#briar ridge: open starter

[liviachar]

Status: Open (3/4) Where: Birdsong Park

The predictions for the day had been sunny for a while now so Livia had decided that the yoga class was going to be an outdoor one for once. Summer was coming up and she was excited for the fact that things like these were possible again.

It was still early in the morning when the class had ended and the people were slowly leaving. "Are you up for a run after this? Or is there anything else I can help you with?"

[sammiesalazar]

open starter: 3 of 3 location: upper hand tattoo studio

While the studio was quiet Sammie enjoyed a coffee and catching up with her socials, only those relating to business, while she hung out at her station in wait for her next client. There was time to kill and sometimes she did alright with idle moments and other times she couldn't be still. After she'd replied to a few inquiries and communicated about appointment availability and the parameters of what a session with her entailed she pulled out her sketchbook. Sammie always had something scratching around in her brain. When she heard someone come in she looked up with a bit of a smile. "You have an appointment, right? Unless you're just dropping in for a quick cliché..."

[kolkingston]

open starter: 3 of 3 location: firefly brewery

It wasn't the best habit to have but Kol had been better about his drinking in the last few years. The job made it so, not the lessening of the sorrow. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sat there at the bar and how many drinks he'd slung back. The tell was there being no woozy feeling and he couldn't quite feel the persistent ache of absence and guilt, so that meant he'd hit the sweet spot. "You've seen it, right?" Kol spoke to the person next to him without really looking their way. "That thing on the tv late at night. That Miracle Spring Water stuff." Most nights he did sleep when alone in that big empty house. "You think it works?"

[jiya-santa]

Location: Firefly Brewery Starter for: Closed (4/4)

God, she missed New York. Well, she missed being able to bury her head in her work to escape her personal life and being able to drown her sorrows with her sisters, neither of which were possible in the small town she had found herself. The idea had been to confront her ex-husband and leave again but the idea of leaving with so many unanswered questions and loose ends had her feeling more anxious than when she had sat her MCATS.

Sitting at the bar of the first place that had come up when she typed alcohol into her maps app, Jiya simply stared ahead at the bottles behind the bar as she bartender poured her the extra large glass of white wine that she had asked for. It took three tries for him to get her attention before she snapped back into the room and she simply nodded and slid her card across to him. Surely wine could fix all of her problems, even if just for a night.

Taking the glass, Jiya sighed as she lifted it up. "Here's to.. here's to you, may your life be far less complicated than mine." She had been aware of someone next to her, not that she had paid any attention to them so far. Instead, she simply took a large gulp of the wine, trying not to pull a face at the taste.

[perikocak]

location » anywhere of your choosing, really; feel free to make it weird bc lbr it'd be v. on brand for peri

status » open to anyone, capped at 0/4

This was fine. She was fine. There was a stronger than average possibility she'd been at least semi-impaled by something—she couldn't quite tell what, exactly?—but she was fine. Really. She just needed a minute... or five.

Making no move to pick herself up out of the sprawl she'd found herself in, Peri sighed. She might've decided to just stay there, too, a whole mess of tangled hair and wayward limbs, had it not been for the sound of footsteps.

"I'd say you should see the other guy, but—" Peri laughed, low and breathless. "In an unshocking, highly impressive, turn of events I'm both me and he." In other words: she had nobody to blame for her current predicament but herself. As usual.

"Do you think you could, I dunno, maybe lend a hand?" Her own lifted and flapped around a bit in their general, upward direction. "Or you could always just join me, I guess. This spot loses a few points for comfort but turns out it has a pretty not so bad view."

[reinayourparade]

who: Reina & open where: Birdsong Park

Reina sat on a shaded park bench, laptop in her lap. Her fingers typed away as she worked on a few cases, adding finishing touches and whatnot before she sent the paperwork. A few moments passed by before she shut the screen, and her brown hues searched the area that was moderately filled with children, their parents, and random people running or walking together along the sidewalk.

Reina needed to feel peace, she hadn't felt true peace since...well, it had been a while. After the events of the NYE bash, the conversations that came about, the sound of children laughing and birds singing seemed to be the closest thing she could get to feeling something other than sadness. Her work also helped, but that was because she threw herself into it full throttle, no holds barred, she had reverted back to her first few years as a lawyer in Chicago.

Humming to herself, she noticed someone else was approaching the bench she was on, the same bench where her work purse had been taking up most of the space left. "Here, let me move this," she stated quickly, grabbing the straps of the purse and setting it on the sidewalk in between her feet, sliding the laptop into the bag soon after. "I can scoot over more too, if you want, you're free to sit."

[civanguneri]

Who: Open Where: Chapman's Grocer. It was only December fucking tenth. A week into December was all it took, and suddenly, you couldn't go anywhere without being elbow-to-elbow with people. The days leading up to Christmas seemed like its very own kind of virus, with people frazzled and shopping like it was just days before the holiday. Civan was in dismay as he navigated the isles he knew by heart, muttering to himself as he went. If he wasn't so particular about his vegetables he could just order for delivery, but he'd be out of sorts if things weren't just so. Overly ripe tomatoes made a difference. As did the gender of a bell pepper. "Of course—" He cut himself off, "Allah belanı versin." Civan rounded a particular stall in the fresh market section to a cart wall. A traffic jam, except, in the produce section of a grocery store. Two energetic middle-aged women stood there gabbing, carts facing each other as if the world should stop and rotate around them. The Zax. Instead of arguing, they were gossiping. He backtracked, begrudgingly making to go around them but instead, he felt himself bump into the cool metal of someone else's cart behind him. For a moment he froze, rod straight, and had to exhale the tension in a huff. Civan turned. Face a mask, frustration still boiling beneath the surface. "That way is blocked."

[cemcerkez]

status — open (0/3)

location— paradise point resort & spa

Cem adjusts his sunglasses with one hand while holding up his phone with his other, pretending to scroll through while his camera quietly records. From his seat near the edge of the outdoor bar—shaded just enough by a strategically placed umbrella—he has a clean view of the restaurant terrace, where his target is on their second mimosa and their third lie of the morning.

The ocean breeze smells like salt, citrus, and a paycheck. Not a bad combo, if he's being honest.

Paradise Point is the kind of place that wears luxury effortlessly. String lights wrap around palm trees. There's plenty of whitewashed cabanas with flowing curtains. And, the distant sound of a steel drum cover of Fleetwood Mac, somehow working better than it has any right to. Cem's been in worse places for surveillance. Much worse.

He sips from a sweating glass of club soda—lime twist, no booze. After all, he was here to work, not slip into vacation mode. Though the staff were surely starting to look at him with questions in their eyes. Too much loitering, not enough spending.

He leans back in his chair, casually crossing one ankle over the other, giving off just enough of that “influencer avoiding eye contact” vibe to stay invisible. But his mind is sharp. Always watching. Logging every gesture, every expression, and every too-friendly touch between the mark and the man who very much isn’t her husband.

Then again, maybe today wasn’t going to be about catching someone in the act. Maybe today would be about who noticed him.

His phone buzzes—a new text from his client. 'Any progress?'

Cem exhales through his nose and typed back with one hand: 'Depends. You paying for truth or entertainment?'

He pockets his phone just then, sits up a little straighter, and just as he reaches for his glass again, someone walks past his table—too close for comfort. Or rather just close enough to break his line of sight. Close enough that he instinctively turns his head to look at them. And just like that, his attention shifts. Fuck.

“Careful,” he says with a half-smile, voice warm and just slightly edged with curiosity. “This part of the resort’s got a reputation. You hang around too long, someone might start asking questions.” He raises his glass in a mock-toast. “Welcome to Paradise, though.”

[sonnysolis]

status — open (0/3)

location— side of the road, hating life

Why her? Why of all days must she be the one stranded on an empty two-lane road that cuts through the backwoods outside of Briar Ridge all alone?

The sun has now dipped just below the horizon, casting everything in that heavy, in-between light — not quite dark, but definitely not safe either. The air smells like pine, old dust, and something metallic. Sonny’s car sits half on the shoulder, hazard lights blinking weakly into the twilight. The front left tire, shredded. Her hands are stained with grease, and her jaw is tight with the frustration she refuses to show.

Meanwhile, she stands with her arms crossed, back leaning against the car like she owns the stretch of road she was stranded on. Her black leather jacket laying tossed across the passenger seat, the faint glow of a cigarette flickering between her fingers — unlit, just something to keep her hands busy.

The engine is dead silent. Her phone has two bars of signal, just enough to tease her with almost loading a map, then crashing every time she tries to do something useful. No spare tire. No roadside assistance. And, of course, no one else on the road for miles — until now.

Headlights cut through the trees behind her, slow and cautious. She doesn’t move at first. Just stays still, one boot pressed into the dirt, watching the oncoming vehicle in the rearview mirror like it might be fate, or something worse.

When the car finally rolls to a stop beside hers, she flicks her gaze toward the driver but doesn’t smile.

“Please tell me you’re not lost, a serial killer.” Her tone is dry but not entirely unfriendly. “Got a flat. No spare. Cell’s basically useless. So unless you’re here to gawk, rob me, or trade car parts, I could really use a hand.” She arches a brow, the barest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “And no—before you ask—I don’t know how to say ‘please’ or 'thank you'. You’ll just have to live with that.”

[nate-strauss]

Location: Fresh Garbage Starter for: Open

He might not have spent anywhere near to the majority of his life in Briar Ridge, in fact, it was the place he had lived least in his life, but there was something about the tiny coastal time that had a strange feeling of home. It was the feeling he got in his mother's kitchen, it was like he knew he was going to be safe there. That he could be happy.

Standing in the vintage shop, flicking through the box of vinyls they kept in one corner, Nate was sure he had found his favourite place in town. Not only did he have a new jigsaw earmarked, he had a whole box of records to go through. Coming across a new looking one, he couldn't help the frown on his face. "I didn't know what to expect when I looked through these but a Justin Bieber album on vinyl was not the one.." Continuing to flick through, he picked out a couple before laying them both on top of the box.

Aware of someone to his side, Nate glanced over at them with a little trepidation. "Would you go for Fleetwood Mac or Pink Floyd out of interest? Promised I'd only go for one record today so I'd be only disappointing myself if I bought both."

[ozanulusoy]

open starter for anyone capping at 5/5 CLOSED location: Paradise Point Resort & spa

It had been a few days since Ozan returned to the small town, and he had been slowly reconnecting with the place in his own time. He wasn't ready to face some people and had avoided reaching out to anyone other than his sister Esra. He had yet to tell even his parents. This place had a special place in his heart, but it also had wounds so large they were like chasms, and he worried he wasn't ready to face them.

He stood outside the resort's veranda with his tea in hand, watching the rain fall. This was a vast difference from living on his grandparents' farm in Turkey. His hand reached up to touch the ring on the chain around his neck, memories of his grandmother playing in his mind. A tickle of anxiety itched his throat, so he cleared it gently. "Saçma," he offered to the person next to him, then shook his head, forgetting where he was. "Sorry, tickly throat," he added with a friendly smile. "I blame the weather this time of year, not good, for the lungs." A faint blush crept onto his cheeks as he realized he had just explained one of the most straightforward medical concepts — bad weather usually meant sickness. Everyone knew that. He just happened to fixate.

[travmarshall]

status — open starter (0/3)

location — the herrera/marshall residence

Travis was crouched under the hood of an old Chevy truck, his hands greasy from working tirelessly on the truck's engine all afternoon long. It was his day off from the ranch, which means chores had to get done while his partner of fifteen years and the mother of his child, Evan, was off pulling a double shift at her family's owned and operated hardware store downtown.

Their daughter, Sadie, (also temporarily suspended from school) was up to her usual antics and tricks — of annoying her dear ol' dad while belting out popular pop songs like she was trying to put on a concert for the neighborhood. There was no doubt in his mind about it, as she swung back and forth on their family's porch swing, that anyone who ever heard her sing, could attest to Sadie inheriting her mother's talents.

While the sun drips low in the sky, the air fades into a comfortable early Spring breeze. Travis is in the process of tightening another bolt, when Sadie’s voice, high-pitched and boasting with confidence, echoes throughout the yard. “Oh-oh-oh! You’ve got that one thing!” She croons loudly to some song she's got blasting on the radio.

“Sadie, can turn that down a little?!” Travis can hardly focus on the work at hand while holding the wrench steady when he's got Sadie distracting him. His frustrations carry over and as a result the bolt he's been working on, snaps in half. "Shit."

To make matters worse, Sadie carries on relentlessly, her voice now floating like a melody through the air. He was seconds away from shouting out to her again when the sound of a car approaching down their dirt and gravel pathway cuts through the fading afternoon hum. Travis hears this and pauses, listens for a moment, and then quickly mutters to himself, “Great. Not today…”

The sleek sound of their approaching guest, eventually stops a good few feet away from the car. Travis rolls his eyes at them while taking a deep breath, as Sadie calls out to him.

“Dad?”

“Ugh!” Travis curses under his breath, his grip slipping on the wrench, before falling straight down—clunk—onto his left cheek with a sharp crack. “Owwww… God fucking dammit!”

As he holds his face and flops onto his back, Travis lets out a piercing cry and a sharp growl of frustration. “Yeah, yeah! Just a second, Cabbage—” he answers Sadie on the porch, while climbing back onto his feet, just as the pain in his left cheek flares up. “Seriously, turn that down. Turn it down now!”

While giggling at her dad, Sadie turns the volume down a notch but, she doesn't make an effort to stop singing.

"Have kids, they said. It'll be fun, they said." Travis mocks Sadie's grandparents, and his own parents. "I'll have you know, they were wrong. Mine's a pain in the ass. And, she's about to be grounded."

[merekingston]

𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: any multi-level residential building downtown, morning 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: open to anyone, capped at (2/3)

Alexa Haverty, property manager. (854) 525-6613. Fifth floor, Apartment C. Parking on street. Monday, 9:30am—Meredith skimmed over the hastily scrawled notes she'd taken the evening before on the back of a gas station receipt, settling her nerves with the repetition of now very familiar information.

She knew who she was seeing. Where she was meeting them. Where to leave her car, what time to be there, how to contact them if she got lost... It was fine. She was fine. Maybe a little bit off her rocker, what with the desperate need to know and control every single thing, but she would see the apartment, decide whether or not she'd apply, and it would be fine.

At least, that was the thought she held onto, tooth and nail, until the elevator came to a whining, jarring, full fucking stop. Eyes wide and flying off the slip in her hand, Mere glanced at the numbers 2 and 3 illuminated on the panel. That's—What? No. A moment later her gaze switched to the only other person taking the lift.

"Is this—This isn't normal here, is it?" Was this a freak malfunction, probably another little gift from God to push her that much closer to the edge, or was this something that happened once, twice a week? Is that why the rent was so underpriced compared to the rest of the market? Because every day was a gamble between making it home before the ice cream melts or entrapment?

"It'll start back up in a second or two. Right?"

[catalina-g]

who: Catalina & anyone where: The Rusty Spur

"That's the last time I'm going to say it Ema," she huffed out, airpod in her ear as she spoke to her sister on the other line. Coming to a hard stop, she quickly dismounted her Harley, straightening out as her hands fell to her hips. "Emalina, I'm serious," she continued, hands coming up now to take her helmet from her head. "No más pijamadas, necesitas estar estudiando. Si llego a casa y descubro que alguien estuvo aquí, te va a ir mal." she quickly rambled out before she clicked the earpiece two times to hang up the phone.

After getting her things situated, she quickly pushed past a few of the other people standing around the entrance before beelining it for the bar. "Three shots of Tequila, quick and fast please," she ordered, green eyes looking over to her right to see a few people staring at her wide-eyed. "Teenagers, mind your business." she basically barked at them before the glasses were slid in front of her and she downed all three. "Two more, actually," she started again before she looked to her left and saw someone sidle up next to her. "And whatever they want, I'll buy."

[evanhcrrera]

𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆: the rusty spur, daytime 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: open to anyone, capped at (2/3)

"⸻ son of a bitch." The curse flew from Evan's lips, spoken none too softly, as she finished listening to the sixth (yes, sixth) voicemail from Sadie's new guidance counselor. It wasn't like her to ignore her phone. It definitely wasn't like her to ignore calls from the elementary school.

Then again, her afternoons were usually spent working a slow shift at the hardware store... not clocking extra hours at the bar, busier than usual thanks to its recent grand re-opening.

If not for a quick, three worded text from Travis—headed to school—she would've been out the door and peeling from the parking lot before anyone could stop her. Instead, she sighed, then glanced forward and mused, "You ever feel like you're jugglin' so many balls you're just droppin' 'em all? Swear there could be ten of me and it still wouldn't be enough hands."

[cynthiasoriano]

𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 : 3/3

»» ⸻ anywhere in the beach front neighborhood

»» ⸻ with anyone!

     As soon as the orange creamsicle of a cat scrambled and fled out of the window and booked it out of her yard, Cynthia was running to her front door where she stuffed her feet into her sneakers. She practically flew to the pavement of the sidewalk as she left her house, door slammed behind her, in hot pursuit of the feline. All she'd seen was the direction he'd run off and Cyn was aware of how futile this effort was as she power walked the streets of the neighborhood, but she had a purpose. Even as she turned here and there it was all a guess on where the orange streak had made his great escape. Annoyed and should've been in the middle of her workout right now, despite being yoga pants and a sports bra, Cyn was kept warm by the anger that fueled each prowling step. When she saw someone up ahead, she had to comment when they got closer, ❝ ⸻ Please tell me you saw an orange cat run by this way? ❞ She was still scanning their surroundings knowing the little beast was likely watching and waiting to taunt. When their eyes met Cyn gestured in the direction they had been coming from. ❝ Because if he went the other way... ❞ Oh, she hated to think of that possibility.