hcpkins

[hcpkins]

↝ espositos·:

Eleonora may have been running a little late to her meeting with JR, but it was not without good reason. She had to print out some reference pictures of sets and whatnot from other Footloose productions, ‘cause she’d forgotten to do that until she was pulling out of the driveway to leave. She was barely running late, anyhow — like, fifteen minutes, tops. They’d been working together since she got here, just about, and her chronic lateness was nothing new… and, you know, he was still working with her, so, it was working out so far.

JR really was a saint, in her humble opinion — he kinda had to be to work with her in spring musical season!

However many minutes later, Eleonora finally pulled into the diner’s parking lot. She wasted no time in hopping out of the car and trotted up to and into the building as fast as her little legs and heels would allow without, like, dying. It didn’t take her long to spot JR, and she then slid into the seat opposite his, setting her handbag down beside her. A manila folder, that looked like it contained more than a few papers, poked out of it. 

“So, so sorry I’m late…,” Eleonora said sheepishly, still somehow appearing chipper. She pulled out the folder and slapped it down on the table, proceeding to drum her fingers on it, “… but I did come prepared.”

For as long as he knew Eleonora, he knew of her tardiness— though JR wasn’t one to speak, appearing fashionably late for most things in his life. He paid the passing minutes no attention as he drowned crunchy potato bits in a mountain of ketchup and dumped enough sugar in his coffee to power a small child for three days.

He looks up in midst of his feast as the diner door chimes. She was hard to miss, always dressed to the nines. She had this distinctly hot mom look about her (I believe there is a technical term for that) and he often wondered if she taught any girls named Stacy or if that was just a fantasy shared between him and the fountain’s of Wayne.

He greets her with a smile eyes taking a cautious glance down at the folder she had prepared for him. Oh boy he must be in for a treat. “No problem, gave me ample time to eat anyways,” he says motioning with his fork to the plate in front of him. “I think prepared is a bit of an understatement, but open it up! Let’s see what miracles I get to preform,”

[hcpkins]

[hcpkins]

pcrish·:

“Really? Could’ve sworn I heard a few people say otherwise. Like you said though, to each their own.” All of it was said with a complete deadpan and a voice flatter than busted tire. Yet it only lasted for another moment before the stoicism eased up into something more relaxed - humored even.

The thump of Roscoe’s tail thwacked against his leg, and he gave the okay for the dog to greet JR. “Just me and my lonesome, though- you know, the usual.”

For a moment JR believes he’s experiencing his last few breaths on earth while his joke is met with the most unresponsive face he’s ever seen. He smiles uneasily hoping it’ll appease his murderer. Though the expression quickly dissipates, and JR is glad he won’t be featured on the investigation discovery channel anytime soon. 

The dog is a much more friendly companion, of which JR rewards with a healthy scratch behind its ears. JR glances back from his two legged companion to his four legged one, “ Aye man that’s okay— well in public I think they’ll fine ya’ but any other time, I think you’re in the clear—I mean we all do it,” he says before taking a drag and blowing the smoke the opposite direction. “You mind?” he asks, motioning to the cig between his lips.

[hcpkins]

pcrish·:

status: open @ lover’s lane

Lover’s Lane - an infamous pathway that the enamored trek; arm in arm or hand in hand. Not hand in pocket like him. Not as aimless or distant as he had ambled down the loose dirt and gravel. 

Dark eyes stared ahead but he didn’t really see anything. He didn’t feel the need to when his subconscious knew what to avoid so his walk wouldn’t be interrupted. Don’t walk into any obstructions, don’t get his foot hooked underneath a sprawling root, don’t think about how lonely he had been feeling for the past week or so. Definitely don’t think too hard about the murky waters that stretched beyond the structure at the end; the cement gazebo as he liked to call it. 

So he cast his gaze upwards once he stopped at the edge of cement. Had his lips pulled into a set frown as he took in his surroundings for the first time upon arrival. Roscoe sat panting by his side; flank pressed against the left side of his shin in reassurance. The subtle shift of waves and ripples called to him, but he wouldn’t heed it. He couldn’t. 

A slight shift of weight and he knew they had company. Both ears perked, the Belgian Malinois watched an approaching figure. Gael spared the other a glance as the frown softened some; just by a hair. “No hot date?”

Smoking, a bad habit he vowed to never pick up years ago. Though vows to himself are often left broken. It was a good time waster, especially for a guy who had plenty of time to waste. Though he much preferred to partake in the habit in secluded areas. Though where his truck stops is the furthest thing from secluded, lover’s lane. Though it’d be no one he’d know, there’s a good chance he’d run into Romeo and Juliette who decided today is the day they wanted to play hooky.

He starts up the path, as he cracks the seal on a fresh pack of Marlboros and fishes in his pockets for his father’s old lighter. His head only perks up at the sound of another’s voice— maybe Romeo is feeling bold today. Though the voice isn’t from a high school senior but rather Gael. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Nah—” he says lighting his cigarette and slipping the lighter back into his pocket. “Something about the Swamp Things seems to scare pretty girls away,” he says motioning to the expanse of water in front of them as his cigarette dangled dangerously at the corner of his mouth. “ ‘n you? I mean to each their own but I think it’s illegal when it comes to animals,” 

[hcpkins]

↝ footloose // @espositos​

JR loved giving back. Though he hadn’t been to church since he was old enough for his mother to drag him there by ear, he does recall a guy named Jesus who gave back and was a wicked carpenter. And if there’s anything Sunday school hammered into his head, it was blasphemous for him to say anything of the sort about Jesus but...he might very well be Marais’ very own Jesus. Though rather then building a church he was enlisted to help build sets for the schools next production. He was in a few productions during his time there and throughly enjoyed the work. He sat in a booth at the dinner musing over shitty filtered coffee and hash browns as he waited for Eleonora to fill him in.

[hcpkins]

anccdotes·:

> @hcpkins·  /  at the docks

     it’s already been a few drinks and she’s feeling the world start to spin. she told jr she could do just about anything drunk that she can do sober. she could tell he didn’t believe her, so she dragged him out of crunchies out further on the bayou. her arms wrapped around one of his, keeping her feet straight. “you haven’t listen to me.” she smirks, another hand patting his chest. “you’ve never been in the boat with me before, i’m so good you’re not going to believe it.” 

If jr kept a list of his favourite people in his wallet Birdie would surely be in the top three, somewhere alongside Jennifer Aniston and Christian Bale. She got him like no one else, in the sense that she could probably drink him under the table and still agree to his stupid ideas. Though this time he was the one being dragged around town. They stand on an empty dock together, her arms wrapped around his and hand on his chest. “Oh darlin’ I’m listenin’ that’s for sure,” he says with a chuckle. He knows a drunk jr and a large body of water don’t mix well but he can’t really think straight the way the moonlight is reflecting off her.  “Hey, it’s whatever you say, I just know I’d probably kill us both,” he says slipping his hands in his pockets. He pauses for a beat before looking over at her. “...Ladies first?”

[hcpkins]

↝ and they were roomates // @gatcrbait​

Bina had been living with JR for so long she was practically an extension of the house; the sister he never had. And with that, she’s seen it all, and he the same. Though at this point it the awkwardness, stepping on eggshells, and socks on doorknobs were all a thing of the past ...well at least for JR. Feet propped up on their coffee table, jeans in a hump on the floor beside him, and some old spaghetti western (because he was a stickler for the classics) playing on their tv. “Hey you’re back—” he’s words slur as he raises his sixth P.B.R. to acknowledge her presence without pulling his eyes from the screen. “Whadda’ ya think of a new island for the kitchen, oh— there’s food in the oven by the way but, I’m thinking of ripping ours up and puttin’ it on wheels,”

[hcpkins]

{ GARRETT HEDLUND. THIRTY-FIVE. CIS-MALE. HE/HIM } i was out wrestlin’ gators when i saw JAMES-RYAN HOPKINS. you know they have been in town for THIRTY YEARS now? they current work as a/n CARPENTER/FARMER. i love having them around, they're COURAGEOUS & HARDWORKING, but sometimes they can be CHILDISH & ABRASIVE. well, hope to see them ‘round more!

post malone esque deadbeat, who’s carpentry skills are second best to jesus, and occasional farm hand on his parent’s ranch on the outskirts of town. He’s kinda like the town’s on call Bob the builder.

callous fingers and dirty fingernails, day drinking, skinny dipping in the heat of the summer, wrinkled t-shirts, worn levis, burnt diner coffee, wood dust, dimmed headlights, bloody noses and bruises, empty fields and laughing so hard your stomach hurts.

Hopkins’ always make a habit of getting in trouble, hence the reason he moved here at the age of five— his father was running from something. He’s like their tarnished golden boy, so much untapped potential— he just never really found a way to use it. James-Ryan is dumb in many facettes but not numbers, always top of his math class which opened countless opportunities but he never really pursued them (not many know this but he has a B.Sc in mathematics!)

But Mr.Dumbass over here through an odd childhood has developed intimacy issues. Which has manifested itself in trying to be a comedian whenever & wherever he sees fit.

Total class clown type, loves to see people smiling even if he’s the butt of the joke. Friend of almost everyone, or at least attempts to be.

Just like his dad, he’s always unfortunately in the wrong place at the right time— so often in fact that the folks at the precinct have come to know him well. He’s not outwardly nasty but is susceptible to get in way over his head. especially when drunk.

He lives on his parent’s farm in his own little house that he fixed himself and shares with a roommate. I believe most people like him, they’ll avoid his parents (not that they interact with many people anyways) and come speak to him instead.

[hcpkins]

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[hcpkins]

Jingle All The Way (1996) dir. Brian Levant