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

[ohdittoh]

♔ MICHAEL REID ♔
"aren't i fucking angelic?"

@reidbetweenthelines has set his status to:
Well, look who the cat dragged in. Impressed that it could drag him in, him being such a big fucking oaf.

@reidbetweenthelines has set his outfit to:
It's called "irony".

@reidbetweenthelines has set his location to:
The party. Where else would I be, babe? ; )

@reidbetweenthelines has mentioned:
The redheaded simp.

@reidbetweenthelines has interacted with:
The fucking eyesore beanstalk telephone pole whatever.

@reidbetweenthelines has tagged:
gh0stwriter

@reidbetweenthelines has written a tl;dr:

Spoiler: Click To View

Mike gets ready for the party, heads to the party, and starts the night off right by insulting Landon to his face.

(Oopsies.)

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The fall fair, for the most part, had been hell. Trust him, he was still kicking himself for it, but it was true.

The fall fair was hell, this week was purgatory, and tonight?

Tonight was gonna be heaven, and Michael was dressing the part.

His costume didn’t look exactly how the reference picture had, but Mike had done the best that he could do with a dollar store hot glue gun, Walmart craft feathers— white ones had been a total pain in the ass to find, and then an old lady had waltzed up, grabbed a package right off of the shelf, and walked away like she hadn’t just snatched what he’d spent half an hour looking for— and cardboard from old boxes of beer that he'd drank alone in his bathtub because it was four in the morning and he didn’t want to call over the boys to crack a cold one with him in his shitty apartment. The rubber bands that he’d glued to the inside of the wings to keep them together liked to snap, so he’d had to tie knots in them more times than he could count, and every time he tried them on, they’d snap again and he’d tie them again. The bands that went around his armpits were a bit too loose, so the wings flapped a bit as he moved, but he didn’t feel like bothering to fix that part of his costume. Handy-manning wasn’t exactly his skill, as evidenced by the most recently fucked-up utility in his apartment: the hot water handle, which he’d snapped off in a furious attempt to get the damn faucet to turn off, and then he’d figured out that it was the fucking cold water that he’d had on, not the hot, which rendered him breaking it totally pointless and added another thing to the list of shit that my landlord will yell at me about when he does his next random inspection and, thus, another appointment of trying not to kill the landlord as he tries to pry more money from me with his stubby, grimy fingers to Mike’s itinerary.

Not only had he made his wings by hand with new stuff that he bought, but he’d went out and bought a fresh, new, white button up for the occasion. Rather than the short sleeves that the reference picture had used, he’d opted for long-sleeved, because Cali wasn’t what Hawai’i was in late fall, no matter how hard it tried to be. The tinsel hot-glued to the wire of a clotheshanger hot-glued to a flimsy headband completed the look.

As Mike settled his halo onto its place on his head, he grinned at his reflection in the cracked mirror above his sink.

Saint Michael was gonna be in the house tonight, boozing it up, picking up chicks, and ending the night plastered and in some random girl’s bed, who he’d run off from the next morning.

He dabbed a bit of his cheaper cologne on tonight. He didn’t particularly feel like wasting his high dollar shit when he was fully able to impress the girls on his own. Tonight, there was no redheaded girl at his side, squealing for her Mikey as if it was her bottle of milk, so his picking up would be wholly uninhibited. In other words? He was sure to snag a snatch for the sack tonight.

Hell yeah. He’d been waiting for this for the past two fucking weeks. Something was happening that didn’t happen often: Mike was feeling excited.

Look, he even had a master plan for tonight:

Step one: get plastered.

Step two: fuck shit up.

Step three: sexsexsex.

See? Another genius plan by the genius.

He exited his too-small bathroom with a grin still on his face, getting a strong whiff mildew as he stepped through the doorway. He’d smelled that particular must so much at this point that it was something like a little wave goodbye from the shitty, closet-like room, and he didn’t even crinkle his nose up.

Walking to his phone, which sat on its charger, he yawned, rubbing his neck. It probably wasn’t a great idea to pull an all-nighter and make this costume last night, but it had gotten the job done. It was what he got for waiting so damn long to finalize a costume, anyway.

He carefully pulled his phone off of the charger and felt his jaw tighten as his eyes read:

f MESSAGES fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller 10 minutes ago

Alaina Reid
one new message

Shit, so she was off of one of her month-long alcohol binges and had stopped whoring long enough to send him a text, huh? What did the bitch want now?

His thoughts wholly absent, he tapped the notification, tapping the pattern on his phone to unlock it.

When he saw the message, his words caught on the first word for a moment. It was his name, but there was a quality about it that made him want to turn his phone off and throw it against the wall again.

He couldn't do that, though, for whatever fucking reason.

Mike hey I haven’t texted you in the past month or so I am trying to get better and my friends are trying to get me on a program again and so I’m working on that are you doing okay I still care about you I don’t want you to forget that I meant to get tickets to your festival but I couldn’t book any flights they said so looks like I’m going to have to miss that but I hope that you are doing okay still and I will text you more often now I love you and I miss you and I think that today is Halloween so happy holidays I love you bye bye

Beneath it were the words sent with Voice to Text.

So she didn’t even care enough to type the message herself, huh?

It didn’t surprise him. Honestly, nothing with his mother surprised him at this point.

His hand hovered over his keyboard, but he couldn’t figure out what to type.

She texted him at the most random times on the most random dates, but it was always the same message: Mike, I haven’t texted you in a bit. My friends are trying to help me get better, and I love you and miss you. Even that little was full of lies and half-truths, he knew— her friends were Abbey, the white trash outcast with six kids at age twenty-three and three teeth in her head, and Kona, a man who frequented her “business”, and the rehabilitation program that the two of them tried to get her on was a pamphlet that said the equivalent of think happy thoughts, and your alcoholism will go away!— and also ingest these essential oils. She didn’t love him, and she didn’t miss him; she just remembered that she had a son this morning when she’d stumbled across the sock that he’d left on the space heater in the kitchen before he’d gone for Hollywood Arts. She was happy to have him away because that meant more money that she could spend to drink herself to the point where she forgot that she existed. She’d texted him because she’d had that nip of guilt in the back of her neck that told her that this wasn’t the way a good mother should act, and that was all. Shit like that ran in the family.

He knew what he should have done: texted her a fuck off and blocked her number. If he did that, then he knew that he wouldn’t hear anything else out of her. She didn’t know where he lived or even where the campus of the school was, but even if she did, she wouldn’t care enough to call them and try to get ahold of him. Hell, she wouldn’t even realize that she’d been blocked by him for months and months, and even then, it probably wouldn't even register with her that he had blocked her— she'd just think that he couldn't pay his bill or something and forget about him for the rest of his life, if he was lucky.

But something in him didn’t let him do it. Something in him— something, but he didn’t know what— didn’t let him do it, and, instead, his fingers tapped out a message full of lies, straight from himself to his mother:

Hey, Mom. I’m doing good. Nothing much here. I’m about to go out to a Halloween party. I can send you pictures if you want. Love you, too. Miss you, too. Wish I was home with you.

His forefinger hesitated for a moment above the up arrow, but he clenched his jaw and tapped the button, then clicked his phone off and shoved it in his pocket with a soft sigh and a forced grin.

She wouldn’t text back for another few months, so he could put that off of his mind— there was no point in letting that bitch ruin his night straight outta heaven.

He rolled his shoulders, popping his neck with a soft sigh. “Party time, Mike-a-boy,” he said beneath his breath, and he shoved on his shoes beside the door and walked out.

His Camry, the big middle finger atop the cake of shiftiness that was his apartment complex, greeted him from its parking spot. He grinned at it as he approached, patting its hood softly when he reached it. As much as he hated the thing, it was going to be his crusty, rusty, white steed— his gateway to his night of fucking heaven— so he felt like it deserved a bit of encouragement and appreciation.

The same appreciation was obviously not reciprocated, and the damn thing clunked the whole way to the party. The worst thing about driving to parties where he knew a lot of people were going to be was rolling up in that embarrassing hunk of metal that tried to pass as an automobile whilst onlookers stared and laughed. It was the opposite of a chick magnet.

Mike was hot, though, so it kind of made the whole disgustingly ugly clunker point moot, but damn, he just always hated that part. He could probably park and ditch it on a nearby curb somewhere, but he was sure that he would come back to either find it gone or gutted, so that wasn’t the best option. He also wasn’t going to money on an Uber. Looked like he was still going to have to get the looks.

Didn’t that make his job easier, anyway? Their eyes would go from his shit car right to the sexy beast himself. More eyes on him.

Regardless of how much easier it made his job, though, he parked quickly, and he went to jump out.

His phone buzzed first.

Oh okay I am glad that you are okay feel free to send pictures if you want to I will talk to you later

How fucking surprising. She was saying goodbye two texts in.

Well, at least she'd sent more than one text this time. That was kind of impressive.

He gave her props for doing the bare fucking minimum.

With a sigh, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and stepped out of his vehicle, moving away from it quickly.

As soon as he stepped through the door, grinning widely, he remembered something that he entirely forgot: alcohol.

Eh. Freeloading for the night wouldn’t hurt anyone— and there was an alcohol table calling his name.

He made a beeline for the table, shooting a grin and a wink at a girl nearby who promptly rolled her eyes with a laugh as he grabbed a cup and some soda to mix with his liquor.

His eyes searched the room to scope out tonight’s prospects, and his eyes caught on a figure that was pretty hard to miss.

Seeing him again after three months made something shoot through him— a sharp pain, right somewhere in his chest.

Three months. Three fucking months.

It wasn't even like they talked beyond insults when he was here when he could see him, but, fuck.

It was just three fucking months, damn it, and they were ex-friends. It was fucking nothing.

Was that pain what three months did to someone? Three fucking months?

His jaw clenched, his brows knitting as he chuckled, beneath his breath, “Well, if it isn’t…”

Picking up his cup to take a sip of his concoction, Mike walked over to the freakishly tall bitch baby with his usual swagger and a big grin on his face.

He didn't know why his feet were carrying him over there to him, but they were, and he didn't protest.

Look, he could say hello to an old best friend that he'd fallen out with courtesy of a backstage fight with not even a tinge of animosity. He had it in him.

The closer he got, the easier it was to tell what his costume was, and the fact that he had gone for the ironic approach with his elf costume only served to irk Mike, which wasn't the greatest fuel for a casual greeting.

“Landong, how is it going?” he asked, stopping in front of him and looking at him with his shit-eating grin. “I’m surprised that you got your head out of your gaping ass to show up. Guess there had to be one eyesore tonight— major respect that you decided to fulfill that role, man.”

Well, the fuel for his greeting showed itself in his actual greeting. His words were full of venom, the grin failing to mask the insults as simple teasing.

But he kept talking.

“I get it, man, being how you are is hard on Halloween— everyone thinks you’re wearing a scary costume and screams when it’s actually just your face, huh?” He took a drink from his cup, eye contact with Landon not breaking, though it was far up for him to look. “I’m just gonna let you know, if you need some condolences…”

Mike reached out his hand and put it on Landon’s forearm, shit-eating grin growing wider. “…I’m here for you, Dongface.”

His hand lingered a moment, his neck pinching again.

Goddamn it.

Three fucking months.

He clenched his jaw tighter.

His brows twitched as he dropped his hand, and he let out a soft tch sound through his grin.

He hoped this was getting to him, the freak bastard. Fuck pleasant greetings.

“So why’d you show your face tonight in that getup?” Mike looked Landon up and down, nose crinkling for a second before his eyes went up to his face, laughing. “Is that your idea of a grand reentrance, Dong? You trying to lose the contest really hard, or? No, wait, I’ve got it— you’re trying to be a pussy repellant, so I can get all of it— and in that case, how fucking sweet of you, but I don’t need the help.” He sneered at him, laughing again. “Then again, your face and presence is enough of a pussy repellant anyway— maybe I should get away from you before I catch it.”

He glared into his eyes again, grinning nastily. “Little bitch syndrome is airborne, you know, and I don’t want to get ahold of your chronic case.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

nickie abrams

you've just gotta keep on, keep on.​

How are you feeling?

Kinda sucky, but...okay? I guess? I'm just...determined that tonight's not gonna suck.

What are you wearing?

Peace! Love! I fucking need both.

Where are you?

Gen's place.

Did you mention anyone?

Liv, Rome, Adriane, Chas, Seb, Eli, Ash, and Evie.

Who are you talking to?

Hunter. Well, I texted him. And now I'm just kinda..waiting.

And, like, who are tagging, exactly?

natsukashii

Can I get a tl;dr?

Spoiler: Click To View

Nickie resists having a breakdown, gets ready for the party, texts Hunter, and heads to the party, where she stands and waits idly for him.

She’d “forgotten” to text back all day again.

Her lips lightly parted, her hands on her head as she sat in her bathtub, the water from the showerhead above drizzling over her head even though she’d finished washing some ten minutes ago, knees drawn to her chest and head resting between her knees, Nickie Abrams drew in a few shallow breaths, trying to keep herself from crying again.

That creeping numbness that she’d had since last Saturday had slowly sunk away throughout the week, leaving her with her deep regret and obsessive thoughts of this or that that she could have done better that she still knew wouldn’t’ve made anything better.

Two weeks ago, on that Friday, after she'd seen Chas and Seb’s makeout picture, she’d broken down sobbing, and, despite Eli and Ash offering their comfort that night, it had only gotten worse since then. First, she’d cried in public, and then their performance hadn’t gone very well, partially thanks to her direction as co-captain, a role she obviously wasn’t fit to fill. The fight, the blood, her confession to Hunter in her vehicle after the fight, and the night that she’d spent with him afterwards had only served to make shit worse. Yeah, she’d spouted out her love for Hunter and definitely made him weirded out, because who wouldn’t be, because they weren’t even dating yet, and then Monday, she’d selfishly asked him to hold her hand and he’d promised her that he didn’t hate her or whatever, and she’d accepted that lie that she knew was meant only to spare her feelings. Then, she’d blurted out Rome’s pedophile whatever-the-fuck-that-was, and that’d made her life even shittier because people blamed her for that and were less concerned about the boy with the pedo-creeper-thing. Liv had been there Monday after that, staring at her and acting like she cared about what Nickie was feeling, too. And the fair…

The fucking fair.

She lifted her head from between her knees to stare at the wall of the shower in front of her, her eyes focused on a random spot in the pattern of tiles.

The fair was just supposed to be a fun time talking with her friend— or…well, not exactly friend, but definitely someone a lot cooler than her who decided to spend time with her on occasion— and bitching about everyone, and, for a little bit, it had been, and Nickie could have ignored the pangs in her heart and guiltiness that came along with her bitching if that was all that the night would have ended up being. But Evie had come over and ruined that, and then Nickie had skirted off to meet Hunter because she forgot that she promised him sometime in the week to ride the ferris wheel with him, and then there had been Liv and her unicorn and…

Nickie leaned her head back against the bathtub faucet.

“What is this shit…?” she muttered to herself.

She wasn’t cut out for this life. She wasn’t cut out to have a glamorous life in Hollywood. She wasn’t cut out to be amongst the star-studded bad bitches and handsome heartbreakers. She couldn’t keep up. She wasn’t cut out to have a boyfriend— or a not-boyfriend either— and she just…

She was too weak, she was too…she just wasn’t good enough.

She slowly stood from her spot in the bathtub to turn off the shower above herself, and she held onto the handle for a moment.

“Why the hell are you still here…?” she mumbled.

She sighed softly, stepping out of the tub and going to blow-dry her hair.

Forty minutes or so later, she was finally ready. Her short, tight hippie dress and small fringed jacket were in place. She’d tied the small tie around her meticulously-brushed hair, and she’d tugged on the fringed boots to match. With the glasses in place, she had to admit that she didn’t look terrible— hell, she even looked kind of cute.

She gave herself a small smile. “Time to try again?” she asked herself as a small pep talk, and she picked up her phone from its spot on her counter.

Omg I’m so sorry! I just saw your text

I’m going to Gen’s halloween party and I just finished getting ready

I’m headed out in just a minute

I’m so sorry that I didn’t text back

I’ll see you there!?

The !? looked too intense.

*??

With that, she grabbed her purse from her nightstand and stuffed her phone into it, and she headed out of her door.

When she reached her car, she pulled out her copy of Frank Sinatra’s Greatest Hits.

Tonight— tonight— she vowed to herself, was not going to be shit.

She put the CD into the player.

Things were going to start looking up.

Right…about…

The radio sprung to life, and she turned it up to thirty, smiling softly.

Now.

• • • just felt like it needed a lil skip thingy • • •​

The ride to Gen’s house was much shorter than she remembered it to be, and she reluctantly turned the radio down as she pulled up.

She sat in her vehicle a moment after parking, doing her routine letting-down of the sun visor and check in its mirror. She pulled down her sunglasses to make sure that she hadn’t smudge her eyeshadow— even if no one was going to be able to see it, really, she wanted it to look good— and she tested out a smile.

“Right. Time to try again,” she said, finally answering her own question.

She stepped out of her vehicle, planting her feet on the ground and doing her proudest walk to the door.

Upon stepping inside, a soft smile came onto her face.

There was just something about the atmosphere of parties, ya know. There was just something about them.

She pulled her light drink from her purse— just a hard soda, though she was sure to end up stealing something stronger from someone later— and she cracked it open as she made her way to a comfortable enough spot to text Hunter.

I’m here. Tell me when you’re here so I can find you— I’m Nickie the hippie near the bannister

She’d sent it before she even really registered what she was doing, and she laughed softly. It’d become second nature to just ask him to hand out when she was at parties.

She quickly tapped out another text.

if you wanna

Right. If he really wanted to.

She smiled softly and placed her phone back in her purse.

Party time.

º º code by ditto º º​

 

[Winona]

Cool Kids by Echosmith

Jace West

"Who am I to tell me who I am?"

Party, party, party...

Every fiber in Jace's skinny body was telling him not to go. What good ever came of any parties, and what joy would he even find in said party? He'd end up leaving sweaty and exhausted and smelling of alcohol that he hadn't touched (unlike his little sister who always seemed to be drinking, Jace hated the stuff and generally refused to touch it) after spending an entire night of doing his best to not be touched by the tipsy teenagers stumbling around him.

Yeah, he was really selling the idea to himself.

But he was going to go. Probably. Maybe. There was about a twenty percent chance of Jace West showing up for a party at Gen Johannes' and even less of a chance that she wouldn't end up throwing him out by the end of the night. Gen absolutely hated his guts, much like... pretty much all of his fellow peers, but it wasn't like Jace could blame them. Maybe that was the issue -- the problem with why people didn't like him. If Jace couldn't even tolerate himself, why should anyone else?

His phone beeped and he picked it up, peering at the message. It was from his mom. Right. She'd set today as that final date for Jace and Ash to talk to her. It had been a kind of "Halloween or else" type of threat, although Ash had never responded to the family group text about it. She never responded to texts from their mother, which was why the reminder text from his mom about it was quickly followed with a "make sure your sister is there."

With a heavy sigh, Jace collapsed onto his couch, slouching down in it as he kicked his feet up on the little coffee table in front of him and searched for his sister's name in his contacts. It had been a few weeks since they'd last talked, but she was still at the top of his messages. Probably because aside from his mother and Dorian and occasionally Alex (and now Callum), Jace didn't really talk to anyone.

where are you? mom is about to call

Oh, was that today? I'm not going to make it. Have to help set up the party. Tell her I'll call later.

Jace stared down at his phone.

Stupid little sister.

Didn't she know that it wasn't Jace that their parents wanted to talk to and catch up with? It was her. It was always her. Jace's parents would spend maybe five minutes listening to his update for the last couple weeks, then lecture him on his still unsatisfactory grades, probably insult his posture, and then they would move on to spend the rest of their time talking to Ash. They'd ask about her music, compliment her grades, tell Jace to be more like her, and then they'd end the call there.

He sighed and dropped his feet from the coffee table to the floor beneath him before he dragged his laptop over and flipped it open. He pressed the power button and watched, impatiently and nervously, as it started to boot up. His foot started to bounce. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. His bouncing foot started bouncing more as the laptop sprang to life. Jace typed in his password and then watched the screen as he waited for the icon to pop up -- to let him know that his parents were calling.

And then there it was.

Jace took in a deep breath, plastering a smile on his face before he clicked on it.

His parents sprung to life on the screen.

"Hi--"

"Where's Ashton?" His mother snapped.

Jace's smile faltered. "She, uhh... she couldn't... well--"

"Spit it out." His father barked. "And speak up. We can barely hear you with all this mumbling and stuttering. Do you talk like this to your teachers and friends?"

"Sor--"

"Steven, would you leave him alone?"

"Well, he needs to learn how to speak up. He's not going to get anywhere if he can't even put two words together, Elise."

As his parents' conversation devolved into an argument, Jace started to space out. He focused on a corner of the coffee table and stared numbly at it. He sat back against his couch, his hands clasped together, one thumb rubbing against his other hand. A dull roar started in his ears to try and drown out the sounds of his parents and he started thinking. About that new song he was working on, the one that he wanted to showcase at the arts festival. His foot started tapping to a beat in his head and--

"Jason. Jason. Jason. God damn it, get your head out of the clouds and look at me."

What?

Oh yeah, his parents.

Jace's gaze snapped back to the computer screen. "Huh?"

"Where is your sister?" His father asked through gritted teeth. Jace wondered that, if there wasn't a thousand miles or so between the two of them, if his father would be choking him right now. The angry look in his dad's eyes certainly made it look like he wanted to strangle Jace and over what? Spacing out for a few minutes?

"Home." Jace mumbled.

"Of course," Elise huffed. "She'd rather be with those Johannes than come spend time with her brother and talk to us, Steven. I told you letting her live with them was a horrid idea. They're probably poisoning her mind. And you know their parents just let them run wild. Steven, I said we should just send her straight to boarding school. A nice all girls' boarding school where she couldn't whore herself around."

"She's fine." Steve snapped. "She's probably busy with schoolwork."

"They're, uhh... setting up... for a Halloween party..."

"A party! She's putting a party before her own parents." Elise gasped and looked towards his father. "Can you believe the nerve of that little... that little...." his mother caught herself this time, but Jace knew what she wanted to say -- he'd heard her say it to Ash a million times before, so it was a little bit of a shock that she was holding back right now when Ash wasn't even present.

His mother looked back towards the laptop and Jace froze as her eyes locked onto him. "Now, since your little bitch of a sister didn't show up," -- oh, there it was -- "let's talk about you, shall we?" He could hear the faint rustling of paper as his mother looked down, taking a moment before she started to speak again.

"Your grades are horrific. It's like you don't even care. Don't you want to try and do good for one year, Jace? If Ash can have straight A's while she's off... galivanting at parties with that Gen and busy 'dating' and having a social life, surely you can do better than C's while having no social life. Honestly, Jace, this is just a disgrace. Do you even bother trying to study? Why do you do so poorly every semester? Do you need to come back home so I can keep a better eye on you?"

Words. He needed to speak words. Say something. His mother was looking at him expectantly, waiting for Jace to say something befitting on the situation, while his father's piercing gaze just waited for whatever excuse he could muster up on the spot this time. And Jace knew exactly how this would go, because it went the same way every time.

"I'll... I... I'll..." his words were mumbled. He broke eye contact with his parents and looked at the keyboard of his laptop, as if the letters would somehow jumpstart his brain and give him some idea of what to say. "I'll... I'll get a... a t-tutor... try... I'll t-try harder..." No, he wouldn't. Jace wouldn't get a tutor because he didn't even know where to start to look for one and he wouldn't try harder because he was already trying as hard as he could and failing miserably.

What was the point in trying more if he was just going to fail no matter what?

It was... it was a better idea to just focus his energy on his music. That's what he was good at. And really, did you need to know the Pythagorean Theorem in order to become a musician?

"Speak up, Jace." His father snapped. "Stop stuttering and stop mumbling. No wonder you're failing. You're eighteen and you can't even speak in a whole sentence."

"Leave him alone," Elise hissed at his father before continuing, in a slightly nicer tone of voice, to Jace. "Excellent idea, sweetheart. Now, more importantly, about everything that you sent to me for that new song.... Is that the song you plan to showcase at the Winter Arts Festival?" His mother asked.

Now they were talking about something Jace was actually invested in. He perked up, his slouched position on the couch giving way to him sitting up straighter and he was able to meet his mother's gaze for... okay, for just a few seconds before his eyes darted away again to look back at the keyboard. "Y-yeah, I... I think so."

He had been working on this particular song for a few months now. It had taken a lot of time and many sleepless nights for him to piece together some semi-coherent lyrics, and then even longer and for him to start to develop a beat for it. Strewn across his desk were pages with scribbles and notes and crumpled up pieces of paper from discarded ideas and discarded versions of it. This song was... he was excited for it and he was proud of it -- a rarity for Jace.

A hopeful smile cracked across Jace's face while he waited for his mother's opinion.

"I absolutely hate it."

The smile faltered and fell away just as quickly as it had appeared. He focused on a corner of the coffee table, his heart started beating in his ears as his face reddened in embarrassment. Embarrassment of being... proud... of something that so... so obviously... absolutely... sucked. Of course it did, of course it was bad, of course it wasn't good enough.

"The lyrics are juvenile and boring. I tried playing the tune on guitar and it sounded ridiculous. Honestly, Jace, a toddler could've composed something better than whatever you tried to send me. Really, when I ask you kids to send me what you're working on, I expect something decent. Not something that you obviously threw together in a couple hours because you're too busy doing... what? What are you so busy doing that you don't even have time to work on this? Don't you want this? Don't you want to succeed?"

"W-well, y-yes--"

"Then act like it. If you keep putting in minimal effort, you're going to end up living in a cardboard box on a street in Los Angeles and you'll never amount to anything. Now if that's what you want, and it really seems like it is, then that's fine. But stop wasting my time, alright?"

Jace nodded his head.

"Wonderful. Now, we have to go. Important dinner that we must get ready for. But tell your sister to call us immediately, alright? We really need to speak to her."

He nodded his head.

"Goodbye, Jace."

And just like that, the call ended. His parents' faces disappeared from his laptop screen, but he didn't look at first. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on the corner of the coffee table until the embarrassed ringing in his ears subsided and until the redness in his cheeks faded. Then, he looked back at the screen -- at the "call ended" notification on his screen. Lethargically, he reached over to and closed out of it and shut his laptop down. He slammed it shut and then fell back into the couch.

He sat there in that slouched position for a moment, his eyes on the closed laptop. His bottom lip trembled. His eyes felt hot. His chest felt heavy. His stomach hurt.

Jace cried too much -- he knew that. He felt too heavily. He let passive aggressive remarks and small insults get to him too deeply. It was like he had a permanently open wound and even the tiniest remark was like salt in those wounds so that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't just let it go. He clung onto things. He clung onto every word, every harsh insult, every disgusted look, every disappointed scoff, they were all there rattling around in the forefront of his thoughts constantly.

He flopped over on his couch so that he was laying on his stomach, face buried in one of the throw pillows.

Usually, Jace cried now. He cried because he felt horrible for letting his mother down again. He cried because he didn't know what he had done wrong. He cried because he didn't know how to be better. He cried because he'd never felt so alone in one of the busiest cities in the country. Usually, this throw pillow would be soaked in tears.

But right now?

Jace didn't have it in him.

-----------------------​

Party, party, party...

Jace was actually going.

He hadn't had any kind of costume planned until just last night when, on Twitter, Dorian had promised to go as a pirate with him. There was no way Jace would ever tell anyone, especially not Dorian, just how excited he'd been to read that message -- and how much he hadn't believed it. Dorian. Dorian Harlow was willing to dress up with him. With Jace West. The Other West. The Lesser West. The Loser West. Honestly, it was a big thing for his non-existent ego.

Sure, Dorian and Jace were friends. They'd been friends for years -- ever since they'd first started bonding over the whole "pageant bros" thing. You know, the brothers that were dragged along to their sister's beauty pageants and then left to their own devices while their mothers fretted over the puffiness of their dresses and perfecting their hair and their makeup and all of that boring stuff. While Maddie, Ash, and JJ and their mothers had been busy with that, Dorian and Jace were left to themselves.

Which involved pranks on the girls. Well, mostly Dorian coming up with great pranks and Jace just tagging along like a lost puppy. He was a follower, not a leader, but he also hadn't expected Dorian to keep hanging out with him. Every time a new school year started, Jace expected to lose Dorian and end up sitting alone through his entire day at school. But each year, Dorian stuck around. Dorian was longest friend and his best friend -- plus, well, he was one of the very few guys that hadn't become friends with Jace just so that he could get closer to Ash. Look, it happened a lot in middle school and when they'd switched to Hollywood Arts.

And now, they were here. At the party. Dorian looked great, amazing, perfect. Jace looked... uhhh... like a dollar store pirate because he'd bought said costume from a dollar store and quite honestly, Jace didn't look good in anything. He felt like an idiot, though. The whole dressing up Halloween thing had been lost on the West kids growing up thanks a mother who thought it was a waste of time and money, although Eli and Gen's love of the holiday meant that Ash had still usually dressed up. Stupid sister with her stupid friends.

"I don't... I don't know 'bout this." Jace was mumbling to Dorian as they started towards the front door. Despite being only an inch shorter than his friend, Jace's slouched posture and scrawny frame made him appear way shorter. Or, well, it made him feel way shorter. Heck, Jace even felt short compared to Gen and they were the same height -- although her love of high heels kind of made that point moot.

"Gen hates me. Ash hates me. I think Eli hates me. Literally everyone who lives here hates me." And Jace wasn't even being overdramatic! There were a good deal of people that hated him, sure, but he didn't usually roll up to their house and say "hey, let's party." Plus Gen scared the living daylights out of Jace. What if she slapped him? Or yelled at him? Or just straight up choked him out and then he died and he died in a cheap, ugly pirate outfit?

Was he overreacting?

Not in the slightest.

"What are we even supposed to--" he caught himself, eyebrows drawing together over his blue eyes as gears started churning in Jace's dusty brain (as in, usually the poor guy didn't think or figure things out for himself -- a chronic issue with the Wests, really) as he started to put two and two together. Maybe. He wasn't sure.

"Did you drag me along so I could drive your drunk ass home?"

Not that Jace would be upset if that was the reason. He didn't generally drink and if he did, it was maybe one little drink or one little shot that would end with him hacking because Jace really couldn't handle his alcohol and he hated the burning feeling of it going down his throat and then the feeling of it bubbling in his stomach.

But hey, if that was the reason, it was nice to be needed. Or wanted. And Jace could tolerate a few hours of sweaty bodies and drunk teenagers stumbling around him if it meant being there for his best buddy, Dorian and... wow was he a sad, pathetic excuse for an eighteen-year-old boy. His parents' words echoed back in his ears -- those passive aggressive remarks asking why he was so bad at this and that if he didn't do anything but sit at home.

Well, well, well. Surprise, surprise, parents. Because Jace was at a party. A costume party. And he was only slightly uncomfortable.

| mood: SOS parties are scary | mentions: Gen, Eli, Ash | interactions: Dorian | tags: jasmyn |

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

OATES OATES
" podcasts, amirite? "

@oatmeal has set their status to:
trust me, please

@oatmeal has set their outfit to:
ugly fall themed sweater and some jeans

@oatmeal has set their location to:
callum's apartment

@oatmeal has interacted with:
callum

@mogy has mentioned:
hery ​

Seeing Callum grow more and more desperate with each passing second was awful. His face was red, his eyes puffy, and even though the hold of Callum's hand had been nothing but soft, the sheer desire, want, and need of the taller boy was understood through it. Looking at him and understanding his pain, Oates just wanted to tell him it was all going to be okay, but he couldn't stumble now when he was so close to making everything right. It was as if Oates was right back in that hallway, breaking up with Callum all over again, though, this time his feeling of pain was coming from compassion, not from anger, and instead of walking away, he had to face what he previously left behind—a boy whose agonizing wound was, in its entirety, his fault.

Oates's eyes were now getting glossy with tears as well, the happiness from his smile fading and his own squeeze on Callum's hand tightening ever-so-slightly as the hurt boy spoke. He knew Callum wanted only the best for the two of them, and the friendship was the best thing for the two of them. As a matter of fact, it was the thing which would've kept them in each other's lives.

"And I'm not going anywhere, Cal. I'm right here." His voice wavered, and any sign of the previous enthusiasm was withdrawn with the single tear silently rolling down his cheek.

Callum didn't have a lot of people in his life, and that painfully obvious fact was one Oates took into consideration, at least this time. However, it was evident that the reason for the two to get back together, along with all the rest, simply didn't amount to enough to defeat the fear Oates had of hurting Callum again, even if that was exactly what was happening right now.

Again, Oates really wasn't a bad person; he tried so hard not to be and so hard not to hurt the people around him...it was just that being in this situation where his fear of hurting somebody prevented him from not hurting somebody...it sucked. All of the paths he could have taken in hopes of making things right ended at the same outcome, with Callum being broken—now with the mirage of any kind of choice apparent to the curly-haired boy.

It was poor game design, if anything, but Callum's feelings were hardly a game, yet Oates found himself playing with them as if they were nothing but. This was exactly what he didn't like about himself when he was with Callum—choosing between himself and Callum was a frequent motif of their relationship, and with it, Oates always chose Callum because he was just that type of person. So, in moments where he chose himself, he was the antagonist of the story. Maybe if Callum just allowed him to choose both of them this one time...this one single time...maybe things actually had a shot of getting better, and, somehow, this could've been a new chapter in their lives...

But Callum had other ideas.

The other boy leaned in for a kiss, and Oates panicked. It was simple: Oates didn't want to kiss him anymore, but what used to be a reflexive sort of response to a kiss took over, and Oates found himself leaning in for the kiss as well.

The whole point of hurting Callum would've been lost, and Oates would've been left as the ultimate loser if he allowed himself to console the boy with even one kiss.

So he hugged him instead, sealing the envelope of when the two of them used to be boyfriends and starting a new letter—one of friendship.

º º code by dildo º º

 

[geminiy]

Gen & Eli Johannes

“Gen, stop fussing, the place looks great!” Eli said as he readjusted the spandex suit clinging to his chest in the front hall mirror while Gen’s nimble fingers retwisted streamers and shifted paper bats centimeters to the left or right. Balancing herself in precarious positions on the edges of the stairs, she attempted to fix the fake candles dangling from the ceiling.

“Why the hell did I get Landon to put these up anyways? He’s not even here to fix them!” Gen groaned to herself, using the railing beside her to hoist herself up to reach one of the candles. Satisfied with her work, Gen stepped back down onto the stairs, nearly tripping over her own foot as she did so.

Gen and Eli both loved attending parties. The thrill of meeting new people, experiencing the world through different eyes, dancing the night away with a stranger they’d likely never talk to again… All of it was so much fun, especially to Gen. But throwing parties was a different story. Gen, always being the over-perfectionist, worried constantly about the appearances of her house and being a good host. It would be an odd sight for most to see Gen fuss about impressing a bunch of teenagers, most of whom Gen likely wouldn’t talk to, but she did. The food, the decorations, the drinks; it all needed to be perfect.

Stepping back, Gen crossed her arms over her chest, surveying the foyer and the kitchen, walking through the house and scrutinizing every little detail under a magnifying glass. Eli trailed behind Gen, his hands tucked in the pocket of the jacket around his shoulders as he listened to her mumble to herself, her black heels softly clacking against the tile underfoot. He could imagine her walking around a home for sale, a clipboard tucked in the crook of her arm as she estimated the property value, like on one of those house flipping shows. Eli couldn’t help but laugh at the very thought of his poised sister doing something as mundane as real estate agency instead of being in front of the camera or on a runway somewhere.

“Okay,” Gen finally said, grinning proudly to herself as she took one final sweep of the house, “I think I’m done.”

“It’s about time!” Eli laughed, wrapping his arm around Gen’s bare shoulders. “You’ve been at this for hours. The place looks great, Gen.”

A silence fell between the twins, Gen’s back stiffening as Eli released his sister from their half-hug. There had been unspoken tension between the twins since the fair. The whole Charlie and Eli dating thing had come out and Gen had not been happy. That night, they hadn’t said two words together. Gen had had friends over and Eli had locked himself in his room. But the next day, the two had blown up at each other, a rare occurrence for the twins who told each other everything.

They had apologized, of course, and pretended like everything was fine. But Eli was still hurt and Gen was still angry, no matter how hard they both tried to push everything down. Gen wasn’t mad at Charlie or Ash, it wasn’t their responsibility to tell her. But Elias had fucked up hard and Gen wasn’t just about to let it go like it was nothing.

“You know I love you, right?” Eli spoke softly, looking down at the untied high-tops on his feet. Gen nodded, forcing a smile onto her face.

“I do. And I love you too, little bro.” Gen replied, her usually sultry tone slipping away to allow a softer, more relaxed sound to appear in her voice. Reaching out, Gen squeezed Eli’s shoulder gently and nodded to the stairs. “Come on, we should go bug Ash.”

The twins made their way upstairs, stopping outside of Ash’s door. Gen carefully knocked her signature pattern on Ash’s door, pushing it open daintily as Ash called out from within. Immediately in her element, Gen perked right up.

“Ash, darling, you look wonderful!” Gen gushed as if she was a proud mother looking over her child. Holding her hand up, Gen twirled her finger so that Ash would give a 360° look of the outfit. “Damn, those spandex Spidey suits really do things for the hips, huh?” Gen teased as she reached out to fix Ash’s hair. Gen often did that, not waiting for Ash to ask for help and instead just going about her business, fixing up flyaway hairs and makeup smudges if they were present without asking first.

“Gen! Don’t make her all embarrassed, you do this every time!” Eli laughed as he flopped backwards onto Ash’s bed, his fingers laced together to rest on his stomach.

“What? Ash looks smokin’ and it is my sisterly duty to hype her up!” Gen giggled as she stepped back to admire her work. Grabbing a tube of lipgloss off of Ash’s dresser, Gen got to work coating Ash’s lips with careful strokes. Twisting the tube closed, Gen admired Ash from many different angles, nodding to herself as a smile broke out on her face. “Ugh, I am so jealous of you. You’re totally gonna outshine everyone here, girl.”

Gen held her hand out to Elias and Ash.

“Come on, let’s get this party started before all the losers get here.”

✩══════════════════✩​

Had the twins expected to pregame? No. But was Gen having fun throwing back vodka shots like they were water while Eli danced about the kitchen with his sisters? Hell yeah.

The sun had set, their parents had left for their own party with some colleagues and clients from their photo studio. Music blared through the speakers as people began to enter the house. The twins were paying attention to absolutely no one as they danced around taking shots.

Gen was going to do everything in her power to forget her anxieties that night. The whole Charlie and Eli thing would be miles behind her. Her fight with Saint would be meaningless. The anticipated spat between herself and Adriane would be an issue for another day. Tonight, she was getting fucked up, dancing until her feet hurt, and would likely attempt to find someone to cozy up to and deal with her problems the only way Gen Johannes knew how.

Elias, on the other hand, was quite nervous. He hadn’t been to a party in a long time and there were a lot of people coming that Eli really didn’t want to see. He didn’t want the stress nor the drama of running into any of the people he had been actively avoiding at school. If Eli was being honest, all he really wanted to do was to go up to his room and relax. But, that was simply not an option. Gen would probably drag him out by his ear if he skipped out on the party.

“So, Ash, what’s the plan for this evening?” Gen asked, downing another shot as she pushed some of her curly hair away from her face. “You tryna to impress someone with those curves or is it a sort of platonic night? We all know who Eli’s trying to get with.”

Eli’s face blushed a deep red as he buried his attention into the soda in his hand. He wasn’t drinking, purely out of respect for Jan.

“I’m not trying to get with anyone. We’re not you, you know.” Eli teased, leaning onto the table with his hands. “Now come here and zip me up, I gotta look my Spidey-best for this costume test.”

“What a poet.” Gen laughed as she went behind her brother to finish zipping up his costume from the back of his neck to the top. “There you are, Miles. All zipped up and ready to fight with Gwen.”

Gen looked to her brother and Ash, smiling at their costumes as she leaned back against the wall behind her.

“You two are so damn cute, I swear.” Gen complimented, shaking her head as she took back another shot. “Come on, I wanna dance before every drunk idiot hits the floor.”

Gen grabbed Ash and Eli’s hands, dragging them to their emptied out living room where the music was blaring. Partygoers were already inside, the house filling up more by the minute. All Gen could hope was that they didn’t get some sort of noise complaint. Or maybe it would be a good thing. After all, Gen threw the best parties and getting the cops called on her always told her that she did a good job.

location

the johannes home

mood

'hype'

outfit

make 'em bow, baby | how many of us are there?

tags

people

coded by natasha.

 

[geminiy]

Charlie Howell

Charlie hated wigs with such a burning passion that she genuinely wanted to throw her costume wig out her window. Was it lucky to catch a Fred Jones wig blowing on a late October breeze? Probably not. But whoever would catch the pile of uncooperative synthetic blond hair should be honoured! A random half-styled wig is like a gift from Halloween itself!

Shoving another bobby pin into the depths of the wig to secure it, Charlie groaned as she attempted to fight the hairs into submission without the whole cap sliding right off her head. She hummed to herself as she wrestled with the wig, hair brushes and bobby pins and hairspray flying around her room as she attempted to make herself look as Fred as possible. How, exactly, can a tiny blonde girl radiate large-and-in-charge himbo energy? She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to pull it off but Charlie would be damned if she didn’t try.

Charlie still had the temporary car paint underneath her nails that refused to come out no matter how much she scrubbed them. The look of worry on Trevor’s face was burned into her mind, causing her to laugh to herself every time it came to the forefront of her thoughts. Ladies, take note: get you someone who cares about you to the same extent that Trevor cares about his pedovan.

Wig in place, Charlie suited up full Fred Jones style: big white sweater, jeans, the signature ascot, the dumb, mildly vacant expression. She had seen Amy’s costume for Daphne and Trevor’s costume for Shaggy but she had yet to see Lin’s costume for Daphne. She wondered how dedicated to the role he was. Was he going to do the whole skirt and heels and wig display? Charlie certainly hoped so because that would be hilarious.

Had there been enough time to switch so that Charlie was Daphne and Lin was Fred? Yes. Would it have made more sense canonically to make sure that Fred wasn’t the smallest of the group? Also yes. But would it have been as entertaining if they had switched? Hell no.

Charlie was oddly excited for the party, even though it would be quite awkward returning to the Johannes home for the first time in months and the first time since the whole her and Eli thing came to light. Charlie just hoped that Eli wasn’t going to blow up at her or Gen wasn’t gonna drown them in her pool or some shit. The last thing she wanted was to have to haunt their asses dressed as Fred fucking Jones.

Exiting her room, Charlie made her way to the kitchen. Hopping up onto the counter, Charlie grabbed a box of cereal from beside the toaster and poured some into her hand, munching away at the bits as she waited for Amy and Trevor to get ready.

“Come on you two, we’re gonna be late! And there is no way we’re gonna look bad in comparison to the stupid Spider squad just because we’re running behind schedule!” Charlie called out jokingly, taking down the rest of the cereal in her hand before storing the box away.

location

the apartment

mood

'might fuck around and solve crime later, idk'

outfit

Looks like we've got another mystery on our hands!

tags

lin/trevor ohdittoh
amy Kitsune2202

coded by natasha.

 

[Winona]

Nathan Woods
"Here I am, living a dream that I can't hold on my own."

@NathanielWithoutTheIel has set their status to:
itchy and not simping

@NathanielWithoutTheIel has set their outfit to:
sick Bonnie & Clyde thing

@NathanielWithoutTheIel has interacted with:
Evie

@NathanielWithoutTheIel has mentioned:
Liv, Oates, Minnie, idk

@NathanielWithoutTheIel has tagged:
jasmyn ​

The fair had been alright, despite the conversation with Amy and of course, Evie getting kicked out early. He'd kept most of the conversation with Amy to himself -- it wasn't that important, really, and it had been a nice way to close the page on that chapter in his life. An apology, a kiss on the cheek, and that was it. All he needed.

Nate normally had no trouble closing the door on people or jumping ship. It was kind of his forte -- something he'd perfected when he moved to LA from Lecompton, although... to be fair, those friends had stopped talking to him first. Fucking Travis spreading lies so that friends he'd had since he was in diapers dropped him like a hot coal. Dropping them in the same way and not letting them see how much it hurt to be alone had been his way of getting revenge.

And it had ended up being great for when he came to HA, after all. Made it easier to drop everyone (or nearly everyone) that he'd met in his first year here. Liv still hung around a little bit, although they'd stopped talking nearly as much -- until the whole thing with Evie had come up. He hated to admit it, but it was kind of nice to have the annoying little leech back. She would be... the one friend that he kept from his past. The one reminder of the shit he'd done.

He'd grown from that, though.

Well, that's what he told himself.

It was hard to grow when you consistently felt like you were stuck in a rut and little reminders of the past just kept popping up to drag you right back. Every call home (or lack there of from his parents), every message from Liv, and now that whole thing with Chas... they were all like slaps to the face that made Nate revert back to that fifteen-year-old dumbass he'd once been. The one that desperately wanted to be noticed and liked, so he'd do anything his friends suggested in an attempt to fit in.

Well, that Nate was gone at least. New and Improved Nate felt the opposite. He lived his life how he wanted, and he tried to not let people's opinions get to him. This was his life and anyone that didn't approve could fuck right off.

And as for his family that had more or less disowned him, well, they could fuck right off, too. They'd be begging to be back in his life after he became a rich and famous artist, and then it would be Nate's turn to ignore their phone calls and come up with petty excuses about why he couldn't do this or that.

But tonight. Tonight was going to be fun. He'd just finished taking Roger the little puppy out for a walk and had just gotten home. All he had to do was... shower, get dressed, squirt some fake blood on himself, and head out. Easy. Evie would probably fuss with the costume when he met her at the party, and that's why he didn't plan on putting a ton of work into the bullet holes or anything. Kind of pointless to waste your time on that shit when it'd probably just be redone, ya know.

Yes, he was matching Evie.

Yes, it was a couple-y costume.

Yes, they were sleeping together.

Yes, he had feeling for Evie.

No, it wasn't weird.

Between Oates, Liv, Mike, and Minnie, it was harder to deny that there was something. But Evie was adamant that there wasn't, and Nate wanted to be respectful of that. He didn't want to fuck things up with the only person who'd had his back with the shit with Chas -- not that he deserved to have anyone have his back given what he had done, but the gesture was still appreciated. It was the kind of thing that stuck with Nate and he'd spend the rest of his life trying to show that same loyalty to Evie.

Look, maybe he was just throwing up useless roadblocks to avoid trying to tell her. He'd been adamant about telling her before when he was high off his ass but now that he was sober? Now he knew what a dumb idea that would be. Seeing Amy had cemented that idea for him. He'd hurt her -- badly -- and who was to say he wouldn't do the exact same thing to Evie? It didn't matter how good of a boyfriend he'd been to her when they were together, it mattered what he'd done in the end and how badly he'd hurt her.

Nate had barely been able to look himself in the mirror after doing that to Amy. He wouldn't be able to if he did the same to Evie and it was inevitable that he would. Nathan Woods didn't do relationships for a reason. He didn't do close friendships for a reason. He was shit at them and he just knew it was a matter of time until he let them down.

These thoughts had been the ones that had bounced around in his head every time before he'd go to see Evie. It was like psyching himself up to see her, but more like psyching himself down to see her. You know, to try and kill the undeniable attraction he had to her and the way that he hadn't slept with anyone else in... well, okay, just the last couple weeks.

He finished buttoning up the white, fake blood-stained shirt and tucked it into his pants before grabbing the... the suspenders. The only people that wore suspenders were hipsters and grandpas and Nate was neither of those and yet here he was, buckling the suspenders on and rolling his shoulders to make sure that they were comfortable.

God, they were fucking right.

He was no better than Ronnie. Just a useless simp for the hottest fucking girl in Hollywood Arts.

With a heavy sigh, Nate grabbed the hat and placed it on top of his still damp hair. He grabbed his keys, phone, and wallet and then headed out of his bedroom to head to the party.

------------------------​

LA traffic was the fucking worst, especially for a kid that had learned to drive on the empty roads of the middle of nowhere Kansas. Where you could go ninety miles an hour down a flat stretch of road and not see another car for miles. Coming to Los Angeles and being flung into the fucking traffic had to easily be the biggest culture shock for him.

Three years later, and Nate still hadn't gotten over it.

By time he arrived at Gen's and managed to find somewhere to park his little car, he was on edge. Although he needed to head into the party... he could take a moment to himself. So he popped open the center console of his car, a smile drifting onto his face when he saw it. His emergency joint, now replaced with lighter. He pulled the blunt out and placed it in his mouth, pinching it delicately between his teeth, as he took the lighter and lit up the end.

All he needed were a few hits and then he'd put the thing out and head inside. Just a little something to take the edge off, but not enough to make completely numb to the night's events.

Nate was a dumbass normally but high Nate was even more so. High Nate made bad decisions and spoke too much and when he was around Evie in a couple costume with people giving them suspicious looks, the last thing Nate really needed was to be at that point of no return. He had to keep some of his wits about him.

So he breathed in, holding the smoke in his lungs, and then exhaled slowly. Once, twice, three times. Yeah, that should be good enough. Just the act of breathing in the smoke was enough to calm his frayed nerves from the drive over.

He pinched the end of the blunt out and dropped it back into the center console for the next emergency alongside his lighter. Nate closed the center console and as he was shifting to get out of the car, he caught sight of himself in the rearview mirror and realized that he'd forgotten to add the face paint. Makeup? Yeah, face makeup.

Fuck.

Ah, well.

With a shrug, Nate opened the door and stepped out into the grass. He slammed the door shut and readjusted the suspenders that hugged too tightly onto his shoulders, and then he started towards the mansion.

He felt like he was walking to a funeral more than anything. The fancy shoes. The dress pants. The nice shirt. The suspenders. Hell, Nate hadn't even dressed this nicely for his grandpa's funeral.

A hand reached up to scratch at his hair underneath the itchy hat and he readjusted it so that it sat farther back. God this was going to be a long night.

Nate followed a couple of others into the party and by now, the place was already fucking full and busy. He had no idea how he was supposed to find Evie in this mess or even if she was here yet.

Nate pushed through the crowd until his gaze finally fell upon her. Evie. He halted for a moment, just admiring the costume from afar before he got too close and couldn't because, well, then it would look like he was checking her out. Which, to be fair, he was, but right now she didn't know he was so things wouldn't end up weirder between them.

"Hey," he called as he started walking again, a smile on his face as he came to a stop by her. "You look amazing. Hell of a job on the costumes, Evie." He hated the hat and the suspenders, but they did look good. "No way we won't Gen's little costume contest."

º º code by ditto º º

 

[sunshineysoul]

MOOD: yee haw to the nth degree

OUTFIT: reach for the sky

LOCATION: his own place

basics

MENTIONS: mari n charlie


INT: mari jasmyn

tags

TL;DR no one mention his mom, please

tl;dr

cole

i hesitate to say the ocean could hold a candle to your eyes

TW// mentions of cancer and chemotherapy

well, cat was out of the bag. mari and charlie both knew the reality of his mom's situation. he didn't want to bother any extra people with something like this. it was his mom and she was suffering from lung cancer. the reality of the situation was that she was, in fact dying. it was already stage three by the time she actually went in to get checked out. it was typical for his mom.

mrs melissa howard, never wanting to admit to needing help. especially having such a big role in helping the ranch, especially with his family trying to start getting into the business of crops and not just ranch animals. cole remembered one time she had caught a cold from either cole or his sister, and she just stayed locked up in her office, still working as best she could. his momma was stubborn and could never admit to anything being wrong with her.

so of course when she had been experiencing symptoms in the beginning, she was convinced it was nothing & that it would go away. she told everyone it was just a cough, or that she was out of breath because she hadn't been staying in shape. but eventually it all came out. cole's dad basically had to drag his wife to the doctor where the news was officially broken.

and, just cole's luck, he was the last one to find out. he was all the way out in california, and cole resented himself for it. right now? cole hated everything about california. he hated his music career, he hated his school, he just wanted to get out of that state and stay home. he didn't want to be where he was. so as soon as he finished his last final of his junior year, he sped out of the place & took the fastest flight home.

it was heartbreaking. it was the first time he had seen his momma in so long, and she had already looked so different. everyone else had grown used to the initial shock of her diagnosis and the effects chemotherapy was having on her. but cole hadn't. the last time he saw his mom was a year ago, the previous summer. he wasn't able to go home for any of the major holidays his junior year, he was convinced he had to stay in california, with no distractions, to continue to work on his music.

and so now, cole regretted everything in his life. he regretted not coming home every chance he got, he regretted not trying to reach out to his parents more often. as he looked at his mom, noticeably paler and thinner & hiding her balding head with a ball cap, cole hated and regretted everything. the moment he came through the door of his house and saw him momma, he ran to her and she had to hold him while he got his tears out.

cole was a momma's boy, no questions asked. of course he loved both of his parents, but he had always been closer with his momma. she raised him to be a gentleman, she bought him his first guitar, his first pair of boots, and even took him to pick out his first saddle to put on his first horse, brick. she even let him name his snow white horse something as stupid and silly as "brick". cole loved no one more than his own momma.

so there he stood, knowing there was nothing to be done about his mom's condition. cole didn't want to come back to california. he wanted to drop out and stay in texas. give up on music and just go help with the ranch as much as he could. he wanted to spend as much time as he could with his momma before she was gone. but she told him how she wanted him to graduate high school. she wanted to go out and do the one thing that he loved, the one that made him happiest.

there was nothing he could do.

there was nothing he could do.

there was nothing he could do.

there was nothing he could do.

so yeah, he didn't tell anyone. he didn't see a point. nothing could be done, it's not like he was friends with some genius scientists or doctors that could magically cure her of her cancer. there was no point in upsetting more people over something that was inevitable. so when he exploded on mari and charlie, he instantly regretted it. he hated that he was so angry and frustrated, he hated how he took it out on them, and he hated that they both knew. the last thing cole needed was for his best friends to walk on eggshells around him. if he couldn't go back home, he didn't want to think about it. he wanted as many distractions as he could bare.

this halloween party was exactly what he needed. it was something he was actually looking forward to for a long time. he and mari had planned to be jessie and woody from toy story. she had even spent the night at his place so they could have everything absolutely perfect and coordinated for the party the next night.

they weren't dead set on winning the competition or anything, it would just be fun. both of them being from texas and having southern accents that stood out like a sore thumb in california. and the fact that they both grew up on a ranch? it was perfect.

"hey mari, where's the the giant sharpie? i forgot to write 'andy' on the bottom of my boot." cole called out from the bathroom as he fiddled with the bandana around his neck and straightened out his cowboy hat.

this has to be the most authentic woody costume anyone's ever thrown together

cole had a yellow plaid shirt on, and of course an authentic cow vest over it. he had his best pair of blue jeans that were held up by the most texan belt + belt buckle anyone at HA would've ever seen. they had even found a belt holster to put on him, even considered getting a toy gun to place in it before deciding against it. and then there were the brand new pair of boots with shiny gold spurs. he surprised mari with matching pairs of brand new boots for this exact costume. also because he really didn't want to write with sharpie on any other of his boots.

and then there was his hat. he thought of going out and buying one that looked like a toy hat, with the laces tying up the top of the hat, but he had the perfect hat. his dad gave it to him as a going away present when he got into HA. it tied the costume together perfectly. he tipped his hat to his own reflection before walking out into the kitchen.

"found it!" he called out into his apartment as he saw the big sharpie on the kitchen table. he sat down to write on the bottom of his shoe when he felt something uncomfortable on his back.

i forgot about the stupid string

mari had done her research. they had spent the previous night looking up and memorizing all the sayings that the different jessie and woody dolls said when their strings were pulled. cole had called mari a dork about fifty times last night while they were doing it, but now there was no way that cole was ever forgetting any of woody's catchphrases.

after writing "andy" with a backwards "n" on his boot, cole tossed the sharpie back on the table and called out, again.

"okay i'm ready whenever you are!"

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Ashton West
"I heard that you've been having some trouble finding your place in the world."

@Fire&Ash has set their status to:
can't breathe, but at least there's shots

@Fire&Ash has set their outfit to:
Spider Gwen

@Fire&Ash has interacted with:
Gen, Eli

@Fire&Ash has mentioned:
Trevor, Lucky

@Fire&Ash has tagged:
geminiy ​

She hated Halloween.

Not that she would ever tell Gen or Eli that, or probably admit it openly to anyone. And it wasn't the holiday necessarily that Ash didn't like, it was the dressing up. The costumes part is what made her feel sick to her stomach. She hated shopping for costumes -- all the costumes for girls that fit her showed too much skin or she'd find herself staring into the mirror and trying to suck in her gut because she just looked fat. Ash despised shopping normally for clothes for the same reasons, but something about Halloween just made it ten times worse.

She'd agreed to be Spider Gwen when Eli had asked because one) it was Eli and she couldn't say no to him, two) apparently she'd be kicked out of the house and her room would be auctioned off for teenagers to do things in, and three) it covered all of her skin. Like, there was no part of her that would have to be shown. It was perfect! Ash felt more comfortable if her skin was covered up, so it felt like a win-win-win type of situation, so she'd ordered the costume.

Ash didn't know it would be fucking skintight.

She hated Halloween.

So now she was standing in her bedroom in front of the mirror, turned to the side, in the costume. Ash tried to suck in her stomach, but that didn't do enough. She still looked... fat and wrong in this stupid costume. Maybe she could throw a sweater on to cover up her stomach and just insist that she was cold. Plus, if she wore a hoodie, then she'd have somewhere to put Jeffrey (aka the hoodie pocket) and that would be double the excuse for why she was covering up the costume.

She could totally just take the sweater off when Gen started doing the judging and then slip it right back on after judging was over. Easy. Then she wouldn't be stuck looking dumb all night.

Ash stepped away from the mirror to her dresser. She rummaged through one of the drawers until she pulled out an over-sized hoodie which was perfect. It would easily fall past her waist, too, which was like, even more perfect than it just covering her stomach. She was about to pull it out and slip it on when she heard knocking on the door.

Gen.

She bit her lip and pushed the dresser drawer shut. Ash could just... get the hoodie later. Before the actual party started because she knew that if she put it on now, Gen would just make her take it off. Plus then she would have to just come up with some half-hearted excuse as to why she was wearing and honestly, it would just be a disaster.

"Come in," she called.

The twins walked in and no sooner had they then Gen was complimenting the costume. A blush formed on her cheeks at Gen's compliments and to be honest, just made her more conscious of how it looked. Subconsciously, she sucked her stomach in and her arms crossed over to cover her stomach. She obliged, though, with a roll of her eyes and spun in a little circle for Gen.

"Yeah, yeah, I might look good, but I can't breathe." Less from the tightness of the costume and more just from the self-consciousness that twisted her stomach when she remembered what she was wearing. She stood obediently for Gen while she fixed her hair and parted her lips when she grabbed the lip gloss. By this point in their years long friendship, Ash would've been surprised if Gen hadn't taken to fixing her up. It was just what she did.

With a smile and her makeup fixed, she followed the twins out of her bedroom... but not before heading back over to the dresser to grab out the hoodie. To put on later when more people started arriving, obviously.

-------------------------​

Ash had always planned on pregaming, alright? Parties were only fun if you were already a few shots in, and that's just what she did. Plus she couldn't see vodka set out without taking at least a couple shots. It would just, like, claim all of her thoughts until she had started. But the couple shots had managed to make her feel more relaxed. The self-consciousness had faded, for the most part, although the hoodie was still waiting for her on a nearby countertop.

And then Gen was asking about her plan for the evening, and--

Nope, nope.

She took another shot.

Things with Trevor were going well, surprise, surprise. Aside from whatever strange issues he seemed to have with Lucky that had manifested from absolutely nothing, the two were actually getting along well. It was surprising even to her because the more she learned about Trevor (literally up to this point, she'd known next to nothing -- getting into a relationship with someone she barely knew was unlike her, but whatever), the more she realized how they had...

Absolutely nothing in common. But hey, it was working. Somehow. He was sweet. She was happy. She was pretty sure he was happy with everything. Things were good.

However, she couldn't say any of that aloud to Gen because, well, Gen didn't know. And she'd already slipped up and told Eli (a fact that she hadn't bothered to inform Trevor of yet, woops) and there was no way that Ash was going to slip up a second time when the whole idea of staying secret had been hers.

"Platonic night," she stated. "Like, that date with Trevor made me realize that I am not ready to date again."

Well, that wasn't at all true. Here she was, thrust into another relationship, although that wasn't uncommon for her. Since Ash had first started dating years ago, her accumulative time spent single was about... four or five months? Maybe? And those months had been spent going on dates and talking to guys.

Ash just... didn't do the single thing. At all. Heck, the two months between the end of her relationship with Nico and the start of her relationship with Trevor had been her longest span one hundred percent single and not actively trying to date.

"Mhm. You're totally not trying to impress Jan at all." She teased Eli with a grin.

Ash watched as Gen zipped up his costume and grinned. Oh hell yeah, as long as Jan and Lucky also looked this good, there was no way in heck that they weren't going to win the whole contest.

"We're not cute. We're, like, super cool looking. Totally ready to kick ass and win the contest." Ash had been talking up a big game ever since Spidey Squad was formed -- there was no way that she could let the Mystery Gang win over them. Like anyone else, sure, whatever, she didn't really care. But they had to beat the Mystery Gang.

Before she could say much else, Gen grabbed her and Eli's hands and they were being dragged out to the dance floor. Her hoodie had been left behind and she cast a longing glance back at it -- well, she'd get it in a little bit. Like at some point they'd end up splitting up, and Ash could just slide over there and grab it and then she'd easily feel a hundred times better, right? Right.

But for now, she could try and lose herself in this moment. She was with Eli and Gen -- her two favorite people in the whole world, and even Ash couldn't dance for anything and she felt dumb, she could still have fun.

She laughed, the smile on her face growing as she lost herself in the moment and started (very badly) dancing alongside the twins.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[sunshineysoul]

MOOD: i'll give you one guess psst it starts w/ an a

OUTFIT: spider-woman + a zip up jacket

LOCATION: the halloween party

basics

MENTIONS: people


INT: ash Winona eli geminiy

tags

TL;DR jan is anxious, once again. who would've thought

tl;dr

january

it's the invisible things that i love the most

TW// slight mention of prescribed anxiety meds

"how long are you gonna be out?"

jan was rushing around her house, getting the last of her things ready for the halloween party. her mother was rushing right along with her, about to head in for a late night surgery.

"i don't know mom, probably pretty late?"

my hair! what the heck am i supposed to do with my hair?

"okay! just let me know when you'll be home! and you know how i feel about you walking home at night, so promise me you'll find someone to drive you home, yes?"

maybe i can just brush it out and leave it natural?

"january? promise?" jan was snapped out of her thoughts.

"yea! got it mom! i'll text you when i found a ride!" she stood in her bathroom, beginning to work on her hair.

how did i forget my hair?

she heard her mom close the door and the car drive off. and jan felt her nerves multiply. this was a running game for her, wasn't it? being nervous, anxious, all of it.

oh my gosh i didn't take my meds.

of course jan was on anxiety meds. seeing how she was a huge ball of constant anxiety, it would be weird if she wasn't on any meds. it happened as soon as her and her mom left her dad and brother in new york. jan was already anxious growing up, with the way her past was. and then when she and her mom picked up everything and moved across the country to a completely new state? and a brand new high school? it was nerve wracking.

her mother knew she had to set jan up with a psychiatrist when she got a call from jan's high school saying she had walked out of class to go hide in the bathroom. the real reason being that the class was doing ice breakers & some idiot teacher thought it'd be a great idea to talk about families, and then another student was a jerk and decided to ask about her dad. touchy subject for jan, who went out to have a full blown anxiety attack in the bathroom. great first impression on the first day of school, right?

after that little incident, jan's mom immediate set her up with a psychiatrist and it was glaringly obvious that jan was suffering from severe anxiety at that point and time, and was prescribed anxiety meds. they helped, drastically. she was noticeably calmer, but it didn't help than jan tended to ramble and still got a bit nervous in big, crowded areas. it's not like the meds could cure jan of being jan.

"that would've been a nightmare," her words came out as a sigh of relief as she downed her meds with a swig of water. "of all the nights to forget my meds, a halloween party with drunk teenagers might've been the worst." she found herself nervously laughing as she rushed back to her bathroom to fix up her hair.

finally, her hair seemed presentable. she decided to just keep it down and natural, she didn't really want to deal with the frustrations of trying to curl or straighten it or try to put it into some kind of braid. with her makeup, she tried to keep it simple; neutral eye with a small winged eyeliner and a deep red lip.

just breathe jan. everything's gonna be fun, the fair was fun, right?

she was undecided about the fair. yes, she got to hang with and get to know eli more, but after the ferris wheel, she felt like he was kinda cold. he was incredibly quiet to her for the rest of the night, even on the ride home. he hadn't even given her a hug when he dropped her off at home. they had some interactions at school and through text, and everything seemed fine between them. but hanging out outside of school was different. jan was really nervous, freaked out that she had messed something up between them.

elias johannes was something else. and january quinten wasn't good with relationships. sure, she only had the one to go off of but she had rushed into it so quickly. without a second thought she just said yes to this football player who asked her out. she never thought about how fast they were moving until it was over, and now she over thought everything.

is it just me? am i making this friendship go faster than it's supposed to? is it even a friendship anymore? can i call it a relationship? we're not dating or anything. i don't want to be dating him, i mean not right now. not for a while, it's a lot and am i the one making him uncomfortable? he'd tell me if he was, right? uncomfortable?

shut up jan.

shaking off the thoughts in her head, she looked at her costume in the mirror again. she was incredibly self conscious about it. it was a skin tight suit, she felt way too on display for her own good. but it was all part of the costume, right? she couldn't let ash, eli and lucky down. oh and jeffery, can't forget their peter porker. jan felt so included to be asked to be a part of their spidey squad, especially with how much she loved marvel, specifically spider-man. spider-man was the first super hero she ever came across & became her all time favorite super hero. there was no way she was letting some insecurity get in the way of the spider squad.

"but a jacket can't hurt, right?" she thought out loud, remembering the conversation between her and ash earlier. if she was going to wear a jacket then jan could too, right? rushing to her closet, she grabbed a zip up jacket from her closet and threw it on. quickly putting it on and zipping it up, she grabbed her phone and keys and headed out. the sun was still above the horizon when she started walking, but there was a slight breeze that caused her to flick the hood over her head.

~~
finally making it to the address that eli sent her, jan breathed out a sigh of relief. she had made it. but she also felt a big knot in her stomach.

i did take my meds, right?

giving herself a pep talk as she walked up to the door, she noticed how someone before her just walked in. that solved one of her questions, if she was supposed to knock or ring a doorbell or just walk in? she knew that she just had to walk in. she stood a few feet away from the door, taking some deep breaths.

it's gonna be okay, right? everything's gonna be fine. if anything happens you can just ditch and walk back home, right? mom never has to know you weren't driven home.

after psyching herself up for a bit, she finally just did it. she reached forward and opened the door.

it was loud. there was music, talking, like any other typical party. she closed the door behind her, and stood there for a bit.

you got this. it'll be okay, right?

she took a few steps into the house and wow oh wow was it huge. she knew that the johannes family was rich, but this really made it click just how rich they were. her steps were slow as she took in everything around her. the decorations looked great, she knew gen had to have been proud. eventually she made it into the main room, where most people she knew were gathering together.

across the room she saw gen, eli and ash all together.

they seem busy. i can just wait until someone comes up to me, right? yeah, of course i can.

so that's what she did. she felt something in her chest when she and eli locked eyes, but she played it off and gave him a small smile and quick wave. she didn't want to interrupt anything that was happening between the three.

code by valen t.

 

[ohdittoh]

LINDSAY KAY
"let's get lit"

@feelin_a_o_kay has set his status to:
hypeeeeeeeee

@feelin_a_o_kay has set his outfit to:
daphne and im fuckin rockin it lmaooooooo

@feelin_a_o_kay has set his location to:
his place but heading out

@feelin_a_o_kay has mentioned:
charlie and the scooby squad

@feelin_a_o_kay has interacted with:
mitsubishi lmao (but his interactions aren't open ; ))

@feelin_a_o_kay has tagged:
no one

@feelin_a_o_kay has written a tl;dr:

Spoiler: Click To View

Lin, dressed as Daphne, texts his mom, talks to his dog, and heads out.

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Meg Kay always went all out on Halloween— talking, like, when they happened to be in houses that they rented out and not in crumby apartments, there were blow up lawn ornaments, bowls out front with zombie arms on top of them, and skeletons hanging from trees that turned on and screeched when kids walked by them. When they did happen to be in crumby apartments, she would put up a sheet over their window that lit up every thirty seconds or so with bloody fingerprints and a shadowed face. The sheet used to laugh, too, but then the neighbors complained about it going off so often, so she’d had to turn that off. She’d gifted the voice box so kindly to the neighbors along with some wine as a parting gift before they moved.

Yeah, his mom was a total badass. Ran in the family. Insert sunglasses emoji here.

Lin carried that bit of tradition with him to HA. Listen, freshman year? Talking, like, his whole fucking dorm was decked o-u-t. Stuff in all of the windows, on his balcony, all that shit. Stuck some lil’ skelly guys in the next door kids’ rooms every couple of days in random places, and then swore up and dow that he had nothing to do with it. Then the security people came to talk to him about breaking and entering and blah blah blah, and he wasn’t allowed to do that anymore. He just started doing it to his other neighbor, and they didn’t seem to mind as much.

Then Ricky had to come and ruin it for him. “You can’t be spending all of my money on Halloween supplies” looking ass. “I’m going to take away your credit card if you spend more money on Halloween shit” looking ass.

So Lin had had to make do with all of his same deckings-outings since freshman year. Lucky him, he’d really stocked up, so there were plenty of supplies to decorate his condo with this year and plenty of skellies that he had to annoy his neighbors with by tossing a few into their private pool.

Listen, it was their fault that their balcony railing didn’t have much of a clearance. He was just taking advantage of that on occasion all month long by chucking skeletons with various random objects hot-glued to their heads into their pool.

Needless to say, Lin’s neighbors had complained to him multiple times, but “it’s not me, man, sorry” was enough to send them away (angrily, but away, luhmao).

Lin’s all-outness for Halloween didn’t just stop with decorations. It carried over to his costumes. Throwback to Beelzebub freshman year, with that fucking dope ass cloak with that high collar that went, like, stood up to be a foot over his head that his mom sent him various sewing tutorials on how to make, and then Cthulu last year, which he’d jumped out of the bushes with and scared the piss out of some little kids with after the party was over.

This year was a bit tamer, but he was still fucking rocking it. Daphne Blake had never looked so fucking good.

Red wig? Check. Had he added a bit more of a beehive at the back? Fucking duh. Creative liberties. Tied it up with a purple headband? Of course.

Purple dress? Check. No fake Lintitties, but he just couldn’t get his boobs to look right, so he’d had to make do with a flat chested Daphne.

Green ascot? Check. Purple belt, purple heels? Hell yeah. And white tights because he’d nicked his legs a few more times that he’d planned on? Fuck yeah.

Top it off with his beautifully applied makeup that he’d gotten right after only twenty attempts and black nail polish, and Lindsay Kay had the best costume in the world. Periodt, the end.

He was a show stopper with legz for dayz, and he was gonna win the costume contest— pulling his team to victory, duh.

Also, Mitsubishi, his dawgie, was gonna help big time, too, because she was just the cutest thing evew, yes she was. The people at the pound had said that she was puppy-ish age, and probably a German shepherd and chow mix, but, luhmao, whatever she was was good enough.

She liked to chew everything, though. And she wanted attention a lot. High maintenance. But, luhmao, so did he, so they were big buds.

His mom had been shocked when he said that he was getting a dog, but she’d immediately sent a ton of links and said things like it’s a big responsibility, but you can handle it. Ricky had been pissed, but they were allowed in the condo, so there wasn’t much that the bastard could do, luhmao.

He was still working on house-breaking her, though. Listen, he was a week in, so it was a work in progress.

Had he spent every free second that he wasn’t talking to Charlie researching and buying dog things for his new favorite being beside his mom? You knew it.

Speaking of, he was dating Charlie, luhmao.

He just wanted to throw that in there.

Fucking sick, right?

“Beebeebeebeebee!” he squealed in a high-pitched voice, his dog’s costume for tonight— a cyan collar with a SD dangling from it and a leash attached to it— in his hand.

He heard a series of clicking against the wood upstairs, and moments later, his fluffy dog came down the stairs two at a time, wagging her tail excitedly.

“Mitsubiiishi," he cooed as she approached, petting her and giving her cheeks a soft squeeze as her tail wagged ecstatically. “Lookey, loooook!” He held up her collar. “It’s your costume,” he laughed, smiling at her. “Hold— hold still.” He tried to put it on her, though she kept trying to lick his face.

After a few minutes of struggling whilst laughing, he had the collar on her, and he took ahold of the leash, smiling at her with a laugh. “Luhmao, you’re just the cutest thing, luhmaoooo!”

His heels clacked against the ground as he went to grab his little white purse (just a tonight thing, luhmao, but it had a ton of room in it, tee-bee-aych, so he might was well use it past tonight) from his kitchen counter, and he heard his phone ding! just as he did.

f MESSAGES fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerferfillerfiller now

Momma Megkaytron
three new messages

His mom! Hell yeah!

Happy Halloween!!!!!!!!

How r u Morgie? Still as excited as u were last night for the party? How is the ?

Send pics tonight!!!!! And videos!!!! I want to see u w ur girlfriend!! I’ll send a picture of my costume two— I’m the wicked witch this year I really miss you being around to help me hand out .

The way his mom texted him made him grin. It was just funny, with the emojis and the unnecessary punctuation.

yo mom happy halloween im doing v great and v excited lol

He wasn’t gonna curse in text with his mom— so no “lmao”s or “fkn”s here. Had to resort to “v” and “lol” every time he texted his mom.

mitsubishi is dope— shes just vibing lol but i just got her collar on

ofc ill send pics lol charlie n ill have a photoshoot just for you lolll

i miss you tooooooooooo cuz now i have to buy my own candy lollll

He grinned to himself, as his mom sent back her response:

Say that to my face!!!! Kidding!!! I love u soooo so much Morgie. Can’t wait to see ur pics!!!! Oh, by the way, u did eat an actual lunch today right??

candy counts for lunch lol

Ur kidding

nah loll

Boy do I have to be there every second to keep u alive?? Go eat some fruit or something. U can’t just live off of candy!!!

Ess-em-aych.

fine lol

im about to leave for the party ill eat an apple on the way

BE CAREFUL!!! DON’T DRIVE INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC AGAIN!!! I don’t want to have to get a call from Rick telling me that ur at the doc’s again because u broke your ankles or WORSE!! Eating while driving a bike does not sound SAFE so be VERY CAREFUL!!!

She knew him better than anyone did. Guess that came with pushing him out of her body.

He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter— which his mom had invested in, smh, because she wanted him to be nutritionally balanced, smh— and he ran it under water before biting into it.

there lol im eating it

boutta head out

love you n ill send pics lol

I love u too Morgie!! Look forward to the pics!!! Mwahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

With a grin, he shoved his phone into his purse, and he looked over at Mitsubishi.

“Ready to go, girl?” he asked, and she wagged her tail in response, walking closer for him to pet her again. “Heww yeah,” he said in a baby voice as he obliged her, and then he stood up again. “Le’z go!”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

- Location.
Fair
- Mood.
Did I just....
- Tags.
Zeph ( Winona ),
-Outfit.
Cute, fun, flirty

Stella was enjoying the view, the brisk cool air as the their time here was coming to an end. She was in bliss, and she couldn't be happier about it. She wasn't thinking about much of anything by this point. For once her mind was blank, not thinking about tomorrow, or later, or next week, not her phone blowing up which was probably just twitter drama. She was just sitting and enjoying the moment. She really needed to try and squeeze in more moments like this this in her busy schedule. Her agent and manager kept her very busy, and for good reason in this industry you want to busy busy you want to be buzzing. They kept her relevant, and she was grateful for them...most of the time.

Her mind only came circling back to the real world at Zeph's questions. "Hm?" She questioned curiously before tapping her chin lightly with her index finder sitting up a bit in thought, "That's a good question." She giggled letting a smirk curl onto his lips at his suggestions, "After you? huh?" It had merit he did win it. "But if I name him Zee people will think I'm being lazy because he is a Zebra." She giggled. She could call him by his full name since she rarely called Zeph by his full name. Her thoughts and laughter were cut immediately as the next few words fell from his lips.

"Oh, or Filbert. That's what Ronnie told Gen, anyway, when she was talking about her 'stalker' and it just ended up being mean."

The pain that showed in his eyes brought a frown to her face, "Excuse me? Why would I name him anything related to that Bi-" She stopped herself from insulting her despite really wanting to because clearly for some reason he still cared about the whole thing. Sure you cant just switch off feelings, but she was being a total bitch and deserved no more of his attention let alone thought. "Related to her of all people. That was incredibly rude of her, and childish." She huffed.

She looked back at him and felt a ting of guilt because she wasn't trying to be harsh. In fact she felt her words were VERY tamed compared to her actual thoughts on the matter, and the ginger simp. "Oh come on, please don't think on it too much. We've been having fun, and she shouldn't get to ruin even a second of your day." She pleaded trying to sound encouraging. "I know the whole thing really sucks, but it was a kiss. We are young, and dumb and we do things sometimes that don't have to be a big deal. A kiss doesn't have to be a big deal." Before she thought through the consequences of her actions the next thing Stella found herself doing was cupping his chin and placing a kiss on his lips. His lips were softer then she expected. She didn't linger long, but it wasn't a half a second peck either. Kinda like a PG-13 kiss scene in a middle school play. Nothing intense on her part, just simple.

Was this a good idea? No not at all. But it made since in her mind at the moment. Stella hadn't been in a meaningful relationship in quite some time so to her...a kiss really could just be a kiss it didn't have to be anything big, and most of the time wasn't. To her it was like a stage kiss. It was just an action, something to prove a point. It wasn't till she finally pulled back that it dawned on her that...this wasn't the same. this wasn't a stage, they weren't acting, this wasn't some rando who she was bored with...this was ZEPH, her best friend...and she'd just kissed him.

Fuck.

Luckily for her their time on the ride was at an end and as the car stopped her lips curled into an awkwardly bashful yet attempt at confidence smile, "Ah...see?" She chimed before quickly climbing out of the cart with her zebra now covering the majority of her face praying to God it wasn't as red as she felt it was. If she played it cool, then everything would be ok right? It's prove her point, they would grab something to eat go home, and it would be like nothing happened. With any luck with this at least she was done hearing about Ronnie for the night. She looked down at the stuffed animal hiding her anxiety, "Evermore, That's gonna be his name. It's poetic."

She hummed walking and kinda just assuming he was following behind her, "So food? I'm thinking a burger, well I'll probably get chicken, but still." She kept talking trying to put as much distance between what she'd done and the present as possible.

Stella J. Bailey

coded by incandescent

Spoiler: Mobile version

Stella was enjoying the view, the brisk cool air as the their time here was coming to an end. She was in bliss, and she couldn't be happier about it. She wasn't thinking about much of anything by this point. For once her mind was blank, not thinking about tomorrow, or later, or next week, not her phone blowing up which was probably just twitter drama. She was just sitting and enjoying the moment. She really needed to try and squeeze in more moments like this this in her busy schedule. Her agent and manager kept her very busy, and for good reason in this industry you want to busy busy you want to be buzzing. They kept her relevant, and she was grateful for them...most of the time.

Her mind only came circling back to the real world at Zeph's questions. "Hm?" She questioned curiously before tapping her chin lightly with her index finder sitting up a bit in thought, "That's a good question." She giggled letting a smirk curl onto his lips at his suggestions, "After you? huh?" It had merit he did win it. "But if I name him Zee people will think I'm being lazy because he is a Zebra." She giggled. She could call him by his full name since she rarely called Zeph by his full name. Her thoughts and laughter were cut immediately as the next few words fell from his lips.

"Oh, or Filbert. That's what Ronnie told Gen, anyway, when she was talking about her 'stalker' and it just ended up being mean."

The pain that showed in his eyes brought a frown to her face, "Excuse me? Why would I name him anything related to that Bi-" She stopped herself from insulting her despite really wanting to because clearly for some reason he still cared about the whole thing. Sure you cant just switch off feelings, but she was being a total bitch and deserved no more of his attention let alone thought. "Related to her of all people. That was incredibly rude of her, and childish." She huffed.

She looked back at him and felt a ting of guilt because she wasn't trying to be harsh. In fact she felt her words were VERY tamed compared to her actual thoughts on the matter, and the ginger simp. "Oh come on, please don't think on it too much. We've been having fun, and she shouldn't get to ruin even a second of your day." She pleaded trying to sound encouraging. "I know the whole thing really sucks, but it was a kiss. We are young, and dumb and we do things sometimes that don't have to be a big deal. A kiss doesn't have to be a big deal." Before she thought through the consequences of her actions the next thing Stella found herself doing was cupping his chin and placing a kiss on his lips. His lips were softer then she expected. She didn't linger long, but it wasn't a half a second peck either. Kinda like a PG-13 kiss scene in a middle school play. Nothing intense on her part, just simple.

Was this a good idea? No not at all. But it made since in her mind at the moment. Stella hadn't been in a meaningful relationship in quite some time so to her...a kiss really could just be a kiss it didn't have to be anything big, and most of the time wasn't. To her it was like a stage kiss. It was just an action, something to prove a point. It wasn't till she finally pulled back that it dawned on her that...this wasn't the same. this wasn't a stage, they weren't acting, this wasn't some rando who she was bored with...this was ZEPH, her best friend...and she'd just kissed him.

Fuck.

Luckily for her their time on the ride was at an end and as the car stopped her lips curled into an awkwardly bashful yet attempt at confidence smile, "Ah...see?" She chimed before quickly climbing out of the cart with her zebra now covering the majority of her face praying to God it wasn't as red as she felt it was. If she played it cool, then everything would be ok right? It's prove her point, they would grab something to eat go home, and it would be like nothing happened. With any luck with this at least she was done hearing about Ronnie for the night. She looked down at the stuffed animal hiding her anxiety, "Evermore, That's gonna be his name. It's poetic."

She hummed walking and kinda just assuming he was following behind her, "So food? I'm thinking a burger, well I'll probably get chicken, but still." She kept talking trying to put as much distance between what she'd done and the present as possible.

 

[sunshineysoul]

MOOD: felling gooooood

OUTFIT: "i know"

LOCATION: the halloween party

basics

MENTIONS: josie, gen, adri


INT: N/A

tags

TL;DR i'm lazy, just read the post man i work hard on these, you could read them )):

tl;dr

augustus

is it easier to stay or is it easier to go?

gus forgot how much he hated school. after skipping an entire week to do nothing but drink and smoke, it was a complete bitch to get back into the swing of school and homework and booking shoots. it made gus want to officially drop out of school to just become a full time model. he know he could. he made a fortune over breaks on different shoots. so much more than he could ever make actually being in school. and it's not like anyone cared if he had an actual high school degree, as long as he looked good and could do what he was told, he could get some of the best modeling jobs.

so going back to school really sucked. the one highlight of the past week was the fair. yea sure, he had met up with josie & hard core sobbed and broke down into her arms. but they got to hang out at his place with some pizza and ice cream and it was great.

a little TOO great there, augustus.

right

that

gus tried to push the entire make-out incident out of his head, ever since it happened. he couldn't believe that happened. he couldn't believe he actually kissed her. and it wasn't just a kiss, it was a make-out session. there was straddling and open mouths and tugging of hair an-

doing a great job of forgetting the whole thing, huh?

his head shook, like an etch-a-sketch, restarting this thoughts. tonight was the halloween party and gus was actually excited for it. he and josie had decided to dress up as han solo and princess leia from the original star wars trilogy.

even though she had never seen it.

"i mean, how do you just NOT see one of the most groundbreaking trilogies of our time? maybe now OUR time, but still!" he fought with himself as he put on his make-shift costume. he had settled on a white shirt, black pants, black combat boots, and a tan vest on top. he also had a really cool belt & he'd even gone to the store and found a fake blaster + holster to go with it. it was subtle, but it still screamed han solo. of course gus was biased to han solo being the best character in star wars. what wasn't to like about a suave, laid back, ladies' man?

his hair was another story. gus' hair was naturally unruly. not that he had curly or even wavy hair, his hair was incredibly straight. the problem was it never wanted to be styled how gus wanted it. the blonde hair on his head was so fluffy and bouncy, thanks to gus having a great hair care routine, and gus hated styling it. however, this was a party. he had to get it into character.

so he tried his best, brushing it, spraying a little bit of water on it, and trying to fix it up with product. it took a while but it finally got to a point that gus could live with. giving himself a quick look over in his mirror, he nodded at his reflection as he headed out of the bathroom. he went back to his own room, grabbing his phone off of the charger and checking it.

there was just some twitter chat, some people had showed up to the party, apparently some idiot blocked off gen's drive-way, and gus knew how to hot wire a car or two. so of course he'd go help. it's the least he could do after snapping at gen over twitter.

ugh

he'd also forgot that happened too.

adri.

what the fuck was gus supposed to do there.

they had been so close for so long, gus had been calling her his best friend as long as they were both at HA. the one thing she did that never failed to irk gus was how adri could never hold back from gossiping about any and everyone behind their backs. he had gotten onto her every time he heard about it, but nothing ever changed. and this time she got slapped for it.

he had to admit, she probably deserved it. bad mouthing HA's golden boy, eli? there was no reason to do so. it lead to a fight, and gus was under the impression that adri didn't even care that he was out for a week. it's like adri had forgotten about gus and was just phasing him out as a friend. it hurt to think about, and after a short conversation with gen, he began to re-evaluate their friendship.

i'm losing all my other friends, why not lose adri too?

not like she'd miss you. she'd probably shit talk you behind your back too.

once again, his etch-a-sketch brain erased and restarted. he had to get to gen's for both the party and the car to hot wire.

~~

after successfully hot wiring and moving whoever's car from blocking the drive-way, gus was able to head inside and start the party. in all his excitement of dressing up like han solo, gus had completely forgotten to pregame. so unlike him. he was a little ashamed. no matter, gen had a bottle of vodka with his name on it, and gus was more than ready to start downing shots.

not too many, he didn't want to get too terribly wasted before drunk dancing.

code by valen t.

 

[geminiy]

Genevieve Johannes

Gen had found herself lost in the embrace of the music, hips swaying to the rhythm as she danced alongside Ash, twirling her shorter friend with a laugh. The alcohol they had consumed earlier had begun to make her feel buzzed, just enough to lower her inhibitions. Swallowed up by the gentle hum of alcohol in her system and the gentle thumping of the music in her ears, Gen felt perfectly at home. There wasn’t anything to worry about, no people to cause her headaches: just her, her favourite people, and the party.

Of course, that wouldn’t last long. Some idiot had blocked off their driveway and part of their street with some overly souped up shitbox, which required Gen’s attention. Then there was a mild conversation between herself and some of her friends online, which also required her attention. Then there, across the room, was January Quinten.

Gen did not have any particular qualms with the fresh-faced junior. In fact, Gen quite liked the girl. She was sweet enough to hurt Gen’s teeth, strong enough to prove she had an ounce of a backbone, charismatic enough to keep her aloof brother on his toes. Yet there was something about her, a trait that Gen simply couldn’t place, that made her want to make her run for the hills. It was the big sister intuition kicking into overdrive and threatening to take over her entire being.

January Quinten could be the nicest damn girl the world has ever seen but she would not be safe from Genevieve’s watchful eye and vengeful hand, should shit hit the fan.

Luckily for Gen, Elias was far too busy joking around with Ash to notice that Jan had even shown up and was standing awkwardly to the side of the room, surveying the landscape like a deer in distant headlights. Gen threw on a smile and fixed the ebony crown perched upon her curls before stepping through the crowd and making her way over to Jan.

“January, babes, how wonderful that you’re here!” Gen spoke sweetly and carefully, taking Jan gently by the shoulders and placing an imaginary air kiss on each of her cheeks. A civil enough greeting for a civil enough interaction. “You really do look lovely tonight, I’m so glad you could make it. Walk with me, shall we?”

Before Jan could respond, Gen’s bare arm was looped through Jan’s as she gracefully tugged her along out of the living room and out of Eli and Ash’s line of sight, smiling and greeting people as she passed as if nothing was happening.

“So, I do hope that Hollywood Arts has been kind to you. I remember my first month here, it was truly brutal. I thought modelling was tough as an independent artist but turns out being signed on by Vogue Magazine in your first year sort of puts a target on your back.” Gen laughed sweetly as the two stepped into the kitchen and towards the table.

The kitchen was, unsurprisingly, packed full of teenagers already looking to satisfy their munchies or to pack in the carbs before getting totally loaded. At least they were smart enough to eat and at least Elias had been thoughtful enough to remember to get snacks the day before. Gen blew another kiss, waving to a group of girls huddled near her sink with their cups in delicate, manicured fingers. More plastics. Gosh, she really despised their fake asses.

“I suppose you will have that issue soon enough. You’re quite the talented girl, January.” Gen complimented, her words true and honest to her beliefs. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t already gone through the girl’s social media platforms in an attempt to hunt down any lingering bad behaviour from days gone by. What? A girl could never be too careful and Gen knew as well as anyone that the quiet ones were often the most lethal.

“Also I must thank you for helping Elias with preparing the snacks yesterday. He would have moaned and groaned about it until I helped him. I would have hated to get these new nails dirty.” Gen said, outstretching her hand to reveal a perfectly manicured set of ruby claws, the gloss dazzling against the white light of the kitchen. “Besides, I’ve heard you’re quite the cuoco esperto yourself.”

The refreshment table came into sight. What a perfect place for this conversation. Spotting Landon and Mike at the edge closest to them, Gen waved at the boys as she walked, playfully tossing her hair from in front of her face to her back as she slowed her gait, never fully stopping her march towards the empty end of the table.

“Good evening, boys. So glad you’ve both made it.” Gen purred, a devious smirk plastered across her glossed lips. “Enjoy yourselves tonight. Also, nice wings, Mike.”

With a wink to the duo who were very clearly in the middle of some sort of heated conversation, Gen continued on, pulling Jan along beside her with angelic grace, stopping only when she reached the empty end of the table. Reaching her hand across the table, she grabbed a shot glass and poured herself some vodka. Raising the glass to her lips, Gen took down the shot with ease, carefully placing the glass down on the table beside her.

“You know, I have heard lots of things about you these past few weeks, January. Seems you’ve got quite the grip on little Elias’ mind.” Gen spoke clearly, her smile never once leaving her face as she stared down Jan, her eyes flashing with a ferocity that signified that Gen was not fucking around. “And I assume you heard about the whole ordeal with Charlotte, hmm? I mean, it would be difficult not to, considering the fact that he decided it was wise to plaster it across the face of the internet without telling anyone besides Ashton.”

Was she still bitter about that whole mystery girlfriend situation? Absolutely. But the only thing Gen cared about in the moment was to let Jan know exactly what she was thinking.

“January, darling, I do think that you are a lovely girl and I do hope that you don’t take offence when I tell you that I have no particular liking for you.” Gen continued on, smiling and waving to people that walked by. She couldn’t be too obvious as to what she was doing. “I want to like you, I really do. You seem to make Elias happy and for that, I am grateful. But happiness brings the opportunity for pain, January, whether or not you intend to inflict it or not.”

Gen reached her hand up, her cold fingertips resting on the underside of Jan’s chin as she smiled.

“I really do want to like you. But if you hurt my brother, I will not hesitate to end you or your career at this school. Elias is a big boy and he makes good judgement about who he hangs out with for the most time, so I trust that he has done well by picking you to be the new girl of his utmost fascination. But if you go out of your way to make any attempt to give my brother anything but your love and support, I am afraid we will have to have another one of these little talks, and neither one of us wants that.” Gen growled, her voice lowering as she pulled her fingers towards her, her nails touching Jan’s skin just enough for the sensation to register. Gen did not speak for a moment, pouring herself another shot and downing it before looking back to Jan. “I get the feeling that I’m going to like you, Ms Quinten. Do not make me regret that. Now do go see my brother, he is desperate for your affection and hasn’t shut up all week about you.”

Gen turned her shoulder to Jan as she began to carefully twist the cap back on the vodka, signalling that the conversation was done. Once Jan had left from Gen’s peripheral vision and back into the main room, Gen began to pour herself a more substantial drink: an old fashioned mixed in one of the few crystal glasses left in the house. Curse her father for getting her hooked on his drink of choice.

Taking a sip from the drink, Gen leaned back against the counter to allow herself to cool for a moment. She figured that someone would find her soon enough, be it Ash or Dorian or whoever else decided they needed Gen’s focus. But, for that moment, Gen just took a moment to breathe.

location

the johannes home

mood

'big sis mode: activated'

outfit

make 'em bow, baby

tags

january sunshineysoul
mike ohdittoh
landon gh0stwriter
ash & dorian & eli (mentioned)

coded by natasha.

 

[gh0stwriter]

Lucky DuBois
"Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster"

@luckycharm has set their status to:
In need of distraction

@luckycharm has interacted with:
Josie Grossie

@luckycharm has mentioned:
Nic, Ash, Danny

@luckycharm has tagged:
jasmyn​

TW: Suicide

Lucky sat quietly on his bed. Today was supposed to be the day. Sure, he had said that the day before…and the day before that…and every other day since his aunt had told him the news. His father had taken his own life.

He grieved. As much as he’d let himself anyway. A few almost tears and pretending like it didn’t bother him like he always did, but look, it was progress right?

He examined the blindingly white envelope in his hand. The name ‘Lucky’ scribbled in his father’s handwriting. Pfft. What could he possible say? What could he fucking say that would make this whole situation better?

‘I’m sorry.’

'Please forgive me.’

‘It wasn’t your fault.’

Fuck. Off.

He had managed to remove the folded up piece of paper and let the envelope float to the floor. He inhaled deeply. Bracing himself for some invisible impact. Why did he even care? His dad sure as hell didn’t give a fuck about him.

He swallowed hard. Contemplating whether his next actions carefully. ‘Just read the fucking thing, you pussy.‘ His little brother had. Yes, Lennon had gotten one, too, but he didn’t stick around long enough to hear his aunt read it to him. What could he have done? Been there for his little brother? Remind him that his father loved him and that he was just sick. Sorry, he was strong, but he wasn’t strong enough for that. He couldn’t pretend it was anything else other than his father’s final ‘fuck you’.

Alright. He was gonna do it. He fidgeted slightly and rolled his eyes. Letting out a long breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. His hands shook with fear…or was it anxiety? Maybe it was guilt.

Fuck that.

He shoved the letter inside his wobbly side table he had picked up from the Good Will and slammed the drawer shut.

“Fuck!” He shouted as he ran his hands through his hair and down his face. Rubbing as if the action would stop the oncoming emotions he felt. It helped. It always helped. Feel something, bury it down. The DuBois way.

_____________________________________________________

Distraction.

That was his new mantra. Uncomplicated flew out the window the minute he had started attending Hollywood Arts. He tried his fucking best to adhere to the carefully laid out plan. It was a valiant effort. Valiant and pointless apparently. The force was strong with that place. Way too strong for Lucky to avoid any complications.

Distraction.

That’s what Lucky needed. He needed a fucking distraction. A distraction from every problem that had been created this week. Nic. Danny. Fucking Danny. Why did he have to come back after Lucky had told him to leave him alone? Why did he have to try to apologize again? And why why why did Lucky have to kiss him? It happened so fast. One minute Danny was apologizing and the next Lucky’s lips were on his. Complicated. But never happening again.

He admired himself in the mirror. The Spider-Man costume he had acquired was awesome. Looked like the real thing. His aunt had a connection with some cosplayer. Lucky didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t want to know.

He bowed his legs to help him adjust himself. There’s no actual way a superhero could fight in this. He could barely move. He sucked in a deep breath and pulled the zipper up. Tonight was going to be fun. He had to remind himself that. Over. And Over. And over again. If he didn’t, he’d spend his night how he spent the last five nights. In his bed, staring up at the ceiling recounting the various reasons his life had turned into a complete fucking disaster. But he had promised Ash that he’d be part of Spidey Squad and Josie that he’d ‘loosen’ up. Whatever the hell that meant.

He grabbed his jacket and threw it on over the costume. No point in showing off until he was at the party. He walked out of his room and headed straight for the front door grabbing the bottle of whiskey and flask he had left on the counter.

Distraction.

Lucky hopped into the Uber. A faint aroma wafted in his nose. It smelled like a gym locker room that had been soaking in pickle juice. He rolled down the window and thanked his lucky stars that Josie’s apartment was close.

Once he arrived at Josie's, he stepped out of the car. Mostly to get away from the stench, but also to readjust his suit. Fuck it was tight.

Jos! I'm downstairs.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[sunshineysoul]

MOOD: full on anxiety attack

OUTFIT: spider-woman + a zip up jacket

LOCATION: the halloween party

basics

MENTIONS: eli, ash, gen, lucky, nate


INT: gen geminiy

tags

TL;DR smh, i didn't spend over an hour writing this for you to NOT READ IT

tl;dr

january

it's the invisible things that i love the most

the last thing jan would've expected was genevieve johannes walking up to her at that party. she could've expected ash or eli, even lucky or even nate if they were even there. but gen? never in a million years could jan predict that she would come up to jan. her eyes stayed glued on the taller twin as she sauntered over to her place against the wall.

shit am i glad i remembered my meds

jan did her best to minimize the flinch that ran through her body when gen put her hands on her shoulders. the last thing she needed was for gen to get offended, thinking jan didn't want gen's hands on her. it was only partially true. jan didn't take well to sudden, unwarranted physical touch. it wasn't anything she liked to talk about or was open about. she just hoped no one would ever make her flinch too hard and that no one would ask her about it.

"you really do look lovely tonight, i'm so glad you could make it. walk with me, shall we?"

jan could barely get out a "thanks! you too!" before gen looped their arms together and was tugging her throughout the house.

a walk? they had barely even had a few interactions on social media, and jan was convinced everyone hated her on social media. jan just knew she was annoying. is that what this was? was this some talk to stay away from her brother because she didn't like the vibes jan gave off from social media? would gen really do something like that? probably. she knew everyone feared her and would never go against her word unless they wanted her eight inch heel through their neck.

i didn't realize i was that unlikeable...

as the two walked throughout the house, jan tried to dodge and weave throughout the crowd. anyone watching probably got a kick out of the dynamic of the two girls; there was gen who was tall and elegant. she was dressed in a gorgeously dark halloween get up and strode through her house with such confidence, people made a way for her without even realizing it.

then there was jan. who was... not as tall and nowhere near as elegant. she tried to use her free arm to shield her body, still incredibly insecure in the costume she was dragged into wearing, and was trying to avoid any and almost all of the other bodies in the house.

two polar opposites.

it took a minute before jan could focus enough to realize gen was talking to her. there were too many thoughts going through jan's head: the music, the people, keeping up with gen, the clack of gen's heels, gen's arm linked with hers, figuring out the reason gen was pulling her aside,

this music is really loud

wow there's a lot of people here

how can i hear gen's heels through all this noise?

are there really this many people at HA that i haven't met yet?

does gen really have to have my arm linked in hers like this?

my jacket is zipped up, right?

why is she dragging me so far away?

well anywhere is far away in this mansion

is my jacket covering my ass?

oh my gosh please dear God tell me no one's looking at me like that

did someone just grab-

gen was talking. focus jan. it'd be bad to ignore her when she's talking directly at you.

"uh, yeah! Hollywood Arts has been amazing," she did her best to keep her voice from shaking, but all of jan's senses were overwhelming her. she tried her hardest to dial everything back, and focus on the conversation between them too. "i haven't had any big opportunities like that, but i'm really okay if i'm just here to perfect my craft."

shit

was that the right thing to say?

would she like that answer?

would she think i'm lazy?

shitshitshit

gen continued to talk and jan continued to try and focus. slowly but surely they made their way into further parts of the house where there were less and less people. as the crowds thinned and the noise died down, jan could actually remember what is was like to breathe.

"Also I must thank you for helping Elias with preparing the snacks yesterday."

"oh! that was no problem!" nervous laughter escaped from her throat as she physically waved her free hand in the air.

that was stupid.

"i love helping however i can, and i wasn't doing much yesterday anyways!"

is she going to think i'm annoying?

is she going to think i'm a kiss ass?

finally, the two came to the far end of the kitchen table. the further they walked, the less and less people there were in the space. jan thought that less people was exactly what she needed for her anxiety to calm down. not the case at all. somehow, her anxiety continued to get worse and worse. jan was this close to running home to take another dose, it felt like she had never taken her regular dose in the first place.

her forehead hurt. she knew her eyes were wide open the entire time they were walking and talking. if her mother was there and saw her in that state, jan knew her mother would immediately call her out on being so anxious and probably swoop in and save her because her mom would know she was about two second away from an anxiety attack.

when gen let go of her arm to reach for the bottle of vodka, jan felt she could breathe just a little bit more. however, that just gave her heart more fuel to continue to beat more than should be humanly possible.

just breathe. what's the worst that could happen?

thanks for asking

...

the worst possible outcome would probably be gen yelling at you for ever even looking at eli in any romantic context and would result in her kicking you out of her house, in front of everybody, probably making them all part the seas for you so they could all see you in your skin tight spider-woman costume. you would've let down lucky, ash AND eli, because of spidey squad, you run home crying and ask your mom if you can drop out of hollywood arts. although that probably wouldn't do much good cause then you'd have to be a normal student and do something that isn't music or photography and something boring like english or history.

i-

shut up jan.

gen was talking.

"You know, I have heard lots of things about you these past few weeks, January. Seems you’ve got quite the grip on little Elias’ mind."

now january knew exactly what the talk was about. it was the big sister talk. jan had this realization as if that was supposed to make her any less terrified. of all the things jan needed right then and there, gen jumping down her throat wasn't one of them. but jan couldn't blame her, not one bit.

wether she wanted to move or say anything or not, january was frozen in place. she didn't dare move in case gen yelled at her or something. she had a sickly sweet tone of voice, emphasis on sickly. jan knew there was venom in her fangs, and she wouldn't hesitate to draw blood. jan's theory was only strengthened when gen mentioned the charlie incident.

dangit eli, why couldn't you have told your sister?

jan noticed the slightest shift in facial expression when gen mentioned how eli kept he and charlie a secret. it said a lot. nothing bad, at least not about her. it showed how hurt she was. which directly showed how close gen and eli truly were. it just made sense that gen was this hurt over eli keeping something like that a secret. especially when eli had said charlie was the first girl he ever loved.

the next few phrases really caught january off guard.

"January, darling, I do think that you are a lovely girl and I do hope that you don’t take offence when I tell you that I have no particular liking for you."

jan's throat felt like it was closing up. all that breathing she thought she got back from the lack of people and lack of gen by her side, was gone. it felt like someone had punched her in the throat, and the gut. at the same time, incredibly hard.

i guess i really am that terrible...

gen continued to talk, but jan's anxiety had her by her throat. there was a deafening crescendo rising in her ears. no particular noise, maybe the wooshing of her blood being pumped so incredibly fast throughout her body. she continued to look at gen, hoping that her face wasn't as blank and empty as she felt, but she couldn't help it.

and just when she thought she couldn't feel any worse, gen brand new nail found themselves under her chin. suddenly, all of jan's senses were back. almost as quickly as they left her. her head was forced to tilt back to look up at gen. she towered over her, just added to her intimidation factor.

"I really do want to like you,"

lies, nobody says that. you say that to people you already don't like. you hate me. admit it. everyone does.

"But if you hurt my brother,"

that is the only thing scaring more than this exact moment. i might even label it as one of my top three fears.

"I will not hesitate to end you or your career at this school."

then just do it. if you hate me so much already, then just get me expelled. tell everyone you know that i'm this awful horrible person. i know that's what you think. i know you tell eli that whenever i'm brought up in whatever context.

her anxiety was spiraling out of control. she needed to get out. she needed to leave. right now. right now. she had to get away from everyone.

as soon as gen hinted she wanted jan gone, she was. jan tried not to break into a full sprint, but she might as well have.

there she went, weaving through the crowds. ducking and dodging limbs and cups and anything else.

a bathroom. i need a bathroom, right now.

the johannes mansion might as well have been a corn maze to jan. she had never been in a house as big as theres, and she had never felt this anxious. well, that was a stretch, but she was so anxious that she felt she couldn't breathe.

she eventually found herself in a random dark hall, having pushed through the last of a crowd. jan didn't even take the time to process the sights of the mansion. she immediately went and started opening doors. the first bathroom she came across she threw herself in and shut and locked the door.

she sat on the ground, not even being able to pull herself up to stand or even sit on the toilet. she didn't want to see herself in the mirror. not right now. she had to remind herself how to breathe. and when she finally did, it quickly turned into hyperventilation.

why was she so anxious? yea gen made her nervous, but this was new. jan never felt this anxious and freaked out around anyone but one person, and that one person was across the country, the polar opposite coast.

i know why, maybe because you know you're rushing into things with eli.

maybe because you've known him for maybe a month and you were damn near sexting

maybe because you've known him for definitely not even a month and you told him all about gentry

maybe because you know, good and well, you cannot do another committed relationship

maybe because you know you didn't tell eli the whole truth as to why you and gentry broke up

maybe because you don't think shit like this through

maybe because you know you're not good enough for any of this

maybe because you know that you're wasting eli's time because you are not and never could be good enough for him

maybe because you know that you're a fraud. you're a freak. you're this stupid little girl who fails at everything and breaks everything she touches.

if you cared about eli like you think you do, you'd back the hell off. that's what gen was trying to get you to do. she was trying to scare you off, right? that's exactly what she was doing. so why not grant her wish and just ghost everyone at this school?

jan's thoughts were running far too wild for herself to ever calm down. but she had to. soon enough someone would need the bathroom. soon enough ash was going to wonder where she was?

soon enough eli would too.

damnit january fucking breathe.

somehow that actually worked. her head fell back up against the wall, blinking back the tears that were building up in her eyes. she stared up at the celling and began to breathe.

breathe in for four.
hold for four.
out for four.

again.

jan repeated this as many times as it took. it was an exercise from her arizona high school's choir. it was her favorite class, and a lot of it had to do with the director. one ms wren was jan's favorite teacher there. ms wren never failed to believe in jan, making her audition for solos just to up her confidence. ms wren always told jan that she knew there was confidence somewhere down in her. and if singing was what got it to come out, then she was going to make her sing till she was out of breath.

for some reason that thought, that memory, helped jan completely calm down. she continued to breathe, and she continued to search for her confidence. she needed to. she had to. it's not like she could tell anyone what just happened between her and gen. who was she going to tell? her only two friends at school were siblings to gen. no way that any good could come from that.

slowly but surely, jan stood up. she was able to actually look at herself in the mirror & she made sure she looked presentable. no one could know she just went through an entire anxiety attack in the bathroom. her eyes were a little puffy, so jan took the hand towel and dampened it with some cool water. placing it under her eyes for a few moments, she continued her deep breathing.

then she looked at her outfit. she still hated that it was skin tight, but she felt better with her jacket. it was just a simple black zip up, but it covered her front. that' all she was worried about in that moment.

after a few more moment of hyping herself up and remembering to breathe, she unlocked the bathroom door and went back out to the party.

jan knew better than to go seek out eli again. this time? she would wait. she would go stand against a wall somewhere, and wait to see if he or ash found or texted her. she knew she had to do her best to avoid gen for the rest of the night. no way could she do another anxiety attack like that.

code by valen t.

 

[pandagosquish]

mood

very tired of everything and feeling guilty af. the high has crashed

location

some corner of the fair

outfit

i'm too lazy to find my last post smh

song

sad orchestral music

tags

mentions: charlie
interactions: chas hery

elliot

here comes trouble, start another fire

"The hell's your problem tonight?" Ellie couldn't even take a walk without someone else being up in his business, huh? Couldn't even take a damn moment to himself, to assuage the fire lighting up the base of his throat, the clawing behind his eyes that struck reservoirs he thought he had frozen over. The ever familiar crawling renewed it's journey underneath his skin, zig-zagging through his arms like an insatiable itch. He needed to go home. He needed someone, but right now there was nothing but himself and the fog of drug and betrayal folding over his body like a bad nightmare. Ellie ignored the buzzing of his phone in his pocket, stuffing away that reminder that things were not okay right now. What was his problem tonight? Why did he go and make a fool of himself on Twitter, drown himself in alcohol and chalky pills, hope for a chance to claim something that was so far out of his reach?

Pressing his nails into the crook of his elbow, he hoped to stop the itch in its tracks. If he had to face Chas Marino, right now, he needed his limbs back from the dead. Charlie had punched out a tooth last time Chas got into a fight, there would be a chance that Ellie would have to do the same tonight. Looking at the shorter boy head on, he had barely a clue why he felt so afraid. Ellie grew up in the deep city, he was a child of a murderer and gang members, defending himself would be the easy part of tonight's show. Perhaps it was knowing that this would be the last day that his best friend would ever call him a friend. Perhaps it was the substances commanding his brain like Internet Explorer, response times moving at a speed of a flower's growth. Maybe that is why, when looking right into Chas's eyes, his heart felt nothing but fear.

"Chas, I don't have the time for you right now, nor the energy." Ellie grumbled, but he'd be naive to think that was going to calm down the rich kid's anger. Biting the inside of his cheek, he knew he had to watch what he said. One wrong move, one slip-up, would cost him career, as much as he would want to deny it. Chas was a fan of the dramatics, and Ellie knew if he were to pull any drastic moves he'd find himself on the other side of steel bars. He'd survive, but there was no guarantee for his audience base. People did not take well to designers who threw themselves into jail. "I was fine, and I am still fine. Can you move?" Please, Chas. Please move.

nine lives

 

[natsukashii]

Corey Preston

How are you feeling?

Nervous and anxious but optimistic

What are you wearing?

I swear it's not my thing but trying something new

Where are you?

Corey and Maddie's apartment

Did you mention anyone?

Evie and Maddie

Who are you talking to?

Himself then Maddie

And, like, tagging?

jasmyn

As Corey sat in the bathroom, patiently waiting for his insides to empty the tank (as some might put it), he was gifted about five minutes to think about just about everything that came to mind and what came to his often over-imaginative mind was an overwhelming list of thoughts.

Corey Preston was a lot of things: a guy who wanted to write professionally, someone who was beloved by most, but one thing that tends to always make it to the top of the list is being the baby.

He didn’t ask to be the baby in almost every situation that came up. He never asked to be the person that everyone felt the need to protect, but that’s just how life worked out. When you are someone who grew up with three older sisters, each of whom felt the need to protect him in their own way, it just sort of sticks. Corey has always been known in attracting people to his social circle that felt the need to protect at all costs.

But there was none so protective over him, so absolutely worried that he might get hurt than his best friend since Junior year and the one person he felt like he could share almost every secret he had with.

Yes, that’s right. Almost every secret.

As much as Maddie meant to him, which if you asked anyone who knew either of them, she meant more than the universe to him, but there were things from before they met that he refused to think about ever again, let alone tell her. But there were also things that she didn’t know he was deathly afraid of letting her know just how he really feels about her. Allowing her to know that would expose him to a chain reaction of potentially getting rejected by the one person he feared would hurt him the most if she knew and the inevitable ruined friendship that might come because he overshot a shot that he had no business taking.

“Okay time to stop going down Paranoia Lane, Corey,” he assured himself, wiping and flushing the toilet.

As he pulled and zipped up his white pants, Corey just stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t believe that he was actually going as the quote-unquote “Bad boys of Angels”. Maddie swore that it would be a good choice, but he had chosen something that was a little more bible-accurate. The long white robe with the a-lined blonde wig.

Corey shook his head when he remembered Maddie’s first reaction.

They had a lengthy conversation about it. He still stood by his choice, but he knew better not to say no to Maddie, especially when she had that certain determined gleam in her eyes. The only times he could remember her having that look was when she had a plate of chicken parm in front of her and was about to devour it like the Cookie Monster does cookies, as all plates of chicken parm should be consumed.

But instead of a delicious Italian dish, she recruited the efforts of Evie Sinclair. Evie was pretty nice and Corey never had anything against or had any reason to dislike her, but she also was someone that Corey couldn’t say no to.

And that’s how he went from Corey, the Angel Saint of Hallow’s Ween to Corey Preston, Modern Angel Badboy Aesthetic™.

With a sigh, he came out of the bathroom where, after going to his room real quick and grabbing the halo that went on his head like a hat, he came to the living room where he found Maddie. She hadn’t noticed him, but he saw her and holy mother of God, did she look stunning.

They had chosen to go as a she-devil and angel and, of course, this was the costume that her parents wouldn’t find out about. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he really thought in how absolutely stunning she was and recite a sonnet he had already written in his head, so he just cleared that out, replacing it with a much more dumbed-down series of comments.

“Wowzers! That looks amazing, Maddie!”

º º code by ditto º º​

 

[natsukashii]

Hunter Drake

How are you feeling?

Trying not to focus on the bad

What are you wearing?

*manly noises intensify*

Where are you?

Party

Did you mention anyone?

Chas and Nickie

Who are you talking to?

Some foxy lady

And, like, tagging?

ohdittoh

There has never been a more awkward week, a more “I want to say something but I don’t want to make it worse” kind of week than the one Hunter Mason Drake had coming off of the weekend of the Fall Fair.

He and Nickie had always been able to talk. The very nature of their relationship -- whatever the label was -- had always been rooted in their ability to say whatever was on their mind and go from there. Hunter felt very strongly for Nickie and even Chas and Dei often told him not be attached to someone, especially given how young he was and everything, he never felt like anything he felt for Nickie nor how close they got was a mistake. Truth was, maybe he was starting to understand just exactly what she was feeling two weeks ago.

And that’s what frustrated him beyond everything else.

After he had got into it with Chas and then talked to his father about that and how he also might’ve screwed things up with, as he referred to her as “a really cool girl who made him feel good”. There was a lot of back and forths between him and Jackson, but the most important detail he could remember was how his dad had the best advice for him:

If she is still talking to you when you see her again, then not all hope was lost.

And sure enough, Nickie didn’t totally avoid him come Monday, but the week was hellacious. And then came today. Gen and Eli’s Halloween party. Hunter was both excited and in a state of mild depression. He loved Halloween and always had fond memories of the day from when he was younger, but at the same time, what if Nickie doesn’t talk to him all night? Or she does but it’s more of what happened this past week?

These thoughts remained with Hunter as he was ten minutes out from Gen and Eli’s place. He used his stepsister’s account for an Uber, which was technically not allowed, but he just said she put in the call for him. She was busy out of state with something, so it’s not like it would matter that much.

As he kept his eyes to his phone, he took a few selfies of his absurdly-large, blond wig that was groomed somewhat high. He’d chosen to dress as Johnny Bravo this year. It was only fitting because he often felt like the stud that Johnny was in how he tried to get the ladies but always got clowned on. Not only did he relate, but JB was his favorite cartoon character growing up and always appreciated his tenacity.

Hunter posted his selfie on Instagram with the caption: “Never give up and never say die!”

As he did, a text message alert popped up and saw it was from Nickie. She was at the party already and as a hippie.

He opened his mouth and laughed quietly, trying to picture Nickie, of all people, as someone advocating for peace and love. It was so fitting for her and, if he was being honest, he was looking forward to seeing how cute she looked.

...And then he thought about what she might think of his costume.

Was she going to laugh? Probably. Was everyone else going to laugh? Depends on the person, but more than likely, they would roast him.

I’m almost there! ♥ I’ll look for you asap! Can’t wait to see how cute u look!

He smiled after sending that text.

As Hunter arrived at Gen and Eli’s place and made sure his wig didn’t fall off his head as soon as he exited his uber’s car, he managed to get it to stay after fucking with it for a few moments and scaled up the driveway. His sunglasses were hanging from his shirt and he followed some others’ lead as they went inside. He heard some people laugh at his costume, ask about it, but he didn’t bother entertaining them.

He brushed past some folks -- some he knew and some he didn’t care about knowing -- as went over to the drinks table. He filled a red solo cup with whatever alcohol he could find nearby. He didn’t fill it up to the top -- probably a few shots-worth of the stuff before he took a gander around, surveying the room for Nickie.

“She mentioned she was near the banister, right?” Hunter asked himself, pulling out his phone for a quick second to get that confirmation. Once he did, he now had to find it. “No, not there. Or there.”

Scratching his head, he couldn’t exactly--

“Oh!”

Walking over to the stairs, he saw the hint of a certain brunette cheerleader, clad in colorful, 70s colors, headband and all, standing a few feet away.

Hunter had to get into character. So before he approached Nickie, who had her back turned to him, so she couldn’t see him approaching her, he cleared his throat, slid, across the floor, and positioned himself in front of her, leaning against a wall, smiling at her. “Hey pretty mama!” He said in a deep, suave-like, playful tone, “looking pretty foxy there!” Hunter continued his best Johnny Bravo impersonation despite him laughing no more than five seconds after his last comment.

º º code by ditto º º​

 

[Winona]

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 4:00 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Zephyr

INTERACTIONS

Stella

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

Kitsune2202

One moment, they were talking and he'd brought up Ronnie (again), which had led to this moment right here. This moment where Stella insisted that a kiss was just a kiss (and normally, he'd probably agree) and then pressed her lips against his.

At first, Zeph was understandably startled. He froze for a moment but then his lips started moving against hers and the kiss lasted far longer than it probably should've but in that moment, Zeph kind of forgot. He forgot that he was kissing his best friend, and he didn't think of the repercussions, and he wasn't thinking about Ronnie.

Finally, Stella broke away and his feelings and thoughts came rushing back to catch up.

Holy fuck, he'd just kissed his best friend.

Or, well, she had just kissed him.

It wasn't like it had been any big, crazy make out session or something, but it hadn't been just a quick kiss, either. It had been somewhere in-between -- a kiss that had gone for longer than it should have, and all Zeph could really think about was how this failed to prove the point that she'd so desperately tried to prove. A point that, up until this moment, Zephyr had actually completely agreed with. A kiss was just a kiss and nothing more.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

That was a lie.

As luck would have it, the Ferris wheel came to a grinding halt at the bottom. That was good. That meant Zeph didn't have to try and piece together half-hearted words to try and talk to Stella after that. Not that it should've necessarily been hard, but... but... Zeph was a little flustered, alright? It had all happened so fast.

He followed after her out of the cart, his head still spinning. "Huh?" He asked, blinking down at Stella and the zebra before her words clicked in his brain. Ah, right, yes, of course. Naming the zebra. He cracked a grin and let out a small laugh. "Yeah, Evermore. Good name -- and no one will think you're just being lazy with the name."

Food. Right. Yes. That. That's what they were doing after the Ferris wheel. Yes, okay, okay, yes. Food.

Were his thoughts always this disjointed? Heck, he knew that the answer to that. A big resounding hell no -- but he couldn't get his thoughts rearranged.

Wait, yes, yes he could. He needed to, anyway. They were just going to skip over the kiss like it had never happened, and Zeph could do that! He was a master of brushing over things and acting like they never happened. Yep. He wasn't stuck on anything from the past or that had happened before whatsoever, and this would be no different. Right. Yep. Just sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened, because it really wasn't that big of a deal.

Just... one... little kiss.

"Sounds good," he said to her remark about dinner. "There's a place just down the road from here -- we can just walk. Get some dinner, and then head home?" He suggested, which sounded like a perfectly good idea to him.

Just dinner and then home.

And he could sleep and put this whole thing behind him and things between himself and Stella would return to normal. Go back as if nothing had ever happened, and Zeph would go back to how he had been before this fair had started: crushing on Ronnie the Simp despite how stupid it really was to have feelings for the little redhead.

And him and Stella would stay friends because it was just a kiss and nothing more.

And everything would return to normal. To the way it was supposed to be.

Easy.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)​

 

[ohdittoh]

TREVOR CALLAGHAN

@trev_or_nah has set his status to:


@trev_or_nah has set his outfit to:
The things I do fer my roommates...They'd better be glad that I'm not a serial killer, as everyone seems to assert, or they'd be out o' luck.

@trev_or_nah has set his location to:
The good ol' apartment.

@trev_or_nah has mentioned:
Jo, Lucky, Ash, Amy

@trev_or_nah has interacted with:
Charlie

@trev_or_nah has tagged:
Kitsune2202 geminiy Winona gh0stwriter

@trev_or_nah has written a tl;dr:

Spoiler: Click To View

Trevor reflects on why he hates Halloween (which mostly has to do with "it's pointless and it's been pretty much nothing but an embarrassment to me") and his relationship with Ash as he reluctantly finishes dressing up as Shaggy, and he leaves his room and chats with Charlie.

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He hated Halloween.

Did that surprise a single soul? The answer was a resounding no. Firstly, the world must have been coming to an end if he’d ever admitted that he enjoyed anything beyond “I don’t hate it” or “it’s okay”, but, secondly, he and Halloween didn’t seem to belong in the same universe. After all, he was the uptight, spineless, germaphobic Sean Trevor Callaghan (known more widely as S. T. Callaghan, screenwriter for dramas) whose heart nearly failed any time that one of his roommates so much as walked in front of him while he had his earbuds in. In nothing beyond literal sense of the word did Trevor have a stomach.

He supposed that American Halloween celebrations were better than the Irish equivalent. Halloween was the day before his birthday and ended on the day before his birthday, as it should have, in America. Even with this fact, though, he still loathed the holiday.

For one, there was no point in all of it. Christmas? Sure. As much as it was the absolute fecking pits, he could understand how that was nice. He saw it as a big way to send off the year, whereas New Year was a way to usher in the new one. He had to dress up as Seanta every year for Christmas, being the eldest of his trillions of cousins, and hand out gifts to all of the younger children in character, but that was, at most, forty minutes of an itchy face and crotch, and then he was free to sit in his room and tap away at his typewriter whilst his grandmother screamed at him every four minutes or so to come downstairs and spend time with the family. Christmas and New Year’s Day were the only two holidays that he could understand celebrating.

Halloween, though? Halloween was a corporate scam, along with Valentine’s Day. His grandparents, with their strong sense of Irish heritage, would wack him across the back of the head if they heard that, but it was true, regardless. As much meaning as there may have been behind it or its beginning as Samhain, Halloween was nothing at this point beyond an expensive way to get cheap scares.

Perhaps it was his sour memories of Halloween that contributed to him disliking it, too. Certainly, nothing traumatic had happened on Halloween or anything. In fact, when he was younger, he hadn’t been wholly opposed to the idea. His parents, when they were around, used to dress up with him, and the three of them would take a road trip to Dublin and stay in a hotel the night before, even though it was only two hours from their home. The next day, they would take a tour of Malahide Castle, then go out trick-or-treating that night. Of course, this lasted far too late into the night, so as soon as they arrived back at the hotel, they’d shove their faces with far-too-sugary cake that they picked up on the way back and pass out on the bed together in the wee hours of the morning. The next morning, they’d go to view the Samhain celebrations in the center of the city, and then they’d eat the rest of his birthday cake— this time, inserting candles and singing him Happy Birthday, as it was his birthday for real at this point. After another nap, they’d head back home, and life would resume as usual. Despite his reluctancy to go on the yearly trip every year that he’d gone, the trips had always ended on a positive note.

After they died, though, celebrations didn’t feel the same, really. Moving in with his nana and granda had happened around in late August, so that first year, he hadn’t done anything for Halloween that year. Actually, that wasn’t true— he was fairly certain that he’d locked himself in the attic with his journal as he’d done all of his free days for the first six months after they died, sitting in silence and holding back tears on the occasions that a memory passed through his mind.

The next year, Nana had dragged him forcibly out of his room (by his ear, as that was what she opted for for her reigns) and had shoved him into the childish black leotard that was too short for him and came up to his calves, scribbled a black nose and whiskers on his face and wouldn’t let him get a makeup wipe to wipe it off after he’d smudged the eyeliner all over half of his face with his black mittens’ pink-padded fingers, tied a long, heavy, floppy tail around his waist and pinched his ear every time he even tried to untie it, and squeezed a fuzzy, too-tight headband with two, too-tall ears on his awkwardly-large head. Even worse than her dressing him up, she’d dragged him into public like that. She not only dragged him around Sallins, where the other schoolboys and -girls to saw him (and where even those who didn’t know him snickered), but she and his granda also drove him out the thirty-nine minutes to Dublin the next day, forcing him back into the costume to view the Samhain celebration again in a shoddy attempt to regain some semblance of a Halloween— or Samhain, or what have you— tradition.

A similar routine happened year after year, with the short, five-foot-nothing Mary Callaghan dragging her grandson out— usually by force (which meant by the ear)— in costumes that she made him wear lest he feel her wrath to go gallivanting about in town and then in Dublin the following day. When he was eleven, he was a cow— which was utterly embarrassing (or udderly, whatever floated your boat)— and, when he was twelve, he was a lobster (courtesy of Nana’s knack for sewing ridiculously good, embarrassing garments perfect for making your grandson resent you). At age thirteen, the boy was five-foot-six, but his grandmother had manage to wrestle him into her last hurrah of a Halloween costume— a fish costume, without armholes. Of course, the boy wasn’t necessarily popular to begin with, but the costumes did nothing much to help his social status, or the bullying that came along with it. Middle school boys were relentless.

Coming to HA, he’d figured that he would have been able to escape the grasp of his grandmother, but she somehow had such a strong grip on him that he’d worn a crudely-made party city vampire costume to appease her begging of him to dress up in “something nice” his freshman year. His sophomore year, he’d been ill with the flu and had to be absent from the party— oh damn, what a tragedy that was.

This year, though, he wasn’t left to his own devices with a costume. In fact, he hadn’t even had a moment to consider what he was going to be before his roommates did the forcing of him to wear a costume. (“Such sweet girls— seem ta be keepin' ya disciplined, Seany,” Nana had said once she had heard that they were making him dress up with them. This comment had made him a bit suspicious of Amy, Jo, and Charlie, in all honesty— he was keeping a close eye on them to make sure that they didn’t have an ins with his grandmother.) He supposed that there were pros to that— he hadn’t had to think of one last minute to appease the beast that came out in his grandmother when he procrastinated something she asked him to do— but there were definitely more cons.

Honestly, costumes in general were rather pointless. For stage plays, yes, he could understand costumes. For film and television media, costuming was also very important, as it could be used usefully for symbolism. There was no room for “symbolism” or clever writing tropes in real life, though— and even if his real life or the lives of those around him were being written, there would be no point of symbolism through a Halloween costume.

And— and— even if there were symbolism in costumes, there surely wasn’t any symbolism in the blonde wig that he’d cast on his bed and now glared at with hopes to cause it to cease to exist if he stared at it long enough, nor was there any symbolism in the bits of mascara that he’d brushed on his chin to look like stubble over the top of his mole covered with poorly-matched concealer, nor was there any symbolism in the fact that, outside, Rachel, his prized minivan, was surely covered in a coat of paint.

“What do I have in common with Shaggy?” he had asked on Twitter upon hearing that he was getting roped into this scheme to destroy him on yet another Halloween occasion, which had promptly been answered by Ash: “Trev, sweetie, you're just like Shaggy. Stoner? Check. Weird van? Check.” Naturally, he’d argued with a “Shaggy’s the dumb one!! I’m not dumb”, which she’d responded to with a “you are a little dumb, darlin”, which he’d responded to with a “I’m absolutely not, darlin”, which she’d responded to with a “whatever you say, Trevor”.

He sighed, picking up the wig and shifting his position on the edge of his bed and looking his reflection at the tall mirror mounted on his closet door. Though he had to look over his left shoulder to maintain eye contact thanks to the position of the foot of his bed towards his door and the fact that sitting cross-legged on his full-sized mattress was uncomfortable and awkward, Trevor held the wig out in front of himself for a moment, holding either side of it, before tugging it on like a swimmer’s cap. The bits of his coarse, brown hair that poked through he shoved inside, and he shook his head back and forth violently until the wig’s hairs fell where they were supposed to.

He looked back at his reflection. The bangs fell just below his eyebrows, devouring his brows and making the upper part of his vision a blurry yellow. His green shirt, intentionally too large, also looked like it was going to swallow him whole, not to mention the baggy pants, the view of which was obstructed due to the fact that his reflection cut off at about his mid-thigh.

His lip curled up in disgust.

He looked like a dumbass.

His roommates had better be glad that he didn’t hate them hate them and that he wasn’t unhinged (as Dipshite DuBois on Twitter made him out to be), or else they’d come home to Home Alone Seven: You All Are Getting Sent to Heaven. Of course, he hadn’t been able to steal a chance to go and smoke out on the balcony or in his van today, mostly because all of his roommates were all about everywhere and he hadn’t even had very much peace and quiet today, and also because they’d asked him not to drive there while high. Needless to say, being sober did not help his mood much, nor did it make his thoughts of grape jelly and Charlie’s tangerine pillowcase any quieter.

He stood, walking over to his reflection. The closer he got, the less of his head he could see, and, by the time he reached it, he could only view the lower half of his shoulders and down. Honestly, he should have hung the mirror higher than he had. He stepped back as far as he could get before he felt the foot of his bed bump against the back of his knees, and he slouched a bit so he could see nearly all of his head.

“I…can’t go out in public like t’is,” he muttered to himself. He looked like enough of a fool already, with his gangliness and his sobriety (which he hoped to soon rid himself of), and this costume was the lame-polished cherry atop the soured whipped cream that tried desperately to mask the stench coming from this shite-filled excuse of a holiday.

At least he didn’t have to worry about picking up some girl tonight in this getup. As much as he seemed like a fridget, he did have a reputation for finding his way into empty rooms with horribly drunk girls who dragged him in there with them. He had that badge of honor(?) known as a metaphorical membership to the metaphorical Fuck Beings Club thanks to his knack for such a thing. (Being charming and fuckable only whilst all parties were shitefaced, blitzed, or as close as possible to either, to most others, would not have even tended close to being a badge of honor, but Trevor knew his worth.)

Now, though, he had a girlfriend, which came wholly out of left field, which made his whole “picking up girls” thing unnecessary. Ash was his only option tonight, if he was going to get any— which, naturally, he could probably charm her into.

After all, the week that they’d been together had treated them surprisingly well, so it was headed that way, anyway. Even if he’d bickered with Sucky Lucky online— and even if Ash had been far too receptive to the prick’s too-obvious attempts at flirtation that Ash swore up and down weren’t anything of the sort— and that had led to a few small arguments. She didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, and she wasn’t receptive to him spelling it out: LUCKY IS FLIRTING WITH YOU. If he wanted to go further, he could have spelled out a few more characters: HE WANTS TO GET IN YOUR PANTS. Whether she believed him or not, he knew these signs better than anyone as someone who had been doing something similar just a week ago— and was still doing, to a lesser extent. Lucky saw that it bothered him, too— and Ash had asked him not to be a cock— but he kept pressing and wouldn’t fecking— fucking— shut up about it. First, it was the fecking “Blair vibes” situation, which Lucky insisted he was right on, and, while Trevor would have usually let the comment pass as innocuous, Lucky had rub it in like “ooooh, I know more about your girlfriend than you do”. Even if Lucky didn’t know that she was his girlfriend, the point remained the same— Lucky was acting like he knew more or cared more about Ash than he did. That was what it all fucking boiled down to. If Trevor conceded that he was wrong, then he’d be conceding on that point, so he never did, and he had to continue insisting he was right even though he could honestly care less. As pointless as it seemed, there was so much more to it. If Lucky let it fucking drop, then Trevor could fecking rest easy, but no, Lucky couldn’t shut his trap.

Then came the Captain Pedovan bit of it. Trevor was used to comments about his NORMAL FUCKING MINIVAN from his roommates and Ash, but Lucky’s words had some serious vitriol behind them. Not to mention his whole agree to disagree agree to disagree agree to disagree to everything and Lucky’s never fecking knowing when to shut up. On and on and on and…

He was getting a headache just thinking about DickBallsack that was, somehow, on the levels with the headaches that Chas and Adriane’s existences gave him, which showed just how remarkably shite of a person Lucky was. Perhaps he deserved a badge: #1 biggest shitehead. What would he say in his acceptance speech? “Agree to disagree, Captain Pedovan”? Would Ash demand that he apologize to him or else she’d be pissed at him?

Regardless, that wasn’t the point. His night was going to be Lucky-free. He and Ash were going to hang out (as friends, naturally), and, if he was lucky or charming enough, they’d somehow sneak off without arising too many suspicions, and his night would be booked. If not, he supposed that he’d be lucky enough just talking with her. She wasn’t a wholly miserable person, obviously— and, fine, he’d concede that he even liked her.

Obviously.

They were dating for a reason beyond his horniness. He did have feelings for her, even if he couldn’t list it all out beyond I’ve got feelings. See figures “fair night”, “last Monday”, and “homecoming”.

(Ahm, or maybe not homecoming. “Spontaneously making out on the couch whilst very drunk and questioning if there are feelings” didn’t exactly make him look that good when he was trying to make this point.)

This connection, as bizarre as it was, seemed to be keeping them together. Ish. They were one week down.

(Trevor had his money on them not even making it another one.)

“Come on you two, we’re gonna be late!” came a call from somewhere outside of his room, muffled by his door. It was Charlie. “And there is no way we’re gonna look bad in comparison to the stupid Spider squad just because we’re running behind schedule!”

He brushed his hair off of his brows, though it quickly sank back down to cover them, and he walked away from his mirror to pull on a pair of socks that Jo had returned only after she’d raided his stash. (She still owed him, by the way. No, he wasn’t going to forget that.) Casting one glance back at his mirror, though he couldn’t see his reflection, Trevor sighed softly, unlocked his bedroom door.

“Right-o, right,” he muttered to himself. “I hear ya, I hear ya…,” he grumbled, his feet heavy as he walked to the kitchen. He stopped in front of Charlie, holding out his arms for a second and giving her a forced smile that didn’t make it to his eyes, making him look a bit deranged. He dropped his arms and the smile with an eyeroll and a sigh. “Be glad I like ya, Charlie,” he said. “Be glad.”

He noticed her eating cereal from her hand, and he snatched a piece, tossing it into his mouth before fussing, “I always clean up after ya, but here ya are, eatin' wit’out a bowl.” Soccer Mom Sean was back at it again.

He paused a moment, thoroughly chewing his single piece of cereal before swallowing. “Listen, we’re winnin’ this thin’, ‘cuz I didn’t dress up in this damn blonde wig for not'in'," he said, trying to maintain his grumpy attitude despite how funny he knew his getup looked. He forced back a smile. “Spidey Squad can póg mo thóin— Scooby Doo Crew for tha win.”

He noticed the paint beneath Charlie’s nails. “Ah, Christ,” he mumbled as he stared at the paint for a moment, and he looked up at Charlie with a small, unbelieving, “Ya really did it?” He wasn’t surprised that she really did it so much as very disappointed that she had. “Yer washin’ it off,” he said. “Every last speck. I’ll pull out the opera glasses my nan’ used to use after she made me dust an’ inspect it, an’ if ya miss a single thin’, I’m makin’ ya deep clean it again.”

He tried to glare at her, but he ended up cracking a grin and chuckling. “Ah, but yer costume looks convincin’, Frank— no, Fred.” He snickered. “Nice ascot. Ya better tell the other team ta ‘kiss yer ascot’ or I’m goin’ ta be very sorely disappointed in ya.”

He went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of orange soda, twisted the top off of it, shut the door, and downed it all in one continuous guzzle. He released the bottle with a soft ugh and threw it in the trash can.

If he couldn’t smoke or drink before he went there, he could, at least, guzzle orange soda.

“Where’s Amy? Is she not done yet?” he asked Charlie.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Soap]

MOOD: Anxiety ridden --> trick or treat, bitches!

OUTFIT: minus the shield, because c'mon she can't hold ALL THAT.

LOCATION: Outside Callum's apartment

basics

MENTIONS: Nickie, Hunter, Gen. ohdittoh geminiy natsukashii


INT: Oates, Callum, mogy

tags

TL;DR Liv's too damn excited and is spamming Callum's apartment buzzer because why the hell not?

tl;dr

Livanna

Lookin' for some trouble tonight.

This was the best use of her money. Livanna looked... so incredibly amazing. Who would've thought Wonder Woman was the perfect costume? She'd been freaking out for weeks. It wasn't just some big costume party, sure, it was her birthday. Yep! Happy birthday Livie. No, her phone wasn't blowing up with birthday texts, calls, maybe a message from her parents this morning... but that's about it. Y'know, that's kinda the reason why she didn't throw a party this year. It wasn't really because Gen was throwing her own big halloween bash. But maybe because... nobody would really come? Oh, who's she kidding? People loved parties. As long as there was an excuse to get drunk, make out and have no-strings-attached sex. They were down.

But c'mon. Who was really going to pick Liv over Gen?

Liv would pick Gen over Liv any day. This was just sad. She felt like such a loser. Liv knew her life didn't revolve around Miss Genevieve Johannes, and yet it was so difficult to get that through her thick skull.

She shouldn't be so bummed out today.

It was the big

17.

One more year until she's legal. Woo! Liv could join the army if she wanted. She totally wouldn't, but she could've if she wanted to. She stared at her reflection, tightening the strapless corset-like top to fit. Glancing over at her phone when it started to buzz uncontrollably and for a second, she had almost gotten excited but no, it wasn't anyone she particularly cared about. Livanna stared at the phone for a few seconds and hesitated before picking it up.

"... Livanna! Hey, how's my girl doin. Happy birthday!"

His voice boomed through the speaker on her phone as she went back to work her costume to perfection. Liv grimaced at his choice of words, he wasn't much older than her, maybe... late twenties... early thirties now? He had gotten lucky and signed Liv all those years ago-- which of course, wasn't her choice. "Um, Thanks. Is this important? I have a thing I gotta get to." There was a long pause over the line and Liv had started to get antsy.

"How's the writing going? You're wastin' a lot of time, Liv baby. I told you, it's best if you start off with something new."

It'd be so much easier if she could just... hang up. And she would. Oh, she totally would. If only he wouldn't continuously blow up her phone.

She didn't want to tell him the truth.

How terrible it was going, how she couldn't come up with anything, how Liv just wanted to go in bed and lay there all day.

But she couldn't.

"I... uh, you know Nickie? Nickie Abrams? She suggested doing a cover, I think I wanna do that instead." It was a good plan, easier, less stress to be had. Next year, she wouldn't have to worry about what he thought she should do. Four years was an incredibly long time. And there was only so much longer Liv could--

'Listen to me. Nickie isn't the person you should be listening to. Think of her as a rivial. You two aren't going to be preforming together. Your job is to outshine her, and you can't do that when you're singing an out-played, boring ol' cover. Figure something out, but you're not doing a cover. Do you hear me?'

All contracts came to an end.

Liv hestiantly looked towards her phone, racking her brain for something to say before she just submitted.

What's one more year?

"... Okay, yeah... I hear you."

It'll end.

Although It was hard to convince herself that this wasn't more than just a contract.

The line disconnected and Liv let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, leading her to take another but this time, a much deeper breath as she tightened the corset as far as it would go. It's okay if it was just slightly constricting her breathing.

It looked good, all that matters.

Liv opened her bathroom drawer and took the plastic bag. Counting the circular tablets.

Seven.

She wasn't sure if seven was enough to get her through the night, but it was enough for now. She pocketed the plastic bag into the corner of her half bra. Her boobs weren't very big, but they made a good purse when it mattered. Placing two tablets on her tongue, Liv didn't bother washing them down with water... yeah, no water.

Psh, she practically is Wonder Woman.

~~

Bzzt.

Bzzzt.

Bzztttt.

Bzzzt.

Bzzt.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ--

The buzzing came to a stop when a hand was softly placed on hers, and Liv took that as a sign to stop buzzing Callum from outside the apartment building. She let out a heavy sigh and started playing with the golden lasso, swinging the gold silk pillow case along with it. "You're pretty scary lookin.' Badass, but scary lookin. It's a look though, I'm here for it." Her shoulders rose up in a shrug. Liv was getting entirely too impatient. Come on, Callum. Even though Callum and Oates kinda... weren't together anymore, she hoped she wasn't a third wheel. Liv would rather die than to be in another Hunter and Nickie situation.

Jesus, what was Callum's costume anyway?

If it wasn't a twelve foot tall dinosaur, this shouldn't be taking sooooo long.

Okay, they were only outside for two minutes at best, but still! "I want special birthday privileges. Could I take more candy than the rest? What if I just politely demand that I need more?" Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. She didn't eat much, but something just felt so special about getting free candy-- and tons of it? It was like a dream come true for kids. Or at least, for Liv. Who wouldn't be for a first timer trick or treater?

She practically couldn't wait.

"I'm totally demanding I need more. Ohmigosh. I should've wore a damn birthday pin." Liv stomped one foot on the ground, which... was pretty funny to see Wonder Woman acting like a seven year old child, but... oh well. Her height screamed eleven and a half, so it shouldn't of been too weird for the passerbys who were giving her dirty looks on how loud she was being. It was Halloween!

Get over it.

Damn Grinches.

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Ava Sanders
"Life is for keeping score."

@queenofhell has set their status to:
hella spooky

@queenofhell has set their outfit to:
literally look at the gif

@queenofhell has interacted with:
Jules

@queenofhell has mentioned:
N/A

@queenofhell has tagged:
Soap ​

This easily had to be the hardest costume that Ava had ever had to recreate.

Look, Ava was lazy by nature. She did the bare minimum required to pass her classes with flying colors so that she could come home and play her video games, which might have been the only thing she actually took seriously and didn't half-ass attempt. Well, except for when it came around to Halloween.

Halloween and video games: the only things Ava didn't half-ass.

However, this costume involved so many parts that were far from what Ava was used to. She was a pro at creepy and spooky. Ripped clothes. Bloody. Carefully applied makeup to make it look like she was a corpse that had just dug her way out of the ground. A pro at making her hair matted and tangled (although most of that involved just not brushing it for a while, which she normally didn't do, anyway). Those were the things that Ava was a pro at.

This year was putting her Halloween costume making skills to the test, because this year she was doing the ultimate, most scariest, most creepiest, most fear-inducing thing that she could imagine. The type of thing that haunted her dreams when she was little. The thing that would startle her awake into a cold sweat. The very thing that had made school so brutal for so many years. The thing where just the familiar scent associated with it was enough to increase her blood pressure and give her a headache.

Most of her costume design and picking and choosing had been done with her mother on the phone. Ava hadn't told her mother what she was doing, instead just saying that she was getting Jules a "present" and her mother had been more than happy to assist in the purchasing of this and that until her costume was complete.

Looking at it laid out on her bed made Ava want to puke.

It was perfect.

She'd already done the hard things -- the hair and makeup. It had involved a really long video call with her mother with Ava asking for advice on how to add extensions and how to do her makeup properly. At some point, her mother had said "It looks great, sweetie! You look terrifying!" And thus, she'd had to wash it all off and try again because yeah, she was going for scary, but not the same scary that her mother had been expecting of her or was consistent with Ava's typical style.

Well, Ava's typical Halloween style. Her typical normal style was "I just rolled out of bed looking like this."

Turns out that she should've put the shirt on first, but it would be fine.

So, after carefully pulling the top on in order to not fuck with her carefully done hair or her carefully done makeup, Ava was ready to go and pickup JJ. Of course, she felt like a total lunatic in the outfit and honestly, she was second guessing herself as she picked up her familiar green army jacket, but she hesitated.

Instead, Ava dropped that back to her pile of mostly-clean clothes and instead, opted to grab the jean jacket that Jules had gifted her which was conveniently located in the same pile. Being lazy actually had its advantages, such as the fact that all of Ava's clothes could be found in the same area, which meant no searching through drawers or closets.

She slid her phone into the pocket of the jacket (since, well, the rest of the outfit had no fucking pockets), and headed out of her room to go meet JJ at her place.

------------------------​

Ava would never understand why Jules had chosen to live with people that she hated as opposed to people that, well, she kind of along with. Like Ava! Although... yeah, the two would probably kill each other, despite having been friends since they were little kids. They just lived their lives in totally different ways, which made their friendship one that left most people scratching their heads as they tried to understand.

She didn't even get it. JJ represented everything that she hated in people, and yet here she was, walking down the hallway to knock on her door so that they could head to the Halloween party.

There was really no point in putting too much thought into it.

Ava halted by the door. She took a piece of gum out of her pocket and popped it into her mouth as she shoved the trash back into her pocket to throw away later. Well, in theory, it would be to throw away later, but it'd probably remain there and forgotten until Ava got around to washing her jacket, in which case it would end up as a wet piece of paper stuck at the bottom of the washer.

Her fist slammed against the door and she kept knocking until the door finally opened and, thankfully, Jules was the one to answer.

"Hey, whore," she greeted with a wide, fake grin and JJ's infamous nickname for people as she smacked the gum. Was she nailing this? Totally. "Like my costume? Yeah, I kinda asked myself, like, what is literally the most terrifying thing that someone could dress up as for, like, Halloween, you know?" She was doing her best to keep some kind of rich bitch tone to her voice and honestly, that was probably the most exhausting thing about thsi entire costume.

"And then I, like, totally realized the answer. You."

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: answer bitch

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: fairgrounds

basics

MENTIONS:
too much work

INT:
@LowkeyLovingLoki (Seb)
pandagosquish (Ellie)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Chas Marino

"No, you're not," Chas thundered, the volume of his voice elevating when Ellie began to move around him. He gave a quick look to Seb, commanding him not to interfere during this discussion. He'd been waiting to get Ellie alone the entire evening since they split up, as every attempt at speaking to him one-on-one over Twitter ended in Chas being left on read. Something was up and Chas would not stand to let this inexplicable shift in attitude slide.

Everything seemed alright, at least back at Ellie's place. The fitting went pretty routinely: some banter, discussion about last season's horrid fashion trends, drinking copious amounts of Perrier... with Ellie, it was never monotonous, and Chas had to appreciate that. He was a fine employee and an adept conversation partner, but after his blatant lack of professionalism during the fair, Chas began to wonder if the designer was finally beginning to show his true colors.

Chas wouldn't have minded it if Ellie had gone out and said what was bothering him; well, he'd have probably laughed behind his back about it, but he'd have been somewhat courteous to his feelings to his face. This whole passive-aggressive, avoidant behavior was getting old and if Chas had to deal with another betrayal on the one nice night he had planned, he wasn't sure if he could stop himself from losing it. Couldn't Ellie have saved all this for any day other than one of Chas' precious off days?

A fierce determination to confront this and nip it at the bud was the only thing on Chas' mind when he grabbed Ellie's wrist. He'd done so with a bit more force than he'd intended to, surprising even himself when he yanked the much taller boy to him ever so slightly. "You owe me an explanation. You're being a bitch and a baby and I won't stand for it." His eyes burned through Ellie's skull with an unparalleled intensity. "Tell me what's wrong with you. Spit it out now."

code by valen t.

 

[ohdittoh]

nickie abrams

you've just gotta keep on, keep on.​

How are you feeling?

...Yeah...okay...

What are you wearing?

Peace! Love! I fucking need both.

Where are you?

Gen's place.

Did you mention anyone?

Everyone at the party.

Who are you talking to?

An rando, NPC freshman, then Hunter.

And, like, who are tagging, exactly?

natsukashii

Can I get a tl;dr?

Spoiler: Click To View

Nickie panics, then speaks to Hunter.

TW: self-critical thoughts (as per usual); references to s**cide

Where was he?

Nickie’s eyes flicked down to her phone every other second, her heart beating in her ears, her pulse quick and her fingers shaking slightly as they tended to after she sent texts to Hunter.

if you wanna

What if he didn’t want to? After this shit week, she wouldn’t blame him.

Oh, hell, who was she kidding? This was a party— she was being such a downer by keeping at her phone. Usually, she was the life of the party; why was she standing in a corner now?

Because everyone hated her. Right.

Okay, okay. Fine. Whatever.

She needed to take a deep breath, a chill pill, and take a step away from the damn phone.

It had caused her too many problems recently, anyway.

She shoved it in her purse, drawing in a deep breath and forcing a smile.

Nnt nnt.

She felt her phone buzz from within her purse.

Shit.

She reached for her phone again.

No. No, no, no, no.

She ran her hand through her hair.

No, yes, she was spending the night away from the phone— away from the bridge-burner and the relationship-fucker.

She took a drink from her can of hard soda, nose scrunching a bit at the feeling of it inside of her mouth. It was lukewarm, somehow, and that was very disappointing, but…she’d steal something stronger later, anyway, so it didn’t really matter if she liked the taste, the temperature, or any other part of it.

Honestly, she needed a gentle start to her getting wrecked tonight.

She smiled at a freshman girl. “Omigee, cute costume!” she chirped friendlily.

“Heh…yeah,” said the young girl awkwardly, giving her a tense smile before skirting around her to walk up the stairs.

Oh.

Nickie’s smile faded from her face, and her hands curled around her soda can as her eyes shifted around to the crowd.

They were dressed up in their costumes, looking gorgeous

They were…all looking at her. Even if she couldn’t see them, she could feel their eyes on her.

Fucking simp.

Desperate, nosy slut.

Blabbermouth bitch.

She’d lost so many friends this week, and the week before, and honestly…since Homecoming. It all just…fucking…

She hadn’t been out in a crowd like this since the party after homecoming.

They talked all kinds of shit about her on Twitter…

And now that they were in person…

She knew what they said, she knew what they thought.

They were talking, or whispering, or even just thinking:

Go kill yourself, Hunter’s whiny whore.

She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath.

She was at Gen’s party. Gen, who was her friend. She had Maddie as her friend, too, when she got here. And Chas! And…Hunter?

She opened her eyes, releasing her breath.

She came here for a reason.

She was going to have fun.

And…

Even if they were all looking at her— staring and judging— she had…

Where was he?

“Hey, pretty mama!”

The voice behind her startled her, and she jerked slightly in surprise before she turned to see a Johnny Bravo impersonator. “Looking pretty foxy there!”

She stared at him for another instant before she realized who it was, and, when she noticed, her eyes went wide, and she snorted, her hand going up to cover her nose in embarrassment as her laughter continued in soft squeaks for air. “Omigod!” she gasped, clutching her free hand to her chest. “Oh…my God,” she laughed, letting out an exaggerated sigh as her laughter calmed down. “I didn’t recognize you!” she said, her mind totally distracted from the panic that she’d felt moments before. “Very, very impressive.” Her smile was so wide that her cheeks ached.

She put one finger on either side of her sunglasses and moved them down on her nose slightly to get a better view of his costume. “Hunter, omigod, you should start a side gig,” she said, smiling. “Johnny Bravo Impersonations, Incorporated.” She pushed her sunglasses back up. “I’m…wow,” she laughed.

She gave him another once-over, laughing softly. “Wow,” she gave again. “You really went all out. All I did was…toss on this smock and a pair of sunglasses,” she laughed, holding out her skirt tail a bit with a soft smile.

She looked cute, she’d thought, until she saw everyone else.

“So,” she said, voice a bit less confident as she sunk back into the realization of where she was, how she looked, and how everyone else looked. “How are you?” she asked, meeting his eyes, brows knit slightly before she realized that her unconfidence must have been showing in her face and ironed it out. “You really look amazing.”

º º code by ditto º º​