pinehaven starters

"Go for it, kid," Susie said to Gaia as they approach the entrance to the park. She let go of her daughter's hand and the little girl began to sprint in the direction of the swings. Susie watched her run, and then, she watched Gaia knock right into someone also going into the park. The little girl kept running, even when the bags of the stranger dropped to the ground. "Oh my god," Susie rushed forward, crouching down to pick up their things. "I'm really sorry... she's locked in on those swings." Susie stood up, handed back their things, and offered a sheepish smile. Glancing around the ground to make sure she hadn't missed anything, she saw a spilled drink. "Oh shit... your drink." Susie pulled her purse around to the front and started digging for some money. She pulled out a few dollars and held them out, grimacing. "Is this enough to cover it?"

location: mcnasty's pub

location: wildflower thread

kian held up a dress shirt next to the customer he was helping, biting his bottom lip in thought. “hmm, i like this color on you, but i feel like we would need more pizzazz.” his eyebrows furrowed as he thought of something to put the outfit together, remembering they had some coats and accessories on sale. he noticed the customer pulling away from him and becoming disinterested and he panicked. “i'm not saying you don't already look great with just the shirt, i want you to stand out even more.” he lifted his hands up in surrender, stepping out of their space. “i just want you to leave with something you feel great in.” his lips curled into a half smile, his heart racing in his chest. nothing scared him more than a pissed off customer.

A stack of flyers in hand, Kick headed into town to make sure every single resident of Pinehaven knew Afterglow had a show coming up. They'd played McNasty's plenty of nights, enough that everyone of age had probably seen them already, but Kekoa still acted like it was their first show ever. He boarded down the street, holding out a flyer for anyone willing to take one. When one fluttered to the ground instead of making it safely into someones hand, Kick skidded to a stop and scooped it up. "Hey, you've got to come... it's going to be killer." He gave them a cheeky grin, waggling his brows as he offered them a flyer.

@pinehavenstarters

the light in the grocery store was entirely too artificial, a fluorescent hum that did nothing to flatter the produce section. felicity stood before the wooden crate of stone fruit, her long fingers hovering over the pile. she was wearing her usual uniform; an oversized thrifted trench coat that smelled faintly of the morning’s rain, a sharp contrast to the humid warmth of the spring afternoon. carefully she lifted a particularly heavy, sun warmed peach. thumb tracing the deep, velvety indentation running down its side, almost instinctively evaluating the symmetry, the gradient of bruise purple bleeding into a dusty, vibrant orange. it was a beautiful shape, entirely unbothered by the rigid, straight lines she forced into her last installation.

without looking up, she leaned slightly to her right, gesturing with the fruit toward the person standing right beside her. "be honest," she said, her voice carrying a low, detached wit she often utilized. "does the one i’m holding look exactly like a butt, or have i just been staring at a blank canvas's too long?" she kept her features relatively serious awaiting a response before the peek of a cheeky smile emerged. "that was a joke, people tell them sometimes. you can laugh."

@pinehavenstarters

the thump thump thump of ada’s yellow pencil, a restless metronome against the scarred expanse of the vintage oak counter, cut off mid beat. the front door of the inn creaked open on its un oiled hinges, complaining loudly as a shadow detached itself from the persistent drizzle, crossing the boundary right into the heart of her disaster zone. ada remained entirely motionless, a statuesque figure frozen in the dead center of the half gutted parlor. her right hand was still tightly wrapped around the fiberglass handle of a heavy sledgehammer, the tool resting against her thigh like a weapon she had no intention of lowering. the air between them was thick with a floating, ghostly cloud of pulverized plaster and white primer dust. a particularly large flake of drywall debris was precariously nested in her dark, messy waves, right beside the bandana holding her hair back. and her jacket was smudged entirely white across the left shoulder, with a single streak of chalky dust mapped the sharp line of her cheekbone.

ada didn't blink, immediately sliding the pencil behind her ear, squaring her shoulders beneath her boxy blazer. "it’s a deconstructed spatial concept," she explained, completely flat and utterly defensive. "the structural integrity of the partition was impeding the natural flow of the aesthetic i’m trying to establish for the parlor. the asymmetry is entirely intentional. it's minimalist." it was as if she could feel the slow, skeptical silence stretched across the dusty room. clearing her throat, she tightened her grip on the sledgehammer, her chin tilting upward in a flare of pride. "and if you're looking at my hair, it's a textural accent. don't look at me like that, i know exactly what I'm doing."

the warm fluorescent glow illuminated the vintage glassware that covered the bar top. a sea of brightly colored curves accompanied by the fluttery napkins that draped the plates. a soft touch of "elegance" to elevate the homey feeling of lou lous. franscesca fiddled with the corner of the menu, teasing a crease into the page before finally lifting her gaze. "everything on this menu screams horrible heart health..." her brow lifted with a soft twist of mirth dotting her lips. "..i'll take the pie and whoever made it."

@pinehavenstarters

the screen door of loulou's gave a dull, metallic rattle as it settled back into its frame. behind the diner, the air smelled of wet gravel, rotting cedar, and the chemical tang of the dumpster. it was raining again, that fine, misting drizzle that didn't bounce off the pavement so much as it just hung in the air like steam. noah leaned his shoulder against the damp brick wall, tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his apron, and drew a long, slow drag from his cigarette. the orange cherry flared, casting a brief, harsh glow over his knuckles. this was the only ten minutes of the day he owned. no tickets, no shouting, no grease. just the thump of his own pulse. then, the gravel crunched.

noah didn't move his head, but his jaw clenched, his eyes tracking sideways into the gloom. a figure emerged from around the corner of the building, cutting through the yellow glare of the single sodium bulb above the back door. instantly, that suffocating heat flared up the back of his neck. his stomach doing a hard, familiar twist; the prelude to the roar in his ears that usually meant he needed to find an exit. don't look up, he told himself. just look at the cigarette. but the footsteps stopped right in front of him.

noah’s face defaulted to the blank stare, his eyes rising slowly to meet theirs. his mind was already scrambling, working itself into a frantic, internal lather. what do they want? did a ticket get messed up? are they going to ask me about the weather? don't say something abrasive, just say 'yeah' or 'no.' he could feel the sweat starting under his collar, cold against his skin despite the cool evening air. he gripped the cigarette tightly between his fingers, desperately wishing he could just dissolve into the damp wood smoke of the pines. "you need something?"

@pinehavenstarters

the fluorescent lights of the pinehaven value village racks hummed a steady b flat, matching the low end vibration ginger usually coaxed out of her fender. she parted a sea of scratchy, seventy percent polyester prom dresses with a loud clack clack clack of her ring adorned fingers, eyes scanning the goods faster than she could thrust the fabrics aside. "i'm telling you, the vibe for the mcnasty's gig needs to be totally immaculate," ginger said, her jaw working absently on a piece of gum wedged between her back teeth. she peered through a gap in the hangers, eyes locking onto a chaotic row of pastel tulle. "i can't just hit the stage looking like regular degular human being. i need some serious theatrical seasoning. otherwise, what am i even doing up there? just making noise in the back of a pub, lame." she paused for a fraction of a second, fully aware and entirely unapologetic about the fact that her companion was likely completely accustomed to, and perhaps slightly exhausted by her rapid stream of consciousness monologues.

"i feel like i can feel a very anti supportive vibe coming from your side of the rack, and to that I say. oh ye of little faith," with a dramatic flourish, she dove past a puffy, neon peach monstrosity that smelled vaguely of forgotten mothballs, ancient aqua net, and stale seventies hairspray. sinking deep into the unsorted, claustrophobic jungle of thrifted fabrics, she disappeared for a moment. then, from the absolute depths of the mountain of clothes, her voice suddenly emerged, singing out a soaring, mock angelic hymn of pure victory that was surely an indication she had discovered something worth exalting. a triumphant hand shot straight up into the fluorescent light, a pair of radically baggy plaid trousers emerging victoriously from the clutter. "boom!" she cheered loudly, surfacing from the rack and holding the massive trousers up against her frame with an expression of total, absolute satisfaction. "tell me this isn't a certified thrifting miracle."

@pinehavenstarters

the thump thump thump of ada’s yellow pencil, a restless metronome against the scarred expanse of the vintage oak counter, cut off mid beat. the front door of the inn creaked open on its un oiled hinges, complaining loudly as a shadow detached itself from the persistent drizzle, crossing the boundary right into the heart of her disaster zone. ada remained entirely motionless, a statuesque figure frozen in the dead center of the half gutted parlor. her right hand was still tightly wrapped around the fiberglass handle of a heavy sledgehammer, the tool resting against her thigh like a weapon she had no intention of lowering. the air between them was thick with a floating, ghostly cloud of pulverized plaster and white primer dust. a particularly large flake of drywall debris was precariously nested in her dark, messy waves, right beside the bandana holding her hair back. and her jacket was smudged entirely white across the left shoulder, with a single streak of chalky dust mapped the sharp line of her cheekbone.

ada didn't blink, immediately sliding the pencil behind her ear, squaring her shoulders beneath her boxy blazer. "it’s a deconstructed spatial concept," she explained, completely flat and utterly defensive. "the structural integrity of the partition was impeding the natural flow of the aesthetic i’m trying to establish for the parlor. the asymmetry is entirely intentional. it's minimalist." it was as if she could feel the slow, skeptical silence stretched across the dusty room. clearing her throat, she tightened her grip on the sledgehammer, her chin tilting upward in a flare of pride. "and if you're looking at my hair, it's a textural accent. don't look at me like that, i know exactly what I'm doing."

A stack of flyers in hand, Kick headed into town to make sure every single resident of Pinehaven knew Afterglow had a show coming up. They'd played McNasty's plenty of nights, enough that everyone of age had probably seen them already, but Kekoa still acted like it was their first show ever. He boarded down the street, holding out a flyer for anyone willing to take one. When one fluttered to the ground instead of making it safely into someones hand, Kick skidded to a stop and scooped it up. "Hey, you've got to come... it's going to be killer." He gave them a cheeky grin, waggling his brows as he offered them a flyer.

@pinehavenstarters

the screen door of loulou's gave a dull, metallic rattle as it settled back into its frame. behind the diner, the air smelled of wet gravel, rotting cedar, and the chemical tang of the dumpster. it was raining again, that fine, misting drizzle that didn't bounce off the pavement so much as it just hung in the air like steam. noah leaned his shoulder against the damp brick wall, tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his apron, and drew a long, slow drag from his cigarette. the orange cherry flared, casting a brief, harsh glow over his knuckles. this was the only ten minutes of the day he owned. no tickets, no shouting, no grease. just the thump of his own pulse. then, the gravel crunched.

noah didn't move his head, but his jaw clenched, his eyes tracking sideways into the gloom. a figure emerged from around the corner of the building, cutting through the yellow glare of the single sodium bulb above the back door. instantly, that suffocating heat flared up the back of his neck. his stomach doing a hard, familiar twist; the prelude to the roar in his ears that usually meant he needed to find an exit. don't look up, he told himself. just look at the cigarette. but the footsteps stopped right in front of him.

noah’s face defaulted to the blank stare, his eyes rising slowly to meet theirs. his mind was already scrambling, working itself into a frantic, internal lather. what do they want? did a ticket get messed up? are they going to ask me about the weather? don't say something abrasive, just say 'yeah' or 'no.' he could feel the sweat starting under his collar, cold against his skin despite the cool evening air. he gripped the cigarette tightly between his fingers, desperately wishing he could just dissolve into the damp wood smoke of the pines. "you need something?"

@pinehavenstarters

the light in the grocery store was entirely too artificial, a fluorescent hum that did nothing to flatter the produce section. felicity stood before the wooden crate of stone fruit, her long fingers hovering over the pile. she was wearing her usual uniform; an oversized thrifted trench coat that smelled faintly of the morning’s rain, a sharp contrast to the humid warmth of the spring afternoon. carefully she lifted a particularly heavy, sun warmed peach. thumb tracing the deep, velvety indentation running down its side, almost instinctively evaluating the symmetry, the gradient of bruise purple bleeding into a dusty, vibrant orange. it was a beautiful shape, entirely unbothered by the rigid, straight lines she forced into her last installation.

without looking up, she leaned slightly to her right, gesturing with the fruit toward the person standing right beside her. "be honest," she said, her voice carrying a low, detached wit she often utilized. "does the one i’m holding look exactly like a butt, or have i just been staring at a blank canvas's too long?" she kept her features relatively serious awaiting a response before the peek of a cheeky smile emerged. "that was a joke, people tell them sometimes. you can laugh."

Sometimes Kitty couldn't help but read through the comments people left on her videos, especially the hate comments. She'd learned by now that there would always be nasty things said about her on the internet, because people simply couldn't help themselves. And she'd learned to ignore them. But sometimes people's creativity when it came to being a hater was too good to pass up. "She looks like a fish..." Kitty read aloud, looking up at the person closest to her. "Do I look like a fish? Tell the truth..." She didn't even know in what way this stranger thought she looked like a fish, but she didn't, did she? And if she did, what kind of fish specifically? Like, one of the really cool looking pretty ones? Or was she giving Blobfish?

location: minjae's apartment

minjae had to stop himself from throwing himself into a spiral, his lips turning into a half smile as dante confirmed plans with him. he didn't want to feel too excited, as he was navigating his feelings and “casual” was what he was used to. even spending time together alone was different for him, but the pang of guilt in his chest lingered. he took it upon himself to prepare the dinner, the recipe for the cacio e pepe not looking too daunting to attempt. while he was cooking, he let the silence linger in the kitchen which led to him being consumed in his thoughts. why was he feeling so strongly towards dante? what drew him to him? and why did being vulnerable make him scared? 

as he prepared the pasta and closed the pot, he grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet and set it on the dinner table. he decided on plain red wine, setting it next to the glasses as he sat on the island to text dante. now all he had to do was distract himself until he came over, rearranging the living room to look presentable enough. 

Exposure therapy. When Odette's anxiety started acting up more than usual, that's what she was supposed to do. Expose herself to a situation that induced anxiety and work through it. Her therapist suggested she go out and talk to someone unprompted a week ago and Odette had yet to follow through. She was meeting with her therapist tomorrow, and the idea of telling her that she hadn't done as she was asked caused more anxiety than speaking with someone around town would. So, Odette was at LG Bean + Tea, a hot tea in hand looking around for a familiar face.

"Hello..." Odette greeted, approaching a table by the window. Her voice was soft, maybe too quiet to even be heard, but she tried to smile anyway. The knots in her stomach and the ever present voice in her head screamed at her that this was a bad idea, but she had to fight through it. "Do you mind if I join you?" Odette asked, swallowing the lump in her throat. "If it's not a bother, of course, or if... if you're not..." She glanced around and ran her free hand through her hair. "Waiting for someone else?"

location : silk swan ballet company @pinehavenstarters

"everything about pinehaven have been nothing but invited and warm until today. never in my life did I think I'd be in a bidding war for theatre space with a contentious bingo tournament and an elvis impersonator doing his farewell tour. how tall is this building? would you say it's splat worthy or just a concussive blow?"