eclipsa
faerie sightings
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eclipsa
faerie sightings
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information: only the emotions are at the dorms ; there's a party at a beach club in florida everyone else can be at
episode duration: 4-7 days ; time skips will be frequent
start date: april 12
side note: text in quotations and bold is georgia narrating. flashback posts will be formatted significantly different than regular posts keep that in mind!! sorry if it's weird sksks[/div][/div][/div][/div]
episode one
[div class=box][div class=boxscroll][div class=boxscroll2]goals: introduce the main characters ; introduce the secondary characters ; beginning the tensioninformation: only the emotions are at the dorms ; there's a party at a beach club in florida everyone else can be at
episode duration: 4-7 days ; time skips will be frequent
start date: april 12
side note: text in quotations and bold is georgia narrating. flashback posts will be formatted significantly different than regular posts keep that in mind!! sorry if it's weird sksks
ooooooo
eclipsa
faerie sightings
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[div class=box][div class=boxscroll1][div class=boxscroll2]"There was a time when my life was actually incredibly easy. That time was when I was still a parasitic creature feeding off of my mother within her womb. But after that... after that everything was hard."
"My father was Moroccan, my mother French. Both had enough money that as an only child I never had to want."
As a small child Georgia was surrounded by toys and anything else she desired. Her parents were no where to be seen, though.
"Believe it or not, being unable to feel much of anything isn't a very new state of existence for me. Prior to being enrolled in a private school for the rich as an eight year old I had six tutors. I'm multilingual. I can play two instruments. I'm surprisingly pretty smart."
Young Georgia was surrounded by adults during her most formative years. Nannies, tutors, maids, butlers. Not her parents though.
"That time of my life was so void of real feelings that I didn't know what they were until then. Then I felt something new. Rejection. Cold, hard rejection. There were only two minority students in the entire class and only four in the school. It wasn't so bad though, it's what led me to August."
Young August and Young Georgia bonded over being picked last and not having partners in any classes. A montage of their lives would show them always picking each other, and Georgia crying a little when they were split by boys and girls.
"The crush on him came later, of course. We were just friends for a long time. It was in middle school, when we made a pact to go to the eighth grade formal together if we didn't have dates... obviously we didn't."
Preteen Georgia and August danced together awkwardly in their formal wear, looking at each other and trying not to laugh. It was funny to them, how worked up they had been for it.
"I was a pretty good dancer, ballroom trained ya know? You wouldn't have been able to tell that night though. Mostly because I was nervous. I don't remember which one of us leaned in first but I do remember that the first time we kissed was the best moment of my middle school existence. Even though it was definitely bad."
"High school was no different for us. Best friends. Just friends. I said those exact words to him after we lost our virginities to each other when his parents weren't home for a weekend."
Teenaged now, Georgia quickly gathered her clothes while August watched. His emotions weren't readable but Georgia already knew she had messed up the moment she wanted to say fuck it and climb back into his arms. So she kept her back to him.
"His parents would have never approved, so we drifted apart. He started dating Cece, and it killed me. He didn't seem to like her very much though, which lead me to her brother Jude. We hung out together, the four of us. He quickly became my friend in August's place."
"That might sound harsh, but in all honesty it was better that way."
The pair were at a party when Georgia took a drink of vodka to take her mind off August and kissed the first boy she saw. Tall and handsome. Everything her parents would have wanted.
"Austin. Now I know what you're probably thinking. 'Just tell August how you feel!' Well, I certainly could, but if I did and he turned me down, yeah. That would suck. So I did the best thing my sixteen year old self could think of: rebounded."
"Spoiler: biggest mistake of my life."
Insert montage of him berating her, physically harming her, and him controlling everything she does. She covered the black eye with concealer and a heavy smokey eye. She was becoming increasingly numb as time passed.
"You don't get to judge me for this. I stayed, yeah. But the thing is, he was really sweet at the start. He bought me flowers, brushed my hair, bought me chocolate when I was feeling low. By the time it got to the physical point I was too numb and full of self doubt from the emotional abuse I couldn't get myself out."
"Jude and August both seemed to notice but I got better at faking it. It wasn't hard to convince the world I was okay, no one had noticed me so far."
"I did eventually leave. Way too late. Not until he ruined me beyond repair."
Georgia, then a freshman in college, stood in front of the counter at CVS. She had on sunglasses, but her cheeks were stained with mascara and there were bruises on her throat and wrists. She placed a Plan B package, a Coca Cola, and a pack of gummy bears on the counter along with some money.
The cashier stared at her for a long time, an older woman. "Honey do you want me to call someone?"
"No. I just want to pay for these things and leave."
The old lady nodded solemnly. She handed her a bag and some change. "You're very strong, you'll get through it."
Georgia didn't reply as she left the building.
"I went back to the dorms, and I took care of business. Then I got a little buzzed. Just buzzed enough that I waltzed right up to August's door and pounded on it until he came and answered it."
"We had promised when were younger to both go to Lakeport to stick it to our parents for shoving us in private schools. So here we were, dorms just a few doors apart. Well, it seemed like a few in comparison to the fact that I hadn't spoken to him in six months."
"The way he had looked at me when I showed up made me start crying again."
"Can you hold me?"
August didn't even reply, just wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. The sobs racked her body, but he didn't let go. She fell asleep in his arms that night, and for once felt at peace.
"I was gone when he woke up, before he had a chance to ask any questions. We haven't spoken since. It's been a year. I'm sure you hate me at this point, and believe me, I don't blame you. If I could be someone else I would. But I can't. I was sent into the world without a map or a compass, and no real sense of guidance."
"I'd feel bad about it if I could feel anything at all. Feelings come and go for me. Most of the time I'm numb. Sometimes though? Sometimes I feel one single emotion so fully it chokes me. I haven't quite figured out why that is."
Georgia stands in the door of her dorm, exiting it slowly. She looks tired.
"Spring break, sophomore year of college. That's when it started. The feelings. The real spiral. There were eight people left in the dorms, the rest were partying somewhere else. I can't remember where. I was invited, of course. I just chose not to go."
"Jude was used to that, but Krissie and Logan were surprised when I turned down a week long bender. Meeting them hadn't changed my lack of feeling, but it was nice to enjoy the emptiness with someone. They'd have more fun without me. Everyone usually did."
She made her way to the common room, ready to raid the vending machine.
"My father was Moroccan, my mother French. Both had enough money that as an only child I never had to want."
As a small child Georgia was surrounded by toys and anything else she desired. Her parents were no where to be seen, though.
"Believe it or not, being unable to feel much of anything isn't a very new state of existence for me. Prior to being enrolled in a private school for the rich as an eight year old I had six tutors. I'm multilingual. I can play two instruments. I'm surprisingly pretty smart."
Young Georgia was surrounded by adults during her most formative years. Nannies, tutors, maids, butlers. Not her parents though.
"That time of my life was so void of real feelings that I didn't know what they were until then. Then I felt something new. Rejection. Cold, hard rejection. There were only two minority students in the entire class and only four in the school. It wasn't so bad though, it's what led me to August."
Young August and Young Georgia bonded over being picked last and not having partners in any classes. A montage of their lives would show them always picking each other, and Georgia crying a little when they were split by boys and girls.
"The crush on him came later, of course. We were just friends for a long time. It was in middle school, when we made a pact to go to the eighth grade formal together if we didn't have dates... obviously we didn't."
Preteen Georgia and August danced together awkwardly in their formal wear, looking at each other and trying not to laugh. It was funny to them, how worked up they had been for it.
"I was a pretty good dancer, ballroom trained ya know? You wouldn't have been able to tell that night though. Mostly because I was nervous. I don't remember which one of us leaned in first but I do remember that the first time we kissed was the best moment of my middle school existence. Even though it was definitely bad."
"High school was no different for us. Best friends. Just friends. I said those exact words to him after we lost our virginities to each other when his parents weren't home for a weekend."
Teenaged now, Georgia quickly gathered her clothes while August watched. His emotions weren't readable but Georgia already knew she had messed up the moment she wanted to say fuck it and climb back into his arms. So she kept her back to him.
"His parents would have never approved, so we drifted apart. He started dating Cece, and it killed me. He didn't seem to like her very much though, which lead me to her brother Jude. We hung out together, the four of us. He quickly became my friend in August's place."
"That might sound harsh, but in all honesty it was better that way."
The pair were at a party when Georgia took a drink of vodka to take her mind off August and kissed the first boy she saw. Tall and handsome. Everything her parents would have wanted.
"Austin. Now I know what you're probably thinking. 'Just tell August how you feel!' Well, I certainly could, but if I did and he turned me down, yeah. That would suck. So I did the best thing my sixteen year old self could think of: rebounded."
"Spoiler: biggest mistake of my life."
Insert montage of him berating her, physically harming her, and him controlling everything she does. She covered the black eye with concealer and a heavy smokey eye. She was becoming increasingly numb as time passed.
"You don't get to judge me for this. I stayed, yeah. But the thing is, he was really sweet at the start. He bought me flowers, brushed my hair, bought me chocolate when I was feeling low. By the time it got to the physical point I was too numb and full of self doubt from the emotional abuse I couldn't get myself out."
"Jude and August both seemed to notice but I got better at faking it. It wasn't hard to convince the world I was okay, no one had noticed me so far."
"I did eventually leave. Way too late. Not until he ruined me beyond repair."
Georgia, then a freshman in college, stood in front of the counter at CVS. She had on sunglasses, but her cheeks were stained with mascara and there were bruises on her throat and wrists. She placed a Plan B package, a Coca Cola, and a pack of gummy bears on the counter along with some money.
The cashier stared at her for a long time, an older woman. "Honey do you want me to call someone?"
"No. I just want to pay for these things and leave."
The old lady nodded solemnly. She handed her a bag and some change. "You're very strong, you'll get through it."
Georgia didn't reply as she left the building.
"I went back to the dorms, and I took care of business. Then I got a little buzzed. Just buzzed enough that I waltzed right up to August's door and pounded on it until he came and answered it."
"We had promised when were younger to both go to Lakeport to stick it to our parents for shoving us in private schools. So here we were, dorms just a few doors apart. Well, it seemed like a few in comparison to the fact that I hadn't spoken to him in six months."
"The way he had looked at me when I showed up made me start crying again."
"Can you hold me?"
August didn't even reply, just wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. The sobs racked her body, but he didn't let go. She fell asleep in his arms that night, and for once felt at peace.
"I was gone when he woke up, before he had a chance to ask any questions. We haven't spoken since. It's been a year. I'm sure you hate me at this point, and believe me, I don't blame you. If I could be someone else I would. But I can't. I was sent into the world without a map or a compass, and no real sense of guidance."
"I'd feel bad about it if I could feel anything at all. Feelings come and go for me. Most of the time I'm numb. Sometimes though? Sometimes I feel one single emotion so fully it chokes me. I haven't quite figured out why that is."
Georgia stands in the door of her dorm, exiting it slowly. She looks tired.
"Spring break, sophomore year of college. That's when it started. The feelings. The real spiral. There were eight people left in the dorms, the rest were partying somewhere else. I can't remember where. I was invited, of course. I just chose not to go."
"Jude was used to that, but Krissie and Logan were surprised when I turned down a week long bender. Meeting them hadn't changed my lack of feeling, but it was nice to enjoy the emptiness with someone. They'd have more fun without me. Everyone usually did."
She made her way to the common room, ready to raid the vending machine.
georgia
teenage witch
bitch
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[div class=credit]code by
pasta
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there's something in your way
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Spring Break. A time for parties, regrettable hook-ups, and having fun with friends. Or, in Shaw's case, a time for enjoying some peace and quiet without idiots barreling up and down the corridors. Everything was quiet, save for the ringing in his ears. Not even the grating sounds of his stupid roommates stupid video games could cut through the room: perhaps calling the kid stupid was unfair. Shaw was sure that Stanford was actually a decent guy, he just didn't have the time or desire to find out. In another life perhaps they'd even be friends. But what was the point in making connections that were fated to be ruined?
The kid had his uses. He turned a blind eye to the rampant property damage in their shared room, and his proclivity for hanging posters on the walls made for the perfect cover. Shaw reached up and tore one from the wall-- the corner stayed put, stuck to a lump of blu-tack. Fuck. It didn't matter. Chances were Stanford wouldn't notice, and even if he did, there weren't going to be any real consequences. Besides, a slightly ripped poster was a necessary evil: without it, there'd be a glaringly visible dent in the wall just above Shaw's desk.
With the damage patched, Shaw moved on to part two-- bandaging up his split knuckles. Sinking into the aftermath was surreal, and no matter how many times he ran through the process, he never got used to it. It was a time to reflect, to think about exactly why he'd let the red mist descend again, and to think 'fuck, my hand hurts'.
Five minutes later, the only visible evidence of Shaw's daily meltdown was the scrap of poster still stuck to the wall where the entirety had once been, and the tattered bandage wound haphazardly around his knuckles. He headed out of the room, leaving the trigger of his emotion on the bed: his phone, unlocked, with texts to his mother dating back to January un-replied to and unread.
Heading to the common room to use the vending machine seemed like a comforting plan until a gut-wrenching figure reminded him that he was not the only one who had turned down the chance to leave campus. There she was, minding her own business, acting like she had nothing to apologise for. She was supposed to be different, but she'd revealed that she was just like the others. A pretty face amongst the others in the crowd. Shaw leant in the doorway, for a moment not knowing what to do. He could approach her with an unspoken olive branch. He could just leave and avoid the confrontation.
Or, he could be a dick. Bingo.
"Wasn't expecting to see you here, princess." The one affectionate nickname was suddenly being spat like the vilest of curse words. "Haven't you got other peoples' time and money to waste? What are your two little lackeys going to do without any leadership?"
"I just wanted you to be the one good thing." The voice in his head screamed. "Why couldn't you have been real?"
He gingerly rubbed his injured hand. "Also, evening."
TAGS: @morningstar
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[div class=love]The kid had his uses. He turned a blind eye to the rampant property damage in their shared room, and his proclivity for hanging posters on the walls made for the perfect cover. Shaw reached up and tore one from the wall-- the corner stayed put, stuck to a lump of blu-tack. Fuck. It didn't matter. Chances were Stanford wouldn't notice, and even if he did, there weren't going to be any real consequences. Besides, a slightly ripped poster was a necessary evil: without it, there'd be a glaringly visible dent in the wall just above Shaw's desk.
With the damage patched, Shaw moved on to part two-- bandaging up his split knuckles. Sinking into the aftermath was surreal, and no matter how many times he ran through the process, he never got used to it. It was a time to reflect, to think about exactly why he'd let the red mist descend again, and to think 'fuck, my hand hurts'.
Five minutes later, the only visible evidence of Shaw's daily meltdown was the scrap of poster still stuck to the wall where the entirety had once been, and the tattered bandage wound haphazardly around his knuckles. He headed out of the room, leaving the trigger of his emotion on the bed: his phone, unlocked, with texts to his mother dating back to January un-replied to and unread.
Heading to the common room to use the vending machine seemed like a comforting plan until a gut-wrenching figure reminded him that he was not the only one who had turned down the chance to leave campus. There she was, minding her own business, acting like she had nothing to apologise for. She was supposed to be different, but she'd revealed that she was just like the others. A pretty face amongst the others in the crowd. Shaw leant in the doorway, for a moment not knowing what to do. He could approach her with an unspoken olive branch. He could just leave and avoid the confrontation.
Or, he could be a dick. Bingo.
"Wasn't expecting to see you here, princess." The one affectionate nickname was suddenly being spat like the vilest of curse words. "Haven't you got other peoples' time and money to waste? What are your two little lackeys going to do without any leadership?"
"I just wanted you to be the one good thing." The voice in his head screamed. "Why couldn't you have been real?"
He gingerly rubbed his injured hand. "Also, evening."
TAGS: @morningstar
and now someone is gonna pay
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pasta
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eclipsa
faerie sightings
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[div class=box][div class=boxscroll1][div class=boxscroll2]Logan's hand was tight around her drink. Jude was talking to some girl she'd never seen before, and frankly she was sick of it. He hadn't talked to her all day despite being the one who invited her to come down in the first place. Two could play at that game though.
She walked up to the first boy she found and grazed her fingers across his chest. "Wanna dance?" It was an obvious yes, and the two made their way to the designated dance spot. If her game wasn't obvious enough, the way she glared at Jude while grinding on the boy behind her would have made it such.
"--and Hawaii gets nicknamed the Aloha state, and Aloha means like, peace and kindness."
Jude was getting increasingly irritated by his conversation partner. She'd latched onto him what felt like a century ago, and had spent the last thirty minutes telling him everything she could remember (or fabricate) about the state of Hawaii, having been inspired by the boy's shirt. It was meant to be a bit of vacation irony, but instead it had trapped him in an endless cycle of babbling and high pitched giggling and literally anything he said.
"Huh. I always thought it was a greeting. You learn something new every--"
"--day! Oh my gosh, we have like, a connection."
The one benefit of the situation was that the girl was clinging onto his arm and rubbing herself all over him. Which had clearly caught Logan's attention. His eyes locked with hers from across the crowd and he raised an eyebrow, a silent comment on her dance partner. With the ghost of a smirk, unable to distinguish between his jealousy and his admiration of the girl, he shook his head.
"Really?" He mouthed silently.
The pout never left Logan's lips, it rarely did. RPF, resting pouty face, was her brand. She shrugged a little while still looking at Jude. Then she did a once over on the girl beside him. That was all she needed to say.
Her partner was getting handsy, and she didn't mind. In fact, she embraced it. Anything to get the boy across from her riled.
Now, the two of them would never admit that they were in love, but it was incredibly obvious even to the densest person in a room. Okay, maybe not Jude's arm candy. Logan, vicious little thing that she is, was beyond ready to launch into her attack. If it had been socially acceptable she would have ripped the girl's hair out. She had some issues, alright?
It wasn't like she was going to, though. It was just nice to think about. Instead, though, she turned to face her dance partner. The pout was replaced with a grin as she pulled him down to kiss him. Maybe it was early to play the big card, but she was tired of waiting around.
Although Jude wasn’t the type for confrontation — hell, the fact he’d been lying to his father for a year rather than coming clean about ditching college was evidence of that — there was only so much the boy could take. It was bittersweet, the way he and Logan could push one another to their limits, both good and bad.
Finally, after an eternity, he broke free of his ‘conversation’ with a murmured excuse. He stalked through the crowd, weaving between partygoers in various stages of sobriety, until he reached her.
“Alright, buddy, fun’s over. Get lost.” Jude’s usual laid back tone was gone, worn away by a mixture of facts about Hawaii and grinding jealousy. That, and the impatience he was feeling after watching Logan dance.
“I think the lady and I have some unfinished business.”
Logan pulled her head back, looking at Jude for a moment. Wiping her mouth she stepped back from the other male. "Also you use too much tongue it's kind of gross. Please keep that in mind for future partners."
Turning to the blonde, she raised an eyebrow. "You seem tense, maybe you need a drink." It was taunting, playing hard to get. The game was never going to end as far as she was concerned.
"I don't know about him being a dick but I do know it liked me." A laugh left her mouth. She stared up at him, admiration slipping through for a moment before her pout returned. "We could skip the drink ya know."
"You're a five-seven magnet, Logan, that's what's so frustrating." He shook his head, dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes, as his smile melted into one of agreement. "We can get it later."
"And here I thought you were a ten."
She walked up to the first boy she found and grazed her fingers across his chest. "Wanna dance?" It was an obvious yes, and the two made their way to the designated dance spot. If her game wasn't obvious enough, the way she glared at Jude while grinding on the boy behind her would have made it such.
"--and Hawaii gets nicknamed the Aloha state, and Aloha means like, peace and kindness."
Jude was getting increasingly irritated by his conversation partner. She'd latched onto him what felt like a century ago, and had spent the last thirty minutes telling him everything she could remember (or fabricate) about the state of Hawaii, having been inspired by the boy's shirt. It was meant to be a bit of vacation irony, but instead it had trapped him in an endless cycle of babbling and high pitched giggling and literally anything he said.
"Huh. I always thought it was a greeting. You learn something new every--"
"--day! Oh my gosh, we have like, a connection."
The one benefit of the situation was that the girl was clinging onto his arm and rubbing herself all over him. Which had clearly caught Logan's attention. His eyes locked with hers from across the crowd and he raised an eyebrow, a silent comment on her dance partner. With the ghost of a smirk, unable to distinguish between his jealousy and his admiration of the girl, he shook his head.
"Really?" He mouthed silently.
The pout never left Logan's lips, it rarely did. RPF, resting pouty face, was her brand. She shrugged a little while still looking at Jude. Then she did a once over on the girl beside him. That was all she needed to say.
Her partner was getting handsy, and she didn't mind. In fact, she embraced it. Anything to get the boy across from her riled.
Now, the two of them would never admit that they were in love, but it was incredibly obvious even to the densest person in a room. Okay, maybe not Jude's arm candy. Logan, vicious little thing that she is, was beyond ready to launch into her attack. If it had been socially acceptable she would have ripped the girl's hair out. She had some issues, alright?
It wasn't like she was going to, though. It was just nice to think about. Instead, though, she turned to face her dance partner. The pout was replaced with a grin as she pulled him down to kiss him. Maybe it was early to play the big card, but she was tired of waiting around.
Although Jude wasn’t the type for confrontation — hell, the fact he’d been lying to his father for a year rather than coming clean about ditching college was evidence of that — there was only so much the boy could take. It was bittersweet, the way he and Logan could push one another to their limits, both good and bad.
Finally, after an eternity, he broke free of his ‘conversation’ with a murmured excuse. He stalked through the crowd, weaving between partygoers in various stages of sobriety, until he reached her.
“Alright, buddy, fun’s over. Get lost.” Jude’s usual laid back tone was gone, worn away by a mixture of facts about Hawaii and grinding jealousy. That, and the impatience he was feeling after watching Logan dance.
“I think the lady and I have some unfinished business.”
Logan pulled her head back, looking at Jude for a moment. Wiping her mouth she stepped back from the other male. "Also you use too much tongue it's kind of gross. Please keep that in mind for future partners."
Turning to the blonde, she raised an eyebrow. "You seem tense, maybe you need a drink." It was taunting, playing hard to get. The game was never going to end as far as she was concerned.
"I don't know about him being a dick but I do know it liked me." A laugh left her mouth. She stared up at him, admiration slipping through for a moment before her pout returned. "We could skip the drink ya know."
"You're a five-seven magnet, Logan, that's what's so frustrating." He shook his head, dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes, as his smile melted into one of agreement. "We can get it later."
"And here I thought you were a ten."
logan
warnings: alcohol | song: x | ft. jude
koala
™
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[div class=square]triggers - Eating disorder, missed meals, weight issues
location - Common area
vibes - N/A
outfit - 01, white slip-on Vans
interactions - Shaw
teenage witch
, Georgia @morningstar
mentions - N/A[/div]
[div class=square]triggers - Eating disorder, missed meals, weight issues
location - Common area
vibes - N/A
outfit - 01, white slip-on Vans
interactions - Shaw
teenage witch
, Georgia @morningstarmentions - N/A[/div]
[div class=textwrap][div class=text][div class=header]adahlia "lia" wolff[/div]
"Again."
"Again."
"For Christ's sake, Adahlia. Why can't you do it right?"
The sound of lockers slamming filled her ears, but it wasn't enough to drown out everyone's whispering. She could feel their judgmental eyes looking down on her as she sat on the bench, untying her pointe shoes in a clumsy fashion. Her feet were hurting, but so was everything else. Adahlia had been practicing for hours every day which was much more than what her colleagues were doing. The woman was well aware that she was lacking in her role. For someone considered a skilled and well-controlled dancer, she just couldn't get into her role.
That's why I'm the understudy. She thought almost bitterly.
After showering and putting away her things, she tried her best to ignore everyone. It was obvious that no one was happy that she'd been chosen as the understudy by the prima ballerina and director. Most of them believed it was because of the money that Adahlia was born from. Her mother had become one of the top investors for the ballet company, so it was understandable why they would think that. In fact, a part of her even believed it too.
"Hey, Lia." Came a soft voice, like that of a mouse. "You okay?"
Adahlia was drying her hair on the bench and looking down when Wendy addressed her. She smiled. "Yeah, I've just been really tired lately but I guess that's not really an excuse, huh?" The woman tried to laugh at the end, but it was awkward and clearly forced.
Wendy smiled back. "We all have days like that. You'll get through it!" Before leaving, the brunette reached into her bag and pulled out a protein bar. "Here," she began as she handed it to Adahlia, "I saw you didn't eat dinner so you should have this until you get something better in your stomach."
The light blonde hesitantly took the protein bar before saying her thanks. She watched as Wendy made her way out before setting the bar on the bench. Once she was ready to leave, she picked it back up and stood in front of the trash can. Her hand hovered above it, as if she were contemplating on throwing it away. Adahlia didn't want to eat it. She didn't feel like eating at all. However, it would be rude to throw the bar away so she simply shoved it into her bag before leaving the company.
Thirty minutes later, she was trudging through the halls of her dorm. It was more silent than the night before exam week since everyone was out. Most had gone home but there were a few that had stayed behind. She never really spoke to anyone though since she was always at practice and the dorm itself was rather large. There were a couple of familiar faces, however, as she headed towards the common room. One welcoming. The other not so much.
She winced when she heard a familiar female voice shred throughout the common room. She blocked out most of it, but she knew it was probably well deserving considering who was being yelled at. Adahlia couldn't help but let out a sigh as she shook her head.
"I can't escape you, can I? What did you do this time?" Adahlia joked at Shaw, her German accent faint from her time in the U.S. A weak smile formed on her face as she found an empty spot next to Georgia. She offered the younger female a smile before setting her bag down and slowly taking her shoes off. The blonde tried her best to hide the pain from her feet, but even the least observant person could've seen the pain that flashed across her face.
She turned to the dark-haired female. "Are you okay?" Their relationship didn't really have a title. Perhaps they were consultants for each other. Perhaps they could've even been called friends. Adahlia only remembered their fateful encounters, usually when the other was down. They'd eventually found comfort in the presence of each other, even without having to say anything.[/div][/div]
"Again."
"Again."
"For Christ's sake, Adahlia. Why can't you do it right?"
The sound of lockers slamming filled her ears, but it wasn't enough to drown out everyone's whispering. She could feel their judgmental eyes looking down on her as she sat on the bench, untying her pointe shoes in a clumsy fashion. Her feet were hurting, but so was everything else. Adahlia had been practicing for hours every day which was much more than what her colleagues were doing. The woman was well aware that she was lacking in her role. For someone considered a skilled and well-controlled dancer, she just couldn't get into her role.
That's why I'm the understudy. She thought almost bitterly.
After showering and putting away her things, she tried her best to ignore everyone. It was obvious that no one was happy that she'd been chosen as the understudy by the prima ballerina and director. Most of them believed it was because of the money that Adahlia was born from. Her mother had become one of the top investors for the ballet company, so it was understandable why they would think that. In fact, a part of her even believed it too.
"Hey, Lia." Came a soft voice, like that of a mouse. "You okay?"
Adahlia was drying her hair on the bench and looking down when Wendy addressed her. She smiled. "Yeah, I've just been really tired lately but I guess that's not really an excuse, huh?" The woman tried to laugh at the end, but it was awkward and clearly forced.
Wendy smiled back. "We all have days like that. You'll get through it!" Before leaving, the brunette reached into her bag and pulled out a protein bar. "Here," she began as she handed it to Adahlia, "I saw you didn't eat dinner so you should have this until you get something better in your stomach."
The light blonde hesitantly took the protein bar before saying her thanks. She watched as Wendy made her way out before setting the bar on the bench. Once she was ready to leave, she picked it back up and stood in front of the trash can. Her hand hovered above it, as if she were contemplating on throwing it away. Adahlia didn't want to eat it. She didn't feel like eating at all. However, it would be rude to throw the bar away so she simply shoved it into her bag before leaving the company.
Thirty minutes later, she was trudging through the halls of her dorm. It was more silent than the night before exam week since everyone was out. Most had gone home but there were a few that had stayed behind. She never really spoke to anyone though since she was always at practice and the dorm itself was rather large. There were a couple of familiar faces, however, as she headed towards the common room. One welcoming. The other not so much.
She winced when she heard a familiar female voice shred throughout the common room. She blocked out most of it, but she knew it was probably well deserving considering who was being yelled at. Adahlia couldn't help but let out a sigh as she shook her head.
"I can't escape you, can I? What did you do this time?" Adahlia joked at Shaw, her German accent faint from her time in the U.S. A weak smile formed on her face as she found an empty spot next to Georgia. She offered the younger female a smile before setting her bag down and slowly taking her shoes off. The blonde tried her best to hide the pain from her feet, but even the least observant person could've seen the pain that flashed across her face.
She turned to the dark-haired female. "Are you okay?" Their relationship didn't really have a title. Perhaps they were consultants for each other. Perhaps they could've even been called friends. Adahlia only remembered their fateful encounters, usually when the other was down. They'd eventually found comfort in the presence of each other, even without having to say anything.[/div][/div]
Last edited:
the lotus eater
a plume of crimson smoke
roman
mood: constant state of anger location: party
with: alone, then tyson
❝ i hate you ❞
teenage witch
bitch
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sweetie pie, wanna be adored
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Sure, she was late to the party by a couple of days, but it was all worth it. Krissie had been back home visiting her father and his miraculous clinic to receive a top up on her lip fillers, a battery of backhanded compliments, and an appointment in the summer for liposuction. It hadn't really been a procedure she'd considered until her father had suggested it-- being away at school without his nutritional guidance had apparently taken it's toll. She hadn't noticed herself, but he'd always had a keen eye for detail and a way of persuading her to see things his way. So he'd booked her in, factoring in recovery time in preparation for their trip to England to visit family. He'd be proud of her then, she was sure of it.
Krissie was back in her element though, and her father wasn't there to pick at her. With that in mind, she rummaged around in her clutch bag to fish out her third lollipop of the day: sweets had always been her kryptonite, and since moving to college and gaining a taste of freedom, her habits had only increased. Her bra housed several wrapped peppermints. For her, really, but it was always a nice surprise for whoever she chose to devote a night to.
Speaking of...
Tapping the lollipop gently on her still-tender bottom lip, Krissie's kohl-outlined eyes scanned the crowd. He'd told her he'd be there, and she'd told him she'd see him if he was lucky. Unexpectedly, she'd turned up a day early-- did that mean he'd be occupied with somebody else? It wasn't like she had the right to be jealous, she knew that. It wasn't like she even had any feelings for him, that would be crazy. It was the principle. She couldn't be his, but he had to be hers. Because she didn't like him, not in the slightest, but it still felt like a punch in the stomach everytime she thought about him with someone else.
There.
After taking a moment to fluff her freshly toned hair, Krissie slipped through the crowd, now in pursuit of her favourite target. She had no idea where Logan was, but chances were she'd be busy, therefore there was no need to worry about her-- for once, she could be all his. If she wanted her.
He would. She'd just had her lips redone. Maybe the lipo would seal the deal.
"Happy holidays," Krissie purred, standing on her tiptoes to cover Nolan's eyes with her hands, carefully positioned so as not to tangle her lollipop in his hair. "Guess who?"
TAGS:
caramel
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[div class=love]Krissie was back in her element though, and her father wasn't there to pick at her. With that in mind, she rummaged around in her clutch bag to fish out her third lollipop of the day: sweets had always been her kryptonite, and since moving to college and gaining a taste of freedom, her habits had only increased. Her bra housed several wrapped peppermints. For her, really, but it was always a nice surprise for whoever she chose to devote a night to.
Speaking of...
Tapping the lollipop gently on her still-tender bottom lip, Krissie's kohl-outlined eyes scanned the crowd. He'd told her he'd be there, and she'd told him she'd see him if he was lucky. Unexpectedly, she'd turned up a day early-- did that mean he'd be occupied with somebody else? It wasn't like she had the right to be jealous, she knew that. It wasn't like she even had any feelings for him, that would be crazy. It was the principle. She couldn't be his, but he had to be hers. Because she didn't like him, not in the slightest, but it still felt like a punch in the stomach everytime she thought about him with someone else.
There.
After taking a moment to fluff her freshly toned hair, Krissie slipped through the crowd, now in pursuit of her favourite target. She had no idea where Logan was, but chances were she'd be busy, therefore there was no need to worry about her-- for once, she could be all his. If she wanted her.
He would. She'd just had her lips redone. Maybe the lipo would seal the deal.
"Happy holidays," Krissie purred, standing on her tiptoes to cover Nolan's eyes with her hands, carefully positioned so as not to tangle her lollipop in his hair. "Guess who?"
TAGS:
caramel
i'm the girl you'd die for
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the lotus eater
a plume of crimson smoke
Last edited:
eclipsa
faerie sightings
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[div class=box][div class=boxscroll1][div class=boxscroll2]Georgia's back stiffened when she heard the voice. Shaw. They had hooked up one time, but he was just convinced that she had wanted more. Spoiler: she didn't. She used him to get her mind off August.
Was that wrong? Yeah. Did she care? Absolutely not. "Stop fucking calling me princess." She turned to face him. "What do you want? Could I not just get my chips in peace?"
He stayed in the doorway. Pausing. Then, wedging his good hand into his pocket, he sauntered in a few steps to lean on the wall instead.
“I wanted a drink, actually. Contrary to popular belief, princess, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Shaw was being a dick and he knew it. It wasn’t that he liked it, it was just easier to act like he didn’t care what people thought of him, to act like he didn’t care about anyone or anything. Because other people didn’t care, so why should he?
His jaw clenched at the thought.
“And don’t curse at me. It’s not very becoming.”
It’s not ladylike. The statement stopped on the tip of his tongue when, in his head, an eerily familiar voice repeated it. Fucking hell, he sounded like him.
"I don't remember giving a fuck about your opinion of my speech." She had no idea why she was so angry suddenly but it was almost comforting. After being numb, anger was a welcomed reprieve. So she gave in, raising her voice. "Just leave me alone. I literally have zero interest in you."
“I don’t remember giving a fuck.” Shaw countered with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder. For once, the roles seemed reversed: Georgia, fired up, while he appeared comfortably detached.
Even though he was nothing of the sort.
A bitter laugh escaped him despite his desire to seem apathetic. “Trust me, princess. You made that perfectly clear.”
"Then leave, dipshit."
In what felt like an instant, he’d closed the distance between them. His injured hand was raised.
"Hit me. Bitch." Georgia's tone was sharp. She meant every word.
For a moment, time stood still. Their eyes bore into each other and it seemed inevitable he’d deliver the blow.
“Don’t.” Shaw warned, clawing through the thickening red curtain. His tone was edged with a beg. “Georgia.”
"You scared, bitch?"
The insinuation made his blood run cold. Then, as though a switch had been flicked, it boiled.
“I’m not fucking scared of fucking anything, you hear me? You hear me?”
"You seem fucking scared. Hit me. Bitch. You hear me?" She got in his face. "Hit. Me. Bitch." She was almost pleading at this point, and it would have scared her if she hadn't been so angry.
The second her face was close to his, the boundaries were pushed back, and he matched her energy. The snarling, the narrowed eyes, the sheer venom.
“You’re not worth my fucking time. Sound familiar?”
Georgia laughed. "Coward." She poured her drink on him, then. "That makes one of us."
Before he could reconsider, he lunged and shoved her. Hard. The couch broke her fall but the intent, the meaning behind the action, remained. He stood, breathing heavily, as the liquid seeped into his shirt.
“Don’t fucking ‘coward’ me.”
She would have gotten up to keep it going but a familiar blonde entered. Georgia's breathing was shaky as a wave of sadness engulfed her suddenly. She rose, glaring at Shaw before leaving, back to her dorm.
Was that wrong? Yeah. Did she care? Absolutely not. "Stop fucking calling me princess." She turned to face him. "What do you want? Could I not just get my chips in peace?"
He stayed in the doorway. Pausing. Then, wedging his good hand into his pocket, he sauntered in a few steps to lean on the wall instead.
“I wanted a drink, actually. Contrary to popular belief, princess, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Shaw was being a dick and he knew it. It wasn’t that he liked it, it was just easier to act like he didn’t care what people thought of him, to act like he didn’t care about anyone or anything. Because other people didn’t care, so why should he?
His jaw clenched at the thought.
“And don’t curse at me. It’s not very becoming.”
It’s not ladylike. The statement stopped on the tip of his tongue when, in his head, an eerily familiar voice repeated it. Fucking hell, he sounded like him.
"I don't remember giving a fuck about your opinion of my speech." She had no idea why she was so angry suddenly but it was almost comforting. After being numb, anger was a welcomed reprieve. So she gave in, raising her voice. "Just leave me alone. I literally have zero interest in you."
“I don’t remember giving a fuck.” Shaw countered with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder. For once, the roles seemed reversed: Georgia, fired up, while he appeared comfortably detached.
Even though he was nothing of the sort.
A bitter laugh escaped him despite his desire to seem apathetic. “Trust me, princess. You made that perfectly clear.”
"Then leave, dipshit."
In what felt like an instant, he’d closed the distance between them. His injured hand was raised.
"Hit me. Bitch." Georgia's tone was sharp. She meant every word.
For a moment, time stood still. Their eyes bore into each other and it seemed inevitable he’d deliver the blow.
“Don’t.” Shaw warned, clawing through the thickening red curtain. His tone was edged with a beg. “Georgia.”
"You scared, bitch?"
The insinuation made his blood run cold. Then, as though a switch had been flicked, it boiled.
“I’m not fucking scared of fucking anything, you hear me? You hear me?”
"You seem fucking scared. Hit me. Bitch. You hear me?" She got in his face. "Hit. Me. Bitch." She was almost pleading at this point, and it would have scared her if she hadn't been so angry.
The second her face was close to his, the boundaries were pushed back, and he matched her energy. The snarling, the narrowed eyes, the sheer venom.
“You’re not worth my fucking time. Sound familiar?”
Georgia laughed. "Coward." She poured her drink on him, then. "That makes one of us."
Before he could reconsider, he lunged and shoved her. Hard. The couch broke her fall but the intent, the meaning behind the action, remained. He stood, breathing heavily, as the liquid seeped into his shirt.
“Don’t fucking ‘coward’ me.”
She would have gotten up to keep it going but a familiar blonde entered. Georgia's breathing was shaky as a wave of sadness engulfed her suddenly. She rose, glaring at Shaw before leaving, back to her dorm.
georgia
caramel
spmo!
codedbycrucialstar | pastebin: x
teenage witch
bitch
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sweet dreams are made of this
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As it so happened, there was a big difference between a regular strawberry daiquiri and a virgin strawberry daiquiri. When she'd initially ordered, Cecelia had become overwhelmed by the childish notion that if she said the word virgin at the bar, she'd be laughed out of the club. So she hadn't. She'd avoided that fictitious humiliation, but she feared she was well on her way to a very real kind: when she'd finally stood up from her stool, she had realised that she was very, very, drunk.
It wasn't like she was falling on the floor, but she was teetering around in her heels. Because the problem was, Cecelia didn't drink, not often. Even at parties, she was the one in the bathroom holding some poor nameless girl's hair by night, and then tending to a very hungover Jude (and sometimes, now, Logan) in the morning. Who could deny the pull of spring break, though? It was a chance to let her hair down. Speaking of hair, in her quest to go wild, she'd finally dyed it from platinum blonde to bright red. It'd been a few days now, but she could still remember her reflection staring back at her in the bathroom mirror, grinning in triumph. Fair blonde hair was a genetic signature of the Harlow family.
Cecelia didn't want to be tied to most of them.
"Fuck youuu, daddy!" She giggled and raised her glass to her lips as she sidestepped past a couple. Suddenly, a pair of arms slipped around her waist and she glanced over her shoulder to see an unfamiliar face wearing an expression of mocking hurt. "You are not my daddy."
"I could be, baby. Why don't you give it a try?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but we've reached our full volume of applications and will not be accepting any further at this time."
With that, she unwound herself from the boy with a delicate laugh and disappeared into the crowd, ignoring the 'prude' that was spat after her. Cecelia shrugged it off, it was nothing she hadn't heard before. It wasn't like being a virgin actually made her any less than anyone else. Besides, she was always too busy, or too sober, or too scared. Not scared. Just busy. Between rehearsals and class and working out and volunteering, she didn't have time to mess around. That was the line she gave, at least.
It might've been the daiquiri talking, but Cece did want to have fun. Not necessarily that kind of fun, but fun all the same. The only problem was, she'd lost Jude, probably for the rest of the vacation, and she didn't have a huge amount of friends to speak of. There were people she liked, of course, and she got along with almost everyone. It was just that she saw everyone with their other halves, or in some cases, other quarters, and realised she didn't have that. No best friend to speak of. She was friendly with her roommate, but even Zara had other people she'd turn to first. So Cecelia was on the hunt for her first best friend, some fun, and maybe a hookup. No, a kiss. A light handhold, maybe.
If there was a way to get all of those things in one shiny package, it would have been perfect.
"Oliver! Hey, Ollie, is that you?" Her thoughts were interrupted as someone she actually recognised brushed past. They'd met before, hung out after a gig or two of his. He was nice. She liked him. Occasionally, he and his sister's band practised at Jude's house, and occasionally, she managed to be there to catch him. "How come you're on your own too? Are you enjoying spring break?"
Does my voice always sound like that?
TAGS: @morningstar
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[div class=love]It wasn't like she was falling on the floor, but she was teetering around in her heels. Because the problem was, Cecelia didn't drink, not often. Even at parties, she was the one in the bathroom holding some poor nameless girl's hair by night, and then tending to a very hungover Jude (and sometimes, now, Logan) in the morning. Who could deny the pull of spring break, though? It was a chance to let her hair down. Speaking of hair, in her quest to go wild, she'd finally dyed it from platinum blonde to bright red. It'd been a few days now, but she could still remember her reflection staring back at her in the bathroom mirror, grinning in triumph. Fair blonde hair was a genetic signature of the Harlow family.
Cecelia didn't want to be tied to most of them.
"Fuck youuu, daddy!" She giggled and raised her glass to her lips as she sidestepped past a couple. Suddenly, a pair of arms slipped around her waist and she glanced over her shoulder to see an unfamiliar face wearing an expression of mocking hurt. "You are not my daddy."
"I could be, baby. Why don't you give it a try?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but we've reached our full volume of applications and will not be accepting any further at this time."
With that, she unwound herself from the boy with a delicate laugh and disappeared into the crowd, ignoring the 'prude' that was spat after her. Cecelia shrugged it off, it was nothing she hadn't heard before. It wasn't like being a virgin actually made her any less than anyone else. Besides, she was always too busy, or too sober, or too scared. Not scared. Just busy. Between rehearsals and class and working out and volunteering, she didn't have time to mess around. That was the line she gave, at least.
It might've been the daiquiri talking, but Cece did want to have fun. Not necessarily that kind of fun, but fun all the same. The only problem was, she'd lost Jude, probably for the rest of the vacation, and she didn't have a huge amount of friends to speak of. There were people she liked, of course, and she got along with almost everyone. It was just that she saw everyone with their other halves, or in some cases, other quarters, and realised she didn't have that. No best friend to speak of. She was friendly with her roommate, but even Zara had other people she'd turn to first. So Cecelia was on the hunt for her first best friend, some fun, and maybe a hookup. No, a kiss. A light handhold, maybe.
If there was a way to get all of those things in one shiny package, it would have been perfect.
"Oliver! Hey, Ollie, is that you?" Her thoughts were interrupted as someone she actually recognised brushed past. They'd met before, hung out after a gig or two of his. He was nice. She liked him. Occasionally, he and his sister's band practised at Jude's house, and occasionally, she managed to be there to catch him. "How come you're on your own too? Are you enjoying spring break?"
Does my voice always sound like that?
TAGS: @morningstar
who am i to disagree?
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sweetie pie, wanna be adored
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"You were supposed to be overcome with panic and confusion." Krissie pouted, while secretly being pleased by his instant recognition of her perfume and lotion medley. As he drew the lollipop from her mouth, her eyebrow curved upwards in a mixed expression of surprise and provocation.
The offered joint was plucked from Nolan's fingers in a flash and Krissie took her first toke, regarding her not-boyfriend and her lollipop as the haze of smoke clouded between them. "This isn't a fair trade, you know. Weed may be worth more than sugar, but that has my saliva on it, which makes it priceless." She was being petty, but that was the nature of the game, and the teasing smile playing about her freshly glossed lips told Nolan all he needed to know. Krissie was in a good, confident (and thanks to the joint, which she was now taking her fourth drag from, suggestible) mood.
"You think I'm pretty?"
Was her first thought, and she was immediately embarrassed she'd blurted it out. Flushed, she paused to take one last hit to compose herself before standing up on her tiptoes to slip the roach back between Nolan's lips. Krissie then rolled her eyes and busied herself with adjusting her dress, a black faux-leather number that she would have to literally peel off of herself later on. Or, if he played his cards right, Nolan could struggle with it instead-- she hadn't quite decided. But he'd told her she was pretty, even if it was embedded within a taunt, and that was a point in his favour. That, and he looked ridiculously good. Not that she'd tell him that.
"Bold of you to assume I missed you. Maybe I'm just coming over to see if you have any..." Krissie trailed off and furrowed her brow. She smoked, and made up the odd line of coke in the bathroom, but that was where her drug knowledge ended, as what came out of her mouth next betrayed. "Ecstasy. Wait, no, that's not what you're meant to say. Um, beans. E. Disco Biscuits?"
Accepting defeat, though not willing to verbalise it just yet, Krissie folded her arms defensively under her bust and her pout returned. "Well, you missed me too. So much so that you're even using my papers. I left half a tub of lotion at your place, is that gone, too?"
It was difficult to tell whether Krissie was referencing Nolan's comment on her vanilla scent, or making a crude joke. Maybe it was both. In all honesty, she wasn't sure herself. Although there was something bizarrely cute about him missing her so much that he'd use her lotion to--
"Wanna hang out?"
TAGS:
caramel
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[div class=love]The offered joint was plucked from Nolan's fingers in a flash and Krissie took her first toke, regarding her not-boyfriend and her lollipop as the haze of smoke clouded between them. "This isn't a fair trade, you know. Weed may be worth more than sugar, but that has my saliva on it, which makes it priceless." She was being petty, but that was the nature of the game, and the teasing smile playing about her freshly glossed lips told Nolan all he needed to know. Krissie was in a good, confident (and thanks to the joint, which she was now taking her fourth drag from, suggestible) mood.
"You think I'm pretty?"
Was her first thought, and she was immediately embarrassed she'd blurted it out. Flushed, she paused to take one last hit to compose herself before standing up on her tiptoes to slip the roach back between Nolan's lips. Krissie then rolled her eyes and busied herself with adjusting her dress, a black faux-leather number that she would have to literally peel off of herself later on. Or, if he played his cards right, Nolan could struggle with it instead-- she hadn't quite decided. But he'd told her she was pretty, even if it was embedded within a taunt, and that was a point in his favour. That, and he looked ridiculously good. Not that she'd tell him that.
"Bold of you to assume I missed you. Maybe I'm just coming over to see if you have any..." Krissie trailed off and furrowed her brow. She smoked, and made up the odd line of coke in the bathroom, but that was where her drug knowledge ended, as what came out of her mouth next betrayed. "Ecstasy. Wait, no, that's not what you're meant to say. Um, beans. E. Disco Biscuits?"
Accepting defeat, though not willing to verbalise it just yet, Krissie folded her arms defensively under her bust and her pout returned. "Well, you missed me too. So much so that you're even using my papers. I left half a tub of lotion at your place, is that gone, too?"
It was difficult to tell whether Krissie was referencing Nolan's comment on her vanilla scent, or making a crude joke. Maybe it was both. In all honesty, she wasn't sure herself. Although there was something bizarrely cute about him missing her so much that he'd use her lotion to--
"Wanna hang out?"
TAGS:
caramel
i'm the girl you'd die for
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starboy.
nihilist blues.
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[div class=name]CJ.[/div]
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[div class=tag]location[/div] dorm room.
[div class=tag]interacts[/div] n/a.
[div class=tag]tags[/div] n/a.
[div class=tag]warnings[/div] mentions of past abuse.
[div class=tag]mood[/div] tired&sad. [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=right] [div class=scroll] CJ was used to being alone.
Or, well, as alone a guy could get going to college and living in student dorms. He had his roommate, sure, but he was gone for spring break, so for all intents and purposes, CJ was alone. Spring break was normally the time of the year that he'd scrape together what money he could afford to spend and go for a small trip, but this year — it didn't seem that that was the case.
CJ's hours at the coffee shop weren't enough this time around, so he was stuck here. Not like anyone would miss him, truthfully. Marzuki, his roommate, the guy that CJ was absolutely not in love with, thank you very much, seemed to have packed up and left for spring break without too much of a goodbye, which was fine. Honestly.
It wasn't like he was too worried about the guy's whereabouts anyways. At least, that's what CJ tried to convince himself. At least with him alone, he could sleep all day, and let the dishes pile up in the sink without being chided to do them, and have breakdowns in peace and not worry if his roommate could hear him crying through their super fucking thin walls. Seriously, what the hell was up with these walls?
It wasn't really much to be thinking about at the moment anyways, when he had the day off and he had been spending it holed up in his room, playing his guitar and cursing the fact that contacts were too hard to put in. His eyes kept looking at his phone, as if he was really expecting his phone to light up any second. He knew that he wouldn't be getting the reply he wanted, though.
CJ was losing his mind. It probably wasn't good for him, staying cooped up in his room, anyways. But, again. Used to being alone. If he texted Marzuki, would that seem pushy? Maybe. CJ really wasn't one to push anyways, despite all the wanting. It made him feel half crazy, at times, how bad he wanted it. Wanted too many things. Staring at his reflection in the mirror though, he could see why he never really got what he wanted.
He was spending way too much time thinking. Maybe a walk would do him some good, and he decided to act on that by putting his glasses back on his face, go to his room and hopefully change into a shirt that didn't smell, put his shoes on, and go the fuck outside. He shut the door behind him after making sure he had his keys, before letting out a shaky breath. Wanting too much won't be good for you, boy. You'll bite off more than you can chew and then you'll fuckin' choke. Yeah, great. Thanks, dad, for that lovely piece of advice.
"Fucker." CJ muttered under his breath, before walking down the hall, past the common room, trying to avoid the slight commotion coming from there that brought back too much — "He didn't do anything wrong, dad!" Hazel was saying, as if her words could stop the bright red handprint on CJ's face from forming. "Well, if he didn't do anything wrong, then why am I getting calls from school? Huh, Hazel? Your brother's getting a taste of his own medicine, you hear me?" — and almost walking a bit faster. Fresh air. He just needed some goddamn fresh air.
The door to outside almost seemed too far away, but his fingers curled around the handle and he pretty much shoved it open, making his way over to the bench that he always smoked at. God. He hoped he had his cigs. A reach inside his pocket found that his prayers had been somewhat answered for a minute, and he dug a little further for his lighter, sticking the cigarette between his lips and lighting up, hearing his phone vibrate against his thigh as he took a drag.
His eyebrows raised a little bit when he saw Marzuki's contact name pop up, but he could only wonder what the guy wanted. He was supposed to be gone on spring break, so what was he doing texting CJ? Not that he was complaining. [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
[div class=tag]interacts[/div] n/a.
[div class=tag]tags[/div] n/a.
[div class=tag]warnings[/div] mentions of past abuse.
[div class=tag]mood[/div] tired&sad. [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=right] [div class=scroll] CJ was used to being alone.
Or, well, as alone a guy could get going to college and living in student dorms. He had his roommate, sure, but he was gone for spring break, so for all intents and purposes, CJ was alone. Spring break was normally the time of the year that he'd scrape together what money he could afford to spend and go for a small trip, but this year — it didn't seem that that was the case.
CJ's hours at the coffee shop weren't enough this time around, so he was stuck here. Not like anyone would miss him, truthfully. Marzuki, his roommate, the guy that CJ was absolutely not in love with, thank you very much, seemed to have packed up and left for spring break without too much of a goodbye, which was fine. Honestly.
It wasn't like he was too worried about the guy's whereabouts anyways. At least, that's what CJ tried to convince himself. At least with him alone, he could sleep all day, and let the dishes pile up in the sink without being chided to do them, and have breakdowns in peace and not worry if his roommate could hear him crying through their super fucking thin walls. Seriously, what the hell was up with these walls?
It wasn't really much to be thinking about at the moment anyways, when he had the day off and he had been spending it holed up in his room, playing his guitar and cursing the fact that contacts were too hard to put in. His eyes kept looking at his phone, as if he was really expecting his phone to light up any second. He knew that he wouldn't be getting the reply he wanted, though.
CJ was losing his mind. It probably wasn't good for him, staying cooped up in his room, anyways. But, again. Used to being alone. If he texted Marzuki, would that seem pushy? Maybe. CJ really wasn't one to push anyways, despite all the wanting. It made him feel half crazy, at times, how bad he wanted it. Wanted too many things. Staring at his reflection in the mirror though, he could see why he never really got what he wanted.
He was spending way too much time thinking. Maybe a walk would do him some good, and he decided to act on that by putting his glasses back on his face, go to his room and hopefully change into a shirt that didn't smell, put his shoes on, and go the fuck outside. He shut the door behind him after making sure he had his keys, before letting out a shaky breath. Wanting too much won't be good for you, boy. You'll bite off more than you can chew and then you'll fuckin' choke. Yeah, great. Thanks, dad, for that lovely piece of advice.
"Fucker." CJ muttered under his breath, before walking down the hall, past the common room, trying to avoid the slight commotion coming from there that brought back too much — "He didn't do anything wrong, dad!" Hazel was saying, as if her words could stop the bright red handprint on CJ's face from forming. "Well, if he didn't do anything wrong, then why am I getting calls from school? Huh, Hazel? Your brother's getting a taste of his own medicine, you hear me?" — and almost walking a bit faster. Fresh air. He just needed some goddamn fresh air.
The door to outside almost seemed too far away, but his fingers curled around the handle and he pretty much shoved it open, making his way over to the bench that he always smoked at. God. He hoped he had his cigs. A reach inside his pocket found that his prayers had been somewhat answered for a minute, and he dug a little further for his lighter, sticking the cigarette between his lips and lighting up, hearing his phone vibrate against his thigh as he took a drag.
His eyebrows raised a little bit when he saw Marzuki's contact name pop up, but he could only wonder what the guy wanted. He was supposed to be gone on spring break, so what was he doing texting CJ? Not that he was complaining. [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
coded by shady.
adored
little nokia
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[div class=header][div class=tab][div class=title]AUGUST DE LEON ![/div][div class=first][div class=circle].[/div][/div][/div][/div]
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tags: @morningstar [/div][div class=basich]PHONE ![/DIV][div class=basicinfo2]Mom
Missed Call[/div] [/DIV][/DIV] [div class="tabsContent tabsContent1" style="display: none;"][div class=background]
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12:00
Friday, March 12
[div class=basich]NOTIFICATION ![/DIV][div class=basicinfo]warnings: none location: hallway
tags: @morningstar [/div][div class=basich]PHONE ![/DIV][div class=basicinfo2]Mom
Missed Call[/div] [/DIV][/DIV] [div class="tabsContent tabsContent1" style="display: none;"][div class=background]
Sometimes, August found no comfort in the night and in those days, the moon offered little solace. It failed to erase the lingering voices in his mind that whispered ‘what could’ve been’ and ‘what ifs' that kept him awake at night, wondering.
These days often came when he no longer had anything to distract himself from his own mind, and with Spring Break here, he became susceptible to this. When offered to come down to Florida, August rejected the idea, believing a bit of alone time would do him some good; bad idea. Additionally, his parents seemed to be weary of August’s commitment to completing College, and seeing their son in tabloids partying down in Florida would do nothing to appease them, so he stayed put at the dorms.
Truthfully, August missed the noise. It was far too quiet anywhere, and kind of eerie to walk around by his lonesome. He could no longer hear the booming voices from other students in the halls, the constant chatter amongst the campus or the impending footsteps behind him that belonged to a freshman that feared for their attendance. Though he was bound to claim he missed the peace and quiet, once everyone returned and campus life returned to normal.
Awakening to the constant vibration of his phone, it shouldn’t be that loud yet the vibrations almost feel like earthquakes. Startling him out of slumber, his heart rapidly beats in his chest to the point it’s all he can hear, until the adrenaline subsides and all that’s left is silence. Taking a deep breath, August checks his phone to see he only missed a phone call from his mother. He’d call her later, maybe after he got some food in his system.
Rising from his bed, August made quick preparations to his appearance before heading out the door in search for something to sate his growing hunger — he only hoped they fully stocked the vending machines. Nearing the common room, August heard a commotion from inside, causing him to quicken his pace. Whatever’s happening, please just leave the vending machine out of it, just this once. Those cinnamon buns are my livelihood. He silently pleaded to himself, yet when he entered the room he was greeted with the image of Shaw seemingly soaked in some liquid, and the one ballerina girl that August failed to remember the name of.
In his haze of confusion, and sheer bewilderment, August failed to recognize the person that passed by him until he turned to look at their retreating figure. Georgia? Time almost seems to slow as he stood glued to his spot, before he’s darting after her. Carefully, he ghosts his fingers over her wrist, encircling it as he brings them to a halt. Standing in front of her, he’s speechless. It’s been awhile since he’s seen her, only seeing ghosts of her figure turning the corner until he realizes it’s someone else, until now.
She stands in front of him, donning the same shirt he offered to her when she came to his room that night; breath reeking of alcohol, and her face holding a sense of sadness August couldn’t decipher as he held her in his arms. He thought maybe there was a chance for them, yet when he awoke she was gone with his heart in the palm of her hands.
“Georgia, where have you been?” Concern laced in his voice, her name sounds odd coming from his lips. She wasn’t Georgia – no, she was his angel; the light that guided him when the world grew dark, and the fire he sought for on the coldest nights.
[/DIV][/DIV]
These days often came when he no longer had anything to distract himself from his own mind, and with Spring Break here, he became susceptible to this. When offered to come down to Florida, August rejected the idea, believing a bit of alone time would do him some good; bad idea. Additionally, his parents seemed to be weary of August’s commitment to completing College, and seeing their son in tabloids partying down in Florida would do nothing to appease them, so he stayed put at the dorms.
Truthfully, August missed the noise. It was far too quiet anywhere, and kind of eerie to walk around by his lonesome. He could no longer hear the booming voices from other students in the halls, the constant chatter amongst the campus or the impending footsteps behind him that belonged to a freshman that feared for their attendance. Though he was bound to claim he missed the peace and quiet, once everyone returned and campus life returned to normal.
Awakening to the constant vibration of his phone, it shouldn’t be that loud yet the vibrations almost feel like earthquakes. Startling him out of slumber, his heart rapidly beats in his chest to the point it’s all he can hear, until the adrenaline subsides and all that’s left is silence. Taking a deep breath, August checks his phone to see he only missed a phone call from his mother. He’d call her later, maybe after he got some food in his system.
Rising from his bed, August made quick preparations to his appearance before heading out the door in search for something to sate his growing hunger — he only hoped they fully stocked the vending machines. Nearing the common room, August heard a commotion from inside, causing him to quicken his pace. Whatever’s happening, please just leave the vending machine out of it, just this once. Those cinnamon buns are my livelihood. He silently pleaded to himself, yet when he entered the room he was greeted with the image of Shaw seemingly soaked in some liquid, and the one ballerina girl that August failed to remember the name of.
In his haze of confusion, and sheer bewilderment, August failed to recognize the person that passed by him until he turned to look at their retreating figure. Georgia? Time almost seems to slow as he stood glued to his spot, before he’s darting after her. Carefully, he ghosts his fingers over her wrist, encircling it as he brings them to a halt. Standing in front of her, he’s speechless. It’s been awhile since he’s seen her, only seeing ghosts of her figure turning the corner until he realizes it’s someone else, until now.
She stands in front of him, donning the same shirt he offered to her when she came to his room that night; breath reeking of alcohol, and her face holding a sense of sadness August couldn’t decipher as he held her in his arms. He thought maybe there was a chance for them, yet when he awoke she was gone with his heart in the palm of her hands.
“Georgia, where have you been?” Concern laced in his voice, her name sounds odd coming from his lips. She wasn’t Georgia – no, she was his angel; the light that guided him when the world grew dark, and the fire he sought for on the coldest nights.
dreambot
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eclipsa
faerie sightings
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[div class=box][div class=boxscroll1][div class=boxscroll2]Oliver had never really been a fan of parties, per se, but they could be fun. Normally he only attended them if the band was playing a gig. This time he didn't even know where his band mates were. His sister had disappeared shortly after arriving, no doubt with Jude. The others? Who knew!
He played some games for awhile, beat some ass at beer pong. The number of times the word dude had left his mouth was off the charts, dude.
Then he decided maybe he'd just head to the beach. That sounded a whole lot more fun than the rager he was currently at. Then he saw a flash of red hair and heard a semi familiar voice. Though, it sounded a little different.
It sounded tipsy.
"Cecelia! Hey! You changed your hair, dude." He reached for it slowly, with a brow raised as if to ask for consent. His fingers twirled it for a second. "It looks really good dude I almost didn't recognize you."
He noticed she wasn't exactly steady on her heels, which was a little alarming because he once watched her run in full Disney Princess costume without a second of hesitation. "Have you been drinking? I didn't know you drank. Dude let's go sit down somewhere before you fall, yeah?"
He played some games for awhile, beat some ass at beer pong. The number of times the word dude had left his mouth was off the charts, dude.
Then he decided maybe he'd just head to the beach. That sounded a whole lot more fun than the rager he was currently at. Then he saw a flash of red hair and heard a semi familiar voice. Though, it sounded a little different.
It sounded tipsy.
"Cecelia! Hey! You changed your hair, dude." He reached for it slowly, with a brow raised as if to ask for consent. His fingers twirled it for a second. "It looks really good dude I almost didn't recognize you."
He noticed she wasn't exactly steady on her heels, which was a little alarming because he once watched her run in full Disney Princess costume without a second of hesitation. "Have you been drinking? I didn't know you drank. Dude let's go sit down somewhere before you fall, yeah?"
oliver
warnings: alcohol | song: x
teenage witch
bitch
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sweet dreams are made of this
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When Oliver complimented her hair, Cecelia beamed: the change had all been part of the epic saga of her relationship with her father, but Oliver's approval was the cherry on top. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the feeling of his fingers in her hair before she pulled herself back to the conversation, still smiling brightly in the coloured lights of the club.
"I have. I don't normally. Well that's a lie, I have like, champagne on New Year's Even and wine on Christmas and I like those little liqueur chocolates. Also rum-raisin ice cream, but I don't think that has actual alcohol in it." She was babbling, but in the moment, she couldn't tell. Only when she stopped for a breath and caught the look of confusion on his face did she reconsider, and suddenly, the embarrassment hit. Maybe she was making a fool of herself. Or maybe he was offended that she hadn't offered him a drink yet. With that thought in mind, she raised her glass, ignoring the sip that sloshed over the side and trickled down her hand. "Do you want a daiquiri? They're actually the best. Tastes like candy."
Boys liked girls who partied. Cece had been told that before, mostly by prettier and more popular girls who condescendingly called her sweetie and whispered about her lack of experience behind manicured hands. She'd been told it by guys too, but mostly after she'd let them down gently. Boys didn't like girls who were no fun, they didn't like boring girls like her, and she was lucky that they'd even offered. There was nothing interesting about musical theatre or volunteering, nobody wanted to hear about class or be told a funny story about a little girl who'd argued with her over the authenticity of her tiara. So it was a good thing she'd put on a brand new dress, the smallest she'd ever owned, and had a few drinks before running into Oliver.
Because she could pretend to be the kind of girl that people liked.
"We can sit, sure! I'm not gonna fall, though. But can I hold onto your arm? The lights make me kinda dizzy."
She didn't wait for a reply before she latched on and led him to a mercifully more quiet spot. The music still pumped and the lights flashed, but even so, a few sofas in the corner were the closest you could get to peace, overly-affectionate couples aside. Cece dropped down onto the one spare sofa and threw her head back.
"This is so crazy. I'm glad I ran into you, though, I've been wandering around on my own forever."
TAGS: @morningstar
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[div class=love]"I have. I don't normally. Well that's a lie, I have like, champagne on New Year's Even and wine on Christmas and I like those little liqueur chocolates. Also rum-raisin ice cream, but I don't think that has actual alcohol in it." She was babbling, but in the moment, she couldn't tell. Only when she stopped for a breath and caught the look of confusion on his face did she reconsider, and suddenly, the embarrassment hit. Maybe she was making a fool of herself. Or maybe he was offended that she hadn't offered him a drink yet. With that thought in mind, she raised her glass, ignoring the sip that sloshed over the side and trickled down her hand. "Do you want a daiquiri? They're actually the best. Tastes like candy."
Boys liked girls who partied. Cece had been told that before, mostly by prettier and more popular girls who condescendingly called her sweetie and whispered about her lack of experience behind manicured hands. She'd been told it by guys too, but mostly after she'd let them down gently. Boys didn't like girls who were no fun, they didn't like boring girls like her, and she was lucky that they'd even offered. There was nothing interesting about musical theatre or volunteering, nobody wanted to hear about class or be told a funny story about a little girl who'd argued with her over the authenticity of her tiara. So it was a good thing she'd put on a brand new dress, the smallest she'd ever owned, and had a few drinks before running into Oliver.
Because she could pretend to be the kind of girl that people liked.
"We can sit, sure! I'm not gonna fall, though. But can I hold onto your arm? The lights make me kinda dizzy."
She didn't wait for a reply before she latched on and led him to a mercifully more quiet spot. The music still pumped and the lights flashed, but even so, a few sofas in the corner were the closest you could get to peace, overly-affectionate couples aside. Cece dropped down onto the one spare sofa and threw her head back.
"This is so crazy. I'm glad I ran into you, though, I've been wandering around on my own forever."
TAGS: @morningstar
who am i to disagree?
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erised
𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧
coded by nymphadora. ©
Last edited by a moderator:
teenage witch
bitch
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pasta
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there's something in your way
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Shaw watched Georgia leave with a mixture of burning resentment, lingering rage, and creeping regret. He hadn't actually intended to blow up like that, it'd just... happened. Like it always did. For a moment that felt like a lifetime, he stood there, hands shaking, before his brain finally registered the sound of a second female voice.
"What didn't I do?" Shaw joked, weakly. Ashamed, he turned to busy himself with the vending machine, but caught Adahlia's reflection in the glass. It wasn't his business. With a clatter, a bottle of water fell from it's perch and he retrieved it.
He moved to leave, but stopped himself and finally looked back at the blonde. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically tentative, almost as though he was afraid she would blow up at him.
"You know, uh. I've got first aid kits and stuff. Paracetemol. Or I can get an icepack..."
Adahlia looked up. Her expression was unreadable for a second, but he saw her shoulders relax as her small smile got a little brighter. "Ointment and a couple band aids would be nice if you have them." She paused, as if unsure how she felt about their somehow decent conversation. "The ice pack too, if that's okay..."
"Of course." Shaw smiled.
Fast forward ten minutes and he was back, laden with supplies. Despite it being common knowledge that Shaw often injured himself and therefore had experience with personal first-aid, he seemed oddly used to tending to somebody else.
"I brought you a jacket, too. You don't have to wear it, but I thought you might be cold. I don't know." He felt stupid and was afraid it shows.
The blonde took the jacket from his hand gingerly, gaze stopping on his hands. A look of concern flickered across her face, but she didn't say anything as she laid it across her bare thighs. She stretched out her legs so Shaw could see her feet. They were as pretty as ballerina's feet could be, but she'd worn they out so much from vicious practice lately that they were red and bruised. Normally, she'd never let someone get so close to her, but the exhaustion from practice must've forced her wall down. Adahlia had tried not to wince as Shaw tended to her. In fact, she managed to smile even though it looked like a puckered, wrinkled mess. It eased the awkward silence that filled the air between the two. That was until...
"Can I ask you something?"
He didn't reply immediately, apparently busy dabbing the ointment onto her skin. Only when he paused to unwrap the third bandaid did he glance up. "Sure."
"Why are you so angry all the time?"
He only chuckled in response.
The bandage on one of Shaw's hands came loose slightly, but Adahlia was quick to catch it. She tightened the cloth around his hand, fixing it so it wouldn't fall apart. Before removing her hand from the top of his, however, she asked another question. "Don't you get tired of all the rage?"
The look in her eyes changed, as if she realized she may have crossed a line. "Sorry," she apologized while retracting her hand.
When she touched his hand, Shaw's head snapped up immediately: the touch had startled him, but it was more the tenderness than the action itself. It was foreign, and he didn't know how he was supposed to react. In the moment of silence that followed, it seemed that he was going to snap. Then...
"I don't know." Shaw lied. A tirade of memories flashed inside his mind, and the truth slipped to the tip of his tongue. Something about the softness in Lia's eyes made him want to tell her. He'd carried it all for so long. He'd let people think he was cruel just for the hell of it. "I don't know." He repeated, enforcing the lie both for himself, and for Lia.
But it wasn't enough of an answer, and he owed her one. He couldn’t tell her everything, because she probably wouldn't want to hear it, and he didn't want to put it into words because that made it real, and that made it something he had to face. And what if it wasn't a good enough excuse? What if, after all these years, it turned out he was being pathetic?
Regardless, he threw her a bone. "I guess it's just... I don't see the point in being nice, in caring. About other people and what they think of me. Because nobody gives a fuck about me anyway, so..."
She didn't seem content from the answer, but that was to be expected. Instead of asking any more questions and pushing the topic further, Adahlia only sighed. "Life sucks," she began as she carefully slipped her feet back into her shoes, "but I don't think that's true."
Adahlia got up from her seat and picked up her bag. She turned to leave, but stopped. "There's at least one person that cares." She said softly before her voice picked up as she started walking away. "Don't forget to send me your part of the assignment. It may be spring break, but I'm not going to let you slack off like last semester."
“I’ll get it to you soon, promise.”
Then she was gone, leaving Shaw with the remnants of his first-aid supplies, and his thoughts. What she’d said only hit him after she’d left the room.
Had she meant..? Did she?
Shaw collected up whatever was left on the floor and headed back to his room with one concept ricocheting around his mind: maybe, he really had found a good thing this time.
TAGS:
koala
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[div class=love]"What didn't I do?" Shaw joked, weakly. Ashamed, he turned to busy himself with the vending machine, but caught Adahlia's reflection in the glass. It wasn't his business. With a clatter, a bottle of water fell from it's perch and he retrieved it.
He moved to leave, but stopped himself and finally looked back at the blonde. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically tentative, almost as though he was afraid she would blow up at him.
"You know, uh. I've got first aid kits and stuff. Paracetemol. Or I can get an icepack..."
Adahlia looked up. Her expression was unreadable for a second, but he saw her shoulders relax as her small smile got a little brighter. "Ointment and a couple band aids would be nice if you have them." She paused, as if unsure how she felt about their somehow decent conversation. "The ice pack too, if that's okay..."
"Of course." Shaw smiled.
Fast forward ten minutes and he was back, laden with supplies. Despite it being common knowledge that Shaw often injured himself and therefore had experience with personal first-aid, he seemed oddly used to tending to somebody else.
"I brought you a jacket, too. You don't have to wear it, but I thought you might be cold. I don't know." He felt stupid and was afraid it shows.
The blonde took the jacket from his hand gingerly, gaze stopping on his hands. A look of concern flickered across her face, but she didn't say anything as she laid it across her bare thighs. She stretched out her legs so Shaw could see her feet. They were as pretty as ballerina's feet could be, but she'd worn they out so much from vicious practice lately that they were red and bruised. Normally, she'd never let someone get so close to her, but the exhaustion from practice must've forced her wall down. Adahlia had tried not to wince as Shaw tended to her. In fact, she managed to smile even though it looked like a puckered, wrinkled mess. It eased the awkward silence that filled the air between the two. That was until...
"Can I ask you something?"
He didn't reply immediately, apparently busy dabbing the ointment onto her skin. Only when he paused to unwrap the third bandaid did he glance up. "Sure."
"Why are you so angry all the time?"
He only chuckled in response.
The bandage on one of Shaw's hands came loose slightly, but Adahlia was quick to catch it. She tightened the cloth around his hand, fixing it so it wouldn't fall apart. Before removing her hand from the top of his, however, she asked another question. "Don't you get tired of all the rage?"
The look in her eyes changed, as if she realized she may have crossed a line. "Sorry," she apologized while retracting her hand.
When she touched his hand, Shaw's head snapped up immediately: the touch had startled him, but it was more the tenderness than the action itself. It was foreign, and he didn't know how he was supposed to react. In the moment of silence that followed, it seemed that he was going to snap. Then...
"I don't know." Shaw lied. A tirade of memories flashed inside his mind, and the truth slipped to the tip of his tongue. Something about the softness in Lia's eyes made him want to tell her. He'd carried it all for so long. He'd let people think he was cruel just for the hell of it. "I don't know." He repeated, enforcing the lie both for himself, and for Lia.
But it wasn't enough of an answer, and he owed her one. He couldn’t tell her everything, because she probably wouldn't want to hear it, and he didn't want to put it into words because that made it real, and that made it something he had to face. And what if it wasn't a good enough excuse? What if, after all these years, it turned out he was being pathetic?
Regardless, he threw her a bone. "I guess it's just... I don't see the point in being nice, in caring. About other people and what they think of me. Because nobody gives a fuck about me anyway, so..."
She didn't seem content from the answer, but that was to be expected. Instead of asking any more questions and pushing the topic further, Adahlia only sighed. "Life sucks," she began as she carefully slipped her feet back into her shoes, "but I don't think that's true."
Adahlia got up from her seat and picked up her bag. She turned to leave, but stopped. "There's at least one person that cares." She said softly before her voice picked up as she started walking away. "Don't forget to send me your part of the assignment. It may be spring break, but I'm not going to let you slack off like last semester."
“I’ll get it to you soon, promise.”
Then she was gone, leaving Shaw with the remnants of his first-aid supplies, and his thoughts. What she’d said only hit him after she’d left the room.
Had she meant..? Did she?
Shaw collected up whatever was left on the floor and headed back to his room with one concept ricocheting around his mind: maybe, he really had found a good thing this time.
TAGS:
koala
and now someone is gonna pay
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pasta
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teenage witch
bitch
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caught beneath the landslide
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Jude laughed and leaned down to plant a boldly affectionate kiss on the top of Logan's brunette head.
"That was actually a reference to you being five-foot-seven, but I like yours better. Jesus, I can't believe you're that smooth." He shook his head in a pantomime of disbelief and led her through the crowd, one hand on the small of her back, the other loosely holding one of hers. It felt good, to walk around with her at his side and have everybody assume they were an item. It would've been perfect if they were, but she was ridiculously elusive in that department: still, he could settle for consistent hookup, a friendship, and sweet little moments like these.
Though he'd been about to take Logan somewhere private and show her exactly what he thought of her little display earlier, Jude was struck by a better idea. Where was the fun in getting things done quickly and discretely, when he could hold her attention and everybody else's? So, with a grin, he gave her hand a tug and spun her to face him.
"Dance with me, babe. For a bit."
There was something incredibly surreal about parties, and it was a feeling that Jude was perpetually chasing. The way the music pumped straight through him as he wound his body to the beat, the way the crowd made the temperature spike, the way he was overcome with a feeling of invincibility.
The way the lights caught Logan's eyes and made them glitter as she laughed.
Nothing else mattered in that moment. He pulled her closer to him as they danced and crashed his lips to hers for a brief but passionate kiss, and when he pulled back, smiling, his laid his forehead against hers. It hit him, then, that there was no drug that gave him the same high that Logan did.
And, unfortunately, there was no drug more addictive.
TAGS: @morningstar
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[div class=love]"That was actually a reference to you being five-foot-seven, but I like yours better. Jesus, I can't believe you're that smooth." He shook his head in a pantomime of disbelief and led her through the crowd, one hand on the small of her back, the other loosely holding one of hers. It felt good, to walk around with her at his side and have everybody assume they were an item. It would've been perfect if they were, but she was ridiculously elusive in that department: still, he could settle for consistent hookup, a friendship, and sweet little moments like these.
Though he'd been about to take Logan somewhere private and show her exactly what he thought of her little display earlier, Jude was struck by a better idea. Where was the fun in getting things done quickly and discretely, when he could hold her attention and everybody else's? So, with a grin, he gave her hand a tug and spun her to face him.
"Dance with me, babe. For a bit."
There was something incredibly surreal about parties, and it was a feeling that Jude was perpetually chasing. The way the music pumped straight through him as he wound his body to the beat, the way the crowd made the temperature spike, the way he was overcome with a feeling of invincibility.
The way the lights caught Logan's eyes and made them glitter as she laughed.
Nothing else mattered in that moment. He pulled her closer to him as they danced and crashed his lips to hers for a brief but passionate kiss, and when he pulled back, smiling, his laid his forehead against hers. It hit him, then, that there was no drug that gave him the same high that Logan did.
And, unfortunately, there was no drug more addictive.
TAGS: @morningstar
in a champagne supernova in the sky
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the lotus eater
a plume of crimson smoke
perlino
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[/div][div class="background2"]MARZUKI ROBERTS[/div][/div]
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When the club’s booming sound system settled into a forceful pulse throughout his body, Marzuki felt like a beating heart.
The heat rolling off in lazy, liquored-up waves stung his eyes as he wove through the tangling throng of people twisting under flashing lights. He tapped on shoulders and slid past with a polite nod, yet cut through couples swirling around in-and-out of sync with a flat expression. The heady smell of nightclub fever was sinking into the wrinkles of his clothes, and he could feel a light sheen of sweat veiling his face as it reflected a spectrum of neon colors. Clubbing was never his scene, even if outrageous fashion and black nail polish were the staples of his rebellious youth.
By the time he wound his way through the living labyrinth of dancers into the bar area, he was rewarded with a band of sweat on his forehead and his shirt sticking to his back. Everything about this place, from the heady scents to the drumming sounds, drained him. If this is what he went to for a distraction, then damn. He was knee-deep in it.
He swept his gaze over the patrons, searching for his friend’s familiar bleach-blonde hair done up in a tight ponytail. Instead, against his better judgment, his eyes stopped on the nape of a red-haired man’s neck. For a moment, he flirts with the thought of approaching him. Then a hand grips his shoulder, turning him around.
“Hey! Marzuki! I was just looking for you! You wanna dance?” Sophie shouted each sentence, but the club swallowed up each word until he could only hear small bites. Marzuki shakes his head, the beads of sweat cool on his skin.
“Getting a breather,” he mouths more than he says. Her expression goes slack, swapping a multitude of colors in a half-second. He sighs, jamming a thumb towards the direction of the door. Her face lights up, but she rolls her eyes at him. “Come on, Marz, have some fun. All you’ve been doing is moping about him- and don’t tell me you aren’t because you definitely are. Like, Jesus- if you want him so bad, why don’t you have him come over here with us? C’mon!”
It’s Marzuki’s turn to roll his eyes. Before Sophie can get another word in, he’s already gone.
--
As far as alleyways behind nightclubs go, this one's not half bad. He settles for a set of cement stairs behind a closed down business, out of earshot of the mind-numbing music but close enough to hear the bustle of traffic crawl past the entrance. While the cars honk and sirens call in the distance, he closes his eyes and thinks about being awake at night. He thinks about being sprawled across his bed, listening to the late-night commuters as CJ snores across the hall. He think about the soft footsteps of CJ sneaking into the kitchen for a late night or watching Kill Bill on the lowest volume because he thinks Marzuki can't hear. God, he thinks about CJ and he feels his heart ache. He's alone with his thoughts, and without guidance, they always return to the boy who has the sweetest smile Marzuki has ever seen. Shit. Before his longing can get the better of him, he decides to pop in his earphones. Numb the feeling with chaotic music at a deafening volume.
little angelfuck,
i see you going down on a fireplug
little angelfuck, sighs for everyone
It's a winter night. One of the coldest since the season started. He's wearing three layers of long-sleeve shirts, huddled against his bedroom wall with a book in his lap, rereading the same page over and over again. Maybe he should've seen this coming. He should've left the moment he wised up. He's stupid, he realizes, to think that it would change just because his feelings did. Outside his closed door, he can hear a whispered conversation. It's hushed, the type for two people only. A familiar laugh cuts through the air, then melts into a sigh. Marzuki's eyes widen. He snaps the book shut and stands up and grabs his keys off the nightstand. It's only when he's rushing down the stairs later that he feels his heart ache for the first time.
let those bastards believe
dry your thighs in relief
seems there's nothing new anymore
"No- listen to me! Listen to me, CJ! I don't fucking want another one of your one-night stands here again!" "Goddamnit, I'm not trying police your lifestyle, It's just not fucking safe for you- or for me." "You want to put yourself in harm's way so some asshole uses you any way he wants? Is that what you fucking want? Fine, fine! See if I fucking care, Callahan. See. If. I. Fucking. Care."
For the second time tonight, Marzuki tempts a dangerous idea. He opens CJ's text messages, thoughtlessly scrolling through the impersonal conversations of the past week. His better judgement is telling him to go back, maybe find that imposter again and drink until he's the real deal. But. He misses him. He misses him a lot. And so he starts typing. hey. so hru? i'm sorry about what happened last time. i didn't mean what i said. i just worry about you so much. you're on my mind all the time. i miss you so much. i love you so much. He stares at the last sentence, rereading it over and over again until the meaning dissolves into nothingness. His thumb hovers over the backspace. i love you so much. He holds down on the backspace until it reads: hey. so hru?
He hits send, and tilts his head back.
triggers: n.s.f.w. mention lol | mentions: wife | music: x | outfit: just walked off the set of the godfather
The heat rolling off in lazy, liquored-up waves stung his eyes as he wove through the tangling throng of people twisting under flashing lights. He tapped on shoulders and slid past with a polite nod, yet cut through couples swirling around in-and-out of sync with a flat expression. The heady smell of nightclub fever was sinking into the wrinkles of his clothes, and he could feel a light sheen of sweat veiling his face as it reflected a spectrum of neon colors. Clubbing was never his scene, even if outrageous fashion and black nail polish were the staples of his rebellious youth.
By the time he wound his way through the living labyrinth of dancers into the bar area, he was rewarded with a band of sweat on his forehead and his shirt sticking to his back. Everything about this place, from the heady scents to the drumming sounds, drained him. If this is what he went to for a distraction, then damn. He was knee-deep in it.
He swept his gaze over the patrons, searching for his friend’s familiar bleach-blonde hair done up in a tight ponytail. Instead, against his better judgment, his eyes stopped on the nape of a red-haired man’s neck. For a moment, he flirts with the thought of approaching him. Then a hand grips his shoulder, turning him around.
“Hey! Marzuki! I was just looking for you! You wanna dance?” Sophie shouted each sentence, but the club swallowed up each word until he could only hear small bites. Marzuki shakes his head, the beads of sweat cool on his skin.
“Getting a breather,” he mouths more than he says. Her expression goes slack, swapping a multitude of colors in a half-second. He sighs, jamming a thumb towards the direction of the door. Her face lights up, but she rolls her eyes at him. “Come on, Marz, have some fun. All you’ve been doing is moping about him- and don’t tell me you aren’t because you definitely are. Like, Jesus- if you want him so bad, why don’t you have him come over here with us? C’mon!”
It’s Marzuki’s turn to roll his eyes. Before Sophie can get another word in, he’s already gone.
--
As far as alleyways behind nightclubs go, this one's not half bad. He settles for a set of cement stairs behind a closed down business, out of earshot of the mind-numbing music but close enough to hear the bustle of traffic crawl past the entrance. While the cars honk and sirens call in the distance, he closes his eyes and thinks about being awake at night. He thinks about being sprawled across his bed, listening to the late-night commuters as CJ snores across the hall. He think about the soft footsteps of CJ sneaking into the kitchen for a late night or watching Kill Bill on the lowest volume because he thinks Marzuki can't hear. God, he thinks about CJ and he feels his heart ache. He's alone with his thoughts, and without guidance, they always return to the boy who has the sweetest smile Marzuki has ever seen. Shit. Before his longing can get the better of him, he decides to pop in his earphones. Numb the feeling with chaotic music at a deafening volume.
little angelfuck,
i see you going down on a fireplug
little angelfuck, sighs for everyone
It's a winter night. One of the coldest since the season started. He's wearing three layers of long-sleeve shirts, huddled against his bedroom wall with a book in his lap, rereading the same page over and over again. Maybe he should've seen this coming. He should've left the moment he wised up. He's stupid, he realizes, to think that it would change just because his feelings did. Outside his closed door, he can hear a whispered conversation. It's hushed, the type for two people only. A familiar laugh cuts through the air, then melts into a sigh. Marzuki's eyes widen. He snaps the book shut and stands up and grabs his keys off the nightstand. It's only when he's rushing down the stairs later that he feels his heart ache for the first time.
let those bastards believe
dry your thighs in relief
seems there's nothing new anymore
"No- listen to me! Listen to me, CJ! I don't fucking want another one of your one-night stands here again!" "Goddamnit, I'm not trying police your lifestyle, It's just not fucking safe for you- or for me." "You want to put yourself in harm's way so some asshole uses you any way he wants? Is that what you fucking want? Fine, fine! See if I fucking care, Callahan. See. If. I. Fucking. Care."
For the second time tonight, Marzuki tempts a dangerous idea. He opens CJ's text messages, thoughtlessly scrolling through the impersonal conversations of the past week. His better judgement is telling him to go back, maybe find that imposter again and drink until he's the real deal. But. He misses him. He misses him a lot. And so he starts typing. hey. so hru? i'm sorry about what happened last time. i didn't mean what i said. i just worry about you so much. you're on my mind all the time. i miss you so much. i love you so much. He stares at the last sentence, rereading it over and over again until the meaning dissolves into nothingness. His thumb hovers over the backspace. i love you so much. He holds down on the backspace until it reads: hey. so hru?
He hits send, and tilts his head back.
triggers: n.s.f.w. mention lol | mentions: wife | music: x | outfit: just walked off the set of the godfather
code // southside.
teenage witch
bitch
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[div class=credit]code by pasta
tw: homophobia [/div][/div][/div]
'cause i feel like i'm the worst
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"I'm uncultured."
The party had actually been going pretty well in Heath's opinion, but there was always going to be one person who had to act like a dick. For no reason. Indifferent, Heath glanced up from his phone (where, admittedly, he'd been typing a text laced with flirtation to his roommate-- more on that later) and pursed his lips as he regarded his opponent. Greasy hair, a shitty tattoo of Chinese characters that likely didn't mean what he thought they did, and a ridiculously cocky grin.
"Not that it's your business, but this hickey right here came from some blonde girl with a fantastic ass, mouth breather. So run along." That part wasn't a lie, her name was some kind of flower -- Daisy? -- and he'd spent the previous night with her. Heath had been open about his sexuality for years, but this didn't seem the best time to make a statement: this kid was drunk, and apparently had something to prove. With a roll of his eyes, he dug around in his pocket to find a stick of gum to unwrap.
Unfortunately, the kid -- probably a Tyler, or a Kyle -- didn't take the cue to leave.
"Well you look like a f*g to me."
"And you look like you leave women dissatisfied and waiting for the results of their chlamydia test, but I wasn't gonna say anything, because I can mind my own business. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Without so much as a spare glance for the guy, Heath slipped nimbly past him and disappeared into the crowd with a toss of his head. Growing up as the most popular kid -- not a brag, it was just true -- in school had it's perks when it came to preparing one for later life: after years of having the ground he walked on worshipped, Heath had something of a god complex that made him confident.
On the outside at least.
"I'll get a gin and tonic please, sweetie. Diet, if you have it." He ordered with a wink as he hopped up onto a vacant stool at the bar. While a pretty girl with colourful dyed hair set about mixing his drink, Heath pulled out his phone to finish the text that had been so crudely interrupted.
break totally sucks, ur not missing much
After hitting send, he took a moment to consider. Then, before he could think better of it, he hastily typed a risky follow up.
apart from me lol
With the texts sent, Heath set his phone face-down on the bar to enjoy his drink in peace. It wasn't like Reagan was anything more than a roommate, friend at a push, but since he'd left their dorm for the break, he'd found himself missing him. There was something about him that brightened up college life for Heath: he was so much nicer than he himself was. That was probably it. It also helped that he was cute as a button.
No reply yet, but it'd only been a few minutes. Still, Heath had been partying all day and was yet to have any fun. So what was one more text?
thinking of u, we shld grab coffee when im back
That was enough. No more. Another drink, and then the dancefloor, where he couldn't embarrass himself by being clingy.
TAGS/MENTIONS:
erised
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[div class=love]The party had actually been going pretty well in Heath's opinion, but there was always going to be one person who had to act like a dick. For no reason. Indifferent, Heath glanced up from his phone (where, admittedly, he'd been typing a text laced with flirtation to his roommate-- more on that later) and pursed his lips as he regarded his opponent. Greasy hair, a shitty tattoo of Chinese characters that likely didn't mean what he thought they did, and a ridiculously cocky grin.
"Not that it's your business, but this hickey right here came from some blonde girl with a fantastic ass, mouth breather. So run along." That part wasn't a lie, her name was some kind of flower -- Daisy? -- and he'd spent the previous night with her. Heath had been open about his sexuality for years, but this didn't seem the best time to make a statement: this kid was drunk, and apparently had something to prove. With a roll of his eyes, he dug around in his pocket to find a stick of gum to unwrap.
Unfortunately, the kid -- probably a Tyler, or a Kyle -- didn't take the cue to leave.
"Well you look like a f*g to me."
"And you look like you leave women dissatisfied and waiting for the results of their chlamydia test, but I wasn't gonna say anything, because I can mind my own business. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Without so much as a spare glance for the guy, Heath slipped nimbly past him and disappeared into the crowd with a toss of his head. Growing up as the most popular kid -- not a brag, it was just true -- in school had it's perks when it came to preparing one for later life: after years of having the ground he walked on worshipped, Heath had something of a god complex that made him confident.
On the outside at least.
"I'll get a gin and tonic please, sweetie. Diet, if you have it." He ordered with a wink as he hopped up onto a vacant stool at the bar. While a pretty girl with colourful dyed hair set about mixing his drink, Heath pulled out his phone to finish the text that had been so crudely interrupted.
break totally sucks, ur not missing much
After hitting send, he took a moment to consider. Then, before he could think better of it, he hastily typed a risky follow up.
apart from me lol
With the texts sent, Heath set his phone face-down on the bar to enjoy his drink in peace. It wasn't like Reagan was anything more than a roommate, friend at a push, but since he'd left their dorm for the break, he'd found himself missing him. There was something about him that brightened up college life for Heath: he was so much nicer than he himself was. That was probably it. It also helped that he was cute as a button.
No reply yet, but it'd only been a few minutes. Still, Heath had been partying all day and was yet to have any fun. So what was one more text?
thinking of u, we shld grab coffee when im back
That was enough. No more. Another drink, and then the dancefloor, where he couldn't embarrass himself by being clingy.
TAGS/MENTIONS:
erised
so i always act like i'm the best
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[div class=mood]tw: homophobia [/div][/div][/div]
the lotus eater
a plume of crimson smoke
erised
𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧
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[div class="container"][div class="containercont"][div class="chapterpic"][/div] [div class="scroll"][div class="scrollbox"][div class="title"]BLAIR[/div][div class="text"]All Blair wanted to do right now was get fucked up. What a surprise. Drink until he was blackout and just forget about everything. The past week had been rough, by his standards anyways, and he figured he could use a night to let loose, maybe go home with someone. Who knows.
He killed time by writing the music (guitar chords and tabs) for the song his band had just written. After break, they'd get into the studio and track vocals, then the music and then mix it all together before mastering the final version. But right now, he had a party to get to. He sent the chords he'd just written to Roman and then hopped into the shower.
By the time he finished getting ready, it was nearing ten at night and he knew the party wasn't set to start for another hour or so. Good. It gave him plenty of time to pre-game. And pre-game Blair did. He drank at least half a handle of vodka by himself, all while hitting a dab pen. Safe to say that by the time he arrived to the party, he was pretty close to blacking out completely. When inside, Blair made a beeline for the bar and ordered a Jack and Coke. The second it was in his hand, he chugged half of it and walked to the dance floor.
Pushing through the throngs of people, he finally made it to the middle. He didn't know why but he'd always preferred to dance in the middle of the crowd. Maybe it was because during the shows his band played, he noticed that the people located more in the middle always seemed to be more into it than the people towards the outside. Whatever. He knew dancing would be a little difficult due to the drink in his hand but he'd try his best.
He quickly lost track of time and quickly lost track of the amount of people he'd danced with. It didn't really matter to him though. He was just having a good time and that was all that mattered. Blair had just started dancing on this guy who had dark hair when he decided he wanted another hit from the pen. So, he pulled the dab pen from his pocket and took a hit or two before turning his head slightly and surprisingly, offered it up to the guy. "Wanna hit it?"
where: party
interacting with: june (well, kind of. he's the guy blair is dancing on)
tags:
koala
[/div][/div][/div] [/div][/div]
[div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]
He killed time by writing the music (guitar chords and tabs) for the song his band had just written. After break, they'd get into the studio and track vocals, then the music and then mix it all together before mastering the final version. But right now, he had a party to get to. He sent the chords he'd just written to Roman and then hopped into the shower.
By the time he finished getting ready, it was nearing ten at night and he knew the party wasn't set to start for another hour or so. Good. It gave him plenty of time to pre-game. And pre-game Blair did. He drank at least half a handle of vodka by himself, all while hitting a dab pen. Safe to say that by the time he arrived to the party, he was pretty close to blacking out completely. When inside, Blair made a beeline for the bar and ordered a Jack and Coke. The second it was in his hand, he chugged half of it and walked to the dance floor.
Pushing through the throngs of people, he finally made it to the middle. He didn't know why but he'd always preferred to dance in the middle of the crowd. Maybe it was because during the shows his band played, he noticed that the people located more in the middle always seemed to be more into it than the people towards the outside. Whatever. He knew dancing would be a little difficult due to the drink in his hand but he'd try his best.
He quickly lost track of time and quickly lost track of the amount of people he'd danced with. It didn't really matter to him though. He was just having a good time and that was all that mattered. Blair had just started dancing on this guy who had dark hair when he decided he wanted another hit from the pen. So, he pulled the dab pen from his pocket and took a hit or two before turning his head slightly and surprisingly, offered it up to the guy. "Wanna hit it?"
where: party
interacting with: june (well, kind of. he's the guy blair is dancing on)
tags:
koala
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[div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]
