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Realistic or Modern Ivy Rose Academy (Closed)

Sub Genres
  1. LGBTQ
  2. Platonic
  3. Realistic
  4. Romance
  5. School
  6. Slice of Life


No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

It was rather difficult to pinpoint exactly what was causing the anger that was currently pumping through Damien Slater's veins. Of course, this was more because there was any number of things that it could've been -- nearly everything pissed Slater off, ranging from actual offenses to something as simple as someone glancing in his direction.

Today's instance was probably caused by his bitch of a girlfriend, although they were technically on good terms now -- although "good terms" still felt as if it were such a stretch. See, the way that Slater and Carlotta worked was simple: they fucked, they fought, they broke up, they fucked, they got back together. Sure, it wasn't always in that order, but it was easy enough to see a pattern between the two of them.

At this point, Damien had resisted keeping his mother updated on his turbulent relationship status -- he didn't want to worry the woman, and well... after the second or third breakup, it had been clear to him that she was worried. So he'd just kept his issues with Carlotta to himself from that day.

Yeah... he didn't exactly have a lot of friends to talk to, so perhaps having to bottle up his frustrations and anger was another reason that he tended to be so pissed.

And he wasn't even sure why he was at this fucking game -- to find his girlfriend? To make fun of Kirby? There were a hundred different reasons, but none of them really made sense... well, except for one. The one that said that he was here to kick some bitch ass named Casper's ass.

But the issue was that this bitch didn't have any pictures of their fucking face, so Slater had no idea who he was looking for -- but he had tunnel vision. Figured he'd recognize the bitch ass whenever he found them, so... here he was now. Marching through the football game stands, hands balled into fists at his sides, dark eyes narrowed, not really bothering as he bumped into this person or that, even going as far as to shove some dude.

(It was definitely a child -- someone that wouldn't fight back.)

Except that one fucking bitch bumped into him, but full on, so his marching was brought to an abrupt halt. Before he could throw out a whole ass fucking range of insults at the fuckhead, the bitch talked back to him, asking if he was okay or some dumbass shit -- just pissed him off, really.

"Yeah, I'm not a fucking wuss," he snapped back, and didn't bother to offer the same decent humanity and ask if she was alright. "Do you some fucking asshole named Casper?"

What? One track mind.

Damien Slater

yooo what up

tags tags tags

♡coded by uxie♡


Professional Unicorn Lover
Casper Deering
"I'm getting away with this? ...I'm God!"
Damien Slater | Winona Winona

He really didn’t recognize them. They were going to get away with this. The thought sent a thrill down their spine and they wanted to grin but they were used to holding things like that back. Instead, their eyes blew wide, that stupid look they tended to get on their face glued there as they shook their head. Had they really slept with this guy?

“No, I’m sorry.” That could’ve been it. It would’ve been smart to leave it there, but for some reason Casper just had to keep bullshitting. It was addictive. So they cocked their head to the side, leaning in with concern radiating off their face as they reached a hand out to touch him only to pull it back—For all they knew, he was like Aaron and a touch as simple as that could incite serious violence. “You seem really worked up… Maybe one of those freezie drinks would help? I was just about to go get one for me… And maybe then you won’t feel so mad about this Casper guy!” They put on their prettiest smile at that bit, perfect for dazzling effect. “And they’re really good! And it’s super hot, right? It’ll cool you right down!!”


mood? whatever the exact opposite of school spirit is.
theo astor.
Theo raised a hand to shade his eyes from the glare of the sun, squinting to see the figures milling around the field, although to be honest he could’ve been watching anything. He wasn’t exactly up to date on the newest version of the rules, or any version for that matter.

It’s not like this was Theo’s first time at a football game, in fact one of his Dad’s favourite father-son activities involved dragging the reluctant teen to sit in a luxury box and rub shoulders with a bunch of boring old men who seemed more interested in talking about stocks and property value than focusing on any of the actual play. Maybe that’s where his distaste for the activity came from.

Theo was always more of a regular football person anyways, putting much more merit in the tradition of dramatically throwing oneself on the ground at the slightest hint of physical contact with another player. It was also very possible that this preference was rooted in the romanticization of his childhood, something Theo was hyper aware he indulged in much too often.

“Starting to think watching the new paint in the parking lot dry could’ve been a barrel of laughs compared to this” he contemplated, angling his head towards the girl sitting next to him. Coraline seemed to be enjoying the game just as much as he was, which comforted Theo more than he was willing to admit. Of course, you might be asking why he had hauled himself out of his quiet, admittedly less patriotic room to come and sit on the sidelines judging those who actually bothered to participate and express their excess of school spirit.

Well for one Theo was a generally bitter person, he more than anyone else was mindful of this character flaw, and watching people he mostly didn’t like get body slammed appealed to that part of him. But primarily what had him sitting there today was the sudden presence of his father. Back from ‘important business in New York’, Theodore II wanted to spend the day with his only son. What was a better 'maybe next time' excuse than attending the homecoming game for the school his father so desperately wished Theo would show any amount of interest in? Disappointingly, Theodore II had insisted on giving him a ride, and expected a full run down of all the highlights. So instead of camping out in the library here he was, bored, and craving one of the cigarettes he had tucked in his jacket pocket, but at least he wasn’t alone.

“At least send out the mascot dude to do a backflip or something” he mused, scrunching up his nose, eyes still trained on the field “maybe get in a fight with the other school’s guy.” He glanced over at Coraline, shrugging one of his shoulders.

Theo returned his gaze to the players, wondering distantly if that specific train of thought was one he had had to share with one of the most rational, civilised people he knew. He leaned forward as he ran a hand through his already messy hair.

“Maybe we should’ve painted our faces.”
  • outfit

coded by reveriee.


Running Wild

Atlas Reddinger

Atlas played many sports; soccer, basketball, sometimes baseball, his natural athletic aptitude seemed to make up for the fact that he was completely hopeless academically and technologically, certainly not for a lack of trying. American Football and its violent clashing of shoulder pads and bodies however, was not one of them, which seemed to be a shame right about now since the football team looked like it could really use some help after that first quarter. He wasn’t about to throw on some pads or anything though, he far preferred sports that required more… finesse, not that football didn’t require finesse but there was far too much violence involved for his liking and as cool as movies made it look, getting knocked down or taking a serious injury while making a beautiful highlight play was just not worth it.

12 year old him could attest to that, there had been nothing cool about trying to break up his little sister’s spat and getting knocked unconscious. Besides he wanted to live a long and healthy life, not be in pain for the rest of it. He’d talk football any day, watch all the big games but put on the pads and suit up for a game? Not on his life.

Plus the locker room was mostly full of angsty and overly serious, hot headed free swingers, aka not fun.

Anyway, locker room discussions aside, hopefully they turned it around soon. Wasn’t much of a homecoming if they ended up losing the big game and it always put a damper on the big celebration they held afterwards which... no one wanted to attend a dreary party, even if it was full of very attractive people and booze.

At least the cheer team was putting on a fun show with their stunts and routines. Certainly helped liven things up. At the moment though, they were on break, which was also why he had vacated his seat in the bleachers and was walking around to the back where he knew the cheerleaders were taking their break.

The unmistakable red, black and grey hues of their school colors greeted him as he rounded the corner in a mix of pompoms and figure hugging cheer uniforms. Bingo. Now where was she... his favourite, feisty little Mexican. Not here, or here, aha! There she was.

A cheeky grin lit up on Atlas' face as he snuck behind her, raising a finger to his lips to silence those who did notice him before launching his ambush with a surprise lift from behind, hoisting her high over his head.

"And she soars over the other cheerleaders in a spectacular eye catching flip. The crowd holds its breath as she makes a perfect landing that has them exploding and jumping onto their feet. What an incredible move by Angelina Cruz!" He shouted mischievously as he launched into a quick spin before dropping her back onto her feet, laughing.

As soon as he set her down, Atlas immediately took a step back in case she decided to launch a quick strike back at him. Always better safe than sorry especially after pulling little stunts like the one he just had. It was a lesson that he'd learnt plenty growing up with six siblings.

happy boi all smiles

Homecoming game

i have no idea but looks pretty bad to me


by blank​

football team


ditto ditto

º º code by ditto º º


No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

See, if more of the fuckers on this team could be like Amir, then perhaps Mason wouldn't have the constant need to rip his fucking hair out. Like if more of these people just offered to go get a smoke with him then, well, maybe Mason would actually have this thing called patience.

Unfortunately, most of his team was more like Kirby -- fucking dumb as shit. They were all hotheads, with their heads up their asses, and they couldn't fucking just... god, he hated them.

The only reason Mason was willing to put up with any of their shit was because he wanted a scholarship so he could get the fuck out of the shitty place that he currently lived. Yeah, he didn't want to raise his daughter in the same shitty neighborhood that Drake and him had grown up in.

What could he say? Mason had dreams of giving his daughter an actual decent life.

"C'mon," he said with a tilt of his head. Mason stepped over to where he'd tossed his football helmet, and he picked up his jacket which had been haphazardly tossed down next to it. He pulled it on, and then lead the way off the football field and back towards the lockers.

Was smoking in the locker room the smartest idea?

No, not really.

Did Mason give a fuck?

At this point... no, not really.

Once there, Mason wasted basically no time in pulling out his pack of cigarettes, popping one out and placing it between his lips, and then he held the box out for Amir to take. Sure, the fucker would owe him a cigarette later or some shit, but well... Mason was a nice enough fella that he'd give him one for free for now.

He placed the box back into his pocket, a hand patting against it, and then he pulled out his lighter and in a matter of seconds, he had the end of his cigarette lit and he was handing that to Amir, too.

And then he was breathing -- in on the cigarette, holding the killer smoke in his lungs, and then exhaling slowly.


"You going to that dumb party tonight?" He asked as he took another hit off the cigarette.

Mason Rivera

♡coded by uxie♡


No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

Aight so in hindsight, perhaps vandalizing cars in the parking lot while the whole entire school had shown up for the biggest football game of the year had been a bit of a mistake. But hey, in Xander's defense, he hadn't even wanted to come and sit around to see this boring ol' game. Nah, he'd come to support Artie and sure, Xander loved being there for his sibling, but there was also the whole thing about ahh...

Well, having to sit still for hours.

And he'd been doing real good for quite a while. He'd been patiently sitting in the bleachers, leg bouncing as he'd watched the game going on down below, but at some point, well, ahh... his itchy fingers had started begging him to exercise them. And it just so happened that he'd brought a whole backpack full of spray paint cans and shit, and who was he to try and smother the creative side of him and tell his little fingers no?

That's right, he wasn't.

So when he'd seen a real nice car that really just needed a real nice orange dick graffitied on the side, well... who was Xander to say no that car just begging him for the tasteful add-on?

(And for the record, Xander could do other stuff, it was just that dicks were the funniest to him.)

Unfortunately, Xander was so very wrapped up in his art, that he hadn't really heard the voice of someone yelling in his direction -- well, actually, scratch that. He had heard, but he hadn't really thought much on it or that the person might be directing their words towards him, until suddenly some dude was grabbing his collar and dragging him towards them. Xander let out a surprised yelp, the can of spray paint falling from his hand, and he lifted his hands up.

"I didn't do it!" He cried out, as if he hadn't just been caught orange-handed, and as if there was orange spray paint currently coloring his fingertips. Of course, perhaps the boy has wizened up because, after a moment, it kind of clicked with him that there was no talking his way outta this one without accepting some responsibility.

"Okay," Xander started, "I did do it." He corrected himself. "But I can explain."

Silence for another moment.

"Okay I can't explain! Don't punch me! Artie'll beat you up real good if you try!"

Nailed it.

Xander Gardner

♡coded by uxie♡


Elder Member
Stella B.
She's there...

Cheer uniform (Replace rebel with rose)

Tori, Drake, Ash,

demonology demonology

Stella looked around a bit and shuffled through her bag to get her phone out. twitter as always was a hot mess especially the cheer group chat. Entertaining to a point, but kinda predictable. Between people not having basic common sense, Drake trying to figure out Cappie's type, and the bitches on the squad tearing into each other every chance they got because everyone is unhappy with the cheer captain selection....there was a lot to read.

When Vi finally replied she could only nod in agreement, "Half the team is somewhere else, either physically or mentally so that's not surprising." She hummed still typing away in twitter because there really was nothing to see in front of her on the field, or on the bleachers. At best there were apparently some stoners under the bleachers...yawn how 90's movie-esque.

Truth be told it was clear that most of the student body came out to see them anyway, so what did it matter what the football team did? Couldn't blame them, they actually had skills and even if they were a bunch of she-devils with painted smiles, they could put their shit aside and put on a good show...something the team could learn a thing or two on.

Hearing Vi's comment she internally agreed that it's be nice for the after party to be a victory one. "I like to think of it as cheering for the audience not to leave rather then the team to win...cause let's face it they come for us." Cocky but true. There might be a few here for a band member or two, but cheer was the main attraction.

Hearing the joke Stella couldn't help the light chuckle that escaped her lips, "Who knows might do some good. We're ten times hotter then any of the girls on their side. Maybe a good distraction for the enemy is all our team needs." She hummed teasingly with a bit of her vanity shinning through. "Too bad I'm not a fan of green."

She looked up finally from her phone noticing Ash was gone, "And there goes our leader because of a little twitter heat. Jeez Tori definitely should've won Captain." She sucked her teeth shaking her head. A little chaos and the girl turns tail. Whatever that wasn't her problem, so she turned to look over at Violet, "What do you say? If our leader can go mingle why don't we? See if anyone interesting is going to that after party?" She mused with a smirk. Hands down the best part of these events was the parties that followed. She'd had to be sober all summer with her father, and she was ready to let a bit loose.

She already kind of had in mind she hoped would be coming, but she'd never admit it aloud, or just go up and ask on her own. That'd look too...just no ok? If there is something Stella got back quickly was her ego and pride. So If Violet turned down her offer she'd simply go grab Tori.
coded by reveriee.


Elder Member
Amethyst J.
Nervously excited

Click Here


Winona Winona

Amy giggled bashfully at his statement about the kitchen being in her bag, "Nah pots and pans sold separately I'm afraid." She joked back. Having him here with her definitely eased a lot of her anxieties about being here.

"Hmm let's see..." She rummaged through her bag a bit more, "Uhh a beef jerky stick, this small ziplock bag of chips, annnnd two bottles of water." It wasn't much, but that combined with the sandwich she figured would be enough of a snack till they got to the party. Or at least keep them from spending an arm and a leg here. She of course let him have first dibs on whatever he wanted if he wanted any of it.

What could she say? She liked being prepared. Not to mention it's not like she comes to these things often, so when she did she wanted to make sure she had anything she needed including food. The only thing she didn't bring was a jacket because it's still LA summer vibes, so she doubted it'd get cold and even if it did it'd be late by then and she'd be inside.

Which begs the questions...why was Amy here? Well she told herself she'd be more outgoing this year. The last homecoming game she went to...wasn't that great...nor was the after party. But it'd been a year and she'd grown from it, right? Right. So she was going to be bold and be present. Justin was always so active and exciting she just wanted to enjoy life to the fullest like he seemed to. Sure she had friends and she loved those friends, but after her last break up she'd kinda shut herself away to only talking to a select few of them. She wanted to open herself up again and going to social events again seemed like a good start.

Even social events like this...where she was watching a sport she knew damn near nothing about.

"Uh...are the players supposed to be walking around like this? I thought the breaks where only at half time?" She looked confused as the slowly dispersing team after only one quarter. Normally she'd just google the answers to any questions she had (and her phone was now in her hand just in case), but she figured Justin might know more then her.

She twirled her curly hair around her finger nervously biting her lip because another reason she'd stayed away from big gathering was she didn't wanna bump into old unfriendly faces like Dei, Adri, or even her former best friend Trevor. Who all apparently moved schools...but what if they didn't? Or what if they came back?

Nope! Don't think about that right now. Right now you are here to have fun Amy.

"Wait is it half time already? That was quick..." Truly Amy didn't understand what was so exciting about this whole thing. She looked over at the scoreboard, "What do you say we play our own game?"
coded by reveriee.
Last edited:


Professional Unicorn Lover
Harvey Shen
"Okay, that was weird, but weird shit's kinda my jam. Let's roll with it."
Jan Austin | jazzyball jazzyball

Harvey’d been watching the game, waiting for his cues—You know, doing his thing. It was a good gig, all things considered, even if their team was losing. But maybe he just loved an excuse to play just about anything. And he liked marching band. The people were for the most part pretty weird, hence being in marching band, and he was weird himself, so it was a pretty good fit.

Case in point: What that girl who’d only been going to the school for a week or two just said, apropos of nothing. Despite the fact there was no way anyone could’ve expected him to already know her name, especially with how little interaction they’d hand, he still felt bad about it as his eyebrows shot up. He leaned closer to her before he’d consciously decided to engage. “Wow. That. Is terrifying. I’m gonna be thinking about that one tonight.”

His face scrunched a bit as he considered.

“Do you ever wonder how they get a statistic like that? Like… were there studies? How would they count it? Is it just based on the number of expected murderers loose in the country at any given moment?” He straightened as he thought aloud. “And if you’re murdered, that’s only the last murderer you see in your life—It could very well be the only murderer that you meet and know is a killer, including theoretically your own mother. Is this based on average lifetime expectancy? That’d be like a murderer every two years then, right? So if you live to, like, ninety, do you see an additional five murderers?”

He should probably introduce himself. With a ruffle of his shaggy near-mullet, he did just that. “I’m Harvey by the way. You’re new, right?” Obviously she was new, but he was just making conversation.
MOOD: sonavabitch 😠

skull tee, grey hoodie
LOCATION: parking lot

WITH: xander

MENTION: artie​
Deo Vesper
The Hearse

Yeah, Deo didn’t believe this idiot wasn’t drawing an orange dick on his cousin’s car just seconds ago. He glanced at the orange-stained hands and looked at Xander with an unamused raised eyebrow.

However, Deo was also kind of amused, at least from the situation in general. It didn’t take long for the artist to concede. All he was doing was holding Xander by the collar of his shirt (albeit a tad roughly) and nothing more. He waited for Xander to explain his action.

And waited…

"Okay I can't explain! Don't punch me! Artie'll beat you up real good if you try!"

Deo puffed out a dry chuckle. He didn’t know Artie personally, but he’d seen them around school and thought they didn’t seem so tough.

“Okay. I’ll kick you instead,” said Deo offhandedly. “And then Artie, since you’re putting so much faith in them to win a fight against me. Seriously, give me a better reason than that, before I finish deciding how kickable your face is.”

Deo glanced at the backpack resting beside their feet. It was partially open and he spotted a couple of spray cans peeking out.

“Is that your bag?” Deo asked. “How many cans you’ve got in there?”
code by valen t.


soap, master of hearts.

Applause and popcorn surrounded the two of them.

Liv was ninety-percent of it, the short girl had a mouth full of popcorn and had a sign under her arm, clapping aggressively before swallowing the salty buttery goodness and cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Go Dalton! Woohoo!” She yelled, lifting the sign that was conveniently made with markers and glitter glue. Pink glitter face paint was in two small stripes under her eyes, acting as makeshift war paint— sorry, game paint.

Whatever it’s called, she doesn’t really care for the proper wording so, neither do I.

Livanna caught Nate’s eye from across the bleachers and she gave him a thumbs up, a giddy smile and a enthusiastic nod before glancing over at Evie.

It was her mission to get the two back together.


They were her friends, y’know?

Even after the whole OD thing…

Which is something that Liv tries not to talk about…

He had to go back to Kansas or something and they broke up and…

She just misses her friends.

And… it kinda sucked when she had to choose between the two of them. It was a really hard choice– Evie or Nate for the game?

But when she heard that Nate was going anyway… Liv thought it might’ve been a really good idea to get them near each other and maybe… who knows? Re-love at second sight?

The thing about Liv is that…


She didn’t really know how love worked.

Livanna was a number of things, she was… energetic, spontaneous, she was a girl who loved nature, who loved animals, children, art– in almost every form.

Music was a really big part of that.

She loved music. Singing, writing, playing– it didn’t matter, it was something that she’s grown up with her whole life, and although she wasn’t really allowed to express herself with her own music, that didn’t diminish how she felt about it.

She loved games, stuffed animals, candy.


But Liv loved… love most of all.

She loved the idea of love.

In some weird way, getting her friends back together felt like… the closest she’d ever get to it. “Did you see who’s here?” She asked, nudging the brunette with her elbow.

And, y'know... it was a really good distraction from everything that her peers were into.

What was that? Oh, you know.

Weed, drugs, alcohol, parties, raves-- a lot of the things that Liv really enjoyed, but uh...

Her twelve-step program wasn't too fond on that.

It's been a few months, but so far Liv has made it to step 1!

  1. Admitting powerlessness over the addiction
Maybe she sort of just said that so they'd stop pressuring her every other Friday, but Liv couldn't hear it anymore!

'Once you admit you have a prob--'

Oh, shut up.

“Just look at him! He’s all Kansas-tanned and I bet he’s got those corn kernel abs somewhere under that–” The team had scored and her words were thankfully cut off by applause, a few screams and someone had bumped into her mistakenly, dropping a few pieces of popcorn onto the floor.

Liv didn’t pay any mind to the stranger though, seemingly ignoring them.

“Have you guys talkeddddd any since he’s been hooooommmmmeeeeeee?”

Livanna Moore

Evie, Dalton, Nate?

♡coded by uxie♡


No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

God, she didn't know why she was here.

Well, actually, she did.

Ava wasn't really sure it was worth it, though. Football games had always just annoyed the fuck out of her -- she was one of those people that couldn't understand why people got so hyped over a stupid football game. Made literally no sense to her, and sure, maybe part of her opinion was spun from pure jealousy that the gaming team didn't get as much interest.

Up front was getting on her nerves, though -- Petra had headed into the back to get some more candy bars, but she still wasn't back, and if another snotty child with a bitch for a mother came up saying how they were just ruining their lives by not having the candy available, well... she was going to lose her fucking mind. So she excused herself, leaving some petrified freshman in charge, and headed to the back.

"Petra?" She called as she opened the door and poked her head in, but as she did so, well... Petra managed to knock over the whole box of chocolate, sending bars scattered across the floor.

Well fuck.

With a sigh, Ava moved towards the other girl and crouched down to help her start picking up the candy.

"Concession's going great so far, huh?" She asked.

Ava Sanders

yooo what up

tags tags tags

♡coded by uxie♡


soap, master of hearts.

  • filler



Wait for a score, or do some inspirational routine that someone else had initiated and... repeat.

Two wooden sticks tapped against the drum that was being held with a strap around her neck, following the others in almost perfect unison with the band. Occasionally Ophelia would get a bored and do the slightest riff on her lonesome which had earned a few looks but, she didn't really care all that much.

She didn't really care about the game, either.

Y'know she signed up for band forever ago, and forever ago was... uh, y'know before she had her own band. And stuff like this was just... kinda boring now. Ophelia would much rather be smoking under the bleachers or like, anywhere else right about now.

The only thing that was getting her through this game was their 'gig' later on at... Artie's house?

Yeah, whoever that was, they were throwing a party and Oph had somehow convinced them to allow Mommy Issues--

it's a cool fucking name, okay?

anyway, Artie's letting them play at the party, which is gonna offer them some major traction and who knows? Maybe some star or somethin' will call up their agent and be like, 'yo, this fuckin band rulez.'

Yeah, rulez with a z.

In one of her yawns and staring off into the unknown, she had caught Tate and Alaska's sign they had made, something about her being their little 'drummer' along with a very horrifying picture of middle school her-- had earned a glare from Oph.

They're getting kicked from the band. She had already made up her mind that after this gig, she was gonna just... plaster some posters around school and see what happens, the entire backbone of this band was Oph and Oph.

No, she doesn't mean herself-- she means her best friend who coincidently had the same name as her, which might've sparked some competition in the past, but she was...

She was pretty cool, so. Oph doesn't really care about her name all that much. She could have it.

"You know, the average person walks past thirty-six murderers in their lifetime,"

The voice had cut through the many 'boos' and applause that was happening behind them, and a contorted mixture of confusion with a little bit of 'what the fuck' appeared on her features and she glanced over at Jan, that was her name, right?

She was younger than her, too? Maybe...?

Did it really matter? For some reason, Ophelia was canonically in everyone's minds, fourteen.

Which-- was obviously WRONG.

She turned sixteen forever ago! She was mature, independent, and completely ready for a girlfriend. Oph didn't respond, though. She stood next to Harvey while he had taken an interest in her conversation and surprisingly started to respond.

Props to 'em for figuring out a way to carry the conversation.

“Wow. That. Is terrifying. I’m gonna be thinking about that one tonight.”

Wow... she uh, really is in band, huh? Ophelia got wrapped in with the nerds! How the hell did this happen!?

“Do you ever wonder how they get a statistic like that? Like… were there studies? How would they count it? Is it just based on the number of expected murderers loose in the country at any given moment? And if you’re murdered, that’s only the last murderer you see in your life—It could very well be the only murderer that you meet and know is a killer, including theoretically your own mother. Is this based on average lifetime expectancy? That’d be like a murderer every two years then, right? So if you live to, like, ninety, do you see an additional five murderers?”


"Real L-convo." She muttered under her breath.

For the old people, it's young people slang.

Mostly used by fourteen year old boys, but hey, we don't judge around here

"I’m Harvey by the way. You’re new, right?”

Finally, Ophelia spoke up.

"That's Jan, mother nature right there," She said, looking over to Harvey.

They'd met a special way, Jan was just conveniently there one day with a tampon in hand, a halo on her head, practically fell from the depths of hell--

whatever, she borrowed a tampon from her.

"Mother nature of like, bodies though."


That sounded... really--

"I meant for periods. She gave me a tampon. I didn't mean it in like a weird innunedo-- or... whatever."

She wasn't sexist, she didn't mean for it to come off that way-- if it did...


She wasn't transphobic, either!

Or uh, homophobic-- or racist-- or-- Listen... some people liked to take jokes a little too far, she was... a little nervous that people are gonna see her as this... big ball of hatred, which sometimes she could be, but...

She wasn't on her period this time around.

Ophelia Warren

♡coded by uxie♡


Running Wild

Spencer Gray

Football games were loud. The noise seemed like it could go on forever without end in sight, there was so much activity, both on the field and in the bleachers, it was hard to concentrate and keep track. Bright lights and the biggest stage. Would he ever reach that some day as a dancer? Not just as a backup but as the star of the show, the main attraction. Would he be able to handle it? He loved performing, dancing, but would the intensity, the lifestyle, would it be too much? Even for him? No. It didn’t matter if it was too much, if it got overwhelming. He’d learn to manage, he had to. He’d lost far too much to get to this point to not succeed, to crumble simply because the lights got blinding and the noise became deafening. There was nothing hard work and effort couldn’t overcome. Nothing. He needed a drink.

Spencer rose from where he sat in the bleachers and started making his way down them. It was hot and crowded. A terrible combination that invited heatstroke and he hadn’t had a drink since he woke up early this morning after a long night of dance practice. Probably too long if he was being honest, but with how competitive the world was, you had to put in the work to stand out from the pack, to succeed. Just like the players and cheerleaders put hours upon hours of practice into their plays and routines.

“Spencer, my man!” Alex pounced on Spencer before he even noticed he was there, catching him off with a clap of the shoulder. He blinked and then a practiced albeit slightly strained smile stretched across his cheeks. “Hey Alex.” He blinked again when Alex brought up Artie’s. Was something happening at Artie’s later? He rarely went on twitter and as far as he could remember he hadn’t gotten any messages regarding Artie’s so...

“I don’t know. What’s happening at Artie’s?”

lil disatracted


comfy and easy


by Shawn Mendes​



jazzyball jazzyball

º º code by ditto º º


ʟɪᴠɪɴ' ʟɪᴋᴇ ʟᴀʀʀʏ

  • filler

(tw: self-image problems)

As she swallowed another mouthful of cool water from her metal bottle, Mikey glanced around the stadium, laughing a little bit to herself. You know, Michelle Cramer would never have been caught dead at a homecoming game. Not when the stadiums were this packed. Not when there were so many eyes that could see here, so many mouths that could laugh at her behind so many manicured hands.

Well, actually, that wasn’t exactly true, she guessed. There was a time in Michelle Cramer’s life where she would’ve literally sold a kidney to go to a homecoming game, or, you know, like, kicked a toddler in the face, or really anything you could think of. You know, back when the so many eyes and the so many mouths behind the so many manicured hands were on her side. Or, well, they were never really on her side — it’s probably more accurate to say that it was back when she still believed that the so many eyes and the so many mouths behind the so many manicured hands were on her side.

But after that era of Michelle ended and the next one began — after that era died along with any hope that Michelle Cramer could ever be anything except for an insult for the lowest of low and the whole Michelle Cramer is a fucking whorish pig era was ushered in to the chorus of shouted jeers of insults that she constantly had to scribble over on her locker — you couldn’t’ve even paid Michelle to come to a football game, especially not one as big as a homecoming game. She would’ve probably paid you to avoid going, and tipped you if you promised never to speak to her again. She would much rather have done anything else. You know, like lock herself in her room, for example, and watch shows that would “rot her brain” like her dad said they would, or, like, go on Twitter and watch the endless stream of tweets about how fun some raging afterparty was until her fear of missing out overcame her crippling fear of being around crowds and she went and was for the night what everyone told her she was every day already.

But Michelle Cramer was dead. Dead, gone, and buried. And Micah Rose — the new, pretty cheerleader-who-was-also-a-total-heartthrob-maneater who took her place — lived for homecoming games.

Setting her bottle down beside her, Mikey breathed out a soft sigh and ran one hand across her slicked back hair. Her legs dangled off the front of the bleachers, her untied shoelaces touched against the ground every time she stopped to rest her feet-kicking for a moment. She closed her eyes and inclined her head slightly back, then placed her hands to either side of her, and then, breathing out a soft sigh, she pretended, for a just moment, that she was in a movie.

This was her close-up moment, the shot at the end of the movie that proved that she really wasn’t the same girl anymore, that she’d really finally made it. That she was now among the social elite, dressed in the social elite’s uniform, and that she actually fit in with them. That she’d come so far from who she was before she came here — or, hell, who she was upon arriving here. See, look at her: here she was, with the warm sun on her face, with her blonde hair catching the setting sun’s light just so, dressed in a form-fitting uniform that her dad would probably have a riot that she was wearing if he saw it, actually feeling pretty good. A small smile played at her lips.

Now, she thought, if only somebody was looking.


Jerked back into reality by the sound of the coach’s bark, Micah’s body jolted. She opened her eyes, feeling a blush coming onto her face, and she gave the coach a small, awkward smile. You weren’t the person I was meaning when I wanted someone to look, Coach. “Hi,” she said.

Coach breathed out a sigh, then pulled out her phone and glanced at it. She inclined her head toward the scoreboard. “When the clock’s down at four minutes, you better be back, ya got it?”

That was code for go, take a break — before I make you.

With a thankful smile, Mikey nodded. “Got it,” she said. As the coach turned back to the girl that she’d been talking to before, she pushed herself off the bleachers, ducking her head to get under the bar. She dusted her hands off, and then smoothed down her skirt. With a quick glance to her left and right to make sure that no one was really looking, she gave the elastic waistband of her skirt tug upwards.

And before you say anything, there was nothing wrong with shortening her skirt. It would just make sure that there were more eyes on her, which, now that she was here, wasn’t really a bad thing anymore. Like, you know how they say, if you’ve got it, flaunt it? She was just flaunting it.

She hesitated a moment, crossing an arm over her chest and glancing around for places where she could take her break. There was the concession stand, which was the obvious choice for most, but looking like a total slob and making her face break out and also, like, tasting like whatever grease-ridden food she scarfed down when whatever lucky guy kissed her tonight? Yeah, no, hard pass. There was the bleachers, where she could surely, at the very least, hear a lot of the latest drama, but that’d also be a lot of fighting to get through people, which was always a total disaster. There was the bench where all the football players were sitting. But the only one that she could see was that gay Camus guy who was a total effing bore and would also probably give her some kind of disease just by looking at her. (Not that she was being judgmental, but, like, realistically speaking, that seemed like a possibility.)

An idea popped into her head, and she smiled to herself. That’s it, she thought as she walked across the front of the bleachers.

Of course, she couldn’t go straight where she was going. If she did and someone happened to see her? Oh, she could kiss the reputation she’d made for herself goodbye.

Weaving through the line of people at the concession stand and heading back toward the bathroom, she walked at a leisurely pace, with her eyes glancing here and there and never focusing on one spot for two long. Around the bathroom and toward the field house she went, and then, finally, she walked to the back of the field house, to the place where the hole in the fence was.

She immediately spotted a darkened figure, leaning against the fence, a lit object between her fingers. With a small smile, Mikey approached her. “Of course,” she mumbled. The strong smell of smoke caused her to let out a cough and squeeze her eyes shut, and she waved a hand in front of her face with a laugh. “How did I know you were going to be here?” she teased, holding her hand out to take the object from her friend. “Like, at this point, I think they might as well just put a label on the fence right here. Like, DO NOT ENTER — LOOK AWAY — JADE JENNINGS’ TOP SECRET ENTRANCE HERE.” She rolled her eyes at her own lame joke. “But, like, honestly…why the fuck don’t more people use this place to get in? Like, if I weren’t a cheerleader, I sure as hell would be coming in through here — I’m not paying even a penny to get in and see this shit.”

Mikey turned to face the field in the distance. “God, gotta love the view,” she said sarcastically. From this far, everything look absurdly tiny, and she couldn’t really tell what was going on. The announcer’s words dissolved into echoey, incomprehensible gibberish that bounced off the field house before disappearing into the night. Breathing out a soft sigh, she leaned back against the fence, which gave a soft clatter. She glanced over at Jade, smiling slightly. “Did you wait up very long for me?”

(Look, don’t let what you’re seeing now ruin your idea of who Micah is. She really is a sweet girl…depending on who’s asking.)

micah rose cramer


♡coded by uxie♡
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No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

A game of their own, huh? A mischievous grin crossed Justin's face, eyebrows drawing together as he looked at Amy. Yeah, that sounded way more interesting than whatever the hell was happening down below on the football field -- although with the field mostly emptied now and half the team having walked off, it probably wasn't all that surprising that he'd find pretty much anything else more entertaining.

"You're on, Jones," he joked, and glanced back out towards the field -- still no one, and then Justin pushed himself up from his seat, before holding a hand out to help Amy up. "Can't really play any good games on the bleachers." He pointed out.

To be honest, Justin wasn't super surprised that Amy was wanting to play some game. That was kind of her thing, wasn't it? Sure, Justin was pretty sure she was usually into videogames more than anything, but still -- games were games or... whatever.

"What kinda game you got on your mind?" Justin asked, while his own mind was spinning to try and pinpoint some kind of dumb game they could play at the football field.

The only one that really came to his mind was the ol' who can get more numbers? but that didn't really feel like the type of game that Amy would be able to play -- what? Justin just... didn't really see her as the overly flirtatious type.

Brody Jesson

♡coded by uxie♡


f r e e b i r d
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)

Evelyn Sinclaire







  • home (filler tab)

megan thee stallion


"Go Dalton! Woohoo!” ~ Evie's face twisted in disgust as Liv shouted in her ear. How she hadn't wrung the small girl's neck yet, she didn't know but with each screech of Kirby's name, she got closer to giving in to the temptation.

Why was she even here at a football game that she cared nothing about? Good question. The brunette had originally planned to skip this part of the homecoming festivities and spend all her time getting ready for the real main event...the dance.

Well, it was more of a party now, since someone had decided to graffiti dicks all over the school grounds and get the actual dance canceled. Hence why the semi-formal homecoming after party is now being hosted by Evelyn at the Gardner sibling's place. Yes, she did use blackmail just so her new dress wouldn't go to waste. It'll be a great party, so, you're welcome?

Anyway, she'd only agreed to come to this football thing because Liv was... persuasive. Which meant that she wouldn't stop begging until Evie caved. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, though, that despite having to deal with the annoying Dalton obsession, she'd let Liv drag her out of her apartment.

Aside from the occasional party or hookups over the summer, Evie had practically thrown herself into her designs and modeling. It was basically her calling card to work work work after a breakup. She was probably on the verge of burning herself out though, so, this was a much-needed distraction. Or at least she thought so until Liv suddenly pressed an elbow into her side.

"What the hell was that about?" the move earned the girl a glare from Evie that she didn't seem very phased by. “Just look at him! He’s all Kansas-tanned and-" ... Evelyn didn't hear the rest, she'd tuned Livanna out as soon as her own gaze shifted over to where Nate stood. "He looks awful," she countered Liv's comments, even though she was lying through her teeth.

If Evie had been honest she would've agreed that between the tanning and the obvious workouts, Nate had only gotten hotter since leaving. But there was no fucking way she was admitting that outloud. "It's probably from all the--" she stopped herself as soon as her eyes landed back on Liv. What, Evelyn? All the drugs? She couldn't say that to Liv. Jesus. "Corn fields and cow shit. He probably still reeks of it," she finished, shrugging it off.

Before she could toss out another insult the stands erupted with noise again and the idiot sitting next to Liv decided to be extra peppy, bumping a few pieces of popcorn from Liv's hands and kicking over a drink that had been sitting next to his feet. "Maybe watch what the hell yo-" she started to snap, only to be interrupted by Liv's next question.

"No. Well, once. Why would we? We broke up, remember? You do understand how breakups work? All that stay-friends-with-your-ex stuff is bullshit," she rolled her eyes, reaching over for a handful of Liv's popcorn and popping a piece into her mouth. "Ew, this is entirely too salty," she complained, dropping the rest onto the floor.

"Nathan is of no interest to me anymore. There's a lot better dick out there, Liv. Besides, we didn't even have anything in common so we never would've worked anyway," she added nonchalantly, her eyes flickering to Nate again for a brief second. "A more important question is what are you wearing to the party? I've been asking you all week. You do have a dress, don't you?" she questioned, obviously a move to shift to the conversation.

♡coded by uxie♡
Last edited:


soap, master of hearts.

  • filler

"Give me an R-O-"

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.


The newly bleached blonde ran past a few benched players, pom-poms under one arm, a hair-tie in her mouth as she struggled to put her hair up.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."


Mercedes hurried to the back of the line, getting between a blonde and a brunette, momentarily forgetting the routine before muscle memory had kicked into drive, one hand on her hip and the other in the air, shaking a pom-pom with a forced smile onto her face, exclaiming with the other girls.


She caught Drake’s eye and nodded eagerly, breaking routine long enough for a thumbs up.

Oh, this was gonna be the best prank ever.

The rest of the routine went by effortlessly, well… despite her being minorly late… Mer apologized to Ash, saying she had an emergency to attend to, it was probably a super obvious lie…

But maybe not?

Ash didn’t seem like she cared very much, so Mercedes is just gonna take that as a blessing.

Besides, she couldn’t tell her the truth.

Figuring out the timer on those sprinklers was really difficult! Probably for this exact reason– and don’t ask how she even had the opportunity to.

That’s a story for a later time.

While most of the cheerleaders were doing their own thing, she decided it was the perfect time to slip away, just to make sure everything was in place…

While her gaze lingered on some of the boys who were benched, because well, I mean, come on, Mercedes had slipped past them seemingly unnoticed and took a peek into the cooler she placed behind the other one.

The water balloons were in place and untouched.

Water balloons?

Oh, there wasn’t any water in them… they were filled with something else, of course. Mercedes wasn’t bland, you know.

Fine, if you’re so curious what’s in them, i’ll just tell you.


psssst, it’s elmer’s glue and a shit-ton of confetti.

She snapped the cooler lid closed, a mischievous smile appearing for half-of a second, disappearing immediately when she turned around to face no one other than CK.

Her older brother.

“Chels! Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…”

Think fast, Mer.

“Thirsty?” She asked, grabbing a paper cup and moving over to the opposite cooler, filling the cup with red juice and handing it over to him.

“I just… really like the purple flavor and thought maybe I got lucky…”

Her hands shot up in the air, mocking disappointment before both of them fell to her sides with a thud.

“Guess not.”

Mercedes had gotten her own cup and began to fill it, taking quick glances at CK, only mildly concerned that he had a suspicion of what she was up to.

She sort of… doubted it, though.


Mercedes has been unpredictable as of late.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good at football?”

A little harsh, but little sisters were born to be annoying, mean nusiciances.

The team was winning, yeah, but… barely. It was kind of hard to cheer when you’re the losing team– well… that wasn’t really true, because you just had to be supportive…

Go… Royals! Go…

Something, something, something. She couldn’t believe she even considered trying out for cheer captain at one point. It was probably that cliche, ‘it’s not my dream mom, it’s yours.’


Thankfully, Mercedes had decided to just say fuck all before the annoucement and kinda, maybe… threw in a whole bunch of votes for Ash.

Ha… ha…

That’s a story for another time, too.

Mercedes Camus

Drake, Ash, (sorta) and CK

♡coded by uxie♡


soap, master of hearts.

”It’s probably from all the–”

Liv glanced over at Evie, waiting innocently for her to finish her sentence.

She definitely had an idea of what she was going to say, but Liv was maybe… seventy percent sure Nate was totally super clean.


She hasn’t really paid attention! It’s been a long time since they’d seen each other, and Liv was kinda just focusing on the whole ‘hey, my best friend’s back’ thing.

Not the whole… ‘are you clean’ thing, because she’s clean.

And she’s trying really, really… hard to avoid anything and everything that even mentioned drugs.

Ignorance is bliss.

"... Corn fields and cow shit. He probably still reeks of it,"

Oh. That’s not where she thought this conversation was going.

Liv’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and shoved another handful of overly salty popcorn into her mouth

"No. Well, once. Why would we? We broke up, remember? You do understand how breakups work? All that stay-friends-with-your-ex stuff is bullshit,"

The guy who had bumped into Liv spilled his drink too and Evie didn’t really like that for whatever reason, he opened his mouth to spit something back at her, but when both girls started engaging in conversation, he kind of just… retracted into the crowd.

Yeah… Liv wouldn’t pick a fight with Evie either.

Except this one.

She shook her head, speaking with her mouth full, she had manners and stuff… but it was just Evie, so.

“You can totally stay friends with your ex! I think it just doesn’t work for you two because you’re both incredibly superly in love and you can’t convince me otherwise.” She tilted the container of popcorn towards Evie and the brunette took a handful.

Artie and Liv were friends!

Unfortunately, but it’s fine! It was better off… and all…

But besides that!

It was no secret that Nate and Evie were… a little…

They were an acquired taste!

And they surely liked how each other ta–

A little too far, Liv.

But the point was…

Nate and Evie were usually pretty…


Easily… irritable?

They were…

It was really hard to explain, but they were like fire and… whatever that makes fire worse. But that didn’t mean they were bad for each other!

Liv was the water needed to put them out.

She just needed to douse the flames with a little spritz and then boom, they’ll be the fireworks the world needs.

"Nathan is of no interest to me anymore. There's a lot better dick out there, Liv. Besides, we didn't even have anything in common so we never would've worked anyway,"

She opened her mouth to reply but was quickly shot down before she could even get the words out and the conversation was changed.

Her shoulders sunk a bit, but Liv knew better not to push or else she’d probably be yelled at– well, like ‘Evie’ yelled at, which felt more scolding than actually getting yelled at.

Kind of like when you’re in trouble with your mom? Like that.

"A more important question is what are you wearing to the party? I've been asking you all week. You do have a dress, don't you?”

Liv averted her gaze from the brunette, watching the other team score and she had to mentally remind herself that they didn’t need to be cheered for.

A dress?

… a dress…


She probably has something in her closet, but it’s not like Liv specifically picked out a special dress.

She forgot, okay!

Livanna forgot.

I know, I know. How does Liv of all people forget about a party?

It wasn’t like she forgot purposefully because she didn’t have anyone to go with, or something overly sad like that…

No, seriously, she didn’t.

The day she was supposed to like, go shopping or something, she got hit with a major ‘depression’ episode.

No, not like actual depression, she doesn’t think anyway.

Listen, Liv wasn’t crazy or anything.

Shut up.

It was just one of those… low-lows. Like one of those low-lows that made her want to get high-high.

So, she stood home. Locked away in her bedroom and writing down a bunch of lyrics that made no sense and would never make it into a song of hers– but…

It was a nice distraction.


“Psh, yeah I have a dress. You’re gonna be like, ‘oh my god, Liv, you look better than me.”

She wasn’t really the best liar.

“But… what are you wearing? You gotta look like a knockout– I mean, you always do but Nate’s gonna be there, and–”

Wait a second…

Liv handed the popcorn to Evie, pulling out her phone from her pocket and she began texting a certain someone across from them.

R u coming to the party?🥳🥳🥵🥵

“Ha… ha, anyway… I totally have a dress.” Liv quickly changed the subject back to herself, just to make sure Evie wouldn’t look over her shoulder and see who she was texting and…

That’d be pretty bad... but...

Liv took exactly two popcorn from the bag she shoved into Evie's hands and popped them into her mouth with a smile.

A matchmaker’s work is never done, luv.

Livanna Moore

Evie, Nate

♡coded by uxie♡
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No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

Bah, screw Hunter and his refusal to have fun. After the angsty senior had made his way off, it was just Drake and Artie, baby. Dream team of cool ass shit and shit. There was that familiar, playful grin on Drake's face as he looked up at Artie, thankful that they'd agreed and seemed even enthusiastic about the idea that Drake totally had. Yeah. Hehe... because he wasn't doing this on the fly.

No, really, he wasn't doing this on the fly this time. Drake's typical spontaneity had been washed in favor of being a great best friend and coming up with a great idea for doing a little prank on the most important night for the football team with Mercedes. Ah, yes, they were quite cool like that, weren't they? Truly a terrible duo that deserved to be worshipped for the troublemaking that they caused.

Unfortunately, the third member of their little team had fallen ill -- the mascot, that is -- so clearly, they needed help. So Drake shimmied his way up to Artie's side, and tossed an arm over their shoulders before pulling them down closer to his height to talk.

(What? Mason may've been a massive ass, but Drake was known for being quite the opposite.)

"So here's the thing," he started, his voice a lower whisper now. "Mer and I kinda got this lil prank idea goin' on that we'd love to have some help with, yeah? 'Cause the cooler -- don't look back at it now -- has water balloons in it. But not. With. Water. Glueloons, I call 'em. Real good for tossin' at people, ya know, and then we got the sprinklers set so they go spt spt spt at the wrong time when everyone's on the field. Real cool, right?"

With a lopsided grin, Drake released Artie from his grip and pulled away. Fists came to rest on his sides in a kind of Superman-esque pose as he smiled at Artie. "So what'd'ya say? Ya in? Wanna really piss off the hotheads?"

Drake left out the part about potentially getting murdered by some of the football team.

That was somewhere in the fine print.

Drake Martin

Hunter, Artie

♡coded by uxie♡


No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

Oh no. Oh no.

Usually the threatening--

Okay, no, that was a lie. Usually threatening Artie got Xander exactly this. A scoff, a chuckle, and people being basically like "lmao okay, bring it on" because no one was scared of Xander's sibling. You know, it was a real disappointing thing for little Xander.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Xander said, kind of waving his hands about at Deo's threat. "No need to kick me, or Artie. 'Cause ya know... ya know... you might be big and... and kinda... kinda strong looking, but Artie's... Artie's got a real..." He trailed off when he realized that, well, he had nothing to continue that thought. Artie didn't really have anything. Sure, they were on the football team, but they weren't really ya know...

Big, scary, deadly.

And Xander was just as pathetic, if not more so.

“Is that your bag?” the fellow asked. “How many cans you’ve got in there?”

Xander glanced down at the bag at his feet that must've fallen open during this little scuffle, and now he actually seemed to grow a pair as he pulled away from Deo and crouched down next to the bag, quickly closing it to conceal the cans of spray paint.

"Don't worry about it," he responded as he peered underneath the dick-stained car and reached a hand under to pull out the can of orange. The cap was popped back on top, and then he slipped it into the backpack, quickly zipping it up to keep prying eyes from peering in. As he rose back to his feet, backpack dangling from one hand, Xander's suspicious gaze was kept on the dude that still hadn't beat his ass.

"Why're you asking?" He asked. "You wanna borrow a can or something?"

Xander Gardner

♡coded by uxie♡


No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

This fucker hadn't even really done much, but they were already getting on the last of Damien's already frayed, barely existent nerves. There was a drawing together of his eyebrows, his jaw setting in annoyance.

"No," he spat, his hands closing into fists by his sides. "No, I don't want a fucking drink. The fuck is wrong with you?" His words were harsh, edged with daggers dipped in poison. He'd flinched away when Casper had reached a hand towards him -- undoubtedly, he probably would've crushed the hand had it touched him, or at least that's what Slater thought. In all reality, he would've shoved Casper and called it a day.

Yeah, Slater wasn't afraid to fight, but he also wasn't the greatest fighter so it was...


"God, you're just as fucking dumb as everyone else at this school," Slater continued, and then he started walking once more, back on the move, as he moved to push past Casper -- but naturally, he made sure to shoulder check the fucker, hopefully knocking the not much smaller than Slater fella right on their ass.

Slater was still focused on his one goal of killing whoever the hell Casper was -- even though he couldn't remember why he hated them so much in the first place.

Damien Slater

yooo what up

tags tags tags

♡coded by uxie♡


ʟɪᴠɪɴ' ʟɪᴋᴇ ʟᴀʀʀʏ

  • filler

Chelsea Kader Freud, in spite of what one may think when one first glanced upon him, had remarkable self-control. If he didn’t, he would presently be beating the shit out of not only his dumbass fucking burnout brother, the moronic asshole of a coach they had, and whatever jackass trio in the visitors’ crowd that had a fucking airhorn, but also all of the empty-headed, noodle-limbed pansies that were fucking up the biggest fucking game of senior year with special attention to the fuckhead Kirby. Unfortunately for his insatiable rage, CK was fucking civilized and hadn’t been raised by whatever methhead parents half of this school had, and he was smarter than two-thirds of the student body combined, so he realized that if he made a single damn move that could be misconstrued as “aggression” or anything vaguely negative, he would be fucking eviscerated by the tabloids and whatever other grubby-handed incels got their rocks off by attempting to ruin the reputations of minors whose worst fucking crime was existing, which, in turn, would mean serious fucking shit from his dad, and he’d rather avoid anything even remotely close to that.

Thus, CK remained on the bench, after having only played for not even five minutes of the first quarter, when the coach and the whole fucking crowd knew damn well that he was the only fucking member of this team that had the power to pull them ahead enough to win. The shitty lead they had now wouldn’t last with those little fucking toddler girls on the field — soon enough, the visitors would shove his team down, knock out all of his team’s teeth, and tattoo their uglyass fucking mascot on his team’s bleeding ass.

Kirby should’ve fucking been on this fucking bench or some shit, not Chelsea. The bench was for laughable bitchfaced brats like Kirby and the flowery narcissistic freshmen, not the literal fucking team weapon. “Bullshit,” he muttered, brushing his dark hair from his brow and slumping back on the splintery bench with a deep sigh. He crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes focused on a spot on the fence to his right so he could avoid looking at any of the others on the bench.

For anyone who didn’t have as much pride and poise about themselves as Chelsea, being in this position would be fucking humiliating, he was sure.

As he drew in a deep inhale, he caught a waft of strong body odor and the stench of weed. His nose screwed up. Fucking pigs, he thought, knowing that what he smelled was a mix of his sweaty teammates guzzling down Gatorade and his shit-for-brains brother, who sat beside him on the bench. He turned his head a bit further to make Donna, the absolute fucking eyesore, disappear from his field of vision, resisting the urge to curl his upper lip in disgust.

A figure passed in front of his vision, and he turned his head and followed it for a moment before he realized that it was his little sister. His brows lowered as he watched her walk over to a cooler and flip open the top. Something about this set his senses off, and so, with a dutiful sigh, he lugged himself up, carrying with him his helmet, interlacing his fingers with the metal faceguard.

The stoic, broad-shouldered boy tromped over to Mercedes, his cleats making soft shuffles against the grass that were rendered inaudible by the screaming crowds and loud smacking noises of pads against pads. He stopped over her shoulder, glancing down.

His brows tugged lowered in irritation and disapproval when he saw her digging around in a random ass cooler that was filled with some kind of rubbery object. None of this spelled anything remotely close to a good idea or something that his dad wouldn’t have his ass about if Mer used. His instincts were always fucking right — there was definitely some grade-A Mer bullshit up her sleeve. Fuck, he really didn’t want to have to deal with this shit tonight. Not that he did any other night, but tonight, he was already pissed enough, and he needed all the energy that he could save for when the coach inevitably yanked his head out of his ass for long enough to beg him to come and save the game yet again.

Snapping the lid closed, Mercedes turned around for a second with a grin that CK was all too familiar with. It was the same look she’d had every time she stole his toy model cars for her Barbies and thought she’d gotten away with it. And then, as it always did when Mer realized that she’d been caught redhanded, when she realized he was standing in front of her, her smile disappeared. “Chels!” she said, obviously surprised. “Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…”

For a moment, the corners of CK’s mouth turned up sarcastically, and he squinted his eyes as they did as though he was smiling widely. It quickly flattened out to a thoroughly unamused and mildly pissed expression.

“Thirsty?” she asked, and she grabbed a paper cup and moved over another cooler. She shuffled around for a moment, then held the cup, which was now filled with a red liquid, out for him. “I just…really like the purple flavor and thought maybe I got lucky…”

He looked unamusedly at the cup as she shoved it at him, then back at her as he took it with his free hand, silent.

Her hands shot up in the air, then fell to her side. “Guess not.”

“Guess not,” he repeated flatly, his gaze burning holes into her.

Mercedes had gotten her own cup and began to fill it. Her eyes kept flitting back to him. Stoic and thoroughly unamused, he stared back at her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good at football?” she said.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, ignoring her question and crossing his arms, his helmet still dangling from one hand while his other held his cup. “Why are you over here? Aren’t you supposed to be cheering or some shit?”

He paused for a moment to drain his cup of the Gatorade, and then added, “I’m the fucking best at football,” and then, under his breath, with a glance spared toward the yelling coach, “Goddamn dickhead just won’t fucking play me because he’s all up Kirby’s ass.” Taking his anger out on the cup, he balled up his fist and crushed the cup in his hand, then threw it in the trashcan beside himself. “Now, stop trying to fucking distract me and tell me what the hell it is you’re up to.”

ck freud

mer (mentions: dalton)

♡coded by uxie♡
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No, I don't have too many characters.

  • filler

Artie immediately did exactly what Drake had told them not to do, which earned a bit of an annoyed glare from the boy. Did he want them to be caught? For this whole thing to be ruined before it'd even begun?

Luckily, no one had seemed to notice, so the plan was able to continue on without a hitch. Hehe.

Mercedes had moved in, and Drake managed to catch her eye (or, well, he probably hadn't actually, but he liked to pretend he had -- plus they had best friend telepathy which meant that even if he hadn't, he would've caught her inner eye), and gave her a very and totally not at all suspicious wink.

Artie tossed their arm around Drake's shoulders and pulled the sophomore close, even going as far as to ruffle his hair. Drake wiggled away, reaching a hand up to try and smooth down his mess of dark hair, although it did little to help as the dark locks snapped back into disorder.

"'K, c'mon, it's 'bout to start," Drake said, his voice a hushed whisper for really no reason. He elbowed Artie in the ribs, as an added signal for them to follow him, and then snuck his way towards the water cooler -- where he tried to act au naturale by picking up one of the plastic cups. Drake pretended to fill it up with water, casually sipping his empty cup of water as he locked eyes with Mer.

This time for realsies.

As he did, the sprinklers on the field went off, which earned confused looks from pretty much everyone -- and managed to start wetting the players and cheerleaders that still remained on the field, and anyone that was close enough to the fence that surrounded the field.

That was his cue, of course, and of course, Drake jumped up onto the bench next to the water cooler (it was always better to have a height advantage when you were trying to hit people with balloons). He knocked the top off of the cooler, and it clattered to the ground alongside someone's water ball that he'd knocked over when he'd hopped on the bench (woops) and he grabbed out two glueloons.

His dark eyes found Mer's once more, and he lifted his arm.

Mer was saying something, but her words yelling at him not to do it came a second too late.

The balloon, filled with a mixture of glue and glitter, left his hand and went sailing through the air.

Smashing straight into one Chelsea Freud.

Drake Martin

Artie, CK, Mer

♡coded by uxie♡


soap, master of hearts.

  • filler

Mercedes was really good at deflection! You see, she had planned for CK to be so insulted by her question that he wouldn’t ask wh–

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Mercedes forced a smile, ignoring the fact that her older brother was practically staring into her soul. If there was anyone in the world who’d be able to find out if Mercedes Camus had a few tricks up her sleeve, it’d be CK and CK only.

She could easily keep up a lie with Donna, her parents, her friends– hell, even Drake.

But… CK…

“Why are you over here? Aren’t you supposed to be cheering or some shit?”

Mercedes looked at her wrist to check the time–

Yup, no watch.

She knew she didn’t have a lot of time before the sprinklers had started up, and talking to CK during the entire prank wasn’t really her plan.

“I mean, our captain is talking to someone, Laurel was on the bench for like, thirty minutes and your ex-girlfriend is making Tiktoks– there’s not much for me to do. Except tell her that maybe being an influencer isn’t her thing—“

Deflection, remember?

“I’m the fucking best at football, goddamn dickhead just won’t fucking play me because he’s all up Kirby’s ass.”

It seemed to be working… sort of…

She just needed to annoy CK so much that he decided to leave on his own, obviously! That way Mer could just run off and get this whole thing goin’

“Which, I had only done because no offense CK, but she’s such a bitch. Your taste is seriously… questionable…” Mer trailed off when she noticed Drake heading towards the cooler, which was conveniently placed in front of CK, so she had to act quickly.

Mercedes had placed a hand on CK’s arm, twisting him to look towards the cheerleaders and gesturing towards JJ.
She caught Drake’s eye and he had given her a wink.

Oh no.


“Now, stop trying to fucking distract me and tell me what the hell it is you’re up to.”

Mercedes opened her mouth to reply and the sprinklers turned on, the players, cheerleaders and even some people in the stands had begun to get wet.

Mer, however, was completely unphased by the water and she looked towards CK, an uneasy smile appearing onto her lips.

“CK, listen…”

Some girls were cursing and running off the field, the coach had called for a time-out while they went to figure out the sprinkler debacle.

Which meant it was time.

“If you know what’s good for you, you should get out of here–”

Mercedes watched as Drake lifted the glueloon and it was like one of those slow-motion scenes because no matter what Mer said or did, there was no way she was going to be able to react fast enough.

The only words she’d gotten out was,

“Drake! N–”


The balloon had hit CK in the back of the head, a mixture of glue, confetti and glitter exploding on impact.

A few coolers were around the field and some were hidden in the stands, Ed had helped Drake and Mer set up everything, him being waterboy and all, it wasn’t too suspicious.

Some others in the stands had began to sit up, pulling out their own glueoons and hurling them towards each other.

Mercedes froze in fear for the first few seconds, afraid of her older brother’s reaction when she noticed the complete chaos around them– chaos that she wasn’t a part of right now and an envy began to settle in her chest.

“... I tried to warn–” Another glueoon had flew towards them, this time hitting Mer straight in the face, bursting on impact and she gasped.

Before bursting out into laughter.

Laughter that only worsened when CK had made the slightest move towards her and Mercedes bolted, running across the field and getting completely soaked by the sprinklers while everyone suffered the consequences of–

The greatest prank ever.

Mercedes Camus

Drake, Ed

♡coded by uxie♡
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