iv3lisse

[iv3lisse]

「  ✱  」  STATUS ﹕ open  . 

「  ✱  」  LOCATION ﹕ all stop auto shop  . 

「  ✱  」  WITH ﹕ @windsorbaystarters .

her  bike  was  a  piece  of  shit  —  ivelisse  knew  it  —  but  that  didn't  mean  she  was  going  to  give  up  on  the  thing.  for  six  years  it  had  been  her  rock,  something  of  a  safety  blanket  made  up  of  metal  and  gears,  and  whenever  it  choked  and  spluttered  to  a  halt  (  as  it  so  often  did  )  they  took  a  spanner  to  the  back  and  slammed  the  body  a  few  times.  it  always  seemed  to  do  the  trick.  except  for  the  times  where  it  didn’t.  “ugh.  can  you  quit  just standing  around  and  try  and  help  me ?  i  don’t  know  —  kick  it  a  few  times or something.”

[iv3lisse]

ivelisse  had  once  been  the  same,  somebody  that  was  ridiculed  and  picked  on  for  turning  up  to  school  in  the  same  clothes  she  had  worn  the  day  before,  or  without  any  money  for  lunch.  instead  of  standing  by  and  letting  it  happen,  though,  they  had  packed  a  bag  and  left,  and  years  later  returned  to  windsor  bay  as  an  entirely  changed  being.  someone  with  hardened  edges,  someone  with  higher  walls.  it  was  why  it  was  so  easy  to  be  mean,  to  throw  words  like  darts  —  shoot  to  kill.  gradually,  though,  they  were  softening,  and  their  head  tilted  as  the  worker  spoke  once  more.  “you’re  not  nobody,”  ivelisee’s  brow  furrowed,  “you’re  flesh  and  blood  and  bone  and  you  have  a  heartbeat,  i’m  assuming.  hold  onto  that.  you  never  know  when  it’ll  be  taken  away.”  she  had  lost  so  much.  she  didn’t  want  to  lose  him,  too.  there  was  a  part  of  ivelisse  that  felt  as  though  they  already  knew  each  other  even  if  they  had  only  just  met. she  heard  his  response,  and  raised  him  her  own.  “movin’  on  up.  primal  scream.”  positive  messages  were  often  lost  on  them.  ivelisse  had  stared  into  hell  and  had  those  dark,  glowing  eyes  stare  right  back  at  her,  and  yet  how  could  they  not  cling  to  messages  of  besting  the  darkness ?  of  shining  on  in  spite  of  it  all ?  it  had  been  a  long  time  since  anyone  had  understood  her  as  much  as  this  stranger.  the  last  person  that  ever  dared  was  dead  somewhere,  or  in  prison,  or  somewhere  far,  far  away  from  ivelisse  — hopefully  forever.  did  she  want  such  a  fate  for  the  sweet  boy,  the  one  that  knew  bands  before  they  were  cool  and  seemingly  had  endless  knowledge  of  strange,  niche  bands  they  had  never  heard  of ?  dark  eyes  continued  to  track  him.  after  a  moment,  she  followed  and  leaned  her  elbows  against  the  desk,  head  in  her  palms,  watching  the  clumsy  plug - in  of  his  phone.  when  the  music  started  playing,  their  eyes  flickered  closed  —  the  gentle  drums,  the  swimming  melody.  although  she  hadn’t  heard  it  before,  she  swayed.   ♪   and  i'm  gonna  see  you  again  …  ♪ she  opened  her  eyes,  offered  a  pink  and  glossy  smile.  “i  like  it,”  they  answered.  an  outstretched  hand,  an  offering.  “i’m  ivelisse.  eva-leese.”  it  came  naturally.  nobody  ever  seemed  to  get  it  right  the  first  time.

The corners of his mouth pulled up into a dimpled grin, and he gently laughed, not sure if that was a dig or not. 'One of those guys'. He shook his head, "I'm nobody," He responded, and though perhaps a desolate statement, his tone carried mirth, "I just happen to be here... And also happen to have a few opinions that few care to hear." Adrian told her, looking over and down at her. She had a bit of bark and a bit of bite to go along with it, though he didn't mind. Water off a duck's back. That's how Adrian had always been, even when he was bullied in school for his nose he hadn't quite grown into, or his legs that had been a little long and lanky for his body at the time. It took a lot to hurt him. It took trust, which at this rate he didn't hand out too easily. Nevertheless, he was an unruffled individual. Just Adrian. He made a note of her mild plea with the turn of his head in her direction, and a small smile. Once he returned to the desk, he'd answer.

He watched her hands run over the vinyl, seemingly reaching out to Jim and William Reid, who were pictured on the cover. He looked at her, and he understood. He understood what it meant to want to become a song. His eyes scanned her face, watching her as she examined the vinyl. Why hadn't he talked to her sooner? He wasn't sure, never mind what had been, this was now "... The Breaking Hands, by The Gun Club," Adrian stated, a small, thoughtful, and amused smile finding his expression, "That's probably the song I'd become." He told her, looking away then, breaking any form of eye contact, a swift shift in mood, "— But very well. I'll play your Rio Kosta, since, y'know, you asked so nicely," The male teased and began moving back towards the desk, scooting into the small space. He lifted the tonearm of the record player and put it in rest, only to hook up his phone to a lone cord that lay between it and the wall. It was a glorious, somehow operational setup. Ancients by the band began playing out of the speakers, the unique, almost oriental-sounding strings filling the room, and then the drum drop. He began to nod his head along to the beat, "So, what do you think?"

♪ I got a feeling I've been here before I know you feel it too ♪

[iv3lisse]

maybe  he  had  more  fire  than  she  first  thought.  ivelisse  tilted  their  head  in  agreement  ;  saxophone  and  synth,  jangly  guitar  that  had  never  survived  beyond  the  decade  …  the  eighties  were  just  as  beautiful,  and  sometime  she  wished  she  could  walk  into  a  time  machine  and  be  transported  back  to  the  times  of  the  smiths,  the  cure,  duran  duran.  a  high - pitched  hum  escaped  her.  “so  you’re  one  of  those  guys,  are  you ?  ‘ i  knew  them  before  they  were  cool ’  type  of  thing.  i  get  it.  i’ve  been  there.”  ivelisse  wished  they  had  asserted  themselves  more  strongly  as  a  fan  of  the  cranberries  before  linger  had  been  cursed  and  torn  apart  by  tiktok  —  the  bane  of  a  musician’s  existence,  seconded  only  by  spotify.  “but  you  say  they’re  good,  so  i  want  to  hear  it  …  even  if  i  think  it’s  terrible.  you  seem  to  know  what  you’re  talking  about.  you  work  here.”  she  threw  a  hand  into  the  air  to  gesture  to  the  store,  vinyl  scattered  over  every  surface.  ivelisse  stayed  rooted  to  the  spot,  arms  crossed  over  her  chest,  tracking  the  worker  across  the  floor  like  a  wild  animal  scoping  out  its  prey.  they  couldn’t  help  but  smile  slightly,  taking  in  the  other  with  a  glance  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  his  shoes  —  you  could  tell  a  lot  about  a  person  by  which  shoes  they  chose  to  wear.  he  seemed  illuminated,  like  a  bird  bringing  shiny  things  to  make  a  nest,  and  she  reached  out  to  run  her  fingers  across  the  cover,  drinking  in  the  selection.  “just  like  honey  is  a  beautiful  song.  you’re  right.  i  play  it  a  lot.  i  hate  to  admit  it,  but  you’re  good.  you  know  your  stuff.  there  are  songs  out  there  that  you  just  want  to  become,  you  know ? ” 

'Anything old'. His chin turned up at the mention, suddenly a lot more interested and certainly a bit impressed. There weren't a ton of people, like him, under a certain age who found much interest in 'the old'. He gently laughed, "In essence, I'd say you nailed the current state of the music industry, yeah." He smiled, "Although, if I'm being honest, I think the eighties were the last of the great, personally. Artists stopped playing their instruments — really playing, in the nineties. Just — generally speaking. There are always exceptions." He mused aloud, shrugging, perhaps giving himself away as a musician in his own right. He wondered, as someone who also seemed to devote a large part of their life to music, if she was musically inclined as well. He felt the urge to ask, but saw no way in. Maybe, eventually, but it wouldn't surprise him nonetheless if she were. He shook his head, "Not on vinyl. Yet. Rio Kosta doesn't even release their first album until next month," He stated, "It wouldn't suit your station, anyhow, but, I do have something new in that will." The mention of eighties music had him beaming, however, and he stood up to his full height, moving past the desk and her, and going to happily fetch what he would regard as his biggest accomplishment since working here, "I worked really hard to get this one in stock," He smiled over his shoulder, "— You'll like this." Adrian smiled and returned shortly with The Jesus and Mary Chain's 'Psychocandy', reissued. He set it down in front of them, crossing his arms, "Personally? One of my favorite albums of all time."

[iv3lisse]

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[iv3lisse]

it  was  easier  to  put  up  a  guard.  she  had  spent  so  long  building  it  up,  using  lipstick  as  war paint,  that  windsor  bay  felt  like  a  rather  rough  landing.  things  were  quieter,  slower,  and  they  were  forced  to  remember  how  life  had  been  before  she  fell  into  the  arms  of  a  man  that  wrecked  everything  —  when  she  was  younger,  the  town  hadn’t  been  kind  to  her.  it  hadn’t  shown  their  siblings  mercy,  it  hadn’t  offered  sanctuary  or  a  hand  to  hold.  but  it  had  been  there  for  her  to  return  to,  and  for  that  she  supposed  she  could  be  grateful.  “i  do,”  they  ambled  closer  to  the  counter,  an  offer  of  companionship  that  remained  silent  and  tentative.  almost  like  a  cat  judging  someone’s  scent  from  afar.  “i  have  a  slot  where  i  play  anything  old.  eighties,  nineties.  nothing  beyond  that,”  their  nose  screwed  up,  “it  all  turned  to  shit  after  that,  right ?  after  the  deaths  of  some  of  the  greats  …  all  cotton  candy  and  high  ponytails.”  their  tastes  stretched  backwards  all  the  way  to  old  country.  ivelisse  loved  the  rawness  of  it,  the  authenticity  of  real  emotion  that  had  been  lost  in  bubblegum  and  crop  tops.  for  some  they  could  switch  off  their  brains  and  enjoy  the  soulless  drivel.  for  others,  for  her,  she  needed  something  visceral  —  she  needed  to  be  reminded  that  other  people  could  be  cut  open  and  bleed  just  the  same  as  she  could,  that  heartbreak  wasn’t  an  isolated  feeling  that  they  held  in  their  chest  like  a  heavy  and  permanent  stone.  they  moved  their  gaze  up  again  to  focus  on  the  man  behind  the  counter  ;  cute,  striking,  but  cursed  with  kindness.  he  would  learn,  she  thought.  he  would  learn.  “rio  kosta ?  i’ve  never  heard  of  them.  you  got  anything  i  can  listen  to ? ”

'There's nothing I need' — the brashness of it even made his soft-spoken welcome sound rather chipper, but honestly, he wasn't even offended. He could've even convinced himself that he was relieved. Obviously, she was the kind of customer who didn't need a helping hand at every turn. Although her mood seemed to lift, as if almost consciously, and he decided that maybe she was aware of her audacious entry into the store. His head had been cast downward, picking at some stuck electrical tape that was on the old counter, but he looked up, interested once more when she said she was here a lot. Did he remember her? At first, he wasn't sure. His gaze looked over her face, and after a few moments, he was somewhat certain he did. They had a certain look about them — dark, pretty, a little bit moody. Oh, Nirvanva. Definitely moody, or trying to be. It seemed one either found Nirvana to be the best or the worst. The nod to the most fabled band of the '90s made him smile slightly, only because he fell on the latter side of the track. The '90s, to Adrian, were the death of great musicianship. Alas, he offered a rather genuine look, "So, you work for the radio?" He asked, head tilting to the side, "If you're looking for a new sound, I probably should say that it depends on the station, and what you want." He mused, "but if you're asking me personally, Rio Kosta is who you need to be playing."

[iv3lisse]

♡ MELISSA COLLAZO motorheads promo

[iv3lisse]

it  was  an  easy  habit  to  fall  back  into.  ivelisse  had  drowned  their  teenage  -  hood  in  drink  —  the  cheapest  she  could  get  her  hands  on  —  and  now  that  she  was  an  adult,  thrust  back  into  her  childhood  town  that  hadn’t  so  much  as  cracked  since  she  had  been  way,  it  felt  only  right  to  do  the  same.  a  tall  glass  of  something  strong  ;  they  raised  it  to  their  lips  as  they  watched  the  horror  show  unfold  on  stage. “psssh.  as  if.  there’s  no  way  you’d  see  me  up  there.  i  keep  my  microphone  usage  strictly  over  the  airways.”  at  least,  when  hosting  slots  on  the  local  radio  station,  ivelisse’s  voice  was  disembodied.  she  often  felt  like  that  ;  untethered  from  her  body,  as  though  her  soul  was  still  walking  the  thoroughfares  of  texas  or  the  busy  streets  of  nashville.  somewhere  far  away  and  warm  and  lively  …  and  not  there.  “i  bet  you’d  fit  right  in.  why  don’t  you  try  it ? ”

— windsor bay starters ; daring daiquiri.

there was comfort in watching other people put themselves on a stage for a room full of strangers and friends alike. he'd sipped in silence as someone read poetry, another played guitar, and the spot now was filled by someone telling jokes that weren't all that bad to a man who was five or six rounds deep.

"you know, i don't think i could ever get up there," he exhaled, the liquor easing the tension that was typically coiled tight in his chest. having grown up in the city, he'd long gotten used to striking up conversations with people he never ran into twice. unlike new york, he doubted windsor bay would compare. "what about you? have you ever been up on the big stage?" he turned slightly, angling himself more towards the person that he hoped wouldn't be annoyed by his attempt at conversation.

@windsorbaystarters

[iv3lisse]

it  was  a  tricky  line  to  toe  between  kindness  and  pity.  as  they  looked  into  ava’s  eyes,  ivelisse  was  confident  in  her  assessment  that  it  was  the  former  —  she  was  just  trying  to  be  nice  and,  maybe,  not  everyone  was  out  there  to  get  her.  “that  would  be  lovely,”  the  response  was  genuine,  warm,  without  the  usual  barbs  that  ivelisse  so  often  spoke  with.  “are  you  having  a  nice  night ?  it’s  great  to  get  out  of  the  house  …  or,  well,  for  me  it’s  a  shitty  little  trailer.”

"You're very welcome," Ava responded with a cheerful smile. She wasn't sure how much she would be drinking tonight, but even so she preferred to take it one drink at a time. It wasn't the type of occasion to be sipping a cocktail from each hand. "Well consider this a little charity coming your way for the evening. If you want, any other BOGO drink I get for the rest of the evening, I'll pass your way if you're interested."

[iv3lisse]

ivelisse  wasn’t  usually  a  pink  person,  but  there  was  little  she  wouldn’t  do  for  a  discount.  scraping  by,  living  at  the  bottom  of  the  barrel,  was  tough  for  anyone  —  but  it  ached  that  little  bit  more  with  the  knowledge  of  what  else  was  out  there.  they  had  once  known  extravagance,  had  once  felt  real  fur  coats  on  their  skin  and  had  bathed  in  dollars  strewn  across  casino  backrooms.  now.  wearing  a  ratty  t - shirt  that  could  pass  for  pink  beneath  the  lights  (  although  was  probably  more  like  a  warm  lilac  )  was  as  lavish  as  her  life  became.  their  own  eyes  tracked  the  flamingo  abomination  as  he  walked  the  length  of  the  dancefloor.  how  pathetic. “hm ? ”  she  turned  to  the  other.  signe,  with  the  hot  and  rich  dad.  she  had  known  them  when  she  was  younger,  was  only  the  year  below  the  other  in  school  …  before  their  life  crumbled  and  she  ran  away.  it  was  bittersweet  to  be  back  in  windsor  bay,  to  see  how  familiar  faces  had  grown  and  changed  as  she  largely  remained  the  same.  just  a  lost,  sick  girl  looking  for  someone  to  love  her.  what  a  shame.  “signe  holmström.  you  got  taller,”  it  was  spoken  in  a  breath,  before  she  moved  conspiratorially  closer  to  the  other’s  ear.  “my  guess  is  that  they  don’t  give  a  fuck  so  long  as  you  made  the  effort.  bat  your  eyelids  a  few  times  and  the  bartender  will  do  whatever  you  want.”

⇢ 🌼 STATUS ﹕open ⇢ 🌼 TAGGING ﹕signe + utp !! ( @windsorbaystarters ) ⇢ 🌼 LOCATION ﹕ magenta

The   dress   she   wore   was   her   very   own   design,   the   soft   rose   satin   draped   across   her   shoulders   and   cinched   at   the   waist.   She   hadn't   spent   much   time   at   Magenta,   let   alone   by   herself,   but   she'd   heard   that   patrons   who   wore   pink   received   a   discount   on   their   drinks   and   she   figured   there   was   no   better   way   to   take   her   new   design   out   for   a   spin.   She'd   filmed   a   "get   ready   with   me"   video   for   her   Instagram   right   before   leaving   the   house   so   she   hoped   one   way   or   another   to   get   some   buzz   going   for   her   designs. Signe   leaned   against   the   bar,   sipping   her   strawberry   margarita   out   of   her   twisty   straw   as   her   eyes   scanned   the   crowd.   The   room   was   filled   with   strangers,   familiar   faces,   and   someone   in   a   flamingo-pink   suit   who'd   clearly   taken   the   rumored   drink   discount   to   heart   like   she   had.   She   turned   to   the   person   who'd   come   to   occupy   the   space   beside   her.   "Hey,   sorry   to   bother   you,"   she   said,   leaning   in   to   speak   over   the   thud   of   the   music.   "Do   you   think   wearing   blush   counts   for   the   discount?   I   opened   a   tab,   so   I   don't   know   what   the   bartender   is   thinking."

[iv3lisse]

ivelisse  was  never  one  to  turn  down  free  anything,  let  alone  free  alcohol.  they  had  only  budgeted  themself  enough  for  one  drink  that  night,  and  at  the  bottom  of  her  whiskey - coke  she  had  immediately  regretted  the  restriction.  she  had  never  been  very  good  at  sticking  to  her  own  word  ;  accepting  ava's  offer  was  a  happy  medium. “i  would  love  to.  thanks.”  dark  eyes  flickered  to  the  special  board  then  down  to  the  drink  that  was  in  front  of  them.  ivelisse  had  half  a  mind  to  ask  what  it  was  —  they  all  sounded  the  same  to  her  —  but  it  didn’t  matter  so  long  as  there  was  alcohol  in  it.  with  a hearty  swig,  they  soon  found  out  the  hard  way.  swallowing  the  sweetness,  she  tilted  her  head  towards  the  other,  “the  tickets  to  this  thing  were  expensive.  i  know  it’s  for  charity,  but  damn  …  i  need  a  little  charity  too.”

Where: The Lucerna, Prom 2025

Who: open to everyone @windsorbaystarters

Ava was all dolled up in her dusty pink vintage gown. It had been an old bridesmaid's dress that her mom wore decades ago for a friend's wedding. Since then it had been shortened, taken in at the waist, and dressed up with different accessories. Her tule skirt fluttered through the crowd as she made her way to the bar and ordered one of the drinks on special. When the bartender returned, they handed her two drinks instead of one. Turning to the closest person beside her she spoke, "Do you want this extra drink? I only ordered one but they must be some kind of BOGO special."

[iv3lisse]

             [      ✱      ]             is  that  melissa collazo   ?  no,  that’s  ivelisse alsina - ximénez,  a  twenty3  year  old  living in the mountainside  who  uses  she / they pronouns.  she  currently  works  as  a radio host at heartbeat station   and  has  been  in  windsor bay  for  six months ( ex - local ).  they  love  the music of nirvana, marlboro reds and a little adventure  and  the  character  she  identifies  with  most  is  alabama worley from true romance.

full  name   :   ivelisse  alsina -  ximénez  . nickname(s)   :   ive ( pronounced ' eva ' )  . hometown   :   windsor bay,   oregon   . languages   :   spanish & english   . gender   :   non - binary   .

relationships.

orientation   :   bisexual . relationship status   :   it's complicated family members in play   :   none ! family members ( npcs )   :   three half / full siblings ( future wcs ) !

every  good  love  story  ends  by  staring  down  the  barrel  of  a  loaded  gun.  ivelisse  knew  this  —  it  was  almost  as  though  they  searched  for  something  fucked - up  and  poisoned  so  that  they  could  live  like  those  that  came  before  her.  how  was  she  ever  meant  to  settle  into  something  comfortable,  something  safe,  when  they  had  never  known  such  a  life ?  her  beginnings  were  from  a  mother  that  was  too  distracted  to  ever  truly  care,  a  father  that  she  never  got  to  know,  and  sibling  that  had  once  been  close  but  were  now  scattered  across  the  country  —  maybe  even  the  world  —  without  as  much  as  a  phone  number  or  an  onward  address  to  keep  them  tethered.

so  can  you  blame  her  for  leaving  the  moment  she  could,  packing  a  bag  and  disappearing  out  of  windsor  bay  with  the  sun  at  her  back ?  they  were  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  place,  a  town  home  to  nothing  but  tired  streets  and  bad  memories.  no  matter  how  beautiful  a  place  is  objectively,  when  it’s  a  hometown  the  cracks  are  impossible  to  ignore.  ivelisse  knew  every  chip  and  scrape  of  the  concrete,  she  knew  every  pothole  as  though  it  was  a  line  on  her  own  palm.  the  familiarity  had  suffocated  them,  and  she  had  no  choice  but  to  leave  with  her  belongings  slung  into  a  bag  —  a  pair  of  steel - toe  boots,  headphones  and  a  heavy  heart.

it  was  on  the  thoroughfare  out  of  town  where  he  found  her.  a  man  riding  a  motorbike  without  a  helmet  that  skidded  to  a  halt  beside  them,  asked  where  they  were  headed,  and  told  ivelisse  to  get  on  board.  she  had  been  sixteen  then  —  no  more  than  a  child  —  but  a  girl  that  had  been  forced  to  grow  up  on  fast - forward.  where  else  was  she  meant  to  go,  if  not  with  the  stranger  that  stank  of  motor  oil  and  grease ?  she  took  his  invitation.  it  was  the  biggest  mistake  she  ever  made,  and  their  greatest  regret.

for  a  month  or  so,  it  was  perfect.  nights  under  starlight,  breaking  into  abandoned  buildings  to  steal  whatever  could  be  of  use.  but  then  he  got  greedy,  and  ivelisse  was  too  far  gone  to  ever  think  of  severing  herself  from  the  life  she  had  found  herself  in.  the  robberies  intensified,  first  little  corner  shops  with  old  ladies  behind  the  counters  and  then  larger  prey  —  gas  stations  and  liquor  stores.  they  were  walking  arm - in - arm  as  though  they  were  king  and  queen,  in  the  livery  that  came  with  unlimited  and  embezzled  funds.  dirty  money  that  ivelisse  can  never  wash  her  hands  clean  of.

the  last  stick - up  was  where  their  perfect  fantasy  came  crumbling  down.  nobody  had  known  that  the  cashier  had  a  gun  himself,  and  when  the  bang  sounded  ivelisse  was  sure  she  had  been  deafened  by  the  noise.  her  ears  continued  ringing  the  entire  time  she  was  running  —  running  towards  the  sunset,  running  away  from  him;  looking  down  and  realising  that  there  was  slick,  dark  blood  over  their  palms.  she  never  found  out  whether  he  survived,  whether  he  died  there  on  the  concrete  or  if  he  was  thrown  in  jail  to  never  see  the  light  of  day  again.  all  that  they  could  worry  about  now  was  being  free  of  the  life  they  had  fallen  into,  of  a  life  that  never  should  have  been  theirs.

windsor  bay  was  the  same  way  it  had  always  been  when  ivelisse  rode  the  bus  into  town  six  months  ago.  before  that,  she  had  drifted  and  stayed  with  friends  on  couches  until  she  raised  enough  money  to  put  a  deposit  down  on  a  trailer  in  the  heart  of  the  mountainside.  it  isn’t  much,  but  it’s  hers  —  a  space  that  is  no  wider  than  their  wingspan  but,  by  all  accounts,  is  theirs  and  theirs  alone.  it  is  a  sanctuary,  albeit  a  strange - smelling  one.  somewhere  that  she  can  spend  time  alone  for  the  first  time  in  twenty - three  years.

her  passion  for  music  led  her  to  the  radio  station.  it  started  just  speaking  to  those  she  knew  that  worked  there,  and  eventually  the  strings  of  fate  were  tugged  in  the  right  direction.  they  are  now  live  on  air  every  tuesday  and  thursday,  saturating  the  airways  with  grunge  and  punk - rock  —  the  kind  of  music  with  dirty  guitar  and  unpredictable  drum  beats.  it  isn’t  much,  and  ivelisse  certainly  isn’t  able  to  wear  furs  and  fancy  jewelry  anymore,  but  it  keeps  food  on  the  table  and  their  head  above  water.  after  everything  they’ve  been  through,  what  more  could  she  ever  ask  for ?

[iv3lisse]

if  ivelisse  had  a  larger  trailer,  they  would  have  taken  half  the  store  away  with  them  that  evening.  not  that  she  had  the  funds  for  it.  the  radio  station  didn’t  pay  much,  and  she  was  only  on  air  for  a  few  hours  each  night  —  bleeding  their  heart  and  soul  out  over  the  airways  and  saturating  the  town,  for  a  small  wedge  of  time  at  least,  with  the  voices  of  the  grunge  greats.  she  had  long  since  collected  all  of  nirvana’s  albums,  but  that  didn’t  stop  ivelisse  from  almost  compulsively  running  their  fingertips  along  the  spines  whenever  she  passed  by.  it  felt  as  though  electricity  bounced  up  from  the  cardboard  and  danced  up  her  arm.  it  was  what  she  had  intended  to  do,  pushing  open  the  door  to  main  street  records  with  that  familiar  chime.  the  last  thing  she  wanted  or  needed  was  company.  “there’s  nothing  i  need,”  blunt,  clipped.  almost  rude.  ivelisse  sighed  and  corrected  herself,  remembering  what  her  mother  would  say  when  she  forgot  her  manners.  “i  mean  —  i’m  here  a  lot.  i  wanted  to  come  and  see  the  nirvana  albums.  to  get  away  from  the  world  outside  for  a  while,  y’know ?  and  if  you  have  anything  new  …  i  have  a  spot  on  the  radio,  so  i  can  play  it.  or  whatever.”

⇝ @windsorbaystarters

WHERE: Main Street Records

WHEN: Weekday, 7:02 PM

What would he play? His shift, his choice, the rules were the rules at Main Street Records, but at the end of the day, what did they need to hear? 'They', or the one lone person in the store, shifting among the reprints with their back to Adrian. To be fair, it was half an hour before closing, but it didn't mean he couldn't go out with a bang. He thumbed through the selection behind the counter and picked up Leaf Hound's 'Growers of Mushroom', letting the vinyl spin against his fingertips before he set it on the record player and placed the needle down. The guitar, the bell, the electricity of Freelance Fiend filled the room, soaking up what was left of the evening light. Bringing out the air guitar was tempting, but with an almost rhythmic swivel of the shoulders, he found himself satisfied. The bell on the door rang. Someone new. He moved to the swivel chair by the register, sitting down and watching as someone else walked in from the door just a few paces to his left he started on what he'd been chiming all afternoon, "Welcome," He greeted, "Let me know if there's anything I can help you find."