* BALLROOM EXTRAVAGANZA !

This morning, Renata had no special coffee to fuel her. Though she might have, if she remained at the house and Dusty had woken up, it was one of the things where she felt compelled to be out on the streets and getting somewhere. Now, with a meow of protest, the black cat went limp as a noodle in Renata's arm, having decided their fate and accepting it as better odds than whatever awaited them under the alleyways and in the sewer grates. She straightened, once she gained hold of it, and faced Bastian, and at that moment, someone's parrot decided to alight on the handle of the bag she had thrust over her shoulder. Bright yellow feathers really drove home the point of this now becoming an enclosure. "Well, guess what. So was I. And now I'm in the middle of Aladdin's parade." Except this was anything but Disney, no sharp colours, no boisterous music. Just the usual drear of the streets as commotion filled them. "Probably. They'll say, oh, yeah, you just left all the cages open, because that's easier than whatever the fuck is actually going on out here. It drives me insane. What was the point of this?"

it was certainly one way for someone to begin their day; a rather unfortunate one, at that. had it been him, standing in their shoes, it might have very well been the last thread unravelling his composure, his last straw ( haven't you run out by now, little bastard? you've been clinging to a brittle rope, fraying with every step, thinner even than the lies you tell yourself ). a parade of animals was outlandish, even for a place like anchorage; though, on that note, at least it wasn't a parade of murders, bodies dropping one after the other. no, no, this was tame in comparison, albeit a nuisance. walking over to the trash can, sebastian, wordlessly, knocked the lid aside, hand disappearing inside to retrieve the small animal that had taken refuge there. leave it to him to get involved. “ how the fuck does this happen? ” he grumbled, voice heavy with disbelief and irritation, the tiny thing wiggling in his grasp before finally relaxing. the sight of the bird perched on her shoulder made him scoff—in a way, the bizarreness of the situation was comical. “ you reckon someone snuck in? people love doing that here. gotten quite old, if you ask me. ”

"Ooh, shit. Not ferrets, please. Not a ferret!" Someone's ferret was still running amok down the asphalt of the, fortunately, vehicle-less roadway. Renata, at a dead standstill on the sidewalk, eyes bleary from a sleepless night and a dream which pricked at the backs of her eyelids even now, bit down a shriek at the tiny white critter skedaddling up a trash can. Rattle, rattle. The lid circled itself around atop the bin. Shrieks from other small animals having still escaped, and not been yet caught, blitzed through her hearing aid, which prompted her to shut it off. Ah. Semi-blessed silence. Until a yowl emitted in her other ear. Black cat crossing your path, you are full of things crawling right out of you. The cat leapt from atop the drainage pipe, and automatic ( can't let something else die, can't let something else die ) drop of her bag in order to catch it. She, and the cat, collapsed in a heap, Renata caught off balance, falling to one knee. She winced, holding the cat tight to her chest, with a glance around her. "Anchorage is turning into a fucking zoo." She hadn't even gotten a pumpkin spice latte this morning. ( Overall? She felt fine about this. Her charges hadn't been injured. That's all that mattered to her. ) "What the hell are you doing out here at ass o'clock?" Sharp question aimed with her usual glower.

had it been his choice, he would have remained in bed, allowing himself to fade away underneath the covers for the next twenty odd hours, until sleep reclaimed him once more. one day—he only asked for one bloody day. alas, the burden of myriad responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders, making such a respite unattainable. they, unmistakably, were also far from a morning person, so to label their mood as merely grumpy would be a significant understatement. the coffee that he was sipping on did offer a measure of relief, at least; nikolai's expertise in brewing it to perfection effectively alleviating some of the ache in his head. all he could do was hope that the day would pass with relative smoothness ( was that considered wishful thinking? bastian had never been one to embrace optimism ). that concept was quickly undermined, however, as he found himself amidst a bustling commotion... of animals? as if anchorage couldn't get any stranger. it was just slightly amusing, the rich flavour of his cold brew being savoured as he processed what was happening. perhaps, if the caffeine had kicked in, they might have been inclined to offer assistance. “ walking. to my job, ” monotonously spoken, the bastard blinked. “ you think the clinic would get sued if they lost a bunch of people's pets? ”

Heathers (1988) dir. Michael Lehmann

come drop your presents & send wishes if you may                               find out more about character birthdays here !

To preface: decorating the RV had not been their idea to begin with, but as boilingly infuriated as they were at a large third of their friend circle, their roommate included, they were determined to finish the decorations as the five-foot-eleven giant living in the house. Lou was inconveniently unavailable to be thrown under the bus with them on this excursion, which was how they ended up here: with a string of lights in their teeth, part of its tail in their gloved hands, and armed with a stapler. Reaching the roof required a small step-ladder, and sue them for having the serendipitous idea to put one foot on its neck as they reached for the uppermost of the RV's rooftop. Their stapler sucker-punched on the lights, and as they moved onto the next, their brows furrowed and engrossed in their task, the wobbling of their balance knocked the ladder out from underneath them as their staple gun fired at the next strand — and that's how they were here, dangling from the goddamn roof by their glove, and yelling profanities at the top of their lungs. "Hey!" they were calling out to the nearest passerby in the trailer park, resident or not, to erect their futile human error, "Can you grab that ladder before I fucking die up here or fall into this holly bush?" Legs kicked uselessly underneath them, shrieking with frustration, "OH MY GOD, couldn't the president founding father of gloves have made them easier to get off?!"

when it came to the holidays, he'd much rather dig himself into a hole and remain in the cold, hard ground for the two arduous months than contend with the festive season. a dreaded season, it was, for one lee sebastian; merely a few dials short of becoming anchorage's very own grinch. he'd come to believe that if he heard one more song about decking halls, getting run over by reindeer, rocking around the jingle bells, or whatever the fuck else holly jolly bullshit people sang about, he really would steal everyone's christmas trees – and it wasn't even december! cigarette lit between his lips, a pair of black headphones sat over his ears, blissfully tuning out their merry and bright surroundings, snow crunching below rugged boots as the trailer park was traversed. what he hadn't been expecting was to witness something out of a scene in a movie; one of his neighbours dangling from their roof, a mishap in their decorating project. in a sense, it was amusing, but contrary to popular belief, he wasn't heartless – headphones adjusted to rest around his tattooed neck, the ladder was picked up and conveniently placed below their feet. “ didn't something like this happen in that one movie— griswald's... lampoon trip... whatever the fuck, ” not that it was important. “ guess y'could say you're just hanging around. ”

Nerves (2021) DPR Ian

Mood DPR IAN