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

[jasmyn]

"Life is much more fun in the fast lane..."
Josephine Bennett

@JosieCat has set status to:
"It's time-to-get-so-fucked-up-that-we-forget-our-names o'clock."

@JosieCat has set outfit to:
Little black dress but more fun.

@JosieCat has set location to:
Apartment >> homecoming.

@JosieCat has interacted with:
Trevor.

@JosieCat has tagged:
ditto

How did Josie get here? Where even was here? She heard people talking in the distance but the voices were muffled and she couldn't quite make out the words over the music. Wait, where was that music coming from?

Jo forced her eyes open, blinking a few times until the world around her came back into focus. Shelves? Books? What was she under and...ew, was that gum? Rolling out from under the disgusting table Josie struggled to her feet. Her hands flew down onto the hard, wooden surface as she caught herself from falling and glanced at her surroundings. How had she ended up in the fucking library? And what happened to her shoes?

Somehow without falling flat on her face, Josie managed to take a few steps to where her phone was...taped to the wall? Weird. She peeled the tape off of the device clicked the side button to make it light up. It didn't take her long to decide that there was no use in trying to make out the time. It didn't really matter what time it was anyway. Jo was ready to go.

Preferably before she puked up whatever cocktail she'd mixed in her stomach or ran into her ex while she was in the wrong state of mind to be dealing with him.

So, she made her way out into the hall and stumbled down to the big metal doors, feeling the chilly Los Angeles breeze on her face as she emerged from the building. "Big Berthaaaaaaa, where are youuuuuuu?" she drunkenly called out. That was definitely not the name that he had chosen but Jo could never really remember the actual name. Besides, knowing him it was probably not as fun as Big Bertha. What? It was a GOOD name. He said no to the Mystery Machine but she was pretty sure that one was only because he wasn't down for the paint job she offered along with the name.

Her bare feet danced against the cool concrete as she drunkenly wandered the parking lot in search of her roommate. After what Josie was convinced was three hours but was really like twenty minutes, she finally spotted the van. It was crookedly parked near the biggest palm tree in the entire parking lot which instantly made Jo facepalm.

DUUUUUH. BIG BERTHA, BIG PALM TREE. She had totally meant to remember that so she could remember where the van was. How could she not remember to remember so she could remember? Ugh.

"Oh my goooooood. I thought that I was gonna have to walk home and between us, I would not have made it," she started to ramble as she slid into the passenger seat and pulled open the glovebox to reveal yet another joint Jo had tucked away for the night.

As she lit it, she tried to tune into what her best friend was ranting about but it was hard to keep up. From the sound of it the night had gone super wrong and it had to do with Ash? That much she had heard, at least. Registering all his angry Irish "fecking feck fecks" was waaaay to much brainpower for a cross-faded Jo, okay? She was doing her BEST.

-----

Had Jo made it to the apartment? Yes, by some miracle. Had she made it to her bedroom? Not a chance. Everything was spinning and Jo was honestly trying to focus on keeping the contents of her stomach...well, in her stomach. She nodded and made some attempt to give Trev advice about his fiasco with Ash but he'd be a fool to listen to her in this state of mind (or any state of mind really) anyway, so.

"What the fuck, Trevor."

There was no mistaking that voice, Jo could've picked it out of a lineup. In a matter of seconds, her cousin had barged in demanding answers for Trevor's driving. How did she even know about that? "WOOOOOAH, CHARRRRR. HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT? ARE YOU PSYCHIC NOW? DID YOU FALL INTO SOME GREEN RADIOOOOO SLIME? I WANT SOME," the small girl leaned up from her position on the couch but instantly regretted it since it put her that much closer to hurling.

DO NOT PUKE. CHARLIE WILL KILL YOU IF YOU PUKE.

Once Josie recollected herself, her eyes moved to the couch beside her but to her dismay, nothing was there. "Heeeeeeey, where is cheese? Does anyone have cheese?" Jo questioned, looking around for the small plush turtle toy she was referring to. Don't even bother asking where it had come from because truth was, no one could answer. It sorta just appeared one day on their couch and Jo declared his name was cheese and that was that.

Now he was their apartment pet. Well, at least Josie considered him such since Charlie wouldn't let her get a reaaaal pet. She was pretty sure that she was the only one who fed him though which was like totally irresponsible of her roommates, right?

"IF SOMEONE LEFT THE DOOR OPEN AND CHEESE GOT OUT, I AM GONNA BE SOOOOO FREAKING PISSSSSED," Jo slurred, croutching down to look under the couch. As she stood back up, Trev was zooming past her and Charlie was spinning on her heels following after him and yelling out for him to come back.

Where they playing hide and seek or tag or something? How dare they not even ask her to join. "Guyssssss what the fuck, I wanna play too. I'm like soooo good at this game," she said as if she even knew which of the two they were playing. She started to pursue after them but her foot got caught on something and before she knew it her face was inches from the hard, cold wood.

"HEY! I FOUND HIM!!!" she called out loudly, cuddling the small toy from her position on the floor. Her eyes traveled over when she noticed a pair of shoes by the door...ones that had legs attached to them. "Oh, Linnnny," she greeted him, waving as pulled herself up to her feet again. "Have you met Cheese?" she questioned, holding the turtle out for him to see.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Kian Phelan

@lockandkian has set their status to:
2 kewl 5 school

@lockandkian has set their outfit to:
wow he owns black AND denim what a legend

@lockandkian has set their location to:
hollywood arts foyer

@lockandkian has mentioned:
Javi, Damien, Auguste, Oates, Callum, Niamh

@lockandkian has interacted with:
Mikaela & Tori

@lockandkian has tagged:
Xed @

Kian was convinced that he had up and died. When he woke up late Sunday evening to blinding white light and an entirely numb body, he was convinced that he had somehow died and ascended to whatever pitiful afterlife awaited him.

But no, he wasn’t dead. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, he really didn’t know.

Somewhere in the fitful almost two days worth of sleep, Kian had managed to tangle the sleeve of his dress shirt in the lamp on his bedside table, jerking it over onto his pillow. Then, in another strange turn of events, the lamp had somehow turned on right beside his face, jolting him awake in a complete panic. So much so, in fact, that he had rolled right off of his bed and onto the floor, arm still caught on the lamp on his bed.

“What the fuck.” Kian groaned, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and rubbed the sweat from his neck, Kian looked around his room and paused. His room. How the hell had he gotten there?

The night before was largely a blur. Jet Black Neon had played a set, that much was obvious. He’d fixed Damien’s tie. At some point, the self-loathing kicked in and he’d taken… fuck, what had he taken? Honestly, Kian couldn’t even begin to decipher the different substances he had funneled into his body, probably a large part of the reason why he really couldn’t remember much.

Beyond that, everything else was a blur.

Damien.

For some reason, Damien’s face kept popping into Kian’s mind. Even as he cradled his head in his hands in a desperate attempt to soothe the thudding in his skull, his thoughts kept drifting back to his… friend? Sure, that sounded about right.

It took him an additional day to gather his thoughts, the final details becoming clear to him as he lay in bed tossing and turning with muscle aches and sweats. Slowly but surely, Kian began to piece the rest of the night together: Damien’s tie, the performance, the drugs, his following argument with Damien. The only piece that was missing was how the hell he had gotten back home.

By the time Tuesday rolled around, Kian’s questions were answered. Auguste, that great big ol French dancer dude, had come to his rescue and walked him home. Right, totally not embarrassing at all, acting like a total child in front of a complete stranger. Totally fine. Of course he thanked the boy for his help, though he felt entirely awkward the entire time but mostly thankful for the fact that he hadn’t spent the night on the streets. He also vowed to promptly never mention the situation again, getting the feeling that Auguste would do the same.

Kian had also managed to swallow his pride and type of a real pathetic sounding apology to Damien, which promptly failed. That bridge was entirely burned.

After picking up his car on the way to class, Kian managed to arrive at school in one piece on Tuesday morning. To be honest, Kian wanted to be anywhere but going to stupid history class. His bed sounded real nice, or maybe his sofa with a cup of tea and one of those old movies where you can barely tell what’s going on through the copious grain and lack of colour. Unfortunately, there he was in the foyer of the school keeping up his end of his own stupid self-promise.

No more drugs. You’re going to stay clean, get yourself back on track. You’re going to go to school and keep your head down and work on your music and leave everything else behind.

That had been the plan until once again, another wrench was thrown into the mix.

Fucking Oates. It was always fucking Oates. Kian hadn’t thought much about him since their little picnic disaster, turning his ex-boyfriend into some forbidden subject of thought. He had made his choice, Kian wasn’t good enough. He’d moved on with some wanna be Edward Cullen, that was his business. But now, Niamh was getting involved and dragging Callum into places he didn’t blong and Oates was all pissed off and withholding information and-

Fuck it. His promise had been to go to school, not to class specifically. Kian was standing in the foyer, surely that was enough. Turning tail to leave, Kian paused when he spotted two familiar faces talking by the doors. Might as well say hi before leaving. With a wide grin and a gnarly as hell hang ten, Kian strutted his way over.

“Mikky Mik and Tori-nadoooo,” Kian greeted with an impish grin, “fancy meeting ya here. Whatcha up to?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Zeph Evermore

There was something so very... well, it was heartwarming or something cheesy about sitting here with Stella. There was a blush to Zeph's cheeks, but he'd never felt so... at home in her presence or something like that. Sure, they were close friends and he'd always trusted her, but... something about tonight.

Something about tonight was making him giddier and happier than normal. Like he felt as if he was on cloud nine for the first time in what felt like forever -- as if everything was finally going right. There was a grin on his face that couldn't be erased, and even if he was kind of cold and damp thanks to the whole water and sand thing, he was still far from miserable and just so... so very, very happy.

"It's amazing," he said with a smile, looking down at the castle that honestly... honestly could've looked a lot better. "I love it." He chuckled, looking from it back to her.

She leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, and Zeph's heart kind of pounded its way up to his throat.

God, he loved her.

Err not--

Not like that, he just--

Anyway.

Ahem.

"I think that's probably enough beach for the night," he said as he stood up, brushing the sand from his clothes before holding out a hand to pull Stella up, too. "What do you say we head out?" He asked, "We could go back to my place, or your place, clean up, watch a movie if you're not ready to sleep yet..."

He trailed off as he leaned over, picking his shoes up with one hand and his jacket with the other, which he held out to Stella. "Cold?" He asked.

mood
chill

location
the ballroom

outfit
snazzy. classy. very handsome.

playing...
Uh Oh

by Junior Doctor​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Stella

tags
Kitsune2202

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Ezra Gray

@EZGoing has set their status to:
long time, no see

@EZGoing has set their outfit to:
polished

@EZGoing has set their location to:
hollywood arts hallway, isaac's locker

@EZGoing has mentioned:
Tori

@EZGoing has interacted with:
Teo, Isaac

@EZGoing has tagged:
qunqun dear.szmm

“Pushover? Really know how to make a guy feel appreciated, huh. And here I thought you were going to be the flake.” Ezra couldn’t stop the smirk from growing on his lips. So the boy had a true bite to him, how intriguing of him. Teo’s finger tapped the cigarette, pulling Ezra’s eyes down from looking over Teo’s face to the faintest glimmer of ashes snuffing out against the pavement. “You took an awfully long time getting here, Ezra Gray.” Ezra looked up from the ground just in time to catch Teo’s next words. “Drama?”

Drama? The hell did that mean?

Clearly, Ezra’s little pal had seen his conversation with Tori earlier. How entirely wonderful. Ezra’s jaw tightened at Teo’s words, a deep swallow moving his throat. Why was he even asking about Tori anyways? It wasn’t like any of that was his damn business.

“Teo, mate, I get it: I’m hot. Next level hot, honestly. I don’t blame you for staring.” Ezra’s smile turned wolfish, all teeth and charm. “But spying?” Ezra shook his head with a tsk tsk tsk. “Honestly, a new low for anyone. Honestly, I’m considering just leaving your nosey ass here so I can get on with my lovely evening.”

Teo’s hand reached into his pocket, fishing out a flask. “In any case, have a drink.”

Ezra took the flask in his hand and carefully unscrewed the top, lifting the metal to his mouth and taking a swig. “Now you’re speaking my language. Maybe you’re not such a stuck up bastard after all.”

Seemingly disinterested, Teo (surprisingly) hopped into Ezra’s now unlocked car, leaving Ezra to follow suit and slide into the driver’s seat. As soon as the keys twisted in the ignition and the engine roared to life, the melodic and horribly loud voice of Bing Crosby echoed off the windows of the car. Ezra’s hand shot out to turn the radio down, shifting slightly in his seat.

“Sorry about that,” Ezra apologized quickly as he handed the flask back to Teo and clipped his seatbelt into place, “I tend to listen to my music a bit loud when I drive alone. Forgot to turn it down before I got out.”

Ezra cringed at his own words. Veeeeery charming, man, you’ve really got it going on.

Fuck, he needed a drink.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡​

Let’s cut to the chase and speed run the rest of Ezra’s very magical evening with Teo, shall we?

When they arrived at the apartment, it had been pleasantly empty. With a flask in hand, and a half-finished bottle of tequila on the kitchen counter, Ezra had wasted little time. Normally, he’d take some time to get to know his guest, perhaps cook them a meal or offer them a better drink than cheap, three day old tequila. But this time, Ezra was in a rush to get drunk and fuck out his feelings and, let’s be honest, Teo hardly seemed interested in conversation.

The less time talking, the better. A rather tipsy Ezra and Teo did what they had come there to do, quite satisfying in Ezra’s eyes. Honestly, for someone that seemed to have a habit of getting on his nerves, dude was pretty good in bed. After they were done, Ezra polished off the bottle of tequila and passed out on the couch. He wasn’t even sure where Teo had gone. All he knew was that in the morning, when he woke up hungover and in desperate need of a shower, Teo was nowhere to be found.

Look, this wasn’t his proudest moment. Once again, Ezra felt that sinking guilt in his stomach. He’d hooked up with plenty of people before but his experience with Teo was just so impersonal. There was no treating his guest, no making them feel comfortable or important even for an evening. If Ezra was being honest, he felt like he had just used Teo to block out whatever bullshit was rattling around in his brain.

Who was he kidding? That was absolutely what he did and it fucking sucked in the aftermath.

Monday went by as Monday did: working on assignments, trying to catch up on the endless amount of incomprehensible calculus homework, though that task was made significantly easier when early Tuesday morning, Auguste had promised to assist him in getting better notes for the class. Total score, Ezra really couldn’t afford another ding to his GPA.

By Tuesday, the antics of the weekend had been largely washed from his mind, replaced by pottery ideas and endless numbers floating through his head. There was the added bonus of Isaac, a good friend of his from his childhood, that had arrived at the school. Finally with some air to breathe and some time to kill, that was precisely who he was on his way to see.

Walking up to Isaac’s locker, Ezra carefully pushed the door shut with a laugh as he pressed his back against the metal doors on the other side. “Well well well, if it isn’t jolly ol’ Isaac Carlisle.” Ezra reached out a hand with a wide grin. “I gotta say, I think you’ve grown a little since I last saw you. Still knee-high to a grasshopper though. How’ve you been, man?” Ezra raised a finger. “Hold that thought. How about we take a little break from classes to answer that question. I know, I know,” Ezra gave a very dramatic shrug, “I’m a horrible influence. But come on, it’ll be fun! Plus, we have to catch up, mate. It’s been too long.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

Tonight was a night you wrote a song about.

Luhmao, not that Lin was, like, poetic or anything when it came to, like, every day life and finding songs in them, but, like, get some bumping beat, a little bit of pumping bass, and some lyrics like, “I danced the night away with the girl of my fuckin’ dreams,” and you had a fucking banger.

‘Course, any Lin Kay song was a banger, ‘cuz he was fucking Lin Kay, luhmao.

Anyway, luhmao, sweaty and mostly exhausted, Lin and Charlie finally ambled their ways out of the ballroom and into the crisp winter air, their fingers laced together. “I’m fuckin’ wiped,” Charlie murmured. “It’s pretty exhausting winning all those dance battles. You’re gonna have to up your game if you’re gonna keep up with the pro.”

“Winning?” Lin’s faced crumpled with half-real offense as she poked his bicep. “Ess-em-aych.” He grinned slightly, walking over to Richard as Charlie pulled away from him. “If you got exhaustion from winning, it must’ve been secondhand, luhmao,” he said, bending down. He gave the handlebars a quick little grip — a tradition to test that they were attached, ‘cuz it would suck ass if they suddenly popped off while he was driving, duh, ess-em-aych — then turned around to check and see if his girlfriend was ready.

He was caught by her image the second he turned. His heart gave a solid thud. In the glow of the single light overhead, Charlie’s hair looked like a blonde halo, framing her soft, shadowed face in an almost ethereal way. Her dress was ruffled, her makeup was all slightly smudged. Her skin gleamed from their long night on the dance floor. Her blue eyes, twinkling and seemingly engrossed with some object in the sky, gleamed with an almost nostalgic look.

He’d never seen her look so…no, pretty wasn’t enough, and beautiful wasn’t enough.

Lin wasn’t exactly a poet, luhmao. He wished now he was.

Charlie laughed softly into the night’s still air. Lin looked up, his eyes narrowed and his brows knit as he searched for what Charlie may have been looking at. Was it the streetlight? Small, fluffy moths bonked against the plastic covering. Nothing really special. With a confused chuckle, he cocked his head at his girlfriend. “What?”

“Remember homecoming?” she asked.

“Homecoming?” Lin repeated curiously, stepping toward her with gleaming Richard in tow. “Not much,” he snickered. “What about it?”

“When we were walking home, you were totally transfixed with the little moths by the streetlights,” Charlie said. “Like I’m talkin’ laser focus here, it was pretty intense. I don’t remember a whole lot from that night outside of, ya know, all the shit happening with my fist and Chas’ face. But for some reason I remember that.” Charlie’s warm laughter was contagious, so Lin couldn’t help but chuckle at her recollection, too.

Her blue eyes moved to meet his. “You know, it’s kinda funny,” she continued. “If you had told me then that I’d be with you now, going home from a totally awesome ball with you as my totally awesome arm candy, I would’ve called complete bullshit.”

Lin grinned widely. It was funny. Totally fucking crazy. Never in a million years would he have imagined doing anything with the girl who he’d sworn to be his rival (except pummel her at every competition they ever had going) a few months ago. As little as he recalled about Homecoming, given that he was plastered for most of the night thanks to him beating Ash’s ass at a drinking competition, he knew his mindset was the same then: Charlie’s my rival, at best my friendly rival, and never anything more than that.

Luhmao. His tune had really changed.

He chuckled as she stepped closer to him, her arms snaking around his waist and pulling him closer. He looked back just long enough to kick out Richard’s stand, then looked back at her with a grin.

“For what it’s worth though,” she said, “I’m certainly glad we proved everything wrong.”

Thump. His heart pounded in agreement. Hell yeah.

Charlie’s lips met Lin’s, and he savored the moment in the cool winter air, his hands moving to her hips as hers moved to wrap around his neck as every part of him felt electrified and completely, entirely fucking content. They were two giants in a world that was completely theirs; they were two stars showing their beams, never to burn out.

Slowly, Charlie pulled away. He could tell, even through the little foundation that remained after their long night of busting a move, that her cheeks were flushed. When she smiled, he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thank you for an amazing night, Terminator,” she whispered softly.

“Thank you for an amazing night, Terminator,” he said, his grin spreading wider.

“I couldn’t have asked for anything better than this, being here with you.” Thump, thump, his heart repeated. “With everything that’s been going on lately, it felt like nothing was ever gonna be okay again. But with you, it seems like maybe things won’t be so bad.”

Her lips gently pressed against his. His heart fluttered.

She pulled back enough to talk again. His eyes locked in on hers. “Lin,” she started, “I love—“

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!

Lin jerked back at the loud squealing. “What dat?” The words popped out of his mouth before he could register what was going on. His neck craned as Charlie pulled away, his eyes moving away just in time to see a van tearing out of the parking lot. “A pissed soccer mom?” he asked, his brows pulling together.

Suddenly, it registered: no, no, the pissed soccer mom.

It seemed to register with Charlie at the same moment. “Fucking Trevor,” she hissed. “What the hell is he doing?” She whipped her phone from her pocket, and Lin looked at her concernedly.

She whipped around, and one thought crossed Lin’s mind: oh shit.

Girl was pissed.

Trev was dead.

(No one would miss him anyway, luhmao.)

“I’m so sorry. I-I’ve gotta go check that out. Driving like a complete fucking moron is even a new low for him.” She hopped onto her bike. “Look, come with. I’m sure it’s no big deal. I’m just going to check the apartment. And hey, the roomies are out tonight. Maybe you can stay the night?”

Charlie didn’t wait for an answer, instead pushing off and peddling into the night.

Lin watched after her for a couple of seconds, his brain taking a couple seconds to play catch up.

Fingers crossed it was nothing, and fingers crossed that if it was something, she could take Trevor out in less than two minutes, luhmao.

He had money on how long it would take her to kill him when she really put her mind to it.

……………………​

The race was the kinda race that, uh, wasn’t really a race against another person so much as it was a race against the clock. Charlie seemed a little bit frazzled — or, luhmao, a little bit was a big understatement, so he should probably say really fucking frazzled — as they peddled back to her apartment as quick as they could, and if Lin wasn’t feeling so concerned from Charlie’s concern, he would probably just be kinda laying back and admiring how the fuck Charlie was able to drive her bike in a Ball dress, luhmao.

But no, this kinda involved being serious. Or probably something like it. Wasn’t really his attitude toward it — he honestly didn’t care — but he kinda cared because, ya know, Charlie seemed to. He didn’t care much, though.

He hopped up the stairs two at a time, as was Lin’s typical style, and he stepped in a few moments after Charlie. As he stepped in, there was a loud wham!, followed by a furious Charlie screaming, “What the fuck is wrong with him? Get back here!” As her yells echoed through the halls, Lin put his hands on his hips, looking around.

"Guyssssss what the fuck, I wanna play too.” The voice was familiar, and Lin searched until he found Jo’s face, which was pouting pleadingly after Charlie’s furious, small figure. “I’m like soooo good at this game.” She stood up, but then she, well, fell, luhmao.

‘Course, Lin couldn’t help but snicker, and then: “HEY! I FOUND HIM!!!…oh, Linnnny.” Jo lifted herself back up.

“Yo, Jojojoey,” he greeted, lifting up a peace sign as a sort of wave. “‘sup, luhmao.”

“Have you met Cheese?" she asked, holding out a small plush turtle.

Lin gasped, excitedly reaching out for the little guy. “No, luhmao!” He snatched him away, studied him for a moment as he held him out from his body, then cuddled him close. “He’s just a widdle cute guy, isn’t he?” he cooed in a baby voice to the plushie. “He’s just adowable, wuhmao!”

He cocked his head at Jo, unfurling his position slightly. “Dude, you look crunk, luhmao,” he cackled. “Ball got you jiggy?" he asked.

mood
luhmao

location
charlie's apartment

outfit
kachow ; )

playing...
we'll be okay

by lindsay kay​

mentions
trev

interactions
charlie & jo

tags
geminiy jasmyn

º º code by ditto º º

 

[qunqun]

MOOD: Hm.

OUTFIT: School material.

LOCATION: School.

basics

MENTIONS:



INT:
Ez geminiy
Nikolai Harrowhark

tags

TL;DR You're boring.

tl;dr

Teo

So, the great Ezra Gray. How did he fare?

Well, he was alright.

Not good, not bad… just…

Alright.

A lot more bark than actual bite, to be quite honest.

A bit disappointing.

See, Teo had been looking for a challenge. And he thought he’d found an interesting match in Ezra - a fellow asshole who hated emotions. Even more interesting with the challenge within the first minute of talking to him.

Great windup, disappointing follow through. Especially because he’d passed out after.

No.. That wasn’t even the boring part. It had taken just one word - one question to get under his skin. Too easy, how disappointing.

Oh well, the sex wasn’t half bad.

Nothing special enough to stick around though.

All in all, a run of the mill hookup that honestly had disappointed Teo with how ordinary it’d been. But, he’d gotten what he came for. A flash of warmth, and the joy of infuriating someone.

Entertainment.

Did that make him an ass for using Ezra for entertainment? Yeah. He wouldn’t doubt it. But to be fair, Ezra was using him for… well, what was probably something stereotypical like “fucking his emotions out.”

Considering how offended he responded to the drama, Teo could only assume that something like that happened. Poor guy was figuring out that he wasn’t actually made of stone - shocker. Wow.

Could this have happened after Teo had had his hookup? No? Oh well. Poor baby. Who cares. He gathered his things when Ez had passed out - Christ if you couldn’t be mentally stimulating could you have at least put more effort into being physically?

But alright, whatever.

Mutual using for sex? Alright, his conscience could live with that.

He walked into the school after a day of studying and absolute boredom, his cigarette casually snuffed out in a trash can.

Teo walked down the hall, feeling rather bored. A dangerous, dangerous combination - that is, Teo and his default emotion: boredom.

And that’s when he spotted another self-identified whore: Nikolai. And another giant. He’d seen their style on twitter, hopefully they’d fare better than Ezra.

Teo was a giver, after all, and hungry for stimulation.

Alright Nikolai, dazzle him. Try not to bore him.

“Hey. Teo Wright, nice to meet ya.” A hand directed towards Nikolai. New day, new little fling of entertainment.

code by valen t.

 

[ditto]

trevor callaghan​

Trevor, gripping his head furiously in his hands, murmured slurred, repetitive words, his breathing labored as though the repeated words were simultaneously growing the rage inside him and causing his mental decay to grow more and more and more: “Ican’tfeckin’believe — believe — I can’tfeckin’believeit…,” he muttered, or, “Myfeckin’headmyheadmyfeckin’head…,” or, “Canyafeckin’believeit? I’mafeckin’idiotidiotfeckin’gobshitefeckin’idiot,” or perhaps none of those things, because there was surely no one besides himself that could understand what he was saying. If anyone could, the only witness to this complete feckin’ breakdown was too plastered and zonked to even really be a witness and was not really paying any attention to his words, so she definitely couldn’t.

Trevor didn’t hear the door open, nor did he register that he was hearing a voice besides Jo’s until two blurry feet appeared between the frames of his elbows. “What the fuck Trevor?” demanded the voice.

“Ohfeckin’shitethisisnotthefeckin’shiteIfeckin’needrightnow,” he thought, unknowingly aloud, and he slowly trailed his eyes up to Charlie as she yelled some kind of words that didn’t register with him, his jaw clenching and his brows pulling back in dread.

“Are you fucking faded right —“

His jaw clenched. This was the last fucking thing he needed. “Fuck this,” he said, shoving himself up and taking off running before he could even fully gain his balance. Almost faceplanting in his effort to take off and avoid his roommate’s questions, Trevor took off as fast as he could down the hallway and to his room.

SLAM!

The door rattled in its frame, and its cry echoed in his skull painfully.

BAM!

Trevor fell to the ground, his carpet catching his body. He didn’t realize he’d fallen for a moment, and even after he had, he made no motions to move.

BANGBANGBANG! “Sean Trevor Callaghan, open this goddamn door RIGHT NOW or so help me everything that is holy I will break this fuckin’ door right off its frame!”

His body tensed. He drew in a deep breath let out a loud, guttural scream: “FUCKALLTHISSHITE!”

Shoving off the ground, Trevor turned around to the shelf beside his door. With a forceful, furious grunt, he yanked it down, where it landed with a loud crash. His books spilled out, several of his journals splaying open.

One of them fell at his feet, and as he bent down to pick it up, he realized it was his red journal.

The red journal. The one he’d read to Ash from on that one date, the one that he’d written all the things about her in, the one that —

Almost involuntarily, through the blurry, red-tinted lens of rage, Trevor’s hand reached forward and grabbed a fistful of the paper that he’d taken such great care to keep nice and flattened with words that he’d taken great care to write lovingly, with letters that curled consistently and is dotted with precision and ts crossed with the subtle hope that one day he’d be reading these all to the girl who he thought that he fucking loved when he wrote them. As he ripped the pages out, starting with the papers in his hand and then beginning to rip them one by one, and crumpled them into balls that he flung to the ground, the wrath within him built and built and built, all pressing behind his eyes and blurring his vision even more with a thick, wet coat of tears; there was no catharsis that he received from this action — it was just a display of the uncontrollable emotion that the very intoxicated, very out of his mind boy was experiencing.

There were no words to describe it. It was like he was feeling everything and nothing at once — seeing everything and nothing at once. His vision was tunneled to the point of almost complete blackness but broadened as if he could see the whole world and its future, his mind thoughtless but racing.

Finally, he ran out of pages, and, as he threw his book as hard as he could at the floor in frustration and a sort of sickness as a nausea overcame him, he became vaguely aware that he was crying. “You’re not feckin’ cryin’,” he jeered, scoffing, “you’re not feckin’ cryin’…” His expression sank from anger, pulling downward. “You…feckin’…”

BAM! He slammed his fist against the wall — then BAM! His head followed. For a moment, the world spun, and then there was another loud flop as he fell to the ground.

With his head against the wall, Trevor, sniffling deeply, yelled at the constantly knocking door, with all the force left in his body, “GO THE FECK AWAY.”

mood
???

location
the apartment

outfit
blue suit

playing...
i wanna slam my head against the wall

by glaive​

mentions
n/a

interactions
charlie & jo

tags
geminiy jasmyn

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

felix rian emmerson

Felix didn’t often feel anything aside from total confidence in everything he did. Hell, even if he was doin’ somethin’ that he knew he was subpar at, he still did it with complete and utter confidence ‘cuz, hell, he was Felix, ya know? Felix Emmerson, that guy.

This, though…well, any time he asked anyone out, he felt a little bit — a pinch, just a smidge — of shyness. Not too much, obviously, but…heh, well. It was the same kind of shyness that came from turnin’ in a report that you did at three am this morning, or puttin’ your keys back after sneakin’ out without your parents knowin’ — a shyness that stemmed from you puttin’ somethin’ in someone else’s hands and waitin’ on them to react, or not react. It was kinda nerve-wrackin’. A little bit anxious.

He studied her face, the hopeful grin on his face closin’ up as he waited for her response. If it was a no, he thought, then, well, she’d probably just say no, and they’d be done with it and could move on, ya know — there was no need for things to be super awkward after that. But if she said yes…

What was she goin’ to say…?

She moved closer to him and — as though to answer his question — closed the gap between them, kissin’ his lips.

There was a happy swell inside of him. Oh hell yeah.

She pulled back. “Let’s consider that as me saying yes.”

Felix’s grin spread wide and bright. With a happy chuckle, he reached out to grab her hand. “In that case…let’s consider this as me sayin’ hell yeah to that, and let’s consider this as our first date — of many.”

……………………​

As they said in the South, yeehaw.

Felix had a girlfriend now, for the first time in a good little bit. See, as much as he had enjoyed bein’ single — which, yeah, he enjoyed singleness as much as the next guy — he couldn’t deny that havin’ someone to call his, ya know, girlfriend was a really nice feelin’ that he’d forgotten after so long.

‘course, Slater had been the first guy who he told this. Not ‘cuz he wanted to rub it in how well his Ball had gone, but…well, he’d wanted to rub it in how well his Ball had gone. Could ya blame him? He now had a beautiful girlfriend to flex, and Slater would’ve been doin’ the same.

But, naturally, Slater hadn’t reacted too well to his boastin’ — as he expected. He got a pissy response, which, admittedly, he’d chuckled about, ‘cuz that meant that the guy was jealous of him, and honestly, there was no feelin’ quite like makin’ your friends jealous, if Felix had to say so himself.

Ego. It was a main quality of all people of Felix’s vocation, whether they wanted to admit it or not. Felix thought his ego was just the right size, though.

Anywho, Ball had been pretty damn eventful, if he had to say so himself — and if Twitter got a say-so, too. Twitter was abuzz with the drama and the details from Winter Ball Sunday, talkin’ about various fights and breakups and get-togethers. Felix threw in his two cents, mentionin’ on some random kid’s blog that he was datin’ Maeve now, and he supposed that by now, most of the people who used Twitter at HA knew about it, so that was fun.

It was back to the old grindstone today, though. Even after nights as climactic as that one, life still went on, and, unfortunately, so did studies, and so did tests. His Bs and Cs (and two As) were starin’ him in his face from his gradebook, beggin’ him to please study, so he started some boilin’ water for some Ramen noodles, opened his Quizlet, and studied as his water boiled. When it started boilin’, that was the end of that, and he felt pretty satisfied for bein’ so productive.

He wasn’t here on a scholarship, anyway. His dad’s money could keep him floatin’ as long as he needed it to. Prime example of how money made the world go around.

Anyway, he got dropped off at school, started down the hall toward his locker, of course, but his eyes found someone who he hadn’t spoken to in a good bit on his way to his locker, and he figured that there was no time like the time that he could be studyin’ to instead catch up with an old bud.

“Hey,” he greeted, wavin’ a hand as he approached her. “How’s it goin’, Amy? It’s been awhile. Too long, honestly.” With a soft chuckle, he added a question: “Oh, how was your Ball?”

mood
sup

location
school

outfit
clothes

playing...
take a slice

by glass animals​

mentions
slater

interactions
maeve & amy

tags
@Stardust Galaxy Kitsune2202

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

MICHAEL K. REID​

Forget that Winter Ball had ever fucking happened. It was a low point for everyone, including you and including Michael, so let’s just all fucking forget it and move on with our lives, shall we? I mean, unless you really wanted to remember how a random fucking messy drunk van driver yelled at you in the hallway in front of a crowd of complete randos or how you punched your best friend and got slapped by your hot date that you were probably looking forward to banging later that night or how you got watery punch thrown on you and then made out with a redheaded child or how your sloth-faced bitch of a boyfriend-date was stolen away by a vertically challenged asshole, who was on a date with a fifteen-year-old instead of you. and you woefully mourned your existence before falling right back to your ex.

Wait, shit, you wanted to forget that, too? Well, that was just great! So you didn’t need to fucking mention his night, or any of the decisions he made during it, because it was a night better left forgotten.

He was drunk for most of it, anyway, and while he remembered what he’d done in some vague sense — he knew he’d fucked Landon, he’d kissed Tilly, and he didn’t drive Beth home — he didn’t really remember the details — the why, the how, the when. It was all pretty hazy and blurry, and it felt almost abstract, like it was something he’d dreamt had happened, or something that happened in a book that he’d read and somehow melded into a memory of his own.

Heh. Fuck. Didn’t we all wish it was a fucking dream, though.

As he ambled his way into the school, he tried to keep his head down. It was better to avoid eye contact, though probably no one knew anything about Saturday when it came to him. The most they knew was that he stole some liquor from some underclassmen. No one had seen him with Landon, what with laws about not having cameras in bathrooms and shit. (Thanks for allowing the high schoolers to get their regrettable fucks in, whoever made that law. He really owed you one.) No one had seen him with Tilly, as far as he knew. He drove the same kind of shitty vehicle that greasy, neck-bearded paps would drive, so they probably just figured he was one of their own. No one had seen him with Beth outside, either, aside from…whoever had wound up taking her home, which…thank fucking God. He probably looked like a fucking creepo or some shit, trying to lure this little kid into his fucking clunker.

He really needed to save up for another vehicle. The Shitmobile was giving him a bad rap.

And also, he needed to stop fucking drinking so much, because he was also giving himself a bad rap.

But, of course, he quickly reminded himself that people fucking hated him regardless of what he did, people thought he was fucking scum of the earth thanks to Gen’s propaganda, so it wasn’t like either of those things would make him seem anything worse. Remember? ‘Cuz he was owning the shit? Did he really need to take you back two-to-three skips? Cue the fucking Netflix style episode recap, that tl;dr: Mike is a whore, babe. He came from a whore, so he is a whore. He is just staying true to his heritage, and to himself, and everyone who thinks they can control his life or have any right to cast any kind of judgment upon him can eat fucking shit.

It was Monday now. Whootie-fucking-doo. Get over everything else. It was a brand new day. New day, new Mike, or whatever shit he had to tell you to just get you off his fucking back.

Look, fine, Mike would admit that he was pretty pissed about the whole Ball situation — at himself, of course. He was an asshole, so no one else would expect anything less from him, but he knew that, fuck, no matter how fucking gross he was and how much he was “owning” that shit…he was better than that. He didn’t need to feel fucking disgusted when he looked back at any fucking given night of his life, but here he fucking was, and that was fucking happening.

Toting his bag and finally lifting his eyes to search for a room that may have been empty enough for him to do some work in, Mike instead caught sight of two frail, stick-like figures standing outside of a music room. A malicious grin spread across his face. As the taller of the two guys stood by the side of the door as though waiting for the other to come out, Mike couldn’t resist the chance to duck inside the room.

You know, it’d been awhile since he’d paid Jason West a visit, after all, and Richards? There was no way he would tell this to another soul, so Mike had no worries.

With a soft chuckle, Mike approached West, who stood by a table. “Well, well,” he started, “if it isn’t everyone’s favorite incontinent bitch.” He leaned against a table, crossing his arms and giving Jace a casual, wicked grin. “Heard the Ball was pretty eventful for you, huh? Why don’t you share with the class?”

mood
well hello there

location
school

outfit
clothing

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly​

mentions
ash, slater, kian, luci, hunter, ronnie, gen, landon, beth, liv, & callum

interactions
jace

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

victoria shantel sterling​

Tori felt ill.

Her skin was pallid, her voice slightly strained. Since this morning, her digits had all been trembling, and her muscles had been tight, especially her chest. Breathing was difficult — and thinking was harder.

She was supposed to be studying today. She was an all As student, and she wouldn’t accept anything for herself below an A — she needed to be studying right now. If she didn’t, then…then she’d break her thirteen year streak of all As, and she’d be a complete and total fucking failure in the eyes of all of the Ivy League schools she was hoping to get into. She could kiss Harvard or Yale goodbye; she’d be stuck doing community college online back in Maryland, getting fat and greasy and disgusting, because you know how everyone said it was a slippery slope, and so not studying would mean she’d flunk, which would lead to her flunking the class, which would lead to her graduating at the bottom, which would lead to her moving back in with her dad, which would lead to her having to enroll in stupid effing community college, which would lead to her getting too mush-brained and stupid to even finish out her freshman year, which would lead to her laying in bed all day, which would lead to her joining a gang, which would lead to her getting shanked, which would lead to her getting caught by the cops, which would lead to her being in jail, which would lead to her starting a prison riot, which would lead to her getting impaled and dying, which would mean that she couldn’t ever live out her dream of being a rich and famous romance writer in a big mansion with a tall, dark, handsome, famous husband and three little children named after characters in her books, and she…she couldn’t handle that. Everything hinged on these tests — to Tori, at least, and it should’ve been the same for everyone.

“Why the hell did I agree to this?” she breathed, staring at her reflection with wide eyes. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage, incorrigibly begging her to call Mik up and say that she couldn’t, just cancel the whole thing.

She couldn’t handle this; she couldn’t handle whatever the hell Mik had planned for today. There was no way that she could. She was in so far over her head.

Mikaela was sadistic, especially toward Tori. She wasn’t going to take it easy on her — and Tori made her promise that she wouldn’t. God, why had she done that? To protect her pride? Fuck her pride.

Fuck your pride? Fine then, if you’re so humble, call Mikaela up and tell her that you can’t.

…But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do that, either.

This was her gateway to…to debauchery, but every time she thought that, the dark, animalistic, primal parts of her brain interjected and spoke over debauchery with the word freedom. All the shitty pressure you’ve got? You won’t have that anymore. You’ll be as free as Mikaela.

I like my shitty pressure, she would argue, but then, she still wouldn’t be able to text Mikaela and cancel.

She hated this. She hated this, she hated this, she hated this.

But she guessed she didn’t hate it enough.

She dropped her little sister off at school with a pressure in her chest that had built up so much that she feared it would burst. She’d have to come back to pick Beth up after they went to the amusement park. That would give her an excuse to end it all early, at least.

When she’d walked inside, Mikaela had immediately found her, and Tori felt as though she was literally going to pass out. Her knees gellified, her stomach twisted knots, and her vision kept getting a little blurry. Still, she forced a smile. “You ready for…for the day?” she asked, her voice breathier than usual.

Unfortunately…someone else had to come over and make the situation even worse.

“Mikky Mik and Tori-nadoooo.” The voice made Tori jerk, thinking that it was someone who had found her out. No, no, sir, we weren’t going to skip school, her mind started, but the words froze when she looked over and realized that it was just Kian. She felt no real relief knowing that it wasn't a teacher or the principal; her stomach sank. “Fancy meeting ya here. Whatcha up to?”

“Oh…hi, Kian,” Tori greeted with a tight smile, though her smile quickly fell into a purse of her lips. God, she could hardly breathe; her manicured fingers were trembling as she clasped them together at her front. Collected. Calm. Cool, she reminded herself, letting out a long breath through a circle in her pursed lips. Even if she knew that she wasn’t handling this well, no one else freaking had to — and hell, who said that she even had to acknowledge it? No, no, actually, she took everything she said about feeling faint and anxious back — she was doing just fine.

She glanced over at Mik, unsure of what kind of excuse to give as to what they were up to. All thoughts had left her mind in favor of a steady, panicked stream of repeated words such as we really shouldn’t be doing this and oh God why, why, why. “Umm…” Her eyes widened slightly, and her gaze trailed back to Kian. Giving him a slight chuckle, she shrugged much more dramatically than she’d intended. “Nothing much,” she said finally.

Nothing much, Tori? Yeah, sure, he’d buy that.

Please, for the love of all things holy, Mikaela, just for one, back me up here, she begged internally, knowing, with a pit of dread in her stomach, that that wasn’t about to happen.

mood
...hi.

location
school

outfit
clothes

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms​

mentions
beth

interactions
kian & mik

tags
geminiy Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
I'm going to kill the little rat faced fuck

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
not really important

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
the apartment

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
n/a

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Trevor

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
ditto

That little rat faced fuck had genuinely locked himself in his bedroom. It wasn’t even in a joking matter. No, the little Irish dipshit had genuinely barricaded himself behind a locked door.

Look, maybe there should have been an ounce of concern in her chest. Charlie’s best friend, albeit an annoying little shithead, was on the other side of that very locked door having an actual mental health crisis. Under more normal circumstances, there would have been some sympathy. But instead, all she felt was blinding rage.

Trevor had driven his stupid goddamn pedovan drunk. Hell, not only drunk. He drove home drunk in his stupid fucking pedovan with Charlie’s cousin in the passenger seat. And of course his timing had been absolutely magnificent, his stupid tires screeching on pavement at the absolute worst possible time. Combine all of his bullshit together and throw it at Charlie and congratulations! You get exactly zero ounces of concern or empathy or even sympathy. No, instead you get one pissed off pint sized bitch ready to break down his goddamn door.

For a brief moment, as the room before her fell silent, Charlie hesitated. Maybe he just needed some time, some extra space to gather his thoughts. Surely he’d come out eventually, right? Nah, he was being a little wimp, running away from his problems again. If Charlie didn’t do something about it now, he’d lock himself away in his room forever and smoke himself to death on cheap weed.

BANG BANG BANG!

“Trevor, open this door right now. Final fuckin’ warning.” Charlie yelled from the other side of the door, pressing her mouth as close to the crack where the door met the frame for max amplification. Another moment of silence.

“GO THE FECK AWAY.” Trevor’s voice echoed back, genuine anger laced throughout his tone.

Charlie took a deep breath, silently asking for forgiveness in what she was about to do. “You want me to stop knocking?” Charlie asked no one in particular, taking a few steps back to give herself some more room to work. “That’s fine. But we’re doing this my way.”

With a raise of her leg, Charlie put all of her weight into her hips and aimed her foot towards the mechanism beside the door, far more challenging than she had previously expected thanks to her height challenged frame, and slammed her foot into the wood. A sickening crack echoed through the apartment with a gentle dusting of wood dust sprinkling down on the carpet. No luck. Charlie raised her leg again and hit the same spot with all the force she could muster.

SLAM!

The lock gave way and the door swung open.

Seeing Trevor on the floor, all crumpled and drunk… Well, that only pissed off Charlie more.

“Get up.” Charlie growled, pushing her way into the room and reaching her hand out to grab Trevor’s collar to pull him off the ground with a vicious yank. “Come on dude, fuckin’ get up. If you’re going to be an idiot, you’re at least going to fucking own up for it.”

Still grappled onto Trevor’s shirt, Charlie backed out of the room and marched Trevor down the hallway to the dining room, pulling out a chair with her leg and forcing him down onto it. She wasn’t ready to talk yet, Charlie needed a moment to think. So instead, she poured a glass of water and made her way to rifle through the medicine cabinet to grab Trevor some Tylenol. He was seriously going to need it. Returning with the two red pills in the palm of her hand, Charlie placed the glass of water before him and shoved the pills into his fingers.

“Take that,” she spat, leaning angrily against the table. Then, every ounce of anger seemed to drain from her, leaving her expression hollow and exhausted. Charlie lifted a hand to rub two fingers against her aching temple. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” She managed, finally gathering the courage to talk. “You could’ve hurt yourself, or Joey. Or worse, you could’ve wrapped your stupid fucking van around a pole. Seriously Trevor, what the hell were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?” Charlie let out a scoff, pushing herself off the table to pace the cold kitchen tiles underfoot. “No, you weren’t. This is a new level of irresponsibility, even for you. What the hell even possessed you to be that fucking stupid?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[PenguinFox]

MOOD: Having a ball....get it?

OUTFIT: Here

LOCATION: Ball

basics

MENTIONS:
Winona qunqun geminiy
INT: dear.szmm @_em_

tags

TL;DR Ollie accidentally is a menace and then gets with Niamh

tl;dr

Ollie

If you're feeling like you need a little bit of company, you met me at the perfect time

"I'll take Prince, but I'm not so sure about charming, love." Olivia retorted with a mischievous smirk. When her head was totally clear the young author was fairly quick witted, something she prided herself on. She nearly always had a comeback ready, or a contingency plan for her 'schemes' as Kei liked to call them. Personally, she felt that scheme implied malicious intent, but that was not the case for her. She simply wanted to partake in a little bit of fun; was it always safe or smart? No, of course not, that was the best part sometimes! But the Hudson girl would never purposely want someone hurt or in trouble.

It took no time at all for Ollie and Niamh to light up together. She tried to offer some to the brunette girl, who's name she learned to be June, but she declined politely. She hoped the smoke didn't bother the poor girl, she didn't seem like the type to say anything if it did and Ollie would hate to be that person making someone uncomfortable. Speaking of uncomfortable, she was visibly shivering from the cold. For a while Ollie mostly chatted and laughed with Niamh, bonding over the shared joint and giggles brought from it, glassy blue gaze flicking to June every now and then to keep an eye on her. The author didn't necessarily think the brunette was in any danger, but they were still in an alley in Los Angeles, anything could happen so she had heard, and she only knew how to fend off New York City and London weirdos. LA weirdos were a whole new breed to her.

"This is fun and all, but who wants to go inside and eat some grub?"

"Ugh, yes! I'm starviiinnnngggg. I've hardly eaten in the past two days. I was going to get some pizza earlier but someone wouldn't get their roomie any even though their roomie was being totally cool and absolutely didn't drug them unlike some other roomies..." Ollie rambled, caring not that the people she was referring to weren't here, nor the fact that her current company had no idea who or what she was talking about. She started to make her way back inside when she noticed that June was visibly shivering. "Babe, if you were cold you shoulda said so." The Hudson girl's suit jacket slipped off and was quickly wrapped around the smaller girl. "It's not the warmest but it's better than nothing and we're going inside anywayyyyssss...." she gave her a pat on the back and a friendly smile before continuing forward a couple paces and turning back around. "And don't even try to give that back. I'll just drop it on the floor and leave it if you do. You need it more." She stumbled turning back around but quickly regained her footing. This wasn't her first rodeo.

The revelry and laughter continued between Niamh and Ollie as they grabbed tiny plate after tiny plate of food, hungrily devouring everything they could, leaving a small wake of destruction behind them. Neither of the two caring at all about anyone that may be watching them. At this point the Hudson girl was having an absolute blast. She hadn't expected to have this much fun tonight but she was grateful for it. Small twinge of guilt ran through her as she thought about her roommates and how she had somewhat abandoned them. She felt a little like she was a bad friend for going off and having fun without having even asked them if they wanted to join. Sure Rowan and Lida were perfectly capable of making their own fun and Kei... well he had a different idea of fun so he didn't really count. Still, maybe she should've invited along her friends...

An almost perfectly timed distraction quickly presented itself and pulled Olivia from her thoughts of guilt. Niamh was feeding June a strawberry. Okay... wow... that... that was really happening... Ollie felt herself staring for what felt like just a little too long and sheepishly looked away. That was really hot. June was cute as a button and Niamh was damn fine, and the combination was quite a bit to handle. A hint of red rose in her face, nearly matching the red in her eyes. "Damn, you're just going to give everyone a free show like that. We should at least be charging admission if you're going to do that." a small chuckle rose from her chest as she leaned against the table. The table was evidently not suited to be leaned against and not weighed down enough because with an ear piercing screech it scooted across the floor. The good news was that Ball was starting to wind down at this point in the evening and not as many people were now staring at Ollie as there could have been. The bad news was the shaking from the movement of the table sent a bowl of dip tumbling off. The author desperately tried to save it but with her impaired reflexes she only managed to accidentally spike it to the floor, shatter the bowl and sending what smelled like French onion dip splattering everywhere- mostly on to herself. Well that was embarrassing.

Ollie mostly remained frozen for a few moments afraid to actually turn around and show people the face of who just made a complete fool of themselves. In the grand scheme of things she didn't care too much about what others thought of her but that didn't mean she never felt embarrassment. Niamh and June were handing her napkins to wipe her face and clothes somewhat off and offering to escort her to the bathroom to help her wash. She shrugged. "It is what it is. I'm sure this place has some damn good dry cleaners somewhere." Once enough time had passed that people had likely stopped watching her every move Ollie made a more concerted effort to wiping off her black ensemble off dip. She noticed on her cuff there was a glob that still had a chip piece in it. Seriously? Who has a chip break in dip and then not try to fish it out? This school had a psychopath somewhere. She flicked it off of her sleeve, making an uncomfortable splatting sound as she did, and gave a satisfied nod.... at least until her gaze caught where the accidental projectile had gone. It had had some guy in the back of the head. The blondes couldn't help themselves and immediately burst into laughter, and Olivia even thought she heard June snicker too. Laughter that abruptly ended when the guy turned around and began marching over to them. "Oh shit..."

In life there a moments where people don't think and just react. Their actions aren't always the best of ideas because of this. This was one of those moments for Olivia Hudson. The guy marching toward her looked pissed sure, but it probably wasn't likely that he would hurt her at all. Probably just yell and make her pay for the cleaning, but the author's fight or flight instinct kicked in and she went with both options. She grabbed the nearest tray of food, which happened to be a wide oval plate of sushi rolls, and flung the contents at him as hard as she could while muttering a quiet apology to the fish that had died in vain. "I think it's time to go ladies." she called to her two companions, grabbing them by the hand and making a break for the door. In the ensuing chaos Ollie lost her grip on the hand she had been tugging but kept weaving her way back towards the alley the trio had met in. Once outside she continued to run, hearing footsteps behind her clicking the whole way, running until she couldn't run anymore and was likely far enough away from the school. Panting, she looked behind her to see Niamh catching up. Doubled over, fits of laughter between wheezes rolling out of her, Ollie caught her breath. Blue eyes looked past Niamh to find June's form also catching up with them but saw no such thing. Niamh and Ollie were alone on the side of the street. "Where's June? Did she... shit... I hope she got out...." Niamh just shook her head. Another small wave of guilt washed over the Hudson girl. She hoped her new friend would make it home okay because she couldn't really go back to find her. At least she could ensure one of her new friends would make it home safe. "C'mon, lemme walk you home."

The two girls continued to laugh as they walked, reliving the ridiculousness of the night. Ollie couldn't remember the last time she had had so much fun. She would have to remember to introduce her roommates to her new crime partner, they'd love her. Ollie was also super grateful to have actually made some friends outside of the people she had moved to LA with. Not that she didn't love them to death, but the idea of spending all of her time with anyone sounds entirely too tedious, even friends as good as those three. Sure her night hadn't gone as planned, but it was a good one nonetheless.

Once the pair had gotten to Niamh's residence they stopped outside the door and shared a slightly awkward silence for a few moments. Blue eyes slowly scanned the other girl up and down again. Maybe it was just because she was coming down from an adventure filled night combined with the fact that the blonde was crazy hot but... she really wanted to kiss her for some reason. But how would she react? Based on the sexual energy behind the whole feeding the strawberry to June thing, she doubted the girl in the green dress was entirely straight but... she didn't want to make things awkward... then again, they'd had a night of fun. If Ollie did something to make Niamh not want to talk to her anymore, at least she could say it was mildly worth it after this adventure. Her eyes trailed back up to Niamh's lips, the silence now far too long, but the expectant arched brow of her compatriot indicated it was up to Olivia to break it. "Fuck it." she leaned in and kissed her partner in crime for the evening. No regrets right? Much to Ollie's surprise it was reciprocated. Perhaps the fun of the evening wasn't quite over yet...

code by valen t.

 

[ditto]

trevor callaghan​

Trevor rested his pounding head against the wall, the tears streaming down his face uncontrollably as he sloppily lifted a hand to wipe his nose. He didn’t hear anything for a few moments, and Trevor let his shoulders heave with a sob, thinking Charlie had finally gone away and given up.

That was stupid. If he was in any way, shape, or form “in his senses”, there was no way that he ever would have believed such a thing, because it was Charlie, but unfortunately for everyone, he wasn’t.

SLAM!

Trevor turned back as the loud noise noise registered with him. A wave of dread overcame him as he saw who it was standing in the doorway, before a wave of anger replaced that feeling. “You broke my feckin’ —“

“Get up,” she growled, wading through his books to get to him, then grabbing his collar. With a yank that almost made him lose the contents of his stomach, Charlie tugged him up off the ground. “Come on dude, fuckin’ get up. If you’re going to be an idiot, you’re at least going to fucking own up for it.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ idiot,” he slurred furiously as Charlie yanked him out of the room and down the hall. “Stop feckin’ draggin’ me!” He tried to pull free, but he was too out of it to do anything with enough dedicated force to make it go through. “I didn’t feckin’ do shite ta nona’yas — all’o’yas’re jus’ barkin’ up tha wrong tree, I say — I say ya feckin’ —“ He babbled until he was shoved down. He thought, for a moment, that Charlie had thrown him back on the ground, so he yelled, “‘ey, what tha feck?!” Moving to stand up, though, he discovered that he was in a chair, which made him groan. “Ya feckin’ — you an’ that feckin’ — that Eli feckin’ — ya feckin’, ya really think I’m — I don’t needta be babysitted, I’m perfectly feckin’ fine. Leave me the feck alone.” His words were delivered through a tightly clenched jaw, his eyes full of blind rage again even as they continued to cry. “Lemme just feckin’ bash my head into a feckin’ wall in peace, won’t ya feckin’ at least feckin’ do that for me, huh, but no, that’s too much, isn’t it, because I’m ju —“

Charlie shoved something into his hand. Looking down, he saw two small pills. As she handed him a glass of water, he looked up at her, his face rife with confusion.

“Take that,” she commanded.

“You’re givin’ me feckin’ drugs?” he asked, and with an angry grunt, he threw them back, swallowing them down with water.

He hoped whatever it was was strong.

He glanced back at Charlie across the table. She looked…tired, not angry now. A hand lifted to rub her temple. His brows knit together. “Tha hell is wrong wit’ you?” His voice was angry, but there was some concern in there somewhere.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” she asked.

“What?”

“You could’ve hurt yourself, or Joey. Or worse, you could’ve wrapped your stupid fucking van around a pole. Seriously Trevor, what the hell were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?”

Trevor was silent as Charlie’s words churned in his brain, his expression melting into an unreadable one.

Charlie pushed up. “No, you weren’t. This is a new level of irresponsibility, even for you. What the hell even possessed you to be that fucking stupid?”

“Stupid…,” Trevor repeated. For a long moment, his eyes anchored on some nondescript spot on the table.

Stupid. Stupid. Feckin’ stupid.

God, I’m so feckin’ stupid.

StupidstupidstupidstUPIDSTUPI —

And then, all at once, it all felt too much for him. BAM! His head flung down on the table, and his shoulders heaved with a sob. “I’m such a feckin’ idiot!” he slurred sloppily. “For fallin’ for a girl like that, for lettin’ her treat me like feckin’ shite, for drivin’ home while in this feckin’ state — stupidstupidgoddamnstupid!”

mood
???

location
the apartment

outfit
blue suit

playing...
i wanna slam my head against the wall

by glaive​

mentions
eli & jo

interactions
charlie

tags
geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

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

@Steller.Bae has set their status to:
It's the greatest time of year

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

@Steller.Bae has set their location to:
Venice Beach -> Zeph's dorm

@Steller.Bae has mentioned:
None

@Steller.Bae has Interacted with:
Zeph ( Winona )

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Tonight had been the perfect night to Stella. From start to finish there was no drama, just the two of them having a good time, getting to talk to their friends, and spending quality time with each other. Who could ask for more?

Sitting here with him, seeing his face, and body language it seemed like he felt the same. She hoped so. She wanted him to know just how much he meant to her, and that there really wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him. "I'm glad. You know...I'm down to do more stuff like this with you. Just having fun on a whim you know?" She tried to start explaining herself, but surprisingly for an actress...words were hard. Feelings, genuine feelings from her own heart were difficult to portray.

"I know It's not typically my thing, but if it's with you I can do that...I can be that." She finished off hoping he'd understand her. "I want you to be happy. You deserve the best this life has to offer, and to enjoy yourself doing the kinds of things you like. And when I can I want to do those things, whatever they may be, with you." she admitted. He was her best friend and boyfriend so of course she wanted the absolute best for him.

She adored him, always had and always would.

"I think that's probably enough beach for the night," he said as he stood up, brushing the sand from his clothes before holding out a hand to pull Stella up, too. "What do you say we head out?" He asked, "We could go back to my place, or your place, clean up, watch a movie if you're not ready to sleep yet..."

Stella couldn't agree more. This had been lovely, but she was ready to get into something warm and just cuddle until she passed out. "I vote your place, and a movie." She hummed. She just didn't feel like going home yet. Home felt like the night was over and she wasn't done savoring this.

She took the jacket he'd offered her with a smile putting it on, "Yes definitely. Thank you." She giggled. Being the main one going back and forth with the water so his cast wouldn't get wet, she was freezing. She hadn't noticed too much in the heat of the moment, but as the moment was fading the cold was seeping in.

It was of course way over sized, but wasn't that iconic?

She ordered another Uber silently wishing the day she could get her own license would hurry up already. The whole ride Stella was curled up against Zeph with her eyes closed, but she wasn't sleep. She was mostly doing this for warmth because god was she really fucking cold. She would be surprised if she didn't wake up with a stupid cold after all this. Totally worth it, but still.

It was a good excuse to cuddle. Not that she needed an excuse to cuddle with her boyfriend, it's just she usually had one. Habit maybe? Still lingering from when they were just friends and so if they were touching their needed to be a reason.

More then just...wanting to be close to him.

Even though that was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to be close to him all the time. The longer they dated the more she craved it, which was an odd sensation for her. And close never seemed to be close enough, even as close as they were physically in this moment. It still didn't feel like enough. It wasn't the same touchy feely feeling she got when she was drunk and wanted hugs and stuff either.

Eventually they showed up at his door and she made herself at home because well in her mind it was just as good as home. This was her second home so long as he was here. "Hey do you mind if I change? I'm not picky on the shirt or shorts or whatever I just wanna be out of this dress." she asked a light blush coming to her face asking for his clothes. Sure maybe for this reason they should've gone to her place, but he probably wanted to get out of his clothes too and she could fit into his spare clothes better then he could fit into hers.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

MOOD: Angry and petty and always right.

OUTFIT: Dirty jacket, weird shirt and zebra print pants.

LOCATION: School hallway.

basics

MENTIONS:
Nathan (Winona)

INT:
Viva ( ditto )

tags

TL;DR Beel was running and came crushing into Viva.

tl;dr

beelzebub

Breeze through his bleached hair…legs barely touching the ground one push after another…weird dirty jacket waving like a flag from his back…lack of breath from the moment he started running…Beelzebub’s mind remained occupied with thoughts of why he was so much better than everybody he’d passed in the hallways. And truthfully, all the reasons were completely and utterly valid.

Number one, everybody went to the stupid ball. Who the fuck cared about the ball. Beelzebub sure didn’t. He had a terrific time alone in his room doing some pills he found in the bathroom cupboard. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know Lactaid wasn’t a pill that made your mind go all wibbly wobbly. Instead it made his tummy go wibbly wobbly and he suffered through an overdose without even getting high. That weekend sucked, but he had a much grander time than everyone else who was dancing and laughing and talking to other people at the stupid ball. Fuck the ball.

Number two, nobody here had bleached hair and a beautiful smile that showcased their cheekbones the way that Beelzebub’s smile showcased his, and Beelzebub felt sorry for them. The girls would get plastic surgery to fix it, and the boys would stay ugly because they don’t believe in plastic surgery, and like them, Beelzebub agreed. God just loved him more to give him all that natural beauty, and that’s why he would grace the hot guys in the hallway with a smile when he eventually breezed next to them, even if he didn’t quite showcase all of his beauty—now being red as a pepper, trying to run even faster to get to class in time.

There was a certain punishment in the education system of Hollywood Arts called an expulsion that Beelzebub was close to getting for not attending many classes. It wasn’t his fault, but sadly, there was nothing he could do about it. He just had to conform to the rules and regulation of the godawful institution filled with stuck-ups and plastic messes. Nathan was okay.

In his mind, Beelzebub was getting to number three on his list of why he was so much better than everybody else, but in his run to the classroom, someone found themselves in his way, and rudely made him crash into them.

He went from flying to crashing into someone and then flying again, but into a wall. A thud and a yell of surprise and pain came from the boy’s direction, but the pain wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, so he got up pretty fast and faced the girl who also found herself on the floor.

She was ugly. Well, subjectively speaking.

Oh, and she was clumsy. Why did she crash into Beel? There was no reason for her to do that stupid selfish act of violence. She was probably a dancer. The dancers sucked more than others. Dance wasn’t even art. Beelzebub could dance hokey pokey too, and he didn’t have to stretch or do anything before, so why were these people so praised, he didn’t really know. And now, he had an even bigger vengeance for all the dancers in this school because of this girl slash person slash thing that made him fall.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, bobblehead! You made me crash into you.” He said as he faced the girl in front of him who was still on the floor. He patted his jacket from any dust getting on it, and then continued to do the same to his pants which were in a worse condition somehow, and managed to get ripped. Oh hell no. “Look what you did, Totally Spies. Ruined my only pair of good pants. Hope this ruined your day.”

code by valen t.

 

[natsukashii]

Hunter Drake

Today was going to be a good day for Hunter.

That's what he decided. And why did he decide that? Well, exams were more or less behind him aside from a few smaller ones that he wasn't worried about. He was coming off of a big weekened that, as he might admit, had a few ups and downs, specifically the down that was Nickie Abrams. They talked and she tossed a drink into his chest (not face because she couldn't reach that high). And, sure he probably, might've, just so-slightly deserved it, but he was having the last laugh because he walked away from it with his head held high and enjoyed the rest of his night with Ronnie.

Never thought he'd actually be happy for that, but these were different times than two months ago.

But here he was remembering a grand night that held up late at night. He didn't know if HA had a curfew for those that lived in the dorms, but he was almost certain he broke it. Remembering that he and ROnnie had stayed pretty much until the last song and he made sure to see her to her place before he went to his dorm for the night brought a smile on his face.

Hunter was about maybe a three minute walk from the music room. He had his Raycon ear buds (not sponsored by the way), so he couldn't hear anything. He was stunned when he felt his shoulder get nudged and his body half twisted defensively.

And that's when he realized it was Casey.

"Shit man, you nearly gave me a heart attack. ALmost felt bad that I was about to deck you." Hunter laughed it off, not sure if that admission would've frightened Case or not. Either way, he shrugged and smiled, putting his Raycon earbuds into the case in his backpack.

As they walked and talked, Casey was going on about some special effects and made some sound effect that was no doubt his impeccable impresison of pyro. "Hell yeha man! Some fog with that would look sick!" Hunter laughed as they walked in.

While this wouldn't have been anything notworthy, Casey went dead silent. It was so uncharacteristic that Hunter, who hadn't been looking where Casey was, saw someone in the room.

"You're not Newt."

Hunter didn't know why, but he immediately scanned the room for Newt. Only other person he saw was who Case was looking at. Aside from the different hair and body type, Hunter had to agree with his blonde, pyro-addicted friend.

"I do think you're right, Case. That most definitely isn't Newt. Maybe we should go say hello." Hunter thought on that for a moment. He wasn't rude, especially when it came to people who knew how to rock eyeliner. "Yeah, I say we should!"

Hunter didn't wait for Casey and actually pulled his friend by the wrist, dragging him closer to the yet-to-be-identified new person. "Sup girl! I'm Hunter and this odd duck here is Casey. What's shaking?"

mood
It's rude to not say hello

location
Music Room

outfit
Casual fit

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

by The Offspring​

mentions
Ronnie, Nickie, Casey, New Person

interactions
Casey, New Person

tags
Winona , Harrowhark

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Harrowhark]

Nikolai+Rikki

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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  Rikki jinxxes
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Nikolai appeared rather convinced Rikki would be soothed by the end of the night. Sure, maybe when pigs flew. The comment did nothing to assure the blonde things would be enjoyable. He was not here because he believed he'd had a good time in the slightest.

Just that Nikolai had asked.

Fights and couples- None of them mattered to Rikki. Well, a good fight might but he wasn't here involved in it currently so they were useless.

"Dance with me."

The words interrupted his people-watching, back to looking up at Nikolai. First to her face, his own mouth drying up- and then slowly down to the outstretched hand.

“I didn’t bring you here just to stand around and hate everything.”

For a moment, he didn't dare move. A recalibration as the words needed time to settle. He had expected to appease them with one or two dances but- It still managed to knock the wind out of him. Too long Rikki appeared as if he wouldn't accept, glaring at the hand in front of him as if it personally offended him. It seemed like a fruitless endeavor.

Nikolai hadn’t expected hesitation. Rikki was usually decisive. He’d say no to something at a moment’s notice. They could handle the no, but not the long glare before the fact.

Then- ever so carefully- Rikki reached out.

Rikki’s hand on their’s jump started Nikolai’s heart. Of course he wouldn’t say no. She was a smoke show, he’d be dumb not to accept. All jokes of course, really they would’ve just bullied him into it in the end.

"I don't care that you're larger. I'm leading."

A tug to Nikolai's arm to pull him in closer.

"Try and steal it and I'll step on your feet."

His usual attitude resurfacing: challenging Nikolai.

Maybe he would enjoy this a bit.

So Nikolai put on a flashy smile and put a hand on Rikki’s shoulder,

“Lead the way, Mausi.”

The nickname seemed fitting with the mention of Rikki’s height. They’d prefer he lead anyway. Though ballroom dancing was simple enough, there was always a thread of doubt in Nikolai’s mind.

That stupid grin was nearly enough for Rikki to say 'nevermind.' Almost. Sometimes Nikolai was just too cocky for their own good.

Still, he brought his other arm up and right under the shoulder-blade like he was supposed to. Rikki might not be in the dance department, but he wasn't clueless.

"Did you just fucking call me a mouse?"

Of course, his temper and foul mouth wouldn't be kept down even in such a setting. This was Rikki, and Nikolai shouldn't have asked to dance nor called him a name if she wasn't prepared for it.

"You are infuriating."

He growled out, face still scrunched up in displeasure as careful steps led them into dancing.

Rikki was just too fun!

“Little mouse,”

Nikolai corrected, holding back their smile from widening.

Except for the fact, Rikki was quick to learn this height difference posed a problem. He felt he was at an awkward angle with his arm so high. Slowly, he began a descent down. His fingers never left Nikolai as they trailed to find a more comfortable position. That was all, only a search for where his arm felt most at ease at his waist.

You’re infuriating.

This time it was on purpose. And no amount of teasing seemed to deter Rikki from the dance. Nikolai pulled him a little closer as his hands traveled. Making a move? Before they had time to overthink it themself, his hand settled on their waist. That was fine, not necessarily a movement with any meaning behind it.

Part of Rikki felt the need to ask, 'Is this okay?' But he stopped himself. Of course it was! They were dancing and this was more comfortable. He was letting the nerves of the dance crowd way too much in his head, all thoughts were violently shoved down to look up at his dance partner.

Nikolai bit her lip, eyes darting away from Rikki’s. This was okay. They danced in arguably more intimate positions with Auguste daily. This was supposed to be fun. Just a little swing with a friend.

Nikolai was perfectly capable of focusing on things that weren’t being nervous. Like how short Rikki was. Yes. Haha. Little mouse.

“Do you need me to take my heels off,”

the two made eye contact again as Nikolai moved her teeth to the inside of her cheek.

Rikki was offended when Nikolai dared ask that question. It was insulting! Seriously, Rikki was of a fine height, Nikolai was just a giant and in heels no less. Even then, he could manage fine.

"You shouldn't underestimate me."

Rikki chided, keeping his eyes met with hers. They seemed... a little nervous? Rikki thought that Nikolai would flourish in this kind of setting but upon further inspection of his other actions earlier throughout the evening... Yeah... Nervous.

Come on now, Nikolai was the one who dragged Rikki out here, she wasn't the one who was supposed to have cold feet. Something needed to be done about it.

That was it.

A small grin tugged at the corners of Rikki's mouth as the idea hit him, both to show off and hopefully encourage a good reaction out of Nikolai.

The world shifted as Rikki led Nikolai down, dipped precariously. Despite being such a 'little mouse,' he had a strong grip that didn't threaten to drop them in the slightest.

"I think I can manage things quite fine, sweetheart."

The action did little to calm Nikolai’s nerves. In fact, the moment they were less than vertical, her face grew a dark crimson. This was because it was unexpected of course, no other reason.

The grip on Rikki grew tighter. He was strong, he wouldn’t drop her but…

“You proved your point.”

Nikolai’s urge to drink until they couldn’t stand only increased in his grasp.

“Put me down now.”

As Nikolai processed the situation, it became less frightening. The two of them must look ridiculous. The smile was back and they released Rikki from the death grip.

“Please darling,”

they added, giving him the smallest bit of cooperation.

Rikki only grew more pleased as Nikolai clung for dear life and begged to be let up. Nope, not yet. This was too much fun.

Not to mention, after a few moments, the plan seemed to have been successful. That teasing look grew softer as Nikolai was smiling again. Though- he missed the clinging that came with the initial fear. A shame......

Maybe he needed to incite some more.

"Anything for you my dear-"

He spoke as playing along until the very end, where his grip seemed to falter and his face dropped in 'worry.'

And then Nikolai was steady again within moments. That mischievous look back on Rikki telling all too well that was a little prank.

Nikolai shrieked, actually shrieked, in the middle of the ballroom. Their body was pulled tight to Rikki’s as they resisted the pull of gravity. Once steady, he looked far too pleased with himself.

“You jerk!”

Nikolai would’ve retaliated if she wasn’t clinging to Rikki for dear life.

“I want a divorce.”

What they wanted was to be standing upright, but that was at the mercy of their date.

The sound was too much, Rikki had to haul Nikolai up to avoid actually dropping them out of the sheer need to laugh. It was hilarious to see them flounder like that. He barely contained it as she was brought back onto two feet, soon leaning on her in support, their dancing halted. Rikki had to compose himself if they were to continue.

“That was too good-“

He hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time, words spoken between gasps of air.

Finally standing. Nikolai would never take it for granted again. They immediately retched their hands from Rikki, stubbornly letting him laugh it off.

“You’re the worst.”

Despite their words, the side of her mouth couldn’t help but crook up.

“Come on, darling.”

Still playing their little name game.

“It was hilarious and you know it.”

The genuine joy that brought him was just too good to have a problem with, right? How could anyone resist such a rare laugh from Rikki?

No matter how amusing Rikki was, Nikolai still wanted more of a buzz. With their phone and the flask out, the screen only existed to prove their suspicions. The plug was preoccupied. Oh well, another time. A quick swig of vodka had Nikolai forgetting all about that.

Rikki could’ve gone for more to drink as well, but that was hard when he was still trying to collect himself. Ever so slowly, the laughing died down, leaving just that wolf-like grin on his face.

“I should cause a scene for that. Throw my drink in your face and scream a little. Girls will avoid you even more for a while.”

Just a threat, they weren’t serious. Plus, there had probably already been three outbursts in the same fashion.

“Yeah?”

Rikki challenged, reaching out to straighten a fold in Nikolais dress from all the movement.

“I’d go key your car after.”

Obviously all hypothetical. He was just adding to the little imaginary play-by-play of revenge. Besides, that was too lame. If he had to go at someone’s car there would be a lot more vandalism than some scratches.

Nikolai’s jaw dropped open at the threat,

“You wouldn’t!”

Of course he would, Rikki would do almost anything.

“Leave her out of this!”

What did the Porsche do to you, Rickster?

“You regretting inviting me out yet?”

His brow lifting as he dug out his own flask for a gulp.

The answer was obvious by the smiles and jokes.

“Absolutely!”

This was what Nikolai had asked for though. A relaxed night, no expectations.

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

Purse zipped up and hands free, but what to do with them?

“Yet you do anyways.”

Rikki pointed out, stuffing his flask back away. How the tables turned, seeing Nikolai was the one having the ‘bad time’ now.

“Does that mean we’re done dancing, darling?”

Rikki asked innocently. The bastard didn’t even enjoy this kind of dancing, clearly the only motive was to startle and tease Nikolai.

Nikolai glanced down at Rikki’s hands.

“You’ll drop me again.”

Yes, dancing was done. You win Rikki.

However, Nikolai did nothing to distance themself from him. This closeness was acceptable, even if he was being an absolute prick.

“You tired of torturing me yet, Mausi?”

“Not a chance.”

Rikkis answer was immediate, surprisingly at ease with their positions. His mood helped ease all his earlier nerves.

“I can go aaaaall night.”

A little innuendo for good measure of his enjoyment.

Curse Nikolai’s wandering mind. All Rikki’s comment did was send their mind in a direction they absolutely loathed.

“What would the princess like to do instead?”

This night was for Nikolai after all, Rikki would go along with any decision made. Just…. He might incite some chaos in the meantime.

“I need a cigarette.”

Nikolai insisted they didn’t smoke, but Rikki did, and there was no problem sharing a light between two friends. Normal even.

Somehow they dragged him outside. Time for Nikolai had started passing oddly after that last drink. Yeah, yeah, don’t drink on an empty stomach, whatever, lesson learned.

Rikki would never turn down a smoke, his behavior settled instantly to let himself be pulled away. Content quick steps following Nikolai’s long strides.

Taking in that first breath of fresh air was a blessing, rooms full of bodies always felt way more stuffy. Rikki might have began to enjoy himself back there, didn’t mean the outside wasn’t a whole lot more comfortable. His face evened to a more neutral expression.

The cool air hit their skin, a shiver through Nikolai to their hand… in Rikki’s hand. No, fix that immediately. Withdrawn. They pressed their back up against the cool brick, letting the grit center them for a moment.

“Go on.”

Rikki went for his cigarettes instead of pondering on the hand hold, fumbling for a few minutes until he could procure it and a lighter. Within a moment, little stick between his lips, he got it burning for Nikolai. Of course, not before taking a drag himself.

Everything was better with a smoke.

For someone who didn’t like being told what to do, Rikki was good at following instructions. Nikolai let the scent consume them, smoke pillowing from his partner’s hand.

He gingerly handed it over to Nikolai, moving to lean against the wall by her side. His head pressed against cool surface and he closed his eyes.

So much for more bastarding. He looked calm.

Like usual Rikki took the first hit. Selfish bastard. Nikolai plucked the cigarette out of his hand and held it between their own lips. The intake sent waves of nicotine over her nerves. Anyone who could go through life sober was crazy. Who wouldn’t want to feel this?

Nikolai let the smoke bloom from their mouth, watching it disappear through the sky. It was actually a nice night. Even with the light pollution, it was easy to make out a few stars.

“Man, you can see Großer Bär for once,”

Nikolai had a vague knowledge of astronomy. Mostly from when their father was still around.

“What do you call it? Big dippy?”

Something like that.

Rikki let his eyes open up to the sky at that, taking in the little stars he could manage. On the other hand, he had absolutely no knowledge of anything astronomy wise and probably couldn't point out a single constellation. Just some dots in the sky. Well, he could say they were a little pretty.

"Big dippy?"

The words left with mild amusement,

"Big dippy and little dippy, yeah."

Clearly he was bullshitting and that was not the actual case, he had no plans to reveal the correct name.

Okay. Rikki was fucking with them. Asshole.

“Glad I can count on you to bridge the language barrier.”

Have fun getting your cigarette back, Nikolai didn’t plan on handing it over.

Another puff of grey formed in front of their eyes. Music still filled their ears, dampened by the structure between them.

“Want to take bets on who will puke first?”

Honestly, it could be anyone.

Rikki hadn't yet realized Nikolai was witholding his own cigarette from him. Soon.

"Christ, I have no clue."

Rikki admitted, not having paid enough attention to others around them while they were inside. No, he had been too focused in on Nikolai.

He stole a glance towards Nikolai.

"You."

He doubted it, but it was fun to mess with them like that.

"Come on, let's go for another shot."

A devious grin as if he was trying to make that come true now, attempting to pluck the cigarette away.

Nikolai faked an offended look,

“Me?”

How little Rikki believed in them.

“Will you hold my hair back then?”

It was the least he could do.

"Only if you hold back mine."

He definitely planned to drink enough to throw up, but that would probably be done alone in actuality.

Another shot? Nikolai could go for that. They held the cigarette up out of Rikki’s reach while trying to grab their flask with the other hand. It was a difficult task and she barely made it without dropping the lid.

Nikolai listened to joining in drinking but- The look on Rikki's face as the giant kept away the smoke- Evil, Nikolai deserved to burn for this transgression.

“You make this too easy, Mausi.”

Nikolai threw back the rest of the flask. That might’ve been a bit much, but at least they would have to wait if they wanted more.

“Go ahead, take yours.”

They lowered the cig back to their lips.

With a scowl, Rikki fished out his own flask instead, he didn't finish his drink as his pregame meant less needed now. Still, a nice big gulp. He was certainly going to feel that.

"Alright. Now give it."

Rikki held his hand out, glaring at Nikolai. Sure, he could just light another. But this was about his pride now!

This was a nice little game. Nikolai took the cigarette from her mouth and blew the smoke into Rikki’s face.

“That’s no way to ask a lady, is it?”

Again they held the cig just out of reach.

“What would you do for it?”

A little dance maybe? Do a funny jig Rikki. It was fun to watch him fumble over it.

"Nikolai."

Rikki warned, advancing on them and blocking her against the wall. This time, he aimed not for the cigarette, but slipping his hand behind Nikolai's neck to tug him down to face level. The angry look morphed into a fake soft smile.

"I would like to smoke pretty please?"

Voice dripping in falsified sweetness.

Okay, expecting a jig out of Rikki was out of character. This should’ve been predicted. Nikolai dug her nails into her palm to keep from flinching. They knew he’d never actually hit them, but it was instinct to expect it.

"I won't kill you if you hand it over."

Still candy-coated, comparable to a poisoned apple. Sweet but malicious.

There was the please. How nice. And a threat on their life. Less nice.

“Was that so hard?”

Nikolai brought the cigarette down to Rikki’s lips. It wouldn’t be smart to push him any farther.

“I knew you could be polite.”

Rikki parted his lips to accept the cigarette, not moving an inch from position. He withdrew a deep breath, letting the nicotine course through him. Much better.

Something about Rikki smoking right out of their hand made Nikolai’s skin heat. This was fine. He was just being cocky. Same bastard Rikki.

Rikki released the smoke out right in Nikolai's face just as was done to him.

"Good boy."

He mused, nails lightly digging into the back of their neck. Nikolai acted like she was the one who had the winning hand there, but it was all because of the threat.

Nikolai closed her eyes as the smoke hit her face. Good boy? Why would he- Ow! They made a small noise as Rikki dug his nails in.

Rikki paused as he looked over Nikolai's face without being watched himself, just barely able to take in the change as she reacted to his grip-

Okay. Okayokayokay. That was enough.

In defiance, Nikolai plucked the cigarette from Rikki’s lips.

“Must you always fight back?”

There was no argument as Rikki let Nikolai take the cigarette back, plus he finally released them and moved back beside with an uneasy breath.

Nikolai was able to breathe better the moment Rikki let go. Were they that drunk? Yes, that was it. Just the alcohol. Another breath of smoke before they crushed the butt under their toe.

This was- He didn't know what this was actually. The acid flowing through his veins, weight on his chest.

He was not going to think about this. Where was his flask? Quickly downing the rest of it-

"I think you know the answer to that."

“I do.”

Rikki would always fight them like that. No matter how hard Nikolai dug, he’d always push back.

“You’re challenging. It’s fun.”

Even though they didn’t know what the prize would be for winning, Nikolai would take the challenge every time.

"You are still infuriating."

Was Rikki's wonderful response.

"I don't know why I don't beat you up."

Yes he did. Nikolai was just too addicting. He was in it the same way as them, he found it fun.

Not being beat up by Rikki was honestly a compliment. Nikolai would take it as such. However, they would not make a big deal out of it right now. All they did was smirk with the knowledge that they were able to worm their way into being his friend.

A wave of alcohol rushed over his system from the last major intakes, closing his eyes to halt any dizziness.

"So... you're having fun right now?"

Oh dear, he certainly was drunk right now wasn't he.

Nikolai relaxed into the wall. For once they could filter out the background noise and sense the quiet atmosphere. It was just Nikolai and Rikki. No one else needed to matter.

"Honestly, this is the happiest I've been in a while,"

And he meant it. It wasn't said out of the need to please, it was said out of truth. For a moment, Nikolai didn't even think about the fact that this might be the happiest they will ever be. They just smiled at him and for once this high school they'd always felt like was limbo, felt a little more real.

Rikki didn't speak, he didn't move. The sentiment was shared. Everything with Nikolai just felt.... Well, there were no words that could really describe it.

Just a bit, Rikki leaned in closer to the warm body, he felt his hand brush up against the back of Nikolai's in the movement, before settling back a little bit aways.

He didn't speak a word, just taking in the feeling of Nikolai beside them. Perhaps he could put off the nagging feeling a bit longer and just reside in it for tonight.

ribs

lorde

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ditto]

v. vallese

Los Angeles smelled like rotten eggs; Violetta Vallese hated rotten eggs. Rotten eggs were far better as chickens, or, at the very least, fresh eggs, and so she simply would never be anything short of entirely revolted by the scent wafting through the car-crowded streets of the rushing city. Which came first, she wondered: the city or the egg scent?

How did the citizens here grow used to it? Did they ever grow used to it? Perhaps their brains had made it so that the smell was pleasant and all other smells were unpleasant. What did the smell come from? Maybe governmental laws had made it so the planes above released the smell to keep their citizens under control; the smell, possibly, had some kind of effect on their psyches, disillusioning the people to view the world around them as something beautiful to hail on social media, as she’d seen all around before she’d come here, when, in actuality, it was a rather bland place with an awful smell.

Questions and theories such as this stirred in the curious, odd girl’s mind. She attempted to keep them all written down on the notepad she kept in her satchel, but she would often forget a detail about a theory and remember it at a time that she had no access to her pens. Regardless, what she had would make a grand video: 5 top los angeles theories + move in.

She had already filmed the move in part, last weekend. It hadn’t quite been pleasant, but nothing about Los Angeles — or America, for that matter — was very pleasant thus far, anyway, so she had no expectations that that would be anything different; besides, in full transparency, Viva did not want to be in this house with this strange woman and her strange cats and her strange terriers and her strange pigeons. Animals, truly, were souls just as people were, and the notion of owning a pet disgusted her as much as the notion of owning another person. Besides, she had never thought of pigeons as pets — more as biome-important nuisances — and they had such wide, buggy eyes that she simply could not trust them. She was sure that the pigeons reported to someone higher. Perhaps the bourgeoisie, as the popular theory stated, but…she had other ideas: Raffaella — she refused to refer to her as “Aunt Raffy” — was the most obvious choice, as no sane woman would keep so many pigeons around if they weren’t a sort of council of sorts; the Los Angeles city council was another good option, because perhaps they were part of the spread of propaganda that the rotten-egg-smelling city was one of wonders…the options were limitless, truly.

The room she slept in was uncomfortable as well. It seemed as though her cousin — yes, her cousin, not her aunt, which made it particularly odd that she wanted to be referred to as “Aunt Raffy” — had prepared the room in expectation that Viva was a tween, sequin-obsessed girl. The walls were painted a fresh coat of bright, obnoxious pink, as were the bedspread and the carpet, and it wasn’t as though this room had been one left over from a child of Raffaella’s own — from what Viva knew, the woman was sad and lonely and childless. This decoration had been intended for her, and it made her want to vomit every time she laid eyes upon it.

The worst part — though it was hard to rank it as such, seeing as everything else here was absolutely dreadful — was the fact that Raffaella had decided that she needed to eat meals with her. Just the two of them: the middle-aged, wrinkled woman with glasses as thick as coke cans and the fashionable, deeply revolted girl seated across from her in a table meant for one shoved into the center of the kitchen, squeezed between a fridge and several animal cages. What was worse was that Raffaella expected her to talk…including at breakfast, and apparently including school day breakfasts.

“Are you excited for your first day?” Raffaella asked in lightly accented English. That was another thing — even in privacy, the woman refused to speak in Italian. She had been in America for twenty-five years, Viva’s mother had said, and she seemed to refuse to acknowledge that she was Italian in the least.

Violetta, however, would not be compelled to become any more Americanized that she was sitting at home back in Sassari. “Non proprio,” she answered. Not really.

Raffaella shook her head, reaching out to stroke Viva’s cheek. Viva pulled back to avoid being touched. From here, she could smell the scent of cat on her cousin, and she felt the urge to vomit, knowing that those hands were the ones that prepared the bowl of fruit in front of her. (The only credit that she could give Raffaella so far was that she, at least, honored Viva’s veganism, though she had, since Viva had moved in Thursday, made comments at almost every meal about it.) “Don’t be that way, Violet,” she said. “You’re going to have so much fun! It may take a bit to get used to, but you will enjoy it!”

Violet. She always called her Violet. Not Viva. Not Violetta. Not even Lettie. Violet. Her name was not Violet. It was Viva, or Violetta, or, if you felt so inclined and you happened to be related to her, though it annoyed her greatly, Lettie, but never Violet.

When she returned to her room to get ready for the day, her phone buzzed with a notification that Pinefly had responded to her. She’d all but forgotten that she’d sent them a rant about attending her first day of school today. With a small, thankful smile, she opened her messages.

Yeah high school can be annoying like that but you'll be fine. Just ignore them if they get to be too much a pain in the ass.

Viva chuckled softly. She’d come to expect as much from Pine; when one knew someone for half a year, even if one met them online and had only ever spoken to them through text beneath the made-up monicker of Flora as Viva had, one began to be able to almost predict their patterns. The human brain was quite amazing in that way, though she doubted it was something simply unique to humans.

It was nice, in a way, to have a friend as a guide to help her through the day if she needed them, even if they happened to only be an Instagram friend.

The school was much larger in person than she expected. The scent was just as unpleasant inside as it was outside, though the unpleasantry was different within the walls; it didn’t smell so much like rotten eggs as it did sweat, cheap cologne, and lavender air freshener. She was not quite a fan of lavender, either, so the latter was perhaps the most unfortunate.

As Viva walked down the hallway, phone in hand and light backpack strapped on her back, her eyes scanned the lockers on either side of the halls, checking the numbers in an attempt to find the one that she’d been assigned.

Suddenly, though, something crashed into her, and she fell down on the floor, falling backward and sliding a bit. “Merda,” she hissed in pain, wincing as her phone went flying down the hall.

Rubbing her palms painfully and clenching her jaw in irritation, she confusedly looked up to see a rat-looking boy standing above her. His bleached hair, dirty upper lip, and strange clothing choices made her immediately jump to the conclusion that he was Hollywood Arts’ equivalent to the stereotypical “loser” found in the typical young adult film; she had never seen one in real life. “Hey, watch where you’re going, bobblehead!” he yelled. “You made me crash into you. Look what you did, Totally Spies.” She did not understand that reference. “Ruined my only pair of good pants. Hope this ruined your day.”

The yelling destroyed any sense of wonder she had, instead stroking the anger that this sudden, rude encounter had prompted. Though she had fully intended to follow her trusted internet friend’s advice of just ignoring whoever spoke to her…there was truly no way that she could live her life satisfied if she didn’t speak to this boy right now. “Testa di cazzo,” she said, her stoic voice only betraying a slight irritation, shaking her head as she stood herself up and dusted off. “I have done no such thing — but look what you have done.” She walked a few steps past the ratty boy, then bent down to pick up her phone. “Running down the halls — then blaming me for this accident you have caused. Porca miseria. I have already encountered an idiot.”

She squinted at her phone, and, running her finger along the top, she noticed a small chip in her phone case. Her brows knit together in offense. “My phone — see what you have done to it?” She held it up for the boy to see, though it was doubtful that he could make out the chip. “You have damaged my phone. The chip likely that costs more than the drab trousers you are wearing.” She gave him a once-over. “I believe I have done you a favor by ripping them, in any case. They are quite ugly,” she said bluntly.

She held out her palm. “You will pay for the repairs,” she stated; this was not up for question. “I do not have an American bank account, so cash will do.”

mood
pay up

location
the school

outfit
clothes

playing...
mammamia

by måneskin​

mentions
online friend

interactions
beel

tags
mogy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

MOOD: Angry and petty and always right.

OUTFIT: Dirty jacket, weird shirt and zebra print pants.

LOCATION: School hallway.

basics

MENTIONS:

INT:
Viva ( ditto )

tags

TL;DR Beel forgave Viva for being so crude.

tl;dr

beelzebub

The same amount of anger Beelzebub gave out into the so-far one-sided conversation was given back to him, if not at an even bigger level. This girl was far too angry and upset for someone who caused the whole accident, and Beelzebub, well, he wouldn’t be having any of this. Why couldn’t they just have a nice and respectable conversation like adults did?

(That also wasn’t his fault, he was just a tiny bit upset when he wished for her day to be horrible. He didn’t actually mean it.)

The girl, as she stood up, turned out to be taller than Beelzebub, and she started calling him names in both English and Italian, which, wow, way to make an impression. Beelzebub looked at her, eyes squinted in irritation and annoyance. He was just trying to get to class and now she was blaming him for her own phone being broken. For what he knew, that phone was broken before she stepped on his path and disrupted his nice brisk walk to class.

There was no way she really doing this. She must have been kidding.

She stepped closer to him with each word leaving her mouth, and the short king looked up at the intimidating queen with eyes now wide open. The closer she stepped to him, the more his eyes went from angry to scared, but that was a defense mechanism against all the girls that roamed these hallways looking for their next bullying victim. He knew people, girls especially, had to have compassion for the poor little fellow that looked homeless. He wasn’t actually scared, haha. He wasn’t.

And then came the low blow. She insulted poor Beelzebub’s pants, which were amazing, by the way, and that absolutely cemented her fate in this interaction. Filled with shock at the wrong, completely unwanted and unnecessary opinion, Beelzebub’s face lost the scared and came right back to angry in a twist that nobody saw coming. Calling him a dickhead was one thing, but saying his pants were ugly, that was where the short king drew the line.

“I will not do any such thing, lady.” He made his body look all intimidating and scary by actually standing with a normal posture. He turned his view from her empty hand positioned in front of him to her face. Did she have some work done? Probably not. Dancers don’t care about their faces. Wait, that doesn’t even matter. “Here I am. Just minding my business, not even thinking about suing you for destroying my pants like some punk, but you calling me all these insults? Horrible and distasteful, really.”

The boy rolled his eyes, complete disbelief emitted. Who did miss dancer think she was?

“Sei una tale ragazza pick-me.” He spoke almost fluently, a bit of an accent issue on one or two words, but the sentence made sense, and it was completely true. The girl was a pick-me through and through. “That’s right, bobblehead. My dealer is Italian, so take that. You’re not the only one who can speak pasta. Bet you felt so important thinking you were the only one. Typical pasta speakers.”

He checked the time on his own phone, and of course, he was already probably too late to make it to class, so he just sighed in disappointment. “Whatever. I forgive you. Mi chiamo Belzebù.”

Instead of putting nonexistent money in the girl’s hand, he shook it as a way of forgiving her for every sin she committed towards him. It was the right thing to do, forgiveness, that is.

code by valen t.

 

[ditto]

v. vallese

“I will not do any such thing, lady.”

Viva had watched several videos of non-American students in America, and she had heard it stated that it was a common misconception among high schoolers that all American students would be hostile toward foreign students; however, she was now inclined to believe that the video makers were incorrect and that this “misconception” was actually a correct conception. Why else, pray tell, would the boy in front of her be looking at her in this way, and be saying what he was saying now?

“Here I am. Just minding my business, not even thinking about suing you for destroying my pants like some punk, and you calling me all these insults? Horrible and distasteful, really.” He rolled his eyes.

“I am neither of those things,” she said in her stoic voice, her upper lip pulling up in a look of disgust and offense. “If I am, it would seem that I at least have far better taste than you.” She glanced at his pants, then back up to his face, then glanced away from him and took a few steps away, fully intending to go on about her way. If he wasn’t going to pay her, then she saw no need to try to extrapolate anything else from him, and her time was wasted having a discussion with such a boy as this in the first place.

“Sei una tale ragazza pick-me.”

“Pick-me?” she repeated in a mildly offended tone, turning on her heel to look back at the boy with widened eyes. She gave him a once-over. His Italian was not awful, but it was clear that he was not Italian. Perhaps he had taken some online course, or a class offered at this school. She wasn’t sure what pick-me meant, but the way he said it made it seem as though it was an insult of some sort, and thus, she felt as though she needed to be at least somewhat offended.

“That’s right, bobblehead,” said the boy — she did not understand why he was calling her bobblehead, and she scoffed softly in agitation. “My dealer is Italian, so take that.” Dealer? Surely he didn’t mean a drug dealer; she had heard of the brash candidness that permeated American culture, but she was sure it didn’t extend to such proud bragging about drug usage. “You’re not the only one who can speak pasta. Bet you felt so important thinking you were the only one. Typical pasta speakers.”

Viva’s lips pressed into a firm line, her brows tugging together. “Pasta,” she repeated, and then she crossed her arms frustratedly. “Pah. I speak no pasta. I speak Italian.” Her voice was as stoic and betrayed as little of her emotion as ever. “There is no pasta here. Do not speak of Italians that way.”

The boy, who had been checking his phone as she chastised him, sighed deeply. “Whatever,” he said. “I forgive you.” She needed no forgiveness. “Mi chiamo Belzebù.” He took the hand she’d been holding out and shook it.

She pulled her hand away, then gave him another once-over. He looked like the type not to wash his hands; she would need to wash her hands immediately following this interaction. “Belzebù.” That was an odd name. Perhaps it was a screen name of sorts, a handle he’d developed that he wished would stick, much like her Viva. There was no way that the boy was an influencer — his poor personality threw that out of the window. Though, on second thought, LA creators were notorious for their assholeish personalities, so she supposed that it was too hasty to assume that he wasn’t any sort of influencer. If he was wanting to be an influencer and wasn’t, though, he should have picked a more pleasant name. She was all for rebellious names, she was in full support of the edgy, but religion-related names always seemed tacky to her. Besides, Belzebù was far too many syllables for her to call him. “Belze,” she concluded in her stoic voice, deciding that was a far better name with which to refer to him.

“It is not quite a pleasure to meet you, Belze,” she said bluntly. “Firstly, you seem to have something against Italian people. It is completely unfounded, whereas my disdain for America is completely founded. The whole place seems to smell like sewage and eggs. This school smells like sweaty teenagers. Nothing about it is pleasant. Secondly, it would not have been too awful of you simply approach me at a walking pace, if you felt the need to speak with me. I do not like to speak, but I would speak if asked politely rather than being ran into.” She gave a soft sigh, uncrossing her arms.

The formality engrained in her insisted that she return the favor that he had imparted on her, though; if he introduced himself, then she must also. “Mi chiamo Violetta, o Viva. Qualunque sia la tua preferenza,” she said disinterestedly, and then she clarified what she meant in English, since she doubted that this strange, self-important American would understand what she was saying: “Whatever your preference.”

She gave him another glance over. “You are…not a dancer,” she stated, as though she knew it. “You are also not an actor, nor a singer. You are absolutely not in the Plastics department. You are, then, an artist. That would explain the fashion. Perhaps, then, you are also new, because you were running down the hallway.” She crossed her arms. “You are interesting,” she said bluntly. “Strange, but interesting. Strange people are always the most interesting, I believe. Strange people are the people who make the world work.”

mood
hello.

location
the school

outfit
clothes

playing...
mammamia

by måneskin​

mentions
n/a

interactions
beel

tags
mogy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
how fucking dare you

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
you know what it looks like

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
the apartment dining room

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
ash

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
trevor

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
ditto

It was Charlie’s turn for her head to ache.

The entire evening had left a bitter taste in her mouth, the feeling only deepening as she watched Trevor’s face muddle and contort as his intoxicated mind struggled to keep up with her words. Once again, a good day had been ruined.

Time and time again, over and over and over, every single person in Charlie’s life (with almost one exception) seemed to ruin any ounce of happiness in her day. Someone else’s problems were always too big, someone else always needed her, someone else always needed to turn around and make her the bad guy. She knew what was coming, Charlie had seen this story time and time again. Her entirely valid concern for Trevor and Jo’s wellbeing would certainly lead to a yelling match that somehow ended in Charlie being the goddamn villain.

Why was she never allowed to be fucking happy? When was it her fucking time?

“Stupid…” Trevor’s voice echoed, blank, glossy eyes staring a hole into the centre of their oak dining room table.

“Yeah, no shit man. You fucked up big this time man, I don’t even know what else to tell y-” Charlie’s voice was cut off with Trevor’s head, in a movement of pure rage, slammed into the tabletop with a sickening thud. The remaining anger in Charlie’s stomach faltered slightly at her friend’s pain. As stupid as he was. Charlie couldn’t pretend she didn’t care or that this scene before it, no matter how pitiful, was entirely painful to watch.

Trevor was crying, shoulders shuddering with his sobs. Every ounce of Charlie screamed to hold her back, let him feel the guilt for his own dangerous actions. Unfortunately, old habits died real damn hard. There she went, carefully pulling out a chair to sit behind him and gently reaching a hand out to rest on his shoulder.

“Trev, come on. Let’s just talk about this. What happened?” Charlie asked softly, doing her very best to mask the remaining frustration and anger. She could be pissed off at his bullshit later. Right now, Trevor needed her.

“I’m such a feckin’ idiot!” Trevor’s words slurred, a waft of his alcohol and weed scented breath washing across Charlie’s face. Delicious. “For fallin’ for a girl like that, for lettin’ her treat me like feckin’ shite, for drivin’ home while in this feckin’ state — stupidstupidgoddamnstupid!”

Charlie let out a heavy sigh, teeth grinding together behind pink lips. “Yeah it was fucking stupid, and dangerous as hell too. But at least you’re safe. I mean all things considered…”

The rest of Trevor’s words slowly began to sink into Charlie’s brain, meaning twisting into her consciousness at the same time that her hand pulled back from Trevor’s shoulder.

A girl?

Trevor had a fucking girlfriend and didn’t tell h-

“What. The. Fuck.” Charlie managed, shooting up out of her chair. Her hand slammed down on the table before she could even stop herself, the rage in her chest bubbling up until she finally overflowed. “Are you fucking talking about ASH?”

Charlie silently begged to be wrong. For once, it would be a relief. But Charlie got the feeling that she was nothing but absolutely right.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Jace West

Aha. Jace's thin fingers closed around a notebook that he was pretty sure was his, but just to doublecheck, whilst he was underneath the desk, he decided to flip it open and make sure that the hastily scribbled words inside were indeed his -- and they were. With a relieved sigh, he was about to pull the notebook out and get back up when someone's voice sent chills down his spine and caused him to hit his head on the desk.

He winced -- partially from the pain resonating through his head, and partially because he recognized that horrible little man's voice. He considered just... staying underneath the desk. Would that provide any kind of protection from what this horrid little dude had planned, but after a moment...

Well, after a moment, Jace pulled back out from underneath the desk, notebook clenched tightly in his hands. There was... there he was, just... just... just standing so forebodingly over Jace, and he felt like he might just shrink into himself, or he'd just faint right there, and then Callum would--

Callum.

Surely, Callum had seen Mike come in, and he would remember what a jerk Mike was, and he'd get some help or he'd come in and help Jace deal with the jerk before him.

“Well, well,” Mike said, “if it isn’t everyone’s favorite incontinent bitch. Heard the Ball was pretty eventful for you, huh? Why don’t you share with the class?”

"O-oh," Jace started to stutter. He pushed up from the ground, the notebook clenched in trembling fingers, as he went to take a step away from Mike, only for him to bump into another desk, which caused him to kind of fumble and fall backwards onto the desk. He quickly tried to straighten up. "I-I n-nothing, I just..." he laughed uncomfortably as he tried to fumble his way around the desk, "n-nothing, I-I gotta... Callum, h-he's waiting... waiting for me, I..."

Oh heck, send help.

mood
ehh

location
school

outfit
clothes

playing...
Insecure

by Jace West​

mentions
Stassi

interactions
Callum

tags
hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ditto]

trevor callaghan​

Trevor was crying, but he wasn’t really aware that he was crying. He was talking, but he wasn’t aware of that, either. His thoughts were too loud for that — his muddled thoughts were swarming in his mind, suffocating him, all focused on Ash, feckin’ Ash, and all she’d feckin’ done.

“I’m stupidstupidstupidfeckin’stupid, I can’t feckin’…,” he continued in a stream of mutters, through his hyperventilation.

“What. The. Fuck.” The words hardly registered with him. He didn’t lift his head, just tensed up. Fuck, she probably has something to feckin’ say about this, too, he thought angrily, but there was no power behind it, no anger that could possibly push into action. He didn’t move, either — couldn’t really move.

Something slammed down next to his head. “Are you fucking talking about ASH?”

The name sent a pang through his chest, and he felt the sudden urge to vomit. A heave rocked his body — a sobbing heave, and he made a small choking noise. He clenched his jaw tightly. “D-Don’t s-say her feckin’ name. I can’t feckin’ stand it,” he slurred painfully. AshAshAshAshAsh —

Then, it occurred to him.

He slowly lifted his bloodshot, dripping eyes to look at the angry looking girl who looked down upon him.

“Oh…shite, feckin’…”

Charlie didn’t know.

He stared at her for a moment, his heart still in his tense chest.

It’s too feckin’ late. Shite doesn’t matter anymore.

He dropped his head back to the table. “Yeah, feckin’…feckin’ fine, I dated Ash in private an’…an’ you can kill me now if you want to.” He lifted a hand and loosely pointed it at then ack of his neck. “If ya kick there hard enough, I hear it’s painless.”

mood
???

location
the apartment

outfit
blue suit

playing...
i wanna slam my head against the wall

by glaive​

mentions
ash

interactions
charlie

tags
geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: neutral

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: hallway

basics

MENTIONS:
Kian, Maddie, Lin, Angel

INT:
n/a

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Javier Cervantes

Out with the old, in with the new. If there was any apt candidate for this New Year's resolution, it was Javi. Lose a friend, gain a bandmate. Lose an old flame, gain complete and indiscriminate dick-sticking liberty. Lose Kian's sobriety, gain one hell of a party. Lose a brother, gain a... well, one stupid ass fucking cousin. At the turn of the New Year, the bassist finally began to teeter on the edge of just. Letting go. Maybe failing to give a shit would do something for his anger issues. Or better yet, the unwarranted tears.

People come and go like seasons, and not only in the physical sense. One pitiful, conflicted look in the eyes and it becomes clear as day who has begun to withdraw into their head, keeping a lid on unfairly-concealed sentiments toward the arrogant junior. People shouldn't change so fast. Or at all, really, but even Javi was at least half as reasonable to cut his losses on some people.

Elbowing his worries at present away, he arrived at school, the permanent scowl on his face rendering him as unapproachable as ever. He looked like a yoked, brutish meathead with his lumbering gait and furrowed brows and although it was his own doing, he sometimes did wish he could be more approachable. Then again, chicks dug the brooding look. He looked like there was a lot on his mind.

And there was not a whole lot up there.

The only thing Javi was sure of today was that he was not at all bothering with finals, so he naturally walked right past his locker without grabbing any books or study materials. Today was more of a sit in the back of class and sit moodily type of day, if his teachers allowed it. A lot of them pretended to be his friend as some sort of tactic to goad him into trying. The others were just, well, your typical, run-of-the-mill hardasses. Who was anyone to impose their own image of success onto him?

He was a great enough performer anyway. Plenty of famous people dropped out of high school, so they were lucky to be getting any of Javi at all.

The muscular teen took a detour to the washroom, standing himself in front of a sink and staring down his own reflection. His left eye twitched as he let out a low grumble, looking away with a grimace at the running water below. He dropped a hand into the cold stream of water, cupping it and bringing a small splash to his face, which was now glistening with a wet and dripping surface.

A parallel image of Saturday flashed into his head, one of the span of seconds he spent rubbing coke onto his gums by the backstage vanity. He had been so disgruntled then, if not generally dissatisfied with the state of his microcosm of the world.

Well, shit, Maddie was right.

He did like to numb his feelings.

Once again taking a pass at clearing his head, the olive-skinned boy took off, a fraction more pensive than he was before he came in. Why did his reflection make him feel everything at once? Who decided to make him that way?

The answer, ironically, was in the mirror.

Sauntering down the hall, he stared forward, aimless, as though his class schedule had just up and vanished. Where did he have to be if not running away?

code by valen t.

 

[hery]

MOOD: BOYS

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: da room

basics

MENTIONS:
Hunter, Angel, Bella, Nickie

INT:
ditto (Kelli)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Veronica Crosby

Nice to meet you, where you been?

Ronnie showed Hunter some incredible things, alright. It was a shock for many guys to discover the real Ronnie, or at least the version of herself she put on for them. Inside the girl's soul was a hefty arsenal of intricately-crafted personas all aimed toward different goals, but it was mainly for the purpose of attracting various boys of interest. This tactic was, of course, not at all exclusive to the doe-eyed redhead, but she simply did it better and she knew it.

Had Kelli used the right personality on Angel? Ronnie could only hope.

Things work out when you take it easy. Bella called Ronnie's bluff on that one, but it was true. She worked really hard for some things, even to the extent that her priorities were almost always in question. And then, suddenly, there came a day where it all magically fell into place.

There was this kid magazine Ronnie used to read in elementary school, super corny and pink, so naturally it was a big hit. It was all about clothes, sleepover games, quizzes... you get the picture. Every other page, there was a girl or several smiling with their hands on their hips or blowing bubbles or something cutesy to that effect.

Some of the girls were repeat models and thus made several issues, because they were somehow recognized for their superior ability for looking delighted or whatever criteria they worked by. One of those girls, though forever unnamed, permanently made a home in the young, impressionable redhead's mind. She was your average blonde, pigtailed girl no older than the age of eleven, yet she had more captivating qualities than the majority of Ronnie's peers.

It was silly little things she posed for, like playing with scarves alongside a sponsored fashion article or watching Disney with a bowl of popcorn. Ronnie liked to picture herself beside the blonde girl, laughing and playing, finally in on whatever was so funny that made the models always smile.

Then, eventually, she wanted the clothes she wore. It was a horrible time to be the girl's parent, running back and forth between stores and sales just to grab the latest bedazzled, smiling pizza slice t-shirt. But she had to have it. If she wore the signature pinks and lavenders, had the special French braid, and wrote with the curly-girly font the magazine printed in, then maybe one day she could just warp into the magazine and exist in a permanent state of perfection amid all her perfectly perfect friends.

There came a time, though, that Ronnie eventually grew weary of the fast-paced marathon the magazine demanded of her. That model girl was soon replaced by identical pigtailed blondes, their smiles soulless and strikingly, blindingly white. It never slipped; none of them did. It was an uphill battle keeping up with the it-girls.

That epiphany was the day Ronnie renounced it all. She didn't like that girl. She didn't want to be the girl, let alone anything like her. She had to be better.

Then came Off-Broadway, then Hollywood Arts. She did it all with the chameleon-like guile she developed for years, only this time every new persona wasn't so new. It was just someone else, but better.

Ronnie was better than Nickie. She knew that the moment she stopped caring what this specific, conniving bitch thought of her. And the two-faced, disgraced ex was losing.

The child actress smiled to herself, satisfied with a year's hard work. School was almost out for the holidays, and she had to come in looking gorgeous. The way she looked today, well... it was the way all the boys would remember her image to be described to their mothers and brothers over the holidays. She's a keeper, they would say, an enchanting, charismatic beauty just waiting for her prince charming.

Only, she wasn't waiting. She had no time to waste.

Ronnie turned around to hear her roommate speaking, putting on a soft smile for the girl she adored so. Kelli was just like the magazine girls, only the redhead held no resentment for the soft-spoken girl. She was gorgeous without trying, not to mention being immune to any and all hatred. Who could dislike a girl like Kellian Phelan? They weren't competing. Neither would threaten a true friendship over something so silly, especially when their interests were so fundamentally different.

"My Ball?" Ronnie repeated with a hearty laugh, "You're the one with the sexy, mysterious artist!" She sat herself on her bed, slipping on a shoe. She gave a satisfied grin at the mention of her late return, relishing the movie-esque drama of her date night.

"Oh, what can I say!" the singer exclaimed, dropping her hands to her sides. She clutched the edge of her bed, leaning forward eagerly. "He knows how to keep a girl interested." She looked up, mulling over her thoughts. How could she explain things?

Ah, screw it. Life is too short for subtleties. "I made the first move!" she blurted in an excitable squeal, "And he was, like, so into it. We were there until they started kicking people out, then we said, 'Hey, it's still so early,' then... well, we didn't end the night. How could we?" She then perked up, totally forgetting the other juiciest part.

"And don't even get me started on Nickie Abrams." She had been speaking rapidly (yet intelligibly—thanks, vocal training) the entire time, but her voice slowed and lowered with her ridiculing mention of Hunter's ex-girlfriend. "It was so embarrassing for her. She, like, got all mad Hunter moved on with me, then threw a drink on him, then had, like, a complete breakdown in front of the entire ball. I wouldn't be surprised if she ran to the dumpsters and cried the rest of the night."

Ronnie laughed, but cut abruptly herself off. "It was...!" Hilarious. Oh, gee, but this was Kelli she was talking to. "Well, it was pretty hard to watch. But I did anyway. Poor girl."

She then promptly dismissed it with a wave, masquerading like the whole thing was no big deal. "But I'm sure your night was way crazier. I was going to check on you, but I was, like, real busy, you know?" Her mind went straight back to Hunter's chest, and she instinctively bit her lip. "Angel's head over heels for you, right? Who made a move? I bet he did."

code by valen t.