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

Reader mode
Characters
Here
MOOD: jeepers creepers

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: zeph's locker
basics
MENTIONS:
Hunter

INT:
Winona Winona (Zeph)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Veronica Crosby
Zeph never failed to return her smile. It was a quality the two of them shared, whether by people-pleasing or general amicability. Of course, the real blessing was that the two of them seemed to be on good terms despite the thoughts lurking in the back of their minds. Zeph's mention of Stella drew a soft chuckle from Ronnie.

Right. Her.

"Yeah," she agreed, pushing a strand of hair from her face, "Guess there's someone for everyone."

"Is that why you're dating Hunter?" he asked, causing Ronnie to hesitate ever so slightly, "'Cause he hits back?"

Sure, it wasn't that simple, but she knew what the dancer was getting at. He knew he would never be the kind of girl she would go after, and recent events were nothing but evidence toward that. As casually as he asked, Ronnie had to think twice about staying off the defensive. What was behind such a seemingly innocent question? She could hardly detect hurt in his easygoing tone, though at the end of the day, anyone is capable of deceit.

"Well, it's a start," the redhead answered carefully, offering a nonchalant shrug, "Zephy, you know I love you, but of all people you know nice guys finish last." Her cheery smirk compressed into a slight frown, sending her honest pity to the towering boy. "Is it so wrong to want to be worth fighting for?"

The girl's eyes wandered to a couple holding hands down the hallway with a twinge of jealousy for the minor, unabashed PDA. Liking a guy who punches things is much more than an admiration for brute strength, at least in Ronnie's book. It was about security and fervent passion.

Zeph just didn't have that. He never said or acted upon what was on his mind, and she hated it. His will was too weak to get far in anything, as earnest as he was in doing no harm.

"Stella's a lucky girl if she found what she wants. And you too." Shimmering stars crossed over her eyes once more. "And I'm lucky Hunter noticed me. I mean, he's given me more fun than I've, like, ever had. No one just does it the same as him." Somehow, even Ronnie was a little embarrassed to hear that come out of her mouth. "I can guarantee even Stella likes a little danger with her porridge."

Shyly, Ronnie added a short break of silence after her words. "But, um, we're not dating," she corrected, getting a rush just from the thought of the prospect of a situationship or relationship, "Who told you that?"
code by valen t.
 




































  • how she's feeling...



    adjusted.

















june



-the actress-













Despite having been wary of leaving her niche in Maine, June was liking California. She had friends; fellow theater geeks who liked talking to her about what the latest Broadway gossip was.

Suddenly, she existed in a world were music theory was more important than math- she was in her element. It almost made the loss of her dad easier to handle, but no matter how well her social life was going nothing could take away the choking feeling of hearing her mom cry in her sleep every night. June spent hours staring into the dark.

And then there was-

“Niamh,” June answered, her phone squished between her shoulder and her ear as she trifled through her locker. She was smiling good-naturedly. “You know school’s, like, happening right now, right? Are you ever gonna show up on time?”

It was clear they’d had this conversation before.













































♡coded by uxie♡
 
i'm on my way i promise
niamh foster
‘Listen,’ Niamh started, shifting her weight. ‘Forget about that for now. I need help with this script for a writing class. It’s due later today and it needs to be good because I don’t want to be underestimated.’

Niamh was especially proud when it came to her work. She didn’t particularly care for school and the formalities that it demanded; her writing, however, was by no means one of them. She took her craft very seriously, not just settling for a passing grade. She possessed a passion for telling stories that often rivalled others of her age with an edge of wisdom and creativity; pieces of social commentary or artistic deconstruction of some issue or concept she had taken a staunch position on.

Standing to her feet, she reached one arm out to grab her jacket.

‘You’re an actress, right? I need you to bounce a few lines back and forth with me. Just to make sure the dialogue is sweet. It’s straight forward, don’t worry. It’s a film script set in 1930s New Orleans. It’s fucking bullshit really, but anyway-’ she sighed, pausing a moment. ‘I’m coming in now. Are you free? Can you meet me?’
  • outfit


coded by reveriee.
 






Ashton West


It was almost off-putting to see Javi acting like this. Like, the way she'd always seen him, he'd been like... strong. He didn't really seem like the kind of guy that let anything get under his skin, so to see him acting... just... vulnerable was odd. Not like bad odd, and she was kind of glad that she was here for him.

Being there for someone sort of took her thoughts off of her own problems.

Well, until Javi turned to the question on her.

Normally, she'd answer that she was fine. Force a smile, a small laugh, change the subject before it could be pushed any further. Ash was good at that and normally, she'd have the energy to do so. She knew how the world worked, and she knew how she was supposed to handle all situations, but...

Would it be fair to lie to Javi after he'd been honest to her?

"No," she answered simply. Thoughtlessly, her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she followed the tall junior out of the school building and out into the parking lot towards his car. She hesitated momentarily, glancing in his direction, and considering if she really should follow him to his car. Like, sure, skipping class was something she did occasionally, but usually just to drink, and like... she was pretty sure Javi had other plans than drinking.

Despite the little inner voice that was insisting perhaps this wasn't the best idea, Ash swallowed any kind of concern she may have, and she opened the door to the passenger side and climbed in after him. The door closed after her and she watched as he opened the center console and started to fiddle with the weed.

Yep, that's right, she knew she'd signed up for this.

Smoking.

Like, not as if she'd never gotten high, but umm...

It wasn't her favorite thing.

“I wanna know what’s wrong with you,” he said, and Ash felt her stomach drop. “You’ve been awfully quiet since the ball.”

Part of her just wanted to lay out the truth, but she knew that she couldn't -- like, because they're relationship had been a secret, and like... well, Javi was kind of a hothead. She didn't think he'd go after Trevor for her, but who was to really say? And it was bad enough that she was already having to keep Cap and Eli back from him.

So she forced a faint smile on her lips, followed by a shrug of her shoulders.

"My mom's a bitch, and she's just... like... really been on my case because I didn't take someone 'marketable' and 'worthy' as, like, my date to the Ball," she explained, using finger quotes where necessary and hey, it was a fair lie -- because it wasn't a lie. Her mother literally had been pissed about her taking Newt, but she'd learned to kind of brush off her mother's complaints, and she knew the tabloids were more interested in who like... Evie and Gen had shown up with.

When it came to her, they didn't really pay as close attention -- granted, that's why her mother was upset. She was supposed to be fake dating stars or whatever.

Finally, the blunt was ready, and Ash dragged her gaze from the joint to Javi's face.

“How’s that?” he asked, “Enough to forget we go to school in a pit of snakes?”

"Almost," she said with a soft laugh as she reached out, taking the joint in one hand and the lighter in the other. Fuck. It'd been like... honestly not that long since she'd done this, but she was also usually super drunk. She didn't tend to ever get just high. But well... first time for everything?

So she brought the joint to her lips, and after a couple flicks of the lighter, she got it to actually work, and she brought that up to light it. It took a moment to catch but when it did and smoke was able to fill her lungs, Ash had quickly pull the joint away from her mouth as a cough wracked her body. Her hand holding the (now unlit) lighter pressed against her mouth until she caught her breath, her other hand shakily holding the joint out to Javi.

"Not used to this," she admitted -- as if it wasn't already obvious. Another small cough. "What's like... what's wrong with you? Like... what snakes?"




mood
ehhhh

location
school

outfit
clothes





playing...
Save Myself
by Ashe​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Javi

tags
hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 
ready to goooo go go
lillian kimura
Oh, a Russian? Lillian was about to have some fun.

She took the edible from the girl and nodded gratefully, peeling away the saran wrap. ‘Stassi? Lovely. It is very nice to meet you.’

She took a bite from the edible Stassi had handed her, barely thinking twice about it. For a brief moment, Lillian worried she was coming across rude or ineloquent – such a thought was only ever fleeting. She shoved the rest of the space cake in her mouth, discarding the saran wrap on the floor. She clapped her hands and pulled herself up onto the stage.

‘Wanna make a start? You’re a model, right? At least you look like one. I think we could -’

Lillian’s train of thought was interrupted by the shrill ring of her cellphone. She pulled it from her pocket. Rox. Wow, she thought. Nice of her to get in touch.

‘Excuse me one second,’ she said to Stassi, walking to the back of the stage. ‘Hey, babe. You all good? Didn’t see you this morning, you must’ve made a move early. Everything alright?’


coded by reveriee.
 








Nate & Dalton


Not here. Not here. Not here. Where the fuck-
"Hey." Dalton grabbed a passing student by the collar and pulled him over. "Wha-"
"Where's Woods?"
"Who-"
"Nathan Woods. Artist. Muscle head. Sinclaire's simp, boy toy. Where is he?"
"I uh-"
"Where?"
"The g-gym. I think he was at the gym."
The gym. Of course. He should have known. Dalton wordlessly released the kid from his grip, the poor chap scurrying away as quickly as he could as Dalton started to make his way towards the gym. The anger radiating off of him was palpable, enough that a glance in his direction had other students lowering their heads and walking away as fast as possible. Not that it was necessary now that he knew where Woods was. That bastard was the only one he had any business with today.
He could still recall with perfect clarity, that sickening day when Ronnie fucking 'I'm an obsessed, delusional stalker who should go to jail' Crosby popped up in his dms and started spouting some idiotic bullshit about him having a fucking crush on her and being too fucking shy and embarrassed to be true to his feelings. All because of fucking Nathan Woods.
Those damn cousins. Both a fucking bloody pain in his ass, out to just fuck with him with fucking bullshit like this. He was going to fucking kill him, the fucking bastard. Nobody did shit like this to him and got away with it. Woods thought he could mess with him and send the school's craziest red head his way no problem?

Well he was about to get a fucking wake up call, just like his cousin did at lock in. The school janitor ought to get a mop ready, and perhaps a body bag, because by the time he was done with Woods? There was going to be blood.

Dalton rounded the last corner before the gym and kicked open the door, angry, raging teenager style, and as often seen in movies, proceeded to shout in that macho, 'I'm gonna fucking kill you' voice.
"WOODS!"

The gym was empty, save for one well built individual, and that was all Dalton needed to see for him to storm over and cock his fist back and take a swing.

----------------​

Surprise, surprise, but Nathan Woods spent quite a bit of time at the gym. It was... relaxing, and now that he was a senior and had a little more freedom over his schedule, he was able to spend his mornings in the gym before classes. And that was where he was now, lifting weights in a corner of the gym. It was early enough that no one else was there, and Nate appreciated the silence.

Just him and the weights -- that's the way he liked it.

Well, until he heard his name being called. Confused, Nate looked towards where the voice had come from, and his eyebrows narrowed when he realized it was Dalton. Not that he necessarily had an issue with the guy, but well... he did tend to get under Evie's skin, and maybe that did kind of get to Nate.

He set the weight down and pushed himself up, gaze focused on Dalton.

But before he could say anything to the angry boy, Dalton's fist connected with Nate's face.

And without thinking, Nate brought his own fist swinging back at Dalton, followed by him shoving his hands into Dalton's chest to shove him back.

"The fuck?" He snapped.

----------------
​
The thing about punching people, especially winding up for big punches like the one Dalton just threw at Nate? Well, the feeling when they connected, that crack of bone on bone, the adrenaline rush and the feel of someone going down, it was the best. The only problem was that, well, punches like that left you open to counters, especially if whoever you punched didn't go down completely and Nate didn't. So that wonderful sensation Dalton got from feeling his fist connect with Nate's face? It didn't last long, because Nate struck him square in the ribs. Hard.

The blow had him reeling, long enough for Nate to shove him back. Normally a shove like that would not have done much, but that earlier blow had got him good and the shove caught him off balance and out of sorts. He stumbled back and his legs buckled under him, sending him crashing into nearby gym equipment as a hand reached out to instinctively grab at his side where Nate had struck him.

Fuck.

----------------​

Nate hadn't meant to seriously hurt the dude -- as much as he might've disliked Dalton, hurting people wasn't his thing. But he stood there, his face throbbing in pain, his dark eyes glued to Dalton as he watched the guy, in seemingly slow motion, stumble backwards and fall into some exercise equipment. And right there, as Dalton fell and grabbed at his side, all Nate could think was oh fuck.

Oh fuck as in if he'd seriously hurt Kirby? He'd be screwed. He was already on thin ice with the school because of fucking Chas and rehab, and--

So Nate did the only thing one could do that in that moment.

He turned and he fucking left.





playing...
Down with the Sickness
by Disturbed​




this post was made in collaboration with
@Xed




mentions
Ronnie, Evie


º º code by ditto º º
 
Ezra Gray
@EZGoing has set their status to:
I stg if this dude says 'ok thaddeus' I am going to lose it

@EZGoing has set their outfit to:
it's 1am, you don't get a fit

@EZGoing has set their location to:
HA dance studio B

@EZGoing has mentioned:
n/a

@EZGoing has interacted with:
Isaac, Auguste, Maggie

@EZGoing has tagged:
dear.szmm dear.szmm qunqun qunqun Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202
This was nice, sitting there and listening to Isaac bring Ezra up to speed while his hands formed a thick chunk of wet clay into a vaguely sphere shaped object. Isaac, in his time away and out of contact with Ezra, seemed to have been doing well for himself. Success was difficult to measure, at least it was in the eyes of the overly ambitious and highly judgemental artist, but with all things considered, Isaac really checked off all the boxes.

“You ever thought about doing commissions?” Isaac’s voice asked, drawing Ezra’s eyes up from the clay wheel before him. With a warm laugh, Ezra shook his head and dropped his gaze back to the pottery before him.

“I don’t really do this for money, if that’s what you’re asking.” Ezra began to explain, rolling his tense shoulders back as he straightened his posture. “But I have donated quite a few pieces and I’ve taken a few requests from senior’s residences for really specific pieces. It just takes so much time and unless I’m about to rob people blind, I won’t be able to turn a good profit. I guess it’s really just a hobby.”

A few quiet moments passed between the two, Ezra easily getting lost in crafting perfect curves and flows, careful fingers dragging and pinching along the edges of the clay. The lump of clay turned sphere had begun to take the form of a short, thin vase. With delicate touches, Ezra dragged the clay higher in an attempt to elongate the neck of the vase when his phone began to buzz in his pocket, knocking him out of concentration and causing the thin clay to fold in on itself and entirely collapse into a misshapen mound on the wheel.

“Damn.” Ezra scoffed, wiping his hands off on the towel across his muscular thigh. Pulling out his phone, Ezra rolled his eyes. Auguste, of course, once again taunting him with the destruction of the holy grail of calculus notes.

Without much of a word, Ezra clicked off the wheel and stood to his feet, nodding towards the door as he held an arm out for Isaac to follow. “Come with me, I think there is someone you should meet.”

Ezra found it easy enough to hunt down the studio where Auguste had hinted that he’d be, working on some sort of dance with one of his peers. Auguste’s threats of forced dance meant literally nothing, there was no way that Ezra was going to shirk in the face of such pitiful attempts to dissuade him. Finding the door and peering through the glass, a satisfied smirk curled the corners of Ezra’s lips as he winked at Isaac as a hint to follow him in as he flamboyantly threw open the doors.

“Well well well, look who I found.” Ezra spoke smoothly, his smirk only growing more devious by the minute. “Auguste Cortes, oh how I’ve missed you so. And you must be Maggie, it truly is a pleasure to meet you. Oh and Auguste, this is Isaac, one of my best friends. Isaac, this is the dancer I was telling you about.” Ezra continued politely before turning to Auguste, taking a few relaxed strides towards his friend so that he could rest his hand on Auguste’s shoulder. “You know, if you really wanted to see me, all you had to do was ask. I get that withdrawals from my company can be terribly difficult. Now,” Ezra threw on his best puppy dog eyes, blinking a few times for dramatic effect, “how about those calculus notes you promised me?”

º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: .

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: da car
basics
MENTIONS:
Angel, Lin, Maddie, Dorian

INT:
Winona Winona (Ash)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Javier Cervantes

A quiet chuckle escaped Javi's lips, not daring to disturb the uncanny peace within the conversation. "Figured as much." Though the blonde's emotional pain was anything but welcome, a piece of Javi was selfishly grateful to hear it straight from her mouth, like he was worth confiding in. It wouldn't come as a shock to anyone at Hollywood Arts that the truth was hard to come by these days.

"I know a thing or two about bitch moms," he admitted, shaking his head. He held a tragic grin, though it didn't feel so pitiful when their knowing gazes seemed to interlock so naturally. The brief moment of silence was as good an opportunity as any to elaborate, but it felt like enough just to sympathize on the surface level.

The curly-haired boy couldn't help but watch with a fond smile as Ash fumbled with his lighter, cocking his head slightly to the side. He had to wonder what she would have been like if she hadn't been raised to be such a well-mannered girl. Why was it, of all the times and places, that they had to meet now?

"Hope you didn't plan on making it to your morning classes," he teased with wide eyes as Ash hacked and coughed. That was one substantial hit, and Javi only owed it to her to take the same dramatic puff.

With a spark of contentment glazed over his eyes, the boy perched the joint against his lips and lit it, drawing in the smoke with a quiet hiss. He then released it in a dark cloud of smoke, which faintly wafted around the front of the car's interior. Riding the momentum and knowing his drastically high tolerance well, he took another large puff, shooting the cloud of fragrant smoke to his side.

With the inevitable invitation to finally elaborate, Javi hesitated, picking the words that would make the most sense to someone so completely oblivious to his position. "There are, uh, a lot of snakes," he answered matter-of-factly, his tone cautious out of awareness for the volcanic nature of his emotions, "I mean, I've known a while that shitheads like Angel can't be trusted, especially when he's got his head so far up Lin and Pricky's assholes." Another layer of frustration washed over his stoic mug. "But at least I always knew what they were saying about me." He shrugged. "Not so much now, though."

He took a third hit, careful not to crush the joint with an instinctually balled, shaking fist. "Even with the Maddie thing, it was always made clear to me just how fucking... unfit I am to be around Hollywood royalty. To breathe their shitty, expensive air. I know by now everyone knows the gist of what went down. I've never stopped thinking about it." The pensive teen handed the joint over, neglecting to suppress the sigh that followed his crestfallen words. "I couldn't face her, her shit-eating brother, or goddamn Angela if I tried."

If he hadn't been so utterly drained, a tear might have welled up in Javi's eye. "I swear to God, the movies don't lie when they say a broken heart fucking... it fucking hurts. Ash, I'm telling you, for a second there she actually managed to make me give a shit." He didn't mean to make it so, but the boy's gaze intensified. "So now, I hear all this whispering behind my back and I think, 'Huh, Javi really is the last to know everything.' Because, somewhere down the line, everyone but me came to their senses and realized that, hey, if you play along, you don't have to be the irate, crackhead loser too shameful to be seen within fifty feet of at a high school dance."

The muscular bassist reclined in his seat, staring straight forward. "So, I empathize with your date, whoever the lucky guy was." He turned back to Ash, uncharacteristically wistful. His deep, brown eyes searched for something in hers. Anything. Any semblance of confirmation that the heap of miserable rambling he'd poured onto her wasn't wasted. "I can't lie, I was a little impressed to hear you say that about your mom and your ball date. It's rare to hear that from a girl of your 'status'..." He returned the finger quotes.

"I know you don't tell me everything, and maybe you can't, but it still means something that you'd humor with half the truth a guy like me." Something tented in his pants, which he could only blame on the weed. "The kind of guy your mom would really fucking hate." He laughed quietly, and his smile faltered while a creeping dullness slipped like a veil over his eyes. The two of them were so close.

He couldn't... could he?
code by valen t.
 






Zeph Evermore


Well ouch.

Zeph was sure that the redhead's words weren't meant to hurt him, but they did send a little pang of hurt through his chest. C'mon -- she didn't have to point out that he should know about how nice guys finish last, or just that nice guys finished last in general. Sure, it was something everyone always heard, and obviously it was something that he had experienced with the redhead in front of him and girls before her.

Kind of why Stella was his first actual girlfriend.

There was, of course, also a little bit of annoyance in Zeph towards the fact that he'd spent all of last year and the start of this year helping Hunter to steer clear of Ronnie -- and for what? The dude was dating her and all into her now, so... what had been the point of him helping Hunter dodge her all that time?

If anything, it kind of just made him look as if he'd been blocking them all that time.

And then Ronnie asked what felt like kind of an odd question to him -- where had he heard that she was dating Hunter from? His eyebrows drew together, kind of in a look of confusion, because wouldn't it be obvious that he'd heard it from Hunter? Despite it all, they were technically friends.

"Hunter," Zeph answered, "he texted me to tell you about your guys' date and just how much fun he had." He shrugged as if it were no big deal, as if it hadn't really affected him.

Yeah, he was happy with Stella, but that didn't mean he'd necessarily wanted to hear about that.

"I ah... I should head to class, but umm... I'll talk to you... later?"




mood
chill

location
hallway

outfit
clothes





playing...
Uh Oh
by Junior Doctor​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Ronnie

tags
hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 






Ashton West


She hadn't expected Javi to actually tell her something, or to like... what felt like come clean to her. It made her feel guilty for withholding her own reasons for being out here, for keeping Trevor out of the equation, but even if she could talk about him, would she? Could she actually stomach the idea of talking about what happened, to face it head on instead of just brushing it under the rug and trying to just... move on until the hurt went away?

With that mixture of guilt and remorse bottled up inside of her, Ash found herself pulling her gaze away from Javi. Her gaze moved to the floorboard, and her hand absently went up to touch at her necklace.

He was still talking, though, and the pain in his voice was something that resonated with her too strongly right now, so it wasn't long before her gaze was glued back to him. She watched him, studying his face, as he continued to speak, and... yeah, it was still kind of throwing her off to see him like this.

"I swear to God, the movies don't lie when they say a broken heart fucking... it fucking hurts. Ash, I'm telling you, for a second there she actually managed to make me give a shit."

God, she knew that too well.

Ash knew that in this situation, she should've been on Maddie's side when it came to whatever had gone down between her and Dorian and Javi -- but at the same time... here Javi was, right in front of her, clearly hurting beyond anything she'd witnessed from Maddie. Heck, Maddie had moved on. Found herself a new boyfriend, and here Javi was, clearly still unable to pick himself up and move on, so...

Yeah...

Maybe she didn't feel for Maddie in this situation.

"So now, I hear all this whispering behind my back and I think, 'Huh, Javi really is the last to know everything.' Because, somewhere down the line, everyone but me came to their senses and realized that, hey, if you play along, you don't have to be the irate, crackhead loser too shameful to be seen within fifty feet of at a high school dance."

There was an apology, a sorry stuck to the top of her tongue, but she held it back. Trevor had told her that apologizing was annoying, that she needed to stop, and there was nothing for her to apologize for here. She knew that. But it was just like... it was a way to show empathy.

Empathy for a situation, for feelings she didn't understand.

"So, I empathize with your date, whoever the lucky guy was. I can't lie, I was a little impressed to hear you say that about your mom and your ball date. It's rare to hear that from a girl of your 'status'..."

Right, because she was Ashton West. She was supposed to be perfect. She wasn't supposed to run around with guys like Newt. She wasn't supposed to date guys like Trevor. She wasn't supposed to... to... to do so many other things that Ash kept doing, that Ash kind of kept fucking up.

"I know you don't tell me everything, and maybe you can't, but it still means something that you'd humor with half the truth a guy like me. The kind of guy your mom would really fucking hate."

She shrugged her shoulders, a vague smile crawling onto her face. "I don't know," Ash admitted, "I just umm... I don't want to be a puppet, I guess, like ummm..." like Maddie, although she didn't dare speak her name in front of Javi -- although she was sure they were both thinking it.

"I don't... care, I guess, who I'm seen with or, like, who she wants me with. Like, she wants me with a guy like Dorian, but he's a total dick. And she'd hate a guy like you, but you're like..." she trailed off, not sure how to finish that -- real? Cool? Hot? There were a lot of different options, different descriptors that rolled through her mind all at once as she tried desperately to pick the right one.

"Nice. Not... like, maybe kind of a dick, but like... you're nice to me, and that's umm... that's all that really matters. You're sweet."

They were so close now, and in the haziness, Ash found her eyes drifting to Javi's lips. She knew that she shouldn't, right? Like... she shouldn't even be thinking about it, she shouldn't even be in here with him, because there was Maddie and there was Trevor and there were... was... god, she knew that she shouldn't, but--

She did.

Ash closed the distance between them, her lips pressing against Javi's.

What? She was done with holding back, with not doing things she really wanted to do because she so worried about what everyone else might think.




mood
ehhhh

location
school

outfit
clothes





playing...
Save Myself
by Ashe​




mentions
Trevor, Maddie

interactions
Javi

tags
hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: thespian

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: fondy's locker
basics
MENTIONS:
Hunter

INT:
Winona Winona (Zeph)
jazzyball jazzyball (Fondue)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Veronica Crosby
Zeph hardly seemed to react to her affiliation with Hunter, so Ronnie had to take that as a good sign. Things were good for sure then, right? He had a girlfriend, Ronnie was having fun... things were fine. They could have a conversation like adults. Irrational, dramatic, sixteen-year-old adults.

The redhead shook her head and laughed. "A date doesn't mean dating," she assured the earnest dancer standing before her, "It's barely been that long." Zeph was either that naïve, or Hunter really was head-over-heels. Perhaps her plan worked a little too well... Was his had boy exterior really that brittle? If Ronnie knew things were that simple, she wouldn't have waited a whole year just to plant a kiss on the fellow singer's lips.

"I don't want to do anything rash again."

A pin pricked at her heart with that admission, but she knew it was a fair thing to say. No matter how distant their reconciliation, that night after Homecoming and the events leading after would never be the ancient history the two of them treated it as. Ronnie was lucky things worked out the way they did between them, because any amount of bad blood very well may have kept her up at night.

Forever.

"Bye, Zeph," Ronnie said sweetly, mercifully letting the boy head on his way, "Good luck with that head trauma."

With a quick wave, the girl turned and set on her way. Her first class of the day was toward one of the theaters. It would be an easy day, especially since at least half the class would be spent recruiting students with spare time for the theater department's latest musical: Pippin. Flashy posters selling the production were littered all across the halls of H.A., but they were nowhere near as condensed as they were on the way to the theater.

Much to her surprise, Ronnie spotted a lone boy lingering around a bulletin board, which housed not one, but two colorful sheets of paper detailing the performance and how life-changing it would be to sign up for it. Conveniently, each poster was accompanied by a white sign-up sheet; this one in particular only had a handful of names, most of which were halfhearted commitments to potential tech positions.

"Interested in the show?" the cutely-dressed girl asked innocently, popping up behind the curious boy. She parked her feet right beside him, eyeing the sign-up sheet for a moment before turning and smiling kindly at the boy in glasses. He seemed a little dorky: the perfect candidate for this kind of stuff.

"I don't know if I've seen you around the theater department before," Ronnie stated curiously, quirking a brow, "Wait, don't tell me." A spindly finger tapped at her chin. "You're an eccentric painter looking for a new rush of inspiration, and this slip of paper just so happened to pique your interest..."

She smiled teasingly. Either she was so right or she was so painfully wrong. "And then, one fateful morning, a mysterious stranger urges you to take the plunge and sign..." She traced a finger along the edge of the white sheet. "...right here. Because actors are, like, really needed." She tapped a finger on a box with "Veronica Crosby - actor < 3" written neatly in blue ink. "I'm, like, the only one who showed any interest in a role on this sheet."

Okay, maybe dial it back a bit. "But I don't mean to pressure you. It could be fun, is all." Just a quick little insurance policy; no bad idea was ever Ronnie Crosby's fault.
code by valen t.
 
Charlie Howell
@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
fuck you

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
self loathing

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
the apartment

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
Lin, Jo, Amy

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Trevor (briefly)

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh
God this fucking sucked.

Charlie couldn’t even decipher what she was feeling anymore. It wasn’t pure anger, it wasn’t pure sadness. Hell, it wasn’t even a mixture of the two. Not just numbness, not just disappointment, not just blind rage. There was so much happening inside her head all at once that her being simply shut down and, at the end of it all, Charlie felt nothing.

Her body, however, was still present in the moment. Although her soul had long numbed itself to the situation before her, Charlie’s ears still listened to the pitiful words slurring from Trevor’s mouth and her eyes still witnessed the pained expression on his face. She still felt that disgustingly familiar twist of guilt in her stomach, followed by the immediate rage that she even felt bad for him at all. He had done this to himself, he had hurt Charlie, not the other way around. There was nothing for her to feel guilty over.

“I don’t feckin’ hate you. If I could go back, I swear to feckin’ God that I would do everythin’ different…” Trevor’s being shook with his cries, each heave of his chest matching the pace of another silent tear drizzling down Charlie’s blotched cheeks. ““I would’ve walked Ash home that night, never feckin’ touched her on that goddamn stupid feckin’ couch — never would’ve feckin’ touched her before then, either, never would’ve even went to that fuckin’ Homecomin’ party, or even spoken to her with that fuckin’ Googled pick-up line that first time — fuck, I would’ve locked myself in my room on the day of the date, refused to move, ran away when I saw Ash comin’ toward me. Every single step I took, I would’ve taken backward…not even that, I would’ve just never feckin’ taken.”

SLAM!

Trevor’s head met the table, skin smashing against the tabletop with such force that Charlie could feel it in the floor beneath her feet. Charlie’s entire body flinched at the feeling, eyes pressing shut to avoid looking at the scene in front of her as her heart thudded angrily against her ribs. Stop. He needed to stop.

“I don’t- I don’t hate you. I can’t — Charlie, I don’t — I swear it, whether you can believe me or not, because I — I know I wouldn’t believe me if I was watchin’ me break down. Because…because I’ve treated you like…like…shite. Worse than that. Worse than…worse than I would treat even my enemies…and…and…there’s no way I can prove it — I’ve made my situation feckin’ hopeless, an’ —” Another string of sobs, each pained breath cutting deep into Charlie’s heart. “I don’t feckin’ hate you. I…I love her.”

Charlie opened her eyes to look over Trevor’s face at this admission. Was he serious? His next words, slurred from the alcohol and shaky from the sobs, only further confirmed that he was, in fact, being truthful.
“I love her, and it makes me sick.” Physically ill — he could vomit right now. “I love her, and it drives me insane. I love her, and I feckin’ — I feckin’ hate her because it’s not her who feckin’ did this to me — it’s feckin’ me! I treated you like shite on Halloween, I feckin’ drove home when I could barely even feckin’ stand up, I’m the one here, yellin’ at you, because I’m the feckin’ insufferable jackarse with pride he refuses to lay down even when it’s all but feckin’ gone any way. What feckin’ pride should a guy like feckin’ me have in the first place? I drive a goddamn van. I smell like feckin’ weed — I’m a feckin’ imbecile, and I’m only here because my grandparents are feckin’ rich and can pay my way out of academic prohibition, while you’re out here workin’ yer arse off to even stay here, an’ I just treated you like you meant nothin’, because — because compared to all of my other shite, you felt so feckin’ small — an’ it makes me feckin’ sick — I make me feckin’ sick, because what feckin’ worries do I have?!”

Trevor’s eyes looked up at Charlie, holding his gaze causing the tears that had momentarily subsided to begin to flow freely down her cheeks once more. “I — I’ve got the best fuckin’ friends I could ever ask for, yet I still act so goddamn lonely, I still feckin’ drag around all the time, because somehow, that’s not feckin’ enough for me — and I hate it — I hate it, I hate it, I hate it — I hate me, I feckin’ — I make myself sick.” Trevor paused, white knuckles clutching onto the tabletop for stability. Charlie took a breath, jaw tightening as another sob rang through the air. “I don’t feckin’ hate you, I feckin’ hate me.”

Charlie had never seen him like this before. It killed her to see him like this. Trevor had never much been an emotional person in their three years of friendship together but even when he had been upset, it was never so… vocal, so vulnerable and broken. Witnessing this person before her, body broken and heaving with heavy sobs and voice raw from the lack of breath, Charlie really didn’t know what to do.

“Stop. Stop, Trevor.” Charlie spoke calmly, tears still streaming down her face as she slid into the chair beside him. Her anger told her that she shouldn’t be there to comfort him, that she should let him feel the pain that he had caused her. But a part of her, perhaps more vicious than the anger, felt sick by the display of emotion in front of her. There would be time to figure out all that other shit later. Right then, Trevor needed her.

She wrapped one arm around Trevor’s shoulders and pulled him into her chest, the other hand reaching up to smooth back his dark hair as she made the valiant effort to stop crying. Charlie wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that, quietly crying as she held her friend, but eventually her brain began to calm and the words began to flow.

“I hate that you think that way about yourself,” she whispered softly, eyes trained on no specific spot in the distance. “I hate that this got so out of hand. I hate that this even happened in the first place. You pissed me off and you hurt me. You hurt me really bad. That doesn’t really matter now, bygones being bygones or some shit. But I love you, Trev.” Charlie laughed softly, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. “You drive me fucking nuts sometimes and no, neither one of us has always been the best to the other. But you’re family. I could never hate you. I don’t think that this bullshit we’ve been dealing with this going to get solved overnight but…” Slowly, Charlie let out a sigh. “I’m here for you, Trev. I’m always here for you.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰​

“Charlotte? Are we keeping this or throwing this out?” A pause. Charlie, still sitting on her bed with her legs crossed tightly below her, was still entranced by the light softly shining onto the carpet underfoot through her window. “Char? Charlotte, are you even paying attention? We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

No, Charlie wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t want to fucking be here right now, packing the entirety of her life into frail cardboard boxes. No, she didn’t want her entire future to be crumbling at some stupid little Italian Mario Bros knock off looking bastard over one stupid little mistake. The world around her felt stagnant, paused in the flow of time to burn each and every painstaking memory into her brain.

That was her dresser. It used to be a god awful yellow oak colour until she and Amy had smuggled it to the parking lot, sanded it down, and painted it white with cute little sunflowers and vines creeping up the sides. Above it, pictures developed from the shitty instant cameras Charlie always seemed to have were pinned haphazardly into a corkboard lined with concert tickets and old IDs and dried flowers. At least, they used to be there. Now, they were shoved somewhere in a box, corners of photos likely bent and carefully preserved flower petals crushed under the pressure.

There was her bed. It was stripped of its sheets now, the silver wire frame sitting barren and cold against the light wall behind it. The soft orange comforter had been packed away with her cream sheets into a suitcase, pillows worn from nights of hugging and crying and laughing and smiling shoved into a black garbage bag to be taken out to the trash. If you moved the bed across the floor (much to the detest of the neighbors downstairs), you’d see the silly finger paintings that Charlie and Joey stained onto the wall one drunken evening in their sophomore year. The photos and posters had been stripped from the walls, tiny puncture marks left behind in the off-white drywall from where Charlie had hammered in pins with an old textbook in lieu of a hammer and barren spots in the paint where it had been pulled off along with the blue tack. The lights that she had charmed Trevor into hanging for her still sat on thin hooks, neither daughter or mother unable to reach them without the stupid assistance of a step ladder.

The only thing left untouched by the chaos was her closet, its contents having been hidden behind a shut door and a thin curtain of yellow chiffon. That’s where her mother was now, crouched on the floor with her graying hair tied back into a sloppy ponytail as she thrust a sweater into the air. It was clear the hoodie wasn’t Charlie’s, far too big but clearly well loved. It was Lin’s. He’d forgotten it there after one of their dates. Well, he hadn’t exactly forgotten it. Charlie had gotten cold and at the end of the night, she made a joke out of refusing to give it back. She had always intended to give it back, after all it wasn’t her’s, but now…

“Keep.” Charlie managed through the lump in her throat. It wasn’t hers, and maybe someday she’d have to mail it back to Lin with a handwritten note of apology for such petty theft, but for now, it was going in the box. She couldn’t lose another piece of her life today.

The pair carried on, Charlie perched on her bare mattress while her mother neatly folded blouses and blazers and dresses into the last suitcase, each article falling out of view marking another fleeting moment until her life was officially over. Charlie had been on the verge of tears since her mother had arrived that morning. She had aged a bit since Charlie had last seen her, a new duo of fine lines around the corners of her crystalline eyes. Charlie knew that she had something to do with it, she’d worried her mother half to death when the whole fight went down with Chas, even more so when she was slapped with her expulsion. Her mother’s face read disappointment in the situation, though she truly believed in Charlie’s innocence, Charlie could tell that more than anything, she was concerned for her daughter.

Nimble hands folding clothes into careful squares and stuffing them into boxes and suitcases. Whatever worry was in her mind largely remained unspoken and unnoticed, save for a few pained glances in Charlie’s direction. She hated seeing Charlie this way, all shrunken and hopeless, face fallen, dark circles rounding underneath her eyes, blotchy patches marring her clear, pale skin.

Morning turned to afternoon and as the sun began to warm before sinking behind the vast Los Angeles skyline, the final box was taped shut and stacked in the living room.

Charlie found herself lurking in the hallway, her small frame pressed against the wall as her eyes scanned over the boxes. Her entire life, a whole three phenomenal years, reduced to nothing more than a few brown boxes and a hard shelled orange suitcase. Funny how that happened so quickly, the destruction of her life, how meaningless it all was. Years of friendships and romances and enemyship and alliances broken down and whittled away to nothingness, an entire blossoming career thrown away over a simple mistake. There was no solving this, no returning from the inevitable unknown.

Knock, knock, knock.

Two sets of eyes flickered up to the front door and Charlie’s mother stood up, making her way across the carpeted floor with tired, shuffling feet. “Coming!” Her voice called out as she twisted the doorknob open.

Charlie really wished she hadn’t.

There on the other side of the door, standing tall and pompous with a head of full, salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp beard, was her goddamn father.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰​

The tea in Charlie’s mug had gone untouched, cold by the time any of the three people at the table managed to speak. She refused to look him in the face, even when he made a weak attempt to say hello. Hell, Charlie barely recognized the guy, it wasn’t like there was anything much to look at anyways. At one point, her parents got up and left to talk on the balcony, though their words were somewhat easily heard through the thin sliding glass door. Charlie paid little attention, instead swirling the bright orange mug full of dark tea in circles in front of her.

After what seemed like eternity, her parents returned. Her mother slid into the chair beside her, the other 50% of her genetic donation sat across from her with his hands clasped together.

“Charlotte.” Not a good sign, no one called Charlie ‘Charlotte’ unless something serious was going to go down. “I think you need to listen to your father.”
Charlie laughed, placing her mug onto the tabletop as she shot a look at her mom. “Oh shit, did someone finally step up? Here I was thinking I was some biological fuck up because last I checked, this fuck face just up and left before I popped out.” Leaning back in her chair further, Charlie turned her gaze towards her father with a malicious grin on her face. “You’re no more my father than fuckin’ Jim Carrey.”

Her mother opened her mouth to speak but instead, Charlie’s ‘father’ interjected with a raised hand. “Please, I know I’ve made mistakes but I’ve come to make things right. Charlotte. At least hear me out.” No, no, no. Charlie wanted none of that shit. What could this asshole possibly d- “I can pay for the rest of your tuition.”

Charlie blinked.

Hold the fucking phone.

Leaning forward, Charlie looked up at him with squinted eyes. “You what?”

Her father laughed, a warm almost sweet laugh that was all too chesty. It sounded a lot like her own. “I’m going to pay your tuition until you graduate. I heard what happened. I want to help you out. My money is your money.” As if sensing Charlie’s hesitation, he leaned forward and reached his hand out. “No conditions applied.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed even further as she jerked her hand away, arms crossing tightly around her chest with a scowl. “Never going to happen.”

“Charlotte.”

“No.” Charlie snapped harshly. “This dude can’t just roll up in here and pretend like he’s gonna make it all better by paying for my fucking tuition. No way.” Charlie slammed her hands down on the table as she rose from her seat, jabbing a finger in his face. “Fuck you. You don’t get to try and take away the guilt from abandoning us by throwing money at your problems. I’d rather die than take a handout from some fucking asshole like you. I’ve been fine for sixteen years. I don’t need you.”

A silence settled amongst the group. Eyes remained focused on the table, Charlie specifically staring a hole into the still full mug of tea. The tension was palpable and Charlie, for one, was fucking seething. How dare this dude just roll up and pretend like money was going to solve everything? Charlie hadn’t needed money, she needed a fucking father, she needed to feel like she wasn’t the reason he left, she needed reassurance. Her father may have a thick wallet but he was also thick in the fucking skull if he thought she was going to fall for this shit.

“If we’re done with this interrogation,” Charlie started, pushing herself up from the table, “I’ve got a bathroom to pack.”

Quickly, she turned tail and raised a hand to her mouth to stifle the cries as she rushed out of the room, the voices of her parents arguing rushing into her ears. Stepping into the bathroom, Charlie slammed the door shut and sunk to the floor, slender knees pulling up to her chest as she silently began to sob against the cold tile.

º º code by ditto º º
 
new years eve
  • Index






    • Mason Rivera


    Growing up, it had always been his dream to step foot outside of this godawful town. Mason had never wanted to end up like his mother -- constantly so far under the influence that she hardly knew what day it was, her body basically dead before she'd even really had a chance to live. But that's how it was in the small towns. Your life was basically over by time you were thirty, and the rest of your life was spent draining bottles.

    It's what he'd never wanted and after he'd met Noah, the two of them used to talk about how they were gonna leave. Move to New York City, or Chicago, or across the ocean to some place in Europe. They'd get a tiny, shitty apartment, be roommates for a few years, until they inevitably made it big and were able to move into a penthouse.

    That had been his dream, anyway, until he found out he was gonna be a father at the ripe old age of fourteen.

    Fourteen years old was when his life had met its end.

    Fuck, he hadn't even made it halfway to thirty.

    When Ariana had been born, all of those dreams had been blown away to dust. Crushed right before his eyes, and he'd come to accept that living in this deadbeat town was how it was gonna be. Sure, he'd held onto hope for a bit, but eventually, his farfetched daydreams with Noah were discussed less and less until they weren't discussed at all. Until he figured the best way was to aim for a football scholarship.

    He was never gonna be good enough for that shit. Even the recruiters who did talk to him, who humored him for a little, would see the toddler walking up yelling daddy and suddenly they had to go. Suddenly, it didn't feel like such a good fit. Suddenly, their entire offer was being saved for someone else.

    Mason never did regret Ariana, though. He didn't think he'd still be here if it wasn't for her.

    He just wished it had been a couple more years.

    And he wished that he still had Brittany by his side to help out with Ari. When his dreams of leaving with Noah had died off, his dreams of building a life with her had grown and taken its place. He'd promised her that he'd get a good job, something better than working at the fucking grocery store, and he'd provide for her and for Ariana. They'd have the cute little house in the suburbs, with the white picket fence, a pet dog, and Drake living in the spare bedroom. The four of them would be a happy family, and he'd really thought that she wanted that, too.

    She probably did for a while, until the idea of staying with Mason tied down with a kid became too much, and she left. Moved away to go to college or some shit, and left Mason to pick up the pieces.

    Right then, Mason had given up. He'd accepted that he'd probably always be stuck here, in this fucked up town, in a fucked up tiny ass apartment, and he'd be no better than his mom.

    Until Noah had dragged him with to some casting call for some bougie ass fucking school in Los Angeles, and Mason found himself also being offered the opportunity.

    For a while, he'd stared at the card, unsure if he should call.

    Eventually, he did.

    Eventually, he was accepted to this school with Noah, but he couldn't leave yet. He got Raven in by sending her stories into some contests, and then he'd helped Drake to make a shitty audition video and managed to get him for magician shit. Drake wasn't good at it, but ah... they could deal with that when they got there.

    They'd packed up, and on one crisp morning just a few days before Christmas, they'd climbed into Noah's fucking van to head for LA.

    Mason took the first shift. Ariana had fallen back asleep in her car seat, but he found himself continually glancing in the rearview mirror to look at her. At her sleeping face, at the Spiderman blanket that currently covered her, and he kept having to ask himself if what he was doing was right.

    He'd never actually been out of Westbrook. When he was with Brittany, and her parents would watch Ari for a night, they'd drive around. And they'd get close to the edge of the town, but they never left. He'd always wanted to leave, but every time that he approached the line that marked the edge of the city, he'd find himself letting up on the gas pedal.

    Mason wasn't scared. He didn't get scared.

    ... But something about that unknown did scare him.

    As they approached the edge of town, he found himself slowing down subconsciously. Snow had started to fall around them, and he'd come up with the fact that it was that. It was the snow. He didn't want to crash with everyone he cared about in the car before they'd even made it out of town.

    "Not gonna miss the snow," Drake remarked from the backseat. A glance in the rearview mirror awarded him the brief image of his little brother, staring out the window. He'd put his trust in Mason, he'd said goodbye to their mother, he'd packed up his own life to follow his brother to LA.

    There was no fear in him.

    Drake wasn't the strong one, though. Mason was.

    "Yeah, me neither," Mason agreed.

    And he pressed his foot against the gas pedal.

    He didn't even glance in the direction of the sign asking if he'd enjoyed his time in Westbrook.

    ---------------------------​

    Countless days in the van had been fucking hell. Switching between mostly just himself and Noah was hell. Sure, Raven could drive, but with no license? It stressed him the fuck out -- and Noah was a shitty ass driver, so Mason found himself on the edge of his seat the entire way to LA.

    He was amazed that they had made it in one piece and now that they were finally here, he couldn't wait to get inside and just... fucking sleep in a bed for the first time in days. And take a shower, because well... no one smelled great after days of being trapped in one fucking van.

    Noah, Drake, and Ian had already gathered their shit and headed up first while Mason and Raven stuck back.

    Mason was in the process of getting the shit that Ari would need for the night -- he figured the rest of it they could grab in the morning. He held the pink backpack out behind him. "Can you get this?" He asked Raven, and he waited for her to take it from him before he carefully unbuckled his daughter from her car seat.

    She'd fallen asleep, and he was in no hurry to wake her up right now.

    Carefully, he pulled her from the car seat into his arms. She whimpered a little bit, and he offered a few quiet shhs to calm her down as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder. There was a small sigh of relief when she settled back down -- the last thing he needed was to fuck up her sleep schedule even more.

    As he stepped back from the van, he used one hand to quietly close the van door, and then he turned to Raven. "Ready?" He asked, his voice still a soft whisper.




    mood
    fucking exhausted

    location
    a van

    outfit
    flannel and jeans, duh





    playing...
    Fast Car
    by Tracy Chapman​




    mentions
    N/A

    interactions
    Noah (kinda), Ian (kinda), Drake (kinda), Raven (not kinda)

    tags
    Soap Soap mogy mogy PenguinFox PenguinFox


    º º code by ditto º º
     
  • Index






    • Adriane Holloway


    The Winter Ball had been nothing short of boring -- save for, perhaps, Adriane going home and having a little fun with someone. Hmm? Oh, you thought she meant Dalton? Well sure, that would've made sense given that he was her date, but no. Rather, she'd gone home with the nameless girl in the red dress.

    She'd been okay. A fun enough distraction for the night, but it had been nothing more than that, and Adriane had brushed off the time spent with the girl had nothing more than a fluke. A mere... lapse in judgement, so to speak. The girl really hadn't been that amazing or extraordinary, and was certainly nothing like the people that typically accompanied her in bed.

    That was of the past, though, and Adriane was living in the present. The present, of course, being the New Year's Eve party that was already well underway in their home. She'd made sure to lock her bedroom door (no one would be having fun on her silk sheets but her, thank you very much), and she'd set out the drinks and whatever else for the party. It would no doubt be a mess in here tomorrow, but that was for Chas to deal with in the morning.

    For now, it was time for Adriane to do her least favorite part of the night. Greet guests. Given that they were in her home, she managed to plaster a smile on her face as she greeted people, but there was nothing but disgust and insults raging on the inside. And every time they would turn their backs, her face would fall into a disgusted grimace.

    God, she hated having people in her house.

    As she walked through the living room, drink in hand, she saw a guy reclined on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. Adriane wasted no time in walking over, kicking his legs off, and leaning down to whisper a honey sweet threat in his ear. There would be no destruction of her property tonight.

    And if there was? Well, people could expect a swift exit and a ruined career.

    As she walked away from him, her eyes settled on a figure that she hadn't expected to see ever again. Or, well, not for her to notice, least of all in her own home.

    That nameless girl from the other night.

    With the same sickeningly sweet smile on her face that she'd given everyone else, she wandered over to the girl.

    "Surprised to see you here," she said, bringing her cup up to her lips to take a quick sip. She brought the drink back down from her lips, head tilting slightly to the side. "Are you just this obsessed with me?"




    mood
    ugh

    location
    her house, duh

    outfit
    clothes





    playing...
    Fuck You
    by Lily Allen​




    mentions
    Dalton, Chas

    interactions
    Addie

    tags
    KingofAesir KingofAesir


    º º code by ditto º º
     
    MOOD: Life is full of change. It's kind of scary and exciting isn't it?

    OUTFIT: Here

    LOCATION: School Hallway
    basics
    MENTIONS: jazzyball jazzyball
    and Lulu's friends, you know who you are
    INT:
    Winona Winona KingofAesir KingofAesir
    tags
    TL;DR Did you really think I would do that to Lulu?
    tl;dr
    Tallulah
    Give me a mystery, maybe they'll bloom for me.

    The Winter Ball went splendidly for Lulu Newton. Sure it took a while for her date to come around and let loose, but the fact that Matt put in the effort for her meant the world. He really was a sweetheart and he majorly helped to make her night memorable. Sure she was still undecided on whether or not she wanted to date anyone, let alone him, but Lulu figured it wouldn't be such a terrible thing if she were to develop feelings for him.

    In addition to dancing with her, and the other staples of any high school dance, Lulu was also able to make some money, so overall the night was a win. Just in time for her birthday too, she could definitely use the extra cash. The Newton girl hadn't been attending Hollywood Arts for very long but it was quickly becoming a place that felt like home. Everyone was so amazingly talented on an everyday setting and that had a special quality of splendor that didn't get old. It was made even more special by the fact that she was considered one of these talented.

    Lulu wasn't the type to make a big deal out of her birthday, she preferred things more low key. She usually just invited a few friends and spent time with them. Much like her brother, the youngest Newton sibling also had a sweet tooth, so there was always a lovely cake made by her mother. Mrs. Newton wasn't as talented a baker as she was a cook, but it was still delicious every time, to the point that it was almost like a local legend. Mostly, however, Lulu was just happy to spend time with people she cared about, even if they were only there for the cake.

    Many a polaroid were taken of herself and her friends at Lulu's birthday. She planned on hanging them up on a cork board in her room. This being the girl's sixteenth birthday it was a major milestone. It was the first step into adulthood and she wanted to remember the first few hours of it for a long time. There were plenty of emotions swirling about her brunette head about the event and it was a tad overwhelming, but mostly she was excited. Newt had always been a super protective older brother, and it was certainly appreciated, but the newly sixteen year old felt it was about time she spread her wings and learned to fly on her own. At the very least be more independent, much to the disdain of Newt. He had tried to protest but everyone else at the party nearly unanimously agreed that Lulu was old enough now to not need the constant worrying of her brother.

    Tallulah had been highly anticipating this newfound freedom for a few weeks now. Again, Newt watching over her was very sweet and much appreciated, but he couldn't always be there for her, and the world would chew her up and spit her out if she couldn't learn to survive on her own. Would she make mistakes? Probably, but that was life, and honestly, that was exciting to Lulu. Mistake were but teaching moments and growing as a person is important. How could she be a better human if she wasn't ever learning? She was ready to take her first steps into adulthood and be her own person, and should she need help she knew there were plenty of people who had her back. Lulu was confident though that she could handle things, after all she had plenty of good role models. The Johannes twins for example; they were both only seventeen, yet they were some of the most mature and adult people Lulu knew. She looked up to both of them and would hope to be half as competent and put together as they appeared to be.

    Walking into school the day after her birthday had Lulu with a slightly more confident stride, her usual happy demeanor glowing brighter as a result. She was starting small with her 'new age, new me' attitude and was working on being more confident and making more friends. Up until now Lulu mainly made new friends through other people; her mother or siblings typically. Sure she may have been better friends with Gen than her brother, (not that she'd ever say it out loud) but she was his friend first. If she could prove that she could make friends on her own, surely she could branch out to other adventures on her own.

    Serendipitously, a smiling face approached Lulu, someone with no connection to her brother whatsoever. She had talked to him a few times over twitter and thought he was nice enough. Plenty of people warned her against talking to him but he had done nothing but be pleasant to her. She couldn't understand why people were adamant that he was a bad person and shouldn't be talked to. "Yes, Lulu, that is correct. It's lovely to actually meet you in person instead of through a screen." Lulu's bright smile complementing her pink skirt romper. The girl's hand was quite a bit smaller than Damien's and her grip was as dainty as her voice. Was someone who was properly introducing himself really someone that Lulu should avoid at all costs? Perhaps he was just misunderstood, maybe he just needed someone gentle to guide him?

    ~

    Newt wasn't entirely happy with the idea of letting her sister be more... 'free' as others called it. She didn't see the world as it really was. The male Newton child hoped for the best from people, but knew that some didn't have any good intentions. Whereas Lulu only ever saw good in people. She wasn't ready for the real world quite yet, and that scared Newt. Someone, especially in Los Angeles, was going to try and take advantage of her in some way. So he figured he'd make a compromise and just check in with his sister every now and then. It wasn't being overprotective if he was asking her if she needed help first right? That's how he was justifying it anyway.

    Corey was on his way on one of his checkups when his heart dropped. Lulu was talking with Damien Slater. The brother had had some not so pleasant interactions with that guy on twitter, and unlike his sister, Newt saw what everyone else warned about. Tallulah had a tendency to immediately close her twitter after messaging someone, so she often didn't see the aftermath. Clearly she must have missed everyone's explanation as to why she shouldn't talk to Damien. If she didn't there wasn't a chance in hell Newt was going to let this dirtbag hurt his sister.

    "Hey! Leave my sister alone." he called out as he approached the pair. He didn't hear what they were talking about but he presumed it either wasn't good, or a ruse. Lulu's hazel eyes rolled. "Newt, you said you would let me live my own life. We're just talking, and he's nice." she tried to plead with her brother but he was only barely listening. He was more focused on shooting daggers at Damien. The stupid smug look on his face said it all. "I said leave her alone." he said giving the other a boy a shove away

    "Don't shove me." Slater pushed Newt back. Typically amphibians are not violent or aggressive, but they are defensive. Especially in protection of young ones. Damien was going to try and use Lulu and she would absolutely fall for it, and that wasn't something Newt was going to just allow to happen. Drastic measures needed to be taken.

    Before Newt could reign in his impulsivity that led to stupid decisions his fist cut through the air and connected with Damien's jaw. A soft yelp escaped from Lulu's lips as Slater stepped back in shock. "Newt!" her gasp was muffled by her hands over he mouth. She had never seen her brother this upset before. She was about to usher her brother away before things escalated further but was cut off by Damien regaining his senses and returning a fist of his own, square into Newt's abdomen. Lulu frantically looked around for someone to step in and separate the two, a task far too Herculean for her own 5'1" frame.
    code by valen t.
     
    Last edited:







    RAVEN RIVERA​



    She didn’t think it’d be like this.

    Raven never thought she’d ever make it far in life– much less far from WestBrook.

    Maybe that was her original plan… but it was more like a dream than anything else.

    Raven wouldn’t have ever left her grandmother.

    So all the colleges she looked at, all the potential internships she looked at outside of Maine, all the daydreaming about apartments, what she’d do once she’d gotten a job to actually hold her own. Probably get on her feet and move out of some apartment that she’d found on craigslist, probably had one of those really… annoying, but lovable roommates.

    And y’know….

    She’d make it.

    Maybe it wasn’t much.

    Maybe… best case scenario she’d end up being a freelance writer for most of her life.

    And honestly, it didn’t sound too bad. It wasn’t like she was reaching for the stars.

    Raven didn’t want anything special.

    She just wanted the freedom to be herself– to do the things she loved without worrying about anyone, without worrying about money.

    She just wanted a damn chance.

    But like she said; it was a dream.

    Nothing more.

    It’d been six months since Rose passed.

    And Raven hasn’t really… been Raven since.

    There was nothing in WestBrook for her anymore.

    And that only became clear when she found out that Mason was going to some… pretentious, prestigious school.

    She told him she wasn’t going to bother applying for anything.

    Because she’d be fine alone.

    A bluff.

    But at some point, Raven had to get used to being alone

    Who knows where Andrea was, her grandmother was gone– and Nancy, her grandmother’s nurse didn’t have to be there anymore.

    No matter how many times she persisted that Raven was family. It just felt like she was there for her out of pity. And that was the last thing she wanted from anyone.

    To be a chore for someone to take care of. To be another somebody that people helped or consoled for a little bit of extra karma, to feel better about themselves as a person just because they patted her on the back and said;

    ‘It’ll be okay.’

    Because the truth was, they didn’t know that.

    They didn’t know how her life would turn out. They didn’t know what she was feeling. What her next move was– what her next plan was.

    Or, should I say dream?

    Now that Rose had passed, Raven was free to go anywhere and do as she pleased.

    She didn't have anyone to worry about anymore.

    Right?

    Raven was free to dream up a storm if she wanted. But...

    Dreams aren’t reality.

    They were called dreams for a reason.

    Has anyone even had a dream that actually ‘came true?’

    Raven wasn’t usually a pessimist. But given the way things have been going for the last few months, you can’t blame her.

    She was… angry, hurt, and over the constant mishaps and mistakes that life continued to throw her way.

    And with Mason gone, Drake and Ari in tow…

    She would’ve been alone.

    And that wasn’t the scary part.

    The scary part?

    She made peace with that a few days later.

    It’s true.

    It was like… something came over her. A sudden realization of what her reality actually was.

    Raven was just numb.

    So numb that when she’d gotten that acceptance letter in the mail, she did nothing more but blink and calmly asked Mason if he submitted some of her things.

    The answer was yes.

    A few questions popped up in her head.

    ‘Did he feel bad for me?’

    ‘Did he do it because he’d miss me?’

    ‘Did he actually care?’

    But she didn’t say anything.

    Raven had just got to packing. She tried reaching out to her mother but it was to no avail. The last time they spoke was at the funeral.

    “I’m sorry.” Andrea spoke.

    “No, you’re not.”

    “She was my mother, Raven.”

    “She was mine, too.”

    “...”

    “Only one I ever had.” She said, standing up straighter and focused on the priest that began to speak.

    She tightened the sweater around her more, uncharacteristically silent as she opened the door to the passenger seat and settled next to Mason.

    She was surprised that they’d given her the scholarship. She guessed it seemed… too easy. Like it was… too good to be true.

    She was waiting on the other shoe to drop.

    Although all the things Mason had submitted were months ago.

    Raven hadn’t actually written anything since…

    Well, I guess since she went ‘numb.’

    God, explaining like that felt so… stupid.

    Because it wasn’t like Raven suddenly became a mute, it wasn’t like she didn’t laugh, or smile, or poke fun occasionally.

    She just felt different.

    She felt different in the way she didn’t really feel anything at all.

    Her gaze lingered on the snow that continued to fall, and her breath made a fog mark onto the window, lifting a finger to trace a small flower.

    "Not gonna miss the snow," Drake spoke, breaking the silence in the van and she retracted a hand from the window, leaning her elbow on the center console and placing her hand underneath her chin, holding herself up to look at him in the rearview mirror.

    "Yeah, me neither," Mason agreed with him and she met eyes with him before averting her gaze.

    “I think I will.” Her words were soft and barely loud enough for a whisper, almost as if she was speaking to herself and not replying to either boys.

    She hated snow.

    But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t miss it.

    __

    Horrible.

    Every minute of that drive was horrible.

    A crying three year old, Noah & Mason's bickering, Drake’s endless gas station stops because for some reason– the boy had the bladder the size of a pea, and Ian...

    Ian was kinda normal, so she didn't really have any issues with him.

    She offered to drive, but Mason was too scared to let er’.

    Hotels apparently needed an ID over the age of 21 and Raven’s fake had almost gotten them into some trouble. They left the hotel before anything happened, though.

    Can’t say she didn’t try.

    She didn’t like the idea of sharing an apartment with tons of people.

    But hey, at least she wasn’t alone, right?

    I think that’s only good in our eyes.

    For her… however.

    Right now it just seemed like an inconvenience.

    But Raven wasn’t about to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

    However that fuckin’ saying goes.

    Her arms were crossed, watching her friends take some luggage and go up to the apartment.

    "Can you get this?" Mason asked, and Raven complied, tightening her own bag around her shoulder, and taking a hold of the tiny pink backpack by the small strap in the middle.

    She watched them for a few moments.

    The soft cries and the gentle reassurance he gave. Her gaze lingered on him and she felt the corners of her lips almost quirk into a smile.

    “Ready?” He whispered, momentarily breaking her out of her thoughts and Raven blinked a few times, sighing before turning her gaze towards the complex whilst a shrug rose to her shoulders.

    It was a complicated question.

    Ready to… live in an apartment with a ton of people?

    Ready to… figure out her place in a brand new school?

    Ready to… learn her way around a whole different state?

    Because all of those questions would’ve been met with a no. Her free hand reached out, carefully brushing small strands of hair out of Ari’s face.

    “Yeah.”

    If she was anyone else, she would’ve had high hopes for the change.

    Because Raven was great with change. If anyone was adaptable to a situation– it was Raven. You could only have the rug pulled from under you so many times before it isn’t such a surprise anymore.

    But like she said…

    Kinda hard to be optimistic nowadays.

    She began walking towards the complex, not particularly in a rush.

    “I never asked you why.”

    Should she even be asking?

    Let’s be honest, she’d hate the answer.

    But she was already here, so what was she gonna do? Take the van? Leave everyone?

    Please.

    “Why you submitted my–”

    Raven paused, her brows furrowing in thought.

    “I guess I’m looking for an actual reason why I’m here, not just because I deserve to be here.”

    A good school– in LA of all places.

    You’d think it was a good thing to be here.

    Under the circumstances? What she went through to get here? Raven didn’t think of herself as a saint or anything.

    But with full confidence she can say she didn’t deserve to be here.




    mood
    Hmph.

    location
    outside the apartment

    outfit
    car clothes





    playing...
    high hopes

    by kodaline​




    mentions
    Noah, Drake

    interactions
    Mason

    tags
    Winona Winona


    º º code by ditto º º
     






    Ava Sanders


    Parties sucked ass, especially when they were hosted by who this one was hosted by. There was an air of annoyance that Ava was definitely exuding, but could you really blame her? Fuck, the only reason she was actually here was because JJ happened to also live here, and she was sure that she wouldn't hear the end of it if she happened to miss Jules' party -- plus, well... everything with Dorian.

    Jules needed her right now.

    Or so Ava had thought, although the fact that they were currently apart, and that she hadn't even seen her while she'd been at the party kind of proved Ava's reasoning for being here to be absolute shit. Maybe Jules was doing better than Ava thought, and she didn't actually need her.

    Fuck it, whatever. She was here now and the least she could do was make sure that Jules didn't fuck around with fucking trash bastards like Damien Slater.

    Of course, being stuck just doing that meant that Ava didn't really have much else going on right now. As in, what the fuck was she supposed to do at a party? She wasn't gonna play dumb drinking games -- fuck, she wasn't even going to drink. And most of the people here just gave her a massive headache, so there went the whole socialization part of the night, so she found herself just...

    Bored and lonely in a corner.

    God, she was really living up her whole ass high school experience.

    But as (maybe) luck would have it, Ava happened to see another girl looking just as uncomfortable about the whole being here thing as she was. Normally, Ava wouldn't have approached -- it wasn't her thing, to try and introduce herself to people she didn't really fucking know, plus the girl was probably just waiting for her own friends.

    And yet, no one came...

    So Ava swallowed her pride, or whatever the fuck it was, and she walked towards the girl. Slowly, because she was a little worried about her presence maybe making the chick uncomfortable or some shit, and partially because she was kind of questioning if she really wanted to do this, but...

    Then she was there.

    Next to the girl, an awkward smile on her face.

    "Hi, you look ahh... lonely," yeah this was going great so far. "I'm Ava."




    mood
    eh

    location
    bitch manor

    outfit
    clothes





    playing...
    Bad Reputation
    by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts​




    mentions
    N/A

    interactions
    Petra

    tags
    jazzyball jazzyball


    º º code by ditto º º
     






    Sawyer Andrews



    “A raven is a horrid bird, an omen of…an omen of…an omen of Sawyer’s inability to to think of an omen.”

    Sawyer slumped back against her locker, pencil tucked between her teeth. She’d been working on this damn poem for weeks now and couldn’t get past the last few lines. It was beginning to drive her mad. Mad. Madness.

    “Ooh, a raven is a horrid bird, an omen of madness and destruction.” Sawyer scribbled down her words in scrawling handwriting. That would have to do for now. She’d most likely obsess over it later and end up absolutely hating it, but for now that would have to do. She’d already missed too many English Lit classes and she could not afford another or the school would have her head, and potentially her scholarship. Sawyer pushed up off her locker and slid the small poetry notebook she carried with her into the pocket inside her jacket. She grinned as she ran her thumb over the soft fabric of the sewn pocket. It was a patch work piece, made out of the remains of an old teddy bear that had belonged to her mother and after which to Sawyer for most of her life. Mr. Wug had met a terrible end in a washing machine due to a very regretful mistake her father had made when she was thirteen. Sawyer remembered crying for literal hours over the tattered remains of Mr. Wug. Her dad had tried his best to sew the thing back together but there were pieces missing, most assuredly eaten by that evil washer, and he just didn’t have the sewing skills. So, with the measly skills he had acquired through his attempts he had sewn a remaining patch of teddy bear fur to the inside of one of his jackets and gifted it to her. It was a good end for Mr. Wug and sort of a comfort to her now. It also helped that it was a nice jacket, brown leather, with a soft inlining and a hood to boot. It worked well for LA winters and she loved when she got to wear it.

    Sentimental jacket aside, class awaited. The most boring class in the history of boring classes. Sawyer had spent much of her youth lost in books, when she wasn’t causing trouble of course, so she’d already read an insane amount of the books and understood so much of the content that they go over in the class that the repetitive nature of it. It was suffocatingly boring. Suddenly, her feet stopped moving and she glanced longingly at the doors that lead out to a courtyard with a tree that she could sit under and maybe finish the rest of her-no. Class. She could not miss another class. Sawyer marched forward, resolute in her destination. A destination that would soon become so much farther away than a few minutes. A commotion just down the hall caught her attention and she looked up from where she had been watching her feet skip over the lines on the floor. What she found was the strangest sight Sawyer had ever laid her eyes on in this school.

    Corey Newton was locked in a brawl with Damien Slater right in front of a very frightened looking Lulu. What the actual fuck.

    “Hey! HEY!”

    Sawyer took a few long strides and found herself close enough to shove her way between the two boys. She shoved Newt aside and grabbed Damien by the collar up against a locker. Her gaze shot rapidly between Newt and Damien.

    “What the fuck is going on? You’re in the middle of the goddamn hallway, Jesus Fucking Christ.” She let her grip on Damien loosen and faced Lulu, “You okay?”




    mood
    fucking confused

    location
    hallway

    outfit
    sentimental jacket





    playing...
    Lowkey As Hell

    by Waterparks​




    mentions
    N/A

    interactions
    Lulu, Newt, and Sluter

    tags
    PenguinFox PenguinFox Winona Winona


    º º code by ditto º º
     
    MOOD: thexy

    OUTFIT: clothes

    LOCATION: da car
    basics
    MENTIONS:
    Maddie, Jared

    INT:
    Winona Winona (Ash)
    tags
    TL;DR no
    tl;dr
    Javier Cervantes

    Ash shrugged. The way she spoke radiated a stainless honesty, one which kept Javi helplessly entranced in the bashful speech that trickled off her lips. “I just umm… I don’t want to be a puppet, I guess, like ummm…” Javi’s mien bore no emotion; he hung onto the words he knew would never come out.

    Like Maddie.

    What Javi couldn’t suppress was the glow of red that spread across his cheeks. He had done this subtle sweet talk a dozen times over, but something about this instance made his heart thump just a little harder and his smile just an inch wider.

    “Nice? That’s a new one.” The dealer’s voice was a soft mutter, the lift in his speech sacrificed to the distraction of the girl at his side. His plush, lightly mustached lips parted slightly while his mind hovered over the edge of impulse.

    They were so close.

    Through the thick cloud of smoke, Javi could easily notice the way Ash’s eyes darted down to his mouth and back up to his eyes. It was a little intense despite the mental fogginess, not that he minded.

    This had been up in the air for months. Both of them knew it, or at least Javi prayed every time they spoke that it was at least partially reciprocated. She knew he wanted her. He hadn’t kept it secret, as much as he liked to joke.

    And right in that moment, she pulled him in, and all of the tension in Javi’s hardened frame withered away. With newly-emboldened passion, he reached a hand to the side of the deeply sincere singer’s face, gingerly swiping a stray, blonde lock behind her ear.

    “I’ve wanted this,” he breathed, ripping his lips away for a half-second, “Since the day we met.” Rather haphazardly, the curly-haired boy tossed the roach of a blunt and his lighter to the back, greedily latching his free hand onto the blonde’s waist.

    Whatever Ash was getting before, Javi was positive it wasn’t good. As beautiful and fleetingly confident as the girl was, he could see it in her apprehension and, in a cockier sense, the rush that electrified the two of them. It was a crime to stand by every day watching a girl so hopelessly perfect crumble under the weight of her burdens, restricted to the most undesirable of suitors.

    A string tugged at his heart. She would be miserable with a guy like Jared.

    Beyond her family and the aspirations that followed, what was it that truly stifled her? What injustice clipped the wings of a girl Javi swore he saw soaring at heights far surpassing the stars? Every fractured glimpse of her authentic, luminous self told a sorrowful tale that made the fair Rapunzel pale.

    Time bent in such a way that Javi could hardly tell which period the hour had bled into. By the time he finally laid back in his seat and released a panting breath, the window was slightly rolled down, releasing the dense, stale air permeating throughout the car.

    “I think I love you,” he stated plainly, eyes tracing the girl along the edge of his vision.

    But his view was hardly enough. Lazily, he turned his head and fully peered at Ash from the side, a wide grin plastered on his face. No longer was he high, but he was nonetheless helpless to the stream of quiet laughter flowing from his lips.

    “Actually, nevermind.”

    But it was fun.

    “You’re probably still going to class, aren’t you?” He nodded his head to the back, a sweater and bottle of cologne buried somewhere in the clutter pushed to the side. “Help yourself to whatever.”

    With a tinge of his usual sleaze, he added, “Call me sometime, yeah?” A calloused hand formed a cell phone by his ear. Tragically, he couldn’t help but see Ash as more than a simple score, as painfully obvious as it was that they could and would never be a thing.

    “No strings attached. I won’t tell Mommy.” And a wink, to seal the deal. “Later.”

    As for Javi, the day was his. Nothing could top this for the rest of the week.
    code by valen t.
     
    Last edited:








    Liv & Nickie



    The butterfly knife continued to twirl and turn, click and clack in the most annoying manner.

    She couldn’t believe she got detention!

    Okay, she sort of believed it… but…

    Her top wasn’t even that revealing!

    Sure, it showed a little boob or so… But she looked so good! Plus, her manager was kinda forcing the whole clothes thing on her again.

    Apparently she gets more traction when she wears clothes like this.

    Although it was a little chilly outside…

    "Can you stop that? It's so annoying."

    Liv met her eyes and lifted the knife to her lips, her tongue traced the knife from top to bottom while maintaining eye contact.

    Adriane let out a breathy sigh. "What? Are you upset because your little girlfriend isn't here?"

    “Huh? Gen?”

    "Oh come on, you know. The little vomiting bitch that was pregnant with Drake's demon spawn."

    Nickie?

    She wasn’t pregnant!

    “She’s not my girlfriend.” She replied, crossing her arms, dropping the knife onto the desk and eying Adriane.

    “But don’t talk about her like that.”

    "Not your girlfriend? Sure. If you don't like her, then why are you literally always up her ass?"

    Liv hardly hesitated with her next words.

    “Because she’s my best friend, duh.”

    Neither did Adriane, though…

    “Sure…”

    Liv furrowed her eyebrows, but she didn’t respond, shifting a little in her chair and picking up the butterfly knife again, making continuous motions with it as her mind began to run.

    —

    Liv was laying down on the football field with her phone in hand, her backpack was being used as a makeshift pillow.

    Was she ignoring her? Maybe Gen was actually busy. Was it her fault for thinking that this could’ve changed things between them?

    She just got out of a relationship, and Liv…

    Liv was still in love with her.

    But if they both felt the same way, what was holding them back from the other?

    She wished she had the courage to just… walk up to her and yell at her.

    ‘I want you, you want me, forget about everything else.’

    But…

    Liv wasn’t that confident in herself.

    She passed by an instagram post of Nickie and stopped scrolling.

    Adriane was…

    Crazy.

    She didn’t know what she was talking about.

    Liv double-tapped the post and commented:

    ‘You’re so hot omg. be mine. 🥰‘

    Maybe Adri was on some kind of drugs… wonder what kind— and where she was gettin’ them from.

    Think of the devil and she shall appear, Nickie had walked up to Liv and her lips curled into a welcoming smile.

    “Look at that, my day has suddenly gotten a gazillion times better.” Liv put a hand over her heart and mockingly swooned.

    “I got detention today because I looked slutty.”

    Liv frowned, looking up at her and tapping the grass, slightly scooting over for her to lay with her.

    “How was yours?”

    • • • • •

    As of the night after the stupid fucking Ball, Nickie was past the point of asking herself, What the hell am I doing? So after the events of this morning – after that comment to Ash, after…whatever happened after that, because it was kind of a blur if she was honest – she didn’t stop herself to ask, What the hell was that? or, Why the hell am I doing this?

    All she’d thought was, Fuck it.

    She was a cool, buzzing sort of numb. It was new – foreign. She felt…happy, and alive, even though she knew all of the shit that was going on around her. It was like nothing had any real impact on her – or, at least, nothing she’d experienced thus far.

    She wasn’t fucking stupid, of course – she knew it was the drug coursing through her bloodstream, which she knew, beneath the whole “fuck it” thing she had going on, meant that she was being the biggest fucking hypocrite since Ash West herself (fuck her), but fuck it. She was a hypocrite. At least no one fucking knew it, right? That meant it, like, practically didn’t exist.

    And no one would ever need to know. After today – or, like, maybe this week, because fucking finals meant that she would need the extra something to get her through alive – she would just stop the whole drug thing and just go back to…

    No going back to, she reminded herself. You’ll be a new fucking you, Nickie Abrams.

    Sure, she’d tried to promise herself that this morning – that she’d walk into the school and be a new her…but she meant it this time. Like, after this – after all of this was over, after her weeklong drug phase was over, you know – she would seriously keep her promise to herself. Like, legitimately.

    Hell, maybe she could, like, rebrand. You know, like she had when she’d come to HA, when she’d asked everyone to stop calling her Minnie and start calling her Nickie. She could be, like…Nika. Nika Abrams…that was hot, yeah?

    There was an odd sort of anxious, almost paranoid feeling that she got when she entered the cafeteria, though. This wasn’t a nice feeling. Even as she ate her salad, it felt as though the jitters inside of her skin were wanting to crawl out but were trapped in a sort of cage of all of the bodies around her.

    She couldn’t tolerate it. It almost made her want to cry.

    So outside she went, into the cool air and the open parking lot, and then past all of the cars and to the football field.

    “Look at that,” a familiar voice said from the field as she opened up the gate, “my day has suddenly gotten a gazillion times better.”

    A smile came onto Nickie’s face as she rolled her eyes and looked toward the voice to see Liv with a hand over her heart, feigning a swoon. “I bet it has,” she said, walking over to the girl to stand above her.

    “I got detention today because I looked slutty,” Liv said with a frown. She patted beside her on the grass, scooting over, and Nickie dropped onto the ground beside her.

    The grass tickled her legs through her pants but simultaneously felt as though they were gently clawing at her as Nickie straightened her back out against the grass. She shifted, folding her hands over her chest. “Detention for sluttiness?” she asked. “Literally all of the student body should be getting detention every day if they’re giving it out for that, l-o-l.” She looked over at Liv. Her nose scrunched up. “You only look, like, a little bit like a slut. I mean, like…not enough for detention.”

    “How was yours?” Liv asked.

    “My…? Oh, my day.” Nickie breathed out a sigh, closing her eyes as she turned her face back up to the sky. She took in a deep breath, then smiled. “Actually…it’s been pretty good for once.” She shrugged slightly. “And, like, people have tried to ruin it, but honestly…? I’m at the point of just saying, like…fuck it, you know? Just…fuck it.”

    • • • • •

    The girl smiled at Nickie’s reassurance.

    “You only look, like, a little bit like a slut.

    She thought so, too.

    Liv’s dressed and done so much worse to deserve detention— maybe today was just terrible karma for something— or someone she did in the past.

    “Thank you.” She replied with a smile.

    Yes, it was genuine! Nobody ever reassured Liv, so…

    ‘Kinda meant a lot

    Liv continued to keep her gaze on the sky as she listened to her newly ordained best friend.

    Was that a word like, for anything or just for priests?

    Huh.

    Just… fuck it.

    Honestly?

    That was like, the most sense Nickie had made in the long-while they’ve been friends.

    …

    Okay, so they’ve been friends for a few weeks, but still! Even when they were enemies, or like, fake enemies. That was still the most sense Nickie’s ever made, and that’s saying something.

    “You want me to threaten the people who tried? I’ve been told I’m pretty intimidating.”

    Said… absolutely nobody in not a sarcastic manner, but it’s not like Liv actually believed them.

    Psh.

    That’d be crazy.

    The brunette went quiet for a few moments, tracing the clouds that just… looked like blobs.

    Yeah, Liv’s imagination kinda flew out the window today.

    She wasn’t the type of girl to stress over anything.

    Not money, not work, not personal issues— Gen aside. The only things that lingered with her were words that weren’t her own.

    She felt those more than actions.

    Those left a mark on her before Liv even had the chance to process them.

    “You think we’d still be friends if you and Hunter got back together?”

    She didn’t know if it was an actual possibility, but…

    Liv’s brain took the lead in this conversation and she kinda needed to know.

    He hated her.

    Hunter… was not one of Liv’s friends. Even if they were close at one point— he just used her.

    Which was hard to wrap her head around, to actually realize that some people just wanted her for her body.

    Because otherwise Liv was just…

    Irritating, ‘stupid,’ annoying.

    It’s not like she was making those words up on her lonesome.

    Boys could be cruel sometimes.

    Liv turned her head to look down at Nickie.

    “Or like… your next boyfriend. What if your next boyfriend hates me?”

    Oh gosh.

    She sounded… so clingy. It was terrible.

    But it wasn’t…

    They’ve only been friends for a short time, y’know? And in that short time… Liv hasn’t been as… Buckle up— Liv hasn’t been as sad.

    Woah, shocker.

    “Or girlfriend, who knows what the universe has in store for you…”

    Or they-friend, but Liv didn’t wanna look like she was pressing too hard for information. Last thing she needed was another person thinking she liked Nickie.

    Especially Nickie.

    That’d probably make things a bit awkward.

    • • • • •

    “You want me to threaten the people who tried?” Liv asked. “I’ve been told I’m pretty intimidating.”

    Nickie laughed through her teeth, rolling her eyes. “Oh, yeah,” she agreed sarcastically. “Threaten to shank their moms with the face of a Yorkshire terrier you’ve got, that’ll stop them.” Giggling, she pushed her shoulders down into the grass to feel it poke her harder. It was a weird sensation, but she had to keep doing it. Something in her told her that she had to keep feeling it. “No, but seriously, like…fuck it?” Her brows knit together. She hadn’t meant it to come out like a question, so, shaking her head, she clarified. “Like, fuck them.” And then, “Like, I mean, don’t mean, like, literally fuck them, like, don’t take that bit too seriously, but, like, fuck them. Like, they don’t fucking know me. Like, they literally fucking don’t. None of them fucking do, and they don’t care to, so fuck them, like…? Fuck them.”

    She peered up at the sky, squinting as the sun glared down at her. It was warm at the same time that it was cold; it was like she was feeling two different temperatures at once. Drugs, she reminded herself. They’re fucking trippy.

    The puffy clouds looked like splatters across the blue sky. “Radioactive jizz,” she muttered, and she giggled at herself.

    You’re a literal fucking five-year-old, Nickie, she thought, but where there was usually vitriol this time was mild amusement.

    Liv spoke. “You think –” And Nickie looked over at Liv. “– we’d still be friends if you and Hunter got back together?”

    “What?” Nickie’s eyebrows knit together. The words hadn’t quite registered with her yet.

    Liv turned her head, looked at Nickie. “Or like…your next boyfriend. What if your next boyfriend hates me? Or girlfriend, who knows what the universe has in store for you…”

    “What if…?” Nickie’s voice trailed off, and she looked away from Liv and to the sky. She usually felt a dull thud in her chest when she heard Hunter’s name; now, she felt nothing. It was strange, an empty feeling where it felt like there should be something – something, at least of some sort – and yet she really felt nothing.

    “What if?” Nickie repeated in a whisper, her brows knitting together. What if her next…whoever the fuck – she wasn’t counting anything out at this point – hated Liv? What would she do?

    Briefly, it crossed her mind: well, Slater seems to like you okay… but that felt too specific, and anyone else…well, that felt too intangible to think about.

    Breathing out a sigh, she said, “I’m not going back to fucking Hunter.” And then she snickered, because what a fucking double entendre that was. She shook her head. “He’s a little fucking bitch, JJ is right.” She felt nothing, no pain like it was a lie and no victory like she was finally admitting the truth. Just numb. “He doesn’t give a shit about me, and, like, he never fucking did. I, like, honestly just fucking think he took to me because I, like, was the only person who ever showed him, like, fucking positive attention besides the little fucking redheaded rat.” Her tone was flat. “I bet they’re fucking now. You think so? God, they’re, like, such a…they make so much fucking sense together. Both so fucking intolerable. Bet they both have to, like, watch fucking YouTube sex ed videos before she…”

    Nickie breathed out a long sigh. She really did talk more now, even though she felt no real relief after the words left her mouth. She gave a slight shrug, pushing her shoulders harder against the grass again. “But, like…so fucking what if the next fucking person doesn’t like you? They can, like, suck my proverbial fucking wiggly dick,” she laughed. “I’m over giving, like, a single shit.”

    Then it occurred to her, and she looked over at Liv, her brows knitting together. “But, like…where the hell did that come from?” she asked with a smile.

    • • • • •

    It was a little weird. The way Liv felt when she heard Nickie talking badly about Hunter.

    And no, it wasn’t in the ‘crush’ or in whatever delusional stuff that Adriane spat at her today.

    It was just… an odd sense of relief to believe that Nickie was over him. Yeah, he hurt Liv before but it wasn’t completely about her.

    She was just relieved that she wouldn’t get hurt again. So maybe it was like, in a best friend sort of way.

    He was out of the picture and they could just be them without anyone ruining that.

    Again, clingy.

    But she’s never had anyone like Nickie.

    Liv’s known people, partied with people, slept with people; kissed people.

    But not a lot of people had her back.

    Maybe she wasn’t entirely sure if Nickie would have hers when push comes to shove— but right now? It felt like she did.

    Her lips thinned when Nickie brought up Ronnie. It was no secret that Liv wasn’t a huge fan of Hunter— she even warned Ronnie weeks ago about getting too close to him.

    Ronnie was crazy, maybe just a little but… Liv didn’t want to see her get hurt.

    She didn’t say anything on the topic other than, “I don’t know.” Partly because she actually didn’t know, and mostly because they were friends.

    Sort of.

    Liv was a lot of things, but she was loyal— … some of the time.

    Sometimes the wrong things slipped out at the wrong times but that’s only because Liv wasn’t completely sworn to secrecy about them.

    And…

    Y’know, she made mistakes! People make mistakes. It happens.

    “But, like…where the hell did that come from?”

    Liv shrugged, eyeing Nickie’s smile and suppressing one herself, averting her gaze back towards the sky.

    “I don’t know,” She repeated, her eyebrows creasing in thought.

    It was the truth, she really didn’t know, maybe Adriane got to her more than she’d care to admit.

    “I guess… I was just afraid of being… one-hit-wonder or something,” Liv muttered.

    A music reference? How in-character.

    “Like, let’s say you’re going through a rough time and you listen to this song you absolutely love by like, this complete nobody artist— you listen and listen on repeat, and it helps…”

    It sounded like she was speaking from experience. Was she?

    Could be.

    But it’s not like she can recall a lot about the breakup with Gen— or a few other instances that had sent her into a spiral.

    Which— we won’t talk about right now.

    But… it was possible. A lot of her memory was hazy from the amount of drugs she’d taken which seemed to be becoming a habit whenever Liv was feeling… a little too broken to function normally.

    And honestly, from the few times she’s tried to give it up— Liv on drugs was normal.

    When she was sober, she just felt like she wasn’t herself and she hated every second of it.

    Or…

    Or she just felt like too much of herself.

    Was that a thing?

    Could you hate yourself so much that you loved being someone you weren't?

    Maybe it was a universal thing that everyone decided not to speak aloud in fear of how it’d make them seem.

    Insecure.

    “And then you feel better, so you stopped listening to the song, it isn’t in your head anymore and you’ll struggle to remember the lyrics off the top of your head…”

    She was sober.

    At least— right now, anyway.

    “maybe in a year or two it’ll come on the radio and you’re like, ‘hey! I know this song’ and then skip past it because you don’t like the memories associated with it.”

    She didn’t want to be that.

    A fleeting memory— someone she used to know in a few years.

    …

    Everyone was confusing. She didn’t know what they wanted from her.

    Everyone continued to hurt her— or use her.

    Nickie was just Nickie.

    She wasn’t a… ‘one hit wonder’ for her.

    Right now— currently, anyway.

    And if we’re still on the music metaphor…

    Nickie was Liv’s favorite song.

    The brunette turned her head to look over at her, blinking a few times because she was blinded by the sun.

    “Just don’t skip me.”

    • • • • •

    Liv shrugged, looked over at Nickie then back up at the deep blue sky. “I don’t know,” she responded, and Nickie breathed out a small sigh, rolling her eyes.

    “That’s literally not an answer,” she teased lightly, studying Liv’s profile with unamused eyes, though her lips played at a smile.

    Liv’s brows creased, as though she was looking for some sort of better response. The vividly colored sky reflected off of her dark eyes. Nickie had never paid much attention to Liv’s eyes before; now she realized that they looked almost like delicate glass sculptures, glowed with the light of everything around them as though they themselves were a kind of painting.

    Or maybe it was the drugs. It probably was the drugs. Nickie looked toward the sky, where the radioactive jizz crawled its slimy way across the blue toward the horizon.

    “I guess…,” Liv’s voice started slowly and quietly, “I was just afraid of being a…one-hit-wonder or something.”

    Nickie’s eyebrows knit together. “A…one hit wonder?” she repeated, shifting her shoulders against the sharp grass blades and moving her arms from her chest to cross behind her head. She wiggled in the new position, still trying to understand what the girl beside her had meant. “A one hit wonder...like, uh, Rick Astley?” That was probably nothing like what she’d meant.

    Liv spoke again. “Like, let’s say you’re going through a rough time and you listen to this song you absolutely love by, like, this complete nobody artist – you listen and listen on repeat, and it helps…”

    She paused, and in the silence, Nickie became abruptly aware that her heart was racing in her chest. Damn it, so the clear air hadn’t really helped all that much after all, at least not with that.

    “And then you feel better,” Liv continued, “so you stopped listening to the song, it isn’t in your head anymore and you’ll struggle to remember the lyrics off the top of your head…maybe in a year or two it’ll come on the radio and you’re like, ‘Hey! I know this song,’ and then skip past it because you don’t like the memories associated with it.”

    The needles of grass against Nickie’s hands were uncomfortable, so she shifted her arms to cross back over her chest. Her brows knit together, trying to decipher the words that Liv had said in the quiet that followed them.

    Nickie had had songs like that in the past. You know, like, songs that she’d listened to, for weeks on repeat. After breakups. After not-exactly-breakups. After people around her treated her like shit, or when the person inside of her treated her like shit. Hell, she’d been told in the comments of the music she’d posted on YouTube before she’d turned off the comments that she had music like that – music that was there to help someone get through a shitty time and that was it, that was all it was there for. A crutch. Useful, and then useless when the use had been used up.

    But what did that have to do with Liv? Turning her head, she looked over to the girl beside her, only to find her looking back at her. In her dark eyes, from being this close, Nickie could see her own reflection – her own messy, wrecked reflection.

    And Liv said, “Just don’t skip me,” and it made sense suddenly.

    A smile cracked across Nickie’s lips, and a laugh involuntarily bubbled out of her. She shook her head. “Don’t skip you?” she repeated. She shook her head again, rolling her eyes and then closing them. “Don’t skip you...,” she repeated once more, her voice tapering off into silence as her body stilled from the laughter and the movement.

    Within her veins, she was still jittery. Her body still wanted to get up and go. But for a few moments, she sat there, with her eyes closed and her lips sealed, breathing in and out and trying to feel everything around her. Trying to sense where the grass was beneath her body, where the sky was above her, where Liv was beside her, and…trying to get what Liv was feeling.

    What had made her laugh? Nickie sighed softly. She had no idea. Maybe it was the almost desperate way that her best friend had asked that, or the metaphor that she’d used – something that Nickie had never expected to come out of Liv. It wasn’t funny because it was laughable, or funny because it was…funny in and of itself. Why, then…?

    Oh. Because…right. Because Nickie had felt that way in the past, too. Because Nickie had begged Hunter, in her fucking insecurity that had her vomiting in the fucking toilet at the biggest fucking rager of the year, to not skip her either. Beneath her acceptance of his love, beneath her asking him to be her boyfriend, there was that little request within her: just don’t skip me.

    Don’t let me just be another girl you use. Don’t let me just be a footnote in your life story, some shitty two bar line in one of your awful fucking songs.

    It was the same thing with Evie, too. With Nickie’s desperate changing, desperation to fit in, and the fucking monster inside of her fighting that, too, saying that she wasn’t good enough, and even as it all went to shit just because of Nickie and her fucking jealousy, all she was asking, behind the yelling and the tears, was just don’t skip me. Even if I’m shitty, even if I’m the fucking worst – all I want is for someone to…

    What? Love me? She wasn’t that fucking desperate, right? Care about me? It wasn’t like she was one of those daddy issues girls who…

    No. No, but she understood Liv. That was why she laughed.

    “I won’t skip you.” Nickie’s words were soft. She did not open her eyes, but a small smile crawled onto her lips. “You’re not just some fucking old, played out song, Liv…” She chuckled softly. “And even if you were, it’s not like you would be much help to keep around if I were just buying my time with you, you know,” she teased lightly. “If that was the case, you’d, like, be so much more fucking trouble than what you’re worth, l-o-l.” Opening her eyes, Nickie looked over at Liv, smiling broadly and chuckling. “Half teasing there, l-o-l. I’m not a total fucking bitch.” And then, “I mean, I am, but, like, not, like, like that, you know.”

    She looked up toward the sky, squinting her eyes as the sun glared down at her. For a moment, she went quiet again, and then she said, “You know, like, a lot of people really fucking suck. And you, like…you got stuck with a lot of those people – those people who really fucking suck, and…I mean, like, so have I.” She let out a soft laugh, not because it was funny but because she had to add something there.

    Turning her head, she looked at Liv. She smiled. “I don’t fucking know where I was going with that,” she laughed, “but…Liv, you’re more than just some fucking song, the same shitty thing over and over and over again. You’re not just some…thing or just some friendship to me.”

    Breathing out a soft sigh, she said, “You’re…more of a friend than I’ve ever really had. More than Evie, that bitch. More than…more than Hunter, that bitch. More than…more than JJ, more than…more than…Adriane, more than anyone.” Her brows knit together. “Because, like, Liv…? You, like…you don’t act like we have to do this. You don’t act like this friendship is some fucking charity event, or like I’m some kind of bitchlet who needs your coaching. You’re just…Liv to me. Even after…even after I bitched at you, treated you like shit, gossiped behind – and in front of – your back…you’re just Liv.”

    Her smile saddened for a moment. It hurt, ya know. To remember how much of a fucking bitch she was to the girl who she now called her best friend. Shit…Nickie really was a piece of shit to her…

    To a lot of fucking people, actually.

    But…Liv accepted that. It was fucking crazy.

    “And I’m just fucking Nickie, sack of shit extrodinaire, so, like…where else would I fucking go, even if I had a choice?” She glanced down at Liv’s hand. Slowly, she reached out and took it with one of her own, gripping it tightly, and she looked up at Liv’s face with a broad, reassuring smile.

    “I’m fucking jamming out to this song – forever,” she said. “That’s what the last f in bff stands for, after all, right?”

    • • • • •

    She was more than some song.

    She wasn’t just some friend.

    Nickie told her that she wasn’t just someone to skip.

    That she wasn’t just a good time, she wasn’t just a one night stand— not that the wording works for them. It’s just…

    It felt like it’d been forever since someone actually saw Liv for Liv and not someone who… could be used for their own benefit.

    Which could’ve been— and was probably a number of things she never figured out until after said person had gotten bored of her.

    This relationship?

    This friendship?

    It wasn’t one-sided. It didn’t make her overwhelmed, or worried, or upset. Nickie didn’t spew words at her to hurt Liv just because she was hurting.

    She was just the shoulder for her to cry on and vice versa.

    She didn’t lie to her.

    She didn’t yell at her.

    She listened to her.

    In a really weird way, Liv just felt… safe with her.

    Her heart skipped a few beats and naturally Liv had blamed it on the drugs.

    But she wasn’t on anything at the moment. It wasn’t early withdrawals because it hadn’t been that long since she used.

    Liv stood quiet as Nickie continued to speak, that feeling in her chest somehow getting worse with every word that she spoke.

    It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling.

    It was just something she didn’t expect— or… understand, really.

    Liv’s gaze zeroed in on the girl’s eyes, darting from one to the other as if she was memorizing the details.

    It had to be her best—

    Not her best, but Liv’s favorite quality.

    Her eyes.

    Her laugh was second, though.

    It didn’t offend her that she laughed about her weird metaphor or whatever, Liv just… did that thing again where she watched her in awe.

    It seems to be becoming a habit whenever she’s around Nickie.

    Suddenly, the girl reached for her hand and Liv found herself unable to suppress a smile at the action.

    “I’m fucking jamming out to this song – forever, that’s what the last f in bff stands for, after all, right?”

    …

    Her gaze sat on their intertwined hands for a few moments, Liv uncharacteristically quiet as her brain processed the weird bubbling feeling that continued to grow in her chest.

    “… right.”

    Her smile didn’t fade, her features didn’t change.

    She just looked up back at Nickie.

    Her mouth opening and closing before she spoke, hesitating.

    “You’re more than just ‘fucking’ Nickie. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

    Sure, she was a ‘bitch’ sometimes. But everyone was capable of being a bitch sometimes.

    Nobody really noticed how she really was— who she really was.

    Not saying Liv was an expert on all things Nickie, because best friend or not… she was still learning about her.

    But she knew the way her eyes sparkled when she was amused, the way she rolled her eyes when a compliment was probably a little ‘too’ much for her, or—

    The surprisingly, call her crazy if you will—

    But the heart she had.

    Not everyone noticed it. Not everyone cared enough.

    But Nickie cared about people who didn’t deserve it, she’d done things that she regretted because of that heart— say what you want about her, but Nickie cared.

    And maybe that’s why Liv placed her on a certain pedestal.

    Because not everyone cared about their actions or what they did to people.

    Not even Gen.

    As much as Liv loved her— Gen did things.

    She’s hurt people.

    She’s hurt her.

    And Liv doesn’t think that Gen just… simply doesn’t care, but she connected logic to the things she did— sometimes, anyway.

    If Gen felt like it was deserved.

    That’d be that.

    There wouldn’t be any guilt. No repercussions—that she’d worry about anyway.

    And she wasn’t comparing the two girls either, it was just…

    There were two types of people.

    Liv guessed that… It was just surprising that Nickie was the latter.

    It… was refreshing, because not a lot of people who were like that… were in her life.

    “Or, I guess you can, I can’t really tell you what to do, but…”

    She sighed through her nose, lifting their intertwined hands.

    “I can tell you what I think about this Nickie gal, though.”

    That was a bad idea.

    But she did it anyway.

    “I think… she’s… annoying, and maybe a little dumb—“

    Liv smiled, shaking her head with a snort of laughter.

    “I think she’s funny, exciting, sensitive— but that’s a good quality because it means you cherish all the good things,”

    At least, that’s what Liv told herself.

    Because it was easier to think that way instead of just believing that she was stupid for caring about what negative feelings people had for her.

    It was okay to be sensitive.

    Because it meant she cherished moments like these a whole lot more.

    “Absolutely gorgeous— like, literal knockout city I’m talkin’ and… y’know, I’ll just be honest with you,”

    Maybe she should be honest with herself first, though.

    Although the more Liv spoke, the more she felt like she was putting this in perspective for herself.

    “I think she’s amazing. And even if we get really ‘fucking’ sucky people in our lives to make us think otherwise, I…”

    She gently pulled her hand free and held out a pinky.

    “I think I’ll make her a promise to always try to convince her that they’re wrong. Even if like, that person is her annoying, slightly dumb self.”

    …

    “Don’t tell her I said that though. It’s top-secret. A B-F-F thing. You wouldn’t get it.”

    That probably made zero sense.

    You know what else didn’t make sense?

    The way she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face— or calm her heart from racing, or shove that bubbly feeling that kept rising in her chest back down to wherever it came from.

    What didn’t make sense is… Adriane was right.

    She…

    Liv…

    Oh, no.

    Liv liked Nickie.

    • • • • •

    Liv’s eyes moved to their interlaced hands, and the thought occurred to Nickie that maybe she’d gone too far – that maybe she’d said too much of her mind and that Liv was just going to stand up, reject her, do a replay of third grade with that one bitch who Nickie had asked to be the best friend of who threw paint on her and laughed at her when she started crying.

    But instead, Liv, smiling, just said, “…right.” Her eyes moved back up to Nickie’s face as Nickie’s smile spread further. Liv’s lips opened, closed, and Nickie giggled lightly, cocking her head slightly; the grass kneaded the back of her head.

    “You’re more than just ‘fucking’ Nickie,” Liv said finally. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. Or, I guess you can, I can’t really tell you what to do, but…” She sighed through her nose, lifting their hands. “I can tell you what I think about this Nickie gal, though.”

    Nickie’s brows lifted, her lower lip tucking in.

    “I think… she’s… annoying, and maybe a little dumb—“

    As Liv cut herself off with a head shake and a snort of laughter, Nickie laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, you bitch,” she scoffed, laughing along with Liv before the other girl continued.

    “I think she’s funny, exciting, sensitive— but that’s a good quality because it means you cherish all the good things,” Liv said. “Absolutely gorgeous— like, literal knockout city I’m talkin’ and… y’know, I’ll just be honest with you, I think she’s amazing.”

    Nickie’s smile sank from her face, her gaze growing serious as Liv continued. The words slowly registered with her.

    Funny…

    Exciting…

    Gorgeous…

    Amazing…

    Liv’s words shocked her at first. Not because she hadn’t heard them before – Hunter had said them to her, and said a million other things, too, and her mom and dad had said them, too, though she never believed them coming from them.

    But coming from Liv…it was strange. Like an unexpected hug from big, warm arms, the longer they rested around her, the longer she sunk into them. She…trusted Liv. More than she’d ever trusted anyone before – she trusted Liv.

    So it was like…the words felt true this time. They weren’t from some little microdick bitch who just wanted to get in her pants, weren’t from the people whose bodies she’d came out of. There was no obligation in Liv to say these things. Liv was just…saying them.

    Liv kept speaking. “And even if we get really ‘fucking’ sucky people in our lives to make us think otherwise, I…” She pulled her hand free and held out a pinky. “I think I’ll make her a promise to always try to convince her that they’re wrong. Even if like, that person is her annoying, slightly dumb self.”

    She accepts me.

    That thought broke something in Nickie.

    Because this was Liv. Because this wasn’t someone who was promising to fix her up like Evie had done. Because this wasn’t someone who was promising some fucking intangible thing like to love her forfuckingever. Because this was…this was Liv, and to Liv, there was no need for Nickie to be anyone but Nickie.

    Because Liv just accepted her.

    Tears pooled in Nickie’s vision. A sick feeling came into her stomach, a nausea that pressed up her throat.

    Tears of joy, puke of joy, she mused, giggling happily through the snot that was starting to wet her nose.

    “Don’t tell her I said that, though,” Liv said. “It’s top-secret. A B-F-F thing. You wouldn’t get it.”

    Grinning widely with tears in her eyes, Nickie extended her own pinky, latching onto Liv’s with an eye roll and a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry,” she said. “For once, I won’t say a single word.”

    As she gripped Liv’s pinky, one thought broke through the euphoria of friendship and the drugs in Nickie’s system: You should run. It was the little voice in her head that she hadn’t heard in awhile, coming in at the last second to try and ruin this moment. Run. Run far away from me.

    I’ll hurt you. Maybe not now, but…nothing ever lasts long with me.

    I’m a fucking psycho    .

    But then, her smile pressed wider, and she sat up to tackle Liv with a hug. To quiet the voice inside, all that Nickie could do was beg, No. Please, please. Don’t leave.

    Don’t skip me.




    mentions
    Adriane, Gen, Hunter, Evie

    interactions
    Adriane —> Nickie & Liv




    this post was a collaboration between ohdittoh ohdittoh & Soap Soap




    tags
    Winona Winona


    º º code by ditto º º
     






    Ashton West


    Ash kind of tended to overthink everything, and her overthinking would often lead to her just... like... avoiding something. Giving up, backing off because she'd though of all the what if's that could go wrong, and she'd talked herself out of the whole thing. That's just kind of like what always happened.

    But she'd gone with it. And now that Ash was sitting here after the fact, trying to catch her breath after the fact, and like... holy fuck, like oh fuck, oh god. It wasn't like she instantly regretted what had just happened -- like, it was the total opposite, but it was just, it felt so...

    She didn't know. She didn't know how to word it.

    Except that she'd, like, just done it in a car in the school parking lot so like, holy hell. This was like the baddest thing Ash had ever done, and maybe that's what she was reeling from.

    The rest of the conversation just, like, felt weird. Not like bad weird, more like... relaxed, maybe? Like they'd released some kind of hidden tension that had been built up between them.

    Right, that made total sense.

    “I think I love you,” Javi stated, breaking the silence.

    Her gaze, which had been focused on the dashboard in front of her, instead turned to look at him in shock -- and then her mind was already spinning. Mainly with how she was going to message Gen, stating how she'd never freaking do this hookup thing again if this was what happened afterwards.

    His head turned so that he met her gaze, and then he was grinning and laughing.

    What--

    “Actually, nevermind.”

    Oh thank god.

    She laughed alongside him, a faint smile on her lips. "Funny," she replied dryly.

    “You’re probably still going to class, aren’t you?” He said with a tilt of his head to the backseat. “Help yourself to whatever.”

    She glanced back to see what was there, but decided to pass for now.

    “Call me sometime, yeah? No strings attached. I won’t tell Mommy.” He added a wink, and she gave a faint smile. “Later.”

    "Yeah," she responded, "yeah, of course. I'll umm... yeah, I'll see you later."

    Her hand fumbled with the door handle before she was able to get it open, and she stepped out of the car. She slammed the door behind her and then, she started back towards the school. Ash fixed her shirt the best she could, her fingers running through her hair to try and make herself look like... well... normal. Fine.

    Although to the naked eye there was probably no difference to Ash's appearance, in her own eyes, she looked completely different. She knew it was crazy, but she felt as if everyone would be able to glance in her direction and know what she had just done, as if it was burned into her skin.

    Deep breaths, she reminded herself as she straightened up, plastering a smile on her face, and she struggled to keep her gaze focused forwards on the school in front of her and not drifting in the direction of a certain van.




    mood
    ehhhh

    location
    school

    outfit
    clothes





    playing...
    Save Myself
    by Ashe​




    mentions
    Trevor, Maddie

    interactions
    Javi

    tags
    hery hery


    º º code by ditto º º
     






    kellian phelan


    Keep your head up! said Kelli’s motivational desk calendar, and her inspirational sticky note said, Keep calm and carry on, but Kelli Phelan didn’t really feel like doing either of those things. Heck, even Lady Gaga, as she’d sang about poker faces and paparazzi, didn’t help to make the sophomore dancer feel any better.

    It was really easy to say stuff like keep your head up and stuff, and Kelli would tell anyone else to do the same if she thought they were looking down, but, uh…when you felt like you just flunked each and every one of your final exams at this perfect school that your parents would definitely take you out of if you did flunk…getting told to keep your head up was, as her dad would put it, about as much help as a Band-aid on a missing finger.

    When she’d been home for the break, she’d, uh…locked herself in her room, said that she was playing video games and that she wanted to be left alone when actuality most of her time was spent watching sad YouTube videos about…she didn’t even want to remember. When her mom or dad or brother came in to pry, she’d just put on a brave face, and they’d asked her how she was and she’d said fine, and even if they didn’t buy it, they didn’t say anything beyond, You know you can always talk to me, and she said that she knew, because she did know, but at the same time, she couldn’t just talk to them.

    It was embarrassing. It was embarrassing to be worried about something like this, but it was even more embarrassing for her worries to have any kind of basis. She felt…stupid, and no amount of techniques that her therapist had given her for calming those feelings down was working to, well, uh, calm them down, you know.

    Still, tonight was a night that she absolutely would not allow herself to be down. She was back on campus — she wouldn’t let herself add any, At least until they grade my tests to that, not today — and she was going to have the most fun that a girl could ever hope to have at whatever the heck this party thing was.

    She’d been told last year that the Halloween party was the biggest party of the year, but everyone had corrected themselves afterward: this, the New Years Eve party, was the biggest party of the year, hands down. And, heck, Kelli wasn’t feeling great, no (not that she would admit that to anyone else), but you know, if there was one thing that made her feel better, it was parties — ‘cuz who didn’t like parties?

    ‘course, she didn’t really like to do most party things. She didn’t really drink — at least, she hadn’t, since her brother had made her a drink at the Halloween party, because it tasted so disgusting. She didn’t smoke — never had, and she’d watched enough PSAs that she was scared into not wanting to ever try it. She didn’t, uh…get around or anything — the thought of…that kinda stuff kind of scared her a little. But she still liked the whole party thing, ya know.

    Plus…she might try drinking again tonight. Or…uh…maybe not — but that was for her tonight to decide, not her now.

    To make herself feel as good as possible, she’d picked herself out a cute outfit — which meant, of course, pink was involved — and she’d snatched up the opportunity to wear her star print boots, though she would probably regret that later. She’d even brushed on a little bit of makeup, which she continued to try and situate as she glanced at Ronnie in her periphery.

    “Ronnie,” Kelli said, and she paused with her mouth open to try and separate a couple of lashes that had clumped together with her mascara, “do you think this party really is going to be as big as the one at Halloween?”




    mood
    a little down, but trying to cover it up

    location
    the dorm

    outfit
    casual clothes





    playing...
    dance
    by foxes​




    mentions
    kian

    interactions
    ronnie

    tags
    hery hery


    º º code by ditto º º
     
    MOOD: Excited and scared.

    OUTFIT: Sweatshirt and sweatpants.

    LOCATION: In front of apartment complex.
    basics
    INT:
    Winona Winona (Drake, Mason, Ari), Soap Soap (Raven), PenguinFox PenguinFox (Ian), geminiy geminiy (Jackie)
    tags
    TL;DR Noah hates Mason's children and driving.
    tl;dr
    noah


    There was something incredibly calming about sitting in a car. Obviously not in front of the wheel, but anywhere else was absolutely wonderful for Noah Stewart, even sleeping in the trunk. Not that he was particularly in need of calming, but it was a good feeling, and those he appreciated. It was also the sole reason why he absolutely insisted the group take a road trip all the way from Westbrook in Maine to Los Angeles in California, of course, in nothing other than his mom’s old, rundown minivan. It seemed like a good idea at the time, especially if he was the one in charge of the aux, but when he found out he wouldn’t only be driven around but also had to drive, his perspective on taking a plane to Los Angeles really shifted.

    He hated driving, but it was too late to cancel a trip that would be happening the next day. So he settled to sitting next to his favorite little person that existed in the world; his best friend’s daughter. That also seemed like a good idea up until like 5 minutes in the drive when he realized that she was actually his best friend’s daughter and also his least favorite little person in the world. She was a little version of her dad, and that was in no way a compliment. That little bitch could punch, so Noah just had to sit silently for a large portion of the ride and endure the eventual tantrum of which he would be getting the worst part.

    He couldn’t even mess with her without Mason threatening to turn the car around ‘this instant’. It was all bullshit because why could she get curly fries and he couldn’t? Why could she decide on songs and he couldn’t—all of which were princess songs, by the way. Why could she call Mason daddy and he couldn’t?

    Bullshit, I’m telling you.

    Oh, and don’t even get Noah started on Drake taking off his shoes and putting his feet up. That boy never took a shower in his entire life, and not only did Noah once almost faint from the sour smell, but he did so seven times, every time cursing Drake under his breath just in case Ari wasn’t actually sleeping.

    But goddamn it, would it have killed the boy to change his socks every once in a while, or at least before knowing he would spend the next few days in a car with other people? Noah always washed his feet and made sure to exfoliate too because one never knew when a cute guy with a foot fetish would come along. Drake could never pull a cute guy that had a foot fetish with the state of his feet. It was disgusting, embarrassing, pitying, and worst of all, Noah probably lost his sense of smell in that car.

    What, it was like 7 people in one car all farting and taking off their shoes and not showering for like 3 days. You would lose your sense of smell too. Perhaps it was a blessing.

    Anyway, some good parts came from that trip as well. He got well acquainted with Jackie’s boyfriend, the man he heard so much about, and he couldn’t believe how perfect he and Jackie were for each other. Like two puzzle pieces or like whatever the saying was. The dude was cool, and Jackie deserved nothing but the best. And hey, if Mason acted like a dad one more fucking time, the position for Noah’s new best friend was about to be open. Fucking Mason.

    But probably the best part of the trip was when the minivan finally entered Los Angeles and Noah knew his sufferings would be over quite soon. After, you know, waiting 2 hours because of a traffic jam, but it was what it was. It had been like the sun shone brighter in the city of angels, like he was a new person. He could feel that being famous was just in front of him, and that he would be taking that opportunity like a champion. He already was.

    Now, the only thing that remained was telling Jackie that Mason and Raven and Drake and Ari would also be staying in the apartment which probably wasn’t big enough. Hopefully she wouldn’t be mad at all and welcomed all of them with open arms. Hopefully. Haha.

    Oh, fuck his life.

    It wasn’t his fault. Whatever. She would understand he absolutely had to lie to her and won’t be at all mad. Noah knew Jackie, and he really hoped he was right.

    The moment the car stopped in front of the building where the supposed apartment had been, Noah wasted no time before getting out. “And you, you small demon child, you stay away from me. Don’t talk to me ever again. And I’m never sharing my curly fries with you ever.” He warned the girl seated next to him. Obviously, he was joking, but he also wasn’t. She wasn’t his daughter.

    “And you.” He pointed at Ian. “Let’s go see our girl!” Who had been more excited about seeing Jackie, Noah didn’t know. But he presumed it was Ian since he didn’t have to really break any secrets to her. Or did he? We might never find out.

    On a piece of paper, Noah had written out the passcode for the entry into the building, along with information about the floor and number of the apartment. Now all that he needed to do was count down the minutes he had left to live before Jackie strangled him.
    code by valen t.
     
    MOOD: Confident

    OUTFIT: Slutting it up

    LOCATION: Party manor
    basics
    MENTIONS:
    Teo, Adriane, Rikki, Callum not in that order

    INT:
    Oates mogy mogy
    tags
    TL;DR Snuck out now its drink with oates time
    tl;dr
    Nikolai
    Nikolai had fun with Teo. Really, despite their insecurities, it had been a fun time. A temporary boost in serotonin that would eventually crash, but for now, they had a boost in confidence. Well, she couldn’t give all the credit to Teo, Oates was doing a great job of stroking that ego right now. The two of them usually talked like this. A little flirt here and there, but all just friendly. Nikolai knew where the line was drawn, especially when Callum was around. Whatever, Oates could date whoever he wanted, even if he was blind to obvious red flags in them. Who was Nikolai to judge?

    With makeup perfected (maybe they went overboard with the highlighter), Nikolai zipped themself into the dress they’d picked out. Another celestial piece. He’d debated dressing like a total whore tonight, but with it being a New Year’s Eve party, this was probably more the style than anything else they’d wear.

    In front of the mirror, Nikolai tightened the second sleeve onto the dress. It was an odd mechanism, but the sliver of skin across the chest was worth it. Maybe it was a little much… Or it would make Oates question his taste in men. Wishful thinking. Then a thought, the worst kind, a thought that maybe Rikki would see them and… and what? What could possibly be satisfying about someone who they had no romantic interest seeing them like this? No, a bad, horrid thought.

    With their hair finished, all they had to do was grab their things and go. It was much easier to get permission to go to a formal than a party, so this time it was the window in and out. Unfortunately, heels didn’t agree with that. In LA there was a 50% chance that leaving barefoot would get glass stabbed right into their skin, but that was also 50% in their favor. Math.

    The screen had long since been popped out of the window. After the 100th time Nikolai decided it was worth the risk to not even bother replacing it. She climbed out onto the roof, closing the window behind her. Legs dangled over the slope of the roof for a moment before they pushed themself off. Braced for the jump, Nikolai hit the ground feet first, knees bending to absorb the shock. No glass, but that still hurt more barefoot. Noted.

    Maybe driving barefoot was illegal, but driving in heels was arguably worse. And Nikolai didn’t want to stick around and risk being caught. So crime it is! The Porsche roared to life, music booming as she fumbled to turn it down. Shit okay. Go go go! Tires squealed as they took off out of the neighborhood. About a mile in the music went back up. Adrenaline filled their body as it did every time they escaped unscathed. Now it was time to fucking party.

    Traffic had thinned, but there were still plenty of people on the LA streets. No rush. Oates could wait. Probably. But Callum wasn’t as patient. Shit. Out of the way. Nikolai weaved through traffic to Adriane’s house. He’d been once, back when he was still in the fashion department, but she didn’t even acknowledge him anymore. To be fair, Nikolai had made no effort to talk to her either.

    As expected, the street was already lined with cars. They quickly claimed an open spot a few buildings down. Now it was shoe time, the probability of barefoot glass injury was up to 80% and rising this close to a party. Now, Nikolai Beck didn’t need an extra four inches of height, but it was so much fun to be taller than everyone else.

    Mentally, she went through tonight’s list of personal rules; 1) don’t get sloppy drunk, 2) stay all night, 3) ask about relationship status BEFORE any potential hookup, and 4) don’t do anything embarrassing. It was likely at least two would get broken before the end of the night, but what was life without goals?

    Heels clicked down the sidewalk as Nikolai approached the apartment, music already booming. That was another rule, don’t get overwhelmed. Thinking they could control that was just wishful thinking. They squeezed between a few stoners to get to the door, holding their breath in a hopeless effort to avoid the thick scent.

    Through the door, it wasn’t quite as chaotic as they’d expected. They turned abruptly to avoid that familiar face that was Adriane. No drama, not tonight, and she was always drenched in it. As much as they wanted to avoid yelling in here, Oates was illusive. Where could a barely 6 foot tall, curly haired guy hide? Apparently anywhere.

    “    Oates?” Nikolai called like he’d asked. “Oh, there you are.” He wasn’t hiding at all, they were just dumb. “You come here often?” She laughed, not hesitating to pour a shot. No sight of the supervisor. They’d enjoy it while they could.
    code by valen t.
     
    Last edited:
    MOOD: impatient

    OUTFIT: ur egirl dream ig

    LOCATION: home
    basics

    INT:
    Lillian dear.szmm dear.szmm
    tags
    TL;DR ur over reacting
    tl;dr
    Rox
    Okay, Hunter and Casey weren’t the worst? So what? That didn’t mean Rox had to change her whole opinion on men. They could be an exception from the rule along with Matt. That was it, no more.

    Now it was girl time, aka the best time. She took out her phone to call Lillian while she walked down the hall. Girl, pick up, what could be more important than this?

    On the third ring Lillian picked up. Thank god. So they hung out while she did her… whatever she was doing. Rox was just there to be support, not to understand. Oh, and to make fun of the high girl. Really funny. But then Lillian went on about how Rox doesn’t pay attention to her enough, which is totally not true. They live together. That’s so much attention. Whatever, she could be sensitive all she wanted. Rox was here now, right.

    So things had been a little rocky since then. But tonight Rox was going to try to get Lillian to just let go. For christ’s sake it was a party, she needed to loosen up. Maybe she should try to hit the bong before they left. Chill out. Like seriously, all week she’d been getting shit from her mom for not being home for Yule, but she was so calm. Lillian should try it.

    Rox had spent an hour of hard focus on her makeup, drawing purple diamonds across her face and chest. Yes, this was the vibes. Like the New Year’s Star. That’s a thing, right? Whatever. Black lipstick was a must, of course. Literally a look. Fishnets were a party staple. Along with a couple belts and necklaces, she was ready.

    Okay Lils, you better be done being moody. Rox found her girlfriend digging through the closet. With a smile, she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s waist.     “You’ll look beautiful in anything,” her words of assurance weren’t a lie. Lillian was pretty. She just needed to stop worrying so much. “Come on, I want to get in before all the good alcohol is gone.”
    code by valen t.
     
    Last edited:
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