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

Reader mode
Characters
Here
MOOD:
vibing & wining

OUTFIT:
semi-casual cappie
​
INFO
LOCATION:
NYE party, balcony

WITH: chanel

MENTION: n/a​
ACTIVITY
Soap Soap
TAGS
cappie
— Dancing in the Moonlight


Quietly, in light amazement, because he didn't expect her to be bold enough to steal it away from him that fast, he watched her drink straight from the bottle. And drink, and drink…

Oy vey, she’s greedy.

Finally, she returned the wine to him and spoke again. “What’re we playing? If it’s strip anything, this dress cost more than this penthouse, so it’s not happening.”

He chortled at that absurd speculation. “Oh god, no. I’m not wild enough to strip my clothes off while on a balcony.”

She guessed right the second time though. It was a sort of question game, and it involved some drinking. But before Cappie could explain the rules to her, Chanel went ahead and began their harmless game with her first question.

“What’s your real name?”

His relaxed cheeky smile slowly faltered. He hadn’t thought this game through very well. He should’ve seen that coming.

“Well… first of all—wow, you’re very impatient, didn’t even let me explain the rules first,” he said, teasing her. And he may be stalling for a bit. The rules are simple, he told her. They ask each other questions and every time they answer them honestly—yes, they have to be actually honest—they’re allowed to take a shot or sip of the pinot noir.

“And it’s Buster Keaton,” he said. “My real name. Y’know, like the actor. Buster Keaton Caplan.”

Caplan, he explained, is where his nickname Cappie came from. It’s also his real last name because it was his mom’s maiden name before she married his step-dad. Monterey was just a stage name. Hadn’t Chanel ever wondered why he always sat next to her in classes that have assigned seats based on last names?

Honestly, he wished his mom had named him after Michael Keaton. He told Chanel this, too. He likes Batman.

“I might change back to my last name for the new year,” Cappie added. “Monterey is just… i dunno, it’s like, using it feels like the kind of heavy sad burden whenever I think about it. If I mess up, I ruin his name instead of honoring it. Something like that.”

Turning his head slightly away from her, Cappie rubbed his eyes casually as if they felt itchy. No, his eyes were not misty-looking in that short passing moment. A light breeze passed by and his eyes felt a little dry. Yeah.

And then he sipped from the wine bottle, probably about 3 or 4 ounces. “Okay, your turn now,” he announced, back to his old optimistic tipsy self again. It took him several seconds to consider his question.

“What’re some of your favorite crystals and gemstones and why? Also, why are you into it? The crystal hobby thing.”

Yeah, he seriously wanted to know.
code by valen t.
 






Zeph Evermore


What? She was asking if he was okay, and Zeph found his traveling gaze coming back to rest on his girlfriend. He gave her a soft smile, followed by a little shrug of his shoulders -- of course there wasn't really anything up, there wasn't anything wrong, but he... he didn't know. Sure, he liked being here with Stella, he liked hanging out with her at parties, but at the same time...

There was something about it that felt almost repetitive, and that little bit of repetitiveness was what was causing him to drag his feet. Like, sure, Winter Ball had been great, every other date had been great, but... maybe there was the tiniest part of him that was growing bored with the continuous, monotonous feeling of this.

Of course, there was no way that he was going to tell Stella that and, what, start a fight? A fight over the fact that their relationship felt too perfect? That they never fought?

So instead, he'd just kept that smile on his face, giving another shrug of his shoulders as he reached for a drink -- now, Zeph didn't usually drink, but tonight, he did pour himself a little... what was it? He peered at the bottle. Ah. Tequila. Okay, so he poured himself a little tequila into a cup, taking a sip of it before he dared to speak.

"Nah, just enjoying the night."




mood
happy

location
party

outfit
clothes





playing...
Lost Boys
by Ocean Park Standoff​




mentions
Javi

interactions
Stella

tags
@Kitsune2202


º º code by ditto º º
 






RYDER VAUGHN


New Years Eve was by far Ryder's favorite holiday. It was an excuse for both him and all the ladies of Hollywood Arts to dress up and get absolutely shit faced, what more could a guy ask for?

The only downside was that all the gyms would be crowded in the next month, until all the New Years Resolutioners gave up and the gyms cleared out to the normal crowd. That, however, was a tomorrow problem. Right now, his only New Years Resolution was to get so drunk he blacked out and woke up covered in glitter.

To start that particular goal, he'd need to find someone to drink with. He searched the crowd for Slutter, but Slutter was a hard man to find, especially at a party as big as this. God knows what he'd already gotten himself into tonight.

Taking another lap around the packed house, he spotted a familiar head of blonde hair over by the drink table. He and Ash hadn't only spoken a few times since their little parking lot party, but she wasn't as bad to hangout with as he'd thought she would be. Besides, any drinking buddy was a good drinking buddy.

"How come every time I see you, you're drinking?" Ryder asked, eyebrow quirked up as he smirked at her. He grabbed a plastic cup off the table and looked over the assortment of alcohol as he waited for her response.




mood
ready to get drunk.

location
adri's place

outfit
whatever





playing...
golden boy

by bryce fox​




mentions
Slutter

interactions
Ash Winona Winona

tags
none


º º code by ditto º º
 






Elizabeth Sterling


God, there were so many parts of Beth that just wanted to tell Spencer that yes, she was enjoying herself, especially now that she had this guy standing in front of her. But she kept such a grossly cheesy line to herself, instead allowing a vague smile to play across her face as she batted her eyelashes at him in a way that was clearly, clearly, very obviously, very sexy, because there was obviously nothing else about Elizabeth.

Like, nothing else as in nothing childish or whatever. She was hot, and that attitude of knowing that she was hot was going to stay around for a long time. Of course, now she had to convince the guy before her that she was hot and that he needed to view her in such a way, which was... a lot harder said than done.

Why the poor sophomore always found herself being viewed as nothing but a child was beyond her. Like, she'd just turned sixteen, which basically made her an adult. And no one treated bitches like JJ or Stella as if they were children, which made literally no sense whatsoever to Beth when they were literally in the same grade.

Deep breaths, though. There was no point in allowing herself to get worked up over that nonsense, especially when she was speaking to Spencer, which obviously meant that she needed to keep a calm and collected head -- after all, she doubted that Spencer was into anyone that was super wild.

"It's okay," Beth said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "I've been to better parties." (She hadn't.) "But it's good enough, for a New Year's Eve party, anyway." (Again, she hadn't been to any NYE celebrations before in high school.) "What about you, Spencer? Are you having fun? Do you maybe want to get a drink or something?"

Sure, she had already tasted some of the alcohol, but it wasn't really her favorite thing in the world -- it kind of tasted bitter and gross. But, alcohol made people seem significantly more mature, and that's what Beth was obviously here to do.




mood
adult

location
party

outfit
clothes





playing...
Good Girl
by Julian Moon​




mentions
Polly, Kinni

interactions
Spencer

tags
Xed Xed


º º code by ditto º º
 






Ezra Gray




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



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  • home (filler tab)


































hozier



movement








It may come as somewhat of a surprise to anyone who knew the sociable Ezra Gray but honestly, there was little he hated more than parties. There was something about the crowds, the music that was too loud, the way people shmoozed that just genuinely annoyed him. As someone who knew a lot of people, Ezra knew that parties were where people were their most inauthentic selves, trying desperately to please people in a failed bid to seem cool.

It was all so fucking stupid. So why, you may ask, was he at this New Year’s Eve party in the first place?

Well, Ez honestly didn’t even know the answer to that himself. He hadn’t even fully resigned to attending until earlier that afternoon when he came to the decision that spending New Year’s Eve entirely alone was quite honestly pretty pathetic. At least if he was at a party, he could find someone to keep him company and away from the idiotic droves of people that were going to genuinely drive him off his last nerve.

There he was at the mansion (Bitch Manor, he recalled someone calling it in chat one day, the name seemed quite fitting) that was not unlike his own family home back in New Zealand. Sprawling property, too many rooms for three people and one yappy dog, stone chiseled in a preciseness that made everything just slightly too pristine. In a way that likely flexed his wealth, it seemed homey. Stepping through the front doors, Ezra almost immediately regretted coming. Too many people all talking and dancing and making out in places where people should be walking. Awful, truly awful. But hey, at least the people who had gone above and beyond to dress their fanciest for the glorified house party were easy on the eyes.

It wasn’t long before Ezra found a table full of drinks. Perfect, it was surrounded by drunks. Just fucking wonderful. Eventually managing to elbow his way through the crowd, Ezra poured himself a glass of who-knows-what and took a swig, his face screwing up at the burn down his throat. Alcohol, not surprising in the slightest. Cup still in hand, Ezra turned around and made a move to exit the room when a figure, just as tipsy and gone as the rest of the partygoers, caught his eye.

“Chas?” Ezra found himself asking, taking a few leisurely steps towards the couch. Now standing before the boy, Ezra looked down at the person before him with a look of slight confusion on his face. “You okay there buddy? You look kind of out of it.”





♡coded by uxie♡
 






Jace West


He had no idea what this man was calling him, but it sounded very similar to cuticle, but he was pretty sure the guy wasn't referring to him as that gross part of skin on your fingernail. Unless he was, in which case Jace wanted to know why he reminded the guy of fingernails, and if that was a compliment or an insult.

... Correction: it was definitely an insult. It definitely would be an insult, because Jace had learned over time that pretty much everything directed at him was, in fact, an insult. And that wasn't some kind of woe is me whiny boy nonsense -- rather, it was just the simple truth.

He was coming to terms with it.

Slowly.

Either way, was this dude new? Because Jace sure as heck didn't recognize him -- although that wasn't a super big surprise. The blonde senior tended to stick to himself whenever he could manage, so the idea of him actually recognizing people? Rather far-fetched, aside from those that were in his classes.

“Speaking of school, what are some artists which inspire you?”

Oh no.

There were a million different bands that usually played through Jace's head, but when he was placed with the pressure to name them, he'd find his mouth growing dry and his words running out. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, lips pursing together, before he sucked in a deep breath and his mouth once again opened to speak.

"I ahh... w-well, lots... lots of umm... lots of bands, like ahh... C-Colplay? They're, they're umm... I-I really like... they're really good, and ahh I ahh... BANNERS? That's a ahh... that's a good one, or umm... y-yeah, you know, just... just a lot of different... lots of music. And musicals. I-I like... I really like... like... music... y... stuff..."

He cleared his throat.

"What you like?"




mood
ahahaha help

location
party

outfit
clothes





playing...
Insecure
by Jace West​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Teo

tags
qunqun qunqun


º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: e

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: bitch manor
basics
MENTIONS:
Casey, JJ, Adriane
INT:
geminiy geminiy (Ezra)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Chas Marino
It was deceptively easy to melt into the push, linen couch cushions. Chas wondered that if he sat long enough, how long it would take to accidentally slip into an alternate reality where he wasn't destined for permanent worry lines by the age of twenty. How novel would that be? The silly thought of posing as a no-name dropout brought a small smile to the short Italian's face.

Out of nowhere, a masculine voice spoke Chas' name, rousing him from his state of sloth. He moved his weary eyes up from the ground and to the boy standing before him, feigning a cheeky smile that said, "What do you want?" He could have burst out into a laughing fit then and there looking at the lanky teenager's mildly-concerned, upturned brows.

But in his wine-drunken stupor, he had not the capacity for such tasteless cruelty. "Good evening, Ezra Gray," he answered sarcastically, patting at a spot on the other end of the couch, "Enjoying the party?" He probably was. His entire shtick was being good at these things, wandering around with a shit-eating grin and pulling forty friends out of thin air.

He also had to enjoy it because it was Chas' party and not once in history had any of his events flopped. As defeated as he looked slouched, swishing wine in a plastic cup, Chas held onto the satisfaction that he was a fucking king. The big host, the president, one semester away from graduating and kickstarting his career in a multi-billion dollar industry.

"So where's tonight's bimbo, supermodel date, big guy?" he asked brashly, his pitchy voice taking on a slight, uncharacteristic slur, "Everybody knows the expectation is to loudly swap spit when the clock strikes midnight." The suggestion alone was enough to make the boy shudder, especially as he wondered where his boyfriend was. "I'm thinking of doing us all a favor and pulling a Cinderella—that cowardly peon."

He released a sigh, then laid his head back once more. His whole body was so heavy, but the urge to shake everything like a madman was never greater. The thought came to mind that this was what JJ must have felt, always being so off-balance when she hit the dance floor.

Speaking of...

"Hey, have you seen Precious?" he added, peeking back over the couch like a child playing hide and seek. Everything felt so droll. So laughable. Like Chas could have stood up and dunked his head into the sink until he woke up from this absurd, hellish dreamscape. He began to laugh, and found that he could do little to stop himself from guffawing until his throat ran bone dry.

"Sorry!" he breathed, though he very clearly didn't mean it. It was funny. It was so farcically, tragically hilarious. He folded forward, squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath to suppress the laughter that just kept coming. "I'm sorry," he repeated, choking out another rare ha-ha, "Seriously, wh-where is Adriane? Where are my friends?" He started laughing harder. Could he even name any? Ha! He looked so stupid!

L-M-A-O!
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: drinks on me

OUTFIT: here

LOCATION: nye party
basics
MENTIONS:
N/A

INT:
Heather ( PenguinFox PenguinFox )
tags
TL;DR oh, that sort of party?
tl;dr
Isaac Carlisle
♫ mura masa feat. A$AP ROCKY - love$ick
It was true, Heather was a very attractive woman. Isaac couldn’t deny that maybe once or twice in the past he’d considered going there, but ultimately, he thought her worth higher than an overnighter and a cab home the next morning. He acknowledged her power and status because he had witnessed it grow over a number of years alongside his own; though, make no mistake, he didn’t believe she had surpassed him. He saw the two of them as equals; both high-status socialites that most other students would recognise from a distance.

Isaac led the way as they both entered the house. It was a grand building, guaranteed, but nothing tremendously impressive. The music pounded aggressively, and small cliques of people fumbled through the spaces with drinks in hand. Isaac was surprised; it had been a considerable while since he’d attended a party where anyone was invited. Heather stood out amongst the others, granted. Her jewelled red dress sparkled delicately under the swooping lights, while her eyes glanced about the room from under stern eyebrows. Okay, he thought, try to convey some type of excitement, Heather. It wasn’t there usual crowd, but they’d passed up the San Fran bash to be there, so they might as well attempt a meagre amount of enthusiasm.

“Right,” Isaac began, wringing his hands together. He turned to the brunette, eyebrows raised. “A drink, I think?”
code by valen t.
 






Ashton West


A party was... listen, it was just what she needed. It was a night to get out of the house, to get out of her head, and to just kind of try to forget everything that had been going on. You know, the breakup with Trevor, the whole him basically falling off the face of the earth, his whole existence from her life being wiped away so cleanly that she was almost convinced he'd been nothing but some kind of nightmare that she'd dreamed up.

Obviously, unfortunately, there was no truth to that, so instead, she found herself continually trying to pick up the pieces of herself and put them back together. But there was something wrong, because the pieces weren't fitting together, and no matter how hard she tried to slip back to the person she'd been before... everything, she couldn't. It was like there was something stopping her, or something gripping her hand and holding her back.

And, well, a good portion of that -- of all these feelings -- was probably due to the whole not sleeping thing. She'd tried what felt like everything, but every night, she'd find herself staring up at the ceiling in her bed, unable to fall asleep. Sure, she'd maybe sleep for a few minutes here or there, but her dreams were plagued with nightmares, and she'd wake up with her heart pounding and adrenaline pumping through her veins. Any attempts to sleep past that would be useless, so she'd actually found herself doing something that she pretty much never did.

She was writing.

Or, like, trying to write -- songs or whatever.

It wasn't going great. She was terrible at it.

So then she'd find herself unable to sleep once more, but with nothing to occupy her, and no way to try and safely release the feelings that were filling her. And yeah... Ash had kind of started drinking even more -- if that was possible -- and she'd... maybe... turned towards smoking some weed. She wasn't great at the whole smoking thing, though, so she mostly just did the whole edibles business.

She'd thought it might help her get some rest.

It didn't.

And now, here she was, at the New Year's Eve party. And she'd done some, like, talking or whatever -- popping around between people, trying to get some kind of fun out of the night, but...

Yeah, it wasn't really working.

She was in the middle of getting another drink, however, when lo and behold, that Ryder dude spoke, pulling her attention away from the vodka (surprise) that she'd been pouring into her cup.

"How come every time I see you, you're drinking?" he asked.

Ash, with a force smile pressed on her lips, gave a shrug of her shoulders as she placed the bottle of vodka back on the counter. Her hand went to rest on the table, to provide some support for the already somewhat inebriated girl, and then she took a sip of the clear liquid.

Disgusting. Burning its way down her throat.

Perfect.

"I don't know," she responded as she placed the cup back on the table. "Because it's a party? Like, how else would you celebrate the ending of this stupid year?"

Well, there were probably plenty of much better ways, but drinking was a good enough option for her.

"Plus you can't even talk. Who, like, brings a freaking bottle of vodka to a freaking school event, like, that's just stupid." She retorted, although if it had any bite... probably not really.




mood
ahahaha

location
NYE party

outfit
clothes





playing...
I Need Some Sleep
by Eels​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Ryder

tags
a z u l a a z u l a


º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: Everything is nice, but I do have problems.

OUTFIT: Blue t-shirt and black pants.

LOCATION: The NYE party (Wherever people danced)
basics
MENTIONS:
Nikolai

INT:
hery hery (Callum).
tags
TL;DR Life is weird, and Oates wants to get drunk because of it.
tl;dr
oates


The floor was a bus stop. It was firm and in one place, a little painful to sit at, but still somewhere where he could rest without feeling the world around him spinning. Bubbling air inside the room was the bus. It liked to move, dance around Oates’ skin in a rushed manner, take turns, speed up and then slow down suddenly without any reason to; all in hopes of making him dizzy and unaware of his surroundings; in hopes of taking him on a journey he never wanted, or needed.

It was funny, actually, how he never noticed air when he was sober, not in this way, at least. Maybe it was the air that was making him dizzy, that made him sit at the bus stop in the first place. Well, no, it definitely wasn’t the air. It was the humidity inside the room that made it hard to breathe, the excessive amount of alcohol running through his veins that made it hard to think—that at the same time made everything seem funnier than it actually was.

That’s why he was laughing when he fell, and continued laughing after he fell and the song ended before continuing onto the next one. That’s why he didn’t notice Nikolai leaving when they did, or Callum taking the cup from his hands, chugging down the remaining of the alcohol.

He was on the floor, sitting, laughing, ignoring the pain in his pelvis, and the rude comments his boyfriend made. For one, two, and then three seconds. After that came four, and then five, which is when he would expel the air from his lungs and try and breathe in again, moistness struggling to enter his lungs, and, in turn, him struggling to supply his brain with enough oxygen to function and process information given to him.

He could feel the fun part of alcohol becoming yesterday, and the not-so-fun part slowly becoming today, instead of tomorrow. It was funny, how time worked. It really didn’t make sense, and at the same time, it made total sense. But the curly-haired boy simply couldn’t grasp it at the moment, so he laughed, and then laughed, and then stopped. Breath in, and then more laughing ensued.

Like said, he couldn’t really grasp time at the moment, so he didn’t really know how long his laughing followed before he spoke, looking up at his boyfriend. “Do what? I’m just having fun. Haha!” He could’ve easily looked into that question to find so many more laying underneath, but he really didn’t have the strength to do that at the moment. “It’s okay, don’t be sad, you can get drunk too! You’re not really missing out on anything, you know.”

Before he knew what was happening, the curly-haired boy was up on his feet, and they felt more like rubber than ever before. He made a step forward, and then another one, and slowly he was getting the hang of it, but ever-in-a-while he had to have hold onto the slightly-taller boy next to him, just so he wouldn’t end up at the bus stop again. He understood that Callum must have been annoyed with him, but Callum was always annoyed with him, and even now, two years later, they were still going strong.

“No.” He stopped in his attempt to walk, and held onto Callum while protesting his words. “I don’t wanna go. I’m having fun.” He put his finger onto Callum’s nose. “Boop.”

He then hugged his boyfriend tight, leaning onto him for support, burying his head into the other boy’s shoulder, hoping it would shield him from the room spinning; from the air’s next attempt. It felt weirdly similar to when they danced not long ago, which was why he started slowly swinging left before swinging right, but only ever-so-slightly. “I think I’m gonna vomit.” He muttered out into the other boy’s shirt, barely audibly, but hopeful that the other boy heard it.
code by valen t.
 






Kian Phelan




filler



filler



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  • home (filler tab)


































Lustra



Scotty Doesn't Know








Look, everyone knows that Kian isn’t exactly the most… eloquent fellow. Frequently stumbling over his words, running his mouth, saying stupid shit he’d regret in fifteen minutes. Yeah, that was Kian’s whole facade. But this? This was a new level of awkwardness that Kian was entirely unfamiliar with.

There he was, standing at a party that he didn’t really want to be at, talking to the guy that he had tried desperately to avoid since their little run-in during Winter Ball while a heavy cloud of ‘what the fuck’ hung over them in a tangible haze. Yeah, this was weird. Real weird. Maybe it was the lack of the drugs talking or maybe it was just a genetically equipped social alarm bell ringing in his head but something, something ridiculously loud, was screaming get the fuck out of here before you combust into a ball of awkward flame.

At least Auguste was answering questions now. That was the beginning of a conversation, there was something to work with now.

“I am… slowly creating a new ballet routine. The exact opposite of the tap dancing, yeah? More… angsty. It’s supposed to be ehm… like… the love-hate relationship with passion.” Kian nodded. Yes, ballet, something of which he was very well versed in. Yes. Dancing. Tappy, tappy toes. “I ehm, I compose in my free time. So I’m thinking of choreographing to one of the songs I compose. It’s… It’s a fun hobby-”

Kian perked up slightly. Yes, music, now that was something that he ACTUALLY knew something about. Total win for the whole conversation if he was being real. Now Auguste was speaking his language.

“How is your music going? I hear you lose a member recently… to-to your band, that is.” Kian cringed. Right, his lovely band member. He had elected never to think about this person ever again, leaving the drama far, far, faaaaaaaaaaaar in the past. Kian was a different person now, better than that petty shit. “That-That is… ehm.. What are you thinking about doing next?”

Another win for the conversation. Auguste read the room and changed the subject. Kian, in all of his ‘I gotta get out of here’ glory, was almost proud. He could’ve shed a tear of his eyes weren’t so damn dry from being bored to fucking tears.

“Oh, uh, well, we got a new member. A little jazzy guy named Fondue. Well, not Fondue, but we call him Fondue. Jazzy little fellow, I do like him.” Kian spoke with conviction. Right, nothing says friendliness quite like describing a dude named after cheese. “And uh, ya know, music stuff. I’m working on a new song actually. It’s pretty good I think, we’re going to record it next week.”

Another awkward silence. Quick, escape!

“Hey uh I gotta jet, my, um, friend is over there waving me down.” Kian excused himself politely, praying that the oversized human didn’t turn his head to check. “I’ll, uh, see you around, yeah?”

With a friendly nod, Kian extended his fist in true bro solidarity. And he waited…

And waited…

And waited…

Tap.

Auguste’s open hand gently clapped the back of Kian’s fist. No, take back everything Kian thought before. THAT was the singular most awkward thing in the conversation. Finger guns and a friendly little ‘pew pew’ towards Auguste, Kian made a quick break and rushed into the crowd.

Finally. He was free-

Fuck.

Oh shit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Damien.

Kian considered turning around and running, just as he had during Winter Ball. They hadn’t talked since they went total apeshit on each other and honestly, Kian was starting to be okay with it all. Damien clearly wanted nothing to do with him and maybe it was better that way.

Fuck. They just made eye contact.

Kian took a deep breath. Fuck it, if he was going to get punched in the face again, he might as well go down with some fucking dignity. Adjusting his shirt with a shrug of his shoulders, Kian walked over. His body was tense, eyes trained on the ground for a decent amount of time until finally, he managed to lift his gaze to meet Damien’s.

“Hi,” Kian spoke bluntly, his internal alarm bells for face punching danger screaming out in his head, “how, uh, how’re you doing?”





♡coded by uxie♡
 
Evelyn Sinclaire
@ s i n c l a i r e
bitch manor
fit deetz here
nathan
tags: Winona Winona

To be fair, Evie should've seen it coming. Nate agreeing with Mike wasn't exactly a big shocker especially considering their friendship. Anyone who knew Evie knew that loyalty was something she admired even if it didn't play in her favor. Still, that didn't mean that she didn't think he was wrong because...well, he was.

Gen could push a little too far sometimes, sure, but so could Mike and he had gone WAY TOO FAR. The douchebag was lucky that he walked away without her five-inch heel stuck in his cheekbone.

Whatever. Nate agreed with Mike. Evie agreed with Gen. No big deal, right?

...Right.

"You're actually taking his side?" she raised a brow as if she was baffled by his choice even though she wasn't. "First off, ruining his career implies he had one to start with which he didn't," she started, a chuckle escaping her rosy lips. "You're telling me that Mike's story is his average dick was the sole cause of Gen's wrath? Please. He is fucking delusional..." -- cue the eye roll -- "You seriously bought that?" a short scoff sounded from her throat.

Gen might have been a bitch and sure, she was just as known to seek revenge as Evie was when she felt hurt or betrayed or wronged. But over a rejection from Mike fucking Reid? Get real. "Gen isn't the problem here, Mike CLEARLY is," Evie spat, her hands crossing over her chest.

Maybe Nate was right though. Honestly, Evie wouldn't know. It wasn't exactly like she'd kept up with Gen in the last few weeks so she hadn't gotten a front-row seat for all the tea, but Nate, he kinda did. After all, he was friends with Mike and while Evie was certain Mike's side of things was clouded with his own ego and shit, that didn't mean it wasn't at least somewhat true.

No of that mattered though. Even if Gen WAS in the wrong, it wouldn't have shifted Evie's urge to defend her. Not after she had just watched Mike fucking insult and embarrass the model in a fucking public setting like that.

"Did you forget about when he fucked her ex-girlfriend without a second thought? Friends don't do that shit. Paired with who know what other shady shit he did. I'm convinced that whatever Mike got, he damn well deserved. Besides, it's not Gen's fault he can dish out bullshit but he can't take it when someone pushes back," she continued on.

It was true though. What kind of a fucking baby cried whenever he got fucked with back? Mike. He put on this douche-y, tough guy facade but apparently it was all just to hide how weak he really was. Typical.

"If he's really that much of a pussy he wasn't gonna make it out here anyways, so I'd argue she was simply doing him a favor," Evie added with a shrug.

coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:






Avery Ohtani



Bella was looking for him.

Normally, learning that a friend was looking for him would have Avery bouncing on his heels, wringing his hands and craning his neck to see whether they had arrived.

At this very moment, he was wringing his hands and craning his neck to see whether she had found him yet but the bounce was absent and his stomach was a pit of knots.

The last two times he had seen Bella had gone badly. Very badly.

Just recalling what he did made him want to run out of the party venue there and then before she could find him.

She said she wanted to talk and that everything was ok but her reassurances over text didn’t help.

What did she want to talk about? Why did she want to talk?

Was she going to scold him? Tell him she didn’t accept his awful apology from before? Or, or was she going to end their friendship?

The drumming of Avery’s fingers on the cup of punch he had been handed increased with each thought and he downed the liquid in a single shot, almost choking on the strong burning sensation it left in his throat. The gas in the drink was almost overwhelming and despite the extra ice he’d added to his cup, it wasn’t helping to cool him down at all.

If anything, he could feel himself getting hotter, almost like his blood was on fire. Maybe it was because of the crowd, there were a ton of people who had shown up for the party and the place was so packed there wasn’t much room separating him from the nearest person.

He wasn’t sweating or smelling right?

That would just make things worse when Bella showed. Maybe he really ought to just head home and send her an apology message, but then that would be really rude and he didn’t want to offend her anymore than he already had, but he –

Well, there wasn’t much point to his debate anymore because across the room, walking through the crowd towards him was Bella.

Ready or not, she was here and feeling the need to do something and distract himself from what was about to happen and the heat that was suffocating his already scrambled thoughts, Avery grabbed another nearby cup of punch and tossed it back, wiping away the tears that formed because of the burn and tossing the cup into the bin before turning back to await her arrival.





mood
Hepl!

location
NYE party

outfit
fancy fancy fancy





playing...
song title here

by artist here​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Bella

tags
geminiy geminiy


º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:






Ezra Gray




filler



filler



filler



filler



filler



filler






  • home (filler tab)


































hozier



movement









Oh yeah, this was a new brand of fucking weird, even for Ezra. Chas Marino, the little angry Italian with a perfection complex, was absolutely hammered in front of him on the couch.

"What do you want?" Chas’s voice asked while his body seemed to melt into the couch, leaving Ezra standing wildly concerned and with lips mildly parted in confusion. Wow, what a dick. Then Chas, in his drunken glory, switched the hell up as his hand reached out to pat the seat beside him. "Good evening, Ezra Gray. Enjoying the party?"

Ezra’s eyes drifted between Chas and where his hand had met the couch, eventually making the executive decision to stay standing. No, he was not getting covered in another rich kid’s alcohol vomit. That was not about to happen, Ezra’s shirt was far too expensive for that. Instead, Ezra’s strong arms crossed over his chest as he continued staring the boy down, mind reeling as he made a desperate attempt to figure out what he was going to do about this situation.

He and Chas were far from being close friends and normally, that would mean that Ezra would take absolutely zero responsibility for this. Normally, he would wish the little drunk a good night and screw off to go find someone hot to entertain him. Instead, Ezra found himself unable to move, stuck in place as he watched Chas’s spiral.

"So where's tonight's bimbo, supermodel date, big guy?" Chas’s voice asked, his words slipping into an intoxicated slur. "Everybody knows the expectation is to loudly swap spit when the clock strikes midnight."

Ezra couldn’t help but laugh slightly at this, his shoulders shaking gently with the force. “Yeah, I think I’ll take a strong pass. I’m not really in a ‘makeout with a stranger’ sort of mood. Besides,” Ezra took a small swig from the cup in his hands, “parties like this are fuckin’ stupid. No offense, I just don’t like holidays.”

Yikes, a little too deep. Luckily for Ezra, Chas seemed to be paying little attention as his head began to crane and his body began to twist, torso hanging over the back of the couch as he looked for something. Precious, the family’s tiny yappy dog. Ezra had seen pictures before.

"Hey, have you seen Precious? Sorry!" Chas was laughing, so heavily in fact that it seemed that the poor dude had laughed his throat hoarse and his lungs out of breath. "I'm sorry. Seriously, wh-where is Adriane? Where are my friends?"

Ezra cringed slightly. How in the hell was he supposed to know that? There were swarms of people in every damn room of the house, how was he supposed to know where two random girls were? And on top of that, who else would be considered a friend to Chas? He seemed to have more enemies than companions at this point.

“I don’t know, man.” Ezra spoke calmly, taking a brief pause to look around the room. Nope, nowhere to be seen. “Hey, do you want some water or something? You seem pretty out of it. Wouldn’t want you upchucking on those overly shiny shoes, now would we?” Ezra reached out a hand for Chas’s cup, an empty hand held out for the boy to forfeit his drink. “At the very least, you should stop drinking.”





♡coded by uxie♡
 

MOOD: ...

OUTFIT:
Just somethin'
​
INFO

LOCATION:
NYE party

WITH: N/A

MENTION: Gen, Evie, Adri, Nickie, Nate, Callum, Oates, Ronnie, Auguste, Josie​
ACTIVITY
@everyoneig, just look at the mentions smh.
TAGS
Livanna Moore
—Medicine



TW: it’s a long post, and not spoiled since the entire thing could be a trigger. Implied mention of SA, HEAVY substance abuse, & more, but I'm not that smart and can't think of all of them, it's just not a great thing to read. only read if you think you can handle it.

written in collaboration with, ohdittoh ohdittoh jasmyn jasmyn & geminiy geminiy : )


• • • • •​

“I—“

Adriane’s words continued to hit their mark with every insult, Liv had nothing else to say but to stare at her— but not shocked at her words.

It was more of…

A slow realization that she was right.

‘You’re a leech.’

‘You’re pathetic.’

‘You’re nothing.’

Tears pooled in her eyes and Liv took a stuttered breath, watching her leave.

It was like everything else around her was white noise, she heard Adriane mutter a… `see you around, unfortunately.’

Of course, Liv’s head had to make sure if she had any more ammunition to use against herself.

Her words hurt, yeah.

But it was nothing against everything that was happening in Liv’s brain.

Everything that kept repeating over and over, every single sentence was another reason why she shouldn’t of came to this party in this first place, every little thought that convinced herself that she wasn’t enough—

But no, it wasn’t about being enough.

Liv’s goal was never to be enough. It was just… to mean something.

Anything.

And the truth was?

She didn’t.

Not to Adriane, not to Ronnie, not to Callum, not to Oates, not to Josie, not to Auguste, not to Evie, not to Nickie, not to Nate.

…

And hell, on bad days— not to Gen either.

Everyone she associated herself with had always turned a blind eye towards her whenever something— no, anything else came up.

Her breathing quickened and Liv felt like the walls of the penthouse started to close in on her, like she was slowly being suffocated by being near all of these people simply being near here.

Like she was being judged without being looked at, like all eyes were on her despite them not giving a care in the world about her.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. The interaction with Nickie felt like it was days ago and she was stumbling her way through the penthouse with a champagne bottle in hand.

Nickie, Nickie, Nickie.

Itty-bitty, blue eyed beauty, Nickie.

She messed it up! She messed it up, she messed it up.

Another friendship down the drain, another waste of—

How could she have been so stupid?

The memory flashed through her head, replaying every word that they said to each other, every little mistake Liv had made.

• • • • •​

“Happy almost new year! You look super-dee-freaking gorgeous? Tell me your secret, Is your muse your bestest friend ever?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure, you can tell yourself that.” Nickie's smile was different, it looked... forced, strained.

A silence fell and Liv’s heart quickened, pounding against her chest. For what reason? No, it wasn’t because she liked Nickie so much that being around her made her nervous.

Despite how she was feeling, she began to question that fact once Nickie took a hold of her wrist and her eyes flitted to the contact.

Nickie smiled.

This time, Liv tried and failed to match it with one of her own, and both girls smiles’ dropped.

“Hey, uhm… Can we…uh, talk or something? Like…go somewhere? I just…I need to talk to you.” She glanced around. “In…like, in private.”

Was something wrong?

Did she know?

Maybe she caught on to the longing stares that took Liv a while to catch onto herself.

Maybe she noticed the way Liv tried hard enough to make her smile with unnecessary compliments and idiotic antics, realizing that…

Liv didn’t just like her as a friend.

Part of her was panicking.

It felt like the walls of the penthouse were closing in on her and any second now, Liv would have a panic attack.

End up a puddle on the floor and the talk of the party in the worst way possible.

The other part of her almost felt relieved, that Nickie might’ve found out. But it was being entirely suppressed.

“Yeah.”

Yeah. We can talk.

Liv glanced around the party, a last glance at Nickie’s hand on her wrist before she led her off somewhere private.

Some of the doors were locked, but somehow they just wound up in someone’s bedroom. Doesn’t matter whose it was, as long as they had privacy?

Liv wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to talk about.

The door shut quietly and Liv leaned her body against it, fiddling with her hands and glancing up at Nickie.

“Um… is everything okay?”

Liv watched Nickie carefully, her gaze darting on every slight movement she made.

She knew.

Okay. It was fine though— because Liv could just explain to her that it wasn’t like that, that whatever feelings she was feeling was probably just her brain messing with her.

She couldn’t lose her.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s…everything’s fine, I’m…just…”

…

“Nickie…” Liv started, struggling to find the words to say as the silence between them began to grow, and her heart began to pound against her chest.

Nickie took a step towards her, Liv blinked in surprise, immediately becoming aware of their proximity, which wasn’t all that close at this moment— but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freaking her out.

She prepared herself to come up with a string of excuses, or for Nickie to straight up ask—

‘Do you like me?’

Yes.

Fuck.

No!

no.

No, Nickie I don’t like you..

I love Gen.

True, but… she still liked Nickie. Liv didn’t understand it, either, okay?

She felt like she was spiraling. Like there were so many thoughts going through her head at once and she couldn’t focus on one long enough to muster up the words to speak.

But Nickie did.

“You got any cocaine? I’m, like, fresh out…or, like, down to…”

Liv blinked.

“You got any more?”

And again.

Did she just hear that correctly?

When did…

That’s…

Nickie’s never used! Liv would know, unless… it’s been happening and she just hasn’t noticed. How could she not notice?

“When did you start…”

Her first instinct was to say, ‘yeah, I know a guy.’

But she didn’t want to say that.

She…

She wasn’t an addict. She wasn’t.

But Liv knew how much it could ruin for her if Nickie ever became one, would it be hypocritical?

Yes.

Ultimately, yes.

“I can’t— I won’t help you, Nicks. That’s…” Liv placed a hand on top of hers, calming her hand from shaking, still feeling the slight vibration from Nickie’s.

Liv couldn’t believe she was telling someone drugs were bad.

But Nickie was the only person Liv felt like she could be around sober. Maybe it was her being selfish— but she never wanted that to change.

“Cocaine is some serious stuff, like… really….”

It wasn’t her thing.

She’s done it before, with Nate— of course.

She just preferred opioids.

“I just— I just can’t, this stuff sent Nate to rehab! And I know he’s not the greatest friend sometimes, but I don’t—“

I don’t want to lose you, either.

I don’t want you to hate me, too.

Liv took a moment, her lips thinning.

Her heart still pounded and stumbled over beats, and she felt her body stutter from the palpitations. “Give me the drugs.” Liv removed her hand from Nickie’s slowly, watching her reaction with cautious eyes.

“Drugs isn’t your…”

How pathetic would she sound if she said drugs weren’t your thing?

“It’s not you.”

“What?” Nickie repeated, and then again, “What?” She laughed, stepping away from Liv, who’s expression grew concerned by the second.

“What?”

“Not me, Liv? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She didn’t say anything, she just listened and watched Nickie in her own, very high state.

Hypocrite.

That’s what she was being.

But Livanna couldn’t help it, she knew what it was like– the craving to… not for drugs, but to feel… anything else than what she was feeling. Although with prolonged use, it kind of…

She knew she wasn’t, or like, maybe it wasn’t possible or something, but it felt like she became immune to the drugs effects. Liv was far from immune, but it just didn’t give her that… peace anymore.

And yet, she still used.

She still tried and hoped every time that it’d help. Despite whatever it was that Liv was feeling, whatever the fuck she was going through at this moment, she couldn’t let her best friend do this to herself.

Liv couldn’t let Nickie… become– be, something that she wasn’t.

A user, an addict, a pathetic waste of air that everyone hated to be around unless they needed something, quick to use and so simple to throw away.

She couldn’t let that happen.

“You’re not my fucking mom, Liv, and you can leave Tittypecs out of this. I’m not giving you my shit.”

Liv swallowed, leaning her head against the door, her eyelashes fluttering closed for a few seconds before she rubbed at her face. Nate & Nickie were two, very different people. They only had one thing in common.

“Look, I just…need some help here, okay? So just gimme it, alright?”

Liv considered both a best friend at some point.

It was often overlooked how close she was to Nate, he taught her everything she knew– maybe he’s the one who got her into drugs in the first place, but it was more than that.

She wouldn’t be where she is today if it wasn’t for him.

…

Liv didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

But the point here was, when Nate went to rehab, Gen left to Italy. Liv didn’t have anyone– and when Nate was forced to leave to get better, it hurt.

Because she didn’t know it was a big enough problem for him to leave and maybe if Liv had figured it out sooner, maybe he wouldn’t have left.

Maybe they’d still be close.

So, here she was– an addict in the flesh, telling someone else that they shouldn’t use because it was dangerous, because it was for the best while she was on two different opioids and could barely keep her eyes open.

She was telling Nickie this.

“I am helping you. Just trust me. It’s…” Liv opened her eyes, sighing through her words.

Not worth it.

It only helps until you wake up the next morning, alone and sober.

Suddenly, with a burst of energy– or what it seemed like, agitation. Her voice raised and her arms extended outwards.

“I– It’s a bandaid, it doesn’t fix things!”

The other girl flinched at the sudden raise of Liv's voice, but she didn't do anything besides that.

Her gaze softened and she took another step closer to Nickie.

“just… talk to me, tell me what’s wrong, I can help.”

Nickie’s voiced raised in return and Liv shrunk.

“You can fucking help, by giving me fucking drugs, Liv!”

The shorter girl flinched just as Nickie did moments ago, swallowing. Of course it’d end up like this, right?

“I don’t want to fucking talk – there’s nothing to fucking talk about, Liv!”

All Liv had to do was hand her drugs.

Like she did with Nate.

"This is why no one sticks around you, ya know? You don't give anyone what they want. Selfish."

What they did— what she did that night was a mistake. Nothing good came from it and now she was keeping a secret that could ruin her friendship with Evie.

She couldn’t make that same mistake again.

…

And what if she just left?

What if Nickie just said, okay Liv— fine, we’re not friends anymore because I trusted you when I needed you most, I trusted you enough to ask.’

…

And you said, no.

What if she did that?


“Goddamn it, I asked you this because I fucking trust you! What, you’re too good for fucking drugs now, Liv? I fucking stole my first ones from you.”

…

The admission from Nickie made Liv stand a little straighter, something in her gaze switching from sympathy to guilt ever-so-quickly and a pit began to burrow in her stomach.

Who was she kidding? Liv was hardly a best friend, let alone a decent one.

Give her what she wants.

Just—

No. No, no, no, no, n—

“No, Nickie— jesus— you’re too good for drugs, okay?!” Tears began to swell up in Liv’s eyes and her hands fell to her sides with a small thud.

“Forget me, I’m— I—“ Liv’s voice broke and she struggled to collect herself as the words in her head filled in the blanks.

A walking trainwreck.

A junkie.

A lowlife.

An addict.

“A…”

The word slowly but surely came to her, and she spat them out.

…

“A one hit wonder.”

She…

Maybe Liv didn’t deserve better, her goal was never to get better. It was always for Gen— or… for her parents who didn’t even know she was using.

But every time she even came close to it, she’s never even had a real reason to ‘get better.’

Liv just couldn’t sit here and supply Nickie with getting worse.

She wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

She couldn’t let Nickie become her.

“You’re worth so much more than what you think you are, and I just can’t let you make the same mistakes that I did, because if you want the truth, I’m high out of my mind right now and the only thing that’s making me feel grounded right now, is… you.”

“Me? What the hell do you mean, it’s me? I’m fucking making you feel grounded? You’re not making any fucking sense, Liv.”

She probably wasn’t, if anything the only thing that probably made sense was when Liv said, ‘I’m high out of my mind right now.’

But she didn’t care.

Tonight was such a… sudden realization of what she was, who she was, what she was worth. Why was she trying so hard?

“Liv, I don’t know what the hell you’re saying – do you even know what the hell you’re saying. I mean, like, seriously, just give me my shit so I can go.”

”So I can go.”

She was leaving either way, drugs or no drugs.

Nate’s words kept ringing in her head on repeat.

This is why no one sticks around you, ya know?

You never give anyone what they want.

Selfish.

It piled on in his voice, although it wasn’t his words.

Loser.

Idiotic.

Slut.

A waste of fucking breath.

And finally, Adriane’s voice continued to shame her.

Do us all a favor and go overdose or something.

“What, are you trying to give me a fucking confession right now? Just – just give me the drugs, Liv. I’m your best friend.”

A confession.

She wanted to laugh.

Cry, maybe.

But instead, Liv just stared at her, unable to say much of anything.

She wasn’t in love with Nickie, she knew that even while high. But she couldn’t pretend that those feelings weren’t there.

She grew attached to her.

Somebody who didn’t use her, somebody who didn’t hurt her, somebody who was willing to just fuckin’ … be there for her.

And those feelings sprouted just as quickly as the first time Nickie smiled at her. But none of that mattered now, did it?

Liv spoke quietly despite the raise of Nickie’s voice, taking a few steps in her direction so they were face-to-face.

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I’m not giving you drugs… even if it means you won’t be my best friend anymore.”

A tear fell and Liv quickly wiped it away, but Nickie had probably noticed anyway.

And if that didn’t matter much, why would this?

“You deserve better, anyway.”

She swallowed, hesitating for the slightest moment before Liv pressed her lips against Nickie’s.

She didn’t think about it.

She didn’t think how she’d feel about it.

All she knew is that… she ruined this already.

…

What was one more mistake?

Nickie froze, stiffening and broke the kiss barely seconds after it happened.

“Fine, take what you fucking wanted.”

She threw the bag at her, and Liv flinched as it fell to the ground.

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn’t let them fall in front of Nickie.

“Nickie, I—“

“J-Just leave me the fuck alone,” she demanded, as tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she shot one last glance at Liv over her shoulder – one last furious, hurt glance at Liv – before letting her shaking legs carry her out of the door.

…

• • • • •​

She didn’t want to think about it, but it was hard not to do when it kept replaying over and over in her head as if she could’ve done something different— which she could’ve, Liv was just counting her mistakes.

Her heart ached, her stomach twisted and churned, her brain wouldn’t stop running and somehow, Liv couldn’t stop walking.

Tears were flowing, mascara was running, Liv looked like a complete mess.

Probably because she was.

She stumbled through the hallway and bumped into a few people, not bothering to mutter a sorry, and the looks she was given were filled with minor anger and confusion, although they probably just made the assumption that Liv had too much to drink.

She just needed to leave.

She couldn’t let Gen see her like this.
I'm leaving, i dont wanna be here anymorw i’m sorry


wait is everything okay? I was just about to come and find you. I got caught up with some jerkhole in fashion who thinks this party is a free invitation to ask me for fucking career advice

please stay

i messed everything up gen imsostpid

liv calm down. What’s going on?


She was—

Liv bumped into yet another person and she winded up dropping the bottle of champagne, it shattering across the marble tile, thankfully a few feet away from them. Liv muttered a sorry and she wasn’t going to say much of anything to them until she looked up to realize who the person was.

Evie.

Her breath caught in her throat and Liv lowered her phone, staring at the taller girl for a little bit too long before she spat the words out.

“I’m so sorry, Evie.”

For everything.

• • • • •​

Evie needed to get out of here. She didn’t know where she was going and honestly she didn’t really care. All she knew was if she stayed here the next person to get in her way was gonna wish damn well she hadn’t because chances were that Evie was gonna take out all the night’s anger on them without a second thought.

But of course, Evie couldn’t make it out of this fantastic fucking party without a little more chaos added to the mix so just like that some poor unfortunate soul happened to find itself right in her clutches. Literally.

“Jesus Christ! Would you watch where the fu—“ her words came to a halt as her eyes landed on her soon-to-be victim.

Livanna Moore.

At the realization, her hands instantly softened, retracting the nails from the girl’s shoulder blades as she pulled them away. “Stop apologizing. You didn’t ruin my shoes or anything so I’ll be okay,” she said, holding a hand up as if to stop the girl from rambling.

Luckily for Liv, Evelyn had a soft spot for her so despite the sour mood she wasn’t looking to go ballistic on the singer in front of her. Instead, her eyes scanned over Liv’s frame, noting the mascara smeared across her face and the fact that she looked like she’d just crawled out of the gates of hell.

“What the hell happened to you?” she asked, just before getting a huge whiff of alcohol. “Fuck. Do you need a ride home, Liv?”

• • • • •​

No, no, no, no.

Liv avoided her words, everything she said practically went through one ear and out the other.

She didn’t need a ride home, she didn’t need help, she didn’t need anything from Evie— why’d she offer anyway?

Because they were friends?

They were as much as friends as Liv was with Nate— as Liv was with Nickie and she saw how that turned out.

“I’m so… sorry, Evie. I didn’t know you two were gonna get togetherandImessedupimsosor—“ Liv choked on a sob, wiping away tears frantically.

He made Liv swear not to tell her.

But it’s not like tonight was working out in her favor anyway, so what did it matter?

“Gen and I had a fight…”

Halloween night came in flashes, the argument in the study, the way she felt, the gift Gen had given her, a hand subconsciously flew to the locket around her neck.

“He asked for drugs… and I said no at firstIsaidit, Isaidit, but he said that’s why nobodyeversta— I didn’t wanna be alone… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a whore, I’m a slut— I’m the worst fucking friend ever and I’m so sorry I’m so sorry.”

Tears started to flow again and Liv shook her head, looking at the brunette through a watery gaze.

“I’m so sorry.”

Those were the last words Liv said before brushing past Evie, before she could say anything else or have the mind to take her home.

She couldn’t be near her either.

• • • • •​

Great. Cue the tears and more apologizing and...what the fuck was Liv even rambling on about anyway? Why the fuck did Evie always get stuck in the weirdest situations at the worst fucking times? She didn’t ask for this shit.

Still, she stood with her arms crossed over her chest as she attempted to decipher the young girl's rant. None of it made even a little bit of sense but something about the way Liv was sobbing as she spilled her guts made it seem sincere as opposed to random, drunk babbling.

"Slow down... What fight? Who asked for drugs?" she asked, trying to get the girl to spit out something that made more sense. And then kinda she did, at least enough of something for Evie to piece it together. "Wait, are you telling me you did drugs with Nate?" she questioned. "When the fuck did this happen, Liv? How long has this– Are you still doing drugs with him?" she spat out each question way too quickly, one after the other.

Evie just wanted answers though and she was too fucking pissed to realize that there was no way she was getting them out of a very crossfaded Liv. Not tonight.

"...I didn’t wanna be alone… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a whore, I’m a slut—"

A whore? A slut? What the hell was she even... Jesus fucking christ. Did he fucking cheat on her with Liv?! But at the realization that the singer mentioned not knowing she and Nate would end up together, that thought left as quickly as it had presented itself in her mind.

Still. That bastard had the nerve to lie to her face? To sneak around doing drugs with Liv of all people? The whole time she was out here defending him to anyone who tried to talk about his past mistakes with drug use, he was out here making her look stupid. No wonder he agreed with Mike…the assholes were two of a fucking kind.

"Livanna, wait!" she called out as the smaller girl suddenly pulled away and began to disappear into the crowd of party-goes. "Bloody hell..." Evie let out, shaking her head in disbelief before turning on her heels and going towards the door. Sure, she could’ve gone after Liv, and maybe she should’ve but she was just so fucking over this night.

Fuck Nathan. Fuck Mike. Fuck Chas and his roomates and their ridiculously awful New Years' Eve party. Fuck all of this. Evelyn was going home.

• • • • •​

Wait.

She had asked her to wait.

For what? To be yelled at again? To be scolded? To be used? To have every hateful word that Evie could come up with in that moment spat at her?

It was deserved, it was so fucking deserved.

But Liv… was tired.

She was tired of being yelled at, she was tired of ruining things, she was tired of arguments, fake friends and complicated relationships when she’s never wanted any of that!

But it didn’t matter, everything she’d done was done.

Every relationship, every friendship, every choice— even the choice that led to Nick.

It was her fault.

Everything was ruined, fucked, however you’d put it in a negative way, that’s what it was.

The real reason why she ran away from Evie is because she was scared.

Of what?

Everything.

Everyone.

It was easier said than done not to think about everything that’s happened, not to believe or give in to what others thought about you, what you’ve done, who you’ve hurt.

Liv was filled with self-hatred, guilt, hurt— and she was so fucking tired of it all, she was so much more than just tired…

Liv was fucking terrified.

She wound up in a bathroom, slamming the door shut and she had trouble catching her breath, tears were falling and there was no way she’d be able to stop them and she pulled up her phone to see a string of messages from Gen and guilt began to boil in her stomach once again.

Everyone hates me

liv no one hates you

please just stay. I’ll come get you, we’ll get out of here, go someplace quiet away from this bullshit

Tell her.

It's only a matter of time until she switches up on you, too.

Tell her.

i kissed nickie

Liv took a stuttered breath, leaning her back against the door, trying and failing to hold back her sobs.
i'm sorry

i still love you

She's done with you. That's it. You fucked it up.

You destroyed it, again.

Again.

Did you really think--

it’s okay. We aren’t…

The voice momentarily stopped and Liv actually allowed herself to breathe, looking down at the message.
I don’t know but it’s okay. it happens. I’ve kissed people too. Please just let me come help you

She's lying.

It's a trickitsatrickitsatrickitsatrick--

"No, no, she--"

You really think she's just going to come in here and hold you? No. You're high. You're drunk. You look like a complete fucking mess.

She'd just tell you how much you fucked up.

im sorry

It's okay. stop apologizing, you didn't do anything wrong

She's lying. You know she's lying.

You wouldn't feel this way if you didn't do anything wrong.

im so sorry

Liv sent the reply and threw her phone on the counter harshly, narrowly missing the mirror.

Her fingers grasped the strands on the top of her hair tightly as that lump in her throat worsened, how it somehow hurt more that she was holding back. “Stop, stop, stop, please, please, please, plea—“ Her voice broke into a sob and she caught sight of her blotchy, tear-stained reflection.

Nobody wants you, nobody even cares about you.

She’s right, y’know.

A wannabe.

You want to be successful, you want to be attended to, how fucking sad is that? you want love? Oh, come on Liv.

A one hit wonder.

That’s what you are, there isn’t a point to it, there isn’t really a point to any of it.

There’s no end goal, you’re not one of those people.

Life would’ve been easier if you were.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” The lump in her throat worsened and Liv let out a scream— not a loud one, it was like… a squeal.

It was forced out with a sudden aggression, a sudden rage and anger pointed towards herself.

Although it came out as a pained whimper than anything else, drowned out by the loud music that suddenly came to a stop.

The doorknob jiggled and Liv set to lock it, the house went quiet for all but a second before people were chanting the last minute to the new year.

She took deep breaths, they came out ragged and pained from her chest aching. They came out in heaves and her hands were shaking.

Her stomach felt empty and her heart was pounding.

‘You’re a leech.’

‘You’re pathetic.’

‘You’re nothing.’

’This is why no one sticks around you, ya know?’

“Nobodynobodynobod—she was right, he’s right, they’re right. You’re right.”

She was high, she was drunk, and with each passing second it felt like Liv was losing herself more and more, and when she finally calmed herself down, the tears stopped.

She didn’t recognize her reflection.

She was stained, blotchy— yet pale, pupils dilated and eyes swollen from crying.

’You’re a trainwreck.’

You’re a whore.

A waste of breath who ruins everything.

And that’s why they always leave. Not because of what you did, but…

“Because…” A drunken hand waved through the air,

“Of,”

A fist hit the middle of her chest in a slow, but harsh motion as though it’d help the next words that left her lips.

“Me.”

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

She can fix it.

It can fix it. You remember, don’t you?

Liv paused, her gaze shakily moving down and patting her dress down, looking for something and she’d finally reached inside, in the inner corner of her bra to pull out a small bag of cocaine.

Nickie’s.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, the screen shattered and making the texts barely readable, but she chose to ignore it.
liv please

“This’ll fix it.”
where are you?

Not forever,

“No, no, no, it’s… a bandaid. You’reabandaid.” Her words slurred and she sat to open the plastic bag, pouring the whole thing onto the bathroom counter.

And you use bandaids for…

She felt like she was battered, bruised, bleeding, crying, scratched, cut— broken.

So, she set out to attend to her wounds while her head tried harder to convince her.

It helps, it helps, and it helps.
liv? Hello?

This’ll help.

She was fifteen when she first used, when Nate opened that door.

10

She was tired, parties weren’t her thing. Nate pulled out the bag and started making lines on the table, snorting a line gesturing for her to try.

She shook her head.

“I don’t think…”

He gestured again and she shook her head again.

“Trust me.”

She was new to the school, alone, invisible. It was sometime after the first... incident with Nick. Her manager.

She didn’t have anyone else.

Of course she trusted him.

9

Liv looked around the room and found a cup of something, she poured it out into the sink and used the rim of the cup to separate the lines.

She didn’t bother to wipe at the mess on her face, she didn’t have a care in the world for how she looked anymore.

Liv was just focused on… erasing everything. She wanted to be so high that she felt... nothing.

8

She wanted—

She needed to be numb.

Liv didn’t stop at the first line, momentarily pausing and sniffling, rubbing at her eyes before going for another line.

7

Her breathing started to calm, but everything felt heightened, a burst of energy came a few seconds after the second, and her heart accelerated even faster than what it had been before.

It wasn’t helping.

Those thoughts kept going, pressuring her into taking more.

You think they’ll ever talk to you again?

Evie’s done with you, Nickie’s never going to speak to you again, Nate’s gonna hate you when he finds out.

Another line.

6

You think Gen’s actually okay with the fact that you kissed Nickie? No, no, no. It’s a lie. You ruined everything.

Another.

Lost your best friend and the love of your life in one night.

You think it won't happen again? That Nick's done with you? You're lying to yourself.

"Just leave me the fuck alone.” Nickie's voice rang in her ears, switching to Adriane's seconds after.

"After all, why would she want to be with you? Girls like Gen, they like girls with class -- not someone that looks like they just rolled out of the dumpster with a needle sticking out of their arm."

To Nate on Halloween night.

"Selfish."

Each voice took turns doing their torment on Liv.

"You're nothing."

"The only thing people like you do is drag down people with actual talent."

"You're never going to be anything more than a useless junkie."

"Nobody will believe you."

"This is why nobody sticks around you."

5

Liv stumbled, gripping the counter for support, her nose burned and her head hurt.

She was more than at her limit.

She needed to stop.

And you wonder why you have nobody in your corner. Fucking pathetic.

4

Again, the words repeated themselves in a mixture of voices, her head was unable to stick to one.

One more, one more and it’ll stop.

Her eyes shut and her knuckles turned white, leaning down towards the counter, hesitating.

3

This time, it wasn’t Nate’s voice,

It wasn’t Nick's, Adriane’s, or Nickie's.

Not Gen's.

It was her own.

2

Trust me.

…

She didn’t have anyone else.

1.

The last line was barely halfway finished before she heard almost everyone in the penthouse, yell, scream and cheer.

"Happy New Year!"

...

And then it all went black.
code by valen t.
 
Last edited:






Genevieve Johannes




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  • home (filler tab)



































tom odell



heal









It was 12:12 when Gen’s world shattered into a billion little pieces.

Gen had zero desire to stay at Chas’s stupid fucking party of Liv wasn’t going to be there. Liv had been the only reason Gen had even made the decision to go at all. She had come armed with a plan and her heart entirely exposed on her sleeve. She didn’t want to— no, she couldn’t— be without Liv anymore, and that night was going to fix it all.

Gen was going into the New Year with her girl by her side again.

Nothing had been going right for Gen. In the time since Landon’s timely departure, Gen had been a hollow husk of herself. The days she showed up to school, which were few and far between, had her showing up to class with deep circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep and skin blotched from crying and drinking away the ache from the empty cavity behind her ribs. It had been one thing to abandon Gen at the Ball but another thing entirely to never speak to her again and then up and leave. She hadn’t just lost her boyfriend that evening, she had lost a good friend too.

None of it mattered, of course. Gen didn’t need Landon, or any guy for that matter, to feel complete.

Liv, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

Tangled up in sheets, soft lips dancing playfully on collarbones, delicate fingers brushing hair away from Liv’s stunning features. That night was all Gen could think of, her waking hours plagued with trying to remember how her touch felt, how her face looked illuminated by only the soft yellow glow of a porcelain lamp, how Gen’s body warmed and sunk into an inevitable comfort as she pressed her body into Liv’s.

Not having that feeling, the feeling of comfort and security and love, that was what left Gen feeling empty. A plague of questions haunted Gen’s mind: what if Liv had moved on? What if someone else had taken that spot beside her? What if Gen was the only one stuck in their tangled web of a past?

Fuck it. She was going to get her answer one way or another.

That was precisely why Gen had spent a week begging Elias to go to the stupid party. That was precisely why Genevieve Carmen Johannes, a woman of sure words and a being full of confidence, had spent so many hours rehearsing a speech in her bathroom mirror. That was why she spent too much time picking an outfit, stressing that this was the first time in her entire life that nothing seemed to look or feel right. Everything had to be perfect.

Gen had waited for an hour, sipping a singular glass of wine until it seemed to go stale in her glass. Much to everyone’s surprise, Gen stood on the outskirts as she waited for Liv. Any minute now she would come into view.

Breathe, Gen. Just breathe.

A figure appeared in front of her. The person wasn’t Liv.

“Michael?” Gen had asked, her voice quivering slightly with worry as she downed the glass of wine and set the crystal onto the table beside her.

The argument was long. It was heated. It was loud. Faces turned, cellphone cameras flashed, laughs echoed around them. Gen felt tiny as Mike’s words cut into her, not because she gave a shit about what he thought but because of the fact that he had somehow gotten within her mind and had become a radio screaming out her deepest insecurities on repeat.

Nate got involved. Then Evie.

Everything was a fucking mess.

When the two had eventually separated Gen and Mike from their feud, Gen could tell by the looks that something was terribly wrong. But there was Evie, the girl that she had convinced herself would hate her for the rest of time, holding her hair away from her face as she heaved and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. There she was, offering to take Gen home and away from the bullshit. Gen had been tempted to take her up on that offer but instead, she turned her down.

Gen had managed to ruin everything with Evie over some stupid guy that ended up betraying her anyways. For too long, Gen let her feelings get the better of her. They kept her from her best friend, kept her isolated and alone. She wasn’t about to let her feelings do the same thing to Liv.

So Gen poured another glass of wine and waited.

An hour passed.

Two hours passed.

The clock approached eleven and Genevieve’s phone buzzed.

I'm leaving, i dont wanna be here anymorw i’m sorry

wait is everything okay? I was just about to come and find you. I got caught up with some jerkhole in fashion who thinks this party is a free invitation to ask me for fucking career advice
please stay.



Gen’s heart gave a sad squeeze as she hit the send button, eyes immediately lifting from her phone as she made her way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to find Liv. A few minutes passed and a few people angrily murmured as Gen shoved her way through the crowds.

Her phone buzzed again.

i messed everything up gen imsostpid


The sadness turned to anger. Who the fuck had told her that? What had she messed up? Fuck it, there was nothing Liv could have done that would convince Gen that she was a fuck up. There had been turmoil, anger, fear. But Livanna Moore was not stupid. She was not a failure. Her edges were rough and her story unfinished but hell, that was part of what made her so goddamn beautiful.

liv calm down. What’s going on?


A few more minutes passed, the weight of the phone in Gen’s hands weighing her down as she continued her hunt. Liv was still nowhere to be found.

Another message.

Everyone hates me

liv no one hates you
please just stay. I’ll come get you, we’ll get out of here, go someplace quiet away from this bullshit



Gen’s heart continued to thump angrily against the inside of her chest. Where was Liv? This felt wrong, almost dangerous. Maybe if she could find her, maybe if they got the hell away from all of these fucking idiots, maybe things would be okay.

i kissed nickie


For a split second, the world stopped. Gen stood shell shocked as she stared down at the screen, trying to discern anger from jealousy from despair.

So Liv had found someone else.

Gen meant nothing anymore.

The urge to throw her phone into the overly expensive pool was strong. Her bottom lip began to shake as she swallowed the wide lump that had settled in her throat. It was all one sided. Gen had been a rebound as much as Mike and Landon had.

They were over.

Gen locked her phone, blinking the tears back.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t do any of this anymore.

i’m sorry
i still love you


The messages had lit up Gen’s phone screen in quick succession, almost too quickly for Gen to notice. With a swipe of her thumb, Gen’s eyes scanned over the messages and the tears began to flow.

it’s okay. We aren’t…


Gen paused. Her point was true, they weren’t together. There was no reason for Liv to feel like she owed Gen anything, not after Gen had broken her heart more than once. Gen had kissed other people too: Adriane, Mike, Landon. She had been with all of them and yet all of it meant nothing because none of them could even come close to Liv. They, Gen had come to realize, were just placeholders where Liv used to be. They meant nothing because at the end of the day, it all came back to Liv.

It was always Liv.

I don’t know but it’s okay. it happens. I’ve kissed people too. Please just let me come help you


It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. Liv kissed Nickie, so what? Right now, Liv was hurting and Gen didn’t care what was hurting her. She needed to be there, Liv didn’t need to go through this alone. Hell, being alone is what had brought both of them to this point and Gen was fucking done.

i'm sorry

It's okay. stop apologizing, you didn't do anything wrong


Gen continued to cry as she made her way back into the house, pounding fists against doors and looking in every crevice. Maybe Liv had already left but Gen didn’t care, she would never forgive herself if she didn’t rip up the floorboards trying to find her. When she realized Liv was nowhere to be found, she had gotten in her car and began to search the streets. What if she was out there alone?

Another message, this time read aloud by her car.

i'm so sorry

liv please. where are you?


Silence.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes.

Silence.

liv?
hello?


There was no answer from Liv for the rest of the night. Gen’s message read as delivered. It had been hours and Liv, if she had been honest in that first message, was long gone. Gen smashed her palms angrily against the steering wheel as she let out a curse. This was pointless, she was never going to find her. So instead, Gen turned around and began to drive home.

It was 12:11 when Gen pulled up to the curb. The driveway was filled with the cars of family friends for her parents’ New Year’s Eve party going on inside. It was 12:11 when Gen turned her car off but refused to exit, instead sitting in the still quiet as she rested her head on the steering wheel. If she went in right now, her parents would know something was wrong. If she went in, she would have to entertain guests instead of climbing up the stairs to her room and the comfort of a closed door and a bed.

The clock hit 12:12.

Genevieve wasn’t much for traditions but there had been this stupid little thing that she and Elias had been doing since they were kids. They always used to stay up too late on New Year’s, one sneaking into the other’s room to giggle under the covers as they chirped about how excited they were for everything that was to come the next year. Elias said that it was customary to make a resolution at midnight, a wish of sorts for something good to happen. Gen knew better than to say their wishes out loud, of course their parents would hear them. Besides, if everyone made their wish at midnight, how would anyone hear them? Instead, she proposed they silently make their wish at true twelve, which Genevieve considered to be 12:12. So they sat there in the quiet until Elias’s alarm clock buzzed and they held each other’s hands as they silently made a wish.

They had done that every year since they were just little kids. This year, Gen was alone in her car with a hole in her heart and a head clouded in agony. Yet as she saw the clock turn over to the next minute, she found herself bowing her head.

“Please,” Gen whispered to the quiet, “please let her be okay.”

Gen’s phone buzzed again, this time the ringtone of an incoming call cutting through the silence. Andrea? What the hell was she doing calling her? Gen swiped the answer button across the screen and hit the speaker button.

“Hello?” Gen asked into the speaker.

“Hey Gen, it’s Andi,” a sweet voice spoke from the other side. She was another fashion student, a quiet girl that preferred costumes over couture. She and Gen were hardly friends but they got along well enough which, as everyone knew, was sort of difficult to do with Gen. “I, um, I saw something just now that I think you need to know about.”

The blood in Gen’s veins ran cold, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. “Is everything okay?”

Gen asked but in her heart, she already knew the answer.

Liv.

“Paramedics just pulled some girl out of the bathroom. Rushed out of there pretty quick with her on a stretcher.” Gen’s fingers dropped the phone onto the floorboards, her chest squeezing shut as she let out a choked sob. “Someone said something about an overdose.” No. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t real. Maybe it was someone el- “Gen, I think it was Liv.”

Gen couldn’t speak. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t scream. She was frozen in time as everything she cared about was shattered, the shards of what once was ripping her apart and baring her soul to the world.

“Genevieve?”

Fuck. Andi was still here.

“Andrea, where are they taking her?” Gen managed to speak, her strong voice barely squeaking out as a whisper.

“I don’t know, they didn’t say. But I’d guess Cedars-Sinai, that’s the closest one to here.”

Gen had what she needed. She reached down to grab her phone, muttering a quick thank you as she hung up from the car and roared her car to life. Fuck the traffic lights, fuck the stop sign. Gen pressed her pedal into the floorboards, the engine hissing and grunting as she flew down the side streets and eventually onto the highway, following the signs on the side of the road. She barely stopped until she had to pay the parking meter to pull into the visitor’s parking lot at the hospital.

She wasted no time, not even locking her car as she pushed her way through the front doors and to the main lobby. There were too many signs, too much conflicting information. Where the hell would they have taken her anyways?

“Fuck!” Gen whispered as her hands shook steadily by her side. Liv was here somewhere.

“Excuse me, miss.” A man in a janitor’s uniform spoke clearly as he pushed a mop in a bucket in front of Gen.

“Emergency,” was all that Gen could manage. The man, an elderly gentleman with kind eyes and weathered skin from what Gen could imagine was years of hard work, softened. For a moment, she wondered how many people stopped him in the hallways, how many people needed this inconspicuous fellow with a mop to guide them to safety.

“Follow me, I was headed there anyways.”

Gen knew that was a lie but she obliged anyway.

The janitor took her right up to the doors before wishing her luck and turning around to walk the exact same way they had just come. Gen barely stopped to thank him before she rushed inside and right up to the front desk.

Her entire body was shaking as she looked around for any possible sign of Liv, or anyone else that she knew. Maybe Anderea was wrong, maybe Liv was fine. Maybe all of this was just a nightmare.

Gen was more than ready to wake up.

“Next!”

Gen walked up to the counter and leaned close to the plexiglass, fingers tapping anxiously on the counter. “I need to know if there’s a Liv here. Um, uh, Liv Moore. Livanna Elizabeth Moore, she was born October 31st, 2003. Please, is she here?”

The receptionist began to click through tabs on her computer screen when she paused, looking up to Gen. There was a moment of understanding between them before her lips parted to speak.

“I’m sorry but I can’t disclose that information unless you are family.”

Fuck.

“So she is here?” Gen snapped, her twitching fingers balling up into a fist. The receptionist, now caught in her lie, straightened in her desk chair.

“As I said, I cannot disclose that unless you are family.”

The anger continued to boil up in Gen’s chest. “I’m her family. She-she’s my family, okay? My name is Genevieve Johannes, I’m her family. So just tell me where the fuck she is. Please, I need to know if she’s okay.”

The receptionist faltered again, a worried line creasing her youthful skin. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I mean parents or guardians.”

Gen’s fist slammed into the desk, the force shaking a cup of pens off the top of the modem and all over the desk. Her sobs began again. “Fuck you! Just tell me that she’s here, tell me that she’s okay! You have to tell me, please tell me, please!”

A hand grasped onto her shoulder, pulling her back from the desk. Gen looked over her shoulder to another woman dressed in black with a white SECURITY written across the front of her thick vest.

“Let’s go, ma’am. This is an emergency room, not a place to be yelling and screaming.” She spoke sternly, her other hand reaching down to take Gen’s wrist.

Normally, Gen would have fought back. But right now, her knees felt as if they were going to give out. Liv was in there somewhere in pain, all alone. What if this was it? What if this time, she had pushed herself too far? What if-

Gen tried to yank her arm free from the guard, begging with a hoarse voice for the woman to let her go. There she was, getting dragged out of the emergency room as she screamed for them to tell her, as the tears rolled down her cheeks in steady lines as her chest hitched with desperate sobs. If she had to fight to get back in there, to be with Liv, than so fucking be it. The only way she was leaving Liv’s side right now was in fucking handcuffs.

The guard pulled her out into the cool air of the night, pushing her down onto a bench. “You need to cool down,” the guard commanded. “Cool down or you’re not being allowed back inside.”

Gen’s lips parted in defiance but instead, all that left her was another sob as she slumped over her knees, her body tired of the fighting and the pain and the worry.

She couldn’t do this.

Liv couldn’t leave her.

Gen couldn’t be without her.

The security guard disappeared back inside, leaving Gen alone in the cold.

Genevieve didn’t leave that bench for hours, watching as ambulances drove around curbs and overly intoxicated people stumbled through the exterior doors to the ER. Would they go home to their families? Did they have someone that loved them waiting for them on the other side? The thought only made Gen’s heart shatter more.

She hugged her arms tightly around her abdomen and continued to wait.

It was close to three in the morning when the clearing of a soft voice pulled Gen out of her own head. Had she dozed off? Blinking rapidly and reaching a hand up to wipe the sleep from her eyes, Gen’s gaze settled on the woman before her. Was that the receptionist?

“I’m sorry about your sister,” she spoke a little too bluntly, her tone emphasizing the word ‘sister’. Still, in her groggy state, Gen had no idea what she meant until the receptionist, who’s name Gen now recognized was Bhavna from the nametag she had clearly forgotten to remove, spoke again. “I think they said that she’s allowed to have her family visit her now. Genevieve, was it? I’m sure that Livanna would be more than happy to see her sister.”

Gen perked up, raising her head. Was she saying what she thought she was? “Do you mean-”

Bhavna nodded, looking around slightly as she leaned towards Gen and her voice lowered to a hush. “You’re on the list as her sister. We couldn’t find her contact information so I was able to get you on there. They stabilized her just over an hour ago, they’re trying to figure out who her guardians are. My shift just ended so I managed to get you on the visitor’s list.” Bhavna’s warm hand reached out to take Gen’s shoulder, deep brown eyes softening. “You must really love her to have waited out here all night.”

Gen’s body shot up from the bench, legs wobbling and threatening to topple her over if it wasn’t for Bhavna’s steady hand on her arm. “Liv’s okay? I can go see her?” Bhavna nodded as Gen’s arms wrapped around her, a new stream of tears glazing over Gen’s eyes. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Releasing Bhavna from her grasp, Gen rushed back inside. Minutes later, she was being escorted down a hall and up an elevator to the ICU by a nurse.

“I must warn you, Miss Johannes, she’s not in great shape. The overdose took a big toll on her body.” The nurse explained, Gen’s eyes remained fixed on the blue light surrounding the pressed button. “It may be scary to see her.”

Gen shook her head. “I don’t care. I need to be there.”

Much to Gen’s appreciation, the nurse simply nodded and remained quiet and unpressing as the doors to the elevators opened and she led Gen down another long, sterile hall. The sound of machines filled the air, the smell of cleanliness mingling with the feeling of death. Gen got the feeling that people didn’t come out of here unscathed very often.

The pair paused in front of a door slightly ajar and labeled 2212.

“She’s inside when you’re ready.”

Gen stood in front of the door, the anxiety creeping in as she wondered what she would see on the other side. Fuck it, it didn’t matter. That was her girl in there and she was about to be with her. She threw the door open without another thought and moved carefully to her side.

Liv was asleep, face pale and lips cracked, body sunken and tired. Wires and tubes threaded in and out of her in an indiscernible matrix that, if Gen was being honest, made her almost sick to look at. A steady IV drip and the sound of some sort of machine helping Liv to breathe was the only thing that Gen could hear. Somewhere under the maze of wires and tubes and contraptions was Liv. Somewhere beyond the fatigue and the ache and the pain was Liv.

Gen quietly pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, reaching a hand out to carefully take Liv’s. Her touch was gentle, afraid that the wrong move would take the frail girl in front of her away.

“I’m here, Liv.” Gen whispered, lifting Liv’s hand up carefully so that she could softly kiss the back of it. “I’m not going anywhere ever again, I promise. Just please don’t leave me. I don’t want to do this without you.”





♡coded by uxie♡
 






nickie abrams.


(A/N: psst, read Liv first.)

All of Nickie hurt. This was wrong. This shouldn’t be her. She shouldn’t be – this was wrong.

People were talking around her as she rushed out of the place – hell, maybe Liv was calling after her, she didn’t fucking know – but all she could hear was a wall of sound, jabbing into her ears. Painfully, she covered her ears with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut as tears wrenched from them.

She couldn’t breathe. All of her felt suffocated.

And the only thing that she could do was fucking run.

She made it out to the parking lot, felt the faces boring down her neck. There were people up there laughing at her – fuck it, people out here laughing at her, and she had to get away. Liv – Liv was in there, or, fuck it, maybe she was following her – and the thought of that made her sick, and all that she could think to do was get in her SUV and drive.

Home, she thought. I just wanna go home.

Everything on the road smeared together. The cars. The signs. The people on the sidewalks, drunk and hanging onto each other, and the ones holding cardboard slabs reading that this was going to be the end of the world. It all bled together into a pool of painful reality, drowning Nickie as it burrowed itself deep inside of all of her senses so that everything had the same smell and feel and taste and image of overwhelming, stomach-twisting pain.

Life was happening around her. In the buildings to either side of her, people were dancing, drinking, laughing, hooking up, making out, fighting, clawing, making up, breaking up, staring at the countdown to the new year, eating their feelings, getting naked on tables, living, pointing and jeering at her because she was just fucking running away. Go, she begged the traffic that always went to fucking slow, and she banged the butt of her palm on the horn until it hurt, past the point of it hurting. “Go!” she yelled, and her voice was so shredded and animalistic that she could hardly tell what word she’d screamed.

She couldn’t listen to music. If she had, time would have seemed so much fucking slower, and then noise would have overwhelmed her, so she kept her radio muted. The silence was deafening – there was nothing but the sounds of the road and the sounds of her SUV and the sounds of the fucking idiot drivers around her and the sounds of you shouldn’t fucking be here right now in her head, and it was all so fucking much and yet so fucking quiet, but she couldn’t turn on her music, because for some reason, the thought sickened her, more than she was already sickened.

The last time she’d driven herself home was for the summer, and when she’d driven, it’d been broad daylight, and she’d had some random bitch who was also from some city in New York as her company, but now, she was alone, and everything was so fucking blurred together. She shouldn’t’ve been driving – she was in no fucking state to. She was shaking, and sobbing, and sick to her stomach, and everything was foggy and blended together and overwhelmed her, and her throat was raw and her nose were raw and her eyes were raw. But she couldn’t fucking stop now. Everything in her fought – fought either to get her to turn back and go back to that damned party and do fucking something or to keep fucking going, and all she could do now was the latter.

Somehow, she made it to morning, and then past morning, and then past evening and night and morning again and evening again, all without sleep. Somehow, she made it to the gas stations and a restaurant for lunch. Somehow, she made it through the rushes when people were going to and heading home from work. Somehow, she ignored all of the calls coming at her phone. Somehow, she made it to the right roads, past the right signs, down the right shortcuts.

And somehow, she wound up at her driveway in the rundown suburbs of Albany, New York, and as her SUV pulled down the drive, she glanced at the clock and saw it was suppertime. She’d stopped crying somewhere along the way, and now when she breathed in, she didn’t even grimace at the burn that everything had.

She stepped out of her car with her purse and slammed the door, then stopped, turning her eyes to the house. And something about seeing the shitty, rundown place that she’d grown up in – something about seeing the place that she’d left with the promise to be something – sent a wave of nausea over her, and finally, clutching her stomach, she doubled over and vomited onto the front lawn.

“Oh my God, Nickie!” gasped a voice from the porch, and all at once, Nickie regretted coming home, just wanted to jump in her car and drive all the fucking way back. Her mom couldn’t fucking see her like this – not like this, not like this.

But her mom’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, and Nickie lifted her eyes as her mom yanked her in for a hug, and all that she could do was start sobbing, sobbing with her entire body. All of her shook, and she clutched her mother for dear life, using her completely as a crutch.

And she couldn’t speak, not really, but she somehow managed to choke out, “I don’t wanna go back, Mom – I never fucking wanna go back, ever fucking again.”







º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: fix up look sharp

OUTFIT: here

LOCATION: nye party
basics
MENTIONS:
N/A

INT:
Rox ( Harrowhark Harrowhark )
tags
TL;DR lets get some drugs, obvs
tl;dr
lillian kimura
♫ FLETCHER - girls girls girls
Lillian sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. The familiar touch of Rox’s fingertips on the back of her waist released a flock of butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to push her luck a little bit, to see if she could tempt the possessive side of Rox back out. She knew it was there, absolutely undeniably; she fantasized about past parties where Rox would pull her close in to a passionate kiss, one hand tangled in her hair and one hand gracing her hip bone under her skirt.

That seemed a while ago now, before Hollywood and the move and the new school… Jesus, why did it seem so much easier before all of this?

Look, Lillian could tell she was being an ass. She downright acknowledged it. Still, a part of her remained justified. If the two of them weren’t equally as stubborn as each other, maybe their spats would be over a lot quicker.

Lillian softened slightly at Rox’s sweet talk. She nodded, trying to supress a small smile from spreading across her entire face. “I’m also glad you’re here.”

It occurred to Lillian that although she was having… a moderate amount of fun (she supposed), the whole night had the potential to be much better. There were hundreds of people there, and at least a few of them definitely had some drugs.

Lillian wasn’t picky when it came to what she would ingest. It was no secret that her and Rox would frequently experiment or spend the evening tripping out at the local skate park – and now they were in the heart of LA, how hard could finding some good stuff be?

“Have you got anything on you? Wanna go bump up?” Lillian asked in a hushed tone. Fuck, if she did, she didn’t want anybody else feeling inclined to ask for some too. Mixing an E with another certain white powder was Lillian's go to party mix. This wasn't strange to her, having a specific mix of party drugs, like, didn't everyone?

“Some MD could really liven this place up for me,” she admitted, looking about the dancefloor. A few trios and couples, illuminated by a sequence of coloured LEDs reflecting from a suspended disco ball, stood clustered in conversations around the room.

Lillian grabbed at Rox’s hand, nodding in the direction of the outside patio. “I mean, at this rate I’d accept a smoke. What d’ya say?”
code by valen t.
 

MOOD: ...

OUTFIT:
Classy.
​
INFO

LOCATION:
NYE party

WITH: Cappie

MENTION: N/A​
ACTIVITY
0k_mang0 0k_mang0
TAGS
Chanel Clairmont
— Oh No



“Well… first of all—wow, you’re very impatient, didn’t even let me explain the rules first,”

“I wanna know,” She replied, honestly and as quickly as possible to defend herself. A grin spreading across her lips that faded with a slight roll of her eyes when he explained.

What?

Chanel—

The Chanel Clairmont had kissed a boy named Buster?

If you had told her a few months ago, she was going to attend a public school with her siblings and come to like a boy named Buster, Chanel would’ve laughed in your face.

Like… she was right about now.

A gentle but eloquent laugh sputtered out of the blonde, and she eyed Cappie down for the first few seconds before she realized… he wasn’t kidding.

Her jaw dropped and she covered her mouth with her hands.

“You’re not kidding.” She spoke with sudden seriousness, a bubble of guilt rising into her chest the longer she stared at the man in front of her.

…

She cleared her throat, forcing the laughter back down into her chest and taking a breath.

“I… apologize, continue, Buster— I mean, Cappie.” She teased, but allowed him to explain where the nickname came from.

She had to admit— it was a bit odd, but she wouldn’t question it, if anything, it was quite obvious she liked the name ‘Cappie’ more than…

Who would punish their child at birth?

Buster?

Enough, Chanel.

It was after a famous actor, she could appreciate that.

…

Doesn’t mean she had to like it.

She liked the man who had the name just fine. That should be enough.

“Monterey is just… i dunno, it’s like, using it feels like the kind of heavy sad burden whenever I think about it. If I mess up, I ruin his name instead of honoring it. Something like that.”

She understood what he meant though, why he wanted to change his name. Her parents weren’t the typical– don’t bring a bad name to… our name, they were typically really supportive– even when Zoe had pushed for the idea of Chanel becoming an actress, family drama was one thing, but her parents never shut down her dreams.

Although them being so big themselves, she always felt like she had to meet everyone’s expectations because she was a Clairmont. And if she didn’t– or was lesser than, she would’ve brought down her family.

Because as great as an actress she is, even she couldn’t pretend she cared less about what her family thought about her. In-case you haven’t noticed, family was everything to Chanel.

A small moment passed where he rubbed at his eyes, and she cocked her head to one side, watching him carefully and almost waiting for him to admit something, or say something else regarding the topic.

But he did nothing more than change the subject and for a second, she was saddened by that fact– she guesses she felt saddened because… he… no, it wasn’t that he didn’t open up or anything.

She guesses she felt saddened because… he did?

If that made sense.

She was a very practical person, someone who just focused on what they were feeling and despite the obvious attempt, sometimes she wasn’t the best at being empathic.

“Okay, your turn now,”

She was almost afraid of what he was going to ask, but thankfully his question was quite tame.

“What’re some of your favorite crystals and gemstones and why? Also, why are you into it? The crystal hobby thing.” She took the bottle of wine from him, picking at the sticker that began to peel off from the front of it as she thought about it.

It wasn’t like…

It was hard to explain.

That she believed in crystals, gems and such but not an overarching being, a reason for existence– but the simple answer was that Zoe had an obsession with them.

And Chanel being Chanel as a child, she mimicked her to the best of her ability. She’s her… role-model, she’d say best friend, but that title belongs to her sister and her sister only.

She explained most of this to him, even the part that was hard to explain.

“I don’t know, I guess… sometimes yeah, I do think there could be something out there that makes… sense for me to exist, but instead of wondering what the meaning of everything is, there’s these… little things that bring hope, that mean something already, you don’t have to think about it– you don’t even have to believe in it, if you don’t want to, but Amethyst has been around for ages, and it… symbolizes protection, healing, and uh…”

Rambling, a lot.

Chanel laughed, taking a sip from the bottle before continuing.

“amethyst actually got it’s name from the greek word, ametusthos which means ‘not intoxicated.’” It was funny, it was, that she was talking about it– and it being her favorite crystal and here she is, getting toxiciated.

Her humor wasn’t the best sometimes, it took a little more to get her to laugh.

“The romans thought that if they drank a cup of wine adjourned with amethysts, it’d protect them from getting drunk, not that I believe in that– and thankfully, I’m safe, I’m at least 98 percent sure the necklace you got me is rose quartz.” She said, taking the necklace out that was hidden behind her dress.

Yes, she didn’t take it off.

…

It didn’t mean…

Well, okay, it probably meant something.

But she really did think it was beautiful, it… it just fit her.

It felt right to wear.

“I probably sound… crazy, but um… I guess, I like them because there’s so much history of different cultures and religions that surround them, people don’t fight about it– they don’t argue about the meanings, or ‘what if it truly isn’t real?’ How could a gemstone not be real? It’s just a meaning. It’s something that… gives you hope, uh… I–”

She sounded so stupid.

Maybe she was already drunk.

“Good vibes.” She said, completely out of character, surprised at her own words but finding it the only way to explain how she felt about something without pulling out an entire history book based off of them.

“I like them, because of their ‘good vibes.’ An easy answer and… that makes me seem like less of a total… loser, I suppose.”
…

Her mind kept going back to what he had said, and she couldn’t help it. It was on her mind and when something was on her mind, Chanel continued to obsess over it.

Obsess and obsess.

She took another sip and a small silence sat between them as she thought of the words she wanted to say instead of a question.

…

“I don’t think… you’re capable of ruining someone’s name. Because a name is just a name. Your actions reflect who you are, where you came from, and I don’t think– I don’t think you’re capable of ruining anything.”

…

…

…

“I might be a bit biased, though.”

She leaned over to hand him the bottle and their hands brushed, she felt her heart skip more than a few beats and she knew it wasn’t because of the alcohol making it’s way into her system.

Her gaze flickered to his lips for the slightest moment and she played it off with tearing her gaze away, and offering a smile.

“Right, uhm… my turn.”

Any good questions?

Anything she’d like to know?

His name was the only mystery, oh, well, besides his entire existence. Chanel just didn’t know how someone this…Oh, the alcohol was getting to her.

“What was your first love?”

Took a deep turn– but no, she didn’t mean… romantically.

“Acting was mine, or… maybe crossword puzzles,” She laughed, becoming looser the more she drank.

“What made you go, ‘I don’t think I’d ever want to give this up.’”
Learning his real name was… interesting, sure.

But Chanel wanted to know him. Not just his name. Who he was.

And everyone had a little of something that made who they were, they loved a little of something that shaped them into the person they are today.

So, who was… Buster Keaton?
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: ...

OUTFIT: A whole 3 colors

LOCATION: Party
basics
MENTIONS:



INT:
Jace Winona Winona
tags
TL;DR Entertain me, cucciolo.
tl;dr
Teo

Teo stared at Jace while he stuttered through some semblance of a response, he was trying to pretend like he wasn’t utterly baffled by the cucciolo.

Fucking hell, he didn’t even need to poke at this nest of hornets. The little scared thing was getting all shaken up himself.

“… Remember to breathe.” Teo said offhandedly as Jace continued to hyperventilate through basic inquiry, before he could really stop himself from being a bit snide.

Note to self: Jace would fold like a deck of cards at any kind of interrogation. Don’t break any rules with this guy.

But, now the conversation was onto himself. He didn't really like it when he had to talk about himself. Made him all kinds of uncomfortable. He more preferred talking about everyone else - being a dick about everything else.

That is to say, he knew that he didn't live up to his own standards.

He was a hypocrite, but there wasn't much he could do on that front.

Teo shrugged, this wouldn't reveal too much though. He could push the conversation back onto Jace easily.

“I like Lovecraft” An easygoing grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And Poe. ”

Well, throw that out there at the very least.

He felt a little itch in the back of his head. In his fingers. Cigarettes. A subtle craving for nicotine.

“Thinking of going out for a smoke, you mind if we move this outside?” Maybe he’d get more ideas as to what he wanted to do with the musician if he moved. He couldn’t do what he was planning on doing originally - finding something passionate this boy believed in and ruthlessly digging into it. He got the sense that Jace couldn’t really handle it.

Poor boy was freaking out over basic “getting to know you” questions, he really couldn’t handle the more daredevil, spontaneous parts that Teo had inside of him. Alright, he could conform to what Jace could handle.

“In any case, you got any favorite authors, cucciolo?” He said as he subtly began herding the blond boy out of the party so that he could take a smoke break.
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: tire

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: bitch manor
basics
MENTIONS:
n/a
INT:
mogy mogy (Oates)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Callum Richards
happy bday mogy <3<3<3

The unceasing laughter pouring out of Oates was frightening not because Callum hadn't heart it a million times over in his life, but because it was artificial. It wasn't like his boyfriend to speak and act like this. The silly jubilance was a piece of his waking self, but it was all muddled with a sloppy, brazen carelessness that punched a hole in Callum's stomach. He asked again, "What are you doing?"

As the drunken dancer continued talking, Callum could feel a creeping urge to cover the boy's mouth for the rest of the night. "I'm not sad," he corrected, his tender grip hardening until he was holding onto Oates in a robotic, mechanical fashion, "If I'm not missing anything, why would I..." His quiet voice faltered with the knowledge that there was nothing coherent to be gained from his boyfriend's words.

There was a sudden stop in their walk to the front door, leaving the pair trapped tightly in the middle of all of the people they just shouldered through. Before he could chalk it up as Oates tripping, a firm "no" parted from the boy's lips. Callum quirked a brow and turned to him with a look of bewilderment. What did he mean, "no"?

"But—" Boop! A finger landed square on the pale boy's nose; he reflexively crinkled it and narrowed his eyes. Things tended to get old quick with Callum, and he had long passed the level in which he would tolerate this behavior from someone he thought better of.

"I'm not having fun," he retorted, allowing his natural irritation to raise the volume of his voice, "I want to go." He remained firm in his stance, physical and figurative. More, his cold, matter-of-fact speech sent a shockwave of misery and negativity in the air. There was no reason he had to keep on taking this.

But he did, and just as he let out a breathy sigh, Oates' head came falling onto his chest. He muttered a few words, only one of which Callum picked up: vomit.

Hell no! Before he had time to think, the lanky senior grunted, recoiled, and lifted the boy off his body. "Dammit, Oates!" he hissed, now that he was really stressed. The nearest bathroom wasn't far, but the primary issue was the sheer density of teenagers in between them and their tiled, shit-smelling respite.

With Oates in tow, Callum made short work of the bathroom line, slyly cutting in and slipping into the harshly-lit bathroom. Protests could be heard from outside, but Callum, whose short, black hair was now a mess, flipped the lock and darted his gaze toward their reflection in the mirror.

They looked like a mess, and Callum hadn't even partaken in anything more than half a cup of diluted liquor. Was this how he looked on Halloween, too? He peered again to his side at the giggling mess leaning on his body, nothing but void emotion on his face. His free hand had been trembling for god knows how long, and he had to squeeze it on the sink's edge to put a stop to it.

Riding the familiar sense of numbness that washed over him, he rested his head atop Oates', breathing in the scent of his springing curls. His eyes, blue, yet devoid of color, drifted downward, glazed over due to his sudden bout of thoughtfulness. A phantom urge crept up and throughout the pensive teen's muscles, swaying the interconnected couple side to side like a twisted slow dance. How the two of them had reached this point, Callum couldn't even begin to guess. Things were great, more or less, but...

What went wrong?

"I'm sorry," he murmured, the soft comfort of Oates' curls muffling the doleful words that entered the still, echoing air, "I wish..." He didn't know what he wanted. The two of them both knew that, if not the entire world. Callum's hollow façade was built with a fine straw. "I wish your happiness meant the same as mine." He took a little comfort in knowing Oates was probably too out of it to press him. It was a little like plummeting underwater and shouting his thoughts into the ocean, but somehow a lot colder.

What was more depraved was how good it felt to get away, to have Oates alone to himself. The shaky boy was entirely depending on him and, somehow, that felt like a silver lining. What kind of monster, he wondered, found relief in cultivating a case of Munchausen?

His body stopped swaying, and he stood still a moment to process his final thought. Then, as though routine, he lifted his head and led Oates to the toilet, opening the seat and making an attempt at setting him up neatly on the floor. "Please be quick," he requested, the color in his face draining as a queasy dizziness enveloped his form. With what strength he had, Callum kept his hand on his boyfriend's back, rubbing it in an absentminded circle. "Please, Oat."
code by valen t.
 
MOOD:
vibing & wining

OUTFIT:
semi-casual cappie
​
INFO
LOCATION:
NYE party, balcony

WITH: chanel

MENTION: n/a​
ACTIVITY
Soap Soap (with a wittle collab at the end)
TAGS
cappie
— Dancing in the Moonlight


He didn’t mind Chanel laughing from his real name—Cappie did too whenever he thought about it.

He also didn’t mind her rambling. He liked listening to people talk about things they like—their faces sort of lit up, like they were comfortable, being themselves without worrying about anyone judging them. Everyone should be allowed to feel comfortable talking about their favorite things.

Chanel didn’t sound crazy. In fact, Cappie thought, she made some pretty good points. Cultures and good vibes. He understood that.

Then she told him, ”I don’t think you’re capable of ruining anything.” That weird tingly feeling was inside his chest again, but it was a little more pensive this time. It was great that Chanel believed this, but Cappie wasn’t so sure if he did…

He did almost ruin their friendship by posting their art fest video without telling her and almost make her believe he was using her. He didn’t want anything like that to happen again.

“Thanks,” Cappie said with an appreciative small smile. “By the way, I don’t think you’re ever a loser. I like hope and good vibes, too. And I am being a bit biased.”

As he handed the wine bottle back, Cappie stared at the soft lilac-colored crystal necklace. There were no other words to describe how happy he felt from learning she kept it.

Chanel asked her next question, “What was your first love?”

You probably, he almost said impulsively. Listen, it was the wine and vodka/orange juice mostly thinking for him. He loves everyone when he’s just a little drunk. Besides, he didn’t know what kind of love Chanel meant until she made it clear that it was about hobbies, not anything romantic. Thank god.

After pondering his answer for nearly a minute and unconsciously scrunching his face while doing so, he said, “Movies.” Not just because of the pretty moving pictures, he mentioned (and took a nice long sip of pinot noir). Maybe Cappie was just an odd sentimental kid. He just loved watching movies since he was small. They kept him company when his mom left for work, almost like another family member. He was also fascinated with the complicated process of it all, enjoyed watching behind-the-scenes documentaries more than most people, and a little later on in life, he wanted to get involved in it somehow.

He also added LEGOs in his answer, just to be silly. The age limit was like 4 to 999, so Cappie wasn’t giving up them any time soon.

Their little drinking game went on for another hour. Or was it two hours? Somewhere between one and two. Honestly, Cappie lost track of time.

He remembered his next several questions were something like, What are some of your favorite movies and books? Your favorite pastries? Favorite places you’ve visited? How was your Christmas weekend? What’s your favorite telenovela and can I watch it with you someday?

Just normal questions between normal teenagers.

Eventually, their wine bottle was nearly empty with a few ounces that could be drained in one more swig, and these teenagers were quite drunk at this point. Cappie was certain he was drunk when he glanced at his wristwatch and couldn’t tell what time it was because the tiny clock arms wouldn’t stop swaying. Chanel didn’t seem any sober either.

“I think… we should go home now,” Cappie said, his words somewhat slurring. “ ‘cuz, y’know, being drunk on a balcony—’s very dangerous.” He used a taxi app thingy that all the kids are using from his phone, ordered a ride to pick them up at the apartment. Then he got off his seat and stood in front of Chanel. “Wait—I got one las’ question if you wanna finish the rest,” he said, holding out the bottle to her.

“Did you like our kiss at the ball?”

A heartbeat later, she said, “Yes,” and nothing more than that except finishing the wine bottle. Looks like Chanel won their game. At least Cappie thought so.
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: e

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: bitch manor
basics
MENTIONS:
Casey, Adriane, Evie, Nate
INT:
geminiy geminiy (Ezra)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Chas Marino
Ezra's reaction, from the spinning glimpse he got, involved more deliberation than Chas liked. If he couldn't read the muscular artist's mind, then the guy was better off not thinking of anything at all. He pursed his lips, contemplating his next move. God, was he tired of all these mental chess matches.

"Parties like this are great," he deadpanned, brows creased down to the pits of hell. He took another drink and, as though possessed by the spirit of an eager, inquisitive child, immediately put on a face of unbridled excitement. "Look!" he cried breathily, jabbing a finger in the direction of Evie, who seemed to be having a heated discussion with her no-brained boyfriend, "How long do you think 'til those two're split up?"

He snorted out a laugh, reveling in the satisfaction of a quarrel between two people he really didn't like, both of which were sipping his alcohol. The little gnats. If the enemy of his enemy was his friend, who would be which after the breakup? Chas swished his drink once more, losing himself in the vortex of sugary, fermented juice. Why didn't he do this more often?

He held his gaze on Evie, perhaps even a bit too long. She still had that recording of him and Adriane at the Lock-in. Who even takes random pictures of acquaintances anyway? They didn't look that suspicious, at least for the class president who already had a key to the place.

Regardless, she had the evidence and Chas had to play semi-nice. He could fake anything if he wanted. It was, like, his thing. And when Evie bought the "Nate's doing drugs again" story, of course she had no other choice but to cut a deal. Though Chas didn't actually have the dirt on Nate he claimed to, it was only a matter of time until he could scrounge up something tangible against the backstabbing meathead.

Once an addict, always an addict.

He was a fool for thinking differently in the first place. And so was Evie.

After tactlessly catching eye contact with the model, Chas gracefully blew her a big raspberry and turned back to his cup, feigning no cares in the world. Ezra didn't seem to know what to do with himself. It was painfully evident from the awkward, standing stance he took, calmly talking him through the moment as though the wasn't already fine on his own.

In fact, it was all he wanted. Fuck off. If he wasn't stuck holding Casey's hand out on the street, Chas would have buried himself under his bedsheets weeks ago.

It wasn't long before Ezra inevitably began to exert his concerned-friend powers, to which Chas replied with a deep, resounding groan. "Oh my god, I'm not blackout drunk," he protested, making a dramatic gesture with his whole body, "Would you cut me some slack?" Clearly if Chas Marino was more than tipsy on a couch, he needed it. People are so obsessed with sensationalizing everything.

"Just sit down, you dud," the red-faced Italian added as he proceeded to take his hand and pull it toward the couch with whatever might he possessed. Then, with a cockily indignant look, he slammed the cup on the coffee table and laid back with crossed arms.

He inched closer, his hazel eyes narrowed while he picked at what was hidden behind Ezra's placid composure. If he got any closer, then maybe the insides of his pores would reveal a truth to the perplexing artist he had yet to discover.

And finally, he spoke, taking on a slurred, suspicious tone. "Why are you checking up on me, anyway?" The air got a little heavier with Chas' firm search for answers. It seemed important to him, for some odd reason. "Shouldn't we not be talking? You made it pret-ty clear the last time you got on my case..." He leaned closer, breathing out a humid whisper in the boy's ear. "...about Casey. My boyfriend."

He leaned back, arms still crossed. "Well?"
code by valen t.
 






Nathan Woods


And this right here was why Nate tried not to get wrapped up in anyone else's business. There was a heavy breath that entered in his lungs, and then he exhaled, the sigh just as heavy as it exited his lungs.

"Did you forget when you fucked Amy's boyfriend without a second thought?" He asked bluntly. "People don't do that shit. Does that mean you deserve to have your entire career ruined and one of the biggest projects of the year destroyed?"

What? It was exactly what she was saying Mike deserved, except that Mike had done significantly less bad than what Evie had done.

"And everyone's fucked Liv, in case you forgot," he continued. "Doesn't mean Gen's out here ruining everyone's lives for that. Mike didn't deserve this shit. And it's not being a pussy when some bitch decides to change everything up on you because she's a petty skank."

As far as Nate was concerned, he was spitting the truth -- nothing that he'd said was wrong, or so he thought. He... she... well, Gen was a fucking bitch. Everyone knew this, even her closest friends, so why the hell was Evie acting like she should be kept on some kind of pedestal, free from the consequences of her actions?

"If you didn't have your head so far up Gen's ass, you could probably see the truth."




mood
in need of joint

location
bitch manor

outfit
clothes





playing...
song title
by artist​




mentions
Mike, Gen

interactions
Evie

tags
jasmyn jasmyn


º º code by ditto º º
 
Evelyn Sinclaire
@ s i n c l a i r e
bitch manor
fit deetz here
nathan
tags: Winona Winona
"Did you forget when you fucked Amy's boyfriend without a second thought? People don't do that shit."

Her green-hazel eyes slightly widened at his words, her shock at his decision to actually say them out loud was clear as day on her face. Sure, Evelyn might not have been the best person in the world. She'd done shit before that was morally questionable and she rarely apologized for any of it. Example number one?

Fucking Dei while he was dating Amy.

Not that she owed anything to Little A but she knew it was fucked up. As much as she didn't care for Amy, she'd only done it out of spite (which honestly had been more from the shit Amy's friends were saying not the poor girl herself) and maybe just to prove she still could have him too. It was stupid but whatever. It happened and while she had some regret, Evie wasn't fucking ashamed. "Fuck you, Nate," she spat out without hesitation.

She'd never expected him, of all people, to throw that back in her face. You'd think that he would be the last one sitting here judging who she was as a person but yet here he was. Was this what he actually thought of her? Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the heat of the moment or the liquor moving through her system making her think he was attacking her? Oh well...

"That's rich coming from you considering your own history with Amy," Evie spat out. "What was it that happened again? You up and ghosted her because she wrote you a love song. Please," she said with a scoff, waving her hand as if to dismiss him.

"Let's not forget you could've ruined Chas' career or life when you outed him. Why did he deserve that but Mike didn't deserve what he got? Because Mike is your friend? Get real. You're just as petty as any of us and so is Reid. The only difference is he can't handle it and you know it. Then again, maybe you can't either and that's why you agree with him," she added.

Honestly, Nate had struck a nerve when he came for her character and now the model was just seeing red. She wanted to upset him, to hit him where it hurt and she couldn't really figure out how to do that so she was just trying to pull out all the stops. Something was bound to land eventually.

"Or maybe it's the drugs. Are you using again? Because that would explain the clouded judgment," she let it slip without much thought, but to be honest she likely would've said it anyway.



coded by natasha.
 
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