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Realistic or Modern Ivy Rose Academy (Closed)

Characters
Here
Winona

Winona

No, I don't have too many characters.
The setting: Homecoming.

The day: I don't know, later September, on a Friday.

The roleplay? Starting.

Just go ahead and post.

(If you're interested in joining, just send me a DM.)​
 
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The curtains were ugly.

That was the first thing that Tate remembered thinking when the blonde-haired CPS woman had brought her to her aunt’s home. Or maybe it had been something about the screen door that looked like prison bars, or even the three trash cans sitting uncollected on the curb with the tips of glass beer bottles sticking out of every one of them. Tate’s parents hadn’t been drinkers, aside from her mom and the wine dinners she seemed to have a penchant for, so walking into Willa Shepard’s home had been like entering an entirely new universe. It smelled like cigarettes, green soap and the fried catfish tha Willa had been making when they arrived. Tate didn’t think she’d ever forget that collection of smells, or the way her Aunt had looked when she came around the corner all smiles in a ripped t-shirt, the dark curls on her head peeking out from under a darkly colored head scarf. She was like an angel to young Tate in that moment, a savior, a home.

It didn’t feel like it used to anymore. The curtains were still ugly, it still smells like cigarettes and green soap, but Willa wasn’t an angel anymore and neither were the demons that occasionally infested her home. Tate had learned to get used to the shouting and the anger, the presence of police at her door and her aunt crying at the kitchen table. The faces may be different but it was always the same thing. It would be easy to hate Willa Shepard, it would be easy to wish that she had ended up with some adoptive family in the suburbs going to church every Sunday, but she didn’t. She didn’t hate Willa, she was all that Tate had left. Tate was all Willa had left. Sometimes she would forget that Willa had lost them too. Forget that Willa still cried on their death anniversary every year, still put up an ofrenda for her mother because there was no one else who would. She couldn’t hate Willa Shepard because she came to every single one of Tate’s track meets and soccer games. The only thing she truly hated was the men that came and went like a revolving door, her aunt was young and was searching desperately for something that she was willing to take anything. That was what Tate hated.

“Willa! I’m going to the school, I gotta help AJ make our sign.” Tate was already at the door, pulling a shoe over her heel as Willa rounded the corner from the kitchen with a wet dish towel over her shoulder.

“Did you do what I asked you to?” Willa’s crossed her arms over her chest and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes, Captain. I scrubbed the decks and cleaned the latrines just like you asked.” Tate stood up straight, one shoe on, for a mock salute. Willa rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Okay then, Lieutenant. Get out of my face.” Willa smacked Tate in the forehead with the dish towel and sauntered off to continue what Tate could only assume were dishes. She rubbed at her now wet forehead with a scowl and mumbled under her breath as she slipped on her other shoe and escaped out the door before Willa could round the corner and smack her again for mumbling.

The school wasn’t terribly far from where she and her aunt lived, it was a walkable distance at least, so Tate tucked the cardboard for their sign up under her arm and biked precariously that way toward the school. They needed to use the printer in the copy room for the final touches of their masterpiece because it was the only one they had access to that was big enough to print out Ophelia Warren’s middle school mug. This was an idea born in a spur of the moment kind of way when Tate had totally not been snooping around after band practice and discovered an old yearbook tucked away in Oph’s house. From there all it required was taking a picture and blowing it up to astronomical proportions for the printer. The rest of their sign was glitter words that read “THE BANG BANG MAKES ME WANNA BANG” because Oph played the snare in the school band…get it? It was also going to have “Our Little Drummer” with a heart written under Oph’s baby face but that needed the picture to be on their first.

Tate tossed her bike at the bike rack as she arrived at the empty school, not bothering to lock it up because she wasn’t planning on being inside too long. With a swipe of her school ID she was inside and making her way toward the copy room through dim hallways. She hated this place when it was empty, it felt incredibly creepy and she hoped that Alaska would show up before long because she hated being alone here.

“Sign, sign, sign, gonna make a sign. Gonna embarrass Phil, gonna make her whine.” Tate chuckled at her own diddy as she shuffled into the copy room, poster in hand and grin on her face. The printer was off and she had literally no idea how to turn it on, so she resorted to waiting in hopes that maybe Alaska would.








Tate Shepard

















AJ










a z u l a a z u l a













♡coded by uxie♡
 












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So... Ash's summer had been, like, kind of crazy or whatever, and she was actually generally glad that it was over now. Or, well, she had been glad that it was over, and that she could just forget about what had happened over the past few months, and sort of just get back on with her life. Like, it was great to be back in school, because it gave her something to do -- and that coupled with her music took up most of her time.

And, like, junior year was going to be good. It should be good. It had all of the makings of being good, but she was... something still felt off. Which was stupid, and didn't make sense, because Ash was starting the schoolyear on good terms with all of her friends, and she'd gotten the position of cheer captain, which was pretty cool, and she had a boyfriend who was... cool. He was hot, anyway, and captain of the football team, so...

It just, like, made sense for them to date. Or whatever. Plus it helped given the whole picture situation, and so it was just... it kind of made sense. Or it felt like it made sense.

Plus he was...

It just made sense.

As the game wound down from its first quarter, and they'd fallen a bit behind and out of the lead, though, Ash had a frown making its way onto her face. Part of this whole cheer captain thing made her feel a little more responsible for this, even though it wasn't like there was anything that she could do that would affect the football team one way or another.

With a sigh, Ash stepped away from the other cheerleaders, arms crossing over her chest. She didn't really know where she was headed, just that she kind of wanted to take a moment away from the other cheerleaders.

And, like, that would've been great or whatever, except that her wandering kind of took her near someone that she hadn't really seen in a while. At first, Ash hesitated in her steps, and she knew that she should just turn and freaking walk away, ignore him, pretend nothing had happened, but...

Well, like, Ash was never good at letting things rest.

So with a deep breath, she started towards him, trying to force some vague smile onto her face, while her hands kind of twisted together in front of her.

"Umm... hey," Ash started when she neared Ryder. Her heart was beating in her throat, and she wondered if it was too late to back out. "You're... doing... good out there."

God, she shouldn't have come over here.








Ash West

















Ryder










a z u l a a z u l a













♡coded by uxie♡
 












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Nothing really got the blood flowing quite like being outside on a cool September evening alongside his brother and teammates, throwin' 'round the ol' pigskin as he was pretty sure he'd heard it been called before by old people. Like you know, that old dude that lived by the corner of their apartment. Yeah, he'd be all "oh hey Dwake, 're ya headin ta' da ol' pigskin tourney" or something like that. You see, his teeth had pretty much all fallen out years ago, so he kinda talked in a weird type of voice that was real hard to mimic, especially over text.

But he was a cool dude. Yeah, Drake had first met him when he was real young or something, and he'd been talking the dude up, just having a grand ol' time, and then Mason being an absolutely sucky person had come by and grabbed his arm and been all scrawny chest puffed out and been all finger waggle in his face and all "grrr don't you talk to nobody, 'specially not no strangers," and Drake had been all "damn but how am I supposed to make friends then?" but Mason hadn't found his joke very funny, not even when Drake had nudged him in the ribs with an elbow to encourage a laugh.

Where was he?

Oh yeah, the ol' football game.

Drake was having a real good time if you asked him. Sure, the sophomore was a bit younger than a lotta the people on the team, but he was all zoom zoom on the playing field, and that could get someone pretty far when it came to being recruited. Yeah, not to brag or anything, but he'd been allowed on the football team despite being a child, which meant that he was too good for junior varsity, so... insert that nail emoji right here.

Now that they were on a bit of a break, though, Drake found himself bored as heck. Like yawn, he'd already chugged his water real hard and he'd kind of gotten some up his nose, but now he was just chilling. Bored. So then he'd tried to play a lil tune on his helmet with his hands, but that hadn't really panned out.

Ugh. Bored bored bored.

And that's when the rather shifty boy, his energy rather rejuvenated despite the whole playing football thing, found himself dropping his helmet to the grass, and then bouncing his way over to his good ol' buddies: Artie and Hunter. Sure, Mason despised both of them, but that's because Mason hated fun. Which meant that if Mason didn't like someone, they were probably someone you actually wanted to hang with.

"Hey, hey, hey," he greeted, his words kind of rapid fire as he stopped in the grass in front of them, a lopsided grin on his face. Both buddies were a bit taller than the rather small boy, so Drake kind of rock and rolled back and forth from the balls of his feet to make himself taller, back to his heels 'cause he was real bored, and back and forth and back and forth while he talked -- because sitting still? Unheard of.

"Ya guys wanna do somethin'?" He asked, "'Cause we gotta bit 'till the game starts back up, and it's real boring just boo yawn snore sitting around right over here with the rest the team, don't ya think? Like bro, who wants to listen to these sour kids," he jabbed a thumb back over his shoulder, "bitchin' 'bout this, then bitchin' 'bout that, then yada yada yada, my best friend fucked my mom or whatever boring shit it is. But ya know what's real fun? Fuckin' with the other team, 'course if they find out, then they beat you up, and you get kicked, and also disqualified and then Mason and Dalton will be on grr how dare you get us banned from Homecoming, and then it's like bro, c'mon, you can't ban us from Homecoming when it's our home, ya know. Then what is it? Just a Coming?"

No, none of that had made sense in Drake's head, and it made even less sense when it had come out of his mouth.

"Or maybe a lil bet? Hunter here's ready to lose again," he said, jokingly elbowing Hunter in the ribs, 'cause he thought he was real funny, and then he stepped back, huge, lopsided grin plastered on his face.








Drake Martin

















Hunter, Artie










@Wayward Son @petals













♡coded by uxie♡
 












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His summer had been... well, the best way to describe it would be cool. Yeah. Jace had been wild over the summer, or at least as wild as a very anxious boy could do, which meant... really not all that wild. The most he'd done was the whole cut his hair and bleached it thing, and bless Maggie, because she'd decided to do the exact same thing, and at least now he wasn't the only ridiculous blonde walking around.

Except the difference was that Maggie actually looked really, really pretty, and Jace just kind of looked like he'd had a bit of a mental breakdown and screamed as he took scissors to his hair.

Which wasn't too far from the truth, just that he hadn't really been the one doing the screaming or the mental breakdown. He was like the Barbie doll to an angry toddler with safety scissors.

But now that school was back in full swing, Jace had chosen to keep to this new hairstyle. It was kind of nice -- trying to separate himself from who he'd been in the past or something equally deep and potentially metaphorical, right? Jace was like a butterfly blossoming from a cocoon.

Or, well, probably more like a moth.

And now, he was at the football game, something he tended to pretty much never attend -- but his buddy, Puck, was here with him, with the promise that they could look at hot guys. Which wasn't something that Jace normally did, and to be honest, he was a little nervous to do so. There was a bit of a shifting of his eyes, and he tried to look without looking like he was looking, because it wasn't like he wanted people to know that maybe he was looking.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, Jace was in the closet. Deep in the closet.

So really, he was trying to act like he enjoyed the game, and to be fair, Jace did know a fair amount about football. That's right. His dad was the type of dude that spent every Sunday watching the game, and he'd tried to press these same interests onto his son's young shoulders. Unfortunately for his dad, Jace's athletic career had never panned out, nor had his interest in football, so... yeah, eventually his dad had backed off.

Jace's little sister had always been more into it, so his dad had turned a lot of the attention and having a buddy to watch the games with onto her.

No, it didn't hurt Jace one bit.

He squinted, eyeing one of the players, and watched as he was tackled... right before a whistle was blown and the game was called for a break. One quarter down, too many to go.

"They're kind of, ahh... not great, right?" Jace asked, his words hanging on that question -- because Jace was a follower, and he tended to go along with whatever other people thought, no matter how his own feelings on the matter might've swung.








Jace West

















Puck










demonology demonology













♡coded by uxie♡
 












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The country boy had found himself inevitably back where he felt that he belonged -- that place being none other than Los Angeles, of course. And... he was pretty happy about it, if he was being honest. This place was also a shit ton better than Kansas, no matter how many bridges he'd burned.

At least Nate didn't have fucking toddlers hanging off of him here.

Now, he was at the game, although Nate didn't really have any desire to go in. Football games, Homecoming... all of it kind of left a sour taste in his mouth, for reasons he didn't really want to broach. And a certain lack of drugs pumping through his system was going to make it even harder to try and deal with shit when he stepped foot outside of his car, so... he tried to numb himself in the only way he really knew how.

Blunt between his lips, acrid smoke tainting his lungs.

Relaxed.

Sure, Nate had heard about the shit that was being planned under the bleachers -- a whole bunch of little fuckers under there smoking weed. It would've been easy enough for him to slip under there instead, quietly steal a high from shared joints, but with those kind of people, it was... hard.

Yeah, it was hard. Hard to know exactly how far they were willing to go, and Nate was doing his best to try and keep himself from faltering over an edge that he literally couldn't afford to fall over. Literally. Nate barely had enough money to afford the apartment he was currently living in alone, let alone an addiction.

Oh, and because it was bad for him or some shit.

With a sigh, Nate put his joint out, and he dropped it into the center console of his car. With a loving pat on top of said console, Nate reached a hand over to pop open the driver's door, and he stepped out onto the pavement. He locked his car after him, and then Nate shut the door, and he headed towards the game.

A hand came up to rub at his eyes, and then his hands slid into his pockets. He went into line to wait to head into the game, but then out of the corner of his eye, he saw his good buddy, Murph.

With a vague grin, Nate changed the direction he'd been headed, and walked over to his friend, instead.

"Hey," Nate greeted. "Here alone?"

Ah yes, always a man of many words.








Nate Woods

















Murphy










@lisbeth













♡coded by uxie♡
 
content to be with his best friend, thirsting for gossip
puck adventa
The evening began with a crash and the last breaths of a dying vase. His father called is a 'vawse' which only served to annoy Puck, who preferred conventional, modern pronunciations over faux-fancy ones that his dad adored his speech with. The term had caused him to roll his eyes, which Walt caught and later sent a wordy text about. It didn't bother him, unlike his sister, who had knocked the glass container over in an argument with her own mother. It was a discussion he wasn't even meant to hear, but a glass to the door was a vice inescapable. At least, he paid the price with the amplified sound of the shattered art.

"I'm going to the game," Ophie had announced, huffing out the words in a spit at Leila. Puck opened his door then, hoping to cut off any further discussion and aid his sister.

Instead, Walt stepped out of his office, too, and the pair made eye contact. "Clean up the vase, first. Then, you can go." His voice was exasperated, as though the broken shards and the screams of his stepdaughter were mere annoyances and not the sign of something deeper. Then again, Puck was at least mildly aware of the gossip underneath, and he hoped that one day Lia might reveal the truth. For his sake.

Instead, Ophelia had stuffed her hair back behind her ears, gotten a broom, and handed Puck the dustpan. Leila's eyes were in tears, but his prescence sent her scurrying like a mouse. Not too far, but far enough to avoid trouble.

"You should try a different approach," Puck whispered, hoping that maybe those words would reach Leila's ears too.

Eyes rolling, mimicking his from moments before, Ophelia shrugged and finished sweeping the glass. "It's whatever," she mumbled before walking to the trash.

The car ride had been sullen, permeated by a thin sweat of recent tension. Unfortunately, Ophie gave him aux, which resulted in ten minutes of Aphex Twin. Unsurprisingly, this did not resolve her mood or make the ride any more bearable.

The pair, despite their bond, had quickly abandoned each other in favor of their social calendars. A skill the step-siblings had mastered was the ability to know when the other needed to not be an Adventa-Hargreeves, and they left each other to their own wills.

For Puck, this was eyeing the men on the football field, which only had one purpose to Puck: to be attractive and sweaty and all over each other. It was one of his more raunchy tastes, but no one had ever said he was infallible to poor taste.

His elbow rubbed against Jace's, and he laughed at the observation. "I know nothing about what's happening on the field, but I do know that Hunter is looking lovely today," he joked with a bump into Jace's shoulder, hoping that perhaps the confidence might rub off on his best friend.

To this day, Puck is convinced the pair have remained so close due to the fact that they are both queer, a bond that he swears transgresses any difference among people, besides the abhorrent. After all, Ophelia became his other best friend overnight, and she was even more loudly bisexual than he was. Of course, Jace and he had more in common than just their non-straight sexualities, much like him and Ophie did. He stuck by Puck in a manner he wasn't acquainted with, and that formed a strong sense of loyalty and affection.

He eyed the bleachers, noting the obvious break in the play, and thought about the summer, which he'd been largely uninvolved within. Then, looking back towards his best friend's hair, he said, "By the way, you will rue the day that you went full Sound of Music." Puck nodded towards Jace's hair, smiling at its new shape and color. "You are a significantly hotter Slim Shady, so I commend you."
  • outfit


coded by reveriee.
 
thoroughly ready to enjoy himself
oz harbor
Lighting up was a sigh from a long lost lover, one that Oz only had a vague recollection of. Oswald opted for a career in marijuana dealings not because he particularly needed to (though the money and the full usage of Rob's med card certainly helped), but rather because he longed for any opportunity to smoke with others. Weed was a wonderful social laxative, and Oz tried very hard not to giggle at that phrasing.

He wasn't one for football, but that went without saying. Nothing about him screamed sports, everything from his sense of fashion to his scrawny arms. His fingers, however, were perfect for rolling, and that's what he spent his shift in the DJ box doing. Twelve perfectly cylindrical joints, two of which were exclusively for himself and whoever he chose to share with. The rest would be sold, if he could manage. School premises stocked full of parents and educators weren't the best spot, but neither was smoking under the bleachers, now was it? Oswald shrugged, carefully placing the prerolls in a scent-proof pill bottle that doubled as a grinder.

Then, Rob knocked at his door, which was opened without pause or ceremony. "Hey kid," Rob announced, covering his eyes. "Sorry to barge in. I just need you to clean up the rink after you get home."

Quickly stuffing the pill bottle into his cross-body fabric bag, he turned, keeping his eyes low to avoid alluding to shock. "Why?" He studied the single ringlet in Rob's right ear, noting its recent appearance.

"John needs some help with Kelsie. She almost got expelled today."

Oz smiled, relaxing immediately. "Jesus. Even I wasn't that bad."

"It's middle school," Rob shrugged. "She's going through stuff."

"I remember all that 'it's not a phase' stuff, Rob. Don't worry. I understand," he said with an easy look. It was the one reserved for the odd moments where he had some sense of wisdom.

Rob grunted, eyes uncovered now. "I know, too. It doesn't make throwing a chair at someone any more excusable."

His expression changed quickly, with a single brow up. "Well, that's certainly not nothing."

"Yeah, we're going to talk to her. See if she should see somebody."

"Good," Oz responded simply. He couldn't help but picture his life with therapeutical intervention. Hm.

Then, Rob looked sheepish, a small bit of red to match the flowers on his button down. "You could see somebody, too, if you'd like."

It was Oz's turn to blush. "I gotta get going, but if you need any help with Kelsie, let me know. I can talk to her at dinner, if you want."

The silence between the pair persisted past a moment that even Oz, buzzed, couldn't handle. Finally, Rob relinquished his gaze. "That would be really nice, kid. Thanks."

"Of course, big boi."

Thankfully, Rob Santini moved backwards, heading to the DJ booth that would be his home for the next five hours. Oz followed suit, tugging his rollerblades along with him.

"Stay safe," Rob called out once Oz had his skates on. He always hated that Oz skated without pads.

With only a 'yes-sir' gesture, Oswald was off, forgetting the stench of hotdogs and foot sweat.

Opting to pre-game, he pulled out the thirteenth joint, which had been stuffed into his pocket, and smoked part of it on the way to Hawthorne. Exactly three blocks from the school, he came off from a hill-dive and slowed into a full-stop. Taking off his skates, he stuffed the half-used joint into his stash bottle and stuck his Chucks on. Then, he walked the rest of the way and waltzed into the school's field.

His eyes darted towards the group mingling under the bleachers. A few familiar faces, and that was exactly what he liked to see. Walking up, he smiled towards no on in particular and announced, "Hey." It was clear that he was already pretty blown, and the contented smile on his face mimicked this point. "Lovely to see you all," Oz continued, as though this were his home and not the one spot they wouldn't all be caught.
  • outfit | shirt here


coded by reveriee.
 
Amethyst J.
mood
Nervously excited

outfit
Click Here

Mentions
Nate, Evie, Trevor

tags
Winona Winona

Whew! Here we go another year at Hawthorn academy. Amy was pretty happy about her current standings in the school to be honest. She was half way done with her high school year and was still of of the top students in her class, had great friends, and had been making progress in her side projects. Sure her first couple years were rocky for herself and said friends...especially the one she'd lost along the way...but now wasn't the time to think about the negative! It was a new year, and a fresh start.

Because if she was honest...she'd drown if she thought about all the bad that'd happened the past two years. If she let herself get bogged down by the fact her first serious crush ghosted her out of no where. Sure they've talked and are civil, but as civil as one can be when they turn around and date seriously the girl her next ex boyfriend cheated on her for. Yahhh this year she's 100% staying away from players! She even gave permission to Justin to slap her if she starts talking all lovey dovey about an obvious prick.

Look she couldn't explain why jerks were attracted to her, or why she somehow always put on rose colored glasses anytime those jerks walked up to her and spoke. Rose colored glasses make red flags seem like everything else...but not this year! This year she'd stay single...she hoped.

As she looked herself over in the mirror she promised herself that she'd have a better year this time. She'd stay focused on her studies, and her friends only because that was more important then petty or romantic drama. Boyfriends were overrated anyways, right?

Tonight was a perfect recipe for drama considering it was homecoming. Both the game and the after party. Why? Because she went to school with a bunch of drama queens and hot heads. Last year was a prime example of this, and just the memory along of how horrible it'd gone made her honestly not want to go this year. The only reason she was going was because of Justin.

Tho that was nothing new. the only reason Amy ever left home outside of school and food was because of her friends. Especially if it was anything outdoorsy or sports related. Amy mostly went to sporting events to cheer on her friends who were players. With that said Amy was dressed for the after party more so then the game.

Black tube/crop top with off the shoulder sleeves and blue jean ripped shorts. Amy didn't actually dress like you stereotypical tv screen nerd. Mostly because she kinda fell in love with the 90's hip-hop and R&B style of female artists. So she usually dresses in her own mix of that and comfortable wear. Most people wonder how she snagged her Ex's? My bet is that's how. She didn't look like how she was even though she's pretty sure everyone by this point knows exactly the type of girl she is.

The one thing she's been slacking on thought? Getting a license. She really needed to do that by the end of the year, and not always rely on Justin's truck and Uber. Not that she didn't love riding with Justin places because she actually did. Justin was one of her closest friends, and she loved spending time with him even if it was riding passenger seat jamming out to music on their way to wherever.

It didn't take long to get to the stadium and they found pretty good spots to sit at, not that she cared where they sat she wasn't a sports fan and very rarely knew what was going on. Dating a football player hadn't helped since it was during the summer.

"Hey you wanna snack?" She asked curiously with a bright grin on her face pulling out foil wrapped still warm sandwich. "I've got some stuff in my bag cause It's gonna be hell to try before the game starts or at half time." She'd brought a big purse bag just for that reason. She planned on after the game leaving it in his truck for the party, but for right now it was perfect.

1. avoid long lines
2. save a bit on overpriced food

So a total win in her book.
coded by reveriee.
 
Magnolia D.
mood
happily high

outfit
Blondie for the skip

Mentions
Ophelia A., Andres, Jace

tags
@Xed

The life and times of Magnolia Darrington has been an epic soap opera since the day she was born, and being in her high school years hasn't made it any better. This morning of course couldn't even be the one exception. Something as simple as getting on twitter could cause drama. Sometimes she hated it, sometimes she laughed about it, and other times she was numb to it.

After all when drama and chaos is all you've known...it's not really exciting anymore.

She couldn't say today's conversations left her numb tho...well one in particular didn't. The only person who could still get under her skin Ophelia A. The two dated, which anyone probably could've told them was a bad idea because they are too alike in a lot of way, and too different in others. However if Maggie listened to what other people thought or said she wouldn't be Maggie, now would she?

Even if they turned out to be right...She still held feelings for the girl, wanted the best, thought she was a good person...but none of that seemed to matter. Nothing she ever did seemed to matter. Why couldn't she see she was trying? How she'd always tried! Yet somehow, just like everything else apparently, this was all her fault. Everyone always blamed Magnolia for everything like a favorite pastime, even when it wasn't, or she wasn't the only one to blame.

Sure Maggie didn't think she was innocent or blameless, but it wasn't all her fault. Did she break up with her? No. Did she lack faith and not believe in what she told her? No. So no this wasn't her fault. And sure she might've acted out a bit over the summer, but that was out of hurt and they'd already broken up so what was the point? She was going to be the bad guy no matter what, so might as well have fun with it.

That was Maggie's whole motto and existence since she turned 14. Ophie didn't change that...she just reaffirmed it like everyone else.

Whatever she tossed her phone onto the bed irritated and went to go get dressed for this stupid homecoming game. Why? because Maggie was still asocial creature despite it all. She wanted to be around people, and have a good time. She wanted to drink and smoke, and let her feelings get drowned out by the masses and vices. She wasn't excited about the game, but she was about the after party. She only was showing up kinda early cause she told Andres she'd smoke with him under the bleachers.

She couldn't deny that Andres had been a perfect distraction so far for her for the night. He was cute, flirty, and into music! What better combination was there? All that was left was to see if he could really hang with her wild side. Tonight's party was the perfect testing ground.

Now that's not to say if he falls off she won't still talk to him, but she likes to know just how wild or crazy her friends are. She can't call up Spencer to do the same kinda things she'd call up Mikaela to do you know? Both still friends, but different kinds, and spice is the variety of life isn't it?
______________________

Maggie arrived at the stadium and immediately went to their meet up spot. She was getting a few more looks then normal because her and Jace over the summer wound up dying their hair. She'd kept it up over the summer, but she was getting bored of it now and was ready to go back to her dark locks. However she figured she needed one last social event with it to seal the deal.

She liked getting the chance to vibe with Andres in person. He was even more entertaining in person then he had been online which is always a pleasant surprise. However she didn't stay too long since three's a crowd. Slowly what she assumed where his other friends started to trickle in and she was ready to go hang out with her own friends for the evening.

She smirked and whispered in his ear she'd see him at the party before flashing a wink and turning to walk away. She didn't care who saw her flirting with anyone. She was single and ready to mingle for a while now. Was she looking for anything serious? Of course not, but she wanted to have fun, and possibly make a new friend along the way.

If anything her time with Oph showed her that she didn't live a lifestyle suitable for keeping a relationship, even if she wanted to, even if she cared. She was a curse and she knew it so might as well make the best of it.

Speaking of making the best of it, of course her eyes feel on the one and only Mikaela. Perfect! If there was anyone who could make this game fun it was her. With a wide grin on her face she walked up beside the girl and hip bumped her, "Hey stranger." She chimed. It'd been a while since the two of them got into some mess together, which was a shame since she was defiantly one of her favorite people to party with.

"Getting into anything fun tonight?"
coded by reveriee.
 
Stella B.
mood
She's here...

outfit
Cheer uniform

Mentions
Cami

tags
demonology demonology

It might sound like a total clique but it was true, new year, new Stella. The girl had done a lot of reflection and transformation both mentally and physically since that fateful night on New years eve. It wasn't how she wanted to bring in the new year and all the events that followed weren't ideal...but in an odd way needed.

Breaking down on set for the first time in her life was a major wake up call.

Not just to herself but her father who had been on the sidelines most of Stella's life letting her mother run the show. Once that happened for the first time in her life she saw her father step up and step in, even putting her mother in place. Much to her mother's protest BOTH women were put in therapy.

It was going to just be Stella till her father noticed her mother wasn't as phased as she should be about her daughter mental and emotional health deteriorating.

Then about a month before school let out her father took her to his home in the Dominican and she just never came back. The only down side to that was there were a couple classes that Stella missed the finals for and it caused her to fail them, so she's having to repeat. She's thankful she still technically has her junior status, but is irritated and embarrassed to be in some classes with sophomores.

That however was the only downside. She loved her time away from everything. Away from school drama, her ex, work, everything. It gave her time to refocus and realize that she'd been right all along and most of her stress stemmed from trying to fight it.

People were always going to do what was in their best interest. People always were going to want the best even if it was ever changing. People couldn't be trusted with your whole heart because of their fickle nature. It was simple. It's fine to have connections and acquaintances because in her industry it's not what you know it's who you know...but that's as far as it gets. "Best friends" was just another title. It didn't mean much more then any other title.

Ok...there was Cami, but even she was kept at a small distance in her heart. She'd never say it aloud but she trust her the most but even that is only about 85%. Which is higher then most at like 50%, but never 100...not ever again. She was never going to let someone close enough to destroy her again. She'd spent all summer rebuilding and regaining her confidence and finding herself...she couldn't let anyone ruin that.

She glanced around the stadium and crowd of her peers and yup...none of them were worth that. Being back was kinda weird. She'd only come back about a week before the first day at school, and now here they were at homecoming. It was easy to fall back in line, but that didn't make it internally feel any less weird. She missed the Dominican already.

She knew she'd have to get back to work soon too. Because as nice as cheer was it wasn't a passion. She originally only joined out of spite before dragging Cami to join too. What? She needed someone she liked on the team if she was going to be around all the time. Some of her teammates reminded her too much of the bitches in the industry. All cut throat and big smiles.

Prime example? Violet.

Sure on the surface the two seemed to get along well enough, but Stella knew this dance all too well. When you're in the business as long as she has been in you see the signs. They were "friends" but if the opportunity arises she'd take her spot, not just in cheer but other things because life was about getting to the top. She didn't hate the girl or anything for it, in fact she liked anyone who had actual ambition...but it was always an underlining threat due to that. So she keeps her close, but not too close. She wants to play the part, Stella has no problem playing hers as well.

Plus times like this she's the girl right next to her in formation so the easiest to talk to during these games that Stella only kinda cared about due to knowing so many of the players.

She sighed tightening her ponytail as they just finished a cheer set and taking a break. "So is it just me or do you think there is some tension on the field?" She hummed in violet's direction.
coded by reveriee.
 
jittery with the start of the year and the sight of a familiar foe
violet williams
The din of football fans cheering and whatever hullabaloo was happening on the field paled in comparison to the sight before her. Rather, the speck of blonde she could barely spot behind the bleachers. It was more of a guess that it was him, rather than the truth. She hadn't recollected him prior, but now her body was back where she began. She was a kid again, preparing to throw dirt in his face or poking him as they passed each other on the way to recess. It was this reverie that held her attention, not Stella's murmurs about drama on the field.

Violet shuffled her pom-poms, allowing the motion to bring herself back down. Back to reality. She quelled the bleach-blond screaming the rest of the lines, another mimicry of former adolescence. It escaped her that she was still a kid, still growing. Her Apple watch, bought from scrounged up pennies and the small sum her father gave her from his disability check, buzzed, and she read the text from said Old Man before looking at Stella. Then, at the field and back to the other girl.

"I don't think we're doing well," she admitted, though she preferred to keep her football knowledge limited. At least outwardly. Internally, she was fighting off the urge to scream at them to haul ass across the field. "They're all hard-headed, so they probably won't figure out what needs to be done until after the game is over." That observation, at least, was truthful of her wisdom set.

Then, the watch buzzed again and Violet looked down to read the message once more. Darla forgot to give me my evening meds before going. Need you to come home. Sighing, she quickly scribbled a text back, replying she'd stop by with McDonald's after the game. She'd be fashionably late, she decided with a twisted smile before focusing back to the scenery at hand.

It appeared that the players were taking a break, and Violet eyed them accordingly. The other boy in the stands occupied her brain in a sixth-sense manner, as though she were a spider and he was a fly she waited to have fall into her web. Still, she gave Stella a smile, trying to focus on schmoozing with the actress as opposed to letting a nobody from Bumpkinville occupy her mind. "It would be nice if they would win and make our cheering a little more worthwhile," she quipped, tossing a laugh towards Stella with a smirk. "If they don't start scoring, I'm going to start cheering for the other team."
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Andres Wilson





































  • mood



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Metal slammed down with a resounding clang above him, as Andres relinquished the weight of the barbell onto the safety catches of the bench press station. Sweat poured off of him as his arched back finally relaxed at the end of his set. His muscles ached with an invigorating burn that came hand in hand with weight lifting. It was the pain of accomplishment, which only served to fuel his commitment towards his own betterment. With a loud huff, he fought against his instinctual urge to just lay on the bench and catch his breath. Instead, he brought himself forward and sat up away from the barbell. The combined weight of all the plates that had been affixed to either side of the bar, came in at a whopping two hundred and twenty five pounds. His current max, at least when it came to hitting his standard set.

Music was blaring in his mind, yet still he felt a calmness. The earbuds in his ears played a playlist of his own beats, each one Andres had produced from scratch with nothing more than his laptop. This was his own form of meditation, a way to focus on his own work while physically engaging himself. An exercise of both the mind and body, as ridiculous as that sounded. Despite this, he still fought for breath as he braced himself upright against his knees. Staring down at the ground as beads of exhaustion dripped from his half naked body, onto the padded flooring beneath him. Pulling himself away, he stood and grabbed his water bottle and towel. Working to dry himself off as he drained the liquid into his system.

An alarm went off in the front pocket of his gym shorts, alerting him to the time. He had a little less than an hour to ready himself for the game tonight. While Andres had never been one for sports himself, he knew appearances were important in these kinds of situations. After all, he was the new kid in school. Although he had a few old friends that he could occasionally rely on for company, ultimately he knew virtually no one at Hawthorne. With the exception of Maggy from his Musical Theory and English classes, of course. She was the sole reason he’d even set an alarm to arrive early, though The Wolf would never admit that to anyone other than himself.

It took about twenty five minutes for him to shower in the locker room, and find his way back to the campus house. The Hawthorne Housing Initiative, frankly, was the only thing that allowed him to attend the school. He was grateful for it, after all he had his very own room for the first time. His life had never permitted such a luxury before, and Andres intended to take advantage of it. The peace and quiet did wonders for his musical and written aspirations, offering him more clarity than the rambunctious nature of Crenshaw. But his old environment had offered him more inspiration than this space ever could. Often, he drew on his memories to continue in his artistic pursuits.

Nevertheless, this wasn’t one of the occasions that he’d stay locked away getting high and writing songs or poems. Instead, he quickly went through his wardrobe until he’d plucked out an outfit that screamed of his background. Andres loved the streetwear fashion that he had embedded into his style, it gave him more comfort than he knew how to explain. Truthfully, what he wore was an artistic representation of himself and his story. Once he was dressed, he took a quick photo of himself in the mirror and posted it to his instagram with a lackluster description. Then, proceeded to stuff an ounce of weed along with a few wraps into a drawstring bag.

After making the necessary preparations, Andres arrived at the stadium a few minutes early in order to meet Magnolia. He’d been leaning against one of the many legs of the bleachers when she turned up, already with a burning joint in his hand, smoke wafting from his general area. Their conversation was light, but amusing. Mostly just upbeat jokes and the occasional flirt in spanish from himself, but truthfully he found her better to talk to in person. That’s why he’d taken such a liking to her in class. Online was a different story. Andres wasn’t one for social media, although this school and his own goals demanded it. He’d grown up, functionally without a phone. He’d only learned how to use computers as well as he had through free time at school and many trips to the library during his younger years.

Admittedly, it was a social handicap and he wasn’t as comfortable with such a medium. Although, the more time he spent looking at the Twitter feed of Hawthorne, the more he felt compelled to speak his mind. Quickly though, after passing his blunt between himself and Maggy a few times, others began to trickle in and their moment passed. Andres smirked and mumbled something obscene in Spanish as she whispered to him, but nodded at her as she made her exit. That wink she had thrown his way, burned a mark in his soul that began to smolder. Though, he didn’t let his guard down enough to show it. His gaze lingered on her casually as she left, but quickly he turned his attention back to the others.

“
I brought a little extra, in case you all didn’t have much.
” He spoke without concern, his deep voice coming out with a slight rasp as he exhaled a small plume of smoke. Gesturing down to the drawstring bag a few feet from his shoes.

































cry for love



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amir




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jay z



run this town








Hawthorne had a lot to offer its students - rich academics, amazing networking opportunities, damn near infinite resources. Anything necessary to ensure the success of the students could be found at the institution.

Well, almost.

The athletics department was a little lackluster. Okay, maybe not the actual department. They had state of the art gym equipment, their fields and courts were decked out, and the coaches usually gave a shit. Some of the players, however, didn't really seem to. The team worked hard and did well, sure, but the drive Amir was used to back home didn't seem the same. Yeah, yeah, who cares about a lack of passion if the team does well anyways.

When sports are literally the only thing you've got going for you, having people that sorta feel the same way is comforting. At a place like Hawthorne, though, that wasn't likely to happen. Everyone was, like, a multi-talented genius or some shit and the ones that weren't seemed to have enough money to make it not matter.

Whatever. Today wasn't a day Amir could afford to think about that shit, or the fact that he usually felt completely out of his depth at Hawthorne. Today, he felt good. Today, he was in his element. Today, he was kicking ass and taking names whatever the fuck that meant.

Or at least, the day had started out that way. He'd even skipped his classes for the day to avoid the general feelings of incompetence and inadequacy that came with attending them. Now, a quarter of the game had passed and it... wasn't exactly going the best. It was way too early to throw in the towel, but when they got off the field and half the fucking team literally vanished into thin air, his morale kinda tanked a little bit.

Despite the fact that his enthusiasm just made a nosedive, he was still too restless to sit down. He took off his helmet and chugged some water in the vain hopes that it'd calm him down a bit. The water didn't do shit, but seeing that Mason seemed equally as frustrated as he was strangely did. "Bunch of fucking dumbasses" was, in Amir's sincere opinion, an eloquent and accurate description of the rest of the team.

"Think I got time for a smoke?" Mason asked, and the boys' expressions practically mirrored each others. Amir took another look at the rest of the team.

He turned back to Mason with a slight grin and a nod.
"Half the fuckin' team's not here anyways. Might as well tell the refs to call it an early halftime or some shit."
Annoyance made its way back onto his features before he nodded his head away from the field.

"I'll join ya if you want. Can't be the last one back then."
He'd never had a cigarette in his life, but standing at the sidelines sounded far worse than inhaling secondhand smoke.






♡coded by uxie♡
 
scroll !
mood
needing a drink

location
under the bleachers

outfit
Lombardi original

mentions
Andres Dethrix Dethrix , Magnolia Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202 , Sabrina Feral Feral , Damien Winona Winona
CARLOTTA ❆

Carlotta Lombardi was many things: teen icon, entrepreneur, national treasure, cultural phenomenon, genius (arguably), and the best thing that ever happened to Hawthorne Academy. The one thing she wasn't, however, was an early riser. And yet, that morning found her at an ungodly hour of the morning; hair volumized, face powdered, outfit meticulously chosen, designer handbag filled with copious amounts of alcohol, screaming her lungs off inside of her vintage convertible.

It wasn't something she'd planned out, of course - hardly anything she did involved any sort of careful and meticulous planning. Homecoming had been something on her radar ever since the school year had begun, but she hadn't paid any attention to it. It was nothing more than a stupid game (in a football field of all places, ew) for a team she barely knew anyone in and certainly didn't care much about. Where all the attention would be on sweaty men and enviously attractive cheerleaders instead of, well, Carlotta. And that she simply couldn't stand. At least not under normal circumstances. And she knew this time the festivities couldn't be anything further away from normal.

It was, after all, the first large social gathering of the semester. Most importantly, it was the first social gathering she could participate in since last year's detour. The one that had people thinking she was dead and ate a large portion of her junior year (and was the reason she had to re-take the grade, though with her grades it was unlikely she would've passed even while sober). Her sister had kept her on a short leash since her stint in rehab, meaning she'd also been noticeably absent from all summer activities and doomed to spend her time with only her siblings and Damien - who she'd managed to sneak into her room occasionally. With how many attention whores attended Hawthorne Academy, and the amount of drama that surrounded everyone else, it was likely her fellow classmates had already forgotten her. And that she simply couldn't stand.

So, on the morning of the big game, Carlotta stumbled out of her dorm before her roommate and best friend could even notice her absence ("chi dorme non piglia pesci," as her witch of a mother used to say), and drove to one of her old hideouts. A tiny beach property that she'd used in the past for certain activities. It was owned by her family, technically, but they rarely used it, and she remembered hiding her stash every time she'd used the place. So few could blame her enthusiasm as she happily hopped through the threshold and pranced her way to the compartment underneath the stairs, looking for what she knew would make her the life of the party.

What she found instead was nothing but a note - not even written on a paper, but a napkin - with messy handwriting that simply read "thanks hot stuff."

Fear not, though! There were still a plethora of places to be searched. All of which she covered in a record-breaking amount of time, every single one picked clean of anything useful. Which landed her, hours after getting ready, back in her car screaming until her vocal cords howled for clemency and her cheeks ached from the many times she brought her palms down on them in fury.

It wasn't as though she couldn't show her face in public without being under the influence; she could, easily. The myriad of substances simply served as a nice, comfortable guiding hand through the ordeal. Help quell her doubts and insecurities as she navigated being out of the spotlight and the questions that were no doubt bound to peer their disgusting heads in. And while gossip was normally something she welcomed with open arms, especially when said gossip revolved around her, the prospect of discussing the most destructive and traumatic experience of her life was not one she found particularly appetizing. The alcohol could help, hopefully. But it wouldn't provide the same safety blanket that the chemicals that almost ruined her life could.

"Andrà bene, Carlotta, andrà bene," she soothed herself once her crying had stopped and she'd managed to drive herself back to the school's parking lot. "Everyone still loves you and wants to be your friend. Maybe they won't ask why you were missing and presumed dead for months! Maybe Sabrina already told people that you were on a trip! Or... and internship. Or was it a mission trip? Shit, why did I give her so many cover stories? Maybe I'll just tell people I was pregnant...or that I am pregnant...again.... Damien might not like that one."

Homecoming was... well, homecoming. Nothing special, just a slightly overhyped game with stinky athletes and laughably cheap food. Her attention quickly landed on the space underneath the bleachers. The holy sanctuary to all teenagers interested in doing everything but watching the game. Throwing on her sunglasses, Carlotta confidently strutted to the meeting spot, which was as relatively vacated as she'd expected - only two people who she felt she recognized from somewhere, twitter, maybe, but didn't have much of a relationship with. Frankly, people, she didn't care much about.


That was until she smelt the tell-tale aroma of weed. And heard the magic words "I brought a little extra, in case you all didn’t have much." And, well, it wasn't as though she was in any position to refuse such an opportunity. So, without waiting for an invitation, Carlotta did what she often did best, and stepped in between the man and woman with little care for whatever previous conversation they'd been engaged in.

"I don't believe we've met!" She exclaimed, loudly and with a chipper tone. "Have I seen you two before? I feel like I've seen you two before. Do you use Twitter? Well, that's a terrible question, everyone whos anyone uses Twitter. You come to Hawthorne, right? Me too! Ever hear of the Hawthorne sharing spirit?"

Her speech slightly diminished in volume as her speech came to an end. Not because of a lack of things to say, or a sense of decorum, but from her reaction to the girl's green outfit. Not the only one she'd seen thus far. And green wasn't in season (she would know), and there was only one possible explanation.

"How long has our school's color been green?"


coded by reveriee
 












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Football games? Not really Justin's cup of tea. Now, that wasn't to say he wasn't into sports, or being active, or whatever else you may want to note. Rather, Justin just... found himself interested in different kinds of activities. And no, that wasn't making out or being a whore or something so you might as well just get your brain straight out of the gutter. Yeah, that's right, he was calling you out -- he knows where your mind went.

Rather, Justin considered himself a real man's man. You know those stereotypical white boys in their boat shoes and their little sweater tied around their neck while they rode around on their daddy's yacht? Okay well that was kind of Justin -- if you just took that and then smashed it with one of those Southern dudes that's got a beer in one hand and is using his other hand to catch a catfish. You know, the ones that liked noodling.

Noodling as in a type of fishing, not noodling as in canoodling.

Anyway, he found himself somewhere strung up in the middle of there. Basically, Justin's activities involved boating things and fishing and hey, kept him in real good shape. Not to brag or anything, but Justin was sort of built. Yeah, he didn't have an ego one little bit about it, though, of course.

But take that and add in those Californian surfer dudes for spice, and that was Justin.

Meaning that here?

Not really his cup of tea.

He'd more or less come to hangout with Amy, although why she was interested in the football game was beyond him. Probably because it happened to be Homecoming, and that was a big deal, although there wasn't even a dance or anything. So what was the point? The after party later?

Boring.

Plus Justin definitely hadn't put time or thought into an outfit for said party later -- his current attire? A simple black tank top (you know the kind, with the real big armpit holes, so if the dude leans the right way, you catch a whole ass glimpse of nip), shorts, and some slip on shoes.

Pretty much, just whatever Justin had managed to grab before they'd come out.

Once they'd arrived, Justin had trailed after Amy until they'd found somewhere to rest to watch the game, and he'd brought his legs up to rest on the seat in front of them, his arms stretching out to rest on his knees, and his hands interlacing as he squinted at the activity on the field.

Ehhh.

Eventually, Justin's wandering eyes had naturally gone towards the cheerleaders, and they'd shifted to peer through some of the gaps in the bleachers to peer at the people underneath, and he wondered what would happen if he spit on one. They'd never even know it was him.

"Hey you wanna snack?" Amy asked and Justin lifted up his head, blinking over at the girl as she pulled out a whole ass sandwich. "I've got some stuff in my bag cause It's gonna be hell to try before the game starts or at half time."

There was a look of shock on Justin's face, which was soon replaced by a grin. "Dude, did you bring your whole kitchen?" He asked, peering towards the bag because damn. "Hell yeah -- what else ya got?"

Spitting on people could wait.








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Amy










Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202













♡coded by uxie♡
 






Sabrina A.W.




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ppcocaine



Hugh Hefner








Sabrina snipped the last bit of bangs from her forehead, they were getting too long already. Her hair always grew too fast, that was the only reason she had long hair as a kid too! No body wanted to spend the money a haircut costed on her. That was also the reason she cut her own hair now. She had gotten significantly better at it, her early attempts were something she hoped never saw the light of day, enough.

She snagged her jacket off of the pile of clothes thrown on her bed and shoved her feet in some shoes, hopping out the door on one foot, trying to get the other damn shoe on. Ugh, she was late!! Carlotta was already gone! Gotta go fast! Like sonic! Speed!

She shambled out the door of the dorms looking like she was trying, and failing, to roller skate. "Awe Yeah!" She finally got that damn shoe on! She let out a pleased huff, tapping her heels on the ground.

Her wide, dark eyes fluttered around her surroundings, a habit born out of many bad parties. Then she noticed. Brown and white hair, lanky, Smoking a cigarette. She grinned and skipped over, "Hiya Leon! I didn't know you went here! Or, er, don't go here." Her lips pursed, "I don't know if you go here. Silly me! Always assuming! But that doesn't matter... does it?" Her features scrunched up in thought before quickly stating, "It doesn't."

Her scrunched-up face beamed suddenly, her head tilted. Her finger tapping her chin, "Are you comin' to the smoker's hang out at the game today?" Sabrina's owlish gaze stared at him expectantly, sure, she should've been annoyed at him, seeing as the last time she saw him, she was at the biggest party in the area and almost died from an overdose and he was a reminder of bad memories, but she was Sabrina, and she didn't keep grudges. Well, usually.

Sometimes though, her grudges lasted too long, even for her liking. She'd call herself stubborn if it weren't for the flightiness of them. Well, they usually involved things that she would get unnecessarily violent towards. That wasn't important though! She shouldn't be thinking about that right now! She had to get to the bleachers!





♡coded by uxie♡
 






Robin E.B.




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Jack Conte



Where the Moments Go








His sneaker-clad feet shuffled slightly, fidgeting, um... he was sat firmly in the middle on the bleachers, people bustling around him. It was busy and loud and all the faces blurred in his head, who could do anything in this sorta mess?

Well, this was awkward, and terribly anxiety-inducing, to him at least! He wasn't used to this! Usually, he had his older brothers to make it less... bad. He was alone and that made him afraid. He really really didn't know what to do, but Alaska and Ophie were supposed to be here, and everyone else too. He didn't want to just stay home! He... he was used to following around his siblings like a sheep, so it was strange not to be here, he had to see his only friends and it was even stranger to be alone.

It was so so loud, there were people around him, talking, joking, and here he was just sitting all by himself. He felt like a loser, or at least ashamed at the fact that he was alone! He felt like he didn't have any friends. He could just... Get up and find them! That was so scary though, there were so many bigger people, and, well, he didn't wanna be cornered or bullied or hit by someone he didn't know would stop when he got hurt, at least he knew his brothers would stop if he cried.

He had gotten here before it was this busy and he was too nervous to move now! How do people do this? He gripped the edge of the bleachers and squeezed his eyes shut. He was fine. He would be all right. Eventually, he would stop being such a baby and get up and find someone to talk to.

He hated this. He shouldn't have come, he should have just been relaxing in bed, and reading and...! He just wanted to go home. He really really wanted to go home. He felt like a little kid who got lost in a grocery store. Sure he should be over such childish notions and pick himself up by the bootstraps but he was Robin. He was overly nice, a bit too childish, and clung to people like crazy. He... He wasn't that good of a person and lots of people didn't wanna be friends with him but that didn't mean he wouldn't try and make friends.

He took in a deep breath and slowly eased his stiff shoulders into a more relaxed position. He could do this! Maybe! He could even get up from his seat and go and find someone to talk to! He... He could do that later, right?





♡coded by uxie♡
 
MOOD: sonavabitch 😠

OUTFIT:
skull tee, grey hoodie
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INFO
LOCATION: parking lot

WITH: xander

MENTION: cappie​
ACTIVITY
Winona Winona
TAGS
Deo Vesper
The Hearse


He hated the weather in this city.

Well, maybe not hate it exactly, that’s a strong word. But Deo Vesper didn’t like it very much. How was Los Angeles still so warm in September? Sure, Chicago had similar temperatures around this time, too, but at least it gradually lowers to somewhat comfortable levels near the end of the month.

LA’s weather was too consistent, in its own stupid way. Way too sunny on most days, and the humidity was ridiculous.

Sometimes Deo wondered if he should go back to Chicago, but there wasn’t anything to go back to unless he wanted to plop himself into foster care, which he didn’t.

Anyway, he was complaining about the weather because his cousin had forced him to go out and watch the homecoming game with him. Apart from going to the game to support any of his friends who were on the cheer squad, Cappie, who didn’t understand football anymore than Deo, thought that bringing his baby cousin (by a few months) would help him feel more welcome at a new school and city.

Except Deo didn’t really care about showing school spirit, Cappie’s friends, or the cheerleaders even if some of them are kinda hot. He definitely couldn’t care any less about football—hockey was better, and sometimes soccer if referees didn’t always find dumb excuses to card him and ignore real fouls made by players from the opposing teams.

But he did care about the bet he was playing against his cousin—when the school team loses later, Cappie’s wallet was going to be forty dollars lighter and enriched with temporary regret. The bet was actually what made Deo decide to go. However, it didn’t mean he had to stick around and watch the entire game.

Cappie left to go to the restroom a few minutes before halftime. During that time, Deo got up to refill his popcorn bag, but instead of returning to his front-row seat, he headed to the parking lot. As he stepped on the curb in front of the football field, Deo stuck a white light cigarette between his lips and lit it with his Zippo lighter.

I know, I know. He’s supposed to be quitting, but nobody said it was easy. Those gum and patch things didn’t work well for him. When Deo mentioned this issue, his dad’s nightclub bartender had given him a pack of herbal, nicotine/tobacco-free cigarettes to help him wean off of regular ones. They were like prop smokes for movies and TV shows, supposedly less harmless.

If the weaning was working, he couldn’t tell. It was like eating unsalted saltine crackers or unsweetened vanilla yogurt.

Ironically, these cigarettes were vanilla-flavored, not that it was easy to taste right away.

He took another drag, and then a second while striding across the parking lot. He was about twenty or thirty feet away when he a vaguely familiar hissing sound. It was coming from his car.

Not really Deo’s car. It was Cappie’s ‘90s Ford Bronco. His dad, August, didn’t trust him enough to let him drive his luxury coupe again after the fender-bender with a teacher’s car last summer—he was still new to driving, give him a break.

Still, he had a bad feeling he’d get in trouble if something were to happen to Cappie’s Bronco, regardless of whether or not it was his fault (again). The hissing grew louder as he crept closer, and then he spotted a curly-haired kid his age crouched on the side of the SUV and a spray can in his hand.

Son of a fuck…

“Oy!” His bland cigarette and popcorn fell out from his hands. Deo sprinted toward the vandaliser, his hand reaching for the collar of the guy’s shirt. “The fuck d’you think you’re doing, ya little shit?”
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LEON PIERCE
Not understanding that you’re a horrible person doesn’t make you less of

a horrible person
the sinner
fell asleep and forgot to die
the weekend
— mac miller
mood: how the fuck...
location: school entrance
tags: sabrina - Feral Feral
mentions: mason
scroll
Sports had never been his thing. Sure he was decently tall, but he lacked both the muscle and commitment for it to actually matter. Sporting events, however, he adored.

There were several reasons for this. Firstly, most athletes were easy on the eyes. At the very least entertainment was guaranteed in that regard. Leon, however, much preferred creating his own entertainment. These events always gathered a ridiculous amount of people, providing him a practically limitless source from which to do so. The crowds also played into the third and final reason he loved these events - it pretty much guaranteed someone would be handing out bud, pills, or both. How could he ever pass up an event with that much potential?

He'd been hoping to catch his good bud Mason before the game, see if he could rile him up or something. Just a little. Football was aggressive and anger meant aggression. Unfortunately for the sake of the team's gameplay and absolutely not his own amusement, Leon overslept. How exactly does one oversleep for an event that doesn't start until 6pm, you might ask? It's simple, really. If you're a complete degenerate, your circadian rhythm tends to be a little fucked up and four hour naps may or may not be a regular occurence to compensate. Leon, of course, wasn't a degenerate - he just so happened to possess a lot of traits that were common in people that were.

So he rolled out of bed nearly twenty minutes later than anticipated. In all honesty, he wasn't too concerned about his delayed arrival. Plus, a bunch of stoners enjoying some free weed definitely wouldn't give a shit, so he decided he might as well get ready. Getting laid wasn't necessarily his priority for the night, but it never hurt to make a little bit of effort in that department. A skirt would do for tonight. Aside from the fact that he rocked those things, anyone looking for a proper dude to take home tonight wouldn't be looking at him anyways.

Grabbing his lighter and walking towards the school's main entrance, he figured he also had time to have a cigarette before heading over to the bleachers. Hawthorne's whole "smoke-free campus" thing had to be one of his favorite things about the place.

He was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed when he heard a somewhat familiar voice say his name. "I didn't know you went here! Or, er, don't go here." Memories were starting to piece themselves together the more she spoke and a massive grin made its way to his lips when he finally managed to place her. "Are you comin' to the smoker's hang out at the game today?" She seemed more nervous than he remembered her being.

"'Course I'm goin', Stabby! Is that where you're headed?"

He was, admittedly, a little thrown off about seeing one of his former customers here. Especially Sabrina, considering the last he'd heard of her she was doing a stint in juvie. Putting out the remainder of his cigarette and standing at his full height, he looked at her curiously. "It's my second year here, by the way. You just starting out?"

Aside from the singular stabbing incident, she was usually fun to be around, so hopefully this... friendship? wouldn't hurt.
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    • Betania Escarra












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Casper Deering
"Quick be sneaky!"
Damien Slater | Winona Winona


Sitting in the bleachers of the stand, Casper was pretty unconcerned about the whole thing with Damien. There was one key reason for this: Casper knew with near one hundred percent certainty that Mr. Slut had no idea who she was!

This came at least partially from Casper being keenly aware of Damien. What could she say, she was a simple girl... and he was really, really hot. So she knew they only shared one class together and he wasn't even usually near her in the halls. And she knew that in that one class? He was never paying attention, instead messing around with rubber bands and stuff. It was careless but that was exactly what drew her in. Brash in a way that left her daydreaming all day... or at least all period. She’d thought about sketching him sometimes, but that’d probably be too obvious and she’d hate for Ms. Carter to show the class.

After all, the school was helping her with all this testing stuff because they thought she might have some learning issues and they probably knew better than her, even if a teacher had never thought that before. Usually it was all ‘Casper doesn’t try hard enough’ and ‘Casper’s so lazy’ and ‘If Casper just applied herself—’ so it was an adjustment. And Ms. Carter was so nice to her… She didn’t want to disappoint her by being blatant with the not listening. All the information just didn’t sit in her brain right, was all. And then it was hard to pay attention and not drift off into brain land…

She guessed she just didn’t want them to think she was just lazy after all.

Her freeze was gone and it was still way too hot, which sucked because she knew she’d dealt with hotter but the briefly gained ability was gone again, lost to a year in New York. She wasn’t looking forward to the winter without snow, but a winter with her family would be worse. It was just so "mild" here. It shouldn't feel like this in September, even if the only place she'd ever felt at home was worse.

She uncrossed her ankles, stretching up and heading down the bleacher steps to get herself something to drink—She didn’t know if the game was still going, but she didn’t really care. It was just football, after all.

Well, she didn’t care until she was so lost in her world, taking in all the various people she could draw, the coloring she could play with, that she bumped into someone. A surprised gasp startled from her as she bounced off, eyes wide and mouth popped open in a dumb kind of shock as she looked up at the student she’d bumped into. And it still wouldn’t have been a big deal, but she’d bumped into Damien Slutter, who had just said he was gonna kick her ass.

Shit.

But she was still reasonably sure he didn’t recognize her and she also knew she could be really cute when she needed to be, so lying her way through it seemed like a good idea, at least to try.

Her brow crinkled together, concern bursting from her face’s new arrangement as she leaned in, a loose fist to her chest. “I’m so sorry—I shoulda been looking. Are you okay?” She knew he was okay—She hadn’t hit him that hard, even if he was barely any bigger than her—but it was all about the act of caring. If she just played up that easy concern a bit… She’d be fine! Or at least that was how it was in her head.
 






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The evening was warm to her and Penny would've been knee-deep in river mud at this point, searching for something out there, if she hadn't been drug to this football game. Penny wasn't one for sports unlike her twin, they had very different personalities, which Penny found odd for twins so secluded from others in their youths. Of course, Aster would just say they were unique or something, she appreciated her older sibling but really, she wasn't all that special.

The twins' usual closeness was disturbed by the younger girl wedged between them, Nina, their border, and the kid they practically adopted. It apparently offended Addy that she had never actually been to a football game before, and Penny thought she was a meathead. Penny had been before of course, how could she not with her twin being as such? She usually left sports articles and drama to the other kids in the newspaper club. She had made sure to bring her notes to reread and a cassette player that they could listen to. At least she got some time to sit down and do her work and talk to their newest companion of course.

She grinned at Nina, she was cute and nice, and having a kid around let her play big sibling, "So what are you thinking? How's the game? Wh—" She was cut off by Addy's words, which happened was way too often for her liking, "I wonder if I could punt a toddler. What am I saying I totally could." Penny sighed and turned back to Nina after giving her sister a light whack of the shoulder for interrupting her, and a slight glare, "What are you going to get at the stand? Aster gave us enough to buy for you too by the way." She grinned and ruffled the kid's hair, Addy nodded in agreement pulling out quite a few 10-dollar bills, "We've got the money~" she jokingly sang. Well at least Addy didn't start belting out a song after that, small miracles am I, right?

Penny felt relaxed, this reminded her a lot of when She and Addy were running around being idiots and going to school fairs with Aster, the good ol days if you will. Urg, she was nervous that she'd mess up with having another person in the house but it was going well for now... right?





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Addy thought it was weird to have someone younger around, she was used to being the spoiled youngest child, but that always changed at school, Aster just went and adopted kids, not that she disliked that, all the youngsters were cute and nice and she liked teasing them and helping them, which was a usual contrast to her 'fight me! come at me!' Attitude. Just because she liked to fight didn't mean that was all she was okay?

So she was here, concession stands, with their cute little boarder, who had never actually been to a football game before! Addy couldn't let that continue, sports we're meant to be appreciated! Though Penny would whine, that she'd rather be doing this or that and not come to a stupid football game, but Adeline knew that wasn't true solely by the fact that Penny had brought some of her reporting gear, her portable recorder, a notebook full of details what Addy could never decipher seeing as they were written in a unique shorthand way of writing them. Really it was a pain to get anything out of her.

Penny paused and so Addy did too, she began asking questions in that rapid-fire, 'im a great reporter' style of talking she did, Addy tuned out in favor of imagining various stupid scenarios in her head "So what— the game? Wha—" Penny was cut off by Addy's idle thoughts, "I wonder if I could punt a toddler. What am I saying I totally could." She totally could punt a toddler? Totally. Penny sighed super dramatically and punched Addy's shoulder roughly before proceeding to ignore her and her burning question, god, she was probably whispering at Nina to ignore her, buzzkill! "What are you going to get at the stand? Aster gave us enough to buy for you too by the way." Penny grinned and ruffled the kids' hair, She'd have to remember to do that too, later. Addy nodded in agreement pulling out quite a few 10-dollar bills, "We've got the money~" she jokingly sang, because they did in fact got the money.

Addy swore the kid was just getting top of their treatment and attention from them. Really Addy had to stop herself from subconsciously going to hold the kids' hand because it was so ingrained in them to do that, with Aster or otherwise, Urg, she would have to watch her actions wouldn't she.





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There was a bright flush of red that flooded his cheeks, and Jace had to shift, pulling his arms closer to his torso and crossing said arms over his chest. This was followed by a huff of rather indignant air, eyebrows drawn together as he glanced over at Puck, shooting daggers at him.

How dare he decide to bring up Jace's ex-boyfriend -- a fact that was a rather big embarrassment, and something he'd rather not discuss, or have on the table whatsoever.

"I think he looks ugly," he explained with a rather indignant sniff, followed by a glance towards the football field, and then a look back to his friend. "Or, well, ah... not that I've ahh... I haven't been looking, obviously." And he really hadn't because perhaps Jace's eyes had been wondering towards someone else.

Of course, the band wasn't out on the field nearly as much as the football players. A disappointment for him.

Uhh... not that he cared whatsoever, of course.

His eyes hadn't been wandering towards anywhere or anyone, actually.

"By the way, you will rue the day that you went full Sound of Music." Puck continued, which earned another annoyed glance from Jace. "You are a significantly hotter Slim Shady, so I commend you."

"You say that," Jace started. "But you know, I think this new hair is real good. Makes me look like a ahh... like a real musician. Hotter and better than Slim Shady." He added, rather proudly, although there was a moment of silence before he tacked on; "Alex called it a botched bleach job."

Saying the name kind of brought a weird mix of emotions to Jace's face, including a wrinkling up of the nose.

"Are you going to the party tonight?" He asked, hesitating for a moment before he continued. "I... I just mean... are you ahh... were you... invited? Are we... are we supposed to be... ya know... invited?"

Perhaps his conversation with Alex had gotten to him more than he'd like to admit.








Jace West

















Puck










demonology demonology













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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










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