Realistic or Modern hollywood arts: main (open!!)

[natsukashii]

Hunter Drake

Before the past few minutes, Hunter honestly didn’t know Remi past that one single interaction they had on Twitter, but the longer he spent talking to him, the more it became obvious to him that maybe they weren’t so different after all. And maybe that Hunter wasn’t such a bad guy either.

Or maybe he was just lost in whatever bullshit thoughts came from being Nickie Abrams’ ex.

God, that was something that still burned. Sure, Remi was right: they were awesome. He had swagger that Hunter didn’t and held a calm coolness that just oozed. But maybe it was due to him being removed from the toxic poison that Nickie put out into the world. If she could make him love him, make him turn his back on his only friends, only to spit all of that in his face because of one thing that was done when he wasn’t his proudest self, then maybe she wasn’t worth all of this effort.

He thought about that. And he thought about it some more. He really made an asshole out of himself when he confronted Ash. She was nothing but a friend to him. Fuck, she was the sister I think I wished I had.

And yet Hunter fucked that up because he was angry with how she treated Nickie. He thought about it and how he wished he could take it all back. Remi’s comments about refocusing his energy on something else and moving forward sounded all nice, but Hunter didn’t know if he was in that mindset yet. He had so many wrongs he had to right from the recent past. Like making things right with Ash. He started to with Amy and how he had been silent during her thing with Dei, but that wasn’t enough.

But fuck it if he wasn’t still so goddamn angry.

“I don’t know man…” Hunter spoke after a few prolonged moments of silence. His hands were in his pockets and his head pointed down, looking at his shoes. “There’s nothing more annoying than being so into someone only for them to drop you like a baked potato because things got a little steamy.”

And there he was back to being filled with red anger.

With everything still fresh, it felt like it was impossible for him to let go of it so soon. And as much as he wanted to continue to shit on Nickie to someone who understood exactly what she was capable of, it seemed almost pointless because he had said what he wanted to and now there was a bit of a crossroads in this conversation that Hunter didn’t know what to do with.

“But anyway, what ya doing here anyway? Don’t you have a performance soon or anything?” Hunter asked, laughing at himself as if he didn’t have his own coming up soon-ish. “As for me, I’m sort of here to support someone close to me. Not sure when she’s gonna go on, though, so I might be here a while.” He laughed again.

mood
Chatty

location
Arts Fest

outfit
Ready to kill it

playing...
The Bitter Taste

by Hunter Drake​

mentions
Nickie, Amy, Ash

interactions
Remi

tags
AkuTheWolfOkami

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

kellian phelan

When she was focused on something, Kelli tended to, uh, well, really space out and forget everything happening around her. Like this one time, when she tried to make an omelette and put the egg in the frying pan on the stove but got distracted by an ad on the page with the recipe because it was this girl getting her eye tattooed.

In her defense, that was crazy, right?! People seriously did that! Insane. She kinda wanted to do it, too, but her favorite color was pink, and…pink eye was a disease, so maybe not.

Anyway, she totally zoned out — completely, entirely zoned out — until she smelled the eggs burning. Her parents’d had a three-strikes-you’re-out system when it came to permissions she was given. The egg incident happened to be strike number eight because, uh, well, she kind of just tried to cook the omelette when no one was home. She threw the omelette out of the window…and in her panic, it slipped her mind that the windowsill beneath the window had some of her mom’s herbs on it, and then the planters got knocked over, and there was burnt omelette on it, and by the time everyone got home, she was sniffling over the bodies of the plants and trying to spray air freshener to clear up the lingering, revolting scent of burnt egg…so yeah, she got in major, major trouble, was grounded from her phone a whole month, and had pretty much sworn off all cooking except for cooking in the microwave.

She still managed to screw up royally with the microwave a few times, too, but it was much better than her stovetop and oven disasters.

Anyway, the point was that Kelli was completely focused on the portrait of someone who at least bore a striking resemblance to her, if they weren’t her. Her lips parted slightly, her brows lowering. She squinted, turning her head this way and that way to look at it from slightly different angles. She was completely entranced by the drawing — so much so that she didn’t realize that someone had come up beside her until they spoke.

“Yeah, it is.”

Kelli blinked a couple of times, slowly un-zoning out, and, wearing a curious expression, she looked up see a boy to her side who wore an almost eager look on his face. He looked familiar — dark brown hair, kind eyes, tall (comparatively, at least), and, uh, she thought he was junior, maybe? — but she couldn’t really place a name. She smiled at him politely and looked back at the portrait, having not really registered his words. Her eyes trailed back to the picture, wondering what the heck it was that he’d said.

And then, she realized what he’d said.

Her inquisitive expression dropped into a stunned one. She had to do a double-take to make sure he was serious, and then she looked between the portrait and the taller boy as her heart jumped. Her jaw slowly sunk as she looked back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, her eyes widening and widening until she finally anchored her expression on the portrait for a second. After a moment, she jerked her head over at him. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and her jaw was nearly on the floor. “Woah, really?!” Her voice was so loud that it echoed throughout the exhibit, and she put a hand over her mouth. She dropped her hand after a second, and she blinked at him, the floored expression still frozen on her face, but it slowly dawned on her that he was being dead serious.

Dead freaking serious — bro!

She’d been a freaking —

Dude! Dude, dude, no way, someone’d drawn her, no freaking way!

NO.

FREAKING.

WAY!

And she was in their exhibit!

The bewilderment written in her eyes shifted to being amazement and honor, and the O of her lips pulled into a D. “Duuuude…dudeee…duuudeeee…!” She couldn’t even get words out.

“Yours is a bit more abstract,” he said, smiling. “Going for a more whimsical vibe felt like the thing to do, and the vibe i got from you was very…” He tapped his chin. “…pink clouds. And lots of light. Like some Cupid-heaven dimension, I guess?”

She listened in incredulous silence, a flattered smile spreading across her face. Her heart drummed happily in her chest. “Cupid-heaven dimension…,” she repeated in little more than a breath, nodding along. Now, she wondered who the artist was — she had to tell them how freaking amazing this was. Her eyes danced around the portraits, looking for the signature with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, I’m the one who drew all these, by the way.”

Her eyes widened again. “Huh?” She looked at the art, and then back at him, her face growing more incredulous as the seconds passed and he carried on his explanation. By the time he’d finished, she still couldn’t help from looking between the art and him and the art and him. Her jaw had sunken again, and her eyes had a sort of dreamlike quality to them.

She was in the PRESENCE of THE artist.

NO.

FREAKING.

WAY.

Dude.

Dude, okay, hear her out.

Here was her theory: somehow, someway, she’d stumbled into some kind of freaking alternate reality just before Halloween, and now she was literally — literally — living in a dream. Seriously, there was no other way that this could all be possible, right? She felt like she was in a frigging movie — I mean, meeting all of these celebrities, performing onstage with Jo with her best go at that performance yet, and being drawn by a literal modern day Michaelwhatevertheheckhisnamewas — but with less naked guys on the ceilings and more just, like — like, woooow.

(Her eyes were practically cartoon stars.)

Proudly, the boy looked at the portraits. “Who do you think gave me your description?” he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Do you think they know you pretty well? Unless it’s my fault and I captured your image totally inaccurately.” She looked at the portrait once more, and then looked back to his face as he chuckled. “Either way, I won’t be offended. All perspectives are valuable to the project!”

“No, no, no, you’re — it’s —…dude!” Kelli couldn’t find her words. Calm, calm, calm — if she freaked out, he’d think she was…she didn’t know, but, uh, weird or bad or something. It was another situation like she’d had with Naomi and the freaking actual Clairmonts — she had to contain herself. Drawing in a deep breath in a weak attempt to suppress the excited drumming in her chest, Kelli found herself unable to keep her smile from stretching ear-to-ear and her eyes from darting between the boy’s face and the portraits. “This is, like, one of the dopest things I’ve ever seen, man!” she laughed finally. “I’m dead serious.”

She looked at the pictures, and her expression became one of dreamlike wonder. “I mean…I mean, dude…dude, you made — you made all of these? You seriously drew them all? …woah…I…” She gestured to the display, and then looked at him with a bright disbelief. “There are so many, man…and they’re all…they’re all so — so gorgeous. Like…like, I didn’t think — I mean, I’m not really super into art, but this is art that I’m like…I’m like, woah, this is some…this is beyond art. This is like…next level. You know...woaaaah. Just — dude! Like, woah, man!” She gawked breathlessly at the portrait of herself for a second, then she realized —

You’re being kinda weird.

She giggled, shaking her head self-consciously, and she felt herself blush slightly. She looked over at the boy, smiling. “Sorry, I, uh…I just seriously can’t get words out. I mean, this is seriously one of the dopest things I’ve ever seen in my life…like…wooooah….” She trailed off thoughtfully again, her eyes trailing back to the display. “I never would have ever thought about the — the cloud things! That’s such a dope idea, man…and you think I give those vibes…? It’s freaking gorgeous! Like…so…freaking pretty. I love it. I love it, I love it, — I love all of them." Her voice had the slight hum of nervousness and self-consciousness, as it always tended to, though her star-struck flatteredness was definitely in there, too. "These belong in a freaking museum." She gave him a glance and a soft laugh. "I'm being dead serious — you know, uh, legit I feel like I should pay you just to see this whole display," she half-kidded.

Because seriously, did he want five bucks? Because she'd pay him five bucks. Twenty? He was really out here doing this for free — even if it was for a grade, that was a crime.

She went quiet for a moment, her eyes once again trailing back to star at the beautiful portrait of herself.

Wow…really, it was her, but, like, ten-thousand-trillion times better. The clouds, the colors...

Okay, whoever let her live this dream, please let her live in this a little bit longer, just so she could look at this.

After she stared a moment, her mind trailed back to his very first question. Her nose scrunched in thought for a moment, her eyes narrowing, and she put a finger on her chin in thought. “Okay, hmm…,” she began, “I dunno who described me but…maybe Ronnie Crosby?” She spared a glance at the boy, assessing his reaction. “She’s my roommate,” she explained, “and she’s my best friend…” But huh, he didn’t seem to be reacting too much to that suggestion. “But hmmm…” She looked back at the portrait, squinting her eyes once more.

“Oh,” she gasped after a moment, “or maybe Bella Dupont…?” She glanced at his face for a second before looking back at the board. “She’s one of the girls who lives on my hall — and she’s also just super sweet, too.” She laughed softly, and then she looked over at him to add, “She gave me a charm bracelet the second time I ever saw her. It was kind of wild.”

She looked up towards the display a final time, tapping her chin with her forefinger and scrunching her eyebrows. After a moment, she shook her head and looked back at the boy. She cracked another smile, laughing softly. “Uh, I was going to say maybe Kian, but I don’t think those would be the vibes he’d give you about me…and if those aren’t it, I’ve got nothing,” she giggled. “So…uh, my guess is…Bella, maybe? Or maybe Ronnie? No, no, Bella. Ronnie? No, no…but…hmm…no. Yes. No…no, okay, okay, okay.” She debated with herself aloud, looking up in this direction and that direction as she spoke, and then she dropped her hand from her chin and nodded surely, smiling. “It’s Bella — and I’m locking in my answer.” She mimed pressing a buzzer on a game show, and then she laughed quietly and shook her head, dismissing that because she was being weird.

She cocked her head at him, smiling slightly. “Am I right?” she asked curiously.

mood


location
the celestial theater

outfit
: )

playing...
dance

by foxes​

mentions
the clairmonts, naomi, ronnie, bella, & kian

interactions
angel

tags
hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Jace West

Mikaela was getting too much joy out of this. Too much joy out of watching Jace flounder, and her words really just served to hurt Jace more than she probably realized -- not that they probably should've hurt him the way that they did, but whatever. They did, alright? It's just how it was.

"I didn't..." Jace huffed. "I was just... just trying to talk to-to Ash, and he... he... he just..." he made a fist with his hand and punched the air in front of him, and then let out another huff of annoyed air. He didn't really wanna talk about it or think about it or anything else of the sort. It had been a horrible day, and he didn't really wanna relive it.

Plus he was supposed to stay focused on his whole project thing today, and this wasn't the kind of energy he needed right before he went on stage.

Speaking of which...

Jace adjusted the guitar on his back and then checked the watch on his hand. Just as he thought -- about fifteen minutes until showtime, which meant that he probably needed to get back to his stage and get settled in and ready to go. His heart was thrumming in his chest, his palms sweaty with a mixture of nerves and excitement -- but mostly excitement, because this was what he was good at.

Like the only thing Jace was truly good at, the only thing he was truly confident in.

"I-I-I gotta... gotta go," he said, and gestured behind himself. Awkwardly, Jace brought a fist up to his mouth and cleared his throat, and then he rocked onto the balls of his feet for a moment before he readjusted the guitar strap once again and straightened up before speaking again; "I ahh... th-thanks, I ahh... y-yeah. Bye."

And with that, the awkward blonde boy turned and walked away from Mikaela. His fingers picked at the strap of his guitar case, and he found himself glancing around him as he walked. There was a little feeling of paranoia deep inside the pit of his stomach -- like Javi might jump out of somewhere random to kill him like he'd promised.

But he was fine. He was safe.

So far...

He turned down another hall, and then he arrived near the backstage area. Jace loitered nearby as he waited for the traffic going in and out of the backstage door to slow down (because he obviously didn't want to have to awkwardly hold the door open for someone, or slip past), and then he headed to the doors. He pulled it open and slipped inside, and then started down the hallway, his eyes darting about.

By all accounts, Jace didn't appear as if he belonged back there -- of course he did, but the lack of confidence. The general look of confusion... it all provided for the image that he really didn't belong there.

Even in his element, Jace was extremely unsure.

mood
...

location
Arts Festival

outfit
snazzy

playing...
Stuck Like This

by Jace West​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Mikaela

tags
Xed

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Ezra Gray

@EZGoing has set their status to:
panik

@EZGoing has set their outfit to:
lookin' fresh

@EZGoing has set their location to:
visual arts stage

@EZGoing has mentioned:
Chas

@EZGoing has interacted with:
Alex, Auguste

@EZGoing has tagged:
hery Soap qunqun

Ezra’s entire day instantly went to shit with just a few simple words.

“Ezra. You’re now Vito.”

The sculptor found himself blinking a few times at Alex’s words. What? No, that was most certainly not what he had meant when he volunteered to help. Ezra had anticipated being asked to go fetch the props or a coffee run or something, anything but acting.

Ezra’s long, very illustrious career as an actor had started in middle school. The name of the game was Shakespeare, the title Romeo and Juliet. Looking at Ezra, a man of flashiness and confidence, you would expect him to have played the leading man role. He did too, even bought a costume pirate shirt from a thrift store to go the full medieval England route. Ez had spent weeks learning his lines, even longer preparing himself physically to be the coolest, most handsome twelve year old Romeo that the world had ever witnessed.

Imagine the embarrassment when he showed up the day of the audition with food poisoning (against his mother’s wishes and knowledge) and barfed all over the front row. His teacher took pity on him a few weeks later when she casted another boy as Romeo and Ezra as a tree. That’s right, a tree. He had to wiggle into a long cardboard tube and sit in the back with his little face peering out through the face paint while his hands waved branches wildly out by his side.

Ezra was the best damn tree Romeo and Juliet had ever seen but unfortunately, that play had been the birth and prompt death of his acting career.

“What? No no, I don’t a-” Time didn’t care about Ezra’s words because, before he even had time to process what was happening, someone was calling out that the group was on in five.

Five?

As in five minutes?

No, this was not going to be good.

“Alex, I don’t act.” Ezra attempted to reason though no one seemed to be hearing him.

Still donning his button down and dress pants from his performance, Ezra, Auggie, and Alex were thrust onto the stage. No one ever told him that professional lights were so bright, so hot, so intrusive. It took a few blinks for Ezra to even adjust to the light and notice the people watching in anticipation for the start of the play.

Why wasn’t A-

Oh right, Vito started.

What was that line again?

Did someone have water?

Why was his mouth so dry?

“Laney, my dear, whe-” Ezra began, pausing instantly. Was it ‘where’ or ‘when’? What was the question Vito had hanging on the tip of his tongue? Why was the collar of his shirt so tight? Why didn’t he stick to trees?

Ezra struggled through the lines, forcing himself to pretend like he was Landon in some capacity, trying to mimic what he had seen the actor do on set over and over again. Make sure to smile, but not too much. And hands, Landon used his hands a lot, Ezra should do that too. Position, he was supposed to be talking to Laney, not at the ground.

Fuck, this was awful.

Ezra looked up for a brief moment in a lull in lines (typically where a dramatic pause would be, though this silence was terribly and deafeningly stale) and caught eyes with Auguste. Man, he felt so bad for getting them both roped into this. Lunch had been such a good idea, why did he have to go and open his mouth and offer to help? What, to impress Alex? Or Chas? Or Auguste? Fuck, this was pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” Ezra mouthed silently and hoped that Auguste could see it through the lights.

At least Vito’s big opening monologue was over, now it was all on Auguste.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[qunqun]

Light mention of abuse and a depiction of a panic attack​

MOOD:
Show must go on.

OUTFIT:
Something nice

LOCATION:
School

basics

MENTIONS:




INT:
Ez geminiy
Chas hery
Alex Soap

tags

TL;DR:
It's fine.

tl;dr

Auguste

The usual Chas nonsense at being condescended to about his seeming slowness and lack of passion at life. Yeah yeah, heard it all before. By multiple people. Just tell him what he was about to do and let him go do that. Preferably with wasting as little air as possible.

And then Alex interjected

What. He was doing what now. With what.

A script was thrown in his hand. What. What was….

Ez looked just as shocked as he was. Was-Was anyone going to… Was this how he was supposed to help? Buddy. When he promised to help with anything you needed, he didn’t mean “memorize a play in thirty ish minutes and then perform it.”

At least parts of it were highlighted. Auguste managed to at least read over the script a few times before they were suddenly being dragged onto stage.

Auguste was trying to not feel like he was walking up to a guillotine as he walked into his place on stage. Trying really hard. Not really succeeding. There was a big pit in his stomach. But, the memory of speaking the lines to himself was fairly clear in his head. He just had to follow it. Exactly the same. It was fine.

This was just a memory test. Auguste was fairly certain he wasn’t even being credited for this. It was fine.

Was there any emotions in his acting? Well, right now the best the two directors were going to get was “Auguste death glaring every single person” or “Auguste looking vaguely like a deer in the headlights.” And the ballerina turned actor was going to go out on a limb and say the latter was the better option.

He watched passively as his body continued on, Ez looked sorry at least, that was nice. The lines coming out stilted and awkward and heavy. But at least he was projecting his voice for once in his life so that people could hear. Hooray!

And then the words started getting jumbled in his head… And then his brain began to translate them all. French, Spanish, and English all jumbled in there together, out of order, in one big mess.

Auguste continued on, words coming out of his mouth that he didn’t know he memorized, but he didn’t know how long it’d last. They were getting through the first act though, and a part of him was really hoping that he’d make it through to intermission to do another quick brush up on his lines.

And then he saw the end approaching. Right before the end of Act 1. He wanted to shout, do something to take a quick pause. Stop the inevitable. But the inevitable arrived. And everyone stared at him.

And silence.

Dead silence.

His eyes searched Ez’s face. Trying to remember what his line was. And then, his entire posture and facial expression went from “deer in the headlights” to nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Maybe slightly murderous anger.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Something icy clawed at his throat as the silence stretched on. A big lead weight had found itself in his belly.

Say something.

Anything.

Make something up if you have to.

He choked out sentences that sounded similar to him, surprised that it didn’t sound more strained than how it came out. Something that had the same meaning and weight behind the words. Beautiful poetry, if not the exact wording that Alex and Chas had used.

And it was in the complete wrong language.

It was hard to say what anyone was expecting, but sudden and random French was probably not it. And that anyone included Auguste by the way. He wanted the stage to swallow him whole as he finished.

Thank God.

The curtains closed for an intermission, and his body gave him a choice: Fury or freak. And without a second thought to the decision, Auguste chose the latter.

The cold, death glare expression suddenly broke and Auguste’s face crumpled before going back to its usual melancholic state. It was dangerously fragile though. He felt dangerously fragile.

The world was spinning now, Auguste’s throat completely closed up as he dangerously swayed to one side, only stopping because he grabbed onto Ez’s shoulder with a death grip, his entire frame beginning to tremble.

“Need to sit.” He choked out, dragging Ez with him backstage. If he stopped now he wasn’t getting back up. He grabbed a script on his way past everyone until they made it off the stage where the dancer managed to make it to the wall before sliding slowly to the ground.

He couldn’t breathe. The world around him was spinning. People were walking around him. His head rested between his knees and his hands found their way into his hair.

The best he got was “At least he wasn’t crying.” That would’ve made things worse for everyone.

Deep shuddery breaths. In… Out.

In. He wasn’t going to get beaten by Chas and Alex for forgetting a line in a play he learned an hour ago. Out.

In. He wasn’t going to be sent back to France for accidentally saying a line in French. Out.

In. His mother wasn’t in the crowd so she couldn’t use this entire performance against him to tell him how much of a fucking failure he was. Out.

And then he looked up at Ez. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper. Slightly broken. And a small fluttery fake smile. “I thought I was speaking English.” A little laugh.

Another set of deep breaths. He still had shit he had to do.

He slowly unfurled and stood. Held up the script that he’d snatched on his frantic warpath to find a place to freak out for a hot second where the audience couldn’t see. A slightly stronger faked smile this time.

“We still have a whole second act to get through” He said, his voice still slightly broken but definitely pulling himself together now. “Might as well…”

He reread the script, any last grasp on memorizing any last bit he could, taking another series of deep shuddery breaths.

And by the time Act 2 was ready to roll around, Auguste at least could get on the stage and finish the damned play.

code by valen t.

 

[geminiy]

Kian Phelan

@lockandkian has set their status to:
u want some or nah?

@lockandkian has set their outfit to:
colour only because lucky and javi made him

@lockandkian has set their location to:
JBN dressing room

@lockandkian has mentioned:
Lucky

@lockandkian has interacted with:
Javee

@lockandkian has tagged:
hery gh0stwriter

Kian moved himself back to the chair he had been sitting on before he ever so gracefully smacked Javi’s ass, his legs shaking and fingers tapping against themselves. Energy bounced around inside of him, eyes flickering around for the best piece of visual stimulation available. Kian was ready to go, maybe a little bit too ready. He was starting to get jittery.

"I trust him. He'll be here, I think he's got something going on first with Ash." Javi reassured, earning him a breathy sigh from Kian.

“Good because if he isn’t here we’re screwed man, like I can’t sing as well as he does and if you sing, I have to do your part and I can’t play two guitars at once, that just isn’t possible ya know?” Kian rushed, his smile faltering slightly. He forced himself to breathe and reminded himself that periods exist to stop his sentences and give himself enough time to think.

Javi was staring at him, all blank eyed and lips parted. And to think the dude had the nerve to question if Kian was high.

“Jaaaaaavi? You gooooooood bro?” Kian sang out softly, waving his hand slightly. Javi blinked a few times and seemed to ground. “Welcome back to planet earth, space cadet.”

Luckily for Kian, someone who hated awkward silences, Javi seemed to have words ready and able, cutting through the very brief quiet.

"I think we all got killer sex appeal. That's why we're the fucking coolest!" Kian grinned as Javi talked. Man, that dude was so cool. "And the ass, and the ass! Bang, bang, bang..."

Kian nodded a few times, crossing his arms over his jacketed chest. “Yes, the ass is a very good addition to the team, truly a beneficiary of the crew. We should give him a raise, honestly. Javi’s Ass: the true frontman of Jet Black Neon.”

Javi seemed to go somewhere again, seeming physically distant while he spoke about gig size and mentioned Kelli. Kian couldn’t deny the guilt that creeped in around his high at the mention of his sister’s name. He had promised her that he wasn’t using again and although his promise would’ve seemed convincing to anyone else, Kian anticipated that Kelli knew better. She always did.

There he was at the precipice of greatness with two talented musicians by his side and he couldn’t even get through the morning without blow. How fucking pathetic.

Right, he had to answer Javi. That’s usually what one does when someone asks them a question.

“Oh, uh, it’s just Kells, I think, as long as her performance isn’t at the same time as mine.” Kian responded, rubbing his clammy palms together. He didn’t have the guts to say that he had forgotten to ask her when her performance was. “But it’s no big deal. I’ve got you guys, yeah? That’s what’s important. I’d ask you if you have anyone here but by the look on your face, you don’t. So, um, yeah…”

The air in the dressing room turned heavy. Kian kept thinking about Kelli, about how he lied to her, about he lied and continued to live that lie, how she wasn’t going to look out into the audience and see his face. That would be met with another lie too. Kian hated how good he got at lying.

He wanted another hit.

Where was Lucky?

Why did he have so much energy?

“Do you wanna-” Kian cut himself off. He had been looking at Javi for a long time without realizing it. “I mean you look tense, dude, and we’ve got a little bit before Lucky’s done, yeah? So you wannaaaaaa…”

Wink wink.

What? Don’t look at him like that! Sex with Javi would be better for him than polishing off the last of the coke hidden in the crease of his guitar case. Plus, the act would be double beneficial. Kian had too much energy, Javi was obviously stressed or distracted or something. Really, this was Kian being a good bandmate. If you cut it the right way, it could even be viewed as a team building exercise.

“Sooooo? You wanna?” Kian asked again with a shrug, as casual as if he were asking for a piece of gum.

[/comment]

º º code by ditto º º

-->

 

[ohdittoh]

MICHAEL K. REID​

Mike was fucking done. He was angry, and he was confused, and he was just so fucking done. It felt like some fucking rehashing of Halloween, where they’d suddenly jumped from friends to worst fucking enemies, apparently, with no agreement on Mike’s part — though this time? Yeah, no, it was nothing big or dramatic like being the uwu wuv of her life’s rebound or shit like that. It was just something fucking dumb.

“Mike, will you go to the dance with me?”

“Haha, no.”

“Then die.”

Yeah, because that was rational. Because that made sense.

Seriously, how the fuck did that work? Had they all suddenly gone back to fucking kindergarten? She’d gone from, “Go out with me, Mike,” to, ”I’m going to mount your balls on the mantle,” in record time.

For literally.

Fucking.

Nothing.

There was a certain amount of bullshit that he could tolerate — he could honestly put up with way too much. But people overreacting to shit that was so fucking minor? Yeah, he didn’t put up with that shit.

He was done. He’d been done the second that she figured that his rejection was a personal strike against her.

He didn’t want to wait for her reaction. He didn’t want to wait for her retaliation. Frankly, he didn’t fucking care about it anymore — not even anymore, he just hadn’t cared from the start, really.

He just wanted to go onstage and get this shit over with and try to carry on like nothing had ever happened in here.

“Gen,” interjected Darrington. “Listen to me. You’ve made your point, and like you said we have a show to do. Don’t let this waste any more of your time. Let’s go, we’re about to be late.”

Mike breathed out a soft sigh. Speak to the insecure, overdramatic egomaniac directly and don’t mention anyone else, but it worked, and she walked out into the hall with him.

Wow! How fucking impressive — the bitch had been spared from having to confront the truth of what Mike had said.

Unsurprising.

“God, fuck me,” he muttered, as though God wasn’t already fucking him.

She was going to try to get the last word in fucking somehow. He knew it — he fucking felt it. It was Gen, and who was she if not…”cOmPlEtEly InCoNtRoL oVeR eVeRyThINg” (with heavy quotation marks)?

God. How the hell had he gotten here?

“Genevieve Johannes, Michael Reid, Jared Darrington to stage door five, please,” came a voice over a speaker, and Mike swallowed, sighing.

Fuck Gen. He needed to forget about her — forget about the feelings and this shit around her, at least. Forget about this fucking confusion. At the end of the day, there was a show to put on — a show that he had to execute his moves for perfectly. At the end of the day, regardless of all of the shit that was happening, this was his senior Arts Fest show. Yes, he had his portfolio book as a project here as well — obviously, it was never good to go without a backup plan — but if he did this right, got his moves all correct, this could mean so fucking much for him.

And if he didn’t? Well, unlike the other people he was performing with, whose parents and agencies could get them out of all of this, Mike had too much shit to lose — not getting everything perfect was out of the question.

The fact of the matter was Darrington and Gen had rich parents who’d made their lives for them. Even if Gen wanted to play victim, even if she wanted to — to act so fucking superior to him, the fact was that she’d had her whole life handed to her. She never had to go through half the shit that Mike did. Because if they failed here, they’d have a safety net, several thousands of other ways that their lives could go. They had “connections” and, more importantly, money. Money could erase mistakes, buy favor, all of that shit.

But Mike? Yeah, that wasn’t his reality. He was here on a goddamn scholarship. He was trapped in a shitty contract from the idiotic decision he made to sign on with the first offer he got back in freshman year, got paid fucking pennies on the dollar. He took probably too many jobs, even high class stuff sometimes, and got paid barely enough to cover rent for the month after his management took their “cut” — fucking downtown LA and its insane housing prices. He took a misstep up there, made an ass of himself? Yeah, that’d permanently mar him, because he didn’t have shit like money to spare, or “connections” to crush out the word spreading.

If he failed on this stage, maybe he could pass it off, but his reputation? Yeah, fuck that. That’d be down the drain.

And reputation was an important thing for a guy from a shit neighborhood with a shit mom and a shit future. Without this career — without the promise that this career gave him? Yeah, he’d be back home, scamming behind the counter at tourist traps just so he could go home to his crackhouse and inject some shit to keep himself from confronting the miserableness of his fucking condition.

Sparing a final glance at his reflection in the mirror, Mike made his way to the door and out into the hallway. Anger and adrenaline flowed through his veins, but he set his face and his posture proudly as he made his way to the stage door.

And, whoopty fucking do, Gen was nowhere to be seen.

“Did she bail?” he half-joked to Darrington, his tone dry.

Sadly, the answer turned out to be no, and she came to stand beside Darrington. “Sorry about that, I had to use the restroom.” Her voice was too sweet for it to be genuine, and he stared at her in unamusement, breathing out a soft sigh. “How about it, boys? The show must go on.”

“Yeah…,” Mike agreed, nodding.

Petty shit doesn’t go onstage, Gen. Leave that backhandedness out here.

As he stepped through the door, he caught Gen nod to the light technician, and the lights…

This wasn’t what it was supposed to look like.

Mike’s heart kicked up in his chest, and he made his way over to step out, but Gen took his place. What the shit? Jared followed her, and Mike — he didn’t fucking know.

This wasn’t the lighting he was used to. That wasn’t the lineup he was used to.

Still, he stepped out on beat. He was confused, but he kept his stance, kept his face serious.

There was fucking nowhere to stand, so he picked somewhere, posed as if this was how it was supposed to go. There were no projections, there were no music cues for him, but he didn’t let it show on his face.

This wasn’t what they’d practiced.

He refused to panic, even as his hands shook. He refused to show his frustration, he refused to show anything at all. He stepped towards a spot that was his originally — but Gen took it instead. He made his way over there, but then Gen seized it.

He didn’t let anything show. He tried to play it off naturally, even as he watched Gen and Darrington smiling and flashing their outfits and heard the flashes snapping on everyone except for himself.

And it slowly dawned on him as he walked — this was calculated.

This was all Gen.

His ears were ringing, the muffled beat drumming deafeningly in his head. His heart was palpitating, squeezing painfully in his chest. He kept himself under control, but he knew.

This was planned. This was planned, by her, for some fucking reason.

And the icing on the fucking cake was when they made a pose at the final beat, smiling — and completely blocking him.

A crushing feeling sunk on Mike’s shoulders as he exited, balled up and fluttered in his chest. He felt a pressure behind his eyes, a buzzing in the back of his neck.

It wasn’t defeat; it was just hurt.

She was trying to make him look like an idiot. Congratulations.

She was trying to make him look unprofessional, stupid. Congratulations.

She was trying to ruin him. Well, congratulations.

Over a goddamn dance. Mature.

Over a fucking rejection. Impressive, you really fucking showed him.

It was all she couldn’t handle no, because she’d only ever had everything she wanted her whole life. Because she couldn’t handle losing her grip, because she was a goddamn control freak.

Because Gen was an irrational, vapid, petty, unprofessional bitch, she was determined to ruin him, and his future, over her goddamn ego. Over her own self-righteousness. Over the fact that she felt some sort of entitlement to Mike’s “honest” feelings — or just to him in general.

And when she didn’t get it — when she didn’t get her way — she did this shit. Tried to put him down to build herself up.

Ten out of ten! Amazing job giving him karma as fate’s proxy!

Did that make you feel better about yourself, huh? Trying to take down the boy who you obviously had fucking feelings for because he, what, wouldn’t go to a fucking dance with you?

They exited stage, and Mike felt an angry numbness through him.

He was beyond fury, beyond embarrassment — fucking beyond hurt. He didn’t lift his eyes from the floor, trying to force them from keeping their watering.

This wasn’t just humiliation. He wasn’t just embarrassed. Did Gen not fucking get that?

This could mean his fucking future.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Her voice was pointed towards him, and when it pierced through his veil of crushedness, he felt the anger rear its head higher than everything else he felt. His eyes flicked to her, angry and hurt. “You look upset.”

He couldn’t speak. He knew if he tried, his voice would break. He couldn’t even make a fucking motion, because he knew, if she did, he’d sent a fist flying at her.

She laughed. “You pretend you don’t care even though you do, you use people because you can’t really feel anything.”

That’s fucking you. That’s literally fucking you.

He hadn’t acted like he didn’t care. In no fucking way had he done anything like that.

That’d been all her, and now she was projecting, and in her projection and in her determination to make him feel some sort of fucking pain and make herself look so fucking amazing, she’d went and done this shit.

“How does this feel? The humiliation, the vulnerability, the forced exposure? Hmm?”

She was so goddamn smug, but she couldn’t imagine this. That’s not all this is. I’m not just humiliated or fucking just vulnerable — this shit is my livelihood, my chance at a fucking future, and you, over a petty fucking dance rejection, decided that you should take your best crack at stripping that away from me.

“I told you, you said you wanted nothing to do with me and I was going to give you that, now and forever.”

I never said I wanted nothing to do with you. You’re putting fucking words into my mouth to convince yourself this is fucking justified.

“But just a friendly reminder, I do control everything I want to, I am someone who will follow through on her promises, I am the person that will fucking ruin you if you try to toy with me again.”

No.

No, you don’t.

The only thing she’d done with this was show that she had no control over fucking anything, especially not over her fucking emotions.

And she didn’t control everything she wanted. Because she wanted Liv, and she wanted Evie, and she wanted him.

But to convince herself she did, she’d fucking done this shit.

What an amazing fucking human being.

He wanted her to trip in those heels and snap her fucking neck.

He was shaking with anger, his breaths were hard to get in with his tight chest, and the chokedness rising in his throat kept pushing behind his eyes.

“Don’t fuck with me, Michael Reid, because I will make sure every agent from here to Alaska blacklists your fucking name.”

Over.

Fucking.

Nothing.

Over nothing besides her incessant need for control and her apparent lack of it.

She kissed her fingers, and she pressed them to his lips.

He wanted to punch her. He wanted to punch her so goddamn bad.

Why didn’t he? Why fucking didn’t he?

She dropped her hand and gave him a wink, then turned and patted Darrington’s shoulder as she walked past. “Great work, boys,” she said, “we should do this again sometime!”

And as she walked away, he still couldn’t move, and he still couldn’t talk, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her figure, and he couldn’t even fucking blink until the bleariness overtook his vision and he had to close his eyes and cover his face and turn away, just to keep himself from slamming his fist into the nearest person or yelling nonsense until his voice broke or just falling to his knees and letting tears stream down his fucking face.

Because he wasn’t pathetic. He wasn’t pathetic, like she wanted you to believe.

The only thing pathetic about him was that he was ever fooled into thinking that he gave a flying fuck about the bitch who wanted to ruin his life.

Ha.

He felt like there was irony in there somewhere.

……………………​

The voices around him sounded muffled, even as he walked past talking bodies. He was hearing the world through a funnel, seeing the world through a veil of red, feeling the world with a rope tied around his chest.

Damn it all. Damn it all. Damn it all.

He needed to get out of here, needed to get drunk in his bathtub again, but he also needed to — to fucking —

He couldn't let this anger just fucking sit.

His eyes caught on a figure — a small, frail, pathetic, familiar figure — and he grinned to himself.

Not because he was proud. Not because he was happy about fucking anything.

But just because he’d found the target.

He opened the door that he’d disappeared into, and for a moment, he looked down at him.

And grinning widely, he greeted, “Well, well, well, if it isn't Jason 'Piss Your Pants' West.”

mood
fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you.

location
the celestial theater

outfit
dressy

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly​

mentions
liv & evie

interactions
gen, jared, & jace

tags
geminiy Kitsune2202 Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[0k_mang0]

MOOD:


OUTFIT:
in costume as "Marty" (Mary)
​

INFO

LOCATION:
backstage

WITH:
chanel

MENTION:
gen​

ACTIVITY

Soap

TAGS

cappie

When he heard the footsteps nearby, he assumed it was just another passerby, like a stagehand or teacher, who’d ignore him, head off to whatever winter art fest adventures were waiting for them ahead. But then, he recognized the voice after hearing the words, “Running lines again?” and thought, Oh, no.

His luck not only flew the coop but also threw him to the wolves. Actually, it was just one wolf, in a form of one certain Clairmont.

“What happened? Did you try to help the stagehands and pull something?”

“Not exactly... hey, wait—!” Too late. He couldn’t scoot away on his chair in time without tensing his shoulders. Chanel took away the ice pack before he could stop her, revealing the purplish splotchy bruise that hid under it.

Cappie huffed out a slightly peeved sigh. Not because he was caught, but because he knew what her reaction would be when he tells her the truth.

“When exactly did this happen? Did you dislocate it?”

“Not on purpose,” Cappie muttered, repressing himself from wincing through his clenched jaw as Chanel replaced the icepack back on his shoulder. It was the possible slight tenderness that was mentioned earlier.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, obviously not if you failed to tell me.”

“That’s a relief. Silas bet against me that you would.” He glanced up at Chanel’s face and saw that his casual sarcasm did not amuse her. She also cared not for Randy (Silas) the stuffed dummy’s gambling habits.

They didn’t have all night for his stalling, so he tried again, without being cheeky this time. “It was last week, and yes, it was dislocated.” He intentionally left out details of how it happened since she didn’t ask. Also, he had a feeling Chanel probably wouldn’t care to know. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I know I should’ve... I just didn’t want this—” he waved at his bruised left shoulder “—causing problems for us. It’s already made me cancel my other winter project, and I don’t wanna cancel our play because of it, too. I don’t expect you to understand. No offense.”

He assumed his co-star would write off his reasons as trivial. Probably. Though he considered his perception being somewhat decent, Cappie was still trying to figure out Chanel Clairmont. Find any entertainment news programs and such—they weren’t kidding when they said she had a mysterious appeal. He couldn’t be sure of whether or not she’d care if he tried explaining how struggling his acting career has been for him. He rarely ever verbally complained about his career, especially since it was his decision to pursue it, plus other personal troubles currently in his life.

“Look, my shoulder’s not as painful as it looks right now and it doesn’t bother me enough to distract me. I’m wearing this shoulder brace so I don’t overwork it. The only things I’m holding for a few seconds are the grocery box prop and the small tea tray. I can still perform with you,” he insisted. Was he desperate? Not in the extreme sense. But he truly didn’t want all of his and Chanel’s work into this poem-play to go to waste. Also, the theater techs had done great with lighting projection, including adding a gradually moving hologram moon in the evening countryside backdrop. He thought it was cool.

Cappie hadn’t told anyone this yet: he actually enjoyed working with her over the past month. Surprisingly. He joked around a few times, but most of the time, he was cooperative with Chanel when they were putting together the script and stage directions and the tones of their characters' dialogue... He put a lot of effort into this whole thing. That didn't happen often.

Standing up, Cappie stepped away from Chanel, set his script and ice pack on the chair, and readjusted his shoulder brace over the bruise. While refastening the buttons on his shirt, he half-turned his body away, secretly a little embarrassed that he was unintentionally semi-shirtless in front of someone.

“You know we’ve rehearsed together all week all right, and you didn’t notice anything wrong with me the entire time. The audience won’t notice either. It’s not like my arm will fall halfway through the scene.”

Although, if his arm actually did fall off, he hoped someone in the audience was recording it. Not to be misinterpreted as a desire of wanting his arm to actually fall off—part of him just was curious to see how it looked if that happened.

“If you are a bit concerned somewhere in that cold, hard emotional shell of yours—no offense—I’m seeing an orthopedist in a couple of days, check if I have any serious damage,” Cappie added. "I have to. Gen kinda forced me into it."

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Damien Slater

Now, one of the things to realize with Damien was that he tended to get distracted really easily -- and he'd get bored fast. Things could only keep his attention for so long before he was ready for whatever came next, and the same thing applied to people. It's why when he was little, his teachers were constantly calling his mom to come down -- because he was getting into trouble for not sticking to the lesson, or blah, blah, blah.

It still applied to nowadays, just that Damien tended to get less distracted when he was doing different things, and he tended to get more distracted in conversation.

Typically if he thought a conversation was going nowhere, then he'd get distracted by someone that he thought was more interesting -- and by more interesting, he of course meant hotter.

And by going nowhere, if he thought he wasn't going to get lucky.

And by lucky, he meant wink wink, nudge nudge, the devil's tango, the ol' fade to black.

Basically, he was getting bored with the conversation with Nickie because he didn't think he was gonna get fucked.

I know, I know, he was such a classy little bastard.

That was fine -- there was always next time, he supposed.

She explained where she was from and damn, Slater had been wrong. She really had given Midwest vibes, and he supposed New York wasn't... too... far... from there, right? He wasn't the best at geography -- or much of anything, really -- so he'd been almost right.

Albany. Where the fuck was that? Some middle of nowhere place?

Probably. She had middle of nowhere vibes.

That's why he thought she was from the Midwest.

And fuck how expensive it was. Slater would love to be away from his mother so he could just do whatever the fuck he wanted all the time without ever having to report to her. Imagine that -- being able to be totally on his own.

As if he didn't already do whatever the fuck he wanted because his mom was almost always too caught up in other things to bother with Damien.

“I mean, I’m kind of glad that I’m away from home because, like…I have four siblings, so, like, it’s nice to actually get some privacy, you know.” Nickie was saying.

Slater had briefly gotten distracted by a hot chick nearby, but now he spaced back in as she spoke. Siblings. Right. Okay. Yeah, she did have the vibes of way too many fucking siblings, too.

“Do you, like, have any siblings? You kind of, like…give me only child vibes.”

"Impressive," Slater said now that he'd focused back in a bit. "I am an only kid."

Unless you counted his asshole stepbrother, which Damien didn't. Fuck Dalton.

"Hey, uhh... I should probably get back to my mom," Damien said, which was such a clever out as he pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. "But I'll ahh... I'll see your performance and shit later. And we should hangout sometime or something." You know, so Damien could have Take Three of getting laid.

As his steps came to a halt, he gave Nickie a little wave. "I'll see you around, Nickie. Bye." He said and with that, Damien turned and headed back the way they had come.

He really had had every intention of going back to his mother but, as Damien started to walk, he started getting distracted -- because holy fuck did everyone look hot.

And then--

Well hello there.

Hot chick. All alone. Looking as if she could use a little companionship.

And what better companionship than one Damien fucking Slater?

So without a care in the world, or a thought as to how strange it may've been to approach a random chick you'd never seen before, Damien approached the strange girl with a lopsided smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted as he made his way over, and then he held out his hand. "Damien Slater." Introductions? Out of the way. Next question? Obvious. Wanna bone?

Kidding, he was smoother than that.

"You good? You're looking a little..." he hesitated, and gave a little shrug of his shoulders. "Down, I guess."

mood
hey there

location
Arts Fest

outfit
classy

playing...
98 Degrees

by Arrested Youth​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Nickie, Stassi

tags
ohdittoh AkuTheWolfOkami

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

"Goddess of Chaos"
Magnolia Darrington

@Rebel.lia.on has set their status to:
Time to celebrate!

@Rebel.lia.on has set their outfit to:
Performance outfit

@Rebel.lia.on has set their location to:
Arts Fest

@Rebel.lia.on has mentioned:
Aguste, Angel, Damien, Kian, Josie

@Rebel.lia.on has interacted with:
Spencer ( Xed )

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Now Maggie didn't really know how boundaries worked all the time since the people she was around most of the time didn't have any. Celebrating with a rando she'd just bumped into wasn't surprising for her, in fact this wouldn't be the first time she's done this. Possibly the first time she's done it sober...

Heck that's how she got to meet and know Kian and Damien this year alone. She still didn't talk too much to Damien, but Kian was her platonic hubby now, so the point is she felt like this was normal. Just self intertwining herself in other people's lives in her own quirky way, that for some reason usually worked. They entertained her either because they welcomed the crazy or thought she was joking...till they found out she wasn't, but by then it's kinda too late. Que Angel and Auguste and their inevitable future friendship.

"You cook? You should totally make something one day so I can try it!" She chimed before lifting her hand and gesturing as if their was a picture in front of them and let the other hand on his shoulder, "Imagine with me for a moment if you will? We could be food-mates! You know like soulmates, but foodie edition." She grinned up at him, "What do you say? Cause I think that's s solid friendship name...ok maybe solid 7 outta 10 just because it's a little lazy, but certainly catchy." She giggled snapping her fingers in an 'ah-ha' eureka moment, "I should totally trade mark that!"

Honestly she was in rare form right now. She was so pumped and the excitement in the air did nothing but help fuel her especially if he was just going to keep going along with her antics. He had no idea how much energy she could get simply from bouncing off of him entertaining her and not shutting her down or trying to calm her down.

Maggie knew she could be a bit much for people, but her favorite people to be around were people who didn't try to change her, didn't try to water her down to be more appeasing. You didn't have to be like her, or as crazy, wild, or outgoing like she was. You could be the shiest person in the corner preferring your head in a book to socializing, but as long as you accepted her for who she was going to be? She'd love to sit right along side you. She may not read a book the whole time...in fact she definitely would, she'd get on her phone and go through several different apps, and ideas but she'd be comfortable with that.

The more she stood here with Spencer the more she wondered how they seriously had never bumped into one another before now? Not even on twitter or anything? He was a lot of fun and even Josie had never mentioned someone like him in her dept. that she could remember. And he was in their year? No shared classes? Insane, but this was she supposed a large school, even if it didn't feel that way most days.

Better late then never though, right?

She giggled and playfully rolled her eyes taking her hand off him, "Lucky for you I don't think I can pull off the gold-digger or sugar baby type." she gave a slight shrug. She had nothing against people who did that sort of thing, one again get yo money honey...she just wasn't interested. She didn't need it. She bent two of her fingers down to make the rocker symbol bouncing it a bit stickling her tongue out, "Neyo's song miss independent is an anthem I live by."

"Though I wonder if I could ever be the sugar momma? Hmm" She tapped her finger against her chin pretending to think about it before smirking up at him teasingly, "What do you think? Give it like 30 years? Sugar mama or maybe a MILF?" Now she was starting to test some waters. Just how comfortable was he joking around with certain things? Did he have limits? Was he easily fluster by sexualized topics?

These were things she needed to know about her friends. It's ok if they were she just needed to know where peoples lines where. The rest of her family would do something like this to figure out how to make people tick, or to push the right buttons down the line for certain reactions. She simply wanted to know so she wouldn't cross those lines or get close to them. She respected those she called friends.

She waved off his comment about her manager or whatever getting upset about her eating habits, "Oh it probably is, but what fun would I be if I didn't indulge in a taboo or two by noon? They knew who they signed on don't worry. They'd probably thank you! If this is all I've done or the worst thing I'mma do today." She giggled.

She had said it jokingly, but it was 100% true. She was a mess and they knew it, they anticipated it. If eating some spicy food was the worst thing she did today they'd fall to this guys feet and thank him for it till the end of time. Hell her parents probably would hire him to be her new babysitter rather then forcing Jared to stay here if that was the case. Someone she could enjoy being around and not in in trouble with? Unheard of.

As they settled into their spot and he began to talk about dance his eyes lit up. It was obvious this was something that he was passionate about and he genuinely loved. His hands going with the flow of everything he was saying, like they danced and mingled with his words. It was truly a wonderful sight. She loved hearing people talk about their passions. It's partially why she loved being around Lucky and Josie so much. When Lucky was in the zone or talking about music it was incredible, and Josie lives every moment of her life with passion as her theme, but when she dances? Whew! It was breath-taking. She could listen or watch them at their passions for hours and never get bored.

She blinked in confusion as he suddenly stopped to apologize, "Don't say sorry for that. It's wonderful! You don't ever apologize for talking about or doing what you love. Especially not with me." She smiled warmly, "How else are we supposed to get to know each other?" He mentioned that their number had probably been called and got up to go get their food. She was going to help but he told her to wait, and so she just nodded and let him.

It gave her a few moments to herself, but rather then let her thoughts roam into possibly dangerous territory considering where they just were moments ago she pulled out her phone to see what was going on in twitter. Apparently it was a slow day which was to be expected. A blurb about something going wrong with a film but other then that not much. She supposed it was naïve to think everyone's projects would go smoothly. There was bound to be things that went haywire and what not. She suspected there would be more news by the end of the day. Nothing worth throwing her two cents in since she couldn't do anything to help.

He didn't take too long and came back with the best smelling food she'd had in a while. "Oh this is heaven alright. Something this good can't possibly be a sin." She giggled in response to his words. Sometimes the simple pleasure in life were worth the most. A concept her family knew nothing about.

She was a bit surprised when he reached over and opened her bottle of water for her. It gave her a remnant feeling of when she was younger in her parents house. The nannies would do things like that. It made her feel like she was a baby, and the feeling that settled in with that was...unpleasant. "And they say chivalry is dead?" She teased.

She swallowed with pressed lips and picked up her chopsticks because it's not like he knew that. He was probably just being kind, and she wasn't used to such niceties. She wondered, did he always do stuff like that? It made her uneasy, but all for reasons that had nothing to do with him. No one treated her like that anymore...like she was delicate, or like a princess. All that had went out the window when she started disagreeing at the tender age of 10. That's when everything went downhill for her and soured between her and her family so much that niceties weren't wasted on her anymore.

He struck up a conversation pulling her from her thoughts, and she was glad because it let her start to relax and focus on just having fun again. "I do like dancing, though I'm not trained in it or anything like that. Mostly just for fun." She chimed. She did a bit for her music videos, and she'd learned some moves from Tik-Tok or Youtube, but nothing big. Club dancing didn't feel like it counted.

She was surprised even if she shouldn't be by his next question, "As for my music I started two years ago with a YouTube channel. It was just a way for me to get away from my family for a bit so I would sing covers of songs that expressed better in lyrics then I ever seemed to be able to. From there I tried my hand at writing my own songs thinking maybe people would be more willing to listen to me if I put it to a sick beat you know?"

She sort of got lost in herself as she started explaining her emergence into the music industry, and the source of her passion for it. She wasn't sure if this was something he'd expected to hear or not. She wasn't sure if he knew the reputation of the Darrington bad apple, or any of the sour publicity she'd gained over the years, or why it'd even started. She hoped not since it wasn't something most people knew the real story behind. All they knew was what the media published and thanks to her own parents it painted her in the worst of ways.

She looked into her bowl pushing the food around a bit lost in her own mind not really registering what was in front of her as those old feeling started to resurface, "I love music because it's the only time I feel heard." She shrugged a bit not realizing just how deep she was really getting with her answer.

His answer had been light and playful...from a place of joy, and hers was tied into her pain and need to escape.

Was that ok?

She quickly shook her head and replaced a smile back on her face giving him back her full attention, "That was...probably more then you wanted to hear. I don't know if anyone's ever asked me that before so I kinda...rambled? " She hummed before taking a bite of her food.

Not really wanting to dwell on it too much since this was supposed to just be a fun outing, she switched topics, "Hey have you ever talked to a girl named Josie? She's in the dance dept. too!" She didn't wanna ruin this with her shitty upbringing. It had done enough damage as far as she was concerned and the whole point of being here was so that it wouldn't anymore.

"Do you have any friends performing soon you wanna see?" She asked curiously. She knew she had to make her way to the music stage soon to see Lucky, then to see Josie, and of course Kayla at some point. Sometimes having friends was a lot of work.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: so basically they committed sex

OUTFIT: something cool and red and somewhat reminiscent of a circus theme

LOCATION: dressing room

basics

MENTIONS:
Kelli, Lin, Lucky

INT:
geminiy (Kian)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Javier Cervantes

“Oh, uh, it’s just Kells, I think, as long as her performance isn’t at the same time as mine,” Kian responded.

As ours, you mean.

“But it’s no big deal. I’ve got you guys, yeah? That’s what’s important. I’d ask you if you have anyone here but by the look on your face, you don’t. So, um, yeah…”

Javi's brows reflexively creased. Kian's rapidly-uttered words came off more stupid than worrisome, and the bassist had to wait a few seconds to let them sink in. He almost couldn't believe he was being serious, unless he was in the market for a "good luck" punch in the nose. "No, I don't," he responded coldly, letting the tense air stagnate. He didn't care where his parents were. Or his brother. Or his aunt, uncle, cousins, and the rest of the vultures praying on his downfall.

Kian stared back at him, and he waited with a blank expression for some form of clarification on his words. They'd been taking turns idly staring at one another the entire time, tiptoeing around the other's dismay. Javi wasn't in any sort of mood to discuss it. Of all the moments, this was the worst to let his energy die out; there were enough distractions as-is.

“Do you wanna-” Kian cut himself off. Javi raised an eyebrow.

"What? Dude, just say it."

“I mean you look tense, dude, and we’ve got a little bit before Lucky’s done, yeah? So you wannaaaaaa…”

Obviously Javier knew what his bandmate was implying. Not much else needed to be said, but he still didn't offer an answer quite yet. Like, they could, he supposed, but would they? He looked back at the door. It was closed and unlocked, with the only sounds behind it the occasional muffled pair of voices and footsteps passing by.

He looked back at Kian thoughtfully, almost appearing angry. He tended to look like he was about to punch something when the dusty cogs in his head turned. He considered the chances of Lucky making it back before they were done, which would truthfully be more thrilling and saucy than embarrassing. He then thought about the ways he could initiate something with Kian, who was still seated. Whose knees would go where?

And finally, he ruminated over the fact that he couldn't get the image of his smarmy "Uncle" Ricky's stupid, ingratiatingly grinning mug out of his head. That would be weird on so many levels to imagine while with Kian. Or anybody, really.

Javi shrugged, Kian shrugged, and he uttered a final, “Sooooo? You wanna?” He was so hyperactively, undeniably, coked-out. Riding that wave together may not be so bad; after all, the prospect of sleeping with Kian had always been on the table. Not to mention the lingering sensation of Kian's hand on his ass.

As the clock ticked, Javi cracked an impish smirk, which gradually spread from cheek to cheek. "Sure," he finally answered, his tone exhibiting a noticeable raise in livelieness. His slightly-narrowed eyes told a story of mischievous intentions, locking onto Kian's with newfound desire.

Before progressing further, the muscular boy relieved himself of his top, then turned around and locked the door. He advanced at an intentionally slow pace to the door, giving his perfectly-sculpted ass one more time to shine in Kian's view. Once the lock clicked, he made his way back to the only other person in the room, creeping into his personal space with a devilish grin. He leaned downward, placing a hand on his shoulder right as he targeted his lips with his own. Every movement was unhurried and soft, a near-180 from his typical demeanor.

His hand traveled downward, reaching Kian's chest. His eyes widened a tad, and he pulled his face a few inches away. "Nice tits," he breathed, suppressing a laugh at his own humor. His nimble hands worked to discard the other boy's coat, making sure to travel at a leisurely, gentle pace.

And then they did the deed.

Once all was said and done (with more doing than saying), Javi stretched and cracked his back. He zipped up his jeans and slipped his shirt back on, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His eyes darted to the door, and he let out a quiet laugh to himself as he realized he'd unlocked the door instead of locking it before his and Kian's business. It didn't alarm him much; nothing bad happened anyway, right?

"Thanks for that," he said with a yawn, "That was a really good vocal exercise... for my, like..." He grinned again. The joke was clear enough there. He leaned backward, supporting his body with two outstretched arms behind him.

"I like Party Kian," he decided, giving the aforementioned boy another look up and down, "Why'd he wait so long to come pay me a visit?" He snickered, imagining Lucky's reaction to their little warmup. Either he'd be amused, annoyed, or jealous. It sort of depended on the guy's mood some days. Was Javi the only one that didn't need drugs and alcohol to fuck shit up?

...

He didn't like what that implied.

"I was beginning to think you were just a prude."

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Ava Sanders

She was half listening as Jules started to talk about her stupid relationship with her stupid boyfriend.

Listen, it wasn't by any means Dorian's fault that Ava was so pissed about the relationship (obviously), and it was more than just her maybe having some feelings for Jules. It was more along the lines of her just not wanting JJ to get hurt again because, to Ava, well... every relationship JJ entered felt like a ticking timebomb.

Dorian was just the latest one, and she'd remain unsure of him until he inevitably broke JJ's heart.

It's just how it always worked.

“Pretend like you had a girlfriend or whatever. You decided to wear something super slutty and she just didn’t care. Wouldn’t that bother you a little? I don’t think I would, but I don’t really have that problem with boys. I don’t think anyone would want to see Dorian in a skirt, so.”

Ava let out a little snort of laughter at that mental image, although she also couldn't really begin to understand JJ's particular opinion on this matter. Like, if Ava had a girlfriend, she wouldn't really care if she wore something super slutty. Wear whatever the fuck she wanted -- as long as she wasn't cheating, Ava didn't really care.

For her, it would always come down more to how her significant other would act as opposed to what they wore and shit. Wear whatever they fuck they wanted, as long as they weren't flirting with other people, as far as Ava was concerned.

“Okay, I guess… I’d want him to… give a shit. Or at least… pretend to? Maybe? Ugh. I don’t know. I don’t wanna think about boys. You’re gonna get me all messy.”

And this was where JJ's problem with her relationships obviously started, although Ava bit her tongue and kept that little opinion to herself -- but it was true. She wanted a guy that acted jealous and shit, but then, what? She'd argue with him if he was jealous or tried to tell her what to wear.

It didn't logically make sense, although Ava knew that speaking her mind on the matter wouldn't do much.

“I think you’ll understand when you like someone. You wouldn’t want someone you like being dressed all sexy-like for everyone else to drool over them.”

Again, she had to bite her tongue -- and this time, her teeth did lightly clench her tongue between them as she worked at the straps on JJ's costume. It was at least serving as some kind of distraction.

“They’re too tight.”

How the fuck did you--

How--

Straps were fucking stu--

“Hello? Earth to Ava? They’re too tight.”

Huh?

Ava blinked down at Jules for a moment as her words registered, and then she grumbled a little "oh" and started to loosen the straps up a bit, but that was also fucking hard, and then she was pretty sure that she loosened them too much, and now they were going to fall down and Jules' top was gonna fall on stage or some shit and she'd flash her boobs to the whole crowd, so Ava let out an angry huff and leaned back.

Her arms crossed over her chest.

"I have liked people," she snapped.

Well she had.

Just Jules didn't know who she'd liked.

... Because that person was obviously seated in front of her right now.

"And anyway, I wouldn't fucking care. Wear whatever the fuck you want -- and you don't care, either. Or you don't... you don't want him telling you what to wear. You'd flip the fuck out, and then there would be this huge fight between you two, and then I'd be the one you'd come crying to."

Her words were frustrated and a little harsher than intended.

Probably thanks to those fucking straps.

mood
ugh

location
The Arts Fest, duh

outfit
minus the rips in the jeans, thanks

playing...
i wanna be your girlfriend

by girl in red​

mentions
Dorian

interactions
Jules

tags
Soap

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

nickie abrams.

Nickie was enjoying this conversation. Moments like this were few and far between, honestly. Even with her roommate and her cousin, especially now that…that had happened, all they wanted to do was ask if she was okay, or give her this kind of advice or that kind of advice. Get a new boyfriend or I’ll find you a new boyfriend or stop caring about him and shit like that. Maybe part of it was her rper neglecting her plots and forgetting to give her happy moments, but times like these…were…rare, to say the least.

It was nice to have someone talking to her — or, well, like, mostly listening to her — who didn’t really ask about...that. About him. About things ended with him.

It was nice to have someone, like, distracting her.

All things came to an end, though, or at least that was what they said, and Slater pointed back over his shoulder and said, “Hey, uhh…I should probably get back to my mom. But I’ll ahh…I’ll see your performance and shit later.”

“Oh.” Her chest gave a small, sad, lonely squeeze, her smile faltering. She gave a nod. “Right.” It was nice to hear that he was coming to her performance, though. At least she knew she’d have someone cheering for her in the audience.

Or staring and judging harder than the rest of everyone.

She sighed softly.

“And we should hangout sometime or something.”

Her lips quirked back into a small smile. He wanted to hang out again. That was…nice. He was really just too sweet. She didn’t get it. “Yeah, we def should,” she said. “So I can, like, repay you for the whole ice cream thing. Like…” She looked up, trying to think of something, but her head seemed full of nothing but nerves and terrible ideas. “I don’t know, like, pizza or shakes or something, I’ve really got no ideas,” she concluded with a hardly-breathed laugh, “but we def should.”

His walking came to a stop, and her feet followed suit. He gave her a small wave. “I’ll see you around, Nickie. Bye.”

She waved back. “See you,” she said quietly, and she watched him walk away.

And, just like that, she was alone again.

Nickie had always wanted to be and tried to be an extravert. You know, she, like, forced herself to go up to people, made herself smile and be friendly to them. In elementary and middle school, that was how she got friends: going up to the new people and playing like she was a nice, friendly girl. Granted, none of the friendships even lasted longer than one or two days — they were probably not even friendships to begin with — because she either wound up pissing them off in some way or they were told by her classmates about what kind of person she was or whatever. Still, even when she came here — and even now — she tried to be extraverted. She was a party girl, though that dwindled once she’d started school this year because of…because of him, and she was still a cheerleader — was still the co-captain. Because of her front, she had the favor of Gen, had fleeting friendships with Ash and Charlie and several others.

But trying to pretend took a lot of effort. Once she slipped up, it became obvious what a façade it was.

With Slater, she’d still pretended. She’d still acted like she cared about the conversation, or about him, when really, she appreciated him and his kindness and it was little more than a repayment and a self-indulgent distraction.

And now, standing still in the flowing, uncaring of people, Nickie lowered the fractured mask that she’d used to cover up and slipped back into the numbness she’d been feeling all along. She looked around at the warmly-lit but cold-feeling theater, at the faces of all of the people who didn’t give a shit about her, and she breathed in a deep, shuddering breath.

Some of the lyrics to her song ran through her head.

And I know this isn’t like me

I just want people to like me

Got my glass up in the air

And I act like I don’t care

And I take something I shouldn’t

And I say things that I wouldn’t

And I’m just part of the crowd

But I feel better now, so

Keep on playing that song that I don’t like

I just wanna be feel normal for the night​

……………………​

Sitting in the black chair in front of the dressing room’s vanity, the tired, wide-eyed girl felt the unsteady drumming of anxiety within her stomach. She wouldn’t call them butterflies, or anything pretty — it was a biting, a twisting that made her feel like she was going to puke. She tried to hold it down by swallowing several bottles of water, but it didn’t help to calm anything.

Her shaking fingertips were positioned on the vanity’s top as though on a piano, and nervously, she tapped her fingers in the pattern that she’d memorized for the song. Her middle finger on this beat, her pinky stretching to hit that imaginary key on the next one. One, two, three, four. She mouthed the lyrics to herself as she went, trying to keep herself from thinking what she knew everyone waiting in the crowd was thinking: I can’t fucking do this.

She’d blocked the comments on all of the posts she’d done except for the one she’d made about an hour ago. She’d been keeping her head down, staying withdrawn and not forcing herself to really speak to anyone besides those who wanted to talk to her. To everyone else — and to her, too — this was her public statement on whether or not she was over the other controversial starlet who she’d had a public relationship, and whether or not she was holding it together or falling apart. This would be the performance that would tell the world that she was ready to move on — or wasn’t.

She knew everyone was rooting for the latter. Fuck, she was expecting the latter.

But, like…she had to do this. She had to go out there, and perform her best, and tell everyone that she was fine and that she was holding it together. She’d have to go out there with as much elegance as she could muster and sing this song with a straight face and show how fucking strong she was.

Even if she knew how weak she was, no one else was going to.

The stylists had worked hard to get her perfect. The lighting technicians were going to give it their alls. The drummer and the guitarist were going to be relying on her keeping the beat and not faltering. Even if she felt like she was going to vomit, she couldn’t let the people behind her down with this performance — and she couldn’t fucking let herself down either. It wasn’t like she hadn’t performed in front of crowds this big and bigger before.

She knew this time, they’d be looking harder. They’d be scrutinizing every detail of her, ready to take her down if — if she showed what she was really feeling.

But…but no. No, she could do this. She had to do this. If she didn’t do this, everyone would laugh, and then she’d not do the next thing, and that’d just lead her into locking herself in her room, never fucking coming out, crying all the goddamn time, dropping out of school and having to move back home, winding up —

No, no.

No, she could do this.

“Nickie,” came a voice from the doorway, and she looked over her shoulder to see the stage manager. “Yes?” she asked, but she knew what they wanted before they even spoke.

“You’re on.”

Her heart gave a solid throb and her stomach a painful, nauseating twist at those two words, but still, she nodded and gripped the armrests to push herself slowly out of the black, wood-frame chair and onto the floor. Her arms and legs were shaking wildly, and when she put her weight on her knees, they felt as though they were made of gelatin. She wobbled a moment in her pinching high heels, brushed her hair over her shoulders, and breathed out a deep breath.

She lifted her blue eyes to the stage manager, giving her a nod. She swallowed hard and clasped her hands in front of her in an attempt to calm their shaking. She managed a small smile. “Okay,” she said in her quiet voice, “lead the way.”

As she was led to the backstage area, Nickie felt her stomach doing somersaults. Her footing was unsteady, her breathing was growing shaky, her mouth was dry. Her eyes were glued to the ground beneath her feet.

But still, as she stood behind the curtain and waited in the darkness for the announcement that would cue her to walk onstage, she telling herself: you’ve got this.

She really fucking hoped that mantra wasn’t just smoke up her own ass.

mood
...showtime...

location
the celestial theater

outfit
as ready as i'll ever be

playing...
normal

by nickie.​

mentions
hunter (technically), gen, ash, & charlie

interactions
slater

tags
Winona Soap

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

This day was turning into a fucking disaster.

Not that he had any expectations after learning that his idiotic half wit for a step brother – yeah no, just thinking that word made him want to puke – had told his ‘dear stepmother and father’ all about the arts fest, but just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the universe always had to prove him wrong.

Thanks to that here he was having to figure out a last minute performance or deal with one his advisor’s stupid penalties when the last thing he wanted to do was get on a fucking stage for any damn reason.

His plan for the day was to stay in the background so he could disappear whenever he wanted to, whenever he needed to in order to avoid having Miranda or George – yeah he was sick of calling them by their ‘titles’ – pin him down and have the whole of HA put two and two together and realise he and Slater were ‘related’.

How would they realise that you ask? Because knowing Slater, where mama was, the little rat wouldn’t be too far behind, especially if it involved some ‘family bonding activity’ like seeing him perform.

To which he’d say family bonding his ass.

Fuck he didn’t want to perform, but then he’d seen some of the penalties Mr Marshall had handed out in the past and…

What was that dumb saying? Stuck between a rock and a hard place? Whatever it was, you could say it exemplified his damned current predicament.

Perform and he risked being found by the ‘family’ while he was on stage and couldn’t make an easy escape. Don’t perform and…

Dalton studied the eyes of his advisor then looked away and huffed a sigh. Fuck, there was no way he was getting out of this.

“Alright sir, I’ll find something.” If you could hear Dalton now, you’d think that Marshall just gave him a task from the devil himself which, in his opinion, was spot on. This task was fucking hell.

“Good.” Came the curt reply, as the man turned and started to walk away. “I expect to be notified when you do.”

Damn he hated this. How the fuck was he supposed to find something at the last minute? Stupid arts fest. Stupid Mr Marshall. Bloody fucking Damien Slater.

Yeah sure the arts fest was a great opportunity for the students, a blessing for many looking to cut their teeth in the industry of their choice or make waves but he was a senior.

The three arts fest preceding this one? Dalton had participated in all of them. He had already established some connections in the industry, he had done shoots for several companies and magazines, he had the upcoming internship at vogue for making any further connections or inroads he wanted to make.

In his opinion, he was established enough for his purposes. He couldn’t care less about becoming the world’s best male model or some top superstar or shit like that.

The arts fest was for people who either wanted to establish themselves or become the best of the best and shit like that, and he fell under neither category, don’t let anyone try and convince you otherwise.

Sure he did have his good ol’ competitive streak. If he was gonna do something he sure as hell wasn’t gonna suck at it, but competitive streak or whatever, still not in his plans. The title and prestige of being one of the best male models in the world wasn’t as attractive to him as it was to others and he wasn’t going to go out of his way for it.

Especially when out of his way meant the possibility of having his presently unacknowledged, and in his opinion, non-existent step sibling relationship with Damien Fucking Slutter shoved in his face at every turn because let’s face it. If the people at this damn school found out, knowing their inability to shut their damn traps, they would never ever let him forget that some stupid marriage decreed that they were related.

Kicking up little bits of the ground, Dalton made his way back over to where he had been pulled away from Adriane by his wonderful advisor, muttering curses under his breath when from the corner of his eye, he caught sight Simpclaire and came to a stop.

Looked like somebody was an awfully foul mood. That scowl on her face could probably melt a hole in the ground or something. And of course, like any good asshole, knowing that he wasn’t the only one having a shitty time made him feel a little better. Call it a twisted sort of camaraderie or whatever but it put a slight smirk on his face despite the situation.

Her having a shit time didn’t help his situation in the least but that didn’t mean it couldn’t make him a wee bit happier or wasn’t smirk worthy. Not smirking and instead having sympathy wasn’t going to make Marshall’s order disappear either so there was simply no reason for him not to.

…

Turned out that Simpclaire having a shitty time did help his situation.

One of her male models dropped out at the last minute.

She needed a replacement, he needed a performance.

You couldn’t really call the agreement they came to about the situation peaceful or straightforward, certainly could have been settled a lot easier than the way they’d end up settling it, but civil and peaceful were not words you used when they interacted.

In any case, the deal had been struck with the usual suspects that followed whenever he and Simpclaire were in the same space. Verbal jabs, snarky comments, warnings “not to screw things up for her”, the usual works.

Basically nothing he wasn’t used to and nothing he couldn’t handle.

Of course now show was over – thank fucking heavens – and he was off the stage, far from the prying eyes of the crowd and his ever wonderful ‘parents’.

Yeah somehow or another they’d managed to find their way over to the performance he didn’t even know he was going to be a part of until a short while before it started.

Just his damn luck.

At least with that performance his advisor would get off his case but fucking hell, he just couldn't catch a damn break.

And now he was in a changing room alone with Nathan Fucking Simp Woods.

Did he have anything personally against the guy? No, but he was the only other person in the room since Simpclaire was helping Adriane out in the other changing room.

Now that the performance was over and he didn’t need to behave and put away his scowl?

Well he was fucking pissed at every damn thing and everyone, including Woods, lack of present problems between them be damned.

Dalton undid the last button of the outfit he’d worn for the performance and shrugged out of it, dropping the top carelessly onto a nearby bench.

Simpclaire would probably kill him for treating her clothes that way but it wasn’t like she was here. Though her little boy toy was, and it wouldn’t surprise him in the least if the simp tattled to her that he had dared to place one of her outfits on a bench instead of treating it with reverence and hanging it up immediately.

He could do that later, after he was done changing. If he could just remember which fucking locker he’d placed his own clothes in.

Not this one, or this one. Damn it had someone moved his shit? He had no problem being shirtless or anything but he wanted to change and get out of there as fast as fucking possible before Miranda and George managed to find their way to the backstage entrance.

“Fucking hell…” He muttered as he finally pulled his clothes from one of the lockers. He turned and shut the door with a little more force than necessary, and with it out of the way, he found himself looking straight at Nate.

The guy was not even a model yet here he was backstage with him after taking a turn on the stage in one of Simpclaire’s designs.

The things you ended up doing when you turned into a simp. How sickeningly sweet it must have looked in everyone else’s eyes. It’d be a different story once he got dumped. No longer an “awwww he’s so sweet to her” kind of gesture, just plain pathetic and stupid.

And no, contrary to the stupid thought Simpclaire had planted into the heads of others about him having some kind of crazed obsession with her, his words were NOT a sign of some unrequited affection or desire for Woods to get dumped so he could take his place.

Dalton just didn’t think that any fucking romantic relationship at this school was going to last. Nothing lasted. Plain and simple. At the end of the day, you’d always be on your own. Always.

Tossing his clothes onto the bench next to the outfit, Dalton shrugged on his shirt. As he did, his eyes caught side of Woods again and being in the foul mood that he was, he couldn’t resist saying what shot out of his mouth next.

“For a half wit crackhead of a simp, I’m surprised you didn’t trip on the stage and make a fool of yourself.”

Could he have done without that comment?

Yes. Without question.

Did he want to?

No.

He was pissed to high heaven and blowing a little steam like this while he changed his clothes didn’t seem like a bad idea.

Especially since punching was out of the question cause it was the fucking arts fest and so the school was packed to hell.

Fuck he really hated the arts fest.

mood
I want every damn thing to just burn to hell

location
Changing room

outfit
dapper

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
Adriane, Slater

interactions
Evie, Nate

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Stardust Galaxy]

Maeve always thought that she was easy to talk to and that she had some talent for starting conversations with people she just met when she felt comfortable and wasn't losing her mind over a cow, but she never encountered someone that w.as as difficult to talk than this guy. She wasn't sure if it was uninterest that it was visible on the guy or he was just too awkward for conversations. One thing was sure as much as Maeve enjoyed talking to everyone and get to know them, she also knew where to draw the line and it was pretty obvious that the two wouldn't become friends or even acquaintances anytime soon.

Did thinking that she was talking to a wall would make her sound rude? Because that's exactly how she was feeling right now, nothing against Saint but their conversation was almost as if someone wanted to mix oil and water as much as you mix them, they would never combine and she and Saint were pretty much like that. The only proper conversation they had was surrounded about cows, and she believed it was enough of a reason to not moving on with her wanting to know more about the guy, the line of the relationship was drawn and it wouldn't move between the guy who sculpted a cow and a girl that happen to have an existential crisis over a cow, it was a situation taken out of a comedy if someone put some thought into their interaction.

But in the last attempt of sparking a conversation, she introduced herself and even mention her department, but once again she was received with no much emotion of the artist, maybe he was not the type to be interested in dance or he didn't understand about it just like she was confused on the meaning of his project, they were both putting the nail of the coffin and there was no turning back, at least they were cordial with the other, although she wasn't sure if that made things better or no, to be honest.

“Maeve… I’m Saint…Saint Taylor. Senior, visuals. Pleasure to meet you.” Saint said, and by the way he said her name it was pretty obvious that he didn't have a clue who she was, she wasn't sure if that was good or no after all you had people that were already known and then you have the extras and Maeve knew for sure that she belonged in the second category, but that was just in the meantime, she was sure that she could change that eventually, she just needed to work harder she supposed, but that wasn't the main topic right now.

"Pleasure to meet you too" She replied, not knowing what to say next, should she continue on her attempt to have a conversation with Saint or just excuse herself and pretend that this conversation didn't happen and they just went back to being strangers, the second option did sound tempting, maybe she already embarrassed herself enough for the day and it was time to move on "I think I should get going, I'm supposed to meet with my parents so I don't want to keep them waiting more than they already are. It was nice meeting you Saint and you are really talented and enjoy your last Arts Festival" She said with a smile.

"See you!" She added as she starting leaving the place, now she still had some time before she really had to meet her parents, she only hoped that if she encountered someone else, it was someone she could have a conversation that wasn't about cattle.

Location: arts festival | Mood: see you later
Outift: Here | Interactions: Saint ( ohdittoh )

Maeve Anneliese Ackerman

Code by Stardust Galaxy​

 

[Xed]

Avery Ohtani

He got hit on the head again. Except not by Casey’s head this time but by his knuckles.

A book he read once had said that getting hit on the head by someone was not a good thing.

It was bad. Very bad. Getting hit on the head for one could lead to concussions and then brain damage and then a headache and blurry vision and memory loss and just, very bad things.

And then there was what the book said. That getting hit on the head by someone could mean that you were being silly or your head was empty or you weren’t thinking.

The title of the book was lost on him at the moment but he was certain that was what it had said.

Maybe the knock on his head had really given him a concussion because whatever Casey said next was completely lost on him.

It was just a repeat of the headless chickens running amok and playing pinball in his head while his brain short-circuited.

Avery was trying to string together Casey’s words in his head, to the digest the sentences but he just couldn’t. They were coming in, in separate pieces with spaces between them so wide that they were just floating individually and he couldn’t pull them together to form a coherent line that his brain could understand.

He was still trying to make some sense out of the mess of words when Bella arrived with a greeting that much like Casey’s words, he couldn’t follow or understand.

Bon…bon jour may… part… ten… near??

Foreign languages were hard. They just scrambled his brain even further.

Without missing a beat, Casey greeted her with a wide smile and then lifted his hand and oh no was he –

Oh. He wasn’t.

Avery heaved a small sigh of relief when Casey didn’t knock Bella on the head with his fist, though he did pull it back into some funny little gesture…

Ohhh, he’d seen that on TV once. It was one of those special handshake things that signified a close friendship.

A close friendship. How nice it must be to be part of one.

He wished he had close friends too.

Maybe if he did his part well today at the arts fest and didn’t make any mistakes then their friendship could evolve from just friends to close friends.

That would be really nice.

Avery smiled a little as the thought warmed his heart and sent a little surge of excitement through his body.

He was going to do his very best for today! For sure!

“Are ya ready?” Casey asked.

“Yeah!” Avery was buzzing with excitement now, and then he remembered that he hadn’t greeted Bella yet. Oh no. He had to fix that quick.

“You look really pretty today as well Bella.” He scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly, hoping that she wouldn’t be upset by his failure to greet her right at the start.

"Oh and you aren't late. There's still some time before our performance is due to start." Avery glanced at his watch as he reassured her with a soft smile.

Casey in the meantime had launched off into another one of his talks that Avery still couldn’t quite follow. Hopefully as time passed and he spent more time with Casey, he would be able to understand him better.

For now, all that he got was that Casey seemed to be very excited given all the bouncing he was doing and the big grin on his face.

“I’m ready I think.” Avery replied, relieved that he understood Casey’s last round of questions.

“I’m not too sure where we’re supposed to go though.” He added, scratching his head as he glanced to Bella for direction. “Are we even allowed to be backstage if we’re not going on stage?”

The last thing Avery wanted was to break some rules or do the wrong thing and making choices was just hard.

mood
What do we do?

location
Arts Fest

outfit
festival formal

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
NA

interactions
Casey, Bella

tags
Winona geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Spencer Gray

Hearing Maggie ask him to cook for her sometime made him smile.

Don’t tell Ez he ever said this, but cooking just for him all the time would get pretty boring after a while.

Just kidding.

He loved cooking for his older brother but he also relished the opportunity to cook for others and have them try his food, especially when the food put a massive smile on their faces.

It made him happy, to see other people be happy because of something he did. And after all the mistakes he had made in the past… it was the least he could do to put a smile on someone else’s face.

A chuckle escaped him as he listened to Maggie paint her scenario. Soulmates but foodie edition. Food-mates.

“I love it.” He admitted, big old toothy smile on his face as he leaned back a little. “Food-mates sounds amazing. If I ever decide to branch into the food business I might just have to steal that name from you for the bistro or restaurant I start.” His hands did as much talking as he did, his fingers plucking an imaginary name out of the air.

If he did go into the food business, that would probably be once his dance career was over. He loved cooking but at the end of the day, dance was and would always be his first love, and he was going to give his everything to his dance career.

Any other plans he might have in life, cooking, romance, starting a family and stuff, all of that would come after. Trying to take on too many things at once was just inviting trouble. He wouldn’t be able to juggle all of it and he didn’t want to repeat his mistakes.

If he never learnt from his mistakes, then he’d never be able to forgive himself for the pain they had caused.

Once was more than enough. He never wanted to cause that type of pain, that type of suffering again.

There was a slight strain in his smile that he tried to ease away with a light bit of laughter. Hopefully Maggie didn’t notice as she giggled and talked about gold digging.

At the risk of sounding like a broken tape recorder, he didn’t want to bring the mood down with his personal problems, especially during a celebration that was meant for her.

And then she joked and asked if she could ever become a sugar mama and he was caught off guard to say the least.

Thankfully his socialising reflexes kicked in and he laughed in response. “A sugar mama huh?”

He shook his head a little as he noticed her smirk, keeping the smile on his face. Not a question he ever expected to be asked in his life time.

Did he think someone he just met could be a sugar mama or a MILF?

Definitely up there in the list of things that caught him off guard the most.

While Spencer was still a virgin, most of his friends back home hadn’t been and his brother was obviously very sexually active and didn’t shy away from talking about it and so he was no stranger to such topics.

Personally, he would never get involved with a sugar mama nor would he get behind the concept of a MILF. They weren’t ideas he was comfortable with, but this wasn’t a conversation about his opinions and unless he was wrong, that little smirk on Maggie’s seemed to resemble the smirk Ezra often wore when he was teasing others.

That same old cheeky streak.

Anyways he had to give her an answer and it seemed to be an innocent teasing question setting aside the fact that it was a sexual topic, and the moment was about her and letting her enjoy the success of putting on an amazing performance.

“hmmm hard to say,” he started slowly, tapping his finger on the table as he glanced up at the sky briefly, searching his brain for what would be an appropriate answer.

Honestly speaking, this was not his preferred cup of tea for a conversation, that was more Ezra’s things, but nothing he couldn’t handle for a little while to avoid having his mild discomfort about answering the question ruin the mood.

“a lot can change between now and 30 years later,” Spencer’s gaze returned back to her as he continued, “ask me again in 30 years and I think I’ll be able to give you an answer then.” He concluded with a slightly cheeky smile.

Not really an answer but that was the best he could think of while toeing the line between not his discomfort and maintaining the mood and also not giving any wrong signals.

She seemed to be just teasing him but for all he knew, that could also have been an invite for him to flirt with her and he didn’t want to give a response that could be interpreted as flirtatious and end up misleading her.

Agreeing could be taken the wrong way if she was indeed not just playfully teasing, disagreeing could be rude and he didn’t want to accidentally shame anyone, and a non-answer of “maybe” or “I don’t know” could also be taken the wrong way.

He’d tried the “I don’t know” once before and five minutes later the girl had pulled in for a kiss and when he ended up turning her down, and then she had gotten embarrassed and upset and it just turned into an ugly and unfortunate affair.

Spencer listened quietly with his customary smile as Maggie assured him that all was fine on the food front.

“Sounds like you have a bit of a troublemaking streak huh?” He teased.

Trouble wasn’t something he got into often but he had his fair share of little incidents here and there.

Not necessarily a good thing to get into but then everyone got into trouble at least once in their lifetime and just because one got into trouble didn’t mean it was a bad thing. It differed from situation to situation.

When Maggie told him not to apologise for his rambling about dancing, it made him happy. Truthfully it had been a while since he had talked to anyone about his dancing and love of it. With his dance crew, any discussions about dance were usually centred around their next performance, the choreography, techniques, not so much their love of dance itself.

Sheryl had been upset with him because of his dancing and how much time it had taken, the number of broken promises it led to. She’d tried to entertain him but whenever the topic came up, it inevitably made things tense so he’d avoid talking about it altogether when they were together.

And then at home, with everything that was happening to Nat, to talk about dance with anyone in his family just felt… wrong. It just seemed like a topic that, if he brought it up, it would make things uncomfortable, like some kind of hint and pressure to let him pursue it despite what Nat was going through and so… he just couldn’t.

Those few brief moments talking about dance to Maggie, having her listen to him, encouraging him to talk about his love of dance with her, it warmed his heart.

As they sat there, tucking into their food, Maggie answered his first question and he smiled as he swallowed his spoonful of noodles.

“Yeah? Dancing is all about having fun. You know just, let loose, feel the beat and move to it.” He shook his shoulders a little as he spoke.

“A dance can be used to express a lot of different things and emotions depending on the routine, like love, sadness, nature, change,” his hands were at work again, pulling out the imaginary words with his hands, “but I think at the core of every dance, professional or recreational is joy and having fun with it.” Spencer concluded by bringing his hands together to hold an imaginary ball of joy between them as he flashed his smile.

Probably a little off topic since really, she was just saying that she danced recreationally and not professionally but he had been given the green light to talk about his love of dancing and he couldn’t really resist.

His heart softened a little when she mentioned that her music had been a way for her to get away from her family for a bit. He couldn’t really say he related because he was one of the lucky ones and he loved his family. If anything, being away from them now, not being able to share this moment at the arts fest with them was killing him a little, but everyone had their struggles and despite that Maggie seemed happy. Certainly full of energy and cheer.

Of course he could also be overthinking things, probably was. “Get away from my family for a bit” did not automatically mean family trouble or problems at home and really, it wasn’t his place to speculate.

Still, hearing her share a personal detail like that, even though it was a small one, he couldn’t help think about his own family and how last week at lock in, he had swerved answering Tori’s question properly because it had been too personal.

And then Maggie got even more personal.

“I love music because it’s the only time I feel heard.”

Before this, Spencer’s responses had been almost automatic, like he had them pre-recorded and just loaded in the right tape for the right situation, but this time, he remained quiet as he let that soak in and a little voice echoed in his head.

“I just feel like you don’t really hear me anymore... Like, you’re listening and you’re saying all these things and making all these promises, but you’re not really hearing what I’m saying.”

Pain lanced in his heart at the memory. He’d said all the ‘right things’, reassured her that was not the case, but Sherly had been right back then.

He hadn’t heard her.

Not a word she’d said. Not one.

His eyes fell to the table as he set his utensils down.

Confronted with a glimpse of vulnerability from Maggie like this, he felt a little paralysed. Reminded of the time when he’d failed to listen and everything that his failure had caused.

The Maggie who didn’t feel heard, did she feel the same way as Sheryl before she found her music? If only Sheryl had found her music, her avenue to be heard…

If only he had provided her with that.

He searched his brain for something to say but he just kept drawing blanks. Blanks, whys, and what ifs.

Before he could find an answer, Maggie spoke again and he looked up to see a smile back on her face as she dismissed what she said and quickly moved onto a different topic.

Spencer wanted to say something, to pull her back to the previous topic, tell her not to dismiss what she said but… he couldn’t find the words.

Just guilt and pain. As someone who had failed to listen in the past… who robbed someone else’s voice with his careless actions… and caused irreparable damage because of it.

So a weak “hey, that’s alright” with an equally weak smile was all that he could manage as he took another mouthful of noodles to try and reset.

“I haven’t talked to anyone named Josie yet,” he replied, going along with the flow of the conversation, “I’ve only really interacted with Maeve and Zeph from dance, as for performances, I just transferred in from New Zealand two weeks ago so I haven’t had the chance to make too many friends yet.” He admitted between bites of food. The easy smile had settled back on his face but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t quite shake her admission about loving music because it was the only time she felt like she was heard.

“My brother already finished his showcase earlier and Zeph and Maeve’s performance is also over so there isn’t really anything… oh a couple of friends from the lit department are doing a story reading later, I'm not sure if you know them, Tori and Beth. But other than that… yeah,” he nodded to himself once he was sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, “there’s nothing else. What about you?"

He gestured to her with his free hand, as he smiled warmly, trying to shift the focus of his thoughts.

"I’m sure you have a number of performances you want to watch and friends you want to support. As a member of your celebration party" that sounded a lot more cheery and uplifting in his head but now that he said it, he had to push through, "I’d be more than happy to accompany you to watch their performances if you want me too.”

That wasn't a lie. He did want to see more performances anyways, that was the whole point of an arts fest no?

Sadly her words from earlier were still stuck in his head despite that attempt to change gears. Still, the least he could do given that she tried to change topics was go along with it and keep the mood up, especially since he didn't have an answer to her words.

mood
Change gears

location
arts fest

outfit
Nat's Pick

playing...
WONDER

by Shawn Mendes​

mentions
Ezra, Zeph, Maeve, Josie, Tori, Beth

interactions
Maggie

tags
Kitsune2202

º º code by ditto º º

 

[AkuTheWolfOkami]

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  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  over it
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  at the arts fest just vibing
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Slater ( Winona )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

STASSI

Junior(18)- Model - Golden Goddess

She could recall the first time that she stepped foot on the ice. It was a cold day and they were visiting family in Moscow. The wind was blowing, and she was on the lake behind her cousin’s house. She had a maroon scarf with matching earmuffs, hat and gloves.

She remembered everything down to the color of her new skates, (brown) and the wet spot a each snowflake left when it fell on it. The skate would slide as she fought to catch her balance, before dropping to her behind. Her cousin rushed to her assistance but was held up by Stassi’s mother.

The four-year-old let out a giddy laugh and chuckle, slowly trying to get to her feet. She would continue the dance of falling and getting back up on the cold ice during the cold winter. Her mother had instilled an important lesson in her, that Stassi had never let go. The pursuit of perfection would not be easy, but you couldn’t give up and sometimes it always took the first step.

As much disdain as she had for her parents, her mother – well stepmother – was not the reason for it. For the most part. She had treated her like her own and whether that was to keep up the image of a complete family, didn’t matter. She had become an amazing person.

Her father…

Her father was the root of her bad mood, and she didn’t have skating to kind of take her mind off of it. So she was a little startled when she was approached by a boy she wasn’t exactly familiar with.

Hey

That was all it took for her to be brought out of her own world full of dark clouds and cold breezes to be brought back to the humid world of Los Angeles. Not the crowds of people, a simple Hey.

Damien Slater

She turned to look him into the face as her Hazel green eyes (which were more green than hazel atm) searched his face to decipher his countenance. Was he an idiot that she would have to ignore and keep it pushing? Or was he worth her actual time and attention. She had decided recently that maybe she didn’t do a great job at figuring that out about people. Which is how she allowed Jace to rob her of some of her happiness.

Maybe she was thinking too far ahead though. She had barely gotten a name out of this stranger who was bold enough to approach him. In Russia, her bodyguard would have thrown him on the ground for such boldness. Even with the scandal, she was still nobility, but she wasn’t in Russia. She rarely was. So despite her wealth outside of figure skating…she was a nobody.

She swallowed air signifying she was literally swallowing her pride.

“Anastasia Perova,”

she responded gently, finally letting her eyes make contact with his. She had been in America long enough, technically more than half of her life, to know that when a random boy approached you – it was usually for one of two reasons. To get your number or to get your under garments.

You good? You're looking a little...

Was she really wearing her emotions on her sleeves that much? Could he really tell how bad she wanted to skip the rest of the day and just go party with Javi. So she tilted her head to one side as she waited for him to finish his thought.

Down, I guess

Apt. Probably the best description of her mood that he could have used. So she shrugged her shoulders a bit and offered a warm, gentle smile,

”Maybe a little. A little lonely, but surrounded by a bunch of people.”

Her words were devoid of any Russian accent, something she had to be deliberate about.

“Did you come to rescue me?”

she continued, letting her accent return and drip off every syllable she enunciated. People were attracted to accents, right? Made them seem more exotic.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ohdittoh]

felix rian emmerson

Nate said his goodbyes — or, rather, promised to keep Felix in mind for his drug dealin’ and was off again, and for a moment after his prospect went back inside, Felix just stood, staring at the doors with a slight frown on his face. He let out a soft sigh.

He did really hope that Nate would keep him in mind; he seemed to be the type that’d be very profitable.

Felix went back inside after another couple of moments. With that conversation with Nathan out of the way, the blonde found himself wanderin’ the theater once again. He ran across his parents again, said his goodbyes to them before they rushed off, and then was just kind of…left with nothin’ really to do and nothin’ he particularly cared to see. He was pretty sure that his friends’ performances were already said and done — granted, he didn’t really double-check, but he’d been in Slater’s project and he couldn’t really recall the name of Kian’s band — so he just wound up walkin’ around with his hands in his pockets, casually strollin’ here and there and oglin’ different exhibits and booths.

Here, there were booths with books to preview on them, which Felix did stop to read a few lines of before he lost interest. He didn’t really care about memoirs of a Hollywood Arts student and how they “found their success”. There, there was a giant papier-mâché box fan. That’d’ve been interesting if it worked, but it didn’t. A shame, really.

He walked out of yet another exhibit, humming “Ride of the Valkyries” softly to himself, and he heard his stomach growl. Frowning slightly, he patted himself down to make sure he had his wallet. Of course, he did — he hardly went anywhere without it — but it never hurt to double- or triple-check before he wound up goin’ to a concession stand and comin’ up empty. Ya know, because that would be very embarrassin’ — and honestly, very tragic.

”That’ll be fourteen-ninety-five.”

“Comin’ right — oh no, I forgot my wallet.”

“No money, no burger.”

And the protagonist got not even a single peek at the succulent pickles inside before it was end scene. A true twenty-first century tragedy.

His blue eyes scanned for any food stands nearby, and when he didn’t find one immediately, he began to walk in search of one. It was crowded, which was no surprise — he felt like it was even busier this year than last year, honestly.

Each time he thought he was nearing a food booth, it turned out to be just another project setup — a photography portfolio, another book table, this and that and this, but no food. Sighin’ deeply, he turned another corner, a slight frown on his face.

However, he spotted a figure that made his frown tug into a grin. Quickenin’ his pace a bit to catch up with her, Felix called out, “Maeve!” When he reached her side, his grin boldened. “Hey, howdy, hello, I was wonderin’ if I’d see you around.” His eyes flicked about the area of the hall in front of them, and he finally spotted one — a food stall. He looked back over at her. “I was actually just about to grab a bite. Ya got somethin’ to do, or do ya wanna to come with?" He cocked his head at her slightly, and then added with a slight chuckle, "It's on me.”

mood
greetin'

location
the celestial theater

outfit
formal, but not too fancy

playing...
take a slice

by glass animals​

mentions
nate, slater, & kian

interactions
maeve

tags
Stardust Galaxy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[gh0stwriter]

Lydia Fox

He had an energy.

Sometimes it was infectious.

Sometimes it was annoying.

Sometimes it navigated between the two at an alarmingly fast rate that caused whiplash and injury. She hadn’t really decided where she landed. On one hand, it was nice. Nice to be friendly with someone she once held in the highest of esteem. Someone who had known her better than anyone.

On the other hand, they were different people now. So much had happened. So much had changed. Could it really just be business as usual? She was probably reading way too much into it. And while this was becoming a recurring thing…running into each other, it didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t even have to rekindle a long dead friendship.

“I got s’more candy, if you want it.” She peeked inside the bag. “I’m good for now, but if I need a sugar rush, I know who to come to.” She said with a small chuckle as she took a deep breath and glanced around the auditorium.

“You know that Zeph dude? Big tall guy, kinda doesn’t talk much and kinda seems to not talk to many people? Yeah, that dude — dancer guy? Aussie, mate?” He put on an accent for the last bit of information, and then he nodded to himself. “Uh-huh, that guy and me are big buds now — eh, I’m kinda his mentor, sensei, teacher, ya know, showing him the ropes of being dope, getting him as gnarly as me and Charlie, giving him a lick at being sick, luhmaooo. ”

Her complacent smile quickly fell at the mention of Charlie. It wasn’t Lin’s fault. He didn’t know or if he did, it slipped his mind. Charlie and her were…in a worse place than she and Lin had been and she pretty much called him trash and told him she was too good for him.

Of course she didn’t mean it. It was her parents talking, but he knew better than anyone the pressures your parents can hold on you. Especially when they saved you from whomever chose to give her up for adoption. She had been looking for her birth parents, digging around her dad’s office. Whatever records they had were hidden well because she’d yet to find them.

Regardless…Charlie was a bad topic. She gave a tight smile as he continued to gush about how awesome he was and how Zeph would become the next Lindsay Kay. God help the world if that were true. Might be one of the signs of the apocalypse.

“How ‘bout yours, huh? Probably nothing cool like mine, but whatcha doiiin’, huh, huh?”

She laughed. “The same. I promised Casey I’d watch his performance and I’m sure I can catch a few more before I have to get back to the Chronicle.” She had three deadlines to meet by this evening and she assumed none of her reporters were actually going to come through for her. Wastes of space…the lot of them. “He’s amazing if you haven’t seen him. A little…less theatrically than you, but still puts on a good show.” She was being as nice as she could. Lin’s stage shows were what she pictured his mind to be like. Erratic. Nonsensical. Like a trip to the chocolate factory if everyone was on shrooms.

mood
pissed

location
the school parking lot

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Kiss the Girl

by The Little Mermaid​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lin

tags

ohdittoh

º º code by ditto º º

 

[AkuTheWolfOkami]

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  feeling anxious but good
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  at the arts fest waiting for amy's performance
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  natsukashii
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

REMI

QB1(#12) - Junior- Handsome - Actor

Somewhere between the moments of silence, or one of Hunter’s responses it became abundantly clear to Remi. They were at two different stages of their maturation. It wasn’t that Remi thought Hunter was immature – on the contrary. For them to be having this conversation at all especially fresh off a break up, it spoke a lot to his maturity. At least from what Remi could tell.

To be frank, Remi didn’t know him from any other face in the crowd. If Nickie wasn’t his ex, then he would just be another blank face passing by. It wasn’t because Hunter was a bad person, Remi just hadn’t had a need to know him until recently. And, if he was being honest, no need to know him any futher.

I don’t know man… There’s nothing more annoying than being so into someone only for them to drop you like a baked potato because things got a little steamy.

Though it wasn’t quite the same, Remi could relate to that by how he felt about his situation with Maggie. Though he supposed that he was glad that it turned out that way with her. He wouldn’t have had this chance to be with Amy if that wasn’t the case.

He blinked a few times as he thought about what Hunter was saying. “Yeah, I get it. Trust me. It’s not just annoying, but frustrating and can have you questioning yourself.” He knew that feeling, and he knew he probably caused Nickie to have that feeling too. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling and it felt more like purgatory than anything.

“Either way man it’s nothing you can really do about it, but it’s good to understand how you feel,”

he started before sighing. He was sounding like a therapist,

“Either way, we’re in high school. They’ll be more woman who let us down…”

That’s probably not what he wanted to hear, but that was the truth. With hormones running amuck, it was hard not to feel everything tenfold. They were teenagers, that’s what happened, but the truth was…most relationships ended up in break-ups. It didn’t make it hurt any less, but you would survive. You would move on.

But anyway, what ya doing here anyway? Don’t you have a performance soon or anything?

That was right. He had said he was going to check when his presentation was, but he never did. Wouldn’t it be ironic and hilarious if it was right at this moment?

His chocolate hand slowly reached down into his pocket and slid his phone out. A few finger slides and he was into his calendar looking at his reminder for his time to present. Welp. Wasn’t this hilarious. He absolutely was supposed to go on and present at this moment. He absolutely was not. Though sports were ignored here, he still bought himself a few favors from some of the boosters so it wouldn’t be too hard getting his slot rescheduled.

“Yeah, I was supposed to be presenting now, but I’m working on getting the shifted to later. I’m here to support someone.”

As for me, I’m sort of here to support someone close to me. Not sure when she’s gonna go on, though, so I might be here a while.

“Ha, well I’m here to support Amy. And she’s supposed to be going on soon so.”

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[natsukashii]

Hunter Drake

“No shit?”

When Remi said he was here to support Amy too, Hunter had the slow realization that Nickie wasn’t the only person they had in common. The fact both of them were here to support Amy was honestly a small world moment. Like Zazu trapped in the skeleton prison as Scar hummed kind of small world. Like something that you couldn’t predict actually happening and tying two people who were virtually strangers to each other.

Like maybe Remi would be that one guy who wouldn’t write Hunter off because he was a cockroach (not his words) or something like that.

“Talk about a small world.” Hunter let out a laugh as he rotated his shoulders in slow motions. They felt stiff so he just wanted to loosen them up a bit. “That’s who I’m here to support, too!”

He wondered what Remi’s relationship with Amy was. It's not like Hunter would know even if he did think about it. He barely knew Remi. But maybe that didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t matter what he was to Amy. The fact of the matter was they were both here to support her and, as much as Hunter wanted to question it, maybe he didn’t need to. If he was here for Amy, then that’s all Hunter needed to know. Anyone who was a friend of Amy’s (save for Saint Charlie) was a friend of his (assuming they wanted to be).

And it’s not like Hunter and Remi don’t get along. They’ve been talking about Nickie for a few minutes now and if that was any indication, Hunter felt good about him and Remi going forward. And it helped that he was pro-Amy.

“So, not trying to pry or anything,” Hunter said, looking at Remi in a somewhat awkward way, “but how do you know Amy?” He asked, though felt like he needed to state something else. “By the way, I’m not asking because I’m overly protective or anything.” Hunter paused and laughed. “Okay, I kinda am, but she’s kinda like a sister to me and, I guess I’m just curious is all. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just figured since we’re both here for her and you know a little more than I do…” As he trailed off into silence, Hunter figured he’d just shut up. He rambled too much sometimes.

mood
Chatty

location
Arts Fest

outfit
Ready to kill it

playing...
The Bitter Taste

by Hunter Drake​

mentions
Amy, Charlie

interactions
Remi

tags
AkuTheWolfOkami

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Soap]

Livanna Moore
"Find the positive in everything. ”

@Livieeee is has updated her status to:

@Livieeee has interacted with:
Kayla

@Livieeee has mentioned:
Gen, Damien, Nate, Kian, Josie, Maggie

@Livieeee has set her outfit to:
Sparkley-Sexy

@Livieeee has tagged:
AkuTheWolfOkami​

Liv’s smile widened at her words but gradually came to a fade, she hopped off her chair to face Kayla like a normal person instead of sitting pretzel style sideways.

“Noooo, you’re the beautiful one.”

It wasn’t fair.

You’re being selfish, Liv.

You’re leading her on.

Maybe she was leading herself on? Liv loved love. There was no doubt about it. But maybe she just loved the idea of it and not the hurt that came with it.

“But yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

There could be a number of reasons.

Number one, her high had come to an end.

No? Well, there’s still a little bit of something keeping her up.

Number two, a small blowup with Gen happened earlier, (what’s new though?) They made up.

But not actually made up, made up.

Yeah, Liv’s still mad about the whole— Whatever it all was. It was best to ignore it all.

So, it can’t bother you if you forget it happened.

Number three, she was being forced to do the stupid performance she didn’t even want to do.

Okay, well, she wanted to perform.

Just not this particular song.

She’s used to it, though. Liv never really had any creative control over her own career. But that was okay. She can be mad for a little, but her career was going good and has been for years, so Nick knew what he was doing.

Kinda.

So… was that why she wouldn’t be okay?

Probably not, but it could add onto it.

With these kinds of questions Liv always knew how to deflect them.

As long as she wasn’t sober.

“Oh, maybe it’s because we haven’t had a second date yetttttt? That could be the reason.”

Or kissed.

But Liv can be patient.

It’s okay.

Liv put her hands up in mock defense before continuing with a sly smile.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you had a good time.”

What?

She’s teasing.

Livanna closed some distance between them and took a hold of her hand, swaying their intertwined hands slowly.

“Just for the record, I really hope I’m wrong.”

Her makeup artist from quite a ways away made a motion with his hand, circling the air and Liv sighed, glancing back at Kayla and quickly jumping to another conversation.

“Hey, did you perform already? Did I miss it?”

Liv withdrew from Kayla, walking towards the curtain, she grabbed the hems of her t-shirt and removed it— it’s totally okay, Liv had a bra on, so she wasn’t completely naked.

Well, she would’ve been if she could reach the little clasp. She was always bad with those.

Liv disappeared behind the makeshift changing station they had and started to slip the rest of her garments off and the outfit on.

“I’m super excited to see you do your little thing— well, not little but you know. I bet you’re gonna be amazing.”

Liv emerged from her makeshift dressing room, this time with a shirt on of course.

It was a little revealing, at least if you were going by old people’s standards but Liv has worn way worse before.

It was adorable, but she would’ve rather worn… all black or something mysterious and sexy instead of just…

Sparkly-sexy.

That wasn’t a word, no.

Didn’t matter though it got her point across. “I don’t have much time till I have to go on.” The small girl frowned, glancing towards the stage.

“Hey, maybe we can do something fun later? Hit a club or… whatever you want.”

The club sounded fun.

Let’s just be honest and say pills sounded fun, that was the only place socially acceptable to offer and receive just the right kind of ‘fun.’

“I know a really cool place. It’s this rave place? I went there with Josie, and Damien and Kian and Maggieeee.”

She was rambling a bit.

But it’s Liv, so. It isn’t surprising.

“They have drinks, they don’t card don’t worry, there’s also people who kinda offer… you know, molly and stuff…”

“No pressure though! Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m super comfy with.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[gh0stwriter]

Lucky DuBois

So, he was thinking. What was he thinking? Did he even know? Nope. He wasn’t sure what the next words that were gonna come out of his mouth would be. What do you say after you have a non-moment moment that just occurred. Had anyone witnessed it, it would have looked…questionable. Thankfully, they were interrupted before…before he fucked shit up…like he always did.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“Give me, like, one minute.” He returned her smile and nodded as he turned around and took a deep breath. Sliding his hands down the sides of his jacket and fanning both sides to get air flowing.

That took an unexpected turn. He would be blind, dumb and stupid not to notice it. The closeness. The touching. The closeness. The touching. They were so fucking close. Too close. Way too fucking close.

Sure, it wouldn’t normally be that big of a deal. Hell, he’d probably have made a move if it had been anyone else. Anyone else. But this was Ash. His friend. The girl who took a risk by partnering with some newbie. She wasn’t someone you just hooked up with. She was a relationship girl and Lucky didn’t do relationships. Lucky didn’t want a relationship.

And she knew that. She knew that. But the touching. The closeness. He huffed out a breath and cracked his neck. Was it hot in here or had he just not had sex in two weeks? The answer was obvious. That is all this was. Nerves and restlessness. He was reading too much into it. He was making it a way bigger deal than it had to be.

It was Javi and Kian. They had made a big deal about them performing together. Josie just assumed that he and Ash were fucking. Even when he promised her it wasn’t happening. And Dorian…and Evie. Okay, why did everyone assume there was something going on between them?

Ash wasn’t into him. He wasn’t into Ash. It was just an intense situation. You know, the classic “comfort your nervous partner by making them feel your heartbeat and then they lace their fingers with yours and then you touch foreheads and caress their side” routine. It was perfectly normal. It was just two friends combating nerves. That was all. That’s all it could be.

"Ready," He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling before he turned around and caught her gaze. “Yup.” He said, exacerbated. His throat suddenly dry. “I was born ready.” The confidence was lost in the sentiment, but he only hoped she didn’t notice.

“Come on—“ he followed her lead. “You remember, like, everything, right?” He glanced over at her as a smirk formed on his face. “We’re singing a Journey cover, right?” He said with a wink as the sight of backstage renewed his senses. This was why he was here. Why they were here. Whatever moment or non-moment they just shared would still be there later, but now…right now, they needed to be on point.

"I mean, like... like that's dumb, like..." Ash gave a little shake of her head as they started walking towards the backstage area. "Like of course you do, sorry... I'm just, just, like... still kind of nervous or whatever."

“Cool as a cucumber, Blair.” He said as they approached the steps to stage right. He took a deep breath. “Three minutes.” He said with a smile as he looked over. “Three minutes of fucking awesomeness.” He said turning her previous statement around. “Everything else will still be here when we get done.” He said as he nudged her lightly. “But for three minutes…we are gonna be great.” He assured her. “I’ve got you.” And he did. “And you got me.” And she did. He could be confident enough for both of them.

mood
restless...not nervouslocation
dressing room

outfit
looking good

playing...
Drowning

by Olivia Holt & Ross Lynch

mentions
na

interactions
Ashtags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[AkuTheWolfOkami]

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  the usual, depressed, but elated to see liv
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  backstage with liv
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

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Kaash

depression

Kayla wasn’t exactly the most extroverted person in the world, so talking a lot wasn’t exactly in her bag of tricks, so it was pleasant allowing Liv to lead the conversation. Well that was a little misleading because Kayla kind of talked Livanna’s head off on their date. That was different. She was nervous then and trying her best to keep her date engaged.

Well she was still nervous now, but the difference was that she had already found some form of comfortability with the woman in front of her. She seemed to be infatuated with her, for which Kayla could not understand why, and that meant she only needed to be herself.

But yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?

Well that was a loaded question. From Kayla’s experience this kind of question didn’t really have a right answer. It was more on a sliding scale of acceptable response and unacceptable response. Even if you meant well, say the wrong thing and it all exploded.

It was like walking a minefield. A minefield of emotions.

Kayla wasn’t used to navigating these kinds of conversations because she never needed to. Dating wasn’t really in the cards for her, because she just felt they would end in disaster. It wasn’t that she hadn’t dated before. She did. She just ended up being the toxic, detached, manipulative one and that never ended well. So the correct statement would be she never dated seriously, but this? This felt different.

Oh, maybe it’s because we haven’t had a second date yetttttt? That could be the reason.

Eek. That was true. They hadn’t been on a second date. It had been a while since their first and it probably would be proper to go on another. She had just been swamped with everything that was going on. With the resurgence and re-release of her album she had been getting booked for more shows. Though that night with Maggie and everyone was exciting, she had more likes that with her other circles of friends.

Still, they needed a date sometime soon, right?

Kiss me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you had a good time.

She opened her mouth up to speak but couldn’t. The statement caught her without words and she wasn’t really sure what to say. She had an amazing time so that wasn’t the issue, but kissing her?

She had thought about it since their date, wanting to kiss her. She had nice lips and…shit. She was close to her and holding her hand. Her breaths became struggled as her heart started to race. She hadn’t felt like this…ever? Well not at least since her first love where she found out she was even into women.

Just for the record, I really hope I’m wrong.

She was so wrong, and she wanted to show her. She knew she was probably just teasing, but that didn’t change anything. She leaned forward and ready to attempt to kiss her but stopped short when she looked behind her to her make up artist.

Hey, did you perform already? Did I miss it? Livanna uttered before moving away from Kayla, causing her to let out a sigh in disappointment, but perked up a bit when she noticed the removal of her clothes.

“Uh, I haven’t. gone yet. Newt and I go on at..sometime in the evening.”

She stated, finally breaking the vow of silence that it seemed she had taken. That was the only way to describe her lack of words, right?

“I’m excited too, it’s the first time I’ve done something like this. It’s also the first time I’m performing with someone else,”

she had forgotten about that. She hadn’t even performed with a band, though she was sure this round of shows at some point she would. This was new for her in totality,

”I’m excited to see you. I don’t think I have ever.”

If Kayla was being honest, the music that Liv put out wasn’t her cup of tea. However, you like the stuff the person likes so she gave a little listen into her music. Despite it not being her favorite her pop star music did inspire a line or two in her song. Well Liv inspired a lot of the lines in the song, but specifically about her music.

Hey, maybe we can do something fun later? Hit a club or… whatever you want.

I know a really cool place. It’s this rave place? I went there with Josie, and Damien and Kian and Maggieeee

They have drinks, they don’t card don’t worry, there’s also people who kinda offer… you know, molly and stuff…

No pressure though! Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m super comfy with

Oh. Going out with Liv would be a good time, wouldn’t it? Going to a club when she wasn’t performing though was teetering on the edge of danger. Though she wasn’t an alcoholic, recovering addicts were advised against drinking too, and she had been doing a good job at avoiding it up until this point. She always had an excuse then. She had to perform, and it usually worked, even if a bit of peer pressure was put on her.

This was Liv though and she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity, right? She could have a couple of drinks and be okay, right?

“No, yeah of course, let’s do that. I’d love to go out with you tonight. Sounds like an amazing time,”

she laughed and looked around. She looked her over in her outfit and took a slow deep breath. She looked good, and Kayla was starting to get nervous again so at one fell swoop, she dug into her pockets, moved over to Liv and pressed an envelope in one hand.

She moved quickly to grab her other and lean forward and press her lips against her,

“You were wrong…”

and with that she smiled, waved, and turned around heading towards the door.

♡coded by uxie♡