vending  here,  and  – oh,  it's  manon.  round  eyes  widen  in  the  slightest  behind  dark  frames  and  she  shrugs,  holding  up  the  boots  in  one  hand.  she's  still  trying  to  get  used  to  how  nice  manon  is;  it  makes  her  want  to  shrink  away,  her  comfort  lying  with  poisonous  words  and  mal  intent.  only  reason  she  doesn't  hightail  it  away  because  she  actually  enjoys  the  other's  company,  as  rare  as  the  feeling  may  be,  "  they're  – yeah,  they're  vintage  docs.  kinda  a  steal,  actually,  i  didn't  know  people  were  vending  clothes  here  ...  "  an  awkward  beat  before  she  tries  her  best  to  keep  conversation  (  as  usual,  it  eludes  her.  ),  "  so,  um,  what're  you  here  for  ?  "  oh,  brother.

THE TOWN MARKET ft. manon — OPEN ! CAPPING AT 5 REPLIES ( 1 / 5 ) .

fingers  skimmed  every  object,  the  intentional  move  to  feel  the  weight  of  every  trinket  atop  their  palm  —  touch  :  it  was  how  they  decided  to  move  through  the  world,  omitting  most  sound  in  favor  of  the  grounding  feeling  of  something  more  tactile.  the  myriad  of  choice  seemed  to  stump  them,  surely  walking  into  a  bustling  market  on  a  weekend,  no  list,  no  inspiration  in  mind,  wasn't  the  best  idea.  but,  alas,  manon  was  here,  continuing  the  incessant  journey  of  finding  something,  anything  to  liven  up  the  bleak,  salt-bitten  metal  of  their  new  keeper's  dwellings  —  a  singular  poster  of  the  regional  flora  and  a  smattering  of  random  postcards  didn't  suffice  any  longer.  “  what  do  you  have  in - in your hand  ?  ”  an  abrupt  interjection,  hopefully  ingested  with  grace  by  the  other.  “  's  pretty.  you  -  you  should  get  it.  is  it  somethin'  v-vintage  ?  ”

— @kilmerstarters .

[injaws]

WHO: circe + open ( 0 of 5 ) ! ( @kilmerstarters ) WHERE: delphi's delight spirituality shop, post-plot drop

this  town  has  always  been  ...  odd.  offputting,  some  would  call  it  –  it's  part  of  why  circe  doesn't  understand  the  staggering  amounts  of  tourism,  though  she  figures  it  must  be  part  of  the  charm.  some  freaks  who  want  to  figure  out  if  the  cove's  mystery,  it's  intrigue,  is  true;  circe  thinks  it  might  be,  but  not  in  the  way  they  think.  an  all-too-common  delusion  seems  to  have  proved  that  to  her.  a  ringing  bell  above  the  door  catches  her  attention  and  she  lifts  her  head  to  inspect,  smiles  warmly  when  she  sees  a  visitor;  there's  been  an  uptick  in  the  week  since  whatever  shared  psychosis  has  embraced  the  town  in  open  arms.  she  wonders  if  they'll  fess  up  why  they're  actually  there  to  see  her  (  or  maybe  she  really  is  just  wrong  –  not  like  she'd  admit  it  ).  "  nice  afternoon,  isn't  it  ?  were  you  one  of  the  affected,  too,  dear  ?  "  straight  to  the  point  as  always.

[injaws]

american psycho ii: all american girl (2002)

[injaws]

Finn Wolfhard as Richie Tozier

IT (2017)

[injaws]

ella purnell, twenty-eight, she/her   ⟡   —   is that BONNIBEL 'BONNIE' AITKEN i just saw walking around kilmer’s cove? i heard they’re a RESIDENT who’s been here for TEN YEARS. it slipped my mind, since they just tend to hang out at THE CLIFFS. at face value, they’re said to be CURIOUS and EAGER, but i don’t know… some people have said they can be quite CLUELESS and CONDESCENDING. just don’t get on their bad side, i guess! don’t tell them i told you this, but i’ve heard they DO believe in all the ghost stories around town. who knows what the future holds for them! 

BASICS:

name: bonnibel althea aitken nicknames: bonnie (what she typically goes by) age: twenty-seven gender: cis woman pronouns: she/her sexuality: lesbian date & place of birth: december 19 in st andrews, scotland faceclaim: ella purnell occupation: local yearning woman, village weird girl, the ghost on the outskirts of town, unemployed friend on a tuesday notable characteristics: large, autistic eyes framed by long, almost white lashes, a seemingly permanent grin, an air of unease, a cooing scottish accent, wavy curls that resemble spun gold, for some reason constantly fucking barefoot?, where does she get all these flowing dresses? traits: melodramatic, whimsical, unsettling, kind, patronizing, spacey, generous, curious, nosy, emotional, tempestuous, spontaneous, well-meaning, obsessive similar to: effie trinket, phoebe buffay, luna lovegood, giselle (enchanted), jessica day, cassie ainsworth, ponyo (LMFAO), elspeth catton, cat valentine if they didn't give her a lobotomy

BACKGROUND:

coming soon <3

short n'sweet tldr: born to two very loving parents who have a lot of influence in the world; an old, old family with old, old money. grew up in scotland but came to kilmer many summers since she was a child due to some business her parents had in the town. a bit of a glass child, bonnie loved the lively town and the attention she'd get so much that when she finished high school she knew she wanted to live here <3 now lives on the edge of town in a huge, sprawling manor with overgrowing weeds (yk the vibes). weird, peculiar, and sweet thing with a smile that makes you feel vaguely unsettled; not a malevolent bone in her body (not consciously anyway) like people of her class generally are; goes into fugue states sometimes and will have to be brought back home or found somewhere on the beach, usually; loves people, though the way she expresses it is mildly uncomfortable and tends to seem as if she's talking to a pet (clueless annoying rich girl syndrome). endlessly loyal and a bit of a space case in the way only stupidly rich people can be. huge chatterbox. no pets, but she makes friends with the animals wherever she goes. cannot cook or clean or do literally anything. useless also in the way only rich people can be (she's a fucking great polo player and is really good at guessing caviar brands) 

[injaws]

ELLA PURNELL as RHIANNON LEWIS Sweetpea 1.01 — Sorry for Your Loss

[injaws]

#define crashout.

OUTER BANKS 4.06 The Town Council

[injaws]

Nose goes.

[injaws]

Trying to maintain my swagful whimsy and optimism rn in the face of an anti-whimsy society

[injaws]

"  i  mean  — how  old  do  i  gotta  be  ?  i'm  however  old  you  need  me  to  b  — oh,  were  you  lookin'  for  something  ?  boss  is  on  break.  i  can  help  you,  though.  i'm  great  at  takin'  orders.  "

@injaws “are  you  even  old  enough  to  be  in  this  place  —  let  alone  running  it?” 

[injaws]

briar  does  not  fuck  with  cops.  in  the  same  way  that  he  doesn't  particularly  like  horses,  briar  makes  it  a  habit  to  avoid  being  around  them  at  most  times.  in  the  same  vein,  they  can  always  spot  a  cop,  too  —  they  do  weird  shit,  like  brood  in  a  corner  and  scan  the  room  while  drinking  coffee.  or  talking  to  themselves  while  writing  something  down.  briar  refuses  to  acknowledge  that  maybe  his  copdar  isn't  that  good,  and  instead  he's  just  met  a  lot  of  cops.  this  one  included,  unfortunately,  "  are  you  talkin'  to  me  ?  man,  i  hope  not,  'cause  i'll  have  you  know,  i  haven't  done  anything  since  the  last  time  i  got  out  —  "  a  motormouth  at  heart  and  a  chronic  sufferer  of  foot  in  mouth  disease,  briar  can't  help  but  continue,  "  —  and  you  gotta  stop  acting  weird,  man.  like,  you're  being  real  weird  right  now  —  "  you'll  have  to  stop  him.

open starter! capping at 5 replies! @kilmerstarters location: hawthorne inn

gabriel couldn’t help sticking his nose where it didn’t belong – it was part of his job description. as he leaned his body against the splintered, timeworn counter of the hawthorne inn, he studied the flow of guests with the scrutiny of a man who never truly clocked out. his coffee had long since cooled in his grasp, forgotten as he cataloged the familiar and unfamiliar faces streaming through the lobby’s doors. even though he was off duty, he couldn’t help but make mental note of the faces he’d recognized and those he hadn’t. if one of the latter happened to be attractive, he’d discreetly mark the thought for potential exploration, perhaps an invitation for drinks when professionalism wasn’t breathing down his neck. just as he lifted the coffee lid to his lips, someone out of the ordinary catches his attention. gabriel set his coffee down and slid a small, leather-bound notebook from his coat pocket and began jotting down observations. “interesting...” he mumbled, his voice carrying a bit louder intended.

[injaws]

"  you  are  so  deeply  unpleasant,  did  you  know  that  ?  "  said  as  she  sits  down  directly  in  front  of  the  other  anyway.  esme's  relationship  with  stevie  can  be  seen  as  complicated  but  fond;  stevie  reminds  her  of  herself,  terribly  so.  but  she's  fun  to  be  around  (  to  an  extent,  as  everything  else  is  with  esme  ),  and  she  makes  a  mean  fucking  cosmo.  speaking  of,  "  and  i  don't  drink  tequila,  you  know  that.  don't  be  mean.  "  a  soft  huff,  though  she  relaxes  as  soon  as  she  gets  it  out.  like  a  cat  with  it's  hair  all  stuck  up,  "  how  do  you  keep  your  job  if  you're  always  like  this ?  "

open starter! capping at 5 replies! @kilmerstarters

location: the drunken poet

the bar had dwindled down to a handful of regulars and a few solitary patrons nursing their last drinks. the drunken laughter from a group of men in the corner only served to sharpen the dull ache in her head. with just a half hour until closing, stevie’s mind was already on autopilot, her face resting in its usual scowl. she had worked enough late shifts to know that the final stretch always dragged. stevie shot a glance at the clock, watching the seconds tick by slower. thirty minutes. thirty agonizing minutes. the bell above the door chimed, signaling yet another late arrival, and stevie’s shoulders slumped. “of course,” she muttered under her breath, tossing the rag over her shoulder as she turned to face the new patron. “make it quick,” she called, her tone cautionary. “i ran out of tequila and patience an hour ago.”

[injaws]

circe  has  learned  a  few  things  since  raymond's  death:  first,  opening  pickle  jars  is  much  harder  than  she  realized;  second,  you  miss  the  things  you  used  to  hate  the  most,  like  the  fact  that  your  husband  always  bumps  into  you  in  the  kitchen;  and  third,  that  you  need  to  let  your  grief  wash  over  you  in  waves.  even  when  it  feels  like  a  tsunami,  the  ocean  will  heal  as  much  as  it  hurts.  so,  she's  made  a  deal  with  her  grief;  she  gives  it  a  day  every  month,  just  one,  where  she  feeds  it.  watches  his  favorite  movie,  eats  his  favorite  food,  sets  his  favorite  flower  on  his  grave.  the  rest  of  the  year  is  hers. typically,  though,  she  doesn't  see  people  — avoids  them,  most  probably,  but  done  without  much  trouble.  jack's  presence,  while  not  unwelcome,  makes  her  tense,  and  circe  turns  to  wipe  at  her  eyes  before  she  faces  him;  her  cheeks  burn,  almost  frustrated  with  herself.  a  shake  of  her  head,  "  i  can  stand,  dear,  don't  worry.  would  do  me  some  good,  probably,  i'm  not  very  active.  "  a  little  laugh  to  break  perceived  tension,  smile  strained  but  warm,  "  feels  silly,  you  know,  to  be  at  your  job  for  a  change.  usually  it's  under  better  circumstances.  "  smile  softens  almost  wistfully  and  she  pulls  her  coat  around  herself  in  a  makeshift  shield.

open starter: no cap ! @kilmerstarters location: the cemetery.

jack was sat on a bench near one of the cemetery paths, newspaper in hand and flask to the side of him, aiming small side eye toward the person nearby. this was one part of his job that he was never entirely sure of - should he talk to a visitor? was he supposed to? idle conversation was never quite his strong suit, nor was deciphering whether it was acceptable to break a silence or not. he paused for a moment before letting out a small breath, folding and then placing the paper on the bench next to him. "did you need any assistance, or a seat? i can offer either, but i will warn you - the seat is slightly wet still." jack hummed, looking at the newly news-paper-covered seat next to him. "i guess you could always sit on today's paper? it's not ideal, but it's something. dealer's choice, or whatever people say."