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

[natsukashii]

Simone Gutierrez

When Alex took her cup and Simone had hers pressed to her lips, she sipped in a way that made it obvious that she wanted to listen to Alex. She didn't originally think she'd be spending some of her pregaming with the girl, but then again, Simone had figured she'd be spending all of her valuable time with Naomi.

God, why did the very thought of her make Simone green with envy? Was it because she took time she could be spending with Alex away from her? Maybe. Was it because she wished she was with them? Also another possibility.

But Simone didn't want to think about that right now.

Not that Naomi wasn't a great person. In the limited times they've interacted, both at school and other places, there was nothing that she sensed from her that she was a horrible person, but it was just...

Nothing. It was nothing.

Yeah, it was totally nothing and Simone wasn't green with anything but smiles that she was with her good friend. She was all in good spirits and the Simone Special was doing exactly what it needed to.

"Nervous. I guess? That sounds dumb. I don't know-- sorry, you wanna have fun and I'm killing your... vibe."

Simone tuned back in and she had a slight frown on her face and she instinctively moved closer to Alex. She didn't even think about it when she got closer to her and there was a hand on her friend's arm. The obvious height difference didn't even matter to her, not when it was clear that she needed some affirmation, even if it was something as simple as a slow, tender caressing of the forearm.

"You're not dumb and you have nothing to apologize for and you sure as hell aren't killing my vibe, chika," she'd say, smiling softly at her.

Simone was known for her loud tone and even louder personality. She had a lot of fire in her and maybe one could cop out and say that's because of her Mexican upbringing. Growing up with three older brothers, you had to be loud or you weren't heard. And sometimes that meant Simone had to do things she might not always be proud of, but she never apologized for it.

But like the Latina fire that has always made her stand out, like a fire, sometimes Simone knew when to dial it back and be the warmth that soothed instead of the inferno that destroyed.

"But! I can do fun. Fun is easy. Let's do fun. Uh, can't promise I can stay long though. Naomi and I kinda made plans."

Then again, maybe what Alejandra needed was the red hot fire that Simone had garnered a reputation for.

"Of course not!" Simone's smile may convince Alex, but it was certainly a forced one.

She turned her back against the countertop where Alex was standing against and she hopped up on it while Alex took a glance down at her phone. Simone was gradually getting less subtle about what might be hiding behind her deceitful smile.

"You seem to be hanging with Naomi a lot these days." Was that crossing a line? Maybe. Yeah, maybe Simone should rephrase. "I mean, it's good. I'm glad you seemed to find someone, you know, who sees you as I do." Simone smiled, moving inches closer to Simone, her leg touching part of Alex's hip. "Which is how amazing you are and, obviously how hot you are. If she doesn't, then that's her problem."

mood
Thirsty (2 ways)

location
Hollywood Arts Cafeteria (Kitchen)

outfit
*hot sizzle noises*

playing...
Royal

by Dounia​

mentions


interactions
Alex

tags
@Soap

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: builderman

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school

basics

MENTIONS:
Javi

INT:
Winona (Ava)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Angel Cervantes

Angel's eyes lit up a tad as Ava expressed her long-time plan to build a fort during the Lock-in. It was almost too good to be true. After two years at Hollywood Arts, he'd resigned himself to being lost in a swarm of kids too cool for the dorkier things in life. Having a record deal at seventeen does that to a person, he supposed, but it didn't quite explain what Javi's deal was. He hadn't graduated from the backyard band gigs, yet right?

He didn't really know much about his brother's stuff at all at that point, and it made him a little sad.

"You're a genius!" he cried, his voice shaking and lowering itself partway through. Regardless of the time or occasion, they were still in a library! It just didn't feel right to disturb the peace of the books and the sanctity of such a holy place. Plus, it set a bad example. The two were upperclassmen now and it was time to act like it.

"As for your zombie experimentation idea, the blanket could come in particularly handy on the subjects. If you put it over patient zero's head before they reanimate, maybe they'll just stay put? Kind of like when you cover birdcages for nap time." He nodded as if to confirm his own idea, displaying his confidence with an assured smile. He caught up beside Ava, scanning the library to scope out their building blocks. He almost knew he'd be too tired by sunrise to take the whole thing back apart and had a sneaking suspicion that Ava wouldn't care to clean up in the slightest.

The redhead still seemed good at heart. In her violent, sailor-mouthed heart...

"Something tells me most people at this school wouldn't survive a zombie apocalypse, though," he added with a nervous chuckle. Maybe the fort could use another line of defense. Computer cords could have an electrified vibe? The pair of architects would have to keep both ghost, zombie, and experimentees in mind when arming the defenses. Constructing this fort would be no simple undertaking, but Angel had faith in his eye for aesthetics.

"Alright, good news, soldier, no need to make an experimentation room in the fort quite yet. No one in here quite yet."

Oh. Yaaaaay...

I guess.

"Too bad!" the boy cheerily lamented (How's that for an oxymoron?), instead turning his attention to a row of tables in the corner of the room, "With just us two, I think the fort is best placed over there in the corner. We'd only have to defend it on one front. Kind of like the Schlieffen Plan, if we were French. Sorta." He beckoned for Ava to follow him to the spot, making short work of all the chairs in the way. In fact, he only stubbed his toe once and tripped twice on his way.

"I'm thinking tables for the base, chairs on top and under. We can patch holes with books, maybe even organize them by color if you wanna go for a visually-satisfying look," he suggested with more confidence than he'd exhibited all night, "The blanket could make a good canopy if we could kinda... you know... with the chairs." He mimed the stacking of chairs with his hands, demonstrating the shape of a small box. "And then just lay it on top. The rest should be easy. If you want, we could throw stuff at it and test its limits."

At the risk of exaggerating, Angel had been preparing for this his whole life. Nothing and nobody was going to take this away from him. Where he had difficulty maintaining eye contact with people taller than six feet tall, he made up for it with his niche skills.

If arranging chairs and tables is a skill, that is. Even for a well-funded school, the library was still a school library. There may not have been a huge variation of furnishings, but with the sheer amount of tables alone, nothing table-like was impossible.

"Oh, who cares? Let's just see what we like!" Not a moment later, he began tugging on the nearest table, pushing and pulling chairs to form the basis of their creation. For all they know, it could have possibly made a pretty decent spot to sleep for the night.

Not that they'd sleep together!

It just... it had potential to be a really secure spot. It would be way harder to punch Angel in the nose from the other side of a wall of tables. Either that or he'd be crushed by an avalanche of furniture in the middle of the night.

You know... maybe an escape route wasn't such a bad idea? That seemed like something Ava could be down for. Or, like, totally opposed to. She did sort of seem like the type to pull an axe on a guy who looked at her funny.

Heh heh. She was funny herself.

The night wasn't so bad after all. Thanks to Ava, that thing with Adriane was a thing of the past.

Friends are cool. Angel kind of remembered why he used to have a lot now.

Go team AvAngel!

code by valen t.

 

[gh0stwriter]

Lydia Fox

Dalton Kirby. Poor, poor Dalton Kirby. Did he actually think that he had the upper hand here? Despite his vertical advantage, the answer was crystal clear.

No.

He didn’t. And he wouldn’t. Not ever. But he knew that. Right? That he was just a toy in her wicked game. Something to pass the time. See how far she could push him before he inevitably gave in.

“Or was that your objective all along?”

She snapped her fingers together. “Oh no, you caught me.” She said, her tone dripping with sarcasm and a playful smirk graced her face. Objective? No. Her only objective was to ensure that she continued to have the upper hand...which she totally did. Obviously. She was Lydia Fox after all.

She couldn’t help but give herself a silent victory. She was winning. Everything about his demeanor said so. His annoyingly smug grin had grown bigger. The muscles in his arm had tightened. She’d learned a lot about reading social cues and body language from her dads. They had always said what was unsaid was just as important as what was said, sometimes even more so. And what was being unsaid here? In this moment? She was winning.

“Rough huh?” He repeated, lowering his voice as she had. “I’d say I’m pretty well built for rough don’t you think? You did get a good long look earlier after all…or was it not long enough?”

Her eyes followed his as he stood up straight. So he’d noticed her looking. Didn’t matter. It was all part of the game. She wouldn’t lie and say she got no enjoyment. After all, he did have a nice body. And she allowed herself a glance. He so obviously wanted her to look.

She took her time. Made a spectacle of ogling him. Trust her. It was more for him than it was for her, alright? His fragile ego couldn’t take it if he hadn’t been at least a little bit admired. Her eyes landed on his again, though he was too busy staring at her...body.

A mischievous smirk formed before his eyes met hers again. His body drifted closer. Back to its original position. Their moment of reprieve was short-lived and the game continued.

“Maybe what you need is an even closer look.” He closed the distance between them again, leaning in a little closer than Lydia had. “Close enough?”

His move was quick and she was caught off guard. She hated that. Her hand instinctively went to his waist. But it had been too late to stop it and she’d be damned if she’d let him have the satisfaction of knowing that it wasn’t part of her plan all along. No. She couldn’t have that.

His eyes bored into hers. Even they had a smug quality to them. So happy with himself as if she was just moments away from dropping her panties and begging him to take her. Please. He was going to have to do better than that if he wanted to get a reaction.

“Are you going to tell me more Fox?” The distance between them disappeared a bit more as he leaned in closer so their noses were almost touching. “Or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

Her hand on his waist tightened as he spoke...the distance between them rapidly faded and her breath caught in her throat. But she didn’t dare move. Their noses grazed. Their lips...so close. If she wanted to kiss him, it’d be so easy. But she searched his eyes. Yearning for him to break. Not cause she wanted to kiss him. No. Cause she wanted to win.

She felt the smirk on his lips form as he pulled away. Damn he was good. Her greatest opponent as of late. Maybe that’s truly why she didn’t let anything happen—cause it was obviously her choice. She could have Dalton anytime she wanted...IF she wanted. Which she did not. But he was her equal— as close as one could get, at least.

“You’re gonna have to be a lot more specific than that if you want your compensation and Ms Fox.”

Her own smirk formed as he spoke. “I apologize.” She didn’t mean it and he knew that. “I forgot I was talking to a Plastic.” She teased as she contemplated his question. “So impatient. Don’t you know anything about good storytelling?” She said already knowing the answer.

Her grin widened. “It’s about building suspense.” She said as she made eye contact. She wasn’t finished with him yet. Her hand reached behind her slowly unzipping the back of her dress. “Making small…calculated...moves” Each word was met with a distinct and purposeful pause. She closed the distance allowing the top of her dress to fall to her waist.

She stopped directly in front of him. “that keep building…” she leaned in closer, her head tilting up to look at him. “...and building until the big…”

“Cannonball!”

The sound of another person distracted her. She sighed as Her eyes went to the wet rat currently interrupting her game. Her attention moved back to Dalton. “To be continued…” she said frustrated, but still with a playful tone as she distanced herself from him. It was probably for the best. She didn’t want to hurt his ego by winning the game so quickly. No. That would have sucked...for him.

Lydia made her way to the steps of the pool and stepped out. She slid her dress off making sure Dalton had a nice view. One last point for Ms. Fox. She stepped out of her heels and bent down to pick them up before she turned and faced Dalton. “I’ll see you later.” She stated as she made her way toward the locker room her eyes shooting daggers at Beel as she passed him. She needed to wash this chlorine out of her hair and change.

mood
furious with a chance of amusment

location
the pool

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Kiss the Girl

by The Little Mermaid​

mentions
NA

interactions
Dalton

tags
Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

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  how he's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  eeeek
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what he's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  soft jacket, soft shirt and some jeans on them bi**h

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where he's at...

  
  
  
  

  lock-in baby
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Winona (Nate)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

oates

his boyfriend's boyfriend

There were things Oates expected to hear Nate say to the proposed idea of a dance battle between just the two of them: a clear and unmistakable, undoubtedly cold "no"; a sort of awkward laugh followed by a "good joke, dude" or "you're a funny guy, Oates"; a soft shoulder punch following a genuine laugh; or even a punch to the face for suggesting something so...feminine.

Well, maybe not that last one—Nate would never hit his curly-haired sidekick; the Miles Morales to his Peter Parker; the Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote; the Chewbacca to his Han Solo. Though admittedly, Nate was way hairier than Oates, so maybe on that last one the roles were reversed. Chewbacca was much hotter than Han Solo, too. Anyway, not like it mattered at all because the point was that Nate would never ever do anything to harm his bestest friend in the entire world filled with bestest friends—even if toxic masculinity supposedly was what the water washed down the drain first every time he showered. Hey, don't judge Oates for assuming things when there were things Nate did that were far worse than punching somebody...

(outing Chas, khm khm)

But to hear Nate awkwardly laugh and then say "yes" to actually dancing and having genuine fun for once, well that just caught Oates by surprise, his eyes sticking out in disbelief. Nate had to have been messing with the shorter boy, right? The sole mental image of the boy in front of him trying to do a pirouette and then unquestionably failing to do so let out a slight chuckle from Oates' lips, and Nate's serious face not changing as a reaction to the chuckle just made the shorter boy sure that Nate had, in fact, been serious about the ordeal.

Okay. Well, that was going to be fun, Oates thought.

"Oh, uh, okay then."

He recuperated and turned around to remind himself where the two were standing and where the dance studios had been located from their position.

"Uh... There."

He stated before putting one of his feet in front of the other, starting the short walk to the dance studio he had in mind. It hadn't been as crowded as the halls would usually get, but the boy had frequently checked behind him for his friend, in case Nate chickened out.

Leaning against the door of the smaller scale studio, when hearing no noises coming from the inside, not wanting to interrupt people doing things he certainly didn't want to see, he peeked inside finding the entire room empty.

"Good. Come in."

He prompted the taller boy, gesturing with his hand the room of which one side had been mirrored.

"This is where I usually practice with Amy or a dance partner for a duet, or even for a group choreo when the school has us doing things like that. It's usually empty anyway."

He explained, having closed the door behind Nate and taken off his jacket, throwing it on the floor in the corner of the room.

It had been big enough for one to spin around, or for two people to do so with the comfort of knowing they weren't going to hit each other. Connecting to the speakers put around the room, Oates let the beats of a song fill the room while he stretched, waiting for Nate to do the same.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

She put her hand on his waist, as if to push him away, keep a little distance between them, or maybe it was there to pull him even closer.

Either way, he was enjoying this. The tension, the edge. He had her on the ropes, he could feel it, quite literally, from the way her hand on his waist tightened, and how the rest of her body had gone completely still.

He was winning this round of their little game of dancing around each other, dangling the proverbial cookie in front of each other’s face, but refusing to let the other have a bite, not until one of them gave up in which case the game would be settled, and the winner would be decided.

And he so hated losing, so if anyone ever gave in, well it sure as hell wouldn’t be him. He liked that she hadn't buckled either though. It made for a fun challenge and change of pace, easy victories could get so dull when you had one too many.

Lydia returned his smirk with one of her own and spoke in a voice that screamed the opposite of what she was saying. “I apologize.”

Liar, he wanted to retort, but he held his tongue, not wanting to interrupt her turn. “I forgot I was talking to a Plastic.” She teased. “So impatient. Don’t you know anything about good storytelling?”

A smirk played on his lips. He most definitely didn’t, his department wasn’t literature after all, that was hers. “Do enlighten me on your area of expertise then Ms Fox.” He murmured.

Her grin widened, a sign that she was about to make her counter attack and he steeled himself in preparation.

“It’s about building suspense,” She said as she made eye contact. She wasn’t finished with him yet. Her hand reached behind her slowly unzipping the back of her dress.

Dalton kept his eyes on her, unable – no, unwilling to look away. He had no reason to do so. If he looked away now she would see it as a sign of weakness and he certainly couldn't have that. Plus, if she wanted to give him a show, then who was he to refuse? He'd be happy to play the part of good audience member and watch to the end. Definitely didn't hurt that she was fucking attractive.

“Making small…calculated...moves” Each word was met with a distinct and purposeful pause. She closed the distance allowing the top of her dress to fall to her waist.

His body tensed as she stopped directly in front of him, his muscles tingling in anticipation of what she would do next, her voice dripping like honey in his ears.

“that keep building…” she leaned in closer, her head tilting up to look at him.

The evil little minx. She really was trying everything she could to get to him, to try and make him crack, turn the tide back in her favour. Well it wasn't going to work.

“…and building until the big…”

“Cannonball!”

What the fuck?

Dalton instantly whipped around to the source of the interruption. Who the fuck? He squinted as the figure surfaced and he spotted a familiar mop of hair.

Was that…? Fucking hell. His hands balled into fist at his side, the nails digging into flesh as he glared at the blasted intruder.

“To be continued…” Lydia said playfully as she pulled away from him, momentarily drawing his attention away from the little fucker who he was going to skin alive and hang upside down from one of the light fixtures once he was done with him.

He watched as she made her way out of the pool, slipping out of her dress and deliberately making sure he had a nice view of her figure, before stepping out of her shoes and bending down to pick them up.

Well wasn’t she putting on a show? The game was over now thanks to a certain somebody but damn she was giving him a little run for his money. Not that he would ever admit it. This performance she had put on? Crafted to ever so slowly pull him in and steal his breath away, make sure she had the last laugh? All him ladies and gentlemen.

He was an excellent teacher. Every time they met and this little game of theirs was played, she had a front row seat to all his tricks, a personal masterclass in the art of putting on a show.

Dalton was no actor, but modelling was all about style, the body, the poses, what people saw. You had to know how to make yourself and the clothes you were appealing to the eyes of others to properly promote the products they were modelling and like he said, he was good at his work.

“I’ll see you later.” She said, turning around to face him one last time before disappearing towards the locker room.

Just couldn't stay away could she? He would have said that too, trademark smirk and all if they didn't have a bloody audience in the room.

Once she was gone, Dalton pressed his hands against the side of the pool as he leaned forward, head facing the water and took in a deep breath in an attempt to slow his pulse. His heart was racing, not from the little display that Lydia Fox had put on – he had been in control during that – but the suddenness of Beelzebub Wood’s most unwelcome intrusion. When he finally looked up, his eyes were dark with rage. He was going to kill that weaselly little bastard. Why? One he interrupted a private moment and ruined his fun, two he absolutely, utterly hated the guy's guts. Despised him.

Pulling himself out of the water in one swift motion, he walked over to where he had discarded his shirt and jacket, slipped on the latter then tossed the former onto his shoulder. Now that the matter of his dress was temporarily dealt with, it was time to take out the trash. He started to make his way over to the bleached abomination when he paused, eyes settling on the floor where a half full beer bottle he had stolen from the underclassmen earlier was sitting at his feet.

Reaching down, he picked up the bottle, hefting it in his hand for a moment before flinging it right at Beel. That should wipe the idiotic look off his face, but if you thought that was it and Dalton was done with the teen, oh boy were you sorely mistaken. Bottle thrown, he continued on his path towards the shorter teen, hauling him up by his hoodie, so that his feet were just scraping off the ground.

“What the fuck do you think are you doing here you?” He growled, glaring at Beel as he dropped him back onto his feet without warning then proceeded to drag him out of the pool area and into the hallway, and throw him into the wall. He didn't actually care for Beel's answer as to the reason why he had shown up, only that he had.

"You're a fucking eyesore." He continued as he closed in on him. "I'm going to skin you alive."

That was a promise not a threat.

An interruption was bad enough, but the fact that it had to be this guy of all people to interrupt him? The universe was really out to screw him over tonight. Outside of Damien fucking Slutter, this guy was the last damn person he wanted to see, let alone ruin his fucking night. And you could be damn sure he was going to get his payback for all that the weaselly little bastard had ruined.

mood
heated as hell

location
hallway outside the pool

outfit
outfit minus the shirt

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
Slutter

interactions
Lydia, Beel

tags
gh0stwriter mogy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

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  how he's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  very good he likes it when he's so smart
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what he's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  basic hoodie and jeans

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where he's at...

  
  
  
  

  locker room
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Xed (Dalton), gh0stwriter (Lydia)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

beel

batshit crazy drug addict

His shirt was now wet. His underwear was also wet. To others, the bleached man had been submerged entirely underwater, but according to himself and what his eyes made him believe, he had been floating in space. The confines of his shirt became the top part of a restraining astronaut suit, and his underwear the bottom part, which guarded the family jewels against space-soaring nut-eating eels that surrounded him and looked oddly similar to a certain blonde girl... It was simply beautiful if one chose to ignore the eels with Ugly Camille's face, and Beel liked to ignore the eels with Ugly Camille's face very much—as a matter of fact, ignoring Ugly Camille's face was one of the bleached man's favorite past times. It was a very rewarding experience for those who choose to try it.

A few breaths taken were when Beel finally resurfaced, but it was just like he had on an astronaut helmet, still suspended by nothingness in the water. And there she was—an ember goddess, in the winds of fire and the wrath of a thousand sparks. The spaceman could not take his eyes off the beauty which has graced him so kindly, making all of the Camille Eels float away in fear of the thing they could never possess; beauty. Maybe he wasn't all so gay after all, though heterosexual tendencies did arise when Beel got high, so this sudden attraction to the mysterious girl that took the place of the sun in Beel's mind could've easily resulted from that phenomenon.

"Come back, ember one!"

He called out only to be granted a solar flare in the form of a sharp stare that made his skin crawl with excitement. There was something about this orange star that stirred his skin, in a good way, and there was definitely going to be some DMing sometime later, even if the woman listened not to his begs—the gravitational pull of her ass had been far too large for him not to slide into her DMs later, if he remembered, that was. He was sensing a very strong enemies-to-lovers storyline developing between the two even if he had yet to learn such a fundamental thing that contained her essence: her name.

On the side soon appeared Dalton. He was definitely not a star. More like a moon or some other asshole space object that nobody cared about. Ugh, just what the bleached little man needed in the absence of the divine object that made a left for the locker rooms. He just looked at the seemingly upset young man walking over to him while bobbing up and down, having to swim every so often to keep his head over the water level.

Maybe he should've just drowned if he would never have felt the grace of such pure virtue again. Damning was the life of a Woods man—just ask Nate (he is addicted to crystal meth).

"Ow, not the Camille Eel! Get away!"

He yelped as something bumped into his head. Fucking Ugly Camille. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by a shit ton of them, hands flaunting to protect from them, and the only way out was getting out of the pool asap, so he did, ending up lying on the tiled floor as the Camille Eels swam away, leaving him alone. But another enemy approached swiftly, grabbing Beel by the collar and lifting him up.

The bleached man didn't mind rough sex, but this didn't seem like that sort of fun exercise, because, just as Beel barely got a hold of his feet and landed on the floor did Dalton start yelling and picking him up again.

"Manners,"

Beel said, but the smile from his face soon perished as he felt a hard surface against his back. Who the fuck was throwing walls around here?

"Let's do it."

He stated as he came to his senses from the lack of air in his lungs.

"It's gonna be just you and me. We can play dermatologist and skin cancer patient. Just like old days."

A wink followed, and the enraged face of the boy in front of him made Beel laugh more and more. Maybe shrooms hadn't been the best thing for him, but you know they definitely helped the future Beel to forget any of this ever happened.

"Now you let me feel your lips."

He said, doing one of those average guy going-in-for-a-kiss faces, closing his eyes and awaiting the other boy to lock in the kiss.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

Of course, the slimy bastard wouldn’t answer his fucking questions and his behaviour earlier before he dragged him out to the hallway, had he been eyeing Lydia? Trying to chat her up? This guy? The fucking little weasel.

“Let’s do it.” Beel replied. “It’s gonna be just you and me. We can play dermatologist and skin cancer patient. Just like old days.”

Just when Dalton thought he couldn’t be any more pissed, more disgusted, the abomination winked at him and then burst out laughing.

Fuck he hated the sound of that laugh.

“Old days? Go to hell Woods.” He snarled.

Did he think this was some kind of fucking game? That Dalton was just playing around? Just like old days? The old days were non-existent in Dalton’s book. Wiped clean like that whole friendship the idiotic younger him once had with the fucker in front of him never happened. The fact that this ass was bringing up that dead past, talking about non-existent old days? It caused what little patience Dalton had left to flee his body.

The bastard was a cancer alright, one he was going to erase permanently.

He stepped in, ready to pummel Beel to a pulp when he spoke yet again.

“Now let me feel your lips.” And then he made a going-in-for a kiss face and closed his eyes.

The sight made Dalton burn with anger and nearly gag in disgust.

This fucking little –

Was he seriously?

Did he really think that?

THAT WAS IT!

Dalton was fucking done. He wasn’t going to spend anymore time than was necessary in this cancer’s presence. He was sick of his voice, of that look on his face. Everything about him. The thought of beating him up, pummeling him to a pulp with his fist, getting Beel’s blood and sweat on his own skin in the process? It now reviled him. Reminding him of a closeness they had once shared that he never wanted to think about ever again.

The little fucker wanted some action? Fine, he’d grant that fucking wish of his.

Dalton delivered a punch right to Beel’s cheek then seized him by the collar yet again and rudely yanked him down the hallway like a sack of potatoes, giving the little man little time to recover or react. He wasn’t just gonna beat the living daylights out of him by throwing him around. No that wouldn’t be enough. He was getting rid of him, if not permanently than at least for the fucking night. He was fucking sick and tired of having it ruined and he didn’t want to deal with Beel anymore than necessary.

The bastard was a fucking disease and he was getting rid of him as soon as fucking possible. He ignored Beel as much as one could possibly ignore such an irritating existence until he reached the spot he had passed by on his way to the pool with Lydia. The box he had noticed earlier was still there, filled with a variety of items like bits of costume and props, probably abandoned there by a theatre kid. He threw Beel into the ground next to the box of props, pulling a cloth out of it and shoving it into Beel’s mouth before that gap of his could say another blood boiling word.

Just as quickly, Dalton yanked out a piece of costume and flipped Beel onto his back, pinning him to the ground with his knee to keep him from resisting too much. He pulled Beel’s hands harshly behind his back, twisting the material around his arms as he let his knee dig into the bleached blonde’s spine, deliberately applying extra pressure to the spot to cause maximum pain.

The binding around Beel’s arms was tightened into a simple knot and Dalton pushed off the boy’s back, lifting Beel by his bound arms as he rose to his feet. He looked around the corridor. Now the only question was where to discard the garbage, so he could be done with this and get back to the classroom with his spare change of clothes. Spending the rest of the night sopping wet outside of the pool was the last thing he needed or wanted.

The classrooms were too spacious and easily accessible so those were out, as were the studios and any large rooms. Was there any space that wasn’t big at this damned school? Ah ha! His eyes narrowed as he spotted the perfect place. The janitor’s closet. Excellent. He marched his prisoner over to the door, wrenching it open before he proceeded to do what he had done all night and throw the little man inside.

He took a second to admire his handiwork before slamming the door shut and dusting off his hands. Good fucking riddance Beelzebub Woods. Have yourself a night.

Hopefully the bastard wouldn't ever escape and would rot in there for the rest of his life.

mood
Good fucking riddance

location
hallway with a janitor's closet

outfit
outfit minus the shirt

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
Lydia

interactions
Beel

tags
mogy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

• .
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  how he's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  very good he likes it when he's so smart
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  what he's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  basic hoodie and jeans

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  where he's at...

  
  
  
  

  closet
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Xed (Dalton)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

beel

batshit crazy drug addict

Ah yes, the age-old bridal position where the newlywed husband carries his bride across the doorstep with one hand under her head and the other under her legs. This was exactly like that, except Dalton and Beel were far from married, Beel didn't have a vagina, nor did he identify as a girl, oh, and Dalton was holding Beel by his collar instead of also by his legs, making the shorter man practically lose all blood access going to his brain. But hey, all was good because he couldn't really focus on one particular sensation when so many were happening all around him. And it wasn't like he needed a brain to function or anything. It was Beel. All his words came from a rogue teleprompter located somewhere in between his two ears.

Now for those many sensations around him: the most prominent were the pulsations of his heart, which echoed periodically. In them, he heard a big, ugly, nasty-smelling troll walking the hallways around them (no, Dalton wasn't the troll, but Beel understood your confusion), and that together with the walls moving and hitting the bleached man as was previously stated, he was almost 70% sure he had somehow ended up at Hogwarts. Maybe what he now knew was the pool, and not deep space, had instead actually been some kind of entryway into the transphobic mind of J. K. Rowling. #Slytherin all the way, you know, at least when it came to Beel. Maybe Dalton was like a hotter version of Harry Potter. Beel could be his Draco Malfoy. That would've been hot.

...or, maybe he drowned. That would explain Dalton not wanting to give him the kissy-kissy. What was his deal anyway?

"What's your deal anyway?"

Exactly what everyone's wondering, buddy. Even Xed is like 'what the fuck, Dalton' half of the time.

"We hook up one time, and you all of a sudden don't even want to be friends. Like, piss off, don't be jealous of me. Why are you stalking me? It's getting pretty weird."

Of course, he had laughed as he didn't really care. It happened a long time ago, and maybe before he would've given a shit, but now, as long as he had shrooms in his pocket, he was good.

This, however, just showed that maybe Beel hadn't exactly been aware of just how angry Dalton had been because of God knew what but the words literally spilling out of his lips, along with saliva—as his drenched clothes dripped and soaked the hallway—weren't exactly helping the whole situation, admittedly.

Why exactly Dalton had gagged Beel was unknown to the shorter man, as he had been quite polite to the taller one. He didn't do anything inappropriate, as he recalled, so the cloth had no business being in his mouth, but how was he to complain now that he couldn't even speak--

Oh.

That made sense.

Sometimes even Beel was bored of Beel, so this was actually pretty comfortable. Somewhere Ugly Camille is celebrating. Hopefully, it's a masked party.

Along with his hands tied behind his back with the same type of cloth as was in his mouth, the whole thing was giving very much murder mystery vibes in which Beelzebub Woods was the poor victim, and before the two stood his final resting place: the janitor's closet.

Was Dalton getting in there with Beel was going to be the man's next question, but before he could even attempt to ask, the door of the janitor's closet was shut, and he was left to the weird smell and darkness surrounding him. It was just like Montana.

Oh, well, all he could do right now is wait for the hide and seek game to be over. This was a good hiding place.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Winona]

Damien Slater

The cigarette dangled limply from his lips. At some point in his random meandering, Slater had put the butt of the cigarette out against a wall -- leaving a smear of cigarette ash on the otherwise pristine wall -- and then he'd continued along, but he'd kept the now unlighted, half-smoked cigarette between his lips. There was just something comforting about having something in his mouth, even if he wasn't actively using it.

(And yeah, he meant that half as an innuendo, too.)

His fingers grazed along the wall, his casual steps taking him nowhere fast. Slater didn't have much else going on for the night, after all, but walking was at least something. And it was something he could do that would keep him moving and, well, the more that the boy moved... the less that his fairly empty as it was brain worked. So he was head empty, no thoughts, as he made his way through the school.

However, that bitch karma seemed to be having a hand in where his fucking steps were taking him because it wasn't long before his steps turned him down a hallway and he came to an abrupt hall. His fingers pressed harder against the wall that it was trailing along and for a moment, his flight or fight instinct kicked into flight, and he damn near turned and took off down the fucking hallway tor try and save himself.

Because there, halfway down the fucking hallway, was none other than Dalton fucking Kirby, dusting his hands off in front of a fucking door.

Damien wiggled his nose, the ghost of a memory of the many times that Dalton had left his nose stuffed up and bleeding rushing through his head. All logic would point towards Damien just turning and getting the fuck out of here as fast as he fucking could, to try and keep his face from being rearranged again. To try and keep his currently unmarred body (save for a bruise on his ribs on his left side -- long story) as unscathed as possible, because any run-in with Dalton had exactly one fucking ending. One fucking outcome, and that was him bloody, bruised, and banged up.

Still, his legs didn't seem to be listening to his instinct to fucking flight, and Damien's legs started to carry him forward.

"If it ain't Kirby," he spat, his tone tinged with all the hate that he felt for his fucking joke of a "step brother." His upper lip was curled in disgust, the cigarette clenched between his teeth before he reached up and took it between his fingers. He dropped it to the ground beside his feet as he walked, and then he came to a stop by Dalton -- but just far enough out of his reach that Damien might still have a chance to duck and run when Dalton inevitably lunged at him.

His heart pattered in his chest with fear.

His survival instinct was screaming go, go, go, run, run, run.

But he didn't budge from the spot, and he didn't portray any of the fear that was building up inside him. What was that shit people liked to say? Face your fears head-on or some shit? Yeah, maybe that's what he was doing -- because there was nothing in this world that he feared more than the lumbering oaf in front of him.

"Fancy seeing you here, ya fuck," he snapped. "Pick up your phone once in a while, too, so I don't have to waste my fucking time setting up shit for your dad."

An obvious enough reference to their earlier conversation over messages, although Slater left out the part that it was less for Kirby's dumb fucking dad and more for his own mom that he'd bothered contacting the fuck in front of him. Damien could care less for Kirby or his dad or much of anyone in this world, but he was kind of a mama's boy, and he'd do anything to make his mother happy -- albeit with a lot of bitching along the way.

Even come face to face with his greatest fear.

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
DONTTRUSTME

by 3OH!3​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Kirby

tags
Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

Now that is was quiet, all Dalton could hear was the echo of Beel’s earlier words which tying up the little man and throwing him into the closet had initially helped to block out.

“What’s your deal anyway?”

“We hook up one time and you all of a sudden don’t even want to be friends. Like, piss off, don’t be jealous of me. Why are you stalking me? It’s getting pretty weird.”

And then he had laughed. Dalton kicked his foot into the door of the janitor’s closet at the memory.

Did the bastard think that pretending not to know would help him? What the fuck was he even playing at anyway with his bloody lines about jealousy and stalking. Like hell he was either. He wanted nothing, NOTHING to do with him. Fuck if anything Beel was the one stalking him. He was the one who had intruded on them at the pool. He was the one that walked into Dalton’s path. Not the other way around.

“If it ain’t Kirby,” A voice spat.

And then what do you know. Just as he was finished dealing with one nuisance, who else should appear but the other one. Damien Slutter.

He just couldn’t catch a fucking break. The good old step-brother his father had ‘blessed’ him with, come for another round of plastic surgery it seemed. The guy certainly needed it and Dalton was more than happy to oblige him and serve up memories of exactly how their previous sessions had gone down.

“And if it isn’t the wannabe Slut.” He snarled at Slater as the younger teen came to a stop, just out of his reach. Dealing with the two people he despised most in this school one after the other was the last thing he wanted, but there were proving to be benefits. For one, all that extra pent up anger of his that he hadn’t been able to vent because the idea of excessive contact with Beel had disgusted him, now had somewhere to go. Besides, it had been a while since he put his human punching bag to use and while he sure as hell didn’t really want to deal with Slutter and his shit, he was more than happy to make use of the punching bag he had neglected a little after entering H.A.

"Fancy seeing you here, ya fuck," he snapped. "Pick up your phone once in a while, too, so I don't have to waste my fucking time setting up shit for your dad."

Bringing up that accursed dinner appointment? Big fucking mistake.

Dalton lunged at Slater without warning, his hand snagging a piece of the younger boy just before he could pull away. As he pulled Slater towards him, the other boy twisting around in his grip for a fighting chance, trying to hit back at him with a punch that grazed his shoulder, Dalton drove his knee right into Slater’s crotch to reduce his resistance. Make things a little easier, not that he would ever have any trouble taking Slater down, but a little less resistance meant a little less mess.

Taking advantage of the damage he had dealt, he slammed Slater up against the wall, pinning him there with a fist that was pressed right up against his collarbone, the fabric of his attire bunched up in it. He could take Slater any day easy, but he was no Beel that he could easily throw around with little trouble or resistance. Slutter always lost but he also always fought back so he had to make this quick.

“What the fuck do you want?” Another fight probably, Dalton really didn’t care. All he wanted out of this pointless conversation he was initiating, was some words that could drive the damning ones out of his head. He dropped one hand to grab one of Slater’s as the bastard tried to hit back at him and the other pushed against Damien’s chest as he stepped out of the way of a return shot and put his hand up to block another blow before taking a hit to the knee and then another to the side. Dalton dropped a curse as he took a few more hits, avoided some and caught the rest before returning fire, decking Slater with a punch to the jaw. He spat on the floor as he advanced upon his step-brother, raising an arm to wipe a trickle of blood from his mouth where one of Slater’s blows had managed to connect and cut his lip. Looks like he hadn’t hit him hard enough in the nuts, or the bastard had just learned how to take it better and become a slightly better fighter since the last time he saw him. Slater had landed more hits than he usually would.

“You’re still a fucking runt.” He growled. “Still enjoying the new school little step-brother?" He spat the last two words like they were acid on his tongue. There was no one in the vicinity, he made sure of that, otherwise he would have never uttered those wretched words. "If need be I can help educate you that this place is nothing like whatever your old stomping grounds were and that you should have stayed there. At least maybe then you could still strut around pretending like you're some prized peacock everybody wants a piece of."

That education Dalton was speaking of? The lessons would be conducted by his feet and his fists. It would be a short one of course. In case you'd forgotten, he still had to get his change of clothes.

mood
Hello my human punching bag

location
hallway with a janitor's closet

outfit
outfit minus the shirt

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
Beel

interactions
Slater

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: spy kids

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school

basics

MENTIONS:
Charlie
INT:
Winona (Adriane)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Chas Marino

"You airheaded dingbat!" Chas jeered, wincing in pain as he rubbed his sore back. He sat up on the floor, discarding the binders laying on his legs and chest. He looked up indignantly at Adriane. Her eyes were shut tight and her arms instinctively guarded her hollow little head. The groaning teenager rolled his eyes at the delay in the girl's lowering of her guard.

"It's your fault for—" Chas let out a disgruntled ugh, then threw his hands up in the air. "You had one job, Adriane! One job! You hold the chair, you keep me from falling. How dense are you?" The pair sat still for a moment, taking in the silence before the rage in the room dissipated.

He shook his head, making one last grimace before stepping up to his feet and dusting himself off. At least the Italian wasn't wearing one of his nicer Balenciaga hoodies; this one had to only in the few hundred range. Still pouting a little, he bent down and went through the binders as Adriane cleaned them up. He tossed them side to side without a care for how much messier it was making his friend's job.

"What were you planning for Charlie again? Like... there's no way we could blame this on her, is there?"

Chas looked up and to his side with a raised eyebrow. "Think bigger. Pinning this alone on her would be a waste of my—our—intelligence." He bent back down, sifting through the binders and flipping through them with a pensive expression. Did he tell the rest to her? She'd call him a nutcase if he went into detail, even more than she already did.

Some people just can't understand the art of reciprocity. Adriane's go-to was always just hurting someone's feelings or smearing lipstick on their car windows or something. This was different. If he was going to be satisfied, Charlie was going to get a lot more than some cheap, short-lived school disciplinary squabble.

"It's complicated," he finally elaborated, "All I can say is you'll see. I'm still working out the details, but know that I trust you enough to even slightly clue you into my plan at all." He put on a grave face, staring with intensity at the model beside him. "That's worth more than I think you realize."

In an attempt to move on from the subject, he squatted down one final time and seized the binder he'd been looking for. He turned page to page, E to F to G to H until eventually spotting Charlotte May Howell's name in the corner. He snickered. Charlotte.

Wasting no time, he snapped a photo of the page, then flipped through and took a few more photos. It would be a wasted opportunity if he only took the one, and a part of him knew he'd need the extra tools in case everything went awry.

"We're done here."

He handed the binder for Adriane to put up, praying to God she'd ignore how vital she was in reaching the top shelf. Going around the room and shutting file cabinets while putting everything back in exact order down to the dust particles took almost as much for the initial search itself, but it was a necessary precaution. Thankfully, it wasn't terribly difficult considering the odd, slightly rushed state it was left in prior to both of their arrival. It would have been faster if Adriane had helped with that part, but... Chas couldn't trust her to do things perfectly.

Once done, he headed to the door and motioned for the blue-eyed bitch to follow.

Now to have a totally normal Lock-in experience, free of all suspicion.

code by valen t.

 

[geminiy]

Elias Johannes

@elithegreat has set their status to:
well would you LOOK at the TIME

@elithegreat has set their outfit to:
splatter

@elithegreat has set their location to:
school parking lot

@elithegreat has mentioned:
Hunter, Ash, Trevor

@elithegreat has interacted with:
Josie, Tilly, Saint

@elithegreat has tagged:
ditto natsukashii jasmyn

By the time the weekend was over, and the subsequent week filled with dance rehearsals and endless amounts of drama, Elias was exhausted. Hollywood Arts was never dull, anyone who knew the school knew that as pure fact, but the week that had followed an already chaotic weekend was enough to drain everything out of Eli.

So, he had made a promise to himself: go to the lock-in and have some actual fun. Not any of that fun where he pretended he was enjoying himself to make someone else happy, nor the type of fun that was verging on mildly uncomfortable. No, Elias had promised himself some real, genuine, no discomfort, true fun.

Then, of course, shit further continued to hit the fan and that plan came crashing down around his ears.

How could Elias have fun when somewhere in the school, Ash was upset and likely crying and clearly very drunk with no one but Trevor to keep her company? On top of that, Hunter had ticked Eli off to the point where he had to go outside to breathe in some of the night air before he snapped on someone. So no, Eli was not about to have the fun he had promised himself when all of that was happening. He just couldn’t.

Elias was on the verge of leaving when he saw a group of three people in the distance, a voice saying something about a cow carrying on the night air. Milkshake? Was the cow named Milkshake? Who names a cow Milkshake? Screw it, it wasn’t any of his business and he really didn’t care who Milkshake the Cow was or the blunt theoreticals behind how Milkshake the Cow came to be. He just wanted to get in his car and leave.

But, of course, that plan went right out the window as soon as he saw the mildly mortified look on poor Tilly Phoenix’s face.

Look, Eli should have just minded his own business. Tilly was his friend, that much was certain, but surely she could handle herself in an uncomfortable situation. The last thing Eli wanted to do was to get into a conversation with Josephine and Saint of all people when all he really wanted was to get in his car and to just go home. But there she was in the crowd, eyes shifting awkwardly between the pair and the world around her like she was desperately looking for some sort of way out and, well it wouldn’t be very Elias of him to just leave her there, now would it?

So, with a quick deep breath and a readjusting of the backpack slung lazily over his shoulder, Eli made his way up to the group.

“Tilly, he-” Eli had started speaking before his voice stopped working as Jo’s eyes landed on him. His entire body braced for impact as he continued his approach, gently wrapping his arm around Tilly’s shoulders by the time he walked up to her side.

"Eli! Hey! Three is a crowd but four is a party! Wanna hang with us?” Jo spoke excitedly, her smile still playing on her lips. Eli blinked a few times. Hold on, was she being nice to him? We are gonna break into the pool and skinny dip, it'll be fun!"

Somewhere in the surprise, Eli had swallowed the wrong way and as soon as the thought of skinny dipping was mentioned, Eli burst into a fit of coughs that made the whole damn situation even more awkward. How absolutely lovely.

“I, uh, see the thing is…” Eli stammered, eyes darting back and forth between Saint and Jo. Was he more uncomfortable with the thought of them seeing him naked or having to see them naked? No, it was definitely the latter. He couldn’t mentally handle seeing their… junk. “I’m actually leaving now but I totally appreciate the offer but the thing is that I can’t swim and that I would just drown and that sorta takes all the fun out of skinny dipping because nothing says hot like a dead body but I, uh, um… Bye, Tilly, it was great seeing you again!”

Eli wasn’t about to stick around to see the consequences of his actions, face burning red with the embarrassment of the whole scenario. He hoped that his lie about not being able to swim was enough for them not to chase after him and ask him to join them because there was no way in hell that he was going skinny dipping with his ex-girlfriend’s cousin and her… well, he wasn’t entirely sure what Saint was at that point, but he sure as hell wasn’t comfortable with seeing the fellow nude.

Walking up to his car, Eli threw his bag in the passenger’s seat and hopped in. His head leaned forwards to gently bang against what he thought was the top of his steering wheel but instead, it found the horn. A loud honk rang through the parking lot causing a few lingering students to look his way.

Oh please for the love of everything good and beautiful, please make it stop.

Turning his car on and pulling his seatbelt across his chest, Eli pushed the car into drive but abruptly stopped, pulling it back down into park. He could still see Tilly and she still looked uncomfortable. With a sigh, Eli paused for a moment to figure out a game plan because no, he was not leaving her there with those skinny dipping maniacs.

So, Eli drove his car away from the school and down the street completely out of sight. Making a quick loop down a few side streets, he pulled into the back parking lot of the school and into an empty parking spot before pulling out his phone. Dialling Tilly’s number, Eli lifted the phone to his ear and prepared his most feminine voice. Eventually, the call went through and Eli instantly jumped into the action.

“Tilly, dearest, it’s your mummy!” Wait, shit, too British. Less monarchy, more mom. “You forgot your toothbrush at home so I brought it for you. I’m in the back parking lot, dear, come meet me!” Man, Eli sounded bad as a woman. He could only hope that Tilly got the memo.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

Victoria Sterling

uh can we not?

Tori shifted her hand to grip the bottom of her cutoff shirt, and she gave it a gentle tug before immediately putting her hand on her hip, shifting her weight to the hip. She brushed her other hand through her blonde hair, brushing it over her shoulder. Pursing her lips, she brought the hand to fiddle with her necklace.

Was she getting self-conscious? Absolutely not. Her cheeks reddening was not a sign of embarrassment, either. It was just a sign of…uh…

Okay, fine, look, she’d admit it: the brothers were hot. Anyone with eyes could tell that. But Tori wasn’t a little giggly schoolgirl. She could be flirted with by hot guys and maintain her composure.

(And no, “maintain her composure” was not code for “deflect the flirtation because she didn’t know how to flirt back”. She just, uh…she just didn’t want to flirt back. Yeah, like— I mean, especially not in front of her sister. Like, who did that? Weirdos, that was who. Not Tori, that was who.)

"It has, luckily for us it seems we made a good enough first impression the first time around since you remembered us after all this time and wanted to ask for our numbers back then,” said Spencer.

“I—“ Tori started, but she cut herself off.

Okay, so…no, not what she’d meant by that at all.

Or— well, okay, so maybe she—

She—

Oh, God.

The oh-so-not-flustered Victoria let out a soft chuckle, rolling her eyes. “Sure, sure,” she laughed. “I was so totally missing you both every second, wishing that I’d worked up the courage to ask for your numbers— but only so that I could rub your losses in your faces every day that you were gone. Obviously.”

Nice job, Tor.

“Dear Spencer,” Ezra started, “do you have a thing for Nineteen over here?” He gave Tori a wink, and she sat back on her heels, looking away quickly and pursing her lips again, breathing out a soft laugh. “Heartbreaking, honestly, but good for entertainment. I mean what could be better than a love struck teenager swooning for the older girl only to be parted by the sea and time. How very romantic.”

Composure, composure.

She looked back at Ezra, who had stepped away to lean against the wall. She rolled her eyes, giggling. “Sounds like a scene stolen from one of my stories more than real life, Mr. Twenty-Nine.” She smiled at him, her cheeks tinted pink. “Have you been reading up?” she teased lightly.

"But yeah we've been good,” Spencer continued, and Tori looked to him. “It's great to see you again Victoria and it's lovely to meet you Beth. You can just call me Spence, Spencer or Junior, whichever you prefer really." He gave a smile, then gestured to his brother with his thumb. "As for the big guy over here, I think Twenty-Nine is the perfect name for him, maybe we should ring up mom and dad, and get them to make the change official."

Tori laughed quietly. “So totally fitting,” she agreed.

“What can I say? Twenty Nine is clearly a lucky number for me, since it brought me back here,” Ezra said. “I’ll even make the call…” He trailed off as he patted his pockets, and then he looked to Tori. “Hey, Nineteen, would you care to accompany me back to my car?”

“Come again?” she asked, blinking.

“I think I forgot my phone and the walk is quite lonely in the dark,” he said, and he extended a bent arm to Tori, bowing his head. “Shall we?”

She looked at his arm, her brow slowly raising, and she traced from his elbow up to his face. Slowly, she smiled.

Composure, Victoria.

“Shall we?” she repeated, laughing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were just trying to get alone with me. What a roundabout way to ask that.”

Okay, so a little flirt never really hurt anyone.

She swallowed, shaking her head with a laugh, then looked over to her little sister. She eyed Beth for a second, trying to decide if little Liz could manage Tori being gone for however long this took, and then she looked at Ezra. “Hmmm,” she hummed, cocking her head, and then she cautiously put her hand in the crook of his elbow.

Her cheeks tinted darker as she touched his arm, and she looked up to his face, her lips pressing into a wider smile. “Well, fine,” she said. “It’ll work this once, but just because I don’t want to be responsible for getting the new hot guy shanked in the high school parking lot, ‘kay?”

With a soft sigh, she turned her head to her sister. She leaned over to whisper to her. “While I’m gone,” she said, “don’t run off and do something that, a, I’d scold you for, b, you’d be ashamed of, or, c that Mom or Dad would behead you for or me for letting you do it, alright?” She gave a laugh, and then she reached out and hugged her with her free arm. “Be right back,” she said, making a “mwah!” sound beside her face but not actually kissing her cheek.

She waved goodbye to her sister and Spencer, and she let Ezra lead her away.

“Jeez, kids these days,” she sighed with a laugh. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

mood
catching up

location
the school

outfit
casual-ish, but nice

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms​

mentions
n/a

interactions
beth, ezra, & spencer

tags
Winona geminiy Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

trevor callaghan

feckin' fuck off

As they walked down the hallway, Ash unlaced their laced fingers, which caused Trevor’s back to grow more rigid.

Oh, right. They were around people now.

…

Feck.

People.

People loitering right near the classroom that they’d been in, people down the hallway, people probably on the hallway over, people in the stairwell, people in the bathroom, people feckin' everywhere.

Shite.

His jaw tightened with the sudden, paranoid feeling that everyone around him was staring at them.

Staring at Ash.

Or staring at him.

Or staring at Ash and him.

Ashton West and Trevor Callaghan.

Staring at them.

Staring at them.

Together.

He could hear it now: Trevor Callaghan, [insert insult directed at his choice of body spray, vehicle, or stress relief], threw a bitchfit and spat in Hunter whatever-the-feck-the-arsehole’s-last-name-is-because-Trevor-didn’t-care-to-learn-last-name’s face, and he walked out holding Ash’s hand— even though they vehemently deny any interest in one another. It’d be all around, and Monday, he’d never hear the end of the rumors.

It wasn’t like there weren’t rumors spreading about him as was, but ohChristIcan’thandlethese. It wasn’t like Hunter had friends who would stand up for him, but— what if he suddenly did?

His head gave a solid throb.

OhGodohGodohGodohGod.

His paranoia— or…

Well, it wasn’t really paranoia so much as it was was reasonable fear.

His reasonable fear was reversing the alleviation that yelling and throwing over a desk had given him, and now his headache was coming back with a vengeance.

Welcome back. Can’t say I feckin’ missed ya.

His steps, as determined as they were, were far from steady, most likely due to the effect of the alcohol, but he hardly noticed.

He really couldn’t think right now of just how much of that empty bottle he’d drank.

Not much, surely.

His smile faded from his face, replaced by his resting expression of indignation, and he glanced at faces as they walked past the bodies lining the hallway. No eyes were turned towards him, but he still felt like he was being scrutinized.

He set his shoulders back, folding his lips in as his head ached.

He couldn’t say that he regretted what he’d done in there, even as the reasonable fear seeped into his clogged pores. He felt indifferent to his actions, at most— neither proud nor ashamed, though that was, most likely, due to the alcohol as well. If anything, he felt satisfied. It wasn’t often that he could say what he was doing felt right, but as soon as he’d slammed that door, he’d had a rush of contented knowledge that he’d finally delivered long-coming retribution to the cheeky, stuck-up, I-worship-the-guy-who-flexes-his-brother’s-addiction-to-the-world-because-he-thinks-his-appearance-on-Celebrity-Rehab-makes-him-impressive-even-though-it-just-shows-that-he’s-riding-other’s-coattails bastard who had his nose up his whiny fecking girlfriend’s arse. The kid’d gotten away with that shite that he pulled way too long.

…

But also.

Feck.

He could feel the anticipatory, dread-filled hypertension from his actions setting in already.

Trevor wasn’t ever really afraid to do whatever the hell he was doing or say whatever the hell he was saying, even with the knowledge that it could get the living shite beaten out of him. (See: the situation with Nico.) It was always after the fact that a mild existential trepidation invaded his mind.

Ya know.

Oh God, I’m going to get Rachel keyed or have my nose concaved or have my ankles broken or get my spine snapped or get my gas tank pissed in, and then I’ll have to explain to Nana that I spat in a fecking sophomore’s face, and she’ll go on and lecture me for three consecutive hours on how disappointed she is and how disappointed my mom and dad would be and oh my God she didn’t raise me like this and oh God oh fuck ohGodohGODOHFECK.

Maybe he was a little bit drunker than he thought. He’d never really done any physical attacks or spat in anyone’s face, even if that anyone happened to be Chas, Chas Lite, Chas Diet, or any variety of Chas’ arsekissers and kin.

And now it made sense why, because now he was going to have to watch over his shoulder so that he didn’t get snapped.

Fecking lovely.

What a fecking dream this was.

But…

Well, Hunter had deserved it.

So all was not lost.

He set his eyes forward, trying to seem a bit more confident with his walk towards the parking lot. They turned into an empty hallway, and he sighed softly.

“Hey,” said a soft-voiced Ash beside him, and she reached out and touched his arm.

He stopped walking. “What?” he asked, voice harsher than he’d intended, tensing up as he tried to figure what she was going to say next.

She was going to score him. She was going to tell him in her drunken, slurred voice oh, it was all my fault that he got mad at me, you shouldn’t’ve done that. They going to fecking scream at each other in the hallway, and he was going to storm away holding his head, and he was going to go home and bang his head into a wall repeatedly. It was going to be something along those lines.

His brain gave a solid pang of confirmation, and he reached a hand up to hold his head, grimacing.

Jesus fecking Christ Almighty.

But when he looked down at her, he saw that she was looking up at him, and his face softened, his brows knitting. She was biting her lip, which he’d come to surmise meant that she was nervous or couldn’t find her words or something.

Which meant that she probably— probably— wasn’t going to yell.

“What?” he asked in a much softer voice, dropping his hand from his head.

She looked around with her dark eyes, and he followed suit. No one was coming; there wasn’t a soul around. He looked back at her, brows knit in confusion.

And then she grabbed his arm, leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, and dropped back down.

Thud went his heart.

His brows relaxed, and he slowly raised a hand to touch where she’d kissed him.

“Thanks,” she murmured, “for umm…for that, back there, I…just thanks.”

He was stunned— in a good way.

In a really good way.

She’d— kissed— cheek.

Just randomly.

And told him thanks.

That was…that was…

Nice.

Just.

It felt nice.

Like…he was appreciated.

Like, uh…

Well.

Just nice.

He cracked a small smile, very slowly, and she started walking away.

He watched her walk in her unsteady way a few steps, his smile spreading and his heart beating contentedly, and then he realized—

Right. He couldn’t just stand here forever.

He rushed a few steps to catch up with her, his smile relaxing ack into his neutral face.

"Can you like…drive?" she asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Charlie an’ Amy an’ Jo all came separate from me tonight, so I don’t have ta worry about that.”

“Where are we…like, where are…uhh…where're we going?” she asked.

He blinked down at her. “Huh?”

“’Cause I can just like, I can find a ummm…a different classroom to try and sleep in or, like, whatever.” She…what? “I can’t— I don’t…like…want to go back to the mansion, because I ahh…Eli and Gen's parents are gonna be there, I think, and I don’t…well, you know, I don't wanna…show up…like…this."

Stopstopstopstopstop.

His head pounded, and he rubbed his temple again. ”We can just go to my apartment,” he said, voice slightly pained.

Her anxiety was not helping his.

"I don't want to like…like…” She trailed off.

“Like what?” he asked, trying to get her to continue.

"Be a burden…you know?”

He held back an eyeroll.

Stopstopstopstop.

“Like, I want you to umm…enjoy…lock-in, if you can,” Ash continued. “and like…I’ll be fine. I can just…find a classroom or umm…call Eli or Cap or Gen or som— well, I guess just them, but like…you don't have to babysit me."

Stopstopstop.

“I’m not babysittin’ you,” he said, rubbing his temple and turning the corner. “You do realize that I want ta be your company, right? It’s not like I’m doin’ this because I feel any sort of obligation. I don’t do things because I should. I do things because I want to.”

That sounded absolutely horrendous.

“That sounded—“ He huffed a sigh, and then he breathed in and let out a long sigh. “I guess it’s the truth,” he admitted. “But stop worryin’, okay? I have a headache already— just let me keep it and let me be tha one to stress out over nothin’, an’ just calm down, an’…I…I’ll let you pick the music on the way home.”

Those were the only incentives for her to stopstopstop that he could think of.

It was better than offering her a penny, at least.

He pushed open the door to the parking lot, and he held it for her to go through. “As long as ya don’t pick somethin’ like screamo, I won’t kick ya out,” he teased. He stepped through the door after her and let it fall shut, and he pulled his keys from his pocket.

“Now, let’s see if we can find Rachel. That’s tha next big thing,” he said, beginning to walk off in the general direction that he’d parked. “I, uh…was in distress when I parked, so I was in a rush to just get the feck out an’ get somewhere ta smoke. You know how it is— bein’ on tha road with alla tha craziest drivers on the feckin’ planet.”

If you knew him well enough, you’d be thinking to yourself: oh God, here comes the unfiltered, passionate tangent that not a single soul asked for.

Props to you— you were right.

“See,” Trevor said, starting his impassioned rant with a quick breath inward, “that’s tha thing: people can’t feckin’ drive like normal people, do their basic civil duties and follow the feckin’ law, look both ways, drive in the lines, and wait their feckin’ turns. Third graders can color in the damn lines, and ya mean ta tell me that ya can’t drive in them? Yer going to give someone a damn heart attack, and if they survive, you might be liable— but ya don’t think about that do ya?” His berating of the invisible, nameless reckless driver came to a close as he threw his hands in the air. “It costs nothin’ ta think about someone other than themselves, but they don’t seem to get that,” he said to Ash, brows set in frustration. “That’s a lesson alla tha damn people around here need to learn, too. Seriously, it just costs nothin', ya know.”

Luckily for Ash— and for Trevor’s poor, pounding head— they were now coming upon his van, and Trevor sighed in relief, clicking the unlock button and smiling slightly. The headlights lit up to show that it’d unlocked. “Here she is and here we are,” he said. “Rachel, how I’ve missed you, in alla yer cost-effective, fuel-efficient beauty.”

He walked to the passenger side, and he tugged Ash’s door open before going over to his own. Seating himself in the driver’s seat, he stuck the key in the ignition. He twisted the key, and the van turned on, the overhead lights dimming down. He slammed the door, and he looked over at Ash.

“Well,” he said, “ya all ready ta go?”

mood
...

location
rachel

outfit
something casual

playing...
the funeral

by band of horses​

mentions
hunter, cappie, chas, eli, charlie, amy, jo, & gen

interactions
ash

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Elizabeth Sterling

Tori was so dumb.

Beth was fighting back the urge to slam her hand into her face at Tori's just... like... oh my god, why was she so dumb? She literally had this super hot guy that was flirting with her and, like, when Tori looked like that. She had a hot guy flirting with her when she looked like that, and she just wasn't giving him anything back. It was absolutely sickening to watch -- even more sickening than if Tori had actually attempted to flirt back.

She was like a giggly little schoolgirl but worse and Beth couldn't believe that she had to admit to being related to the girl standing beside her.

Beth wanted to make some kind of remark -- let the hot brothers know that Tori's actions were not a reflection on Beth in the least bit because like, god cringe. She didn't want anyone thinking that she would ever behave... like... well... that.

Like, how did Tori ever--

“Hey, Nineteen, would you care to accompany me back to my car?”

Sorry, come again?

What?

"Come again?" Tori asked, echoing Beth's own thoughts, which just ruffled Beth's feathers even more. Like, seriously, she was trying to be her own person, but that was kind of hard when you apparently had the same reactions as your older sister? Or, at least, some of them.

If Beth hadn't been better composed, her jaw surely would've dropped open right there in complete and utter shock that her sister had somehow actually... managed to... what, keep Hot Gray still interested in her despite offering basically nothing in response to all of his flirtatious attempts?

(This was one of those things where Tori and Beth had separate reactions -- because Beth wouldn't have left him grasping for straws.)

Damn. Either this guy really didn't care and was just desperate beyond belief, or--

....

Nope, that was the only option she could really think of. Her lips turned downwards with the tiniest hint of a frown as she looked at the poor, older Gray. She was pitying him in silence.

“I think I forgot my phone and the walk is quite lonely in the dark,” Hot Gray said as he extended an arm to Tori. “Shall we?”

Oh my god, that was cute. Romantic.

Ugh.

It wasn't fair that this type of thing was happening to Tori when she honestly didn't even know how to react, and when she wasn't even like... she wasn't even trying. She'd been doing nothing but blindly pretending that she didn't notice the flirts and embarrassing herself, and now this?

Un-freaking-fair.

“Shall we?” she repeated, laughing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were just trying to get alone with me. What a roundabout way to ask that.”

Oh.

Maybe Beth stood corrected -- perhaps her sister did kind of know how to flirt.

Even if it was weak. Like a 2/10 if you asked her.

“Well, fine,” Tori continued. “It’ll work this once, but just because I don’t want to be responsible for getting the new hot guy shanked in the high school parking lot, ‘kay?”

Oh wow, really romantic there, Tori. Bring up getting shanked to the guy.

Beth rolled her eyes.

Tori took Ezra's room but, before Ezra could oh so romantically whisk her off to the parking lot, she leaned close to Beth to whisper to her, which was just... even more embarrassing. Like way to make her look like a child.

“While I’m gone,” she said, “don’t run off and do something that, a, I’d scold you for, b, you’d be ashamed of, or, c that Mom or Dad would behead you for or me for letting you do it, alright?” She gave a laugh, and then she reached out and hugged her with her free arm. “Be right back,” she said.

"Yeah, yeah, got it," Beth grumbled, although she leaned into the hug, wrapping her arm around Tori to give her a quick squeeze back, before she let go. Naturally, she rolled her eyes at her sister's embarrassing little mwah in the air towards her, and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

She waited for a moment in silence as Hot Gray and her sister walked away. Once they were successfully out of earshot, Beth turned to look up at the Hotter Gray.

Well, well, well.

Beth definitely got the better end of this deal.

"Wanna hangout?" She asked, although she realized how like... almost childish that sounded. But hey, what else was she supposed to ask? Despite all of her exasperation over her sister's refusal to play into the flirtations of the less hot older Gray, there was no way that Beth was suddenly going to start like... flirting it up with the guy in front of her. Like, gross, she didn't want to try flirting with some guy she just met.

"I can show you around the school because I bet you totally forgot where everything was," she continued, nodding her head as an answer to her own statement and, without really waiting for a confirmation from Spencer, Beth started to walk towards the school. She didn't pause to check if he was coming with her -- she just assumed that he'd be trailing along after her.

"So is your brother always like that? You know, just... like, does everything that he say kind of sound like a flirt or an innuendo of some sort? Like he seems great, just wondering if he can ever say anything that doesn't sound dirty."

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
Good Girl

by Julian Moon​

mentions
mentions mentions mentions

interactions
interactions interactions interactions

tags
tags tags tags

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Zeph Evermore

Having a conversation with Auguste felt like the equivalent to pulling teeth.

No, no, no, that sounded really mean.

(But maybe it was true.)

Zeph hadn't exactly realized just how difficult it was to maintain a conversation with Auguste until he started to hang around Lin and... well, with Lin, conversation always kind of just flowed naturally without Zeph feeling like he had to put in a ton of work. There was no 21 Questions to keep the ball rolling and avoid lulls in the conversation. And yeah, he liked to think it was because the Zephlin dynamic was unrivaled, but really...

It was totally just because Lin was super social and was able to keep a conversation going even when there was really nothing to talk about. The guy could probably keep someone interested and invested in a conversation about like uhh... what was something really boring... paint drying? No, no--

Nah, he could make that interesting. He'd probably turn it into a bet or something -- "luhamo bet my wall dries faster than yours. Bet five dollars? Do it luhmao no balls."

Ah, Lindsay...

But with Auguste? Zeph felt like he was pulling teeth -- and he knew just how painful that was because his dad was a dentist, and there had been more than one occasion of little Zeph sitting with the receptionists while he waited for his mom to come pick him up or whatever it may have been, and he'd hear crying coming from a room as someone's tooth was pulled. Even with all the anesthesia in the world, it still hurt.

“I used to play a bit of ukulele… I like picking up new skills every now and then.”

Zeph nodded his head, feigning strong interest in Auguste's words. And yeah, he was interested. It was interesting. Ukulele and playing instruments had never been something that he necessarily felt incredibly passionate about, but Zeph did like showing his friends that he could be passionate with them. He liked to support them, and hell, he'd even support people he wasn't necessarily friends with.

He just liked to see people smile, and he liked to see people be heard, and people both smiled and felt heard when you allowed them to rave about their interests.

Auguste continued on, rambling about all of the instruments that he played... and how he apparently composed music in his free time, and Zeph was wondering how the heck he found enough time to practice all of this and still commit time to his craft (that craft, obviously, being dance).

Hell, Zeph could barely carve the time out of his own schedule to hangout with Stella. He always found himself just... so wrapped up between dance and studying. It was like he hardly had a minute or two of free time to actually pursue any other kinds of interests -- and yeah, he'd sang before, and he could play the guitar, but he hadn't had time for either passion really since he came to HA. Everything had been spun on its head and his entire focus was on trying to perfect his ability to dance, so that he could make something of himself that way.

Then again, if he did have the spare time, he wouldn't spend it in the same way as Auguste. This... this wasn't where he'd like to spend all of that extra time, anyway.

"That's cool, man," he said, his voice full of pep and cheer as he spoke. He crossed his arms over his chest, and then he started to sink down towards the floor -- and smeared various streaks of paint down the wall as he did so -- until his butt hit the floor. He pulled his legs up and rested his arms easily on his knees.

"Did you learn all of that back when you were home in...? Sorry, man, I can't remember where you're from," Zeph admitted with an apologetic laugh. "France...?"

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
Lost Boys

by Ocean Park Standoff​

mentions
Lin

interactions
Auguste

tags
qunqun

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Nathan Woods

What the fuck kind of drugs was Nate on?

He hadn't taken anything (at least not that he remembered haha... ha... ha...), and yet clearly, there had to be something fucking going on up in his head because he'd just agreed to do the worst thing known to man. The worst possible fucking thing that Nate could think of. The kind of thing that to Nate, was equivalent almost to torture, and that was... little drumroll please... fucking having a fucking dance battle with someone.

Even if no one would see it or record it (and if they did, they could consider their phones to be crushed and destroyed along with their faces), it would still live on in Nate's memory. He could see himself just a couple hours down the road after he agreed to do this with Oates, the memory of his horrid dance moves forever seared into his thoughts, and he'd inevitably cringe every time that the thought reared its ugly head.

And with that, Oates started heading in the direction of the dance classrooms. Nate followed along, and he kind of felt like a criminal on death row. Like he was walking towards his own doom -- even if he recognized that that doom was just a ridiculous little dance battle.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Nate's eyebrows laced together as he pulled his phone out to check his messages and--

Cappie?

"Hey, guess Cap already misses us," he said with a little chuckle.

Of course, a handful of messages back and forth later... and Nate's already downer attitude was soured even more by finding out that Cappie had lost the fucking keys to the building to some drunk girl. Momentary panic clutched at him, but it quickly subsided when he reminded himself that one) they didn't necessarily have to lock the school up when they left, and two) surely the staff wouldn't be able to trace it back to Nate being the original one with the keys.

Although he had made that quite public on Twitter.

.... Fuck him and his need to flex.

"Good. Come in." Oates' soft voice pulled Nate from his thoughts, and he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Fuck it. Sure, he'd promised Cappie that he'd come bail the guy out, but... well, he could wait for one dance battle.

"This is where I usually practice with Amy or a dance partner for a duet, or even for a group choreo when the school has us doing things like that. It's usually empty anyway." Oates explained as they stepped into the room.

He felt almost... awkward, stepping into the room. His footsteps sounded wrong as they echoed against the dance floor. His gaze trailed around the unfamiliar room, taken in everything, before going back to settle on Oates. His curly-haired sidekick had taken to plug in some tunes and soon, an unfamiliar song started pumping through the speakers. It was a bit more upbeat and cheery than Nate would've listened to, but... he could get used to it.

Nate shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and tossed it into the corner of the room alongside Oates before he went to join his buddy. One eyebrow cocked up as he looked at Oates, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side for a moment as he watched his friend start to stretch.

"You gotta... you gotta stretch before a dance battle?" He asked, but he didn't wait for an answer before he started to follow suite. Nate did work out, so it shouldn't've been such a surprise to him.

"Alright, one quick battle, and then gotta go bail Cap out." Nate explained. "He got locked out. Lost the keys to some drunk chick. Can't have her running around with the keys to the school."

Nate really was such a conversationalist.

mood
friends? check. weed? needed.

location
somewhere in the school

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Figure Me Out

by The Summer Set​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Oates

tags
mogy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
living her best life

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
sunflowers & denim

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
the storage building

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
Mentions

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Lin

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
ditto

If someone had told Charlie at the beginning of her junior year that she would be hooking up with someone she had considered a lifelong (friendly) rival in a dusty piece of carnival equipment during lock-in, she would have smacked them and told them to stop hallucinating bullshit. In no universe, not even the crazy alternate universes that Charlie thought up when she was bored, would she have ever imagined doing something so spontaneous, so absolutely absurd, with someone that she had never really much considered dating.

Yet there they were in the aftermath of the whole thing still tangled up in each other, heaving breaths eventually slowing in time with one another, as Charlie tried to figure out if what had just happened really did just happen. Fuck it, she didn’t need to confirm that she had just screwed Lin in a teacup, that definitely just happened, there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Hell, there wasn’t even a reason to try and logic the whole situation out because, let’s be real here, nothing about Charlie or Lin was logical.

Still, everything made sense in a way that they never had before. The teacup was hardly Charlie’s first rodeo but for some strange reason, it was the first time that she ever really felt safe. Maybe it was the super emotional talk beforehand or the fact that it wasn’t just some random one-night stand (she did that once… never again) but Charlie was mostly convinced that it was because the whole thing had happened with someone she wholeheartedly trusted and cared about, someone she knew wouldn’t intentionally fuck her over. Someone who just wanted her: every flaw, every bonus, every quirk. Just one unfiltered, gen-u-ine Charlotte Howell.

Fuck, she wasn’t used to feeling that.

But damn, did it ever feel good.

“I’unno what comes next,” Lin spoke from beside her, causing Charlie to tilt her head up to look at him from where she had previously been crashing on his chest. “But good game. Thirteen out of nine-point-seven-five, will smash again.”

Charlie burst into laughter as she leaned back into him, balling her hand into a fist and punching it into his with a dramatic explosion sound at the end. Yeah, that right there was why they worked so well together. Neither one of them had to change for the other person to be totally digging it.

“Now, let’s hear what the others think about it.”

Repositioning herself against the side of the cup as Lin moved away from her, Charlie’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as Lin reached for her dress. In one swift jerk, Lin’s head popped through the neckhole of the dress she had been wearing and flipped the back over his head before throwing his voice up an octave.

“Hi, yeah, this is Linda. Seven out of three stars. Back to you, Lin.”

Charlie burst into another fit of laughter, catching the dress as it was pulled off of Lin’s head and gently tossed in her direction. “Wow, I am so glad I impressed the both of you. This is honestly,” Charlie fake sniffled, pressing her hand to her chest, “one of the best moments of my entire career, truly. I’ve just never been so happy and so proud of myself than when I scored the winning goal today.”

Carefully standing up, Charlie shrugged her dress over her shoulders with a few wiggles and bounces as she made a poor attempt to fix herself up in the reflective metal of the wheel. Yeah, no amount of hair fixing or makeup re-smudging was going to take away the stupid grin that was plastered on her face or the soft flush of pink on her cheeks.

How very corny and rom-com of her.

“And, uh, thanks, Charlie. I lo—”

Charlie shrugged at his thank you, waving him off as she pulled one of her shoes back on as she hopped around looking for the other.

“You don’t thank someone for…” Charlie’s voice trailed off, her back to Lin as her face froze.

Was he just about to say what she thought he was about to say?

Nah.

Nah, he wasn’t about to be all sentimental and drop the ‘love’ bomb on her after one clumsy hookup in a teacup, that wasn’t like Lin. He was totally about to say something different, something jokey, something not confessing his love for her.

But, and Charlie was thinking in pure theoreticals here because she wasn’t about to push Lin into saying something he didn’t really believe… But would it have been so bad?

No. No, it would’ve been really nice. And Charlie, well Charlie would have said it back because she did, she really did love him. Clearly she had for a long time for it to feel so easy to think.

“Youuuu ate your words.” Lin teased from behind her as Charlie grabbed her other shoe. At least he was changing the subject and not forcing Charlie to talk herself into a hole she wasn’t going to be able to get out of. “You little squishy softiiiie. Where do we head next?”

Charlie turned to Lin with the biggest, most dramatic scowl on her face. With an overly dramatic grunt, she crossed her arms over her chest and threw on a pout.

“We’re breaking up.” She forced herself to say, working incredibly hard to not smile or laugh. “I told you if you made one singular comment about me giving in that we were done. So we’re,” Charlie gasped dramatically, pressing her hand to the back of her head, “done.”

Grabbing her backpack to sling it back over her shoulders, Charlie walked over to Lin and wrapped her arms around his sides.

“But I think I can be persuaded to forgive you.” She giggled warmly, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I mean we are pretty cool as a collective and at this point, it’s kind of inconvenient to go on and pretend like I hate you or somethin’ because I really do l-” Charlie cut herself off, dragging out the ‘l’ sound as she tried to figure out what to say. “Like you a whole lot.” Giving him another quick peck on the lips, Charlie moved to his side and grabbed his hand.

“We should probably head back to the school before we actually get locked out. I really don’t want to have to spend the night outside.” Charlie laughed, walking alongside Lin until they were outside of the building. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, Charlie looked up at the sky and smiled. “On second thought, the stars are really nice and now I kinda want to take a walk. You can go on inside if you want.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Spencer Gray

Ezra Gray, his one and only dear older brother ladies and gentlemen, ever the teaser, doing what he did best: mess with itty bitty little him. He shook his head smiling at Ezra’s teasing jabs about a having a non-existent secret crush on Victoria. More like he was the one with the crush on their former hallmate. Spencer jutted out his elbow to playfully jab Ez in the side just as the older boy stepped away. Damn him and his impeccable timing.

As Ez moved to leave with Victoria draped on his arms, he turned back around and flashed him a familiar look. ‘You’re welcome little brother’ my ass. Boy was Ez persistent.

Spencer knew Ezra wanted him to put himself out there again. Go out, flirt, date. But he was here to study, to dance, further his career not start a relationship that he wouldn’t be able to fully commit to. Where he might cause someone immeasurable pain and hurt again.

It– look, he’d tried to move on after everything that happened, and after many painful months he had but, he just…things just weren’t the same. How could they ever be?

He was more aware than ever, just how much damage a careless word, a thoughtless action could cause, how the little cracks could build until they caused everything to shatter. It’d affected everything, from his knack for engaging with strangers on the fly to his inner thoughts and views.

In the back of his mind he could just constantly hear that little voice and its whispers, no matter how much he tried to shut it out. Warning him, making him rethink and reconsider just about every possible bit of speech before it left his mouth.

He wasn’t opposed to making friends, he wanted to, it was a lonely world otherwise, but it was just–

Look, he hated this ok. He hated it as much as Ez seemed to with all his attempts to help move him along and put himself out there. But he couldn’t help it, and he just–

He didn’t want a repeat of the past and he couldn’t shake that fear that, that would happen.

“Wanna hangout?” Beth’s question interrupted his thoughts and he gave her a warm smile in reply.

"I can show you around the school because I bet you totally forgot where everything was,"

“Sure.” His brother who was supposed to be his hangout buddy had ditched him anyway and like he’d said. Making some friends would be nice and honestly, he’d probably get lost a few times before getting used to the place, especially with the size of it. A tour to refresh his memory would certainly help there.

Beth took off walking and Spencer followed after her, making use of his long strides to keep pace.

"So is your brother always like that? You know, just... like, does everything that he say kind of sound like a flirt or an innuendo of some sort? Like he seems great, just wondering if he can ever say anything that doesn't sound dirty."

Beth’s comment had him throwing his head back and chuckling. She certainly caught on quick, of course Ez had been pretty obvious right from the get go.

“Catching moments where he says something that doesn’t sound dirty is about as easy as finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Rarely happens.” Sorry not sorry big brother. He was probably happily flirting away or using misleading, innuendo filled speech at this very moment with Victoria anyway.


“Anyway, my big flirting oaf of a brother and his inability to say clean lines aside, mind if I ask where’s the first stop on our tour or is that something of a secret?” He took in his surroundings as he spoke, running the words over in his head, trying to make sure it didn't sound like he was flirting.

“I’ve never seen the school at night before and things always look different when you see them from a different perspective. Would it be too far fetched of a guess to assume there’s some things you can only see and enjoy at the school at night?”

It was a habit he always had since young, wanting to know the hidden gems and beauties of a location. If he got too into it, he could ramble on for hours about the place which didn’t always make for great conversation.

“Look at me nearly forgetting to acquaint myself with my tour guide. Got to make sure I get in your good graces if I want to get the best tour of the place, right?” His tone was friendly and teasing as he smiled down at her, but in his head a part of him was grimacing and worrying.

That wasn’t too flirty right? He really didn’t want to cause any misunderstandings and give the wrong impressiong.

Argh screw it, he was probably worrying too much anyway, overthinking the whole thing. Maybe here, away from New Zealand, where everything had happened, it would be easier to try and reclaim the parts of himself he lost that day, to get rid of the voices and whispers in his head. It would be nice to be free of them, free of the worry. At least, it wouldn't hurt to try right?

“I suppose departments are as good a place as any to start. I’m a dancer. What about you Beth?”

mood
good vibes

location
the school

outfit
comfy and easy

playing...
WONDER

by Shawn Mendes​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Ezra, Beth, Tori

tags
ditto geminiy Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[gh0stwriter]

Landon Sinclaire

Red. All he saw was red. And it had nothing to do with the blood on Mike’s face and everything to do with the fact that his former best friend was a complete and utter dickhead. Sure, maybe the fact that his sister had just stormed out after having caught him with her best friend had something to do with his current emotional state, but he could only deal with one problem right now.

His grip on Mike steadied him the best he could. He knew that if he’d let go, Mike would most definitely get the upper hand. He couldn’t have that.

“I was starting to think that you weren’t going to make any—“

Mike’s voice rang through his ears. Not the voice he’d remembered. Mostly because they had been friends. Best friends. Mike had probably known more about him than Evie. He grunted as he felt the other boy’s knew against his stomach.

He braced himself on the floor. He wanted to get in another punch, but Mike’s inability to fight was making it extremely difficult. Mike was such a bitch.

“But seriously think that that’s so overdone. A tackle? Cliche. Oh, look. The two over-aggressive assholes are face-to-face, and with this arises the tension of their past friendship.”

He glared down at Mike and pulled him off the ground slightly before putting as much force as he could to slam Mike back down. “Fuck you.” Landon spat out.

“Oh, shit, what’re they gonna do now? What’re they gonna do now? Kiss? Make out? Confess their undying love? Fuck on the floor? Oh, it was him all along! Bet bestie number one is getting really horny from just having been discovered with his secret lover and having his sister storm out on him, huh?”

His eyes softened. Staring down at his ex-friend. Where had things gone wrong he wondered? Had this been about Gen or something else entirely? Guess that happened when you had very little closure and were dealing with a sociopath. Mike was incapable of caring about anyone but himself. So, why the sudden rage-filled incident.

He felt Mike’s hand against his shoulder. “Just stop before you get your ass kicked even more, Reid.” He stated matter of factly. He was gearing to put the other boy down. He just needed to make a few adjustments.

“Give me a break,” Mike hissed. “I don’t do rehashings.”

Landon rolled his eyes and felt Mike’s leg wrap around his. “I don’t think you’re doing this right.” He said as he pressed down against Mike’s chest. “But Gen said you don’t do a lot of things right.” He had a brief smug grin on his face. “You’re supposed to—“

Before he could finish, Mike had made his move and they had swapped places, Mike now on top and Landon’s body pinned to the floor. He placed his hand against Mike’s chest to keep his distance, but the other boy still had his leg pinned which made things difficult.

They’d been here before. It was more of a shock the first time. After all, Landon had thought they were still friends until Mike had tackled him to the ground and started whaling on his face. A black eye and busted lip later, they didn’t speak. He never told Evie...at least the extent of the fight.

But now. Landon stared up at Mike with wide eyes. Flashes of their previous fight popping in and out of his head. He felt Mike grip his shirt. He was steadying him for a blow, much like he did. “Come on, Mike. Better take your shot now, cause you’ve only got one.” He said through gritted teeth. He refused to give the other boy the satisfaction of getting any type of emotion from him.

He felt Mike pull back and he braced himself for the blow. It was inevitable. And the way Mike was behaving, he hoped it wouldn’t damage his face too bad. He wouldn’t back down. He’d take it.

“Alright, enough’s, enough.”

He felt Mike topple over and he looked up to see Gen. Always the hero. He let out a breath as he blinked. That was close.

“And seriously? Fighting Mike?” Gen asked Landon with a roll of her eyes. “You’re better than that.”

Duh. But sometimes you have to not be better. Sometimes you have to put little pieces of shit in their place. Her hand extended and he took it softly as he got up on the floor. He was still pissed. Maybe hurt more than anything. His eyes stayed on Mike’s— daring him to make another move. Since the first fight, Mike and he had made their disdain of each other quite apparent to each other but it had never escalated to physical violence.

“Now, can you two stop bitch fighting for like five minutes so we can get the fuck out of here? This situation will be dealt with but not here, not like this.”

Mike was lucky Gen was here. Though the comment about Mike having ownership of Gen and that being the reason for Mike’s outburst caused an unsettling feeling in his stomach. “Sure, Genny.” He said with a small smirk. “We could use Mike’s head as a battering ram. It’s thick, hollow and he’s already a dumbass so no worry about brain damage.” He said as he crossed his arms.

Yeah, it wasn’t helping but it made him feel better okay.

mood
blocked

location
somewhere in the school

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
It's Going Down For Real

by Flo Rida​

mentions
See below (Callum is still irrelevant)

interactions
Gen, Evie, Mike, Jace and Callum

tags
geminiy jasmyn ditto Winona hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[qunqun]

MOOD:
Perpetually nervous

OUTFIT:
Dark blue long sleeve Henley t-shirt and brown cargo pants

LOCATION:
Music room

basics

MENTIONS:




INT:
Zeph @Winona

tags

TL;DR:
Nope

tl;dr

Auguste

Auguste felt a big relief. Zeph wasn't... mad at him. It was a paranoia, but to be fair the reason why he didn't have a ukulele anymore was because his mother hurled it at his head because she'd caught him playing. Music had been a bad thing - something about him being bad and giving his ma headaches. Regardless, a genuine smile graced his usually sour features at Zeph's acceptance, lighting them up in a way that seemed very apart from his generally monstrous appearance.

And then Zeph brought up the how, which he honestly should’ve seen coming when he heard the why and the what. There was also a where paired with the how, which he didn’t mind. But the how...

“No.”

Auguste’s eyes latched onto Zeph, forcing eye contact, his expression dropping back into the kind of dour seriousness that he usually had - his “screaming internally” expression, if you will. There was a weight behind the single syllable. And then his eyes dropped back to where Zeph was smearing paint. Guilt jolted down his spine. He shouldn’t have done that.

“I’m sorry that was rude of me… I am from France, yes, I learn how to play the instruments there, but not at home… And I really only play guitar now, I have not played… the other things since… ah... two… years at least.” The slightest hesitation. Auguste’s brain went a mile a minute trying to find an acceptable out. “I don’t wish to speak about the past. It is… in the past no?” He threw that out there, hoping Zeph would take it. It was probably the worst, most pretentious bullshit that had ever exited his mouth. But the idea of conversation creeping slowly towards Paris and his life before Hollywood...

No.

Fuck no. Absolutely not. He might’ve been fine revealing a part of himself that was still vulnerable and sensitive. A sore spot, you could say, but he was absolutely NOT opening that can of worms to Zeph. Nice Zeph. Zeph that didn’t deserve all of Auguste’s issues.

He felt a little bit sick just thinking about it.

He stood, no longer content to staying still, his mind racing to find a new conversation topic that might be slightly interesting. A brief question floated through his mind as he saw the paint smears on the wall: Was he now going to be caught in the collateral of their escapade with all this paint being smeared around? Well. It was already done. He couldn’t do anything about it now. Might as well have a bit of fun if they were both going down in the collateral. He glanced at Zeph. Then at the paint on the wall.

His head tilted right. He approached Zeph slowly, pressing his hand against the wet paint on Zeph’s clothes. Then he walked back to the desks and slowly pressed his hand down on top of the desk. He scraped a little bit out of his thumb print using his pinky fingernail, a little bit out of the palm. And voila. A really shitty hand turkey. Without a beak. He gave Zeph a smile, not necessarily the excited smile of before. More “Look Ma! I did a thing!”

His eyes glanced around the room, as if trying to decide what to do, and then his eyes landed on Zeph “... I’ll paint your face” He said. His voice jovially threatening as he approached his friend once more.

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Damien Slater

All of that false bravado--

Well, it was just that. False bravado. On the outside, he looked confident -- he had the smirk, he had the squared shoulders, he had the I don't give a fuck about what you could do to me kind of aura going on. But on the inside? He was fucking shaking, trembling like a leaf.

It was hard seeing your demons face to face.

Damien had thought there was enough space between himself and Dalton, but Damien had forgotten about just how fast Dalton was as he lunged forward. Of course Damien tried to get away, but Dalton's hand snagged his wrist and he let out a small, squeaky yelp as Dalton tugged him back.

He fought the whole time -- kicking, screaming, wriggling, desperately trying to break Dalton's grip on him. But he was caught in Dalton's grasp, like a snake that had struck out and snatched its prey, and no amount of fighting and yanking on his hand would award him freedom but the fucking asshole that was his dumb as fuck asshole fucking step brother.

He did manage to punch Dalton... in the shoulder, so his fucking golem of an older brother didn't even flinch. And now, with him actually facing Dalton, while... he used that opportunity to drive his knee right into Damien's crotch, and the younger boy crumpled. Had he not been held up by Dalton, he would've fallen to his knees, but instead, Dalton grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him up against the wall.

Damien's legs weren't even really supporting his weight right now, and although he was trying to put on a brave face, the pain was still evident in his expression. Dalton's fist pressed against his chest was making Damien's heart beat a touch faster, and his breaths a touch more shaky.

"What the fuck do you want?" Dalton asked, and Damien didn't bother answering -- it wasn't like he actually wanted a fucking answer from him.

Damien weakly tried to punch at Dalton's face, but Dalton saw that coming and grabbed his hand. He started trying to kick, trying to do anything, but even the blows that managed to hit at Dalton didn't do anything. His step brother still held him strong, and no amount of weakly fighting on his part was rewarding him... well, fucking anything apparently.

“You’re still a fucking runt.” He growled. “Still enjoying the new school little step-brother?"

"Fuck you," Damien hissed.

"If need be I can help educate you that this place is nothing like whatever your old stomping grounds were and that you should have stayed there. At least maybe then you could still strut around pretending like you're some prized peacock everybody wants a piece of."

He--

Fuck this guy. Seriously.

"Oh shut the fuck up -- I didn't want to come here," he snapped. He kicked again, his body weakly wriggling beneath the weight of Dalton's arms. How the fuck was Dalton seriously this much stronger than him? This wasn't fucking fair in the slightest. "Just let me the fuck go, you fucking piece of shit.".

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
DONTTRUSTME

by 3OH!3​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Kirby

tags
Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

MICHAEL K. REID

asshole supreme

There was such a sense of fucking deja vu hanging in the air. A “we’ve been here before, we’ve done this shit before”-type thing.

It was funny how shit always went in circles, wasn’t it? You swore you’d never do something again, and you did it again, and then you swore it’d never happen again, and here you were doing it again.

Story of Michael’s fucking life. Story of everyone’s fucking life.

Things never changed. People never changed. Every single fucking thing that happened had already happened before. It was the way that shit was.

Landon’s eyes were wide, just as they’d been during the first fight. Mike’s busted, bleeding lip dripped blood onto the jackass’ face as he gripped Landon’s shirt, and one sentiment glared in Mike’s eyes: you’re so fucking dead.

“Come on, Mike,” Landon baited. “Better take your shot now, cause you’ve only got one.”

Mommy’s little disappointment really thought that he could tell Mike when to stop and when to go? Did he not fucking realize that he was literally beneath him— and fucking figuratively, too? Any fucking second, Mike could do some sort of irreparable damage, and the fuckface was saying “lolllllllll u better punch me now lollll”.

Maybe the first fight’d already damaged Landon’s brain— though it was more likely that he was just dropped on his head a few times as a baby.

A laugh of disbelief escaped Mike’s lips, though it sounded more like a bark. “Do I?” he drawled sarcastically, and he reared back, gritting his teeth and grinning “I fucking—“

“Alright, enough’s enough.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced up just as Gen shoved him off.

“Bitch—“ Mike hissed.

She slammed her foot down on his chest and smiled down at him. “Cool it the fuck down, Reid.”

His chest heaved beneath her foot as he tried to catch his breath through gritted teeth. His still-blind eyes glared daggers into her. “You’re not in any position to tell me that shit,” he growled, sitting up as she took her foot from him. “You realize what position you’re in, too? Didn’t you just say you were going to— psh— ‘take us’? But you want me to calm down. Yeah, yeah, sure.” He rolled his eyes. “Hypocrite,” he muttered beneath his breath. “But whatever. Fine.”

It wasn’t worth the effort, at this point.

He touched at his busted lip as Gen took her turn scolding the bitch that she’d just lost her uwu bosom buddy over. He couldn’t help but snicker.

You think he’s better than fighting me? He literally just fucked you. It’s kinda the lowest you can go.

She reached out to help him up, and Mike rolled his eyes, gripping her hand tightly and pushing off of the ground. “Thanks,” he muttered.

She turned to him with an obviously forced smile, and he crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

Oh, just great. Here she went again.

“Don’t think I forgot about your little slutshaming comment, Mike,” Gen said.

“Slut-shaming?” Mike asked. “You think that was what it was? All I said was the truth— you’ve slept with two of us tonight. Hoity-toity, big deal. It happened, didn’t it?” He tapped his finger on his arm impatiently.

“You’re nothing more than a warm fucking body, Reid, and we established I’m the same for you,” she said.

“Mmhm,” he agreed. “Never said I wasn’t a whore, too.”

“You don’t get to walk around here and pretend that you had ownership or claim or what the fuck ever over me because we fucked a few times. Get over yourself. If you wanted the exclusive, maybe you shouldn’t have been such a little bitch and told me about it,” she snarled.

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

Was she deadass serious?

He barked a laugh. “Yuh-no. That’s not what this was. Possessive, I’ve established, isn’t a good look in general, especially for me— and neither is commitment. Seems like you feel the same, which makes a lot of damn sense. So get over yourself, huh? This isn’t about you.” He jabbed a finger at Landon, not looking at him— he couldn’t fucking bring himself to look at him. “It’s that jackass’ presence that pisses me the hell off,” he said casually, his voice suddenly composed. “All there is to it.”

It was all fucking Landon’s fault.

Gen was keeping herself wedged between them, and Mike was too fucking short to punch over her head.

God fucking damn it.

“Now, can you two stop bitch fighting for like five minutes so we can get the fuck out of here?” she said. “This situation will be dealt with but not here, not like this.”

“Damage control?” Mike yawned, and then laughed. “Why, so you and the worse Sinclaire don’t have to face the consequences of your actions? So you can prepare some, I dunno, big, long, impressive speech that’ll sway your best friend to forgive you? So we can just act like aaaall of this never happened?”

That was something he always hated about the fucking upper class— they thought that they could tell everyone around them what to do, everyone around them what to say and how to act and make them bow, because everything would be so much fucking better if it just went their way.

He rolled his eyes. “Give me a fucking break.”

“Sure, Genny,” Landon agreed, like the sorry fucking whimpering bitch that he was. “We could use Mike’s head as a battering ram. It’s thick, hollow and he’s already a dumbass so no worry about brain damage.”

Mike finally looked up to Landon’s face, took in the sight of the disgustingly large boy with the malformed face. He was smirking— which always made him look like he was in fucking pain more than anything— and his arms were crossed.

Imitation was the highest form of flattery until the imitation made Landon look like a fucking knockoff.

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Mike said, glaring up at him. “Anybody ever told you how fucking funny you are? And I don’t just mean your face either.” He stepped around Gen slowly, and he gave him his most pleasant smile. “You’re really fucking—“ He lifted his knee to his crotch quickly, and then took a step back. “— funny,” he finished, smiling again.

That’s for the fucking face, Dickface. Enjoy being sterile.

He looked back at Gen, casually walking back so that she was between them again. “You said stop fighting so we can get the fuck out of here. How the hell do you expect us to do that?” He gestured at the door, then looked over to it. “It’s locked fucking tight. What, do you want us to use West’s piss as lubricant?”

Mike started towards the door, his eyes on West. “What say you, Piss Kink?” He was grinning venomously. “You wanna make an attempt at the door? I dunno, maybe beg it a bit harder? Scream again? Fuck, maybe it didn’t hear you the first time!” His voice brightened in mock encouragement, and he gave Jace a hard slap on the back. “Go on, you can do it. Don’t keep us waiting.”

He looked over to Richards. “And what have you done this whole fucking time, Dicks?” he asked him, walking up to him. Though the gaunt, pallid boy towered over him, Mike really thought that Richards looked fucking small, weak, and pathetic. He gave him a harsh shove in the direction of the door. “You give it a try, huh?”


He looked back at Gen. “Our fucking resources are a fucking toy chihuahua, complete with the same incontinence—“ He gave West a shove at that. “—a walking corpse—“ It was Richard’s turn for another shove. “— a fucking muscled midget—“ He gestured to himself. “— a bitch who betrayed her best friend—“ He gestured to her. “— and a fuck with a few too few chromosomes.” He turned to glare at Landon for a second before looking at Gen. “And you really expect us to be able to break out of here? We might have the sex drive of a small country as a collective, but our mental capacity is about as big as West’s microdick.”

mood
...

location
a random ass classroom idk

outfit
a t-shirt and jeans. casual, you know

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly​

mentions
evie

interactions
the bitch, the family disappointment, the "before iron supplements" model, and dickface sinclaire

tags
Winona geminiy gh0stwriter hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Ashton West

Okay, okay, okay.

At this point, she'd practically triple-checked with him that he was like... he was fine with being stuck with her tonight. Every time she'd asked, his answer had been the same, so why it wasn't getting through her thick skull was beyond her -- but it wasn't, and there was still a touch of doubt cradled somewhere deep in her chest.

“I’m not babysittin’ you,” he said as they turned a corner. “You do realize that I want ta be your company, right? It’s not like I’m doin’ this because I feel any sort of obligation. I don’t do things because I should. I do things because I want to.”

Her heart skipped a tiny little beat at that, and she glanced at him to see if there were any telltale signs of him lying.

“That sounded—“ He stopped with a huff. “I guess it’s the truth,” he admitted. “But stop worryin’, okay? I have a headache already— just let me keep it and let me be tha one to stress out over nothin’, an’ just calm down, an’…I…I’ll let you pick the music on the way home.”

Calm--

Yeah, no, she wasn't sure that she could do that. She wasn't even... like, this was the calmest that she had been all night, but she still felt stressed. Like she knew that any minor inconvenience at this point would set off her already frazzled nerves. It was like she was teetering on this edge, and any little thing would send her falling back down to-- to-- to like... like, she wasn't even sure what it had been before, but like... you know, drinking alone on the floor. Puking in a trash can. Unable to will her lungs to keep on pumping oxygen.

She wasn't sure what it was, but that.

They made it to the door leading out with no other horrible encounters. “As long as ya don’t pick somethin’ like screamo, I won’t kick ya out,” he teased as he held the door open for her, and Ash's lips twitched into a smile for a moment before falling back to a neutral expression as she stepped through the doorway.

"Damn, I mean... you know how much I just love screamo," she joked, although her voice was still kind of quiet and meek as she did speak.

As Trevor started in on a long-winded rant about the drivers in the area, Ash found herself again focusing on the ground in front of her feet to keep herself from tripping. She glanced towards him a couple times throughout his rant, a wistful smile on her face as she looked away from him.

Luckily, despite his lamenting about not knowing where the hell he'd parked, it didn't take them long to actually happen upon the van (which Ash adamantly refused to call Rachel in her narration when she was about to actually get into said van, because it was just weird), and a little sigh of relief escaped her sore lungs.

“Here she is and here we are,” he said. “Rachel, how I’ve missed you, in alla yer cost-effective, fuel-efficient beauty.”

Ash couldn't help but roll her eyes as she headed towards the passenger side. A small "thanks" escaped her lips as he pulled the door open for her, and she shrugged her backpack off her shoulders before climbing up into the now all too familiar passenger seat of the van. She rested her backpack on her lap and pulled the door closed, and she relaxed into the seat.

Like for the first time that night, her pattering heart managed to still. Her eyes calmly fell shut, and her breathing finally returned to a calmed, normal pattern.

She felt fine, for what felt like the first time that night.

Her eyes fluttered back open and she shifted in the seat when the driver's seat opened and Trevor climbed in. The engine roared to life.

Finally, they were getting out of this fucking hellhole of a school.

“Well,” he said, “ya all ready ta go?”

"Yeah," she said, although her voice sounded a little uncertain and wavering at first, so then she gave a determined nod of her head followed by a stronger "yeah."

While he started driving, she leaned forward to mess with the music. She flipped through a couple stations before giving up and settling on something that was just playing, like, the biggest hits or whatever, and turned the volume down so that it was just a low hum in the background. Anything more caused her head to pound, and then she leaned back in the seat, sinking down with a heavy sigh.

She brought her arm to rest on the armrest and leaned her head against her propped up hand. At points, she felt herself kind of dozing off. If Trevor spoke on the drive, she wasn't listening -- at this point, she was just exhausted. There had been too much in too little time and now that the adrenaline and the panic had subsided, she was just left with no energy and what felt like an empty husk of her former self.

Eventually, she felt the van come to a lurching stop and she lifted her head up, her eyes blinking open to see the familiar outline of Trevor's apartment building. She sat up, opening the door to the van, and pulled her backpack on as she hopped out, her feet unevenly hitting the pavement and causing her to fall back against the van for a moment before she stepped away, slamming the door shut behind her.

She met Trevor as they came around to the front and, with all of their classmates literally locked away at the school, she took his hand in hers again, lacing her fingers through his. It was weird -- holding his hand had been kind of, like, awkward at first but now, it just felt natural. Normal. Comfortable.

Even if they hadn't spent a ton of time together since getting together, there was still something comfortably familiar about being with Trevor.

"We should've just, like, done this from the start," she huffed as they started towards the apartment. Her steps were a little more sure now, a little less unsteady. "Like, you know... just skipped the lock-in altogether and hung out here..." she trailed off, pausing, before adding; "actually, no, that would've made people, like, even more suspicious, you know? 'Oh Trevor and Ash both skipped? Definitely banging.'" She said, lowering her voice at the last part.

But she also would've taken that over, well, what actually happened.

Part of her considered, like, messaging Hunter. Trying to set things right, trying to apologize, but for once... she actually thought better about it and decided that right now? When she was drunk and all of the wounds were still fresh? Probably not the best time for her to be attempting to make amends.

Apparently, it was never a good time for her to do that, though, because she just sucked at it.

mood
.......

location
the classroom

outfit
idk a hoodie and jeans

playing...
Gasoline

by Alice Lee​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Trevor

tags
ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

Why the fuck did he have to be related to this wimp through his idiotic old man’s marriage? Why was he still in his life? He should have disappeared like the runt he was once he was done with him back then, and yet the eyesore ended up sticking around instead. There was nothing good about him anyway. Nothing worthwhile. He was like the scraps of leftovers you wouldn’t even feed to pigs and yet…

His fists balled up even further, grip tightening on the hold he had over Slater.

“Oh shut the fuck up – I didn’t want to come here,” Slater snapped, wriggling and kicking weakly beneath him, barely putting up much of a fight anymore.

See? Fucking pathetic.

And he was still stuck with him anyway.

Even after all these years.

Just what would it take for his father to wake up and realise that this whole game of happy family he was so insistent on playing that kept Slater in his life, was nothing but a sham so he could finally be rid of him and his stupid mother?

His claim that he didn’t even want to be here just pissed him off even more, because here he was anyway, invading his territory, his escape from that damned family of his.

“Then why the fuck are you here huh? Just pack up and leave. I’ll even help you so you can go back to the trash heap where you belong. Consider it a little charity.” Dalton growled, voice dripping with venom.

“Just let me the fuck go, you fucking piece of shit.”

Damien Slutter ladies and gentlemen. All bark and no bite, and the bark if anything was more like a pitiful excuse of a whimper. He wanted to be let go?

Lucky him, Dalton was feeling a little ‘generous’ today, so he could play a little genie for him.

Wish granted.

He wanted nothing more than to be rid of him anyway.

Hands still gripping the younger boy, he turned, spinning him away from the wall with him and threw him towards the janitor’s door where he had locked another irritant moments earlier.

As he stared down at Slater’s battered figure, the door in the backdrop, an idea clicked in his head. He’d already disposed of one irritant inside the closet, might as well take the opportunity to dispose of the other as well since he’d so kindly decided to serve himself up.

Stalking over, he hoisted Slater up off his feet and pulled his body towards him, so he wasn’t blocking the door.

The joys of being taller than the people you tormented. It made things so much easier and watching them kick and squirm helplessly while you held them up in the air?

Nothing tickled his soul more.

“You want me to let you go? I’ll do you one better.” Dalton started, staring the other boy dead in the eyes as one hand let go so it could reach behind him and grab the handle of the janitor’s closet. He dropped him back onto his feet as the hand that held the door pulled it open and he took a step back in same the motion.

“Go to hell.”

And then he delivered a swift kick to Damien’s chest, knocking the boy back into the darkness of the closet. He paused for a moment reveling in the joy that only taking your anger out on the two people you hated most could bring before he slammed the door shut and walked back over to the discarded box of props he had made use of earlier.

Dalton rolled his shoulders back, giving the joints a nice stretch as he squatted down and sorted through the props, looking for one that would help him jam the door shut and keep those banes of his life trapped in that old closet a while longer.

How nice it would be if magic was real and the cleaning tools in there would come to life so they could clean out the trash he'd sent their way.

A smile played on his lips as he spotted the perfect piece, some amateurish looking creation that…well he had no clue what the fuck it was supposed to be, but it was the perfect wedge shape he needed to keep the door from being pushed open too easily.

Faintly whistling the tune of some old jangle, he scooped up the prop and walked over to the door, a little skip in his step as he squatted down and shoved the skinnier end of the wedged shaped prop between the floor and the door.

Rising to his feet, he gave it an extra kick to ensure it was firmly in place before testing his makeshift doorstopper by giving the door a yank. It held. Perfect. That should do the trick and keep them locked in there for a while.

Now that, that was dealt with, he had a set of spare clothes to get to. Thanks to Slutter, he had spent more time than he had intended out in the hallways in his still drenched clothes and he wanted nothing more to change into some dry ones so he could kick back and properly enjoy what remained of the night.

mood
Have a good night

location
hallway with a janitor's closet

outfit
outfit minus the shirt

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
Beel

interactions
Slater

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º