louder than the storms around

@scttcnh​

“  well ,   sir .   i don’t think i’m being  unreasonable  when i’m saying that the book is on the shelf   right behind you   when i’m behind the counter ,  “    he snarks back .    today had been a good day ,   and  someone  just  had  to spoil that for him  —   right when the day’s about to end too .   he wishes mercy were here .   he didn’t know if she’d be better at handling  annoying customers  but he’s sure it would be better for everyone involved if it wasn’t him handling these situations .     “  so if you’d like a book ,   i would like to  kindly   ask you to bring the book here ,   unless it’s a book that you couldn’t find ,   which isn’t the case .  “     he’s gonna need a nice cold shower after this .

Taran stared at him in shock. It was hard to hide the amusement on his face, but he enjoyed having a punching bag to talk down on. Having someone to let up his pent-up frustrations on was a simple comfort for him. God help the unsuspecting victim on the receiving end. “Nolan, is it?” Taran asked, glaring at his nametag. A smile ever so slightly crept up on his face. “You should really get that for me, don’t you think?” His tone was smug as ever, but hey, isn’t the customer always right?

“I think I can manage that I have Sugar We’re Going Down on my phone.” She said playfully. Ava watched as he messed with his facial hair. She didn’t plan on cutting it all off just a slight trim to make it look a little more neat, but she could tell he was hesitant. Having someone new with a sharp object near your face would make anyone hesitant.

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.” She said with a slight shrug. This was going to be a free cut so she didn’t mind it either way but she wanted to make sure. “That sounds like a good plan. I have the keys to lock up so we can head out if you’re ready.”

“I’ve grown to like it," he mused to himself, paying a little too much attention to his reflection in the mirror. God knows how long it took him to get it to this length. “And, if we’re being honest, half the people in this town would forget who I was without this beard.”

Standing up from his seat, Taran made a show of holding the door open for her. “Any coffee places nearby?” He asked as he glanced around the street trying to spot somewhere to go. “Preferably, one where I wouldn’t have to hear anyone talk about the screenplay they’re working on.”

@burkesfm​

Ava’s head turned once the door opened and smiled at Taran, she honestly didn’t think he was going to come since he didn’t respond to her text. It was admittedly a weird message to send but she was so bored she was willing to do a couple comp cuts.

“A dumpster diving possum seems pretty harsh doesn’t it?” She asked as she walked over to the chair he was sitting in and looked at him in the mirror. She did better with figuring out what she wanted to do to someone when she got a chance to really look at them.

“Frosted tips would look so much better on you than raccoon stripes. No offense but you’re not giving off the full scene kid vibes to fully embrace the stripes.” She said with a laugh. “What I am going to do though is clean up this beard first off.”

“Put on some Fall Out Boy and you’ll see my inner scene kid in action,” Taran said, shrugging his shoulders. He touched the side of his chin where his facial hair had begun to grow just as he like it. A flash of doubt showed in his expression as he looked back at her in the mirror.

“On second thought, maybe i could do without the cut,” he blurted out with a nervous smile. Still, Taran dreaded the thought of actually going back to the office. “But since I’m not eager to head to work, I say we blow off our jobs and get some coffee.”

“At this point in our friendship, if I wanted to hit any bases with you, I would have made a more romantic gesture that didn’t involve our two sweating bodies laying idly in a tent in front of the whole in nothing but our boxers.” Beck pointed out as he unzipped the tents door. As he did so, he could already feel the heat pouring out of it an oven or a roaring furnace.  “If I had any desire to be Coyote Peterson, I would have pursued it by now.” The brunette sighed before tossing his backpack and sleeping bag inside the tent blindly. “Why do we do a town-wide camping trip aways? To bond over couples giving each other hot and heavy handys and get served to the bugs like a self soufflé?”

“Rather descriptive for a guy who definitely doesn’t want to fuck me,” Taran joked. He leaned in towards the tent and was immediately put out by the radiating heat. Was he really expected to stay in here when the luxury of air-conditioning was readily available in the comfort of his own home? Taran placed his own things inside and began going through his pack. “Well, I’m here for work - Parks and Rec business and whatnot,” he answered offhandedly until he finally produced a joint from his bag, holding out to Beck. “I’m sure we could make it worth our while.”

“  it’s not a serenade ,  "     nolan grumbled ,   turning away from the guy to fiddle with the knobs at the end of his guitar ,     "  im figuring something out .  "     he tries at it again with the strings ,   doing one round of the same sequence he had been repeating .     it sounded better ,   the notes were more consistent ,   but something was still missing .     "  hey do you sing ?  "     he asked the guy - maybe he could help him out ,    considering that branch he stepped on broke his focus .

“Don’t worry about it too much. I would argue that there are enough songs about bumping into people in the middle of the woods,” Taran replied as if to humour him. He listened intently to the melody, not minding the distraction from the camping chaos. Stifling a laugh, Taran shook his head when asked if he could sing. “Sure, I could sing. You and anyone in a ten mile radius won’t like it, though.”

It was surprising that Beckham even had the capability of pitching a tent. Maybe the act didn’t require much of a skill set but rather the common sense of following instructions. Beck had just finished putting the last peg in place when he turned to Taran, unrolling his sleeping bag in one quick snap of the wrist. “I hope you brought your own sleeping bag.” He cautioned as he tucked the puffy mat inside the tent to protect it from miscellaneous bugs and other dirt. “This isn’t sleep-away camp. We’re not doubling up and snuggling because you mistake a crackling stick for a lingering bear. I don’t like being big spoon, or little spoon. Or any form of cutlery.” 

@tarankorpal·

Taran almost felt bad that he barely lifted a finger to help pitch the tent. Almost. Isn’t that what friends were for anyways? He rolled his eyes at Beckham’s comment and plopped his things down next to their supplies. “If this is your way of telling me that you’re trying to get to first base then I’d appreciate a nice dinner,” he bit back. Beckham was one of the few he could speak with candidly, but he still threaded lightly in case anyone were to drop in on them. After the last peg was put in place, Taran held his phone in the air and got back a weak signal in return. “God, it’s like we’re fucking Amish.”

@peachesstart·     —     nolan tended to zone out .    when he had his hands on a guitar in a quiet place ,   everything around him just gets tuned out as his focus veers into the direction of the instrument at hand   —   it’s like he surrounds himself in a small bubble ,   ignorant to his surroundings until something pops it ,   making him aware to the world around him once more .     he plucks at the strings one quiet night ,    his ears honed in on a new sequence of sounds he had figured out ,   repeating and repeating until he could play it through with his memory alone .    he stays like this for a while ,   until a different sound invades his ears ,    something different from the sounds he was playing .    brows furrowed ,   he turns around to the source ,   visibly irritated .     “  what ?  “

Taran couldn’t stand being outside. Not the bugs or the dirt or the way people suddenly thought it was appropriate to have Jason Mraz jam sessions in the middle of the woods. Though he tried to pass as quietly as possible to get to his campsite, the sound of crunching branches under his feet made Taran’s presence known. He pulled a tight smile at Nolan’s tone and turned to face him. “Oh, carry on,” Taran replied with his hands up as if to say he meant no harm. “I’m sure these birds love hearing your cute little serenades.”

Ava didn’t have much on her books for the day and she had finished all of her clients at this point she was ready to just leave. She sat in her chair spinning around in circles for almost five minutes before she pulled out her phone sending a text.

[TEXT] I have nothing to do at work for the whole day. Please come visit, let me experiment on you or come save me and take me to do something fun PLEASE

She started to scroll through her twitter and instagram as she waited on the other to respond. She hoped they were quick and gave her some plans before she rearranged the entire shop out of boredom.

@peachesstart​

Taran read the text over for what seemed like the tenth time. Were hair stylists always this friendly or was it just another small town quirk? Deciding not to pay it any mind, he checked out of work early and made his way over to the salon over on Strawberry Lane. 

“You caught me at the perfect time,” Taran said as he entered, not bothering with proper introductions. “If I have to hear another complaint about dumpster-diving possums, I might lose it.”

He took a seat in an empty salon chair and swiveled around to face her. “So, what are we thinking? Myspace-era raccoon stripes or frosted tips?”

{ dev patel ♔ twenty-eight ♔ he/him } well, well, well if it isn’t taran korpal running around peach hollow. legend has it, they come from blueberry boulevard and have lived here for one year. if you’re wondering what they’ve been up to, i hear they’re a director for the parks and recreation department for a living. they have been known to be insincere yet charismatic. a word of advice to them, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching. 

Miss.

The paper ball slumped just out of reach from the garbage can in the corner. Taran couldn’t seem to get his aim right now matter how hard he’d tried. As he crumpled another sheet in his hands, a knock on the door so rudely interrupted his precious “work”.

“Just a minute!”