clementine

“Well, I think I deserved more votes than fucking Karen!” Sasha exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air like the dramatic bitch she was. God, Regina George was quaking. She let out a growl of frustration as her hands landed back on her bed with a heavy thump. “And if people aren’t going to vote for me because of my dad, then they damn well shouldn’t not vote for me because of my dad. What a double fucking standard. And you are about two seconds away from getting murdered, don’t test me. Sam, I swear to god, if you voted for fucking Karen this is about to be your last breath.”

"Yeah, ‘cause I would vote for fucking Karen.” Sam scoffed, rolling her eyes, still grinning. “Get real, dude. ‘Sides, it’s, like, pretty hypocritical that people were willing to vote for someone who was, like, uh, politically involved with your dad, but not you. Like, Karen’s an icon, but that’s not the greatest thing when your legacy is tied to an impeached mayor’s. Honestly, I don’t think either of you should’ve been allowed to run, given the circumstances. But also, like, in general, imagine voting for Karen? Embarrassing.”

csimz‌:

“You know, that’s actually–” Cara started, but before she could finish her sentence…

…Solomon bounded up to two familiar faces with an impish grin blazing on his own features. “Cara Simmons and Fawn Lockwood,” he greeted them eagerly, one arm around each of their shoulders. It was more of a double headlock than a hug, but the keen, chummy nature of his demeanor outweighed that little tidmit. Releasing them, he added, “Solomon Matua or your resident William Cyrus Rae at your service. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you both, though I feel like we’re all already old friends.”

Fawn stiffened up immediately upon contact and, once freed, took a good few steps back. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, trying to feign enough boredom to cover up her discomfort. “Nice to meet you, as well,” She said it to be polite, though her flat tone was anything but.

“I’m not going for a political dynasty. Do I look like Jeb! fucking Bush to you? Last time I checked I’m not white or part chipmunk,” Sasha huffed and rolled her eyes at Sam’s condescending tone. (It doesn’t matter if Sam didn’t actually sound condescending, this is Sasha’s internal monologue.) “Didn’t you hear? I’m the one that turned him in. I cut all ties with him, and I’m going to lead completely differently than him. I’m going to be the best fucking mayor this town has ever seen, so you better watch your tone with me.”

"You think you deserved my vote ‘cause you cut off your murderer father? Damn, babe, your bar’s on the ground, huh?” Mostly, Sam was teasing --- it was just funny to press Sasha’s buttons. “I mean, yeah, just, you know, not killing a constituent would be leading completely differently, but, like, I don’t know about that, even -- you’re putting out a ton of murder vibes. Not even just right now. Just, like, in general.”

Grace’s gaze lazily followed Reece’s movements as she took a few fries from her plate. After a pensive beat, she sighed. “I don’t know. Honestly, she hasn’t done much since I got back. Actually, I haven’t heard from her at all, which is surprising. When I heard the news, I assumed she would keep her dad’s blog up, but I guess not. I heard she turned him in, so maybe she’s trying to be her own person.” She paused again, thinking on the woman she knew and almost laughed at the thought. Still, she was a new Grace herself. She could give Sasha a chance. “Who did you think should be mayor?”

"Aside from you? Finn Nye, museum guy,” Reece said with a smirk, flagging down the bartender for another drink. “I voted for Netty Knight. Karen’s fine, I guess, but I definitely don’t want any more tourists, and Knight seemed the most experienced anyway -- hey there, Jack and Coke, please.” She flashed a grin as she placed her order, then turned to Grace. “You want another? I’m buying.”

( liza soberano, cisfemale, she/her) ☆ you won’t believe who i just saw walking down main street! LIZA SOBERANO! what do you mean that’s just SAMANTHA MENDOZA? who? a 20-year-old WAITRESS…interesting. and they are OUTGOING & FUN-LOVING, but i should watch out for when they are SELF-CENTERED & OBLIVIOUS? will do.

Grace smiled at the bartender when they set the plate of fries in front of her, uttering her quiet gratitude. It was strange to be back in Cape Hazel, and she’d expected as much. What she didn’t expect was for the town to be a completely different place. To the person beside her, she started, “You know, I was only gone for four months, but I feel like four years worth of stuff happened while I was away.”

Reece raised her glass in agreement, taking a sip before responding, “You know how time moves here. A day can feel like a year, a year can feel like a day -- just depends on the mood of whoever’s mayor. Remember the one we had during high school?” She rolled her eyes. “That was a decade of my life, bare minimum.” Stealing a few fries from Grace without asking, she asked with her mouth full, “Any predictions for Mayor Sasha’s reign? Personally, I think the last day has been at least a week.”

Shambles was probably an apt description for Sasha’s life just last week, but now? Well, now…everything was falling into place. It was always her father’s plan for her to take his seat as mayor after he retired from office, and she always resented it. After The Incident, however, she had a change of heart, and she was prepared to turn over a new leaf and serve the people of Cape Hazel like the true leader they needed…then literally zero of those rats voted for her! She got zero fucking votes! Luckily, this town will never not be a shitshow, so in some twisted logic the town council named her mayor after the three-way tie between the other fuckheads, and Sasha rightfully won the crown. Er, seat. Now that everyone was stuck with her as MAYOR!!!, she was ready to lay out the revenge they all deserved. She strutted down Main Street with a violent smirk glowing in her eyes and barked at the first person she saw. “Hey, you. Why didn’t you vote for me?”

“Well, your dad was just kinda, like, impeached for murder,” Sam reminded with a snort. “I know small towns have long memories or whatever and blah blah blah, but that literally just happened. Like, if Sasha or Malia had run after Obama, but Obama had killed someone -- which, like, he did, but presidents are just like that -- but if Obama had, like, executed someone on television or something, who would’ve voted for Sasha or Malia? No one wants whatever fucked up political dynasty you’re goin’ for here, babe.”

“Oh my god, you’re Fawn? Sorry, I just didn’t recognize you, I tried to find more on your Instagram, but there wasn’t a lot there. Oh god, I didn’t mean to sound like a total stalker. I just meant, like…I wanted to know who I was working with,” Cara laughed nervously, cutting off her ramble when she became sentient halfway through. God, why was she the worst? “But um yeah it’s nice to finally meet you! I’m really excited to start working together.”

"I don’t really do social media,” Fawn said vaguely, glancing over Cara’s head momentarily. There was the occasional post on Instagram or Twitter, but they were all taken from Getty Images, given generic captions, often crossposted on both platforms, and never actually uploaded by her. There wasn’t all that much to stalk, which had been her goal, much to her team’s displeasure.

In the words of the Black Eyed Peas, Cara got a feeling the moment she drew near the other woman’s space. Just the air around her stung like ice, and Cara’s version of spidey senses blared all through her skinny white girl body. As she did, though, she persisted. What cool exterior could a warm smile and tender heart not melt?! She pretended like she hadn’t encountered all too many. “It’s nice to meet you. I play Lawn. Who do you play?”

Fawn twisted a finger through her hair distractedly, not quite making eye contact with the girl in front of her. “I play Para Dox,” She answered with some reluctance, unwilling to share even the most basic personal information. Then, because she realized how batshit it was of her to not even have shared her first name, she added slowly, “I’m Fawn, by the way.”

( @fawnlockwood​, @smatua​ ) Cara was…well, she was a lot of things. But right now, as she walked onto the set for the first time, she mostly felt like a bundle of nerves and anticipation. She couldn’t be more thrilled or honored that she, little Miss Tornado Girl from Emporia, Kansas, was cast in a movie. Pinch her, she was dreaming! But she was still nervous to meet the more “serious” and “experienced” actors, unsure if they would embrace her as one of their own. Still, as always, she put her best foot forward and approached another young woman her age with a bright smile. “Hi! I’m Cara!”

Fawn, generally speaking, tended more toward discomfort than anything else around other people, but especially so on the set of projects. When her agent had suggested doing a couple of movies to help her post-recovery rebrand, she hadn’t been all that eager to, but she’d also really thought she could handle it. She didn’t want to be considered a diva, after all, when this whole thing was supposed to be to paint her in a positive light, but, god, it was --- Fawn just wasn’t happy with doing any of this. That was all. She was lucky to make it through her first project back in the movie industry with her reputation intact, but she really didn’t know if she could keep it up. So when an all too eager girl bounded up with her, it was all Fawn do not to wince, her face a cool mask as she responded neutrally, “Hello.”

“what should we check out first?” sawyer asked as they walked, mind and arms occupied with the treats he’d just loaded up on at one of the many stalls the businesses of cape hazel had to offer. “let’s do something fun.”

"Are you physically capable of having fun right now?” Fawn asked, amused. “Your arms are entirely out of commission. It limits our options by a fairly substantial amount. The games are completely off limits, for example.”

“why is no one buying my cds?” jace grumbled to himself, sitting in the chair behind his vendor table with frustration. “hey! hi! would you like to buy a cd?” he called to the person walking by his table.

"A CD?” Fawn asked automatically, eyebrows furrowed. Still, she took the necessary steps to bring herself in front of Jace’s table, flashing a (still a little confused) smile. "Uh, sure. Do you have Venmo?”

Last year a festival followed her arrival in the cape and now another one fell on the one year mark. A lot of things happened some good some bad, (the burning of her favorite restaurant still stung) but she’d do it all again (except losing Around The Clock) Eva had actually had time to make things to sell during the festival. “I wonder if hiring someone to run a vendor table for me would be a thing to do in short notice… I have way too many trinkets I haven’t sold yet…”

"If the money’s good enough, you could probably find somebody willing,” Fawn answered with a shrug, eyes on the table as she ran an appreciative finger down one of the aformentioned trinkets. “These are really nice, by the way. How many have you sold so far?”

“Are you excited to find out who the new mayor’s gonna be? I’ll be honest, I was a Zeff fan, but as long as his replacement isn’t a murderer, then they’ll probably be all right,” Solomon chuckled. He had his hands in his pockets as they walked the festival.

“I think more mayors should be murderers,” Fawn disagreed idly, mostly just for something to say as she took in her surroundings. “We should bring back when whole cities were run by the mafia but cut out the middleman -- instead of just being in the mob’s pocket, the mayor should actually be in the mob.”

“Fawn, what are you trying to tell me?” Solomon couldn’t help but chuckle, though he knew this was probably pretty serious to her. He pulled himself together with a shake of his head. “Sorry, I’m not making fun of you. You just, going on about the vampires and all. You make it sound like you’re about to tell me you’re a werewolf or something.”

"Not a werewolf. Not a vampire. Just a child star -- well, not a star. I was in a couple of movies or whatever as a kid. No big deal. Nothing major.” Fawn stuffed another handful of popcorn in her mouth, cheeks bulging. She chewed a little awkwardly around all of the food in her mouth, roughly swallowing half-chomped food in an attempt to be able to talk sooner. “That’s why I was, uh, homeschooled. I missed out on the first few grades so my moms weren’t sure about me starting traditional school so late and all of my friends were, uh, kids of my... costars, anyway, so it just made more sense to continue homeschool so my life could stay consistent, which is important. When you’re a child. As I’m sure you know.”

“If it was, i’d would’ve had the called on me a long time ago.” Maia shrugged. “And you probably called them on me, my ‘swag’ isn’t great.” She said looking at her outfit.

"Oh, I’m not all that judgmental. As long as your jeans fit in an acceptable way, it’s fine. Your pants seem perfectly acceptable,” Fawn assured. “Besides, falsely accused murderers have to stick together, I suppose.”

“yes, of course,” aaron quickly said, internally scolding himself for asking a stupid question. “onion and garlic power on pizza—that, erm, sounds lovely, actually. i know somebody who enjoys… squirting ketchup and mayonnaise on pizza. it’s… it’s not common, but i suppose it’s good to be… adventurous once in a while.” why was he even talking about this? “what are your thoughts on pineapple on pizza?”

“I suppose there’s a fine line between adventurous and disgusting,” Fawn said in a way meant to be playful, though her voice had fallen a little flat (probably because her voice was generally flat). “I think, uh -- well. I’m a fan of savory and sweet, so I think that the two play off of each other well. Canned pineapples are unacceptable, though, but that should just be a general rule. I can’t imagine a self-respecting person using canned fruit for anything, assuming they have the resources necessary to access fresh fruit.”