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

[0k_mang0]

MOOD: uh...

OUTFIT:
navy blue boy
​

INFO

LOCATION:
winter ball

WITH: housemates, then chanel

MENTION: ash, eli, trevor, newt​

ACTIVITY

Soap Winona geminiy

TAGS

cappie

— Alive

“I like, went to see Trevor last night, and he like... apologized for everything, and I umm... I ended up staying the night.”

“Oh… wow, that… that’s cool.” Cappie wasn’t uncertain how he felt about it. Well, yeah, it was nice to hear that Ash and Trevor made up. In fact, Cappie was pretty happy about it—but only because Ash was feeling better now. Yes, he was happy for Ash.

For Trevor, Cappie couldn’t care less.

He wasn’t forgiving him too soon. Spicoli’s neurotic Irish cousin broke Ash’s heart last week and left her stranded alone in an unfamiliar part of the city. Everyone knows being alone in Los Angeles, day or night, was dangerous. Cappie had to drive through a half-dozen alleyway shortcuts and ran a stop sign or two, just so he could reach Ash as fast as he could. He and Eli planned to take out the air from all four of Trevor’s van’s tires, poke them with nails or something, but they were convinced not to. At least they weren’t threatening to rip off his balls like Gen said she’d do to Newt—she said she was joking, but sometimes it’s hard to tell.

However, if Trevor hurts her again, the boys would, unhesitantly, do it next time. The tire-poking, not the ripping of balls. Cappie didn’t want to go anywhere near that junk.

After the Instagram group photoshoot that always seemed to take forever, Cappie put on his shoes and jacket, hugged his friends farewell, and headed out to meet Chanel at her house.

***​

Long story short, she was upset that Cami lied about not liking Eli and not wanting to go with him to the ball, and that situation nearly made her not want to go anymore. The only way Cappie could think to change Chanel’s mind was to ask her to be his date. He’d gone to plenty of non-romantic dates with his friends to school events, like with Ash during their middle school days, so why should it be any different with him and Chanel for this one night?

Sure, he had promised Chanel that he’d give her a surprise gift, but it didn’t mean he was deliberately trying to romance her, despite what his friends say. He gave up convincing them that he wasn’t planning to sleep with her or anything like that at all; they were all too stubborn to believe his feelings for her were entirely platonic.

However, Cappie admits, in his dumb inner monologue, that he thought Chanel Clairmont looked amazing, and she did look amazing. Sure, he’d seen her dressed up stylish during school days, as lots of the wealthy students in Hollywood Arts usually do. But Cappie wasn’t prepared how to react for tonight.

It took him five seconds to snap out of his weird lost-for-words trance—five seconds for him to realize he was holding his breath since the moment she showed up in that dress, and he immediately mentally chastised himself for doing it. He reminded himself to breathe, reminded himself not to blush because he was not a blusher or the shy, awkward middle-school dork he’d once been, and finally said something.

Something like, “Wow, hi.” Cappie was a simple guy.

Shut up all of you. Let him admire Chanel’s fashion style in peace.

Shoving his stupid nerves back to their dark cave, Cappie gave Chanel the small box that was gift-wrapped in dark green and tied with a silver ribbon at the last minute. (“Merry early Christmas to you,” he said with a shy smile.) He also placed on a nearby table a small pouch of a handful of chocolate gelt—Hanukkah ended yesterday and his mom mailed him extra to share with his friends. Yes, he’d already given chocolate coins to his housemates, don’t look too deep into this.

It may not have been Tiffany’s or the most expensive or fanciest looking piece of jewelry he could find, but Cappie thought it would look on her.

“At least with a necklace,” he explained, “it won’t wilt away within a week like a flower. Also, we kinda match.” He pointed at the white crystal accessory pinned on his lapel. It was the only thing he already owned and not rented like his suit.

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Ava Sanders

Standing with Saint, bitching about the shitty Arts Festival, was fun enough as it was. Of course, Ava wished that there was something else to do. At her old school, she remembered the kids talking about in high school at the dances, they'd have a fucking bus outside to play videogames.

Now that was cool shit. Why the fuck wasn't Hollywood Arts that fancy?

(The videogame truck at dances was one of the biggest things that had made Ava consider turning down Hollywood Arts because... come on... fucking videogame truck.)

Of course, her night grew a touch more interesting as Sawyer came sauntering towards them from across the ballroom floor. Ava couldn't really stop the faint grin that appeared on her face as her friend, as annoying as fuck as she was, came to a stop beside them to talk and shit.

“Damn, Av, didn’t know you had it in you.” Sawyer said as she looked over her outfit.

Ava shrugged. "Better than a fucking dress," she mumbled, not really accepting the compliment because... well, compliments for the redhead were few and far between, and she really wasn't a huge fan of them. Like at all. Ava preferred when any kind of spotlight, however small it may be, was pointed directly away from her.

“This place looks insane,” said Sawyer. “I almost feel like a princess. How much money do they spend on this fucking shit?”

“Ava and I were just discussing that…” Saint said. “Too much, obviously. That was our conclusion. More than most of my class will make after graduating this year — four times as much, probably…”

"Half your grade isn't doing shit after graduation," Ava added with a shrug of her shoulders. Well, it was fucking true. Save for a handful of decent people, the senior class was a fucking disaster and a half. She wouldn't be surprised if most of them ended up dead or in prison by this time next year.

What? That was a realistic thing to think.

"Right, this is your first dance here," Ava said to Sawyer. "They're all fucking like this. A waste of fucking money that could be put towards much better shit."

Like better funding for the lit department. Just saying.

mood
uncomfortable

location
Winter Ball

outfit
as if she was going to wear a dress

playing...
Bad Reputation

by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Saint, Sawyer

tags
ditto KingofAesir

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Genevieve Johannes

@NextGen has set their status to:
liv.

@NextGen has set their outfit to:
who cares

@NextGen has set their location to:
her home

@NextGen has mentioned:
landon

@NextGen has interacted with:
liv

@NextGen has tagged:
Soap

Betrayal, as never before felt, somehow caused Gen’s entire body to ache. Even though her eyes had stopped shedding tear after tear down her blotchy cheeks and her jaw had finally stopped quivering with each spoken word, her full being still burned. Her stomach was empty, hollowed out to make a home for all the broken promises and meaningless ‘I love you’s’, the cracking ribs around her lungs refusing to pull the air in and push the pain out, her emotions numbed to a point of almost nonexistence.

Gen couldn’t feel anything but hurt.

“I could say the same about you.”

None of that mattered anymore because Liv’s lips, plump and pink and inviting, curled up into the most radiant smile that nearly blinded her face from the concern written all over it. Gen could see it from the corner of her eye, though her gaze remained fixed on the white paint chipping off a street light in front of them. Even forcefully distracting herself, Liv captivated her entire soul.

Then Liv’s hand was raising, cold fingers dancing across Gen’s cheek.

Cold.

Liv was high.

Gen didn’t care.

As broken as they both were, as horrible as Gen had been to Liv in months past, Liv was forever the guiding light in even the darkest night. No matter how lost they were, how much they swore they were on different paths, the strings of fate kept pulling them back together. Liv was a part of Gen that Gen wasn’t willing to admit she couldn’t be without.

Not until now, anyways. Not until Liv’s fingers graced her skin and a spark danced down through Gen’s tired bones, not until she melted into the touch. Her heart began to beat again, her lungs taking in air, the tension seeping from her muscles with each shaky exhale.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Liv asked softly, the tears welling up in Gen’s eyes.

Love. Gen hadn’t felt that since Liv, not truly.

She couldn’t speak, the words failing to align themselves in a way that made sense. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t just rip the wound open again so instead, Gen’s fingers reached up slowly to pull Liv’s hand away from her face. Fingers interlocking and eyes still trained on the light post, Gen’s other hand fully encapsulated Liv’s as she pulled the hand towards the centre of her chest.

There she sat, unmoving and silent as she focused on the feeling of Liv’s skin on hers until she was able to talk.

“He up and left me.” Gen struggled, a once confident voice now just barely above a shaking whisper. The name didn’t have to be spoken to know who the target of Gen’s words were, she was sure of that. “He said he was going to take a call in the middle of our dance. He just… left. Gone. Now he’s ignoring my calls and he won’t answer my texts. His car’s still here but I can’t find him so he must’ve left with…”

Somebody else.

Gen couldn’t bring herself to say that yet. Maybe she didn’t fully believe it, maybe it was too painful to say. Either way, Gen’s voice trickled off and it was silent again for a moment, just Gen clutching Liv’s hand to her chest like a lifeline.

“He promised things would be different. He promised he wouldn’t hurt me.” Gen’s voice continued, the barriers crumbling around her with each passing second. “Why did he lie?” Her voice weakened as her knees pulled closer to her chest as she slowly looked over at Liv, dark eyes once again welling over with tears. “Why am I never good enough?”

The last piece of the wall fell at the same time that Gen sank forward into Liv’s arms. The tears started again and Gen didn’t care. Liv was safe. She was home. She was security.

She was love.

Gen didn’t move from Liv’s arms, her lips not uttering a word, until the cab pulled up beside the curb. Slowly, Gen pulled herself from Liv’s arms as she struggled to her feet, world dancing around her in a blurry haze.

“I should, um… Go,” she spoke, fingers still intertwined with Liv’s for a second more before drifting apart and her hand back to her side. “Go, I should go home.”

She turned her back and made a few woozy steps towards the cab, her fingers gripping the door handle with certainty. The back seat was empty, a cold and painfully empty spot next to Gen’s own as she slid in and closed the door.

“Where to?” The cabbie asked, hardly paying any attention to the exhausted frame in the backseat.

“275 Caswell Avenue.” Gen murmured back, wheels turning and cab pulling away from the curb. Her eyes drifted back to Liv. “Stop. Stop the cab for a second.”

However annoyed the cab driver was, the car halted and Gen threw open the passenger door, stumbling out and back towards Liv. She didn’t want to be alone right now, she couldn’t be alone right now. Gen needed Liv.

“Liv. Please.” Gen spoke slowly, a flicker of confidence hiding behind the slur in her words. Slowly, she extended a hand. “Come home with me.”

──────────── ❖ ────────────​

The drive home was tedious. Every bump in the road, every swerve of the wheel pulled Gen back to reality. So, every bump and every swerve was met with Gen gripping onto Liv’s hand on pure instinct until eventually, Gen simply decided to not let go.

Further and further they went from the ball, further and further away from Landon, further and further away from the expected. Hand in trembling hand, they plunged together into the chaos.

Somehow, Liv always made it better.

Where there were tears, Liv’s gentle touch was there to wipe them away. Where there was fear, Liv stood as Gen’s sole protector, unwavering in the face of an uncertain storm. Where there was intoxicated stupidity, Liv was there to take Gen’s phone from her even despite Gen’s drunken protests.

The cab pulled up in front of Gen’s house and the pair got out, Gen’s body leaning on Liv for support as she fumbled around in her bag for her wallet. Pulling out a wad of cash, Gen handed it to the cab driver. “Keep the change.”

Next was the struggle with getting the key in the lock, a task proving far more difficult with gin flavoured vision and shaky hands.

The house was dark when Gen finally got the door open, empty of siblings and parents for the evening. A flick of the light switch and the entry was illuminated, casting a soft glow over Liv’s skin and twinkling off of the gems on the hem of her emerald dress. Even drunk and stumbling through the foyer, Gen couldn’t help but stare when she really should have been wrestling off her shoes instead.

Right. Those were still in the road back at the ball.
Somehow, Gen got up the winding staircase to her bedroom. This dress needed to come off, her hair needed to be down, the night needed to be scrubbed clean from her skin. The sight of her bed was far too enticing to follow through with her plan as Gen immediately fell into the embrace of soft down pillows and plush blankets.

There she laid silent for a few fleeting moments before her lips parted to speak again, suddenly remembering there was someone else there with her.

“I’m sorry.” Gen hiccupped, voice raw and dry from the crying and the yelling. “You-you should be at the ball having fun, not here dealing with,” Gen messily gestured to herself, “all of this. I mean you look so beautiful, drop dead fucking gorgeous. You should be out there making jaws drop, not here with me.” Slowly, Gen sat up on her mattress to stop the room from spinning and laced her fingers together in her lap, staring down at the white carpet underfoot. “You can go if you want. I can call the cab back, I’ll pay.”

Gen fell quiet again, her mind fogging over with thought.

Wasn’t this what Gen had done to Liv months ago; up and running at the first sign of opportunity, scared of the fall into bliss that was eventually coming, afraid to entirely turn herself over to the person she loved?

The only difference was that Landon didn’t love her. He couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Liv. I’m so sorry for all of this. I can’t believe I even asked you here after everything I’ve done to you.” Her eyes had begun to well again but no tears ever flowed, their source dried up and the river ran empty. A half-hearted laugh huffed from Gen’s chest, weak and broken. “Every time something goes wrong, you’re always here for me. No matter what sort of shit I put you through, you’re always there.” Gen looked up at Liv, exhaustion having long since pulled the light from her eyes. “I’m never good enough for anyone. So why are you still here?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Ashton West

She hadn't really spent a lot of time, like... hanging out with anyone in the past week except for, like, Cap and Eli and Gen. But they hardly counted, because it wasn't easy to avoid them since they, well, lived together -- but also because like, they were basically her siblings. Ash could probably count like... well not on one hand, but like she could probably count the amount of days she'd gone without talking to Eli.

(Spoiler alert: it was definitely super low.)

And like, Lucky was definitely one of those people that she'd kind of missed in the past week. Like sure, they weren't like... they hadn't known each other for super long, but he was umm... he was like... he was easy to be around. One of those people that she didn't feel super judged by, and that she could kind of just...

Exist near, without feeling judged for... whatever.

“Missed opportunities, Blair.” He shook his head. “Coulda been my first autograph. Would have been worth millions! Guess you’ll have to come to the next show.”

"Obviously," Ash scoffed. "I'll be like, front row. Or like umm... backstage. Javi would totally give me a backstage pass or whatever." Probably for less than stellar reasons, but hey, a backstage pass was a backstage pass. And obviously she'd been turning down Javi this whole time, so what was a little more?

They were totally just friends, and there's no way she'd ever like... actually be into Javi.

Like gross.

“And you’ve been holding out on me. Who knew there was a tiny dancer trapped inside you all along? Those moves…” He smirked. “Were outstanding.”

A blush flushed against her cheeks again, and Ash had to turn her head away from him until the blush faded away again, and then she was able to look back at him once more. "Listen, I ummm... Newt wanted to," she said, as if blaming him for that would like... somehow give reason to her horrible dance moves.

Listen, she hadn't thought anyone would actually see her. Or, like, no one that she actually would care about having a reaction. Not that she really cared if Lucky had seen her, it was just that like... she just didn't want him seeing her and teasing her about it, right? Like, that made sense.

Right? Right.

“You’ve got a..” He trailed off, reaching out with a hand to brush a stray hair back.

Her breath caught in her throat, her gaze following the movement of his hand, her body kind of just freezing in place. Once his hand had dropped away, air rushed back into her lungs.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He said. “You sure your date won’t mind me stealing you away?”

"No," Ash gave a little shake of her head, and she glanced back over her shoulder to see where Newt had wandered off to, but she couldn't find the purple haired giant in the crowd. With a smile, she looked back towards Lucky, stretching her arms out to her sides. "Guess you're kind of, like, stuck with me now. Or like, umm... like... yeah."

She wasn't really sure what she was gonna say.

"And... thanks," she let out a small laugh, her hands going to brush down the fabric of her dress. "This is like, umm... too much skin or whatever, but Mikaela like picked it out, and I just..." Ash shrugged.

She reached forward, her hands fidgeting and adjusting his tie. "You look good," she admitted. "Like, I dunno... you clean up well, I guess."

"Where's your date?"

mood
the happiest ever

location
the Ball

outfit
purple

playing...
Generous

by Ash West​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lucky

tags
gh0stwriter

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: band

OUTFIT: ball fit

LOCATION: backstage

basics

MENTIONS:
Jared, Angel, Dorian, Corey

INT:
geminiy (Kian)
gh0stwriter (Lucky)
jasmyn (Maddie)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Javier Cervantes

The two boys beside Javi shifted slightly, signaling unspoken words. He watched Lucky's eyes flit away after his Josie comment. He was deluded to think Javi couldn't pick up on the kernel of a soul he still had beneath all those layers of faux nonchalance. Tch. Such a callous husk he was. Hope the bullshit charade was worth it for whatever was left of the band's harmony.

Kian led the two of them into the dressing room backstage; he'd been in enough of those the past semester for a lifetime, but it was unfortunately something he'd have to get used to. It wouldn't ever be the same as changing pants in one of his friends' bathrooms, but it did the job in all its over-the-top fanciness.

With a devious grin on his face, he rubbed his hands together. Kian's store paled in comparison to his personal lockbox, but it certainly did the trick. After all, some of it was from his own supplier. He licked his lips, hovering his hand over the various treats sprawled across the vanity desk. He reached for a joint, but hesitated. In all honestly, he didn't really want much of anything that was being offered. The mood of the night had already been soured by a certain sarcastic Brooklyn native.

He pulled his hand away, then watched as the aforementioned singer slipped some molly onto his tongue. That same hand unthinkingly formed a fist, and his nails began to dig into his skin. He clenched his teeth. He couldn't tell if he was angrier with Lucky for what he'd done or simply because they weren't cool, but it was nonetheless a harrowing effort to maintain nothing more than a moody glower.

He caught the boy's brief glance and returned a curt nod, reining in all urges to scream, shout, gouge, and rend. Lucky's stay of execution would be granted... on a very conditional basis. And he had their third band member to thank for that. It was fucking annoying how irreplaceable he was, otherwise Javi would have ignored all warnings and beaten the shit out of the stupid asshole whose only language was to hurt.

The instant the boy left, Javi dropped his head and stared at the drugs on the desk again. Almost robotically, he greedily snatched up the bag of coke and took a few pinches, then rubbed the white powder on his gums. He glared at his reflection, an unnerving darkness casting over his face. "Ugh... fuck," he grumbled, wiping his hand on his pant leg.

After that, he raised his head and turned to Kian with the boyish smirk he so adored. "Thanks, pal. I owe you one." He slipped past his friend and gave him a firm pat on the back, not so much as looking back as he neared the door. "I'm gonna hit up the punch table. Bet at least one of the bowls are spiked. If not, I'll bounce and hop on the nearest baddie I can score." An annoyingly shaky fist seized the door handle, squeezing it tight to mask the trembling.

"And Kian..." Finally, Javi looked back, sympathetic eyes crossing with the grave expression tacked onto his face. "Enjoy your night. I mean it."

With that, he gave a salute and headed out the door, the sound of his sneakers plodding on the floor muffled by the next band's opening set. The effects of the cocaine had yet to hit after a few minutes, which the muscular boy had to thank his tolerance for. Fucking hell... he should have borrowed more when he had the chance; Kian knew he was good for it.

With a hand in his pocket, Javi casually sauntered right onto the dance floor, quickly getting in tune with the rest of the people moving their hips. He pushed straight through the crowd in a pushy beeline toward the punch table. For most people, the trip would have been rather inconvenient, but Javi didn't really give much of a shit about violently pushing people out of his way. Tonight was not the night for courtesy.

Once he made it to the other side of the crowd, the bassist lingered on the outskirts. He really didn't have any solid plans despite the numerous people he'd texted only minutes ago, all of which expressed great interest in meeting up backstage. It was a lonely life being the resident drug dealer/whore, but damn it all if he wasn't going to make the most of it tonight.

Against all sense, he got texting again, impulsively inviting two more of his classmates to hang sometime in the night. They'd never show. He knew that, but for some reason he went through the trouble of selling the concept anyway. He raised his cell phone to snap a photo, but stopped just short of the button upon noticing a familiar figure in his periphery.

He lowered the phone, but kept staring straight forward. He knew that body anywhere, even from behind.

Madelaine Harlow.

Maddie.

A cold hand squeezed at his heart, and the tremor in his hands returned. Things were somehow different now that the girl and her idiot brother had been revealed to be Lucky's direct cousins, but he couldn't place just what had changed. Fuck that. Javi was getting real sick of being unable to describe his feelings, and that pissed him off. More than it did imagining that smarmy dickface Jared with a hand wrapped around her waist.

Where was the guy? Javi couldn't tell. From his vantage point, it wasn't easy to discern if the model was with anyone at the moment.

Out of curiosity, Javi walked toward the table, keeping his head down. He was quite easy to spot with his signature messy curls, but any attempt at secrecy was worth the effort. He'd just slink next to the girl, grab some punch, get a read on what was up, then go. He had nothing to do. No one to meet. It would only take a minute or two. There was no harm in a quick observation.

Closing in on the table Maddie stood adjacent to, thoughts began to run through his head. What if she did see? Things were definitely not good between them. However many times they had verbal confrontations, he stopped counting. And then there was Angel, who just loved to pop in at the worst of times. He knew what he was doing getting closer to Maddie. Gaining her sympathy... Turning her even more against Javi.

Like he was the villain. He could never be the bad guy after she threw him away like trash and erased him from her memory. Her association with all those new, pretentious dicks said it all. Even if she put on a kind face, Javi knew the crowd she ran with. Guys and girls too big for their britches who looked down upon anyone without a notable pedigree and several million to their name. She never said it, but some part of her had to entertain their ideas.

In fact, she'd probably always been like that. That part was Javi's mistake... thinking she was any different than the stuck-up girls sipping Malibu off daddy's money and crashing their white Porsche with no consequence. Too rich and famous to care. What a fucking tool Javi was, playing right into the illusions.

He leaned over the table, slowly spooning his drink into a cup. He sniffed at it. Not a lick of alcohol. A damn shame. He cast a sideways glance at Maddie, making sure to keep his head low and his eyes from reflexively darting the other way; it would only draw attention.

He looked down, then up, then down and up, keeping a watchful eye and an attentive ear to what the girl was doing. Why was she just standing there? Was she waiting on Warbucks Jr.? Ugh. Fuck that guy. Daringly, he took a sip and turned his head further, looking the girl up and down. Her dress was... fuck. Not pretty. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. It was definitely expensive-looking, though. That was for sure.

His mind was racing. Maybe the coke had worked after all. He looked back multiple times before it started to look ridiculous, even when keeping a low profile. He took another drink of punch; the sweet liquid raced down his throat, but halted halfway down. Javi raised a fist to his mouth, quietly working to suppress his cough.

However, nature, being nature, prevailed and the boy began to hack and cough, turning away from the punch bowl with what little manners he possessed. He snuck a quick glance to his side at Maddie, and he jumped the second they had the misfortune of making eye contact. The two were right beside one another, trapped in the moment.

"Uh... uh...?"

What was he supposed to say?

He didn't need to be so paranoid. She had no proof he was observing her for like two minutes. There was nothing to gain from letting himself be on edge and giving himself away. In fact, it wouldn't have been strange if he'd just turned and walked away right that second...

...But he stood still, his soles weighed down by the weight of his sins.

He put on a cold front, taking a small sip from his cup. "Madelaine." He really didn't need to talk to her. At all. Nothing was keeping him.

But clearly something was if he couldn't even move his feet. "Where's ol' JareBear?" he teased, swirling his cup like a gentleman, "Did the stock market call?" He cracked a wry grin. If she could be rich and smug, then he could be poor and smug too. "I know how that gets. It's a dog eat dog world out there, sweetheart." With a sudden rush of fury, he crushed the plastic cup in his fist, shaping it into something similar to an apple core.

"You look great, by the way," he added, giving her a theatrically sleazy up-and-down, "You always have had a knack for stealing hearts. Bet you a fiver Angel's got a fat crush on you. He'd never admit it, though. One Cervantes per gal, am I right?" He began to laugh boisterously. "Though that rule never stopped me. You know, if Dorian ever comes around, I could go three for three on the Harlows."

He shook his head before Maddie could so much as blink. "Must be fate your cousin and I did the deed just moments after your sorry attempt at an apology." His face froze and he cocked a brow, turning his head left and right in search of something. "Speaking of, did we finally ditch the comic book twink? Good for Corey, getting out before he got hurt."

code by valen t.

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

jordan mitchell

sophomore - art - 16

stupid fucking ball

fake excitement

Spiffy boi

interactions

Stella Kitsune2202

Jordan's plan to wait at the entrance lasted about four minutes before he dipped inside. The flashing lights of cameras from paparazzi was enough for him and he wanted to get away. Girl's he had classes with approached him and while he knew he was just being friendly, it more than likely wouldn't appear that way in later pictures. The last thing he wanted was some sketchy picture to pop up on social media and Kinni chewing him out for it.

Jordan was trying to be as careful as possible.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he found himself mingling with some of his classmates - both upper and lower. The conversations weren't as dull as he thought they would be and he was beginning to regret not coming with Kinni. Maybe he should have just sucked it up in the beginning. Clearly, it made her upset that they didn't do anything special before the ball. He was definitely going to have to make this up to her.

Tonight?

Tomorrow?

Or maybe New Years.

Something big to make her happy. But then again, wouldn't him being here now make her happy? He didn't exactly have to come to this thing but here he was, trying to surprise her. So, maybe, this was good enough.

With a heavy sigh, Jordan made his way towards the drinks. There were plenty of people lingering about, conversing about the Ball and their plans afterward. Jordan weaved his way through them and just as he was reaching for a cup, a familiar voice grabbed his attention.

Hey, stranger. Where've you been?

Stella.

He turned to face her and gave a friendly smile. "Me a stranger? Yeah, as if I'm not in the same place 24/7. You, on the other hand, stopped coming around," he joked. "You look great, by the way. Where's Zeph?"

coded by natasha.

 

[gh0stwriter]

Landon Sinclaire

Silence.

Speechless.

Mike Reid was speechless. Alert the fucking press. Pride swelled inside of him as his smirk widened. Landon never thought he’d see the day where his ex-best friend was at a loss for words. He’d won. Even when Mike inevitably regained his ability to speak, he had still been victorious, if only for a moment, Mike Reid finally shut the fuck up. But why didn’t it make him less angry? Why didn’t it make him feel any better?

Why was he still even here when he had the girl of his dreams on the other side of that door? “Fucking jealous, huh? Why the fuck would I be jealous, huh?” He stood his ground as Mike stepped forward. His fists tightened. “Your fucking money? I’m not fucking shallow. I’ve lived fucking broke my whole life. Try again.” Not shallow? Please. Mike cared way too much about appearances. Cared way too much about what people thought. He always had. Always would.

“Your fucking talent? Yeah, because shitty acting’s a talent now, huh? Success? Fucking nepotism, I’ve got no fucking interest in that.” He huffed out a laugh as he rolled his eyes. His insults were getting weaker by the second. He really had gotten under his skin. Mike Reid was coming undone. “At first—yeah, like it would’ve been those things at first, Landon. When you fucking came here as an annoying ass freshman with a rich fucking mommy and daddy and not a single fucking problem in the world, the only thing I though of you was that, well, you were really fucking annoying.”

Wait.

What was he going on about now? The more heated and agitated Mike got, the more Mike continued to spew his words only angered him more. But why was he bringing up Freshman year? What did meeting him have to do with any of this bullshit? With Gen? With the current state of their utter hatred toward the other.

“Met you through your sister, thought I’d become friends with you because she was fucking hot and shit. Called you up to drink, hang out. You call that fucking jealous?”

Wait.

His gaze wavered. His eyes dropped to the floor. Some of his anger was replaced by utter confusion and a complete lack of any desire to go down memory lane. Not with Mike. Not when it still bothered him. Plagued him. Even if he told himself that it was okay. That he was over it.

Fuck…

Why now?

Why fucking now?!

“And when things went to fucking far, was there any fucking jealously in that, huh?” His eyes snapped back to meet Mike’s in a glare. “Don’t.” Don’t even fucking go there. He wanted it to sound more firm than it had come out. Like a warning. It was supposed to stop Mike from continuing. He hadn’t wanted to show any sort of wavering in his stance, but this was Mike.

“And when things kept going that way, was there any fucking jealous in that?! When we were fucking happy, you think I was jealous?! When shit was going fucking great for that whole fucking time, you think there was a single fucking ounce of jealousy in me?!”

This wasn’t about Gen. This was about him. Him and Mike. What they had shared. What he would have done anything and everything to hold on to. Mike had been his first relationship. His first everything. And they were happy. He was the happiest he’d ever been in his entire life. Mike was different then. He was still a dick, obviously, but never to him. But maybe he was just a naive freshman and then a jaded sophomore. Because what transpired at the end meant that none of it ever mattered.

He did his best to remain unphased, but it was a losing battle. Mike always had a way with words which was ironic since his chosen vocation was to shut up and look pretty. But he always knew just what to say: to make him feel better, to make him feel loved, to make him laugh and to make him feel like the worst piece of shit to ever walk this earth.

Why?

Why now?

“Mike…” Landon had given up on having any form of control over the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth. His ex’s name coming out in more of a whisper and not the warning he had intended. Not that any octave would have kept Mike from continuing his speech.

Mike’s hand on his face felt like a cold reminder of how things used to be. The sting of what once was lingered beneath it. He wanted out of there. He didn’t want to play this game anymore. Whatever Mike was going through…he wanted no part in it. “When I started to say I fucking hated you, I remember how fucking crushed you looked.” The rage resumed its fucking low simmer. The barely healed wounds being ripped open all at once. He hated him. He hated Mike for making him go through that. For making him relive it. For making him miss it again. Miss him again. “When you came back, that fucking look you gave me after so long on Halloween—you remember that? How you were holding back so fucking much?”

“You’re such a fucking…”

“And when you kissed me in the bathroom…heh…don’t you think you were the jealous one?”

Wow. He was at a loss. It was a moment of weakness. Something he swore would never happen again. Something he’d hoped he would never have to think about again. Mike had ignored it. Even when he DMed, never threw it in his face. And that lingering question returned.

Why?

Why did Mike hate him so much?

Spent nights after Arts Fest last year.. Weeks. Months. He racked his brain trying to figure out what he’d done. How he had messed up so bad that his best friend. His boyfriend. Could hate him so much. Could just flip the switch in a snap and be done. How he could throw it in his face and laugh. How he could parade around as if what they had never existed. Like he’d made it up in his head. Maybe it was all just a game.

But then why was Mike so bothered? Why was he spewing insults and jabs as if Landon had done something wrong. It was always a secret. Hell, even Evie had no idea. And he wasn’t going to out Mike. He wouldn’t do that…even now…even after all the horrible things he was saying. He couldn’t bring himself to. Partly because if no one knew…maybe it’d be easier for him to forget.

“After all, I know you fucking want me—and you know I fucking hate you.” He swallowed hard as his eyes fell. He was wrong. It hurt, sure, but he didn’t want Mike. Couldn’t want Mike. He was happy. He was with Gen and she loved him. And he loved her. She cared about him. She’d never say the things that Mike has said to him…even if he deserved them. “God, that has to fucking hurt, doesn’t it, babe?”

A deep breath later, he looked up at Mike. The faint glisten of his eyes. Yeah. It hurt. It fucking hurt like a bitch.

“I really, really, really fucking hate you.”

Then get on with it. Landon surrendered. Mike could win if that’s what he needed. If that was what this was all about? But Landon needed to get out of there. Landon needed to get this over with so it would finally be over. Mike could get whatever he needed and just let him be. He didn’t even feel Mike pulling on him until he felt Mike’s lips on his.

His hand gripped his shirt quickly as he pushed him back. His eyes searched Mike’s in a whirlwind of confusion and anger and desire. He hated himself for still wanting him. For still having an ounce of feelings left for him. But he hated Mike more. Like really totally fucking hated him too.

“I really fucking hate you, too.” He pulled on Mike’s shirt until their lips smashed together. But there’s a mighty thin line between love and hate and Landon was teetering on the edge.

mood
confused

location
the dance

outfit
lookin' good

playing...
anything for you
by Ludo

mentions
evie

interactions
mike

tags
ditto

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Spencer Gray

Well that wasn’t what Spencer had expected when Beth and Mike walked up to him. Dates didn’t always try to ditch each other that fast… right? Anyway it was unusual to say the least, almost like they were attending together out of an obligation or something and at the first opportunity it was goodbye see you later. Maybe Mike had something important to do or got distracted hence his sudden disappearance into the crowd. The sight of Mike rushing off alone and leaving Beth by herself… Spencer immediately found himself thinking back to when he was in New Zealand with Sheryl. Was this what it looked like to other people? Did he always leave her behind this easily when dance pulled his attention, pulled him, away from her?

He really had been a jerk to her hadn’t he? Barely paying attention like Mike did, leaving without a second glance, stranding her for the world to see and worse of all never realising, not once, just how awful that truly was. All kinds of guilt came crashing over him as he stood there with Beth. He didn’t know what to say, how to keep up that easy going manner he had when they first walked up, and his mind just kept spinning back to Sheryl, back to all the times he had left her behind by herself and never even looked back.

“Shall we dance?” The words left Spencer’s mouth before he fully registered what he was doing. What was he doing? He hadn’t planned to dance with anyone tonight, because he wanted to avoid misunderstandings and complications, because he wanted to be able to focus on dance without any distractions. So why on earth had he…?

…He could never undo what he did and make it up to Sheryl but maybe it would help if he helped out someone in her shoes, someone who was left behind without a second glance or thought. This wasn’t to blame or criticise Mike by the way, though he wasn’t condoning his behaviour either, but… he simple wasn’t in the position to judge Mike. Not when he himself had done much worse to someone who wasn’t just his date but the girl he had proclaimed to love.

“Everyone else is dancing and that’s what you do at balls right?” Spencer offered her his hand as he spoke, a hint of sadness in his eyes even as he smiled at her warmly. His eyes were looking at back, but he was seeing the shadow of Sheryl, a memory of the one time he had danced with Sheryl after he got busy and the smile she had worn that warmed his heart and could have kept a candle lit for days. If only he had treasured her more back then…

Instead here he was using another girl’s plight to try and make himself feel better. Ease the guilt that ate his heart.

…What a jerk.

mood
...dance?

location
Winter Ball

outfit
formal

playing...
WONDER

by Shawn Mendes​

mentions
Mike

interactions
Beth

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

victoria shantel sterling​

Victoria Sterling was interrupting this program to bring you a very important message: Mikaela Ainsley really effing sucked a lot of the time. Seriously, the girl was the absolute effing worst. She saw that Tori didn’t want her to say something? She said it. She saw that Tori didn’t want her to do something? She did it. And a lot of the time, it wasn’t even shit that, like, yeah, was just a bad decision because it was bad for Mik. Like, obviously, she still did drugs in spite of it being an awful idea and in spite of Tori telling her that it was an awful idea, but that wasn’t all that she did. She also, like...when she saw Tori didn’t like something done to her or said to her, she kept doing it. Like…you know, the whole…date escapade that Tori didn’t want to mention with the one really super hot dude? Yeah. With that.

And something like that was happening right now. In this moment, Tori most obviously just kind of wanted this guy to go away. First of all, he butted into the conversation at a weird, awkward time and basically tired to tell Tori she was wrong, which wasn’t something that you did to someone who was obviously always right. She didn’t know the dude, and Tori and complete strangers…well, she could handle them, obviously, because she could handle anything, but…she obviously wasn’t a huge fan, okay? Very obviously wasn’t a huge fan. And Mikaela, as soon as the guy walked away, just turned to Tori and went, “He’s coming.”

Tori shouldn’t’ve been surprised, but it still took her aback. Her eyes went wide with alarm. “He’s —“ she started to repeat, but she couldn’t even bring herself to say it. Her brows knit low, and she grit her teeth, leaning forward toward her friend to hiss, “Mikaela Ainsley. Look me in the eyes.” She held two fingers up at her eye level, and she glared right into Mikaela’s gaze. “Are you fucking serious?!” She stared at her a moment, knowing the answer. “We don’t know that —“ She gestured after the guy with a hand, struggling for a word to sum him up. Druggie? Rando? Creep? She shook her head. “That — that guy!” She gave a dramatic huff. “He — he could be some effing…ax murderer or…or an effing undercover pimp or something! A doll head collector! A person head collector — and you’re just gonna let him come along?” She narrowed her eyes and straightened up, crossing her arms. The desperation in her hiss of a voice dissipated as stuck up her nose with a sniff. In a more confident voice, she said, “All we know is that the guy knows drugs, Mikaela — which is not a good sign.”

That’s what we’re trying to fucking avoid here.

She looked back at the spot that the guy had disappeared into the crowd at, and her lips formed a pout. Who the hell was that guy? What the hell made him think that it was okay to interject into this conversation? Jeez Louise, that meant that he was probably exactly of Mikaela’s ilk — just the kinda person she would want to hand around. What was worse was that he wanted to talk to them later, too.

Tori could already see the group chat that was going to be made; it was torture that was preemptively haunting her dreams.

“I just…” Her brows knit together, and she looked to her friend huffily. She slumped her shoulders. “Mikaela,” she whined exasperatedly. “It’s…you’re…ugh!” She threw her hands up, then lowered them to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose.

The relief she’d received from the interaction at first had been gradually slipping away from her, and now, pretty much the last thing she wanted to do was stick around. Now that there was a lull in conversation, admittedly, she had this kind of dread slipping into her mind. Not — not anything serious, but…

She knew that it was only a matter of time — probably a matter of moments — before Mikaela noticed that Tori was…well…alone.

Alone at her senior ball…shit…

Her heart dropped to her stomach again. She really couldn’t think about it.

And there would be no escape from Mik’s badgering after she noticed that.

I can’t handle that.

“I’ve…” Her voice got a bit watery up as she turned her head away, but she kept her tone firm and pretty monotone as she continued. “I’ve got places to be, Mik.” She looked toward the door, searching for a specific excuse because, well, it was Mik she was trying to evade. “Like the, uh, the bathroom, right now — it’s go time. And, uh, alone time.” She turned her head back toward Mik to give her a closed-eyed smile and a small, two-finger salute. “See ya around,” she said.

Turning away and starting toward the bathroom, Tori felt her stomach doing all kinds of flips. She kept her head low and her feet moving fast across the gleaming floors.

She hoped she didn’t see Mikaela around. At least not tonight.

There was a line for the bathroom that was out of the door, and Tori shrunk as small as she could as she waited in the line. She pressed her lips into a firm line, her brows a low line above her eyes. Her heart quivered in her chest, and her stomach twisted into knots. She kept her gaze focused on the detailing of the gilded baseboard, trying to make herself focus on, Holy fucking shitballs, Batman, they probably spent thousands upon thousands to even rent this place for the night.

It kind of made her feel worse about this, though. They’d spent so much on tonight just to make it special for everyone, and here she came alone, with a corsage that she herself had pinned to her wrist and a fake ass smile.

She thought, at first, that she could at least go with a friend, you know? She’d tried. Going down the list of contacts she’d saved, for one reason or another. But…she really didn’t have…friends. Not in the fucking lame ass way — she was sure that she only didn’t have friends because…because she didn’t really like to go out and talk to strangers much and not because of any other things about her.

If you were wondering why, then, her first text was to…uh…an acquaintance who knew too much about her thanks to a…well, fuck, the how and why he knew wasn’t important. If you were wondering why her first text aside from the one to Ez was the one to Nate, that was why. He was the only person who she could think of that she…well, knew for sure, without any doubt, ever really shown any sort of interest in, well…her in that way, she guessed, besides him.

Jeez, Victoria, the guy who fucked you at a party last year after two seconds of conversation that were just you saying, “Fuck me because I’ve never had sex and I want to”? He’s a whore. You went to him because he’s a whore. You thought he wouldn’t have someone when he’s had, like, half of the fucking student body? That was your first thought when finding a date that wasn’t who you wanted?

Shit. Yeah. It was. And — and just thinking about him made her feel…gross. Because it made her think of everything else with him, too, but also because…fuck, no one and nothing showed her desperation like her two “conversations” with the guy.

She knew, okay? She’d fucking admit it. It was sad. She was sad.

This was shit. She just wanted to go home.

She washed her hands after exiting the stall to a chorus of laughter by the sinks. She didn’t move her eyes to look at who it was — the odds were that she probably didn’t know them anyway. With a deep sigh, she started back toward the ballroom.

When she came to the doorway, she lifted her eyes back up to look around her.

And she stopped walking, stopped being able to move. She just…halted there, suddenly breathless.

Inside, everyone had someone. Everyone had some kind of expression that said, Hey, I’m having fun! — or at the very least, Hey, I’m not some fucking deluded senior girl who was too fucking proud to get over herself to even get a date!

It felt like a gut punch, and she struggled to breathe in a breath as she forced her feet onward and inside.

She kept her head down as she walked in, her shoulders shrunken and her arms hugging herself as she made her way over to…where? She glanced up, and her eyes fell upon the punch table.

Oh, yeah. Good old punch. Nothing said I’m doing great like hanging over there by the fucking punch table.

At least then, it would look like she was willingly separate from the crowds. It would look like she was taking a break or…something, you know?

She took her time ladling the punch, focusing on her reflection in the rippling waters as she did and trying to zone out the noise around her, and she began to sip from her cup as she walked a bit away from the table to lean against the wall.

Finally, as she came to rest, she lifted her head again to watch the crowd.

Just bad bi…just bad bitch things.

mood
: |

location
the ball

outfit
a dress

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms​

mentions
ez & nate

interactions
mikaela & kian

tags
Xed geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

MICHAEL K. REID​

Michael Reid didn’t make the best decisions. State the fucking obvious, he knew.

But never in his fucking life did he think that he would be making out with Landon fucking Sinclaire ever again, much less in a bathroom bigger than his old fucking apartment and worth three times more than everything that he owned. He’d made a fucking vow to himself, to never stoop so fucking low ever again. Landon was a lapse in judgment — an almost two-year lapse in judgment, but still a fucking lapse in judgment — and Mike? He was a firm believer in the whole “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” shit.

He was his own worst fucking enemy, he guessed, but this hatred just fueled his fire more, just pushed him forward into the bad decision that his intoxicated brain didn’t give a shit that he was making nor thought of the consequences of.

His hands grasped Landon’s clothes needily as their lips desperately ushered on the fucking regret in the making. He broke for a breath, opening his eyes for a moment to fierily glare into Landon’s eyes. “Why the fuck do you have to be so tall? It always fucking pisses me off,” he grunted breathlessly, and he glowered into his eyes for another moment.

His eyes. Fuck, they fucking took Mike back. Took him back to moments like this, stolen away in the school bathroom, or in the back of the visuals room, or in the janitor’s closet. Places they knew they shouldn’t be, but still were.

Mike knew he shouldn’t be here now, but here he fucking was.

And fuck, shit, why the hell did Landon have to look so fucking hot, huh?

“Shit, Lan, I really fucking hate you,” Mike hissed, and he reconnected their lips.

• okay so you were right, everyone, and they are getting down in the bathroom, you’re welcome •​

What the hell have I done? was a common question that Mike had after sex. After Liv, after Briar, after Gen all of those times. And usually the conclusion was, I really fucking fucked up.

And yeah, it was the same for this time, because he was looking back and watching his fucking sweat-covered ex’s back muscles flex as the shit tried futilely to straighten his dress pants out.

“There’s no fucking fixing it,” Mike grunted in a low voice, flopping his collar back down with a sigh and hopping off of the counter he’d hopped onto to get his clothes on easier. “It’s going to look like shit, anyway. Should’ve thought it fucking through more before you threw it down on the ground, but I know forethought’s not your strength.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, giving up on buttoning his shirt for how.

Why the hell had they done that? Why the fuck had Mike kissed him? What the fuck came over him? He was a horny shithead when he was angry, he knew, but fuck.

He’d just had sex with his ex at the fucking ball in the fucking bathroom. He had a date to this thing, and…well, fuck, so did Landon.

Landon had a girlfriend.

Oh shit, Gen.

That wasn’t Mike’s problem. He wasn’t the guy who fucking cheated on his girlfriend here — that was Landon.

His main concern was…shit, he’d just fucked the guy who he fucking hated. He’d just fucked his fucking ex.

He’d promised that he’d never touch again with a fucking ten-foot-pole, then he’d touched him with his fucking pole. Fucking great.

Mike scoffed with a grin at his own stupid fucking joke. He’d noticed by now that humor was his fucking coping mechanism. How fucking lovely, right?

“Shit, Landon,” he sighed deeply, leaning back against the mirror, “what’s going on your head after that, huh?”

mood
: |

location
the bathroom

outfit
i'm fucking sexy.

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly​

mentions
gen, liv, & beth

interactions
landon

tags
gh0stwriter

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

kellian phelan

They were two dancers, alone in a room full of people. The music boomed, the bodies around them moved this way and that, but all that Kelli could really focus on was the beat of her heart that rattled her ribcage and pounded in her ears and the crooked grin of the boy in front of her.

She couldn’t stop giggling, and she couldn’t stop smiling back at him.

She didn’t think that she’d ever smiled that hard before. Not when she’d met Bella, not when she’d met Naomi. Heck, not even she’d met the Clairmonts. It was a wild flutter in her chest and stomach that kept tugging her smile up and up.

It was different than anything she’d felt.

She felt…light. Like…like she and Angel were just two delicate dancers, waltzing their way among fluffy clouds, ten-thousand feet above everyone else, moving to the wills and the beats of their hearts.

“Hey, you’re murmuring,” Angel said, which pulled her out of her thoughts for a second.

“Murmuring?” she repeated, a curious smile on her face. She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant — she’d somehow lost awareness of what exactly she was doing and what exactly she was saying, instead distracted by the moment — the moment, and the, uh, momentness of it.

The freedom. The vibe. She couldn’t really explain it.

Suddenly — it felt like a sudden movement — his eyes locked with hers.

It sent a little bit of a shock through her. She’d thought before that she hadn’t been aware of what she was doing or whatever; now, though, it reached a new level.

All she was seeing — and all she was really feeling in the moment, and all she was really thinking about — was the boy in front of her and his chocolate-colored eyes and their gaze and the grin that he’d worn and the sound of his laughter and him.

Were there even people around her anymore? She had no idea. Was the floor there? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t break eye contact to look down. Was she dreaming? This…this didn’t feel real. She was smiling, and dancing, and moving with him, but she also wasn’t really sure that that was what she was even doing.

She was caught in the moment; in the moment and in his eyes.

She still couldn’t stop smiling.

All at once, Angel jerked, as though he was breaking out of something, and his fingers pulled away from hers.

Abruptly, she became aware again too, blinking rapidly and shaking her head. She could feel her face warming as her heart gave a little squeeze, like it was mourning the absence of his hand against hers, and she felt her fingers begin to tremble. She looked away from him, her smile growing awkward. Clearing her throat, she pressed her palms against her dress, simultaneously trying to dry off the sweat and give her hands something to do other than shake.

The feeling she’d had was dissipating, but it felt like the moment ended far too soon. The thought crossed her mind that maybe, if she grabbed his hand again, they could go right back to the moment again, and she could get that feeling — that warmth throughout her, that kind of thud in her chest, that uncontrollable smile on her face.

Angel’s voice cut through the noise. “So, is it my turn to give you an art lesson?” She glanced up at him through her eyelashes, a curious look on her uncontrollably blushing face. “You make a great teacher,” he continued. “I feel like I can do anything…involving dance.” He launched into an offbeat little dance, which threw Kelli for a loop for a moment before she lifted her head up and began to laugh. “I think you’ve created a monster!”

That only made Kelli’s giggles grow more uncontrollable. She clapped her hands a couple of times encouragingly. “You’re nailing it!” she cheered through laughter. “Dopest dance I’ve seen in a long time!”

“So,” he said, stopping his dancing, “d’y’know any crazy tricks?”

“Tricks?” She cocked her head.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m a real fanatic for the robot,” Angel said. “Not just because I’m a robot guy. Although if there was a dance for aliens and lizard people, I would be equally as interested.” She laughed, and he was sure to add, “Kelli, if you’re a lizard person, now’s the time to tell me, because I’m not sure you can get any cooler.”

Kelli let out a few exuberant laughs, and then she held up a hand. “Wait, wait, wait, serious question: a lizard person as in a shapeshifting lizard person like Mark Zuckerberg or, like, a centaur but a lizard or, like, a reverse centaur but a lizard?” Her words were hard to understand through her giggles. “‘cuz regardless of the case — sorry to let you down, but I’ve got no lizard bones in me. But!” She held up a finger, which she tried to still as much as she could, though it was still trembling. “I do think that if I was a lizard person, I would have a dance. Something like…”

Her brows knit together as she assessed what a lizard person dance would even look like, and then she stuck out her arms from her body like a T-pose and began to teeter them up and down, while her legs did a square dance. She then, of course, folded her arms in and flapped her elbows as though she were a bird. The whole time, she was futilely trying to suppress a smile, and finally, bubbly laughter overtook her.

She did a come-hither gesture with her finger to get Angel to lean so she could whisper something. Standing on her tiptoes a bit, she cupped a hand to Angel’s ear to give her top-secret explanation of that top-secret last move. “See, that last part was so that they can confuse people into thinking that they’re not lizard people,” she whispered. “’Cuz, like, they’re like, Who would think that lizard people would do a chicken dance?” Proudly, she stepped back from him, smiling at him. “Pretty smart, huh?”

She held eye contact with him for a moment too long, and she felt a rush of how the moment had felt.

She broke eye contact and awkwardly giggled, her eyes glancing around the room. “Um…,” she started, with no real aim.

And then, of course, the excitable girl with the attention span of a cracked-up chipmunk spotted something that made her gasp excitedly.

“Cookies!” She pointed to a table in the corner, then she looked excitedly back at Angel. “Dude! They’ve got freaking snowflake cookies, what whaaaaat?” She grinned widely, her blue eyes alight with eagerness. “Come on, dude! We gotta go get us some!”

She instinctively reached out to grab his hand to pull him over, as she tended to do all of her friends when she was going to drag them places, but she found herself hesitating a long moment.

Thud, thud, thud. Why was her heart going crazy over that?

She felt her face heating up again, and she turned away, starting toward the cookies and again cheering, “C-Come on, dude!”

As she blazed the trail toward the cookie table, she couldn’t help but wonder: What the heck was that?

What the heck is this?

mood
: DDD

location
the ball

outfit
dress!

playing...
dance

by foxes​

mentions
bella, naomi, & the clairmonts

interactions
angel

tags
hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Zeph Evermore

Typically, Zeph wasn’t really the type of dude to get too nervous or self-conscious about himself – he was who he was. There wasn’t much else to say to it, but there were some situations. Some times with some people where he’d find himself thinking a little more about how his clothes might fit, how his smile might look, other tiny things.

Other times where this would happen included when he’d had that dumb crush on Ronnie (which he was totally over), and now, as he stood in front of Katya. He wasn’t really sure why that was – maybe because she was kind of intimidating, despite being far smaller than him, and not looking all too scary.

Well, maybe if you were scared of small dogs or rabbits, because that’s what the girl in front of him was akin to.

She asked him how the Ball was going for him, and Zeph responded with a simple shrug of his shoulders and a little chuckle. “Not bad,” he admitted, “just hanging out with my ahh… my girlfriend.” At the mention of Stella, he glanced around the ballroom to locate her, and his gaze settled on her… talking to an unfamiliar dude.

For a moment, his expression may have changed into one of confusion and jealousy, but not for long. Zeph reminded himself that this was Stella. Stella didn’t… she didn’t cheat, she wouldn’t, and he also wasn’t the type of dude that was possessive. That would lose his mind over his girlfriend talking to some other dude, or would get jealous, or whatever other manner of showing one’s insecurities. What could he say? He trusted her.

“What about you?” and again, he cast his gaze around for someone that might have their eye on Katya, or who might be making their way towards the pair, but after seeing no one, his eyes moved back to her, a slight tilt to his head. “Where’s your handsome date? Who got the amazing opportunity to escort you to this little thing?”

Well, it was an honest question. Katya was pretty and even if she was a little intimidating, well, being hot usually got you pretty far in the dating department. Maybe she just wasn’t a mega bitch, because apparently people here were really attracted to the bitches and the assholes (see: Ronnie going on a date with Mike after he made her cry).

God, that made him sound like some shitty incel.

mood
chill

location
the ballroom

outfit
snazzy. classy. very handsome.

playing...
Uh Oh

by Junior Doctor​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Katya

tags
qunqun

º º code by ditto º º

 

[gh0stwriter]

Lucky DuBois

He was definitely feeling it.

The drugs he took earlier. It was a relief. He’d learned to appreciate ecstasy. It wasn’t so much that it let him forget anything, but it left him feeling amazing. It felt like a head massage…but like through your entire body. Colors and sounds intensified. Everything was more intense. Everything had become so much more distracting…and that was his favorite thing.

“Guess you’re kind of, like, stuck with me now. Or like, umm…like…yeah.” A small smirk formed on his face as he glanced at the floor and then back at her. She always had a way with words. And yes, that was sarcasm. “It looks that way, doesn’t it?” He slid his hands in his pockets and breathed a sigh of relief.

He’d expected things to be different. Like everything else. Like everyone else. And when he and Ash hadn’t really talked…not that he had really noticed…hehad assumed that she had jumped on the bandwagon. That she had joined the crusade. And he would have been totally fine. Obviously. But things were the same. Easy. It was always easy with her. No judgments. No drama. She didn’t look at him like he was trash or something to be pitied. She just saw him.

“And…thanks. This is like, umm…too much skin or whatever, but Mikaela like picked it out, and I just…”

“She’s got good taste.” He tried his best. He really did. He tried to be the gentleman. Oh too much skin? Where? I didn’t notice. Lucky wasn’t that kind of guy. He knew it. And Ash knew it. And despite that they were strictly friends, Ash was hot. So, obviously, when she brought it up and was busy fidgeting with her dress, he may or may not have assessed the skin to dress ratio.

He approved.

“But I have to ask…” A serious look formed on his face. His hand reached out and rested on her shoulder. “Did you make your decision before or after you ate the strawberry candy?” He teased as he let his hand drop from her shoulder and let a small chuckle out.

Hey…it’s not like he couldn’t relate, but he at least took it of his own accord and not because someone couldn’t keep their drugs straight. Honest mistake…Mikaela wasn’t one that was going to let her drugs go that easily and she wouldn’t have intended to slip Ash something she wasn’t prepared for.

“You look good.” The tug on his tie sent shockwaves throughout his body…the ecstasy taking full effect. A smile formed on his face as he glanced over at her. This was why people always thought something was going on between them. That their friendship was somehow more than it was. But he wasn’t complaining. “Like, I dunno…you clean up well, I guess.”

“Always so surprised.” He said as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Where’s your date?”

Date? Oh yeah, he’d come to the dance with Amy. “Not really a date…you know you can’t tie me down…” He joked as he looked around. “It was more of a formality. I had the show…wasn’t planning on sticking around after anyway.” He shrugged as he took a deep breath.

The music transitioned to a slower song as his gaze returned to her. “So…I have a slight confession to make…” he waited until he had her undivided attention. “My mom may or may not have taught me a few dance moves when I was a kid.” He held out his hand. “Wanna see if I’ve still got ‘em?”

mood
defeated location
the danceoutfit
outfit

playing...
it's alright

by mother mother

mentions
josie, ash, kian, javi
interactions
ash tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

felix rian emmerson

“What’d you do over the weekend, Fefe?”

“Eh, not much.”

“Not much?”

“Well, I mean, I started a cult, but really, that wasn’t much.”

‘Course, thinkin’ back on it now, maybe he did downplay it just a lil’ bit for Slater. Hey, could you blame him for humble flexin’? It was either that, or Felix woulda went full force on braggin' on himself — which, granted, he wouldn’t’ve been undeservin’ of, but that really wasn’t his style. He’d much rather have people come to the conclusion that he was an all-around star of a guy on their own, ya know?

So yeah, he’d become a prophet of the Great Kiki, and he’d done a damn great job at it. Hell, if they’d stuck around long enough to actually get caught by the cops — which, ya know, he was thankin’ his lucky stars that they hadn’t, but in the off chance that they had — Felix would’ve been able to recruit them to the ranks of the Great Kiki’s devotees.

See, that had a really nice ring to it, didn’t it? Yeah, he came up with that himself.

His genius really went under-appreciated, ya know. It was a modern day tragedy, and he was in the starrin' role.

But really, imagine if they hadn’t gotten stopped. They probably would’ve had a full-blown operation by now. And sure, Kian would be the head, but everyone knew that Felix would be the brains of the shit. The man behind the curtain, if you would. That’d be pretty damn neat, don’t ya think?

Now, you might be thinkin’ to yourself: Is Felix fantasizin’ about havin’ a cult? His answer to you would be, No, no, not at all…but would you be interested in hearin’ about the Great Kiki, savior of all and founder of the new —

(See? He was a natural.)

Anyway, lots of other things’d been on his mind this week aside from the cult (though the cult was definitely at the forefront).

First of all, ya know, damn year-end tests and stuff. He was pretty good in his classes — he was good at pretty much everything you could think of, really, so that shouldn’t’ve been a surprise — but still, it was a lot of load on his brain, ya know? Not to mention, he’d gotten a speck of acid at the bottom of his jeans and that was a whole debacle. But hey, at least he saved the class from havin’ to do all of that work that day, yeah?

Second of all, his dad was doin’, like, a lot of speeches and stuff around, and he’d mentioned super briefly about wantin’ Felix to show face at one of ‘em, which of course Felix was down for. Any chance to be on screen was a place where Felix would be.

Third of all, though, was, well, what was happenin’ today: the good ol’ Winter Ball. Yeah, that was right — the good ol’ cliche of all teen dramas was, of course, present at good ol’ Hollywood Arts. (Yes, everythin’ was “good ol’” in Felix’s books.) Internally, he was takin’ little bets on how many people were gonna wind up 1) sobbin’, 2) vomitin’, or 3) pregnant by the night’s end. His money was on at least seventeen, but he couldn’t be too sure until probably a few months from now.

That was really beside the point, though. The most important thing about this dance was, well, the fact that he was goin’ with none other than the absolute doll, Maeve Ackerman.

The two’d been hangin’ out a lot since her return — chit-chattin’ a lot both in-person and over text — and, well, he just thought she was the cutest. They were friends, ya know, but friends could think that friends were hot. Anyway, he asked her to the Ball at the Arts Fest, and she’d accepted. They’d hung out a little bit this week, but never very long.

He was really lookin’ forward to tonight. Not only did he get to see her again, but he got to see her in whatever glamorous dress she chose, lookin’…well, he could only imagine, and his imagination got a lil’ bit wild sometimes.

“Cool it, Tiger,” he chuckled to himself, bouncin’ his crossed feet as he leaned further back into the cushioned seat of the limousine.

Of course he’d rented a limo. Why wouldn’t he’ve? They were gonna be arrivin’ in style.

Finally, the limo came to a stop, and the door swung open for Felix. With a nod to the chauffeur, he stepped out onto the pavement. He pulled out his phone, quickly typin’ a little “I’m here” text and sendin’ it to Maeve, and as the chauffeur stepped back into the vehicle, Felix leaned back against the gleamin’ black limo, an idle grin on his face as he looked up at the sky.

It was a sky, for sure. Unfortunate thing about California was you couldn’t ever see much of the stars. On occasion, you could catch one twinkle, maybe a couple of shines from another, but you never got to see a full sky lit up with anything aside from neon signs beggin' you to come blow your money at the places they were peddlin’, ya know? In the country — in the real, nowhere country — you could see everythin’.

It made him a little bit nostalgic.

There was a noise to his right, and he glanced in the direction of the noise to see a figure, standin’ just a bit to the side.

He felt his eyes bug a bit.

Hot damn.

A grin spread across his face, and he chuckled. He got a long whistle. “Really pullin’ out all the stops tonight, Maeve,” he complimented, pushin’ off of the limo and walkin’ toward her. He couldn’t keep from givin’ her another once-over. “Damn…you always look cute, but you’re really pushin’ it to new limits. That’s a whole look.”

He grinned at her for another moment, kind of lost for a second, and then he remembered. “Oh,” he said, gesturin’ to the vehicle, “your, ah…” He cleared his throat, tryin’ to make his face serious and formal. “Your chariot awaits, Miss Ackerman,” he teased, but a grin cracked across his face and he gave a soft chuckle. As she started toward the vehicle, he remembered what he had in his hand. “Oh, wait, wait,” he said, approachin’ her. “Your wrist?”

When she presented her wrist, he shot her a grin, then carefully slipped on the corsage of roses. Proudly, he beamed after he got it on her. “There,” he chuckled, and then he gestured once again to the limo, “nooooow your chariot’s a-waitin’.”

After she got in, he followed, tryin’ to keep his grin controlled.

He was damn lucky to have her as his date.

The whole way there, they chattered about this and that, but he couldn’t keep his eyes or his mind off of her. Her hair, her makeup, her dress…she looked so damn pretty. Pretty? Was that even a strong enough word?

Nah, he was feelin’ more gorgeous for her tonight.

The limo once again rolled to a stop, which brought their conversation to a halt. The door opened again, and Felix gave another nod to the chauffeur.

Once he and his date had both settled their feet on the ground, Felix held out his arm for Maeve, cockin' a crooked grin at her. “You ready to conquer the night, Miss Maeve?”

mood
hot date

location
the parking lot

outfit
you belong with me-e-eee you belong with me

playing...
take a slice

by glass animals​

mentions
slater & kian

interactions
maeve

tags
Stardust Galaxy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Isabella Dupont

@bellaissima has set their status to:
not good

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

@bellaissima has set their location to:
hallway at the ball

@bellaissima has mentioned:
Chas

@bellaissima has interacted with:
Casey

@bellaissima has tagged:
Winona Xed

Bella wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected in telling Casey her feelings. Maybe she expected a gentle letdown, maybe reciprocation. Never did Bella expect that Casey fucking Clairmont would laugh in her face, even that felt outlandish for the naive boy. Never did Bella think that something so simple would hurt so badly.

What was that feeling in the pit of her stomach? Guilt? Stupidity? Shame?

In the moment, the rest of the world melted away as Casey’s hands slipped from her bare shoulders. Casey’s lips were parted, his voice making random nonsense sounds in place of the silence. All Bella could do was look at him, trying desperately to remind herself that this wasn’t a big deal. Rejection was normal, failure was an important part of growing. She wanted to run as much as she wanted to stay for a reason. Even though Casey hadn’t said the words yet, Bella knew what was coming.

Bella stepped back, her hands slowly pulling back from around his waist while her face burned red from the embarrassment of it all.

"Bella, I ah… I ah... sorry, Bella, I don't ah... I don't really..."

Just get it over with, Bella wanted to snap.

"I ah... I'm sorry, I like... I'm with Chas, I don't... I don't like you like... like that."

Chas. Of course it was him, it was always fucking Chas Marino. Bella knew that their relationship was anything but loving, tolerable at best. Chas always seemed to shut Casey down, always berating him and acting as if his being was handcrafted by the gods to be better than everyone else. Chas didn’t care, but Casey certainly did. He deserved to have someone that cared about him as much as he cared about them. That wasn’t Chas.

Maybe if it had been anyone else, Bella wouldn’t have cared so much. As long as Casey was happy and respected, really that was all that mattered at the end of the day, even if he wasn’t getting that from her. What was it about Bella that put her below such a callous individual? Why wasn’t she good enough?

“So it is Chas, hmm?” Bella asked rather abruptly, words dripping from her mouth before her brain could catch up. “He does not care about you, Casey, you have to know that. And if he is the only reason you feel that way then…” Bella took a deep breath, shaking her head as the confidence drained from her face to be replaced with sadness. “I feel sorry for you, Casey.”

Bella’s gaze dropped from Casey’s face as her eyes began to sting and her throat began to close. She had to get out of there before she embarrassed herself any further. As the first tear spilled over her waterline, Bella swallowed and rushed past him.

“Pardon.” She whispered, voice wavering as she walked off, leaving Casey alone on the dance floor.

Her feet carried her away as her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides, breath caught in her chest and eyes rapidly blinking to keep the tears down. This was stupid, so incredibly foolish. Bella racked her brain for any reason as to why his words stung so bad as they replayed over and over in her mind, echoing between her ears without a chance for the sweet comfort of silence and peace.

Bella wasn’t sure where she was going, body moving without input until she was alone in a hallway. With no one around, no eyes to judge and no voices to rumour, Bella leaned against the wall and slowly slid down it. She felt stupid for crying but as she met the floor, Bella buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[jinxxes]

Rikki

Ellison

Let's get this over with

• .
• .
• .

• outfit
• location

  Rikki's house
• tags

  Harrowhark (Nikolai)

https:///www.rikki-ellisen.com/bite-me

What was the appeal in such grand events at a high school? Rikki could get trashed any time he pleased, far away from all the assholes he saw five days a week, and more importantly, away from any school supervision.

But for some reason, the occasiion attracted enough people. Including one Nikolai Beck: Someone who could actually manage to drag Rikki out to this ball without a fight. That didn’t mean he’d enjoy it; on the contrary, it seemed that was why he was chosen as their nightly companion instead of some random date in the first place. They didn’t have pressure with each other for any fantastical night, thank god.

Rikki’s prediction was as follows: The two would spend some time together getting absolutely shit-faced, maybe he’d be coerced into some dancing, and then ultimately they would separate as Rikki would grow tired of the crowd and Nikolai would flourish with attention.

Fingers plucked up a flask from the nightstand, unscrewing the lid to take a swig. Warm tequila… How.... wonderful. But Rikki wasn’t one too picky with alcohol. Whatever got him to be able to handle the night. Surely Nikolai wouldn’t mind him pregaming. It was his own alcohol, he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with it!

Brows furrowed, he took another gulp to wash away any reservations of the evening. He told himself it would at least be tolerable for his time around Nikolai. But… when they inevitably split…..

Rikki took a breath, shuffling towards the dresser to look at himself in the mirror. His jacket laid over top it in wait while he was situated in slacks and sa halfway undone shirt. It was probably time to finish getting ready.

He ran a hand through his blond hair, buttoned up his shirt to a more acceptable level and tucked it into his pants.

His phone buzzed. ‘OMW bring a flask’

Just who did they take him for? He needed to add some more to his own, but two flasks were set and ready for the trip. In one, the room temperature tequila, and in the other, sweet cherry vodka. The rest of the latter bottle was in the freezer, Rikki planning on gifting it as he wasn’t that into fruity drinks. He just figured Nikolai would prefer something a little nicer, it hadn't been a problem to obtain, really.

With a crack in his shoulders, Rikki straightened himself up. Nikolai, the speed demon, would not take long at all to get to the house, no more lazing around there were a few more touch-ups to put together before then.

Like the dreaded concealer. He eyed the little tube in hatred, picking it up and uncapping it. It probably would’ve been smart to do this before getting dressed up, but Rikki had been avoiding it. He wasn’t hopeless about makeup, he wore some for performances occasionally, but he hated the feeling of it on his skin. But it was worth it to look good, especially next to Nikolai. Bastard was probably ready to go down a runway or something.

Careful to avoid getting any makeup on the suit, he worked to blend out those dark circles. It was a quick but uncomfortable process before he was able to cap and put away the stain risk. Everything else to be done was rather simple: Slipping his jacket over his shoulders, socks and shoes on, and then a spray of cologne. He wasn’t doing anything too fancy, it was just… nice.

Refilling his own flask, and another swig straight from the bottle for good luck, it was now a waiting game, Rikki set to pacing to pass the time. Thankfully, the old hag was out for the night so there was no one to bug him on his inability to sit still.

The roar of music down the road came a few minutes later, Rikki found himself in the living room when he was alerted by the approaching synth-pop down the street. With an empty stomach and three large gulps of tequila, there was a hum through his body. Time to party.

Surprisingly, the music was cut off at the pull into the driveway. Usually, Rikki was forced into a walk of shame to the blaring sounds, so nice of Nikolai to give him some reprieve for once. Though he still wasn’t expecting her to come to the door. Grabbing the black bag of vodka from the freezer, and flasks neatly in his pockets, he made way to head out.

Opening the door, Rikki blinked as he caught Nikolai’s little grooming session. He had to hold back a small grin that threatened the corners of his mouth, finding amusement in Nikolai’s subtle embarrassment."Hey." He replied much easier than his friend. "You look beautiful." The compliment rolled out easily as he gave Nikolai a once over. He meant it. This was one of the more simple looks he'd seen out of her but- It was as gorgeous as a real lit-up night sky.

Keeping a steeled face, Rikki reached up to finish what they started. He smoothed out the windswept hairs. Much better. Though, was there really a point in doing that when it would get messed up again on the drive? Rikki’s hand hovered in the air for a moment as the realization dawned on him, then slowly retracted. Awkward. Maybe pregaming was a bad idea.

"I have something for you." Acting as if nothing had happened, and instead, holding out the liquor store black bag, handing it over for Nikolai to examine. "Can sneak back to the car for refills, maybe spike the punch." Now at that, his lips did actually curl up the slightest bit. An amusing thought, but Rikki was a bit too stingy with drinks to go through with it. The cherry vodka was for Nikolai, not all those extras.

Rikki took a couple of steps forward so he could exit the house, digging out his keys to lock the door behind them. Hopefully, his grandmother brought her own set, wherever she was. Oh well, it wasn't Rikki's problem. He stuffed the keys back into his pocket as he faced Nikolai again, analyzing her face. They were ready to face the night.

coded by reveriee.

 

[Winona]

Elizabeth Sterling

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD.

Had he really just asked her to dance?

There was a skipping in Beth’s chest, a small smile gracing her face at the offer. Naturally, being the super mature sophomore that she was, she kept this to herself. Like, her excitement. She didn’t allow her excitement at his offer to show on her face, instead giving a little careless shrug of her shoulders – as if that might make some kind of difference.

Well, well, well, it appeared as if her totally mature plan had totally worked. Bringing another date with her to try and make Spencer jealous? It had been pulled off without a hitch, and she was totally metaphorically patting herself on the back for her genius idea. Since, if Tori just wasn’t such a loser, then she’d be experiencing the exact same offer. Just with the lesser hot Gray. The older Gray. The one that clearly wasn’t even half the man that Spencer was.

Duh.

Beth had clearly gone for the better choice, because she totally knew what she deserved.

Her smile grew as she reached out to take his hand. “I would love to,” she said, trying to make her voice sound like totally sensual and sexual.

Allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor, Beth’s cheeks flushed a dark red when he wasn’t like, looking directly at her, and then she tried to like… make the color in her cheeks go away. Because wow, it was kind of super embarrassing. Like Beth was clearly into Spencer, but that didn’t mean she wanted him knowing that she was into him.

Oh my god.

As they moved out onto the dance floor, the music turned softer. Quieter. It was the kind of music where people would draw into one another, and Beth had never slow danced in her life. Luckily, she'd watched plenty of dumb movies with awkward slow dance scenes, so she felt prepared.

Her arms went up to rest on his shoulders, although she kept a fair bit of distance between them. Don't worry -- she'd draw in closer in time, wink, you just had to be nice and sultry slow about it.

Trust her, she was totally a dating pro.

As they started to dance, Beth following along with Spencer's movements, there was kind of an awkward smile on her face, and she wasn't really sure where she was supposed to look, but eventually her gaze settled on Spencer's. Her smile softened a bit as they moved, and she felt like she should say something.

Anything.

"Umm..."

Gosh, she was kind of bad at this.

"Is there some kind of like... cool... slow dance moves you know?" God, that sounded lame as hell. "Or anything, really. I mean you're a dancer, right? And I haven't had a chance to see any of your moves yet..." She trailed off, her lips creeping back into a warm smile as she blinked up at him.

Kind of batted the eyelashes in a super sultry manner.

mood
yeah, I got a hot senior date. suck it.

location
Winter Ball -- duh, where else?

outfit
red is, like, so her color

playing...
Heat Waves

by Glass Animals​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Spencer

tags
Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[qunqun]

MOOD: Bored.

OUTFIT: mmm fancy

LOCATION: Ball

basics

MENTIONS:
Stassi

INT:
Zeph Winona

tags

TL;DR Hello~

tl;dr

Katya

Katya was a politician first and foremost. It just came with the territory: be good at politics so that daddy had a reason to keep you around.

Made it seem like she hated her life, but not particularly. In fact, she couldn’t think of anything more fun than winning against a strong competitor - any means necessary, of course.

Was that evil of her? Perhaps a bit. Maybe Jace had a couple of brain cells after all, because Katya could be horribly vindictive if needed… only if needed, obviously.

That being said, the boy standing in front of her… hm. She could do better for a companion, but she could also do worse. Much, much worse. The shitshow that she was hearing secondhand from her sister could prove that much.

And speaking of her sister, she was almost positive that she had decades more self-control. Especially considering she kissed Jace… like a fool. A glance from Zeph, and a second where he looked jealous of all things. A relationship, but was it a happy one? She couldn’t quite be certain. But jealousy was certainly a lovely creature.

She wasn’t going to be kissing a taken man, obviously, but nothing said she couldn’t talk to him.

Another little quirk of her lips upwards. “An interesting hangout choice, with her on the other side of the room.” Katya said, though with a softness that sugared the words with a teasing nature rather than something that should’ve come off as much more rude.

She made eye contact when Zeph’s gaze returned to her, but it was quickly off. Looking for her date? How interesting.

The flattery was nice, and yes it indeed would get him quite far, another little smile appeared on her lips. Zeph, congratulations, you’ve officially pinged on Katya’s radar.

“I decide to go by myself. My sister is around with her date. I come in case she needs a-a…” Witness to her life crashing and burning around her. Scapegoat. Fast escape. “Reason to leave. Just in case, you know?”

She mimed a telephone with her hand, putting it against her ear. “Oh! Sister! I have the worst headache! You must leave your bad date immediately!”

Katya would’ve honestly done that for her sister as well - things happening here weren’t nearly as dire to her reputation and keeping her role as daddy’s favorite. She just liked giving her sister shit every now and then - like all good younger siblings.

“You know how it is.” A simple shrug. “But this means I have all the more time to be with friends.”

Another smile, as a thought entered her head. “Shall I count you among them?”

code by valen t.

 

[Soap]

MOOD: ... Fine. Completely fine.

OUTFIT:
Flower Dress, very classy, very Nellie.
​

INFO

LOCATION:
winter ball

WITH: Cappie

MENTION: Cami, Eli, Ash, Mik, Casey, Gen.​

ACTIVITY

0k_mang0

TAGS

Chanel Clairmont

— A Little Bit

There was so much to do.

Balancing auditions, school, the dance.

Chanel knew how to multitask, of course she did. She wouldn’t be her if she didn’t have everything completely organized to a T.

She stressed over her dress.

Every way possible, of course.

Custom-made, yelling at a mid-level designer through the phone when they’d gotten the flowers wrong, completely flipping out over the measurements at least three times because Chanel swore that he got those wrong and persisted— his errors had to be corrected.

Nevertheless, after much preparation and canceling an audition because her agent had booked her for the one day Chanel said she couldn’t be booked for— she needed the entire day to get ready.

Here she was.

She brushed a piece of hair to the side, parting the curls.

Why was she so stressed over a dance?

Good… question.

It was her first, real school dance.

It needed to be perfect.

Oh? What was that?

Why did she care so much when Chanel wasn’t even planning on going after Cami had scored a date?

Because… she realized that…

Okay, so maybe somebody offered to take her.

And that somebody had said they wanted her to have a good time, and maybe, possibly, Chanel liked the idea of that.

Maybe she felt a bit special.

She was home alone, thanks to her siblings getting their own things done earlier— Chanel had the space to herself, and she didn’t have to worry about pressing Camille and Casey for details about who they’re going with, what they’re wearing, how they’re getting there— because when Chanel didn’t approve of something, and there was absolutely no way for her to fix it, she did what she did best.

Pretend it wasn’t happening in the first place.

So.

Casey wasn’t showing up to the ball in a bedazzled flame suit with Chas of all people, and Cami wasn’t taking Eli Johannes as her date.

Nothing against the boy— he was irritatingly polite, and while Chanel still didn’t trust him, it was his sister she wasn’t a huge fan of.

Genevieve seemed over-protective and sensitive.

She shouldn’t be that involved in her siblings' love life.

What kind of controlling girl would do that?

But, that aside.

All was fine in Chanel’s imaginative world where she didn’t have to worry about anyone but herself for the night.

But what about Mik?

Dear god, no.

Nope, nope, nope.

She’s fine. Completely and utterly fine— and she didn’t give Ashton West drugs because Chanel decided to take Mikaela’s word for it and silently pray that the younger girl wasn’t a soon-to-be drug dealer.

Her family was fine.

Everything was fine.

A knock at the door had brought Chanel out of her spiraling daze and into another spiral like-state.

Did she look okay?

What was she doing?

Of course she looked okay.

She was Chanel Clairmont.

The Chanel Clairmont. Why would she be second-guessing herself?

The blonde saw him for a split second through the glass door of the beach house and straightened out her dress before opening the door.

It was nice to see him in something that wasn't a leather jacket, a hoodie, or a plain t-shirt.

He dressed up nice-- she's just pointing that out. Don't read into it.

It took him a few seconds to say something, and Chanel sort of… stood there, a bit unsure of what to say— or do.

“Wow, hi.”

“Wow, hi, to you, too.” She replied, catching his gaze and failing to suppress a smile.

Shut up.

Chanel moved out of the doorway, allowing him to walk in and furrowing her brows at the tiny package of coins he’d placed on the table.

“Merry early Christmas to you.”

A small box was handed to her with a silver ribbon at the top.

The gift.

Oh.

“I… didn’t get you anything.” The girl admitted, her gaze softening for a mere moment before Chanel covered up her guilt with a thinned smile for an apology.

With everything that’d been going on, despite her wanting to actually enjoy tonight and urging herself to ‘perfect’ it.

The thought of gifts had crossed her mind.

Already she was a terrible date.

Not date.

Not-date is what she meant.

Chanel had been on quite a few platonic outings before. Like… taking a plus-one to a premiere.

This wasn’t any different.

Granted, her plus-ones didn’t give her gifts, but…

She unwrapped the box, opening it to reveal a crystal necklace.

(Click the link, it's pretty.)

Anyway, back to the story.

“Cappie—“

“At least with a necklace, it won’t wilt away within a week like a flower. Also, we kinda match.”

It was gorgeous.

No, it wasn’t pearls, diamonds, or just about anything she was used to, but she loved small things like this.

Chanel was big on crystals, energies, auras, somehow, focusing on all of that— including meditation, of course.

Had helped whenever she was going through... an episode a tough time.

Natural stress-relievers.

Well, depending on the crystal.

Her gaze fell to the lapel, the shocked expression from the crystal faded into a small, but bright smile as she noticed the 'matching' lapel on his suit.

“It’s beautiful, truly. Thank you.”

She hoped he didn’t spend a lot of money on it. Not to be… overly rich, or anything, but Chanel knew he didn’t have a lot of… support financially.

He had quite a few jobs.

She might’ve told him that she was looking to hire someone to paint her room.

Chanel didn’t even want her room painted, but… he agreed to a generous amount of money an hour.

It’s not like it was pity.

She was just… helping.

In her own way.

Like she was right about now. “Tsk, tsk.” She momentarily placed the box aside, adjusting the lapel on his suit.

“Crooked.” She stated, looking up at him and smoothing out the collar of his suit before she realized what she was doing.

Instead of dwelling over the minimal distance between them, the blonde quickly handed the necklace to him.

“Can you…” Chanel trailed off, turning around and moving her hair to the side as his hands brushed the back of her neck while he clasped the necklace around her.

Clearing her throat, she adjusted the necklace.

It paired amazingly with her dress.

They were definitely going to be classiest dressed at the ball.

“So, shall we?”

__

She had to admit— they did a decent job decorating.

It was nice.

Chanel has seen better sets before, but it was nice.

…

Did you expect her to give a raving review? She gives what’s deserved, nothing more. What did one do at a dance, anyway?

Mingle?

A quick glance around, Chanel had already made up her mind about that.

No thank you.

Food?

No, she was barely hungry anyway.

Wasn’t the point of a dance to spend time with your date?

Isn’t dancing a bit too on the nose?

Apparently not as her gaze traveled to her sister and her own date, she pursed her lips, redirecting her attention to Cappie.

“I didn’t get to tell her how great she looked.”

Chanel didn’t want to be that person, ruining her sister’s night simply because she disapproved.

They were still in a weird place. Partly, and mostly Chanel’s fault that they were. Maybe she should just… go over there anyway.

Just to make sure everything’s okay.

As soon as she took a step in their direction, a hand was held out to her.

It took her a few seconds to realize Cappie was asking her to dance.

Her?

Dancing?

To… this weird, upbeat song?

No, no, absolutely not.

She scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head.

“No, absolutely not.”

…

He looked at her and she considered it.

“No.”

…

They kept eye contact and if Chanel was anyone else, she would’ve groaned in annoyance.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

“Jesus, okay. One dance.”

She pointed a finger towards him as if she was making a point.

“One.”

Nellie took his hand and they stepped onto the dance floor.

And… the song ended instantly.

Great! Now they can–

The lights dimmed and a slow song came on.

She wanted to sue the DJ for emotional distress.

Chanel took a breath through her nose and out through her mouth, placing her arms around Cappie’s shoulders.

Keeping a friendly distance of course.

Because… They were friends.

And this wasn’t an actual date.

“I…” She glanced around their surroundings, almost afraid to speak in case anyone was listening.

“I… don’t dance.” Chanel admitted, avoiding eye contact as they awkwardly swayed.

At least, it was awkward in her opinion.

She was usually good at almost everything.

Just not dancing.

Or singing, really.

Not like her siblings.

Acting was the only thing that was her own thing. Maybe that's why she flaunted herself around like she knew what she was doing. Because... she did.

It's the only thing Chanel was sure she was good at.

code by valen t.

 

[a z u l a]

ALASKA VAUGHN

A ball was something Alaska would never have imagined herself being able to attend just a few years ago. Growing up with barely enough money for groceries had meant there was never any chance of either Vaughn kid going to extracurriculars, she hadn't been able to attend any dances her first year of high school. Sure, it was disappointing, but as long as she had her music she was okay.

Besides, a ball wasn't the type of party she preferred anyways. She had no idea how to ballroom dance and didn't like most of the music they played. It was nowhere near as fun as a concert or a party with her her few close friends and a bottle of booze. This school was full of fakes, people who'd had their whole life handed to them, the kind of people she couldn't stand. Despite all of her reluctance though, she'd still very much wanted to go to the dance, just for the experience.

There were few times in her life that Alaska had been able to afford the luxury of wearing dresses. Her mother could never afford them, so she only got them when she needed to, which wasn't often. Alaska loved her ripped clothes because they were all she'd ever had, it was part of who she was, and it helped the punk aesthetic she had going on.

The way the emerald colored dress hugged her waist and accented her figure, she couldn't help but be jealous of the girl's she went to school with, they'd been able to afford these kinds of dresses their whole lives while Alaska had saved every penny to be able to buy a dress for the Winter Ball. She felt...different tonight, the fact that her Hollywood dreams were starting to come true was finally hitting her. Alaska had never felt this beautiful in her entire life, she wanted to hold this moment desperately and lock it away for safe keeping.

Unfortunately, she couldn't stand her in her bedroom looking at herself in the mirror forever, so with one last glance Alaska headed down the hallway where her brother was dating. Going with your brother to a school dance was probably the lamest thing anyone could do, but Alaska didn't particularly give a shit. There was no way in hell she was asking anyone to the dance, she wanted to enjoy the night and make memories with her friends. Ryder had said something similar, but Alaska was pretty sure it was mostly because he wanted to flirt with as many girls as possible.

"You look....tolerable." She stated, deadpan as she looked over the suit her brother was wearing. He'd taken to the LA life style much more quickly than her, it was as if he'd been born to attend a school like Hollywood Arts and hangout with models every day. Alaska was still struggling....a lot if she was being honest. Moving across the contry, switching schools, and being thrust into the spotlight was too much sometimes. Ryder had fit right in with everyone, but Alaska was having a hard time adjusting and navigating the new lifestyle.

The pressure was overwhelming, she'd made her entire family move cross country to pursue her dreams and she felt like she was failing at them. Ryder hadn't even been interested in the arts until she'd gotten accepted to H.A., and he was a natural at it. Alaska had to succeed to prove to her mother that this was all worth it, so she could pay her mom's bills and finally see her relax.

"And you don't look like you just crawled out of a dumpster." Ryder grinned, punching his sister's arm lightly as she rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. At least she only had to deal with him for the car ride, and then she was free for the rest of the night.

The car ride was quiet, as most interactions between the Vaughns tended to be lately. They'd always been different, but Alaska had never felt so distant from her own brother before they'd moved to LA. In Chicago, it had been them against the world, now it felt like Ryder was turning into the kind of person she hated the most. The kind of people like her father.

The siblings walked into the dance side by side, as they'd done their entire lives, before parting ways, like two snowflakes drifting away through a strong gust of wind. Alaska had done a shot before getting in the car, but god she already needed another one.

A vicious thought flittered across her mind for a moment, gnawing at the confidence she had felt while putting on her gorgeous dress, that perhaps she should just go home and curl up on the couch, that this was just a waste of her time, but Alaska knew that she was better than this. She'd done everything to chase after her dream, she could survive a high school dance, no problem. Even if this wasn't something she was a natural at, she deserved a night of fun. Now if only she could find her friends among the mass of sequined dresses and satin suits that danced across her vision.

mood
excited...............nervous......

location
the ball

outfit
kick ass take names

playing...
scissorhands

by maggie lindemann​

mentions
mentions

interactions
open

tags
none

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Ezra Gray

@EZGoing has set their status to:
I hate this

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

@EZGoing has set their location to:
the ball

@EZGoing has mentioned:
n/a

@EZGoing has interacted with:
Chas, Casey

@EZGoing has tagged:
hery Winona

Ezra Gray had taken it too far this time.

In the beginning, the conversation between him and Chas was entirely business as usual: Ezra joked and made Chas squirm, Chas served the energy right back to him, everything was perfect. Ezra never took life too seriously, a perfect balance for the Marino that took everything far too literally. That was precisely why Ezra continued joking around, pressing buttons and stepping over barely set boundaries.

But then Chas was in front of him, eyes darting around in the crowd and eventually landing on Casey and his dance partner. The exasperation and defeat in his features were enough to shoot a pang of guilt through Ezra’s stomach. But then Chas’s face once burning red with anger entirely fell and his hand, ever so subtly, raised to swipe a tear away from his face.

Fuck.

The speakers offered some sort of relief from the peering eyes of the crowd. Ezra silently hoped that Chas would calm down slightly, that his distraction would shift the energy back to the moment. He should have known better than to think it would work.

Chas’s words were sharper than usual, as biting and angry as the hands on Ezra’s chest shoving him backwards. All Ezra could do was blink, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as Chas continued his rant. For the first time in a long time, Ezra silently admitted that he deserved every word.

"If you think it's my pride that keeps me from entertaining any of this, then you're dead wrong. You don't know what it's like to live with obligations." A finger into the centre Ezra’s chest, a sharp inhale from the taller boy. "You wouldn't know what... Ugh! A day in my life would break you. An hour in my shoes would make you understand just how repulsive you really are. A minute would be all you need to understand why Casey and I just have to..."

Ezra’s head tilted slightly, a single brick from Chas’s wall falling to the ground. Weakness.

He should have taken some sort of sick pride in revealing a sliver of the private boy’s mind, uncovering a mystery so deeply buried that the lines between acting and reality became blurred. That never happened. All Ezra could feel was… guilt.

"If you're so bored and insecure you feel the need to stick your nose in my problems and pretend to help, maybe take a second to self-assess. You need a shrink? Some pills? Meaningless sex? A hit called? I could give you just about four hundred numbers, and none of them are mine." Ezra swallowed deeply. Yeah, he had really fucked up this time. "Seriously, Ezra. Fuck off."

Ezra, for the first time in his eighteen years of life, was entirely speechless. What in the hell was he supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to make a lighthearted joke and try to diffuse the tension? Was he supposed to serve the anger right back, bitch at him for making inaccurate accusations? Was he supposed to just leave?

No, he couldn’t leave, not while Chas was so upset. As much as Ezra hated to admit it, he actually sorta cared about the person in front of him. He wasn’t about to abandon someone he cared about in a time of need, even if Ezra was the person that caused the pain in the first place.

“Chas, I’m…” Ezra’s voice trailed off. He knew he was about to dig himself a hole that he couldn’t escape from. A soft sigh huffed from his chest. “I overstepped, and I’m sorry for that. Truly.”

God, he sounded like a fucking loser.

Ezra was no longer smirks and playful touches. Instead, his face was concentrated as he searched desperately for the right thing to say. He was used to walking on eggshells around people but Chas Marino was a fucking landmine that Ezra really didn’t want to set off. His hands remained by his sides, thumbs nervously tracing the lines and crevices of his other fingers. Upon noticing the habit, Ezra shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.

“You’re probably right.” Ezra continued with a shrug, slowly leaning to press his back against the flat wall behind him. “I probably am repulsive and entirely annoying. Honestly, if I was talking to me I’d probably punch me directly in the face. I really didn’t mean to make you so upset though.”

Real convincing, Ezra. An absolute speech of wisdom. Fuck it, apologizing was difficult and all Ezra sounded to himself was pathetic.

A few moments of silence passed between the two, Ezra still leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets and his eyes tracing the patterns of the fancy tile underfoot, before he spoke again. “You’ve got something wrong though. I don’t want to use you for some sort of entertainment or some outlet for whatever fucked up thoughts I’ve got going on in my head. Maybe it started out as a bit of fun at your expense but…” Fuck, he hated thinking. Ezra’s eyes drifted from the floor to Chas’s face. “I actually do like you, you know. I get that the sentiment isn’t reciprocated, not saying it has to be, but I genuinely do enjoy spending time with you.”

Ezra sighed once more, pushing himself off the wall and redirecting his eyes to the floor. He hated all this mushy shit and honestly, he didn’t know why he was trying. Chas had made it clear on more than one occasion that he genuinely didn’t give a fuck about Ezra. It would have just been easier to cut the ties and move on. Ezra just… couldn’t.

“Look, I know I joke and I tease and whatever else. But you’re genuinely a good guy, Chas. You’re funny and you’re clever and as much as you can be a dick sometimes, there’s a lot of good under whatever sort of barrier you’ve put up.” Ezra shrugged and returned to his position against the wall, this time with arms crossed across his chest. “And you’re right. I don’t know a lot about your personal life or why you’ve protected yourself so much. Maybe that’s on me, maybe that’s on timing. But I shouldn’t have been trying to break that down, you don’t owe me an explanation for anything so I don’t know why I was searching for one.”

Ezra didn’t know why he was doing a whole lot of shit lately, especially this. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he dropped the wise-guy act and was simply genuine with anyone but his family.

One of his hands reached out to rest on Chas’s shoulder, a calloused thumb resting on the collarbone hidden underneath the layers of expensive fabric. Ezra stood up straight to look at the boy in front of him, lips pressed together as his eyes traced Chas’s face.

“You don’t have to forgive me, but I really am sorry about tonight. You should be out there having fun, whether it be with Casey or someone else. You deserve to have good things too, you don’t always have to be pleasing someone else.” Ezra said rather warmly, the faintest hit of a genuine smile pulling on the corner of his lips.

A figure moving over Chas’s head diverted Ezra’s attention. There was the little blond boy of the hour. Ezra cleared his head and immediately removed his hand from Chas’s shoulder, hands shoved back into his pockets. Within seconds, the act was back: the smirk, the saunter, the raised eyebrow.

“Well well well, if it isn’t little Casey.” Ezra chirped, nodding to the boy approaching them. “How was the dance little man? Hope you don’t mind that I’ve been keeping your date here company.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Kian Phelan

@lockandkian has set their status to:
oh uhhhhh

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

@lockandkian has set their location to:
the ball

@lockandkian has mentioned:
javi & lucky

@lockandkian has interacted with:
damien

@lockandkian has tagged:
Winona

“Enjoy your night. I mean it.”

Kian sighed as the door closed behind Javi, leaving Kian alone in the dressing room with nothing but his thoughts and way too many different kinds of drugs.

This fucking sucked.

The mental battle instantly began. Javi and Lucky would be out all night so the apartment would be empty. He could just go home and curl up on the couch and watch some sort of stupid movie alone. At home, there was no fighting, no shitty music to follow up their set, no Damien. Kian didn’t have to use, there was a clear alternative.

So why was his hand reaching for the pills on the table?

Everything happened so quickly. Kian took a pill, then two, then three.

The high never came, so he did a line.

He wasn’t sure what else he did, taking in poison after poison after poison until his entire body was numb, until the monologue in his head finally stopped. Then, he simply sat there and stared at his twisted reflection in the mirror, his cold and clammy hands running over his features. Kian didn’t recognize the person staring back at him, he never did once the relief hit.

Minutes passed, the clock on the wall ticking the seconds away as Kian just sat and stared. At some point, he must have dozed off because when he looked at the clock next, it had been almost a half hour.

“Fuck,” he grumbled to himself, forcing his body up out of the chair. His hands gripped the countertop for dear life as his being threatened to float off into space.

Kian needed a drink and he needed some air.

Stuffing what little remained of his stash, Kian closed his guitar case and made his way out into the hall and then onto the ballroom. He found himself gripping at his clothes, running a hand through his already messy hair. The room was too bright, the people too fancy, the floor too unstable, the walls closing in.

He bumped into a body.

“Sorry my dude.”

Another person.

“Fuck, my bad.”

And then-

SMACK!

Kian stumbled slightly and fell directly into someone, his arms flying up and his hands gripping onto the person’s biceps to steady himself. A strained laugh fell from his throat, blinks tight and heavy as he slowly steadied his wavering body.

“Yo, fuck my man. Sorry about th-” Kian’s voice caught in his chest.

Oh fuck.

Act cool.

Act natural.

You’re not high.

Kian stood up straight as best he could, though the room kept swaying so his body kept shaking. His fingers were trembling, his blinks fast and pupils wide. Was there any way in hell the guy looked sober? No, absolutely not, but he was sure about to try.

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

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Harrowhark]

Nikolai.

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  mood

  
  
  
  

  Drown out the gay thoughts
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  outfit

  
  
  
  

  Night sky
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  parking lot
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  Rikki jinxxes
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Nikolai’s breath caught in their throat. This was a good look for him. It wasn’t realms away from his normal attire, he still looked all dark and moody, but more put together than usual. Slowly their arms lowered from their preening. There was no use pretending, but the least they could do was not stand there frozen like an idiot with their finger midwipe at the corner of their mouth.

As Rikki’s eyes gazed over them, a tingle spread down Nikolai’s spine. He didn’t have to look at them like that. And when he said those words, they were grateful for the full coverage foundation that covered how red their face must be.

This was just Rikki. It wasn’t like he meant anything by the way he stared. And Nikolai shouldn’t feel like this regardless of if he did. Because this was Rikki and this wasn’t a date. They must’ve been feeling extra attention starved today. That must be it, this feeling was only because they’d lacked human interaction, well, redeemable human interaction, for the better part of the day.

Yet, when Rikki’s hand reached out, Nikolai’s pulse quickened. Stop that! This was no time to play the drums at 120 bpm in their body. This was serious friend time. Talk to your friend like a serious friend right now! But words were hard to come by with Rikki’s hand in their hair. Had breathing always been a fight? Their eyes darted between his arm and his face until their eyes caught each other and he retracted.

Things slowed, including their heart, thank god. So, ignoring that,

“You clean up nice yourself.”

Back on the conversation track. Nice. Breathing was easier and the tingling subsided. Just an error in reaction, no big deal.

As expected, Rikki came through with the alcohol. Nikolai took the bag from him, slipping the bottle out just enough to read the label.

“Oh shit.”

This was good stuff. How did he even- on second thought maybe they didn’t want to know.

“I really owe you, Rickster,”

he’d figure something out, he always did. They slid the bag back over the bottle. Based on brief moments of conversation Nikolai had caught, it sounded like someone had already spiked the punch, but they could always double spike it. A little jungle juice never killed nobody. Actually, alcohol poisoning was responsible for thousands of deaths a year. But that was just a little detail. Those kinds of things only happened to other people. It would be fine.

“So nice of you to realize the benefits of sharing,”

Like they’d even be able to get the bottle inside. There was a lot the two of them could get away with, but a whole fifth was not on that list.

Nikolai stood patiently as Rikki locked up. Just for a second they smiled at the idea of him using a lock properly as opposed to picking it. What a rarity. They didn’t let him see the grin when he turned again.

“Are you taking me out to dinner first or are you just going to have your way with me in the car then bail,”

Nikolai laughed, nudging him with their elbow. Kidding, well kind of, he better not bail. They did not want to be drinking alone, especially while everyone was likely causing a year's worth of drama.

Back down the drive to the car, Nikolai had grown tired of the quiet. There were too many thoughts about… Enough! They opened the passenger’s side door for Rikki,

“After you.”

Very gentleman like. Shutting it behind him, they rounded the car. The moment they touched that seat, the car was on, blasting music right into their ears. Finally. No more quiet, no more thoughts, only Depeche Mode. Sorry Rikki, you have to sit through this.

Nikolai tucked the vodka bottle under the seat. After making sure both of them were buckled, not that they’d ever had a problem with Rikki and seatbelts, but he seemed like the type, Nikolai peeled out of the driveway, tires screeching. Whoops, whatever, who needed good tires anyway?

The drive to HA was just as fast as the one to Rikki’s house. There may have been a couple close calls when getting through yellow lights. It was a wonder Nikolai’s record was clean. The parking lot was already crowded when they arrived, that’s what you get when your mother is so nosey. At least this was fashionably late. Sure, they had to park a reasonable distance from the doors, but walking was a small price to pay for not showing up half an hour before everyone else.

With the car in park, Nikolai hesitated to turn it off. It would be plenty loud inside, there was no need to compensate, but yet, the idea of sitting here, thoughts uninterrupted with Rikki was frightening.

The engine died and Nikolai stuffed the keys in her purse. Time stilled, for a moment this was a bubble, the distant music and laughs tuned out as they looked up at Rikki’s face. It stayed that way for a couple blinks.

“You’re shit at blending,”

Nikolai reached out and grabbed his face, moment broken as they rubbed their thumb under his eye.

“This isn’t even your correct shade.”

What an idiot, they’d have to go with him next time so he didn’t look like a complete fool.

“Sit still!”

After several moments of dabbing at his face, they deemed it good enough, letting him go and backing away.

“It’ll be dark in there, but next time use a sponge.”

Only once they were out of the car did Nikolai realize how shaky they were.

“Hand me the flask.”

They held their hand out across the car, impatient as Rikki dug one out of his coat pocket. Nikolai snatched it up, uncapping it and sniffing the contents to make sure it was theirs. That was very cherry indeed. They proceeded to down half of it before grabbing the bottle from under the seat to refill it. The burn was soothed by the cherry flavor, almost akin to a cold medicine.

Within seconds they felt the buzz in their head and lightness in their limbs. Better, but not the amount of fucked Nikolai wanted to be. At least Javi had been kind enough to offer up drugs. They’d never bought from him before, but tonight they’d take what they could get.

With the cap secured, Nikolai hid the flask into their purse,

“Alright, lets go fucking party.”

ribs

lorde

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Soap]

MOOD: Okay.

OUTFIT:
Fairytale worthy
​

INFO

LOCATION:
winter ball --> Gen's house

WITH: Gen

MENTION: Landon, Nickie, Ronnie​

ACTIVITY

geminiy

TAGS

Livanna Moore

— All I Want

Liv waited patiently, her heart fluttering once they interlocked hands despite the dull aches she felt as she watched the tears brim Gen's eyes.

It was weird to feel jealous that somebody else had made her cry.

It was the last thing she wanted.

To hurt her as many times as she did before.

Her false promises.

Her white-lies she told in a desperate attempt to make them both feel better.

Liv’s made Gen cry before. Like at Halloween. In the study.

Or the time she called Gen to pick her up from the police station because of her own crossfaded stupidity.

She knows how it felt.

To witness someone you love crumble in front of you because of something you did.

It wasn’t a good feeling.

So, yes. It was the last thing she wanted.

But when you go so long without being that person able to impact just about anything for the other, you wish you were the one they were crying over.

“He up and left me.” Gen struggled to get her words out, and Liv shifted her body closer to her as she explained.

That was one of the differences between Liv and Landon.

Liv knew she wasn’t good enough for her.

Landon tried to convince himself he was.

How she knew that? Liv wasn’t a very bright girl, sometimes.

But she’d never leave her.

And no, it was more than just love, it was her own insecurities that made her afraid to ever consider brushing her off.

But Gen was the only one who made her feel like that.

Worth it, but afraid to be worthless.

It wasn’t her fault, it really wasn’t.

Liv just knew she deserved better.

And that was the fine line— that was their difference.

Landon believed he could do anything and still have her.

Liv would rather give up everything just to have her.

“He promised things would be different. He promised he wouldn’t hurt me.”

Was she the reason for that?

Was their relationship that painful; promises had to be made to be in another?

Selfish.

Trying to tie the connections between Gen’s emotions and her current relationship was selfish.

Connecting the dots she wanted to lead back to herself was selfish.

“Why did he lie?”

He didn’t mean to.

But she didn’t say that.

She wasn’t going to play advocate for him. Liv would’ve for anyone else in the entire world, but not him.

Not because she hated him.

Because once again, and for the last time, she'd admit that this was her being selfish.

“Why am I never good enough?” Gen collapsed into her arms, and Liv wrapped her free hand around her, softly making circles on her back.

Livanna blinked away tears, that suffocating feeling in her chest hurting a little bit more every time Gen sobbed.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re enough.”

She didn’t know what else she was allowed to say.

So, Liv just held her.

Muttering small things like…

“It’s okay.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“You’re okay.”

It wasn’t okay. Nothing about this situation was— or would ever be okay.

She was hurting.

And as much as Liv wanted to fix that.

She didn’t know how.

No, no.

She was just afraid to try.

Genevieve leaned off of her, and Liv watched her with worried eyes, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Gen’s face and wiping a last tear as the girl made distance between them, but Liv didn't make a move to stand up.

“I should, um… go.” Gen hesitated and Liv wished she didn't, because her mind was already reeling.

Did she want her to--

“Go. I should go home.”

Quiet. She was just quiet.

She wanted to offer, but she didn’t.

Liv nodded in agreement, muttering another okay.

She watched as Gen took her steps towards the cab, and Liv almost made a move to stand up herself— to help her.

But Gen had it handled.

Per usual.

The cab drove off and she couldn’t help but feel… worse.

She didn’t help.

Wasn’t it funny how much she wanted— and tried to help, but it was to no avail?

She couldn’t help Gen, she couldn’t help Nickie with Hunter, she couldn’t help Nate and Evie— granted, they were happy, but keeping that night a secret?

Liv was just an obstacle.

Or… like a meteor, causing destruction wherever she went.

She didn’t want to be.

The cab didn’t get very far before it stopped and Liv watched with furrowed eyebrows as the door opened and Gen stumbled her way, blinking in momentary surprise while Gen spoke, extending her hand.

“Liv. Please.”

She averted her gaze for a half-second, unsure what Gen was asking.

“Come home with me.”
__

She clasped the clutch purse closed, both phones and probably some other things had a hard time fitting in the tiny thing.

Gen struggled with the door and Liv placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, taking the key and turning it to hear a click as Gen turned the knob, opening the door to the ever-so-familiar house.

Deja-vu.

That’s all this was.

Coming back here early from parties, late-night rendezvous and impromptu sleepovers that she reminisced on so many times because it reminded her of… peace, maybe?

Serenity?

No, no.

Happiness.

Actual happiness, though. Not the fake smiles, champagne, music and dancing kind of happiness.

It was a different kind.

Everything was always different with her, even when things were terrible…

They weren’t as terrible with her.

The pair didn’t break eye-contact, and she allowed her gaze to travel.

From her eyes and down slowly.

She really did look amazing.

Tear streaks, puffy eyes, and reddened cheeks made no difference.

She was still... Gen.

Now was probably a bad time for compliments, though. A bittersweet, saddened but an amused smile came across her lips when she noticed Gen’s heels were nowhere to be found.

Liv followed her upstairs.

To her bedroom.

Which– held too many memories to count. The emotions that surrounded those were… well, they weren’t all happiness.

They had arguments.

Anger, resentment.

They had sex.

Lust, desire, jealousy.

She placed the purse down onto the dresser, looking around the room while Gen flopped down onto the plush blankets and Liv followed a suit, slipping off her heels, sitting down beside Gen with her legs tucked under her.

“I’m sorry. You-you should be at the ball having fun, not here dealing with,” Gen gestured to herself and Liv grabbed her hand to stop her antics.

She didn’t let go, though.

“all of this. I mean you look so beautiful, drop dead fucking gorgeous. You should be out there making jaws drop, not here with me.”

She didn’t have anybody she wanted to impress.

The only person Liv wanted to spend time with at the ball was Nickie and she was nowhere to be found. The only place Liv didn’t check was the parking lot because what were the odds of that?

She didn’t want a fake night.

She didn’t want to plaster on a smile for everyone else and take photos to post everywhere.

She didn't want to pretend tonight.

“You can go if you want. I can call the cab back, I’ll pay.”

Liv shook her head, immediately shutting down the idea.

“If you hadn’t come, I probably would’ve sat on those steps all night.”

Alone.

This was infinitely better.

She went quiet and so did Liv, softly playing with her fingers as silence sat between them. It wasn’t awkward. It was a comfortable silence.

“I’m so sorry, Liv. I’m so sorry for all of this. I can’t believe I even asked you here after everything I’ve done to you.”

What was she even going on about?

Liv knew she was drunk, but all of that…

Nothing mattered.

All that past stuff didn’t matter to her. She didn’t care! As stupid and as idiotic as it sounded. Ronnie would probably tell her it does matter and she should care but…

She didn’t.

It wasn’t like Liv didn’t put her through anything.

She did.

Relationships are messy. That’s what happens.

She didn’t regret anything that happened. They wouldn’t be here if not.

It’d be easy to say they’d still be together, but the truth was, Liv didn’t know.

With her luck, something else would’ve went wrong and she would’ve lost her anyway.

“Every time something goes wrong, you’re always here for me. No matter what sort of shit I put you through, you’re always there.”

“I could say the same about you.” She repeated, a small chuckle escaping as her hand caressed her cheek once again, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

“I’m never good enough for anyone. So why are you still here?”

A bigger lie couldn’t have left her lips.

It’d be impossible.

Genevieve Johannes was so much more than enough. And it shattered Liv’s heart to know that some people couldn’t see that.

Liv scoffed in disbelief at Gen’s words. “Gen, stop saying that!” Her words were exclaimed in the softest whisper.

Nobody hated Gen more than she hated herself.

Nobody talked worse about Genevieve Johannes than she did herself— and every single time it happened, it always got Liv feeling the worst way possible.

How was it possible to hate someone, but love them so much?

“You break the… bounds of enough.”

…

“You’re–”

Perfect.

Astonishing.

Amazing.

All of those worked. But the words alone weren’t enough to describe her.

Not the way Liv saw her.

“You are single handedly, the most incredible, brilliant and… astounding girl I have ever met.”

Big words for Liv.

But maybe it was the oxy kickin’ in. Giving her that little boost she needed.

Because she could pull out a dictionary and read off everything that remotely resembled Gen in the words that revolved around beauty and wits, but…

If you asked Liv to tell anyone how she felt about Gen, or… all the amazing qualities that she had…

She’d be completely speechless.

Because there weren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe her– and none of them in the slightest bit had enough meaning.

Simply saying I love you wasn’t enough.

Not for her.

So, she didn’t.

Liv swallowed, adjusting herself onto her bed and daring to lean closer to her– but not removing her hand from her cheek, instead placing the other on the opposite side, brushing her thumb against her skin.

She glanced down at her lips for a moment too long before meeting her eyes once again.

“You know why I’m here.”

code by valen t.

 

[natsukashii]

Hunter Drake

Hunter was seldom angry. He got annoyed and even pissed off, at times. He would shout out to the heavens for dramatic effect and would go for cheap shots that he knew would ruffle feathers, but very rarely did he find himself filled with so much ire that it threatened to explode past the cover he put on for not only Ronnie's sake, but for Nickie, as well.

Boy was it different, though.

Everything that Nickie said. Every word that came out of her mouth and hit him like the poisonous geyser that it was, he wanted to give it back to her ten times over. He wanted to make her hurt for how sharply her word cut him. He didn't know if he was going to make it through not showing any effects of it. Around her, he always found himself weak. Weak because, even in his anger, the feelings from the past were there. No matter the hurt, Nickie always held a part of his heart in her hands. In the past, of course, it was treated with care — that kind of gentle TLC that filled him up with joy and laughter, but now it was held in her vicegrip, sharp nails digging into it and the only reaction that felt equal to that was not letting her know that it ached in her hands.

So that's why he didn't say anything past what he said. After he told her to have a bad night, which was the Disney, family-friendly version of the go fuck yourself you spiteful bitch kind of comments he wanted so desperately to say to her face. He didn't do it for her sake. He held it together so she didn't win, of course, but he didn't want to make a scene — at least not here. Maybe on Twitter when he's had time to think about it and the storm inside had come to pass.

As he went to turn away and Hunter had a small smile of bittersweet victory on his face, it wasn't even three steps in did he hear Nickie's raspy voice, which was so obviously filled with emotion. It was the kind of rasp that one expected to come before crying.

“T-That line fucking sucked!”

He stopped in his tracks. His left foot, which was behind his right, had its heel up as he was in the middle of a step. He wanted to turn around, but he just stood there. Partially frozen from her outburst, of course, but also just wanting to let her get it all out. God, how it riled him up!

“God, so now you’re so fucking mature, huh?! No fucking reaction, huh?! You’re just so fucking over it, yeah?! So fucking over me that you fucking — so now, you’re just so fucking —“

I'm fucking what? Angry that you can't look at me because I hid one thing from you? Go on, say it Nickie! Just say it!

“I fucking hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I —“

And there it was.

Not the admission she just made. Hunter had expected it, but the way she said it. Bittersweet in both how he felt before and how he felt after. Hunter wanted to have the triumphant victory in belittling his ex to the point of crying. In a way, he got exactly what he wanted. He walked up to her when she was alone (whether she was waiting for her date or just was taking some time for herself didn't seem to matter) and he had initiated the conversation. He was the one who bragged about Ronnie being his date, knowing full well how that'd make her feel. He was the one who made her spit venom at him and then made her create a scene.

It was all because of what he did and for what? To remind her of the pain she caused him? To shove his happiness in her face? If he truly was happy, would he need to do that?

All the thoughts, questions, and little tugs that the voice in his head that had been silenced out by all of the bitterness he's been overcome by since Hickie was no more were starting to swirl chaotically inside as Hunter finally turned around. It was in time for his and Nickie's eyes to meet before she left.

As he stood there with the two cups in hand, standing between the beverages table and the table where Ronnie was, Hunter was literally caught between his past and present. Or maybe it was a tug-of-war situation. Anger and hurt was on one side while his conscious and its urge for him to do the right thing was fighting valiantly. If the latter won, Hunter would have followed Nickie and apologized. That would be the right thing to do, but he didn't.

Shaking his head and avoiding the eye contact of those who undoubtedly saw Hunter's little spat with his ex, he finally made it back to Ronnie. He had to bury what he was feeling with someone who actually did like him.

And this was perfectly fine. Ronnie was good company. She was good for him. She praised him when he needed it and she made him smile. Yeah, it would be fine.

"Sorry that took a bit longer than it should've. Ran into the ex and things got just a little ugly." He handed her one of the cups in his hands. "But a drink as I promised!"

mood
Bitterness vs the right thing to do = Hunter's mind

location
Winter Ball

outfit
Back in black

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

by The Offspring​

mentions
Ronnie, Nickie

interactions
Nickie, Ronnie

tags
hery ditto

º º code by ditto º º