Realistic or Modern the show (in character)

[dirt]

Greer Matthews

Location: Evergreen High School; boys' bathroom
Mentions: None
Interactions: Open
Mood: Incredibly nervous

After what felt like eternities but was really only a few months, audition day had finally arrived. And even though Greer had been mentally and physically preparing himself for auditions for quite some time now, his nerves were through the roof. Which was stupid. It was his senior year, a high school play shouldn't be making him this nervous... and it wasn't like this was his first one. And he was "mega-talented..." whenever he was onstage, he lit up the entire room. So, in theory, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. Except this one audition was different. This one show was supposed to be the greatest production that Evergreen High School had ever put on, and he wanted so desperately to be a part of it. But everyone there was so talented, and he was starting to believe that he wasn't as talented as he originally thought. He scored a lead every year, sure, but what if he embarrassed himself in front of everyone? Shit like that spreads around school like wildfire, he would be the laughing stock of the entire school, maybe even the entire town.

"I... uh... I think I'm going to be sick." Not a good thing to say right before an audition, but it just... came out. Without any hesitation, Greer stood up and practically sprinted to the boys' restroom, slipping into a stall and locking the door behind him. Ten minutes. Only ten minutes left until the audition. But ten minutes was all he needed, he could get his shit together in ten minutes. He leaned against the wall, knowing damn well that the boys' restroom was one of the most unsanitary places in the entire school. Letting his eyes shut, he sighed shakily before starting to hum under his breath. Singing and humming usually calmed him down, but for some reason, it only stressed him out even more. He was going to fuck up somehow. It was inevitable. More than anything, he just wanted some weed, a movie, and someone to cuddle up next to. Like Marshall, his best friend since the show was announced. Or Soul... who was quite possibly the love of his life. But it didn't matter what he wanted. The only thing that mattered was the auditions, he needed to prove to himself and everyone else that he could do it, that he was actually semi-talented.

He was semi-talented.

Greer pulled out his phone, checking the time - just six minutes until auditions - before opening his messages. He scrolled up, desperately trying to find something. Past messages. Audition orders. Literally anything that could calm him down. Anything. He put his hand on his heart, clutching his shirt. His heart was practically thundering at this point. Five minutes. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he opened a different app and started fucking around. Anything to take his mind off of the auditions... anything to temporarily silence the screaming in his head. This would be his first show without his mother, she was his biggest supporter and cared about him more than anyone. It was going to be especially rough without her and he knew it... but he kept his mouth shut around his friends. His problems were irrelevant, and he'd probably get laughed at anyway. He shook his head and bit his lip. He never cried in school, and he definitely wasn't about to start now. Even in the safety of his own stall. Four minutes. Four fucking minutes. What if he made himself vomit? All of his problems would be solved, wouldn't they? He could always send in a video audition. From the comfort and safety of his own home... and unlimited takes. Three minutes. Greer sat down on the toilet, staring down at his shaky hands. His phone buzzed. Piper fucking Ryland. He opened the text. "Heyyyy Greer, just wanted to wish you luck at auditions... don't trip ;)." Great. Now he was feeling a thousand times worse. Why did he have to let everything get to him? It's just Piper, she can't do anything... right? Two minutes. He typed a quick text back, his hands shakier than ever. "Thanks Piper. Break a leg." He was going to die in this fucking bathroom. Only one minute left. "Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck..." He buried his face in his hands. All he had left to do at this point was count down the seconds until the final bell.

Five...

What if he just stayed in the bathroom? What if he didn't show up?

Four...

Maybe this was a bad idea...

Three...

"I'm going to be sick. I'm going to be fucking sick."

Two...

Greer braced himself.

One.

Showtime.

code by valen t.

 

[roxybirdie]

marshall

filler

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• home (filler tab)
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  mood

  
  
  

  Concerned, Giddy, Apprehensive

  
  

  
  

  
  

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  click

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

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  location

  
  
  

  Evergreen High School, Control Booth

  
  

  
  

  
  

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  interactions

  
  
  

  Greer (Mentioned), Soul (Mentioned), Emmett (Mentioned), NPC’s

  
  

  
  

  
  

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  tags

  
  
  

  dirt , Nightmarish , q r o w

  
  

  
  

  
  

  filler

  
  
• home (filler tab)

e.w. (slowed)

home

Perhaps, it was the crimson streaks in his hair.

”—did you hear about Dustin Tripp?”​

Or the leather jacket, fingerless gloves, and ripped jeans.

”—I bet it was Kang. Vengeful ex, much?”​

Or the acoustic guitar case strapped on his back and the thrift store messenger bag on his shoulder.

”—Principal Williams is too soft. She should have just kicked him out.”​

Maybe it was him. Marshall ignored the whispers and sauntered down the hallway. He slipped through the backdoor leading to the auditorium.

Today was the day: auditions. As the acting cast prepared for their auditions, the backstage crew hustled and bustled. Marshall weaved through the chaos and headed toward the prop room where students stored their belongings. The drama teacher cleared a space for theatre students since the auditorium was too far from their lockers. Marshall approached the corner on the far right and dropped his messenger bag next to his friends’ bags.

”You’re late.”

He turned around and faced the teacher assigned to supervise the stage crew. Mr. Benson was a reedy man with a no-nonsense attitude. He hated tardiness. The man also taught Algebra I and Algebra II. How did he get roped into theatre? Marshall didn’t want to know. ”Not for stage crew,” he pointed out.

”Yes, well, I specifically stated all of you should be here at least fifteen minutes prior—“

”Don’t care.” Marshall slipped past his supervisor and headed toward the control booth. While he left his bag in the prop room, Marshall kept Persephone on his back. During the beginning stages of his punishment, Mr. Benson hounded him about not “properly storing” his guitar. He flipped the math teacher the bird and told him over his dead body. Fortunately, the drama teacher intervened before he decked the haughty asshole. Since the drama teacher was in charge of the theatre production, it was their call. Mx. Honeycutt permitted Marshall to keep his guitar, but stipulated if he slacked off, Persephone would join the prop room with his bag. Marshall agreed to their terms.

He liked Mx. Honeycutt. They treated him with respect and didn’t judge him because of his reputation.

Marshall surveyed the backstage. He heard whispers about Greer bailing before the final bell. A frown marred his lips. He retrieved his cellphone from his back pocket and shot Soul a text.

[To Patronus]: Nerves alert. Bubbles bolted. Check the bathroom? )):​

Before he pocketed his cell, Marshall sent another text.

[To Hubby M&M]: At the control booth. Join me? (:​

He stuffed his phone in his back pocket and maneuvered around the bustling teens. Marshall hopped off stage and climbed the steps leading to the control booth on top. Due to his experience with music, Mx. Honeycutt assigned him to the control booth. He became the unofficial lead techie. While the stage crew answered to Mr. Benson, Marshall was a step under the supervisor. Once he entered the booth, Marshall claimed his usual spot and propped Persephone next to his seat. Since Mr. Benson was supervising the backstage, he was alone for a moment. After completing his prep work — checking the lights, sound, and overall equipment — Marshall leaned back and brandished his phone. He unlocked the screen and scrolled through past messages.

Last night, he did it.

Dark brown eyes gazed at the direct messages.

He confessed.

Suddenly, he recalled the late night conversation in the backseat of his car. Perhaps, his timing wasn’t ideal. Confessing to your drunk crush? Yeah, his timing was absolute shit. However, after his conversation with Bubbles, Marshall felt confident. For the first time in weeks, he had enough nerve to confess. Even if his timing was terrible, Marshall knew if he didn’t do it then, he wouldn’t do it ever and he was tired of pining.

Thank fuck it didn’t backfire.

Emmett liked him back. Lord fucking Hades, they were dating. He felt giddy, but at the same time terrified? This morning, Marshall assured him it wasn’t a joke nor a drunk-induced dream. He wanted to talk more, but after a night of drinking, they woke up late. Since his first period teacher liked to hand out detentions like candy, Marshall hauled his ass to school. Auditions was one thing, but Saturday detention?

Fuck no.

He eyed the time on his cell. Without warning, the final bell rang, signaling the end of school ... and the beginning of Evergreen High’s theatre auditions. Showtime.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Maverick.]

mood :

Weary, Tired, Blue

location :

Evergreen High School auditorium

outfit :

mentions :

Marshall, Marlowe, Solar, Soul, Scotty, Sam

interactions :

None

Anderson

;; Jon

Jon Anderson was a sleepwalker.

He'd learned from middle school to spend his days with his eyes closed, floating through classes like the smoke from one of his cigarettes. It had become his habit to only emerge when the sun made its retreat, shutting its prying eyes so that at last he might have some privacy. When safely locked in his room, he would wake up with the moon. Last night, he'd painted in the dark, letting the colors flow from his clenched fist as he purged everything he had swallowed and kept down the day before.

Last night's color had been blue, and no matter how hard he had scrubbed his hands, the paint had stained his palms like a crime scene. It would follow him now, having burrowed under his fingernails and dried between the cracks of his skin over his knuckles. It was like he'd spent the night fighting off the blue, clawing and punching at whatever was holding him down. Every night he lost, and every day he showed up with new marks on his skin drawn from his own careless hand.

This time, he really had been fighting. He had treated each of his fingers like whole fists, and with every keystroke, he had swung for his life. But he knew that it had to be done. They had been creeping up to him, and Jon had let them. He had started answering to a nickname. He had talked his nonsense to them, and they had all played along. He had found himself waiting for their messages, and he had even liked seeing how they cared for each other. He had begun to worry about Marshall when he said he was drinking. He was waiting for Marlowe and Solar to get together. When Soul talked, Jon listened. And when he caught himself smiling while Scotty and Sam teased him, he knew that if he didn't grit his teeth and haul himself out, he would get in too deep.

Sometimes, Jon said things without thinking about the consequences first. Other times, he knew exactly what he was doing.

But it had gone too far. He had meant to upset them, but when Marshall called him out, Jon felt that he had to fight for his life. And so he didn't hold back, and he buried himself so deep in the wreckage, watching the fading light of the exit as he built walls from the debris. There was no coming back from that, and he told himself it was for the best. He had meant to upset them, but their reactions— especially Soul's— had left Jon with a bad taste in his mouth. He'd used them all to break his knuckles; he had begged to be hit. It wasn't them he had been trying to hurt.

Now he was sure that they must hate him, and that made him feel better. And yet he had still read over the messages multiple times, sounding out both their words and his own in an attempt to recognize that guy he had been when he wrote them. That was him. And he could deal with that. He was fine with it. That wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that he wanted to say sorry.

Sometimes, Jon felt like he was riding in a car speeding down the wrong direction on the freeway. He knew he should reach for the wheel, but instead, he would rather unclip his seatbelt and close his eyes. Just like the rest of his family, he knew he would crash eventually. Lately, he seemed to be bracing himself harder than usual.

He walked through the halls, his feet scuffing the tile as he shuffled his feet. The bell rang, and the sharp sound sent a crack of bright light behind his eyes. For a moment, he woke up. He remembered his new scholastic punishment, and he skidded to a halt in the middle of the hall while the gears in his head scrapped together painfully. He ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers tangled up in the greasy strands. He couldn't remember the last time he'd showered.

Jon walked in his sleep, so he never quite knew where he was. Maybe that was why he also never quite knew where he was supposed to be.

Almost four years at Evergreen High, and Jon was only barely able to scrape enough information together to make it to the school auditorium. When he opened the door, he kept his gaze low. He entered, hugging the wall as he searched for the meeting area. He felt himself beginning to disappear again. He'd pass this class just like he'd passed all the ones before it: by leaning back against the wall, letting it obsorb him like a cigarettes' smoke stain.

If this was showtime, Jon would take his place behind the curtain.

coded by reveriee.

 

[Nightmarish]

4:20

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  Sotiria Demetriou

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  solarsystem

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

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  solarsystem

  (cont. in comments) Treat every second like you're putting on a show

  
  
  
  
  

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  messages

  
  
  

  9:06pm

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  TOM FROM SCHOOL

  
  
  

  is my contact name still "from school" on your phone

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
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  solarsystem

  (cont. in comments) Treat every second like you're putting on a show

  
  
  

  3h ago

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  A long, sharp black nail clicked on the glass screen as words and pictures scrolled past, dark brown eyes scanning through messages and posts aimlessly, not spending more than a minute on a single post. Her tall, thick heels clicked loudly on the tile floors, bouncing off the off-white walls of Evergreen High. Though her head was tilted down, thick red ponytail cascading past her face next to her phone focused on the shiny screen, she walked with purpose, knowing exactly where she was going, walking the worn halls she'd walked a million times. Kids crowded the hall, lockers slammed, voices yelled and grew louder as they struggled to reach over one another, paper soared through the air, whizzing behind Sotiria's head. Though there were more bodies than the hall could handle, no one blocked the girl's way, no one dared, they parted like the red sea for her. She wasn't some sort of queen bee, wasn't the world's biggest bitch, she was simply known, respected, only slightly feared. Solar shoved through a green door into the girls' bathroom, finally gazing up from her phone to take in the room, the line of green stalls, the girls that lined the wall waiting, the residual, fruity smell that clung to the air of less than legal substances and the muttering voices of gossip. She skipped the line, walking straight to the line of sinks and mirrors.
  
  "Move." Her steady voice ordered, girlish and moderately pitched but thick and powerful, as she flicked her hand towards two underclassmen that stood in front of a mirror, who instantly scrambled away. Solar took her place in front of the sink, her eyes meeting those of her reflection, scanning her face for any little imperfection, straightening the black bow in her hair, shifting the light lace top around her breasts, lightly tracing her sharp black wings along her eyes and the glitter that dusted her cheeks. Solar had been nervous for auditions before, so nervous she spent most the school day shaking in the bathroom stalls, and she'd had auditions where she rolled up to school so confident, so sure of herself, nothing could stop her, not her lack of practice, nor the piercing eyes of the lead art teacher, though that was likely one of her worst auditions to date. Today, though, she was perfectly balanced, sure of herself despite the nerves that bubbled behind her eyes, confident but scared, only pulled out of her obsessive gaze into herself by the bell that echoed through the room.
  
  Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding
  
  Act One. Solars first class was math, and though she rarely bothered to even attend that class, she sat in the front by the window, staring out at the birds and the trees behind the glass and humming under her breath, her audition song on repeat all morning, as the dull tone of the male teacher pressed on at the edges of her consciousness, her mind far away from the four off-white walls. Her hand flicked a pencil along her notebook, but instead of the mandatory notes she was supposed to be taking of work she considered easy as fuck, her page was covered with unsteady sketches of Bring It On characters, of song lyrics, of anything other than stupid math.
  
  "Ms. Demitri." Brown eyes flicked up to meet darker ones as words broke through the fog.
  
  "It's Demetriou, I get that you're a stupid American but it's not that hard." Her thickly sarcastic voice, edged with her fading accent caused an eruption of giggles throughout the class, setting a smirk to the redhead's face.
  
  "Well, Ms. Demetriou, you've just earned yourself another after-school detention! What is that, you're seventeenth one this year?"
  
  "Yeah as much as I'd absolutely adore spending two hours sitting here doing literally nothing for your entertainment, I'm gonna have to take a raincheck, how does next Tuesday sound?" Another round of giggles cascaded through the class, only encouraging the sarcastic banter and wide smirk, though the teacher was not nearly as amused.
  
  "Do I need to remind you, once again, that this is not how I expect an honors math student to act-"
  
  "Yeah yeah, save the lecture, I got it the 50th time you wasted yours and our time telling it. Now, would you like to keep wasting time with this lovely little banter or try and actually teach us something useful?" The white male was now red in the face, eyes narrow and jaw set tight, though Solar remained unfazed, uncaring, and untouchable by the man. "Hmm?"
  
  "Out! Out of my class right now!" Solar tried to mask her light flinch at the yell that rang around the much-too-small room, before smiling, throwing her things back into her bag and tossing it over her shoulder as her desk chair screeched across the floor behind her. "Gladly." She moved quickly and gracefully to the door, smirking at the crowd of students as she slammed it shut behind her, hearing the tight, angry voice of her teacher from the hall as she pulled out her phone, scanning through her notifications again, already stumbling across multiple tweets and texts about her latest student-teacher blowout, the smirk still clinging to her face.
  
  Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding
  
  Act Two. Her head flicked side to side as doors swung open and students once again flooded into the halls, already heading herself for the stairs to the English wing. Where math was Solars least favorite class, English was one of the only classes the girl regularly attended, the dark-blue-haired and blue-eyed young lady being the highlight of her day. Though one of the youngest teachers in the school, Ms. Beatrix, or as she liked to call her, Bea, had already worked her way up to senior English teacher, and Solar relished in the warm hello she and the woman shared as she took her seat in the front of the class. As the class got to independent work, Bea asked about Solars audition, shared stories about her acting days, pouted as Solar reminded her she'd have to wait to hear her audition later. The class went by fast like it often did, Solar actually doing her work as she hummed along to the song in her head, gossiping with Bea.
  
  Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding
  
  Act Three. Solar actually frowned as the class ended and Bea smiled and waved her off with a see ya later as the redhead started out the door, feeling the nerves more prominent as she checked her phone again, only 3 hours left to auditions. She huffed lowly as she made her way through the halls to her next class, swallowing her anxiety. Art class was simple, art class was easy, even is Solar wasn't necessarily the most talented visual artist, her talents obviously lied more in performing arts, but still the class soared by, until again she heard it.
  
  Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding
  
  Act Four. There was no more stalling now, she was excused from her last class of the day, so her feet took her straight towards the auditorium, nerves bubbling more as she pushed through the doors to the hallway, already bustling with younger students, singing echoing through the halls in an annoying mix of screeching, high-pitched voices and low, rumbling ones, not everyone was cut out for singing she supposed. She stuffed her bag into her own locker, decorated with song lyrics, photos of every role she'd played, photos of her friends stuck the inside around the mirror that was stuck to the inside. She couldn't help her eyes clinging to her reflection, again, checking her hair, adjusting her outfit, tracing her make-up, before she forced the door shut, checking her phone, instantly going for the group chat and seeing Marlowe's call for help. She couldn't imagine agreeing to essentially babysit the underclassmen, and she respected the pretty gingers' attempts, instantly agreeing to help, after taking a moment to shoot out a tweet.
  
  Post-audition party at my place tonight, everyone's invited, spread the word
  
  She clicked out and stuffed the phone in her pocket before she set to helping round up scared freshmen, shoving them in Mari's direction, spastically checking the group chat and time as she counted down to the final bell, feeling the time left shrink as she sang and walk until it happened.
  
  Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding
  
  The final bell, the school day was over, most kids ecstatic and rushing out of their classes and out of the school, for them the day was over, but for Solar, the day had just begun. It was officially time to start auditions.
  
  It was showtime.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

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    Nervous & Confident

    
    

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    
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    Evergreen High School

    
    

    
    

    
    
    
    
    

    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    

    
    

    
    
    
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♡requested by dreamglow, coded by uxie♡

 

[Walliver]

Hours Before Auditions
“Are you sure you’re okay to go to school today? I can get you a note so you don’t have to go.” Maddie was always so worried about him. It was admirable at times, but annoying at others. “I’ll be fine, Mads. Neither of us can miss audition day anyway.” he assured her, planting a playful kiss on her cheek. Madison Reynolds, his beautiful, feisty, one-of-a-kind girlfriend. And him. Ugly, timid, dying Callum Byrne. Madison’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not doing that weird thing where you compare us and decide that you’re awful, right? If you are, I’ll be the one to kill you instead of your kidneys.” He loved her, but Maddie was insanely scary when she wanted to be. “No, of course not.” Callum put his hands up in defense. “Fine. Then let’s get going.”

Present Time

I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die-

“You’re not gonna die. Just breathe. Here, here, my jacket.” Callum felt the leather jacket around his shoulders. He gripped it tightly, leaning against her. Breathe in, breathe out. “Cinnamon, brown sugar, eggs. You had French toast for breakfast.” he whispered. “That’s right. Now are you gonna get up there and show them who’s boss, or are you gonna let them intimidate you?” Madison’s grip on his shoulders was comforting. He knew she would be right there. He knew she’d be there to catch him if he fell, both literally and figuratively. “The second option, of course.”​

 

[dirt]

mood

excited

location

EHS

outfit

no lol

tags

dirt

massimo savage

a role here or a quote maybe?

Ding, ding, ding, ding!

It was the unmistakable sound of the final bell. On a normal day, a sea of exhausted high school students would fill the hallways and Mas would go straight home, watch "Finding Nemo," belt Broadway songs while dancing around his room like an idiot, and fall asleep. It was kind of his daily routine, regardless of whether or not his girlfriend was around him. Piper may be an absolute asshole, but she never judged him. To his knowledge, at least. But this wasn't just an ordinary day. It was audition day... auditions for the annual Evergreen High musical. Mas had heard many things about the musical theatre program in Evergreen, Massachusetts, but since he was still fairly new to the district, he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He pushed his way through the crowd of people. He had a purpose, he needed to get to his audition as fast as possible. He couldn't let himself get distracted.

"Massi! Wait up!"

Massimo turned his head. Piper. Lovely. He gave a soft sigh. For some odd reason, being around his girlfriend made him uneasy. He couldn't explain it, Piper just radiated evil energy. And most of his friends agree. "Hey, babe! Ready for auditions?" he asked, a forced smile on his face. He expected a simple 'yes' or 'no,' but Piper just tilted her head and squinted at him as if she was trying to figure him out. He let out a nervous chuckle and made a goofy face in a desperate attempt to ease the awkwardness between them. No reaction.

"Fake smile... what's wrong?" Piper asked. Mas opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Even in the crowded hallway, the silence was deafening. But, after a while, Piper nodded. "You must be nervous," she sighed. Mas didn't argue. It was true, he was fairly nervous about the audition. "Don't be nervous... we've been practicing for months now," she added, giving Mas a quick smile. "You're way better than Greer... you can score the leading man. Things can't always go his way."

Mas cringed slightly. He hated when his girlfriend talked like that about his friend. It was almost as if making sure Greer didn't get the lead was the only thing she cared about. But he couldn't say anything. Piper would kill him. He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, yeah... we should probably get going." He sped up his pace, a goofy smile spreading across his face. He didn't know where this sudden burst of energy was coming from, but he felt like he could do a cartwheel. He raced towards the auditorium, only slowing down when he got inside. He sat down and waited for his turn.

"Let's fucking do this."

nine lives