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

[mogy]

Oates Oates
"Words are words, actions are actions."

@Oates has set their status to:
Safe

@Oates has set their outfit to:
Matching Suit

@Oates has set their location to:
The Dance

@Oates has mentioned:
Callum, Kian

@Mogy has mentioned:
hery ​

Safety.


It was a hard-to-reach point for the curly-haired boy. He always had everything he needed and yet, life had been but a cruel master, safety seemingly never assured, always to be longed for. Then again, the entire point of the night was that it had been different, wasn’t it?


As they swayed underneath the reduced reflectors, Callum’s fingers tugged at Oates’s hair, but ever-so-gently, ever-so-carefully. Quite misplaced, settling into the forest that was, it was a simple touch, but how it meant so much, even the boy himself didn’t quite understand. By that moment he’d closed his eyes, fully embracing everything around him that was, by lack of a simpler term, Callum.


The suit which emitted lavender and pathological peace; the soft skin that was pressed against his; the breaths, so erratic, yet, like the lavender, passive. The two dancing, it was a drug, and Oates was the painfully addicted. How wouldn’t he be when they fulfilled every crevasse of the other. His hands without Callum’s shoulders underneath were nothing, his chest without Callum’s right up against it didn’t know how to breathe, and, well, his soul without Callum’s next to it was a ghost, searching for the safety that the slightly taller boy held in the palm of his hands; at the tips of his fingers.


Physically—the two boys swinging slowly at the melodies played—they weren’t the closest they could be, they weren’t the closest they’ve ever been. But in every other way, they were a rocket shooting for the stars, where before, they were merely coasting the clouds, and that was on the good days. They were astronauts now, and being an astronaut, Oates wanted to do it for just a little while longer, at least until the song ended and he was forced to go back to reality. It seemed to him that Callum liked being an astronaut as well because there weren’t any groans, there weren’t any eye rolls, not that Oates could even see them. There simply weren’t any indications that suggested Callum’s desire to go back to Earth, and while that might have been wishful thinking, that was the best kind of thinking.


To the sound of the black-haired boy’s voice, Oates pulled his head up from the comfort of the boy’s shoulder, and looked up at the blue orbs which made him even more addicted, as if that were possible. He could see Callum, and Callum could see him, and whatever the boy said next could either make Oates kiss him or shatter Oates into broken glass. Vulnerable, maybe unhealthily, but safe, undoubtedly safe.


“Yes?” He forwarded, not really knowing what to expect. It could’ve been anything, but as moments passed like years do, that undistinguishable hope was now rushing through his veins at even the possibility of what he wanted for so long to come true. It was the only thing that made sense, and the only thing that would make this night absolutely perfect. But then again, any number plus infinity was infinity, and such was perfection. The orbs looking back at Callum were filled with this hope. It was quite obvious.


He could feel Callum’s heart beating faster; it had to have been for him, right? Callum was going to say it, and Oates couldn’t lie, he wanted to hear the words just as much as he claimed he didn’t care for them anymore.


But then, just as the slow song slipped away, so did Callum. The hope remained, and turned into emptiness when the words weren’t those Oates wanted. He was selfish for them, and when he didn’t get what he wanted, emptiness engulfed him as the tide does a beach.


A breath in and a breath out, and Callum was slipping away. They were still dancing, only Oates needed a moment to collect his thoughts before he started doing what Callum was doing, the two soon moving in unison to the catchy beat that overshadowed Oates’s disappointment.


But he wouldn’t stay disappointed for long.


Callum continued, and he said things that a person who simply doesn’t love another wouldn’t say. It had to have meant something or the words wouldn’t have left the boy’s mouth. Like a poem, its meaning was left for the reader to understand, or misunderstand. Every word, more energy flowed through Oates and he soon found himself dancing with even more energy than the boy in front of him.


Like his body, his mind was going a thousand miles per hour. Callum was here for him, Callum had done so much for him, especially tonight, Callum said all those wonderful things. That was how Oates understood Callum’s poem.


“I love you too.” He replied and smiled at the boy without any more words on the topic necessary. He didn’t need Callum to say it because there was no way that the black-haired boy didn’t love curly-haired boy. “Now, let’s dance!”


The night went on like this; dancing, smiling, laughing, and Oates was safer than ever. There was no better companionship than two dancers who loved each other, now Oates knew exactly how that felt, and he liked being an astronaut, he really did. Only when his forehead showed drops of sweat glittering in the lights, he knew it was time for a break from the dancing, no matter how good it felt to dance without a strict choreography to follow. He’d pulled Callum aside, to where there had been less people all jumping around without a care in the world.


“Phew…. I really need a break.” He told the slightly taller boy, leaning up against him, head first. But that didn’t last long.


Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, he swiped the sweat drops from his forehead and then neck. “Do you want this? I only used half.” He asked the boy in front of him, breath still erratic.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Spencer Gray

Ezra kicked him out of the apartment again last weekend for no doubt another one of his romantic escapades knowing his brother. So after he had wrapped up his day touring the city with Beth, Spencer did what he had taken to doing when Ez pulled a stunt like this and spent the night in a cheap motel room which he had visited enough thus far that the front desk lady already recognised him. He never got much sleep at the place but this time he had the pleasant events of that day to keep him company until he did. It had been fun, seeing the city and getting to learn about it through the eyes of someone else.

And it had helped take his mind off the sudden questions Stella had thrown his way about taking someone to the Winter Ball. Needless to say, Spencer spent the next week at school leading up to the Winter Ball wary that somebody would come along and ask him to the ball but thankfully, his fears proved unfounded and so here he was now happily standing alone at the ball with no date at his side. There were just too many possible misunderstandings that could come out of a date, even a friend date, and he didn’t want to introduce that into his life.

Spencer was standing at the side of the room, sipping on a drink as he watched the people around him mingle when a voice called his name and he turned to see Beth approaching with a dark haired boy. “Hey Beth,” he smiled as he returned her greeting with a warm one of his own. “I didn’t know either until about an hour ago to be honest.” He’d planned to spend the night working on a dance routine but Ezra had pretty much put a stop to that plan and well, he supposed it wasn’t a bad idea to take a break to mingle and socialise every now and then. He didn’t want to go back to being the dance obsessed teen of his past who neglected everything else anyways. Pursuing his dream and becoming a successful dancer was important, but not if it came at the expense of the behaviour that had caused so much pain and suffering in the first place.

So the boy next to her, Mike, was her date. It was nice to see her with a date. From what he had understood from the little bits and pieces of hallway talk he had heard, having a date to the ball was close to something of a necessity for the girls. At least the way he heard some of the girls talking about it, showing up dateless was a really sad situation. He didn’t agree with that line of thinking to be honest but he could kinda see why they would think that way. Showing up with a date was probably better than showing up without one. And her date seemed like a nice guy, and she seemed to be having fun with him.

“Sup,” Mike said, “some people know me as the hottest man alive, but you can just call me Michael.” Spencer chuckled good naturedly as he reached down to shake his hand. “I can see why. It’s nice to meet you Michael. I’m Spencer, a new kid in the dance department,” he gave the guy a friendly smile as he continued, “it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

He turned to Beth still smiling, “Thanks again for showing me around last weekend. I had fun. Ah, Beth kindly gave me a tour of LA since I’m new here.” He explained to Michael. Last thing he wanted was to cause any misunderstandings or problems. “I moved over from New Zealand with my older brother Ezra. Perhaps you’ve met him?”

Michael was a model and good looking so it wouldn’t surprise him if Ezra had already made himself acquainted or more. His brother was always quick when it came to that sort of thing.

mood
Ball Time

location
Winter Ball

outfit
formal

playing...
WONDER

by Shawn Mendes​

mentions
Ez

interactions
Beth and MIke

tags
Winona ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Mikaela Ainsley

Tori always had a flair for the dramatic. If she ever got tired of being a writer or it didn’t work out, Mikaela was certain that her friend would have a place in a melodrama series. “I didn’t yell.” Though she certainly hadn’t been quiet either. “And we don’t know whether or not I’ll be able to keep up with you until I try. Won’t be too late to just end things early on the day itself if that does turn out to be the case.” She doubted that would happen of course.

No matter how wild Tori was going to get, if she could and would actually get as hard to keep up with as she was proclaiming, Mikaela was like that stubborn piece of gum on the underside of your shoe. You couldn’t shake her off or deter her that easy. Why if she gave in that quickly then she would have long crumbled under the weight of her detractors’ cruel comments back when she… her thoughts trailed off, losing steam as she realised where they had led her. It’s ok. She was numb, already numbed herself out long ago, all she had to do was make sure she stayed numb and switch course quickly.

Thankfully Tori helped her pull through on that front, quickly reminding her why she kept the other girl around as a friend, aside from the fact that she was one of the few people who knew her secret. “Snort?” She repeated as she burst into laughter, tearing as she tried to string the words together into a coherent sentence amidst her guffaws. “pfft snort – crack – off – a stranger?” Mikaela clutched the side of her stomach as another burst of laughter took over her. “Oh my god, you’re killing me Tori.” Where on earth did she get such ideas from? And in a bathroom of all places. Did all writers have an imagination like this?

A voice cut through the air laughing that it was unsanitary and Mikaela found herself agreeing with the sentiment when it hit her. Another voice, a stranger – oh fuck – no, wait, they didn’t actually have drugs on them and they were just talking and Tori was the one who said it, it could be played off, no need to panic yet – unless.

Mikaela turned and internally heaved a sigh of relief when she saw that the voice did not belong to anyone she recognised. The newcomer was a dark haired boy who looked a little familiar like the I’ve seen you in the hallway or a classroom kind of familiar. He introduced himself as Kian and his laughter turned to genuine concern which made Mikaela laugh and feel kind of bad for Tori who she imagined was freaking out over the fact that they, or rather she, had been overheard.

“It’s nice to meet you Kian. I’m Mikaela and don’t worry, Tori here just has a very active imagination. It’s an occupational hazard.” She threw an arm around Tori’s shoulders as she spoke. “The music was great by the way.” Well she assumed it was, she hadn’t exactly been listening to the performance but hey, a little flattery went a long way, even if it wasn’t exactly genuine. “Despite what Tori’s little spiel might have led you to think what we’re talking about actually has nothing to do with drugs or any unsafe behaviour. Actually,” and then, cupping a hand to her mouth, she leaned forward a little conspiratorially, pretending to look around for any other eavesdroppers as if she was about to reveal a big secret before continuing with a glint in her eye, “she’s just nervous that we’re skipping school next Tuesday to go hang out at the amusement park.”

mood
that was close

location
Winter ball

outfit
Hot dress

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions


interactions
nil

tags
Winona ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[natsukashii]

Hunter Drake

“Then let’s dance, see who can handle whom.”

Hunter heard a few people nearby laugh and he was almost tempted to go over and deck them. He might’ve had he not seen Ronnie’s kinda smirk that was no doubt a challenge hid under her usual demeanor.

And it was a challenge that the sophomore would happily accept.

As he casually walked away from their table (with style, might he add), Hunter thought about how things have changed. Of course, he knew he entertained this thought and the surprise of how things were so different just a few months ago, but they really were. A few months ago, he was starting to get to know Nickie and was pretty much not even thinking about Ronnie as anything but a constant thorn at his side trying to ruin any chance he had with Nickie.

Now look at him? He was that the damn Winter Ball with her. He was getting them some punch before they’d hit the dance floor. If ever there was a time for him to reflect on how things have changed, it was now.

And like some divine bullshit from the big guy upstairs, as he approached the beverages table, he saw Nickie. He cursed himself and felt like turning back, but as he glanced at his date smiling at him (or maybe she was smiling in general and not directly at him), he decided to play it cool. There was no reason for Hunter to get agitated just because his ex was here.

Not like he’d ever let her see anything other than pure amusement (always at her expense) whenever they were near each other.

Hunter pulled up to the punch bowl, putting a ladle-full of punch in both plastic cups. He couldn’t help but side-glance Nickie

Damn it, she looks hot.

And not just hot. Nickie always managed to make even horrendous-looking outfits work for her. He didn’t know how she did it because she wasn’t a fashion designer or didn’t have an eye for it (most of the time), but there was just something about the way she seeme dto always look.

And Hunter hated he couldn’t force himself to think she was ugly. That might’ve help him feel better.

But nope! That dress was working for Nickie in every way his immature brain could see.

As he took in a deep breath that was cleverly hidden under a smile, Hunter turned his head at Nickie. “Here alone, Nicks?”

Ah yes, that was such a good opening line. Play off your own tension by reeling her in like that. It’ll throw her off or just get to her. Either way, it’s a win. “Or are you waiting for your so-called date?” Hunter cracked a chuckle within his grin. “Me personally, mine is waiting for me to get her some punch. Because, you know, I have a date. And lemme tell you, you might look good tonight--” Careful now, Drake! “ --But mine is probably twice as hot as you look. Like so hot, you have to wear protective goggles so you don’t get burned by her scathing hotness.”

mood
Fly like a G6

location
Hollywood Arts Dorm Building

outfit
Back in black

playing...
Pretty Fly (For A White Guy)

by The Offspring​

mentions
Ronnie, Nickie

interactions
Ronnie (briefly), Nickie

tags
hery ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

Surfing had been fantastic as always, even if the company was well… you know. At least they had been entertaining to watch when he took breaks from catching waves. Dalton was pretty sure he hadn’t been the only one laughing when West wiped out like a limp noodle on what was basically calm water. The board was bobbled by a wee little wave and that was all it took for him to go overboard. It had been hilarious. And the tall French coward? Dalton gave him the same treatment as little West and mocked him in between waves. The long and short of the rest of the story was that he’d gotten into Cortes’ space and next thing he knew, a fist came flying his way and connected with his face. Thanks to that, he was now nursing the remains of a bruise from where the big guy had hit him and well, Adriane had been none too pleased when she saw it earlier and plastered more makeup on his face than he’d ever had in his life because she wasn’t getting caught on camera next to a guy with a face that wasn’t in tip top shape.

At least it didn’t sting as much anymore or that would have just made everything worse. One of the good things about the fights he had gotten into in his younger days was that they had made him decent at taking a punch. He wasn’t talking about his fights with Slater of course but the older boys he brawled with in the school yard back when he was a foolish little kid clamouring for attention, hoping that the calls to the principal’s office would bring his deadbeat mother back into his life. They never did of course but that was neither here nor there.

Anyway, tonight was the ball and he was here because…well he just was, and he’d done the whole song and dance too. Get your date a gift – yes, a single rose was a gift in his book – pick her up for the dance and offer her your arm. Hell they were both in matching colours too, red of course and obviously not his decision, he just went along with whatever. That would probably get the stupid ones chatting and calling him a simp or whatever which was plain dumb. An example of a simp would be Nathan Wood, not him. Besides he had been in precisely one relationship his whole life and that relationship happened as part of a bet, completely devoid of any real feelings of affection whatsoever on his part.

The loud dumb ones who just ran their mouths however they liked aside, coming to events like these with a date helped ward off the leeches if nothing else. So here he was escorting Adriane into the ball, acting like a date would, mostly because it was just convenient to do so and because the remains of the makeup caked bruise he was nursing made him feel a little more… compliant.

Balls and parties like these would probably be even more frequent in the future after he graduated. It was really the only reason why he was here. He could care less for his job but if he was going to do something, he was going to do it properly and attending the Winter Ball was really to help him get used to it. Believe it or not, his grouchy reputation aside, Dalton actually liked parties but these kind of overdressed and ostentatious events didn’t really count as parties in his book, at least until party like things started to happen at them and no, ballroom dancing did not count.

Dalton made sure they were seen by the paparazzi as he escorted Adriane because, well you didn’t come to events like these to hide in the shadows and it wasn’t like he needed to or anything. Plus possible career and publicity benefits aside, hiding was a sign of weakness and in the aftermath of the idiocy that had been the arts fest and stupid Evelyn Sinclaire running her mouth off on twitter about his relationship to Damien Slater, the last thing he needed people thinking was that he was weak or hiding. “Want a drink?” Dalton asked as he reached out to a nearby table and grab a couple of flutes for them. It was a shame that they didn’t have real alcohol since this was a school and so most of the participants were underaged. Not that it seemed to stop any of them from drowning themselves in liquor anyways.

mood
hmmmm

location
winter ball

outfit
red suit

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
Jace, Auggie, Evie, Slater, Nate

interactions
Adriane

tags
Winona

 

[ditto]

victoria shantel sterling​

It didn’t take a genius of Tori’s level to determine that Mikaela Ainsley didn’t give a rat’s ass about being reasonable. Before you said that that sounded pretty “Holier Than Thou” on Tori’s part, she had several pieces of evidence that she could cite for that claim. If you wanted an MLA formatted essay over why Mikaela lacked any reasonability...

Tori wouldn’t give you one, nevermind. She was a romance novelist, and boring ass essays about obvious things were not her forte.

But for evidence, you had to look no further than literally anything that the dark-haired girl did. Or, ya know, just look at the lock-in. Seriously — you meant to tell Tori that someone who uproots the school’s precious trees while high on drugs (illegal ones) made reasonable decisions?

Given this, Tori kind of knew, as she always did, that there was no point in trying to argue her point to Mikaela, because, well, Mikaela would never change what she had her mind made up on, even if the points that were presented to her were the most logical and compelling ones around (which they were, mind you). Still, Victoria knew that she, out of all people, had the most shot at changing Mikaela’s mind.

Trust her. She just had it.

Besides, there was something to be said for effort, right? She got some bonus credit or something that could be redeemed for, say, a get out of bullshit that will definitely get me permanently injured and/or arrested free card?

Being the unreasonable fiend that she was, Mikaela burst out laughing at Tori’s logical argument. “Snort?” she repeated. “Pfft snort — crack — off — a stranger?”

Tori stared unamusedly at Mikaela, her lips pressed into a firm line downturned at the corners and her eyes half-lidded as she watched her friend laugh like what she had said was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “It’s not funny,” Tori deadpanned. “Seriously — it’s concerning, Mikaela.”

“Oh my god, you’re killing me Tori,” Mikaela said.

“Because I don’t want you to kill me?” Tori poised up an eyebrow. “I just said that I don’t want to snort cocaine off of a stranger’s back in the bathroo —“

“You don’t snort blow off a stranger’s back in a bathroom,” interjected a laughing voice.

Tori’s eyes shot confusedly over to an unfamiliar boy with unkempt hair, and she gave him a quick once-over. He held a glass in his hand, and a guitar (or some kind of instrument) was strapped across his back. From behind her, Mikaela laughed. Judging from the way he interrupted so certainly about the drugs — and, you know, his look, in general — he was...well...experienced about...those...things, and confident in his experience.

Her blood ran cold. Oh sweet Jesus, she thought, another one.

It was one thing, being like Tori and saying you’ve done questionable shit and having the energy of having done questionable shit, but then there were people like this guy who you could tell thrived off of doing questionable shit, and what was worse than one unswayable person who did questionable shit and thought they knew better than the one who knew best? You guessed it — two of them.

“Well, I guess you could,” he continued, an expression of genuine concern on his face, “but honestly it’s a little unsanitary. You snort it off of your friend, duh. Muuuuch safer.”

Tori blinked. “I...” What did she say to that? “Uh...I...”

No, no, she had to compose herself. Cool, calm, and collected, Victoria. So he was talking about drugs — and? You’re a veteran, Tori reminded herself.

“It...” She drew in a sharp breath and shook her head, her demeanor abruptly shifting to as cool as she could get: one hip popped out, one hand on that hip, the other hand playing at her painted fingernails. “Context is important,” she said.

Handled it like a pro.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted,” the boy apologized. His face was tinging red. “I, uh, I don’t think we’ve met before,” said the guy. “I’m Kian, one of the super cool dudes that was just tearin’ up the stage just now.” He looked between her and Mik, and then looked back at Tori. He looked concerned. “You’re not seriously going to use off a stranger, I hope. It’s, uh, kinda unsafe.”

She made a mental note: sane people don’t do drugs off strangers. Of course, she already had the mental note of sane people don’t do drugs, but the amendment was important for the look she was going for. Still, Kian’s (that was his name, right?) knowledge about that made her a bit antsy and caused her to need to suppress a disapproving grimace.

“It’s nice to meet you Kian,” Mikaela said before Tori could speak. “I’m Mikaela and don’t worry, Tori here just has a very active imagination. It’s an occupational hazard.” She threw an arm around Tori’s shoulders.

Shooting Mik a glare, Tori jerked her shoulder back and forth in an attempt to get the girl’s arm off of her. “Mikaela,” she hissed.

“The music was great by the way,” Mikaela continued, completely unfazed. Jeez Louise, the way that that girl completely ignored Tori until it was something she wanted to do — even when they were in one-on-one conversation, the girl had very selective hearing. “Despite what Tori’s little spiel might have led you to think what we’re talking about actually has nothing to do with drugs or any unsafe behavior.”

Tori rolled her eyes. “‘Unsafe behavior’ is definitely involved,” she muttered.

“Actually…” Mikaela cupped her hand to her mouth, leaning forward and looking around like she was going to say some secret. Tori moved her hair behind her ear, looking away but subtly leaning her ear in to eavesdrop, just as Mikaela said, “She’s just nervous that we’re skipping school next Tuesday to go hang out at the amusement park.”

“Hey!” Tori grunted, her brows knitting and lowering over her eyes. The corners of her lips dramatically downturned in a frown, she crossed her arms and turned her head away. “I’m not nervous, Mikaela.” She opened one eye to look over at her friend. “You’re the one who ought to be nervous, because I doubt you’ll be able to keep up with me.” Opening both of her eyes and dropping her arms, she heaved a deep sigh, shaking her head and letting her hair fall back in front of her face.

Jutting a thumb over at Mikaela as she finally freed herself from her grip, Tori scoffed. “Can you believe her, Kian?” A slight smirk was creeping onto her face. “She keeps insisting that I show her a good time, and when I promise to, she gets so nervous that she claims I’m nervous. And to think…she’d do this kind of projection on such a good friend of hers…” Looking over at Mikaela with her best Mikaela-ish grin, Tori scrunched her nose proudly. “It’s really a shame,” she said.

(That was her best attempt at giving Mikaela a taste of her own medicine. Good, right? Not to toot her own horn, but you just saw it — Tori really was so cool.)

mood
; )

location
the ball

outfit
a dress

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms​

mentions
n/a

interactions
mikaela & kian

tags
Xed geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[KingofAesir]

Sawyer Andrews

Sawyer liked parties, loved them even. There was something she found intoxicating about the machinations of a teenage party. The amount of drama that was to be expected, the potential for explosive fights, or equally explosive sex when you factored in alcohol and teenage hormones. But this was a different kind of party, a school sponsored function with adults shuffling around the edges, watching in case someone did something untoward. Not that would stop most of them anyway, teenagers had an uncanny ability to do what they weren’t supposed to even under supervision. So maybe this wasn’t a party at all, but it still came with the same promises, the same level of drama if not more. Only there were paparazzi huddled outside the doors here, with their cameras clicking away as they clambered over each other. Mistakes made here had the potential to be immortalized forever and the lure of that was too much for Sawyer Andrews to resist.

So, here she was, dressed in an altered suit her uncle had given to her. The crimson colored jacket had already begun to annoy her and was slung over her shoulder as she maneuvered carefully through the crowd. The black button down left on was form fitting and hugged at her waistline in a manner she’d thought quite attractive. Someone brushed past her and snagged his belt with hers, locking them together. He started fumbling around his words, saying something about he wasn’t paying attention but Sawyer could smell the sour twinge on his breath. His face was uncomfortably close to hers and Sawyer had to lean back to avoid smelling his breath any more. A forced smile found its way onto her face as she deftly unattached them from each other. He grinned toothily at her and reached up to pat her head as he shuffled away. Her hands fussed with the hair he’d displaced as she moved on herself, doing her best not to bump into anyone else.

What she really needed was to get to a corner where she could watch the goings ons in this mixing pot for inspiration. Sawyer enjoyed people watching, especially at functions like this, to get ideas for her writing. It was always better when you drew from real places in your writing, so if she could capture the real emotion she saw in here it would be phenomenal. Masterpieces took work and if that required her to dress up and suffer through drunk boys and entirely too loud music for a ball, she would. Speaking of corners, there was a perfect one just in her line of sight. A corner that just happened to contain one of the only girls in her entire department Sawyer actually liked.

Her lopsided grin was genuine now as she approached Ava and Saint, one finger still hanging on the jacket at her shoulder and the other hand hidden away in her pocket. She caught the end of something Ava was saying, “look bad if you skipped out” and assumed she was talking about skipping the ball. Ava was dressed well and Sawyer found herself appraising her as she drew closer to them.

“Damn, Av, didn’t know you had it in you.” She complimented, giving Saint an acknowledging nod as she came to a stop beside the two of them, “This place looks insane, I almost feel like a princess.” She sighed overdramatically, bringing a hand to her forehead as she leaned against the wall.

“How much money do they spend on this fucking shit?”

mood
content

location
Winter Ball

outfit
See in post, black and crimson suit bitch.

playing...
Lowkey As Hell

by Waterparks​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Ava & Saint

tags
ditto Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[AkuTheWolfOkami]

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  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  zooted - out of her mind
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  Le Ball
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Jace ( Winona )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

STASSI

Junior(18)- Model - Golden Goddess

This figurative dance they were partaking in while being at a literal one was starting to ware down on Anastasia. Jace’s aggressive headshake, in defiance of what she had suggested for him only caused her to look off into the distance in order to avoid offering a grimace of displeasure at his whimpering defiance. The paparazzi was watching of course, and she needed to be perfect. Jace knew that too, and despite the non-reciprocated love, he still cared enough about her to not make her life worse.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted at his act of …well his act of opposition. How dare HE. How dare this sniveling, whimpering brat defy her. …Why did she even care? Her natural stoicism was saving her from revealing her true emotions under her skin, as it always did. Despite not sharing blood with Vera, the two’s mannerisms were aligned perfectly. If it wasn’t for Anastasia’s brown skin and hazel green eyes, the two with their high buns were almost indistinguishable.

There was a bit of a moment where she glanced back to him as he started to his blubbering and there was a mixture of irritation and adoration. The irritation came from his blubbering in general, where he sounded like a child and not a man as her father tended to say. That was the one thing that her uncle and her father seemed to agree on. That Jace did not measure up to date a Perov(a) and especially not a Unzhakov(a), but Anastasia didn’t see it that way.

That’s where the adoration came in. Through all of the crying and whining and just …..well through all of that Jace was a sweetheart. He was here for her tonight, and though he could barely get the thought out, get the words out, she adored him for that.

Date. Me. You.

Yeap, big adorable idiot.

I-I ah... uhh, I-I mean it'd... we're... on a, we're on that... that date, yeah? And I... I just... I'm not just... just gonna l-l-leave, because that'd-- that'd be... well, that'd be really bad. We're, I'm umm... here. For you. Tonight.

Sorry, GIANT adorable idiot. It was the thought that counted though, right? He was trying to be there for her despite his obvious desire to not be? Though she couldn’t lie and say that was completely true. It was clear he did want to be there for her, but he didn’t really want to be there with her. It was quite the conundrum, but his sacrifice only made her grow even fonder of him.

She hated these feelings, she hated how she felt about him and the fact he’d never feel the same way about her. She loved him…she really did.

She slowly took a deep breath as she searched her mind for the appropriate response. Politics weren’t her thing, so she couldn’t come up with some charming speech, nor could she be persuasive as her father and sister were. So she wasn’t sure what to say. She was passive aggressive, she was manipulative, but very subtlety. So being direct, searching for direct words weren’t her strong suit.

She cleared her throat turning away from him and reached to his hand, gripping it and lacing her fingers through it before he could protest. She looked to him – with her heels on they were now at eye level – and offered a smile. It was a genuine smile unlike the ugly ones she’d force. Her body felt warm and she felt safe with his hand in hers. It felt natural though she knew it meant nothing to him….well to be fair to Jace maybe not nothing, but definitely not the same that it meant to her.

“I thank you for doing this Jace…you were there during my recovery and you’re here for me again…I really do love you..”

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[dear.szmm]

@niamh.foz​

Niamh Foster​

mood : bored

location : winter ball

outfit

mentions : oates mogy

interactions : none

tags : none

A party is much better when you know the other attendees.

Even one other attendee.

Niamh realised this as she donned her emerald gown. Sure, Oates would be there somewhere, but she hadn’t made any plans to meet him and would never be so desperate as to text him merely forty-five minutes before the ball itself. Fuck that, she thought. She’d make her entrance, collect a drink, and slot herself amidst the bodies on dancefloor. She wasn’t one to stand on the fringes or lurk in the women’s restroom; she’d survived worse situations in the past. In fact, attending the Winter Ball was a welcome social event, having only been a Hollywood Arts student for less than a few weeks. Since arriving in Hollywood she’d spent each evening in one of three places: at the gym, in the guest suite of her grandma’s place, or in a sequestered spot on the roof terrace of the coffee shop down the street. A party was desperately needed.

She slipped into her heels and watched herself in the wall mounted mirror, smoothing the suitcase-induced creases out of the dress with her palms. Her room was pristine; aside from the trunk at the bottom of the bed, you’d be forgiven for thinking Niamh had never been there. It wasn’t ideal at her grandma’s, but a roof was a roof. At least it wasn’t Healdsburg.

Niamh sighed, attached her earrings, swept up her handbag and strutted out of her room. Her grandma’s driver, a grey-haired old-school chauffeur, greeted her at the front gate. He stood aside a jet-black Bentley; a sight that Niamh couldn’t resist chuckling at. Her newfound home came with a no-expense-spared clause; and she loved it. She smiled and mouthed a thank you to the driver, holding the rear door open wide, as she scooted into the plush leather seats.

Niamh arrived at the ball amid a crowd of paparazzi - however, they weren’t looking at her. She walked the perimeter of the crowd, watching the faces of her fellow students become lit up by camera flash after camera flash. One day, she thought, maybe. The truth was popularity had never bothered her one way or another. She’d been popular, and she’d been no-one. Either way, life went on, and you either got on with it, or got the fuck off.

Ironically, upon her entrance into the ball, Niamh found herself lurking precariously close to an area that brought her great discomfort: the fringes. The dancefloor was unexpectedly crammed with couples cosied up in each other’s arms, softly swaying to and fro like pendulums to the beat of the song.

‘Awesome,’ she scoffed to nobody and anybody, rolling her eyes. 'What a party.’

With that, she pulled a hip flask from her purse, and knocked back a shot of whatever alcohol she had poached from her grandma’s personal stash. At the bottom of her bag was a pre-rolled joint. She looked at it and pursed her lips. Is it too early? she wondered. She looked around her again, out into the sea of bodies pressed chest to chest to partners, boyfriends, girlfriends. She made her decision.

Niamh exited outside through a side door and dipped round the corner from the entrance. She sparked up her smoke and inhaled once, twice, three times. She watched the smoke dance on the air as she exhaled, emptying her lungs up to the moon. ‘Oh, my sweet baby Mary Jane,’ she coo’ed at the spliff in her hand. ‘You’ll save me. You’ll save me tonight, won’t you?’

º º ... code by ditto ... º º

 

[ditto]

nickie abrams.

Nickie used to remark in sophomore year, half-jokingly, that all that she needed in order to cheer herself up after any given “tragedy” in her life was a good party with good-looking people. “Stupid decisions”, as most people would call them (and as she would call them now), were healing — getting drunk, dancing on top of tables, making out with boys (and girls), pushing around in the bathroom, hooking up in rando’s beds were all just ways for her to cure herself of whatever was ailing her. And fuck it, she’d had a pretty good year, joining in alongside the lives of the parties and melding her personality to whatever got her the most cheering and applause and hands on her by the end of the night. She’d had fun being the “friend” of so many people — of Ash West, of Gen Johannes, of Charlie Howell, of Adriane Holloway, of…

Of Evelyn Sinclaire, too, at that point. The bitch had her fooled and thinking that they were best friends and shit, but it felt…nice. Like, really good.

She’d held the same sentiment toward dances — the school’s “squeaky-clean” version of the student body’s ragers — especially when someone snuck in a little bit of alcohol (and someone always did). There were people at dances, and people’d meant fun, because people’d liked her. It was fun in a fancier setting, but nothing really changed. Even though she’d come to the dance alone, she didn’t feel alone — she felt like she was making a statement, for once, after the awful relationship that had fucking decimated her freshman year: I don’t need a man.

And…and then this year fucking happened, and now…Nickie felt the exact opposite way. Beneath beautiful, high ceilings and glittering chandeliers, at the opposite end of the table fromflasks of faux champagne, and standing atop floors that she could see her reflection in, Nickie Abrams was trying to tell herself, Be fucking happy, chin up, all that shit, because realistically, she should have been thriving right now. Last year, she was on the dance floor, moving her hips to the music bumping over the loudspeakers and laughing and smiling like an idiot, and she was alone; this year, she had a date — a date who was her best friend — and she’d been happy all week, but she…just…couldn’t.

She knew how shit she really felt sophomore year. She knew how, even after every party, she would go home lonely — or if someone was taking her home, she would go home lonely with another person beside her. But the fake shit — that fake Nickie — at least felt warm for a few moments. At least when she was around people, her insecurities didn’t feel so fucking naked; she didn’t feel like she was the villain in their eyes, even if she had to completely change herself for their approval. They liked her, and she felt that.

And right now, with no Liv right beside her, looking out at all of those couples on the dance floor who she hadn’t thought that she was jealous of until now, she so desperately wanted to just go back to last year, you know? To re-fucking-start this one over. Because out there — everyone out there wasn’t here with a girl who she’d treated like shit until recently. They were just…random people, in love with random people, or if not in love, in the moment with random people and feeling loved. Enjoying themselves. That circle of girls in the corner hyping each other up — there was love there. The couple in front of her, slow-dancing to a goddamn Ed Sheeran club banger — there was fucking love there.

Over here, behind the punch bowl, there was just fucking loneliness. It just screamed really fucking sad.

Her eyes flickered over to some movement in her periphery, but then she looked back down at the bowl.

Wait, what the fuck?

Her eyes flicked back to the movement as the figures came more into view.

Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Several streams of emotion trickled into Nickie’s head. Surprise. Anger. Confusion. Jealousy.

Hurt.

Her heart gave a solid thud in her chest as he walked closer. He looked…too…good.

Hunter, look at me, she begged, losing track of herself for a second beneath all of this emotion. Look at me, look at —

His head turned, and her eyes darted away. She grit her teeth, making her next blink harder as she tried to suppress the emotions rising up. Fuck you, she thought. Fuck you, fuck —

“Here alone, Nicks?” His backhanded question and that fucking nickname made the anger and hurt rise further up.

Her blue eyes moved to him. Fuck, she took it back — he was trying too goddamn hard. She gave him a once-over, then stared at him with disgust — a you’re talking to me? look.

“Or are you waiting for your so-called date?” he chuckled, grinning. God, what did she ever see in him? He was such a little fucking shit, a wannabe asshole. Therein lied the answer to her question. And God, that grin.

That grin…

Fuck! She fucking hated that fucking cocky fucking attitude. She crossed her arms across herself tighter, her eyes moving to glare at Ronnie for a couple of moments as she rolled her tongue around within her cheeks before looking back over to Hunter.

“Me personally, mine is waiting for me to get her some punch,” he said. “Because, you know, I have a date.”

That fucking burned — it burned more than she wanted to admit. She only let it show on her face as a further disgusted curling of the lip.

“And lemme tell you, you might look good tonight —“

She —

I do?

“— but mine is probably twice as hot as you look. Like so hot, you have to wear protective goggles so you don’t get burned by her scathing hotness.”

That was a slap to the face, and Nickie’s heart gave a squeeze.

Her. Fucking Ronnie. The little fucking bitch that Hunter had told her that she never had to fucking worry about. When Nickie had demanded if he would ever be interested in her, he swore up and down that he wouldn’t.

And here he fucking was, saying that Ronnie was…was fucking better than her.

If he was trying to fucking hurt her — and she knew, deep down, that was what he was trying to fucking do — it was fucking working.

Her patience tonight, though, was too fucking thin for that to work. The burning jealousy toward everyone else at the Ball — and even her younger self — had wore on her nerves all night. That little bit?

It was enough to break the fucking camel’s back.

And then, a thought occurred to Nickie that made her genuinely fucking laugh: the irony of the situation.

As her genuine laughter subsided, she barked a laugh toward Hunter, placing a hand on her chest as though flattered. “What a fucking charmer,” she drawled at Hunter. “Always have been. Bet Ronnie fucking melted when you said to me that you would never even fucking consider her, huh? That you could never fucking see her like that — did her Hello Kitty panties just fucking drop when you told her that you couldn’t think of any fucking reason why you would ever sleep with her?” She gasped. “Oh, goddamn it.” She snapped her fingers, shaking her head. “I forgot. The answer to that question is obviously no — if you’d fucked, you wouldn’t’ve stuck around this long. Forgot that detail, didn’t I?”

Nickie smiled for a moment, baring her teeth. “You came up for punch?” she asked casually, placing her palms on the table and leaning forward as though they were having a polite chat about the weather. “Come to think of it, I forgot to ever get me any.” Sitting up from the table, she picked the ladle up and grabbed a cup. She spoke as she spooned some punch into her cup, slowly and casually. “Honestly, this is a really funny coincidence. I actually came up here to get some punch for my date and I, too.” She sat down the ladle and held the cup up to her lips. “Thanks for reminding me, Hunter, in your…” She tilted her cup up and took a sip of her drink as she gave him a grossed-out once over, then forced a smile as though she were trying to be polite about it. “Big grown man suit, aw, how sweet — you’re trying to grow some balls now that the total number of people who fucking like you has been reduced to three?”

She looked to Ronnie, holding up three fingers. Making exaggerated lip movements, she whisper-yelled, “His step-mommy, Chas, and you, sweetie.”

Chuckling, she looked back at Hunter. Her brows tilted up in mock sympathy. “How’s your right hand been treating you, Hunter?” she asked, her voice dripping with concern, and then she laughed, trying to make it seem like she was light-heartedly joking with her.

She let out a soft sigh, her expression going back to a slight smile. Gazing up at a chandelier almost dreamily, she mused, in a calm voice, “You know, Hunter, I’m going to say it: yeah, you’re a shitty person, and yeah, you’re a wannabe, and yeah, I fucking lied when I said that all of that shit you did was hot. No, you’re not good at kissing, no, you’re not hotter than those other guys, and no, your muscles aren’t impressive, especially compared to Nate Woods’ or…Dei’s…” She trailed off, as if she was going to add a but, but she just looked back at him, the dreamy smile slipping into a more venomous smirk. “That’s all. There’s nothing really more to say about that — but oh, while we’re on the subject of fucking comparing you to Dei…I’ve got a secret of my own to tell you.”

This was going to be the hook, going where it hurt the most.

“You and Dei are friends, right?” she asked. “I mean, I know you are — really good friends. You idolize him. And I mean, why wouldn’t you? I guess he is everything you aren’t. But I don’t think that he really thinks the same about you, does he? I mean, after all…I don’t think he ever told you…”

Her smile formed something far more devious than before. “Did Dei ever tell you that we talked?” she said. “And I mean, like, seriously fucking talked. Oh, he was so fucking dreamy — had all of his shit down pat. You think that you had me fooled? He really fucking did. God, I was so fucking in love — I mean, I lost less friends over him than I did, but I actually think I loved him more than anyone, ever.” That wasn’t true — she hadn’t loved him like she did Hunter. Still, her words were venomous, said with furious conviction, and each one was calculated to hit the motherfucker right where it hurt. Who fucking cared if what she had with Dei was hardly anything aside from a few weeks of talking and her falling hopelessly in love with him just for them to fall out? He didn’t know the fucking truth — and he didn’t deserve the fucking truth.

All he deserved was to fucking hurt. She was seeing red.

As she continued, her voice was rising, her smile was fading. “He would do all the shit you do to me, but a thousand times better. When he kissed me, I felt fucking fireworks. Your attempts? Yeah, I was fucking laughing behind my hands, Hunter, because it was cute, really fucking quaint that you were trying so fucking hard to be everything you couldn’t be and always flopped a mile short. He was a man, and you? You were a fucking kid, and I’m kind of disgusted with myself for ever getting with you.”

She barked a laugh. “I know how you pray every fucking night to the gods to bless you with an ounce of the fucking personality and body and charm and likability as Dei, and as Chas, and you try day in and day fucking out not to be a miserable, using piece of shit fucking kid who cries for mommy because he can’t handle life, or his own problems, or friendship, or romance, because it all fucking falls apart on him,” she spat, “but it’s never going to fucking work, Hunter.” There were tears in her eyes, and her furious, strained voice was edging on breaking as she felt every single word. “Look around you, tell me a single fucking person who will think of you tonight besides the little girl who’s basically wearing a sign that says I’ll suck your dick for attention — and if there are any of those fucking people, how many of them are just going to be laughing about you, thinking, What the hell was I thinking? You use people, Hunter — you use them like they’re worth nothing fucking else besides your own entertainment. Unless you’re praying at their altars, your friends are all fucking temporary to you, and the same to people like fucking me, and the same to people like fucking Ronnie, because you really fucking think you’re something — and I told you you’re something — but at the end of the fucking day, Hunter?”

SPLASH!

She held the now empty cup in her hand, hissing, “You know you’re nothing but a worthless sack of shit.”

mood
...

location
by the punch bowl

outfit
red dress

playing...
normal

by nickie.​

mentions
liv, evie, ash, adriane, charlie, gen, dei, chas, nate, & probably some people i'm forgetting

interactions
hunter & ronnie

tags
natsukashii hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Genevieve Johannes

@NextGen has set their status to:
livin it up

@NextGen has set their outfit to:
queen of ice, heart of fire

@NextGen has set their location to:
the ball

@NextGen has mentioned:
Evie, Liv

@NextGen has interacted with:
Landon

@NextGen has tagged:
gh0stwriter

Fuck.

He was so fucking hot.

Gen couldn’t help where her mind went as Landon leaned against the doorframe, her eyes shamelessly tracing his figure up and down. Maybe it was a good thing that there was a group of people behind her. If they weren’t there, Gen was absolutely positive that they wouldn’t have made it to the dance. Hell, they might not have even made it into the actual house.

“While your natural beauty is effortless, I needed to put in a little extra work.” He joked. “Had some tie troubles.” Gen curled an eyebrow up at the missing tie around his neck. That poor tie had seen so many things but damn, they had had so much fun (Jace, if you’re seeing this, ‘nothing’ happened, Gen and Landon totally followed your rules). “But no one is even gonna look in my direction when they see you attached to my arm. You look stunning. And super fucking hot.” Landon’s smile made Gen’s stomach flutter slightly as his lips met the back of her hand. “You ready to go? Or do you need a few?”

Gen rolled her eyes and waved a quick goodbye to the people still in her foyer before stepping out and carefully closing the door behind her. Reaching up slightly, Gen wrapped her arms loosely around Landon’s neck, smiling warmly up at him as one of her manicured hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as I love you being my personal hypebeast, I do have to remind you that you,” Gen began, bottom lip catching between her teeth as her eyes traced his face and down his neck, “are just as beautiful as I am right now. Everyone else can go the fuck home, no one’s going to be as gorgeous as us.” Gen placed a soft kiss on his lips, warm and gentle as the corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile against Landon’s lips. Pulling away, Gen paused slightly to adjust the collar of his shirt before nodding slightly. “I’m good to go. It’s good to be fashionably late but we should probably get going unless we want to be the last ones there.”

Removing her arms from around Landon’s neck, Gen’s fingers trailed down his arm until they laced together with his. “Besides, if we wait any longer, I don’t think we’ll make it there in one piece. And as much as I would love to see that suit on the floor, we should probably get some good shots in before we make a mess of all this beauty.”

──────────── ❖ ────────────​

Gen should have expected the flurry of paparazzi outside the ballroom, they’d been there every ball since Gen and Eli had started going to Hollywood Arts, but there was something about being openly with someone in a relationship so controversial that had her faltering before stepping out of the car. But as quickly as her heart had given an anxious thud in her chest, she was reminded that they were fucking Genevieve Johannes and Landon Sinclaire, neither of whom gave a singular fuck about what other people thought. They were happy, they were hot, what else mattered?

So the pair walked into the ballroom, a photogenic smirk on Gen’s lips as she paused to offer a quick pose to the cameras. She was a model at the end of the day and who was she to deny the paparazzi a good chance at getting a decent shot of the queen of the plastics? A few photos later and Gen and Landon were making their way inside the building.

“I must say,” Gen spoke calmly as she looked around the room, “they really went all out this year.”

Gen reached over to grab two full glasses off of a passing tray, nodding a thank you before handing one to Landon. Raising her glass, Gen clinked the rims together.

“To the first of many events together.” Gen grinned as she took a swig of the liquid, her nose immediately scrunching up as she looked down at the liquid. “Is this shit apple juice? What the hell, are we three or something? Where’s the champagne?”

Thinking for a moment, Gen downed most of the contents of the glass before nodding to Landon to do the same. Looking around for peeping eyes, Gen flicked open her handbag and pulled out a gold flask. With a quick twist of the cap, Gen topped the amber liquid with the gin inside the flask, doing the same for Landon. Taking another drink, Gen nodded and stashed the flask back in her purse.

“Much better.” Gen hummed contently to herself, looping one arm through Landon’s while the other held her drink by its graceful crystal stem. Walking arm in arm, Gen felt herself looking around at the faces around her. Much to her surprise, it seemed as if most people weren’t paying any more attention to them than usual. “It seems that we aren’t the controversial hot topic anymore.” Gen pointed out. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “I don’t think Evie would feel the same way if she saw us. I can’t believe she still doesn’t give a fuck that we’re happy. That girl is too fucking proud of herself to give a shit about anyone else it seems.”

Gen focused her eyes to the ground in front of her, a pang of guilt at her own words tearing through her core. That wasn’t true, Evie wasn’t like that. They’d wronged her, Gen had to accept that she was to blame. A glisten of fabric and a sweep of dark hair moved in the corner of her eye, her head immediately snapping up.

Gen’s first thought was Evie, her second was Liv.

When it was neither of the girls on her mind, Gen swallowed and turned her attention back to Landon, squeezing his hand slightly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought her up.” She quickly apologized. “Let’s just have a good time tonight, okay? We’re here together, that’s all that really matters.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Casey Clairmont

At first, Chas had said not to Casey suggesting they dance, and although the tall blonde really wanted to get down and dirty on the dance floor, he dropped his hand all the same and didn't let the disappointment show on his face. Yeah, that was something you got real used to doing when you had cameras and spotlights watching your every move -- you learned how to keep your true emotions off of your face.

The only ones who'd really be able to see through the wide grin would be his sisters, but they were nowhere in sight, and they'd probably assume it was just 'cause he was here with Chas, and everyone thought he was a real drag, 'cept Casey. Casey thought he was the real bee's knees.

Chas kept on talking though -- 'bout guilt and how he could kick Casey in the balls, and not feel anything, and that was confusing enough to make the blonde's eyebrows crease together and his smile falter a touch as his head tilted to the side. 'Cause Casey didn't really get it.

His friend had been real weird since they went to, well, dating status according to the whole world. Casey wasn't a real fan of this, and he wasn't sure how to bring about his real friend again. Ya know, the one that got all huffy and puffy 'bout this and that and didn't try to bear his guilt to Casey on a silver platter.

Huh.

Maybe he just didn't like hearing the truth.

'Bout feelings or something.

His head kinda hurt thinking 'bout it.

"You're right. We should dance." Casey said as he neared his confusing little spiel, and to Casey, this meant that everything was super super alright, and everything was gonna definitely return to normal.

As Chas moved his way onto the dance floor and started (poorly) dancing, and beckoning to him, well, Casey 'course followed after him, but as he danced his way to Chas (using all those sweet moves he'd perfected on the stage, and that Cami clearly had taught him), he couldn't help but laugh.

"Let loose," Casey tried to shout out over the music as he tried to shimmy his non-existent boobs. But hey, his advice was solid. Chas danced too much like a cardboard figure.

Naturally, he moved to headbanging for a moment, 'cause that was the only real way to dance.

A couple more songs came on and went off, and Casey kept on dancing because that's just what he did. 'Course, at some point, the boy realized that his date probably wasn't having as much fun doing this whole dance thing, so his movements slowed and he reached out, fingers gently closing around Chas' arm as he led the other boy away from the dance floor, tossing an arm around his shoulders casually as they exited the dance floor.

"See, ain't that fun?" Casey asked with a lopsided grin as they walked away. His breaths had been heavy but now that his pounding heart had slowed down, so had his breaths.

Well, it had been fun for him.

As they neared the edge of the dance, Casey released his hold on Chas and kind of gave him a real light bump in the shoulder with his shoulder before he turned so he was facing his fake boyfriend.

"So what'd'ya think?" He asked, though he didn't really wait for an answer before Casey was tripping over his words again. "Actually, ya know so ah... do you wanna wait right here?" To make his point straight, Casey reached his hands out, clapping them over Chas' shoulders. There was a goofy grin on his face as he continued to speak. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, ya wait right here, and I'mma go... I'mma just..." Casey relinquished his hold on Chas and took a couple steps back, lifting his hand up towards his face to mimic ya know drinking.

'Course, as he was backing up, he backed right into someone, and he quickly offered the girl an apology as she walked off, and then he was grinning at Chas again.

"Ya wait here, I get us ahh... drinks, yeah."

With a vigorous nod of his head, followed by Casey tossing a couple finger guns in Chas' direction, he turned and started making his way towards the drink table--

And oh look! His good buddy Hun--

Oh.

Oh some girl threw a drink on him.

Casey's steps came to a halt, although the goofy smiled stayed.

He stared for a moment.

Ya know, drinks could wait.

Casey was grinning as he turned around, blue eyes scanning the crowd, and then he--

Oh look, Bella!

He waved at her, his grin widening as he did so, and he remembered the box and the flower inside that he had waiting just for her.

His heart gave a nervous little skip of a beat, kinda worrying that she might not like it.

But ah, surely she would... right?

mood
hypeeee

location
balllll

outfit
look he has a fun tie

playing...
Kerosone

by Courage My Love​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Chas, Bella

tags
hery geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: danthe

OUTFIT: matchy king!!!!!

LOCATION: ballroom

basics

MENTIONS:
n/a
INT:
mogy (Oates)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Callum Richards

Callum gazed back at his boyfriend quizzically, having failed to finish his thought before being interjected upon. Oates loved him too.

Too.

Without further delay, the pair began dancing energetically, and while the black-haired boy could easily keep up, his mind began to wander somewhere else. His eyes locked onto his boyfriend while the gears turned in his head. Had his earlier blunder been saved by Oates, or had he just fallen into an even deeper hole? Well, to answer that would answer just about forty other questions in their relationship, so maybe that whole thing was best left for later. Like, way later. Apparent wedding day later.

Upon being pulled aside, Callum raised an eyebrow. He was never the one with more energy, as he simply would have been too powerful had that been the case. "You need a break?" he echoed, crossing his arms. He began to catch his breath, and just as he noticed his chest heaving, the energy-sapping weight of having danced for an extended period of time hit him. He lowered his eyebrow. "You know, me too."

Moments later, Callum was being offered a half-used (which was apparently less nasty, for some reason) handkerchief for the sweat on his forehead. It was a gracious offer from his boyfriend, but they weren't fluid bonded to that degree. It was gross if he said yes and gross if he said no; risking mixing sweat is disgusting, but declining an opportunity to wipe sweat off only reinforced Oates' stupid insinuations that Callum was unhygienic. He may not have been the best at taking care of himself, but for the love of god, his apartment had a shower.

"No," the stoic boy declined, gently lowering the other boy's hand with his own, "Go crazy. Use it all." He forced a crooked grin, because if Oates wasn't going to call him dirty, he would surely call him out for being terse or sullen or something, which he wasn't even in the first place. Worse, Callum came to expect these things at their every interaction, because ew, how did he end up knowing someone else more than he could even figure out himself?

"I guess this is what it's like sleeping half a day and then getting out of bed after that. Who'd have thought?" he quipped dryly, sporting his usual deadpan expression. He felt talkative. Something about being so forthcoming and cooperative felt so embarrassing, and then he remembered he didn't care what people thought so he pushed the thought out of his head and pretended not to be self-consciously tugging at his sleeves as a nervous habit. It beat biting his nails, which he sorta started to get in trouble for.

At age 18, he'd once and for all been beaten into submission. Shackles and chains squeezed at Callum's neck and limbs, softening and pacifying his sharp wit and tongue. Whether it was the psych treatment or Oates, he couldn't quite place why, but he was thoroughly emasculated nonetheless. Next thing you know, he'd end up buying chocolates and wearing matching sweaters and writing cutesy little apology notes to the people in the dance department he'd pissed off. God, the humanity.

Finally forcing himself to suppress his nervous habits, Callum focused his entire attention onto light conversation with his boyfriend. "This ballroom is decorated so trashily. It feels like a private middle school trying too hard." Be positive. Be positive. Don't make things bad again. "...But it's nice. Reminds me of that elementary school we performed at."

Where I made that kid cry. And his mother.

"Something tells me your mom would be into this stuff. Brought up prom royalty while we were talking." He idly gazed at the stage and the decorations while strolling at a leisurely pace, secretly on the lookout for a restroom. "I don't know if she likes me or not. Most people are usually pretty up-front about it." He looked down at Oates. "Your family and friends think I'm bad for you, I'm pretty sure." Super sure. "If not them, the rest of this school thinks it."

He sighed. Being really into someone was kind of depressing at times. He looked ahead, wincing out of highly uncomfortable vulnerability. "I'm selfish for making you stay. Is it bad I don't really care?"

code by valen t.

 

[AkuTheWolfOkami]

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  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  irritated as usual, excited, but as always - FABULOUS
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what she's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  Her own designs but for the ball -it's also the pic in the post

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where she's at...

  
  
  
  

  on the way to the ball with Bailey
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  qunqun
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Kinni

Freshman(15)-Fashionista-Goddess

It was all annoying. Every bit of it. She hated everything that had been transpiring between this morning and the day of the arts fest. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration because despite the many, many inconveniences and annoyances there wasn’t much of an obstacle in the way of her that she hadn’t conquered. That was her personality though – she didn’t let things get in her way. She was successful in spite of it all, because she was a hard worker and took no prisoners.

Everything with Stella had worked out amazing if she was honest. Her designs on her looked beyond amazing, and it garnered her a lot of attention from more luxurious brands than she expected. They didn’t become best friends or anything in the process, which was fine. Both girls were very business like and ambitious which might have ended up making it the perfect storm. They may never be friends outside of this business transaction, but they might yet make the perfect team. Even with the clumsiness of that girl she claimed an idiot, Beth, she was able to still come out of head. She believed it was that Polynesian warrior spirit in her.

Well, her current issue was a little more pressing than the aforementioned ones, hich she supposed wasn’t actually an issue since nothing bad actually happened. She just wished she was attending the ball with her BOYFRIEND. It was fine though; her date was simply to die for. They were such a cutie. Of course it was platonic date, with a friend whom Kinni thought was simply amazing and fabulous and if she hadn’t had a boyfriend – she might have made a move on them..non-platonically (though she wasn’t exactly sure if she could), the fact of the matter is that her boyfriend, CHOSE not to attend the ball with her.

He was such an annoying brat sometimes. At least that’s how she felt. Despite the many resources she had access too (her mother was a Marine Lt. Colonel, and her Hawaiian family owned a lucrative macadamia and coffee farm so along with her father’s surfing winnings he left behind they were set), she was never upper class. High middle class, sure, but she didn’t mingle with the big families much. So every chance she could rub elbows with them, even if it was just their children, she would. Jordan, on the other hand, avoided that kind of stuff like the plague and in some fashion, she could understand it. He had to attend it often with his family. He knew her situation though, she wished he had been just a bit more supportive.

Regardless, she was going to kill it tonight. She got her makeup done, using up all of the earnings she had made from her last fashion project to obtain a celebrity MUA. It was worth it, she believed at least. She could do her own – she was great at it according to her youtube comments, but she wasn’t taking chances. She didn’t know how she was going to eat without dipping into her savings until her next check came in a couple weeks, but she’d deal with that fallout later. She also ended up having to get her hair done, which was another added expense which had her eating ramen noodles.

Because she made her own clothes, you’d think she’d have saved money on that, but because she was out to impress everyone (specifically LVMH), she spared no expense to get her dress perfect. She was fortunate to have been gifted a pair of designer heels awhile she never wore for reasons like this, so after sliding those on, boom she was ready to go. And it was good that she decided to start early to give her enough time to correct any mistakes or discrepancies because well, her date was already there apparently.

Kinni took in a deep exhale, clicking across the floor of place before getting to the door and opening it. When she first saw Bailey, she let her jaw drop just a bit after her first glance at them. They were dazzling, dapper, the perfect complement to her. Perhaps this was a better choice than her own beau after all.

Kinni shook her head a bit, picking her jaw off the floor before offering a smile, “Uh hey, um. You look amazing. I just need to grab my clutch and we can head out.” And that’s exactly what Kinni did returning shortly to join presumably join Bailey into the lyft.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[geminiy]

Kian Phelan

@lockandkian has set their status to:
partayyyyyyyyyy

@lockandkian has set their outfit to:
I broke my jacket

@lockandkian has set their location to:
the ball

@lockandkian has mentioned:
n/a

@lockandkian has interacted with:
Mik, Tori, Lucky, Javi

@lockandkian has tagged:
Xed ditto gh0stwriter hery

From the second Kian had opened his mouth, he knew that he was in way over his head. Snorting crack off of strangers, seriously? What sort of fucked up were they? Certainly the type of fucked up that Kian was not about to be able to handle.

The one girl with the shorter hair, the one Kian recognized as Mikaela, seemed to be busting a gut at the whole concept. That was normal. But the other girl, the one beside a giggling Mikaela, looked like she was about to simply perish from it all. Clearly she wasn’t used to drug talk, not like Mikaela was, and by the way she was blinking and staring at him as if he had two giant heads (which, from what Kian could tell, he didn’t), she was caught entirely off guard by the conversation in its entirety.

“It… Context is important.”

Right, context. Because context could easily explain why they, two clean cut lookin’ girls, would be snorting crack off of a stranger’s back. Totally. Completely. Entirely.

“It’s nice to meet you Kian,” Mikaela, as she was about to confirm, spoke in place of her panicking friend. “I’m Mikaela and don’t worry, Tori here just has a very active imagination. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“Riiiight.” Kian drew out as the panicking girl, probably Tori, hissed out Mikaela’s name at the same time.

“The music was great by the way,” Mikaela complimented, a warm flush crawling across Kian’s cheeks at the sudden kind words. “Despite what Tori’s little spiel might have led you to think what we’re talking about actually has nothing to do with drugs or any unsafe behavior.”

Kian grinned, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his hand as he gave a nod towards the girls. “Well hey, thanks! It’s hella cool to be able to get up there and shred, really start up the party, ya know?” He asked, patting the black leather guitar strap across his chest. “Now what’s this about unsafe behaviour?”

“‘Unsafe behavior’ is definitely involved,” Tori quickly interjected with a roll of her eyes.

Right, very convincing from the back crack snorter.

“Actually… She’s just nervous that we’re skipping school next Tuesday to go hang out at the amusement park.”

Kian immediately perked up. An amusement park? Dude, Kian LOVED amusement parks! Damn, there was something about those puke inducing drops and heart-attack-in-the-making corndogs that was just soooo enticing. All that and skipping school? Sign him the fuck up.
“Hey I’m not nervous, Mikaela.” Tori was, in fact, nervous as hell Kian quickly deduced. “You’re the one who ought to be nervous, because I doubt you’ll be able to keep up with me.” Right, because clearly she was the queen of cool. “Can you believe her, Kian? She keeps insisting that I show her a good time, and when I promise to, she gets so nervous that she claims I’m nervous. And to think…she’d do this kind of projection on such a good friend of hers… It’s really a shame.”

Kian really did try to suppress the giggle that burst from his lips at that exact moment but there was no containing his laugh. They couldn’t be serious. Tori showing Mikaela some fun at an amusement park by sniffing crack off of a stranger’s spine? That was not FUN for anyone!

Oh wait.

They weren’t laughing.

They were dead fucking serious.

“Oh well uh, that sounds, um… Fun!” Kian quickly saved with an awkward few chuckles. “Well hey, uh I have season passes to the park and really good excuses to get out of class. If you don’t mind me taggin’ along, maybe we can all have some fun that doesn’t involve sniffing crack off of strangers. Besides, you saw my set,” Kian pointed out, nodding to the side where the stage sat, “I really do know how to party.”

Peering down at the phone in his hand, Kian’s eyes widened as he downed his drink.

“Shit, speaking of which, I gotta jet. Our next set starts in a few.” Kian rushed, brushing a hand through his hair before putting the empty glass down on a nearby table. “We’re all on Twitter, yeah? Lemme know and I’ll hook us up with tickets. See ya!”

With a final two-finger salute from his temple, Kian grabbed the neck of his guitar and spun it around so that it was in front of his chest as he turned and jogged off towards the stage. Pushing his way through the crowd and through the door to backstage, Kian’s lips parted in a wide grin as he made his way over to Javi and Lucky, throwing his arms over each of the boys.

“Ready for a killer Act Two?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Ezra Gray

@EZGoing has set their status to:
hey there ; )

@EZGoing has set their outfit to:
daddy's yacht energy ngl

@EZGoing has set their location to:
the ball

@EZGoing has mentioned:
Spencer, JBN, Casey, Bella

@EZGoing has interacted with:
Chas

@EZGoing has tagged:
Tags

Formal events had never been Ezra’s thing. In all of his years attending galas and charity events and black-tie affairs, Ezra had never learned how to keep up meaningless small talk or how to dance like some fancy prince or what the meaning of all of those stupid little forks and spoons were at a table setting. Before, he really only went because his parents had made him. It would have looked bad if they showed up to a family-invited gathering with only 66% of their children.

But now? Well, Ezra really didn’t have a good reason. Maybe it was some sort of weird fear of missing out or maybe it was simply something to pass the time. He hadn’t even decided to go until the day of, having previously meant to meet up with a girl from LA High. But she cancelled and Spencer looked so sweet all dolled up. So, Ezra bought his ticket online, threw on a suit, and off he went.

It really wasn’t going to be that bad. Ezra could make a friend in any crowd, and it wasn’t like he was hurting for company since his arrival at Hollywood Arts. If he got bored, he could always leave. With the right set of circumstances, maybe he would even leave with someone.

Paying no mind to the paparazzi outside, Ezra waltzed right in through the front doors to the ballroom by himself, nodding a few quick hellos to familiar faces from his classes. Some band was playing on the stage, students dressed in outfits expensive enough to fund a small expedition to the Arctic dancing on a marbled floor in front. A few students stood in small groups talking, sipping glasses of some golden liquid out of crystalline glasses. The whole scene was ritzy and Ezra wanted nothing to do with it.

He especially wanted nothing to do with it when he saw Chas and his little blond puppy of a boyfriend dancing rather awkwardly on the dancefloor, swaying back and forth to the band’s music thumping through speakers. There was no way in hell those two were really together, Ezra had more fucking chemistry with his left hand. Unfortunately for him, Casey seemed so damn dedicated and protective over his little boyfriend that Ezra wasn’t going to get a chance to figure out what the truth was. How terribly disappointing.

“Excuse me? Ezra, right?”

Ezra turned his head in the direction of the voice, a smirk immediately crawling onto his lips as his eyes settled on the girl beside him.

“At your service.” Ezra noted with a wink. “What can I do for you?”

The girl smiled warmly and held a manicured hand out for Ezra to shake. “I’m Wendy, we’re in pottery class together, third period.”

As he took the girl’s hand, he began flipping through the seating chart of the class in his mind. He’d seen her before but what row was she in? What a fucking asshole Ez would seem if he couldn’t even remember where poor Wendy was located in his class when she knew his name and everything.

“Third row, yeah?” Ezra guessed, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow as he silently prayed he was right and wasn’t mixing this Wendy up with every other generic looking chick at Hollywood Arts. “You made that flower pot for Art Fest.”

Wendy nodded, eyes lighting up in time with her grin. “Yeah, that’s me! I’m so surprised you remembered.”

’Yeah, so am I,’ Ezra thought quietly to himself, though his lips spoke: “Of course I remembered, how could I forget such talent?”

Look, she was hot and Ezra was bored. Sue him.

Unfortunately, Wendy was about as interesting as stale cardboard. There was only so long that he could entertain tasteless conversation about pottery, refraining from jumping directly to the point in fear of scaring the girl off or breaking some sort of unspoken boundary, before his brain (along with the rest of his body) simply turned off. On autopilot he went, nodding along and agreeing and throwing in some playful touches that Wendy seemed to be digging.

Movement behind Wendy brought Ezra back to reality, his eyes drifting from her face to the person behind him.

Chas.

Without his little lap dog.

“So anyways, me and-”

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” Ezra apologized rather quickly, his question not leaving any room for an answer before he carefully shuffled by her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Through the crowd he went, devious smirk on his lips and a hand resting casually in the pocket of his slacks. Ezra didn’t speak as he grabbed a drink off of the table and positioned himself in front of Chas, smirking down at the shorter boy as he swirled the liquid in the glass.

“Well well, if it isn’t my favourite Bottom, stranded at the ball. Poor guy.” Ezra greeted warmly with a playful tilt of his head. “What’s the matter? Was it Casey’s bedtime or something?”

Ezra lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip, the smirk still on his lips and his eyes never breaking contact with Chas except to look him from head to toe and up again. “You clean up rather nicely. What a surprise.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Isabella Dupont

@bellaissima has set their status to:
...

@bellaissima has set their outfit to:
mon beau jardin fleuri

@bellaissima has set their location to:
the ball

@bellaissima has mentioned:
n/a

@bellaissima has interacted with:
Kelli, Casey

@bellaissima has tagged:
ditto Winona

It was somewhat reassuring that Kelli wasn’t immediately ditching Bella for Angel, her friend being her only real chance at companionship at the dance. With Kelli gone, there was no reason to stay at the ball and Bella would finally be able to slip away. The idea of leaving was partially relieving, partially horribly fucking sad.

‘No point in dwelling,’ Bella told herself, forcing a smile as her lips met the crystal glass again. ‘Live in the moment, just try to have fun while you are here.’

“Oh my gosh, Bella! We have to dance, of course! It’s a dance!”

Bella blinked a few times, lowering the now empty glass from her lips. Had she really chugged all that juice in one sitting? She had to protest, Bella really had no clue how to dance and dancing with someone else’s date would be horribly embarrassing.

Besides, Bella hadn’t danced in years, not since she stood on her father’s feet in the kitchen as he spun her around to the smell of cooking breakfast and the tune of music pumping through an old record player beside the china cabinet. Jackie and her mother would be hard at work, setting things up and cooking away while they sang, Bella and her father dancing awkwardly in the early morning light. At that point there wasn’t a single other care in the world.

Bella swallowed, forcing a nod of her head. Her father would hate to see her becoming such a recluse, turning away opportunities for fun and love out of fear. Instead, Bella dramatically extended her hand and offered Kelli a wink. “May I have this dance?”

Fingers laced together, Bella whisked Kelli away to the dance floor, spinning her around and doing her very best to remember the moves that she had learned from her father and Jackie years ago. A few awkward stumbles later, Bella and Kelli seemed to have found their rhythm, eventually breaking off into their own little dances to the band’s music playing over the speakers.

Bella lost track of how many songs they danced to, how many minutes had passed. For a few minutes, it had been so easy to get lost in the music and the laughter and the dancing. For a few minutes, Bella forgot that soon it would all be over. But then the band took a break and the groups and couples that had been dancing broke off to go get food or drinks or to find new partners. Still smiling and humming along to the intermission music, Bella looped her arm through Kelli’s as the pair walked off the dance floor.

“You really need to show me those moves sometime.” Bella giggled warmly as she blew a strand of hair away from her cheeks with a puff. “As you have seen, my dance skills are a bit rust-”

Bella paused mid sentence as a boy in front of her waved his hand in her direction, her heart giving a heavy thump in her chest at the sight of him.

“Kelli would you, um…” Bella’s voice trailed off as she looked at Casey, her voice growing faint as she removed her arm from Kelli’s. Taking Kelli’s hand, Bella forced her eyes away from Casey. “You should go find Angel. I think, um, I think Casey wants to talk to me. We will meet later, oui?”

Placing a quick friendly kiss on Kelli’s cheek, Bella carefully dropped her hands and took a deep breath before turning to Casey. Walking over to him, Bella stopped a few rather large paces away from him, trying to ignore the smile that was pulling at her lips without her permission.

“Hello Casey.” Bella greeted kindly enough, though her mind bounced back to Chas. He had to be around here somewhere, just waiting for the right moment to sweep in and ruin everything. Clasping her hands together tightly in front of her, Bella allowed a small bit of the smile to curl up the corners of her lips as she nodded towards Casey. “You look wonderful.”

A pang of hollowness shot through her stomach. Bella had never been one to run from her feelings or pretend like she did not care when she did. Casey, however, seemed to be the exception. He had this way about him that made her lose all train of thought, all grip on reality. Bella hated him for that, hated how happy he seemed with someone that couldn’t care less about him, hated how easily she let herself slip.

That was why she needed to tell him. Without everything out in the open, Bella knew she would never move on.

“I am… surprised I even saw you here,” she finally managed, dropping her gaze to the floor and the friendly act all at once. “I assumed that you would be with Chas.” Bella swallowed, looking back up at Casey. “But, I am glad you are here. I do believe that you said that you would save me a dance. That is if the offer still stands. Things have… changed since then. I understand if you do not want to."

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: ball asf

OUTFIT: suit

LOCATION: ball

basics

MENTIONS:
n/a
INT:
Winona (Casey)
geminiy (Ezra)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Chas Marino

Yeah, Chas danced like a dying robot. So what? His background was in screenwriting, producing, and the occasional singing performance. Why the hell should anyone have expected a perfect hip hop routine from him? Especially in his brand new suit; although he could afford to buy just about three thousand copies of his outfit, he wasn't going to trash and crease this one because of a stupid, "fancy" high school ball, which had about a fifth of the useful press coverage as the events he had grown accustomed to growing up.

His eyes darted left and right, anywhere to escape a direct look at his date. Damn it all, he was more uncomfortable than the tacky, ill-fitting piece of tattered cloth draped around Evelyn's body. He sent an overly-cheery smile toward Casey, but it only seemed to make the boy falter at the sight of a weakened Chas, pitifully out of his element. At least at the Winter Arts Festival, his creeping nerves were his own doing. This was just an inescapable hell.

"It is fun. The band's guitars could use a bit of tuning, but it's not bad." He began to speak, but hesitated, then continued with a sheepish grin. "It was a bit of a learning experience, even. I should pay my old ballet teacher a visit; it's been, maybe... twelve years? If the old coot hasn't croaked, that is."

Without warning, Casey's hands landed on his shoulders, but he instinctively shoved them off with a jerk of the shoulder. He crossed his arms. Oh, great, the guy was getting real confident again thanks to his superior headbanging or whatever. Whatever had the blonde so anxious, it was enough to send him stumbling backwards, and suddenly that comment about his confidence was in line to be rescinded. "Uh, okay, Casey. Thanks," he managed to respond before the boy completely disappeared into the crowd for drinks he hadn't asked for.

Very few moments of impatient, dumbstruck standing passed before the gods decided to send another delightful angel to Chas' side. He lazed his head over to face his uninvited conversation partner, maintaining his trademark uptight, cross-armed stance. Two tired eyes looked up at the insanely tall artist, inviting him to say his inevitably smug piece while he was there.

And then he opened his mouth, spewed some irritating, grating shit, and flashed a cocky smirk. Such an ass. Chas felt a violent urge to slap that glass out of his hands, but he refrained for the sake of keeping his shoes dry. "He's going to get drinks," the short Italian huffed curtly, finding it much easier to hold eye contact than before now that he was experiencing a much more frequent emotion of his: exasperation.

He felt defiled just being looked up and down by Ezra, and it showed in the way his fists tightened and trembled with fury. "Thanks, I'd say the same for you, but a black coat on khakis is approximately six seasons ago." He narrowed his eyes and rolled his neck, sensing an immense amount of tension in his body. "So, that's it? You come up to me with a glass of sparkling whatever-the-hell, swish it in my face like someone's pretentious billionaire dad, and expect conversation?"

The boy's irritation began to creep, and he let out a breathy sigh. "You know, you're really one to talk. Who did you even come here with? Are you not stranded?" If somehow possible, his arms crossed even tighter while he tapped his foot, resembling an indignant child. "Who comes on the prowl for a hookup to a ball built for couples? Wouldn't you be better off giving a b.j. to a DJ?"

Finally, Chas rubbed his forehead, nursing the dull, throbbing pain pounding on his skull. "Seriously, Ezra, not tonight. I'm really not doing this right now, so you're better off getting lost before Casey gets the wrong idea." Maybe the guy in front of him hadn't particularly said anything egregious yet, but damn, it felt good to verbally sock something in the face. Somehow, the rise in tension had ultimately eased the rest of his tension.

"And Casey likes everyone, so leave it to you to be enough of a presumptuous meddler to strike a nerve. Like... shit... what could you possibly want with me now, Ezra? Wouldn't you rather take in all the gaudy chandeliers in your own elegant, cliché little midnight reverie, off with some ditzy art girl? I'm sure it'll be the first and last of anything remotely classy you'll ever attend before you piss someone off enough to get your scholarship revoked."

He waved cheekily. "Enjoy returning to your little Oceanic hovel, art boy. I'll be here having the time of my life with my boyfriend, who respects me enough not to call me a bottom every five seconds."

Phew. That felt great, actually.

code by valen t.

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

jordan mitchell

sophomore - art - 16

stupid fucking ball

fake excitement

Spiffy boi

interactions

no one

"She's your girlfriend. This night isn't about you not wanting to go - it's about you supporting her desire to be there."

Jordan Mitchell was getting yet another talking to for letting his girlfriend attend the Winter Ball alone. It seemed like all the women in his life cared about something so small and here he was not giving two shits. Was Kinni pissed that he had the gall to tell her he wasn't going? Sure, but when wasn't she mad at him? He didn't want to go and that was that. There were things she didn't want to do and he hadn't forced her to do any of them so...

What was the problem?

Jordan thought things would be fine considering she had opted to go with Bailey, but apparently, that wasn't good enough for neither her nor his mother. Had she not been filming for her show he wouldn't have gone, but in a few months, America would watch him be an asshole about the whole thing. The mic was attached to his shirt and he had heavily sighed into it, clearly annoyed with having to be mic'd up in the first place. He was fine with his mother having her life filmed all the time, but it did get annoying whenever he became part of some of her narratives. The attention he got for some of it was nice and would help him later on so it wasn't all bad.

Nodding his head he clapped his hands together and stood up. "Alright, fine. I'll surprise her, then."

"What color is she wearing?" She asked, walking down the hall with one of the producers following behind her. Jordan remained quiet in his search for the picture Kinni had sent days ago, trying to figure it out. He showed it to her and she went to his bedroom in search of the perfect suit. Jordan just followed her inside and threw himself on the bed, only to get yelled at for doing so.

"Hey! No, you need to go get in the shower. I'll find you something."

It took everything in Jordan not to grimace or show any sign of furthering annoyance as he pushed himself up and towards the bathroom. "Are you guys all going to be in here?" He asked the three other people in his room - a producer, a sound guy, and the cameraman - with his eyebrows up.

"No, we can wait until you're all dressed. It's time for a break anyway." The producer said, signalling to the others to stop filming. Jordan wasted no time using this opportunity to take off his mic and jump into the shower.

Jordan took all the time in the world showering, doing his hair, and getting dressed. His hope was that he would arrive during the last few minutes of the stupid dance and would be able to play it off. "Oh, shoot. I came to surprise you, but I came too late." He practiced saying in his head. Would Kinni think it was absolute bullshit? Maybe, but it was definitely worth a try. Despite his nonchalant attitude, he actually hated when his girlfriend was angry with him. Not only was the back and forth tiresome, but the making-up portion was expensive - on both his wallet and his time. He enjoyed it, though, and since he wasn't in short supply of either he would be more than happy to keep up the cycle.

There was no traffic, which pissed Jordan off. Since when the hell did the roads move smoothly in LA?! There wasn't one single traffic jam to slow Jordan's arrival and to be honest, he was about to lose it. He hated balls and galas and events like this simply because his mother dragged him to them all the time! Every year she had at least a dozen to go to. That along with all the events she threw meant he was dressing up to support her.

While he loved his mother and would do anything for her, rubbing elbows with the elite was the last thing he wanted to do. Standing around while people tried to one-up the other was not in his list of hobbies and, quite frankly, it never fucking would be.

When he arrived he took a moment to steel himself before he got out of the car. He had to remind himself to pretend the entire night - that he was having fun and that he wanted to be here. It wasn't about him, but his girlfriend, and that it needed to stay that way. Maybe if he could run into Damien things would be alright. He always seemed to have a fun substance on him, so perhaps it would mellow him out - that is, if Damien was even here.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jordan stood towards the entrance trying to see if he could point out Kinni and work on his approach...

coded by natasha.

 

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  dear.szmm
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

june

-the actress-

In a perfect world, she wouldn’t look like a deer in headlights that had somehow found its way into a hig school dance. As it was, though, well...that’s exactly what June looked like. When the principal had invited her to go to the dance as a way of ‘getting to know her classmates’, she hadn’t been too keen, but her mom had been so excited at the idea of seeing her dress up and get out of the house, and it had been a while since she’d seen her mom smile. So here she was. Standing by the entrance doors. After not even having attended her first day of school.

Alone.

She was becoming uncomfortably aware of how bright white her dress was; despite the rational part of her mind knowing it wasn’t true, all she could picture was the spotlights reflecting off of it- making everyone stare at the awkward new girl in the corner. The one the paparazzi out front hadn’t given a second thought to.

The mild itching of her arms from the lace on her sleeves was getting blown out of proportion as she quietly watched the couples on the dance floor. She crossed her arms over her stomach, too self-conscious to even make her way over to the food, and once she was pushed to the side by a group of friends bursting through the doors she knew there was no point sticking around. She’d sit outside for an hour or two and then go home- lie to her mom about having a great time. Pretend she’d made some friends.

She wandered the halls, passing multiple couples making out against lockers, until she found an exit; there was no way she was letting anyone see her leave through the front doors when she had just gotten there. The cool night air provided instant relief. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and rounding the corner of the building-

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” she let out, suddenly, as she ran into a girl leaning against the wall.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Winona]

Adriane Holloway

As one may have expected from someone such as Adriane Holloway, she had taken nearly all day to get ready for the Winter Ball. Every brush of makeup, the way her dress hugged her figure, and of course her date... it all had to be perfect, because these things were all about image.

And as far as image went, Adriane wasn't particularly pleased with the dress that she had picked out for tonight's events. It wasn't bad -- don't get her wrong, and it really was lovely -- but it didn't really give... well, the vibes, the feel that Adriane was really aiming for when it came to these kind of basic publicity stunts.

Sure, she looked good in it and it fit beautifully, but well...

It simply covered up far too much skin, but whatever.

Unfortunately, as good as she looked, Dalton was questionable. Sure, his outfit would... do, but his face had a ridiculous bruise on it. Rather annoyed at having to deal with his makeup as well as her own, Adriane had set to work on making sure that the bruise? Couldn't even really see it.

Well, if you got too close to Dalton, you'd be able to probably tell that there was far too much makeup on his eye, but at least he would photograph appropriately.

And really? That was all she cared about.

Oh, and she supposed that he was a decent enough date. Perhaps someone would rather have a date to the Winter Ball that was... well, you know, someone that one was romantically involved with, but when it came to romance and feelings, well... Adriane hated them. All of them. All of it. It was so tiring.

She much preferred the setup that her and Dalton had. Sex and nothing else -- except for this date. And hey, he'd even brought her a rose, which had earned a raised eyebrow from her followed by a "you're growing soft" before she went to place it into a vase of water (well she wasn't going to let it die) and then went back to getting ready.

And all of that time had led to this, had led to now, as they walked into the ballroom. Her arm was lightly looped through Dalton's, and she examined the decorations as they entered.

Half-assed.

It was her senior year and perhaps Adriane should've felt some nostalgia and sadness towards this being her very last Winter Ball, but well... she really didn't care at all. She couldn't wait to not have to go to these petty childish events and instead be free to go to classy parties in Paris with champagne.

She let go of Dalton's arm, and her hands naturally moved up to brush her hair back. Now that they'd had their pictures professionally taken on the way in, Adriane could loosen up a touch.

“Want a drink?” Dalton asked, and she turned her icy blue eyes back onto him.

Adriane let out a breathy sigh, but held her hand out for the drink. Taking it from him, she brought it close to her face, taking a quick sniff of the drink, and her nose wrinkled up in disgust. What was this? Sparkling juice or something? You know -- the sparkling shit that they had in the champagne bottles to try and make children feel more mature.

Disgusting.

With a look of disgust and disappointment still on her face, Adriane took a sip of the drink.

It tasted horrible.

"Thank you," she said with a breathy sigh, swirling the remaining liquid in her glass. "This is rather disappointing for our last year, don't you think?" She asked, her tone deadpan as usual. Her cold eyes moved away from their classmates set out before them to look up towards Dalton.

mood
ugh

location
the ballroom, unfortunately

outfit
red

playing...
Confident

by Demi Lovato​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Dalton

tags
Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

saint andrew taylor

"That'd require caring about someone other than themselves," Ava grumbled. He glanced at her face to see that she was wearing an expression of disgust; amusedly, he blew out a puff of air from his nose. “And you know they won’t require any fucking assistance for the babies and shit that happen from tonight.”

“Never…,” Saint agreed, crossing his arms and looking back out at the students pouring in through the doors.

“They'll sweep them under the rug. Pretend they don't fucking exist and shit,” she said. “I feel like half the reason anyone's fucking here is because it'd look bad if you skipped out."


Saint gave a slight chuckle. “Half the reason…,” he repeated, and then he gave a subtle nod. “It’s either that, or they’re here because…they think this is the peak of society.” He paused a moment, then added, “I suppose for a lot of them, it is.”

Hollywood Arts, a school for “starlet” students, took peaking in high school to a whole new level.

He noticed a blonde girl approaching them, and he took the next few moments, even as she came up and spoke to Ava and gave him a nod, to process who she was. Ah, right…Andrews, Sawyer. They’d spoken at the Arts Fest.


“This place looks insane,” said Sawyer. “I almost feel like a princess.” She brought a hand to her forehead and false-swooned back against the wall. Abruptly, she broke from that delicate character, asking, “How much money do they spend on this fucking shit?”

Saint’s brows flicked together for a moment, and then he looked up at a chandelier. With a soft sigh, he said, “Ava and I were just discussing that…” He watched the crystal chandelier twinkle for another moment, and then he gave a slight shrug. “Too much, obviously. That was our conclusion.” He glanced over at Sawyer. “More than most of my class will make after graduating this year — four times as much, probably…”

The over-the-top gowns, the “champagne”, the…

“It’s all too much,” he repeated with a soft sigh.

mood
dead

location
the ball

outfit
feathers

playing...
god's plan (drake cover)

by our last night​

mentions
n/a

interactions
ava & sawyer

tags
Winona KingofAesir

º º code by ditto º º

 

[gh0stwriter]

Landon Sinclaire

The paparazzi was expected. Hell, to be honest, for most, it was anticipated. Most of the kids at HA were barely anyone. Few credits. No real promise. But during the Hollywood Arts events, they were treated like equals. Royalty. Like they meant something in this crazy celebrity world. He wasn’t being pompous. He knew he had advantages over other kids. Being a Sinclaire came with a certain clout…a certain responsibility and definitely had its advantages. He did his best to avoid the ones that mattered. He never took a role without auditioning. Anyone looking to use the Sinclaire name was going to choose him because he was right for the part and not because of who his parents were.

That being said, this was the first social event since he and Gen started dating. He’d kept his relationships pretty private, mostly cause his biggest relationship had been a secret and his others had been flings. Things no one needed to know about. But this…stepping out of the car with THE Genevieve Johannes. This was a bold move. For both of them. This was going to hit the circuit like a ton of weight. Two of Hollywood’s up and coming stars dating? The headlines practically wrote themselves.

Gen had laced her hand with his as they walked toward the entrance. Pausing for photos. Whispering funny things in each others’ ears. The usual portrait you’d like to paint for the paparazzi. But in this case, it was true. They were happy. They enjoyed each other's company. This wasn’t some show. This was reality. It’s what Landon had wanted. To be with someone who saw him. Who understood him. Who cared about him as much as he cared about them. It went by like a flash…no pun intended and soon they were making their way into the ballroom.

“I must say, they really went all out this year.”

He couldn’t argue. It was amazing how the events just kept getting more and more extravagant. Maybe it was just them getting older. Realizing the scope and magnitude of what each of them was trying to achieve. Or maybe they just had extra money to blow this year. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that things were good. He took the glass from Gen and took a sip. A look of slight disgust enveloped his face as he choked down what he could only describe as apple flavored battery acid.

A small smirk formed as Gen reacted similarly and encouraged him to down the glass before pouring in something that would make this evening more enjoyable. “Always thinking ahead.” He teased. “One of the many reasons I adore you.” He said as he took a small sip from the glass.

“It seems that we aren’t the controversial hot topic anymore.” He was thankful. The more the dust settled, the more they’d be able to repair what they both had broken. “I don’t think Evie would feel the same way if she saw us. I can’t believe she still doesn’t give a fuck that we’re happy. That girl is too fucking proud of herself to give a shit about anyone else it seems.” Evie. He couldn’t disagree. He understood that Evie felt hurt. That she felt betrayed. But it’s not like they would have gotten her seal approval had they been up front and honest. He missed her. God. He really missed her. But if she couldn’t see how happy he was. How good Gen was for him. How much they meant to each other. Well, then he’d wait for her to come to him. Hopefully soon.

“You know, Evie. Holds a grudge like no other.” He said as he draped and arm around her and rested his hand on her shoulder. “But she’ll come around. In her own time.” He gave her shoulder a reassured squeeze.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought her up. Let’s just have a good time tonight, okay? We’re here together, that’s all that really matters.” She was right. She was always right, but he’d never admit to it out loud.

“I couldn’t agree more. We look hot. The music isn’t half bad and we’ve got time to kill before I can carefully remove that extremely expensive dress you’ve got on.” He said as he wagged his eyebrows up and down. “So, who are we making jealous first?” He scanned the crowd. He’d be lying if he wasn’t hoping to see Evie. Maybe if she saw them…saw how happy they were, she’d give it up. She’d be his big sister again and then he could go home. He wasn’t holding his breath, but it was a nice thought.

mood
stoked

location
the dance

outfit
lookin' good

playing...
anything for you
by Ludo

mentions
Evie

interactions
Gen

tags
geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[dear.szmm]

@niamh.foz​

Niamh Foster​

mood : high/curious

location : winter ball

outfit

mentions : none

interactions : june

tags : _em_

Niamh went to take another drag. The sound of paparazzi and the dregs of cars arriving in the distance echoed around the building. Suddenly, as the joint met her lips, a petite, brown-haired girl rounded the corner and the two collided chest-to-chest, forcing the spliff from between Niamh’s fingers and onto the damp concrete.

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry-‘ blurted the girl, holding her hands up and stepping back from Niamh.

Niamh laughed. The girl was pretty, with dark brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders and blew into her face, forcing the girl to push it over each ear. ‘It’s alright,’ she said, picking her joint off the ground. ‘It survived the fall.’

The brunette’s cheeks were flushing red in the cold. Her hazel eyes appeared black and wide underneath a thick set of eyebrows, lifted in a stunned – perhaps a pleasantly surprised – expression.

‘I’m Niamh,’ she said, pausing. ‘I am, unfortunately, desperately new here. Hence…’ Niamh motioned around her. ‘Hence I am stood outside, by myself, freezing my tits off, getting high at the most prestigious social event I have ever been invited to.’

The girl chuckled, looking around at what surrounded them. ‘I’m June, and I am also completely, absolutely new.’

‘June,’ Niamh repeated, pursing her lips and rolling her eyes as if she was mulling over a full red wine. ‘That’s lovely. Nice to meet you June.’

They both laughed together, half embarrassed and half relieved. Moments passed before a group of guys rounded the corner, drunk and rowdy, leering at the two girls as they passed. Niamh watched as one of them, tall and blond, nudged his friend.

‘You two look lonely!’ Called out the friend. The group of boys stopped, all four of them now looking at the girls.

‘We’re not interested.’ Retorted Niamh, barely looking up as she relit her zoot. She took a drag, then turned to the other girl. ‘Are we, June?’

The girl, as pale as her white dress, shook her head. Niamh smiled at her reassuringly. She could recognise someone as friendless as herself and felt a level of defensiveness over another lonesome soul.

The boys wailed and staggered around at Niamh’s denial. The blond one raised his eyebrows. ‘So, that’s how it’s gonna be?’

‘Yes,’ Niamh confirmed. ‘Not. Interested. Move on, you already look stupid.’

Deflated, the boys staggered back off into the darkness. Niamh brought her attention back to the other girl, offering her the joint.

‘No, thank you.’ She declined, raising her hand politely.

Niamh nodded understandingly. Wow, she thought. A Hollywood girl completely unscathed, pure as the snow-white dress she wore? Unlikely. The circumstances that forced Niamh to Hollywood Arts were… painful. As the only other friendless singleton at the Ball, it was entirely possible that June was exactly the same.

‘Soo,’ Niamh began, still sensing an air of unease from June. ‘Did you come with anyone? I’m seriously thinking I’m the only person here without a partner.’

​

​

​

​

º º ... code by ditto ... º º

 

[ditto]

kellian phelan

Kelli was honestly kinda glad that she had some time with Bella before her date was here — uh, Angel, she meant. Her friend date, you know. Uhm, because you see, it wasn’t really that she was really, really, really nervous or anything about it — you know, not really. But, uh, well, she was, ya know, just a little bit — a little eentsy itsy itty bit — nervous, because, again, big huge place, and, uh…that was totally where all of her nerves were coming from and not from the fact that she had a date — friend date — to this dance who just happened to be a super dope upperclassman or anything.

Anyway, being with Bella, she could feel her nervous energy just kind of being…offset, ya know? Like, uh, ya know, it was still, uh, there, but it was really, really, really helping that Bella was around. Bella was just…fun, and funny, and sweet, and just dope dope dope, ya know?

Like how she’d just now funnily extended her hand and given Kelli a wink — that was what she was talking about.

Kelli grinned, giggling. She drew in a sharp breath, lifting up her chin and closing in mock-pompousness, then peeked open an eye. She lifted her hand into the air a la dancing ballerina, and as she opened her other eye and tried futilely to suppress a smile, she slowly and gracefully plopped her hand into Bella’s. Her face finally broke into a full smile, and with another giggle, she said, “Heck yeah!”

Bella laced their hands together, and the two of them made their way onto the dance floor. Kelli was, uh, a modern dancer, so, uh, it was kinda awkward at first, ‘cuz they never really ever taught you, ya know, ballroom stuff in modern dance class, but she just tried to follow Bella’s lead, and soon, they were doing a nice little jig. Heck, they even broke apart and started getting jiggy on their own. They were laughing and smiling the whole time, and Kelli’s heart was thudding happily in her chest to the beat of the music as she jigged this way and that way with one of her best friends and time completely melted away.

Dancing was really…freeing, in and of itself, but dancing with friends was that times a thousand trillion.

Finally, though, there was a soft shriek from one of the amps as the bassist slid his hands off of his guitar, and an echoey voice thanked everyone for being such a good audience, and the laughing Kelli finally stopped her dancing, putting a hand on her chest and panting. She smiled broadly at Bella as they walked off of the dance floor.

“You really need to show me those moves sometime,” Bella giggled.

“Heck yeah!” Kelli laughed, stooping down to grab her cup again.

“As you have seen, my dance skills are a bit rust —“

Bella went quiet, and as Kelli stood straight with her drink and took a long sip, she looked to her friend with a curious expression, then followed Bella’s line of sight right to Casey. He was waving at Bella.

Kelli lowered her drink from her mouth, muttering, “Oop.”

“Kelli would you, um…” Bella’s voice trailed off, and Kelli looked over at her concernedly as she dropped her arm from her. As she took her arm, Kelli searched Bella’s face, trying to understand what was off about her. “You should go find Angel,” she said. “I think, um, I think Casey wants to talk to me. We will meet later, oui?”

Kelli’s lips pressed together. “Bella…,” she started, her brows knitting together. What is it? she felt like asking.

Her mind was quick to warn her, Don’t pry.

Forcing a smile over her concern, Kelli gave a solid nod. “Oui,” she agreed.

Bella planted a quick kiss on her cheek, then dropped her hands and turned toward Casey. Kelli also looked to Casey, and she tried to make eye contact with him. She was really tempted to do that thing where she pointed to her eyes and then back at his like I’m watching you, don’t hurt my friend, but, uh, yeah, she didn’t do that. Instead, she just lifted her hand in an awkward little wave, gave him a small smile, and started off to look for Angel.

…Of course, she kind of got distracted from that immediately, because there was this really pretty girl in this really pretty dress, and she had to stop and tell her how pretty she was, and then there was someone holding a cookie and she had to ask where they got that, and then she noticed that there was this one chandelier that was wayyy more glittery than the other ones, and she just kind of stared at that as she walked along until —

Bump.

“Oosh,” Kelli gasped as she stepped back from the person she bumped into. Her heart nervously jumped into her throat, staring wide-eyed at the cup in her hand only to (very thankfully) realize that it was already empty and couldn’t’ve spilled on that person. Looking up to apologize with an awkward smile, Kelli started, “Sorry! I was just kin —“

And then she gasped, all long and dramatic-like.

Dude, fate was crazy!

Laughing exuberantly, Kelli’s smile broadened into something far more genuine. “Angel!” she said. As the initial shock of the chance meeting subsided, Kelli gave him a quick once-over.

And then, her heart nervously jumped into her throat again. He…looked, like…dope. Like…

She shook her head, clearing her throat. She did not need to stare — that was not was she was gonna do. Giggling, she smiled back into his face. “Hi! Hello!” Her heart thudding wildly in her chest, she opened her arms wide for a hug.

She stepped back from him, giving him another once-over. “Wow! You look…” Phenomenal. “…snazzy!” Good word. “Freaking dope, dude!” She let out another (shh, yeah, kinda nervous) giggle, reaching a hand up to try and smooth away fly-away hairs that she knew had to be there. “Ah, uh, sorry if I, uh, look, uh, less than that. I was, uh, uhm, waiting for you, so Bella and I already danced to warm the, uh, floor up for us, and, uh, I, uh, gotta little bit carried away,” she admitted shyly.

mood
: 0

location
the ball

outfit
dress!

playing...
dance

by foxes​

mentions
n/a

interactions
bella & angel (& casey, technically, i guess)

tags
geminiy hery Winona

º º code by ditto º º