Realistic or Modern hollywood arts: main (open!!)

[ditto]

victoria shantel sterling​

Though it may’ve been difficult to believe with the current displays, trust her: Victoria was absolutely, one-thousand-percent a pacifist. Once again — and yes, she had to reiterate because you seemed to just constantly keep doubting her on this — Tori was the older, more mature sister, and, as the more mature sister, she did her best to bypass all arguments and-slash-or fights with said immature sister because they got her absolutely fucking nowhere. There was really no point in them, after all, since they both knew who the person in the right was, and Beth just didn’t want to admit it because she couldn’t get over her pride or embarrassment or something.

By the way, that person was always Tori, obviously — if you couldn’t tell, she hadn’t been wrong with her sister so far. Tori was completely justified in fabricating the whole boyfriend thing with Beth because Beth had fabricated the existence of her boyfriend first, and before that, she’d been justified in telling her to uninvite their mom because Beth had told her to uninvited their dad.

But still, sometimes, it came to a point that Victoria just wanted to tackle her sister to the ground and strangle her.

“Yeah, it’s probably about your stupid relationship with Ezra,” Beth snapped.

Tori angrily pointed a finger at Beth, glaring. “I don’t have a relationship with effing Ezra, Elizabeth — will you stop that?!”

“He’s on his way over, too.”

Tori froze. Her cheeks were lit up a bright red, like Rudolph’s nose but way more fucking embarrassing. “You didn’t.” Her face curled into a snarl. “Elizabeth, don’t try me — I will wipe that smirk right off your face,” she hissed in a near-whisper through clenched teeth.

“I totally texted him to see where he is, so…”

If Beth actually fucking texted Ezra about this, Tori would actually die. Like, actually, actually keel over and die, and it’d be Beth’s fault.

Actually, fuck being buried. She wanted to be dressed in silk and sent down the river for her funeral to that song “If I Die Young”. Also, please note: if a hot guy comes up to the casket, leave him alone — he’s sobbingly confessing his secret, undying love for her, so he’s going to need some space.

If she was going to die, she needed to be sent off nicely, at least.

And don’t let Beth plan it at all. The murderess shouldn’t have anything to do with the deceased, thanks.

“You are dead when we get home,” she mumbled, clenching her fists tightly at her side. Her green eyes glared daggers at her sister. “Dead, do you hear me?” But her voice was definitely too soft for her to hear.

Her point still fucking remained. Unlike Beth, she kept her promises, and she wasn’t going to break her promise of no fights for the rest of Arts Fest. Victoria was reliable. Victoria was trustworthy.

And Victoria would kick her little sister’s ass — once they got home.

But Beth decided that it was a genius idea to push Tori’s benevolence, because why the fuck not, she guessed. Maybe she was doing that toddler thing of testing boundaries or the edgy tween thing of seeing how far she can get before being bitchslapped. Or — the more likely thing — Beth just didn’t know when to stop for her own effing good.

She glared at Tori and roughly shoved a hand into her shoulder. Tori stumbled back at step, reaching up to grab her shoulder with a sound of pain. “Also,” Beth continued, “you’re the bitch.”

“Oh,” Tori scoffed with a laugh, putting a hand to her chest, “I’m the bitch now?!”

“You literally threw a hissy fit when I said Mom was coming,” Beth hissed.

After a panicked glance to her mom, Tori clenched her teeth and flung her arm out to shove Beth in the center of the chest. “Did not!” She threw her hands up. “Oh my God, you were the one who didn’t tell me that Mom was coming, you told me to uninvite Dad first, you were the one who lied about me having a boyfriend, and you fucking shoved me — so duh, you freaking started it, and I was just defending myself, you little — you little bitch!”

“Hey,” their mother interjected. “Both of you stop.”

“I’m not doing effing anything!” Tori huffed, and then she glared back at her sister, throwing her fists down at her side and stomping her feet. “It’s all Beth! She’s making a scene — I’m not doing anything!”

With an exasperated sigh, their mom looked at their father. “Would you do something?”

“And what is it that you suggest I do, Judy?” He raised a manicured eyebrow. He gestured to the sisters, then crossed his arms. “From what I can tell, this all started over an argument over you being here. I think it’s your problem to solve. After all, had you not been here, I doubt we’d be having this little...situation in the first place.”

mood
i'm dead. you're. dead.

location
the celestial theater

outfit
dressy

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms​

mentions
ezra

interactions
beth

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Stardust Galaxy]

Talking with Felix was easy, their conversation flowed without feeling awkward or forced. None of them were stretching the conversation just because of random themes because they didn't know what to say. It was kind of hilarious how different her conversation with Felix was going as she was reminiscent of her conversation with Saint. Sure Felix and she were friends and they weren't talking about a cow so that for sure made things way easier, so she was definitely happy to talk with someone she was capable of having a conversation with without feeling like she was thinking way too much in what to say next.

Maeve thought for a moment if she should tell him about the fiberglass cow that happened to be an original from not other than Saint Taylor, she could easily say "I saw the sculpture of a cow" but that would mean that she would have to explain the meaning of the sculpture that was just because Saint liked cows and not a commentary on the cattle industry like she thought it was, and she didn't want to say either she had an existential crisis over a cow. A conversation over a cow or any animal farm wasn't happening anytime soon or at least for her "You know... Art in general" She said with a small shrug.

As Felix started describing the scene of the animated film Maeve started to be glad that she missed the opportunity to see it, don't get her wrong she was sure it was good maybe? She wasn't an expert but an octopus ripping someone's limbs wasn't on her realm that things she enjoyed watching, so when Felix said she was spared to see the gore images Maeve started feeling better with herself "I think I'll just skip in the piece of cinematography, don't get me wrong I'm sure is not bad, but I'm more into the happy and adorable animations where they solve their problems because of the power of friendship. I guess you could say I'm not the main audience for that kind of film, so sorry for missing out on your powerful speech to stop an octopus" She said with a laugh.

Maeve wasn't going to lie she felt giddy when Felix said he was looking forward to her performance, even if he wasn't able to attend it and how he was going to cheer her up even if it was from the comment section once the performances were upload "I think you are overreacting I mean my duet with Zeph was good people liked it and we were satisfied with the result, but I really doubts scouts were that impressed with my talent, otherwise I'll have at least one of their business cards, but I guess when you are surrounded with the possible next artist of the year or the next oscar winning actor or actress, your last priority is finding a dancer" She said with a small shrug "Sorry! I'm ruining the mood, but either way I really appreciate the thought of you wanting to see me dance it really makes me happy"

She took a glance at the menu after Felix asked her what she wanted "I'll have the same thing" She replied So, now that you are done with the Arts Festival, is there something else you plan to do next? A new secret project that you can't talk about because you just got scouted after that performance in the animated movie or you just plan to take it easy in the meantime?"

Location: arts festival | Mood: happy
Outift: Here | Interactions: Felix ( ditto )

Maeve Anneliese Ackerman

Code by Stardust Galaxy​

 

[Winona]

Ashton West

Somewhere deep down inside, Ash knew that this was probably too much. Like, Lucky's closeness. Like... it wasn't as if they were making out or kissing or something, it wasn't like they were even all that close, but Ash knew that like... it was... too much. Somewhere deep down inside, she knew that she needed to take a step back and put some distance between them, but her vision was blurred with tears, and her lungs still hurt, and stepping away would just make her feel all alone again, and fucking hate her or whatever, but she hated feeling alone.

“Hey.” He said softly, and then his thumb brushed against her cheek, and Ash's heart gave a steady, guilty couple pumps in her chest. “Stop apologizing. And stop worrying. I’ll be fine. It’s…”

It wasn't fine, it wasn't fine, it wasn't fine.

He wasn't going to be fine.

Nothing about this situation was fine.

Lucky was helping, though, Ash would give him that. Like, in some aspect, he was helping. She would've much rather had Trevor there instead but like... he wasn't here, and he also wasn't the best at comforting her. She didn't know how he was with, like, his friends, but with her? Well, like, she was always afraid that he was one wrong move, like she was one wrong word said from him just blowing up and snapping at her.

She still would've rather had her boyfriend here, even if she would've had to force a smile and act like there was really nothing, and even if he would've gotten pissed at her for apologizing. And there was still that guilt eating away at her stomach, and Lucky was so... so... close.

For the most part, she'd failed to make any kind of eye contact during this. Her gaze had been turned down, her teeth chewing at her bottom lip. Like even when he'd done his best to get to look at him, she'd still tried to keep her gaze focused anywhere else. But now, she let her eyes meet his, and she watched as he smiled. Reluctantly, she gave a soft smile back at him, and her heart, and her aching lungs, and the tension in her muscles seemed to relax.

“I’m good.” He said, although she still didn't believe him.

His thumb against her cheek felt like fire, but she didn't flinch or move away from his touch. She knew she should, and to try and keep some distance between them, she brought her free hand up to rest on his chest -- you know, the hand that was still holding tightly onto the flower. Her gaze faltered from his, falling to the blue flower now pressed against his chest, and she felt her lungs seize up again.

Her lips parted to speak, but no words came out.

“Are you gonna kiss her or what?”

She blinked and looked over to see some kid as Lucky dropped his hand away from her cheek. Ash was quick to drop her own hands away from him and step back. Her one hand messed with the flower, well she used her other hand to bring her sleeve up to her face to wipe at her eyes.

"No, we're just friends," she said with a light laugh and a little forced smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your seat, Twerp?” Lucky looked around. “Where’s Nina?”

Right, so this had to be the infamous little brother.

Now, Ash and kids just didn't mix. She was horrible with kids. Like, really, really bad. She'd tried to babysit a couple times when she'd, like, go home for the summers or whatever and it had just never gone well. After having to call backup several times on how to handle kids, she'd given up. So like, she was basically instantly out of her comfort zone, and also like she didn't really know what to say, so she pretty much just stood there.

“Bathroom.” The kid replied.

“Of course.” Lucky said as he took a step back from Ash and gave her a sympathetic smile, and she returned the smile.

“This is Ash?” The child asked. “She’s hot.”

She let out a small laugh, a faint smile on her face.

He grabbed Lennon and pulled him close, ruffling his hair. “This is Lennon. My brother. And he has impeccable timing and no filter.”

"Yeah, I see that," Ash said with a soft laugh, and then turned her gaze down to the look at the little boy by Lucky. "Hi, Lennon, nice to meet you."

And now it was kind of like...

What to like... do...

Because now there was a kid, and Ash just never knew what to say when kids were present, and it wasn't like she could totally ignore what just happened. Although, like... it wasn't as if anything had actually really happened. Like, it had just been a friend comforting another friend, right? So like...

Like...

Oh god, she didn't know anymore. Today had just been a disaster. Not like a total disaster, because at least their performance had gone pretty well, but everything else had just been... so messy. So much. Ash wasn't sure what to do, she wasn't sure what to think, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to tell Trevor, if she was even supposed to say anything to him, because like, nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened.

There hadn't been any kissing. Just a little... platonic... friendly... touching?

Unfortunately (or fortunately? Kind of a mixture of both, really), out of all of their classmates to come up and approach them, it had to be Amy. It wasn't like Ash had anything against Amy. She actually thought that she was really sweet, although they hadn't really talked like... at all in a while. Not that Ash had exactly tried to seek Amy out because it was just kind of weird now that she was dating Trevor, even if Amy didn't know.

It was just weird to, like, talk and hangout with his really close friends.

Like... to her, anyway.

But it was weird. Ash didn't know if Amy was still riding that whole "Trevor has a thing for Ash" high that she'd been riding with Charlie around the Fall Fair -- when, you know, she'd helped Charlie trick Trevor into the whole date thing. And if she was, then there was every chance she'd, like, text Trevor or something and be like "omg, Lucky and Ash were totally hanging out," and Trevor being Trevor, well... he'd just... like... flip.

"Oh hey guys fancy seeing you here?" Amy commented as she walked over.

"Oh, Amy," Ash's smile widened as she looked over at the other girl. "It's so good to see you."

Although her tone of voice was calm, and although Ash wasn't like... letting any of her nerves or whatever show through, she was panicking inside. Because like, she didn't know what Amy was going to think, and she didn't what Amy might go ahead and tell Trevor, and oh god, oh god, oh god. She couldn't handle him yelling at her today, because everyone was already yelling at her today, and-- and--

She sucked in a deep breath and looked down. Her hands had taking to twisting the flower subconsciously in her fingers again, and just having something to do with her hands kind of made it easier to breathe. Like it kind of kept Ash from like... freaking out too much so that her breath wasn't catching in her throat.

She could still breathe, so that was something.

"I heard your performance was great!" Amy added, "I'm actually headed to mine now."

Ash glanced up from her hands to look back at the other girl, and she gave a little nod of her head. She glanced back towards Lucky, her smile growing as she did so. "Yeah, no, it was like... it was really, really great. Or, like, I think so. I ah... I hope so, anyway," she trailed off, her gaze turning back down to her fidgeting hands.

It hadn't been great, but it had been okay.

"You're going to do great, though," she added as she lifted her head back up. "You're, like... you're so amazing. Like, my mom's always going off on me about how amazing everything you do is. And like it is. Like the Homecoming thing? Freaking gorgeous. You really don't have anything to worry about."

"I, ahh... I actually have to go, though," Ash continued. "I'm supposed to, like... I promised Trevor we'd hangout after my performance and that I'd go, like, see his movie, so I should probably find him. I'll umm..." she swallowed the little lump that had been growing in her throat and then slipped back over to Lucky's side, giving him a quick hug before stepping back. "I'll talk to you later," she said, pointing a finger at him as she spoke. "About, like, recording the song, and like... I owe you, anyway, after umm... earlier, and again, I'm really sorry."

She gave one last smile to Lucky, and then turned back to Amy, giving her a little wave. "I'll see you around. I know Trevor wanted to see your performance, so like... we'll probably in the crowd. Good luck."

And with that, and one last wave at both of them, Ash turned and walked off.

(And no, she totally wasn't panicking at all.)

Ash's plan was simple. She was going to go to the bathroom, clean up a bit and fix her makeup so there was no remnants of her having stupidly cried, and then she'd try to find Trevor. Or she'd probably just text him or whatever, because trying to find him in the huge theater was probably going to take for-freaking-ever, and Ash kind of like... obviously she didn't want to just be wandering around aimlessly for him, looking for hours.

Of course, as luck would have it, Ash ended up catching sight of Trevor's tall, thin frame (there were only so many six foot tall boys in ugly cardigans in the theater, after all), before she'd made it to the bathroom -- and she wasn't about to leave him there just to go to the bathroom and then come back to find him. Plus, from what she could tell, he wasn't with anyone else, or at least like, no one that she saw.

So it was basically perfect.

She could grab her boyfriend, go out on this great date he had planned, and then forget about everything that happened today.

(Her fingers were crossed that the date wasn't going to be Walmart again.)

"Trevor, hey," she greeted, a smiled playing across her lips as she walked up to him. "What are you--"

But like, before she could really finish her sentence or anything, Trevor placed a hand on her shoulder and started walking back in the way that she'd just come. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion and she had to practically jog to keep up with his longer strides. She glanced towards his face, and she recognized that expression well enough to know that there was something probably just like, super wrong.

The panic in his eyes. The clearly forced smile. The way he was walking.

Amy had definitely told him something and he was flipping out.

"RUN. Don't look back," he whispered. "Whatever you do, don't look back -- just keep moving."

Well obviously when you tell someone not to do something, they of course do it, so Ash glanced back over her shoulder to see an older woman that had stopped amidst the chaos and was looking around as if like confused or something, and it took just a minute for Ash to put two and two again.

She looked back up towards his face, and whispered back; "Is that your grandma?" She asked, her hands subconsciously fiddling with the flower in her hand. "Trevor I can't, like... this is such a bad first impression. She's going to think that I, like, told you I didn't want to meet her or something and then she's going to hate me."

Well, that's what would've happened with her mom, anyway.

But it wasn't like Ash stopped walking as fast as she could without tripping over. Stupid tall boots.

mood
....

location
Arts Fest

outfit
sparkles

playing...
Drowning

by Ash and Lucky obviously​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lucky, Amy, Trevor

tags
@gh0stwriter Kitsune2202 ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

"Focus on me, I'm about to blow them all away"
Stella Bailey

@Steller.Bae has set their status to:
Look at me I'm Sandra Dee

@Steller.Bae has set their outfit to:
Costume

@Steller.Bae has set their location to:
Backstage

@Steller.Bae has mentioned:
Dorian, Zeph, Lin, Beth, Maddie, Cappie

@Steller.Bae has Interacted with:
Channel ( Soap )

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Stella once again after going over her scene with Dorian broke away from the backstage madness to go see a few performances. She saw Landon's which was amazing as expected, and even Maddie getting to walk the runway in business attire. Different but still nice. Stella was certain there wasn't any look that Maddie couldn't work. There was still a bit of time before Beth and her sister were set to perform, so she was just going to see if she could find Zeph in the chaos in the mean time.

She was serious about getting a nice picture with him before him and Lin ran amuck and ruined his shirt even more. He really wore jeans...jeans.

On her way however she caught a glimpse of Channel and Cappie on a stage. Channel was an actress she truly admired. Well her work...she didn't know the girl personally, though she'd loved if that changed before the girl graduated. She knew enough upperclassmen so it's not like such a thing would be a stretch.

There weren't too many people in their age range who were as successful in their own work as Channel was. Even though Stella knew she was decently successful considering she's been in the limelight since she was young too even working with a few of their classmates like Landon and Remi...Channel just still seemed a step above her. It gave her something to strive for. She wanted to be the best so she watched the best, it was as simple as that.

She looked at her phone and decided she had time to watch since honestly without calling Zeph what were the odds she'd actually run into him? Also what were the odds he'd stop to take a picture with her while with Lin, that Lin wouldn't probably photo bomb or something. She adored Zeph but it'd be a lie to say her patience with him and Lin's friendship wasn't wearing thin. The proof was in how she talked about it with Beth. She didn't even realize how irritated she was until she wrote it out.

Listen...it wasn't that she thought Lin was a bad guy. He was nice...but he was also just reckless, childish, and so immature that it didn't look good. Sadly they were in an industry where looks mattered. Sure Stella's Ex's weren't big names like her mother wanted, but they played their role for the most part, and the media loved them for it. Well except for the bastard that left her for a girl in a fake tiara. Point was Stella did have a reputation she'd built up and it wasn't one based on being whimsical.

People like Lin did whatever popped into their heads without a second thought and to Stella that was a dangerous way to live, especially in this profession. But...she wasn't going to tell Zeph to stop hanging out with someone who made him happy. That'd make her a pretty shity girlfriend. She was bossy but not that bossy or controlling. She just had to have faith that where Lin lacked logic and common sense Zeph would be able to pick up the slack and draw the line when and where it needed to be drawn.

She hadn't seen him this happy since he'd come back this year after his mother passed away, and she wasn't about to be the one to take that away from him just because it made her irritable.

So long as she had her own friends to keep her sanity she supposed it would be fine. Beth might've been rude about things sometimes, but she was honest. Fingers crossed that whole date thing with Ezra would go well. She needed a regular double date if she was going to keep going on those. She supposed she could ask Maddie... Jared seemed kinda boring though. Then again maybe boring wouldn't be so bad since it's apparently one extreme or the other.

Anyways, none of that mattered right now. the point was finding Zeph would be impossible, she'd just have to wait till their agreed upon meeting after her performance. Which meant she might as well stop and watch the performance.

She recognized the piece, and thought it was really clever to gender swap the roles. It was creative and most of all entertaining. She'd enjoyed it so much she figured with what little time she had left she'd go and congratulate them.

She walked back stage still script in hand because she'd honestly forgotten that she'd had it looking around curiously for her or Cappie. She waved at a few of the stage hands she knew and had honestly given up hope after a moment because it dawned on her she probably had other friends she wanted to see, or maybe even her family. She probably dipped out before Stella even made her way through the crowd to get here.

She simply sighed and sat in one of the director style chairs. She glanced down at her script with a sign. She wondered if she'd give as good of a performance as they just did? She wondered what everyone would think of it, what her mother would think, her agent and manager. Sure the school too since this was a grade, but they were kind of the least of her worries. She knew it was good enough to get her a good grade.

She started muttering to herself her lines closing her eyes trying to envision the person who was supposed to feeding her their part. She might as well take this down time to get a little bit more in before the real thing. Plus maybe going over the lines would calm her nerves and give her something to else to think about. Well that was till she got to a part she needed Dorian for. Damn it what was his line?

"We had a change of plans!" She muttered over and over again at least three times before pinching the bridge of her nose, "Damn it what's his line again? Come on Stell get it together you are better then this!" The frustration on her was clear to see as she griped the rolled up script in her hand. it felt like admitting defeat to check it this late in the game.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

felix rian emmerson

Ya know, Felix really liked Maeve.

Granted, there weren’t too many people that the blonde, easygoing boy didn’t like. Thinkin’ about it now, he could only think of a couple of people who he really disliked: Jasper Carmichael, an eighth grade boyfriend of his who had put vaseline instead of glaze on a donut as a prank after they broke up, then put a dent Felix’s dad’s luxury car when ol’ daddio came to pick him up from a field trip one day; and Lyla Martinez, an old maid that they’d had who ratted him out for scratching a penis into the bathtub and was just generally a bitch to him. To be entirely honest, he held most people in a positive regard until they, he didn’t know, did something to piss him off by wrongin’ him or something like that.

And yeah, even if he talked about Kian and Damien mostly negatively, he did really like both of them…but now that he was kinda considerin’ it, his friendship with them was definitely different than his friendship with Maeve, as was the way he felt towards her.

Like he said, there weren’t too many people that he didn’t like, but Maeve was just one of those people, ya know. One of those people who conversation came easy with, who he looked forward to seein’ and enjoyed bein’ near and hangin’ with, even if they weren’t talkin’ about necessarily happy stuff. She was fun to be around, he wanted to be around her, and he just genuinely admired her. She made him laugh and, ya know, genuinely smile. Not to mention just how...cute she was, and really pretty, ya know.

He just really liked her, all around.

"I think I'll just skip in the piece of cinematography,” Maeve said, after he gave the synopsis of his film. “Don't get me wrong I'm sure is not bad, but I'm more into the happy and adorable animations where they solve their problems because of the power of friendship. I guess you could say I'm not the main audience for that kind of film, so sorry for missing out on your powerful speech to stop an octopus.”

“Ouch, ouch, missing my grand speech?” Felix put a hand on his chest, feignin’ as though her words had hurt him. “For shame,” he teased, and then he chuckled, holdin’ up his palm in surrender.“Kidding, kidding. I figured, I figured.” He brushed his hand through his hair, then put the hand on his hip. “Less blood and assorted entrails and more sparkles and the magic of telling the truth and kindness, less people getting eviscerated and more cute, big-eyed animals setting up birthday parties, I get you,” he chuckled. “Completely understandable — just knowing you’d watch it otherwise is good enough for me.”

The line shortened as a member from the front made their way to a table. It was a neat little set-up they had here with the concessions — there a few tables to the side, but there was plenty of room to maneuver about.

Felix’s response that he’d be commenting a slew of positive, raving reviews on her dance video got a different reaction than he’d anticipated. “I think you are overreacting,” Maeve said. “I mean my duet with Zeph was good people liked it and we were satisfied with the result, but I really doubts scouts were that impressed with my talent, otherwise I'll have at least one of their business cards, but I guess when you are surrounded with the possible next artist of the year or the next Oscar winning actor or actress, your last priority is finding a dancer.” She gave a small shrug.

“Oh, I doubt that,” he said encouragingly. “I’m sure you’ll be getting calls in no time. If you don’t, eh.” He flopped his hand in dismissal, shakin’ his head disapprovingly at the invisible people who’d rejected her. “Screw ‘em, right?” He gave her a grin, replacin’ his hand on his hip. “Critics and scouts tend to be a breed of bastards, anyway — their opinions hold too much weight for nothin’,” he added with a chuckle.

"Sorry!” she apologized. “I’m ruining the mood, but either way I really appreciate the thought of you wanting to see me dance it really makes me happy.”

He smiled, once again pickin’ the hand up from his hip to give it a dismissive flop. “Psh, oh no, you’re not ruinin’ the mood at all,” he said. His hand found his hip again. “I like hearin’ what you have to say, whatever it is.” He smiled at her for a beat, then continued. “But you’re welcome — an’ hearin’ that you’d’ve been in the audience for me makes me happy, so looks like we’re just makin’ each other happy today,” he half-joked, chucklin’.

Finally, she gave him her order, after looking at the menu, just as the last group in front of them made their way away with their food in hand: “I’ll have the same thing.”

“Aye aye, Ms. Ackerman, comin’ right up,” he said, then he stepped up to order. “Two orders of Teriyaki chicken, please, and a couple of bottles of water,” he requested, and soon after payin’, the twosome’s meals were served right up.

“Here ya are.” He held out one of the paper-dished meals and a water bottle out for the slightly-shorter girl, then grabbed his own along with a couple of forks and a few napkins before makin’ his way over to one of the tables. He seated himself on one of the seats and offered a fork to Maeve before beginning’ to dig in.

The first bite was surprisingly tasty for a concession at a school event, and his brows raised in mild amazement before he swallowed and took another bite.

“So,” Maeve began, and Felix looked up at her curiously, “now that you are done with the Arts Festival, is there something else you plan to do next? A new secret project that you can't talk about because you just got scouted after that performance in the animated movie or you just plan to take it easy in the meantime?”

Stabbin’ his fork into a piece of chicken to hold the plastic utensil in place, Felix cracked open his water bottle. After a quick sip, he gave the girl a smile, a shrug, and a soft sigh. “I ain’t gotten any offers yet, but I’m sure I will in time,” he said, and then he added, with a chuckle, “Not to sound cocky. It’s just kinda a given that Arts Fest gets people’s attention, but they still take damn near forever to make decisions on offers and such. Plus, I’ve got an agent who deals with a lotta that stuff, so I won’t hear much about any auditions or offers ‘less my agent thinks they’re a good fit for me — there’s that, too.”

He sat his bottle back down on the table. “Takin’ it easy, as you said, ’s probably what I’m gonna be doin’. I mean, now that I’m thinkin’ about it, we haven’t really got very long until we head off for the winter break, right? We’ve got…let’s see, threeee more weeks after this one? Year’s kinda flown by, huh. I guess the next thing I really plan to do is relax an’ enjoy the calmness. Everything’s been in such a hurry, an’ it’s nice that it’s all calmin’ down. Really, the last thing we’ve got this year is the…” He bit the chicken off of his fork, then swallowed. “Ball.”

Curiously, he looked to Maeve again. “Hey, speakin’ of, you plannin’ on goin’ to that thing this year, Mae? The ball, I mean?” He cocked his his head slightly, grinning. “Some lucky guy or gal gettin’ to waltz ya around on the dance floor this go-round, or…?”

mood
food, glorious food.

location
the celestial theater

outfit
formal, but not too fancy

playing...
take a slice

by glass animals​

mentions
slater & kian

interactions
maeve

tags
Stardust Galaxy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

Normally Dalton would just leave the scene and disappear into the crowd but then they would probably start shouting his name and let the whole world know they were related and that was an absolute no.

So here he was standing there, not listening to a word either of them was saying, trying to think of how he could get out of here before the fucking –

Oh no.

Oh fuck no.

No no no no no.

No.

Fucking –

He was going to kill him.

Murder.

It wouldn’t end with just broken bones and a bloody, bruised face this time.

There would be headlines in the newspaper. Actually no, just a single line in tiny print at the bottom of a trashy tabloid, because no one gave a damn.

And the line would read, nameless, faceless desperate wannabe finally found his way back home to the sewer at long last where he will stay for the rest of eternity.

“Hey, mom,” Hear that? That is the voice of a slimy about to be deader than dead brat. “Dalton.”

Did his brain rot to the point that his survival instincts died along with everything else?

If he had even a single working cell left, Slutter would take his mother and get as far as fucking possible from him before anyone saw them together and started making the connection.

He glared daggers right back at Slutter, his eyes sending a crystal clear message. ‘Walk the hell away now.’

Miranda had started talking again but Dalton wasn’t listening, instead he kept his steely gaze on Slutter, urging – no, warning him, to get the fuck away as soon as fucking possible.

He was not, I repeat, NOT, going to deal with people rubbing the fact that they were related in his face for the rest of the damn school year.

A hand clapped on his shoulder and Dalton turned to see that his father standing next to him. For once, the old man wasn’t looking at his phone.

“Stop glaring at your brother Dalton.”

Brother.

That was not his brother.

He had no brother.

He was an only child. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.

He turned his scowl on his father and the man flinched in surprise.

“Young man you –“ Whatever it was he was planning to say, George didn’t finish it. Something distracted him first and Dalton found himself following his gaze to see fucking Damien Slater shuffling over like a chicken sent to slaughter.

Which was accurate because he was going to slaughter him.

“Don’t make a scene and take the picture. Be nice for your mother, understand.” The old man framed the words he spoke into his ear like a request, but it was anything but. As George returned to Miranda, Slater reached his side and scooted over closer, following his mother’s directions like a puppet.

Mother.

The woman standing across him, phone in hand was not his mother. Neither was the one who had walked out the house without a second glance and slammed the door in his face.

He had no mother.

None.

No matter what his fucking old man seemed to fucking think.

He clenched his fist as Slater settled into a spot so close their arms almost touched, and he would have decked him and sent him flying across the ground if at that very moment he hadn’t caught a glimpse of his advisor, Mr Marshall walking the grounds, and remembered where the fuck he was.

The fucking arts fest. Crawling with teachers and parents and classmates and industry big shots.

He was basically chained to a chair and being shoved into a damn torture chamber.

He was going to fucking torture Slater whenever this was over.

Whatever it was Miranda and George were doing or saying, none of it was registering.

Dalton was just clenching his fist as hard as he fucking could to try and restrain himself as he felt the blood rush to his head and his body start to burn from the pent up rage he was being forced to contain.

He had one fucking request. It wasn’t even a big one. Keep this so called family of his as far away as fucking possible. Just the one. And of course even that simple request couldn’t be fulfilled.

Life just fucking hated his guts.

He fucking hated his life.

He wanted to punch something, beat someone up, and he was going to kill the fucking brat standing at his side and scared shitless.

They weren’t going to get any fake smiles from him, not next to this rat. Give it another minute or so and twitter or something would be blowing up with talk about him and Slater because the people at this damn school could not mind their own fucking business.

Since punching someone at an event as big as this was just going to get him into a shit ton of trouble he needed something else. A smoke. But he didn’t have any fucking cigarettes because he didn’t fucking smoke.

Wait. He cast a cursory glance at Slater, specifically his back pocket. Bingo. He couldn’t beat him up, not yet, but the boy sure as hell was going to pay, starting with those cigarettes.

Moving as if he was going to begrudgingly put his arm on Slater, eyes still fixed on the camera ahead, Dalton reached behind the boy and plucked the packet of cigarettes from his pocket, trying to make as little contact with him as possible.

“Don’t you say a fucking word.” He whispered into Slater’s ear as he let the hand holding onto the cigarettes hang loosely behind Slater, threatening to pop out from behind his scrawny frame and into Miranda’s view.

“If you do... even you should be able to imagine the consequences.”

At this point it would be a miracle if the school didn’t find out about their ‘familial relationship’ so if he was going to have to fucking suffer then Slater was too.

mood
I'm going to fucking murder you

location
arts fest

outfit
dapper

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Slater

tags
Winona

 

[ditto]

trevor callaghan​

(tw: suicidality, self-harmful behavior)

Physical. Fecking. Pain.

There were very few people —

Okay, no, that was a fecking lie already.

There were several people that Trevor could name whose presence caused him actual physical pain. Adriane feckingHolloway. He had to physically grind his teeth when he heard her name, much less when he actually saw her or was close to her. It was much the same with Chas fecking Marino, and, at this point, Lucky fecking DuBois.

But all of those people paled in comparison to Mary fucking Callaghan. He loved his grandmother — he really did, deep down. Or at least, that was what he told himself, and that was what he felt at the end of the day, because he knew that she loved him, which was the only reason why he could never do anything to fecking make her happy.

Her name filled Trevor with an existential dread. The physical fecking pain that she caused him was different, however; it was more the draining of life force than anything. Miserable, tired eyes, a throbbing headache, and the overwhelming urge to walk to the wall and begin slamming his head forcibly into it, harder and harder, until he bled or passed out or was released from his mortal suffering were all side effects of the 5’0” beast. He highly considered grabbing up his things, walking out into the nearest freeway, and opening his arms wide for the next semitruck to gift him the sweet release of death. HIs shoulders were slumped in defeat, his mouth muttering words beneath his breath. Naturally, he was scolded periodically for his posture, and for mumbling, but when he straightened up or spoke up, he was fussed at for those things to.

Regardless of how he moved, what he said or what he did, his grandmother found something to give him a sharp comment about. She could always find something. She was relatively nice about everyone else’s things — a bit judgmental, but it was nice for her. She kept tapping the shoulders of strangers and asking them in this polite voice to direct them to the nearest this exhibit or that exhibit, and Trevor gave them a miserable, desperate look as the woman spoke sweetly to them as though they were the apples of her eyes, trying to convey, “SAVE ME PLEASE SAVE ME.”

The most it got was an odd glance, an amused expression from his grandfather, and a “Sean Trevor, at least act like you’re happy, son” (which he gave a tight-lipped smile — that was also remarked about — that he dropped as soon as she looked away).

His grandmother was overbearing and unpleasant, and he was the only one to see it — besides his grandfather, who made no fecking motions to stop it.

(You wondered where he got it from, and now you knew. Merry Christmas.)

His eyes still scanned the crowd for a way out, and when he spotted a peak of someone who looked like Ash, he was quick to interject in the middle of a tangent from his grandmother. “‘na, ‘da, hey,” he interrupted. His grandmother gave him an offended look and opened her mouth to pipe a response, but he quickly added, “Ireallyhavetagopisspleaseletmego.” At the end, he paused a second, and then a smile puled tightly across his face. “Please?”

“Ah.” His grandmother nodded, pursing her lips. “I’ll tag along. I was actually thinking that my bladder needed to be —“

“No,” he said quickly, and, at the boiling glare from his grandmother, he chuckled nervously, panickedly picking an excuse out of thin air. “I, ah, have a friend who — very shy, ah — she wants me to come and…help her with something, too, an’ I forgot, and she said it’d take all of the rest of the, ah, Arts Fest. F-act-filming something? Livestream — it’s a livestream.”

By the time he’d settled on his lie, his grandmother was already wearing an expression that said that she didn’t buy it in the slightest.

“Ya think we’s born yesterday?” she asked, an angry expression on her face. “Are ya tryin’ ta evade us again? An’ after we came this —“

“No, no, no, I mean — I mean, I have ta piss, an’ then I’ve — I’ve got ta do this thing, I’m serious!” he insisted. He started to turn away, but his grandmother reached out for his shoulder.

“Sean Trevor —“

He yanked his shoulder free, and then gave it a couple of shrugs. Smiling back at the woman who was now visibly fuming, he forced a nervous smile. “I love you both.” He turned back around to face them, and he awkwardly opened his arms. “I jus’…prior commitments.”

His grandmother gave him a once-over, but she still sighed and wrapped her arms around him, constricting his breathing yet again. “Good Lord, child…” She looked up into his face, narrowing her eyes. “God sees all, an’ liars go ta Hell.”

Something about the fiery, angry knowingness in her eyes and the ominousness of her voice sent a shudder through him. “Yeah,” he managed through the squeezing, and he took a gasp as she released him.

His grandfather offered a side-hug, which Trevor took much more graciously.

“If we don’t see ya again this evenin’,” his grandmother said, “ya better hope we see ya at the date we’ve got set for tomorrow.” She smiled pleasantly. “The consequences fer not comin’ aren’t ones ya want ta hear, so I’ll leave it at that.” She reached up and yanked down his shoulders again, and then planted one final kiss on his forehead. She gave his cheeks and gave the grandma smile — you know, the I love you more than anything in this world smile. “You’re all so grown up…off on yer own…I love you.”

“Yeaaah," he said, pulling back. He gave her shoulder an awkward pat, and then coughed. “Ah, well, I’ll be off to do — ah, to whiz and do that thing.”

“Good luck,” his grandmother said, giving him a wave as he started off.

He was pretty sure she also said something else, but he just ducked his head and started moving as fast as possible without actually running. He met Ash by the bathrooms, his eyes wide with a desperate panic, and he put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her through the crowd without fully stopping. She said something to him too, but all he could manage through his forced, tight smile were a few words in a quick whisper: “RUN. Don’t look back. Whatever you do, don’t look back — just keep moving.”

His eyes were set in front of them, but he saw her look over her shoulder in her periphery. “Is that your grandmother?” she whispered back.

“Notimetoexplainnotimetoexplainnotimetoexplain,” he whispered, his brisk footsteps adding a slight bounce and shudder to his sentence.

“Trevor I can't, like…this is such a bad first impression.”

“Don’t worry, she won’t get any impression if we jus’ keep moving.”

“She's going to think that I, like, told you I didn't want to meet her or something and then she's going to hate me.”

He glanced over his shoulder, finally deeming that they were far enough away from everyone else, and he guided her into an alcove outside of one of the art exhibits. He stood in front of her, giving her the tight smile and blank, wide-eyed stare for a moment as his mind caught up with what was happening, and then his entire posture crumpled in relief.

His smile broke into something more genuine, and he chuckled. “Oh, feck, Ash, I’m so glad to see you,” he said, and he went to kiss her before he remembered that they were in public. He tried to play it off like he was just sticking his nose and hand up in the air for the hell of it, nervously shaking them around before chuckling awkwardly. “Nerves,” he explained. He clutched his hands at his side, and then took another second of blank staring to realize everything that’d happened.

He smiled genuinely again, chuckling. “Your performance was fecking phenomenal, just as I’d predicted. You owe me one for being right,” he teased. He glanced around for a moment, and then back at her. He noted the flower in her hand; he felt the overwhelming feeling that he just did not need to fecking ask. “I meant to find you sooner, but ye olde bitc — I mean, my grandmother called me, and there’s no escape from her.”

He sighed softly. “Anyway, what say you that we go about our way? Ya know, kick off our plans with our, ah…plans to watch performances, yeah?”

That was a forced segue, but hey — he was trying.

……………………​

“An’ here we our, darlin’. Our chariot awa — oh, wait.” He cut himself off, stopping short of opening the passenger side door for his girlfriend and instead holding up a finger for her to wait. Standing here in the parking lot in the afternoon light, she looked almost golden, and he stared a second longer than was probably appropriate for the whole she’s waiting for you, you need to get a fecking move on thing.

God. God, she was hot.

His smile spread wide, and he turned around, walking to the back of his van. His heart was drumming in his throat. For once, he was trying to really impress her. His shaking hand found the handle of his trunk, and he gave it a yank to open it.

It didn’t budge; the van bounced slightly on its wheels.

His smile faded slightly, and he yanked again.

No dice.

“Feckin’…,” he muttered, giving it another yank.

And then he realized — in his anxiousness, he hadn’t unlocked the van.

Right. That’d be helpful.

He leaned over and poked his head and shoulders out to the side so he could see Ash again, and he held up a finger again, giving her an awkward smile. One more moment.

We’re experiencing technical difficulties thanks to one particular fecking dumbass.

He pulled his keys from his pocket, clicked the unlock button on his remote twice, and then repocketed the keys. Gripping the trunk’s handle again, he popped it open easily, and, much to the nervous boy’s relief, he heard the whir of the, yes, absolutely necessary battery-powered fans and saw the beautiful bouquet of roses that they’d been helpfully assisting keep alive and colorful.

(You could tell him that they did nothing, and he still wouldn’t believe you — in his mind, his genius idea had worked, and they were only still this good-looking thanks to his ingenuity.)

He spent a few moments clicking off the fans — all six of them, one-by-one, having to search for the off-switch whilst muttering expletives beneath his breath each time, even though the switches were located in the same spot — before he stepped back and looked at the bouquet again.

Okay, so…

How the feck was he supposed to pick it up now.

He held out his hands slowly, awkwardly gripping it by the very bottom to lift it out of his trunk. It was top-heavy and kept wiggling back and forth and crinkling, so he quickly opted for a one-armed bear hug, lifting up and slamming the trunk down.

He stared at his expression in his faint reflection on the rear window. He took a deep breath, then let it out through his lips. His heart drummed in his throat still — da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.

Operation Perfect Date and Operation Impress Her and Operation New Trevor were go.

“Close your eyes,” he called, peeking his head over the side, and then he stepped out, awkwardly walking up to her. Smiling anxiously down at her, he said, “Uh, you can open them now, if you want.”

mood
deploying operations of the "be a good boyfriend" variety

location
the parking lot, later on

outfit
before you say a single fecking word, this wasn't his idea.

playing...
some nights (intro)

by fun.​

mentions
adriane, chas, & lucky

interactions
ash

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: talk talk talk

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: outside the celestial theater

basics

MENTIONS:
Bella, Casey, Lucky

INT:
ditto (Kelli, Mike)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Veronica Crosby

Ronnie smiled and waved as Bella headed out of the dorm room, sitting still while mulling over the girl's words. Casey wasn't the most appealing guy romance-wise, but she was still surprised by how many negative things Bella had to say about her blonde, loudmouthed project partner.

She was so in love with him.

"Well, that was fast," Ronnie stated amusedly once Bella was out of earshot. She slumped her head onto her hands, dreading the thought of getting up, getting ready, and going out to perform all by her lonesome. The day was going to be exhausting, but at least she had the fortune to be in an earlier timeslot than a lot of her peers. In fact, the one-woman show would be over and done before half the acts probably even reached their dressing rooms.

“Oh, wait!”

Ronnie lifted her head and quirked an eyebrow, watching as Kelli modeled a pair of strikingly bright green sunglasses. Definitely not a Ronnie-approved color, but it looked cute nonetheless on her best friend. "You're such a dork," she teased affectionately, standing up to peer over Kelli's shoulder as she went through her things. Her drawers were so disorganized, not that Ronnie was one to talk. It took a certain kind of person to casually store chocolate with pencils and gel pens, and the redhead just so happened to be the type.

Once Kelli turned around, Ronnie stepped back, curiously looking downward at her roommate's concealed arm. Whatever was behind her back was making a distinct plastic-y clinking sound. However, before she could investigate, she was suddenly being instructed to close her eyes. Okay, she supposed, she could humor Kelli for a little bit. Something fishy was going on, but the girl was clearly excited about it. "You're not gonna steal my wallet, are you?" she asked with closed eyes.

“There, now you can open them.”

Opening her eyes, Ronnie reached a hand to adjust the sunglasses now resting on the bridge of her nose. She turned to her side, then peered in the mirror. Sensing a smile creeping up the sides of her face, she let out a half-giggle-half-squeal. "Kelli!" she breathed, whipping back to face her, "These are for me?"

“I thought they were cute. Like, funny, you know?"

"The only thing funny is how hilariously dumb everybody else looks not pulling up with shades like ours," she countered, striking a pose in the little heart-shaped mirror on the wall.

"They’re not really to wear in public, but…anyway, little friendship sunglasses!” She gave jazz hands at the tagline for the pairs of sunglasses, and then she laughed. “They’re just kind of silly, but I thought maybe they’d give us good luck or something if we kept them on us — you know, like, not on our faces, but maybe in our bags, like a lucky charm.”

"I don't know about you, but I like my sunglasses on my face." She lowered her hot pink pair and gave the dancer a wink, then nestled them back onto her face. "I'm not just gonna, like, shove them in my bag!" No way. At least, not until she had to be in costume. As cute and pink as the sunglasses were, they were so not Elle Woods' style.

"Thanks a lot, Kells. This is sweet." With a gleeful twirl, she added, "I don't know what we're gonna do with all this extra luck now!" She turned and seized the shorter girl by the shoulders. "Think it'll get Lucky to go on a date with me? Ha!"

Ronnie gave Kelli a nod of agreement to affirm that they had to get the heck out if they were gonna make it on time. The two both had earlier timeslots, it seemed, which left lots of time to go around and see everybody's performances. Of course, the highlight for Ronnie was going to be all the hot fashion guys strutting around in tailored pants, but the girl had to maintain some amount of class, right? If she talked about boys all the time, that would be just tacky.

Moderation! Woo! And, she was moderately antsy to boot. Not about performing or anything—that was the easy part. The hard part was going to be scrounging up the change to afford a copyright lawsuit from the "inspiration" of Legally Ginger.

"We're going to do great, Ronnie," Kelli assured, pulling Ronnie in for a hug. Her heart practically melted, what little nerves that were present instantaneously calming.

"Don't think I don't know that," she whispered with a soft giggle, pulling away, "Make me proud, you beautiful dancing queen, you. And make sure somebody videos, okay? I wanna see."

Once at the venue, Ronnie walked with a hurried pace to her backstage dressing room to get fully into costume and run through lines. "Sorry, Kell..." she murmured to herself, slipping her newly-acquired good-luck glasses into her tote bag. She ran a finger through her fiery, orange hair, then dabbed on the rest of her stage makeup. In the mirror, it looked so over-the-top, but it was a necessary evil to not look like a blindingly white ghost under the beaming stage lights.

As the show must go on, it also must have gone on, because thirty minutes passed by and Ronnie walked offstage, which meant that the show had to have gone on at some point in the day.

And it went great! Ronnie knew she had the acting part down; theater was in her roots, after all. However, there had never been as strong an emphasis on her singing as there was at Hollywood Arts, on the stage with a big fat invisible label that said "This girl is in the music department, so expect perfection from her vocals, okay!?" That was the most stressful part, but the show practically flew by. And, in the end, Ronnie didn't even need stupid Trevor to write her comedic, ginger-empowering masterpiece.

Arts Fest #2: Secured.

She held her red head up in pride as she changed out of her costume, taking all her makeup off just to reapply an everyday, less stagey and gaudy look. Gee, when she sat down did the absolute exhaustion set in. After taking a big swig of water, she got up, grabbed her things, and vacated the room for the next occupant. Some time passed by, but Ronnie couldn't say how long as she spent the rest of her time engrossed in all the other students' acts and art pieces, sampling each of her both distant and close friends' talents for her bright, eager eyes.

However, a figure not far away robbed the breath from Ronnie's lungs, instilling a newfound sense of urgency in her laser-focused eyes.

Mikey. Michael Reid, stepping out back behind the theater in one of his simplistic but charming outfits for his fashion show or something. Ronnie didn't really know how modeling worked; only that they always did that dramatic strut which looked a little funny on Mike when he was beside the other tall models. It was cute to her, though, and he wore his short stature with an attractive air of self-assurance.

Not knowing any better, Ronnie pursued the senior, who she realized had a much more sullen, closed-off mien than she remembered in her Twilight-esque dreams. So brooding... Such perfect skin...

"Hey, hey, Mike!" the redhead called out, stopping just a few feet away from him, "Fancy... seeing you... here!" She glanced at the Celestial Theater, which was very clearly the exact location anyone would have expected Mike to be this day.

She flipped her hair to the side, then crossed her arms. It was cold. Was it cold or was it just her? Maybe she should have brought a jacket. If only Mike conveniently had a coat he was willing to depart with...

"Sorry I had to miss your show," she apologized, brushing past the clear everyone-repellant Mike was giving off, "Mine went great, though, in case you were wondering! I wasn't all that nervous, to be honest, but, like, I was a little because what if someone super important was watching and I missed a note, and you know, that would just be the end of the world in these kinds of situations, wouldn't it?"

She laughed to herself. "Thank god I'm just a sophomore. I bet you have way more people sitting in the crowd scribbling down all your mistakes like, 'Hmph, his face is too angry, he didn't turn the right way, he's too short—'"

She cleared her throat, continuing on with the practically one-sided conversation she was imposing on Mike. "I'm tired. And I wish break started already. Well, I wish the Winter Ball then break was tomorrow. I'm so over class. At least there's a lot of fun things going on all the time." The talkative girl flashed a sneaky smirk, nudging the model with her elbow. "Hear of any good parties? Who're you hanging with today? Don't tell me you're just standing here all alone for no reason."

code by valen t.

 

[Soap]

Alejandra Cortez
"I know, I know, the siren sound.”

@Realex is offline
...

@Realex has set their outfit to:
Laney vibes

@Realex has interacted with:
Chas, Auguste, Ezra

@Realex has mentioned:
N/A

@Realex has tagged:
hery geminiy qunqun​

The lines between August and Ezra had begun to raise Alex’s blood pressure.

It was slow, awkward, and improvisational. Not that improv wasn’t a good thing from time to time, but this certainly wasn’t the plan and her hopes were being crushed every second the play had gone on.

On the inside Alex was feeling nothing but dread and moderate anger.

Moderate being an understatement.

(We’re trying to make her look a little sane here.)

But on the outside, she captured Laney’s confidence surprisingly with a grin. Whether or not Alex was having heart palpitations on stage was beside the point. She couldn’t focus on how she was feeling, because the second she did-- the second she ruined everything.

"I don't suppose you're still on the clock at this hour, detective?" She asked, her tone shifting and gaze melting from curiosity to suspicion within seconds. Alleviating some-- if not most of the silence on stage. Ezra had delivered his lines, he had the face for Vito-- simply not the attitude, but that was okay.

They were doing decently.

Decently as in, the stage wasn’t on fire but if it had been, well, it would probably make a bigger statement and gain more entertainment than the so-called play they were putting on.

Alex had done her best.

She had to.

But this wasn’t a one woman show and there was only so much a girl can do before she gives in and allows reality to set in. The play was a disaster and there was no fixing it.

Not even the slightest improvisational glance.

No matter how much passion she’d be able to put into a kiss or two on stage without even being attracted to Ezra in that way.

(No offense.)

Even the biggest plot twist of the century couldn’t make this play better.

But instead of breaking down, Alex had to finish what she started or else she’d be a bigger disappointment to herself than she believed in this exact moment.

The curtains came to a close and Alex’s breath returned, exhaling as flats clicked against the tiles and towards backstage to meet Chas’s exasperated gaze with knitted brows.

She didn’t want to hear it.

Any of it.

"You call that acting?" Chas said, whacking Auguste and Alex glared towards Chas at the action.

"At this point, I can't even tell if you're sabotaging me or not. Do you three get off on seeing me angry? Is that it?"

Alex scoffed, shaking her head.

It wasn’t worth starting a fight. None of this was worth it because-- it was a failure.

They failed.

But… the fact that he seemed angrier than her in this moment had caused a spark to build up in Alex. It was as if her chest was on fire and the more Chas continued to spout his insults the worse it had gotten.

"Alex, when you first came up with this idea an hour ago, I honestly thought you were crazy..."

She crossed her arms, allowing him to continue.

"But now I see you're just crazy and inexperienced. Why do I listen to you people? God, I’m losing my edge-- We need to stop the show. This isn't working."

Chas’s breath started to become shallow and he went on a full mental breakdown at this point, yelling for coffee and costumes and Alex just about had it. Two hands— somewhat gently (not really) collided with his shoulders, pushing him onto a director’s chair.

“I swear to god, if you don’t start breathing right now.” Hyperventilation or not. The last thing Alex needed today was someone to insult her, and her shitshow of a play. Least of all someone who she had called her partner in this project.

Alex was many, many things.

Shy, from time to time.

Awkward, almost always.

Anxiety ridden.

But she would never, ever. Let someone belittle her to make themselves feel better. Despite how scary that may seem to stand up to someone who did so, it wasn’t all Alex talking here. It was the stress, the anger, the disappointment that fueled her words. It all ended up becoming a tornado of things that she probably couldn’t take back, but at this moment?

She didn’t want to.

“Let’s just get one thing straight, okay? You don’t get to tell me how inexperienced I am— My parents didn’t throw me into acting classes, I didn’t have special tutors to teach me Latin before I knew how to tie my shoes. I’m here on a fucking scholarship for plastics for god's sake! I know I'm unexperienced! But at least I’m trying and not fucking whining Chas.”

“Your idea of trying is to belittle us? Never mind me, but Ez and Auguste? Really? They didn’t have to help us. They didn’t have to help you, but here they are anyway.”

“What’s the matter, Dickens? Afraid of what the world is going to think of you after one bad play?”

“Places!”

Alex shook her head, ignoring the stage managers attempting to gather her attention for the next scene.

“I’m so sorry if the three of us made you angry.”

“Oh, please Mr. Marino, don't be mad because nobody here had the opportunity given to us by our parents to act in that one commercial when you were five.” Her words dripped of sarcasm, mimicking a plea and fluttering her eyelashes before she dropped the act.

“Two minutes until—“

Alex raised her voice, cutting over whoever it was that attempted to speak.

“They’ll talk about this for a… what? A week? A month at most? This is one bad thing for you, Chas.” The brunette laughed in disbelief, gesturing towards the stage.

“This? See, this is my future. Nobody and I mean nobody is going to remember you even had the slightest part in this sad fucking excuse of a play because you’re Chas Marino. You’re the son of someone important, someone rich. You’re--”

Alex lost her words for all but a moment, features changing from anger to realization as it hit her.

“You’re fucking privileged! You have so many chances and so many possibilities to be whatever the hell you want. My one chance— as depressing and pathetic as it sounds, was a school play.”

The taller girl took a deep breath, calming her nerves by a small amount.

Her next words were softer, composing herself.

“And I already lost it, so. If you’ll excuse me-- to save myself from more embarrassment, I’m going to finish my play.”

Extra emphasis on ‘my.’ The two may have adapted it to film. The pair had made edits together— Chas had wanted his own flair onto it, but it was her play.

Not his.

“We’re on in less than—“

“I know!” She snapped, regretting the raise of her voice as her gaze turning apologetically towards the stage hand. Alex sighed, looking over towards Ezra and giving a nod of her head. There was absolutely no way she was about to let Chas take Ezra's place, switching actors in the middle of a play without there being an emergency was just-- it was just a no. Okay?

Besides, she wouldn't even be able to act with Chas right now— much less kiss him on stage. Immersing herself into the character or not, Alex wouldn’t kiss Chas if she was offered a billion dollars. Whether it'd be because she's angry in this moment, or if that's how she truly felt-- isn't the point.

With a last glare towards Chas, Alex and Ezra hurried onto stage.

---

It was dark, it was made to look as though they were meeting outside on a stormy night, thunder and rain could be heard through the speakers and a dark blue light was set above the stage.

“Laney—“

Laney tugged Vito by his coat, pulling him into an emotionally charged kiss.

The characters were meant to have an exploding sense of chemistry, she had made sure the film caught the parts that were important. However, the difference between film and play was small, but crucial to remember. It mattered on actions, emotions, as does every film, but there weren't any do-overs live. There weren't any ‘cuts.’ And there certainly wasn’t any editing.

Rehearsals could be done a million times over and nobody is truly ready for opening night. Not the actors, not the costume designers, not the stage managers, not the directors.

Opening night was one chance to get it right.

And if you failed—

Bang!

A gunshot blared through the speakers, and Laney pulled away from the kiss to see Vito stumble backwards.

“I’m sorry.” She said, only now revealing the pistol that was in her free hand.

“But—“ He coughed, falling onto the floor.

“You didn’t think I’d piece it together?” She swallowed, hurt, staining her voice.

“For a second, I believed we were partners. Imagine my surprise when I had found your actual partner dead, the night we were supposed to meet. He said it was urgent—“

“There’s a misunderstanding, I wouldn’t—“ He croaked, another cough escaped him and realization and defeat settled on his features.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Laney yelled, pointing the gun towards the now helpless murderer on the floor.

The thunder had gotten louder, and the only thing that was heard was their voices.

“I never would’ve hurt you.” He said, staggering slowly to his feet.

Police sirens slowly faded in, and Alex’s eyes brimmed with tears.

One way or another, Alejandra seemed to lose Laney and her feelings became harder and harder to ignore.

A tear fell.

A second.

There was a moment of silence.

One that wasn't particularly planned, but this was more than just improv. Alex— Laney, found it hard to keep her composure, biting her lower lip to stifle the cry in her throat.

“... Don't you see?”

The spotlights suddenly turned off and nothing but darkness was seen before another gunshot went off.

"You already did."

Thunder boomed for the last time and curtains came to a close.

Alex furiously wiped her tears, muttering a thank you to Ezra and disappearing backstage, walking by Chas and Auguste without a passing glance.

And… scene.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

MICHAEL K. REID​

When life shoved you down and made you its bitch, you grit your teeth and fucking dealt with it, pushed through with blood, sweat, and no tears, showed it that you weren’t some weakling to be fucked with; when Genevieve Johannes tried to do the same, it was different, somehow. There was no cruel twist of fate that Mike could blame this on, no God to shake his fist at over this, no author of his life who he could make a smartass comment to, because in the end, the only one to blame was fucking Johannes, deciding that it was well within her right to “play God” and fuck him over because her ego was so fragile that she couldn’t even take no for a fucking answer. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what was coming to him — he’d had warning, because he knew Johannes more than he wanted to admit he knew her, and he knew how fucking petty and insecure and shit she was. This was what he got for fucking caring, for sticking around longer than it took to stick his dick in her.

Was it karma? He didn’t want to give her that much fucking credit. He hadn’t done fucking anything to deserve the shit she’d done to him.

If she was anyone else, he’d’ve punched her, or yelled at her, or shoved her, but she was Genevieve Johannes, okay? It was easy for her to glaze over what they had, apparently — way too fucking easy — but Mike couldn’t fucking forget at the drop of a hat. The moments outside of their their hookups, times he caught her smiling or laughing at something he’d said, or when a silence fell between them that had a different kind of tension in it that almost made him blush. Because, yeah, Mike had feelings — whoopty-fucking-doo — and she thought that she could just get away with destroying him he didn’t.

Because, at the end of the day, this was some sad, disgusting defense mechanism for her. He was just another person who she didn’t want to fucking lose, so she doused the bridge they had with gasoline and dropped a match onto it. Because taking something out herself was so much fucking better than having to accept that someone who she wanted didn’t fucking want her.

He was no different than anyone else to her. He was just another fucking pawn, or a toy, and one who she’d gotten too attached to to the point that she thought she had some kind of fucking control over him.

Hey, remember in that room, when they’d kissed? He’d told her that she wasn’t pathetic then.

It looked like that was a bold-faced lie.

This whole fucking thing made him tired, and sick, and furious, and, yeah, fucking hurt, too, but his hands were fucking tied. He couldn’t make any motions, or say any words, or do fucking anything to help himself.

He was over it.

He wanted to forget the whole thing. He was sick and tired of thinking about it already. Being a little fucking bitch, whining about people “ruining his life”, u-fuckin’-wu? Yeah, that was a job for pathetic people who deserved the shit that happened to them. Mommy Didn't Hug Me West, or Cardboard Personality Richards, or Up the Ass Marino, or fucking Control Freak Johannes.

Yeah, life fucking sucked, people fucking sucked, and he hated them both. Boo-fucking-hoo. Yeah, you wanted him to care? He didn’t give a shit anymore. Just make yourself fucking useful and get him some alcohol, or nicotine, or anything quick and fast and easy. Could be fucking crack cocaine, for all he cared.

He just needed forget about this shit instead of fucking moping about it. No one wanted to hear his goddamn complaining, especially not him, and the more he fucking groaned about it, the more power it gave to the bitch.

And she had no fucking power over him. Maybe she could ruin his career, maybe she could do that kind of shit to him, but she still had no fucking power over him. His reactions? His feelings? His will to live? Don’t fucking flatter yourself, Johannes. You’ve got no fucking bearing on any of those things.

Did you forget? He was an uncaring, jackass playboy, babe, and hey, you know what they say, right?

Old habits die fucking hard.

You fuck a fire, you burn, and you can’t burn the flames back, babe. Woo, science. Easy as one-two-fucking-three.

You can’t make a decrepit fucking lowlife any fucking lower. If you try, you just look, well, pathetic.

But she was pathetic, so…heh, it was funny how things worked, huh?

His arms crossed tightly, he leaned his head back against the wall, breathing in a deep breath and closing his eyes. The usually extraverted boy now bore a cold, brooding demeanor and a standoffish air. Not in the oh fuuuuck, he’s so hooooot because he hates his fucking life way. The I don’t want to fucking talk, so leave me the fuck alone before I knock your teeth in way.

If you fucking talk to me, you have a death wish.

There were voices somewhere nearby. Someone was yelling at someone else, another group of people was laughing. Life was happening all around him. Somewhere inside, fate was unfolding. People were talking about him, news was getting spread like fucking wildfire. Time didn’t stop to let him catch a single fucking breath. Sucked, though — facing the music? Ha, not going to fucking happen as long as he could help it.

Again, a power thing. Johannes wanted him to “think about what he’d done, grrr, uwu hahaha” or some shit. To “think about the consequences of youw actions, Michaew, so you can cuwe my insecuwities by wetting me waugh at you”.

News flash, Johannes: no one gave a fuck about you. Not Mike, not fucking Liv, not Evie or fucking Landon or, God, anyone. You thought you were alone? Yeah, you really were. The world didn’t revolve around your fucked up desires, and Mike?

Mike was over this shit already.

“Hey, hey, Mike!”

Good fucking God.

Tiredly, Mike opened his unamused eyes to focus on a small, redheaded figure. His cold expression bore the same standoffish warning as before, but she didn’t seem deterred. Fucking lovely.

There was something to be said about the balls on the little girl, and that something was can you just fucking not, thanks.

“Fancy…seeing you…here!”

He blinked at her, breathing out a sigh.

She flipped her hair, then crossed her arms. “Sorry I had to miss your show,” she said. “Mine went great, though, in case you were wondering! I wasn’t all that nervous, to be honest, but, like, I was a little because what if someone super important was watching and I missed a note, and you know, that would just be the end of the world in these kinds of situations, wouldn’t it?”

Mike’s expression was unmoved.

Ronnie laughed. “Thank god I’m just a sophomore. I bet you have way more people sitting in the crowd scribbling down all your mistakes like, ‘Hmph, his face is too angry, he didn’t turn the right way, he’s too short —‘“ She cut herself off with the clearing of her throat.

Oh no, please do continue. I’d love to hear all of the things wrong with me, great for my mood, ya know.

“I’m tired,” she whined. “And I wish break started already. Well, I wish the Winter Ball then break was tomorrow. I’m so over class. At least there’s a lot of fun things going on all the time.” She gave him a smirk, then nudged him with her elbow. His brow flicked downward for a moment, but then returned to its normal spot.

If he didn’t talk, surely she’d go away.

“Hear of any good parties?” she asked. “Who’re you hanging with today? Don’t tell me you’re just standing here all alone for no reason.”

He stared at her with a cool gaze for a few moments, breathing in and out and in and out. For a moment, he considered just telling her to fuck off, bluntly stating that he wasn’t in the mood to talk with her ever, much less fucking now, but West had satiated his thirst for someone to take out his anger on, and he really just didn’t have it in him to be a total jackass to the girl in front of him.

To be honest, he really had no fucking energy left.

He sighed deeply, blinking and averting his eyes to the sidewalk. “No one,” he answered finally. “I’m hanging out with no one.” He looked back at her freckled face, his face set in an unamused, tired, and thoroughly done expression. “Wouldn’t say I’m out here all alone for no reason, though. I’m just waiting for someone to come out here to smoke to bum a cigarette from them. You wouldn’t happen to have one on you, would you?” he joked dryly. “Or some gin? Beer? Some weed, a little baggie of coke? Anything’ll do.”

Leaning his head against the wall again, he looked towards the sky. “Glad to hear your shit went well, babe. At lease one of us’s having a good time, huh?” He cracked a small, tired smile, then reached up to rub his eyes. “God…hey, but your critiques earlier?” He dropped his hands and looked at the shorter girl. “Might need to work on them. They’re a bit far off from the mark of ‘looks like a complete, bumbling fucking idiot’ to be passable.” He chuckled bitterly. “Though I think the bitch and bastard onstage were thinking more about how fucking stupid I looked than anyone else, weren’t they?” he mused aloud. “Especially Johannes, huh? Since she was the one who changed the routine last second, yeah?”

He gave the girl in front of him a sidelong glance, and then sighed. “Shit, why am I telling you that?” he mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning back again. “God, fuck. You’re a little redheaded sophomore infatuated with all of the shittiest people in school. I get it, I’m your fucking wet dream because I’m a completely intolerable jackass. I took you on a date as a goddamn apology, even after you said you didn’t want my pity, because I felt like I’d bullied a little kid. I’ve yelled at you and treated you like utter shit constantly. Bitched about you to fucking everyone, but acted like I was friendly with you. I feel terrible every time I think about how I’ve treated you, whatever, but I never fucking stop. It’s not like anyone give a flying fuck about any of this, or should care in the fucking slightest, but especially not you. I know you don’t, either.”

In his tiredness, it was all coming out.

Sighing, he opened his eyes and set them on Ronnie once more. “Sorry,” he said flatly, no genuineness behind his words, “I’m just tired, it slipped out, yeah. You can just run along and go about your way now.” He rubbed his eyes again. “Act like you never saw any of this shit, and we’ll both be better off or some shit like that that.” He dropped his hands by his side. “I don’t fucking know. I’m just so fucking tired." He sighed again, and then cracked a small, miserable grin. "Today’s been a day straight from the depths of fucking hell, Ronnie, I swear..." His grin faded, and he slumped against the wall again, a defeated expression on his face. "I've got no fucking idea what I'm doing...God."

Why the fuck was he telling her this? The question still remained.

But he was too tired to really think of an answer.

He was so fucking over this.

mood
fuck.

location
just outside of the celestial theater

outfit
dressy

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly​

mentions
gen, liv, landon, jared, callum, chas, & evie

interactions
ronnie

tags
hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Stardust Galaxy]

Luciana wasn't in the mood to deal with Jared problems, she just wanted to be over with it go back to her own presentation before her family showed up and was criticized for just dipping and not being there, she wasn't looking forward to that so she hoped that it wasn't such a big deal as Jared was making it seem, she was so wrong as she followed the guy just to see the culprit of the fashion emergency.

She would have felt bad and even empathize with the poor guy who was as nervous about the mistake that he did because he wasn't badly intended and an accident could always happen well, she wasn't feeling any sentiment towards the guy other than annoyance and a little bit of rage, listen she couldn't care less that he ripped his pants and that it was from the clothing line that Jared was presenting instead this idiot was wasting her time when she could make sure that everything on the presentation of her costumes was impeccable instead she was stuck solving someone else problem because the stupidity of someone else great

"This idiot ripped his suit jacket and slacks from falling off some stairs, and we go on soon. This is the center male piece of the line. Can you fix it?" Jared asked her which Luciana didn't reply at first as she walked towards the guy to get a closer look at the mess he did on the clothes noticing that the seam of both parts was what got riped maybe this guy was lucky enough because if it had been any other part of the suit he was wearing there was no way it would be able to fix without patching it, which even she knew that Jared wouldn't like it and instead of presenting a clothing line he was going to present a murder scene to everyone.

"It's just the seam from both parts so it's an easy fix, guess this guy got lucky after all so that's the good news there's nothing to worry about. I can make it seem like nothing happened" she started saying as she stood up in front of Jared.

"Now the bad news is that this is not something that can easily be fixed with just a couple of hand stitches, mostly because of time restrictions and I'm sure you don't want to start late the presentation of your clothing line nor do I want to be late for my own. So I'm going to need a sewing machine, which I don't think you have one around, but thankfully I have a portable one, therefore someone needs to go and grab it for me while I start putting pins on this guy and we don't lose time after that just tell me where I can set everything up and I'll start working on it"

After she said that Luciana grabbed her sewing kit and walked back towards the amateur model "Don't you dare to move if you don't want to make things even worse" She said sternly which made the guy follow her orders as if his life depended on it. She wasn't sure if he even stopped breathing while she started putting pins in the ripped parts "Go and change and do not mess up with the pins that I just put. Do you understand?" She added severely as the guy left them after that Luciana turned back to Jared "I already consider us even with me being here, no need to say what we both know already. And by the way, I poked that guy with the pin. It may seem like a rookie mistake to do that, but take it as a courtesy of the house, for the distress of this situation"

Location: Arts Festival | Mood: time for business
Outift: Here | Interactions: Jared ( Kitsune2202 )

Luciana Navarro Berrocal

Code by Stardust Galaxy​

 

[Winona]

Damien Slater

This was so fucking awkward.

Despite how it probably seemed, there were a surprisingly small amount of fucking times where Damien legitimately felt as if his life was slipping through his fingers. Where, you know, he felt as if his life was legitimately in danger. Sure, he got shoved around and punched and threatened quite a bit, but usually Damien knew that it was what-fucking-ever and that he'd be fine and all of this other shit, right?

Not with Dalton.

There was a reason that Damien turned into a shaking bitch with his tail tucked between his legs whenever he was near the dude, because he'd been trying to kill him for literal fucking years. Since he'd had the misfortune of meeting Dalton in the start of his seventh grade year, when Dalton had stupidly selected Damien to be the target of his anger.

It was, what, three? Four? Something like that years fucking later, and Dalton was still out here beating his face in every chance he got, so, well...

Morale of the story: of fucking course Damien was panicking inwardly and trying to keep his cool, although he felt like that same little middle school boy when he was near his biggest bully and (unfortunately) his fucking "brother." He felt like he was that puny, wretched little kid again that couldn't really do much but try to protect his face from Dalton's blows, try to keep himself from crying, and wait until someone saw and sent them to the office.

Deep breaths.

He'd be fine.

Dalton moved like he was going to put his arm around Damien, and Damien instinctively tensed up. There was a lot of him panicking in his head, and it took a little bit of talking himself down on the inside to convince himself that there was no way Dalton was dumb enough to beat him up right now.

Well... he was pretty sure he wasn't that stupid.

And then he felt a hand near his back hand and--

Was Dalton trying to touch his ass? What the fuck?

Instead, he felt the pack of cigarettes he'd hidden in his back pocket slide out, and his smile faltered for a moment because like... well... aww man, he really needed those.

"Damien, smile," his mother called as she kept clicking pictures.

He forced the smile back onto his face.

“Don’t you say a fucking word.” Dalton whispered in Slater's ear as he stole his cigarettes. “If you do... even you should be able to imagine the consequences.”

Well fuck -- it wasn't as if not saying shit would save him from being punched. Dalton would still beat his ass later, regardless of if he tattled to his mom and George right now, but also like... Damien couldn't really say anything. If he came clean, his mom would flip because he'd have to say some dumb shit like "Dalton just stole my cigarettes," and then she'd know he was smoking, and Damien couldn't handle the look of disappointment he knew would be in his mom's eyes.

So with an angry smile on his face, Damien accepted the fate of his cigarettes.

He'd avenge them one day.

As his mother stopped taking pictures, Damien wasted no time in stepping away from Dalton and returning to his mom's side. Miranda threw an arm around her son's shoulders, pulling him towards her and gestured with a hand in George's direction. "We should get pictures with the boys, too," she suggested.

Yeah, Miranda's approach to this is kind of awkward was just to pretend it wasn't awkward, and just keep chattering away and taking pictures and everything as if nothing weird was going on.

"Oh and Dalton, we're going to get dinner later with Damien to celebrate how well you boys did. You should come with us."

mood
i'm in danger

location
Arts Fest

outfit
classy

playing...
98 Degrees

by Arrested Youth​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Dalton

tags
Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Soap]

Juliette Jameson
"Just remember I’m the one with the spotlight above me.”

@QueenJules has set their status to:
When you see me on stage, just know I’m judging you there too.

@QueenJules has set their outfit to:
A Gorgeous costume, custom made. Obvi.

@QueenJules has interacted with:
Ava, Eli

@QueenJules has mentioned:
Dorian

@QueenJules has tagged:
Winona geminiy​

Her sob stories?

Her fucking sob stories?

What the fuck was a best friend good for if the only thing they planned to do was shit on your whole entire existence?

Okay, maybe that’s a little—

Y’know what. It wasn’t too fucking far. Ava was the one who was taking it too fucking far. It was always like this with them. Ava had to be always right and JJ never allowed it. They clashed in the worst ways possible.

“I’m not calling Dorian a dick! You’re the one who’s—He’s—“

Realistically? He was amazing.

Dorian was the best boyfriend she ever had and Ava had the audacity to say that he wasn’t? To say that Jules didn’t see him as that?

She just wanted…

Attention.

Yeah, super surprising. Juliette Jameson wanted attention. But it wasn’t like it was from a random sleazy guy. He was her boyfriend!

Ava didn’t know how relationships worked. She’s never liked anyone, never dated anyone, never even kissed anyone. (As far as JJ knows.) She doesn’t know what any of it’s like. So how can she stand her and judge her when she didn’t even help her own love life?

"I knew you were a superficial, materialistic bitch, but I didn't think you'd choose that over what's better for you."

Jules pulled away from Ava instantly.

"But fine, stick with some asshole that's only keeping you around to impress his mommy and get good press just because you're hot. Have fun."

No, her words didn’t hurt.

They didn’t.

She was used to them. Everyone had called JJ a number of insults and to most of them, she decided to take them as compliments.

Though with Ava it felt a little different.

Okay, so a lot different. Big deal.

“I’m the bitch?” She said in shock, gesturing towards Ava with her arms and eyes wide.

“I’m the bitch?! Okay, fuck you Ava. Honestly fuck you.” She said, starting to pack up her makeup on the vanity just to do anything else instead of looking at her so-called best friend.

JJ spun on her heel to face her, one-handingly tightening the straps-- one had ended up entirely too tight, but she didn’t care.

“Why do you act like you know what’s better for me, anyway? What’s better for me? Go ahead, tell me Ava.”

Jules didn’t bother to wait for an answer.

“You? Are you the thing that’s better for me?”

JJ gave up on the other strap, one was tight-- and one was not tight enough. And she didn’t give a fuck anymore.

Juliette had the tendency to talk with her hands whenever she was in an argument, so here she was, making gestures towards nothing as she continued.

“Because what would be fucking better for me is having a best friend who isn’t a raging bitch everytime something good is going for me. Are you jealous? I don’t get it. Do you want a fucking relationship? Is that why you always shit on mine?”

Just the thought that Dorian was using her had made her stomach churn.

It wasn’t true.

She knew it wasn’t true. But when Ava continued to spout it over and over again, how was she supposed to feel? Chas, Adriane, Ava. Even fucking Ash had warned her and her taste in men was absolutely horrifying.

“You’re acting like--”

Her family?

Her roommates?

Her not-friends?

“You’re just like everyone else.” With one turn of her heel, Jules stormed out of the dressing room.

---

It didn’t take long to find Eli, something about getting numbers and whatever for them to perform. She didn’t really care and she didn’t want to know. All she knew is that he was late, but what the fuck ever. It’s not like it mattered anyway. The look on her face said nothing sort of determined. Whether it was that or plain anger… who knew.

Their names were announced and Elias and Juliette took their place on stage.

"I knew you were a superficial, materialistic bitch.”

She knew?!

She knew?

Fuck her. She hated her.

Despised her.

Ava meant nothing to her. Fuck friendship.

What a sad excuse of a best fucking friend.

The music started and muscle memory had started the work for her.

Another night up at the bar late
Skinny dresses and heartbreaks.

They were across from each other, slowly making their way towards the other.

There's nothing magic going on
Then 'long came you.

Eli glanced up from the stage floor and met JJ’s eyes, closing the distance between them and they circled each other as their gazes remained locked.

All the lights are down low
And I keep losing my focus,

The two finally made it to the center of the stage, and Juliette made a show of placing her hand against his cheek as the beat began to drop, quickly moving her hand to rest on his shoulder.

There's something happening
I can't keep cool.

He placed a hand on her waist and pulled her closer, moving across the stage, their feet in perfect sync with one another, ultimately careful to not make a mistake just like the many rehearsals they had.

Oh, I can't sleep
I'm dancing with adrenaline
I can't speak
Hands, they keep trembling
I've been so weak

It was a routine of moving together and apart, the only thing that was consistent was their eye contact.

And for this dance it had to be kept. It focused on their movements but their expressions mattered the most.

It was about two strangers who couldn’t stay away from each other, and the more they’d gotten to know each other, the more they had become obsessed with the other.

You wanted to dance as though it wasn’t a routine in the first place. It wanted to look and feel natural.

Chemistry between dance partners was real. Some people just clicked and some didn’t.

Eli held a hand out, twirling Juliette and outreached an arm for her to grab onto.

When you make an entrance
And when you leave

Taking a hold of his arm, JJ turned her body, intertwining herself in his arms and they were face to face once the beat dropped.

Oh, I can't hardly breathe.

The pair broke away, moving in tune with the soft flow of the music.

The next half of the song was coming up, and by routine of course, she had to do a pump turn before that. She’d done it countless times, it was a move that any dancer had mastered by the time they were eleven. Because JJ was JJ, she pushed for the pump turn to have a double pirouette in the routine.

Go big, or go home being a worthless bitch, so.

Speaking of worthless bitches, her mind traveled right back towards Ava. JJ was still trying to make sense of the whole argument in the first place.

Not that sense was there when it came to their fights.

At this point, Jules believed Chas would’ve made for a better best friend and that’s saying something.

If Ava actually believed JJ was superficial materialistic and bitchy— all three things the redhead wasn’t a fan of.

Why were they even friends in the first place?

Juliette balanced on one leg, pushing all of her weight on one foot and the pump turn was successful.

The double pirouette was in play but she wasn’t as focused as she should’ve been.

Jules doesn’t get hurt over silly little fights.

Especially with Ava.

That’s not who she is.

So why was it bothering her so much?

She’d seen Eli come forward from the corner of her eye and Jules wasn’t paying attention, ending the pirouette too early and not realizing that she didn’t complete it fully, losing her balance and stumbling onto the floor, ending up on one knee.

No, no, no.

Her mind began to catch up with her and Juliette forced herself to not glance over at the audience— to not see their faces of shock, pity, and secondhand embarrassment because JJ was already feeling it enough.

Her gaze became blurry, but she didn’t blink to release the tears.

She didn’t do anything.

Jules didn’t even move.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Elizabeth Sterling

Her sister was literally so freaking ridiculous. Like, everyone saw that, right? They saw how she shoved Beth and was flipping out over basically nothing, right? Just because Beth wanted to have a little fun or whatever didn't mean that Tori suddenly had the right to be a bigger bitch.

This literally wasn't the biggest bitch off. And even if it was, Beth would've totally won because she was ten times better at being a bitch than Tori could ever hope to be -- not that she was being a bitch right now, obviously. Or, well, maybe she was being a little bit of a bitch, but it was totally called for. Tori had started it.

Tori always started it, and then Tori always tried to blame everything on Beth. It wasn't fair at all, and Beth glared over at her older sister as she started stomping like a little kid.

At least Beth was keeping her chill and not throwing a tantrum.

“I’m not doing effing anything!” Tori huffed. “It’s all Beth! She’s making a scene — I’m not doing anything!”

"I'm not doing anything!" Beth snapped back. She huffed, turning away from her sister because like, she couldn't stand stand to keep looking at her sister without wanting to shove her again. "You're literally out here throwing another tantrum like you're three. Grow the freak up, Tori."

She'd kind of been so focused on focusing her hatred and anger on her sister that Beth had almost missed the little spat that was starting between their parents but now, as her dad started speaking, Beth turned her attention back towards them. And all she could really think was oh fuck.

Oh fuck because they'd been wanting to avoid their parents getting into a fight, but it seemed as if there was no way that they were going to manage to do that.

“And what is it that you suggest I do, Judy?” Her dad asked as his voice raised. “From what I can tell, this all started over an argument over you being here. I think it’s your problem to solve. After all, had you not been here, I doubt we’d be having this little...situation in the first place.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Beth should try to say something, right? To make everything better? To try and stop this before it got worse?

"Well I wanted to invite mom but not you," Beth said and as soon as the words left her mouth... she kind of realized just how bad that sounded and she instantly wished that she could snatch those words back.

Her mother, who seemed to have been momentarily silenced and taken aback by her father's harsh words, looked in Beth's direction as she spoke, and then her eyes narrowed as she glared back at their father. "Do you see what you've caused?" Their mother spot, and gestured in the direction of the girls. "They have to decide which one of us to invite because you always have to have something to say and you can't just shut up for once."

mood
ugh

location
Arts Festival

outfit
classy

playing...
It's Still Cool If You Don't

by Briston Maroney​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Tori

tags
ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Nathan Woods

Well, he'd tried to help and fix the stupid vending machine, but clearly it wasn't working. Luckily, Naomi agreed nearly immediately at the opportunity to smoke a joint, so at least Nate was able to help her out in some way, even if more weed probably wasn't exactly the answer.

But it was whatever.

With a tilt of his head, Nate gestured for Naomi to follow after him. He didn't necessarily have anywhere in mind, but he figured heading outside a side door or some shit would be enough. Nate had gotten kind of lazy when it came to hiding the fact that he smoked weed -- turns out, no one really fucking cared.

So he stepped to the nearest door, his shoulder leaning against it as he pushed his way outside. He held the door for Naomi and then let it fall shut as he glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. Look, just because he had become lazy in hiding it didn't mean that he was also just going to light up where other people could see him (usually -- because he had done so at the Fall Fair which may have not been the smartest idea).

He reached up and patted his jacket pocket and pulled down the zipper before sliding his hand in and producing the joint. With a soft, reassured smile, Nate brought the joint up and placed it between his lips. His hand then rummaged in his pocket until he produced the lighter. Lighting up the end, Nate took a hit from it and then held it out to Naomi, letting the smoke slowly escape his lungs and billow out of his mouth.

"Busy day?" He asked, keeping his word usage minimum as per usual as he brought his hands to rest loosely in the pockets of his jeans while he waited for the joint to be handed back to him. Casually, he glanced around them as he spoke, his gaze settling briefly on a couple of people coming out of a different door farther down before he looked back in Naomi's direction, and decided maybe he should expand on his question a bit.

"Project do good?" Nate asked, and then realized that didn't make much sense, so he rephrased his question. "Ah... your project. Good? Went well?"

Yeah, because that sounded oh so much better.

Well, it did for Nate.

mood
ehh

location
Arts Fest

outfit
ehh

playing...
Ho Hey

by The Lumineers​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Naomi

tags
Kitsune2202

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

There had been a point in time in his life, a brief little moment he no longer wanted to acknowledge, where a part of him had been jealous of Damien Slater. Had wished that his own mother had for him even an ounce of the affection he had seen Miranda hold for Damien. Back when he had been young and foolish, and still yearned for affection.

But after his father’s marriage to Miranda, Dalton had come to the quick realisation that she was no better. Her affection for Slater? Her precious little boy whom she so adored? It was nothing but a lie. Selective and fake.

It was obvious, all one had to do was take a look at how she ignored Slater’s suffering when it was convenient. The suffering Slater suffered in this case having been inflicted by him numerous times in their youth when he would throttle the younger boy black and blue until his father or someone else intervened and yanked him off.

He was the source of her beloved son’s misery and here she was giving him a smile, asking her son to take a picture next to him, pretending like they were a happy little family unit with absolutely nothing wrong between them.

It was beyond fucked up.

Love was a lie, plain and simple. Given only when convenient, withdrawn when it was not.

Depend on that love for anything, put yourself at its mercy, and you’d be left to hang dry when you needed it most. Made to suffer in the name of love. Like poor little Slutter right now. Miranda was basically sending him to the slaughter house. His loving mother.

Dalton couldn’t do anything to the brat now because of where they were and who was around... but after this damned even was over and there was no longer any need to concern himself with such things?

Dead fucking meat.

That was what Slater was.

All because he was such a mommy’s boy. Yeah Slater was as responsible for this as his mother.

So determined was little Damien to please the woman who ignored any suffering Dalton inflicted on him, that he created this very situation for which he was going to get fucked for later.

And no, not fucked in the way that Slater was always so desperate to be.

Fucked in the way that would end with him half dead and begging for his life, well, that was assuming he even had the strength to be able to beg at that point.

For now though, the brat’s cigarettes which Dalton had tucked into his own pocket, would bear the brunt of his wrath. As soon as he got out of this fucking situation.

No sooner did Slater finally step away, Dalton moved to leave without a word when Miranda, the fucking step-bitch, had another brilliant suggestion.

A family photo.

There was no fucking way.

And of course she didn’t stop there. She wanted dinner too. Fucking hell. Just what on earth was she trying to accomplish with these shitty little stunts she was pulling of trying to pretend like they were one big happy family?

What the fuck was wrong with her? With all of them? Was it so fucking hard to just leave him the fuck alone? That was all he wanted. To just be left the fuck alone.

“Come on son.” Fuck.

His old man was always quick when it came to shit like this. Pleasing whichever woman was in his life. George had grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to hook his arm around his neck like they were thick as thieves before he could disappear off into the crowd.

Pathetic. The way he crawled around and bent over backwards to keep the women he loved, happy.

He was a fucking joke and unfortunately for Dalton, dead serious on fulfilling the idiotic request of his new wife because George’s arm was tightly wrapped around him and there was no way he could get out of the old man’s grasp without causing a scene.

Look Dalton wasn’t a fool. At this point, keeping quiet and going along with their rubbish was unlikely to keep his relationship with Damien Slater under wraps because taking a simple photo was apparently a painfully difficult task for Miranda to accomplish. Scene or no scene, that was getting out there, but if he caused a scene, he’d get into trouble and he might rub some industry scouts and big shots the wrong way and blow up his career.

So as much as he fucking wanted to just throw off George’s arm and possibly send him flying in the process, he couldn’t.

And it yeah at this point he gave zero fucks about his old man. Not like he ever gave a damn about him except for when he was in trouble or the few glances he could spare his way when he wasn’t busy kissing ass at home or at work.

“I’m not going.” Dalton snarled, making sure his voice and the disdain it carried was loud enough for Miranda to hear.

His father’s grip immediately tightened. Fucking simp.

“It’s been a long time since we had a meal together as a family,” George started as he pulled Dalton along to get in position for the ‘family photo’, “your mother and I rarely get to see you as is.”

He felt sick. Not the kinda sick where you got weak or whatever. The kind of sick where he felt completely and utterly disgusted. This was one of the reasons why he didn’t do fucking relationships.

“We already made the booking so make sure you show up.” Dalton could hear the unspoken warning in his father’s tone and it made him want to laugh. A bitter laugh of course.

He cast his gaze to the ground as he waited for the photo he had been strong-armed into to get taken and be over with.

Did George seriously think he gave a damn about any of his threats or what he and the fucking bitch wanted?

As fucking if.

Miranda might be all fine and dandy with playing pretend and acting like all was well and she truly wanted him at this celebratory dinner. Damien and George might be happy to go along with it to keep their ‘beloved lady of the house’ happy, but Dalton would sooner choke to death or get eaten alive than do anything like that.

Just get him the fuck out of here already.

Before he went from bruising his palms to bruising someone’s cheek and ruined everything.

mood
I'm so fucking done

location
arts fest

outfit
dapper

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Slater

tags
Winona

 

[AkuTheWolfOkami]

• .
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  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  over it
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what she's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  This

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where she's at...

  
  
  
  

  at the arts fest just vibing
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Katya ( qunqun )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

STASSI

Junior(18)- Model - Golden Goddess

Regret began to ooze out of her pores as if her perspiration had been replaced with emotion instead of its usual watery compound. It had nothing to do with how she viewed Damian. She knew that he was below her when she ran into him, so it wasn’t regret of lying down with someone like him. No. The regret stemmed from a disgust that permeated through her skin that he would dare forget her name. What’s more that he would dare even utter a name if he wasn’t sure as if she didn’t grace him with something as forbidden to him as her. The fact that she allowed him to even speak her name was a grace that she had bestowed upon him. Never, again.

The wretch.

If she was vindictive, she would ruin his life as much as she could. She wasn’t. She wouldn’t. He wasn’t worth that much effort, but she wouldn’t let this transgression go without penance. He would pay for his sin. Maybe she’d slip a note somewhere anonymously to comment on his mediocrity in the…stroke department. There were ways.

For now, she wouldn’t concentrate on that. She’d focus on making sure that her makeup and clothes were in order before slipping out of the dressing room. She would move past a couple of people she knew, checking her phone to look for the time.

She had missed her sister’s performance, but she was perfectly okay with that. She hadn’t had any intention on going in the first place as she made abundantly clear via their message exchange. She would probably get reprimanded by their parents, but so be it. They only moonlighted as her parents when it was convenient. Having two daughters in a prestigious arts school was very convenient and it was about the only time Anastasia got to use her actual birth surname, Unzhakova.

She wasn’t going to make this easy on them though. She wasn’t going to make things easy for anyone. If they had cared enough, they wouldn’t have sent her to America. They would have stood by her through the controversy. She would have gladly given up her status as heir-apparent to her sister Katya, adopted or not, if it meant staying with her family in St. Petersburg. She would have traded it all away to compete in the winter Olympics for Russia. Ok, so she still wouldn’t have been representing Russia and more so the silly athletes of Russia thing they came up with when the Russians were banned for doping. Still, she would have given all of it up had they just asked and let her stay.

Now? She wasn’t giving up a thing especially to some adopted brat who didn’t seem to grasp even the surface of the gravity of her position. Though in all fairness it wasn’t necessarily the younger sibling’s fault, but she sure didn’t go out of her way to be in her elder siblings good grace’s.

To hell with her too.

She took a deep breath as she continued her march through the crowd heading towards where her sister’s performance was supposed to occur. She was sure that their parents would be there waiting for the two of them. Where else would they be?

Anastasia stopped in the middle of her tracks as a realization occurred to her. She could have avoided all of this by just participating in the festival.

She swallowed a bit of air and bit her lip trying to calm herself down. She was frustrated. She didn’t want to see these people. They were the bane of her existence.

Still. She closed her eyes and marched forward only opening them sparingly to see if she were to bump into someone. Unfortunately, she did. Was it intentional? Who knows, but nevertheless, the person whom she bumped into was none other than her younger sister,

”Woops….sorry…”

she said dryly, but it was hard to pinpoint if she was sincere or not. Her usual tone was dry, absent of emotion. Though considering the circumstances it was probably intentional.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ditto]

victoria shantel sterling​

Tori awkwardly pressed her lips together at her father’s comment, her eyes shifting from parent to parent as she tried to figure out what to say to diffuse the situation. Her dad wasn’t really wrong; this was mostly Mom’s fault. If Beth hadn’t invited her, her dad was right: they wouldn’t be having this mess.

But she could anticipate what was going to happen if this kept going, and it was nothing pretty.

Call her psychic or something.

She finally opened her mouth to speak, but her sister beat her to speaking first.

“Well," Beth said, "I wanted to invite mom but not you.”

Tori's eyes shot over to her sister, stunned, in sync with her father’s.

“You did not just say that,” Tori whispered beneath her breath, her brows lowering as the words fully registered.

Her sister was so — so stupid, and immature, and all she was fucking doing was digging the pit deeper. Even in times like this, she couldn’t even try to shut her little trap.[/i]

“You —“ Her father began in disbelief, and then his eyes flicked to her mother. He stared at her with angry eyes for a moment, then sighed deeply. “Jesus, Judy,” he muttered, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, his voice crescendoing to a slightly-above-casual volume the longer he spoke, “so you’ve been trying to turn the kids — or Beth — against me again, is that it?” He dropped his hand to cross over his chest, and he arched an eyebrow at the woman. His gaze was sharp and cold. “How mature,” he scoffed.

Tori’s mom narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you see what you’ve caused?” she spat, gesturing in the direction of Tori and Beth. “They have to decide which one of us to invite because you always have to have something to say and you can't just shut up for once."

“Mom —“ Tori tried to speak, but her father chuckled before she could get anything out. “What I’ve caused?” he repeated, then he chuckled again disbelievingly. “What I’ve caused?” He pressed the side of his hand to the center of his chest, staring at her with wide, angry, incredulous eyes, and then he laughed again, putting his hands on his hips and frustratingly jutting a leg out. “Judith, need I remind you that it was you —“ He gestured to her, gave her a once-over, rolled his eyes, then replaced his hand on his hip. “— who started this whole mess? The kids are my kids, too, Judy — I have as much of a right to see them as you do.”

Tori looked to her mom, her eyebrows knitting. Her heart thudded in her chest, her breaths heavy as she searched for a way to pipe in without cutting her father off, but he didn’t stop, or even really pause.

“Don’t pretend as though it’s my fault that we can’t be together,” he continued. “If it was my choice, I’d still be happily married and this would be a nice family gathering, but because you don’t seem to enjoy me innocently voicing my opinion or even simply joking around, here we are. Look at our girls, having to pick and choose who to invite because you can’t take a damn joke, Jude.”

“Yeah, uh, look at us,” Tori said, smiling awkwardly, giving a wave, and then she realized how that may have sounded. Shit, shit. Quickly, she stammered, “I mean, l-look — I —“

Before she could regain any footing with her words, her father continued to lay in, beginning with a scoff. “Jesus, Judy, you’re so damn theatrical that you don’t even realize that the root of this problem is yourself. You’re about as mature as…” He clicked his tongue, pointing at Beth. “That one — as Beth,” he clarified, “though I’d venture to say you’re even more childish. Get a sense of humor — and get the hell back on the road. I’m sure now that you’re here, neither of them wants you.”

Tori shook her head, reaching her hand out to grab her father’s arm. She forced a smile. “Dad —“

“What, Victoria?” He jerked his head over at her. “Am I not telling the truth? Do you want her here?”

“I — I…” Tori swallowed hard again, looking over at her mom and dropping her hand from her dad’s arm. “Mom, Dad, I…,” she tried, but she lost her words again.

“Oh, right,” her dad said to her mom, looking from her to her mother again, “I’m sure Beth wants you here, because you’ve convinced her that I’m the bad guy here, so I suppose maybe that wasn’t accurate.”

“Dad,” Tori whispered, looking up at him with a pleading look, but he ignored her, his eyes still trained on her mother.

“Pardon me — I guess by saying that, I must be impeding your little mini-you from following in your footsteps and becoming a useless, washed-up, self-righteous, delusional divorcée clinging to her crumbling career before she hits 45.”

Shiiit.

Eyes widening and heart dropping in shock, Tori looked at her younger sister, and then at her mom. .

Tori had predicted it — effing anticipated it. She knew that this was going to happen the second that Elizabeth finally decided several weeks too late that it was time to let her know that Mom was coming, then demanded she “uninvite Dad”. As a matter of fact, she had told her little sister what was going to happen.

Surprise, surprise, their parents couldn’t be civil; surprise, surprise, Tori was right.

But there was no victory in being right this time. Instead, Tori just felt sick, and hurt, and — and…

She wanted to just pull everyone into a hug and tell them all how much she loved them until they shut the fuck up.

Or…just disappear.

Just disappearing would be a lot better.

She felt a small pressure behind her eyes, like she was going to be seeing tears soon, and she looked back at her sister, dumbfounded, her lips poised open to speak but no noises coming out. She reached over to grab her father’s arm again, but he pulled it away, then repositioned his hands on his hips. “She’s already riding the coattails of someone else; she’s right on track. You must be very proud of her, Judy — she’s turning out to be so much like you. Next thing you know, she’s going to be marrying a more attractive, more successful journalist and popping out a couple of babies, trying keep him around so that she can steal his publicity in spite of the fact that she has nothing going for her besides the generic plots she scribbles down in first-grade level vocabulary and the impressive ability to act tolerable until the nights that her husband is home. They’ll be a trophy wife and trophy husband…but she’ll be far too much of a prying, insufferable nag and a presumptuous bitch for him to tolerate ’til death do them part, so it’ll be all for naught, and in the end, she’ll be left sad and alone. You raised her well, Judith. Somehow, you coddled her enough to convince her that I’m the one who’s the villain in this story and you’re the perfect angel who needs to be modeled after, even though you’re…well, just look at you — you’re in far worse shape than I am.”

Okay, so there were tears in Tori's eyes now. Lovely. Things were just peachy.

The girl’s chest was tight, and her tongue felt like it was anchored to the bottom of her mouth. She reached out and grabbed her father’s sleeve, finally managing a wobbly, “Mom, Dad, stop.”

Her dad looked down at her, his brows low. “Tori, I’m handling this,” he said sternly, as though scolding her, and then he looked up at her mother, continuing to speak at Tori. “I’m simply telling your mother to stop being difficult. I’m not doing anything.”

Tori drew in a deep breath, looking down at the floor in embarrassment, the tears in her eyes growing thicker at his scolding tone.

There went all of her fucking ideas.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, drawing in a deep breath.

Yes, she was Victoria Sterling, the wise. She was Victoria Sterling, the mature. She was Victoria Sterling, the tough love bitch who didn’t fear anyone and spoke her mind regardless of whatever anyone else might think. She was Victoria Sterling, the one who could solve any issue, the one who was never uncomfortable or clueless in any situation, ever.

But…listen, right fucking now, this issue? It wasn't hers to solve, okay?!

(None of those things were true, and she knew it, deep down, but even in times like right now, she wouldn't admit it; thus, inventing an excuse as to why she couldn't deploy her "wisdom" and "problem-solving abilities" was the way that her brain went in order to avoid having to confess to the falsities.)

Swallowing hard and clenching her jaw, she set her glassy eyes on her sister, her gaze furious and desperate. She reached out and grabbed her sister by the shoulder, yanking her closer and angrily demanding in a low hiss, “Elizabeth, this is — just get them to stop!”

mood
stopstopstopstopstop

location
the celestial theater

outfit
dressy

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms​

mentions
n/a

interactions
beth

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[natsukashii]

Corey Preston

When Eli took out a delicious-looking granola bar, something about it spoke to Corey. So much so that he helped himself to about two or three of them. He held one, unwrapped, in his hand and the other two in his jacket pocket. He couldn't focus his mind on most of what Eli was saying, the mix of granola and nuts and berries having a dry, yet surprisingly moist texture that made Corey have a mixture of delight and food euphoria as he had chomped away a good half of it in two bites.

As he spent a few moments truly enjoying the granola bar, Corey couldn't help but think about the last time he had something to eat that tasted homemade. Maybe it really was when he and Maddie hosted Adri for an impromptu breakfast party...thing. Between both of them being busy like worker ants with their projects and, of course, Maddie with Jared (yup that still makes him cringe with every fiber of his being), Corey hadn't seen much of his best friend.

And why was he thinking about Maddie as he ate a granola bar?

Oh, because it's sweet. Like her.

And there went Corey's attention span. He had to keep a straight face and not let it show that his mind wandered elsewhere, so he nodded at Eli, pretending like he heard anything he had been saying for the past thirty seconds.

"--Choreo is my doing, the music and the… costumes, although rather founding father-esque, were JJ’s. It’s a small price to pay to work with someone so amazing.”

"Oh, that sounds amazing, if not a little difficult..." Corey said. Not just to save face, but whatever he zoned back into did seem like it would be hard to pull off...whatever it was.

And then as Eli shifted gears into a familiar panic that he had seen on his own face anytime he looked in a mirror, especially after he said the wrong thing to someone -- anyone -- Corey glanced at Eli, genuinely concerned for him. Then he mentioned JJ.

Corey knew JJ because of Maddie. They had been friends for the longest time and at some point, yeah Corey came to know her. And maybe even friendly with her? It was hard because Corey didn't have the best understanding of her. She was intimidating for someone who was a couple years younger than he was and made him flinch anytime her name was mentioned. She was only a sophomore, but she had a loud and influential voice that made him feel like the younger one.

So when Eli mentioned her, he couldn't help but look at him as if he signed his own death warrant.

He shifted gears on a positive note and set his hand on the Atlas shirt-wearing dancer's shoulder. "It'll be okay. M-maybe she hasn't realized." Yeah, as if Corey believed that, but if it helped soothe ELi's mind, then he absolutely would force himself to believe his own words.

As Corey tried to convince himself that he believed that, he noticed something ahead of him that immediately caught the writer’s attention.

That something was the line. In that it was moving.

“It’s moving!” Corey jerked on Eli’s Atlas shirt, though bearing in mind not to tug on it too much. “The line, Eli! We’re finally free of this hell!” He realized he said it that long and then also realized that from one hell, his line buddy who made amazing granola bars, was tossed into another.

And that’s what made Corey frown only if not just slightly. And it wasn’t just because he had that realization that Eli would face JJ’s wrath, but he realized that he never took Eli’s offer about practicing his poem. Maybe that was intentional because he didn’t want to say the words out loud.

And he realized how crazy that sounded. He was performing it as a spoken word poem. He knew that anyone who wrote poems could submit them anonymously and they’d still get the credit for the arts fest. OF course, Corey knew that. But he had the idea that if maybe she heard it, then maybe it would be worth sweating head to toe over it and performing it. That maybe if somehow she was able to watch him, or even catch a recording of it, then Corey would feel better.

But then there was Jared. If anything could be done in the aftermath, Jared was still a part of the equation, and damn it if that didn’t boil the sixty percent of him that was made up of water.

Shaking his head, Corey looked to Eli before they were gonna be at the gate. “Good luck with your performance, Eli! JJ aside, I hope you crush it!” He offered the boy a smile before the sudden interjection of--

“Next!”

Aaaaaaaand there it was.

Corey walked up to an older lady who sat behind the desk.

“Name, grade, department, and act please!”

“Corey Preston! I’m a senior in the Literature Department. And I’m performing a poem.”

As he watched her silently jot it down and tear something, Corey was handed a piece of paper that told him where he was set to perform and when.

“Thank you--”

“Next!”

Corey stood there for a few seconds before he was pushed forward. As he got inside the theater and looked back for Eli, he saw him at the gate. He waved to Eli and entered the domain of his own personal hell.

_____________________________________________________​

“Corey Preston! Is Corey Preston here?”

As he stared in front of a small mirror that barely was able to cover the width of the chair he sat in and his body, he took in a deep breath. He knew who was calling his name — or at least, he knew the reason why.

“Right here,” he said almost in an inaudible voice, raising his hand to the girl that had called for him twice. She was holding a clipboard.

“They’re ready for you!”

There must’ve been a long pause between the time Corey spent taking in deep breaths and leaving her hanging. She stood a few feet away and Corey just took in deep breaths. He heard her tap her foot and the pencil in her hand on the clipboard as if growing impatient with Corey. He paid her no mind. He had to because he was on the fringe of collapsing from the amount of pressure he was putting on himself.

The thoughts of failing — as well as succeeding — plagued him so much that he took nearly a minute to stand up. And that was a minute that felt like an eternity. He glanced around and shook his head. He couldn’t let his mind focus on anyone else but himself and his performance. This was the most important thing for him right now. Friends, scouts, family — all of them were out there and Corey had to impress them all.

“Okay! I’m ready!”He tried to say with confidence.

She didn’t say a word and Corey took that as the telltale sign for him to follow her.

Corey was led through a short trip outside of the Literature Department dressing room and through a hallway. There were a few quick turns, all of which seemed to pass them by as if Father Time himself was growing impatient with how slow Corey was walking. It wasn’t like he was intentionally dragging his feet. He didn’t even realize he had been going slower than usual until the same girl that was in charge of getting him to the backstage area had yelled for him to hurry up.

In his mind, he had been still masochistically thinking about all of the things that could go wrong. Even after he had swore to himself that he wouldn’t entertain these thoughts, the self-sabotaging beast that sometimes was the voice in Corey Preston’s head couldn’t help itself. Everything that could or would go wrong became as relevant and important as the performance itself. What it all meant for him, what doors it could open, and the opportunities that were on the line.

And he had to juggle it while also letting the thoughts of Maddie and Jared together danced around.

As he clearly hadn’t been paying attention, Corey bumped into the girl that was almost as tall as he was, which resulted in a combo of a grunt and a glare from her to him. He tried not to think about what she wanted to say to him and feared she’d tell him because her mouth opened, but then someone else — another student that Corey recognized as Nicole Lopez. He had a couple of classes with her and she was one of many helping out with the backstage jobs. Hers was making sure everyone getting ready to go on was ready.

And as she looked to Corey, he straightened up. He looked as presentable as he could within those long seconds of being judged by Nicole’s gaze. “You Preston?”

“Y-yeah--” Corey coughed and cleared his throat, “--Yes! I’m Corey Preston!”

“You’re up!” She told him and stepped closer. Her hand was on his shoulder and she smiled at him. “Break a leg!”

“Uh..”

“It means good luck!”

He heard her laugh as he breathed a sigh of relief. He should have known that’s what it meant. God, was he that nervous?

Calm down! You’re going to be okay.

As Corey stepped through the curtain and every step he took was paired up with a chest-pounding breath, the anxiety, fear, panic, inferiority complex, and the eyes of that self-sabotaging beast that dwelled within — everything he felt the entire day from the moment he walked through the gates had come to the surface when the spotlight centered on a lone Corey and the microphone stand in front of him.

He looked at the audience, seeing his family front and center. They all smiled at him, giving him an assortment of thumbs up and singular fistpumps. He didn’t know if that made things better or worse. Honestly, right now, Corey didn’t know heads or tails of what he was feeling, but this was it. The moment he had both been looking forward to and dreading. As he did one last scan of the audience, a few rows behind his parents, there she was, looking as beautiful as ever. Seeing her wave at him and smile brightly was enough to quell most of those worries and fears that have plagued him since the day had started. Seeing her there had been the cure for why he hesitated.

In the back of his mind, before he uttered the first line, he whispered, “I’m doing this for you.”

Then as the audience went silent, it began.

“I’m gonna be honest, it’s not often I find myself eager to write about love.”

(Way's note: Because the player link is being a bitch, just click this for Corey's poem reference)
_____________________________________________________​

“And I swear I’m not usually a love poet,
But if I woke up tomorrow morning and decide I was gonna write about love,
My first poem would be about you.”

It lasted just a little over two minutes and for those two minutes, Corey swore he had an out-of-body experience. He heard himself say the words and he heard him nail every powerful line one after another. But at the same time, he felt it wasn’t him doing it. It was like whoever had been saying it shifted Corey Preston, the sometimes fidgety writer with someone else entirely who had a delivery like a seasoned spoken word artist.

And that scared the crap out of him. It was a hell of a lot more terrifying than JJ or anyone else for that matter had been. But it was also exhilarating. The feeling that he had was amazing. It was so electrifying that, as it ended and just about everyone clapped, he couldn’t help but look on. He was frozen still, obviously paralyzed by both the fact that he didn’t fuck it up, but also it was the reaction that everyone had that sent him to the moon and above.

“I did it…” Corey mouthed as he took in a series of deep breaths.

He took a bow — a literal bow, mind you with his hands by his side and tipping forward slightly — before he went backstage. Every inch of his body was shaking. It was like he snorted cocaine (he’s assuming it was like it cause he’d never done that), drank a six-pack of red bull, and an entire pot of coffee. He felt so jittery that he was on the very edge of exploding because his heart couldn’t contain just how phenomenal he felt.

This was the exact opposite of what he thought was going to happen. And somehow it didn’t even compare to any “good” scenarios he may have entertained.

“COREY!”

“Wait, I know that voice…”

As Corey turned around, before was even fully turned around, he was met with the often abrupt embrace his sister Chrstina usually had with her hugs. “Yup, I knew that was you, Rina,” Corey grunted and smiled, looking at his older sister of seven years -- or at least the part of her that was visible to him given their current situation.

And then she let him go and he met her with a smile. “You did amazing, Corndog! That was honestly the best poem I’ve heard!” Rina immediately turned around as their parents, Chandler and Eleanor Preston came up from behind, arms locked together as always. “Right, mom and dad?”

Looking up, Corey smiled at his parents, though there was something of a feeling of dread coming in to show on his face. His parents (moreso his father than anyone else) had always been critical when it came to Corey’s writing. They supported it, of course, but his father’s approach was more traditional than his mother's. She had always supported whatever form his writing came in, but Chandler was a critic by profession, so he couldn’t help but analyze more than feel what had to say in his writing.

“You did amazing, Corey!” Eleanor said warmly, giving her son a quick hug. “Your ability to draw in your audience has improved so much since you came here.” Eleanor glanced towards Chandler who had been uncomfortably silent. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Mm..” He hummed, glancing at Rina and his wife. As he and his only son came to an almost staredown, he coughed. “Corey, my boy, you are without a doubt going to have a great future in poetry. I’ve been at many slams -- that’s what you kids call it, right--”

“Dad--” Rina glared at her father.

Chandler laughed, “--Yeah yeah, I know: I’m a boomer.” Chandler had always been very self-aware of the current lingo, yet always managed to prove that it was more than just that. “Regardless, you should be proud, Corey. I rarely ever am moved by poetry. You know, I’m a novelist and my ability to connect to poetry, let alone willingly enjoy it isn’t frequent, but that one was an amazing piece, Corey. You may just have a real talent for it, you know.”

He didn’t know what he expected his father to say. It was no secret that Corey and his father didn’t have your average father-son relationship. It wasn’t that they had a strained relationship or even that he disliked his father. On the contrary, he looked up to Chandler Preston more than any other male figure in his life. He admired his father’s writing ability, how he was always there for his kids when it really mattered, and, even though Corey doesn’t take it well from the people at school (namely those who ridicule him for being Maddie’s “pet”), his father’s criticism never affected him as much as one might think it would.

But to hear him say that his poem managed to make him feel connected to it and that he was proud of Corey (okay he didn’t actually say it but it was implied) meant more to Corey than any form of acclaim or potential opportunities from colleges he may or may not receive after tonight. To hear his father say that he had a talent for it made Corey feel so elated and have such a high that he just hugged them as tightly as he could.

“What do you say we go get some ice cream or something?” Chandler suggested.

His proposal was met with a resounding “yes” from Corey, Eleanor, and Christina.

And as they made their way out of the immediate area, Corey had accidentally bumped into someone, whom he immediately apologized to by saying “oh I’m sorry--”

And at that moment, he realized who he had bumped into. Internally, he was cursing himself to kingdom come because, of all people, she was the last person he wanted to bump into. Even Dalton or Nate or Mike would have been preferable.

“Who’s this, Corndog? Your girlfriend?” Rina teased, nudging Corey’s shoulder.

And internally, he was trying to save face. For his family.

“No, not my girlfriend…” Corey corrected her in a low tone, looking at his sister. “This is Adriane. She’s a...friend.” As he introduced her to them, Corey gave his ex the worst fake smile he could muster. It was good enough to fool his family, but there was no way in hell that it would convince Adri.

Yep. He knew something bad was going to happen. He just wished it had been his performance. At least then he’d be able to explain to his family why he was terrified right now. How could he explain that the reason his stomach was turning was because of the person standing in front of him.

He couldn’t — that’s how.

mood
Yay to oh fuck

location
Arts Fest

outfit
Looking dapper

playing...
Blinding Lights

by The Weeknd​

mentions
Maddie, JJ, family, Adri

interactions
Eli, Family NPCs, Adri

tags
geminiy Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Isabella Dupont

@bellaissima has set their status to:
high on life

@bellaissima has set their outfit to:
dentelle

@bellaissima has set their location to:
backstage

@bellaissima has mentioned:
n/a

@bellaissima has interacted with:
Casey & Avery

@bellaissima has tagged:
Winona & Xed

As soon as Casey stepped foot on stage, Bella felt her heart thump to a stop in her chest. No no no, this was horrible. Her work, her precious poem, was in the hands of some silly little guitarist with an ego the size of Mont Blanc. All it would take is one wrong note, one wrong lyric, one muddled word and all of their work would be for nothing.

Bella was really not cut out for this performing stuff.

The music began to ring through the stadium, followed by an echo of cheers and hollers from fans of the already famous Casey Clairmont. Bella couldn’t help but wonder if people even knew who she and Avery were, if they even knew that they held the genius behind the song. Casey had participated and, as much as Bella hated to admit it, he had done an excellent job with his input. But the song idea was originally Bella’s poem, edited and made lyrical by Avery, set to music and molded into a song by Casey. They couldn’t have the performance with just one of the trio, it had to be them all.

Casey’s mouth opened on stage to sing out the first few lyrics. Instinctively, Bella grabbed Avery’s hand and clutched it tightly between both of her hands, her bottom lip clutched tightly between her teeth as she listened in anticipation.

Every millisecond pause was agony, leaving Bella to count out the rests and try and figure out if Casey was coming in on time or singing the right lyric. She found herself humming along to the song, occasionally mouthing the lyrics to the particularly tricky parts that they had identified during practice. The more she listened, the looser her grip on Avery’s hand became until it slipped away entirely when Casey looked over to the pair and met Bella’s gaze.

Casey…

He was really, really good.

Before Bella really knew what was going on, Casey’s hand was in hers as he pulled her towards the stage that he had just run from, Avery being yanked along behind them. The stage beneath her heels clicked and clacked as she rushed after Casey who, in his stupidly strong grip, had refused to release her hand. Then, a few blinks and a hitched breath later, Bella managed to open her eyes to the scene before her.

A sea of people were before her, all cheering and waving signs and hands and cheap glow sticks that had been handed out at the front of the venue. These people, the same people that Bella had convinced herself were only cheering for Casey, were now cheering for Avery. Now, they were cheering for her, for all of them. Casey kept waving with his empty hand while Avery took to a classy bow. Bella, however, simply stood there like an idiot, her heart leaping up into her throat the entire time. Part of her was happy that Casey hadn’t released his grip because she was certain that his touch was the only thing keeping her grounded to the floor.

The trio made their way off stage, Bella following behind all weak-kneed and fluttery chested. She genuinely couldn’t tell if that was the best or worst experience of her life. Was she about to hug Casey or smack him? Hell, she didn’t know, she was too busy trying to stop her mind from reeling and her stomach from doing somersaults.

"So, so, so? How's that? Perfect, yeah? Like ya know, totally nailed it, totally made all those words way better 'cause I had that mad," Casey rushed, once again barely giving time for anyone else to speak a word, "ya know, yeah?"

“You were amazing!” Avery responded, Bella still unable to speak as her eyes darted from Casey to Avery to the stage door that they had just departed from. “The singing was incredible, you were up there just like lalalala so easily and you swept the whole audience away!” Avery then turned to Bella, who had to force herself to pay attention to his words. “Wasn’t it amazing Bella? The audience loved the song didn’t they? Oh yeah, that reminds me Casey called you Bellalalala earlier.”

As if a fog lifted, Bella seemed to be more present to the ground beneath her feet and the bustle of the world around her. Without too much thought, Bella turned to Casey and scowled.

“Bellalalalala? Do I sound like some sort of song to you?” Bella asked as she jammed a finger into his chest. “And taking us out on stage, what,” a smack to Casey’s arm, “was,” a smack to his other arm, “that,” a smack to his chest, “about? Taking us out there as if we were the performers and not yourself. We could have looked like absolute fools! L-Like complete and utter idiots! We could-could…”

Bella’s voice trailed off, her hands balled into fists at her side. With a quick throw of her body weight at Casey, her arms wrapped around his neck impulsively and pulled him into a hug.

“That,” Bella rushed as she pulled away, planting a quick peck on his check, “was absolutely phenomenal. Amazing, really. Just…” Bella pulled away slightly, her arms still tangled around Casey’s neck. “Tu étais magnifique.”

Coming quickly to her senses, Bella dropped her arms from around Casey’s neck and turned to Avery, enveloping him into a hug as well and finishing off the motion with a peck on the cheek.

“I must say, we make an excellent team. I am surprised that this went as well as it did.” Bella grinned widely. Carefully, she reached out and took the hand of Casey and the hand of Avery, squeezing her fingers tightly around both. “We should celebrate! I know, um, a restaurant by the beach, we should go and have dinner. My treat for,” Bella paused, searching for the correct words, “such an amazing trio and an excellent job well done.”

Bella released their hands, her arms gently weaving together around her waist.

“Well, that is if neither one of you have plans.” Bella quickly corrected, her cheeks flushing slightly at the assumption. “I completely understand if you do, it was terribly rude of me to assume. You probably both have better things to do.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[natsukashii]

Hunter Drake

“Yeah he used to be my best friend, so I’m pretty aware of him..”

“Yeah, I bet he was..” Hunter absentmindedly said, his head occasionally veering to the stage to see if Amy was coming on or not.

And then it was about five seconds later, as Remi was talking about dipping out and they shared a short embrace did Hunter’s mind fixate on that small comment that shook him to his core.

How did he not realize that for what felt like an hour, especially since they had been standing near each other and talking about Nickie and their shared interest in seeing Amy succeed and supporting her. How in the blue and white hell did Hunter not put two and two together? Maybe because there were even parts of Dei’s social life that Hunter wasn’t apart of. Maybe because Hunter never figured that Remi was one of Dei’s friends.

But then again, Hunter had distanced himself from Koredei Grant in both a literal sense and as someone he looked up to, so maybe he just didn’t remember.

And God, this guy was Nickie’s ex? Not that it made any difference in how he felt about Remi. He and Hunter got along great and he was genuinely supportive of him and Amy. She deserved someone who would treat her right. And in the short time he spent talking to Remi, he meant what he said: Remi was — is — a better fit for her than Kordei ever was.

And that was a fact--

bzz bzz bzz

Hunter suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket, pulling him out of whatever train of thought he happened to be in.

As he whipped it out, he saw it was his stepmother, Hana, calling him.

“Too loud to take it here.” Hunter mutted as helooked to the stage briefly. Amy still hasn’t come on, so maybe Hunter could answer his stepmother’s call and watch it in time.

Having decided that, Hunter made a quick detour out of the immediate area and away from the noise and chatter of the audience. He answered by saying, “Hey, sorry I had to dip out of the theater. What’s up? You guys need help navigating through the parking lot?” Hunter stated, laughing in his usual way.

“Hunter, I’m so sorry.”

Oh no.. Hunter didn’t like the sound of it. “What for? What happened?”

“We’re still on the highway, Hunter. Traffic is so bad. We’re might not make it.”

And there it fucking was. One good thing was always paired with a shitty thing. It’s not like Hunter wanted his parents —his father and stepmom, that was — to see him perform a song he had been working tirelessly on for the past couple of weeks. The arrangements, the lyrics, getting every line, the lighting — all of it was done all with his vision for how The Bitter Taste needed to feel in all ways that mattered. It wasn’t like he wanted his father to see that letting him attend HA wasn’t a mistake. It wasn't like that he wanted Hana to see that he wasn’t just making mistakes at this school. It wasn’t like…

“No worries!” That was the fakest response Hunter could muster but it sounded convincing over the phone. “I’m sure someone will upload a recording of it to Youtube or some other site.”

“Hunter--”

“Don’t even worry about it, Hana. I’m sure you guys will get here eventually. Drive safe!”

Before he could give them a chance to say anything else, Hunter hung up and pocketed his phone and boy, did he curse. Some of it wa sunder his breath and some was so clearly heard that people walking past him stared, to which Hunter cursed them away.

He had to pull it together. Whatever empty promises his family made, specifically his father who had promised to be there at his performances, didn’t matter right now. He knew they’d disappoint him, but Hunter had to focus on the people in his life that actually mattered. The people like Amy. Hell even Remi was shaping up to be a hell of a lot more dependable his own fucking family was.

So that’s who Hunter would be focusing on. And that’s why he made his way back to the concert hall.

Only that he felt he was lost.

“Goddamn it, which stage was it again?” Hunter cursed as he made an impulse decision to take a left and he found himself at some stage. Only, as he focused center stage, who he saw up on it wasn’t Amy. For one, she was shorter and it wasn’t someone that brought him joy.

There she was, his wonderful and hypocrite-of-an-ex, Nickie-fucking-Abrams and she was in front of of some goddamn keyboard.

Hunter had been in the back, above all of the others, so maybe she saw him if she looked at the crowd. And he stood there, listening to her song, listening to those laughable words, it was difficult for Hunter to not laugh. He didn’t, of course, because in the event she’d see him int he back, standing by the door, there was no way in hell he’d want to draw attention to himself.

At least not yet.

But then he noticed her slip up.

“Classic Nickie.”

Pressure and Nickie Abrams didn’t mix well and h e knew her. Contrary to what she thought, he was starting to understand her. He knew that when it came to the tough, she ran with her tail between her legs. But she couldn’t do that now. It was do or die for her and she was almost being pushed over the edge of the cliff. He saw she was doing that usual thing she always did before the worst came.

Poor Nickie. It must be so painful having all of these people in the hall, looking at you and you’re about to fail them all.

Hunter was so goddamn petty and still so goddamn angry that he didn’t care if she failed. But he also didn’t want her to just quit.

Not yet.

So, as he had a hell of a lightbulb go off in his head, Hunter started to slowly clap. It started out in a slow rhythm, which every singular clap steadily increasing in pace, like a train gaining speed. And with every clap, Hunter’s voice steadily increased in volume as he repeatedly yelled “Nicks!” And what started out as a lone act, soon a few others nearby joined in. and then those near those people started to, albeit out of sync.

And then Hunter got into it.

“Come on, people! Say it with me!” He looked at his ex with a wicked grin.

“Nicks!”

clapclap

“Nicks!”

clapclapclapclap

“Nicks!”

clapclapclapclapclapclap

It wasn’t long until he had almost the entire crowd chanting Nickie’s name in support. Little did they know that it was started because Hunter wanted her to fail. Hunter wanted her to be the Nickie he knew she was.

mood
"Supportive"

location
Arts Fest

outfit
Ready to kill it

playing...
The Bitter Taste

by Hunter Drake​

mentions
Amy, Nickie, Dei, Remi

interactions
Remi (briefly), Nickie (from afar)

tags
AkuTheWolfOkami ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Zeph Evermore

He should've known that suggesting something like that to Lin was going to be a fail -- and Zeph really had known that it would be, but he'd still held onto some little sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could convince Lin otherwise. Maybe the other times that they'd done dangerous and illegal stuff had just been a kind of fluke, right?

But nope... it didn't seem that way.

That familiar pit of stress and worry started to settle in the pit of his stomach, and all he could really think was something along the lines of... well shoot. It had been worth a try, but he still felt... well, let down maybe? Let down that his new best friend just so happened to be into basically everything that was the opposite of what Zeph was into?

Just once, he'd really like to do something that was legal and fun.

Also what was wrong with a harmless prank, huh? If they were going to prank, could they at least leave other people out of it? Or not wanting to do an illegal prank? Not that, well... Zeph really didn't think that there was any such thing as a harmless, legal prank, because they all seemed to be illegal or harmful, so...

Really, he'd prefer if they could just do something completely different. But hey, he wasn't about to disagree with Lin and risk seeming -- pfft -- lame.

“Zephy, dude, you’re not serious are you?”

Zeph let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Uhh... no...?"

“You’re tellin’ me you wanna do a harmless prank?! And a legal prank?!” Lin was saying, perhaps a little too loudly given their proximity to others. “Zeph! Dude! Pranking someone where no one gets hurts and doing something that wouldn’t get you arrested is the most normie shit I’ve ever heard, luhmao!”

"Ah... yeah, yeah, you're right." Zeph responded with another uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah, I was definitely joking. Really... really just... so... joking. Heh..."

The rest of Lin's teasing mostly fell on deaf, embarrassed ears. Because well... Zeph wasn't really sure what to say, and he was well aware of the people around them listening because even when Lin lowered his voice, it was pretty much just showered to a normal volume.

And then Lin was shoving one in Zeph's direction, and he took the prank weapon, and his eyes widened slightly as it dawned on him what they'd be doing with Sharpies.

“You know what we’re gonna do with these?” Lin asked in a low voice, motioning for Zeph to bend down lower and, reluctantly, he did so.

“Van-da-lis-immmmmm!”

Shit.

Zeph straightened back up as Lin pulled away, and he laughed lightly to try and match at least a tiny portion of Lin's enthusiasm.

And then Lin was calling Zeph's name, and taking off and, with a deep breath, Zeph trailed after him without another question. Like a dog trailing behind its owner, or a duckling follow after its mother. In some ways, he almost as helpless as those animals did in this kind of situation.

They stepped into a bathroom, and Zeph paused as he glanced around the bathroom. It was oddly decorated -- a lot of flowers, kind of pinkish hue, and why... what... he looked towards a metal box in the corner that appeared to accept quarters for something, although he couldn't quite make out what it was. Zeph was going to approach (what if it was condoms or something? Not that he needed them -- he was just curious about what rich people sold out of weird vending machines in their bathrooms), but Lin's beckoning drew his attention away for a minute.

He looked towards the mirror where Lin was drawing away, but he didn't take to vandalizing right away. He was still curious about the nifty metal thing, so he walked towards it and--

"Dude, look at this. Gross. Why do they sell Tampons in the..."

Zeph's voice trailed off as it suddenly started to dawn on him, and he looked away from the metal box to the stalls, suddenly realizing that there was a significant lack of urinals.

"Lin--" he started to voice his concern, of what he thought might be going on, but the bathroom door had been thrown open and all he heard was a high-pitched screech.

With eyes wide, Zeph turned to look towards the door, and he was stuck, frozen in place.

Because there was a classy old lady, pointing a crooked finger in their direction.

"Boys!" She screeched. "There's boys in the ladies' room!"

Oh.

Oh fuck.

mood
oh fuck

location
Arts Festival

outfit
no, he's not getting super fancy

playing...
We Like It

by Computer Games​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lin

tags
ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Ashton West

Everything that had happened prior to Trevor had more or less faded from her mind. Sure, for the first little while of her hanging out with him and like... going around to the different performances, and like his movie, and this and that and everything else, she'd still felt that little bit of guilt -- and she'd kind of found herself stuck between telling him the truth of what happened, or just like... acting as if nothing had happened and moving on.

Because like, technically, nothing had happened between her and Lucky. He hadn't kissed her. It had just been uhh... a friend comforting another friend, and whatever had occurred in the dressing room had just been like... a fluke. They'd been high on emotions, so it had been a momentary lapse in judgment. Except it wasn't even really a lapse in judgment, because they hadn't done anything, like...

Yeah.

Even if Eli had told Ash that she should tell Trevor, and even if she knew that he was right, there was something holding her back -- that something obviously being that she knew Trevor would flip out.

And it was supposed to be a good day.

She didn't want to ruin that.

Plus, he'd kind of said that her performance had been phenomenal, and she didn't want to taint that with any remarks about what had happened off stage. Because like, sure, Lucky had said something similar, but he'd been half of the performance, so of course he had to say something like that. But hearing that from her boyfriend who was pretty much a terrible liar? Yeah, it had kind of meant a lot to her.

Like, more than it would've meant coming from literally anyone else.

And now, they were leaving the Arts Festival for the actual date and Ash was, like, obviously super excited.

“An’ here we our, darlin’. Our chariot awa — oh, wait.” Trevor cut himself off as they came to the van, and she looked at him, head tilted slightly to the side as he held up a finger for her to wait, and then he kind of just... stood there staring at her for a moment, and a little smile played on Ash's lips.

What?

She couldn't figure why he was staring at her, and she glanced behind her to see if there was anyone else or something, but there was no one else out here. Just the two of them alone in the parking lot, with Trevor acting weird -- and then he smiled wider and headed to the back of the van. Ash started to walk after him, but she remembered the whole finger telling her to wait thing, so instead, she just nervously waited by the side of the van.

Her fingers played with the stem of the flower that Lucky had gifted her, and she looked down at it. The blue petals had started to grow limp from being carried around without water all day, and the stem had grown weak from her constantly fiddling with it today. Still, a ghost of a smile played across her lips as she looked at it. It had been a super sweet gesture, and she'd never gotten, like, just a random blue flower before. It had always been over the top bouquets, usually of roses, that she'd received over the years. Not that she hated any of those -- they were sweet, and she appreciated the whole flower thing and the thought that went into it, but it had been nice to receive something a little different.

Plus his little reasoning behind it, which had added so much more depth to the simple flower.

She looked away from the flower, her gaze traveling back to peer at the back of the van. He was taking a while, and then he poked his head around the edge of the van to hold up a finger again.

Okay then...

He was being so weird.

She continued to wait for another few moments, until she heard the back of the van finally shut and she curiously peered back, wondering what the heck he was doing.

“Close your eyes,” he called.

Ash first rolled her eyes, but then she did as he ordered, and she closed them. Her lips were still pursed into a small, amused smile as she listened to Trevor's footsteps as he approached.

“Uh, you can open them now, if you want.”

Her eyes opened up and for a moment, Ash just stared at the bouquet of roses awkwardly held in Trevor's arm. She was kind of stunned, and her gaze moved from the flowers up to his face, and then her stunned look broke into a huge, excited smile as she quickly threw her arm around Trevor, giving him a half hug since like well... it was kind of hard to give a genuine hug with roses like right there and everything.

"Oh my god, Trevor, this is like..." she was kind of speechless, and she just gave a little shake of her head before she leaned up to kiss Trevor before remembering that like, they were obviously in public, so she settled for giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before looking back at the flowers.

"If we weren't in public I'd, like, totally start making out with you or something, but ummm..." Ash shrugged and went to take the flowers, but the little blue chrysanthemum was still clenched in her hand. "Lucky, umm... he got me this, like, earlier -- like as good luck for the performance or whatever..." she let out a small awkward laugh, wiggling the flower in her hand for a moment before she slipped it into the edge of the bouquet -- so she could obviously take it without smooshing the blue flower, although it was kind of overshadowed by the roses.

"I didn't know we were, like, getting things for each other," she said with an awkward laugh. "I didn't, umm... I didn't, like, get you anything," Ash explained and started to reach forward to take the flowers, but she hesitated, her hands hovering against the sides of the bouquet. "Wait, this is like... this isn't for your roommates or something is it? Like, it's for me...? I mean like if it is, it's really pretty and they'll love it."

mood
(imagine a little heart emoji here)

location
Arts Fest

outfit
sparkles

playing...
Today

by Olivia Holt (cover)​

mentions
Lucky

interactions
Trevor

tags
ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[qunqun]

MOOD: Slightly annoyed

OUTFIT: Flowy white dress

LOCATION: School

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:
Stassi AkuTheWolfOkami

tags

TL;DR Bitching n moaning.

tl;dr

Katya

Now Katya was good at pretending like she was nice and friendly for the most part. A few snippy replies here and there, but that was usually directed towards her sister. After all, Stassi was usually the one to start their little arguments.

And Stassi was known for making pretty awful decisions to begin with. Like that Jace guy? Terrible. Absolutely awful decision. It was almost like she was trying to make her parents mad by dating someone as pathetic as Jace.

(At least, she figured as much considering how he acted on Twitter. Katya never met the guy in person, but from what Stassi had told her about the whole relationship, quite frankly Stassi should’ve known better than to get wrapped in that train wreck).

Which was actually well… sometimes Katya wanted to be rebellious like her older sister - maybe not as terrible with decisions that could affect her entire life, but little acts of rebellion to show that she wasn’t just some puppet that her parents could control. The urge sprung up every now and then, with every party that she attended and every drink that she drank. Small acts of rebellion against her parents’ oppressive regime.

That wasn’t necessarily saying that she liked her older sister, but in some ways, Katya could see how they could resemble each other, much to the singer’s own chagrin. It was unavoidable in a way - Katya was just much better at hiding her secret rebellions than her sister’s rather sour attitude.

For the most part, though, she tried to do what would make her parents happy. Or at least, when they could be around any corner and see everything. It just wasn’t smart to make a big stand and a big scene when they were so close. (And by close, Katya meant that they were in the same country).

So, when Stassi ran into her with an apology that sounded not at all apologetic, Katya let it roll off her back. It was just the smarter decision for the time being than to get into a whole passive aggressive bitch fight. They had to all sit around a table and eat dinner with each other later, and the beef already ran deep, no need to add onto the pile with some fresh wounds.

“Oh no, sister, don’t worry about it.” Katya said in Stassi’s native language. Russian was an interesting language, she preferred Ukranian but she wasn’t allowed to speak it in the house. So she’d managed to retain it by teaching her friends at the old school so they would have a secret language in order to gossip about people behind their backs. A slightly mean and underhanded way to retain knowledge of her own native language, but hey. It worked.

“I was trying to find Mother and Father. Did you manage to catch my performance?” Katya was fairly certain that that had been the goal of Stassi as well. And, she already knew the answer to her question: No. But did she care? Equally no. It was just a little bit of a way to snip at the girl who hated her for existing.

It wasn’t her fault that their parents were more worried about their image than their own daughter’s wellbeing. She just reaped the benefits. Stassi was going to get disowned no matter what, it was purely luck that Katya had been chosen to fill the void instead. And they both knew that.

Didn’t stop Stassi from blaming her for absolutely no reason though.

That was just how their family worked, little passive-aggressive comments to each other that just amounted in their repressed frustrations until someone (let’s face it, usually Stassi) exploded and made a huge scene.

“It’s okay that you missed it.” Katya said with a pleasant smile. Serene as ever. Trying to keep things light and airy despite how much they absolutely despised each other. Again, best not to make a scene. “Shall we go find mother and father together?”

Katya began walking before Stassi could really respond, expecting her to follow.

“It was a good performance, but I’m sure you’ll hear the details over dinner, you are going to that, yes? I think that mother and father are expecting you, especially considering you missed my performance.” It was just playing a little game of verbal chicken. First one to explode loses, and Katya was in it for the long haul.

code by valen t.

 

[Soap]

Livanna Moore
"Find the positive in everything. ”

@Livieeee is has updated her status to:

@Livieeee has interacted with:
Nickie

@Livieeee has mentioned:
Kayla

@Livieeee has set her outfit to:
Sparkly-Sexy

@Livieeee has tagged:
ditto​

The small facade of a spark in Liv faded when Nickie practically ignored every attempt to tease fun back at her. It was nice to kinda forget about everything and just focus on bothering, and flirting with Nickie— yeah, yeah, she shouldn’t be flirting considering Kayla had just kissed her but come on. It wasn’t really real.

That was their thing.

Liv flirted. Nickie got angry.

But she didn’t get angry this time.

And whenever she didn’t get angry meant there was something wrong. Like that day on the football field.

Her distraction was suddenly gone and she fought her frown from returning.

She wanted to ask if she was okay.

But that felt like a stupid question.

Livanna opened her mouth to speak before Nickie’s manager came into the picture, giving her a heads up.

She waited a moment and mulled the question over.

“Hey, are—

Nickie took a few steps away from Liv and she spoke.

“I’ve got to go,”

Liv thinned her lips, a half-hearted smile.

“… Bye.”

“Bye.” She replied, giving the tiniest of waves. Liv hadn’t expected her to turn around, much less say the words that she did.

“Good job…by the way. I guess.” She said quietly.

The ‘I guess.’ wasn’t a backhanded compliment, it was a genuine one— especially coming from Nickie.

The corner of Liv’s lips lifted in a smile of sorts. It wasn’t very noticeable, the word smile probably doesn’t fit here either.

It wasn’t a grin.

Not a smirk.

It was more of…

At least somebody thought I did okay.

“And…thanks for the luck. I really needed it.”

“… And I really needed the compliment.”

She was going to say something else.

She wasn’t sure what, she didn’t get that far before Nickie was announced on stage and she left.

Liv sighed, flopping onto the chair that Nickie was previously on, exhaustion already taking over her body.

She felt dizzy.

But not in a bad way.

Well— depending on the person.

She felt drunk but aware of her surroundings. Everything was less slow and felt a lot more intensified. She wasn’t sure what she took. But it certainly wasn’t a bad thing. She had a good view of the stage from here, watching Nickie from afar with curiosity.

She liked her music.

It was… relatable.

“Think I drank too much again…”

It had actually made her feel something.

Unlike her own music.

It just felt like spouting words to an empty wall. Getting nothing in return but the applause in response.

She was a pop star. She should want the applause. The attention. Crave it, even. But Liv was just tired.

Keeping up appearances. Doing the things everyone else wanted to do. Forced to look or act a certain way.

Be fun.

“Looks like fun but it’s pretend…”

Don’t be a bad influence.

Smile.

But not too much.

Write to your heart's content.

But only if everyone else likes it.

It was the double standard.

Everyone wants to be famous until they’re actually famous and then they just feel like being invisible.

Although…

She felt invisible sometimes.

Much less with the strangers who knew her, but the people that Liv knew. She felt like she was a part of the background.

Only wanted when she was needed.

Only needed for their needs.

“Why do I try to fit in when I just want to go home?”

But she always obliged anyway. Why was that? Was she that desperate to feel something other than her own feelings?

She just wanted to feel… there.

And that didn’t make much sense but she didn’t know how to explain it otherwise.

“And I know this isn’t like me, I just want people to like me, got my glass up in the air, and I act like I don’t care…”

See, relatable.

Liv had zero shame in admitting she knew the song word for word.

It was a good song.

She was doing well. Nickie always had a good voice, good lyrical creativity, a high range, good breath control— all of this was true.

So it didn’t make much sense when she had started to stop suddenly, word for word coming out practically breathless and the chorus went on without her vocals.

Liv waited with anticipation.

Clap,

Clap,

Clap,

“Nicks!”

“Nicks!”

“Nicks!”

Her name was chanted over and over and the chorus repeated along with it.

Nickie glanced up, confused.

Liv could see her panic setting in from here.

She bit her lip, standing up from the chair, quickly grabbing a stagehand who was passing by.

“Can I have a mic?”

—

Liv waited for half a second backstage, catching the drummer’s eye and some sort of relief washed over him, making a motion with his finger to start the chorus over again.

It was slightly slower, but that was good. It gave Nickie a chance to register what was happening.

“… Keep on playing that song that I don't like I just wanna feel normal for the night.”

Livanna emerged from backstage, walking closer to Nickie with a nod of her head.

“Keep on kissing that guy that's not my type, I just wanna feel normal for the night.”

Liv nudged her gently with her elbow to continue the next few words.

I should go, it's getting late

But I'ma keep on dancing 'til I feel okay.

Why was she helping her?

It was pretty simple.

Nickie needed help.

The whole ‘hatred’ thing was amazingly one-sided.

Kinda.

Liv didn’t hate Nickie. She just seemed… really misunderstood sometimes. And despite how bad L was feeling, if she could help someone else with how bad they were feeling, why wouldn’t she?

So it wasn’t really a question as to why she was helping Nickie.

It was more of a silent hope that she wouldn’t get mad in some way because Liv made the last minute decision to help.

Fingers crossed?

º º code by ditto º º