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Realistic or Modern 𝕖𝕦𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕒 -

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Here

timshel

𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙨𝙩
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is anyone
ever as ok
as they look?
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E U P H O R I A
not your average high school roleplay
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i n t r o
Literally fuck anybody who says high school is the time of their life.

They must have had such vapid, meaningless, cheap experiences in these hallways—enabled by wealth, comforted by two parents in love with each other, rocked to sleep by privilege and blissful ignorance.

Shit has started getting real for us. Maybe it’s just the times, and we’re growing up more quickly than kids our age used to. Maybe we’re just making a big deal out of growing up, and those first pangs of growing pain that hurt, ache, and throb like nothing else start in high school.

It seems like every day that some madman decides to slaughter kids like us in places like this, to the point where we’ve started having active shooter drills. Sickeningly sweet clouds of cotton candy nicotine hang heavy above our heads in the sticky, humid living room at a house party while the music, too loud and too vulgar, drones on. Parents fall out of love, and they do it loudly, suddenly not sparing all weapons of war because they figure you’re old enough to understand. We’re finding ways to escape it all.

We aren’t the kindest to each other despite it all, though. And that’s putting it lightly.
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r o l e s
jasper owen - the stoner
unambitious and struggling. clearly has something worth escaping from.
wren zhang - the jock
weighed down with sore legs and immense expectations, at the price of college tuition.
morgan mccullough - the dark horse
new kid to the school. alluring, magnetic, and mysterious. what's left to discover?
carrie frasier - the first revolutionary
they've changed dramatically to start the new year. why did they do it & who was it for?
darren wilde - the second revolutionary
they've changed dramatically to start the new year. why did they do it & who was it for?
giselle aldridge - the ruler
the "it" person in school. how far are they willing to go to stay on top of everyone?
sade ibekwe - the sentinel
the supportive, demure friend of many. they wonder if they're ever going to find their voice.
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r u l e s
one
Follow all of RPN’s listed rules. Treat others in this roleplay well to facilitate a comfortable, creative, and fun environment.
two
Themes in this roleplay are going to be mature, and I don’t want to put minors in a situation where they have to unpack adult content. You must be at least eighteen years of age to join.
three
This is going to be a strictly advanced roleplay, where good grammar, correct spelling, and tantalizing writing is an expectation. You should be able to comfortably write 500-800 words per post, at the very minimum.
four
There are going to be six people total in this roleplay, including myself, one for each of the six provided roles. Placement in this roleplay is not awarded on a first-come, first-serve basis. I’ll be judging each of the characters on their quality and depth, and their owners on their writing quality.
five
Be prepared to chat on Discord. I find it’s a very helpful platform to have quick discussions about characters, plotting, and it’s a low pressure environment where we can all chat with each other. I will make a server for all the accepted members of this roleplay once I have determined who’s going to be in it.
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e v e n t s
Current events and meaningful relationships in the roleplay will be listed here and updated periodically.

Current plot:
The new girl (Morgan McCullough) is throwing a party the Friday the first full week of school. It looks like everyone's going to be there.

Subplots:
Giselle Aldridge and Jasper Owen are actually half-siblings, sharing the same father. When are they going to find out, and what will happen once opposite ends of the social hierarchy suddenly collide?

Relationships:
Carrie Frasier, Wren Zhang, and Darren Wilde have developed a strong friendship as a small group over the years, bonding through athletics. But something about Carrie changed over the summer, and the other two don't know what to do about it.
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coded by luna.
 
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[div class=tag]mood
slowly coming down. pretty damn hungry.
[div class=tag]location
downtown westerly.
[div class=tag]song
why won't they talk to me? - tame impala
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jasper owen
He nearly jumped out of his bed when the resounding blare from his phone alarm cut through the morning stillness in the apartment.

It took him a moment to blink back to reality, putting logical pieces of what had woken him up and why together, before reaching over his bed—a mere mattress with mismatched sheets and blankets on the floor—to snooze it. Jasper settled back into his sheets, chest almost unbearably tight, the pounding of his heart dull but all-consuming in his ears. His breaths were shallow and sharp, and although he did his best to focus on slowing them down and evening them out, it persisted for some time. He had always been so easily startled, so jumpy, and now even the thought of being startled by something far out of his control made him anxious.

It’s getting out of control, he thought—about his anxiety, and nothing else. He would need some life-threatening incident to get him even thinking about drinking or smoking or snorting less, but with all the time he spent catching his breath, second-guessing every minor decision he made from his wardrobe to how he took his school things out of his backpack, dry-heaving with an empty stomach over a toilet… It was worse than it had ever been. That much was obvious. Some days were better than others, of course, but the bad kind of memorable days were beginning to pile up in his mind. Something had to change, but who was there for him?

CPS had always been useless: no matter how many times he showed up to elementary school with bruises a kid his age shouldn't have, or racked up weeks of unexplained absences, they only received one or two in-person visits and a handful of empty phone calls full of broken promises. Maybe if he cared more (and he was unfortunately approaching that threshold), Jasper could have pressed for a counselor or psychiatrist or whatever to get him at least processing things in a healthier way. Shit, maybe he could’ve finessed some low-cost state healthcare and be prescribed the right kinds of medication—the ones that are purposefully slow-release and near impossible to crush. But that all seemed like something of a myth to him, and the questionable, crumbly Xanax he got from down the street were a fraction of the price of a pharmacy co-pay. And they did more or less the same thing for him.

But today, the first day of school, was no doubt the most nerve-racking day of anyone’s year, which meant it was going to be absolute living hell for him. The blond dreaded every single thing about integrating himself back into an academic mindset and back into an environment with his peers: vapid, "What did you do this summer?" kinds of questions from people that didn't really care to know, petty locker room politics, the feeling poor because he couldn't keep up with the ever-changing dress trends. Schoolwork itself was one thing he could completely blow off without upsetting too many people (he could give a shit about the school counselor’s futile attempts to ‘understand him’), but the other kids were just like him in the sense that they watched everyone around them. Took mental notes. Remembered.

But who was he to them, anyway? That weird kid who never spoke in class or to anyone in the hallways. That kid who always smelled a little like weed. The kid who once passed out, high out of his mind, on the school bus and no one found him until the end of the day, where he was still sound asleep. No one really stuck around him for long, or ate lunch with him for more than a day or two—unlike others, he found lots of comfort in the quiet and found enduring lunch table silence easy. Words like ‘school shooter type’ weren’t exactly uncommon, following concerned, curious stares in his direction. That one in particular bothered him: his destruction was limited to himself and he was so isolated that it didn't bother anyone else, which was how he wanted it. Yes, he had problems, but he wasn't violent, no. Not in the slightest.

Jasper didn’t necessarily welcome or embrace it, but he had made an uneasy peace with being a kind of black sheep in his graduating class. To most of his peers, he was nothing more than an afterthought; someone you brush shoulders with once and stare after for a lingering moment, because their name is on the very tip of your tongue, before something trivially more important pulls your attention elsewhere. And he could live with that. Being mostly unnoticed was more than fine with him—it was better than attracting any kind of attention at all, good or bad.

But if he had it his way, he would disappear. Not die, not take the next train out of Westerly to somewhere more exciting, but the blond would just sink into his mess of blankets and sheets and never wake up again.

He heated up a mug of water in the microwave, then stirred in some instant coffee powder and drank it black. After tearing through the fridge and pantry, Jasper emerged victorious with a single stale strawberry Pop Tart in hand, and scarfed that down. He chased down two bar-shaped bitter white pills with the last swig of his coffee, making a note that he would need to grab some more at some point later. And then he made his way to the bus stop.

—​

By the time the day was over, Jasper had made it through, pleasantly stoned, feeling light, as if he was drifting through the hallways like some human being made of cascading silk ribbons. Sometimes, he got used to the dose he was taking to the point where it just calmed him down (which, allegedly, was all they were supposed to do for people who took them as prescribed), but if Jasper didn’t get to that free-floating sensation in his body, then it just wasn’t right. The high was nice, and he was always kind of chasing it when tolerance caught up to him.

Even if he’d forgotten almost everything explained to him in his classes, whispers of a party later that evening hadn’t escaped his mind. Supposedly, it was going to be held at some new girl's house. The thought of some free liquor and weed was enough to entice him, and with as good and as loose as he felt as afternoon dissolved into the evening, the blond thought that maybe visiting that party wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. (Maybe whatever he took that morning was a little strong, because normally, any environment with that many screaming, shouting, loud people seemed almost overwhelmingly intimidating. There was really no way of knowing what was in it, though.)

But he got it together, despite what he usually would've done. He squeezed past his mother in their shared bathroom wordlessly to take a shower, and even ran a comb through his hair for the first time he could recall in recent history (like his short-term memory was reliable enough to definitively say, anyway). When he finished getting dressed, the boldness and fluidity finally starting to tangibly wear off, Jasper realized he may be alone in the apartment. He was hungry.

“Ma.” His voice echoed in the space, so he cleared his throat and tried a second time. “Ma. Is there anything in the fridge?” Her purse was gone off its usual perch on the couch armrest: she must have slipped out at some point when he was getting ready. It was nighttime after all, prime time for her to go out roaming or clubbing or exactly whatever she did on Friday nights. Jasper didn’t want to know, and she didn’t want to tell him.

There wasn’t anything in the fridge, which wasn’t entirely surprising. Hopefully whoever was throwing this would be too drunk to realize he fully intended on raiding their pantry.
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Giselle Alderidge

Location: Alderidge Estate
Outfit: X
Tags:



Upon waking, she could feel someone gently shaking her. They were speaking but her brain was still fuzzy from sleep. She burrowed herself into her warm, soft sheets in an attempt to escape whoever was attempting to wake her up. Alas the shaking only continued on, more persistent now. With a soft groan she finally opened her eyes, rubbing them gently as she sat up. Beside her she could feel Majesty stretch and jump off of her bed.

”Miss Giselle, it’s time for you to get up and get ready. You wouldn’t want to miss your face day of school. I’ve ran you a hot bath with your favorite rose and jasmine blend.”

Giselle recognized the voice of her personal maid Elizabeth. She threw the covers off of herself and turned in order to climb out of bed. The young woman ran a hand through her hair, brushing away the locks from her face. Giselle made her way to the bathroom, inhaling the scent of rose and jasmine deeply. The smell alone was enough to put her to sleep again if she wasn’t careful. She made quick work of her clothes and climbed into her bath. Giselle spent the next hour or so inside, going through her usual lengthy morning routine and slowly but surely waking up fully.

By the time she was finished Giselle was feeling refreshed and far more awake than before. Now she was truly ready to begin her day, well almost ready. There was still the matter of her outfit. Seeing as it was the first day of school Giselle had to go all out. She had a reputation to uphold and it meant that she couldn’t go anywhere without looking her very best. With that in mind she left her room and headed to the room beside it which happened to be her closet and boudoir.

Once she was all dressed and ready to be seen by others Giselle gathered her things for school and headed downstairs. The delicious smell coming from the kitchen caused her stomach to rumble. Not long before she seated herself at the breakfast nook her plate was placed in front of her by a maid. Giselle are in silence, save for the sound of the servants moving about and Majesty enjoying her break. Her parents weren’t able to see her off this time, something about her father meeting with a business partner and Laurent expanding one of his vineyards. Giselle was quite used to it by now, so it didn’t really bother her. After finishing her breakfast Giselle said goodbye to Majesty and headed towards the garage. Taking the key to her red Mercedes off the hook. After climbing inside and getting situated she was on her way.

Pulling up to her school was the same as usual for her. She could feel the eyes of her fellow students on her. Gazes full of envy, longing, and various other emotions aimed at her as she stepped out of her car. Giselle only smirked as she made her way inside, greeting someone here and there before eventually meeting up with her lackies. Her day from then on was the typical first day of school really. However at the mention of a party going on later in the day she was mildly interested.

Giselle has said goodbye to her friends with plans to attend the party at night. When she returned home she was greeted by Laurent and the two of them talked about their day until it was time to get ready for the party.

code by Ri.a
 
sade | post 1 | no tags
sometimes, sleep was easy. the room was dark, still. breathing slowed on its own, eyelids fluttered effortlessly, and the sheep leapt languidly in their single-file line:
1, 2, 3, so on. it was the kind of sleep rip van winkle envied, even after his 20 year liquor induced hibernation.

but alas, it was not the sleep destined for sade today. she was restless, pained, hurting. she would sleep, if you could truly call it that, in intervals, tossing restlessly. she awoke frequently, drenched in sweat, crying, screaming. her aunt would sit beside her, stroking her hair and cooing into her ear.

her question tended to be the same: “who visited?”

it was the way by which she figured out what consolation was required. regardless of therapy sessions, of medication, of talking things through, sometimes the demons still lingered. it’s during these times that support and patience is most important, even when the recipient is near adult.

sade exhaled shakily, gently lying her head against her aunt’s shoulder. her reply was near inaudible.

“momma.”

childish though it may seem, sade spent the remainder of the night curled up on the couch with her aunt, watching reality tv and telling jokes to stave off night terrors. the worst nights were big nights: starts of new years, birthdays, holidays, special events. they were the days that made everything feel a tad heavier. they were the days that reminded her most of her past.

she had drifted, slightly, by the time her phone screamed her morning alarm. her aunt was absent, with a sweet “good morning, hope you feel better!” note and a couple of bucks left for food and obnoxious school parking passes. she drifted, dazed, barefoot across the linoleum floor back to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and showered off cold sweats and trauma.

the remainder of her day was relatively uneventful. she dressed: jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, chucks, swiped a mushy banana from the little fruit basket on the counter, and nabbed the keys to her well-loved and slightly battered oldsmobile alero. she drove, crooning along to the comforting voices of ms lauryn hill and nina simone, and pulled into a parking space as close to the school as she could obtain.

school was dull. introductions, syllabi, expectations, for seven accursed periods. the most notable thing was the repetitive mention of a party. while it wasn’t necessarily her primary interest, no one would shut the hell up about it.

it wasn’t as though sade had plans, anyway. as the final bell tolled, she wandered mindlessly back to her car, her sole concern obtaining a big mac, large fry, a medium sprite, and an oreo mcflurry. she’d think more seriously about this party nonsense after she fed.

her aunt always was encouraging her to exit her comfort zone, after all.
 
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Morgan McCullough

[div class=tag]mood:[/div] ready to party.
[div class=tag]outfit:[/div] school outfit & party outfit.
[div class=tag]location:[/div] home > west hs > home.
[div class=tag]song:[/div] 3d girl - stef chura.



blank"Dude, come on. Are you gonna buy it, or are you gonna be a pussy?"

blankThe sun had barely set, and Morgan drew her denim jacket closed, trying to offset the chill of the breezy night. Standing at the side of a convenience store, she stared expectantly at a young man, barely at the drinking age, with a reluctant look on his face but a handful of cash. He scratched the stubble on his chin and, after another gruelingly long minute, shrugged and nodded. Morgan smiled triumphantly and leaned back against the cold brick wall. Sure, she didn't have that much money, but when the girl got an idea, she was relentless.

blankThe first week of school had passed at a snail's pace, nothing really catching her interest, and she figured what better way to celebrate a new school year than throwing a party? If she couldn't find anything fun to do, then shit, she'd make some herself. There was already a good amount of chatter about the party too; Morgan was a chatterbox when she wanted to be, and her Snapchat was full of other students asking for her address and invites. Each day after school, Morgan had gone to the store, stocking up on streamers, balloons, red solo cups, and whatever other party supplies she could buy at the Dollar Store (and shit, she stole half of it anyways.) If only she dedicated this much time and energy to school.

blankSoon, the guy she'd randomly approached before entering the store, whose name already escaped her, hefted three cases of shitty beer into the trunk of her car. Morgan sat in the driver's seat of her shitty old Acura, flashing him a thumbs up and a cheeky grin once he slammed the trunk closed.

blank"Thanks, those were way too heavy for me.
blank"Yeah, no problem. So like, can I come?"
blank"To what?"
blank"Your party, duh."
blank"Yeah sure, just call me."
Morgan shrugged and turned the key of her car, her engine protesting for a minute before grumbling to life.
blank"W-wait, I don't have your number-"

blankWithout looking back, Morgan drove off, eager and anxious at the same time for tomorrow.


blank"Mornin' momma, I'm going to school now."

blankInside the master bedroom of their new home, the furniture was sparse, only their bed, a half-built dresser, and two nightstands. With the curtains drawn and the walls stacked high with cardboard boxes, the effect was dim and stuffy, leaving her to squint and weave through the boxes to reach Kathleen's bedside. Her mother slept alone in the king sized bed. Amidst the thick comforter and pillows, she barely stirred at Morgan's words. Where her father was, she had no clue, and could hardly bring herself to care. It would be nice to at least here a 'Have a good day, dear' or 'Don't be late, okay?'. But, her mother wasn't an affectionate woman, instead simply co-existing in the same household as her husband and daughter. Nonetheless, Morgan leaned over and pressed a kiss into her mother's hair, mumbling another goodbye.

blankThe idea for the party was executed pretty last minute, but Morgan was a spontaneous kind of gal. Barely more than a week living in Westerly, and she had found the popular hangouts, chatted up some fellow youths, even got free weed from someone friendly enough to welcome her to town. Westerly was alright so far. Just alright. Hopefully better soon. She didn't care much for smaller towns, due to how little there was to do eventually. The schools were even worse, since everyone basically went to school together for forever, and people had their set friend groups and cliques. Even now, Morgan couldn't help but hate the feeling of being a stranger. It was familiar, but she still flinched from it.

blankMorgan took a moment to rummage through the kitchen. There wasn't much; her mother had finally gone grocery shopping two nights prior, tired of eating fast food or microwave dinners after they moved in. The girl grabbed an apple juice from the fridge and a granola bar, dug through her backpack for her car keys, and left the house with a bounce in her step.

blankThe school day was dreadfully slow. In her head, Morgan mulled over her checklist, making sure there wasn't anything she had missed. Of course, she couldn't shell out the cost for buying a whole bar's worth of liquor, nor did she think she'd be lucky enough to have someone buy alcohol for her again. Throughout the week, ever since the idea for the party formed, she made sure to shoot out texts and Snapchats to folks, making sure people knew to bring drinks if they could. And plenty of people replied with confirmations. Piled up under her bed were the decorations, and the beers and snacks had been hidden in the fridge of her garage, where she knew her parents didn't care enough to look. The brunette sat in her classes, only a moment away from dozing off, waiting for the day to end with anticipation. Whatever information her teacher's gave, Morgan retained nothing. Soon, lunch passed by, and then she blinked and the last bell rang.

blankMorgan had hurried home and was glad to find her house empty, just as planned. Her mother had sent a text during one of her classes earlier, telling her not to worry, that she'd be visiting an "old friend" and staying out that night. And the girl doubted her father would show up, and if he did, what was he gonna do? Get her in trouble? He barely even spared her a look nowadays. And so she got to decorating, hanging streamers around the living room and entrance, making sure the kitchen was ready, the fridge stocked with what she had so far, balloons dotting the floor and hanging from the ceiling as well. From her room, Morgan collected the color changing fairy lights she still hadn't unpacked, and strung them in the living room. On one of the living room bookshelves was a bluetooth speaker, small but powerful, one of those speakers that had a color changing case.

blankSetting up the party by herself kind of sucked, but her mood immediately lifted when the first few people arrived with liquor bottles and snacks in hand. Someone connected their phone to the speaker to play music, and Morgan played the friendly host, greeting people at her front door as more and more fellow students arrived. She was slightly anxious; her house was basically full of strangers, and she wasn't sure just yet which of these strangers she wanted to befriend. (Maybe she wanted to make friends with everyone. It was unrealistic, but Morgan was really lonely sometimes.) But, Morgan kept a calm aloof demeanor, nodding along to the beat of the music and already finishing her first beer of the night.
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♡coded by uxie♡

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[div class=container][div class=border][div class=name]carrie frasier
[div class=role]the revolutionary[/div] [div class=image][/div] [div class=textbox][div class=scroll]carrie could feel it at the breakfast table. slouching in his pajamas and staring bleary-eyed into the bowl of cheerios carrie had made himself, it was hard for him to ignore the burning gaze of his mother. it was only the first week of classes and yet she had managed to get a vice-like grip around carrie's education. with his dad—fuck—with his dad gone, there was nobody to protect carrie from his mom. no longer hungry, carrie stands and discards his bowl in the sink, never losing his mother's stare. clenching his jaw in a minuscule show of irritation, he turns to her and waits expectantly. she stands leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of black coffee. she meets his stare with her dark, steel-eyed glare and the strength of it turns his eyes away. "haden is coming home for the weekend. i expect you to help clean the house." that's it. she pushes off the counter and leaves her steaming mug on the counter, traversing the stairs up to her room. running a hand through his curly hair, carrie sighs and follows after her, cutting directly left into his room after the landing of the narrow staircase. flashing forward through the day, carrie rudely cuts off and ignores his friends, an exhausting task he had been doing all week. he suffers through the questioning and hurt gazes of his old friends and acquaintances both from sports and clubs, as well as the disapproving glances from his teachers at yet another missed assignment deadline. "so unlike him" and "he's changed" whispers follow him down the hallway between classes, forcing carrie to eat lunch pressed against the outside of the school. with the ring of the last bell, carrie is out of the school before his teacher is even finished speaking, ignoring her requests for him to stay seated. despite the whispers surrounding his own changed attitude (fuck off) he had heard about a party that the new girl was throwing at her house. with the return of carrie's hot-headed sister haden returning for the weekend, being away from the house sounds more and more appetizing. upon arriving home, carrie is forced into doing most of the house cleaning for his mother while she berates him, leaving tasks undone only to blame him when it came about that something hadn't been completed. by the time he's finished, the sun had set and his bones were weary with exhaustion. and yet the house was clean. trudging up to his room, carrie changes out of his wrinkled clothes from school and into something fresher before he slides open his bedroom window, crawling out to his mom's car parked in the driveway. even though he knows that a literal beating will come for stealing it, he could give less than a shit with haden well on her way. starting up the engine, he pulls out of the driveway and plugs in the address to this new girl's house.[/div][/div] [div class=info][div class=text]MOOD: tired. LOCATON: school then home. TAGS: none.[/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=container] width: 450px; height: 630px; margin: auto; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/232c090ebdd37ae4bc17adb54e1e0344/tumblr_inline_ol4nwhvSwg1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; [/class] [class=border] position: absolute; width: 450px; height: 630px; background: #f1f1f1; margin: 0 auto; border: 1px solid #ccc; [/class] [class=name] position: relative; top: 20px; line-height: 80%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; font: 27px Abril Fatface; color: #333; text-transform: uppercase; [/class] [class=role] display: inline-block; position: relative; top: 15px; left: 50%; transform: translateX(-50%); line-height: 80%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; font: 9px Verdana; background: var(--accent-1); padding: 5px; color: #fff; text-transform: uppercase; [/class] [class=image] position: absolute; top: 100px; left: 0; height: 150px; width: 450px; background: var(--image); background-size: cover; background-position: center; -webkit-clip-path: polygon(100% 0, 100% 100%, 0% 100%, 0 0, 50% 15%); clip-path: polygon(100% 0, 100% 100%, 0% 100%, 0 0, 50% 15%); [/class] [class=info] position: absolute; bottom: 0; left: 0; height: 30px; width: 440px; padding: 0px 5px; font: 11px Verdana; background: var(--accent-1); color: #fff; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 28px; white-space: nowrap; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class=text] display: inline-block; padding-left: calc(100% + 5px); animation: {post_id}marquee var(--time) linear infinite; [/class] [class=textbox] position: absolute; left: 0; top: 250px; width: 433px; height: 316px; overflow-x: hidden; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-line; line-height: 125%; padding: 17px 0px 17px 17px; [/class] [class=scroll] width: 100%; height: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 17px; text-align: justify; color: #333; [/class] [animation=marquee] [keyframe=0] transform: translate(0, 0); [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform: translate(-100%, 0); [/keyframe] [/animation]
 
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[div class=tab]tags
[div class="tabcontents" style="display: none;"]
[div class=tag]mood
messy drunk.
[div class=tag]location
suburban westerly.
[div class=tag]song
maps to the stars - surf curse
[div class=tag]tags[/div] oxytocin oxytocin & low fidelity low fidelity TheWaffleLord TheWaffleLord (in that order) [/div] [/div] [/div]
jasper owen
By the time he made it through the crowded, noisy downtown part of Westerly—the urban sprawl of the town that few liked to call the ‘real Westerly’—to the suburbs, the party was already well underway. Jasper approached the unfamiliar house carefully, slowing his bike to a steady stop as he took in the sights and sounds. The one earbud in his ear (the only one of the pair that worked) rather loudly announced, “You have arrived. The house is on the right,” in the unnatural effeminate voice with janky pauses between words. The suddenness of it made him wince.

This was most definitely a party. Jasper could feel the thumping of the bass inside this house from the sidewalk, and faint flashing colored lights blinked intermittently from the windows, illuminating the twilight trees artificial red, then blue, then yellow and green. And there, although just barely, was the smell of a wandering skunk that for sure was no skunk. Oh, yeah. No doubt.

He sighed, leaned his bike against a hedge by the mailbox, and then made his way to the front door.

Inside the house, things were chaotic. It was jam-packed, absolutely full of people from school—he caught a glimpse of everyone from every clique he could’ve imagined all together under the same roof. There had to be some irony in that, given how they blew each other off at school, but here they were, pouring out shots for each other at the makeshift bar (dozens of handles, sticky tile counters, half-empty red Solo cups with only a few pristine ones left untouched), cheering each other on at beer pong, and passing Juuls around in the living room.

The blond squeezed his way through the throngs of people to the bar, and then poured himself a drink so strong it made the total strangers off to his side look at him twice: equal parts Svedka and Hawaiian Punch, and filled it right to the brim. He slurped off what was dangerously close to spilling over the edge, and then made his way back into the madness.

About forty five minutes passed. Jasper downed three more of those drinks as he boredly watched a couple rounds of Rage Cage that weren’t as intense as he would’ve liked them to be. Before he knew it, he was smacked. And because he was that fucked up, the urge to do something stupid and reckless bothered him more than it usually did. When he attempted to move from where he was leaning on the wall, he found himself swaying dangerously, nearly tipping his drink down the front of a girl’s shirt.

“Oh, shit—“ He put a hand on her shoulder for only a moment to steady himself from falling. The blond met this girl’s eyes just briefly, and she certainly seemed startled at the sudden intrusion on her space. “I’m—I, uh, m’ sosorry,” he slurred, and watched with pained regret as she disappeared back off into the crowd. I hope she's ok... I didn't mean to.

First thing’s first: find the new girl. He squinted at his surroundings, moving too fast and too loud, and then found her more quickly than he would’ve thought. She stuck out like a sore thumb from the townies he’d grown to know so well, yet he still thought she was rather unassuming. Although she was tall and thin and pretty, and invited everyone over in a very generous gesture, something about her told him she was quietly desperate for something… Everyone was here, but no one was talking to her. Huh.

He approached this girl, albeit quite clumsily. “Hey, uhh, where’ssyour bathroom?” The blond asked, feeling like his lips were glued together but his tongue was loose. He didn’t listen carefully enough the first time, so he asked her, sheepish, to repeat herself, and then focused intently on an answer. “… Cool.” Down the hall and to the left. “Thanks.”

It was clean, cool, and quiet inside—a welcome relief from the chaos just outside the bathroom door. Once he was confident he’d locked himself in, Jasper began rifling desperately through the mirror cabinets. Nothing in there could get him high, well, except the Benadryl, but he knew well enough after one absolute disaster of a trip that it was something he’d never do again. He searched and searched, peering behind spare rolls of toilet paper, until he found the familiar outline of a bottle—

“Ohhhh, yeah.” NyQuil. Jasper had tried this before, and this was going to get him absolutely destroyed. Grinning stupidly, drunkenly, he popped the cap off after struggling with the child lock and poured a generous amount into his cup. He took a big swig, sighing happily as he strode out of the bathroom, forgetting to put his treasure back where he’d found it.

Time lost him after that point. The people and lights and noise all faded into one pleasant blur, mixing in and out of indistinguishable messes of color and texture and movement. Jasper tried to watch, and something about it all was pleasant and amusing to him; he made his way through the crowds to the backyard, unable to wipe the absolutely plastered, blank grin off his face. He stumbled onto the patio, and then found himself staring into the dark depths of the pool. It was mesmerizing.

Then it finally hit him. “Oh fuck.” Suddenly his stomach lurched. I’m gonna be sick. He did his best to rally and move to somewhere deeper in the backyard, but as soon as he turned, he collided almost head-on with another partygoer. “Oh no, oh God I’m—I’m so sorry, uhhh… Hang on.”

He was gripping this student by his t-shirt, holding on tight as another wave of nausea hit him. Was he really even aware of the clammy, pale grip he had on this kid? It was just something present and solid to keep him from passing out on the concrete below, and he was grateful this guy, whoever he was, just so happened to be right where he needed him.
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coded by luna.
 
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[/div] [div class=topinfo][div class=scroll]// location [div class=toptag]home → morgan's house - backyard[/div] // outfit [div class=toptag]here[/div] // with [div class=toptag]darren (previously), jasper (currently)[/div] // tags [div class=toptag]@JustJazzy invariance invariance
timshel timshel low fidelity low fidelity [/div][/div][/div] [div class=post]Wren had been waiting all week for this party. Getting used to school again was painless for someone like him. The easygoing quarterback, a friend to many and a topic of envy and admiration. After a few days' worth of hearing teachers drone on, he ached for something exciting again. Summer was over, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try and have fun anymore. It just so happened that the new girl, Morgan, was hosting a house party. A big one. Wren didn't actually introduce himself to her beforehand, but as long as the invite was open to anyone and everyone, it surely had to be fine. He wasn't going to turn down free food and drinks—who in their right mind would? Come Friday evening, he was ready to go. He stepped out of his room, checked his pockets for his phone, wallet and keys then walked down the hall. His father was in the living room, watching a crime tv show Wren didn't know by name. He could never differentiate one from the rest. "My Uber's here. I'll see ya later, Dad." The corner of Geoff's eyes crinkled with a smile. "Have fun! Be back home before midnight." "I will," Wren assured. He patted Sammy and Buck on the way out and locked the front door behind him. He got his license a few months ago and his reason for not taking the car was only somewhat applaudable. Not that Geoff knew, but he intended to drink alcohol like everyone else. At least he had enough sense not to get behind the wheel after doing so. When he reached the address, it was obvious which house had been throwing the party. The structure itself seemed to be pumping to life, compelled by the bass and the shifting lights that made it so inviting. This was going to be a good time. He gave his thanks to the driver, paid what he owed, and walked to the porch. The door was left ajar so he let himself in. Wren was quickly engulfed in the music and it seemed like every student from West High was here. He found his social circle mixed around the living room. Some were dancing and some were talking. Darren being among the latter, but Carrie was nowhere to be seen. Maybe, in a solemn way, that was to be expected. He had given everyone the cold shoulder since Monday and nobody could understand why—it was so unlike him. Not wanting to dwell too much on it, the thought came and went as he slipped past people to approach Darren, his childhood friend. He tapped him on the shoulder. "Room for one more?" he asked, grinning. Hunter, the wide receiver, raised his Red Solo cup. "Heyyy, look who it is!" "Nice of you to join us," Jessie teased. "You know me; fashionably late and all." In a brotherly manner of greeting, he clasped hands with Darren and they patted each other on the back. "I'm gonna get a drink and be back right quick." He found the kitchen easily. The whole house was crowded, but the bar even more so. They were eager to treat themselves to drinks they weren't supposed to have and Wren couldn't rightly blame them. It felt like a reward for enduring the first week of school. He perused through the liquor bottles and liters of soda until he fixed himself a cup of rum and coke. After the first sip, he was satisfied. The sweet, vanilla variant of the cola was underlined by the smooth but subtle caramel taste of the rum—and from a damn good brand, at that. Good stuff. Wren rejoined Darren and they played games around the house with a lot of others; the group interchanged between different individuals as the evening went on. Beer pong, billiards, Never Have I Ever and Cards Against Humanity, which was found tucked away in the living room. When he was on his third drink or so, he began to feel tingly and warm. A little buzzed, but not drunk. Eventually Wren departed from his group and went to the backyard for fresh air while he snacked on mini Oreos. Then again, the guy was hardly ever alone. He was unwinding on the patio for a bit, talking to a friend of a friend's friend whose name might've been Max. The younger student was called over by someone else at some point and left Wren with a moment of comfortable silence with himself. It didn't last long. After he wolfed down the last handful of mini Oreos and stood from his seat, somebody nearly smacked into him. It was a blond skinny guy, but he couldn't tell if he knew him at first glance. “Oh no, oh God I’m—I’m so sorry, uhhh… Hang on,” he stammered. Wren's nose was struck by the alcohol that permeated from the blond's breath as he clutched onto the fabric of his T-shirt, and for dear life it seemed. Wren was almost taken aback, but he understood. His hands instinctively went to the guy's shoulders to help keep him balanced, but not harshly so. "You alright there, buddy?" He grimaced and held his stomach, clearly in pain. "Oh, I'm doing fantastic," he replied. Maybe it was the intoxication, the sarcasm, or both, but there was a subtle drawl in his mellow voice. Funny that it was kind of nice to listen to. Wren briefly considered him then had a moment of mild recognition. He saw him at school before, definitely, but what was his name? "Here, you might feel better if you sit down." He stepped aside and gestured to the chair he had been sitting in less than a minute ago. Quite a few of his friends had been as drunk as this guy was now, so he could only think to help, even if he didn't know his name. He chose not to sit down, but Wren shrugged his shoulders and eased into the empty chair next to him. “Hey, uh... I’ve seen you around before, haven’t I?” he said, slurring. Then it clicked; he saw it in his eyes. "Oh! I know you! You’re uh. Wren? On the football team.” A small grin played on the corner of his lips. "Yeah, that'd be me." The blond chuckled, and it appeared to lessen the pain he was in. “Weird how we’re talking now, and I’ve never said a word to you at school...” Wren mused over it and realized there was truth to his words. He would've remembered if he had a conversation with him in the past. "No, we haven't talked before. What's your name?" “... I’m Jasper," he answered as he sat down. He stretched his arm out, reached his cup from where he last placed it, and took a swig. "Nice to meet you, Jasper." Wren extended his hand, but Jasper went for a fist bump. He was amused by this and chortled. "Good effort, but I'll take it." He didn't seem to notice and went for another sip. "Mhm." [/div][/div][/div] [div class=sideholder][div class=name]wren zhang.[/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div]
 
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[div class=container][div class=border][div class=name]carrie frasier
[div class=role]the revolutionary[/div] [div class=image][/div] [div class=textbox][div class=scroll]pulling up to the crowded curb of the new girl's house, carrie shut off the engine and ducked out of the small car, locking the doors and pocketing the keys. the thrumming of the music from outside of the house was deep but it didn't compare to the utter vibrations once carrie had stepped through the door. the dim lighting and smog of so many bodies packed together caused for carrie's eyes to squint into the packed room, instantly seeking out any faces he might know. which was nearly everyone at this point. squeezing through the crowd of people, carrie eventually made it to the bar. belatedly he realized that he had driven himself, which meant he shouldn't have too much to drink. pink tinged his cheeks at the thoughtless action, embarrassment flooding his system even though nobody would know that he had driven himself and that he would be drinking tonight, goddammit. pouring himself a cherry coke with rum, carrie turned from the bar and wriggled back through the crowd, red solo cup raised aloft above the thick throng of people. finally making it to a quieter part of the house, carrie's eyes quickly zeroed in on where some of the jocks were settled around playing "cards against humanity." his eyes widened as he turned quickly, remembering how he had brushed both darren and wren off earlier at school. as well as every day since the school season had started. he felt tired just thinking about having to confront them about his behavior, so carrie took a large drink from his solo cup. carrie moved yet again into another room, coming across a girl he recognized. she appeared to be a little upset and she was standing alone, so carrie approached and leaned against the wall beside her. from the dim lighting in the house, it was hard to tell, but carrie thought that the front of her top was darkened with some... liquid. he raised his cup and took another drink, trying to appear as if he was occupied so nobody he actually knew would try to talk to him.[/div][/div] [div class=info][div class=text]MOOD: apprehensive. LOCATON: morgan's house. TAGS: darren, wren, and sade.[/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=container] width: 450px; height: 630px; margin: auto; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/232c090ebdd37ae4bc17adb54e1e0344/tumblr_inline_ol4nwhvSwg1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; [/class] [class=border] position: absolute; width: 450px; height: 630px; background: #f1f1f1; margin: 0 auto; border: 1px solid #ccc; [/class] [class=name] position: relative; top: 20px; line-height: 80%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; font: 27px Abril Fatface; color: #333; text-transform: uppercase; [/class] [class=role] display: inline-block; position: relative; top: 15px; left: 50%; transform: translateX(-50%); line-height: 80%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; font: 9px Verdana; background: var(--accent-1); padding: 5px; color: #fff; text-transform: uppercase; [/class] [class=image] position: absolute; top: 100px; left: 0; height: 150px; width: 450px; background: var(--image); background-size: cover; background-position: center; -webkit-clip-path: polygon(100% 0, 100% 100%, 0% 100%, 0 0, 50% 15%); clip-path: polygon(100% 0, 100% 100%, 0% 100%, 0 0, 50% 15%); [/class] [class=info] position: absolute; bottom: 0; left: 0; height: 30px; width: 440px; padding: 0px 5px; font: 11px Verdana; background: var(--accent-1); color: #fff; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 28px; white-space: nowrap; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class=text] display: inline-block; padding-left: calc(100% + 5px); animation: {post_id}marquee var(--time) linear infinite; [/class] [class=textbox] position: absolute; left: 0; top: 250px; width: 433px; height: 316px; overflow-x: hidden; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-line; line-height: 125%; padding: 17px 0px 17px 17px; [/class] [class=scroll] width: 100%; height: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 17px; text-align: justify; color: #333; [/class] [animation=marquee] [keyframe=0] transform: translate(0, 0); [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform: translate(-100%, 0); [/keyframe] [/animation]
 

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