#yatesstart

Word of the Silver Spur barn burning down had spread across campus just as fast as the fire itself. In spite of this, Delilah remained cool as a fresh mint TicTac. She was sitting in the quad at a picnic bench with a leg crossed over and a citrus yellow highlighter poised in hand, occasionally running over lone words in one of her module’s textbooks. There was a tapestry being woven in her brain, words plucked and pieced to form a full sentence, full context of which she’d never give to anyone. Crush was the last. It seemed very likely, if you genuinely knew Delilah -- a concept which was rare in itself -- that the jigsaw put together would involve some form of threat, penance for snooping inside her things in the first place. Whoever she’d taken a seat opposite wouldn’t know anything from her pupils’ lack of dilation, eye drops blinked to bury evidence. “Have you been called in about it, yet?” Another highlight. “The barn. They’re making quite the fuss, trying to find whoever did it,” left her mouth like it was a clear exaggeration, bored sigh parting her lips. “I’d care more if any goats had died in there. They eat anything, it’s disgusting. I love it. An underrated animal, if you ask me.” @yatesstarters​

It was late enough on campus that Val wasn’t overly concerned about being caught with a joint. The quad was mostly empty, only a few people passed by, clutching their phones with covert smiles or leaving the library with a pile of books and a nervous twitch. The usual hustle and bustle was replaced with a creeping silence and eerie glow, the yellow street lamps and blue campus safety alarms bathing the grounds in vomit green light. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring, stuck in her head with a relentless, rapid-fire stream of consciousness that wouldn’t let up, but it was long enough that when she zoned back in and noticed someone beside her, she gasped. “Fuck,” she laughed a hand thudding against her heart. “God, what the fuck was that gasp. Did you hear that? That was like, full soap opera. How long have you been standing there?” @yatesstarters​

the blonde was more sober than she’d of liked to of been, but the night was still young and there was a magnetic glow that sat atop her shoulders like a perched bird. she was adorned in classic levi’s, a vintage pair she had found in paris while scouring a secondhand store, a givenchy white button down, and matching cow print boots and cowboy hat. she had taken liberty in exploring the desert grounds herself, finding leather chaps and a saddle hung over a wooden fence that was nearly giving in on one side further down. she made herself comfortable, hoisting up her petite body on the fence that was sturdy enough, clicking her heels together as her legs dangled. “say, hypothetically, how many drinks would it take for you to let me try shooting an apple off your head?” she asked out to the nearest person, brown eyes already fixating towards the shooting range bullseye’s that stood past the fence. 

“Coka-hina. No! Ketamine. Someone asked me why I hate the military...” Jade rambled as someone walked into the bathroom, to which Jade smiled a toothy grin. She managed to find a pair of children’s fairy wings somewhere on the lawn outside and proceeded to wear them around the house, looking more like a pixie than Ophelia. She was now in the bathroom, her mesh dress overflowing over the side of the tub like it was water. Readjusting, she patted the fuzzy toilet seat (Hastings was strange for that one) and gestured to the newcomer. “I’m kidding. You can’t see under this red lighting but it’s Fun Dip. Jeez, don’t call the police on me,” she beamed, sticking a finger into the powder and sucking on it with her mouth. She gestured a powdered finger to the other person. “Want some?”

It was dusk, and a soft, golden glow was blanketing the commons as students languidly filtered their way home or to evening classes, a few particularly studious pupils on their way to Alderidge. Izzy, however, was zooming through at a rapid pace on his skateboard, wind whipping his skin as he munched on a banana. Narrowly weaving his way through his peers, it was easy to ignore their jabs and protests; it wasn’t until a certain acne-ridden boy, a lacrosse player, maybe, poked fun specifically at the fluorescent peach fuzz atop Izzy’s head that he whipped around to shoot an insult back, only to ride over a particularly large stone that sent him and his banana flying through the air. With a grunt and expletive, he found himself on the ground, sleeve of his flannel ripped and where the cotton once was, there was now a tiny pool of crimson. He huffed before looking around for his banana with wide eyes, and he quickly found it, unsalvageable, mashed up on the pavement. “Man, what the fuck,” he muttered. Spotting a student, he raised his hand to signal them as he still sat on the ground, “Yo! Oh, fuck, sorry to startle you, but you have a bandaid or something? I just fuckin’, like, wrecked my shit, dude, and I think I’m gonna have to go to the E.R. if you don’t.” @yatesstarters​​

“Did you write on my doorway in tacky red lipstick?” Thea demands, holding out the weapon of choice in its little ziplock bag in which she’d placed it. “It’s wet n wild, that shit smells like crayons and regret.” Doing her best not to stomp her foot. “Second, seriously? you leave it behind? fingerprints, man. Work smarter not harder.” @yatesstarters​