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

Reader mode
Characters
Here






Avery Ohtani



So this was what a regular high school ball was like. The proms he’d always seen on tv and dreamed of attending, it was no longer a dream but reality. He was really here at a ball in a nice suit mingling with the other students, watching them drink the fancy sparkling juice and dance together. Well they called it the Winter Ball but it was like prom right?

He’d come alone this year, being a new student and new to all this, but he had another three years for him to get all the experiences school had to offer. Next year he’d come with a date, do that whole high school experience of picking the girl up, getting her a gift and sharing a nice dance. And being alone made it easier to just get lost in the wonder of the experience and soak it all in without having to worry about being rude to his date in the process.

Too many glasses of the fancy sparkling juice had forced him to take a quick trip out to the toilet, but he was eager to get back into the ballroom and continue to just soak in all that the Winter Ball had to offer. But as he tried to hurry down the hallway without getting lost or running, Avery found himself starting to slow down and his smile starting to fade as his brow began to furrow. Under the dimmer lighting of the hallway, he couldn’t be entirely sure if he was seeing what he was seeing but crouched up in a corner against the wall looked to be… a student?

Why would anyone be out in the hallway on the night of the Winter Ball? The ball was always the crowning moment. A happy night in everyone’s life so why…?

Avery paused when he was close enough to the figure to make out more features. Was that…

“Bella?” He called out softly as he took a few tentative steps closer to her. “What are you doing out here?” The concern that furrowed his brow deepened as he crouched down and got a better look at her. “Are you crying?”

His voice rose slightly in alarm and panic hit him as he started looking around and digging around his pockets for a napkin or handkerchief, something she could use to wipe her tears or something to comfort her as he scrounged his brain for something to say. “Don’t cry. It’s a happy night and uh, you look prettier without tears, really pretty so…” What was he even saying? Was this the right thing to say to someone who was crying? Oh gosh he was messing this all up wasn’t he? He glanced in the direction of the ballroom, and pushed off his knee slightly, hesitating. Perhaps he ought to run in and find someone who was more experienced with something like this to help. Wait what if she was crying not because she was sad or anything but hurt? The thought had his eyes shooting wide with panic as he scanned her for any visible wounds and touched a hand to her shoulder. “Are you hurt? Did you get injured somewhere? I should call for help. Just hang on ok, I'll be right back!”





mood
Oh no oh no what do I do what do I do? Are you ok?

location
hallway

outfit
fancy pants





playing...
song title here

by artist here​




mentions
Nil

interactions
Bella

tags
geminiy geminiy


º º code by ditto º º
 
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

@Mogy has mentioned:
hery hery ​
😎
😎

Hey Macarena, ay!


“Okay, more for me, I guess.” Oates chuckled before wiping whatever sweat was left on his forehead. Was there need for a handkerchief in the first place? Perhaps not. Then again, something about pretending to be fancy really did make him feel like some kind of a duke, and maybe it made the night more special. Though Callum really made sure that the night was at a 10 from the moment Oates sat into his car not long ago.


The boy walking in front of Oates at this moment, with his reflecting eyes, the nice suit, and that hair…oh that hair—that was the boy Oates fell in love with in the first place.


But that hair…he was so different now, yet the black strands remained the same. It was like yesterday that Oates saw the skinny tall boy dancing so gracefully in the middle of the empty dance studio, and now, he was the one dancing with him. He could almost go back to that day, knowing exactly how his own heart punched when talking to the alluring sophomore, how uninterested the taller boy was, and exactly how intrigued he felt after their first conversation.


Now, soon-to-be three years later, he wasn’t quite sure if the intrigue ever really stopped. He did try to peel off the taller boy’s layers, quickly at the beginning, but when layers that came after others never truly stopped, the intensity quieted down. Maybe the layer he was peeling right now would be the last one… But even if it wasn’t, it would be so far from the end of the world; much nearer to a brand-new adventure. And, obviously, it would be a lie for the curly-haired boy to say that he didn’t know the boy standing in front of him; he knew the things that mattered, and whatever else came along on the journey with them, he would embrace fully. This night made him sure of that.


Hey Macarena, ay!


“Sorry, haha, I was just thinking about when we first met.” Oates snapped out of his trance, shaking his head to rid it of the memories, a smile on his face more prominent than before as he focused on the boy in front of him. While he processed what Callum told him during the duration of his travel to the past, proper words to use hadn’t quite come to him just yet, and he wasn’t sure if there were any to convince the taller boy of what Oates himself believed to be the truth. “But, uh, I did hear you…”


“And, I’ve told you this a million times…and I know you can’t accept it for some stupid— No, not stupid. Some reason, whatever it might be, but, I don’t care. About what anybody else says, or what anybody else thinks, or even about the lack of faith people have in our relationship.” He stepped closer to Callum, leaning in, looking into his eyes, blinking only once. “Because I, Oates, am here with you, Callum, and not with them, haters. I believe our relationship is the best thing for you, and the best thing for me. Which is why you didn’t make me stay, I chose to do so, which, in turn, makes you not selfish. Now, that might be more than enough for me, but is it enough for you?” A soft kiss planted on Callum’s lips sealed the deal before the question was answered, but the moment didn’t seem like the type of occasion for a soft kiss, so instead of pulling away, Oates decided to not separate their lips for long, and went in for an extended kiss, passionate one; his hands pulling on Callum’s tie, then settling on the taller boy’s chest, and before long, finally travelling to his back, pulling him in even closer, hips first.


How long this went on for exactly, a mystery to Oates; the fact that he enjoyed every second of it, a certainty. When their lips finally parted, a gasp for air was all the curly haired boy could ask for, opening his eyes to look at Callum’s and then chuckling to himself for no apparent reason. Perhaps he was just happy. Happy without any buts, thoughs, or howevers.


Hey Macarena, ay!
º º code by ditto º º
 

MOOD: oh, this is nice

OUTFIT:
navy blue boy
​
INFO

LOCATION:
winter ball

WITH: chanel

MENTION: cami, mikaela​
ACTIVITY
Soap Soap
TAGS
cappie
— Can't Help Falling . . .


For someone who wouldn’t describe herself as cute or adorable, Chanel acted endearing without realizing it. She was probably the most mature, most professional teenager that Cappie knew, but she was still a teenager, still human.

Right now? This was the most human he’d seen Chanel, and it was actually nice seeing it in person instead of on a screen for fictional moving pictures. Instead of working.

“I… don’t dance.” It sounded like there was genuine uncertainty in her voice. That was rare.

He smiled understandingly, with a small smile of gentle reassurance. For some reason, he didn’t feel as awkward as he’d expected to be while holding her waist. The dark blue fabric of her dress felt soft under his hands.

“It’s okay, I don’t either,” said Cappie. “I danced one time at a wedding, stepped on my mom’s heels a couple of times. Took a dance class elective for one semester last year and barely passed.” He also had a breakdancing phase during middle school—he grew out of it after almost breaking his neck one day. He wasn’t going to tell her that. “I think you’re doing all right with this. This isn’t so hard.”

In one smooth motion, Cappie took Chanel’s hand off his shoulder and then spun her once under his arm, maintaining a comfortable pace that was neither too slow nor fast. He stepped in closer again, probably a bit closer to her than before, this time with his hand holding hers and his other hand back on the side of her waist.

He wouldn’t do anything dramatic like the dip, out of concern of possibly dropping her. So, he settled on doing a couple of more simple smooth inside turns, simple basic footwork that followed the music’s easy rhythm well enough, and staying relaxed. They weren't trying to impress anyone around them.

How many slow songs did they dance to? One? Two? Cappie didn’t always notice the music changing. Most slow songs tend to sound more or less the same. He and Chanel were still doing one dance—they hadn’t stopped or sat down since the first song. Occasionally, he talked to Chanel quietly for a bit during their dance, making sure they didn’t have too much awkward silence and awkwardness in general between them. He just wanted her to feel at ease and not worry about whether she was a good dancer or not.

He glanced at the necklace hanging comfortably by the middle of her sternum, a small pendant of silver wires cradled around a very light lilac raw crystal in a teardrop-like shape. It was an amethyst, and his source (a.k.a. Mikaela) told him it was one of Chanel’s favorites. He felt so relieved that she liked it, like ten tons of anxious overthinking rolled off his shoulders when she smiled.

The necklace looked fantastic on her.

“You can tell your sister she looks great later,” Cappie said during their private idle chats. “You look really great tonight, too.”

He told her about the time he was one of the volunteers to put up decorations for last year's winter ball and even got paid a little for it by the school, perhaps because he nearly fell off a ladder at 15 feet. He mentioned almost breaking his neck from spinning on his head anyway, not in great detail, except, in retrospect, he found it funny that his neighbor's bulldog wouldn't stop licking his face while he was attempting a headspin.

"Please say something about yourself before I tell another weird, life-threatening personal story," he said, flashing a coy, apologetic smile. "Or what other colors you want your room to be."

Bringing up the bedroom painting got Cappie thinking about another promise he’d made with her before their DMs about the painting: telling Chanel, in person, that she was his type.

She just wanted him to tell her that to prove she was right. Sometimes Cappie forgot how smug she can be. She already mentioned he wasn’t her type in DM, but in a straightforward honest way, not meanspirited. They had this silly conversation about Cappie’s ideal romantic partner, and he was quite evasive and uncertain with how to explain it. Some of the traits he’d listed made it seem like Chanel could be his type.

She could potentially be his type, but those were not the exact words she wanted him to say aloud.

He had more than enough time to think it over since then. The winter ball seemed like the most convenient place to uphold that promise; all they needed to do was find a more secluded area, away from prying eyes and ears. Probably too convenient. Cappie had been stalling as much as possible; it didn’t seem like he was because he had a busy schedule and so did Chanel.

Now, he didn’t have an excuse, unless Chanel forgot.

He secretly hoped she did.
code by valen t.
 



















Kinni



Freshman(15)-Fashionista-Goddess













You look absolutely beautiful as well.

Sitting in the car seemed to ease any outstanding irritations that lingered with Kinni, particularly about Jordan. The question was, was a genuine soothing of emotions or was Kinipela Kimberly Masoli-Palakiko just distracted. Perhaps the bigger question was, did it even matter?

She was just complimented by her date, and even if it were platonic they had more cache than they probably realized.

Your boyfriend must be so mad right now.

A joke, but you know how the old adage about jokes and truth went.

There was a moment where she let out a few sayings, Hawaiian proverbs really, in the native language accompanied by a few nonsensical things under her breath in Japanese, before finally settling back into her comfort of being calm and collected. Though -I guess that wasn’t really her comfort zone and more so where she felt like she needed to be for her evening.

“He should be mad,” she finally started looking away from Bailey to give herself sometime to restructure her countenance, “I’m not sure what he was thinking.”

When they arrived at the ball, Kinni finally got her first taste of paparazzi. It wasn’t something she experienced before either despite her success in her short career. She was used to having pictures taken of her, sure. That was intentional and deliberate though, as a model, as an athlete, but never had she had pictures taken of her just for appearing somewhere. As a fashion designer, one with her lack of prestige, her designs might have been good, but they weren’t let’s get a shot of her good…yet.

She took the hand of her friend and let them help her out of the car, before Kinni took the elbow that they offered and walked in sync with them.

I haven’t had to deal with them before.

“Me either,” she quietly admitted in return.

She could tell that Bailey was probably a little uncomfortable, and Kinni would be lying if she said she wasn’t herself. This was something new for her too, but after taking a moment to process it, she was able to gather herself and began to own it as she walked.

Her confidence, perhaps overconfidence, oozed as she graced the paparazzi with her presence. Maybe it was better that she attended with Bailey. It was better them there looking as dazzling as Bailey was, instead of that grump of boyfriend she had.

They were in the ball before Kinni really took it all in. Growing up in Hawaii, on a farm, really distorted her view of the world. She had always known there were event as upper echelon as the one she was attending, which let’s be honest it was for kids so it was still the tip of the iceberg of the world. Still, unlike her boyfriend who had done this his entire life, this was new.

She felt like this is where she always should have been.

So, what would you like to do first, then?

Her gaze had diverted away from Bailey as she was really trying to take everything in when she noticed her boyfriend in the background. She tilted her head to the side a bit trying to understand why he was here. If he was here, why didn’t he just come with her? Irritation started to surge through her fingers as she blinked a few times seeing that he was talking to someone. Was it Stella? Why was he-

“Oh um, let’s dance? Yeah! Dancing would be exciting maybe…” just anything away from the drinks and away from her boyfriend.












































♡coded by uxie♡
 
ahlivia richardson
Junior - Lit - 17
winter ball
rambling - nervous
Pretty in Green
interactions

mick AkuTheWolfOkami AkuTheWolfOkami

Ahlivia was more than grateful that Mick - although a stranger - had taken a moment to help her avoid a full-blown anxiety attack. It would for sure be all over the school and people would either pity her or be assholes about it; neither was something she wanted to deal with.

So, bless his heart for helping a stranger in need.

Despite him responding to her energetic statement, he didn't seem too into the conversation. Which, sure Liv understood, but at the same time made her feel super self-conscious. Maybe it was the topic? What if the topic was making him uncomfortable and that's why he was avoiding eye contact and fidgeting? Should she change the topic?

She then stammered over her words, trying to get her brain to focus on the person standing in front of her and not over-analyzing the situation she found herself in. He told her his name.

Michael, but he prefers Mick or Murph but never Mickey... He has a lot of rules about his name... she thought to herself before nodding her head in understanding. "Oh, okay, then, um, Mick then?" She returned his friendly smile with one of her own before looking off to the side - eye contact was not her strong suit. It had nothing to do with the person or feeling intimidated as most people would think either. She just felt uncomfortable with such strong eye contact.

As if the person looking at you was peering deep into your soul, trying to learn all of your secrets. It may have been childish to others, but she didn't mind it too much. Besides she never told people that's why she doesn't like eye contact.

"Creeps me out," has always been her go-to response when people ask what her deal with eye contact it.

"Oh, you don't have to call me Ahlivia," she said, cutting him off after hearing him use her full name. "I mean, you can, there are just shorter options. Like Liv, for example. Although, if you use that one, you would have to specify. I'm Liv the writer and then there's Livanna, the musician... I think." She was rambling again. Her energy levels were increasing, though they had just been about zero before Mick came over.

Maybe interacting with a person she had never met before increased her energy levels...

"Oh, I didn't come here with anyone. I'm actually waiting on my friend, who is nowhere to be found at the moment. I'm not intruding on yours, am I?"

Liv raised her hands to her mouth as if realizing she had done something wrong. "Oh my gosh, if you need to get back to her that's totally fine. I am panic attack-free now and Kayla should be here any second."



coded by natasha.
 
MOOD: Bored mostly

OUTFIT: Here

LOCATION: Ball
basics
MENTIONS:
Winona Winona qunqun qunqun geminiy geminiy
INT: dear.szmm dear.szmm _em_ _em_
tags
TL;DR Ollie goes in search of a good time
tl;dr
Ollie
Party girls don't get hurt

Unpacking sucked; not only because it was monotonous but it also meant that you were in a new place than where you were before. Olivia Hudson didn't much care for change, especially huge ones like she was currently going through. An entire life upheaval really. Recently her parents decided it was best if she were to attend a school where her...talents, would be more appreciated. She was entirely against the idea of moving to the opposite end of the country but her parents were quite insistent. The only upside would be that she wasn't rooming with complete strangers.

Growing up Ollie loved reading and journaling. She would devour books in days and constantly wanted more. Since she didn't personally own many books, due to her mother only barely meeting ends meet to keep the household fed, the public library became her best friend. She'd spend hours upon hours there until being kicked out. She was on first name bases with most of the librarians there. To some it seemed that all Ollie ever wanted to do was read. This did not make her a very popular child. There weren't many people that wanted to be the book girl's friend but to be honest, she never really cared. Other people's opinions hardly mattered to the Hudson girl.

Mr. Hudson, an executive at a publishing firm in London, hated the thought of his daughter only having fictional friends to turn to so he helped set up a friend group with some of his own friend's children. While they weren't the closest friend group ever, they were the closest friends Ollie had. She enjoyed the company of the twins and Rowan and was more than happy that she'd be rooming with them at Hollywood Arts. But now, standing in her new room, in her new city, staring at unopened moving boxes, all she could do was grimace. This was all much to boring and she didn't want to be bored after her too long of a flight. She wanted to either get high or drunk or something, literally anything, other than unpack.

Ollie retrieved her phone from the charger in the corner of the room and began scrolling. She figured there had to be somebody out there who knew where to have a good time. Sure enough, it didn't take long to have several chats with various people who would soon be her classmates. Alcohol jello and a damsel in distress... Ollie would have to remember that for later, that was a good book title. After a quick scavenge through her suitcases of clothes she found herself her pinstripe suit. She enjoyed wearing suits when she wanted to dress up but didn't want to be too fancy with a nice dress. Grabbing her gold Lovecraftian lighter she made her way out into the main living area where her friends were talking while getting settled themselves. She considered asking if they wanted to go with her. Kei definitely wouldn't, he was the most homebody one of the group. Lida might, especially if dared, but there was no way Kei would let her. Rowan was the most likely to join Ollie on a night out but what if they were still jet lagged? The possibility of being rejected by them made her nervous and so she slipped out the door without a word. They knew she could handle herself just fine and if they really worried, they'd call her.

Arriving at the illustrious Hollywood Arts Winter Ball, Olivia quickly became grateful that she often used a pseudonym. Paparazzi were swarming the event trying to get even a glimpse of the hot gossip assured to be going on inside. While they might not have entirely recognized her, her suit wasn't exactly inconspicuous. She paused in her tracks for a moment, pulling out her phone from her inner jacket pocket and plugging in her headphones that she had brought along just in case. Now, even if someone tried to bother her and ask her questions, she can use the excuse of not hearing them over the Black Sabbath that she was blasting in her ears. She pushed her way through the crowd of camera wielding weirdos and made her way inside.

Ollie's bright blues scanned the crowd, while her mind scanned her memory of who she was looking for. The face of the one who was to give her alcoholic jello was easy enough to spot, sadly it was because he was on stage. A small frown passed over the Hudson girl's face but left just as quickly as it arrived. She shrugged to no one, she could always hit him up later. Once again her phone was produced from the depths of her suit and she sent out a message for directions to where her new acquaintance, Niamh, was currently stationed. It took several minutes to work her way through the throngs of students in an unfamiliar environment but finally she made it to the back entrance she was informed to go to.

The cool air was a welcome dichotomy from the heat of the ballroom where so many bodies were dancing. The young author's locks swayed as she swiveled her head around. Her gaze caught on two figures chatting off to the side; one blonde and one brunette. A smirk rose to her face and she adjusted her jacket as she approached. "Somebody call for a light?" the smell of the smoke hit Ollie's nostrils before she had arrived to the pair. She pulled out her headphones and placed them carefully back into her pocket as she came to a stop before the two other girls. Niamh was far more attractive in person than her profile picture gave away. Her eyes then shifted to the mysterious companion who was just as pretty. Ollie looked the smaller girl up and down and then to be inconspicuous, down the the dress shoes she was wearing. She pretended to rub a smudge off them before meeting the brunette's gaze. "Name's Ollie. Well.... technically it's Olivia but I really prefer Ollie." she turned to face the other blonde. "And you're the damsel in distress are you not?" Her eyes focused on the joint in her hand and she bit her lip. She had been dying to get under the influence all night but she didn't want to come off as rude. She wasn't exactly what one might call a party animal but she did quite enjoy being in places parties were. Back in NYC she was known as 'that high girl in the corner just vibing'. She wasn't one to dance or be a socially butterfly, but she'd chill with anyone that wanted to chill.
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: being a king

OUTFIT: suit

LOCATION: ball
basics
MENTIONS:
Kian, Javi

INT:
ditto ditto (Kelli)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Angel Cervantes
Kelli's question was so comical that Angel hardly had the mind to laugh in her face. Part-lizard-part-human lizard people? Not only was that impossible to say five times fast, but the notion itself was absurd. Lizard people are shapeshifters by nature! Doesn't everybody know that? It was infinitely novel to be in the presence of a girl who seemed to bring about so many new possibilities, but knew so little of anything outside her bubble.

Everything she spoke of was verbalized in a way with an unmistakably unfettered zeal Angel had presumed to be lost to the years. Kelli not creasing her brows and going, "Come again?" was a welcome change, at that.

"Well, you basically said it yourself!" the sweaty-palmed nerd replied, gesturing a hand toward the dancer, "We've already seen so many cases of shapeshifting lizard people: Zuckerberg, Bush, the Pope, Madonna... That has to point toward the former, right?" He had a lot to say about this. Some kids really didn't need internet access in 2011.

Angel frowned after Kelli's confirmation that she was indeed human; logically it made sense, but it still sucked to hear. He was still sane enough not to really believe in half the stuff he obsessed over, but... come on. Imagine now cool it would be if Bigfoot was real? Or if aliens really had built the Great Pyramids? Angel liked to think he was privy to the world's most infamous conspiracies given the extensive amount of time he spent submerged in all corners of the weird and the unknown. Every mystery had its theories and, consequently, its elusive answer.

Yet the mystery of girls would forever shoot straight over the soft-spoken artist's head.

A hand covered his mouth, which burst into laughter at the sight of Kelli's lizard dance. He nearly sprayed spit through his fingers while suppressing a pfft. She was so funny. Lizards balance on their tails, so her footwork was super inaccurate! It was somehow extremely charming.

According to the fate of all nice things, Angel's thoughts wandered to Kelli's general amazingness while he questioned just how he got a girl so cool and funny to do a lizard dance for his entertainment. Didn't she know she was in the presence of a social outcast? It was him who should have been impressing her.

Well, he knew that, but he didn't really do anything about it because he didn't even know where to start. Every point his confidence began to crumble or his mind returned to reality, the bubbly girl already had something to distract from it. Either she had impeccably great timing, or she had a sixth sense for the way his attention oscillated up and down, only reaching equilibrium when their eyes met and they released little laughs of comfortable bliss.

Did she... get him?

Sticking her arms out, craning her neck, prancing around like a chicken... It was the most thoughful, inspiring display Angel had ever witnessed in his life.

"You're a genius. Sure you weren't at least raised by lizards?" Kian could have passed for a lizard. He was a pretty weird guy. Angel thought so, so it had to be true.

There was another lull in their shared energy. The moment had passed, yet the peace he found in Kelli's eyes lingered. The girl looked away, but Angel held on. He snuck a glance at her hand, rubbing his fingers together anxiously. Kelli had done all the legwork getting them this far. Taking her hand again was the least he could do—

"Cookies!"

"Wh—huh?" he squeaked, looking around, "Cookies?"

“Dude! They’ve got freaking snowflake cookies, what whaaaaat?" Angel surveyed the area once more, still failing to find any sort of cookies, let alone those of the snowflake variety. "Come on, dude! We gotta go get us some!" The excitable girl jerked a hand forward, then reeled it in.

Oh?

The moment dragged on and, sensing the two of them would remain frozen unless something was done, Angel exclaimed, "Hurry, hurry, before someone eats them all!"

The two wasted no time turning tail and just about bolting toward the night's treasures, with Angel close behind Kelli. He couldn't help but keep his eyes fixed on the girl's empty palm and how, if he'd played his cards right, he could have been back where he was mere minutes ago, suspended in space with nothing but this girl. His brain was foggy enough, though. First priority was cookies.

"They've got all kinds of stuff," he breathed, placing his hands on the long table of goodies and craning his head to take it all in, "If I knew they had all this, I'd have come to the last two winter balls too." He laughed in Kelli's direction. Was this all a dream? "What're you gonna get? Or are you super set on the cookies, 'cause they are pretty pretty." Pretty pretty. Heh.

His eyes instinctively gravitated toward a half-cut cheesecake, which is obviously a staple of anything high-class. As it was still a high school dance, though, the only thing in sight was plastic forks and knives. "Ah... hm..." he murmured, contemplating his raging lactose intolerance, "Do I dare...?" He asked the question while staring at Kelli's face with a blank expression, deep in thought. It wasn't as if she knew how badly his digestive system would nuke itself if he snuck a slice of cheesecake. She couldn't help if she tried.

But, for once, Angel came to terms with how short life is and thus resolved to have his cake and eat it, too. He stuffed a hand into his pocket for an emergency Lactaid, fiddling with that plastic thing Javi gave him and the itty bit of paper containing his pill. With extreme gusto, he snatched the pill and pulled his hand out of his pocket, only to accidentally send the crinkly square item falling to the floor.

"Ah!" he hissed, immediately turning around to hunt for the mystery plastic. He bent down beneath the table and squinted, curious as to what the item was (he hadn't really gotten to look at it) and where it was. Failing to locate the square package with "GOOD LUCK. SCORE A HOTTIE TN - XOXO BRO" scribbled onto it in sharpie, he stood back up, not at all suspecting it to actually be behind him and at Kelli's feet.

"Eh... whatever," he said with a careless laugh and a shrug. All it had been good for thus far was being mysterious and fun to play with in his pocket.

Finally, he could get to his cheesecake. His sweet, sweet, well-deserved cheesecake. After dry-swallowing his pill, Angel dove in for TASTY TREATS. "Godzillaaaa!" he cried in a low whisper, serving himself a small slice.
code by valen t.
 
Dangerously Soft
Amethyst Jones
@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their status to:
Just breathe

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their outfit to:
Dressed to impress

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their location to:
The Ball

@If.U.Seek.Amy has mentioned:
Josie, Lucky, Trevor, Charlie, Evie, Dei,

@If.U.Seek.Amy has interacted with:
Lucky, Remi ( AkuTheWolfOkami AkuTheWolfOkami )
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Amy constantly lived her life recently on a double edged sword it seemed. She felt bad that she didn't cancel on Lucky, but at the same time she also knew that she would've felt bad if she had. It was the curse of bein TOO nice.

Wanting to please everyone yet simultaneously pleasing nobody, or at least feeling like it. She felt like she was constantly disappointing those who mattered the most around her with her choices to try and please the masses or play devils advocate because she can't bare to see someone have no one. All because if the tables were turned...she'd want at least someone even if someone unlikely to return the favor.

Josie was her friend and roommate but Amy told herself it was fine because she wasn't staying with lucky he was just taking her...like an uber. It's not like she wanted to third wheel Lin and Charlie on their special night, or Trev since she originally thought he was going with Ash. Everything was so fucked and so weird she just didn't know up from down anymore.

Of course her first choice would've been Remi but miscommunication left them with this awkward situation of not going with each other ,but still kinda going with each other. She knew in her heart it was bothering him just as much as it bothered her, but what could they do at this point? Tell the people they'd already agreed to go with they were going to bail? Well technically maybe that could've worked if Lucky didn't make Maggie angry as well with the whole Josie thing.

Still here she was and she was going to make the most of it and keep it together as best she could. What else could she do?

She tried talking to Lucky on the way. Conversation usually flowed pretty easily, but once again everything was fucked up and no amount of petty small talk was going to fix the elephant in the car.

As they arrived cameras were flashing and the paparazzi wanted their pound of flesh. She was now decently connected with a couple scandal's now from her date to her best friend so of course the blinding lights came with a barrage of questions she wouldn't answer. They always wanted the latest scoop and it baffled her why they thought anyone would publicly give it. No that was sometime people only did behind closed doors like on Thirstea. (Not that she would regardless it was no ones business what her friends where going through).

She hoped Charlie was ok, she hoped Josie was ok. This was a lot and she knew it would be for them too. She walked slightly ahead of Lucky because well she was asked for solo shots, but she also didn't want even the media getting the wrong idea about their friendship. She helped him out with his, whispering a tip or two. Feeling bad overhearing mentions of the Harllows. Being reminded that a lot was spiraling for Lucky too and while some of it was self inflicted...not ALL of it was. He needed and deserved a friend...she just wasn't sure if that should be her.

Once they were inside it didn't take long for Lucky to have to go. His band was performing tonight after all and she was excited to see them play. Plus he wasn't really supposed to be her date Remi was. She smiled and waved wishing him luck and that she'd cheer for him before he disappeared.

With hopefully the most awkward part of the night over she turned her attention to looking for her unofficial boyfriend.

It didn't take her long to spot him. Mostly because his date had chosen orange as her color of choice. Of course leave it to Maggie to be so bold.

She didn't know why but she was hesitant to approach them. Something in the pit of her stomach was holding her feet in place as she looked at them. They were clearly saying their good-byes and going in different directions, but in Amy's mind something felt off. Maybe it was just her imagining things. Her own insecurities playing tricks on her mind.

She hated this, she hated feeling this way. Amy had always been an insecure girl, but she felt like she'd done a decent job at hiding it...till this year. Till everything with Dei made what little progress she'd made what little shield of a mask she'd created all come crumbling down. Now everything felt like a personal attack, everything felt like a split second from being betrayal. She felt like everything she touched would eventually leave her for something better. That little miss perfect wasn't so perfect and if people knew just how flawed she was...then no one would deal with her.

People liked her because she was kind, and smart, and pretty. But there were kinder people, their were smarter, and their definitely was prettier. So who was she?

She swallowed hard seeing the light peck on his cheek, telling herself it meant nothing. They were just friends. Plus was Maggie wasn't even interested in Remi like that. She didn't seem like it. And Maggie was always saying how she didn't like dating so she doubted it...but then again so did Evie right? And now look at her.

Nope nope nope, not going there, she quickly shook the thoughts from her head and willed her feet to finally move once she noticed Maggie walking off.

She slipped through the crowd and made her way over to him with her brightest smile clasping her hands together behind her back, "Hey Honey, you miss me?" She chimed just loud enough to be heard over the music on her tip toes into his ear.

She knew what she needed to do. She needed to just relax and enjoy her night. Not worry about other girls, not worry about Dei, and her insecurities when it comes to men...none of that mattered right now. All that should matter is her and Remi and having a good night.
º º code by ditto º º
 
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MOOD: boyfriends

OUTFIT: matchy king!!!!!

LOCATION: ballroom
basics
MENTIONS:
n/a
INT:
mogy mogy (Oates)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Callum Richards
"The first time we met?" Callum echoed. He had just bared his whole soul for Oates to see and the boy's mind had been wandering far elsewhere. He coughed out a small laugh, refusing to believe what had just happened. "That's where your head is? It was..." Shit, only two years. It felt like longer. "Well, the world's so different now, isn't it?" Of course he remembered the date. The time. The then-new tights he was wearing. The very glow of the dance studio's lighting on Oates' face.

He was so much oilier back then. Little did Callum know, but that glow was everywhere around the curly-haired dancer. It followed him, encompassed his form, and latched onto his soul like a warm hug. He could feel it radiating off the boy all at times, warming his frigid, shivering heart. His presence had the uncanny ability to literally take hold of his rapidly beating hard and slow it to a comfortable pace. He didn't even have to do anything and suddenly the world was brighter.

That day felt so insanely surreal. Even after all this time, even knowing everything there was to know about their relationship, the idea that a guy like Oates, who had all the opportunities in the world, decided to stay a little longer after class that day... It was absurd. Who let him do that? Who let him get himself all wrapped in Callum's... everything?

He'd been so possessed by his craft, he didn't pick up on Oates' sunny glow. Now, Callum hadn't a clue how he'd gone weeks without knowing he was there. Without picking up on the cheery boy upon every slight breath he drew in. The very first words they exchanged were dull and unremarkable; Callum couldn't have recalled them if he tried. How had he gone so long like that? He didn't care about much then, let alone now.

Every day since then was a new chance to learn about the insanely strange boy who doted after him like a mother. Callum had Oates' entire life story at his disposal, but up to this point it had been a game of savoring what he could learn about the younger dancer. Asking the right questions when. Little by little, he let him self give more and more of a shit until, well... now he was rather dependent on it, wasn't he?

Callum creased his lips. They'd come so far, he hadn't the faintest clue where they were supposed to go now. Oates had a serious look on his face, which was rare in times like these. As he spoke, the air seemed to somehow soften and Oates' glow began to run up Callum's arms and legs, circling around his body comfortably. His voice was frank and hard, but there was love behind it.

The dark-haired boy blinked twice at the boy he slightly towered over. While listening, he gingerly grabbed at the other boy's hand and squeezed it, allowing the security and safety to flow into his veins and relax him further. "Yeah, they're haters," he agreed, his smile growing wider and wider as he stifled a chuckle, "You know caring isn't really my thing." He released a small breath through his smirk, bringing his face in closer. Oates' warm breaths scattered rhythmically across his neck like puffs of soothing dust, as did Callum's in the other direction. "You've always been all I need."

Picking up momentum, the pair locked lips and kissed passionately, leaving room for Jesus to maybe slip an elbow or two, max. Callum's body fell into Oates' like a ragdoll at the pull of his tie, prompting him to place his hands on the back of his boyfriend's head and on his back. Their lips inevitably pulled apart, and Callum released another hot breath. "I..." Shit. "I'm so fucking lucky," he rasped before diving back in, unable to help his hands squeezing tighter.

When they came apart for the last time, the two joined each other in quietly sharing their joy. Callum's icy stare melted into an ocean of serene blue gazing back at the boy whose natural reaction was to laugh inwardly, staring right back at him. Unknowingly, they'd become a mirror image. In Oates, Callum saw a piece of his own happiness.

Gently, the taller boy pulled away, but he maintained a grip on the other boy's hand. He held it tight, his cold fingers latching on for dear life. "So, why don't we go... wash up?" he suggested with a flippant grin, already leading Oates toward the nearest men's room. He bit his lip in anticipation, savoring the passion of the moment they'd just shared.

A spindly, pale hand went for the door handle. He gripped it tight, then pulled, only to be met with an angry rattle guarding the locked door. He turned around with wide, surprised eyes, silently asking his boyfriend why they hadn't the good fortune to make it there first. He let go of the boy's hand and placed one hand on the door and the other on its handle. He shook it a few times, each more aggressive than the last.

With a sigh, the dancer placed an ear on the door, only to hear movement and harsh, masculine, muffled voices. He backed away, begging not to let himself become privy to whatever weird shit was going on inside. He turned back with a hand on his hip, disappointed to have made a big show of bathroom sex for nothing. "Well, that was a bust."

He beckoned Oates with an outstretched hand while sinking against the wall, arms resting over his knees. The disappointment didn't last long, and now he was simply resting, thinking nice thoughts. He peered at his curly-haired, kind-eyed partner in crime and smiled, patting the ground. Sure, there were tables, but Callum was still tired and lazy at heart. No amount of personal change could have altered that reality.

"Hey, Oat?" he said, faced forward but viewing the aforementioned boy in his peripheral, "After this, wanna pick up a pizza and go to my place? I don't know why I should be around all these people when the two of us would rather be with each other." He turned to face him directly. "Right?"

He chuckled quietly, then looked down at his feet. His shoes were so shiny. Even ten years after he'd moved from his parents' place, he could never get used to the feeling of good shoes. Dance shoes always wore themselves out so easily, and every other pair he'd subconsciously chosen because they were the cheapest and most unassuming. Like himself.

His voice was flat and dull, riddled with false blasé as always. "You got me thinking about sophomore year now. Being alone with you used to be way more frightening." He'd have never shown it, nor would he to this day, but Callum had a tell. He was as anxious as the next guy on his best days, but a nervous wreck on his worst. Even so, he'd learned to mask them well all the same. "When we stayed late at the studio and you'd ask me what I was doing or where I'm from or how I learned something, I'd shrug and give you a non-answer."

He hesitated. It was so shameful thinking about it now. "And then when you turned and left, I'd look at your reflection in the big mirrors from the corner of my eye." His fingers often twitched during those moments. They'd lift slightly, reach a little, then place themselves firmly back on the polished hardwood floor. "I'd say to myself, 'I wonder when he'll come ask me something again.' Or 'Next time, I'll ask him when he started dancing.' Or if you had a pet. Or your favorite color. Or anything that wasn't your name and grade." He scratched at his head, ruffling his short, black hair. "If I was feeling bold, I'd contemplate asking you why you cared. What you were doing stopping by at four when you could have been getting a math tutor to talk to you 'til four-thirty." Which I know you still need.

"Oates... are you a mind reader?"

And I'm not giving you his tell, I hope you know.
code by valen t.
 
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"Focus on me, I'm about to blow them all away"
Stella Bailey
@Steller.Bae has set their status to:
It's the greatest time of year

@Steller.Bae has set their outfit to:
Winter wonder

@Steller.Bae has set their location to:
Winter Ball

@Steller.Bae has mentioned:
Zeph

@Steller.Bae has Interacted with:
Jordan ( Melanin-Gxdess Melanin-Gxdess )
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Jordan had turned to face her and gave a friendly smile. "Me a stranger? Yeah, as if I'm not in the same place 24/7. You, on the other hand, stopped coming around," he joked. "You look great, by the way. Where's Zeph?"

Stella couldn't help but giggle lightly at his response and playfully roll her eyes, "You've got a point. Maybe I should fix that next semester."

While she normally would blame filming for her absence this time it wasn't that. This time it was at first rehearsals for the Festival, but honestly...it wasn't just that. It was wanting to spend as much time as possible with Zeph, or trying to work herself into overdrive to distract herself from not getting to see him.

How do you tell that some someone without sounding weird or overly clingy?

Answer? You don't. You omit because omitting isn't lying. Was that thought a bit manipulative? Maybe. Did she care? No. It was natural.

Here's the thing, she was quite sure most of her friends operated on a decently high manipulative, and calculating level. It was the price of young success in her eyes. Not many people even those born into it were successful and naïve. If they were history shows they don't last very long. Point being she knew if the tables were turned he'd be the same way, and that she could respect.

That's why she choose her friends carefully. Jordan was no exception to this.

This isn't to say she doesn't genuinely like her friends because she does otherwise they'd be more of a Instagram only pose instead of being considered friends. She'd also put more work in connecting and hanging out with all of them at once rather then the one-on-one sessions she usually has. If they all hung out at once to flaunt their group it'd make views for sure, but that's not what she cared about when it came to her friends. She didn't want to seem like she was ever just using them, even though at some level friendship is in fact still networking as cold hearted as that may sound.

There was some level of trust she had in them that was higher then the general community, but there was only one person she trusted 100%...ok there were two but only one of them lived here with her.

Point being she truly liked and enjoyed her friendships, but she never lost sight of where she was, who she was, and the price of climbing to the top of a cut throat world like this.

"Thanks, you look pretty dashing yourself. I was just with him, but he is talking with some friends now I assume." She shrugged lightly before letting her eyes roam the room a bit to find him.

He wasn't too difficult to stop with his tall frame, and just as she anticipated he was talking to someone too. She assumed a friend because well why else would he be talking to another girl? It was hard for Stella to muster up any sort of jealousy over it because well...it was Zeph. Loveable, sensible, teddy bear, friendly, too nice sometimes for his own good Zeph.

Zeph mostly had female friends to begin with, and he was in a mostly female dominated department. So he of course was going to know and be decently close to quite a few girls just because of what he does here at the school. Not to mention Stella trusted him. He was above everything else still her best friend, and she knew he'd never hurt her like that. He'd never intentionally betray her. Honestly the level of trust she had in him was legendary for her and quite often scared her. Especially at the beginning but he's never let her down and she doubted tonight would be the night he starts.

Her attention drifted back to the boy before her quickly enough. Chances are she didn't know the girl Zeph was talking to, and so she really wasn't going to try and guess. If she was truly curious she could always just ask him later because unlike most of her friends Zeph was a pretty open book in her eyes.

"What about you? Where's your date?" She chimed curiously. Had he really decided to just show up alone? Stella knew better then to think he couldn't get a date, hell he had a girlfriend.

Though looking around at the crowd all night there were quite a few people who didn't arrive with or stay with the people they in theory should have. It was a weird crowd to say the least. Point being him choosing to come alone was an odd choice.

Of all the oddities she saw tonight she could at least ask him about this one because they were friends, so it didn't feel instructive. Everyone else she'd had to wait till the inevitable gossip dropped on twitter or Thirsttea later.

º º code by ditto º º
 
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Spencer Gray



Spencer led Beth out onto the dance floor with all the practiced ease of a dancer. He found himself tensing slightly as she rested her arms on his shoulders and guilt struck him once again. Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked her to dance after all just to try and ease his own guilty conscience about past events. He couldn’t very well back out now that they were standing on the dance floor in front of all the other students. That would just be way worse. Compound his mistakes even more.

It’s just a dance Spence. Just a dance. Don’t over think it. Just focus on the dance.

He chanted the words in his head like a mantra as he started to lead her through the movements in time with the music. Beth was just a friend. A good friend, and there was no need to ruin a nice night with his overthinking or guilt.

The question Beth asked him helped in that regard. Allowed him to better redirect his thoughts away from the guilt and overthinking into nicer, brighter territory that was more conducive to maintaining a good mood fitting for a ball.

“Cool slow dancing moves huh?” He repeated slowly, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling as he ran the different steps of various dance moves through his head. “Well there’s this,” his hands guided her into a spin as he spoke, “though I suppose that’s pretty standard, and then there’s the classic dip,” his hands again led her through the steps and guided her into a dip, his hand firmly supporting the small of her back as he held that position for a moment before bringing her back, his brain slowly ticking its way into dancer mode, “and if we’re talking cooler slow dancing moves I supposed it have to be this,” he lifted her up as he spoke, lifting him gently over his head and slowly spinning them around before setting her back on the ground with a smile.

Spencer was on the verge of doing more when he noticed a couple of other pairs on the dance floor staring their way.

That last move had drawn a bit too much attention and he’d almost gotten carried away with doing more which would have been, likely less than ideal at an event such as this.

“I’ll show you more moves another time,” he promised as he eased them back into the rhythm of the slow dance steps they had started with and then he noticed that her cheeks were rather red, almost flushed and a slight frown furrowed his brow.

He’d overdone it with the big lift and spin at the end hadn’t he? This was what he got for getting carried away dancing. “Shall we take a break and get some refreshments?” he asked as he slowed them down to a stop, a look of concern on his face, “You look a little flushed.”





mood
dancing

location
Winter Ball

outfit
formal





playing...
WONDER

by Shawn Mendes​




mentions


interactions
Beth

tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 
"Cause my time is very pricey"
Ciara Luna

@Lunar.Eclipse has set their status to:
Oo La la

@Lunar.Eclipse has set their outfit to:
Starlight

@Lunar.Eclipse has set their location to:
Home -> Winter Ball

@Lunar.Eclipse has mentioned:
Enzo, JJ

@Steller.Bae has Interacted with:
Majid ( AkuTheWolfOkami AkuTheWolfOkami )
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The rest of the date went fantastic as far as she could tell. They talked and ate, and she actually had a really good time. Not that she was expecting to have a bad time it's just certain stereotypes come with the rich and elite when you're not from that world. She wasn't sure which were true and which weren't, but Majid seemed to be showing off the niceties side. The side you see in movies of the princes who try to act normal to live a free life, and blah blah blah. She wasn't sure if that's what he was going for but that was certainly the vibe.

She didn't mind it because that meant she didn't have to be on certain p's and q's. She was finding out that the people around here weren't what they seemed from Instagram. Because yes before coming here she did follow quite a few of them, it was only natural. She needed to know the competition, and she needed to know who the strongest allies would be. Well at least a glimpse because clearly social media isn't reality.

Before the date ended they'd agreed to go to the dance together. Since she'd not gone to any classes yet it made connecting to people still a bit difficult. She luckily had twitter to help out, but that wasn't enough to form anything solid. She needed to see them, she needed to actually be in front of them to make an impression.

With all that in mind the obvious choice was to agree to go with Majid. He was kind to her, and she did enjoy spending time with him. Plus once again first impressions are key and showing up to your first event on the arm of someone as important as him even if he was a nobody by HA standards right now like she was because they were both new, he was a somebody to the world and in hindsight that was more important. that was the goal right? Not just to be high school famous but globally famous. This is the type of thing they put in teen magazine interviews, or those web blog post that get your attention. "Dancer and a prince?" that kinda headline but obviously catchier. Look she was a dancer not a writer.

If you ask her, where it counts, she's on a roll here.

Her only mistake? Not asking him what he was wearing to the event...or telling him what color she planned to wear.

Though that was mostly because she decided very last minuet herself. It would be her first real appearance on the Hollywood Arts platform so she knew she had to make an impression not just on her date, but on the world. She deiced blue was going to be her color of choice tonight because it was the most expensive looking dress she owned. She really needed to get on figuring out how to make some money quickly if she was going to keep up such an elaborate image. OR make some rich friends that like to take people on shopping sprees.

She was kind of surprised her brother wasn't attending...well as far as she knew. He hadn't really talked to her about it or anything. Then again they hadn't talked much since they arrived which kind of bothered her, but she choose to shrug it off as just them needing time to adjust in their own ways.

To get her thoughts back on track she wound up texting Majid asking what time they were meeting up. She knew, but nothing wrong with double checking right? This totally wasn't a nervous response or anything. A way to keep her hands and mind moving. She thought about texting JJ. The girl always seemed to know what to say, but decided against it. She didn't need to come off as needy or weak minded to her, or anyone here. No one needed to know if she felt lost or like a fish out of water. It was a phase and it would pass.

Because despite her innermost feelings she knew she belonged here.

It didn't take her long to get dressed. Majid had asked her to meet him someplace rather then be picked up at her apartment like last time. It seemed a bit odd, but he was a prince so maybe things would always be just a bit different. Maybe it was too much of a public scene for him to be seen picking her up all the time? Though she didn't know what the difference would be since they were about to show up to an event together that there were bound to be lots of pictures taken of them together. Unless they were going to sneak into the dance...which considering she's now met his security...she didn't find to be too far fetched of a plan.

Would she like that? Absolutely not. She was here to be seen, get recognized, and build a reputation. She can't exactly do that from the shadows. But would she? Just this once.

He was kinda one of the only friends she had right now, so she'd give him a pass this time. That's her using the term friend lightly since she didn't truly know anyone here well enough to actually have friends.

Needless to say she got an Uber and went to their arranged spot. By the time she got their luckily he'd already landed and was waiting for her. Her eyes widened at the sight of a fucking helicopter. So much for the idea that he might not want to be noticed. The man was planning to arrive boldly and now THAT was something Ciara could 100% get behind. Which totally made up for the unoriginal looking suit he was wearing.

Cici greeted him with a smile and excitedly got in with him. She'd never experienced anything like a ride in a helicopter. The view was fantastic, and even though she had to shout to be hear over all the noise it was an amazing experience. She had to say she could get used to being spoiled like this. To show a bit of appreciation she gave him a gentle peck on the cheek before they started to land. She'd save her thank you for once they were safely on the ground and she didn't have to lose her voice to try and say it.

Once they landed she thanked him for the experience and the ride, then they finally made their way to the dance. The flashing lights of the paparazzi weren't new but she hadn't experienced anything of this scale with it before. Sure there were some when she was on that show back in New York, but this was almost going to make her go blind. Shooting off questions, and demanding poses all at once it was such a jumble. Did celebrities just get used to filtering it all out, or did they just learn to ignore it all and do what they wanted. Cici was in favor of the later for sure.

She stayed next to Majid the whole time and let him control the pace. She didn't want it to seem like she was rushing him nor did she want it to seem like the pictures were more very important. She wanted to see what his reaction would be, what he wanted to do, and where his emphasis lied. It would help her down the line in figuring out just what kind of a person he was, and who she needed to be to stay by his side.

As they finally made their way inside she turned to him with a smile, "Well that was exciting! What's up next for us?" She hummed.

Once inside a lot of the pressure seemed to fade. The place was immaculate for sure and inspired awe, but seeing her peers standing or dancing around like it was a normal dance kind of put her at ease. As different as the people here were...they were still kids just like her. So she could relax and do something easy like dance with a cute guy. Even if that cute guy probably had security with their eyes locked on them this very moment. Ready to strike if any foul play is suspected. Nope, not going to think about that at all.
º º code by ditto º º
 
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

@Mogy has mentioned:
hery hery ​
😎
😎

The kiss they shared left passion on Oates’ lips even after both pulled away. Rouge cheeks, and breath to be drawn meant nothing—the boy in front of him was the only thing Oates cared about presently. It was the way he could lose himself in the ocean that Callum presented every time he wasn’t blinking; it was the soft touch of their hands pressing against one another, not letting go; it was the soft and sweet, slightly minty flavor that was left in his mouth after affection bestowed. It was all of those things that made the smile on the curly-haired boy’s face as wide as it was.


And it didn’t disappear when the taller boy suggested going to the restroom. While Oates would usually be against such a thing for a plethora of different reasons, this time, it felt spontaneous and special enough for him to ignore the excess of cons for the two pros that it brought. After that kiss, it was a hard thing saying no to Callum when they both had the same thing on their minds—being together in every sense of the word, even if it was in a restroom.


He followed as Callum led, supposedly to the nearest men’s room, only observing his boyfriend’s determination. He only ever saw that sort of willpower coming from the taller boy when he would dance, and now it had been because of Oates. Even after they got to where they were going, and the door to the inside was locked, Callum wasn’t persisting, his actions sounding almost annoyed. Oates only squeezed the taller boy’s hand which was placed inside of his own to show understanding, even if the message hadn’t been quite as clear as he intended.


Though, no matter how annoyed Callum had been for the bathroom being occupied, it was clear to both of them that they wouldn’t be getting inside any time soon, and Oates’ wish to do so had been sat down on the floor with Callum as minutes passed. Now the only person who wasn’t sitting had been Oates, and when the taller boy patted the floor for Oates to join him, he didn’t hesitate to perform the same movement Callum did when he was sitting down, except, his own legs stretched on the floor completely, and his arms rested on his side, opposed to on his knees. Like the boy next to him, he faced forward, only after some time passed, putting his hand on top of Callum’s.


He maintained this one-sided eye contact with the wall only until the boy next to him spoke, and he immediately turned to face him. Still a one-sided eye contact remained, but this way, he could see the slight stubble on his chin, and the light refracting off of his nose. “Yeah, we can get our usual. And have leftovers for breakfast.” Half pepperoni, half veggie was their go-to order; it was them in a nutshell, and they always had leftovers for breakfast.


But the atmosphere changed in that hallway when Callum mentioned sophomore year. Time was at a standstill, waiting for the two of them.


It was weird hearing the story from the other person there, as it didn’t seem to be the same story, or even close to it. What Callum said wasn’t how Oates remembered it, but he knew it was true the more he thought about it. It was the only way for the story to make sense, and with every sentence and revelations that left Callum’s lips, the curly-haired boy melted a little bit.


“You were such a mystery for me, you know. I don’t know why, but I was sooooo baffled by you.” Oates rolled his eyes, eventually coming back to a spot on the wall, images showing on it as if he were in a movie theatre, only, this time, he’d been the projector, and his memories had been the movie. “When I first saw you, you were just this amazing dancer, but the more I did talk to you, or tried to talk to you I guess, the harder it was for me to stop. It was like I was on drugs.” The more he reminisced, the bigger his smile got, what from embarrassment, what from joy. “I actually found myself passing the blue dance studio in case you were there early even if my class was on the other side of the school. And after getting something to eat, I’d always go to back, knowing you would be there, dancing, and I could ask you another question. Perhaps it would spark a conversation, I hoped.”


Pupils grew with the nostalgic thoughts; with remembrance of the simpler times when Oates only had a crush on the boy now sitting next to him. They were just two strings back then, and now, like their fingers, they were more tangled into each other than either thought possible.


And that conversation Oates hoped to spark, it actually worked at one point because they were here now. It was something he remembered fondly.


---​


The lights in the blue dance studio were on, like always, and the curly-haired boy had once again forgotten something of his there—on purpose as an excuse to come in, sit down, and watch the mysterious dancer dance. He could only ever dream of dancing as elegantly as that, but he already suspected that his reasoning for coming to the studio in the first place was more than about just dance, and had probably been about the dancer a lot more.


Was he afraid of appearing forgetful in front of the other, well, no, because most times, he actually did forget something accidentally, and the fact that this time it had been on purpose didn’t really change much.


Like every time, he silently entered the large room, not trying to disturb the boy, and pretended to look for his scarf which turned out not to be in the place he’d put it. This confused him, but there hadn’t really been much he could do before the dancer finished his practice. When the song ended, he waved over to the dancer.
º º code by ditto º º
 






kellian phelan


Cookies, cookies, cookies. That was the focus right now — cookies, cookies, cookies.

Not the heart thudding in her chest. Not the ghost of Angel’s fingers between hers. Cookies, cookies, cookies.

Kelli didn’t really like thinking too much about how she felt. Really, she didn’t like thinking too much about herself at all, but especially not about how she felt.

Especially not when it came to feelings about her friends. Thinking about feelings about her friends tended to get her into trouble. With Ronnie and Bella and Avery, she didn’t need to think about their friendships, or think about how she felt after they did things with her or for her. It was simple: They’re my amazing friends, and they did that because they’re my friends, and I felt happy because they’re my friends. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy with icing on top.

She thought things were that simple with Angel, too — and they had been — but now, as she found her mind considering and reconsidering what had just happened back there, she found herself drawing blanks. They were friends, right? Then why did it feel like that when they danced? And after they danced? And why did touching his hand feel so…different? And why did she feel so…

There were a lot of questions, and Kelli didn’t really do good with a lot of questions.

Hence why she had a 2.3 GPA.

So for now, she would be thinking about cookies — just cookies.

To her excitement, though, there turned out to be so much more than just cookies on the table. Her eyes lit up, her mouth an O as she scanned the spread of sweets galore.

“They’ve got all kinds of stuff,” Angel said. “If I knew they had all this, I’d have come to the last two winter balls too.”

Kelli nodded enthusiastically. “I woulda, like, snuck in and pretended to be someone’s personal assistant or something — or a bodyguard.” She could’ve totally passed as a bodyguard freshman year. Heck, she’d’ve gotten a classic bodyguard MOM heart-with-an-arrow tattoo if it’d’ve meant that she could’ve come to this bougie event last year.

Honestly, though, she’d considered one of those tattoos without needing to pretend to be a bodyguard. Those were pretty freakin’ dope.

“What’re you gonna get?” Angel asked. “Or are you super set on the cookies, ‘cause they are pretty pretty.”

Kelli surveyed the table. There was so freakin’ much, dude — it was insane! “Hmmm…,” she hummed aloud, starting to pace back and forth before the table, ever so slowly. She squinted her eyes, putting a hand on her chin and “hmmmm”ing as she debated between the cookies or the cake or the cream puffs or the eclairs or the —

Oh good golly, there’s so freaking much.


“Ah…hm…,” she heard Angel murmuring, and she lifted her eyes to see him staring blankly at her. “Do I dare…?” he asked.

Curiously, she cocked her head. He looked like he was having as much trouble as her, so maybe she shouldn’t ask him to help her decide after all. Still, seeing as he was now turning toward the table with his hand shoved in his pocket, she decided that him staring blankly at her must have helped him decide on what to get, so she began to stare blankly at him and try and debate what desserts to grab.

Cookies…? Cake…? Cream puffs…? Eclai —

All at once, Angel whipped something out of his pocket, and Kelli flinched slightly at the sudden movement. Something else fell, and he seemed to notice it, too, as he bent down beneath the table and started to search the floor.

Oh shoot, Kelli said, shaking her head to jerk herself out of her passive state into a more active one, I should probably be helping him.

“Did you drop something, Angel?” she asked, glancing around the floor, until her eyes fell on a glimmer at her feet. With a soft gasp, she bent down and picked it up, smiling gently at Angel’s bent figure. She opened her mouth to tell him that she’d found it, and her eyes fell back on what was in her hand for another split second. “A —“

She did a double-take, her eyes shooting wide and her mind and body freezing for a second.

Oh.

Flying.

Mother.

Of.

Crapolina.

Well, uh, she was pretty sure she found it.

That was, if it was a…

That wasn’t what she thought it was…right?

She stared at it with bulging eyes for another couple of seconds.

Oh no.

If her seventh grade Health class’ STD unit had taught her anything, it was that what she was looking at had to be exactly what she thought it was.

A condom.

Dude straight up had a condom in his pocket.

“Uh.”

Kelli didn’t really know how to take that. She really, really, really, really did not know how to take that.

Her face was getting hot.

Could she just…disappear?

Angel was her friend or something. They weren’t going to bang it out tonight, and she —

She looked back at the object, flipping it over. On the back was a note: GOOD LUCK. SCORE A HOTTIE TN — XOXO BRO.

Suddenly it clicked: brother.

BROTHER.

BROTHERITWASHISBROTHER.

OHTHANKGOSH.

She felt an odd wave of relief replace her panic.

Oh.

Thank.

GOSH.

It had to be a gift from his brother or something. Something along those lines.

Angel didn’t — Angel wasn’t — he didn’t…

Whew. She released a sigh of relief. Insert cartoon sweat wipe.

“Eh…whatever,” she heard Angel say, and he began to stand back up.

OH SHOOT.

In a panic, Kelli felt her fingers, which had somehow begun to tremble, closed back around the condom, and she clutched it to her chest, giving a nervous chuckle as Angel went about his dessert-grabbing.

Now that she’d seen the condom, she knew that he was going to think that she thought that he was a perv or something, and that was going to make the whole situation really, really awkward. Well, I mean, it was already kind of awkward since she had the condom, even if he didn’t know about it, but it would be worse if he knew that she knew about it, because then he would have to clarify, and then she would have to be all no I get it but he wouldn’t think that she’d get it, and…

WAIT.

A genius idea popped into Kelli’s head — one so genius that she almost audibly gasped.

She glanced at Angel, who was enraptured with serving himself a slice of cheesecake. She looked over her shoulders. Coast was clear.

Plop. She dropped the condom on the floor.

And she turned back to the dessert table.

Don’t mention the condom, Kelli. Don’t mention the condom, Kelli. Act natural, Kelli. Don’t mention the condom, Kelli.

“Yay!” Kelli cheered, reaching for the cookies. “Condom —“ Her smile froze on her face, and she panically corrected herself in a too-loud voice: “OHSHOOTCOOKIESIMEANTCOOKIES.”

CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAP YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SAY WHAT YOU WERE THINKING —

She looked at Angel. “E-Easy mix-up,” she laughed. “No condom here! Just —“ She reached out and snatched up a cookie. “C-cookies! Yay!” She bit into one before she could say more, her face burning a dark red. “Y-Yum!” she said with her mouth full, her puffs of air expelling crumbs.

She saw a gleam in the lower part of her periphery, and she looked very obviously down at the ground and tried to cover up the silver-packeted object up with her foot. Unfortunately, she failed to grip the thing hard enough with her foot to pull it toward her, and it just stayed in its spot.

She just kinda…froze.

Shoot.

She looked up at Angel, nervously giggling.

Then, with a loud, dramatic, totally real and not obviously fake gasp, Kelli clasped her hands to her cheek and looked at the ground, looking with saucer-wide eyes at the condom. Bending down to pick up the package. “Oh, I, uh, wonder what person dropped a condom!”

Oh shoot, that sounded rude.

She giggled anxiously. “I-I bet it had to be a —“ Oh gosh, she didn’t think this sentence out before she started. “A-a super-duper d-dope p-person with a v-very encouraging, uh, brother, uh, who, uh, mis…under…stands, uh…what…uh…the…uh, situation between the, uh, brother and, uh, the friend date — the, uh, the f…uh, the date, uh…is, I’m s-sure, and I…”

She…she couldn’t lie to him.

Well, there was only one option now.

Be the confident girl you said you’d play tonight, she encouraged.

Trying to be confident, Kelli let out a puff of easygoing laughter. “Uh…” She held up the condom, then held it out to Angel, trying to ignore the burning of her face. “B-Brothers, amiright?”




mood
uh

location
the ball

outfit
dress!





playing...
dance
by foxes​




mentions
javi

interactions
angel

tags
hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: wifey

OUTFIT: gold

LOCATION: ball
basics
MENTIONS:
Nickie

INT:
@Wayward Son (Hunter)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Veronica Crosby
Ronnie's eyes brightened with newfound elation at the sight of the ballroom. Just as she'd imagined, it reflected a picturesque scene of ravishingly-dressed dancers holding one another in their arms. It was a display of sheer beauty, elegance, and romance straight out of a fairytale.

And everybody knows the titular princess saved their entrance for last. With Hunter's silken arm draped around her, she traveled to an empty table. Her golden, shimmering dress pooled around her legs as she sat down, satin pouring over her silken skin. The dress fit perfectly, but somehow too big on her. She'd spent hours primping and preening for this exact reason; she felt like a little girl, and no amount of eyeshadow or hair adjustments could change that.

Yeah, she deserved this date and yeah, she wanted it bad, but was she ready for it? She looked to her side; no one was watching, not so much as a passing glance at the two of them. She supposed that was a good thing, and that all this doubt and latent insecurity was far more of a monster in her head than it was in real life. After all, here she was with her dream date in a dress that was inarguably the perfect choice for Ronnie's assets and for this occasion. And she herself didn't look half bad, either.

“Hey, you thirsty, Ronnie? Cause I’m fucking parched," Hunter voiced, snapping the redhead from her thoughts. He was so crude. It was unbearably attractive.

Do we kiss? My saliva is pretty hydrating.

"I think I want some punch. Want me to grab us a couple of cups and then maybe get a dance in if you think you can handle—" The boy wiggled his torso. "—this?"

Ronnie giggled and nodded, about 80% sure he was being ironic. "Punch sounds great," she answered, arms folded and leaning on the table, "Then let's dance. We'll see who can handle who." She winked with a satisfied grin, watching Hunter trot off to fetch the two of them some refreshments. She'd lost count of how many times she thought it, but damn had the tables turned.

From a far, she watched a minor fight take place between Hunter and the ever-classy Nickie Abrams. Not a fleck of concern passed over her face while she glanced at Nickie making some sort of inaudible, derisive comment in her direction, nor did any concern arise when a splash of punch made its way onto her studly date's suit. She placed a hand over her mouth and giggled at the hilarity of something so pointless and petty.

Go Hunter, you big, strong boss of a man! She raised a supportive, shaky fist in the air when Hunter's eyes landed back on her. She offered Nickie a polite wave paired with an innocent smile, shooting darts of subtle smugness her direction.

The argument raged on, culminating in a thunderous-yet-brief shouting match until finally the two split apart. Ronnie suppressed another urge to laugh. She was as foolish and vapid as they came, but even some fragment of her critical thinking ability had the sense not to do... well, whatever that was. Judging by the way more than one head had turned to watch their fight unfold, Ronnie knew this would end up online in a flash. Even as Hunter grew nearer, the redhead had a feeling in her gut that her own fragile reputation would take a minor blow.

But oh, how could she turn away from a hunk so helplessly dashing!?

The petite girl immediately stood up upon the return of her prized date, then gratefully accepted a cup of punch. She took a sip, then reached a hand out. "So, that dance?" Now it was her turn to lead the charge, and what better way to proceed in the ball date than to share a dance? "I'll have you know I've been waiting for this part all week," she remarked, eyeing Hunter's oh-so-manly arms.

With a hop in her step, Ronnie strode to the dance floor and fell into the rhythm of the resounding hip-hop beat, wasting no time getting into the groove. Fortunate to have remembered this semi-popular song, the girl mouthed the playful, borderline suggestive lyrics while maintaining attentive eye contact with the boy in front of her. A permanent smile had made its home on her face as the pair moved across the floor. Ronnie had engaged in a spirited, unspoken competition with her date, attempting to stay just ahead of his dance skills while not clearly overdoing it.

"This is so much fun!" she shouted above the music, turning around so her back was nearly against his chest, moving her shoulders and hips to the beat, "I'm, like, totally loving the punch too." She took another drink of her cup, which had miraculously not splashed on her own attire despite her lively movement. She looked up at Hunter for a little while, idly shaking her body to the music. "What're you thinking about?" she asked innocently, slyly slipping herself even closer to his body.

The correct answer is me. But, of course... I know you all too well.

"That was a pretty nasty fight," she spoke up, "I didn't get to hear much of it, but ugh. Nickie's such a b—" Play nice, play nice! "She can be so mean! I'm sure whatever she said isn't true." Now this is the part where you tell me all the juicy details, because I deserve to know... She put on a frown and rubbed a section of Hunter's sleeve between her fingers, guessing at the material of his suit. "Sorry about your suit. Do you need to wash up?"
code by valen t.
 






Casey Clairmont


Feelings weren't really Casey's thing -- as in, he'd never really experienced them. As in because like... well, being raised the way he was, life had pretty much always been sunshine and happiness. Casey had never experienced hardships that other kids might've experienced, and then constantly being on the road meant that he pretty much never felt well... hurt. Even when he'd had to say goodbye to Cici, he hadn't really felt any kind of sadness.

It had just been whatever, and he'd skipped over it and continued on being the bubbly blonde overflowing with joy that he'd always been.

However, it was a lot harder when he'd actually grown some kind of attachment to Bella. Casey didn't really... he didn't know how he actually felt about her, and his head was kinda swimming trying to think it over, but he didn't say anything about it -- he couldn't, because he was still twisted up in Chas' web.

Not that he minded -- Casey knew that it wasn't really Chas' fault.

Bella snapped at him -- 'bout how Chas didn't care about him, 'bout this and that, and Casey just kinda stood there like a stump. He didn't react. His arms dangled by his sides, his blue-eyed gaze glued to the tiny girl in front of him, but he didn't really say anything, and he didn't really react.

She was angry, hurt, upset. Casey got that. He had two sisters, after all, and he'd learned that being a real good brother sometimes involved just listening to 'em scream and rage, even if it was directed at him, 'till they'd calmed down. So that's what he just kinda just let her do, 'till Bella walked away from him.

Casey was real frozen for a moment, just kinda standing there, then he remembered he was on the dancefloor, and he'd promised Chas he'd bring back some drinks, so he made his way off.

He headed to the drinks table, grabbing two of the little fake champagne flutes with the real fancy juice in them, and then headed back in the direction of where he'd left Chas. 'Course, as Casey drew closer, the smile that he'd painted on his face kinda faltered and wavered on his face for a minute when he saw Ezra.

Not that he could really care that the dude who was so invested in their sex life was talking to Chas -- not like it affected Casey really in any way, 'cause him and Chas were just friends that we're pretending to be doing this whole dating thing 'cause of Chas' mom. So why was there still a little tinge of guilty jealousy in his heart?

Still, Casey being the upbeat sir that he was, he made his way towards his boyfriend and Ezra with a huge grin on his face and with no signs that the whole thing with Bella'd just happened.

"Hey, babe," he greeted Chas, holding out one of the drinks for his man. "Sorry, got a real distracted with ah... Bella." He didn't provide any other information on it, 'cause what was he supposed to say?

“Well well well, if it isn’t little Casey.” Ezra said, and now Casey actually turned his head to acknowledged the other dude. “How was the dance little man? Hope you don’t mind that I’ve been keeping your date here company.”

"Nah, 'course not," Casey responded in that real peppy voice of his. 'Course, he put an arm 'round Casey's shoulders, smiling down at his boyfriend, and then his smile faltered, falling into a concerned frown, eyebrows drawing together. "You okay?" He asked, even though the answer was pretty obvious.

'Course, he ignored Ezra 'bout this time, his focus instead on his downtrodden boyfriend.




mood
hypeeee

location
balllll

outfit
look he has a fun tie





playing...
Stuck Like Glue
by Sugarland​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Bella, Chas, Ezra

tags
geminiy geminiy hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: scared

OUTFIT: dance... clothes... yes

LOCATION: dance studio
basics
MENTIONS:
n/a
INT:
mogy mogy (Oates)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Callum Richards
Callum released a small breath, holding in an even greater sigh of relief. "Like... drugs?" he responded with amusement. He figured as much from Oates. The guy always was drawn to charity cases and shots at the impossible. It was the very trait that sparked it all.

"You were my only visitor. At first it was weird, and then it was exhausting." He rolled his head over, a brow raised. "But you grew on me. You have a knack for that."

He knew which day Oates was thinking of. It was the most mind-boggling event of Callum's life, and that was saying a whole lot.

He'd been at school early. Like, way earlier than any apathetic high schooler would normally be. That was a perk of living in the school dorms; it was a much quicker trip to school, in which he could head to the dance studio and practice rather than dawdle sleeplessly in his room.

The blue dance studio always had these harsh fluorescent lights that washed the pallid boy even further. In his reflection, he saw a ghost twirling its spindly legs in the air, creeping and crawling like a vengeful creature of the night. The majority of the color on his face sat in his azure eyes and heavy bags.

He avoided looking at his face if he could help it. Focusing his attention on his form and the way his body moved was much more productive, although that wasn't always the easiest thing when dancing alone. At least an audience could capture the parts where Callum had to turn his head somewhere else.

With an airy step, he glided across the air like a paper airplane, bouncing and tiptoeing weightlessly. The song was some classical piece Callum hadn't heard of, but the piano was pleasant enough. Had he not been actively moving his body, it would have made for a nice melody to doze to.

The dancer was midair when the door opened and a boy walked in. That boy. He hadn't intended to be showy in performing a flawless grand jeté at his entrance; in truth, he had hardly noticed the boy's entrance and did not allow it to distract himself. He'd done all of this over and over for too many years to shirk his discipline like that. His only mistake was in recognizing that curly head of hair in a flash, sneaking a rapid glance from the mirror's reflection.

The song came to an end shortly after, leaving Callum to stand in place with a heaving chest. He let out a singular breath, then stood still for a little longer. Thinking, failing to put the other boy's presence out of his mind.

He looked at the boy's reflection again, his back still turned away from him. He was waving. This startled Callum enough to raise his eyebrows a tad and whip his head around, displaying a stoic expression without thought. He stared a little more, since he'd already done that enough anyway.

Finally, the black-haired sophomore had the thought to wave back, forcing a sharply creased smile. The other boy's arrival was enough of a sign for Callum to split. His being there usually meant people were there on campus and that there'd be little time before someone else intruded upon the room's melancholic serenity.

Rubbing at his eyes, he sauntered over to his bag, which had the misfortune of being adjacent to the boy. His heart skipped a beat, iron strings constricting his lungs until he would wheeze hoarsely had he opened his mouth. His presence was miniscule enough for the other boy's aura to cast a complete shadow over his own, and it left him with a minor bout of unease that was slipping into looming dread.

He slipped his speaker into his bag, rooting through his things. His brows instinctively knitted as though extremely focused, while his eyes remained fixed onto the contents of his bag. He avoided his vision's periphery, which contained the smiling, breathing entity causing him so much anxiety.

Callum couldn't do this today. He didn't know the first thing he'd say, or what this weird kid wanted with him, or what kind of sinister plot was unfolding to gain his trust or monitor his actions.

He came to this studio to forget everything, not be reminded why he couldn't talk to people.

But just leaving wordlessly was out of the question. Not for him. The guy who baffled Callum with his pestering questions. He couldn't even recall his name, or whether he really had seen him at dance class or not. The tall dancer's head was usually facing down if the opportunity arose.

His voice was a murmur, just barely audible over the silent air. "Looking for something?"
code by valen t.
 
Last edited:






Damien Slater


For the most part, Damien found Luci to be a cool enough fucking chick. It was just... some things she said tended to get under his skin. The way she spoke, as if he'd never seen bitches in clothing that cost more than most houses, as if he'd never been to some kind of fancy fucking dinner or some kind of shitty gala. After all, he was now a politician's son. It had sadly become second nature for him to blend into this things.

Well, not blend in.

Slater wasn't really the type to blend in and shit -- he tended to stick out like a sore thumb, or a thorn in the side of whoever the fuck decided to bother with him or... whatever the fuck else. Slater was just... he didn't blend in, at least when people were sober and classy, and his sour mouth and annoyed attitude tended to set him apart immediately.

Luci said something about a drink and then a dance, and Damien swallowed the groan that had edged itself up the back of his throat. He was here for Luci, so he'd be on his best fucking behavior, even if he didn't know why she deserved his best fucking behavior or... or anything.

He'd stepped away from Luci once they'd made it to the drink table -- close enough that they were still within earshot, but far enough apart that at first glance, one probably wouldn't notice the fact that the two were... well... together.

He was trying to see if there were any decent types of drinks, but finally settled on the cliché punch. Cup was in his hand, filled with the red liquid, and he'd gone to bring it up to his lips for a sip when--

When someone fucking--

Someone fucking bumped into him, and Damien's fucking cup splashed liquid out of it. Luckily, most of it missed his shirt, instead landing on his feet and part of his pants. His jaw set and he spun around, bringing his hands -- one damp with punch -- up to push whoever had the fucking audacity to bump into him, but he stopped short.

Fucking Kian.

The look of surprise in his eyes was suddenly displaced by a look of disgust and anger.

“Oh uh, hey Damien. Fancy meeting you here.” Kian reached out and patted Damien’s chest. “Did you get bored of your date or somethin’? Why are you here alone?”

With his hand still damp from punch, he smacked away Kian's hand on his chest. His eyes narrowed and he glared up at the taller boy.

"Fuck you -- she's right there," Damien snapped, and he brought his hands up to slam into Kian's chest. As his friend stumbled back, everything kind of clicked in his head, and he gritted his teeth together for a minute, eyebrows drawing together in more anger. "Are you seriously fucking high right now?"

Not that he was surprised.

Once an addict, always an addict.

That's what his mother had always said, anyway.




mood
hatethishatethishatethis

location
Winter Ball

outfit
bruh this dude don't have good pictures in suits





playing...
Sad Songs
by Kyd the Band​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Luci, Kian

tags
@Stardust Galaxy geminiy geminiy


º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: hm

OUTFIT: suit

LOCATION: ball
basics
MENTIONS:
Bella
INT:
geminiy geminiy (Ezra)
Winona Winona (Casey)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Chas Marino

Chas hated cursing more than once in a tirade. He felt it came off as tacky and overemotional, and he always had the worst comebacks when he was out of sorts. The golden rule of bitchy celebrities has always been "If you're going down in a fight, at least be quotable." And even with all of that practice being uptight an arrogant, the short writer could do little to dispel the water welling in his eyes.

So pathetic it was. When he let his feelings overwhelm him, Chas was just another melodramatic, lonely teen. Lonely was normally fine, but being in a fake relationship shortly following the end of a real relationship really didn't help to keep things off his mind. Then, Ezra felt the burning need to add his two cents at his dick's behest and, well... it didn't make for a good time, did it? Being gay and repressed was supposed to be on the backburner.

His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the flames he fanned within, a miasma of thick smoke suffocating his lungs. His body felt as though he'd wound it so tight it was tearing and shredding at the seams while his entire being poured out from the cracks. Taken aback, Ezra simply allowed Chas to finish, except this time that arrogant smirk slipped off his face.

The taller boy waited for a beat of around four seconds until he opened his mouth, hesitating to speak. Chas counted every single second, his brows furrowed with the fury and intensity of a disgruntled Walmart customer. Obviously he was pissed at more than just the artist's stupid comments, but he was the nearest creature with a pair of ears and thus an example would be made tonight. Hope he was ready.

And then he apologized. Hmph. An uncommon response from the cocky sonuvabitch, but not cause for anything beyond a minor pang of surprise. Chas crossed his arms and rolled his eyes disinterestedly; he'd heard it all at this point. Nothing could possibly interest him anymore.

"You're probably right," he continued, and then he went on to overly-appease Chas out of some probable inclination toward damage control or a sudden and stark change of heart. After every little show he put on, that was where Ezra was going to draw the line?

Had he really reacted... that poorly? The Italian zoned out a little, mulling over his words. HIs fist tightened and shook again as he thought about Casey and Bella and the godforsaken flowers and his white lie.

A silent moment passed. That was it? That was all the guy had in him? Chas laughed, refusing to believe the doleful display in front of him. "Oh, he didn't mean to make me so upset, you guys," he joked to invisible bystanders, his hoarse words tinged with misguided vitriol, "Spare me. The Oscars aren't until February." Ezra's tone was undeniably stifled and gentle, but it wasn't enough. Acknowledging it would invite all the more reason to get too deep and discuss things neither of them were in a state to talk about.

Despite every urge to interrupt the other boy and make a scene, Chas fell silent, reading his lips to account for the cacophony of noisy, dubious thoughts swirling around his mind. It was maddening, and nothing that was happening was following any real logic. Ezra would never say those things. Not the impudent manwhore whose beloved pastime was pasting his raunchy, brazen ramblings onto the internet in hopes of attention of carnal pleasure or something equally as piteous.

It was almost believable.

Chas sighed, holding his pained face in his hand. Whatever this was, it was just making the pain in his head pound even more violently. All of this was enough for the night. "Look, Ezra, you don't have to..." He faltered, tripping on the mental hurdles littered across his brain. Dismissing this guy was a pointless effort. "It's not that big a deal. I know I snapped at you, but I told you there's a lot more going on."

And by God, Ezra still had more to say. The honesty was sobering, yet jarring. What kind of mind game was this? "You don't have to go into exile," he conceded unenergetically, "You're not..." He started gesturing semi-frantically with his hands to make up for his loss for words. "You're... you... I..." Of all people, this guy was a tough case. Winning a verbal confrontation never felt so... bad. Chas had to choose his words even more carefully than before.

"I don't know why you waste your intellect being so intentionally shallow all the time. I do know there's a good guy in there somewhere, believe it or not. I wasn't born yesterday." He took a breath, pondering upon all the poor decisions that led him up to this so very bizarre conversation. "There's no reason we should be doing this right now. Just forget the whole thing."

With Ezra's hand now placed upon his shoulder, Chas pursed his lips and looked back, wary of wandering eyes. The taller boy smiled, glowing with a peculiar genuineness that made Chas' skin crawl. "Stop that. That's enough out of you." It was the last thing he expected, nor asked for from him. "If I was really such a people pleaser, then everything wouldn't be crumbling right before my eyes. Don't you think?"

An amused grin snuck upon his boyish mug, and he almost caught himself uttering a coy "But thanks."

Not long after, that big, bony hand fell off of his shoulder the same moment Ezra perked up and smiled at an approaching figure. Chas turned around, arms still crossed, and idiotically allowed his eyes to widen in surprise at the sight of his boyfriend on the return trip. The least shocking part of it was Ezra's unwarranted commentary, to which Chas responded with a disgruntled huff. A look of guilt and uncertainty washed over him once the two boys stood across from each other, dismay and tension lingering in the air.

"He's courting me, Casey," he drawled sarcastically, pretending their more somber conversation hadn't taken place. Ezra was a good enough pretender; he appreciated at least that.

Chas mouthed a thanks to Casey upon the acceptance of a plastic champagne glass, rubbing at his fake boyfriend's arm. He was starting to get good at this. "Did she like the flowers?" he queried dryly, ignoring the blonde's question, "That was a long time for grabbing drinks." He laughed it off, concealing the whirlwind of emotions he just let slip.

Yeah. We saw you.

"I told you that you could go see her. Ezra here's been keeping me wonderful company." He smiled artificially, silently deriding the artist. It was probably the most normal part of their interaction to come out of the night. "And he was just leaving."
code by valen t.
 
Last edited:






Dalton Kirby



As he sipped on his glass of the 'fancy sparkling champagne for kids' which really just tasted like somebody screwed up and spilt half the original drink but was too cheap to get a proper replacement and dumped water in as a substitute, Dalton found himself scoffing in agreement with Adriane. "At least it's our last." He remarked as he sat the glass back down. Yeah sure as hell wasn't touching that shit anymore.
"Come next year we can say goodbye to this kiddy doll house shit." He wasn't looking forward to the stuffier and more pretentious outings he'd probably have to attend after graduation but at least they wouldn't be serving crap like this.
Now how was he going to entertain himself for the rest of the night? Because well, as delightfully fun as they all made it seem out on the dance floor, Dalton had no plans to join them tonight. If Adriane wanted to dance, which he doubted, then she'd have to find a different partner for that.

Dalton enjoyed a good party and neither dancing nor anything that was happening at this ball resembled a good party. You know what would make this pretentious event entertaining? A big blow up. Ala Thumbelina punching out His Chasness's tooth or a meltdown of epic proportions like the end of Simpclaire and Queen Johannes' friendship. And they had all the ingredients for something like that to go down. Hundreds of horny, messy high schoolers all in one packed venue. It would make the party and more importantly his night. Now the question was just who, which, frankly he didn't care about the who, all he really cared was that it happened so he'd have something to entertain or at least just get him through the rest of the night. He wasn't asking for much really. Especially with the people they had present and their penchant for making huge messes of their lives in public. Things had been quiet for a while now and given how the year had gone thus far, it seemed about time for someone else to take their turn and join Thumbelina and the others on the tour of shame.

"So, who do you think is going to be the next person to make a mess of themselves in public and fuck up a part of their life?" He asked Adriane as he lazily watched people mill and dance about the room looking to see if anyone seemed likely to start something. Personally he hoped the one to screw up would be Slater and that he'd screw up enough to be expelled from the school. Couldn't be that hard for a guy like him, but again, he'd take anyone, as long as something entertaining happened tonight.





mood
Now who is going to mess up

location
winter ball

outfit
red suit





playing...
song title here

by artist here​




mentions
Chas, Charlie, Evie, Slater, Gen,

interactions
Adriane

tags
Winona Winona


 
Genevieve Johannes
@NextGen has set their status to:
It was a bad idea
To think I could stop
Was such a bad idea
I can't get enough

@NextGen has set their outfit to:
no

@NextGen has set their location to:
gen's bedroom

@NextGen has mentioned:
Landon

@NextGen has interacted with:
Liv

@NextGen has tagged:
Soap Soap
[mild tw: body image issues]

There was nothing more dangerous than a wounded woman, one that had nothing left to fight for and all of her cards laid meticulously out on the table for the entire world to see.

She could shut down and turn off the world around her, blocking the sights and sounds and agonies out with drugs or alcohol or meaningless sex or a forelorn sob behind a locked door. She could lash out and destroy everything in sight in a pitiful attempt to pull everyone down to her level. Or, in a far more fascinating turn of events, she could defy all expectations and go for the very unattainable goal that she had been fighting for in the first place.

Gen was weighing her options when Liv came over and sat in front of her, the soft scent of her perfume easily detected on the limited air between them. Then Liv’s hand was against her cheek, tired face tilting into the soft skin of Liv’s palm.

Knowing exactly what she was going to do next was not the part that disturbed Gen. Liv was comfortable, she was familiar, she was security. Of course in a moment of drunken vulnerability shrouded in endless ache would lead her back into Liv, not one person would be surprised. At the end of the day, Gen always went back to Liv. Part of her knew that that would always be the case. No, the part that scared Gen was the lack of guilt in her body. Landon should be in her mind, the very thought of him enough to pull her away from the precipice. It should be his touch Gen craved, his voice comforting her that she wanted to hear. But he had gone and ruined it all. He hurt her without reason, broke the promises that Gen had risked everything for.

There was a sliver of Gen that wanted Landon to hurt as badly as she did. She wanted him to think of Liv’s lips against her hip bones, she wanted him to imagine Gen’s voice whimpering Liv’s name in the dark while their bodies intertwined between her silk sheets. She wanted him to think of every goddamn second and she wanted it to kill.

Genevieve Johannes was vicious, heartless, the cold bitch that everyone painted her to be. If everyone thought that, why not indulge their little fantasies?

“Gen, stop saying that!” Liv’s voice whispered through the dimly lit room, pulling Gen from her thoughts.

Obviously her lips had moved without speaking, spewing some sort of comment full of drunken self-loathing. It was bad enough to have Liv respond, the smallest embers beginning to burn behind her eyes. Liv was supposed to laugh at Gen’s self-deprecation like everyone else, enjoy a giggle at Gen’s expense. Gen should have known better.

Of course Liv didn’t laugh, Liv knew too much to laugh. She knew the fears that lurked in the depths of Gen’s mind: never pretty enough, never thin enough, too soft, too angular, cruel, not cruel enough, not enough, not enough, never enough. She knew how Gen’s skin felt alien against her own hands some days, how the reflection peering at her in the mirror was foreign, a face belonging to someone else plastered over Gen’s loathing bones.

Liv knew how much Gen hated herself, how fake the confidence was, how the facade crumbled once the spotlights were dimmed and camera lenses covered. There was no hiding from her.

Gen also knew how much comments like that hurt Liv, so she quickly shut her mouth and offered Liv an apologetic look through her thick eyelashes.

Fuck, she was beautiful.

“You break the… bounds of enough. You’re-” Gen’s heart crawled into her throat as the space, already limited, began to shrink between them as Liv’s icy hand remained on the pink flesh of Gen’s cheek. “You are single handedly, the most incredible, brilliant and… astounding girl I have ever met.”

Gen swallowed, a heavy breath slipping through her lips, her eyes refusing to leave Liv’s face. Another hand reached up to cup the other side of her face as Liv’s eyes drifted down to Gen’s lips, her soft tongue darting out slightly to dampen the skin at the exposure. The energy around them buzzed as the rest of the world fading away.

Nothing else mattered. Not Landon, not the school, not the world. Nothing else mattered with Liv there with her.

Gen’s hands acted without input as they lifted from her lap to Liv’s hips, thumbs easily finding the soft incline of her hip bone as her fingers traced the soft curve of her waist. Gen’s pulse quickened as she moved closer. Fuck, she’d thought about this moment so much. Gen never thought that the next time they touched would be under such strange circumstances but she didn’t care. Liv was more intoxicating than the gin coursing through her veins and Gen couldn’t stay away.

The space grew even closer, their warm breath mingling in front of their faces. Gen’s eyes traced Liv’s face before coming to rest on her lips, silent pleas remaining unspoken between the pair.

Please.

Don’t leave me.

Stay with me.

Be with me.

I missed you.

I loved you.

I love you.​

“You know why I’m here.”

There had been very little holding Gen back before. She didn’t care what anyone thought, not even Landon. Bridges had been burned and Gen was more than content playing in the ashes. The only thing that had stopped her was the history, the fear of pushing Liv away again. Gen couldn’t lose her, she couldn’t be alone. If anything had been made clear in their months separated, it was that Gen wasn’t Gen without Liv. Liv’s words were confirmation that she felt the same way, that she knew.

Gen never faltered as she pulled Liv in by her waist, glossed lips melting together in pure bliss. Even in the time apart, their bodies never seemed to have forgotten one another. Their lips still moved in perfect synchronicity, Gen’s hands still knew where to graze along the exposed skin of Liv’s upper spine before her index fingers hooked into the soft emerald straps of Liv’s dress, their bodies still reacting in perfect harmony.

Liv was as perfect as she remembered. Better, if that was even possible.

Her lips left Liv’s, a soft kiss on the tip of Liv’s nose, then her cheek, then her jaw. Gen lingered on her neck before dropping to Liv’s collarbone, fingers hungrily attempting to undo the zipper that kept the several layers of dress fabric clinging to Liv’s body. It was only when the metal finally gave way and the dress became loose that Gen stopped, the desperation melting away as she looked back up to Liv’s face, the softest hint of a smile on her lips as her hands reached up to gently brush the hair away from Liv’s cheeks.

“You are fucking perfect, Livanna Moore.”

──────────── ❖ ────────────​

Gen wasn’t sure when they had stopped exactly, thoughts muddled with alcohol and lust, but at some point the desire had melted away to comfort, the energy fizzling out to comfort.

She never quite knew when to stop where Liv was concerned, always hungry for the woman before her in any and every capacity. Gen was someone to always be ready to go, always filling a room with life and energy and drive. But in the aftermath, still wrapped up in each other's arms and breath still rushing to even out, Gen was finally calm.

Liv’s head was against Gen’s shoulder, one of Gen’s hands having reached up to habitually smooth Liv’s dark locks while the other wrapped around Liv’s back to pull her in as close as humanly possible. It was in that moment, a moment that should have been filled with regret and guilt and pain, that Gen felt the first ounce of true peace in what felt like forever.

Everything was okay when Liv was near.

“I missed you, Liv.” Gen whispered in the darkness, her eyes transfixed on the crystal lighting fixture overhead. There was a genuine softness in her tone, a vulnerability that no other person ever got to see. Gen smiled softly, tilting her head down towards Liv as she placed a soft kiss on Liv’s forehead. “You have no idea how much I missed you.” Falling quiet for another moment, Gen rested her cheek atop Liv's head and sighed. "I know you're probably going to just tell me to shut up and stop being sappy but... thank you. You know, for being here."


º º code by ditto º º
 








jo & trevor


"F-Feck yeah, I was feckin’ born ready,"

His mouth managed to get the words out but the panic was practically oozing from his eyes. The suggestion flew out of her mouth faster than she could even form a thought. "Pregame?" she questioned, holding up the party favors she'd brought along. His eyes darted to her, examining the pre-rolled joints and fully loaded flasks. "Please," he finally squeaked out.

"Here, light this," she passed him a joint from the baggy before sealing it back up and stashing it in his glovebox. "Okay, so in flask number one," she held up a metallic blue container, "we have vodka mixed with like a dash lemonade," she set the flask on the dashboard. "And in this one, we have a bunch of random liquor from I think like four or five different bottles I found in the fridge at the apartment," she explained, flashing the second (and larger) flask.

Looking down at the metal can in her hand caused her to zone out for a brief moment. There was a heart-shaped air balloon painted across it in a beautiful lavender color. It had a brown basket hanging from it and the silhouette of two people inside, enjoying the scenery as the gentle breeze pushed it along the sky. It was just a painting and you couldn't actually tell how hard the wind was blowing or if the couple was happy but Jo liked to imagine.

Anyway, she'd had it for like a year, which was a long time considering Jo had a bad habit of losing things. The only reason she'd managed to keep this one for as long as she had was that the painting on it had held meaning, you know, since it had been put there by Saint.

It was silly. Just one of the rare nights they'd chosen to stay in rather than go out. The pair ended up hanging out together in his apartment all night; smoking, drinking, talking about whatever they could think up. At some point, he'd broken out his paints and her flask got a new look. It wasn't a big deal, looking back, but it was a good memory and Jo liked to store as many of those as she could for safekeeping. It didn't matter much now though so she'd probably toss it after tonight...

She totally didn't care about him or how he was the first person she attended an HA school dance with or that he had broken her heart into a million pieces just when she was thinking there was some sort of hope he actually loved her... Nope. Jo didn't give even one single damn.

"So? Pick your poison," she said, snapping out of her thoughts as she took the joint from Trevor's hand.

----​

The air was filled with a coat of smoke, the joint now burned down to nothing but ash as it rested on the sidewalk outside of the window. Jo's glazed eyes shifted from the flask in her hand to Trev as he spoke up again. He'd been rambling for a while now but the one thing about Josie was that she could be just as much of a talker so when you got both of them together and...not sober, well, time could get lost.

“I…care about her. A…a lot. More — more an’, like, ya know, different than anyone else I’ve ever known, ya know?”

Josie believed him. She could tell just by the way he was even open to any of this dating stuff and how he really seemed to want to impress her even when he was freaking out. Trev just didn't really express his emotions well, everyone knew that. Which was probably why he was here stressing out instead of inside dancing with the girl he actually wanted to be here with. Always standing in his own way.

"An’…an’ we fought — did I tell ya we fought? We fought, after you an’ me talked last Saturday. We fought…really feckin’ bad.”

No. He hadn't brought it up. She listened as he explained what the fight was about and a frown appeared on her face when she realized that it had to do with him telling her his big secret. "That's totally not even fair. She has people who she can talk to like...so should you. Plus, I'm a greaaaat relationship advice giver person," Jo said confidently.

And then came the mention of you-know-who. He who shall not be named. A memo Trevor seemed to have gotten since he didn't wanna speak the name either.

Ash was friends with the traitor, a fact that had slipped Jo's mind up until just now. "Pfffffft," she rolled her eyes at the mere mention of her ex-bff. "He's just a good like...charmer. You know? He knows what to say but deep down he doesn't care about her. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. You're way better than him, Trev..." she told him, taking a sip from her flask. "You're a good friend and he's just not. He sucks," she added as he continued to tell her about everything that had happened.

’I lo…’” --- "I care about her."

He was totally gonna say the L word and Jo wanted to get all giddy for him but this wasn't Charlie or Amy. If she made a big deal out of his almost slip-up he was sure to start freaking out again or something. Instead, she just lit up another joint and let him rant on again. Although Josie had a usually very short attention span, she soaked up every word he spoke and nodded along. "Are you kidding? You're gonna go in there and hold your head up so high a giraffe couldn't compete," she started, passing off the joint when he started to panic again.

"You march up to her and tell her how much you l-" Jo stopped, "care about her. Then you two ride off into the sunset and anyone who doesn't like it can suck it," she finished with a grin. "Lying, backstabbing jerks from Brooklyn included," she added. "I mean, look at you. Your suit fits you perfectly, the tie is a ten out of ten and your hair doesn't look even a little bit greasy tonight. Plus, liquid courage never fails. Right?" she winked as she passed one of the flasks to him and took the joint back.

"You can't chicken out either. Live in the moment, Trevvvv."

• • • • •​

I’m gonna keel over before I can even get my hands on any feckin’ liquor, and then on my gravestone, it’ll say, “Died from alcohol deprivation,” Trevor’s reeling mind insisted. What a cruel way to go.

At least it'll all be over then.

She was trying to encourage him and shite, but honestly, what he really wanted right now were the substances that she’d toted along. The words she was saying to him didn’t really register so much as they lazily drifted through the shell of unawareness that his anxiety and high-ness had built, failing to register on their way by his ears.

Jo passed him the joint again, and he took it desperately between his tightly pulled lips. As the smoke filled his lungs, he glanced over at her, muttering a little “thanks”. His heart pounded in his chest and in his head. Sighing out a breath of smoke, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Jo, Jo, I…” His fingers were trembling, and his chest was too fecking tight to even let him get a damn breath in. “I can’t do this.” He looked over at her with panicked eyes. “Ican’tdothisJoIseriouslycan’t.” An idea popped into his head. “Hey, what do you say we skip, and you and me can —“

“Are you kidding?” she said.

He stared at her for a moment. His brain throbbed, shooting a pain behind his eyes. Clenching his teeth, he flopped his head into a hand, ruffling his hair with his hand frantically out of anxious compulsion. “No,” he muttered, “I’m not kidding. I’m going to — I can’t —“ His shoulders heaved as he hyperventilated, his wide eyes focused on some nondescript spot on the windshield. “I can’t do this, I can’t dothisIcan’tdothisIcan’t —”

“You’re gonna go in there and hold your head up so high a giraffe couldn’t compete,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” he mumbled. “She’s in there with her date…her date, and I’m just…I’m not — I’m just going to —“

“You march up to her and tell her how much you l—“ At the start of that word, something lurched inside of Trevor, and to keep himself from having an actual aneurysm, he glazed over the word via shoving the joint between his lips again. He looked over at her, a darkly frightened look on his face. “…care about her,” she finished. “Then you two ride off into the sunset and anyone who doesn’t like it can suck it.”

“Jo, it’s…”

She gave a grin.

Trevor’s brows knit together tightly. “Jo…”

“Lying, backstabbing jerks from Brooklyn included,” she added.

A flash of anger crossed his face. “He’s more than just a fucking jerk,” he said, the words slipping out in an angry murmur before he could catch them.

“I mean, look at you,” Jo continued. “Your suit fits you perfectly, the tie is a ten out of ten and your hair doesn’t look even a little bit greasy tonight.” (This elicited a glare from Trevor for a couple of seconds, before he decided to take it as encouragement rather than an insult.) “Plus, liquid courage never fails.” She gave him a wink, passing him one of the flasks and taking away the joint. “Right?”

As his hand finally closed around the flask that he’d requested, Trevor sighed deeply. Uncapping the metal container and lifting it to his mouth, he furrowed his brows. He forced the liquor down with a small grimace, then looked over at Jo, an apprehensive look in his eyes. “Jo…,” he started again, but before he could finish, she predicted what he was going to say.

"You can't chicken out either,” she said. “Live in the moment, Trevvvv."

Live in the moment. He feckin’ sucked at that.

…but that was one of the things he’d promised Ash, wasn’t it? That he’d…try living in the moment. Fuck it, more than that, that he’d try in feckin’ general…

Try for her.

Even if that meant…well, ignoring everyone else, right?

Shooting a defensive, determined glare over at Jo, Trevor huffed, “I wasn’t going to chicken out in the first place,” and then he lifted the flask back to his lips.

He set his eyes ahead. “Five more minutes, and we’ll go in,” he said firmly.

His heart gave a little tremble.

“Or…maybe ten,” he corrected.

Ten was more like it.

……………………​

One foot after the other. That was all that Trevor had to remember.

Jo had made him stop at the photobooth outside the door, take some cheesy photos, even though they could barely stand up straight. He’d even caught himself enjoying himself for a couple of seconds as they’d made their way just inside the door and shimmied left and right to a song or two.

But that moment passed. That was all gone. It felt like a blur, just a little blot in time. He was so fucking crossfaded that he could hardly even remember it as it was happening.

Now, though, he was drifting back into awares. As he stepped back through the entrance with Jo by his side as they returned from the photobooth for the umpteenth time tonight and everything looked as though it was about to come to a close, he felt a sudden drop in his chest.

He knew it was time.

He’d promised Jo he’d do it. Feck, he’d promised…he’d promised Ash he’d do it.

So…he guessed it was time to…time to…

Fuck.

He guessed it was time for him to do what he’d promised.

It was time for him to keep his fecking word for once.

He turned to Jo. “W…wish me luck,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze.

She may have said something back, but the static ringing in his ears blotted every noise out aside from his footsteps as he turned and began to walk toward the front.

Over his head hung the weight of everything that he’d done up to this point. It dragged him down with every step he took toward the main dance floor. All of the shitty stuff that he’d said to her, all of the shitty thoughts that he’d thought about her. From the first fucking gross, Googled pick-up line he’d said to her buzzed and sky high at the party this summer to the shite he’d yelled at her on Halloween for just fucking crying to the angry thoughts that’d crossed his mind the second that she’d set foot in his van just last weekend. He was a piece of shit, a real feckin’ piece of shit.

Every step he took toward her reminded him of just how unworthy he was to be…to be even around her. Cheerleader, pop star, envy of the school, total feckin’ beauty. The girl of his feckin’ dreams, and he was dating her. Dating her. Trevor, the pedovan driver, was dating Ash, the fucking…angel…and he hadn’t wanted to go public because judgment or some shite.

She was so far above his level. Everything about her said one wrong step and it’s all over for you.

One wrong step, and no one will ever even remember you existed, including me.

No, no, no, fuck that. Shut up. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

This was his chance to change it. His chance to turn it all back. It all rested on this one moment, this one perfect, perfect moment, when the music was slow and the crowd was quiet as they watched them dance the night away. It all rested on t…

His eyes finally caught her, and there was a solid, excited thud in his chest. In the light, she looked stunning — more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. She looked almost to be glowing as she stood alongside the suited boys and the other, more poorly dressed girls.

Fuck.

A smile started to crack across his face, and his steps toward her quickened. “A—“ he started to call out.

But then, he saw it, as though it occurred in snapshots.

It. Him.

A turned head, a peck on the cheek.

Someone just kissed his girlfriend.

He stopped in his tracks, stunned.

It came to him, all at once — rumors he’d forgotten that he’d even heard amidst the chaotic noise of Hollywood Arts drama.

”Newt and Ash — there’s got to be something between them, right?”

“Oh yeah. He’d totally got a crush or something — or she does.”

“Totally.”

The guy was Newt.

He stood, probably for far longer than a few moments, processing what he’d seen.

Newt, someone who Trevor had heart rumors about, had…kissed his girlfriend on the cheek, at the ball, in front of all of these people. His eyes glazed over; he saw nothing but that moment, playing over and over and over in his mind.

Finally, though, he squeezed his eyes shut and looked toward the ground, gritting his jaw and scolding himself. It was…nothing, it was nothing, fucking asshole. They’re friends, childhood friends, she’d told him, and that could’ve…that could’ve been feckin’ anything.

She couldn’t’ve…she wouldn’t’ve…

She…couldn’t have forgotten me…right?

Right. She’d promised — promised — that she would be waiting for him — for him — tonight. So he could do what he’d promised her.

He lifted his head again, blinking a few times more and looking around. He didn’t see her, so he started again, trying to squeeze the invasive thoughts from his mind.

She hasn’t forgotten me, she hasn’t forgotten me. She couldn’t have forgotten me, she’s just —

Finally, he spotted her again. Again, his heart gave an excited squeeze, and again, he started towards her quicker than before. He raised his hand to wave at her as someone crossed in front of him, his mouth opening to call her name again. “Ash —“

And before his eyes, the boy desperate to be loved felt his heart crash. It shattered, fell to the floor and splintered into a million tiny fucking pieces.

Shattered as Ash took his hand — the one who she’d compared Trevor to, the one who Trevor could never get out of his fucking worries — and let him lead her onto the floor.

Shattered even more as the path to her cleared, and as she looked him in the eyes.

And he couldn’t even fucking move. He couldn’t do shite to stop anything from happening.

Couldn’t stop his breaths from quickening, his shattered heart from ripping out of his chest.

His head from fucking pounding, just shouting at him.

That’s it. She’s fucking forgotten you.

She's over you. She's finally fucking sick of it.

She doesn’t give a fucking shit.

About you. About being with you. About your promise.

About fucking any of it.




mentions
newt, liv, & lucky

interactions
ash




this post was a collaboration between
@jasmichelle ditto ditto




tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 






Ashton West


There was a roll of her eyes, her lips pursing together as she tried not to smile and looked away from Lucky. She let out a small huff, and then she looked back towards him as she addressed his stupid strawberry candy.

"Listen, it really like, looked like candy," she said. "And I chose this like... well like I didn't choose it, but like, my umm... well, Mikaela like did, and I just... it was like before the candy-- ecstasy, whatever it was..." She narrowed her eyes at him, pointing a finger towards him. "You would've thought it was, too.

A little talking later, and then the music started to slow down. Going back into a slow song because, well, it was a Winter Ball filled to the brim with couples that wanted nothing more than to be able to dance slow to the music.

Couples and friends, mind you.

“So…I have a slight confession to make…” Lucky started, and Ash's heart kind of gave a couple thumps.

It wasn't anything big, really, but how many people had said that he was into her? Like as more than just friends or whatever? Like, Evie had literally just said that to Ash over text, so yeah, sue her for maybe thinking that it was going to have something to do with that. Sue her for the way her heart kind of sped up quickly, and her lungs squeezed, and she felt her breaths shuddering a bit as she waited, waited, waited...

Trevor still wasn't here, and standing here with Lucky kind of just reminded her of that fact. That she was still alone, even if she was surrounded by her friends. Like yeah, she'd been having a great night, but as the real couples drew together next to the dance floor? As she spoke with Lucky and he said something about a confession?

All of it kind of caused this little pang in her chest, and she found herself missing him -- even though she'd seen him just that morning.

Subconsciously, while she waited for Lucky to speak, her fingers reached up to find the star charm on her necklace, fidgeting with it as she watched him -- and yeah, she managed to keep the panic that she felt to herself and out of her eyes. Surprise, surprise, but Ash actually was very good at hiding her true emotions.

Usually.

Just not when she was drunk.

“My mom may or may not have taught me a few dance moves when I was a kid.” He held out his hand. “Wanna see if I’ve still got ‘em?”

There was a soft breath of relief from her lungs. A smile grew across her face as he spoke, and relief washed over her. Ha to everyone that thought the boy in front of her might have feelings for her besides just friendship -- he'd totally just proven it right here and right now that he liked her platonically.

...

Right?

Right.

Her hand holding the star let go and she reached out, her hand taking his.

"Oh totally," she said with a soft laugh, and she followed after him onto the dance floor. For the second time that night, and for like the millionth time in her life, Ash found herself facing someone that wasn't her boyfriend. She easily placed her hands on his shoulders, and she drew closer to him -- but like, not too close, obviously -- because like... they weren't dating, and that would've been weird or whatever.

Plus like, she didn't want Trevor getting the wrong idea or whatever if he walked in.

Not... not that she thought he would, because after last night, they were amazing.

And today marked, like, two months.

Like, that was huge.

As they started to move to the music, Ash found herself glancing towards the edge of the dancefloor, towards the door, looking for the guy that she actually wanted to be here with. Not that she wasn't like... like this was fine, dancing with Lucky, dancing with Newt, dancing with her friends.

It was getting late, though, and there was this little touch of fear and worry that maybe Trevor wasn't going to show up. He... got scared or something. But she swallowed it, she kept the gentle smile on her face, she kept herself enjoying the night and didn't allow it to get to her.

Those worries all faded, though, when her gaze locked on with Trevor's. She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face, and she wanted to go to him right away, but uhh...

Well, she had to say goodbye first.

Duh.

Letting go of Lucky, she took a step back from him. A hand reached up to brush a lock of blonde hair over her ear. "I'm umm... I'm going to go like... say hi to Trevor, and umm... probably find Newt, but ahh... thanks," with one last smile towards Lucky, she stepped past him and her gaze locked back onto Trevor.

"Hey," she greeted, nearly breathless with excitement as she came to a stop in front of him. "You came."

It was obvious, yeah, but...

"You look, like... like really good," she complimented, and her hands moved to fix his tie as she drew closer to him. Of course, as she did so, the overwhelming smell of weed washed over her. Sure, she wasn't a particular fan of the smell, but she'd grown used to it in her time dating Trevor. Still... it smelled stronger than usual.

She brushed that off, however, her gaze moving up from the tie to look at his face and...

Her eyebrows creased together, smile faltering for a moment.

"Are you drunk?" Ash asked.

Well, she didn't actually need a response to that. Instead, she just gave a little shake of her head, her smile falling away as she looked towards the ground. She reached out, her hand reaching for his, but instead she took the sleeve of his jacket and tugged him after her as she headed for a door that led to an outside part of the Winter Ball -- preferably a place away from prying eyes, and prying cameras, and prying everything else.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Eli, and Ash glanced towards him -- making brief eye contact. She gave him a pursed lip smile, and a little roll of her eyes before setting her gaze back on the door.

Just get out, just get out.

As she pushed the door open, tugging Trevor out after her, she let go of his sleeve, stepping away from him with her back turned towards him. She sucked in a deep breath, her arms crossing over her stomach, her breathing exhaling in a shuddering gasp as she turned to face Trevor.

There wasn't... really any emotion on her face.

She'd been through this before with him, yeah?

Getting crossed at something they were supposed to hangout together with?

And he'd been with Josie -- she was his date -- and the last time had been with her, too, and she just...

She swallowed.

"Are you umm..." her lips pressed into a smile, her eyes squeezing shut, a soft disbelieving laugh bubbling out of her chest before her eyes opened back up. The fake smile falling into a frown. "Are you like... are you seriously umm... are you seriously drunk right now? Like you... you showed up late, and... and... drunk."

God, just saying that didn't sound right.

Like.

She just.

She didn't know what to say, she didn't know how to feel, what to think.




mood
.....

location
the Ball

outfit
purple





playing...
Say Something
by idk some cover dude​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Lucky, Trevor

tags
@gh0stwriter ditto ditto


º º code by ditto º º
 






trevor callaghan​


She was coming up to him.

What the fuck does she have to say to me now? After that?

“Hey,” she said. She looked excited. She probably wasn’t.

She’s only smiling at you because she doesn’t want to piss you off or something. She’s going to act like that was nothing back there.

“You came.”

Yeah, I fucking came. I keep my fecking promises — or I fecking try to.

“You look, like…like really good.” Her hands lifted to his tie.

The compliment would usually send his heart soaring; now, it just felt like a slap in the face.

It was pissing him off, her trying to be all nice after that.

She drew closer to him, and her brows drew together. Her smile fell. "Are you drunk?”

She didn’t want the fucking answer.

He didn’t see a problem, but she probably fucking would. She’d find a problem with all of this shite, and none with what she was doing.

She was his “perfect” girlfriend. That was what he’d been thinking.

Fuck her.

Second by second, Trevor’s dumbfounded expression was growing angrier and angrier.

She shook her head, looking toward the ground, and he watched silently as she took his sleeve and started to tug him somewhere. The world was spinning. The only thing in even somewhat in focus was the very center of Trevor’s vision, only a pinpoint of it, and even that was blurry as hell.

Where the fuck was she taking him? What did she want with him now? What could she want with him now? He’d fucking seen enough.

They could call off any progress that was going to be fucking made tonight, fuck it. He was fucking over it. He would just shut the fuck up and try next week or some shit, when he could forget that he’d ever fucking seen what just fucking happened and what thoughts just crossed his fucking mind. Not tonight, not fucking after that.

The door shutting sounded like a gunshot in his echoey head. Somehow, Ash ended up a few steps away from him, her arms crossed across her. "Are you umm...” She smiled, but not the good kind. Of course not the fucking good kind.

He couldn’t expect a fucking good smile toward his shit self, now could he?

Her smile fell into a frown. “Are you like...are you seriously umm...are you seriously drunk right now? Like you…you showed up late, and…and…drunk."

Yes. Yes, he did.

Did she have a fucking issue with it?

He stared at her, his eyes glazed with a mix of confusion and blind anger. He was still somewhat in shock, still growing pissier and pissier by the second. He swayed a bit, his eyes steadied on her face.

If he was sober, maybe this wouldn’t’ve been such a big deal right now. Actually, he’d probably be dismissing those small instances of guys so obviously into her doing things that showed how obviously into her and her looking so goddamn happy that they were doing them and having no fucking reaction otherwise and just fucking encouraging their antics or shite like she did repetitively, because, you know, they really honestly weren’t feckin’ big deals probably, right?

Fuck it, though. He was drunk as hell, and she was saying shit about him being drunk and fucking late or something when at least he wasn’t borderline fucking cheating on her every day.

He looked away from her, and the only words that came out were a slurred, muttered, “Fuck you.” His voice cracked on the word you.

He lifted his eyes back up to her.

And then, it all came tumbling out.

He looked at her, his face screwing up and his arms crossing tightly over his body, as though he was trying to draw into himself. “No, seriously, Ash, feckin’ fuck you,” he said. “You really feckin’ came to this dance, went right to tha fuckin’ guy who jizzes at the mention of your feckin’ name, took his feckin’ hand, when you know I’ve got feckin’ issues wit’ him, like there’s nothin’ there, like there’s never been nothin’ there — after ya let tha guy who people say’s feckin’ crushin’ on ya, who people think you’re datin’ apparently kiss ya on tha cheek like it’s nothin’, like people won’t think nothin’ more of it, like I won’t think nothin’ more of it — ‘cuz ya think I’m not there, huh? Was it ‘cuz ya thought I wouldn’t see? ‘Cuz every time I’m outta you’re sight, ya just forget about me, huh, ‘cuz I’m so feckin’ pitiful, ‘cuz I’m just somethin’ ta be bragged about, ‘cuz my feelin’s on things don’t matter, ‘cuz I’m some kind of shite freak with a weed reliance who drives a feckin’ van and fucked piss drunk girls who wouldn’t remember his feckin’ name an’ you’re the girl blessin’ me wit’ your presence, ‘cuz I don’t deserve ta have my shite listened to, ‘cuz I don’t deserve to be — to be feckin’ cared about beyond when ya can look me square in the feckin’ eyes and smile ‘cuz that’ll make everything feckin’ okay?”

His voice rose with each word he slurred out. It was a strain of virtual gibberish with a furious heart behind it. As he continued, his words grew more and more spat, more and more vitriolic. There was an almost blind look in his eyes. His arms moved out from his body, pointed to her and then to the ground and then to him, and then gestured randomly, all loosely and all furiously. “Ya told feckin’ Eli, I feckin’ showed I cared about it, you acted like it wasn’t a big deal, I feckin’ yelled at ya on feckin’ Halloween because I was feckin’ pissed, I feckin’ apologized fer that, because obviously, ya feckin’ askin’ me ta be private was some kind of feckin’ mercy on yer part, and I convince myself of that — because it really feckin’ was, because I’d be havin’ my feckin’ ass eaten by every feckin’ person for bein’ that weird smelly boyfriend of the feckin’ hot chick if people knew, a fuckin’ cuck to all of the feckin’ hot guys who you give feckin’ attention because I’m not feckin’ around to be feckin’ bothered by it — and when you ask me ta go public and I say no, all hell feckin’ breaks loose, and I’m the feckin’ villain, and I’m some kind of shite person, because it doesn’t feckin’ matter what I think, because it’s never feckin’ mattered what I think, ‘cuz you and Lucky always spent time with each other, you spent all of that feckin’ time pourin’ your feckin’ emotions onto that fuckin’ gobshite, and fine, so what, but then ya almost feckin’ kiss onstage, then Amy tells me ya almost feckin’ kiss, then you compare me to him durin’ one of our fights, and on the one feckin’ night you promise — of your own feckin’ volition — to wait for me — you feckin’ promise — you’re feckin’ with him again, and I’m just not supposed to feckin’ care, and I’m not supposed to feckin’ give a shite? When you feckin’ tell the biggest feckin’ loudmouths about us after I told you that I wanted ta be private, when I honored your want to be private, I wasn’t supposed to feckin’ care, yeah?”

He swayed, his face going deadpan. He paused a moment, drawing back in on himself, slouching further and crossing his arms tightly again. “So I’m feckin’ drunk,” he said, his face unamused. He looked back at the ground. “Yeah, I’m fucking drunk, and yeah, I’m fucking high, just so I could forget about all of the shite that bothers me, just so I could feckin’ ask you to go public with me, not because I really want to, but because that’s what you feckin’ want to do, and I feckin’ care about you, so I feckin’ act like I don’t feckin’ feel anything. And that’s totally feckin’ normal, because I’m a fuckin’ van-drivin’ bottom-feeder and you’re hot and emotionally feckin’ damaged or some shite.” His voice was rising again. He looked into her face again. “I give a shit, Ash — and I fucking act like I don’t so you can be fucking happy with me, so you can be feckin’ happy with this feckin’ guy I’m pretending to be. So fuck you.”




mood
pissed

location
some-fucking-where

outfit
blue suit (+ currently a yellow tie)





playing...
i wanna slam my head against the wall
by glaive​




mentions
lucky, eli, & newt

interactions
ash

tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 

MOOD: protecc 😠

OUTFIT:
navy blue boy
​
INFO

LOCATION:
somewhere outside winter ball room

WITH: trevor, ash

MENTION: tba​
ACTIVITY
Winona Winona geminiy geminiy ditto ditto
TAGS
cappie
— Rescue


[Sometime after Chanel and Cappie danced….]

Why is Cappie lingering around outside the main ballroom and not having fun with the rest of the crazy kids of HA?

We will get back to that part later.

For now, let’s focus on Cappie, who is wandering in a hallway, alone, his face warped in contemplative perplexity. Why is that? Again, that will be explained later, don’t worry. A few people have walked by but never paused to check on him. Honestly, he doesn’t mind; he prefers it that way. Because if anyone tries asking what’s bothering him, Cappie wouldn’t know how to explain it or how he's feeling. At least, not now.

Cappie would soon take a break from his uncharacteristic brooding session. Snippets of voices from afar cut off his train of thought, some sort of commotion. Of what kind, he’s not sure, but it sounds almost suspicious, enough to hold his curiosity. Drama (the non-art theater sort) in special Hollywood Arts events is often expected, a concept that Cappie has gotten used to after being a student for over a year there. What's Hollywood without a little drama?

Still, he’s always hoping it occurred less and, ideally, not at all.

Cappie focuses his attention to the voices as he follows them. There is nobody else around the area. No paparazzi, no students to confuse the sounds. The words were mostly slurred and muddled together, but they sound vaguely familiar to him. At least two people, he guesses. They gradually become louder and harsher the more he moves closer—at least one of the voices is.

When he’s halfway close enough, Cappies realizes one of the voices belongs to Trevor Callaghan, because of the Irish accent and, well, he’s the only Irish guy at the school that Cappie is aware of. The second voice is Ash’s. Trevor’s mentioning of her name somewhere in his drunken rant even confirms Cappie’s deduction.

He quickens his steps. His protective instincts flip on like a light switch, searing in his chest like a hot branding iron.

Drunk Trevor, yelling at Ash, are the only words his mind is focusing on.

He turns around on the next corner, and sure enough, he finds Trevor and Ash there and a clearly intoxicated Trevor launching an intense tirade in the latter’s face. Cappie quickly steps in between the couple, shielding Ash’s small frame, assertively holding up one hand defensively toward Trevor’s chest.

He reminds himself not to touch or move him unless necessary, unless Trevor makes the first move. But a restrained part of himself wants to lash his fist into the Irishman’s schnoz and shut him up until next winter.

“You need to walk away right now, S.T.,” Cappie says sternly. He’s done a little bit of research about him beforehand; he knows Sean is actually Trevor’s first name and if his last name had been in the next letter after C, his initials could’ve been S.T.D. A shame it isn’t, in Cappie’s opinion. “Walk away. Sit somewhere else and sober up before you make yourself more of a schmuck. Ash, let’s get back to the ball.”
code by valen t.
 
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