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

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"Stop taking life so seriously..."
Dorian Harlow
@FindingDori has set status to:
"Do you need some ICEcream for that?"

@FindingDori has set outfit to:
Hot, now hatless, pirate.

@FindingDori has set location to:
Gen and Eli's place.

@FindingDori has interacted with:
Minnie.

@FindingDori has tagged:
sunshineysoul sunshineysoul

Dorian honestly hadn't planned on leaving Jace alone so soon in the night and he felt kind of bad that he did. Especially given that he'd been the one who dragged his less social friend to Gen's house in the first place and Jace didn't really do parties much. Dori made a mental note to check in on his best friend at some point just as he approached Minnie. His stupid first thought was to ask if she was okay which she clearly was not even if she did try to fake it at first.

Of course, he could've just stayed in his own business but on top of Minnie being someone Gen cared about, he considered the girl a friend of his as well. Plus, despite what some believed, he actually was a nice guy and he couldn't just sit by when someone was as upset as Minerva was. "I'm just not big on Halloween. Just gonna head home." Yeah right.

Dori wouldn't have bought that even if it hadn't been followed by a loud groan. He quickly noticed her hand which was painted with blood and became increasingly concerned. "Woah, woah, woah," Dorian started, reaching for the keys to stop her from trying to open to door or leave. "Hey, what the hell happened to your hand? Did someone hurt-" before he could finish she explained that she had decked Saint in the face.

Look, it wasn't that Dorian disliked Saint because he barely knew the guy but if Minnie of all people had punched him then it was likely that he deserved it. "Damn. I knew you were tough but remind me not to get on your bad side," he let out a chuckle, mostly trying to get a laugh out of her because of how upset she was.

His eyes flickered back to the house as he thought about how JJ was probably looking for him but when they landed back on Minnie he knew he couldn't just leave her out here. She had just hit someone and while her hand didn't appear fractured or anything, she probably should wait to drive herself home. It was pretty obvious she wasn't in the party mood though so he was gonna wing it to get her to give her hand a break at least for a few minutes.

"Assuming I can't talk you into staying, would you at least let me drive you somewhere? Maybe to get ice cream? It's right down the street. My treat. If you still want to go home after then I get it but you look like you could use a friend," he told her as he walked around the car. "I know pirates don't have the best reputations but I promise I'm trustworthy," he joked, opening the passenger door and waiting for her to get in before getting in himself to drive them to the ice cream place.

º º code by ditto º º
 
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LINDSAY KAY
"let's get lit"
@feelin_a_o_kay has set his status to:
bet bet bet bet bet

@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:
genny's place

@feelin_a_o_kay has mentioned:
n/a

@feelin_a_o_kay has interacted with:
zeph

@feelin_a_o_kay has tagged:
Winona Winona

@feelin_a_o_kay has written a tl;dr:
Lin guzzles the soda for the bet, and he ends up coming just short of winning-- but he insists that he still won.
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Lin grinned at Zeph, gripping the cap of the bottle and straining to twist it off until it finally let out a satisfying crack and a loud hiss. The bottle began to fizz, threatening to spill over, and Lin gave a quick “ope—“ and closed his lips around the lip of the bottle, making a mmpf as the fizz spewed into his mouth, his eyes widening as he realized that this was a bit more difficult to do and hold in than he thought it’d be. After a second, he pulled back with a hahf, rubbed his nose, then let out a loud burp and then a few happy laughs. “Car-bo-nay-shunnn, luhmaoooo,” he said, grinning, then looking back at Zeph. “Well, if I’m on, get out your stopwatch, bro— gotta be professional about it, luhmao.”

Listen, dumb bets were complicated things, ya know. There was a strict etiquette to follow. It was a really serious process. Like brain surgery. Or selling food-colored onion juice to kids under the guise that it’s lemonade. Trust the betxpert on these facts. (Sunglasses emoji goes here.)

He shifted his weight, taking a few micro-steps backward and gripping the bottle in both hands. He closed his eyes, drawing in deep breaths and wiggling his butt a little.

Listen, Lin knew what he was doing— he learned from the experts, like his favorite animated, sentient vehicle. Lightning McQueen? That I am speed speech he gave himself? Yeah, that was what made him win the race in Disney’s Cars, okay?

Also his long ass tongue. That helped him out, too.

Lin had a long ass tongue, too. Look at ‘em. Might as well be twins, luhmao.

Lining McKay and Lightning McQueen. Yeah, they didn’t look super similar, but McQueen had a different father.

His mom was feeling frisky that day, ess-em-aych.

How had she birth a whole vehicle-person-thingy? Lin didn’t want to talk about it.

He looked up at Zeph just as the other boy tapped on his phone with a “get going— timer’s started”.

Lin, surprised that he didn’t even get a warning (ess-em-aych), closed his lips around the bottle and began to guzzle.

The gulps that he took were so big that it hurt his throat. He wasn’t breathing, so his lungs were crying out in pain. His eyes wide open, watched the purple disappear from sight as he drained the bottle, and, then, finally, he dropped the bottle with an “ah— gachk—“ and a large, throat-ripping belch.

He looked at Zeph, his eyes watery from the burp, patting his chest and giving a “woo!”. “How’d I do, bro?” he asked, walking over to Zeph’s phone to see.

When he saw the number on Zeph’s phone, his expression froze on his face. He looked at Zeph, brows knit. “Hey, you didn’t give me a warning! No countdown— so it wasn’t fair. That doesn’t count! Take a whole second off!” He wasn’t sore that he’d lost— he was a gracious loser (but he never lost so it never showed, duh)— because he hadn’t lost. To make this unsaltiness clear, he added a quick “ess-em-aych, luhmao” and a laugh. “So I win! Ha!” He gave a sure nod, then held out his hand. "Now, pay up, bro."
º º code by ditto º º
 
"waste of my time..."
saint taylor
@sainttay has set his status to:
Continuing to speak...

@sainttay has set his outfit to:
Simple...

@sainttay has set his location to:
The party...

@sainttay has mentioned:
Gen, Evie, Minnie, JJ.

@sainttay has interacted with:
Ava.

@sainttay has tagged:
Winona Winona

@sainttay has written a tl;dr:
Saint talks with Ava.
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Saint shrugged, glancing at the girl he was speaking with. Her name started with an A…or something…a vowel of some sort. Hm. He should have paid attention to more than just her profile picture, and then he wouldn’t be at such a loss for her name…hm.

Either way, he appreciated what she was saying. It was certainly a compelling…something or other. Social theory…? He was unsure of the term for it. He supposed that that wasn’t particularly important. “I don’t know a very much about cults in and of themselves…I find myself more interested in the minds of those who lead them than the cults themselves…and I suppose that I just find that part to be…fascinating. Looking at cults as case examples shows the unwillingness of the general public to consider their own opinions as their own opinions…and Gen and Evie…I have to agree with that much.” Saint let out a soft sigh, finishing what he had in his cup and looking back to the portrait that he had been staring at. “I, myself, never understood why it was that way. After all, the point of the individual is…being an individual…but everything that everyone creates as a group, whether it be an environment or a physical, creative product or what have you, tends to come out as…wholly unoriginal, to the point that I’m not even sure that anyone besides the person at the top of the chain—“ (obviously, he’d meant Gen) “— is capable of…thinking for themselves.” He let out another soft sigh. “Food for thought…I guess, huh…? It’s like an immune system, this whole…” He held up a hand. “…’cult’…” There, he made a couple quick bounces of his first two fingers to be quote marks, then dropped his hand slowly. “…so I think that you’re very right about that…”

His eyes moved to the door. “And the worst about is is that they’re unwilling to change…they’re unwilling to accept other opinions, admit when they’re wrong, or even see that they’re wrong, in any case…and that’s perhaps the worst of it…because people like myself, and…well, who your…costume’s an imitation of…fall out of favor, and we can’t even live our lives without having our throats slit and sacrificed to the great god— or devil, or what have you— that presides over Hollywood Arts’ social culture…” He shrugged. “I suppose that it’s…a matter of time before the whole structure fails, or there’s infighting and the system begins to eat itself. It’s what happens to all cults, especially to those with leaders such as—…the one that this one has.” He didn’t want to say her name, as it made him feel physically repulsed and wasted his time. “The one that this one has, and its minions.” Yes, he had referred to her as an it. He had meant no offense by that; she had simply lost his respect and didn’t deserve to be addressed as an equal in any sense of the word. “I look forward to the day that this ‘cult’ crumbles…as much as I can look forward to something that has been inevitable from the beginning…” He shrugged gently. “Until then, I live unconcerned. They can try to do as much damage as they’d like to, say words that are worth no more than smoke to the bees and fire to the dry trees of the downtrodden, but they can’t hurt those who don’t give their words any weight.”

These may have seemed like large words from the boy with the bloodied nose, but he didn't see them as such. After all, had they been pointless words, he wouldn't've said it. Saint wasn't a fan of idle chatter; it was a waste of time, in all honesty. No, this was an important discussion to be had, so he was doing quote the opposite of waste his words or digging a hole.

He looked back at Ava. “I consider myself to be one of the latter…but who do you identify the most with? I think that I’d like to know.”
º º code by ditto º º
 
JANUARY QUINTEN
"cause everything about you is so overwhelming"
@jan.quin has set their status to:
same old shit, but a different day

@jan.quin has set their outfit to:
spidey-gang + a hoodie

@jan.quin has set their location to:
somewhere outside

@jan.quin has mentioned:
rome, karma's touch

@jan.quin has interacted with:
eli

@jan.quin has tagged:
geminiy geminiy

jan never did good at parties. she barely went to any school dances let alone full blown out high school parties. and there was a lot of good reasons behind that. she didn’t like the drinking scene, for one.

her sophomore year, gentry and some friends talked her into her first shot, & she hated it. she tried to say she was done but they coaxed her into having more and more & before she knew it, she had shown up to school, incredibly drunk. her hair was a mess, her clothes were wrinkled and barely put on correctly, & she never knew the appropriate volume to speak at. gentry and some of his buddies were giggling like little school girls the entire time, letting their teacher know something was up. the teacher pulled her outside & immediately smelled the stench of alcohol when she opened her mouth. and just like that, she was sent to the principal’s office. the school let her off with a warning, since she hadn’t done anything bad before, and her mother was incredibly powerful.

but ever since then, jan hadn’t taken a sip of alcohol. if she ever wanted something that made her throat burn, she’d go get some off brand lemon-lime soda & down a can. the carbonation bubbles can really getcha.

jan also didn’t like parties because of the crowded spaces and blasting music. it caused her to be on high alert constantly. everyone pressed against each other, hips moving against hips to the rhythm of the music, not knowing who the hell just grabbed your ass or not? wasn’t jan’s vibe.

so this party was a big step for jan, especially when she had less than five friends to rely on to be there that night. she forced herself to not back out for the longest time, & by the time her anxiety had been off the charts about not coming, it was too late. the promise was made, the suit was bought, the group was solidified.

in case all of that wasn’t enough for jan to ditch, the events of the actual party just had to keep getting worse and worse. from gen’s little “talk”, to running away from her, to hiding in the bathroom, to ducking into every door she came across during the twitter incident in an attempt to compose herself, not wanting a repeat of her first year in arizona.

jan had been having anxiety and panic attacks long enough to know how they work. there’s the incident that causes them, there’s the running and hiding to find a place to cry, there’s the actual crying & sobbing and getting it all out, then there’s the cool down to catch her breath, then the re-charge, to make sure she’s gathered enough energy & waited long enough to stop looking like she was just bawling her eyes out.

but at that party, jan didn’t know what was going on. she didn’t know if she could just never get out of the running & hiding phase, or if she kept going back and forth between all the stages because so many things were happening?

all jan knew was, was her wolf of anxiety was clawing her to death. so she thanked whatever lucky stars she had (if she had any at all), that she was outside.

the scent of the air was that of the outdoors, absent of alcohol or weed or sweat or desperation or horny hormones. it was, literally, a breath of fresh air. the pounding music that, moments ago, was giving jan a massive headache, was now a dull thud in the background.

if i can just catch my breath out here, then i can muster my way through the crowd, out the front door, and get the hell home.

getting a car ride home was the absolute last thing on her mind. but to tell the truth, jan had no idea what was on her mind. so many thoughts were so scrambled up in her head, while others were running rampant. she couldn’t have a single, clear, sound thought, no matter how hard she tried.

until a certain someone just happened to swing down and give her a heart attack.

“you know, the face contains 42 muscles.”

jan damn near jumped into the tree herself. she hadn’t realized to look around before she decided to just start crying her eyes out. her eyes tried to scan the backyard for the voice’s source, but between the darkness of the night and the blurry vision caused by tears, jan didn’t see anyone. yet, the voice continued.

“when you cry, 12 of those muscles are activated to form the signature look of sadness.”

jan’s head continued to swivel around, desperately trying to find the source of the voice. she was too anxious and freaked out to try and recognize the voice, her legs carried her closer to the tree, knowing no one was at the base of the tree. if she kept her back to the tree, she could see any possible movement.

what kind of anatomy lesson is God tryna give me?

just when she didn’t think she couldn’t get more freaked, down came none other than elias johannes. but, upside down? jan flinched, jumping & turning to face the boy, trying to figure out what he was doing. with the minimal light shining on the two spiderlings, it was proving hard.

he’s, he’s hanging upside down. from a tree. like spider-man.

as upset at everything as jan was, she couldn’t help herself when her heart melted. of course eli would’ve gone outside too, and of course he would take to her and of course he’d hang upside down, by his feet, just like spider-man, on the night he was dressed like spider-man.


“you’re beautiful all the time, but crying doesn’t exactly take the cake for the best jan expression.”

as much as jan wanted to melt into his words, she was frozen. her heart softened a little as his thumb ran across her cheek, but the moment it left her skin, she was right back to being petrified.

there he stood, well not really stood, more like hung? oh nononono, that sounded way too much like karma’s touch for jan’s good. swung? there he swung? was that better?

shut up jan

there he was, the boy who was responsible for the countless butterflies and giggles she had been experiencing since she stepped foot into HA. the boy who dragged her into this exact costume, well before she was ever friends with anyone. the boy who was half responsible for the hit put over her head the moment she stepped out of line. the boy whose heart she was convinced she just broke over one of the stupidest jokes in the world. there he was.

she was completely ready for an argument. well, completely was stretching it, but she was expecting it. it wasn’t her first time in a situation like this, she knew the routine.

jan messes up

said boy gets upset

jan defends herself

said boy guilt trips jan

jan feels like shit

jan realizes everything was her fault anyways

said boy yells at jan for being rude and inconsiderate

whether some steps were skipped, repeated, moved around, those were the things that happened to jan. and while they hadn’t made it to the last step over twitter, she knew it was coming. when something like this happened with a boy she liked, she knew an argument was bound to follow. she started preparing her argument as best as she could to defend herself, to diffuse the anger as fast as she could.

it was just a joke

you’re right, i wasn’t thinking

i didn’t mean anything by it

you’re right, i was careless and thoughtless

i’m sorry i ever said anything

you’re right, it’s my fault.

“i really am sorry for freaking out on you.”

wait what?

that wasn’t jan’s argument, jan didn’t think that at all. but she took note of it because it might make a good defense for herself down the line.

back up.

did eli just apologize? she tried to remember what he was saying while she was zoned out, preparing an argument.

did he say he overreacted?

what was happening, this wasn’t the normal, this was’t what jan had prepared for, this wasn’t the normal protocol or script that tended to happen in these arguments. jan’s memory jumped back to the last few times she went through this, just to make sure.

yea no, the boy was definitely supposed to start yelling at her, not apologize.

but that didn’t stop jan’s mouth from having a mind of its own before being able to think.

“no eli i’m sorry. you’re the sweetest guy i’ve ever come across and you’ve become one of my best friends here and i turned around and stabbed you in the back.”

there you go, start off with putting the blame on yourself. you’re the one in the wrong here, they need to know you know that.

jan’s brain went into auto pilot. it felt like a part jan had rehearsed and performed over and over and over and over again. she knew this scene like the back of her hand. the director of the play? her anxiety wolf. he sat menacingly in the center of the audience, his eyes glowing, teeth bared, waiting for her to slip up. and while her scene partner decided to improve, jan was sticking to what she knew.

“i know i was being stupid and thoughtless and careless when i agreed with rome. i swear it meant nothing, but that doesn’t matter because it still hurt you.”

the wolf stood up, obviously engaged by her performance.

good good, say what you think they’ll say to make you feel bad. start the guilt trip for them.

“you’ve trusted me so much and we’ve known each other for a little over a month. i know you’ve said how you haven’t felt like this in a long time and i promise you i know i’m a bitch for what i said and did to you.”

good jan, now bring it home

the wolf was now behind her, whispering in her ear. it felt like the angel and the demon on her shoulder, but the wolf had already slaughtered the angel. now it was her and the wolf.

“trust me, eli, i know i’m awful and terrible. i know this is all my fault and i know that i hurt you. if you want me to leave, that’s what i’ll do. after tonight, i’m about fifty percent closer to leaving HA and going into nursing or something, maybe i need to look into something i could go into, something that’s good for stupid people like me. after tonight you won’t see me, i was never cut out for this kind of work, this kind of world. i mean look at me, eli. you know this face could never end up anywhere that was good news. i know i’m a screwup and i’m sorry for how bad i hurt you over a stupid joke with rome. i know that i’ve got the ugliest heart, and i just proved it right then and there, in front of God and everybody and i tried to tell you i wasn’t worth your time but-“

the wolf stopped. the scene changed. the wolf was nowhere to be found.

º º code by ditto º º
 
TREVOR CALLAGHAN
@trev_or_nah has set his status to:
Hey, let's do a quick rendition of Romeo and Juliet, except I play both Romeo and Juliet, and the knife and poison are not stage props, and we also take out all of the scenes except for the final one, and, so I don't make out with my reflection or anything, we also take out everything except for the deaths. Will you be so kind as to get me the supp-- hey! Come back! Oh, come on!

@trev_or_nah has set his outfit to:
The things I do for 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 Johannes mansion. Alone, obviously, because I don't have anyone to go with and my roommates don't count. Where else? Since when have I ever missed a place that I could smoke and get some?
I know I have a girlfriend. Listen, I gotta keep my act up, if nothing else. I've got a reputation to uphold, even if I can't uphold it in anything beyond my location. Shut up.

@trev_or_nah has mentioned:
Eli, Jan, the Scooby Doo Crew.

@trev_or_nah has interacted with:
Amy, Ash, the prick Lucky.

@trev_or_nah has tagged:
@Kitsune2202 Winona Winona gh0stwriter gh0stwriter

@trev_or_nah has written a tl;dr:
Trevor chats VERY VERY VERY CALMLY AND NOT AT ALL TENSELY with Lucky and Ash.
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“What? He was all alone and looked like…a stray puppy? Or did ya mean a stray bitch in heat?” Trevor asked, laughing tensely, completing the sentence that Ash had dropped and temporarily ignoring Ash’s laughing at his costume. He would get to that in time, but the opportunity to dig at Lucky was not one that he could pass— and, besides, he knew that it was what Ash meant regardless, so she couldn’t possibly rag on him for commenting as much aloud. Regardless, it was a genuine question that, if answered, would give him a wonderful mental image. He was certain how crude and angry that his latter option had seemed, but he meant it as genuinely as he possibly could have. He never would have considered dissing Ash’s friend to her face, directly or indirectly; no, absolutely not. “Like a prick without a pot?” His eyes shifted to the other boy. “Or, perhaps, a Tuesday night without tutoring?”

Here, he felt it necessary to reiterate: the question was genuine— he wanted to know.

Also, just the mention of their tutoring made him want to flip over a table— or go stand in a road. Trevor feckin’ hoped it was a joke— or knew it was a joke, or whatever the fuck you wanted him to say there— but it pissed him off, okay? He’d admit that that pissed him off. He wasn’t jealous— a simpering, intolerable piece of scum (unit of scum? He wasn’t any kind of scum, so Trevor wasn’t sure of the correct terminology, and Lucky, being the way he was, would probably not reveal this bit of personal information to him) like the other boy posed no threat to him and his relationship. Lucky looked like he was a twelve-year-old, anyway. He’d mentioned on Twitter once (or maybe more than once— Lucky seemed to enjoy speaking about himself and inflating his own ego and/or attracting sympathy with his oh so tragic backstory that Trevor could care less about knowing the context of) that he had no baby pictures, but Trevor was certain that there was no difference in a picture of him right now than one back then.

He returned to the topic at hand— namely, his costume. He shook his head, his brows knitting to convey an irritation at the comment far deeper than he’d actually felt. (Had he actually been offended by her comment? No. It wasn’t like he’d spent literal hours getting ready and flicking the beard hairs strategically about his chin with an eyeliner pen. Of course not.) “Hey, I look hot— Shaggy could never.” He put his free hand to his drawn-on beard, opening his lips slightly after he was done to feign offense even further.

He took a drink from his cup, swallowing a big gulp and going to refill despite the fact that it was nowhere near drained. He needed something to occupy his hands— tension made him antsy.

Oh, had he said tension? There was none here at all, actually. No, he was…filling up his cup because…ahm…

Oh, on another note, he noticed— Ash was leaning too heavily on the counter to be anything close to sober. By heavily leaning he meant very heavily leaning. If that counter weren’t there, her body would be flopped out on the floor.

That was a good sign. His hopes for the night would go much more swimmingly the more she drank, anyway— and the more that he drank as well. Again, his habit of being more charming when under the influence still remained.

He took a drink from his newly topped-off cup and continued to speak. “Besides, I can now ask, in my best British accent…” He cleared his throat, putting his hand on his chest as if that was necessarily for a terrible British accent. “…fancy a Shag, m’lady?” The tension headache that he had, caused by one certain boy whose name started with an L and rhymed with Schmucky (and who was just as much of a schmuck as the word his name rhymed with implied), caused his words to come across as tense as well, but he continued to speak, dropping the accent with a agitated chuckle. “It’s a double-entendre when I say it in this ladykillin’ get-up, an’ it’s a question t’at ya should answer yes ta either way ya take it” His flirtatious words felt stilted as he said them, and he knew the reason why— and he gave you three guesses of who it could possibly be, and the first two guesses didn’t count.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be blown away once ya take that ol’ thin’ off,” he said, grinning, conjuring a mental image as he studied her figure for a moment. As he did, the tension in his voice was replaced with assuredness and flirtation— that which he’d hoped to achieve in his voice before— and it came from the fact that he realized that, with her being in the state that she was in (and his impeccable, undebatable charm), he’d see what was under more than just the hoodie tonight. “And, while I think that yer tha team’s attempt at a power move in form’a you, yer tha only strength they have— no offense ta Eli, Jan, or…”

His voice trailed off from having to lie. The Lord knew how much he hated to lie; he was the definition of a spotless saint, didn’t you know?

He cleared his throat, shaking his head, trying to ease off the obviousness of the tension in his voice. “Yer what they got goin’ fer them, but my whole team is full’a aces.” He felt weird calling them hot, so he didn’t venture that far. “You do look fuckin’ amazin’, yes, I’ll concur, because I’d be dumb an’ blind if I didn’t— but I would never needlessly sacrifice the wellbein’ of Rachel, an’ I know that she’s what throws us right over the edge yer team has on us.” He grinned at her, laughing slightly. “An’ I—“

Trevor’s eyes flicked to Lucky’s face for a moment, and he felt a shot of pure, unbridled, jealous anger straight in his heart, which gave a large, furious beat as his body went cold. His hand crushed his cup, and his jaw clenched. He wasn’t aware of either of these occurrences, and, thus, was unaware of the drink that was held within the cup spilling over the brim of the cup and onto his hand and the tile. It wasn’t just the sight of his face that caused this reaction, though that might have been enough to arouse the final of the latter two reactions; it was the fact that the motherfucking, baby-faced rat bastard had the fucking audacity to eye up his girlfriend.

He was going to do it— he was going to walk outside on to the balcony and fuckin’ jump off, or he was going to burst a blood vessel and fucking die right here on this spot. Those were the only two reactions that were anywhere in his mind for a solid fucking minute.

Damn it, damn it, his head hurt so fucking— fecking fucking— he wanted to—

He let out a tense breath, rolling his eyes and trying to dismiss his thoughts with a couple of forced chuckles. “Arts Fest, yes,” he said, words stiff. “Partners…—”

He choked on his spit when the words registered with him. “The f—“ He cut himself off, squeezing his crumpled cup even more in his hand. “What?”

Calm down. He needed to calm down.

Good boyfriends were supportive.

Okay, actually, fuck that—

But still, he didn’t want to seem pissed or anything.

No, he was calm.

Even if his head was throbbing, and even if his blood pressure was through the roof, he was calm as a motherfuckin’ cucumber.

He laughed tensely, bringing his cup up to drink from and only just now realizing that he’d spilled all of his liquor and that his cup was in a mangled, irrecoverable shape. “Heh…heh…” He dropped his cup, the smile as tense and forced as his nearly-psychotic-sounding laughter.

He. Was feckin’. Calm. The feckin’. Calmest. That he had ever been.

Right?

That was right.

Now, if he could just portray as much, that would be the feckin’ best.

After all, Lucky had no effect on him— he could have no effect on him whatsoever, because he was feckin’ Lucky, a tryhard who thought it fun to irritate him, and Trevor couldn’t give feckin’ Lucky the feckin’ upper hand, because he had no feckin’ effect on him. Yes, that was a sound argument— any claims of circular reasoning be damned.

Deep.

Breaths.

Right?

Yes.

He bent down to pick it up, flinging his wet hand to get the liquor off, and he gently— gently— sat it on the counter, his moments growing oddly calm, his tense grin growing less tense and less tense as he sat up until he was smiling a definitely not forced— no, not forced at all— calm smile. “Oh…? Are you two…doin’ a…duet?” he asked, his voice happier—

Far too happy and interested to ever be actually uttered by Trevor.

“How…absolutely…interesting— what are you…doing?”

He said his sentence as if he was ending the sentence with each of the words, his voice forced to be chipper.

See? He was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very calm.

Very, very.

“I…look…forward to it.” He smiled again. “Hey, ah…can I jus’…” He took a step forward and picked an empty shotglass from beside Lucky. “Thanks, lad,” he said, toasting him with the empty glass, and giving him a forced grin, though his eyes betrayed his true feelings—

If I were a murderer, you would be so. Feckin’. Dead.

“Cheers,” he gave, and he picked the bottle of whiskey up and put it to his lips, drinking straight from the bottle.
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:

Zephyr Evermore
"Cheer up! 'Cause nothing really matters."


@zeph.evermore has set their status to:
bro, you lost

@zeph.evermore has interacted with:
Lin

@zeph.evermore has mentioned:
N/A

@zeph.evermore has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh ​
In the back pocket of his jeans, Zeph could feel his wallet sweating. He kept glancing back and forth -- from the timer on his phone to Lin and then back to the timer, and back and forth. The seconds felt dreadfully long as he watched the purple liquid drain out of the bottle and into the endless pit that was his friend.

When it came to money, stingy Zeph wasn't usually the type of fellow to go betting on things -- especially things that he fully didn't expect to win. He was cheap, as previously iterated. Sure, his dad sent him enough money to live on, but it was just enough. Dancing was a hard department to be entering and even harder to make a career out of and even harder to make a living off of. Zeph was embarrassed to admit that so far, he'd made next to nothing.

Which meant that the money that he'd promised Lin? Sure, it could be seen as "just ten bucks," but for Zeph? That was ten bucks. Ten bucks that could be used to buy him a whole meal -- or, you know, two or three meals depending on where he purchased from. Or ten packets of Ramen which was basically an entire week's worth of dinner.

Ten bucks was a lot.

Granted, Zeph had still been rooting for his new friend. But as the last of the pop was drained from the bottle, Zeph brought his finger down to stop the timer and slowly turned his attention to it.

Zeph was expecting to lose.

But was beyond pleased to see that the timer had gone just over the ten second mark.

His wallet let out a sigh of relief in his back pocket, and brief visions of all the Ramen he could buy danced through his head as he tilted the phone to allow Lin to see the irrefutable proof of his loss. And now he just had to think of the dare that Lin now owed him, seeing as how there was no denying that he had lost, and surely Lin wouldn't--

“Hey, you didn’t give me a warning! No countdown— so it wasn’t fair. That doesn’t count! Take a whole second off!”

Wait, what?

Zeph looked down at the other boy, blinking for a moment as his words registered in his head. That wasn't... how this worked -- like, sure, he hadn't given him a warning, but what had Lin wanted?

And then Lin asked for payment, when they had yet to discuss whether said bet was properly executed or not. The audacity.

"Bro, I'm not paying you." Zeph said with a light chuckle -- to, you know, play it off like he wasn't annoyed at Lin's obvious refusal to admit that he'd lost the bet. "You lost. You owe me. Timer doesn't lie." Zeph explained, shaking the phone in his hand for proof as he kept his gaze glued to Lindsay.

Zeph didn't close out of the timer just yet so the losing time was still up on his screen, but he did turn the screen off and slipped his phone back into his front pocket. He shrugged at Lin in a manner of sorry, bro, don't know what to tell you before sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans with one more little shrug of the shoulders.

"Now you said dare. Any kind of rules or limitations to that? Like how close to death can I get you before it's just uncalled for? Now, I don't want to make you die, but what's the rules on like potentially breaking a limb or two."

He was joking, of course. Zeph would probably dare him something dumb and stupidly safe. It's how Zeph played. Zeph played safe and within the law, generally speaking.
º º code by ditto º º
 

Ava Sanders
"Life is for keeping score."

@queenofhell has set their status to:
sick makeup, bro

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

@queenofhell has interacted with:
Saint

@queenofhell has mentioned:
Jules

@queenofhell has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh ​
The strangest thing about tonight didn't end up being Jules ditching her (that was actually normal) or the conversation on Twitter about stealing what's-his-name's organs or anything else that Ava had been subjected to as the night's events had worn on. Instead, the strangest part of her night had started when she approached a guy to compliment his bloody makeup and had ended up in a serious conversation with him regarding cults and the mental prowess of those that they went to school with.

Ava had to say that this was the first conversation she'd been apart of since coming to Hollywood Arts that felt as if it actually challenged her brain. And the numbness of her brain and the amount of gears shifting that it took for her to be able to issue any kind of logical response to Nosebleed standing beside her went on to prove just how much exercise her brain needed. The endless cacophony of useless chitchat that her fellow peers usually discussed had done nothing but serve to turn her brain to mush.

Once upon a time, Ava would've had such an elegant response. Maybe it was the smell of hairspray that was making her ditzy and slowing her response, or maybe it was just the strange new company. Ava was used to being around people like, well, Jules. You know, kind of book dumb cheerleaders. Look, look, it wasn't the type of company she preferred, but it unfortunately seemed to be the type of company that Ava somehow just... attracted.

"I'd consider myself of the latter," she started with a small nod of her head. She crossed her arms over her chest, the dumb little purse thingy dangling from her wrist as she spoke. "Or at least, that's what I would like to aim towards even if that's not where I'm completely at in this particular moment. Making my own decisions based off of the cold facts instead of allowing myself to be at all deterred or influenced by the emotions and opinions of others around me... that's where I'd like to be." She explained.

"But if you were to ask anyone in this room if they were a follower or a person capable of sentient, unwavering thought, they would all select the latter because that is what people naturally want to lean towards." Ava continued to explain. "Think of it this way: if you were to ask the majority of people in here if they were a pessimist or an optimist, the majority would state optimist. Because that would be the ideal form of thought, or at least that's how society has trained us to think. However, the majority of people are pessimists by heart, whether they are willing to admit to that or not. It's just how it is."

Ava was going somewhere with this, alright?

"So to answer your question, Nosebleed," Ava came to the conclusion of her thought. "Although I would like to be of the latter, I am afraid that it's not of my place to say between one or the other, because I'm going to select the ideal option that society has engrained in me as being the appropriate one to have when there's no proof that one way is better or worse than the other."

There. That was her conclusion.

Ava looked towards the guy again and held her hand out -- the hand without the dangly purse thingy from. "Ava Sanders," she introduced herself. "Pleasure to meet you."
º º code by ditto º º
 
Elias Johannes
@elithegreat has set their status to:
whoops

@elithegreat has set their outfit to:
how many of us are there?

@elithegreat has set their location to:
the tree

@elithegreat has mentioned:
ash, rome, gen

@elithegreat has interacted with:
Jan

@elithegreat has tagged:
sunshineysoul sunshineysoul
So maybe hanging upside down in a tree wasn’t the best way to approach someone you care about for conversation. Chances are, you’ll end up with a great big mouthful of dirt.

No, this is certainly not where you think this is going.

Elias had been careful in branching himself on the tree branch, swinging casually towards and away from Jan with the natural momentum of his movement. He had been in this position multiple times, always having a taste for hanging upside-down from trees and couches, even off the edge of his bed. It was interesting to see the world on the flipside, the new perspective like going to a whole new world.

He hadn’t exactly been expecting Jan to say much in reply to his shabby apology, if what he had said even been considered a proper apology. Eli still felt awful about the whole thing regarding rome and the stupid joke. In fact, he felt stupid more than anything else. What sort of overgrown toddler freaks out at someone over a simple joke between friends online? The immediate and uncontrollable emotional backfire was ridiculous to Eli and certainly incredibly uncalled for. Jan deserved better than that.

It should not have come as a surprise that Jan began spewing words so quickly that Eli had to genuinely focus in on her to catch their meaning. After all, most of their conversations had Jan anxiously rambling at one point or another, leaving Eli to struggle to understand the context between the rushed syllables and wandering thoughts. Realistically, Elias really should have been better at listening to anxious girls. After all, he lived with Ashton fricking West, queen of anxious ramblings that made Elias’ head spin.

The more Elias listened, the more his face fell, the more he understood. He had truly been expecting anger, some sort of insult to his personality or overreaction to the whole ordeal. Perhaps he had been expecting silence, no response in the slightest as he was given a brutal cold shoulder that would never be warm again. What he hadn’t expected at all was Jan quickly turning the situation around on herself, taking the fall for an issue that was not her fault in the first place.

Why did it hurt so much to see her this way?

Eli couldn’t speak. Maybe it was the copious amounts of blood rushing to his skull that was making him so tongue-tied, that seemed as good an explanation as any. He tried to come up with words, any sound outside of the silence on his lips, anything to say to Jan to make her feel better. Think, dammit, think! It was then that Jan said something that made his heart stop, his racing mind screeching to a grinding halt right in its chaotic tracks.

“After tonight, I’m about fifty percent closer to leaving HA and going into nursing or something, maybe I need to look into something I could go into, something that’s good for stupid people like me. After tonight you won’t see me, I was never cut out for this kind of work, this kind of world. I mean look at me, eli. you know this face could never end up anywhere that was good news.”

No.

No, she couldn’t leave. She belonged at Hollywood Arts amongst the crowd of talent. She was more talented in her secondary department choice than most people were in their first. Jan belonged there more than anyone else in the entire school.

Shut up. Please, just stop talking. You’re wrong, you are so incredibly wrong.

Eli wanted to scream, to speak, to do something to get her to stop talking.

Suddenly, the angel and the devil were on his shoulders, masquerading as his sisters. What would they do?

Ash would probably panic, that was pretty much her reaction to every emotionally charged situation. She’d likely wait for Jan to finish talking and fall silent for a moment as she made an attempt to figure out what to say that wouldn’t make the situation worse. Then, she’d speak those words, maybe hug it out, and move on without another thought to the matter. As long as everyone was okay, Ash was content with that.

Gen, on the other hand, would take a far more direct approach. If Gen heard someone she cared about talking so poorly about themselves, she’d probably slap the stupidity right out of them. Really, Gen had done that before when Eli had begun talking about the fear of a new upcoming dance after they had arrived at Hollywood Arts. She had raised her delicate hand and gently slapped him right across the cheek. Gen had claimed that “it served him right for listening to his stupid brain”.

Elias couldn’t just talk this one away. Well, he could try, but he wasn’t nearly as good as talking himself out of emotional intensity as Ash was. He wasn’t about to smack the stupid out of Jan either, that would be a great way to get himself killed.

What to do, what to do?

He wasn’t entirely certain where his solution came from, sticking out in his mind like a semi-wholesome intrusive thought. It wasn’t quite talking but it wasn’t quite Gen’s form of conflict management either. This was a new style, completely on brand to Elias Johannes, one night only.

Swinging himself closer to Jan, he carefully reached out both of his hands, cupping either side of her face before pulling her in. He paused for a moment, their faces barely parted. Oh boy, this was really really dumb, wasn’t it? What sort of jerk cuts someone off by kissing them? Like, that’s the number one move in the jackass handbook! Eli was better than that most days but as of late, Jan had taken everything he thought he knew and flipped it onto its head.

Fuck it. He was already in deep, might as well hold his breath and hope he doesn’t drown.

Carefully, Eli let his eyelids flutter shut as his lips carefully met Jan’s, his movements soft and delicate as if he didn’t want to hurt her. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, forcing him to continue rather than to let go. Everything felt so natural, almost as if he had kissed her a thousand times before. It felt safe, familiar. Eli pulled away, his hands moving down Jan’s face to the sides of her neck as the tips of his thumbs traced the outline of Jan’s collarbones through her costume.

“I, uh, I am so sorry.” Eli quickly stammered. Although his face was already red from hanging upside down for so long, he was certain that if you looked close enough, you could see the thin blush creeping along his nose. Eli looked away for a second, an unsettling feeling in his stomach. A surge of confidence flooded through him as he looked back up to Jan, a smile appearing on his face. “You know what? No, I’m actually not sorry. If that was the only way to get you to see how amazing you are then I suppose I did a good job. Plus I’ve sorta been wanting to do that since-”

THUD!

One minute, Eli had simply been hanging upside down in the tree. The next, he was face down in the dirt, sprawled out and winded like a starfish stranded on a beach. He tried to open his eyes but all he saw was darkness, his nose planted firmly in the loosened dirt beneath the tree. The stench of wet soil clouded his face, the dampness clinging to his skin and soaking through the thin fabric of his costume. His entire chest and abdomen ached, his lungs struggling to get air back into the winded cavity. Carefully, Eli propelled himself onto his back, his face contorting as he took a gasp of fresh air.

“Shit.” Eli groaned, finally fully opening his eyes to look up at Jan. Taking a few deep breaths, Eli slowly sat up as he braced himself on his knees. “Man, I had just thought out this whole cute thing to say and the universe really had to go and do me like that!”

Reaching up to wipe the dirt off his face with the sleeves of his sweater, Elias couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Looking behind him to Jan, he crooked his finger to motion her down to his level. Once she was close enough, Eli let himself fall backwards slightly, a wide grin on his face.

“You know, I guess I really did fall for you.”

º º code by ditto º º
 

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


@Fire&Ash has set their status to:
welp, more shots

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

@Fire&Ash has interacted with:
Trevor, Lucky

@Fire&Ash has mentioned:
Eli

@Fire&Ash has tagged:
gh0stwriter gh0stwriter ohdittoh ohdittoh ​
She--

He--

Her lips parted in shock at Trevor's words because, like, had he literally just called Lucky a bitch? But no words came out because, well, she didn't even know where to start or what to say. If Ash was in a clearer state of mind instead of the alcohol-infused one that was currently muddling all of her thoughts, she would've come up with... something. Told Trevor that it wasn't cool, or said something to spin the conversation away, but she couldn't... her brain... didn't... words...

Now, you'd think Ash would be used to this kind of thing -- confrontation and passive aggressive comments -- given the kind of company she generally kept and the guys that she normally dated. Believe it or not, but Trevor was on the nicer side of the guys that she dated (save for Dorian, but she wasn't counting him), mainly because his vile words were just that -- words. They weren't going to turn into him punching some guy for mouthing off, like her last boyfriend had done to one skinny stoner kid (bet you can't guess which skinny stoner prone to mouthing off she was talking about).

However, it was quite the opposite.

She was the opposite of used to it and her gaze drifted down from Trevor to the counter top in front of her. The words hadn't even been directed at her, nor was any of the aggression, but being near it -- hearing it -- was still enough to make Ash's stomach start twisting up like it had at the fair or every time she went on stage or... or... or even earlier when Gen had messaged her about the whole dinner thing, or any other time that she felt slightly cornered.

Ash wasn't being cornered, of course, because the words were being tossed back and forth between Lucky and Trevor. Like a bomb that was ticking down and whoever was holding it when it went off would be the one that had nothing else to say. The one that blew up and walked away or flipped a table or yelled or punched or--

No, Ash wasn't directly a part of whatever little feud the two had going on, but she was standing literally between them. And even if Trevor and Ash's relationship status wasn't public knowledge, it had been made rather public that they had gone on a blind date, and it had been made rather public that everyone presumed (rightfully so) that they had feelings for one another. So Lucky's slight jabs that insinuated being alone with her or this or that?

Oh yeah, she'd caught onto those. There was no way he wasn't saying those without malicious intent.

Trevor was speaking again and this time, it wasn't passive aggressive or anything! It was just, like, their old, normal friendly flirty banter. See, the thing that one needed to remember that, although Trevor asking so blatantly about hooking up might to the outside eye appear abnormal and imply that something had happened last week at the fair, it wasn't abnormal for them. It was the nature of their friendship -- drunken flirting -- and it would've clearly been abnormal if that part of the night was altogether skipped.

Her lips twitched into a small smile. Her hands moved down to the edge of the counter and she used her hands to steady herself as she pushed away from the counter, now not standing or leaning as close. More to put distance between herself and whatever tension there was going on between the two boys.

"Ooh, that one was good." She joked, "So good that I'd almost say yes, but unfortunately..." Her lips twisted into a frown, although her eyes were still glinting with some hint of amusement. "Blondes and stoners really aren't my type," -- that wasn't actually a lie, they really weren't -- "so sorry to disappoint you, Shaggy. Better luck next time."

The fake frown disappeared, once again being replaced by a smile.

See? This was their normal thing. Trevor proposing a hookup, Ash shutting him down. It was great!

Even if it was a little weird now given the underlying context of their relationship. Had they not had, say, a certain Lucky nearby or been so close to other people, tonight would've marked the first night that Trevor's advances weren't shut down.

Oh well.

But hey, things were going well. They were turning around. Ash could successfully enjoy time with her boyfriend under the guise of just being friends and one of her new friends without anything going wrong. The tension had clearly been erased, or at least was in the process of evaporating, which meant that there was--

Trevor crushed his cup, the alcohol spilling out, and Ash subconsciously flinched, the smile faltering as her body froze.

Lucky hadn't even said anything. She glanced towards Lucky for a moment, evidently confused, and then her gaze trickled back down to the only thing that would provide a proper response or answer or way to handle the stress that she was feeling at this moment.

The shot glass.

Of course, more alcohol right now probably wasn't the best idea. Ash had surpassed buzzed, tipsy, and now she was hindering on that edge between waking up with a wicked hangover and blackout drunk.

The twisting nerves in her stomach caused from the palatable tension in the air coupled with the copious amounts of alcohol and tripled with the lack of proper nourishment or water over the last few hours of the evening simply meant that her stomach hurt -- badly.

She let go of the counter, totally not wobbling even a little bit as she grabbed the bottle of vodka and poured herself another shot. She picked it up as Trevor realized he'd broken his own cup. Her eyes followed him as he picked up the cup from the ground and set it back on the counter, his next words so... oddly...

Yeah, no, he was pissed.

The answer to that?

Shot.

She tossed the alcohol back and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. A cough escaped her lips as she swallowed the burning alcohol, this time with less grace and skill than she had previously. The storm in her stomach roared back as she set the glass back down. One hand went out to lean against the counter while her other arm pressed against her stomach. Teeth bit into her bottom lip.

Alcohol was supposed to stop or at least subdue the nervous feelings. But unfortunately, it could only do so much, and it wasn't doing enough to help her cope with the situation at hand.

"Something like that," she mumbled. "Duet that uhh... is, we haven't ah, discussed it... yet." Ash brought the arm from her stomach back up to her cover her mouth once more as she cleared her throat again. The burning taste of the alcohol was making her dizzy. Or maybe that was just the alcohol at this point. Or the nerves.

Or all of the above.

In her time of knowing Trevor, Ash was pretty sure she'd never witnessed him not drinking his alcohol from a red solo cup or a shot glass so, when he picked up the bottle of whiskey...

Her stomach twisted. Her hand dropped back down to press across her stomach once more.

An anxious laugh escaped her lips. "We ah, uh, we just decided like... right now, right before you came over," Ash started to explain. Her gaze focused on the counter in front of her. Her fingers tapped against the counter top for a moment before digging into it and clenching the counter tightly. "Which is great because I, umm, I don't... like... doing it alone."

Another laugh.

If Ash wasn't positive that Trevor and Lucky would end up killing each other if she removed herself from the situation, she would've walked away. Made up some excuse about needing to find Eli or whatever it might be and head off, but she didn't. She remained there (partially because Ash wasn't sure she could walk away without tripping).

Not at all panicking.

She wondered how strong her friendship with Eli was. If they could communicate via eyerolls and shrugs when in person, maybe that meant their best friendship -- their twinship, siblingship -- was strong enough that she could send out a silent SOS and he'd, like, pick up on it and be able to come and defuse the situation. Eli was a master of putting out the fires that sprung up around Ash.

Just send out a silent little...

Help.
º º code by ditto º º
 
kellian phelan
dance, dance.​
@phelanthebeat has set her status to:
Alcohol? More like alco-hell-no-- but also, can you pour me some more?

@phelanthebeat has set her outfit to:
Ahem. "Don't have sex with my sister!" Ahem. "Kelli, I will buy you a pickax!" Ahem. "Vibes, man!" (Is this working?)

@phelanthebeat has set her location to:
The party!

@phelanthebeat has mentioned:
N/A

@phelanthebeat has interacted:
Ronnie and Kian

@phelanthebeat has tagged:
hery hery geminiy geminiy

@phelanthebeat has written a tl;dr:
Kelli goes to the party and tries to drink alcohol.
Kelli laughed softly at her friend’s joke. She wish she had a glow nose or something that she could make jokes with all night or something. Instead, she had to settle for her mediocre— wait, no, amazing Kian impression all night. Wicked. Tubular. Yeah, he didn’t use those words that she could remember, but maybe she could be, like…Kian’s update— Kian 2.0, but instead of the bigger and better version, 2.0 was smaller and kind of pathetic, but cheerful and trying nonetheless.

“Yes, let’s!” Kelli said, agreeing to do something that she’d already suggested that they do. She noticed what she had done, and she shoved another chocolate into her mouth to ignore the mistake. She had the tendency to keep tabs on dumb stuff that she said, but she was trying to get out of that habit. It was definitely a work-in-progress, but chocolate helped cure any ailment. Kinda. She could tell herself that as she ate chocolate, anyway. It gave her justification to eat the sugary, bad-for-her-heart treat, saying things like “it’ll comfort me, it’ll cure my worries”.

She turned from her brother, smiling as she walked to the door. She reached to push the heavy thing open, but her brother’s arm found it first, and she mumbled a “thanks” to him as she passed, smiling. “Bye, ma’am. Have a good day,” she said to the guard, giving her a small wave and a smile as she made her way out to her brother’s vehicle.

The familiar thing was comforting to see. It was a little piece of home, in a weird way, even though it wasn’t her vehicle. She was used to riding in it to school every day back home, so she knew it like the back of her hand. Even though their hometown wasn’t too far from here, she still felt homesick, and sometimes, she just wanted to call her brother up and ask if she could just fall asleep in the backseat like she used to do riding home after school.

Settling into the passenger seat and thanking her brother again for opening the door for her, Kelli breathed in the familiar scent of Kian’s vehicle. It smelled the same way that her brother’s room smelled, and, though she wasn’t sure if it was pleasant or not to anyone else, to her, it felt like she was coming into her brother’s room for a movie night like she used to, curling up on his bed cross-legged, and preparing to not watch the movie at all and instead spend the next hours talking about absolutely nothing important. Kelli clipped in, breathing out a content sigh and looking forward.

Upon being offered the AUX cord, she perked up, her smile broadening. “Heck yeah— dope, okay!”

She picked up her phone, connecting the headphone jack to the AUX and tapping a few times on her phone to make sure that everything was in line to play what she wanted it to, and then she clicked the play button.

The radio spring to life with ABBA’s Voulez-Vous as Kian pulled into the street, cranking her tunes loud and singing along to the songs while Kelli giggled uncontrollably and tried to do the same, though her singing was far off-key and much less on beat than her brother’s.

Voulez-vous, ain't no big decision, you know what to do, la question c'est voulez-vous

Kelli whooped, smiling back at Ronnie, brows knit as she asked silently, Is this music alright? She offered her phone to Ronnie if she wanted to change it, and then she sat back in her seat and continued to dance to whatever song was next.

Kelli’s eyes grew into saucers as they pulled up to the house that the party was supposedly at. “Woaaaah…dope…,” she gasped in a near-whisper, awestruck. Was this going to be, like…a bougie tea party, with those fancy hats and tea cups— ooh, and would these tea cups be full of alcohol? Would a band of minstrels be playing EDM on lutes in the corner— in a minor key, because it was Halloween? She hoped that the hostess and the host hadn’t broken out the fine china— she tended to be clumsy when she wasn’t performing. Call it God’s way of keeping her from becoming too powerful, if you wanted to, or something cool like that.

“Thank you, Alfred,” she kidded, smiling at her brother as she hopped out of the vehicle, and she followed him inside, thanking him again for opening the front door.

Her eyes went even wide, and she clasped her hand over her math. “Oooh!” she gasped. “It’s so…woah…” She slowly dropped her hand. This reminded her of that one fancy recital hall that she went to— the one that had floors so polished that they looked like mirrors and had cherubs sculpted into the ceiling— but, like, way cooler. And fancier. And…crowded-er.

There were a lot of people, and all of them were so pretty and handsome and cute and nice-looking, and it was all very, very intimidating.

“Uh huh…this place is wow,” she agreed with her brother, nodding as she followed him and looked about herself.

Well, she couldn’t feel out of place tonight. She wasn’t Kellian— she was K___ian. Straight up vibin’, ya know.

She ogled at the drink table. Never before had she seen that many things that were illegal for her to consume in one place— except for, like, at Walmart.

And also on TV. But those places didn’t count.

Hesitantly, Kelli reached for the bottle, as if it was the Holy Grail that she had been searching for for decades upon decades and she was King Arthur. The feeling of the bottle in her hand was the same as any other, but it felt really different. She took the cup from Kian, looking at her brother with a giddy expression. “I’ll clean up my puke…!” she agreed, voice heavy with fascination, like she was living a dream right now or something.

She lifted her cup to eye level and squinted at it, then slowly, slowly tilted the nearly-empty bottle of…well, she hadn’t read the label, but some kind of alcohol up…up…up—

A little bit— it looked like a lot!— fell out of it, and she put the bottle down, then tilted the cup up to her lips.

When the drink went into her mouth, she immediately held her cup away from her and forced it down, tearing up and making a loud “BLEH!” sound that could surely be heard all around, then hacking and hitting at her chest with a fist. Oh my God! She felt her face heating up, and she heaved in a few breaths as her ears rang.

“I-It’s…g-good!” she lied, voice wobbly, smiling at the clown beside her. “Hey, uhm…h-hey, can you, uhm…can you pass me that…” She pointed at a bottle of Sprite. “…that, please, Ronnie?”

When she got it in her hands, she immediately began to pour it into her cup, and when her cup was nearly overflowing, she took the bottle away and downed the whole cup. She held back a burp and sighed in relief.

At least the burn of Sprite wasn’t…bleh.

She looked at the bottle again, determined to give it a second try.

“Hey,” she asked to both of the others, in general, sure that at least one would answer, “can make me a drink…?”
º º code by ditto º º​
 
JANUARY QUINTEN
"cause everything about you is so overwhelming"
@jan.quin has set their status to:
*happy jan noises*

@jan.quin has set their outfit to:
spidey-gang + a hoodie

@jan.quin has set their location to:
cloud nine

@jan.quin has mentioned:
N/A

@jan.quin has interacted with:
eli

@jan.quin has tagged:
geminiy geminiy
wait.

hold on.

what?

what just happened?

what. just. happened.

jan had been kissed before. been the person to do the kissing, been on the receiving end, all of it. she had a boyfriend. but that wasn't what was supposed to happen after that argument. could it even be called an argument? eli had apologized to her before her brain switched off and went through the motions of how she spoke and argued and defended herself in the past. it was something she always had to do, she never had a choice but to spew out whatever she could to put everything on herself.

but that wasn't what happened this time

this time, there was a kiss involved.

there never used to be any kissing involved.

not that jan was complaining or was even properly thinking about anything right then and there. the only thing running through jan's head was:

HOLY SHIT ELIAS JOHANNES JUST KISSED ME

WHILE HE WAS UPSIDE DOWN

AND WE'RE BOTH IN SPIDER-PEOPLE SUITS

ALKSJFDHALSDKFJHALSDKALSDKJFHASLDKJHSDLFHALSKDFJHAZ,XMCNZJHCVALKSJDGFLAEKHFALDSKGVLABSKNJDFHALSKDJFH

it wasn't common knowledge how much of a nerd jan truly was. she found safety and security in the marvel universe, and the fact that spider-man was her first favorite super hero and she got to dress up as spider-woman for a halloween party? she was secretly nerded out, at least she thought. until eli pulled his little stunt.

the moment his lips were on hers, it was like a wave washed over her. not a chaotic wave, like that one time jan was at the beach, trying to get seashells & the waves kept knocking her down, throwing her every which way.

no, this wave was more like, in the acne commercials, when they splash the water on their face after using whatever product was being sold. the refreshing feeling of starting anew. that's the sensation jan had when eli kissed her. like every other bad experience she had ever been through never happened, they were all gone. nothing in comparison to right then and there.

truth be told, it felt a little awkward, when she tried to hold his head, and was met with his neck. but she didn't back down, her fingers lightly dancing on his skin for the brief few moments they kissed. for a brief few moments, it was just eli and jan, just her and her sweetheart.

when he pulled away, jan would've been lying if she said she didn't try to stay leaning into him. her eyes fell onto his, a stupid grin was plastered on her face, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop. even when one hand left eli to try to cover her face, it only caused her smile to grow more and more.

jan was panicking, she had these overwhelming feelings for this boy who literally just kissed, and it terrified her. she didn't want to think about it, but the guilt was creeping back in.

you need to tell him, the whole truth thi-

THUD!

"eli!" his name flew out of her mouth as soon as his face hit the ground. she was frozen in shock, hands out, still from when eli was still in front of her, but also ready to help at a moment's notice.

"Man, I had just thought out this whole cute thing to say and the universe really had to go and do me like that!”

jan had no control over the giggle that came off her lips. her hand flew up to her mouth again, but there was no use. she stood no chance to stop her laughter and smiles against the insane release of emotion jan was feeling in that moment. it took everything in her to just not keep crying right then and there.

eli motioned for her and she was immediately by his side, on the ground, her hands went up to his face to help brush away from of the dirt and mud that he missed. she tried to be gentle and delicate, as he just ate dirt, hardcore, she knew that had to hurt.

her hands froze again at his words again,

“You know, I guess I really did fall for you.”

at this point, jan couldn't help herself. her confidence was more present than it had been in a long time, and she figured it was her turn to be cute and romantic.

hands still holding eli's face, she figured this would make much more sense than being upside down. with the enormous smile still being plastered on her face, she brought her lips down to his, letting her feelings take over.

one of her hands went to the back of his head, holding him closer as she kissed him, still being aware that he was still probably in pain from falling out of a literal tree. she kissed him gently, yet with all the passion and emotion she had been holding back. she wasn't trying to hold anything back, she wasn't thinking of anything other than what she wanted right then and there.

but when she did pull away, the smile was still there. jan had one thing on her mind and one this only. elias johannes. after pulling away, she gave his nose a gentle little kiss before finally figuring out what to say.

"that's sweet and all, but please stop falling out of trees. it'd be hard to kiss you if you're in the hospital with a broken face,"

º º code by ditto º º
 
LINDSAY KAY
"let's get lit"
@feelin_a_o_kay has set his status to:
is this foreshadowing??? lmao the world may never know

@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:
genny's place

@feelin_a_o_kay has mentioned:
n/a

@feelin_a_o_kay has interacted with:
zeph

@feelin_a_o_kay has tagged:
Winona Winona

@feelin_a_o_kay has written a tl;dr:
Lin still refuses to admit that he lost the bet, and he asks Zeph to bet him again.
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Lin puffed. “Hey, bro, why not pay me? You agreed to the bet, ess-em-aych, and I won. Them’s the terms, them’s the rules, so pay up.” He twisted the lid onto the empty bottle and threw it at the table. It bounced against the wall and then fell onto the candy with a disappoint “fss” sound effect, which made him laugh for a second before turning back Zeph, his face setting in its serious expression that denoted serious business.

“The timer is a big, fat, chunky-monkey, lying-faced liar, and you know it,” Lin insisted. “You’re supposed to count down!” he explained. “You gave me no warning whatsoever.”

Zeph hadn’t followed proper betting etiquette, and Lin wasn’t going to fall victim to a mistake and let it cost him a dare. If he had to play referee, he had to play referee, because, listen— not even once in Lin’s career had he ever lost except for when his fellow better didn’t know what they were doing. He was a betxpert, ess-em-aych. He had betting prowess. He was a black belt in betting— actually, he’d do him one better: he was a purple faux leather belt in betting. Ha!

He dropped his arms from their crossed position. “I’ll let it fly just this once, because you’re a betting newb,” Lin said, breaking into a grin and patting Zeph’s back. “You’ll learn in time, buddy.” He spoke to him as if he were a dad telling his son that there’s no crying in baseball after a hard loss. “It’s alright. Deep breaths. Don’t cry; just fork it over.” He was half-kidding, half-not. Lin didn’t really want the money— he more wanted the victory.

Or…hehehehehe. A mischievous smile spread across Lin’s face again, and he gave Zeph a look in his eyes that only meant one thing—

Lin had an idea.

“Or, hey, actually...,” Lin began in that slow, sly tone that he always used when he started off a betting proposition, “whaddoya say…” His grin spread wider. “We do a round of double-or-nothing, huh?”

He looked around for something that he could do it with, and then he grinned at Zeph again. “And, since you insist that you won last time…” Which Zephy hadn’t, the poor, misled, painfully-incorrect soul. “…I’ll let you pick what it is that we do.” He chuckled menacingly. “Whaddoya say, huh?”

You down to get your ass kicked for real this time, bro?

Zeph was new to Lin, so he couldn’t possibly know this (though he was probably already learning it), but Lin took his betting very, very, very seriously. His one goal in mind when he did any kind of competition was to win, be it money, a Rasta banana, or just bragging rights (which he would fully exhaust). What could he say? He was addicted to the rush that it gave him— the adrenaline that got his heart beating and his mind racing.

It was the same reason that he jumped off of bridges, set off fireworks in the backyards of strangers, broke into his neighbor’s houses and stole their toasters, and, ultimately, drove recklessly in traffic and subsequently got his license revoked.

Adrenaline was a drug from his mind that shot straight into his veins. When it was coursing through him, Lin was wholly alive— high, free, all of that fancy shit, but none of it cost him any money. It worked wonders that actual drugs couldn’t— not that he’d tried many drugs, but trust him. Adrenaline trumped them all.

Adrenaline plus sugar? That was a killer combination for Lin. When he had both of these, he was invincible. The fear of death was only present in that primal part of his mind that controlled his bodily functions— the part of him that got his blood pumping— and that fear that he couldn’t get rid of was something that kept him wanting to test just how far he could get.

The further he pushed it, the better and better that he would feel.

Small things like this? Yeah, they were nothing, but Lin still wanted to win them.

Winning these things was a small way to get that small rush. You know, a way to ease Zeph into it and get a kick out of it himself.

It would take time before Lin could get Zeph to come with him on things that could get him killed— the good shit— and so, he’d have to settle for sugar and whatever Zeph chose to bet him.

Translation of all of that? Lin was in full crack kid mode, and Zeph, if he chose to go along with the bet, was just going to be baiting the bear—

Which meant that they would both be lucky if they survived the night.
º º code by ditto º º
 
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"waste of my time..."
saint taylor
@sainttay has set his status to:
Meeting...

@sainttay has set his outfit to:
Simple...

@sainttay has set his location to:
The party...

@sainttay has mentioned:
N/A...

@sainttay has interacted with:
Ava...

@sainttay has tagged:
Winona Winona

@sainttay has written a tl;dr:
Saint talks with Ava.
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As Saint listened to the girl’s response, his eyes moved back to study the bat decorations once more. Now, he tried looking at them under a new lens: the lens that the decorations were there for nothing more than adding to the sense of unity that the people— or, rather, the sheeple, be as they may— were supposed to be induced to feel.

Saint would never have described himself as particularly cynical. He had always assumed that people were, in essence, were neither good nor evil; people just were. The same went for actions. He was to be the judge of neither as good or bad definitively, though he could surely offer his opinions on it. In fact, all things considered, there was only one true evil, as Saint saw it: doing direct harm to others, be it physical or emotional. Hence, Saint never did anything of the sort; he simply acted for himself and did what he pleased. Nothing that he ever did any direct harm to anyone, physically or emotionally. He saw fights and arguments, as big of wastes of times as they were, as the exception to that rule, because “mutually assured destruction” was at play. Either way, Saint had always viewed the world this way, and he had stopped to consider the why and simply never figured that much out.

Philosophy was boring, if Saint was entirely honest. It should simply have sufficed to say “live and let live, and keep your views out of mine”.

Now, looking at the bats, he noticed how much sadder and sorrier the bats looked. Now that he looked at them as decorations placed calculatedly— as inane as this seemed— it added a bit more for him to consider in his great consideration of what made good or evil— or rather, his avoidance of determining what made good or evil.

He was a seventeen-year-old boy. He could only tolerate so much thinking before his brain wanted to turn the fuck off.

Then again, he was high, so this was…deep shit, man.

“I guess you’re right…,” he said, looking over at the girl. “I guess we’re all just fools thinking we’re geniuses and sinners thinking that we’re saints…” He smiled slowly as he held out his hand to meet hers. “And I guess that that’s just the way that the world works…and I guess that that’s okay and that it’s alright that we’re two people who are just meant to be tossed about in whatever the universe and this hellscape of a social playing field is supposed to be…” He gave her hand a shake, meeting her eyes for the first time of the night. “It’s Saint. Taylor. The pleasure’s mine, Ava.”

The stoic boy dropped his hand, the smile slowly fading from his face as his eyes went out to the party. "Why did you come here, then...? Did one of your friends drag you along...?" He meant no offense by the question; she seemed like the type of reasonable girl who wouldn't take offense to it, either. "You don't seem like the kind of person who's particularly a party-goer...unless you're looking to turn over a new leaf...?"
º º code by ditto º º
 
"I don't just follow trends, I set them..."
Evelyn Sinclaire
@SinClaire has set status to:
"Tequila me, please!"

@SinClaire has set outfit to:
Bad bitch Bonnie (but better)

@SinClaire has set location to:
Johannes Residence

@SinClaire has interacted with:
Nate. Gen. Eli.

@SinClaire has tagged:
Winona Winona geminiy geminiy

Evie wasn't really expecting an answer regarding Nate's obvious tension with Nic. Not because he was actively secretive with her or anything, that she knew of, but he did tend to avoid certain topics. Drama, emotions, things about his past or personal life. Not that she blamed him, Evie had some stuff that she'd rather not discuss too but she was definitely the more open of the two. This is why when he actually let his gaze shift towards hers rather than continuing to look anywhere else she was a little surprised.

"I won't fight him. He's not worth my time." The words made her wish that she possessed that same self-control sometimes because walking away from a clear fight wasn't something that Evie was great at. She was much more of a person to let her anger guide her actions and a lot of times it either got her into trouble, made her do things she regretted or both.

The brunette continued to work on the bullet wounds as he sat in silence for a moment, speaking up again after a while and explaining why he didn't care much for Nic. Well, that encounter she remembered. Especially because her own friend had been involved in it. Ellie had also been joking and claiming he and Nic were going to drive themselves home drunk. She knew that Ellie wasn't going to mostly because she would've gotten him herself before she let that happen. It wouldn't have been the first time that she took care of him when he was less than sober and emotional.

When Evie and Ellie met, they immediately got along. As some of the few fashion-focused students at HA, they understood each other's visions and even helped each other grow in some ways. They got even closer when she dated Dei and she couldn't even count the number of times she's been there for him but the day of the fair, well, that had put a strain on their friendship. While they were okay now, Evie still couldn't help but be both annoyed and concerned about Ellie's actions recently.

Her thoughts faded when Nate finally spoke up again this time causing a smirk to creep up on her face. "I won't fight him. Just you and me tonight, getting drunk as hell and winning this competition, right?" - "You read my mind, as usual," she said as she pulled the brush away from the last bullet hold she was making.

After letting her eyes scan his new and improved makeup job and deciding that she was satisfied with how it looked, she leaned in and blew the excess powder away from his neck. "There. Now you look like you actually got shot rather than attacked by a wild animal," she rolled her eyes, sitting back in the chair.

Before she could say much more, her attention was being pulled away from Nate and to her phone as messages between Gen, Liv and of course, Mike caught her eye. "Great," she muttered before reading what it was about. Evie was no fool, she knew her best friend and Liv's relationship had been different than any of Gen's other flings and so the realization that Liv and Mike had hooked up was a big blow to Gen. Still, Evelyn wasn't going to sit there and play the sugarcoating mediator when it came to her best friend.

This was the same girl who called her out on her shit from the day they met and without hesitation. Evie had always appreciated that even when it did annoy her and she had always been the same with Gen. So when their messages got a little heavy and Gen logged off Twitter, she wasn't really shocked. "Your friend is a douche," she told Nate matter-of-factly. Okay, so Mike was her friend too and Gen could overreact but that didn't make Mike less of a douche. He was just egging the situation on as badly as she was and he knew it.

Evie's eyes darted to the door where Eli suddenly barged in and she knew that he was looking for Gen just by his tone and the concern in his voice. He was walking out just as quickly as he'd walked in but when he returned a few minutes later, Gen was leading and ranting about the whole situation.

“Fucking Mike of all people. She couldn’t even rebound with an upgrade, she had to fuck ‘no goodbye’, desperate ass, lame shag fucking MICHAEL REID! If she was gonna get a pity fuck, she should’ve at least gone for someone that wasn’t a fucking pathetic excuse for a human!” - Evelyn was frozen, her instincts told her to say something and to comfort her best friend but her mind had a much better plan. Better logic. After all, you do not jump in front of a damn freight train. - “And I hadn’t even left yet! We dated for months, I thought I fucking loved the bitch and I thought she loved me back and she FUCKED MY FRIEND the night I LEFT!”

"Gen! Genevieve!" Evie tried to call out as Gen took off from the room without even a look in her direction. Her gaze shifted to Eli who looked utterly confused and just as frightened before he too disappeared from the room. "Jesus fucking christ," she finally breathed. "Looks like we get drinks and a bloody show," she added sarcastically, looking to Nate and holding her hand out for the Tequila. "So, straight from the bottle night...right?" she agreed with their earlier conclusion, taking a big gulp of the liquid and making a face as it burned her throat.

Standing up, Evelyn adjusted her clothing before grabbing another bottle from the closet. Look, the way things were going so far, they were gonna need it. "Ready to join the chaos, Clyde?" she said, finally cracking another smile. It was time for them to trade the peace for the party. Not that she didn't enjoy just talking to Nate without the crowd or extra ears. Evie actually found it really easy to just talk to him and his company wasn't half bad either but they had to walk into the fire eventually. After all, they had come here to party. Hadn't they?
º º code by ditto º º
 
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Hunter Drake
How are you feeling?
on a high that I never want to end
What are you wearing?
*manly noises intensify*
Where are you?
Party
Did you mention anyone?
Nickie
Who are you talking to?
Some foxy lady
And, like, tagging?
ohdittoh ohdittoh
Sidesteps, half-turns, poor attempts at whatever Frankenstein white boy dancing that Hunter was doing -- all of it happened so fast.

Hunter's high that carried him off into parts unknown was centered in Nickie's eyes. Her smile fueled him with an energy that he didn't think he had without any liquid courage. The way her eyes sparkled in whatever artificial lights the Johannes mansion had hanging above them (or whatever it was that lit the house up in the way that it did), it gave his stomach that break from doing failed backflips and cartwheels like it had been most of the night and allowed him some relief.

And all of this happened in such a flash but it was so clearly over the span of several minutes, that when it was done, Hunter was panting as if he had just ran a marathon ...except Hunter didn't run marathons and he sure as hell didn't feel like he was out of breath. But when you were with someone who took it away, it sort of made sense.

It must've been close to twenty seconds after he caught his breath - even if for a short while - that Nickie nearly crashed into him. Thinking only on his feet, Hunter held his arms out, holding her hands with his, and he used whatever strength he had to spare, whatever forced breaths that his lungs could muster to make it to where Nickie didn't fell flat on her ass. The fact she didn't brought a wider grin to the boy's face, which at this point might make it his default facial expression since he's been uncharacteristically been doing it like an idiot in love.

"You okay?" He asked her, releasing her soft hands from the grip of his. He had half of a mind to go beat the ass of whoever it was that bumped into her, but again, Hunter wasn't acting like he normally did. So instead he took the road he barely traveled and embodied his best Elsa and just let it go. "I mean, maybe we went a bit too hard with the dancing? Or I did?" Hunter's outward thought was followed by a short chuckle. "Okay, but seriously: are you okay?" Yeah good job on repeating your question, bozo!









º º code by ditto º º​
 
MOOD: bartenderrr

OUTFIT: ronnie mcdonald

LOCATION: the kitchen
basics
MENTIONS:
Gen, Mike

INT:
ohdittoh ohdittoh (Kelli)
geminiy geminiy (Kian)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Veronica Crosby
Ronnie shoved the treats Kian had given her into her pocket and followed the two siblings to the car. She gave the security guard a warm smile as they went off, thanking Kian for holding the door. The car was, uh, cozy, but it smelled a little weird. Not like stinky weird, but the kind of odd car smell Ronnie really wasn't into. She looked to Kelli, then Kian, curious if she was the only one that held her breath a little her first few moments in the vehicle.

Her slight discomfort didn't last long, as the before-party consisting of car jams got Ronnie in the groove of things. She boogied side to side, her arms and head moving with the beat. Her singing was far more dramatic and humorous than the usual, but she couldn't help herself. ABBA's lyricism demanded a playful performance. When Kelli turned around, Ronnie looked her in the eyes and sang more passionately, smiling amusedly. She shook her head and raised a hand to indicate she was perfectly content with her choice of music, although she found it was very easy to butcher the French in the song.

The Johannes' mansion looked just as magnificent as she remembered, although it didn't seem as grand at the time when she came just to paint her nails with the girls. The only grand thing about it to her at the time was how grand of trouble she'd have been in if she spilled the nail polish, which she almost did twice. Now, much later in the evening with copious amounts of guests and decorations, it was so fabulous she almost felt like she needed a formal invitation to set foot inside.

Once again, Ronnie followed behind the two into the mansion, gawking at all the costumes and high school party activities going on around her. This was NOTHING like Dei's party. Compared to this, the gathering after homecoming was a small kickback. "I've been here before," she bragged, thinking back on all of the times she had the privilege to hang with the bad bitches of H.A. I've laughed here, I've yelled here... I've also cried here, but who wouldn't after having to go through Jeremy graduating without you? And the end of Madagascar 2 was really emotional too! "Gen really went all out this time. And everyone looks so cool!"

Ronnie was pleasantly surprised that Kian was giving them the go-ahead to drink, especially since most of the time people told her she was too young and she should go do kid things. She was turning sixteen in less than two months for God's sake! "I've got a stomach of steel, don't have to worry about me!" The young clown gratefully accepted the solo cup, but set it down as soon as it reached her hands. Instead, she made her way to a cabinet and grabbed a champagne glass, smirking impishly at Kelli and Kian.

She watched Kelli's face twist into disgust after consuming her drink, knowing all too well the horribleness of being unable to handle the taste of liquor in front of others. Trying to impress Mike with an imaginary alcohol tolerance was a recipe for disaster. Laughing with a sympathetic face for Kelli, she passed the Sprite to the mini-Kian. "Really? I think it's suuuper bad," she said with a long drawl, nodding with wide, knowing eyes, "You totally have to drown it in other stuff. It's, like, what the experts do."

As Kelli figured that situation out, Ronnie poured her own drink, about a third of vodka and two thirds of Sprite, in the champagne glass. It was cool and bubbly like champagne, and Ronnie felt like a wealthy celebrity taking a sip of the concoction. It would have appeared elegant too, if it wasn't for the fact that she was dressed like Ronald McDonald and she'd managed to spill a bit of the Sprite on the table whole pouring. The drink still tasted terrible, but it was somewhat diluted and she wasn't an actress for nothing. Her right eye twitched a little, but she'd managed to refrain from panting with disgust.

Ronnie almost didn't catch Kelli's request, as she caught her eyes drifting to Kian's top riding up on his torso. She quickly turned back to her friend, praying the thick layer of white paint on her face would hide her blushing. "Will do!" she answered, haphazardly splashing some alcohol into Kelli's cup and filling the rest with Sprite.

"Take it all at once. It's easier!"" she urged her, eyes bright with the partying fever. She passed the cup back to Kelli, her soda-coated fingers leaving a sticky print on the red cup.
code by valen t.
 
Oates Oates
" podcasts, amirite? "

@bigO has set their status to:
tall and spooky and criminal

@bigO has set their outfit to:
costume

@bigO has set their location to:
gem's house

@bigO has mentioned:
liv, callum, rome

mogy mogy has mentioned:
Soap Soap , hery hery
😎
😎
Before Oates knew what was happening, the three of them were running.

Something about trick-or-treaters turned criminals simply didn't sit right with him and his eternally pacifistic nature, but the boy would've been lying right through his teeth if he said dashing close behind Liv in his anime demon costume didn't feel absolutely incredible. Electricity surged through him, and even though he wasn't a regular runner, every thrust of his rubber soles against the pavement gave him just a little bit of adrenaline to continue on. Of course, the confines of his mind were still bothered with the fact that the situation could've been handled much better, but it was Halloween after all, and the blonde lady really was rude to them with no clear necessity to act so antagonistically towards a bunch of kids who just wanted candy.

The three of them now—rogue Wonder Woman, real-life Ryuk, and a guy in a very tight maid dress turned confused looks of both parents and kids as they made it a valuable distance from the mean lady candy snatcher, and Oates even caught himself letting out a laugh or two alongside Liv as the girl ran with a full bucket of candy tightly clutched in her hand. Laughing after possibly committing a crime was definitely not anything like Oates, but it was a valuable moment for him, as it became painfully clear just how much he needed a break like such.

And no, this wasn't some kind of a villain origin story with Oates suddenly becoming a cleptomaniac because he could not handle the issues life threw at him. It was more of a moment where he felt like he could finally breathe in again after being submerged in an ocean of worries about everybody around him. It felt good.

The trio stopped running when they deemed they were far enough from the lady to actually get into trouble, and it was then that Liv distributed the stolen goods, leaving the most for herself as was previously agreed, you know, back while Oates and Liv were waiting for Callum in front of his apartment...?

"It was pretty cool," Oates agreed with Callum through erratic breaths and a few chuckles. "Let's not do it again." He joked afterward, though making it obvious he didn't want to steal again—doing it once was an accident, two times it would become a habit, and three times his mom would be really upset with him, and the curly-haired boy didn't want to disappoint her...

Soon enough, however, the little trick-or-treaters roaming the streets around the trio were replaced by drunk teenagers in slutty costumes and loud music that made it almost impossible to talk to somebody without basically licking their ear. However, Oates didn't mind that. He enjoyed the energy, the little extrovert inside of him coming to life, and Oates already unknowingly moving his foot to the fast beat of the whatever popular song remix was playing at the moment.

From what he could initially see in the somewhat dimmed lighting, everybody had such awesome costumes, but this was a Hollywood Arts Halloween party, and nothing less was expected.

As Liv said her goodbyes to the two boys and was forever lost in the crowd of teenagers never to be seen again, Oates and Callum were left to explore the party on their own, and Oates knew that Callum wasn't really the most fun sort of person, especially when it came to parties. Though, he also knew how much alcohol could help with that.

"I'm gonna go say hi to Rome, and then I'll meet you wherever the drinks are being served...okay?" He asked, getting closer to Callum's ear in order for the now-shorter boy to hear him. He wasn't stupid, and he definitely didn't want another weird Rome/Callum standoff, especially at a party where many things could go wrong very quickly.
º º code by dildo º º
 
"Life is much more fun in the fast lane..."
Josephine Bennett

@JosieCat has set status to:
"Par-taaaaaaay!"

@JosieCat has set outfit to:
That one space princess.

@JosieCat has set location to:
Party.

@JosieCat has interacted with:
Gus.

@JosieCat has tagged:
sunshineysoul sunshineysoul
“I’m surprised that you came to this party in actual clothes— be they hardly actual clothes." Of course, Saint couldn't resist the urge to comment on her attire just like she hadn't been able to stop herself from approaching him in the first place. As shitty as his comment was, that wasn't even the one that got under her skin. Him basically saying that it was such a damn blessing to be in his presence, that's what annoyed Josie. He could be so damn cocky but at least it had caused her to finally unglue her feet from the ground so she could walk away.

Even now as she's swapped his company for Gus' considerably more upbeat attitude, she couldn't help but be haunted by her stupid thoughts of her asshole of an ex. Why did she care so much what he thought? It wasn't like she'd listened to his idiotic comments when they were dating. Still, something about his opinion got to her. Or maybe it was that combined with unresolved feelings and lingering...okay, you know what? Screw him. She really needed more to drink.

Pushing those thoughts away, she looked back to Gus when he draped an arm around her. It didn't take much more than a look at him to remember their last time hanging out and it was something neither of them had brought up. Maybe because he didn't really remember? Or because she felt like it was better to avoid the "you said you had feelings for me" thing.

Of course, Jo liked Gus, she really liked him but it was just too fast for them. Josie had been looking to take her mind off a breakup and instead, here she was, finding herself actually liking someone outside of just sex. Bad move, Josephine. Or maybe it was a good choice and that's why it freaked her out a little. Especially since she was way too used to making bad choices. Maybe that had become her comfort zone.

Entering the kitchen she saw a variety of cups, drinks, and bottles scattered all over which made everything else in her mind fade. Pick your poison indeed. Josie's smile returned to her face and she wasted no time in grabbing up one of the unattended bottles. "Looks like whiskey is gonna be our friend tonight," she smirked, holding up the bottle before pouring them each a generous amount into some plastic shot glasses.

"I had to go shopping for this myself so I hope I look enough like that space girl..." she trailed off, trying to think. "Oh! Leia! Yeah," she said, spinning around in the costume. Points for remembering, right? To be fair, Lucky had reminded her about a million times so if she hadn't remembered then there would've been a problem. She still wasn't going to watch the boring movie though.

Picking up the shot glass, Josie downed the contents, feeling the burn she'd grown so used to which probably wasn't a great thing. Jo had always been a party girl and sometimes that got a little out of hand. Tonight, though, she had it under control. She wasn't going to get too drunk and do something stupid. What? Josie had been tame-ish and it definitely wasn't just because she hadn't been to a party in two months. "Mmm, another?" she smirked, pouring them a few more shots of the brown liquor. "We need a party game or a place to smoke asap," she added.
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:
MINERVA FROST
"if it rains in hell then angels could be bad"
@minifrostie has set their status to:
please don't talk to me

@minifrostie has set their outfit to:
scandalous middriff

@minifrostie has set their location to:
in the car

@minifrostie has mentioned:
N/A

@minifrostie has interacted with:
dorian

@minifrostie has tagged:
jasmyn jasmyn

"I know pirates don't have the best reputations but I promise I'm trustworthy,"

minnie couldn't help but give him a little smile, dorian should count himself lucky that even a little chuckle was heard. when minnie was in a bad mood, there was very little that could get her out of said mood. the exceptions being gen and evie, and apparently now dorian.

as much as she didn't want to get in the car with him, it seemed she didn't have much of a a choice. dorian was one of those people that could charm his way into anything, at least from where minnie was standing, that's what it looked like.

but she knew that the minute she sat in that car and the minute he opened his mouth, he was going to ask why she had punched saint or why she wasn't actually dressed in a costume and a myriad of other questions. because for as long as minnie had known dorian, he was caring towards his friends. and even if they were just friends by association of gen, apparently she was on his list of friends to care about.

which meant questions, whether she wanted to answer them or not. of course she didn't want to answer them, she'd much rather keep everything to herself, because from what she had experienced in the past was that nothing good came of talking out her feelings.

nope, that only ever lead to beer bottles being chucked at you

she flinched a bit as he examined her busted hand, apparently her hand being way more sensitive than she originally judged. her mind was traveling, searching for an excuse as she watched him take her keys, walk around to the passenger side of her car, and wait for her to come sit in the car. her mouth hung ajar, thinking that if she opened her mouth, then some words would come out. but she was met with nothing. so excuses were popping up, from anywhere. short of just physically walking away from the situation, she didn't have any other options.

another sigh escaped her as she cradled her hand close to her body, walking around her car, following dorian's steps to the passenger side of her own car.

"i may not know enough about pirates, but i'm definitely being taken hostage against my own will" minnie gave dorian a little remark as she lowered herself into the passenger seat; which proved a lot more difficult that normal, without the use of one hand.

holding her hand in her lap, her head fell back against the headrest of the carseat. dorian closed her in to the car and she took yet another deep breath.

hey, maybe he won't say anything. maybe he'll just drive around for a bit until i can drive myself. and then i can go home. no questions no comments, just some catching up and then i'm homeward bound.

there was an attempt at being optimistic. dorian entered the car on the driver's side & started the car. minnie's head lifted and turned to look at the disney-brand pirate.

if you ask the questions first, then you can control the conversation, you can keep guiding it away from yourself. good plan

"so you dressed up like a pirate but didn't get a hat? you're definitely not winning that costume contest now,"

º º code by ditto º º
 

Alejandra Cortez
"Let me tell you a story, about a boy and girl.”


@Realex has set their status to:
Uh, haha... shots?

@Realex has set their outfit to:
Buzz lightwhore

@Realex has interacted with:
Morrigan, Dani, Simone

@Realex has mentioned:
N/A

@Realex has tagged:
Kio.exe Kio.exe natsukashii natsukashii
sunshineysoul sunshineysoul​

Before Alex could even react to Simone with anything but a smile, Dani had came up distracting the trio momentarily enough for Alejandra to get her bearings. Sure... Simone totally pulled off the whole hot thing with as many capital letters as she wanted, doesn’t mean everything the brunette did had only flustered her more. The model was practically a master at making Alex nervous— although anyone could with the right words.

Or actions, apparently.

Before she knew it, Alex leaned into Dani awaiting for her to speak which only lead to a compliment being whispered into her ear and a subtle kiss that was placed onto her cheek seconds later. It wasn’t as if Alex could play it off either, the blush had gave it all away.

Finding it rather difficult to return back to a normal conversation, Alex rubbed the back of her neck and avoided direct eye contact with anyone but Mor.

“Uh, Literature, Dance, and... Plastics.” The girl pointed at each individually, regretting the fact that she’d only confirmed what Simone had said. It’s funny, really. At first glance you wouldn’t think Alex would be such a nervous body in social settings. Her aura had screamed confidence while her brain was counting down the seconds to self destruct.

“Shots?” She asked, her pitch getting slightly higher as she looked to the girls for confirmation. Alejandra had hardly given them a moment to agree before she’d already grabbed a few shot glasses, pouring the nearby tequila in each, while her eyes darted around the kitchen counter in search for a knife, efficiently slicing four lime wedges.

“To... uhm, Disney.”

And too much attention.

She wasn’t a big drinker, but liquid courage was highly, and Alejandra means highly needed.

The girl downed one shot before sucking the juice out of the lime.

The tequila burned her chest and faded quickly after, she took a deep breath and debated on a second shot, glancing up from her cup to see none other than Naomi herself quite a ways away from the girls.

The pair had made eye contact and that was nearly enough to make her heart rate jump.

Yeah, she might go for another.
º º code by ditto º º
 
nickie abrams
you've just gotta keep on, keep on.​
How are you feeling?
...
What are you wearing?
Peace! Love! I fucking need both.
Where are you?
Gen's place.
Did you mention anyone?
Chas, Gen, JJ.
Who are you talking to?
Hunter.
And, like, who are tagging, exactly?
natsukashii natsukashii
Can I get a tl;dr?
Nickie runs off from Hunter and pukes.
“You okay?” Hunter asked, and Nickie met his eyes again.

Her smile faltered for a moment as a flare of irritation set off in her temple.

Why had he asked it that way? It roused some kind of inexplicable emotion in her— just the way that he formed the words are you okay and reiterated his question— like this was some big deal when it was nothing—

And like this moment was so frail that something like that could destroy it.

“I’m fine, yeah,” she said, smiling, though it didn’t quite travel to her eyes this time.

Her words were lies again.

Not because that bump had affected her in any way— besides her stumbling into Hunter, but she didn’t complain about that.

It was just…

She was…

She wasn’t okay.

Was it alright for her to admit that? Probably not.

The boy that she loved had just said that he loved her. He and she had kissed and danced with one another. In truth, this might as well have been some teen movie— or a cheesy Wattpad fic, whatever— where the bland, annoying, personality-less, wet rag of a main girl who was surprisingly average for a pretty girl ended up with the bad boy who wasn’t that bad. Where they made out and had sex on a bed like they would never leave each other.

But she didn’t feel…happy.

She felt like just a…simping bitch who didn’t deserve any of this. It was like those times in elementary school, when your best friend lied and said that they did something to save your ass and you couldn’t speak up and say otherwise because you wanted the benefits of not speaking up— and you knew that they would hurt over that, but you were too selfish to say anything else.

And she…just…

Felt…

Fake.

She was a girl with a name who no one knew. What, one-hundred-kay followers? Gen had a million, Chas had…a lot, too. What was Nickie? Some girl who’d come to the school to strike it big after being hated her whole life— after being outcast for who she was? JJ’s cousin, Hunter’s simp, and nothing else?

Something lurched in her stomach, and her brows drew upward.

Shit—

“I, uhm…,” she began in a wobbly voice, trying to smile. “I need a sec…”

She turned on her heel, pushing through the crowd, hand clasped over her mouth as she rushed the bathroom.

She flung open the door, her hands clamoring for the faucet’s cold handle, and she twisted it and shoved her mouth beneath it, ignoring how embarrassing it might have been.

She didn’t need to— she didn’t need to—

She retched, and she fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. She didn’t know if anyone else was in the bathroom with her; all she knew was that she needed to get to the toilet.

She scrambled to the porcelain bowl, only getting a quick glance at her reflection in the toilet before she began to heave into it.
º º code by ditto º º​
 
Lucky DuBois
IT'S A BEAUTIFUL LIE
IT'S A PERFECT DENIAL
IT'S A BEAUTIFUL LIE TO BELIEVE IN
halloween
"imagination creates reality"

Bitch in heat.

A fucking bitch in heat.

Guess the gloves had come off. And here he was on his best behavior. Lucky was shocked that he hadn’t knocked the lanky gerbil’s front teeth out by this point. But he prided himself on his ability to keep calm in stressful, tense situations. Nic didn’t count. That was a special circumstance, okay? But here he was...cool, calm and collected after the massive tool in front of him had just called him a bitch.

Were his hands balled tightly into fists?

Yes.

Was he holding his breath in hopes that it would keep him from losing control?

Yep.

He was doing both of those things. Trevor should count his lucky fucking stars that he had such self control or that Ash was present, he really wasn’t sure what was keeping him from pummeling the other boy.

It helped that he had gotten in Trevor’s head. Was it the tutoring? The bedroom? Both innocent answers to a question Trevor apparently wanted to know the answer to. He was just happily obliging and not at all giving the douche a taste of his own medicine. After all, if there was nothing going on between the two, it shouldn’t matter where their fake tutoring sessions took place. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Trevor could sling all the insults he wanted at him, but it wasn’t affecting him. Not at all. He was good.

The flirting? started and Lucky had zoned out. For someone that had seemed so confident and allegedly had all the answers (agree to disagree), Trev didn’t have much game. It was tactless. Lacked any finesse, but that wasn’t surprising. No. It represented exactly what he had expected. Trevor was all talk. And by the look of him, he saw very little action.

"Blondes and stoners really aren't my type,"

He smirked. He guessed it was her way of flirting, but shooting down the dude’s only talents: getting high and dressing like shit -- usually wasn’t the way to let someone you like, know you like them. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. Why Ash was wasting her time on some guy that fundamentally was the exact opposite of what she was allegedly looking for was beyond him, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He was just...bored.

He grabbed the bottle and poured himself a shot while the two attempted to flirt. He downed the shot and set the glass down next to him.

Silence.

The sound of no talking brought him back to reality and his eyes met Trev’s. Had he caught him checking out Ash? The demolished red solo cup and puddle of whiskey at Trevor’s feet told him the answer. Lucky eyed Trevor and gave him a quick flash of a grin. Okay, that might have been a low blow and if it was anyone else, maybe he’d feel bad, but not for him. Again, he had done nothing wrong. Hadn’t been passive aggressive. Hadn’t been aggressive aggressive. He’d even let them drone on without interrupting once. He was a goddamn saint. He should be grateful.

Lucky’s eyes found Ash’s as she looked to him for answers, obviously concerned. He shrugged as if he had no idea what was bothering him. It wasn’t a lie. Lucky didn’t like to lie. Sure, he had an idea but it was just conjecture. No reason causing problems with his assumptions that would just make this already awkward encounter even more so. And maybe he was wrong.

He wasn’t.

He choked on his spit when the words registered with him. “The f—“ He cut himself off, squeezing his crumpled cup even more in his hand. “What?”

Lucky bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. The dude looked like his brain had exploded and that smoke was going to emit from his nostrils. He looked down for a moment and allowed himself a quick smirk before he composed himself in a much more relaxed fashion than before. Winning would do that to you. Sure, he wasn’t exactly sure what the game was, but he knew, because of Trevor’s dead eyes and blank stare, Lucky was in the lead.

“Oh…? Are you two…doin’ a…duet?”

He watched as Ash squirmed between them and poured herself another shot. He took a small breath. This wasn’t fair to her and had he not been half a flask and four shots deep, he’d probably have more control over how this interaction went from here on out. He wasn’t doing anything, but it never seemed to matter. He was the scapegoat.

"Something like that," she mumbled. "Duet that uhh... is, we haven't ah, discussed it... yet."

The change in the other boy’s attitude was unsettling. Again, if Trevor wasn’t such a monumental cockhead, he might actually feel badly for him. He was obviously having a hard time with the fact that he and Ash were friends. He had made that very clear on Twitter.

But Lucky had won this round. It was in the bag. Trev had broke -- at least for the time being and as long as he was being civil, he could do the same. He wasn’t going to start shit where there didn’t need to be. His goal was still to keep his head low and out of as much drama as possible. Josie and Ash made it difficult, but it was what it was.

“How…absolutely…interesting— what are you…doing?”

Lucky swallowed his pride long enough to placate a smile on his face. He could try. For Ash’s sake. Otherwise she was going to finish the bottle and stumble off her balcony. Hell, given how much Ash enjoyed her vodka, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that wouldn’t happen even if he and Trev had gotten along swimmingly.

“We’re gonna do one of Ash’s original songs.” He said shooting a glance over at her with an appreciative smile. “It’s gonna be great.” he said reassuringly.

“I…look…forward to it.”

He turned his attention back to Trevor and reached over to grab the bottle of vodka out of Ash’s hand. He poured her another shot, though he wasn’t sure how much more she could handle, but she was a big girl and could make her own decisions. He made a mental note to make sure she was okay after they had separated. It’s what he did. Even though it was supposed to be his night off.

“Cheers,”

Trev held his shot glass in his hand. Lucky’s eyes narrowed slightly as he and Trev made eye contact. Guess the gloves were still off. Who were they kidding? The gloves were never fucking on.

He knew that look.

He’s used that look.

Though it looked better coming from Lucky -- it was the look you gave someone you wished got run over by the subway.

He huffed out a small laugh. “We’re gonna kill it -- Ash is…” he motioned to her. “..to paraphrase your words…” He pointed at Trevor. “...amazing.” He said plainly and looked to Ash. “And what did you say about me?” He said with an amused smirk on his face. “Sweet…” He began the list of the the many adjectives Ash had described him as -- much slower than necessary. “...dateable…and what was that last one?” He said, pretending to try and remember. “Oh yeah…” His eyes went straight to Trev’s. “...hot.” He held the bottle up to Trevor mimicking his previous actions.

“Cheers.” He said with a smile as he brought the bottle to his lips and took a large swig before setting it down on the counter.


MOOD: mostly not engaging | OUTFIT: outfit | LOCATION: gen's mansion
MENTIONS: jos INTERACTIONS: blair, leprechaun gerbil
TAGS: Winona Winona ohdittoh ohdittoh
º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: Content

OUTFIT: XoXo

LOCATION: The Party
basics
MENTIONS:
None
INT:
Javi ( hery hery )
tags
TL;DR No.
tl;dr
Kane Blackmore

Who you gonna call…?

Kane liked it when Javi was being nice, like he was right now. Even if it was because of the alcohol muddling his friend’s mind. As Javi sprawled across his chest, Kane grinned, reaching up an idle hand to play with his roommate’s messy locks absentmindedly. Pausing a moment, he reached over and gently plucked the bottle of tequila from where is was dangling dangerously close to the couch from Javi’s hands, placing it on the coffee table in front of them. He certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Gen’s wrath if they made a mess of her couch.

Kane gasped a bit as Javi said he’d be just as likely to strip here, and he looked quickly around the room to make sure no one had heard. “Javi, you can’t just strip here,” he said, dropping his voice to a concerned whisper. Then, sighing as he realized that his hotheaded compatriot likely wouldn’t listen to him, he relaxed back against the couch, content to merely observe Javier’s chest as it rose and sank in slow, even motions.

It was certainly better than how he’d expected the party to go, blissfully peaceful and calm. Kane was almost 100% certain that Javi would attempt to drag him into some form of mischief or another at some point during the night, so he was relishing the calm before the inevitable storm. His hand drifted back up to fiddle with his drunken friend’s hair again, as Kane himself was lulled to placidity by the warmth of the boy draped over him.

“Javi?” he murmured, tilting Javier’s head back gently to make eye contact with him. Then, as he realized he had no clue what he meant to ask in the first place, Kane merely sighed. “Nevermind.”

Back home in Chicago, Halloween was just another day. Sure, his mother had always thrown some big party or another for publicity, but how was that any different than most days? Growing up there had never been trick or treating, or dressing up in ridiculous costumes. And that had never really bothered him until he’d moved to Hollywood, when everyone had stories about how much fun they’d had growing up. How much fun they still had, on the holiday each year.

“Javi?” Kane asked again, quietly. “When you...when you were little, did you go trick or treating?”
code by valen t.
 
Last edited:
TREVOR CALLAGHAN
@trev_or_nah has set his status to:
Fuck off. I'm done trying.

@trev_or_nah has set his outfit to:
The things I do for 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 Johannes mansion. Alone, obviously, because I don't have anyone to go with and my roommates don't count. Where else? Since when have I ever missed a place that I could smoke and get some?
I know I have a girlfriend. Listen, I gotta keep my act up, if nothing else. I've got a reputation to uphold, even if I can't uphold it in anything beyond my location. Shut up.

@trev_or_nah has mentioned:
No. One.

@trev_or_nah has interacted with:
Ash and that fucking annoying piece of—

@trev_or_nah has tagged:
Winona Winona gh0stwriter gh0stwriter

@trev_or_nah has written a tl;dr:
Trevor talks with Lucky and Ash VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY CALMLY, thinks thoughts that are totally understandable and discernible as speech, and then storms off.
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Seeing as their relationship was mostly based on interactions in which he propositioned her and was promptly rejected, Trevor didn’t mind Ash’s shooting down of his offer. In all honesty, he enjoyed it more than he’d’ve if she’d’ve accepted for the first time, just because it would have broken their routine. (Well, maybe he wouldn’t’ve enjoyed it more, but…listen, point was, he didn’t mind it.) See, and he would have feigned offense, laughed it off, and then tried again with another terrible line, as was routine, but it was the smug feckin’ expression on DuBollucks’ revoltingly kiddish face that made his gaze shift to a glare as he lowered the bottle he gripped tightly in his left hand.

Maybe the fact that Lucky looked like an uncanny mix between a tantrum-throwing two-year-old and a cocky fifteen-year-old sonuvabitch was part of pissed Trevor off so much; after all, Trevor couldn’t stand little kids (they were too big for their boots, always had annoyingly high-pitched, piercing voices, and acted like they knew everything), so maybe it was this association that Trevor had upon seeing the other boy's baby face that made him want to punt the little bitch.

Come to think of it, maybe Lucky favored toddlers in more than just his appearance. He did, after all, have an ego several thousand times bigger than his bobblehead, a voice that, while not high-pitched, was certainly very feckin’ grating to the point that Trevor swore that his ears were going to bleed at each syllable the boy uttered, and a smartass attitude that gave Trevor a pounding headache when he even tried to speak with him— or, honestly, even looked at him. Plus, the baby-eyed boy was laughably short. Trevor could have used him as a side table to keep his drinks on, if he would’ve sat still enough.

That was, he could have used the boy for a table if Trevor had been doing shots. Drinking whiskey from the bottle was a slippery slope, he knew; he wouldn’t put it down until it was empty, he was sure.

Here was hoping that he didn’t “put it down” via slamming it across Lucky’s squishy widdle baby face. Though Trev wasn’t the strongest, he could do at least some damage when armed with a weapon.

Violence wasn't Trev's cup of tea, though, so no hoping was necessary. He much preferred to get back at a person in different ways— after all, he was much smarter than a fuckin' brute, and he knew better. He carried himself with dignity, and he'd never let someone get the better of him and make him stoop so low as to physically harm them.

Not only that, but he also wasn’t an angry drunk. Perhaps he was more volatile under the influence, but he wasn’t angry, particularly— and, come to think of it, he wasn’t an angry person whatsoever, especially not right now.

No, right now, he was calm as a cucumber.

C-Cool as a cucumber.

Yeah, that.

Ash hacked as she downed a shot, and Trevor’s gaze momentarily shifted from a glare to a look of concern. His brows knit inward, his eyes asking the question you okay?. She held her stomach, and he took a step back. If she puked, she didn't need to do it on his nice sneakers.

He quickly grabbed a shotglass and turned on the sink behind him, running her a bit of water in it and handing it to her wordlessly.

Then came her answer to his questions regarding the Arts Fest, and he realized that oh, shite, the expression he had on his face wasn't the right one anymore. He drew the corners of his lips upward, forcing a grin and nodding. “A duet…where two people sing at once…” (Trevor was tense; he was trying his best not to kill a certain prick right now. It was amazing that he was formulating sentences and not sputtering angry nonsense or saying curse words and vulgar phrases in Irish. He should have been applauded for his stating the obvious there. It was a testament to his remarkable self-control.) “Oh…grand.” The chipperness in his voice, if nothing else, was a sign that his entire demeanor was forced. Trevor never seemed that happy unless he was lit to all hell or had one of his propositions accepted— and, frankly, even then, he wasn't that happy. “So…I’m the first ta hear about this…cool…neat-o…”

“We’re gonna do one of Ash’s original songs.”

When Lucky spoke, Trevor’s smile immediately grew tighter, and his eyes jerked to him. The rat bastard shot a cocky grin over at Ash, and Trevor's heart thudded jealously.

He put the bottle to his lips again, taking another big pull from it to keep himself together.

“It’s gonna be great,” Lucky said.

Yeah, no fuckin’ thanks to you.

He lowered the bottle, his tight smile resuming, but his eyes deathly furious. “Oh, heh…I’m sure it is.” He stepped closer to Ash, trying to signal slightly get closer to me— I don’t trust him. “Going to be great…yeah…”

The cocky titbaby wouldn’t meet Trevor’s eyes, and that was probably what pissed him off the most. It wasn’t Lucky’s jabs at him that got to him, mind you— Lucky wasn’t capable of that himself, because Trevor wasn’t sensitive enough to fall for something as idiotic and utterly feckin’— just— whatever— no, it was just— Trevor didn’t fall for weak, feeble, cheap jabs, because Trevor had remarkable control over himself and knew not to take anything that someone like the ego-ridden sleazebag standing beside his girlfriend said seriously. After all, they were cheap jabs— just cheap jabs. Lucky, the flirtatious sonuvabitch, just wanted to sleep with Ash, and Trevor didn’t blame him, and Lucky saw Trevor as a threat, as he should, and Lucky thought that Trevor would back off of Ash and relent her to him if he just pressed long enough, which Trevor wouldn’t— not that Ash was incapable of rejecting Lucky himself, but Lucky didn’t seem to respect the fact that Ash obviously didn’t want his advances— even if Ash claimed that they weren’t advances.

No, it wasn’t any of those jabs that Lucky made that got to him— it was the fact that the incessant prick wouldn’t man the fuck up and come right out and say it: “I want to sleep with your girlfriend”. He wouldn’t look at Trevor and tell him what the hell he wanted to do. So what if he didn’t know that Trevor was dating her? Lucky knew, at least, that Trevor was feckin’ vying for her and the dickhead just kept— kept— kept— kept—

Fuck! The dickhead just kept going!

Damn it all to hell. His head hurt so bad that he swore that he was going to have an aneurysm. He was going to be dead by thirty thanks to his high blood pressure, and his nerves were going to be shot by seventeen—

And he turned seventeen tomorrow.

The boy’s smug face remained, but he still didn’t look at him. “We’re gonna kill it— Ash is…” He gestured to Ash, and Trevor grit his teeth. “..to paraphrase your words…” He pointed at Trevor.

Get your finger away from me.

“…amazing.” The prick looked at Ash again. “And what did you say about me?”

The look in his eyes and that damn smirk made Trevor want to—

No, he wasn’t strong enough to strangle him.

Also, he was too. Fucking. Calm. For that.

He put the bottle to his lips again, slowly tilting it up as he half-listened, half-plotted.

“Sweet…”

Trevor choked on what he had in his mouth, coughing and lowering his bottle, slouching a bit as he put the back of his hand to his mouth to prevent any spillage.

“…dateable…”

The hell was he on about?

“…and what was that last one?…oh yeah…”

He finally met Trevor’s eyes, and Trev felt a burn within his heart as his coughing subsided.

“…hot.”

What.

The fuck?

He held the bottle up to Trevor. “Cheers.” He brought the bottle to his lips, mirroring Trevor’s actions.

Trevor’s brows were low, his lip curling up into a confused sneer, and he looked at Ash for answers.

What the fuck is he on about?

Lowering his hand from his mouth, Trevor forced a chuckle. “Well, how kind of her,” he said, voice irritated, trying not to sneer as he took a step closer to Ash. The strong drinks that he’d had at the start of the party were really beginning to kick in now; his confidence, however misplaced it may have been, lent itself to even more passive-aggressive commentary. He forced a grin, the tension in his body obvious. “I can see that she really tried ta encourage ya there.” He looked at Ash. “Thanks fer strokin’ his ego, darlin’…I’m sure he needed it when ya said it.” He looked at Lucky again, meeting his eyes. (See? He wasn’t a pussy— he wasn’t feckin’ afraid to look him in the eyes.) “The man’s ego is a fragile thin’; a boy’s ego is even more so.” He shook his head, as if scolding the notion that she would do such a thing. “Even so, false hope idn't tha bes' thin’ ta instill, an’ I can’t say that tha wises’ decision was ta…”

He felt a pain in his temple, and he clenched his jaw, forcing another chuckle and grin at the thought of what he’d said that she’d said to him—

Was that feckin’ true?

His head hurt.

The balcony looked like a nice place to pitch himself over right about now.

“Oh, well,” he sighed, looking at Lucky and forcing a chuckle once more. “What’s happened has happened, an’ I’m sorry fer tha thin’s that disturb you. I can understand jus’ how difficult it’n be ta come ta terms wit’ tha fac’ that a…” He let his voice trail off, his pounding head disallowing his "beginning to dish out passive-aggressive comments ad nauseam".

He brought the bottle up to his lips, and he poured a bit more down his gullet.

When he lowered it, he looked back at Lucky.

His heart thudded.

He scowled darkly for an instant as his stomach lurched at the thought of what he’d said—

At the thought of what that smug, pretentious, objectifying, overbearing, know-it-all, cocky, arrogant, ugly, disgusting, revolting, putrid, I'm uncultured-faced, cheating, screwing, sadistic little feckin’ fuckin’ shite— what that pri—

What Lucky had said, damn it! What he’d said that his own fucking girlfriend had said about him—

Trevor slammed the bottle down on the counter so hard that the nearly-empty bottle splashed liquor around it, hissing a “shite” beneath his breath, and he brought his hand to his teeth and gave the skin a hard bite to release some of his anger.

He looked down at Ash, his glare shifting into a gentle smile.

And he turned on his heel, pushing through the crowd, and stormed out of the kitchen.

God.

Fucking.

“Damn!” he growled beneath his breath, ignoring the people who he pushed past as he tried to find his way to somewhere—

Somewhere cool—

Somewhere where he could wrap his fucking head around—

Damn it!

His mind was racing; his blood was pumping too quickly.

He felt like he was going to die, like his lungs were going to fold in themselves, like his eardrums were going to pop out of his ears.

His face was red; he could feel it.

He wanted to bang his head through a wall.

Burst something open— he didn’t know—

He just wanted to—

Damn it!

He tromped up the stairs, pushing past the hallway of making-out couples, and he turned sharply a the corner of it.

There, he saw to glass double doors, and he stormed up to them, not thinking as he pushed them open.

The cool air against his face slowed his steps, and, though he slammed the doors shut behind him, he didn’t do anything except for stand and stare.

He was on a balcony, of some sort. Below, he could see a yard of some sort, with flowers of countless colors growing beneath it.

He drew in a deep breath, and then let out in an angry hiss another “shite”.

He walked up to the railing, looking down at all of the green as he leaned his weight onto it.

He stared at the plants, his mind swimming as thoughts only discernible as angry and bitter rushed through his head.

The longer he stared, the slower that his thoughts moved— and the more the world beneath him swam.

He sighed softly. “Damn it…”

He’d drank more than he’d expected to.
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:

Zephyr Evermore
"Cheer up! 'Cause nothing really matters."


@zeph.evermore has set their status to:
bro, you lost

@zeph.evermore has interacted with:
Lin

@zeph.evermore has mentioned:
N/A

@zeph.evermore has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh ​
Double or nothing.

Well, there was no way that Zeph was going to willingly fork over the ten dollars, and twenty dollars sounded even crazier. But hey, Lin had lost fair and square and there was no way that Zeph was going to cave in and let the other guy win (even if he almost agreed with Lin's reasoning -- he should've given more of a warning, or this or that, and it was only ten dollars, but....) without a fight. Err, without another bet that was undeniably, undoubtedly won.

"Alright, deal." Zeph held his hand out for a good ol' handshake. After the handshake was done and the deal was made and Zeph found himself tied into yet another ridiculous bet, he let his gaze start to wander around in search of some idea for what to bet Lin with. Zeph was still a betting noob, so no ideas came to him until...

His gaze shifted back to the table, moving across the different bags of candy, and suddenly, an idea sprang into his head.

"Alright," Zeph said. He grabbed up the bag of nasty peanut marshmallows and tore the bag open more. He dumped a little over half of the bag's contents onto the table, paused for a moment, and then went ahead and poured the rest of the bag's contents onto the table in front of him before he looked towards Lin.

"I bet you can't fit all of these in your mouth without choking," he pointed at the marshmallows on the table with one hand while he reached into his pocket and pulled his phone back out. Zeph hit the reset button on the timer with his thumb and then let his eyes drift back towards Lin. He turned the phone towards him, thumb hovering over the start button. "In fifteen seconds."

Look! He was even Lin a little extra time to try and fit all of those marshmallows in his mouth.

Zeph was trying to make this as hard as possible because he really didn't want to lose -- twenty bucks was a lot of money.

His dad would kill him if Zeph explained that he lost a ton of money over childish dares and bets -- actually, his dad probably wouldn't even believe him. Who would believe "Yeah, I went to a high school party -- didn't do drugs or drink or anything, but I did lose twenty bucks doing candy-related bets with some guy"?

But he also didn't know proper bet etiquette nor the skills of his companion, so he really had no idea if this was bet was going to be too easy for one Lindsay Kay, Pro Combetitor. (Get it? Combetitor? Lin was rubbing off on him in the worst ways).

"I'll even count down to three and then I'll start the timer, so... do we have a deal?"
º º code by ditto º º
 
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