Realistic or Modern &nbsp; hollywood arts: main (open!!)

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jul 27, 2021

Ashton West

Whatever had happened before was like... forgotten. Like, Ash could just focus on the here and now, and she could just like... all she had to do was go out there, do the performance, and then she could bid Lucky farewell and go find Trevor and everything would be fine and dandy. Like she could just pretend nothing had happened, like whatever had just... just... transpired in the dressing room had been nothing because like, like...

It had been nothing.

Nothing.

She could just, like... sum it up to nerves or whatever. She'd let the moment get away from her or something. It wasn't... it was all fine, and all she had to do was perform for, like, three minutes. Three minutes and nineteen seconds (yeah, she'd counted down to the second how long the performance was -- whatever), and it'd be done and over.

And then no more long rehearsals with Lucky, no more hanging out with him every day, and she could focus on the things that were clearly more important in her life -- like Trevor.

You know, the guy that she was super into.

“We’re singing a Journey cover, right?” Lucky said, and she just rolled her eyes in response.

Like yeah, there was a small smile on her face at the joke, but still.

Now wasn't the time for joking -- duh.

“Cool as a cucumber, Blair.” He said, which didn't help her feel better because the last time he'd said that, he'd put her hand on his chest, and that wasn't what she needed to be thinking about right now.

Subconsciously, she brushed her hand over the fabric of her shorts, as if that would somehow remove the feel of his heart pounding underneath her hand, and would somehow erase the moment that had just happened and that was totally going to end up ruining this performance if she let it.

Stop, stop, stop.

Ash kind of had a habit of overthinking, like, everything, and right now wasn't the time for overthinking.

Deep breaths.

“Three minutes.” He said with a smile as he looked over at her, and she looked back at him and managed a smile back. “Three minutes of fucking awesomeness. Everything else will still be here when we get done.” He said as he nudged her lightly.

Not helping.

He really wasn't helping.

She pressed a hand against her stomach to quell the mixture of nerves and remaining guilt that was making her sick. There was no way that she was getting sick on stage.

Ash could do this.

She'd been getting up on stage and singing she her pageant days as a child.

And she always got nervous before she got on stage.

But right now? Right now, she felt more than just nervous. She wasn't sure, but there was something about this performance that was weighing more heavily on her than any performance had before -- and it wasn't just, like, singing with some dude that wasn't her boyfriend or whatever. Again, this wasn't, like, her first duet, and it wasn't her first duet while dating someone, but it was like...

It felt different, and she wasn't sure why.

She was looking out towards the stage that had darkened as the previous performer exited.

“But for three minutes…we are gonna be great.” He assured her, and she glanced towards him again. “I’ve got you. And you got me.”

Right, right, right.

They'd be fine.

"You're on," said the stage manager as he held out two microphones.

She smiled at the manager, taking a microphone and giving a little nod of her head. "Thanks," she said, her voice quiet as she looked back at Lucky. "Let's do it." She said before she sucked in a deep breath and walked out onto the stage.

Now, like, the only good part about being on a stage in a theater were the lights. The lights kind of did this great thing where they basically blinded you so, even if you were trying to look out at the crowd, you couldn't really see them. And that always kind of helped to quell Ash's fears, because it was easier to pretend like she was alone on the stage, or alone in the whole room, and there was no one out there judging her... until the lights dimmed near the end, and then she could see all of the faces, but usually by then people were like applauding, so she felt better, anyway.

And so, standing on the stage, she took in a sharp breath as she tried to look out at the crowd, but it was difficult to make out faces in the crowd... and she wasn't awarded long to look before the music started up. She knew this beat by heart, and she followed it along in her head, waiting.

And there, right on cue, Lucky's voice.

The other, like, good part about this being a duet and not just them, like, sitting on stools singing or whatever?

She was basically expected to look at him for the entirety of the performance, which had been something that she'd looked forward to prior to the dressing room incident. But now, it, like... it felt different, even though Ash knew that she was totally just overthinking the whole thing.

Focus.

She turned towards him, a little smile playing across her lips as she brought the microphone up to her lips and let her voice join his for the little part where they sung together.

Just another rehearsal.

And as the music actually started up, she was able to kind of focus on the actual song, and the actual performance. It wasn't anything particularly special -- neither Ash nor Lucky could really dance, but it was entertaining enough. Her steps took her across the stage until they met somewhere in the middle, and there wasn't much past that. Like, other than a few touches here and there -- her hand pressing against his chest, his hand like on her waist for a moment, nothing big. Nothing that lingered for too long. Small things.

Until like, the song started winding down. And then it was back to right in the middle, and Ash drew closer to Lucky. Their pose almost mimicked the position earlier in the dressing room, except there was nothing purposely heated here. It was all just a performance.

Her arm resting comfortably over his shoulder, his hand on her waist, her body drawing closer until the only thing between them was a single microphone. As their voices carried out the last note of the song, she dropped her hand holding the microphone so she was even closer to Lucky, and then she tilted her head up like she was going to kiss him, so their lips were like... barely separated...

And then the song ended, the lights dropped, and Ash's lips twitched into a smile as she took a step back, increasing the distance between the two of them. Her hand fell from his shoulder and trailed down his arm, which she tugged so his arm was around her shoulders, and with her free hand, she gave a little wave at the crowd, and then she walked off stage with Lucky's arm like, still around her shoulders.

It was a performance until you walked off the stage -- duh.

And as soon as they were off the stage, she slipped from underneath his arm, passing her microphone to the stage manager and started down the stairs away from the backstage area -- like, obviously, she didn't want to get in anyone's way.

And hey, the whole thing hadn't even been as awkward as she had thought it would be following... you know...

It really just went to show that clearly, there was nothing between the two except a whole lot of friendship.

With a wide grin on her face, Ash turned towards Lucky and then, with like no warning, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug before she dropped back, taking a step away from him and grinning.

"That was like... like, I think it went really, really well," she said. "Like... like, good job, I guess. Best performance I've ever done for an Arts Festival thingy."

mood
guilty

location
Arts Fest stage

outfit
sparkles

playing...
Drowning

by Ash and Lucky obviously

mentions
Trevor

interactions
Lucky

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jul 27, 2021

Jace West

In movies and television shows, the dashing protagonist would always run into some kind of villain or problem right before they were able to get on stage and everything would end up happily ever after. This villain could be anything -- a jealous classmate, a bitchy parent, a snobby teacher. The problem could also be anything -- broken microphone, faulty lighting, mixed up performance times. Whatever it might be, it always happened.

Jace was no stranger to issues arising when he would approach the stage -- he'd been privy to plenty in his own life, from issues with his manager to one time, his guitar string snapped and he was left guitar-less and had to make do for that performance. Of course, he was a professional, and he always came out on top. jace may have been a letdown to pretty much everyone in his life, but the people he'd never let down?

His fans.

Even if, as he spun around, the dashing protagonist came face to face with the roaring maw of a dragon, and the only weapon he had to combat was the guitar slung over his back.

Clearly he wasn't going to bash Michael Reid's face in with his guitar, nor was he actually a dashing protagonist -- he was more of a feeble side character -- so that's where his little narrative ended.

Because clearly this wasn't a movie or television show, although Mike's consistent need to bully Jace certainly mirrored the textbook bully.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't Jason 'Piss Your Pants' West.”

The guy really always stuck to the same old insults, huh?

Jace started to back up, his hands going to grip the strap of his guitar case until he felt the case bump against the wall, and he found himself inevitably cornered by this jerk face. All he really wanted was one nice time where he wasn't being bullied, or having his life threatened, but he obviously couldn't have that.

Nope, Jace West's life existed only to have others bully him.

Also, he was less offended by the pee comments than he was by the utterance of his birth name. It sounded so strange being spoken by anyone, and Jace hated it. He made a mental note to ask Alexa how to legally change one's birth name so he was just Jace Beckett West instead of Jason.

Blech. The name even practically poisoned his thoughts.

"W-what?" He stuttered out, and oh for the love of god, right now wasn't the time to be stuttering (not that any time was, but certainly not when he was staring down at his bully -- emphasis on the down). "I-I... wh-what are... y-y-you... don't, don't you ahh... have a umm.... s-somewhere t-to be?"

Ha, he'd gotten his words out.

Sure, he'd stuttered them out, but uhh....

He'd basically managed to speak.

His fingers tightened on the strap of his guitar, and his muscles tightened up -- as if he was ready and waiting for the inevitable feeling of Mike's fist against his face.

mood
HELP

location
Arts Festival

outfit
snazzy

playing...
Stuck Like This

by Jace West

mentions
N/A

interactions
Mike

tags

º º code by ditto º º

gh0stwriter · Jul 28, 2021

Lucky DuBois

He got a smile out of her and that filled him with a sense of accomplishment and pride that even for a moment, he was able to somewhat quell her nerves, but he knew he wasn’t a miracle worker. She was a ball of stress. But it boosted his mood. Amped him up.

They had this.

"You're on," the manager handed them both microphones and he gave her a thankful nod as he eyed Ash. “Let’s do it.” He took a breath as he followed her out on the stage. “Following your lead.” He whispered to her as he took his mark on the stage.

The lights were bright. Blindingly bright. And the stage…the stage was fucking huge. Way bigger than the stool he played his songs on in one of the coffee shops during open mic night. This was the big leagues. Or at least the stage that would get him there. Get him where he was meant to be.

And for the first time.

For the first fucking time.

He was fucking nervous.

He was not cool as a cucumber.

But he’d be damned if he let it show. Be damned if he let it get the best of him. He eyed a spot on the stage floor. His grip on the microphone tightened. Then the music started. He took a deep breath. The familiar beat. The rhythm. The song he’d been hearing in his dreams over the last month.

He lifted his gaze and settled on Ash staring out into the crowd. He exhaled as he brought the microphone up to his mouth and began to sing. His eyes never left her form. Just like rehearsal.

Her eyes finally met his and he searched them to gauge how she was feeling. He wasn’t worried. Not at all. She was amazing, but the incident definitely shook things up. Took everyone for a loop.

But then she smiled. It was small. Barely noticeable. And he knew. He knew what he had said all along was, despite Ash’s constant misgivings, correct. They were going to kill it. Her voice joined his and a smile graced his lips.

Three minutes of awesome. Three minutes and nineteen seconds to be exact. The performance wasn’t flashy. There wasn’t smoke or fire. It was just them. Him and her. Playful passes. A few touches. More touching. More closeness. All in the name of putting on a good performance, of course.

And then the closing. Her body drew closer to his. He dropped his hand holding the microphone and sang the remainder of the song into hers. His free hand found the familiar spot on her waist as he pulled her closer. Their eyes locked as the song came to a close. And then her hand dropped. More closeness. And she tilted her head toward him. This was not part of any rehearsal. Nope. They had not discussed this, but he was adaptable, professional. And yeah, their lips were so close Jesus Christ himself couldn’t fit between. But it was for the performance. Obviously.

The song ended. The lights went out. And as Ash stepped back, Lucky’s lips followed hers ever so slightly. For the performance, of course. His eyes blinked as a smirk formed. He felt her tug his arm around her shoulder as they made their way off stage.

He felt her slip out from underneath his arm as he handed his microphone off. The performance was over. They did it. He had successfully completed his first Hollywood Arts Festival.

Once they were out of the way, he took a deep breath. “That was…” he turned toward Ash and felt her body leap into his arms as she pulled him in for a tight squeeze. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back, not putting as much strength behind it as she was. She stepped back and his hands lingered on her waist for a second before he pulled them back.

"That was like... like, I think it went really, really well," she said. "Like... like, good job, I guess. Best performance I've ever done for an Arts Festival thingy."

“Don’t sound so shocked.” He chuckled slightly. “You know…I hate to tell you I told you so…so, just this once, I won’t say it.” A playfully smug look adorned his face.

“Shit…” He said as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. “…does it always feel like this?” He smiled. He had performed before, obviously, but nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to that moment. To this high he was feeling right now. He was amped.

“That was amazing.” His eyes found hers. “You were…epic. Like…10/10, give her the Grammy amazing.” He said with a small smile as he tried to contain his excitement.

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

hery · Jul 28, 2021

MOOD: lordt have mercy

OUTFIT: tux

LOCATION: backstage
basics

MENTIONS:
Landon, Mikaela, Charlie, Evie, Casey
INT:
Soap (Alex)
geminiy (Ezra)
@qunqun (Auguste)
tags

TL;DR no
tl;dr

Chas Marino

Chas had stopped trying to phone Landon after the first two tries. While Alex had gotten Mikaela on the line, the musician predictably flaked out. He didn't expect much better from their male lead, who was already a known asshole before taking into account all of the insults and attitude he threw at Chas on a regular basis. He dropped his hand to his side with a pout, then pocketed his cell phone. God, everybody really was useless.

Even if it was his entire plan to have this show go missing, that didn't mean the improvised play adaptation had to be as much of a fiasco. In the most ideal of situations, Charlie would end up in serious trouble and he'd still win points with the scouts for putting on a good show, not that he really expected it. He'd have much rather just called it quits to wallow in his victimhood, but Alex wasn't taking no for an answer. That was a variable he unfortunately hadn't planned for.

As he made for the door, the model's outstretched arm halted his body into place. A bit of his breath was knocked out of him thanks to the extreme momentum of the cocky teenager rushing to down an entire pot of coffee.

“Not so fast. You can have a coffee break when we’re done. You’re in charge of sound files, props, and whatever else that has to be done, I need to find Evie and pray an outfit isn’t too short for me—”

Shit! The costumes. Alex was right; there was a metric shitton of props and costume pieces they needed to haul backstage for this to work. Conversely, Chas was right; none of this was going to work. They had an abysmally slim time window and even less shared talent among the four of them. Chas wished for once in his life not to carry everybody else's miserable, hopeless existences on his extremely capable back.

Oh, who was he kidding? He loved being everybody's savior. Maybe break time could wait. "Why, of course," he replied, cracking a smarmy grin, "The control booth is practically calling me." He looked off to the side, up towards the ladder leading to the cramped, black box above the stage. "A little analog for my tastes, but I'm familiar with lighting controls all the same. I'll prepare some notes for the soundboard, too." He'd have to baby whichever stagehand they sent up to inhabit the control booth with him, because they surely couldn't be trusted to run the show smoothly unless Chas provided very, very careful instructions.

It was nostalgic, in a way, bringing the angry little Italian all the way back to his middle school days acting as stage manager. And all in one rush of emo, melodramatic memories, he remembered why he repressed the majority of his junior high years. A familiar feeling of inexplicably fervent indignation, insecurity, and rage rushed over him as he channeled that energy, mentally scrambling to pick up the pieces of his dust-coated tech expertise.

Minute after precious minute passed by as Chas paced backstage, annotated script in one hand and coffee cup in the other. Sip, skim, sip, skim, sip... He reached a nice, soothing, consistent tempo that calmed his nerves as he mustered up a game plan. He'd flip through a few pages, take a generous gulp of hot coffee, then repeat in an intense, methodical daze.

"You're on in five!"

"Places in five, people!" the short director echoed, nursing his pounding headache with squeezed-shut eyes and two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He mirrored Alex that way, who seemed just as—if not more—stressed. It was almost too convenient that the girl ended up portraying Laney, the literal Wattpad-Bella Swan monstrosity she'd dreamed up herself in a lustful, overdramatic, definitely-in-over-her-head frenzy. At least Chas' writing skills could sort of make it work, but he couldn't entirely trust his co-director to stay true to the character they'd revamped together. Alex's pride was by far her most substantial downfall, and Chas often made sure to remind her of that.

After tossing his coffee cup into the trash can, Chas ascended the ladder into the control booth beside their very recently-appointed sound manager. The soundboard had a plethora of color-coded sticky notes covered in Chas' overly-neat, sickeningly visually-appealing penmanship. The blonde moron couldn't screw it up, not unless he got distracted by a bird or something. He didn't have the healthy fear of Chas' mother that the film crew back on the family show had, so who was to say just how serious he was going to be about this?

That was one good thing about this endeavor, he supposed. The entire Marino family had neglected to show up to the festival sans Stefano Marino, the middle child and Chas' older brother. He was only their to gloat after his failure; there was no hiding it. And this time...

Oh, how it pained Chas to say it, but...

He wouldn't be able to prove him wrong this time.

Mumbling incoherent profanities under his breath, Chas watched wide-eyed as his trio of project partners stepped on stage. The rolled-up script in his hand nearly tore to pieces in his death grip, which only squeezed tighter as the tension rose. He met Alex's eyes for a moment, silently urging her to give it her all. If there was any time to impress the impossibly-difficult boy... it was now. Two fingers slid onto the panel, gradually illuminating the stage at the raising of the curtain.

Showtime.

He eyed Ezra, the new Vito, leaning forward in his seat as the sound in the room lulled. It was his line. He was starting. It was the very first string of words Chas had drilled into his head. He'd even forced himself to indulge in an improv game to get the guy's acting juices flowing. He had to get this right. Had his nails not just been done, Chas would have subconsciously nibbled them all off in a flash.

“Laney, my dear, whe-”

Laney, my dear, when questioning a strangler, you ought to appreciate the sheer resolve of a man willing to murder with his bare hands.

Chas knew the lines. Down to every word. Every beat, every gasp, every breath, every subtle shift in tone. Watching Ezra flounder, fumbling the lines from the very beginning was a torturous insult to his very being as a writer who took himself seriously.

He looked to Alex. He could see the slight panic in her eyes as their set designer improvised his line. Chas held his chin in his fingers, partially covering his mouth like The Thinker. She didn't have a line for another few beats; Laney was supposed to stare, radiating judgment and budding suspicion. He'd worked tirelessly to instill that faux emotion into Mikaela. They all bore witness to it. But would Alex be able to make use of it? He held his breath, awaiting for no more than a half-second (which felt like hours) for her response.

She did the look. She made the face. Chas released his breath, overcoming the first of millions of hurdles that would inevitably arise thanks to this looming disaster of a show.

The next line was coming. Chas mouthed it with Alex.

"I don't supposed you're still on the clock at this hour, detective?"

Their witty banter proceeded on, now tinged with Alex's trademark, unmistakable attitude. Ezra was far too fake-polite to capture the gruff attitude of Vito, but it'd have to do. His eyes moved to Auguste, anticipating his big moment of the scene. The line, the line. The one that would make Scene Six make sense...

The Frenchman's eyes were on the wrong place. Why was he gawking at Ezra? Chas turned back to face the artist, dimming the light on him and flicking on the set of lights that drew the audience to Auguste. However, there was little technical magic he could do to hide Ezra literally mouthing an apology to his co-star, and Chas had to suppress an outraged shout at the idiocy of breaking character in the first five fucking minutes!

He wanted to slam his fist into the glass window on the booth, ignoring the concerned sound operator beside him. "Have you no goddamn sense?" he hissed under his breath, fists shaking with barely-contained rage.

Unsurprisingly, Alex carried most of the show, regardless of how in over her head she was. Chas could smell her fabricated confidence from miles away, and it clearly translated into her cliché, amateur performance of the leading lady. Even Auguste surpassed her at times, impressing him with his somewhat-intact memory of the first act's lines. Emphasis on "somewhat". And, of course, Ezra impressed Chas a whopping zero times, leading him to consider swapping out actors halfway through the show. God, he was the spitting image of a suffering meathead being forced to take a theater class for passing credits.

"They're complete idiots!" he griped to his poor partner in the control booth, who awkwardly nodded along with his commentary. He'd even begun to form a twisted comradery with the guy, who was so clearly the only person in a while Chas had been able to corner long enough to listen to his long-winded rants. As the show progressed, he moved and manipulated the lights with an uncaring attitude, resigning his fate to this pitiful train wreck of a show.

He could hardly muster a reaction as Auguste began speaking French of all things, just when he was convinced the three actors couldn't royally fuck up the performance even more than they already had been. He spoke in such a lazed, uninterested tone Chas couldn't quite place as jerkish or just European. A frustrated palm slapped itself onto Chas' face, and he let out a long, whiny sigh at the catastrophe he'd signed himself up for.

It was over. Just call it off now. Someone come and knock him out forever before he had to watch another minute of his own literary masterwork being defiled.

Aaaaaand, curtains down! Intermission.

Watching Alex, Ezra, and Auguste shuffle backstage with well-deserved shame, Chas hopped down the ladder with his new soundboard amigo, Jason. He pat the blonde on the back, offering him a job at his mom's gig before approaching the group. His arms were crossed, and he'd have almost looked like a surly, scary mother if he wasn't a small, pretentious, cluelessly-flamboyant teenage boy.

"You call that acting?" he snapped, whacking Auguste, who was on the floor, with his rolled-up script. He glanced at Ezra, offering an even harsher glare of contempt. "At this point, I can't even tell if you're sabotaging me or not. Do you three get off on seeing me angry? Is that it?" He gave their stand-in Vito a longer glare at that last part, targeting it mostly towards him.

"Alex, when you first came up with this idea an hour ago, I honestly thought you were crazy..." He released a soft grunt, rubbing his temples as the beginnings of a migraine inhabited his skull. "But now I see you're just crazy and inexperienced. Why do I listen to you people?" He groaned louder, rubbing his temples with more force. "God, I'm losing my edge."

The irritated boy finally threw his head upwards, getting his hands off his face in an attempt to somewhat look like he wasn't having a nervous breakdown. "We need to stop the show. This isn't working." His breathing grew shallow. Panicked breaths flowed in and out of his nostrils, his chest rising and falling at a hummingbird's pace. Everything was going to shit. It felt like the whole world was sitting on his shoulders, crushing him into the ground as he sank lower, lower, lower...

Into some sort of abyss.

Except every time his head was fully submerged in the blackness, it would ground him back behind the stage, hushed voices bouncing across the room, which grew more claustrophobic by the second. He needed to go sit down, or at least lean on something. He looked around, taking a step towards an empty spot in the wall to lean on before stopping himself.

He looked like an idiot. And everybody was probably staring at him. Even on the other side of the stage, in the audience, everybody was probably still laughing at him. He could just see Stefano's face so clearly, schmoozing with a pair of young, pretty festival attendees while cracking jokes about his little brother's lack of talent, or his desperation, or his made-up crush on the brain-dead lead actor.

Why the hell did everything on Twitter spread like wildfire, anyway?

Worse, the girls were probably scouts from Stardom, who would probably go on to tell the whole world that Chas Marino was a hack and a useless brat who would sink to obscurity by the time he turned twenty. And he wouldn't even have a place on his mom's show, because he really burned that bridge a long time ago. And his dad didn't need an apprentice to take on the family business, because fucking Priscilla existed, who was so rotten to flirt with Casey because it got a rise out of Chas and, quite honestly, creeped him out.

What the hell!? What the actual hell? Was everybody out to get him?

"Go get... me... coffee!" Chas irritably choked out at no particular individual, as though his entitled voice would reign in all the self-assurance and charisma floating away from him, "And somebody...!" His breath was still shallow. He was fine, but he couldn't even catch his breath. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was as though his body rejected the very notion that he should address his peers at all.

"Somebody grab me a costume! I'm taking Ezra's place." His words came out as choppy, hyperventilated breaths, and he stumbled a little as he forced the words out. By god, he was going to faint. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, and nearly stepped on Auguste as stars clouded his vision.

Where was the nearest fainting couch?

code by valen t.

Winona · Jul 28, 2021

Zeph Evermore

Fashion designer, huh? Zeph could respect that -- it sounded like something that was more hands on than some of the other things that he'd heard from people, and being able to like... kind of behind the scenes just sounded like a win-win situation to him. It sounded kind of cool.

Not that Zeph would ever do something with fashion. As it was, his taste in fashion consisted of a lot of solid colors and... that was about it. All of his shirts were pretty much solid colors. It was just easier.

Anyway, he also wasn't entirely sure what the Met Gala was, but it sounded super fancy. So that was cool.

And then, she changed the conversation -- kind of. Sure, the couple years he'd spent in LA had managed to kind of cause his accent to die down a bit, but it was still there. Like if you listened closely enough, and especially when he was pronouncing certain words, it would come out.

"I am," he said, his face lighting up when she guessed it. "Australia. Melbourne." He explained with a nod of his head. "Yeah, my family's still there. I visit them over the summers. This place is great and all, but ahh..." Zeph trailed off, a little sigh catching at the end of his sentence. "I really do miss home a lot of the time."

He was about to launch into something else, some other conversation that would maybe drag his thoughts away from home so he wasn't feeling even more homesick than he already was... but then Zeph's gaze locked onto someone else's across the way and his steps came to a halt.

For a moment, he just stared.

And then a grin widened across his face.

"Hey, it was real nice to meet you, Kinni, but that's my friend and I gotta go." Zeph started, his words coming faster and more jumbled up than they had before as he started to walk away from Kinni, his gaze shooting between her and the boy across the way. "Text me or something and I can help show you around if you need it, okay?"

He gave her one last grin, and then Zeph turned and walked towards Lin... but the closer that he got to Lin, the faster his steps became until he was almost jogging. More of a... fast powerwalk than an actual jog or a run, though, of course. He was, after all, trying to be professional.

"Lin!" He greeted his friend, his grin widening as he came to a stop. "You're done, yeah? Ready to hangout? Cause trouble or... something?"

He wasn't actually sure what they were supposed to be doing today, but... every other time that Zeph had hung out with Lin, they'd gotten into a lot of trouble, so he kind of planned for the exact same thing to happen.

Or, if not direct trouble (ahem, such as stealing bubbles), they would do things that were potentially dangerous and deadly and stuff. Like the whole Halloween thing.

So yeah, Zeph was prepared for this to be bad.

mood
i'm too lazy to come up with a good mood right now

location
Arts Festival

outfit
no, he's not getting super fancy

playing...
We Like It

by Computer Games

mentions
N/A

interactions
Kinni, Lin

tags

AkuTheWolfOkami

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jul 28, 2021

trevor callaghan

Rigid save for a palm rubbing his knee, the scowling, narrow-eyed Trevor Callaghan probably looked, to the casual audience member, to be either a amateur wannabe critic scrutinizing the performances with a serious expression or a boy anchored to the chair in the front row in desperate need for a laxative.

He was neither. He was just a stoner sans the weed in a state of hardly-suppressed panic over the looming threat of his grandparents’ arrival and the incoming performance by two people who he couldn’t get his fecking mind off of.

He gnawed on the inside of his lower lip, his eyes scanning the now empty stage. The lights had lifted after the last performance, and now that that was over, at least fifty people filed out of the room. That didn’t make much of a dent in the front row’s population. None of the people around him ever really moved. Trevor had practically fought to the death with an old lady to get the seat he was now sitting in when a middle-aged guy had gotten up from it. He was pretty sure all of her bones were intact, but they were probably brittle — she looked like an ancient hag — so Trevor didn’t know, nor did he particularly care.

That was as close to winning a fight as he’d ever really get.

His mouth was completely dry, and his eyes had an ache from his lack of blinking. It was hard to get air in, and hard to get air out. He felt like someone in a fecking COPD advertisement, except he was about fifty years too early with that issue. Within his chest, his heart still thudded double — feck, actually, triple-time. Cardiac arrest was just around the corner.

Or a heart attack. He wasn’t a fecking medical expert, but he knew something bad was.

He was winning the Guinness World Record for the longest amount of time survived when you should be dead.

He was the Bear Grylls of surviving basic social events.

Inside his head throbbed his brain, which sent rapid, panicked thoughts to him — so very kindly. It was Lucky and Ash’s performance. Lucky and Ash. Fecking Fucky DuBastard and Trevor’s girlfriend. The more he tried not to think about it, the more his head pounded, and the faster the rubbing of his knee got with his palm.

It was a nervous tick.

Not to mention, his paranoia of his grandparents finding him was also in high gear. The back of his neck was constantly crawling with the ever-present feeling that they were just behind him, and he kept glancing over his shoulders.

He probably looked like some sort of maniac.

Feckfeckfeckfeckfeckfeckfeckfeckfeckfeckfeck. That was doing wonders for his reputation. Everyone was having that internal confirmation that Trevor was just a fecking psychotic weirdo, and that was all. He kept shifting, and looking around, and feeling this sinking, awkward feeling along with his paranoia and —

Ohfeckohfeckohfeckohfeck.

The faintness had subsided in favor of an overwhelming, anxious sense of dread. He was imagining every way that that shite on stage could go, and every single time, his condition worsened — his head pounded, his heart palpitated, his veins felt so constricted that they would burst, and he found it even more difficult to breathe.

That would have been fine, had he only had one or two of those thoughts — er, not fine, but he would’ve been doing decently. (Also, er, not decently, but decently for Trevor without his weed.)

But of course, those thoughts were fecking constant, and he felt both the desire to die and the feeling that he was, in fact, dying.

Christ, what was he doing here? Actually, he knew what he was doing here — sitting and watching performances that he didn’t remember five seconds after they were over because he was trapped his head the whole time — but…feck.

What was the point of that question, even?

Feck, he didn’t know what was going on anymore.

His head hurt.

His chest hurt.

He felt.

Like he.

Was fecking.

Dying.

In his state of a constant, downward spiral, he’d grown unaware of pretty much everything happening in front of his eyes and around him. He was hardly even processing noises at this point — everything was moving in energy saving mode, and all of the energy had gone to dreaddreaddread.

“Enjoying the show, Mr. Callaghan?”

The sudden mention of his name made him jump slightly, his eyes widening and his soul leaving his body for a moment. He let out a gasp, and then looked in the direction of the noise.

CHRIST.

Christ, no.

No, no, no.

With Cappie, Trevor was high to deal with it — with the fear that he was coming to murder him over what happened to Ash. Here, there was none of that.

Because there, beside him, was Genevieve Johannes.

A nervous smile twinged onto his face, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat, setting his arms on the armrests and uncrossing his legs. He let out an uncomfortable laugh, looking at the stage again. “Y-Yeah,” he lied, as though he’d been paying any attention. His voice was wavery and cracked halfway through his word, and he cursed himself internally and cleared his throat. He breathed out another chuckle. He blinked a few times rapidly, trying to recall the last performance, though his mind was reeling and his heart was beating out of his chest. He swallowed hard, finally saying, “The last performance was nothing special, but, ah, I’m, ah, I think that Ash W-West is next, right? That’s what I’m really here for in the first place.”

Oh feck, that sounded —

Obsessive or something.

He laughed sheepishly. “I’ve always, y’know, had an admiration for her vocal abilities…,” he added, his eyes flicking over to Gen. “Not so much Lucky — guy’s a prick, but.”

That just slipped out.

He swallowed hard.

It was either stop talking — which probably would have been beneficial — or changethesubjectchangethesubjectchangethesubject.

“Ah, yeah, anyway, I’ve been enjoying what I’ve seen so far.” He chuckled slightly, reaching up to awkwardly rub his neck. “How about you, Ms. Johannes?”

There were a few more moments — just long enough for her to answer — and then —

The lights dimmed overhead.

Trevor felt his face and his heart and his stomach all come crashing to the ground.

“Feck,” he whispered aloud, but he didn’t realize he had.

He looked towards the stage as the blinding lights kicked on onstage.

And then, there were Ash and Lucky.

His vision pulled inward, colors flashing in his periphery and in the flat-colored spaces for a moment. His ears rang with cymbals, his head throbbing, and all of the noises seemed amplified.

The music was deafening, would have made him jerk or make a motion in pain if his face wasn’t frozen and his posture wasn’t frozen and his blood wasn’t frozen in his veins despite the incessant thumping in his chest, but he was stuck, stone, watching the events unfold in front of him with a solid lump in his throat.

It was like a train wreck, like watching a beautiful train wreck that sounded nice and looked nice but still hurt to watch — and yet he couldn’t look away. Come to think of it, it was more like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

But it was pretty. It sounded and looked nice, and they sounded and looked nice, and it ignited a burning pain in his chest.

Jealousy, and a little bit more. What the more was, he wasn’t exactly sure.

Finally, he had to look away. The pain in his chest was too much for him to even breathe, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly. His hands gripped the wooden armrests tightly, so tightly that his knuckles were white. The noise continued, perfectly on key but sounding like nails on a chalkboard to him.

He opened his eyes and looked over at Gen. He realized that she could probably hear his heavy pained breathing, and he looked over at her with an apologetic expression that flinched into a cringe as they hit another chord. “Headache,” he mouthed, and he looked back to the stage, though he focused on the lights at the front instead of the people on it.

It’s only three minutes, he’d told Ash. It’s just three minutes, and then it’s over.

If…ya know, if it goes badly, you’ll only have three minutes of it going badly, and if it goes amazingly — which it will — then it’ll be the easiest, quickest three minutes of your life.

He struggled for another breath.

He’d promised Ash to watch it, to root her on from the crowd, and now, he couldn’t even look at her without a burning jealousy.

Some fecking boyfriend he was.

Just look at them, jackass — you’re overreacting.

You’re overthinking.

He knew…that he was overthinking. He knew that he was overreacting.

He knew that this was…this was just a performance.

Reluctantly, he obeyed the little fecking conscience he had and lifted his eyes to the duo.

The music was coming to an end, it seemed, and…

Trevor watched, frozen, still, hardly processing as they moved closer. Her arm rested on his shoulder, his hand on her waist, and she moved closer, the only thing keeping them apart being a single microphone. It’s just a performance, he tried to tell himself as he felt an overwhelmingly bitter taste in his mouth, his chest so tight that he couldn’t breathe. It’s…

The final note came, and the microphone dropped between them. She tilted her head up, and their lips grew closer.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t even process it. He paled, felt sick to his stomach with dread — knowing dread.

Because knew what was coming next.

But instead, the lights dropped.

He felt a small pulse of relief — small, and it didn’t do much to help, but it was still there — as Ash took a step back, pulling Lucky’s hand to her shoulder and giving a wave to the crowd before walking offstage.

Trevor blinked a few times, still unable to move until the lights overhead rebrightened.

He was still waiting for something else to happen, but nothing did.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear away sickness even as his body shook with the aftershock. He tried to immediately push that performance from his mind, tell himself that he’d just watched some highly-practiced, performative chemistry.

It didn’t work.

He felt like shit.

He opened his eyes, his chest tight with jealousy and a pain and…and something, and he looked over at Gen. “That was exactly what I was…expecting,” he laughed softly.

No.

No, it was so much worse.

“I enjoyed it,” he lied. He tested out another smile, but it didn’t travel to his eyes enough.

If Gen could read him, she could see the pain.

“I’ve, ah, got to go,” he said, making a move to stand. “I think my roommates are performing soon. I'd hate to miss them, and they’d, ah, skin me alive if they found out I didn’t go to their performances, ya know…”

There was an obvious strain on his voice.

He was pale, nearly green, and just about anyone could see —

Trevor wasn’t very…Trevor at the moment.

He was shaken, and sick, and jealous, and pained, and…

Not…very…him.

mood
…

location
the audience of ash's performance

outfit
before you say a single fecking word, this wasn't his idea.

playing...
some nights (intro)

by fun.

mentions
lucky, ash, & cappie

interactions
gen

tags

geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

AkuTheWolfOkami · Jul 28, 2021

.
.
.
.

how he's feeling...

feeling anxious but good
what he's wearing...

This
where he's at...

at the arts fest waiting for amy's performance
in the conversation...

@Wayward Son

REMI

QB1(#12) - Junior- Handsome - Actor

If Remi had stopped to think about it, he could have guessed that he was here for Amy. It might have been in passing, but Amy had mention Hunter a few times though his name probably came up less when he was dating his ex. Not that Remi would care a whole lot about Amy being cool with someone who was dating his ex. As he mentioned before, Hunter was cool so far and as much as he would like to make amends with Nickie, he wasn’t interested in who she was or wasn’t dating.

He readjusted the gift he was carrying and reached his hand into his pocket to grab something. When he removed it, it was just a pack of gum. He didn’t really chew it often, but it became an absent-minded habit that helped him from doing other things. It kept him focus when his mind was starting to wonder on to too many things at once.

He did a head tilt towards the gum offering it up, but smiling before quickly speaking,

“Not that you need it, it’s just polite since I was grabbing some.”

He took his own piece and popped it into his mouth.

So, not trying to pry or anything

When someone started a sentence like that, they were always trying to pry. Somehow, they figured that if they made it sound like they weren’t going to pry, it made it better. Now from the few minutes that Remi had been spending with Hunter, he knew he wasn’t being malicious or sneaky behind it. Still. He knew where this conversation was headed before it even started.

but how do you know Amy?

Right. There it was. He could only smile as he tried to think about how the proper way was to respond. In truth, there wasn’t really a secret about he and Amy. They just weren’t really official and was trying to do it right? Truth be told, they had been pretty much a couple just without the label nor public announcement.

By the way, I’m not asking because I’m overly protective or anything.

Remi quirked a brow. Hunter was showing his hand, wasn’t he? Wasn’t Remi’s style, he preferred deception. That’s how Sun Tzu said to move, right? Seem weak when you’re strong, seem strong when you’re weak? This wasn’t war, but Remi approached pretty much every situation as if it was. Except with Amy..of course.

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…

Remi looked around and took in a deep breath. Maybe he could use Hunter knowing to his advantage?

Look bro, swear you keep this between us. Even if it goes south with me and Amy. I want you to keep whatever I’m telling you to yourself…”

he took in a slow deep breath,

“I’m in love with Amy, and we’re unofficially together. We want to take it a little slow. Ok? I love her and only her. But she’s very vulnerable so I don’t know what’s going to happen. Just, don’t defend me. Don’t take my side and support her no matter what? Okay? I want her okay. And if my reputation has to take a ding for it, then fine.”

♡coded by uxie♡

Winona · Jul 28, 2021

Nathan Woods

He'd done a few practice sessions with Evie, so when it actually came around to the day of the modeling fashion... whatever, Nate had actually been fucking ready. Mostly ready. Sure, he still wasn't as professional as the other models -- the ones that spent their whole lives working up to this moment, but he'd gone out there and done his best.

In this full red fucking suit that Evie had designed for him and he had to admit that, despite wearing literally something that was just all fucking red, she'd done a hell of a job, and he actually looked decent.

But now that the show was over, he was backstage and changing back into his other clothes -- and thank fucking god. The only downside was that Evie was off helping Adriane with her dress or some shit, which meant that Nate was changing in the room alone with Dalton.

Now... Nate didn't really hate Dalton that much. In fact, he hardly ever thought about the fucker -- right up until Nate had done his best to shake Ronnie by sending her to Dalton. Telling her some silly little story about how he was totally in love with her and, although Nate wasn't sure if it had worked, he figured that if it did and she started annoying Dalton, well... win win for him, wasn't it? Even if he wouldn't get to hear about it.

However, Evie seemed to really hate the guy, so he'd listened to all of her bitching about him. Plus the dude had kind of sent Nate that picture of his dick, which was just...

Nate hadn't wanted that.

He was in the middle of pulling off the under shirt, which he tossed onto a chair along with the suit's outer jacket when Dalton spoke up.

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

Nate glanced towards him, and then he started rummaging through his locker for his shirt. After a moment, he found it and, as he pulled it on over his shoulders, he glanced towards Dalton before looking back down as he started to button it up.

"What? Didn't expect me to show you up?" Nate asked, his tone solid and not really showcasing any kind of emotion one way or another. "Sorry. Some of us can actually step out on a stage without looking like a..." he glanced back towards Dalton, a little smirk creeping across his face. "Well without looking like you. That was kinda rough. Thought you were a professional, but could've had me fooled."

Nate shrugged as if it was no big deal as he took a seat in another empty chair to start pulling on his shoes. He tied them, not bothering to glance in Dalton's direction as he did so.

In his eyes, the conversation was over and done with.

If it could even be called a conversation.

mood
ehh

location
Arts Fest

outfit
ehh

playing...
Ho Hey

by The Lumineers

mentions
Evie

interactions
Dalton

tags

Xed

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jul 28, 2021

MICHAEL K. REID

(tw: bullying, offhand mention of suicide)

With his hands gripping the strap of his guitar case like it would save him from this situation, West started to back up towards the wall. His eyes and posture read panic, and Mike felt his grin broaden and his chest swell ever so slightly.

He was cowering in fear, and, God, after the shit that’d just gone down, it felt fucking powerful to see.

“W-What?” stuttered West. “I-I…wh-what are…y-y-you…don’t, don’t you ahh…have a umm…s-somewhere t-to be?” His grip tightened further on the strap of his guitar case, and Mike let out a chuckle.

“I was gonna ask, ‘Anybody ever tell you how pathetic you are?’” Mike began, taking a few easy steps towards the boy before stopping at the vanity. He put his hand down on its top, casually leaning down on it. “But I know the answer already — yeah, even your parents tell you that. They said it first and best — ‘If we’d’ve known how fucking ugly and incapable and downright laughable you’d turn out to be, we would’ve just used a condom.’ I’m sure they regret your existence more than you do — it hurts them more than it does you, trust me,” he laughed. “I can’t imagine how fucking sad it must be to wake up, look in the mirror, and see…that.”

Usually, Mike’s bullying at least sounded light-hearted, and somewhat aimless; this time, there was more bite, hatred, aggression, and there was a point to it. There was more vitriol, and more bitterness, and more pure, undiluted, hurt rage, all directed at West.

In this moment, West was his enemy — a stand-in for everyone who’d fucked him over and everyone who thought they knew him and everyone who — who fucking got him here, into this dressing room, having just been humiliated onstage in front of a crowd of people who could’ve changed the direction of his whole life — who could’ve given him the solid promise that he was safe from the eternal damnation to a life as a drug-addicted gas station clerk.

That was gone now. That chance was gone now.

He couldn’t attack Ge — Johannes. He couldn’t do any of the shit he wanted to do to her. He couldn’t yell at her, or laugh in her face, or punch her, because with her, there would be consequences. She could fight back, and he could never fucking win.

So West would have to suffice. Feeble, weak, easy target West would have to work.

There was that old cliche that school counselors like to repeat through their buck-teeth between sips of the vodka they’d poured into their water bottles to “discreetly” keep themselves from putting a barrel in their mouths and ending it all in their sad, grey offices: “Hurt people hurt people.” At his shit school, the shit counselor would drag the shit tv into the shit classroom, pop in that shit cassette tape into the shit VCR player, and the shit students would sit in shit silence as they watched the shit instructor drone uncaringly on about the dangers and lifelong effects of bullying, but also about how bullies were people, too, and how all it might take to switch a bully to a fwiend was to speak a kind word to them and show them that “someone cared”. Interspersed with the bullshit that they were showing just to make them seem like they gave a flying fuck about their students and their wellbeing and helping their fucking futures be anything besides those of druggies and whores and moms and dads by age fifteen were little clips of kids pushing down other kids, or laughing about other kids’ dead moms, or pointing at them and laughing about their noses.

And he laughed back then at it — they all did, because they were all fucking hurt people, they’d all gone through shit, and every single one of them — or at least, all of Mike’s friends, all of the boys he’d been around in the back of the classroom — saw that bullying onscreen and thought, “That’s not how I do it.” Because hurt people hurt people? That was just dumb shit.

Nothing innovative.

Nothing new.

It was just shit said that made the person getting bullied feel better about themselves. It was fucking funny as hell.

Mike met West's eyes with a patronizing look, telepathically saying, Aw, don't look like that — huwt people huwt people.

He then scoffed again. “D-d-don’t I h-have somewhewe to be?” he mocked, heightening his voice, and then he barked another laugh. “God, West, can you not even get a word out without sounding like Porky Pig and Elmer Fudd’s speech-impeded lovechild? Piece of advice: if you’re going to talk to me, at least talk intelligibly, huh? You’re just making my job easier.” He shook his head slightly, pushing off of the desk. “Listen, I just came here to give you some encouragement before you go and blow it onstage. Thought I might help you out a little.”

He swaggered towards him again, and he came to a stop in front of him. “You look scared, Mommy’s Little Disappointment. Tense.” He reached up to grip West’s shirt, glaring into his eyes for a moment before raising and eyebrow and looking down at his feet as if he felt something on his feet. He made a sound of disgust, giving West a slam against the wall, and he looked up at him, a scowl on his face. “And shit — I think you got piss all over my new shoes. You can’t even hold your piss right. But I’ve got something that might help you out a little bit.” He balled up his free fist. “Consider this my formal wish for good luck.”

With that, he reared back and sent a punch straight at West’s face.

SLAM!

After his fist made contact, he released the boy’s collar.

Taking a step back, Mike studied West, pulling back his fist, rolling his knuckles, and grinning widely as a rush washed over him.

Power. Relief.

He chuckled. “A little nosebleed goes a long way, Slowest Sperm.”

mood
howdy-do, punching bag

location
the celestial theater

outfit
dressy

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly

mentions
gen

interactions
jace

tags

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jul 28, 2021

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

Lindsay never did anything halfway.

Actually, nah, that was a lie. Sometimes, he just didn’t wanna do something, so he didn’t do it, luhmao.

It was more accurate to say that when Lin really wanted to do something, he typically did it to the extreme. For example, if he wanted to do a performance, he’d go all the em-effing way out — you’d seen that with his performance today, luhmao. If he wanted to eat candy (which duh, he always wanted to eat candy), he’d scarf that shizzle down in a single momento. If he wanted to race, bitch, he’d pull a fricking Roadrunner. If he wanted to troll you, you could say hello to your personal Hell-o, luhmao. When he was your friend, he’d be the best damn friend to you the world had ever seen.

And when he was your enemy, well, naturally, he’d hate you with all of his being — but he never really wanted to hate anyone, unless they gave him a reason.

Typically, that reason was some kind of association with his dad, something like whatever the eff it was that happened with Lydia, or because you were named Chas Marino, luhmao.

There were a plenty of things he did or didn’t do that he didn’t feel strongly about — things he either liked or disliked and that was it — and there were plenty of people who he didn’t feel very strongly about — people he either liked or disliked. With them, yeah, he didn’t do too much trying with, luhmao.

But when he loved you — like, deeply bro loved you — or when he hated you — like, deeply whatever-the-opposite-of-bro-was hated you — you knew it, and it really took a lot for you to get out of being deeply loved or deeply hated.

‘Cuz Lin had an astounding amount of willpower when he wanted to.

So it was kind of weird, now that he was thinking about it, that Lydia’d so easily and pretty much without him fully realizing started to drift more towards the I don’t feel too strongly about you this way or that way area. It kinda went against everything that Lin told himself he stood for — and everything that he’d been convinced of once Lydia and him kinda broke apart.

Or, ya know, since he went off on her and then cut her off.

Still, it was only weird when he thought about it. It was only un-Lin-y when he thought about it.

So he just decided that he wouldn’t really think about it.

Luhmao.

Problem solved.

Thoughts? What thoughts?

No thoughts.

Only candy.

Nom nom nom.

He pulled a gummy worm from the bag in his pocket, opened his mouth wide, and dropped it into his maw.

“The same,” Lydia laughed, answering his question of what other plans she had. “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. He’s amazing if you haven’t seen him. A little…less theatrically than you, but still puts on a good show.”

“Casey…” Lin cocked his head at the ceiling, frowning slightly as he tried to remember. With a gasp and a snap of his fingers, he remembered: “Fire guy? Bug dude?” He grinned, grabbing another worm. “Ate a beetle and lighted his sister’s hair on fire —“ He shoved the worm in his mouth, nodding. “— yeah, I heard of him.”

Actually, he knew him from more than the whole bug thingy — dude’s parents were friends with his dad, so Lin’d seen pictures of them all floating around. Was kinda hard to avoid seeing pap shots of his prickish Pops when, ya know, a lot of people outside of the school only really knew him for that.

The amount of @justlindsayins he got every day just to look and see it was some fucking candid shot of his asshole father, man. It got really fucking old.

“But nah.” Lin shrugged “I haven’t seen his show before. He does music, yeah? Luhmao, I’m —“

“Lin!”

A voice calling his name interrupted him, and he turned to see Zeph, jogging towards him like a dude in a white button-up on a romantic beach setting in front of a sunset.

In the background played an acoustic version of “I Want It That Way”, and spliced in were def cuts of lit candles on a bathtub.

Lin’s face lit up, his mouth opening wide in a gasp, his eyes widening, and his brows flying up towards his hairline. “ZEPH!” he yelled, and he took off towards him, laughing happily with his arms wide open as his feet tramped on the theater’s flooring. When he reached him, he launched himself off of the floor, latching onto Zeph’s hips with his knees and hugging him tightly around the shoulders. “Zeph, dude! Zeph, bro!” He was feigning tears, as though he was reuniting with a long-lost friend.

He dropped off of him, holding his arms out towards him. He sniffled dramatically. “I missed you! Luhmao, where’ve you been all these years? You look amazing!” He flung his arms around Zeph’s chest again, nestling his head into his chest for a moment before pulling back, unable to control his laughter. “Luhmao!”

“You’re done, yeah? Ready to hang out?” Zeph asked, grinning. “Cause trouble or…something?”

“Fuck yeah, bro!” He gave an enthusiastic nod of his head and a shake of his butt to confirm his answer. “Got offa stage a lil’ bit ago and was just waiting for you, dude!”

It was as though Lin’s energy had kicked into high gear upon seeing his best friend, the ever-burning fire of his boyish humor doused with several gallons of gasoline by the presence of the taller, younger boy.

He glanced back at Lydia, and then looked at Zeph, gesturing to her. “Zeph, this’s Lydia. Dunno if ya know her. She writes newspapers.” He stuck out his tongue as if it was gross, and then he laughed.

Obviously, that was just to tease her.

“Lydia,” he said, looking over at her as he pointed to Zeph, “this’s the best bro a dude could ask for.” He gave Zeph a big grin, and then he chuckled and turned to the girl again. “Ayo, Lyd, big ups for the whole rescuing me from Pricky thing, luhmao, but Zeph’ll be taking it from here, luhmao.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a final piece of candy — another small Twix. He casually tossed it at her face, saying, “One for the road, luhmao.”

He turned to Zeph, his face lighting up with excitement again. “Aight, bro.” He threw his arm around Zeph’s shoulder. “Le’z go!”

And just like that, he sauntered off with the tall sophomore.

“Dude, we’re gonna have hella fun!” Lin chattered excitedly, looking up at Zeph eagerly. “I don’t really have this all planned out, but that’s where you come in this time. I wanted to give you a chance, luhmao, if ya wanted it. Zeph, tactile planner guy. Z-T-P-G, luhmao.” He paused a moment, scrunching his nose up. “Zeptuhpug,” he concluded. “That’s how you say it, luhmao.”

Dropping his arm from Zeph’s shoulder, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out the bag of gummy worms. He opened it, then held it out by the bottom, offering it to Zeph as he reached inside to snatch a worm. After mercilessly stuffing the worm in his mouth, Lin grinned. “‘ey,” he said with his mouth full, “you want some? I got a tonna candy for us for today, luhmao.”

mood
bye-bye and helloooo lmao

location
the celestial theater

outfit
feesh

playing...
voldemort

by lindsay kay

mentions
casey

interactions
lydia & zeph

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Soap · Jul 28, 2021

.
.
.
.

how she's feeling...

Upset, Concerned, Angry
what she's wearing...

Willa (Warren, but gender swapped.)
where she's at...

Backstage
in the conversation...

Cappie, Gen, (mentioned.) @0k_mang0

Chanel Clairmont

Visuals~ 17 ~ Actress

Cappie’s jumbled up sentences and excuses didn’t mean much to Chanel, it was the more subtle insults that were thrown in every few seconds or so.

No, he wasn’t trying to be insulting.

Nor were his sentences jumbled or excuses.

Well, most of them were excuses.

But his sad attempts of trying to convince her weren’t needed. She wasn’t about to find a replacement in the next hour.

And the risk of the possibility of barely even having chemistry with the person who was willing to do the scene in the first place.

If Chanel didn’t have the opportunity to have a good scene, then she wouldn’t want to do it at all.

Was she saying she had chemistry with Cappie?

Yes.

In the acting sense.

He insisted on playing his part and she wasn’t going to fight with him about it. After all, she couldn’t say much of anything because if she refused to do the scene, they both didn’t have anything for their showcase.

It was just that one thing that kept nagging at her.

“I don’t expect you to understand. No offense.”

What had that even meant?

And why was she overthinking it?

Cappie stood up from his chair, buttoning his shirt.

“I noticed.” She said, subtly lying.

The girl huffed a breath, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.

“I noticed nothing more than the fact that you were wearing a jacket in eighty degree heat, but I didn’t want to pry. I figured maybe you forgot that you live in forest fire central.”

To be fair, California was known to have a bit of a breeze in the evening and November wasn’t the hottest month of the year.

But her point still stood. Chanel noticed-- just not the injury.

She was just aggravated because she wasn’t told. And no, she hadn’t paid attention to Cappie’s shoulder while they rehearsed. Why would she? Willa wouldn’t be looking at her husband’s shoulder for any sudden changes.

Chanel was known to throw everything else aside when it came to playing a part. It wasn’t as though she believed she was better than half the actresses in this school, but… if she was suddenly compared against one-- possibly competed.

She’d win.

It wasn’t their fault or their lack of drive.

Chanel just put in work to get her this far…

Apparently, this far being a school sanctioned showcase with a boy she’s still not overly familiar with-- whose intent is to throw wise cracks and withhold the truth from her.

“If you are a bit concerned somewhere in that cold, hard emotional shell of yours—no offense—”

There’s only so many times a man could say no offense before a woman would actually take offense.

She bit her tongue, clenching her jaw and raising an eyebrow in his direction, allowing him to continue.

“I’m seeing an orthopedist in a couple of days, check if I have any serious damage,” This caught Chanel’s attention and the slight crease between her eyebrows softened.

“... Good.”

“I have to. Gen kinda forced me into it."

Cue the eyeroll.

It was no secret that Chanel wasn’t a very big fan of Genevieve ever since her little episode on twitter. Which, she would’ve turned a blind eye to until it escalated completely.

If someone had told her she was bipolar.

Well, Chanel would have agreed on the diagnosis.

Quietly, of course. But saying something here would probably make Cappie get defensive enough to tell her a sweet story about the two of them. And frankly, it’d be nauseating to hear, so.

“Finish icing your shoulder, running lines, whatever it is that you were doing. We go on soon.”

Was she being colder than the ice pack?

Perhaps.

Did she care though?

Considering her cold, hard emotional shell of hers.

Hm. Probably not.

♡coded by uxie♡

ohdittoh · Jul 28, 2021

victoria shantel sterling

"Oh, dad.” Tori watched as her little sister moved past their mom and dad, then turned back to her father holding out the anthology. Smiling, she said, “You get the second official copy of our anthology."

Listen. Victoria Sterling was a loving, caring sister, okay? Don’t give her that look. Seriously, she meant it — in spite of the rhetoric that little brat wanted to spread, Tori cared deeply for her younger sibling and wanted nothing but the best for her. Yes, she nagged her, and yes, she tried to…in Beth’s words, ”control her” (heavy quote marks on that, because that was absolutely not what Tori was doing, but whatever).

But there were some times — only some times — when she wanted to reach over and wring her little neck, because if there was an award for how much of a little fucking immature asshole you could be, Beth would take the fucking cake. Like, there were fourth-grade boys who thought shoving rocks up their noses and saying the f-word every other word was funny, literal toddlers who tried to eat endtables and cried when they pooped their pants, and, like, several rungs below them was the girl who was convinced she was, like, the wisest beyond her years, the most mature, and the better sister.

…and no, not Tori — seriously?! Obviously, the answer there was Beth. Beth was the one several rungs below them.

Because right now, instead of being glad that her dad that she hadn’t seen since the summer was here, she was out here trying to pick a fight by adding the unnecessary modifier to the official copy of our anthology.

“The second copy?” Her dad glanced to her mom, and Tori caught him spotting the book in her mother’s hand. “Lucky me,” he chuckled, and then he smiled at Beth for a brief moment before he took the book and studied the cover. He ran his hand across the matte sleeve, then slid his fingers across the title, his smile growing proudly. “Well, I’m very excited to read it.” He looked back up at Beth, and then at Tori. “I know how hard you two worked on it.”

Tori laughed slightly. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, “but it was mostly me.” She gave her little brat sister a quick glare, and then smiled pleasantly at her father. “Yeah, like…the title? All me.” She put a hand proudly to her chest, using the other’s forefinger to tap at the title. “And…” She grabbed the cover and flipped open the front. She flipped past the signed title page and to the table of contents, and then she began to tap on a few of the titles. “That, and that one, and that, and that, and that, and that…” She scanned the page again, sure she missed something, but when she didn’t find anything, she just laughed and smiled up at him. “…and, uh, most of it,” she concluded.

“I see.” He lowered his voice, but not so much that either of the others standing around couldn’t hear him. “So Beth takes after her mother in her willingness to contribute,” he chuckled, and Tori blinked a couple of times, forcing a laugh that came out too loud and too obviously fake.

She looked down at her feet, grimacing and breathing in a hiss through her teeth, brushing her hair over her shoulder. Her face was heating up. Oh God.

Her dad rolled his eyes, holding up his hand to her mom. “God, Judy, I’m just kidding,” he said at the same low volume as before. “Lighten up.”

Tori looked up, glanced between them, and then laughed, reaching out to put a hand on her dad’s arm. “Okay,” she said quickly, trying to stop a fight before it happened, “so…”

She hadn’t thought of what she was going to say when she interjected, so she just kind of froze up for a moment, struggling for her words or for any thoughts whatsoever as she looked between her parents. The tension wasn’t helping to un-clam her, but she began to stammer to fill the air.

“So…so, so, I, uh, do my reading in…” She lifted her arm to glance at her wrist, then dropped it. “…t-minus-I-don’t-know-because-I-don’t-have-a-watch,” she laughed, trying to play it off as though she’d meant for it to be a joke.

As though she wasn’t just nervous as hell and panicking.

Wait no, panicking? Tori wasn’t panicking. Tori never panicked, nor did she get nervous, nor did she get worked up in the slightest. Tori was a picture of zen, and the palpable tension between her parents wasn’t throwing her off in the slightest. Yes, she was the epitome of calm.

She clasped her shaking hands together and swallowed hard.

The fucking epitome of calm, Tori.

“Uhm, I think we haaaave…about an hour?” she laughed nervously. “I believe, so…that gives us…time to do whatever…” Her words were stilted, and it was obvious that she didn’t know where her sentence was going. “So…what I was thinking…” She smiled, glancing between her parents. “What I was thinking was, uhm, maybe…we…could…uhm…uh, I…?” As her sentence went on, her voice grew smaller and less confident.

Fuck it, she couldn’t take this anymore, and she — she just —

“Beth,” she said quickly, much louder than she’d intended. She cleared her throat, cocking her head at her. “You…mentioned something you wanted to do earlier, right?” She hadn’t actually, but Tori tried to convey to her to just go along with it by nodding slowly and emphatically several times and giving her a stern look. “Right?” she repeated.

mood
god, please save me

location
the celestial theater

outfit
dressy

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms

mentions
n/a

interactions
beth

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jul 28, 2021

Damien Slater

Anastasia, huh?

Now that was a sexy name.

Almost as sexy as the lonely bitch before him.

Damien really did tend to have a one track mind, which was why all of his previous thoughts and everything he was supposed to do before this had just... disappeared from his mind. You know, like how he'd promised his mom and George that he'd be back over in like five minutes so they could go hunt down Dalton and his thing or whatever the fuck. But that? Fucking gone. So far out of his mind, because hot chick.

It had been a while since Damien had gotten laid, especially after he'd called it off with that fucking weird ass Beel dude.

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

So she was lonely.

Well, well, well, did he have the perfect response to that. He had the perfect fucking cure all for any kind of loneliness or any shit like that, and that perfect little fucking cure was named Damien Slater.

(Usually he would make a dick joke here, but today was a special day... apparently.)

(Oh fuck it.)

Well, actually, the perfect fucking cure for anyone's loneliness was simply Damien Slater's dick.

Ha.

“Did you come to rescue me?” she continued.

Oh fuck, she had a hot accent, too?

Damien Slater had hit the jackpot of hot chicks to approach on this day.

But no, he couldn't place the accent. Damien wasn't all that good with accents. All he knew was that it didn't sound like she was form America, so hey, that automatically made her like... at least fifty times hotter. Plus she was lonely, and clearly, she was obviously into him.

(Damien would've thought that anyone that kept talking to him was into him, mind you.)

"Guess so," he said with a little chuckle, the corner of his lip twitching up into a smile. "Yeah, totally got that whole knight in shining armor vibe going on, right?" Damien joked.

His smile fell away, though, his eyebrows kind of creasing together as he looked at the other girl. "You wanna... I dunno, you just seem down. You need to talk or something? I know we just met, but I ahh... I dunno, don't like seeing people looking all down -- especially not today. This is supposed to be a fun day, right?"

At least, he was pretty sure it was. Everyone was fucking acting like this whole Arts Festival thing was some big old giant party except everyone was dressed up, no one was snorting cocaine, and parents and old people were everywhere -- so it wasn't like any party that Damien was used to.

"If I'm annoying you, though, I can ahh..." he pointed over his shoulder, "I can just head out, ya know? I don't wanna be a bother, just figured I'd stop by since you seemed kind of lost."

And yes, his voice and his expressions didn't showcase any of what he was really thinking -- by all accounts, Damien did just appear to be like a concerned peer.

He was good at faking shit.

mood
hey there

location
Arts Fest

outfit
classy

playing...
98 Degrees

by Arrested Youth

mentions
N/A

interactions
Stassi

tags

AkuTheWolfOkami

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jul 28, 2021

Ashton West

So yeah, like, whatever. The performance had gone surprisingly well--

Well not surprisingly, because they'd been focused on this performance and working on the whole thing for like... forever, so of course it'd have turned out well. Or as well as it could've with what they were given. Like, Ash and Lucky had done the best that they could given they were two... like... amateur singers or whatever.

Look, it had gone well, and Ash was still riding that high of having done well. Like sure, now that it was all said and done and the adrenaline of the moment was kind of dying away, she knew that she'd start overthinking every step, every note. She'd start picking apart their performance, thinking about every little slip up, every little thing that could've gone better. Because like yeah, she knew that there were places where they could've improved on.

“Don’t sound so shocked.” Lucky said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “You know…I hate to tell you I told you so…so, just this once, I won’t say it.”

Ash scoffed, rolling her eyes, although there was still a small smile playing on her lips.

Whatever. She'd totally known that they were going to do okay.

“Shit… does it always feel like this?”

She glanced over at him and giggled. "What, the like..." she trailed off, because it wasn't something that she was sure how to describe, and she tilted her head slightly as she tried to think of it. "The like... the adrenaline rush or whatever? Like afterwards. Yeah, yeah, it does." Ash said, giving a little knowing nod of her head. "Yeah, umm... tours are really fun, because it's like that... like... almost every night, but for hours. And then afterwards you get to do, like, autographs and stuff. That's the most fun. Like getting to meet your fans afterwards."

Well, kind of.

It just kind of always made Ash feel less like she was like... failing -- less like she was really, really bad, and like she was actually decent. Because she didn't think she was super great, or super amazing, or like she was anything special -- she was hardly even average when it came to the whole music thing. But getting to meet her fans, it like... well it kind of like... it made her feel like maybe she was more than just barely average.

As if, in some way, she actually belonged there.

“That was amazing.” His eyes found hers. “You were…epic. Like…10/10, give her the Grammy amazing.”

She gave a soft laugh and a shake of her head as she broke eye contact, shaking her head. "Oh my god, please," Ash responded with a roll of her eyes as they made it to the door of their dressing room, and her steps came to a halt as she turned to face Lucky. "Listen, I only sounded like... epic or whatever because I had you helping me," she explained and reached out to tap a finger against his chest. "You can't be, like, amazing if you're partner sucks. You said it yourself. Nothing we do could be a bad thing." She said with a smirk.

That was like, the only time she'd admit that something he said was right or whatever.

With a smile, she turned and opened the door leading into the dressing room and stepped inside. She walked over to the vanity, and started placing the makeup she'd left out into her bag.

"Alright, so, like... listen," Ash hesitated for a moment, and then she picked up the flower he'd given her and she turned around before taking a seat on the vanity's table top. She twirled the flower back and forth between two of her fingers. "I'd have to, like, talk to my manager or whatever, but... if you like, you wanted, we could probably like umm..." she gave a little shrug of her shoulders, her gaze moving down to the flower in her hand, and then she lifted her gaze to look at him again. "Like record the song. Drowning, for like, my next album or whatever. Or like just a single or whatever, you know? But that would like... there's no way you wouldn't get signed after that, right?"

"Like, I'm not like umm... I'm not super famous or whatever, but I've got like... I've got like a decent following. Just like a few million or whatever, so like... it'd get your name out there." The more she talked about it, the more like... uncomfortable and awkward she got, so she looked back down at the flower in her fingers. "I mean, if you're not like... like sick and tired of me yet after all of those rehearsals or whatever." Ash looked up again to meet his gaze, her lips pressing into a small smile. "Or too busy with your band or umm... yeah. Like just if you want to. We can."

Yep. She was totally selling the idea.

mood
totally nailed it

location
Arts Fest stage

outfit
sparkles

playing...
Drowning

by Ash and Lucky obviously

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lucky

tags

º º code by ditto º º

AkuTheWolfOkami · Jul 29, 2021

.
.
.
.

how she's feeling...

over it
what she's wearing...

This
where she's at...

at the arts fest just vibing
in the conversation...

Slater ( Winona )

STASSI

Junior(18)- Model - Golden Goddess

Anastasia wasn’t a manipulative person. Not by nature at least. She would be lying if she had said that by trade she had learned to be manipulative. Her father was former black-ops for Russia, and her adoptive father (her uncle Mikhail) was both former black-ops and KGB. You don’t become a billionaire without manipulation, and you can’t be a spy without the same. Even her mother, a noble woman her entire life, had learned the skill through politics.

Men? Men, well in this case boys, were so easy to manipulate. Stroke their ego (figuratively and literally) make them feel like whatever happens was their idea and what they wanted, and voila. You win. That was for anyone when dealing with manipulation really – but men only wanted one thing and it is disgusting. But useful.

She wondered if this Damian Slater knew that she knew, what he wanted from her. Though admittedly she didn’t know when he wanted it. Would he be cool with moving ducking off somewhere and…well doing the nasty no no.

Guess so

Yeah, totally got that whole knight in shining armor vibe going on, right?

She let out a genuine chuckle and let an entertained grin sneak on to her face. If he only wanted one thing, he was doing a good job at being a little sweetheart about it. So much so that Stassi started to believe he may have had an earnest reason for approaching her. Maybe he genuinely saw her as attractive and wanted her number and a date? That wasn’t what she wanted but this was Nastya. And how appropriate were the first five roman letters in the name. He might be able to get it out of her – the date and number, but she only wanted one thing.

“In my country, we did not have knights. We had bogatyrs but eh, you will do.”

Her smile and moved more into a mischievous smirk as she looked him over. He was cute enough – he would be acceptable for now.

You wanna... I dunno, you just seem down. You need to talk or something? I know we just met, but I ahh... I dunno, don't like seeing people looking all down -- especially not today. This is supposed to be a fun day, right?

She thought about his words for a moment. She couldn’t risk talking. Not about what was bothering her at least. For all of her skills in manipulation SHE was not a manipulative person, but she was easily manipulated and exploited. She had that self-awareness about herself.

“Counter intelligence is just as important as intelligence. And it starts with knowing yourself solnishko”

We will ignore the fact that a former KGB agent was giving a child life-lessons via espionage tactics, but the words rang true. She knew herself. She knew her weaknesses and when she was aware them she would evade them and so she came up with a response for the young boy before her.

“We can hangout as long as I do not have to talk about what is bothering me,”

she offered waving her hand at the crowd around,

“You are right. It is supposed to be fun.”

If I'm annoying you, though, I can ahh... I can just head out, ya know? I don't wanna be a bother, just figured I'd stop by since you seemed kind of lost

He was sweet. Well at he at least appeared to be sweet and show concern about her and her mood. If her mind wasn’t clouded by her current insecurities and desire to be touched and loved, her cheeks would have been rosy. Instead, she stared at him blankly, not being able to feign any emotion any further. Her stoicism had won out and her eyes gazed blankly at him.

She shook her head when she realized what she had been doing and put her finger over his mouth,

“Shh shh, you talk almost too much, no?”

she moved her arms around his and thought for a moment,

“Come come. We can find somewhere that is little more quiet.”

♡coded by uxie♡

gh0stwriter · Jul 29, 2021

Lucky DuBois

He felt…

He felt…

Okay, he couldn’t put his finger on it. He couldn’t put it into words. He could barely form words at this point, but whatever it was that he did feel…he never wanted to stop.

His brain was swirling a million miles per second yet he couldn’t pinpoint a single thought. It was like nothing and everything was on high alert and it was…awesome.

"What, the like..." her voice brought him back to reality…or as close as he could get at the moment. “The like…the adrenaline rush or whatever? Like afterwards.” His eyes met hers and he nodded, his head tilted slightly to the side as he awaited the rest of her explanation. “Yeah, yeah, it does.” He didn’t expect that. Ash was talented. She was great, but up until now, she had treated this performance like a job…second guessing her talent. Second guessing everything.

But watching her...here and now. He saw that she felt exactly what he felt. He saw the fire in her eyes and knew that she could see the same fire in his eyes. They both felt it. They both thrived on it. They both belonged here.

“Yeah, umm…tours are really fun, because it’s like that…like…almost every night, but for hours. And then afterwards, you get to do, like, autographs and stuff. That’s the most fun. Like getting to meet your fans afterwards.”

His smile grew wider. He enjoyed seeing Ash like this. This Ash was different. The same, but, more authentic? She wasn’t putting on a show or working to not ruffle any feathers, or trying to please anyone. She was just…Ash. At least that’s how he chose to see it. Chose to see her.

“I can’t wait.” He said softly as he took a deep breath. Fans. He could have fans. He would have fans. That was the point. Not to make money. Not to be renowned, but to have people hear his music and connect to it on a level enough to spend their money and their time to come see him.

He followed her back to the dressing room. “Oh my god, please,” He rolled his eyes in sync with hers. Why was it impossible for her to just take the compliment. He let a small smirk and semi-frustrated/semi-amused chuckle escape his lips. She stopped at the door and turned to face him while he leaned on the frame of the door as he glanced down.

“Listen, I only sounded like…epic or whatever because I had you helping me.” His eyes drifted down toward her finger as she tapped his chest and he smirked as she continued. “You can’t be, like, amazing if your partner sucks.” Okay. She had a point…kind of. At least, he knew what she was saying. They were good together…worked well together. Chemistry or whatever. Though, this is the first time he’d shared the stage before. Worked with another artist. So, it was difficult to comment as he had very little frame of reference.

His gaze returned to hers. “You said it yourself. Nothing we do could be a bad thing.” She smirked as she opened the door and he trailed right behind her. “I said that?” He said teasingly. “Sounds like a guy who knows what he’s talking about.” He caught her eyes in the mirror and smirked before grabbing his clothes and placing them messily in the garment bag.

He set it on the small loveseat on the other end of the room and removed his jacket and placed it on top as he sat on the arm of the couch and his eyes drifted back toward Ash “Alright, so, like…listen.” He crossed his arms and briefly glanced at the flower she twirled in her hand—a bittersweet feeling washed over him. “I’d have to, like, talk to my manager or whatever, but…if you like, you wanted, we could like umm…” Talk to your manager about what? “Like record the song. Drowning, for like, my next album or whatever. Or like just a single or whatever, you know? But that would like…there’s no way you wouldn’t get signed after that, right?”

Play it cool. He had to play it cool. Cause she wasn’t done talking and he couldn’t process any-fucking-thing at the moment. He glanced down and found a safe spot to stare at on the floor. Was she really asking him to record on her next album?

“Like, I’m not like umm…I’m not super famous or whatever, but I’ve got like…I’ve got like a decent following. Just like a few million or whatever, so like…it’d get your name out there.” Just a few million. He huffed out a laugh. Just a few million. It beat his fifty thousand. Made it look like chump change. He glanced up and watched her stare at the flower some more.

Why him?

He pushed himself off the arm of the couch—nonchalantly closing the distance between them.

Why him?

“I mean, if you’re not like…sick and tired of me yet after all of those rehearsals or whatever.” He smirked as the distance between them became smaller and smaller. “Nope. Definitely not sick or tired.” He said honestly. He had had a blast. The best time. He stopped in front of her. Closer than he should have been. Especially if he didn’t want a repeat of before the show, but here they were. Here he was—placing a hand on the vanity beside her, his hand brushing slightly against hers. His gaze was intense—like he was trying to interpret her motives and keep a handle on his own at the same time.

Her eyes met his and she smiled. He took a small breath. “Or too busy with your band or umm…yeah. Like just if you want to. We can.” He wanted to say yes. Right then and there. Say yes before she could take it away or tell him that she was just joking.

He knew she was serious. “I want to.” But was it that simple? Could it be? He was much less confident than usual. His pride getting in the way of determining her reasons behind the offer. Did it matter really? Probably not, but for whatever reason, to him, it did.

“Why me?” He had to ask. He didn’t, but he did. And he was already mentally punching himself in the gut. He had said yes. It could have been done with. “You…you could have anyone.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m basically a nobody.” It was fact. It didn’t offend him. “I just don’t want you to…like…miss out on a better option cause we are friends or whatever.” Was he making any sense? He didn’t know at this point, but all he knew at that moment was that her opinion mattered and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

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

Winona · Jul 29, 2021

Ashton West

Initially upon entering the dressing room, it had just been like... chill, and everything that had happened before was forgotten. Because like yeah, whatever, the performance had been hot or whatever, but it wasn't like it meant anything. It was just that -- a performance. The important thing with those was to remember that what happened on stage was just on stage, and that's what she was trying to do.

Well, that's what she was doing. The performance had been a minor blip, and now it was done and over with, and she'd like... never be that close to Lucky again. Duh. There wouldn't be any reason to.

And whatever had happened before was still gnawing at her, making her feel incredibly guilty, but that was also done and over with and Ash could easily just pretend that had never happened. Like, they could just go back to their cool, platonic friendship that they'd had before with none of that.

Except that instead of remaining on the arm of the couch, Lucky got up and walked towards her.

Oh no, no, no.

Her heart was beating out of her chest, and her fingers stopped playing with the flower as he came to a stop beside her and rested his hand on the vanity beside her. His hand brushed against hers, and she fought against the urge to yank her hand back. Like, she wanted to. She needed to. Like, she needed to get off the vanity and put some distance between them because she had a boyfriend and she wasn't about to go as far as they had earlier again, but also she like... she couldn't just do anything too fast. It'd look suspicious, right?

God she didn't know. Secret relationships sucked.

So, she looked up towards Lucky, her gaze meeting is, and her teeth started biting into her bottom lip.

“I want to.” He said, but the way he said it implied that there was a but.

Her head tilted to the side, her teeth digging into her bottom lip more as she waited for him to continue. To hear that but, that reason as to why he couldn't. She'd be fine with it or whatever -- not like it was the first time that Ash had been told no or whatever, so it was like... it was whatever.

“Why me?” He asked. “You…you could have anyone. And I’m basically a nobody. I just don’t want you to…like…miss out on a better option cause we are friends or whatever.”

Oh.

Oh that was it.

It wasn't a but -- like it was a but, but it wasn't the type that she'd thought. It wasn't an instant no, so like, whatever, that was something.

"I mean," Ash shrugged. "If I could've had anyone, then I would've, like, asked someone else to perform the umm... the song with me, right? Like today." Not that she thought she could've had anyone or whatever. "But I didn't. I asked you because, like, I really wanted to work with you."

Again, she shrugged, and then she leaned past his to grab the strap of her backpack, now filled with her makeup and everything else that she'd left scattered across the vanity, and pulled it over to her as she hopped down from the vanity's top. As she pulled the straps of the backpack on over her shoulders, she continued speaking.

"And like, it's so hard to find anyone good to work with. Like, I love Javi or whatever, he's funny and is a great friend, but like... I don't know, I don't think I could work with him. Too much, like... flirting and whatever, you know? Like I'm sure I could, but it's just ummm..." she was trying to choose her words carefully, her head tilting again to the side, her lips slightly parted as she tried to think.

"It's like... it's just easier when you, like... like what we've got. We're friends. Like, I enjoy hanging out with you, you enjoy hanging out with me, but we can keep it business and like ummm... like professional. When we need to. And we sound good together, and it's like... it's hard to find someone that you've got like, umm, like chemistry with. Like for performing and stuff, and that always makes the music sound better, so..."

Ash gave a little smile. "Sorry, like, I know that probably doesn't make a lot of sense. But I just... I don't know. Like you don't have to if you don't want to or whatever. It was just a suggestion."

mood
totally nailed it

location
Arts Fest stage

outfit
sparkles

playing...
Drowning

by Ash and Lucky obviously

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lucky

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Stardust Galaxy · Jul 29, 2021

Had the Arts Festival always been this crowded other years? Maeve was sure that she had never seen so many people in her life gathered in one place, but there was always a first time for everything. She had the assumption that it was because as time passed the students were getting more known outside of the walls of the school and that now not only parents and friends came to see the presentations.

She wondered if one day she would have strangers supporting and admiring her like that in her eyes that kind of meant that she was finally making it, but at the same time she was sure that ballet dancers didn't have such a big and dedicated fanbase like singers or actors/actresses had, sure it wasn't like no one cared about dancers but Maeve was sure that she could ask a random person "Do you know Olga Smirnova?" And they would say no, instead if you asked someone who practiced or was interest in ballet, they would reply "Oh she is the prima ballerina in the Bolshoi Ballet"

Yeah, maybe the life in the spotlight wasn't made for her after all, but she wouldn't mind if she was able to enter a good ballet company once she graduated, which she still had basically two years left, but it was always good to have a goal in mind so she could work towards it.

Maeve wondered what she should do in the meantime, she still had some time before she had to meet with her parents, maybe seeing some of performances of the music department would be a good way to kill time, one thing she was sure she had enough for the day in seeing arts exhibitions and trying to understand the meaning behind it.

Maybe she was so into her thoughts that she got startled when she heard someone calling her name. She looked around to see who it was just to find Felix by her side, she grinned back at him and even let out a small chuckle when he greet her “Hey, howdy, hello, I was wonderin’ if I’d see you around.” was it only her or was he kind of excited to see her? Calm down Maeve, you are reading too much into the situation. Maybe he was just glad to see a familiar face in all this ocean of people, that was it she just needed to stop reading between the lines even if she was excited to see him nonetheless.

I was wondering the same thing, there's so many people around that I can barely recognize who is who?" she replied with a small chuckle “I was actually just about to grab a bite. Ya got somethin’ to do, or do ya wanna to come with? It's on me.” he asked her Not really, my performance already passed, so I'm just walking around seeing what the rest did I have seen some interesting things if I'm being honest" she said with a chuckle "But I could definitely eat something, I might have skipped on breakfast due to the nervousness" she added embarrassed.

"Also, how did your project go? I didn't expect that my duet would be so close in time to the screening of your movie, so I couldn't go otherwise I would have been there in first row"

Location: arts festival | Mood: hello hello
Outift: Here | Interactions: Felix (

ohdittoh )

Maeve Anneliese Ackerman

Code by Stardust Galaxy

geminiy · Jul 29, 2021

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
"I remember thinking I’m about to beat this bitch up.”

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
chainmail but make it less dorky

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
outside the music dressing rooms

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
Chas, Alex, Lin

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Amy & Slutydia

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
Kitsune2202 gh0stwriter

The easiness of being with Amy was part of the reason Charlie loved her so much. Amy never made anything difficult or awkward, allowed Charlie to make her stupid pointless jokes without trying to correct her, let her forget real life. Art Fest didn’t matter, her stupid outfit didn’t matter, her nagging manager that was likely blowing up her silenced phone in the other room didn’t matter. Just her and Amy mattered.

"They are crazy because you are dripping with all the sex appeal we need at 16. Plus isn't down sexier? Little wave in it? I always feel up... with the exception of pony-tails, felt more...mature but not necessarily sexy." Amy began as she examined Charlie’s hair. "If you really wanna kinda appease them we could do a half up half down so your face is framed as if your hair is up, but you still get to show off your length. However if we don't give a damn about that stuff ole manager of yours I vote down. We could straighten it so it's still different then your every day look and face frame it, and make your make-up pop. Plus with this hood if you take it on and off getting into the groove an up style might get messed up in the process.

Charlie giggled as Amy’s fingers gently pulled through her hair. “Let’s be real, I really don’t give a shit about fucking Brian and his desire for underaged sex appeal. I feel like down looks more like me,” she added with finger guns to herself in the mirror, “and authenticity is important when you’re absolutely shredding a song about showing off and fucking random dudes. Not that I’d want a random dude to fuck, but I can give the weird Tumblr stans hope.”

Charlie twirled around in the chair to face Amy and hopped up, wrapping her friend up in a quick hug before going to finish getting ready. Once the Uber Amy had lovingly ordered showed up, the pair hopped in and got ready to hit the road. Pulling out her camera at Amy’s request, Charlie put on her best paparazzi impression and began snapping pictures of the girl in the seat beside her.

“Miss Jones, Miss Jones! Can we get a smile Miss Jones?” Charlie chirped and chimed as she snapped a large number of pictures, most of which came out blurry or half covered by her manicured nails. Flipping the camera around, Charlie took a few more of the two of them together in the backseat, warm smiles lighting up both of their faces. Locking her phone and sighing, Charlie leaned her head over onto Amy’s shoulder, a gentle smile still on her lips. “I love you, Ames. We’re going to kill this.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Once they arrived at the theatre, Charlie gave Amy a quick pep talk and ran off to find her dressing room. Very much in character to herself, Charlie was nearly late for her call time, still adjusting her earpieces as they changed the lights around on stage for the first song of her set. It wasn’t until she was standing in front of that stage door that the anxiety started to settle in.

Naomi had made a mistake in trusting Charlie with her song. She had made a really big mistake. Charlie couldn’t back out, she had to go on. She had promised Naomi that she would do well with her song and she wasn’t about to let her down. With a brilliant smile, she made her way onto the stage.

As soon as the crowd cheered her on and the lights shone right on her face as she pulled into her place at centre stage, the nerves faded out as the music began. The rush of adrenaline started to pump through her veins as her own voice filled her ears, reminding her just why she dealt with all the bullshit that Hollywood Arts had to offer year after year. Charlie loved her job, loved performing, loved the music. The stage was her home and fuck it if she wasn’t about to rock it.

Everything was perfect. Charlie hit every note, nailed every move, batted every perfect eyelash.

Everything was perfect until she saw her guidance counsellor glaring at her from the side of the stage, accompanied by her manager, Brian, and principal.

The set pulled to a close and Charlie wavered on stage, her eyes meeting Brian’s. Why was he there and not in the crowd? More importantly, why was he there with the head staff of Hollywood Arts?

Charlie’s mind began to reel as the lights started to dim, a clear sign for her to get her ass off the stage. Had she done something wrong? No, she had been with Amy all morning, she hadn’t even been online so how would she have done anything wrong? Charlie hadn’t run her mouth, hadn’t shown up late, hadn’t said something wrong, so why were they there?

Eventually, Charlie’s feet started moving underneath her without her input, her body walking closer to the group of people waiting for her offstage.

“Charlotte Howell? Come with us.”

Her mouth ran dry as the group led her down the hall past her peers and into her dressing room, the door swinging shut with a loud bang behind Brian. The room was silent as Charlie found herself sinking onto the loveseat against the back wall.

“Charlotte Howell there is evidence of your involvement with the tampering and destruction of Chas Mario and Alejandra Cortez’s film.” The principal eventually spoke, her eyes glaring daggers into Charlie’s face.

What?

No.

She hadn’t done that. Why would she do that?

Charlie’s heart took on a strange thumping beat in her chest, a layer of sweat coating her pale palms. How could they have evidence of something she hadn’t done? Maybe they had the wrong person, maybe another Charlotte Howell was at large.

“I-” Charlie started though her voice cracked rather harshly, causing her to fall silent again.

“Hollywood Arts code of conduct states that tampering with another student or team’s work for an official display are grounds for expulsion.” The vice principal continued, his face unwavering as he delivered the blow. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening. “The evidence we have of you directly tampering with Mr Marino and Miss Cortez’s film the night of the unauthorized lock-in is enough but given your past record with Mr Marino, there is no doubt in our mind that the destruction of their film’s file is your doing. You were traced to have logged in and tampered with the film that night, from an administrator’s office on top of it all.”

Charlie’s jaw tightened as the vice principal handed her a piece of paper with the supposed ‘evidence’ they had against her. ‘Past record’? Of course, how could she forget?

The pieces began to fall into place. Charlie hadn’t done anything, this was Chas getting revenge for her stupid actions at homecoming. She had been waiting for her actions to come back to haunt her more than just being known as ‘That Blonde Girl That Attacked Chas Marino’. This was the payback that she had been waiting for.

“I swear I didn’t do it.” Charlie stammered, her voice shaking in time with her fingers clasped around the paper. “I can prove it. I can-”

No. No, she couldn’t prove it. The only person she had been with at the time that she had apparently been in the administrator’s office was Lin who, let’s be real, wasn’t exactly the most credible person. They also were having… relations in a fucking teacup in a broken into building. There was nothing Charlie could do to prove her innocence even though she hadn't done a damn thing.

“I swear, I had nothing to do with this.” Charlie muttered as the volume and bravado in her voice faded away to nothingness. Her eyes began to well over, her lip quivering before being gently bitten between her teeth. “Please. Please believe me, please don’t send me home. Please don’t make me leave, I promise I didn’t do it. I’ll swear on it, I’ll do after school work for the rest of the year, I’ll-I’ll-”

“Charlotte, you aren’t being expelled.” The principal chimed in. “Your work at the school and academic excellence is enough to keep you here. But we can’t let these actions go unpunished.”

Brian took a deep breath. “Charlie, you’re losing your scholarship. You have until the end of winter break to come up with the money for the year. Otherwise, your spot at Hollywood Arts will be transferred to someone else.”

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

No this wasn’t happening.

It would have been kinder to kick her out, to drag her through the streets and humiliate her. The only reason Charlie was at Hollywood Arts was her scholarship, there wasn’t any way that she could conjure up that money on her own. Without her scholarship, she wouldn’t be able to pay. Without tuition payments, she would be kicked out.

The tears streamed down Charlie's face. Her time at Hollywood Arts was over.

The people in front of her were talking and forcing a pen into her hand to sign some document that made sure she legally understood the terms of the conversation she was having before leaving her alone in the room to pack up her things.

Charlie wasn’t going to be able to make this work. It wasn’t possible. She’d have to work two full time jobs to just be able to afford the tuition, not including the studio costs and costume fees and her rent and her living expenses. It simply wasn’t possible. There was nowhere to turn, no one to ask, nothing left to do. The end of winter break would roll around and her bill would be unpaid. Merry Christmas, Charlie Howell, now get the fuck out of Los Angeles.

She pulled herself together long enough to step out of the room. She had to go home, she wasn’t staying around here any long-

SMACK!

“Fuck man.” Charlie groaned as her body collided with yet another body in front of her. Blinking a few times, Charlie’s stomach somehow dropped even further. “Fucking Lydia, how lovely to see you.”

Great. Just great. Lydia fucking Fox of all people in front of her, chocolate bar in hand.

Chocolate bar? Charlie knew instantly. Fucking Lin: she had been talking to fucking Lin. Lin, Charlie’s boyfriend. Lin, Lydia’s ex-boyfriend. What the fuck was that whore doing talking to him? Now was not the goddamn time.

“To what do I owe the fucking pleasure? Finished talking with my boyfriend, are we?” Charlie asked through gritted teeth. She had stopped crying for the time being. Right now, she was only seeing red.

º º code by ditto º º

gh0stwriter · Jul 30, 2021

Lucky DuBois

It was a fair question, right?

Why would someone who has millions of follows, Jas made a name for herself and is arguably one of the most popular girls at Hollywood Arts want to let him record a song on her album.

Yeah. They were friends. She’s said it a hundred times, but he didn’t usually take that at face value. He never could. There were always ulterior motives…at least in his experience.

And he refused to take a handout without knowing the intentions behind it. He wasn’t a charity case. He wasn’t some “good deed” anyone needed to help to make themselves feel good about their privilege.

And he didn’t doubt his talent. Never doubted his talent. But this business was just that. A business and talent did not alway equate to success.

"I mean," Ash shrugged. "If I could've had anyone, then I would've, like, asked someone else to perform the umm... the song with me, right? Like today." Not that she thought she could've had anyone or whatever. "But I didn't. I asked you because, like, I really wanted to work with you."

She was genuine. He knew her well enough to know that Ash was a nice person. Despite what Dorian had said. Despite the warnings he’d given him. Lucky knew that Ash cared about him enough. Enough for what? He wasn’t sure about that. And why she wanted to work with him? That was a question that was better left unanswered. For both of their sakes.

She grabbed her backpack and he stepped back to give her room. The dressing room needed to be empty and he needed to get ready for JBNs performance. "And like, it's so hard to find anyone good to work with. Like, I love Javi or whatever, he's funny and is a great friend, but like... I don't know, I don't think I could work with him. Too much, like... flirting and whatever, you know? Like I'm sure I could, but it's just ummm..." She wasn’t wrong. Javi was…a conundrum. The fact that he didn’t kill the guy after he outed him on Twitter spoke volumes to the fact that as difficult as Javi was to deal with, his heart was usually in the right place. And he knew how to play the hell out of the bass.

He grabbed his bag and followed her toward the door. Things feeling lighter and less…complicated by the minute. It was the show. The performance. The anticipation. The high after. That’s what had made things weird. He didn’t want Ash and she didn’t want him.

"It's like... it's just easier when you, like... like what we've got. We're friends. Like, I enjoy hanging out with you, you enjoy hanging out with me, but we can keep it business and like ummm... like professional. When we need to. And we sound good together, and it's like... it's hard to find someone that you've got like, umm, like chemistry with. Like for performing and stuff, and that always makes the music sound better, so..."

They did have chemistry. That was for sure. It was obvious, apparently. But it could easily just stop there. They both were talented. They both knew how to work a crowd. That was half the battle and if it was as hard to find as she said, then he wasn’t gonna fuck it up for a chance to get off. He’d worked too hard for that.

"Sorry, like, I know that probably doesn't make a lot of sense. But I just... I don't know. Like you don't have to if you don't want to or whatever. It was just a suggestion."

He held the door open for her and mirrored her smile. “I want to. I was just…” he shook his head and sighed. “Thank you. Is what I should have said instead of making it weird or whatever. I—just…” he didn’t know what he was trying to say. He wanted to make sure that it was because she thought he was good enough and not for any other reason.

He waved off his thought. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. Yeah. Fuck yeah. Let’s record the song.” He said with a smile. This was a good thing. Like she said, it’d make his career.

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

Winona · Jul 30, 2021

Zeph Evermore

It was like one of those movies where the two people run towards each other in slow motion on the beach. Except in those movies, it was always because they were in love, and he supposed that they were in love. They were just in bro love, which was clearly a purer and better form of love.

And then they met and much to Zeph's surprise, Lin launched himself towards Zeph and the next thing he knew, the sophomore was holding his shorter friend. He stumbled backwards, but managed to catch his balance, laughing as he tightly hugged Lin before letting him go.

“Fuck yeah, bro!” Lin said in response to his question. “Got offa stage a lil’ bit ago and was just waiting for you, dude!”

"I was waiting for you!" Zeph replied with a laugh.

Lin glanced back behind him, and Zeph followed his gaze back to a girl. “Zeph, this’s Lydia. Dunno if ya know her. She writes newspapers.”

Awkwardly, he gave a little wave of his hand in greeting.

“Lydia,” Lin said, “this’s the best bro a dude could ask for.”

Dramatically, Zeph clutched a hand at his chest and smiled down at Lin. "Damn. That's the nicest thing I've ever heard," he joked with a little chuckle.

With a toss of another chocolate bar in Lydia's direction, Lin put his arm around Zeph's shoulders and the taller sophomore had to slouch down a bit so that his shorter friend could do so, and then the two sauntered away. Here they were, brought together again, the greatest friendship duo the world had ever seen.

And suddenly, there was peace.

Like peace in the world.

Or in the atmosphere of HA, clearly.

Or at least in the little pair that was Zephlin.

“Dude, we’re gonna have hella fun!” Lin chattered away. “I don’t really have this all planned out, but that’s where you come in this time. I wanted to give you a chance, luhmao, if ya wanted it. Zeph, tactile planner guy. Z-T-P-G, luhmao. Zeptuhpug,” he concluded. “That’s how you say it, luhmao.”

Well, it was a better nickname than Beaver Ass Prophet.

As they walked, Lin -- being his Lin self -- pulled a bag of gummy worms out of his pocket and held them out to Zeph. “‘ey,” he said with his mouth full, “you want some? I got a tonna candy for us for today, luhmao.”

"Worm me," Zeph said and held out his hand. He let out a chuckle, and then reached into the bag to grab a couple of gummy worms, which he popped into his mouth and chewed on for a moment before speaking. "Aight, well, ahhh... are we just gonna hangout here?" He asked, looking down at Lin for some guidance.

He didn't want to be left alone to his own devices to figure this out -- or be given a chance or whatever. Heck, he was bad at this whole keeping up with Lin thing. He had trouble doing it and he... like...

Really?

Really, Lin wanted his help?

"I mean, we could ahh... like there's some uhh... some cool... performances... we could... see... I heard some dude made a glass cow, that might be ahmmm... interesting..." Zeph awkwardly cleared his throat.

He was failing.

Faltering.

"Or... pranks...?"

Yeah, that sounded like something Lin would want to do.

mood
i'm too lazy to come up with a good mood right now

location
Arts Festival

outfit
no, he's not getting super fancy

playing...
We Like It

by Computer Games

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lin

tags

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jul 30, 2021

felix rian emmerson

She’s really cute.

When Maeve smiled back, Felix couldn’t help but think that. Ya know, about how cute she was — and how cute she was lookin’ today, especially. Her dress was pretty, the color of her dress complimented her nicely, ya know, and her bright smile just gave him the impression that she was as excited to see him as he was to see her. Him not thinkin’ she was adorable would’ve just been him bein’ blind — c’mon, now.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Maeve said, about when she’d be seein’ him. “There’s so many people around that I can barely recognize who is who,” she chuckled.

Felix laughed softly and looked around at the sea of people. “Honestly — place seems even more packed than last year,” he said. “I really didn’t think that was possible, but here we are.” He let out another soft laugh. “I’m just hopin’ that they accounted for that when they set up the concessions — if they’re out of food, I dunno what I’ll do.”

To his invitation to join him — and more specifically, to his question of if she had something to do — she answered, “Not really, my performance already passed, so I’m walking around seeing what the rest did.”

“I felt that, I felt that — just kinda wanderin’ around and killin’ time until they usher everyone out, probably.” He nodded, grinnin’. “Got nothin’ really better to do.”

“I’ve seen some interesting things if I’m being honest,” she added with a chuckle.

“Interesting things?” he repeated. “Like what?” He paused a moment, searchin’ his memory for something interesting. “I guess I saw a papier-mâché shrimp plate. That was interesting,” he said, chuckling. “Wonder what that artist was thinkin’. Probably the same thing I am now — my stomach’s growlin’ and I need something to shut it up,” he joked.

“But I could definitely eat something,” she said finally — music to my ears. “I might have skipped on breakfast due to the nervousness.”

“Tsk, tsk. For shame, Maeve,” he teased, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in her, though his voice and grin still read amusement. Felix gave the slightly shorter girl a proud nod. “Luckily for both of us…” He patted his pocket. “I’ve got us covered.”

His feet started towards the food stand, walking in the path of the fewest people.

"Also, how did your project go?” Maeve asked.

“My project?” He glanced over at her, giving her a smile. “Oh, it went great — crowd went wild at both the octopus rippin’ the limbs off the civilians and the part where the hero I voiced put a stop to it, and that’s all I could really hope for,” he chuckled.

“I didn't expect that my duet would be so close in time to the screening of your movie, so I couldn't go otherwise I would have been there in first row.”

“Well, shucks. Thanks — just hearin’ you’d’ve come to it’s enough for me.” He gave her a flattered smile, and then he snickered softly. “Besides, you got spared the images of the man-eating octopus gettin’ seared into your memory, so I’d consider yourself more lucky than anything — it was one’a those ’blessings in disguise’, as they say,” he half-kidded. “If you want a copy, I’m sure I could hook you up with one. Might be one’a those things that’re better to watch with your eyes closed if you’re not into gore, though.”

He dodged a group of people, then looked back at Maeve. “But same here with the performances — I’m really disappointed that I didn’t get to see you dance,” he sighed, frownin’ softly and giving an apologetic shake of his head. “I was really lookin’ forward to it, too — know how hard ya worked on it ’nd all, and it’s been forever since I’ve seen you perform in-person. I’ll look it up and watch it later when I get the chance, but it won’t be the same as havin’ been there to cheer you on. Sigh. I’ll just have to root you on from the comments section.” He cracked a smile. “Ya know, expect a metric ton of comments from notfelix77. Obviously, that won’t be me commenting the heart emojis and spamming you with raving reviews along the lines of the best damn performance I’ve ever seen and dancing queen…but — don’t tell anyone — it might just be,” he teased. “Of course, I can’t say exactly what my reaction will be. I might be too teared up an’ moved by the end to make any kinda comment.”

Before you commented about his teasin’ being flirting, it was just harmless fun. Pinky promise.

“Regardless,” he continued, joking, “looks like I’ve gotta have a word with whoever scheduled those things. Talk to the manager, so to speak. Give him a piece’a my mind for makin’ me miss out on your show.” He laughed.

He came to a stop at the back of the line in front of the stand. Thankfully, there weren’t…too many people in front of them, so satiation for his starving stomach was just around the corner.

He put his hand on his chin, looking at the menu pensively for a moment before he glanced at Maeve. “What’re you thinkin’? I’m leaning towards the…” He looked back at the menu and cocked his head at it, then gave the menu item a point with the finger that’d rested on his chin and dropped his hand. “Teriyaki chicken myself, I think,” he concluded. “How about you?”

mood
food, glorious food.

location
the celestial theater

outfit
formal, but not too fancy

playing...
take a slice

by glass animals

mentions
n/a

interactions
maeve

tags

Stardust Galaxy

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jul 30, 2021

Ashton West

As they headed out and he, like, finally agreed to record the song with her, a smile broke out on Ash's face. "Yeah?" she repeated with a little laugh. "Yeah, okay, yeah, I'll ahh... talk to my manager and umm... I'll text you. It'll be, like, amazing. Don't worry. Like, we totally got this."

"I mean, like, I dunno... it might be like a couple weeks or something," Ash continued to ramble on as they pushed through the doors that led back out into the main part of the theater. "But like, it shouldn't take too long to actually, like... actually record the song or whatever, because--"

Her words came to an abrupt halt when she heard someone call her name, and Ash paused, her eyebrows furrowing together as she looked around until her gaze settled on her father.

"Dad!" she greeted, her eyes lighting up in excitement as her dad made his way over to them and pulled Ash into a tight hug. "Oh my god, you guys saw the performance? Did you like it?" She asked, her questions coming quickly as she let go of her dad and took a step back, nervously fidgeting with the flower between her fingers, which reminded her that oh yeah, Lucky was still there, so she reached over a hand and lightly touched his arm. "Oh, this is umm... this is Lucky. I did the performance with him. Lucky, this is my dad."

With a smile, Ash's dad held his hand out to Lucky. "Steven," he greeted. "Nice to meet you, kid." He said with a nod of his head, and then turned his attention back to Ash.

"Where's mom?" She asked.

"Uh..." Steve glanced over his shoulder and then looked back towards Ash with a shrug. "She's around here somewhere. Said she was on her way. Should be here in a minute. There was another performance going on at the same time as yours that she wanted to see. I recorded yours and sent it to her for her to watch on the way over, though, so, don't worry. She still saw it. And I'm sure she's really proud of you."

"Oh... oh yeah, no, it's... yeah, of course," for a moment, Ash's smile faltered, but she recovered and managed to keep the smile plastered on her face. "There's a lot of really good, like... singers here. I don't blame her. Like way better than me, umm... I'm glad you saw it, though."

Like obviously, Ash was hurt, but she wasn't going to let that be showcased. She was going to her best to hide it because, well, if her mother found out that she was hurt? It was all over.

And then, as if on cue, the infamous Elise West made her entrance.

"Ashton," came her mother's greeting and again, Ash's smile faltered for a moment as her mother came to a stop in front of her. For a moment, Elise just examined Ash's outfit, the look of disgust evident on her face before she reached forward to pinch at the fabric on Ash's arm. "Who dressed you? Honestly, Ashton, if you wish to dress like a whore working the corner, use your own money, not ours. This is disgusting." She leaned away, her frown deepening. "You shouldn't even be showing this much skin if you aren't going to keep up with your diet. If you're going to continue to slack like this while living with the Johannes, we'll have to make different living arrangements for you."

"No, but--"

"Ah, no," Elise held up a finger, her cold blue eyes narrowing down at her daughter. "I'm sick and tired of listening to all of your ridiculous little excuses. Honestly, there is no reason you should be slacking this much at this point. Do you think Gen or Maddie or JJ are slacking? No, they aren't. They aren't letting petty little things like... boys or whatever it is you waste your time on get in the way of their careers. You know that's why you always lost to Maddie and JJ, right? You're not a child anymore, Ashton, and you need to start behaving like it."

"But--"

"No more excuses," her mom snapped again.

Ash looked down towards her hands, still fidgeting with the blue flower. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"That's better," Elise responded, her voice still cold. "And that performance. Ashton, if you aren't going to take my advice -- which you should be, it's not as if I'm head of the performing arts department at a prestigious university or anything. It's not as if I know what I'm talking about. But if you're not going to listen to me, then at least try not to embarrass yourself with these... this silly outfit, that childish performance. And those lyrics. Ashton, I've heard better songs written by twelve-year-olds. Honestly, I've given you everything, and yet you continue to disappoint me. And if you're going to do a duet, perhaps pick someone with actual talent, and not just the first guy that looks at you, alright? Pick someone that will help your career, not hinder it. I couldn't tell who was worse, you or him."

By now Ash, who had already fallen silent throughout the exchange (if it could be considered an exchange), kept her eyes glued to the flower in her hands, nervously twirling it between her fingers. She'd learned throughout years of dealing with her mother that there was nothing you could really do, so she just always kind of... shutdown. Completely.

"Are you going to cry?" Her mother asked with an exasperated sigh. "Of course you're going to cry, as if anyone's going to buy your pathetic tears. You're so overemotional that you can't even accept a little bit of constructive criticism about a terrible performance. Straighten up, lift up your head, and look at me when I'm speaking to you. This kind of behavior isn't going to be tolerated anymore. You're not a child."

"I'm not gonna cry," Ash mumbled, reluctantly lifting her head to look at her mother. She glanced in Lucky's direction, gesturing towards him with a tilt of her head. "That's umm... that's Lucky, that's--"

"Yes, I'm aware, and I don't care, Ashton," Elise responded, not bothering to look in the direction of Lucky. "As far as I'm concerned, I think he needs to leave." And with that, she did bother to acknowledge Lucky -- kind of. Acknowledge him enough to wave a dismissive hand in his direction.

mood
totally nailed it

location
Arts Fest stage

outfit
sparkles

playing...
Drowning

by Ash and Lucky obviously

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lucky

tags

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jul 30, 2021

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

Lin laughed happily at Zeph’s worm me. “Consider yourself wormed,” said the freckled brunette, handing the bag to his tall friend with a bright, excited grin. With blue eyes full of admiration, he watched his bro chew on the candy worms for a few moments.

King shit.

Listen, dude, it’d been about a month since Lin and Zeph first really bonded. Ya know, Halloween, when Lin kicked his ass in all of those bets and made that vow with his Ring Pop broposal to be best bros forever with Zephyr Evermore. Took him to be his lawfully wedded bruhsband. Didn’t kiss the bride but did guzzle soda with him while hanging upside down from a bannister which was close enough, luhmao. And ever since then, the two’d done all kinds of stuff together. Robbed a store of some bubbles. Snatched a rando’s bike — that bitch was snazzy, too, luhmao. Covered a classroom in paint and silly string. That time featured his girlfriend, but that wasn’t his point right now, luhmao.

In that timeframe (sniffle), Lin’d just (sniffle) grown so close with him that he felt like they were just bros meant for broing with each other.

So duh, he was staring at him all sparkly-eyed — ‘cuz he was his best bro, bro, luhmao.

“Aight, well,” Zeph said, finally having swallowed the worms, “ahhh…are we just gonna hang out here?” He looked down at Lin, and Lin blinked a couple of times, a blank, curious expression on his face. (If it wasn’t obvious, when the singer wasn’t actively trying to think of something, his head was pretty empty.) Zeph continued. “I mean, we could ahh…like there’s some uhh…some cool…performances…we could…see…I heard some dude made a glass cow, that might be ahmmm….interesting…”

Lin rolled his eyes dramatically. “Ess-em-aych, Zephy.” He shook his head as if he were ashamed of him. “Ess-em-ayyych,” he huffed again, crossing his arms. “Dude, what’re thinking? Ess-em-aych, you wan’ us to do what everyone else’s gonna be doing — ess-em-aych, like looking at a glass cow? Broooo…no, ess-em-aych, that’s udderly boring, luhmao.” He had to make the pun, duh. “C’mon, Zephy — ess-em-aych, dig deep.”

Zeph cleared his throat. “Or…pranks…?”

Lin’s face immediately lit up.

Pranks?

Now Zeph was talking his language.

Lindsanguage, luhmao.

Sounded like an Italian dish.

“Dude!” Lin gave Zeph an enthusiastic, (way too hard) smack right between his shoulderblades, cackling happily. “You’re a fucking genius!” He held his hand up for a high five, and then swiped it away at the last second. “Gotta be quicker than that-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t.” His last t sounds were beats to which he wiggled his butt to, finally striking a Freddie Mercury pose on the final t before dissolving into laughter. “Nah, kiddin’ — up top!” He held his hand up again, and then he said, “Down low, my guy,” and held his hand lower. Of course, he snatched it away again before Zeph could actually make contact, which made him burst into laughter once more. “Secret of the universe, Zephy — move with stealth and always be zooming, luhmao.”

Laughing, he turned around and started walking backwards in front of Zeph, his strides confident even as he butted into people’s shoulders. “Ayo, so pranks, huh?” he asked. “Zephlin, Prank Masters, t-m, luhmao!" He bowed his head as though praying, and then looked up towards the sky and said, "Kicking ass and taking names. The best bros ever. Amen."

He cackled, and then looked at Zeph again. "What you thinking? Is there anyone who you want to —“ He abruptly stopped walking, jumping then landing in a fighting stance, his fists poised as though he was about to fight someone. They popped into blades — open palms, flattened fingers, and thumbs pressed to the side of his hands. “— hiiiiyahhh, whapah, kablan, boom —“ He gave a couple of strikes, and then a kick on the last sound effect, and then he dropped the stance, laughing. “— exact some kinda revenge on or something, bro?” He grinned at him broadly, cocking his head. “Someone you wanna fuuuuuck up, huh, huh?”

mood
pranking timeeee lmaooo

location
the celestial theater

outfit
feesh

playing...
voldemort

by lindsay kay

mentions
charlie

interactions
zeph

tags