𝑵𝑶 𝑴𝑨𝑵'𝑺 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫

#hiqhtide    :      dependent  original  character  multi - muse  for  irvinghq  .   written  by  sam  .   current  muse  count   :     two  .

casey  pearson   (   intro  .   statistics  .   connections  .   )

harrison  cho   (   intro  .   statistics  .   connections  .   )

          maggie’s  filter  was  few  and  far  between,  especially  when  it  came  to  harry.  one  would  think  he’d  been  gone  long  enough  for  him  to  be  forgotten  about,  a  fact  that  would’ve  been  true  if  she  had  not  always  been  a  little  wary  of  him  during  his  time  in  irving.  perhaps  why  her  next  words  tumble  from  her  lips  and  across  the  diner  booth  without  a  second  thought.     ❝  be  honest,  ❞     a  bold  start,  all  things  considered,     ❝  are  the  aliens  in  the  hotel,  or  under  it  ?  surely  that’s  why  you’re  messing  about  over  there.  ❞     everything  circled  back  around  to  aliens,  in  her  opinion,  and  it  was  certainly  a  more  favorable  option  to  her  asking  what  kind  of  death  they’re  trying  to  cover  up,  instead.     /     @hiqhtide​

          not  for  the  first  time,   maggie’s  words  leave  him  utterly  bewildered   ---   bemused,   beguiled,   insert  word  of  choice  here.   had  she  always  been  like  this ?   even  with  something  in  it  for  him   (   namely  attention,   his  sole  motivator  back  then   ),   it  was  hard  to  imagine  himself  ever  engaging  in  this  brand  of  back  and  forth.   thankfully,   ten  years  and  a  stanford  - won  mba  later,   he’s  come  to  the  table  with  a  stacked  deck.   “   i’m  always  honest.   ”   and  out  comes  that  handshake  grin,   courtesy  of  invisalign  and  frequent  whitening  sessions  at  soho  smile.   “   and  i’m  happy  to  tell  you  anything  you’d  like  to  know   ---   this  friday  night,   at  my  family’s  place  on  aquila  drive.   ”   he  leans  forward  and  lowers  his  voice,   as  if  to  ward  off  any  prospective  crashers.   “   i’m  throwing  a  dinner  party.   inner  circle  only,   just  a  few  familiar  faces  from  back  in  the  day   ---   yours  included,   i  hope.   ”

“any chance you have any experience with breaking into someone else’s phone? i may have left my ex a drunkenly embarrassing voicemail that needs to disappear pronto.”

@irvingstarters

        “   have  you  tried  putting  it  in  rice ?   the  phone,   i  mean.   ”   pretty  sure  he  read  that  somewhere.   google,   maybe ?   technology  was  never  his  strong  suit.   “   i’m  sure  whatever  you  said  wasn’t  that  bad.   just  own  up  to  it.   who  knows ?   maybe  you  guys  will  laugh  about  it  someday.   ”

cherry: aw i'm sorry :( mom and dad had to close early today.

cherry: they've got some appointment in wilmington. accountant, i think? i don't know.

cherry: well, duh! that's what i need help with!

cherry: also...i ran out of sugar for the frosting. any way you can pick me up some on the way over?

casey: when one store closes another door opens

casey: or w/e the saying is

casey: i'm actually so honored u thought of me

casey: u got it. do u want powdered or normal ?

cherry: aw! i love that! :D

cherry: we're connected!!

cherry: well, yes and no.

cherry: i was baking. and i may have overshot.

cherry: my apartment is wall to wall cupcakes right now.

casey: oh my god this is so crazy

casey: cause i just walked by maddens

casey: wanted watermelon taffy but u guys were closed :(

casey: wall to wall cupcakes ...

cherry: hi.

cherry: i have a problem.

cherry: and only you can help.

casey: get out of my brain

casey: no joke i was just abt to text u

          “how did you turn out so selfish?” those words ringing through sky’s head as she walked out the door of the trailer she once shared with her brother and her mom. her brother still lives there and her mom only comes around when she needs something. this time? money and food. it’s not that sky didn’t have it – it’s the fact that she knew selina would be spending it on drugs and she’d rather not wake up in the morning to see selina on the news. but selina didn’t see it that way. selina would rather guilt and punish sky for not jumping when she said jump. sky couldn’t tell you why something so small would bother her so much. you’d think after growing up with a mom like hers, she’d be used to the disappointing storm that trailed behind selina everywhere she went. but, maybe it’s the fact that selina was still her mom…  god, sky needed a drink. getting into her car, she heads out into the dark of night, making her way down to vela pier – which was still alive with people enjoying the lights and beach bonfire happening just down the beach a little. skylar walks into the crowd, checking to see where she could grab a shot … or 4. drinking on an empty stomach isn’t something she did frequently – but it’s something she does tonight. after a round of shots she took with total strangers, she goes to sit by the bon fire – hoping she could forget her life for just a few moments. @irvingstarters​ 

          daytime  was  easy.   the  poseidon  kept  him  up  to  his  elbows  in  distractions,   hours  killed  arguing  with  contractors  and  trying  to  salvage  his  favorite  italian  loafers  after  an  untimely  pipe  burst.   if  he  wasn’t  at  the  hotel,   he’d  snag  a  booth  at  that  diner  with  the  nauseatingly  wholesome  name  and  set  up  camp  with  his  macbook,   trudging  his  way  through  a  mountain  of  emails  with  a  slice  of  cobbler  at  his  side.   nights  were  another  story.   the  idea  of  going  back  to  that  big,   empty  house  full  of  cobwebs  and  lies   ---   he  just  couldn’t  stomach  it.   tonight,   harry  got  behind  the  wheel  of  his  faithful  jag  and  drove  until  he  saw  beach.   it  was  as  good  a  place  as  any.   a  group  of  townies  were  having  a  bonfire,   a  seemingly  nightly  occurrence  among  this  set.   he  sits  for  a  half  hour  or  so,   sipping  from  his  flask  while  everyone  else  drank  piss - warm  beer  from  solo  cups,   and  after  witnessing  a  kid  in  board  shorts  do  a  shaky  keg  stand,   he  decides  he’s  seen  enough.   “   god,   i’m  too  old  for  this.   ”   did  he  say  that  out  loud ?   guess  so.   catching  the  eye  of  someone  around  his  age,   he  holds  out  his  flask  in  a  show  of  comradery.   “   interested ?   not  much,   but  it’s  better  than  whatever  they’re  drinking.   ”

open to  :  all  /  @irvingstarters​​ location :  the Beach 

     “  kinda messed up, isn’t it?  ” she says aloud, more to herself than the person walking past, as she bends down to pick up yet another plastic bottle and place it into her oversized tote that she carries just for this reason. “ it’s so beautiful down here, and yet others don’t care enough to do their part to preserve that beauty.  ”  with that, she steps closer to the other, quickly pulling up a virtual flyer on her phone ( no paper, of course, that’s a waste ), holding it out towards the other. “ we’re actually doing a big beach clean-up this weekend. you should stop by, if you’re free.  ”

-

          “   so  messed  up.   ”   he  echoes,   nodding  vigorously  as  the  weight  of  her  words  set  in.   he  absorbs  them  like  a  sponge,   ready  to  believe  anything  spoken  with  that  much  conviction.   “   i  found  a  subway  wrapper  on  the  sandbar  yesterday   ---   and  the  closest  subway  is,   like,   two  towns  over.   ”   and  it  wasn’t  just  subway !   beer  cans,   straw  wrappers   ---   god,   he  was  starting  to  sound  like  lane.   despite  the  wayfarers  perched  atop  his  head,   he  uses  his  hand  as  a  makeshift  visor  as  he  scans  the  digital  flyer  with  genuine  interest,   eyes  squinting  as  the  letters  takes  shape  before  him.   “   this  weekend.   alright   ---   cool.   should  i  bring  anything ?   ”

will is still victim to a perpetual rain of thought. it’s perhaps because of this that he does not consider the consequences of throwing a book at the back of someone’s head in a library hallway, but it’s quite literally out of his hands now. it’s a paperback. he wasn’t aiming for anyone in particular but it’s struck home regardless, bouncing off the back of someone’s skull and flopping to the ground like a bird post-window collision. instead of booking it, will stands there and tries to look innocent. he pulls another book off the shelf and opens it to a random page. it’s only fucking wednesday, he thinks furiously. wednesday! @irvingstarters​

          “   did  you  just  throw  a  book  at  my  head ?   ”   his  words  are  incredulous  as  he  whirls  on  the  kid,   sizing  him  up  in  stunned  disbelief.   harry  doesn’t  know  whether  to  laugh  or  take  legal  action.   he’s  only  been  in  town  a  month.   surely  he’d  know  if  he’d  made  enemies  already   ---   at  least  the  book - throwing  kind.   “   you  know,   in  some  states,   that’s  considered  assault.   ”   maybe.   probably ?   he  makes  a  mental  note  to  google  it  later.   “   lucky  for  you,   i  just  consider  it  being  a  dick.   what  exactly  did  i  do  to  warrant  the  wrath  of   .  .  .   ”   he  snatches  up  the  offending  paperback  and  scans  the  cover.   “   john  fucking  steinbeck ?   ”

boxes upon boxes, most of the recently shipped variety — he’d very much subscribed to the “nothing in the apartment but a futon and television” lifestyle that was stereotypical of guys his age, though if it was more from lack of funds or lack of taste was anybody’s guess. speaking of taste — where was the pizza he ordered? he looked around the room as though that would make a pizza appear, only for a knock to sound on his door — had he managed to summon a pizza with just his mind? he stepped around the stacks towards where he was pretty sure the door was, swinging it open after accidentally knocking over an open box of something with a lot of packing peanuts. shit, he’d have to clean that up later. as he turned his attention back to the person at the door, his brows furrowed — no pizza in sight. “you’re — not delivering my pizza,” he said, as though he was hoping they would deliver a different answer. | @irvingstarters​

          “   damn,   bitch,   you  live  like  this ?   ”   devoid  of  formalities  for  his  oldest  friend,   harry  steps  over  the  threshold  and  grimaces  as  his  italian  leather  sole  comes  down  on  something   ---   squishy.   you  can  imagine  his  relief  to  discover,   on  further  inspection,   that  it  was  a  packing  peanut  and  nothing  more  sinister.   a  cursory  glance  at  drew’s  surroundings  and  his  first  thought  is  where’s  the  rest  of  it ?   the  second   :   when  was  my  last  tetanus  shot ?   he’d  seen  airport  bathrooms  with  more  curb  appeal.   “   sorry  to  disappoint,   but  this  doesn’t  really  go  with  little  caesars.   ”   from  behind  his  back,   harry  presents  a  thirty - year  bottle  of  scotch,   which  he  plunks  atop  a  stack  of  cardboard  boxes.   “   courtesy  of  the  late  ewan  cho’s  secret  stash.   don’t  suppose  you’ve  got  a  corkscrew  in  one  of  these ?   ”

closed to  :  @hiqhtide​ location  :  pearson’s fish fry 

      despite living in irving all her life, she’s only set foot in this establishment less times than she could count on one hand. pearson’s is an irving institution, of that she’s aware, but it’s down-home decor and beachy vibe didn’t exactly fit the aesthetic of her family. she could hardly see her parents pulling up here on a friday night, that’s for sure. and she didn’t do much socializing in high school, so when other kids were going to pearson’s after soccer practice, for their cast parties, on their first dates, she was likely sitting at home working on being the best. but all that nostalgia is the reason she’s here. her latest clients, both lifelong irving residents, have an attachment to this place, and for some reason think that pearson’s coconut shrimp and lobster rolls ( are they even actually lobster? has anyone checked? ) would be the perfect reception food. she’s set up a meeting, something that shocked the employee that she spoke to on the phone to arrange it with ( she assumes they don’t do many of those here ), but much like she expected, there was no one waiting to greet her. “ hello ?  ”  she calls out, a bit nosy as she pokes her head into the kitchen. it’s a few hours before opening, but they best not have forgotten. “ where the hell are they,  ”  she mutters to herself. 

-

          one  of  many  unspoken  rules  devised  to  keep  the  place  afloat,   the  rare  catering  job  they  received  typically  fell  under  nathan’s  jurisdiction.   the  eldest  brother  was  by  far  the  most  agreeable  of  the  clan,   and  as  a  father  to  twins,   he  happened  to  possess  the  patience  of  a  saint   ---   definitely  required  to  go  toe - to - toe  with  irving’s  bridezilla  population.   unfortunately,   the  dynamic  duo  that  was  casey’s  eight  year  old  nephews  decided  today  was  the  day  to  rage  against  the  machine  with  a  crayola  mural  outside  their  classroom   (   way  cooler  than  anything  he  did  in  third  grade;   once  he  was  done  lamenting  about  having  to  haul  ass  out  of  bed  before  eleven,   he  had  to  admit  he  was  impressed.   )

          between  the  trill  of  the  fire  alarm  and  the  radio  static  overhead,   he  somehow  misses  the  bride - to - be's  arrival.   after  button - mashing  the  alarm  into  silence,   he  turns  on  his  heel  and  startles  at  the  sight  of  a  customer  in  the  kitchen   ---   though  he  quickly  recovers.   “   sorry  about  the  wait.   i  was  making  a  breakfast  burrito  and  accidentally  started  a  grease  fire.   ”   yet  another  thing  barely  clinging  to  life  in  their  thousand - year  old  kitchen.   god,   they  needed  this  gig.   “   hey   .  .  .   the  langley  wedding,   right  ?   ”    wiping  his  ash - covered  palms  on  a  dishrag,   he  throws  it  over  his  shoulder  and  sticks  out  his  hand.   “   casey   ---   pearson.   congrats  on  the  engagement.   ”

o  hey,   new  sam  muse  just  dropped !   from  the  makers  of  solo  brain  cell  surfer  boy  comes  :    i  hate  my  dad  but  make  it  Expensive  ™.   this  got  way  too  long  but  fear  not  <3  there’s  a  tldr  at  the  end

Magda, wearing a pair of pilot goggles that made her look as if she was about to start melding, an oversized t-shirt with wolves on and seemingly no pants underneath, lazily held onto a leash attached to a snuffling hog in one hand and a dark green Nokia in the other. The hog, stoutest belly ever recorded, snorted it’s way through an unguarded flower bed, budging up every root with it’s snout. Magda did nothing to prevent it, clicking mindlessly through her game of Snake, until she caught eyes with someone passing. Expressionless, it was rare that Magda demonstrated a visible reaction to anything – even a plummeting plane or a spontaneous combustion. “You want to pet Chungus?” The hog’s name, apparently. Maybe not. She did like lying. He tore up another flower, sneezed, then gobbled at the stem. “Unless you’re homophobic. He’s LGBT.”

          “   uh   ---   sure ?   one  sec.   nemo,   stay !   ”   the  pearson  family  pit  mix  continued  to  pull  insistently  at  his  leash,   his  ginormous  brown  eyes  sizing  up  the  hog  with  a  cocktail  of  curiosity  and  terror.   casey  got  a  momentary  kick  out  of  imagining  nemo  thinking  chungus  was  the  weirdest - looking  dog  he’d  ever  seen.   when  the  tugging  finally  ceased,   he  crouched  down  and  gave  the  critter  a  heavy - handed  pat,   right  on  the  head.   “   whoa   .  .  .   that’s  sick.   i’ve  never  met  a  gay  pig  before.   or  any  pig,   really.   ”   to  be  honest,   he’s  still  not  entirely  convinced  this  isn’t  some  wild,   drug - induced  hallucination.   irving  wasn’t  exactly  farmville,   usa,   and  was  that  a  nokia ?   it  looked  just  like  the  one  his  sister  used  to  have   ---   fifteen  years  ago.   “   i  don’t  know  why,   but  i  thought  he’d  feel  like  one  of  those  dodgeballs.   y’know,   the  soft,   bumpy  ones  they  made  us  use  in  p.e  after  that  kid,   like,   busted  his  face  open ?   ”

          hit with the unexpected news to how much work and money needed to be put into her (dad’s) houseboat, natalia’s been pacing back and forth on the dock trying to figure out how to pay it. she wasn’t one to give something like this up so easily. truthfully, for all she knew, the guy she hired for her yearly inspection could just be trying to haggle her like a car’s salesman. but she also knew how old this thing was. thinking about it while pacing wasn’t working for her. she needed to be out on the water. looking over at her dad’s sailboat, she decided to take it out for a couple hours. it wasn’t a special occasion, but it was important enough to her. and she couldn’t think as well on land. a habit formed with her dad. as nat was untieing the cleat hitch knot that held it to the dock, she misstepped and found herself in the water, cell phone and all. “damn it!” she cursed, trying to get back up on the dock. 

open to all @irvingstarters​ 

          bleary -  eyed  and  nursing  a  hangover  from  the  night  before,   he  wakes  with  a  jolt  and  water  seeping  beneath  his  collar.   as  he  furiously  scrubs  the  sleep  from  his  eyes,   casey  fights  to  piece  together  his  surroundings.   he’d  fallen  asleep  on  a  lounge  chair,   clutching  his  surfboard  to  his  chest  like  the  world’s  pointiest  body  pillow.   turns  out,   he  never  made  it  home  last  night.   which  meant   .  .  .   “   nat ?   ”   he  ventures,   wincing  through  his  attempt  at  hoisting  himself  upright.   approaching  the  boat’s  bow,   he  finds  its  captain  spouting  an  impressive  string  of  curses  as  she  thrashes  in  the  mid - morning  current.   “   so  this  is  a  thing.   ”   even  half - dead  and  in  dire  need  of  electrolytes,   he  can’t  contain  his  laughter  as  he  offers  a  helping  hand   ---   though  his  lack  of  tact  is  swiftly  punished  by  an  onslaught  of  pain  between  his  temples.   “   need  a  hand ?   or  like   .  .  .  some  floaties ?   pretty  sure  my  nephew  has  a  pair  you  could  borrow.   ”