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Realistic or Modern °⨳°·..·°⨳°⊹٭ 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘵𝘴 ;; 𝘐𝘯 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 ٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳°

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sunshineysoul

sunshineysoul

entertainer at the house of asmodeous
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)





















  • intro






























    je te laisserai des mots



    patrick watson


























    opening.



    T
    he Opening showcase. A long standing tradition at Muse University for the Fine Arts. What started as just a simple gathering of the incoming students has now grown into one of the biggest events of the school year. New students come get a taste of what they've been accepted into for their higher education career while returning students get a chance to display their craft.
    Each department picks a handful of students to work on their presentation at this Opening Showcase, a true honor. If you're picked by your department to represent the school to the incoming Freshman, it means heaven's gates have been opened to you. Students who excel in representing the University will have their pick of the liter for agents, jobs, studios, etc. Wherever they choose to go following graduation, they will have no hardships in seeking acceptance.

    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
    On behalf of the faculty and staff at Muse University for the Fine Arts, we cordially invite you to our Opening Showcase

    Taking place in our Theatre Arts building this year, we hope you will join us in welcoming our new students to Muse University.
    Sincerely, President Michelle Nestor
    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───​

    Having been remodeled in the late 1970s, the Theatre Arts building is an impressive sight to behold. While being updated more recently, the structure still pays homage to it's humble beginnings as it gives a more vintage, european vibe. It stands tall and mighty, leaving most new students in awe, but there are a good handful of returning students that never get tired of seeing the majestic building.

    Upon entering, students will notice a number of glass display cases strategically places throughout the foyer & overflowing into the hallways. These display cases hold the projects of the Visual Arts students. There are many canvases filled with masterpieces of paint, chalk, pencil and various other mediums. There are some sculpted busts and ceramic pieces whose glazes catch the lights in the perfect way to sparkle, proving the talent of their makers.
    Although, there isn't just the glass cases in the foyer, there are also a handful of different screens that are displaying the work of the Digital Arts students. Some students created beautiful animation, some filmed short films, some even created bits of a video game for students to come test out. Screens and glass cases alike are all accompanied by plaques that inform viewers of the piece; including the title of the piece, a short description, and the artists behind each piece. Students can either be around their pieces, ready to make conversation, or wander around to view the other pieces of the night.
    Students who happen to wander further into the halls might stumble into a classroom that has multiple paperback books on display on the desks. Some of the Literature Arts students specialize in novels, those students that were chosen for the Opening Showcase wrote short stories to showcase their talents. However, not all the Literature Arts students are novelists; Some are playwrights and poets, and those students will have the chance to showcase their talents in the Florence Auditorium.
    Walking into the Florence Auditorium will take any student's breath away, or anyone who has an appreciation and passion for performing. The flagship auditorium of Muse University spans tall and wide, show-goers having the crane their neck backwards just to try and see the height of the celling. And while the auditorium sits right around one thousand people in the audience, there's no need to fear being able to see the stage. The stage is massive, and has seating on the sides as well, seemingly pulling itself into the audience.
    For the Opening Showcase, the rest of the Literature Arts, Musical Arts & Theatre Arts students share the stage. Going between original songs and scores, reading their own poetry, and acting snippets from the previously mentioned playwrights' scenes, feel free to come and go throughout the night to get a taste of all the talent in the Florence Auditorium
    During the last hour of the showcase, everyone is ushered into the Auditorium and asked to take a seat. All the other Showcase students hurry around to put a makeshift stage down the two side isles leading to the stage as the lights are turned off, all except the lights along the isles of course. They prepare for a fashion show, put on by the University's very own Fashion Arts students. Some of the students designed the clothes on the models, others are the very models themselves. This fashion show is always the most memorable part of the night & returning students always have the most hype about it.

    Classes begin the day after the Opening Showcase, causing a lot of students to view it as a last day of freedom. Many students tend to just hang out in their dorms at the end of the night, getting to know their new neighbors throughout the building, but rumor has it there might be a pretty intense pool party on the roof of Porter Hall following the fashion show. Who knows, you'll have to see for yourself!

    Welcome to Muse!
































intro



cast








Muse University



opening
showcase








time



5:00 pm







event



Opening Showcase







location



The Theatre Arts Building







status



open for posts!











cs





lore





ooc

















♡coded by uxie♡
 
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  • Theatre Arts Building, Muse University















    valerie



    Rome Hero Foxes
























    Well sometimes I go out by myself, and I look across the water;























@mad.cow.maddi



12 minutes ago


















nine lives

 
















Agatha Taylor was not easily intimidated. She had a harpy of a mother and her body had been scrutinized by millions of people across the world. There was very little that made her anxious. She paused in front of one of the art pieces, smoothing her hands down the emerald dress her aunt Heather had recommended she wear for this night. One of her biggest nights. Unfortunately aunt Heather couldn’t be here, she was in her early 80s now and making flights like that was extremely hard on her body. So, Agatha, who preferred Scarlett, was here by herself. Alone.

Which she had done to herself. She hadn’t told anybody, none of her friends and none of her relatives, that she was going to university. It wouldn’t be hard to find her, but so far, no one had come looking. Only her brothers knew where she was but they were off frolicking in Europe or something. Scarlett wasn’t sure, but that was okay. This was the first thing that she had done for herself. This, she thought with a soft smile as she walked past the art exhibits, was something she had done on her own. It had nothing to do with her family or her namesake. This… she paused in front of beginning to literature exhibit. She had earned it all on her own.

When her professor had come up to her before the end of her freshmen year, Scarlett had been anxious. She had the summer to write a collection of short stories for the opening showcase for the next incoming freshmen. You have a lot of talent, Miss Taylor. You should show them. You’re not just your name, the old professor had said, putting a hand on her arm, you yourself are amazing. So, she had spent countless hours pouring over some short stories and reading short stories from other authors. If she could replicate their style, maybe they would be good enough.

Scarlett had taken a break to go home back to San Diego to make an appearance so for a little longer, she could have safety when she disappeared again. It was unpleasant to go out with the fake flashy friends after finding a good friend in another who hated the popularity that came with their name. Vincent had been a good friend her freshmen year. They had an elective class and bonded. She often found herself hanging out with him at the library or in one of the cafes. She had even worked up the nerve to go to one of his flashy parties. Scarlett had been grateful for him, and she was excited to see him this year. She figured he was at the showcase, but hadn’t seen him yet.

She paused abruptly and stared at the paperbacks on the table before her. There were her stories. A little plaque underneath the paperbacks had her name, her chosen name, she thought giddily. Scarlett Taylor, it read, Literature Student - Sophomore. There were people picking up some samples of her work, murmuring excitedly among themselves. This was… it was the best feeling in the world. She had accomplished this herself. They were talking about Scarlett, not Agatha. She couldn’t fight the full force grin that stole across her face.

“Hey, Aggie.” She nearly jumped out of her skin as a hand landed on her shoulder. She spun around, eyes wide. Her oldest brother, Noah, stood there, freshly shaven and eyes sparking with mirth. He was effortless at ease and dazzling in a navy blue sports coat and a blinding white shirt. “Nice short story, interesting thing with the duck—“

“Noah!” She exclaimed, grabbing him by the front of his coat. He had never been to Muse before, hadn’t any even expressed any interest even visiting her. A brief moment of panic flared through her. What if her mother came? Noah must’ve seen the look on her face because he gave a cheeky smile and booped her on the nose. “Is Daniel here?” He nodded.

“Daniel is gawking at the phenomenal photography your school produces. And don’t worry, Mother doesn’t know, dear Aggie,” he reassured her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, steering her out of the classroom and back to the large auditorium where the true show of the night was going to happen. “Let’s go see if these future models can compare to us professionals.” She rolled her eyes just as Daniel joined them. She caught a glimpse of her short story in his hand.

“Scarlett, these photographers—“ Daniel started excitedly. Noah waved his hand, ushering them all into the auditorium. Scarlett smiled widely at her two brothers and she couldn’t wait to see what was in store.

———

sunshineysoul sunshineysoul



















scarlett.
















  • filler tab!










♡coded by uxie♡


———
sunshineysoul sunshineysoul
 
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After all that we've been through. Nothing left
but open wounds. Fuck what I said and fuck you


tobias yeop














more

post



  • Dark eyes trailed their surroundings, examining and evaluating everything that they landed on. At first, there had only been a handful of people wandering the halls and gathering with other students full of chatter and glee. Within a matter of moments, the university was being inundated with fresh new and tired old faces. The atmosphere was electrifying, full of uncontainable excitement as the students buzzed around, observing all the displays out for them to view. All the while, Tobias Yeop stood against the wall, with the fear in the pit of his stomach only progressively growing as the population grew within the hallway that he stood in.

    All he had wanted to do was go to the bathroom. But upon returning back to the halls of the school, he found himself trapped in a swarm of doe-eyed students who walked around with their mouths agape, in awe of the potential of what the university could bring them in the future. He should’ve left sooner. He should’ve pushed through the initial shock and uncomfortable nerves that twisted his insides. But it was too far gone, and it felt like the population of the whole state was now located within the walls of this fine establishment. He could feel his throat drying up, trying to close shut as his heart rapidly and furiously pounded in his rib cages without ceasing. Dread flooded his body, cracking like egg on the top of his head; yolk dripping over his frame and chilling his spine.

    That was until he saw her.

    Clarissa Mayfield.

    In the midst of the chaos, she was a familiar face. And despite not having a form of friendship - one that you could turn to in a time of crisis and expel your emotions, thoughts and concerns to - she was one to provide a sense of relief and comfort in other forms. Lonely nights caught in existential dread and worries often found him reaching for his phone in hopes that she had thrown a message his way with invitations of coming over or catching up. And when that screen didn’t light up so brightly with such glorious notifications, he found himself having to put on his big boy pants and make the first move. At first these meetings were sporadic, borderlining a catch up maybe once a month or every second month. But as time crept by, and as the weight of academic pressure rested upon their shoulders, their meetings were becoming much more frequent. It was honestly to a point that he saw more of Clarissa than he did of his own family and therapist.

    Eye contact was made.

    A head nod was gestured towards the direction of the janitor’s closet where they had attended for many meetings in the past.

    And she confirmed it with her own body language.

    No words were needed. Then again, were there any words ever exchanged between the two? Of course, they messaged one another, alerting the other to catch up. But did they really have the time or capacity to exchange words while they were together? As soon as she had entered the closest, moments after he had snuck in, and the door gave a soft click, Tobias swooped in. There was no need for words when they both knew why they were there and both had an understanding of what all of this was. It didn’t matter where they met up - may it be in the dorms, the glorified janitor’s closet, behind bleachers, a bathroom stall or even in a classroom - they both understood that this was less to do about talking and more to do with… well, getting some. Relieving that pent up anxiety, bringing comfort to one another, and providing a false sense of security and the feeling of being wanted without any strings attached.

    Their heated exchange lasted for a grand total of twelve minutes and forty eight seconds.

    Within those glorious twelve minutes and forty eight seconds, Tobias forgot all about the stress and anxiety of the night. He forgot about the mass amount of people swarming behind that door that had caused him such distress just moments before. He had forgotten the performance in which he was meant to partake in, ultimately stressed about messing it up or causing anyone any dismay. He had forgotten that he was riding on his parent’s money to get him through this university experience rather than earning it through hard work and desirable ethics. And as he stood there, his head rested against Clarissa’s shoulder as he attempted to catch his breath as they came to end of their meeting, there was only one thing that was running through his brain at that moment; the poor janitor probably eats his lunch off of this table.

    Just like that. A moment caught up in passionate spontaneous one on one with the girl had cleared up the grey clouds that had been forming in his mind. Tobias lifted his head from Clarissa’s shoulder, reaching over to the shelf next to them, grabbing a handful of tissues from a tissue box. Once more, there was no exchange of words, just random acts of kindness through gestures as he held some out for her. Slowly, he pulled away from the girl and started to clean himself up in complete silence. Tissues tossed aside to a nearby bin, Tobias then began adjusting his underwear and jeans, zipping them up and beginning to realign his belt. That was it. Over and done with. Not a single word uttered throughout the whole duration of their hook-up. But would Clarissa really expect anything different from this man of little to no words?










/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.


 









scroll








theater major



paola.













mood

riddled with nerves but excited











outfit

a vintage black puritan dress











location

florence auditorium > backstage











interactions

mentioned. maddox.











tags

sunshineysoul sunshineysoul















beginning of the scene.
the walls of the auditorium melted and morphed into that of an old courthouse: walls adorned with framed photos of deceased trailblazers who were the judges of salem, rickety and old benches occupied by jurors, and the faces of eyewitnesses, victims & suspects standing all around. the trapped heat escaping the collar of her puritan dress made her face glisten under the harsh lights that seemed to cast shadows that danced among the guilty and the innocent. before her towered mr. danforth (npc 1), the court judge in charge of sifting through truths and lies disguised by strong and deceitful emotions in which were capable of controlling someone's life and possible death. and abigail williams (paola) had him in the palm of her hand; a puppet master puppeteering it's dummy in the direction that best suited her needs.

so far, everything was going in her favor. abigail's facade had jurors and mr danforth fooled; john proctor (npc 2) was dumbfounded at her lies. the harbored love she had for john proctor was now left on the table they had known each other on the night the two sealed their fates. abigail had loved him once, but it all ended now. the day that proctor decided to out her for witchcraft was the same day she seethed with venom-laced accusations to betray him just as he betrayed her. she had stole glances at him once or twice, almost in a taunting manner that sealed her victory and his demise, but now her undivided attention was focused on mr. danforth as he sought the truth.

a face of a distressed damsel formed amongst her brown skin. she was all too good at this practiced charade she had brought to the courthouse.

mr. danforth (npc 1): "abigail.. i bid you now search your heart and tell me this -- and beware child, to god, every soul is precious and his vengeance is terrible on them to take life without cause -- is it possible, child, that the spirit you have seen are.. illusion only? some deception that may cause your mind to.."

abigail williams (paola): "this is a base question, sir.." said slow and direct with eye contact made on mr. danforth.

mr. danforth (npc 1): "child, i would have you consider-!"

abigail williams (paola): "i have been hurt.. mr. danforth!" obvious agitation grows within paola's tone as it grows louder and her demeanor strengthens into that of an authoritative figure. "i have seen my blood running out! i have been linked to murder everyday.. because of done my duty.. pointing out the devil's people."

the chief liar known as abigail now directs her attention to the jurors, eyes piercing through them while her words are set to shame those who dare accuse her of being deranged. she's walking around the stage slow, almost as if marking her territory like a predator amongst her prey.

abigail williams (paola): "and this is my reward? to be mistrusted.. denied.. questioned.."

mr. danforth (npc 1): "child, i do not mistrust you-"

abigail williams (paola): sharply interrupts his statement with a pointed figure in his direction. "LET YOU.. beware... mr. danforth.." abigail slowly walks up to him now, closing the space between them. their height difference was huge, but it was painfully aware that her confrontational demeanor was much stronger than his own as she questioned his authority and credibility.

abigail williams (paola): "think you to be so mighty. the power of hell may not turn your witz.. beware of it. heavenly father, take away.."

abigail's dialogue is interrupted by john proctor grabbing a handful of her hair from behind and throwing her to the ground of the courthouse.

john proctor (npc 2): "how do you call heaven, whore? WHORE! it is a whore!"

mr. danforth rushes to abigail's aid and pulls proctor off of her while she scrambles back up to her feet.

abigail williams (paola): "mr. danforth! he's lying!" abigail rushes back to defend herself, facing john proctor as he struggles against mr. danforth's grip.

once calmed, john proctor is let go and mr. danforth speaks again.

john proctor (npc 2): "thou shall set her screams to stab me with it!"

mr. danforth (npc 1): "you will prove this will not pass-!"

john proctor (npc 2): "i have known her, sir! i have known her.." npc two is overwhelmed with emotion as he throws his hands in defeat.

the affair between abigail williams and john proctor against mrs. proctor has escaped poorly sutured mouths, engulfing the entire courthouse in silence before abigail's surroundings melt into that of the florence auditorium once more.
end of the scene.

paola closed her eyes momentarily before reopening them again to meet the audience. a small smile took form upon her face as she met her other theater peers in the center of the stage to bow and walk off for the next group. she had been overwhelmed with excitement the night before the talent showcase, anxious to get it done and over with knowing that she had practiced with them for endless hours. by the time the showcase arrived, she was confident in her skill to deliver without stumbling over her lines, and she did just that. and while she was met with a few empty seats amongst the crowd, a small part of her heart jumped seeing her dear good friend maddox sitting within the crowd.

raising her hand to wave, paola flashed a toothy grin at her as she walked off, quickening her pace so she could meet the exit and join all her other peers to enjoy the rest of the opening showcase. and while she was elated to see the others' works put on display, part of her could admit that the hastened pace was due to the itchy fabric she was garbed in. puritan dresses were not her favorite choice of costume.


♡coded by uxie♡
 
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scroll








music major



cain.













mood

somewhat nervous but playing it cool











outfit

a distressed band tee, black & ripped skinny jeans, combat boots, & a black and burgundy flannel tshirt tied around his waist











location

florence auditorium; backstage











interactions

reserved for mathis











tags

LowkeyLovingLoki LowkeyLovingLoki















the usual calm and collected cain santiago stood backstage, wondering now if the dean made a mistake accepting him into muse university three years ago. surely they placed their time and faith into the wrong prodigy, as he found himself feeling more and more nervous about his performance. the strings of his bass guitar were victims of his anxiety as they stretched and stretched to his liking; it wasn't the first time he found his attention wrapped around making sure his tune was on key, but santiago wanted to be absolutely sure that there would be no fuck ups during his turn onstage. even if it meant a little wear and tear on his favored guitar.

but whatever nerves were currently rushing throughout his bloodstream were incredibly disguised by his facial features that seemed to be hardened into a singular expression for his everyday use. his darkened eyes were fixated on the placement of his fingers, positioning them into spots that felt most comfortable to him as he practiced the song he had picked out for the night. cain's attention was so focused in his own world as the backstage area filled with the other prodigies awaiting their turn under the spotlight, the dissociation kicking into high gear every moment.

"i can't wait until the night is over,"
his monotone voice got lost in the hustle and bustle of his fellow attendees, the weight of his guitar strap feeling like that of a boulder resting on his shoulder. he didn't know how much more of this he could take as he stood near his chair.


♡coded by uxie♡
 
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mathis



the designer












Mathis picked nervously at his black nail polish as he stared at papers on papers, all with various sketches. He wasn't sure exactly why - the outfits he'd chosen for his models had been brought to life already, and there was nowhere near enough time to scrap something together if he decided he liked a different design. They brought their thumb to their mouth, chewing on their nail, flipping a couple of pages over. Really, they were just stressing themself out for no reason at this point. This happened every time Mathis' designs were on display. He'd doubt everything that he'd worked on, he'd wonder if he chose the wrong designs to show.

Mathis ran a hand over their face, gathering their papers and folders together, the items almost spilling out of their arms. He needed to find Lucille. She'd bring him back down to Earth, and she'd be honest with him about his designs. The sounds of various musicians practising different instruments were not helping; if anything, it was just stressing Mathis out more. The mish-mash of sounds and pitches sounded like a soundtrack for their life. Mathis began walking, kind of hoping that Lucille would just appear in front of him.

But Mathis' papers were on the verge of blowing out of his arms, and he could barely see where he was going, and suddenly they were hitting something solid, papers and folders falling to the ground.
"Merde, fuck, I-"
Mathis looked up from the mess on the floor, only to find himself even more panicked by the view of Cain in front of him. Fuck, he thought, closing his eyes for a second. Mathis tore their eyes away, dropping to their knees to start getting their things together and very deliberately avoiding eye contact.
"Sorry, I'm sorry. I wasn't looking."












































♡coded by uxie♡
 








Is it gravity or ocean wind that always bring me back
Wanting you, let's be true, 'cause it's you


isaac kim














music

home



  • It was quite a strange turn of events for Isaac Kim. To live a life one way, and only knowing that one structured pattern, before dropping it all and moving out to the city. Of course, he had visited the city before on school trips, family holidays, and the odd specialist appointment for important medical check-ups. But to actually live in the city had been one hell of a culture shock. His eldest sister, Serah, had convinced him to move in with her, her husband William, and their three children (all under the age of four), just for a week leading up to starting school. He had thought it was simply to save the hassle of having to move everything into the dorm and not have time to get everything prepared for school. Unknown to him, Serah had strategically suggested it so she could help the youngest sibling in the family, and get him prepared for the sudden change of living in a rural town to somewhere like their city.

    After the third day, he was incredibly thankful for it.

    He had also been incredibly thankful for Serah and William who blessed him with his first mobile phone as a celebratory gift. It was only a pre-paid device, but it sure as heck did the job the one day he got lost walking to the shops down the street from Serah’s house and needed help finding his way back. Being able to call his sister up for guidance was an absolute blessing, especially being growled at a man walking by when he attempted to ask for directions. There was one thing he noticed about the residents of this fine city in comparison to where he had grown up his whole life; and it was the lack of human decency and kindness.

    Isaac was one to flash a smile and a greeting when walking down the street, even to some complete stranger. Apparently, that was something they didn’t do in the city, and also gave others big green lights to go ahead and snap at him in the most unfriendly of manners. The inner desire to simply walk down a street and have someone return those grins and greetings was burning in the pit of his stomach so furiously. And when he came to acknowledge it and understand his desire, he had a moment where he came to realise that just after three days of being away, he was already homesick. He had never been this far away from his family - his home, the life he had only ever known - for such a long period of time.

    And it was only going to get worse, wasn’t it?

    Issac normally took his extroverted nature with pride. He was one of those people who could quite easily go up to another person and start up a conversation straight away. But after his smiles were wiped clean from his face from snarled insults, and the memory of his home dwelled in the back of his mind, he wasn’t feeling as confident about attending the school’s opening showcase or tours. After expressing his thoughts and feelings to Serah, she volunteered as a tribute to come along to keep him company. No matter how much he wanted to stand freely, declaring he was an adult and could do things on his own, he had come to recognise that he still needed his eldest sister by his side. Their twelve-year age gap worked in his favour as she had lived a whole decade which he was yet to endeavour on. She had experience and words of wisdom, and he wasn’t about to let that go to waste or fall on deaf ears.


    As they roamed the hallways of the school, Serah had to keep reminding Isaac to close his mouth as it kept hanging ajar with awe. The amount of talent that overflowed through the school was endless and inspiring. All fears and anxieties and all motions of homesickness began to evaporate as he ventured from different areas of the school. He talked with the teachers, with the students, and just about anyone who showed some sort of interest in the fine arts. The passionate fire inside of him, yearning to learn more about music and the dynamics of fine arts, was not only igniting but raging in his chest. As if each person he spoke to poured various amounts of gasoline over his dimmed flame, feeding the greedy fire until it warmed his body whole.

    Making their way towards the auditorium, Serah told Isaac to head on in without her as she needed to use the bathroom. He nodded, telling her he’d save her a seat, before making his way through the open doors. The sight of the stage took his breath away. As if someone had jabbed an upward punch into his gut, Isaac forgot that he needed to exhale if he wanted to continue breathing. His light brown eyes trailed his surroundings, completely captivated and struck by the beauty of the place. The largest auditorium they had back home - where he had mostly played for church or musical events - was enough to fit around a hundred or so people in there. But this… this was something truly magica-

    Bump!

    Automatically, Isaac turned to the person he had just so carelessly bumped into, his hands out and upon her shoulder as if to stabilise her incase he had caused her to stumble at all. “Oh shoot-” slipped from his lips as he looked down at the shorter female, on the verge of mentally scolding himself for saying such a horrendous word; shoot. His parents would be so incredibly shocked at such language falling from his lips in the presence of a lady. “I’m sorry - I got uh… distracted by - Uh, no, sorry - Are you okay? I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to bump into you” His words tumbled over each other, and his mouth already became incredibly dry. The immense fear of some stranger becoming highly offended by a caring gesture flooded his body. After all, it was the big city. And that was how people responded to him this week.









/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.


 









scroll








the ballerina



juliet.













mood

panicking











outfit

outfit











location

backstage











interactions

Paola











tags

minajesty minajesty















Being back at Muse felt like a rush of emotions to Juliet. This could either break or make her career. Well, maybe that was a bit of a stretch; but certainly, she felt like that maybe because she felt the judgemental eyes of her peers seeing her come back after practically being gone for a year; knowing that she could come back with the fact that she wasn’t at the top of her class the prior year. She wasn’t even sure she belonged in the average level of a dancer here at Muse was adding more pressure to the ballerina than the one she already had; due to because of her selfishness of wanting to continue dancing; her parents now had an enormous debt on medical bills and while they reassured everything was okay; most likely, nothing was going okay.

And the bustling environment was not helping to soothe the nerves of Juliet, people running around making sure they wouldn’t miss their mark, people tuning their instruments, and dancers stretching made just a chaotic scene for someone that wasn’t involved in this kind of environment, but that for the ones that were it was just part of the show but right now even if Juliet was used to this kind of noise at that moment she felt out of place as if she was more of an observer than a participant and then there was her, none other than Paola Sandino.

Juliet always believed that there were people who were natural, and that they were meant to be on the stage. There were others that needed practice to get there, and it was their determination that got them far away. There was a time when Juliet believed she was part of the first group back when she was at home and trusted that it would be the same at Muse. But she found out real fast that the reality was the complete opposite and maybe in her delusion of not wanting to accept that she was talentless; she believed she was part of the second group, the one where practice could take her to the sky. But that cost her surgery and being held back a year, so now the options were not too bright on Juliet’s side. Maybe she was just lying to herself and she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Because it was clear that Muse was made for people like Paola, people that belonged in the first group whose talent shined brighter than a sky full of stars, and that even with a slight change of tone or expression they could change the entire perspective of the audience something that Juliet was pretty sure she could never achieve. The sound of applauds coming from the audience of the auditorium brought back Juliet to reality after she was drowning in her own melancholy. She could see Paola getting closer to the ballerina as the actress made her way out of the stage.

“That was awesome.”
Juliet blurted out without thinking, awesome, because how normal it was to start a conversation when you were dressed as the sugar plum fairy, while you were freaking out to go out to the stage alone and do a solo because no one wanted to pair with you because you were just coming back from an injury.
“Sorry, I am sure that caught you by surprise. I tend to say my thoughts out loud when I am nervous, which is only a bit just the normal amount. Who am I kidding? I am freaking out even though is my second time at the showcase. I don’t know how you were able to show so much confidence on the stage. I wish I could have that in me.”
Juliet ended up saying. Great, maybe it was about time the ballerina shut up; because if she continued she was not only be known as the injured girl but the weird girl that speaks without stopping.


♡coded by uxie♡
 






Clarissa




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Twenty One Pilots



Chlorine








Starting a new scholastic year was never the highlight of Clarissa's moments. In fact, one could say she disdained the first day of the university as it was pretty much filled with a great mix of anxiety, serotonin, and pheromones all running around under one enormous roof called Muse University.

Considering she herself was a fresh face roaming around the halls aimlessly the previous year, this time round she could already feel a bit lighter, knowing very well what her surroundings were and who some of the faces were. Friends, enemies, family even. Unexpected when it came to Clary. Coming from her past, she has stripped away from those she called family by blood to the ones she calls family by name after all. Arriving at the main corridor, she could already see young fresh faces running around, trying to settle in. Especially with the opening showcase, everyone was so hyped about it.

Deep down, Clarissa was also a bit anxious that her animation snippet together with some digital drawings of the main characters in that movie were in fact being showcased on one of the screens, titled 'The Timekeepers'. With it, there was a brief synopsis that was submitted to accompany the display, which read the following:

Timekeepers - by Clarissa Mayfield

This animation tells the tale of two siblings, Marie and Oscar Monroe, who discover a small pocket watch that had the ability to control time. This pocket watch was entrusted to the siblings by an ancient timekeeper that needed their help to restore what once was the balance of a timeline, preventing world chaos from collapsing. They traveled through different eras and encountered various historical figures as well as mythical ones. At every milestone, they would learn valuable lessons about history itself, teamwork and even the consequences should one temper with time itself.

Various time periods the Monroes enter are Ancient Egypt, Medieval Europe, the Italian Renaissance, and even the Futuristic Metropolian city. Obstacles like puzzles, challenges as well as outsmarting villains who seek to use time as a personal weapon for their own gain. Throughout the journey, Marie and Oscar start to understand the importance of preserving the past whilst keeping in mind to live in the present and embrace the future. Keeping a delicate balance can be the cause and effect and how the smallest of actions have repercussions.

"The Timekeepers" combines adventure, history, and fantasy, appealing to both children and adults. It offers educational elements by introducing historical facts and figures, promoting curiosity and a love for learning. With its vibrant animation, engaging characters, and thrilling storylines, "The Timekeepers" takes audiences on an exciting time-traveling adventure, inspiring them to appreciate the richness of history and the importance of protecting the timeline for generations to come.

Closing her eyes briefly she lifted up her lilac headphones that were resting around her neck and placed them on her head and over her ears to enclose the symphony playing within her safe space before she could only see and not hear her peers. Lowering the sleeves of her sweaters to cover her hands she motioned towards the theater building to make sure her display was all set up. Clarissa was nothing more than an overachiever given the chance so if her work was to be ruined by poor display... no. That was a no-go. And so she practically jogged to the building in order to double check which was a smart move at first. She couldn't help but smile at the display playing 'The Timekeepers' and two boards, one stating the synopsis and the other having two digital drawings of the Monroe siblings which were also signed by her. Her fingers trailed lightly across her name before it hit her. Lowering her headphones she turned around and noticed a small group of fresh faces, interested in her piece of work. Clarissa could talk about her work for hours but being social was never on her agenda. As she started to explain, her eyes started drifting from one corner to the other for some sort of escape route as she started to conclude. None.

Being bombarded with so many questions and some did not pertain to the subject, just simple questions she couldn't help but feel her anxiety levels slowly rise up into panic, her fingers threading at the sleeves of her sweater as they were tempted to isolate herself yet again with her headphones. That was until from the corner of her eye she managed to catch those of a familiar state of aid and dread. Tobias'. The urge to reach for her phone in the middle of this unsettling Q&A was itching. Her body language was screaming 'Get me out of here' while her facial expressions tried to state otherwise. He was one of the few that understood her body language. Her signs of distress and it was vice versa. Both of them read each other really well. It was the beauty of such friendship they honed. They didn't have to speak or make useless small talk. The pair could just be together in silence, let their bodies do the talking one would say.

Seeing the nod toward the familiar janitor's closet, sending a semi-smile in affirmation his way she excused herself as the group was ready to move towards the next stand which gave her the opportunity to slide away from the crowd and slither towards the male's previously occupied space. She desperately needed to let out her anxiety and social stress somewhere. This was the perfect opportunity. Toby always provided her with a way out which seemed to be mutual. The number of times her mobile lit up at his notifications to 'catch up' was now much more frequent than it was a year ago. Her phone would ding once a month that she had often ignored but once she started to indulge the months became weeks and on a rough week maybe twice. They have come a long way as far as their 'hook-up' relationship went. Clarissa still doesn't understand why he pinpointed her out of all the people in that bar.

Entering behind him in the unoccupied janitor's closet, all of a sudden it was just a darkened, heated scene of twelve minutes and forty-eight seconds while they lasted. As much as the closet was a tight spot, the pair had made it their personal mission to explore the most uncomfortable of places to let out their stress. It was a drill that she knew all too well. Despite being hesitant at first, she grew to love this little arrangement in the end. Clarissa turned out to let her bitchy tendencies more at bay now that she got to exert them through bodily exercises.

Clearly hearing the stampedes in the hallways that were nothing but buzzing in the background slowly started to get amplified as they came closer to their climax. For once she was not thinking about how she applied to this university to run away from her 'family'. Clarissa still has not come to grips with how she had managed to settle without knowing where her family was or how they never bothered to look for her all these years. Was she that easily forgotten? None of that mattered at this second as she tilted her head back, panting lightly as she supported his head on her shoulder. She was grateful she was sitting on a makeshift table right now, otherwise, her legs would have given out.

Feeling herself slowly melt away much like her body, she felt him shift as her hooded eyes followed his trail, sneaking in a cheeky, lasting kiss to his neck as he reached over for some tissues. She took some of his offered tissues and slowly wiped herself up in the reciprocate silence as she hopped down to readjust her own underwear and jeans, tossing the stained tissues in the bin before looking at the male in front of her. Clarissa never managed to put two and two together as to why they never spoke but it kept the ball rolling so she was not going to be the one to push him if he didn't want to talk. However, in a reciprocated thanks, she slowly waltzed towards him and took his belt in her hand, slowly aligning it as her eyes trailed up his torso, to his lips and his eyes as she reached up tugging a strand of his hair behind his ear before biting her own lips she took a few steps back.

Reaching in her back pocket she took out her phone and texted, 'Well, talk about a welcome back. Were you that eager to see me?' she smirked as she sent the text his way before slowly turning to head towards the closet's door.





♡coded by uxie♡
 






Patrick




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Pharell Williams



Happy








Patrick was always over the moon when it was about time to revert to living in the heart of Muse University. There were only two major downfalls this year, one was the usual of having to leave his little brother behind him. Callum was the apple of his eye, he always took him out with him whenever he was back home. Always pulling him up with his shenanigans that always end up setting some of his best frights for his beloved family; mostly his cousin and his grandmother. He was trying to ease Nana as she was getting older now and jump scares were never a pacemaker's best friend. Topping that usual reason, it was his senior year. His last year in this marvelous university he calls his home away from home. Itching for the opening showcase he quickly dropped his stuff as it was in his dorm and quickly bolted towards the Florence Auditorium as he knew for sure his peers depended on him for his way in the control booth.

The control booth was his temple. It was where he made his art. Patty was not one to sing, dance or show his artistry using his body. He revolved highly on making his art aid in other's art by making the stage their masterpiece, their dream right there. He tries his best to make their dream of their performance become a reality for them. Here, Patrick found his true calling, which is none other than prepping the light and sound of the majestic Florence Auditorium for his fellow peers to perform. Patrick's dedication, attention to detail, and ability to tailor his work to each student individually have made him an indispensable member of the university's performing arts community. Let's take a closer look at how Patrick weaves his magic and creates an enchanting atmosphere through his work in the control booth and on the stage.

First, the control booth.

Every time he enters the auditorium he is always so breathless. Especially when he headed up to the control booth, his temple. He could see the whole theater from up there. It was heaven. As soon as he steps inside, a sense of tranquility washes over him. Surrounded by an array of buttons, sliders, and screens, Patrick's eyes light up with anticipation. He knows that within this confined space, he holds the power to enhance the performances of his peers and bring their artistic visions to life.

Second, the light magic.

Patrick starts by meticulously designing the lighting scheme for each performance. He studies the script, listens to the music, and observes the performers' movements during rehearsals. By doing so, he gains an intimate understanding of the emotions and nuances each student aims to convey. Patrick's expertise in manipulating light allows him to create a seamless blend of colors, intensities, and spotlight placements that accentuate the performers' strengths and contribute to the overall atmosphere of the production. Whether it's a dramatic solo or an energetic ensemble, Patrick's deft touch with the lighting ensures that every moment on stage is visually captivating.

Third, the sound of wonders.

In addition to lighting, Patrick is also responsible for the auditory experience of the performances. His keen ear and technical know-how enable him to orchestrate a symphony of sound that complements and uplifts the performers' voices and instruments. With utmost precision, he adjusts levels, equalizers, and effects to ensure optimal clarity and balance. Patrick carefully listens to each performer, adapting the sound system to accommodate their unique style and vocal range. By doing so, he creates an environment where every voice and note resonates with unparalleled richness and clarity, allowing the performers to shine like never before.

Lastly, the final TOUCHES!

Once Patrick has fine-tuned the lighting and sound in the control booth, he descends from his ethereal perch to the stage itself. Armed with microphones in hand, he makes his way backstage, where the nervous energy of the performers lingers in the air. Patrick's calming presence instantly puts them at ease. He meticulously places each microphone in optimal positions, accounting for individual vocal techniques and instrument needs. With a practiced touch, he adjusts the angle, height, and sensitivity, ensuring that each performer receives the best possible sound projection. Patrick's dedication to his craft shines through as he takes the time to listen to their concerns and provide support, empowering them to give their best performance.

Patrick's passion for prepping the light and sound of the Florence Auditorium is a testament to his unwavering dedication and artistic sensibilities. His ability to acclimate to each student individually, creating an environment that allows them to shine, is nothing short of extraordinary. From the control booth, where his magic begins, to the stage, where he sets the stage for brilliance, Patrick's contribution to the performing arts community at Muse University is immeasurable. Through his mastery of light and sound, he not only enhances the performances of his peers but also instills a sense of awe and wonder in everyone who witnesses their talent. But for now, he awaited back up in his panel where he knew his peers would find him to prepare for the next lineup.





♡coded by uxie♡
 






  • Theatre Arts Building, Muse University















    Jericho



    Iniko
























    I don't need gravity I just need growth























@yesss.enia



19 minutes ago


















nine lives

 
MOOD: Awwkwaaaarrdd

OUTFIT: Light wash, straight leg jeans that are ripped at the knees and ill-fitting. Layered short sleeve t-shirts, a white one on the bottom and a light blue one on top, with his ratty old Chuck Taylors.

LOCATION: Theatre Arts Building Foyer → Control Booth
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INTERACTIONS: Patrick Moore + Laurel Scott

MENTIONS: Dorian Eliades(internal monologue, not aloud)
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TAGS:
revalia revalia AnimeGenork AnimeGenork
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TL;DR: Cal examines his own exhibit, flashes back to when his step-brother kicked his ass at his mom's pregnancy announcement, and then skedaddles up into the control booth to go chill with Patrick(and, apparently, so does Laurel).
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CALLAWAY
A heavy sigh escaped the lips of a man who stood rigid amid the ebb and flow of a bustling crowd. The foyer of the Theatre Arts building was teeming with people, a blend of fresh-faced newbies in awe of the beautiful architecture and sheer size of the place, parents and family searching for their child, their child's work, or other family to gather to go sit together, and returning students who had their souls sucked out of them at the end of last semester expected to sit through the same show and circus year after year. Sure, displays and performances were changed every year and students were expected to create and pick new pieces every time, but how many chord progressions are truly original? How many different plays do Sophocles and Shakespeare truly have to choose from?

Cal would be categorized amongst the last kind of persons who could be found at the foyer at this time. He was only a sophomore, but he could already feel the toll that school had had on him. At times, he felt his creative drive slowly dying as it was constantly critiqued and asked to be reformed to meet visions that did not align with his own. Despite the fact that he struggled greatly and didn't have fantastic relationships with the majority of his teachers, he was still asked to create a piece to put on display for others to view and to inspire the incoming students. He had spent his summer story boarding, filming, animating, and editing his project all on his own. The animating itself took about eight weeks for him to render alone, despite the shortness of the clip that he had submitted for presentation, slowed by his own amateurism in the skill since he was still breaking into the coursework vital to his emphasis.

Pulling from his love of horror, he wanted to create something disturbing. But he had been quickly advised by his first draft submission that gore was, in fact, too much to have casually displayed in a foyer with potential children and his follow up ideas were dismissed as "intense". So he circled back with something that was more along the lines of just weird, and somewhat unsettling. He stood in front of the screen displaying his work, searching intently for any mistakes. He wasn't the kind of guy who hit the books or necessarily worked hard, but this was something he was somewhat proud of. And he wanted to know what mistakes were there before anyone else had the opportunity to try to weaponize it against him. Even behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, he could see nothing wrong with the half-eaten fried chicken that starts to wiggle and move on its own.

Callaway's cognac eyes trailed to the plaque that sat next to his screen, proudly displaying his name: Callaway Ashton, Visual Arts Sophomore. He grimaced, more than the young girl who looked like she was turning a little green watching his video. His mother, Daisy, would've been very proud. Despite being unnerved or outright confused by most of his work, she would've taken as many photos as she could both of his screen, his plaque, and him next to both of them. Unfortunately, she was unavoidably detained in Chicago where they had lived their whole lives for a doctor's appointment.

It's not like he could blame her for not coming. It wasn't a routine check up, it was an important anatomy scan for the baby. Yes, there was a baby. Cal's summer of working hard on his display piece came to a tumultuous end when Hal and Daisy decided to announce that they were pregnant. They had just crossed over the threshold into the second trimester and felt comfortable sharing the good news with the family at a large family dinner that Hal threw together for the occasion. Of course, family dinner usually meant whichever of the extended Van Leers that Hal wished to invite, Hal's three boys(Cal's step-brothers), and Daisy and Cal. Daisy's own parents hadn't ever been around for her, especially not when Callaway came along, so it was mostly the Van Leers and their strange step-grandson/nephew/cousin that they didn't really want much to do with and that didn't want much to do with them. Family dinner didn't really end well.

"We're having a baby!" His mother had exclaimed, her excitement palpable to him from across the dinner table. He was halfway through bringing a forkful of a pasta salad that he found to be just ok to his lips, and his appetite suddenly soured. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for Daisy, he could tell that this was something that she really wanted and that having a baby with Hal was important to her. But this family kept growing away from him. He was the only Ashton that he knew at this point, since Daisy changed her name when she and Hal got married. And now, he was going to finally have a blood-related relative in his life... That was still not an Ashton. The baby would be a Van Leer, like Hal and Daisy and all of Hal's kids were. A stillness fell across the table, a mixture of the disproval that Hal's family held for Daisy and her bastard son and apprehension to see how the notoriously unpredictable said bastard son would react. He felt dozens of eyes turn on him.

Cal had carefully lowered his fork back down to his plate. "May I be excused?" He had quietly asked, the closest semblance of manners he could muster around the Van Leers. He could see his mother's crushed face, but she nodded and dismissed him from the table. He got up, taking his plate with him to the kitchen to toss in the sink.

His eyes drifted back to his display on the wall, and he reached his hand into his pocket to fish out his carton of cigarettes.

Hal's long, thin hand placed itself on Cal's shoulder, gripping him firmly. "You need to go back in there and apologize to your mother. She's incredibly hurt by your behavior."

"Fuck off, Hal, you're not my father."

"Yeah? And where is your father?" A third voice had entered the ring, causing Cal to whip around. It stung. Cal had never wanted to know who his father was until Daisy met Hal and he knew he wasn't truly a part of this family. He never yearned for blood lineage before moving to the Far North Side with the Van Leers. Callaway's fiery gaze leveled with a blonde man who had a chiseled jawline and a stupid butt chin. His step-brother, Spencer. The two young men were similar in age and hadn't been able to get along since the blending of their families?

"What the fuck did you just say?" He made a move to inch forward, but Hal kept a firm hand on his shoulder to try to discourage the fight.

He beat the carton against the butt of his hand a couple times before opening it and pulling one out, placing it gingerly between his lips.

"Where is your father, Cal?" Uninhibited by someone else, Spencer took a threatening step in Cal's direction, arms folded firmly across his chest. "My family has been nothing but welcoming to you—" not true "—and my father has been more of a dad to you than yours ever was."

The anger was quickly eating Cal alive. Cal's dad didn't know about his existence. Daisy couldn't even tell Cal who his dad truly was, because she just didn't know. He shoved Hal's hand off of him, moving to meet Spencer in the middle. "Yeah? And where's your mother, Spence?" Practically nose to nose, he could see Spencer's jaw clench. "Don't you know the woman's supposed to get custody of the children? Did she really hate you so much that she skipped town and left her babies behind? Were you just so ugly she couldn't stick around to love you any longer? Or are the rumors true and she's off in rehab in Ari—" He didn't get to finish the sentence, white-hot pain exploded across his face as Spencer's fist connected with his face, knocking him to the floor. He didn't really do much to fight back as Spencer practically pounced on top of him, unloading anger that had been pent up for the last four years, instead he laughed maniacally.

"Mr. Ashton." A stern voice cut through the haze. A man stood before him, dressed well and older. A general education professor he had had. "You know the rules. You can't smoke in here."

He turned to face the man. He hadn't even reached for his lighter to light the damn thing. He pulled it from his mouth. "Says who?" He cocked a straight brow.

"Federal law. Put it away or go outside... And stay out of trouble, young man." Cal shrugged and placed the cigarette behind his ear with a mischievous smile, watching the man walk away to go introduce himself to the incoming freshmen and help man the doors to the auditorium. Cal, parted and went the other way. Instead of entering the main doors of the auditorium to join the audience of family, friends, and non-performance majors, he made his way to a large, solid, single door clearly labeled "STAFF ONLY". He didn't even consider checking out other exhibits because... Well, he wasn't all that interested and if we're being honest his reading comprehension wasn't great so there was no way he was reading a bunch of literary excerpts or longwinded project descriptions. He grabbed the handle to the door and pulled.

The door opened to a set of somewhat steep stairs that ascended to the mezzanine where the control booth was. At the top, he was met with the familiar face he was looking for. "Patrick!" He exclaimed just as the audience erupted into thunderous applause as a dramatic scene came to an end, a girl in a black dress and people dressed in pilgrim garb taking a bow. A huge grin spread across his face, his arms open wide in an "I'm heeereeeee!" type of gesture. "Jesus, it's dark up here." He slid his sunglasses onto his head, showcasing the black eye that Spencer had left him with as a parting gift— from their scuffle regarding their new little sibling— just before his two day drive back up to Seattle. He had already dropped his garbage bags of stuff(who needs boxes?) off at his shared dorm with Dorian that morning and THE PIT was alive and well again.

He seated himself atop an empty table that had masking tape taped onto it with the word "MICS" in big, bold letters at the top, and the masking tape creating a grid across the table with little numbers in the corner of each box. A new act entered the stage, and the crowd fell silent as the lighting changed thanks to Patrick's work. He kicked his legs back and forth, like a young teen girl. "So how was your summer?" He bat his eyelashes in pretend flirt and kept his voice down, as he'd been lectured far too many times about "theatre predicate" or whatever it was. "Any sick parties? Hookups?" A figure emerged at the top of the stairs, just where he had come from, not yet visible to him as he faced Patrick. "I know for myself, there's a loooootttt of ladies who missed me, if you know what I'm say— Jesus!" The figure came into view, just in the corner of his peripheral vision, on the side of his swollen eye, causing him to jump.

Cal's head snapped around to see who it was. Laurel Scott. Patrick's cousin and Cal's ex-girlfriend. "Oh. It's you." His tone had shifted greatly, to something a lot more tame, quiet, and notably awkward for Callaway. He still managed a mischievous grin. "Hey, Scotty." Scotty was his playful nickname for her, a play on her last name. But in her presence, he was silenced. The two had recently agreed to become friends, but it felt very strange given their situation. He was pretty sure that she was still mad at him for breaking up with her. He wasn't exactly sure how Patty felt, given that he'd never asked, bit since Patrick had been there to help him realize that maybe Laurel wasn't the best fit for him, he never felt like he had jeopardized his relationship with his best friend by crushing the heart of someone who he was very fond of.

He'd never really been interested in performance before, but now he found his eyes moving to the stage. Everyone looked smaller from up here, and their facial features and details became a little harder to distinguish from the distance. But the slightly smudgy face of the next performers felt like a better place to look than his ex or his best friend who was definitely busy running the show.
love, give me love, give me love
I don't need it, but I'll sell what you got
Take the cash and I'll keep it
Eight legs to the wall, hit the gas, kill 'em all
code by valen t.
 








After all that we've been through. Nothing left
but open wounds. Fuck what I said and fuck you


tobias yeop














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post




  • TW: sexual nature - be prepared for toby x clarissa messages together. ur probably not prepared. i apologise in advance hehe


    ---​

    Dark eyes carefully watched as Clarissa made her way towards him. Her hands upon his belt, helping to adjust his belt before combing delicate fingers through strands of hair, readjusting it behind his ear. A bubble rose in his chest, measuring up to the same amount of excitement and fear as he gazed down at her, their eyes connecting. Despite their fun time together in the janitor’s closet, her innocent actions were enough to re-energize him for round two. However, the fear was in the pit of his gut as she stood before him, looking like she was about to speak. Because no matter how much he tried - and no matter how intimate the pair were - he still found himself so incredibly incapable of opening his mouth and forming some coherent sentence for her to understand.

    The thought of speaking to the girl was enough to make his mouth instantly dry and that nasty anxiety that he thought had been long forgotten - thrown away in the trash can as the pair reached their euphoric climax - was beginning to bubble in his core once more. As she took steps back, taking out her phone, the bubble bobbed up and down like a buoy floating in an endless sea. Ding! A vibration from his back pocket distracted him from the dread that he was trying to avoid drowning in; he pulled out his phone to reveal a text message from the one and only Clarissa - simply named C under his phone contact. A swipe upwards on his phone and his messages appeared before him.



    Do u think the thought of u fucking other dudes makes me jealous?


    I don't think. I know. Drives u absolutely wild, doesn't it?



    How can I be jealous when u cum like niagara falls everytime i go down on u? theres a reason you keep coming back. probably something to do with drummer fingers never missing a beat and a quick tongue


    wanna facetime?


    Today 6:20pm

    Well, talk about a welcome back. Were you that eager to see me?


    Eyes trailed from the message displayed upon the screen, lingering for a moment at the previous exchanged conversation between the pair. Messaging had always been their form of communication that didn’t require any physical exchange from the pair of them. Tobias’ messages were always to the point, never daring to flirt with the idea of opening up and revealing anything personal. Which was why he had to tear himself away from the green and blue bubbles floating upon his phone’s screen he they appeared upon reading the latest message she had just sent.

    The welcome back was right; he had been reluctant to inform Clarissa that he would be away for two or so weeks, visiting family before the start of the new school year. They had hooked up one night, and three days later, when she messaged him to see where he was, he had told her in such casual Toby tone that he was in Korea. So the girl was not wrong in stating it was a ‘welcoming back’ as it had been the first time in almost three weeks that the pair had seen each other.

    The two weeks in South Korea had been quite eventful. He had the opportunity to visit family in Busan, where he had grown up his whole life, before visiting Jeju Island for some relaxation in the sizzling rays of the Summer sun. Despite having travelled with family, there were certain needs that his parents nor family members could help with. And despite the multiple bars and clubs he had visited during his little holiday - where he could attempt to connect with any other woman in a typical one night stand- he always found himself stumbling back to his hotel suite and returning back to Clarissa.

    Drunken, late night text messages riddled his phone; what first started as an exchange of cheeky banter (one in which Tobias had - regretfully - let some of his ‘personal life’ slip into; showing her pictures of the beach he had visited, or telling her about his day) began to stream roll into hot and heavy imagery. It had then naturally progressed to facetime each other, watching each other as they imagined as if they were side by side, getting up to their old habits. What felt deep, connected and personal during his drunken haze felt like a complete and utter mess as he would awake in the morning. During the remainder of his time in Korea, there had been more occasions of ‘not safe for work’ text message and pictures exchanged. This time around, a majority of them had been while he had been sober; but he wasn’t going to admit that to the girl. She didn’t need to know that she was the world and how he struggled to work against the gravitational pull that dragged him right back.

    A small ‘tsk’ slipped past Tobias’ lip as he closed the messages and slipped his phone into his back pocket once more. An unimpressed smirk dared to emerge upon his face for a moment as those words ran through his mind. Were you that eager to see me? Did she think that he was desperate? That his time away made him realise the chemistry that they had between them would outweigh any other; she was the main show, and the others that came and went were just the supporting acts. When was the last time you attended a performance to only watch the supporting acts? But she couldn’t know that. No, she couldn’t know how high he placed her, and he would never freely acknowledge it. Instead, he wanted to show her that in fact, she had been the one eager to see him.

    An outstretched arm lunged forward, taking hold of the girl’s wrist and pulling her back before him. Bodies pressed up against each other, Tobias placed a hand firmly upon the side of her neck, fingers trailing her jaw for a moment. His other hand kept a tight grasp around her wrist. While others may have viewed such a motion as potentially concerning, this was how they were. Passionate, fierce, rough lovers who found excitement in using janitor's closets and empty classrooms to get their fix to get through the rest of their day. Tilting his head slightly, Tobias’ lowered slowly - in an attempt to build suspense - and gently began to press his lips up against her exposed collarbone. Focusing on those little spots that he knew that would cause her toes to scrunch in delight.

    And as she began to melt into his touch, that’s when he decided to take revenge on her message; he sealed his lips and sucked hard against her collarbone, giving it a firm nibble in the process. Was the goal to make her squirm? Well, that was a bonus. The real goal was to mark her skin, leaving a signature that he had been there. A reminder for the rest of the week that it was her that been eager for their little meeting and not vice versa.









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© weldherwings.


 












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Mentions: N/A | Interactions: Patrick, Callaway
Tags: revalia revalia honeycoves honeycoves​

Laurel tried her best not to curse too much, lest she be tempted to do so in public. She had a reputation with her agency and especially with her agent, Tania, as being a “good girl” model, not one prone to any sort of unsavory behaviors. Apparently that was at least half the reason she was hired for so many jobs; nobody liked a troublesome model nowadays, not when there were magazines to be printed and stores to provide photos for. Her mother, Olivia, also expected that of her, and as she constantly reminded herself in the late hours of the night, when the anxiety and overwhelming guilt was strongest, that she didn’t want to disappoint her mother. Ever. In the end, Laurel tried not to curse out loud.

But fucking hell. Shit, she wanted to fucking throw her fist into the goddamn fucking wall.

She’d been prepared for this. At least, that’s what she liked to think. The good thing about not being here for fashion design was that she wasn’t expected to tell her brain to suck it up and sketch sketch sketch until she had something worthy of being shown off at this showcase. Something creative, original. Definitely not the product of procrastination and hours of crying about being the most uncreative, unoriginal designer this world has ever seen. It was a silver lining, because Laurel’s creative energy was finnicky. It liked to tease her. She’d sit down, thinking it was time for another sketch, and then two hours later would only have a circle in front of her. Though she craved, more than anything, to leave this world of modeling behind and be the one to dress the models, she was completely incapable of being creative regularly. There was simply too much going on in a given moment.

The bad thing about being here for modeling was that she was expected to do runway. Runway. She rarely did that on her jobs. She was out of practice. Hours of watching ANTM could only do so much. Tania had offered to get her a runway coach, but she knew that would be pointless. Nerves had a way of sucking all attained knowledge out of one’s brain like a mosquito. Frankly, it was a miracle she produced anything worth mentioning at her jobs with all the nerves she had, especially the shoots involving other people. She was constantly impressed by the fact that she always looked so emotionless and empty in all the pictures, so full of life and so devoid of it.

It was almost enough to make her want this for real.

No, that wasn’t an option. By the time she graduated, she was going to tell her mother she wanted something else. Something similar, but not quite the same. They had enough money from her jobs, right? And there was always Nana and Grandpa. Right? Right. Obviously. She definitely wasn’t going to let her mother down if she quit. Oh, God, she was. She had to keep doing this, fuck. Fucking hell. Shit.

So, Laurel was spiraling a bit.

The showcase wasn’t the cause, per se. Really, Laurel just hated the feelings she inevitably had when she had to pretend like this was her desired major, the occupation she wanted to devote everything to. She adored the people in this department… she only wished she could be truly honest with them. Sometimes it felt like all she did was lie about herself.

Laurel was considered a professional model by her agency and by her mother, so she knew that she had to leave ample time to get dressed. For now, she could at least walk around and see what her fellow students had done. As she walked through the Theatre Arts building—and nearly got lost, dang it was big in here—she absentmindedly passed her eyes over the displays, trying her best not to focus on the one that held a name she was trying not to think about tonight. The last thing she needed was to start crying before she went into makeup. That tended to reflect poorly on her (not that she’d done it before).

Anger wasn’t off the table, however. Laurel knew just the person to conjure that in her.

Turning on her heel, Laurel slipped through the crowd, heading toward the auditorium’s control booth. Her older cousin and the bane of her existence, Patrick, was sure to be in there. He was horrible and always pranking her, but for all her complaints, he was damn good at his job. Except when he was purposely changing the lighting to embarrass her. She reached the STAFF ONLY door and took a quick glance around. It wasn’t rule-breaking if she was a relative, right? Sure. Patrick would be proud of that line of thought. Seeing as nobody was looking her way, she pushed through the door and started climbing the steps.

She heard voices as she neared the top, but she didn’t put much stock in it at first. Patrick was a social kind of guy. Of course someone else would come visit him. She opened the door, hoping to surprise him at least a little bit as he constantly did to her, and for a second, she panicked upon hearing the voice speaking. Something about a lot of women missing—oh God. No. No no no. The sarcastic quip she’d had prepped for Patrick died in her throat as she stood in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at Callaway. Yes, she’d seen him over the summer, and yes, they were trying to be friends again, but dang it, she’d been hoping she’d had some more time before she had to face the reality of the Friendzone. Oh, she was plenty aware that they were doomed and that they were not the proper fit for each other. That didn’t mean she had to like how it ended.

Fucking hell. Shit. Someone wake her up. Now.

Laurel forced herself to blink at the sound of his nickname for her. Beam me up, Scotty. That phrase always popped into her mind when he called her that, and it used to make her smile. Now she grimaced. “Hey, Cal.” She should have said something more. She wanted to say something more, to pretend her chest wasn’t about to implode from the nerves and anxiety colliding violently with leftover heartache. Instead, she said nothing else. How the fuck had she forgotten that Patrick and Cal were buddies?

Stiffly, almost robotically, Laurel shifted her gaze to Patrick. The calming presence in the room, and wasn’t that a twist? All the tension in her face shifted into her normal scowl she directed at him. “There aren’t any plans to turn me into the next Shrek tonight, are there? You know Mom wasn’t a big fan of that last time.” Both to get away from being next to Cal and to get her point across, she strode across the room and leaned down to poke her cousin in the cheek. “Listening, doofus? No pranks tonight. I’m not in the mood.”

Come on, Pat, help me out here. Please.








laurel




model girl











yooo what up










@Uxie
@Uxie













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Marisol




filler



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F.U.N



We are Young








The morning began with a sense of excitement and anticipation as Marisol embarked on her journey from New Orleans to Muse University. The University was a picturesque art retreat. A home away from home if her home life was remotely adequate to be serene there. She had left a day after her cousin which made her a day late due to some squabble she had to sort out with her divorced parents still living under the same roof. Little did she know that this drive would turn out to be a chaotic and stressful experience that was right up there with what she had to leave behind.

As she hit the road, the traffic in New Orleans seemed unusually heavy, causing delays right from the start. Horns blared, and the honking symphony filled the air, adding to the already tense atmosphere. Mari found herself stuck in a seemingly never-ending stream of cars, inching forward at a snail's pace. Each passing minute intensified the mounting pressure, as she realised, she was already behind schedule. To make matters worse the cab had a flat tire and they had nowhere to get a spare. With that, she had to call another cab, and lug all her stuff inside of the new cab but at least the trip resumed.

With the combination of heavy traffic and cab exchange, it became clear that she would not reach Muse on time, not in time for the first showcase. As the minutes turned into hours, the realization that she would arrive a day late weighed heavily on my mind. Feelings of disappointment and anxiety began to overshadow the excitement she had felt earlier. Finally, after enduring what seemed like an eternity, she reached her destination - Muse University. However, the challenges of the morning were far from over. Upon arrival, the challenges were not over, she faced the daunting task of unloading her art supplies and canvases from the cab. The driver was not exactly the kindest as he left her luggage, her bag of supplies and two large canvases with a closed easel on the side of the road. Sitting on her luggage she gave out a loud groan, running a hand through her ginger curls in an attempt to get it out of her face,
"Well... frack..."


Marisol was all about being independent but in order to go inside to carry her belongings it is either leaving some stuff unattended or carrying everything at one go which was doable but not practical. With a soft sigh, her grey eyes scanned the front of the university in hopes of a familiar face showing up that can hopefully lend a helping hand or at least guard the remaining stuff while she went back and forth. No one she particularly knew.

Her eyes landed on a familiar male, stylish as always. A smile of hope danced on her lips at the familiar sight as his previous conversing party departed from him. It was none other than her best friend, Theodore. It was a sign of good faith amongst the shitshow of a morning. Placing her palms around her hands to holler at him,
"Yo yo Teddy bear! Care to help a girl out over here?"


Marisol's voice was rather loud and flamboyant so with the makeshift megaphone she hoped her cry for help reached him.





♡coded by uxie♡
 
wilhelmina
  • ,
"Over the years I have learned that what is important in a dress is the woman who's wearing it."
—Yves Saint
Laurent

As Wilhelmina stepped through the grand entrance of Muse University's Theatre building, her eyes widened in awe at the vibrant display before her. The annual showcase, a celebration of creativity and talent, unfolded in a breathtaking symphony of colors and forms. It was her first time ever witnessing such an event, and the magnitude of it all took her breath away.

However, amidst the overwhelming beauty, a twinge of insecurity gnawed at Wilhelmina's heart. She couldn't help but compare herself to her older sister, Augustina, an accomplished model who had already made her mark in the fashion industry. Augustina's face graced billboards and magazine covers, her name synonymous with grace and elegance. Wilhelmina couldn't escape the shadow of her sister's success, feeling small and insignificant in comparison. She knew that was her mother's nagging voice in the back of her head, talking endlessly about how worthless and inadequate she was. Still, it was hard to ignore it, even when her mother was miles and miles away from her.

The walls of the university were adorned with masterpieces from various art forms—paintings, sculptures, photographs—all meticulously curated to highlight the extraordinary talents of the students who called this place their creative haven. Each piece told a unique story, capturing emotions and ideas that stirred something within Wilhelmina's heart.

As an incoming freshman, Wilhelmina's anticipation had reached its peak. She had heard of Muse University's renowned reputation, its nurturing environment for artists, and the incredible opportunities it offered. Her acceptance into the prestigious institution was a testament to her own talent and dedication, but the shadow of her sister's accomplishments loomed large in her mind.

Wilhelmina came from a lineage of power and opulence. While not an actual princess, her personality embodied a regal air that came naturally to her. Her family, owners of a famous hotel in Manhattan, New York, held a prominent place in society. She had grown up in a world of luxury, surrounded by beauty and extravagance. However, the young woman had always felt a yearning for something more—something that went beyond material wealth and social status.

Her passion for fashion had become her solace, her escape from the gilded cage of her privileged life. She had spent countless hours sketching designs, studying fabrics, and immersing herself in the realm of haute couture. And now, at Muse University, she had the opportunity to refine her craft and transform her dreams into reality.

As she made her way through the showcase, Wilhelmina couldn't help but notice the diversity of artistic expression. Paintings ranged from vivid landscapes to abstract interpretations of the human condition. Sculptures displayed intricate details and conveyed a profound sense of movement frozen in time. Photographs captured fleeting moments, immortalizing emotions and memories.

Her gaze lingered on a particularly striking piece—a gown crafted entirely from recycled materials. It seemed to defy convention, embracing sustainability and innovation. Wilhelmina marveled at the way it challenged traditional notions of beauty and fashion. She felt a deep admiration for the artist's audacity and creativity, realizing that this was the kind of environment she had longed to be a part of—a place where boundaries were pushed and unconventional ideas were celebrated.

The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as students and visitors mingled, sharing their interpretations and appreciations of the artworks. The air was alive with discussions about technique, inspiration, and the limitless possibilities that lay ahead for these emerging artists. Wilhelmina couldn't help but be drawn into the conversations, eager to learn from her peers and to contribute her own perspective to the dialogue.

With every step she took, Wilhelmina felt a sense of belonging enveloping her. She recognized the privilege bestowed upon her by her family's name and fortune, but she also acknowledged that she had earned her place at Muse University through her talent and determination. She was determined to prove herself not just as the princess from a wealthy family but as an artist in her own right.

The journey ahead would not be without its challenges. Wilhelmina knew that she would have to work harder than ever before, to push herself beyond her limits, and to continuously evolve as a creative force. But she also knew that she was in the right place—the place where her aspirations would be nurtured, where she would find kindred spirits who shared her passion, and where she could forge her own path in the world of fashion.

coded by reveriee.
 












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Mentions: Callaway, Mathis | Interactions: Hawk (via text)
Tags: honeycoves honeycoves LowkeyLovingLoki LowkeyLovingLoki nova.the.alien nova.the.alien​

There were several—some would even say hundreds of ways in which Dorian Apollo Eliades was an idiot.

One of these ways was that he was always losing his phone charger in the splendidly horrifying PIT that he and his roommate and best dudebro, Callaway, had managed to reconstruct in record time. Really, how did two young men like they pull that feat off? Of course Lisa had decided to call right as he was done throwing his stuff out of his suitcases (okay, maybe that was why the PIT had reformed so quickly), and of course this was right as Dorian realized his phone was running out of battery. Of course. In this day and age, losing one’s phone charger was akin to death, especially for a man like Dorian, who practically lived his entire life on the Internet managing his social media accounts.

Another way to prove his idiocy was that Dorian never shut up about making his videos. Somehow, he hadn’t managed to chase away the entirety of the Music Arts department through his methods—most of which consisted of him seeing someone play an instrument and grinning maniacally before shouting, “HEY! WANNA COLLAB?” But, well, his methods weren’t exactly making him many friends. Of course, he had made a good amount, and several of them were the coolest people around (to list them all would be more distracting than this monologue already is), but he needed to rein it in a little.

A third reason—the matter of Mathis. Well, Dorian didn’t know how to explain that one, even when he tried to give his sister the rundown. Frankly, he was still unsure what happened, only that it was definitely his fault, but despite Lisa attempting to explain “you didn’t give him enough attention, Rian, you probably should’ve looked up from your piano more than once” and that he was definitely, indisputably dumped, he was confused. Was this the part where he needed consult the Internet? He couldn’t even look at Mathis whenever they passed each other now; he felt too guilty, and he wasn’t really sure how to apologize. Was this something he could apologize for? Or would it be preferred if they never spoke again? What was the protocol here? Dorian was lost, but then, he usually was in terms of everything not piano-related.

A break from this irregularly scheduled programming: after the stunning scene from The Crucible, Dorian slipped backstage to make sure the grand piano was in tune. With all the bodies moving around, not to mention doors opening and closing all over the place, the temperature was sure to be out of whack for such a finnicky instrument. To everyone else, there was probably no difference, but the poor piano was experiencing so many things. These showcases were fantastic, Dorian loved them, but he couldn’t help but feel like maybe this should’ve been a more official concert, for the sake of the piano. But then, even in a school of the arts, it was unlikely anyone was going to listen to the piano man. (Even if they begged him to sing them a song.)

Back to the task at hand. Surely, there were other ways he could list in that he was an idiot, but the POINT WAS, there was only one thing he was sure he was not an idiot about: piano. Okay, in some respects he was, because he was practically married to the instrument (Dorian x Piano 5EVER), but he knew how to play it, he could write some kickass songs for it, and he was gaining a significant amount of followers on his channel with every new collaboration and cover. Coming to Muse had been one of best decisions of his life—even his followers were begging him for some repeat collaborations and wondering how he kept meeting these talented people.

But he had to focus. His own performance was coming up, and he had a couple new compositions to debut, and OH MY GOD WHERE WERE THEY?!

Dorian’s eyes widened and his hand slapped around his bag blindly while he tried not to panic. Oh God oh God oh God where was it? The first song wasn’t much—a rendition of Moonlight Sonata with some strains of the melody from New World Symphony, because everyone loved a new take on the classics, right? That was why Disney was remaking all those movies, right? (Author’s Note: Dorian doesn’t mind remakes, nor does the author.) He’d been told it was a statement on dreams and how quickly they can be corrupted, but really, he was just having fun with the Beethoven and Dvořák. The second piece? That was his magnum opus, the most important thing he’d ever produced. His mother, Georgia, would have loved it. In fact, he’d named it after her. “Georgia” was the best thing he’d ever written, and tonight’s showcase was going to be its debut.

Mom, I’m so sorry, he thought as he continued riffling through his bag. Unbeknownst to him, it was in plain sight, but as was the case with lost objects, his panic was blinding him to it. If he didn’t find it before it was his time to go on—no. He was not going to think about that. This was a time for solutions, not more problems. Gulp.

Whipping out his phone, newly charged thanks to a spare charger kept in his bag for PIT emergencies, he shot off a text to the ultimate music friend.

Hawk!!!! S.O.S.!!!! Do you still have that copy of Georgia I emailed you? It’s important!!! 🙏 ​

Disaster averted. Hopefully. Maybe. Okay, one more look through his bag couldn’t hurt.








dorian




piano man











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grad student



noah.













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excited, yet tired











outfit

dark slacks and navy sports coat











location

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interactions

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Noah wrapped his arm around his sister as they made to find a seat. He was thrilled that she was thriving here. It wasn't like he didn't know she was smart. His sister was smarter than any of the Taylors combined, but he was happy to see that she actually looked happy to be here and be among all these people. She looked like she was home. It was comforting for him. He had always wanted her to be comfortable and safe. Away from their raging bitch of a mother.

"Hey,"
Daniel started, grabbing Noah's shoulder. He paused and turned Scarlett around to face him. He raised a brow.
"I think I lost my phone."
Noah couldn't help the large sigh that escaped him, and Scarlett giggled. It was typical of Daniel. He got so caught up in looking at things and talking to people, he never realized that he set his phone down. The sentiment was endearing. Daniel had always been passionate about things, especially photography. He could stare at pictures for hours. Noah was eternally grateful Fiona hadn't crushed it out of him when she attempted to mold him into her perfect child. One who wouldn't fight back.

"Of course, you did,"
he shook his head with a sigh. He gestured for Scarlett to go find somewhere to sit.
"We'll be right back. Go find us some seats--"
She shook her head.

"I think I'll go check my display again. I want to see if any of the my professors are there."
She said with a smile so bright it made his heart ache. God, he was glad she was so happy. He shrugged as if it didn't matter much to him.
"Alright,"
he said in return and watched as she attempted to elegantly make her back over to her display. She was a Taylor after all, Agatha Taylor, but she could barely contain herself. She glided across the floor, weaving through people, so elegant even still.

"Have you told her yet?"
Daniel asked as they made their way back to the photography displays. It was entirely possible that Daniel left it sitting when he picked up an album and was talking to one of the students. Daniel nudged him again, and Noah frowned. He had gotten his bachelor's degree in fashion design like his father had asked over the last six years. It had taken a long time. He hadn't wanted to study, let alone go to school, but Alexander had been adamant. If he was going to take over the Taylor family business--the modeling, the makeup, the clothes-- then he would need a degree. Noah had dragged his feet. He had gotten drunk and high on whatever he could to avoid the responsibility of what his father was asking of him, but he did it. He never told anyone except Daniel. There wasn't much reason to. But, then his mother had to speak up.

"Where is your sister?"
Fiona had demanded as she barged into the shared living room. Well, not barged per say, it was shared living room, but she had come in aggressively. Noah glanced up from his phone with a raised brow.

"What makes you think I know?"
He had drawled. He did know, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Apparently, you and Daniel and that despicable Heather,"
she had grumbled under her breath. Noah had tensed. Aunt Heather was their dad's aunt. She was incredibly loving and kind to her grand niece and nephews and was the only reason they even knew what love was.
"are the only ones who she even talks to. I don't know why--"
Noah had rolled his eyes.
"Just tell me where she is. She's got shows she needs to do and interviews. Your sister is very important--"


"Leave her alone,"
he'd snapped, dropped his phone to his lap as he sat up. Fiona had recoiled at his tone, honey colored eyes narrowing.
"She's not some fucking trophy for you to display like you did something great. She's a human fucking being, mother. She's doing her own thing, and she's good at it!"
They had stared at each other in fuming silence. It had not been the first time he had yelled at her, but he tried not to curse. She was still his mother.

"You had better go and watch her to make sure that nothing happens to her, Noah. I'm going to continue to let her do her own thing... for now. But the moment she gets embroiled in some... scandal because she's 'doing her own thing', I am going to blame you and I will make sure you do not inherit your part of the Taylor name."
She had left him with that, and he hated her all the more. He was thirty-two. Successful in his own right. But he knew the sway his mother had over his father. So, he had enrolled in the budding graduate program at Muse. It gave him a valid reason to be there and a way to watch out for his sister.

"No,"
he shook his head as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to start calling Daniel's phone.
"It would only scare her to know Mom was looking for her."
Daniel hummed in agreement, eyes already wandering the albums and screens again, forgetting his phone once more. Noah sighed. He hoped things would go okay.




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Mentions: Scarlett | Interactions: Open
Tags: ninjamidnight ninjamidnight​

If Sebastian respected his comics less, he would probably throw them against a wall every time something upsetting happened. Which, frankly, was every issue. Alas, he respected his comics very, very much, and so whenever he encountered something upsetting, he simply placed the comic beside him, rolled over so his face was buried in his pillow, and screamed. Or did a strangled attempt at a scream.

It was his fault, as it always was—he just loved to torture himself by revisiting some of the most upsetting scenes in his favorite comics. Especially when they had to do with the love of his life, Richard Grayson. He could hear his younger brother’s voice now, teasing him for falling into yet another of his Nightwing hyperfixations. BUT COULD HE REALLY BE BLAMED? Nightwing was, in fact, the sexiest superhero alive. It was a scientific fact. But enough about that.

He was going to look like a bit of a mess for this showcase thing, but at least he wasn’t expected to present anything at it. Perks of being a freshman, he guessed. Moving in his stuff had taken longer than he’d really expected (he had a lot more paper than he remembered), so he was arriving later than he’d wanted to. Barely one step into the Theatre Arts building, and he was stunned. The most he let it show on his face was a pair of raised eyebrows, but on the inside, his mouth was falling open. His eyes scanned the displays before him, taking in the brilliant work of his soon-to-be classmates. Glass cases full of art so expert it was unreal, screens displaying animations and films, even a video game! (Oh, he was going to have to visit that later and report back to Matias.) So this was what it was like to be a student at Muse.

There had never been a moment where Seb had felt like more of a geek.

On the one hand, Seb was excited to be able to experience the works of all these students and take in the overwhelming amount of talent held on this campus. On the other hand, this was a great time for his rare moments of insecurity to hit in. What was a comic book artist here, of all places? Just as quickly as it hit him, the feeling went away. He knew why he was here. There was a reason his Webtoons were so popular. Besides, if Matias thought he was awesome, well, that was enough for him. It would always be enough.

For a while, Seb took the time to inspect every piece he passed, tilting his head with each one as his eyes processed every inch of the screens and art pieces in front of him. His thumbs hooked into his pockets, he slowly made his way toward the auditorium. This event was the prime opportunity to introduce himself to his fellow art students. Was he going to? Eh, not yet. Being social was not high on his list of priorities, unless it led to something in particular. Heh.

Pausing by a classroom, Seb cast his eyes toward the Literature Arts displays. Hm. Writing a narrative was important for his comics, which was why he was planning on minoring in lit. Of all the aspects of his comics, he was most unsure about the writing. You could only reuse the secret sibling/parent trope so many times before your audience started to wonder if you had an intelligent thought in your head.

Well, he might as well take a look. Stepping into the room, he made hums of approval at all the paperbacks before him. Which made him wonder—provided he didn’t somehow flunk out, would this be where they’d put his comics? The thought excited him. A slight smirk creeped up his face as he continued to browse the novels and stories, though this expression had nothing to do with the words he was skimming.

He stopped before a table full of the works of one Scarlett Taylor. His eyes were rather listlessly scanning the works before him—wait, what was that about a duck? Okay, now he was riveted. Turning his feet to face the table, he settled in for the long haul, his eyes hooding as they often did while reading to conserve energy.

Man, he hoped no one else was clamoring to read this right this moment, he was hooked!








sebastian




hero geek











yooo what up










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teddy
  • ,
“It is not enough to discover the secret of a play, its thought and feelings—the actor must be able to convert them into living terms.”
― Konstantin
Stanislavski

As Teddy strolled around the familiar grounds of Muse University, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement course through his veins. It was the start of a new year, and he was returning as a Junior—a position that carried with it a sense of accomplishment and pride. With his joyful demeanor and an incredible knack for making friends, Teddy knew this year held endless possibilities.

The campus was abuzz with activity, as incoming freshmen eagerly explored their new surroundings. Teddy smiled as he observed the anticipation in their eyes, remembering the same feeling when he had first set foot on this campus not so long ago. The air was filled with an electrifying energy, heightened by the annual showcase that welcomed the freshmen and celebrated the artistic works of all the arts students at Muse University.

The theater building was transformed into a hub of creativity, where music, fashion, and theatrical performances would soon captivate the audience. Teddy, a theater arts major, had poured his heart and soul into designing the stage to be a canvas that would effectively enhance each act. Alongside his friend and peer, Patrick, Teddy had spent countless hours meticulously planning every detail, ensuring the showcase would be a breathtaking spectacle.

Yet, as Teddy wandered through the bustling crowd, he found himself momentarily lost in thought. A wave of emotions washed over him as he reflected on his journey at Muse University thus far. The challenges he had overcome, the friendships he had forged, and the personal growth he had experienced—it was all a testament to the transformative power of this institution. Teddy's eyes glistened with a hint of tears as he realized that a significant portion of his success was owed to one person in particular—his Auntie Daph.

Auntie Daph had been Teddy's pillar of support from the very beginning. She had recognized his passion for the arts at a young age and encouraged him to pursue it relentlessly. Her unwavering belief in him had given him the confidence to chase his dreams. Whenever Teddy felt overwhelmed or doubted his abilities, Auntie Daph's voice echoed in his mind, urging him to embrace his flair for the dramatic and to never shy away from the spotlight.

Lost in his thoughts, Teddy was abruptly pulled back to reality by a familiar voice. "Yo yo Teddy bear! Care to help a girl out over here?" Marisol's voice echoed through the crowd, drawing his attention. Teddy turned around to find Marisol struggling to balance a stack of canvases in her arms. Without a moment's hesitation, Teddy rushed to her aid.

"Of course, Mari babyyy! You know I'm always here to lend a hand," Teddy replied with a wide grin, effortlessly taking some of the canvases off her hands. As they carefully rearranged the stack, Teddy couldn't help but marvel at Marisol's talent as an artist. Her work always seemed to inspire something within him.

As they walked together towards Marisol's designated exhibition space, Teddy's mind wandered back to the showcase. The thought of all the artistic expressions that would come to life on that very stage filled him with anticipation. It was a place where dreams were realized, talents were nurtured, and stories were shared with the world. Teddy's heart swelled with a sense of belonging and purpose as he realized how fortunate he was to be part of this creative community.

Amidst the chaos of the bustling theater building, Teddy couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the opportunities he had been given. Muse University had become his second home—a place where he had grown not only as an artist but as a person. The friendships he had forged, the mentors he had found, and the lessons he had learned were invaluable.

"I'm excited to see what pieces you ended up going with for tonight. I don't think you ever showed me your final choices- I'm positively wounded to not be included," Teddy's voice was light and playful as he teased his best friend. "But nonetheless, I'm down for a good surprise."

coded by reveriee.
 
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hawk
  • ,
“Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me.
No hope, no harm; just another false alarm”
—Morrissey

As Hawk settled into one of the practice rooms in the bustling theater building, the familiar weight of their cello nestled against their chest. The instrument had been a constant companion since the age of ten, a faithful companion through the highs and lows of their musical journey. Now, as a sophomore at Muse University, Hawk's love for music had only grown stronger.

With a quiet intensity, Hawk began tuning their cello, their hands moving with practiced precision. The sound resonated through the room, filling the air with a melodic harmony that calmed their racing thoughts. As the strings aligned, Hawk's mind settled, allowing them to focus on the task at hand—the upcoming showcase.

Composing original cello pieces for the showcase had been an exhilarating challenge. The melodies flowed effortlessly from Hawk's fingertips, each note a reflection of their musical essence. While they also played the bass guitar, Hawk had decided to save its grand entrance for another year, wanting to make the most of their cello's enchanting presence for now.

With a bit of a goofball streak running through them, Hawk often found themselves grinning mischievously while practicing, occasionally punctuating their melodies with a playful flourish. The cello had become an extension of their being, an outlet for their creativity and a means of expressing the depths of their emotions.

Sitting in the practice room, Hawk felt a calm confidence wash over them. They knew they had prepared diligently, pouring hours of effort into perfecting their performance. The notes were etched into their memory, their fingers dancing effortlessly across the strings. There was an unwavering belief that their performance would captivate the audience and leave an indelible mark on their hearts.

Just as Hawk was lost in the tranquility of the moment, their phone buzzed, snapping them out of their musical reverie. It was a text from one of their best friends, Dorian. Hawk's lips curled into a smile as they read the message.

Dorian
them
Hawk!!!!
them
S.O.S.!!!!
them
Do you still have that copy of Georgia I emailed you? It’s important!!! 🙏

Ah, Georgia—the piece that had struck a chord with Dorian's soul. Hawk knew exactly where the email was, but it would require a bit of sleuthing amidst their digital archives. A mischievous twinkle sparkled in their eyes as they prepared to embark on a hunt for the elusive sheet music.

Dorian
them
Do you still have that copy of Georgia I emailed you? It’s important!!! 🙏
me
oh i'm sure i've got it somewhere
me
hold up let me try to find it

With nimble fingers tapping across the screen, Hawk navigated their inbox, scrolling through messages until they found the cherished email from Dorian. It was a testament to their friendship—their shared passion for music and their willingness to support each other on this artistic journey.

As the email materialized on the screen, Hawk felt a swell of satisfaction. They had the music that Dorian desperately sought. Swiftly, they replied,

Dorian
me
hold up let me try to find it
me
can't believe you lost your sheet music, man
me
yeah i found it
me
meet me at the nearest printer? should be one on the second floor, room near the staircase i think.

Awaiting Dorian's response, Hawk couldn't help but chuckle to themselves. The dynamic duo of piano and cello seemed to find themselves embarking on misadventures that often left them with stories to laugh about after all was said and done.

A beep signaled the arrival of Dorian's response. Hawk didn't even care to look at the response, he was already setting his cello on it's stand so that he could run to his friend's aid. He booked it out of the room. Hopefully they'd be able to get the sheet music printed in time for their performances.
coded by reveriee.
 






evelyn




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anne-marie



who i am








Unsurprisingly, the day started like any other. When she woke, Evie was more than ready to start the day. Hurrying to get ready and head out so she could get to the Florence Auditorium so she could make her performance slot, the brunette was more than ready to be on stage again. She'd missed it.

Sure, over the summer she'd been giving her father tastes of what she'd been working on, and like always he'd been proud of her. She appreciated it, but it wasn't what she was craving. She missed the thrill of a live performance, with a crowd of people cheering, the pressure of knowing she had to live up to their expectations or she'd flop. Evie wasn't trying to sound like a bragger, but she'd yet to be booed off a stage, and she planned to keep it that way.

It was her junior year, and she was determined to make this one even better than the last. Nothing was going to stand in her way. She had goals, and plans, and dreams to achieve.

Seeing as she'd gotten an early start, Evie wasn't surprised to be one of the first to arrive backstage. It was still a little early, so she took her time, hurrying to get set up, making sure her mic was ready and the speakers were all connected. It didn't take long, and to her pleasure, seats were beginning to fill in the auditorium. Waving and greeting her fellow students as they also began to file backstage, she was ready.

The early morning had come and gone and now it was approaching afternoon and her scheduled performance time. Seeing as both the musical and theatre departments were sharing the stage, everyone was taking turns. And now, it was her turn.

Stepping up onto the stage, she adjusted her mic one final time before she smiled as the lights dimmed before rising on her. As the music she'd given the backstage workers began to filter in through the speakers, she stepped forward, and began to sing, filling the auditorium with her voice.

"Love me, or hate me, nothing's gonna change me, that's just how they made me,"

As the lyrics came to an end, and the lights dimmed once more as she finished her performance, Evie smiled, waving brightly as the crowd cheered. This. This was what she lived for, the rush of satisfaction at a job well done, the roaring of blood in her ears as she faced a crowd. It was exhilerating!

Evie hurried off the stage, thanking her fellow performers for their well wishes, and giving them their own. Everyone who attended Muse University was immensely talented and deserved to be there, and she only wanted the best for her fellow students.

"Good luck you guys!" she called out one final time, smiling brightly before she left the auditorium. She loved the showcase her school put on and while she loved her department, she'd seen them rehearsing enough. It was time for her to see what else was being worked on in the school! First stop, the arts showcase!

She headed straight for the theatre building, quickly losing herself as she made her way through the crowds, admiring the displays. She loved this part, seeing the fruits of everyone's labor on display. It was always a sight to see.

As she looked around, it didn't take long for her to catch sight of someone she didn't know. Well, Evie was nothing if not a polite and friendly face. She wasted no time approaching the other girl, a smile on her face.

"Hi!" she chirped, coming up next to her as she admired the gown in the case before them. "I'm Evie, this is your first year right?" she asked.





♡coded by uxie♡
 






derick




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If he was being honest, Derick wasn't sure what was such a big deal about the showcase. This was an arts university, it was to be expected that everyone had multiple projects in their portfolio, why did they have to put on some big show about it? He'd been in the theatre arts building all morning, getting his frames set up properly, his camera hanging heavy on his neck. He dared not leave his most prized possession behind. He doubted anyone here would try and do anything to his camera, but he wasn't willing to take the chance.

It was safest with him. He'd defend his camera with his life and if anyone tried to test him on that, well. He wasn't above biting. His best friend, Clary, could attest to that.

Derick smirked at the thought. That had been a fun night.

With his hearing aids turned off, despite being in his ears, Derick was more than happy to enjoy the silence. He could just barely pick up the faint sounds of mindless chatter of those around him also getting their projects up and ready to be admired. He sighed, taking a step back as he ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't worried about the photographs themselves, he was proud of his work and knew that they'd do well for themselves. He just wasn't sure about the placement of everything.

Unfortunately, placement was everything, and in part, it didn't matter how well his candids and landscapes were, if the placement didn't make sense, then the whole piece would fall apart, and after how much he had to put himself through to get some of these pictures? Well he wasn't about to let his piece flop, even if he found the whole showcase stupid.

"Damn it..." he muttered. Some of the images just made sense together, but then some of them matched the broader theme he was going for. But they didn't work well next to other images.

This was why he hated the showcase, and it was only his first time participating in it.

Photography Portfolio by Frederick Martin
Along the wall he was given, is a fair sized collection of photos, some of them landscapes of the Muse University campus, some particular structures or establishments on or nearby campus. Scattered on the edges of the space they make a rough circular shape, with smaller photos and candids making their way towards the center. The second layer of photos beside the landscapes include inside shots of some of the department buildings, showing groups of students working on their own projects or just hanging around, relaxing. In each photo you can see that the students were unaware of themselves being photographed, their emotions free and unaffected by the knowledge of them being on camera. Closer to the center are more specific candids, focusing on the few friends that Derick had already made, though one Clarissa Mayfield took over most of the images.

Those that knew Derick by extension, at least knew of Clary and their friendship, so it wasn't too surprising for any who saw the photos. Some of them were over the shoulder shots of her hard at work on what one could assume was her own showcase project. There are other pictures of his friends hard at work, or even relaxing. There's even one of Derick and Vincent leaning against a wall next to each other, seemingly glaring off into the distance. In the center of the collage are a few photos of Derick himself. In all three of the images, he's got his main camera in his hands and is obviously taking a picture of something else, and in another he's scrolling through the images he already has on the device. They were taken by a second party after he set up the camera and instructed someone to press the button when it became obvious that he wasn't focused on the lens focusing on him, so his own photos aren't full of presented emotions.

"Well...that's about as good as it'll get." he sighed. He was torn on being proud of his work and just annoyed at how the image he'd wanted hadn't seemed to come out the way he'd wanted. With any luck though, most would just walk past his display without paying it too much thought. At least while he was stuck hanging around this area of the building. Seeing as he was stuck waiting for Clary, he didn't really want to be approached by anyone wanting to know more about the 'reasoning behind his shots'.

There was a reason, of course, he just didn't want to talk about it.

"Where the hell are you, Clary..." he huffed, earning him some strange looks as people walked around him. Oh right. He should probably turn his hearing aids on now.





♡coded by uxie♡
 






jason




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livingston



fairytale








Looking up at the buildings around him, Jay wasn't afraid to admit that he was...well lost. The campus was huge, and at first he'd been grateful, taking advantage of it as a way to escape his mother who had been doing her best to follow him for the day. It wasn't like he wanted his mother to leave but...okay that was a lie, he really wished she would leave already. Jay wanted things to be different than they were in high school. He tried not to complain, but he hated that his mother took every chance she could to announce that he was a successful model, and now, at a university that was catered towards people like him and all the other arts, the last thing he wanted was to come off as if he was better than anyone.

Quite the opposite, Jay knew he wasn't the best. He was good, but there's always someone better than you out there. He wasn't just trying to be humble, he knew he had a lot to learn, and he'd like the chance to do that without having his mother hanging over his head.

There was security, right? That was harsh, even for him. He didn't want the woman arrested or anything, just...he wanted her not here. Not right now at least.

This was finally his chance to branch out on his own a bit. Finally make friends with people and get to know others in his craft. He didn't have to be monitored 24/7 anymore, he could finally have some freedom in his life!

The only problem is...what exactly did that look like? He supposes it's something he'll have to discover, but he's not afraid to admit that the thought worries him. No matter what though, he'll have to suck it up and figure it out for himself. He wanted a chance to be away from his controlling mother, well, here was his chance.

He wasn't going to fuck it up now.

"Well, Alfred," he sighed, looking around the crowd of people surrounding him and his feline friend. "Where to now?" he asked, glancing down at the black and white cat that was on a leash beside him.

Jay received a meow for his troubles, causing him to sigh once again. "Alright, left it is." he decided, turning and wandering off in a new direction. It was nice to be able to get lost in a crowd for once.





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