rattle the stars

angie. 30 she/her. selective. oc indie rp. multi-muse. cst. aries. infp. mun of this blog along with some others in the past.

GENERAL

rules

about me

open starters

plot wishlist

CHARACTERS

muses- summaries, bios, stats, & photos included of all CURRENT muses. click here for the tws.

muse connections - a list of my muses who have connections to my other muses.

The show must go on. Being on that stage with them was the last thing she wanted to do that night. Though pretending like everything was perfectly fine was a skill she mastered in, this was one time she did not want to pretend. Things were not perfectly fine. She gave a low energy performance, one she’d surely regret later in the wee hours of night, but her heart wasn’t in it. 

Sitting at the beach a little further down from the small Fourth of July festival they played at, she dug her toes in the sand and smoked a cigarette. The sound of live music and distant fireworks popping off into the sky mixed with the sound of the ocean, yet she couldn’t mistake the sound of them approaching her. “Does she know?” Chey spat out coldly, eyes focused on the fireworks that illuminated the sky and painted her features in hues of blue and red. “About you and I.”

It was 3 am. Fucking 3 am, and someone was at his door. The man sat there for a moment, contemplating all the people it could’ve been outside of that door. Of course, he liked to jump to the conclusion that naturally someone was there to kill him. Rubbing a tired hand over his face, he got up and finally went over to the door as he tugged on a black t-shirt that was inside out. He opened the door slowly, peeking out, and then immediately sighed as he saw them standing there. Of course there was a part of him that always liked these visits, but he knew it couldn’t go on forever. “Jesus, it’s 3 in the morning, y’know? Scared me half to death… What are you doing here?”

“Who knew there was even a season for weddings? I didn’t know that was a thing,” Chey called out from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from her lips as she got ready for the evening. “It’s like the second everyone hit their thirties, they all decided they suddenly needed to get engaged as soon as possible.” She paused her rambling to rinse her mouth out. This was the second wedding out of six they were obligated to attend. At least this one was in Napa Valley - a promising location. A gold dress hung on her shoulders, the back unzipped as she finished up in the bathroom. She walked back into the hotel room and looked at her friend as they got ready. “And so many destination weddings… I mean, it’s always beautiful, but Jesus I’m tired of flying everywhere for these things.” Chey turned around and quickly added, “Zip me up?”

Tears that were far overdue finally pooled in those blue eyes of hers. Not even a guilt-free cigarette could help her cause. With her arms slowly wrapping around herself, she did her best to get a grip. She hated feeling small. She also hated always feeling her own arms embrace her in moments like this. 

When footsteps approached her, she wondered if it was a friend from the party coming out to find her. Chey looked up and her face somehow managed to drop more. The last person who would ever give a damn about her. “What do you want now?” 

He huffed as he wiped the grease from his stained hands, smearing it further across his skin in the process. Closing the hood of the car with a little more force than necessary, he finally looked up to meet her gaze as she stood there watching him.

“I swear, I think you do somethin’ to this thing just to piss me off.”

The amount of times she had called him over to fix this car was honestly ridiculous. At this point, he was convinced she either had the worst luck in the world or was somehow breaking it on purpose just to have an excuse to bother him. And yet, somehow, he never actually hesitated to show up. No matter how much he complained, no matter how many times he told her she needed a new car, he was always there. “Anyway,” he said, tossing the rag onto the hood before crossing his arms, “it’s fixed. Again.” He gave her a pointed look, trying and failing to hide the small hint of amusement on his face. “Please, for my own sanity, try not to break it this time. Or, better yet, maybe consider gettin’ yourself a new one before this thing finally kills me.”

There were many benefits of not living too far from a bar - like getting to drink as much as he wanted without the worry of transportation. He and his coworkers spent the evening downing one too many shots to ring in the weekend. It had been a while since he had gotten this drunk, though he wasn’t particularly unfamiliar to it. Leon wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, but he often found it difficult to turn down a drink when offered. So, he was practically pro at the whole drunk walk home thing. 

Stumbling down the hall of his apartment complex, he wrangled with his keys in his pockets and flipped through the random ones on the ring until he found the right one. His vision was slightly blurred and his head felt like it was in a washing machine. He blinked hard and hoped the feeling would subside if he focused hard enough. Attempting to unlock his door, it seemed like no matter what he did, the key wasn’t going in all the way. He jiggled the doorknob and let out a quiet groan of frustration. “C’mon,” he mumbled and turned the key around to try a different angle. No luck. Just as he went to jiggle the knob more, the door suddenly swung open. Leon stepped back and took a look to see his neighbor. His eyes squinted and he gave a confused look. “Why are you in my apartment?” Except Leon was missing one little detail in his drunken stupor - this wasn’t his apartment.

It always started with a two worded text message from Fecility at a god awful hour: Hey, Stranger. As soon as she made it to a certain area code, she seemed to always message her. City came and went with the wind, perpetually traveling or taking on some new grand adventure. It was nice to know there was something familiar in this specific town. It was nice to know she would always be there. 

She sat at the bar and sipped on her cosmo at a glacial pace. The blonde beamed when she saw her finally enter through the door. It was hard knowing just where they stood - did she enjoy their time together as much as City did? Or was she sick and tired of City’s restlessness? She showed - City supposed that was a good start. “Hey, stranger,” she greeted, just like that first text message earlier that night. “Guess who’s back in town for a few weeks?”

One night stand. It’s been a while since she had one of those, but she didn’t regret it in the slightest. No exchanging of numbers, not a lot of exchanging of words to be frank. It was perfect. 

Yet, the universe had a funny way of often fucking over Chey Johnson. Her one night stand was now standing in front of her as she realized they worked at the location they would be shooting at for the next week or so.

Chey cleared her throat awkwardly. “So.. I guess we never talked about what we do for a living.” Again, they didn’t talk much at all.

The bugs hummed their songs among the towering trees, a reminder that summer was still here whether they were ready for it or not. Their annual camping trip was smaller than ever. More somber, too. Their trio had become a duo, leaving a hole in what remained of the tradition. Despite his own grief, Bear was determined to make the trip enjoyable. It’s what their friend would have wanted.

“It’s not the worst tent…” he said uncertainly, staring at the pile of tent poles that were barely holding the thing upright. The tent collapsed a few moments later.

“Okay, so it is the worst tent.” He looked down at the tangled mess. “How the hell do you put this thing together?” That had always been their friend’s area of expertise. Bear’s specialty was identifying which leaves would give you a rash and making dinner over the campfire.

An all-expenses-paid vacation in exchange for a few tourism photos? Felicity had practically been foaming at the mouth over the opportunity. She’d even managed to convince the travel company that her “spouse” absolutely had to accompany her. Of course, her so-called spouse was actually her best friend. The less they knew, the better.

“How long until you think we’re busted?” she asked under her breath in the buffet line. She was on her second lie of this job - the first had gotten them a free vacation, and the second had somehow landed them here at this complete stranger’s wedding for the hell of it.

Yes, they were wedding crashers. “I’m still putting together our backstory on how we got invited,” she said. “Might tell them the bride saved my life once.” The bigger and bolder the lie, the better. At least, that’s what she always said.