• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

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

Reader mode
Characters
Here
Kian Phelan
@lockandkian has set their status to:
mission impossible

@lockandkian has set their outfit to:
"omg puppies and dancing and sunshine and rainbows!"

@lockandkian has set their location to:
the johannes mansion, guest bedroom

@lockandkian has mentioned:
n/a

@lockandkian has interacted with:
oates, kelli, ronnie

@lockandkian has tagged:
mogy mogy ohdittoh ohdittoh hery hery

The smile that parted Kian’s lips refused to falter as he listened to the three talk, his gaze bouncing from person to person in front of him. Maybe it was Oates’ creepy costume or his little sister and her roommate sipping away on alcohol beside him that was keeping the boy endlessly on his toes. Everything was so unreal. Just the childhood gang back together again after radio silence for two years. No big deal. Totally no big deal.

“Yeah, uh, Middle-of-Nowhere, California. Better known as Healsburg, California to the super in-the-know folks.” Kian rushed, reaching his hand up to rub the back of his neck. He was just going to opt to ignore Oates’ dramatic grandpa finger wag… Yeah, he couldn’t deal with the guilt of ghosting him right then. “We, uh, we grew up together. Oates and Kells were dance partners so we met that way.”

Kian’s mouth began to run dry, his arms and legs oddly cold despite the warm house around him. For a moment, he considered taking a courage drink. He’d be sober enough to drive the girls home later that evening if he only had a singular drink for some bravery. Kian had been so excited to see Oates before he had arrived but with him right there in front of him, suddenly he was at a loss for words. Carefully grabbing the top of his shirt, Kian began to fan himself, sighing softly at the small bursts of air against his face.

“Man it is, uh, real hot in here.” He noted to no one in particular, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “But it’s a cool party. Do these things happen often? Extravagant parties, I mean. The parties I usually go to are in someone’s basement somewhere, never this fancy. But from what Ronnie was saying, the Johanneses are super cool… I’m rambling again.”

Leaning back against the wall, Kian continued to try and steady his heart pounding against his ribcage. It was during this reevaluation of his physical state that he noticed that his toes had gone completely numb. Kian couldn’t feel his feet in his shoes or the brush of the skirt against his thighs. Looking down, Kian stuck his foot out to find that his skin had gone oddly pale and even bluish in colour around his ankles.

“Hey, uh, I can’t really feel my legs. Do I look sorta blue to you?” Kian asked with a soft laugh, shaking his foot about in an attempt to awaken his toes with no success. The longer he was standing there, the less he could feel. “I, uh, excuse me for a minute. I’ve gotta go take off this skirt.”

Carefully moving past the group, Kian picked through the crowd and into the hallway. The entire time he walked, he kept his hands in the waistband of the skirt in an attempt to let some blood down into his tingling legs. Knocking on a door, Kian pushed his way inside when no one answered. The infamous (and supposedly locked) guest bedroom. Nice. With the door securely closed behind him, Kian immediately started fiddling with the zipper on the back of the skirt, awkwardly jumping around in an attempt to free it.

“Oh shit.” Kian exclaimed, trying to yank the zipper down with no luck. “Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m stuck.”

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?
Nope.
Who are you talking to?
Hunter.
And, like, who are tagging, exactly?
natsukashii natsukashii
Can I get a tl;dr?
Nickie asks to be official with Hunter.
“Oh, it is.”

Heat blossomed in Nickie’s chest and spread throughout her entire body in a warm wave, her face growing red from the spark. Her blue eyes, glassy and reddened, moved slowly up to Hunter from his arms as he spoke to her, telling her everything that’s he wanted to hear.

“…I want you and I want to be with you.”

Her heart thudded in her throat, and she didn’t know what to say. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

This was what she wanted— oh, fuck, this was what she wanted.

Right now, she didn’t think about if it was a lie or not, or how much of it was a lie, or whatever the hell she had been thinking about before.

She opened her lips, trying to make sure that she’d heard correctly. “Y—“

His lips against hers cut her words off, and she forgot everything that she’d been thinking— or had she been thinking at all?

None of that mattered. None of it mattered. She probably tasted like stomach acid and poorly-mixed drinks, but that didn’t matter.

Oh my God, oh my God.

She pulled away after a moment, her eyes searching his face.

“Hunter,” she breathed.

I want to be with you, too.

“Will you…can we…I…”

She couldn’t speak.

She giggled at herself, shaking her head and smiling. “I…uhm…”

She reached out to him, grabbing his shoulders and tugging him into a hug, pressing her palms against his shoulder blades and pressing her chin into the crook of his neck. “I wanna be your girlfriend,” she repeated, mumbling with her chin against his neck. Her tongue felt too big in her mouth, and she felt like something was going to ooze out of her at any second. Her head felt light, and she didn’t know what exactly to do except for smile and ask, in a murmur:

“Will…will you be my boyfriend?”

She pulled away from the hug, looking him in his eyes, her eyes bright and happy. “I mean…you can say no. I…I wouldn’t be hurt— I…” She laughed softly. “I just…I love you so much. Can I—“

She shook her head, laughing softly. “Oh my God, I…” She brushed her hair out of her face with her hand, and she moved her hand to the back of his neck, smiling brightly.

For a moment, she sat there, staring into his eyes, rubbing the hair at the nape of his neck between two of her fingers and trying to find the right words as the bright smile on her face broadened.


Finally, the words came, and, though they were quiet, they were confident:

“Can we make this official?”
º º code by ditto º º​
 
kellian phelan
dance, dance.​
@phelanthebeat has set her status to:
Dancing time!

@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, Kian, and Oates

@phelanthebeat has tagged:
hery hery geminiy geminiy mogy mogy

@phelanthebeat has written a tl;dr:
Kelli reunites with Oates.
"Remember you? What are you talking about? I literally have a Kelli shrine in my apartment. And I pray to it every day."

Kellian laughed softly, smiling brightly at her old friend. “Were you that voice I heard, Oates?” she kidded lightly, giggling and trying to take a drink from her cup. She grimaced at the aftertaste of alcohol, squeezing her eyes shut and patting her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It wasn’t like it was as strong as when she had drank that sip of the pure stuff, but it was still kinda blegh past all of the mm!. She cleared her throat, shaking her head. “I’m so glad to see you again! I missed you so much!” she repeated, opening up her arms for another hug. “I tried to call, but I couldn’t get your number, and then I couldn’t find your profile, and then I— it was a whole mess.” She shook her head. “I missed you so much, though!” She gave the other boy a squeeze. “It’s sonic to see you again!”

She looked over at Ronnie, blushing slightly at her flattery. “Oh, I’m not that great,” she said shyly, glancing between her roommate and her old friend. “You’re the cool one here.” She focused on Oates, smiling brightly and gesturing to Ronnie. “Tada! One-woman show, Ronnie Crosby, the dopest chick on this side of the, uh…Mississippi!” That was a phrase that she heard in a show once, and she thought that it was a pretty dope phrase. “She can sing, she can act, she’s absolutely gorg— triple threat.”

She laughed lightly, moving back to answer Ronnie’s question after her brother did. “Oh, yeah, we’re from the same place! And, yeah, like Kian said, Oates and I danced together. He’s a lot of why I’m not terrible.” She laughed softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him, though— we stopped talking when he came here.” She looked back at Oates, smiling as she continued talking. “And I’m so glad to see him again!”

She looked at her brother when he commented about his costume. “Uhm…” She looked down at his legs, and she grimaced. “Ooh…eesh, uhm…” She looked back up at her brother. “Yeah…Kian, don’t hurt yourself! Yeah, go take it off and breathe,” she agreed as he walked away.

She laughed softly, taking another drink from her cup. “So…Ronnie…” She looked over at her roommate. “You said that you…dance at parties, right?” she asked, voice unsure. “I kinda wanna dance.”

She smiled over at Oates. “I think that I’m going to go look for where that bass is coming from!” She gave him a nod, and then went in for another hug. “I’m so glad to see you again! I’ll catch you later!”

She began to walk off, calling a soft “c’mon!” to Ronnie as she drank what was left in her cup and made her way to the area with the swaying bodies.
º º code by ditto º º​
 
MOOD: bad game

OUTFIT: maid costume

LOCATION: the johannes mansion
basics
MENTIONS:
n/a
INT:
Winona Winona (Jace)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Callum Richards
Callum was a creature of the night. No, not a prostitute, but an entity whose peak operating hours tended to fall when the sun was stowed away beneath the horizon. So, one could imagine that, as the starless sky became drenched in pitch black, our lanky hero grew increasingly active. Admittedly, the only indicator of the time that Callum could spot was the sliver of space between the blinds covering the door, allowing moonlight to seep into the vividly colored lights of the party.

Callum was a psuedo-vampire, fated to poof into miasma in the light of day.

The air was of the night, and Callum could feel it like a gust of wind in his face, even among the perspiration and weed smoke hanging in the atmosphere. It brought him life, which would be counterintuitive given the fact that the longer he stayed up, the more exhausted he should have been. But this was Callum and his body seemed to defy the laws of biology. No teenager with a diet, sleep schedule, and general health like his should have reached a height of 6'2 and growing.

He looked back at Jace expectantly, eyeing the ball resting between his fingers. He shrugged, then uttered lamely, "Sorry." Obviously the balls go in the cups. Couldn't the guy cut him some slack? It was his first try and it wasn't like he could shoot off a chunk of Jace's face with a soiled ping pong ball. "Then show me," he challenged with a disappointing lack of resolve in his voice.

Callum didn't so much as flinch when the ball's trajectory ended up inches from his face. Jace's throw was already weak and he trusted his tired reflexes enough to stop a stray ping pong ball. Maybe it was courage, maybe it was apathy, but Callum hadn't even blinked after this attempted assault.

He looked behind himself to watch the ball roll into the heart of the crowd. He didn't let himself show all that much disappointment, instead walking around the table to stand beside his friend once again. "Good game," he droned, actually meaning it a little.

For cleanup, Callum resorted to throwing back cup after cup, which were each filled with about a shot's worth of tequila. The point of beer pong to wait around to inevitably drink too much anyway was foolish. He wiped his lips, shuddering at the taste of the strong liquor, although he knew it could be worse. This was the good stuff. Nothing like the putrid hand sanitizer his grandpa was so fond of. Drinking was stupid. Lots of things were stupid, but drinking was a big one.

"You wanna go wash your eye?" he asked, prepared to judge Jace if he accepted his offer. He nodded his head over to a nearby bathroom, which a pair of girls dressed as rocker chicks just stepped out of. "Dainty... You're real a real fragile kid, Captain Anime." Callum meant no harm by his harsh words; his observations just tended to come out more rudely blunt than most.

But maybe the nickname was intended to be a little mean. Even valued friends weren't safe from his attitude. That should have been clear enough to Jace, who obviously stayed despite it all. But what was to come? Callum was beginning to feel the onset of the next wave of fogginess settling in his head, his muscles relaxing as though he wasn't already slouching so hard he looked a hunchback.
code by valen t.
 

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


@zeph.evermore has set their status to:
searching for... pikachu

@zeph.evermore has interacted with:
Lin, Stella

@zeph.evermore has mentioned:
N/A

@zeph.evermore has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202 ​
Hanging with Lin made Zeph feel as if... well, it felt as if everything was going at turbo speed and Zeph was having a hard time trying to keep up. Well, maybe not hard, but Zeph was almost feeling as if he'd run several marathons back to back after spending the night with Lin. The other boy's energy was contagious while simultaneously being exhausting as hell -- not that he hadn't had fun, but he was also relieved at being able to go and find Stella again.

She was way chiller.

He returned the half-hug when Lin squeezed his middle with a quick arm around the shoulders and a grin. "Tomorrow?" He echoed, thinking about it for a moment as if Zeph actually had something the next day -- spoiler alert: he didn't. Zeph was a... well, he'd pretty much planned to stay home and study for stuff but hey, one weekend where he skipped out on studying wouldn't hurt him too much, right? Plus if he wanted Lin to think he was cool and keep him around...

"Dude, hell yeah," he said, his grin widening as Lin explained his idea -- sword fight, huh? Immature as fuck and not something Zeph had done since he was... well, a kid. Err, more of a kid than he was now, anyway. But maybe it was that bit of immaturity that caught his attention and made Zeph excited for it.

Look, he liked the idea of holding onto being a kid for a little longer. Sue him.

"Yeah, okay, see ya later, man." Zeph called after Lin as his new friend departed. "I'll text you tomorrow!" He quickly added and he stood for a moment, watching Lin disappear into a crowd with a huge grin on his face.

What was he doing?

Oh fuck, right.

Stella.

Zeph stepped away from the candy table aka home base and started back into the party in search of his best friend. He figured she shouldn't be too hard to find -- she was dressed as a Pikachu, after all, and he hadn't seen anyone else donning the same costume. Plus, plus, most of the girls were wearing little to nothing.

He started off on his search, peering through the crowd in search of either Stella or Landon -- Landon would probably be easier to find given the fact that he was freaking huge. However, luck was clearly on the tall sophomore's side when he spotted one Pikachu onesie not long into his search. He squeezed his way through the crowd, mumbling apologies as he bumped into people, until he came up behind Stella and tapped her on the shoulder with a smile.

"Hey," he greeted when she turned around. "Did you find Landon?"

Zeph had expected her to still be with him, so he was a little surprised to find her alone -- but not disappointed, necessarily. After all, Landon had hung his new best friend from a banister. Guy seemed like kind of a dick.
º º code by ditto º º
 
"Dangerously Soft"
Amethyst Jones
@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their status to:
Is this ok?

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their outfit to:
Jinkies 🤓

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their location to:
Halloween party

@If.U.Seek.Amy has mentioned:
Kordei, Josie, Scooby gang

@If.U.Seek.Amy has interacted with:
Saint ( ohdittoh ohdittoh )
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗

Honestly Amy was just sitting there vibing with her bottle of water. The music blasting in the background was actually soothing as she focused on the melodies rather then whatever the music was. It made her think of all the time she'd been spending in the studio prepping to release her two newest singles. They weren't the songs on her original line-up but hey life happens and you adapt right? It'd be different then anything she's released up until this point, but that was ok as nervous as it made her because she was different then she used to be.

Heartbreak did things to you. It changed your perceptions, it changed how you viewed yourself even. She hardly recognized the girl in the booth most days especially listening back to it. Her manager loved it of course, since he'd been begging for such raw emotions deep emotions forever. She finally delivered, but at what cost? Was this going to be how her career was? Giving the people what they wanted but at the expense of her mental state? Was this what it would mean to be successful? was that a price she was willing to pay to do what she loved?

There was a float floating in her mind, but her buzz wasn't letting any of it put a damper in her mood luckily. Then she felt the presence of someone join her causing her to tilt her head over to them. It was Saint? This was unexpected. On a one to one level Amy didn't have much against saint. they'd gotten to know each other decently while she was with Dei and he was dating Josie, and they always were fine. However the absolute crashing and burning of both of those relationships made things more complicated now. Sure he'd given her a ride from the fair after all her roommates left, which was kind of him. So she supposed in his mind they were still cool.

Truth be told in her mind it was hard to see him differently other then the whole cheating thing. She absolutely hated he did that to Josie. But she pushed that down because he was still Dei's best friend and they were still together. Now? Now there was no reason to, yet now it had just been habit. She should hate him and she knew that. She should probably throw this water bottle in his face and get up and leave. But would she? Nope, cause that just wasn't her.

Plus judging by twitter drunk Josie didn't hate him as much as she let on either. Amy understood that. She tried to talk Josie off of it like the others, but deep down? Deep down she completely understood that even when someone does something so unspeakably awful to you...that doesn't always shut off the feelings you've been carrying all this time. Maybe that's why she couldn't bring herself to hate Saint...because she didn't even truly hate Kordei. Despite how much she knew she should. It fucking sucked, and she hated herself more then anything for not feeling that way.

The two mirrored situations irony wasn't lost on her. She was going to choose to ignore it for the sake of keeping her buzz though. She would just hope Josie nor Charlie would see them talking because that'll be a long car ride home. She was too drunk to put up pretenses right now, or think about how she should or shouldn't feel. All she could do was feel what she felt, and right now she felt neutral about Saint, and so there was no need to do anything.

Amy would always do her best to be civil, even at the fair she'd spoken to Dei right? Why wouldn't she extend that same civility to him? "Hey, Happy Halloween." She was however surprised to see him because she hadn't seen him at many if any parties since his break up with Josie, so to make this the first was curious. "Thanks, yah I am. It was a group thing." She explained looking down at herself before glancing around the room to see if anyone else from her party were around as proof. No such luck. Perhaps it was luck they were though. She glanced at his costume and almost giggled. Simple. Sometimes simple was best, it was easy. She couldn't blame him, since if she hadn't dressed up with her roommates she'd have been number five from kids next door because it was simple. Blue shirt with a stripe, white shoes and a red cap. Easy, simple, iconic still.

She sort of expected him to just chill next to her in relative silence, but he was actually attempting conversation. Which sort of lead her to believe there was something on his mind he wanted to talk to her about. Saint didn't normally strike her as the type to like idle small talk just for the sake of having it. "It's been good actually." She smiled putting on an air of confidence. Something she'd gotten quite used to this past month. "To be honest, not much feels different." She shrugged taking a sip of her water bottle letting her eyes drift around as well. "It's not like Dei was ever the type stay connected at the hip during a party." a light giggle escaped her lips at the thought, "Not to mention I've never been the flirty type even before, so yah fun." She hummed closing her eyes and tilting her head back to focus back more on the music then anything.

She didn't actually wanna think let alone talk about how partying used to be with Dei right now. It's partially why she'd gotten so drunk, to forget all about it. To forget how much it hurt, and she almost did it. She almost had a night out that she didn't have to remember it. She was clinging to her buzz like a safe haven in hopes it'd get her through whatever this conversation was for.

"Only how the night's going to end will really be different, and considering how the last one ended I won't mind it being different. In fact I'll be better off for it." She finished off with a sigh being slightly proud of herself for not letting it sound as bitter soaked as usual. The tinge was still there, the hurt, and anger...that couldn't just be washed away. She'd been soaking in it for too long. She took a moment before reopening her eyes to glance back at him, "This is your first too, right? Having a good time?" She mused. If he was going to get to have her remanence it was only fair he do the same.

º º code by ditto º º
 
"Focus on me, I'm about to blow them all away"
Stella Bailey
@Steller.Bae has set their status to:
Hey you!

@Steller.Bae has set their outfit to:
Pika-pika

@Steller.Bae has set their location to:
Halloween party

@Steller.Bae has mentioned:
Landon, Bobby, Evie

@Steller.Bae has Interacted with:
Zeph ( Winona Winona )
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Stella was pretty surprised by the amount of people who were still going strong at this point. She was kinda curious about the winner of the costume contest, but she was ready to go home once that was over. There were still people taking shots like it was the start of the night. She hoped they weren't going to be bodies littering the house and yard by morning. That would be a weird look. She wondered the mansion in search for height. She'd find one of her friends that way since all her friends were massive it seemed, even if it wasn't Zeph they could probably point her in his direction.

Or perhaps she should've been looking for the hyper ball of energy that was Lin. Now she had no idea just how hyper he was right now, but just knowing how he is on a regular basis was hype enough for her. While she'd never call him a rabbet beaver like some she did see him as a chaotic version of the energizer bunny. Too much energy, and too much work to keep up with. She didn't understand how Zeph even feel in line with that, but boys are weird.

It wasn't too long before Zeph found her. It was kind of funny that he was able to spot her before she spotted him considering how he towered over people. Though she was also in a bright yellow onesie in a sea of very revealing costumes. Feeling the tap on her shoulder she turned around to see that it was her one and only Ash Ketchum. A smile instantly graced her face because she was genuinely excited to see him. "Hey! You found me." She wrapped her arms around him in a hug while grinning up at him with still rosy cheeks. What can she say she was in a huggy mood apparently. Everyone gets a hug today. Shh no we aren't going to blame her uncharacteristically random invasion of personal space on the booze, even though it totally is. Plus would he really mind?

She released him when he mentioned Landon. Oh yah that's right, that was her panic excuse. Why when she panicked she always seemed to think of him. Panic party need an escape? Landon. Panic pictures get leaked, Landon. It was weird, but he was her friend so not too weird? Maybe because if able he always delivered. He did get a car to pick her up and get her the hell outta doge. He played a small part in her drunken state at the moment which was kind of the point. So yah a dependable friend all in all in her book. Could he be a jerk sometimes to people? Sure but everyone around here was, and Stella was no saint in that dept. either. Plus they usually deserved it.

"Oh yah, at some point? But then there were games, and I kinda lost him in the madness." She shrugged with a giggle before drinking a sip of her water bottle. That did reminder her though the original reason she was looking for him. Other then being about ready to call it a night. "Look I'm sobering up now though!" She wiggled the bottle a bit in front of him with a grin. "Did you have fun with Lin?" She chimed still postponing what she needed to do because she was nervous to high hell. Sure he was smiling at her which meant he probably wasn't as mad at her as she originally thought...but apologizing was hard. Admitting she was wrong was a very difficult thing for her pride to accomplish even to him. Not to mention she couldn't apologize without also explaining why she had panicked which she wasn't looking forward to doing. That and she was curious. She'd been too wrapped up in her own party shenanigans to notice what went down with them. She vaguely remembered reading a tweet about a bet, but that was about it.

She swished the bottle around a bit looking down at it, "Uh, also." She paused fidgeting with it a bit more, "About earlier? I'm sorry...you know for leaving...so...fast." It was kind of a dick move to just ditch your best friend immediately upon entering a party without an explanation claiming to go see someone else. Being sent in a panic was perfectly valid excuse in her brain at the time, but now looking back...perhaps not? She still wasn't sure since while her thought process was slowly returning to her it wasn't all there yet. "Kinda had a ditzy moment I guess." She looked up at him biting her lip softly with an apologetic look in her eyes, "Forgive me?"

She felt especially bad because she was about ready to go home, and she'd not gotten to hang out with him which was usually the best part of her night at parties like this. Chill, drink a bit, talk and hang with Zeph. Maybe play a game or two of something. nibble on some food, and dance to the music. That was her normal party routine. Maybe throw in a cute guy flirting with her as entertainment for some spice. Though she wasn't usually the hook-up type so it didn't tend to go anywhere, but it was still nice because who doesn't love attention?

That was a fun night for her. Tonight? Tonight was a mess more then it was actually fun even if it had fun moments. Drinking? Fun. Losing her onesie? Not fun. Catching up with her ex? Surprisingly fun. Having the world think she's dating Kordei? Not fun. Evie sizing her up cause of it? Not fun. Not getting to hang with her best friend cause of her panic? Not fun. See largely Not fun night. But she really only had herself to blame for just about every aspect of it, and even in a drunken stupor she knew that. She hoped at least he'd faired better.
º º code by ditto º º
 
"might go down as g-o-d..."
saint taylor
@sainttay has set his status to:
Chatting...

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

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

@sainttay has mentioned:
Dei...

@sainttay has interacted with:
Amy...

@sainttay has tagged:
Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202

@sainttay has written a tl;dr:
Saint talks with Ava, goes to the bathroom and texts Jo (and ends up saying that he'll be her driver), and sits on the couch...to speak with Amy.
✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧
✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧
✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧
✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧
✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧
✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦
If it wasn’t entirely and blatantly obvious, Saint Taylor was not a man for wasting his time in any capacity. It was true that most people, in general, were wastes of his time, and so speaking with those people was a total waste of his time. That said, he wasn’t a bland person, even in the slightest. He could hold a conversation with whomever he pleased, and, if he so felt like it, he could start a conversation with whomever he pleased, and he could manage holding a conversation for as long as he pleased with whomever he pleased. He just didn’t find many people with whom he cared to have a conversation.

Amy happened to be one of these people. In spite of the fact that she was his best friend’s ex (and his rather salty ex, at that) Amy was someone who he would still consider a casual friend, or, at least, an amicable acquaintance. She wasn’t one to constantly turn things against him, and, though those seem like rather low standards for “people worth his time”, it was this qualification struck out most of the school population as not worth his time. She was pleasant to speak with, could carry on a conversation, and wasn’t obnoxiously pretentious or entirely meek.

All of that said, it couldn’t be said that, now that he was speaking with her, he didn’t find anything that wanted to accomplish by this conversation. As said before (and as evidenced by his actions), Saint wasn’t one for lying, and so he couldn’t say that. Regardless, he’d go about this lightly, and not so blatantly as to make her think that he’d begun this conversation with this in mind.

“Yeah…,” Saint said, studying Amy’s face as she spoke. Something about her smile told him that her demeanor was forced and that her words weren’t entirely true, but he made no comment to this extent. It wasn’t his job to call out the liars or whatever; in truth, there was nothing particularly wrong with a small lie— or even a large lie— even if he didn’t partake in lying himself.

He looked away from her, putting an elbow up on the top of the couch so that he could lean his head on his palm. “My night hasn’t been bad, either,” he said, answering Amy’s question. “I’ven’t done a ton of much…” He trailed off, considering his next words, and his eyes trailed back to her. “Drank, I guess, is all that I’ve really done much of, which you seem to’ve been doing as well…” He gave her a gentle nod.

His voice ceased again as his eyes focused on the crowd of drunk teenagers swaying offbeat to a song so warped by the amped bass that none of the words could be discerned. “The party feels…kind of dead, doesn’t it…?” he asked. “Too calm for a party. No one’s drinking on tables, no one’s trying to sleep with one another on top of random objects…and no one’s fighting. There’s noise, but none of it means much…”

His eyes trailed to Amy. “It makes you miss Dei, doesn’t it?” he said finally, his stoic voice mildly sympathetic, his brows knit slightly. “Not to upset you or anything...I know how you feel about him, but you have to admit, the party feels a lot emptier without his presence…doesn’t it?” He gave a soft chuckle. “I mean, I miss him being here…he livens up the place…he brings a smile to faces, and he never really fails to make things…interesting. You have to admit that, right?”
º º code by ditto º º
 

Alejandra Cortez
"She's sweet like candy in'my veins.”


@Realex has set their status to:
... busy.

@Realex has set their outfit to:
Buzz lightwhore

@Realex has interacted with:
Naomi

@Realex has mentioned:

@Realex has tagged:
Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202​

Naomi had dragged her out to the pool and for a moment, just the smallest of moments, Alex had the idea of actually going for a 'swim.' At first she had blamed it on the tequila shots but how'd that saying go? 'A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts?' Is that how it went?

Oh, Who really knows?

Probably people actually in the lit department. That's who.

Alex was just going for straight petty insults to throw at herself, when quite obviously, she should be paying attention to the girl she'd just sat down next to. Which was pretty easy to do once Naomi had decided to flick some ever-so-cold water, suddenly shocking her out of her thoughts and a laugh escaped her, almost listening to the devious thought that'd would've been to splash her back.

But Alex wasn't the revenge type of gal.

A curious brow raised as Naomi decided on join in on... whatever that she'd started minutes ago. And the girl wasn't complaining, she could never see herself with someone who took everything seriously all the time. A re-- well, a situationship needed a little light-hearted fun in order to make whatever they were aiming for to last.

Was it wrong that she assumed Naomi a relationship? The signs were there, the chemistry was there. The interest? The spark? It was off the charts. Well, for Alex anyway and she hadn't felt like this in a long time. Perhaps it was silly, how suddenly a serious girl so focused on her future and a bad relationship could start to imagine a new one with someone who she hardly knew. Intoxicated and at a party she wasn't even interested at attending, mind you.

"I mean... I doubt anyone could be out of your league, not to mention the girl you're after? I heard she's just faking the intelligence." The brunette folded a hand near her lips as if she was telling a secret, although her quick reply didn't hold back the blush that was already setting on her cheeks.

Maybe stepping outside your comfort zone was worth it from time to time. However ridiculous something may be, maybe what you gain from it... is worth what you risk?

And so far? Tonight was pretty risk free.

The gain?

Well, we'll return to that in a moment.

Alejandra felt her breath hitch at the small gesture of Naomi brushing a strand of hair back, and it's as if Alex was in middle school all over again. Yeah, that's how sensitive she was at things like this. Hell, romance was her main genre of writing in the first place. How couldn't she be sensitive when it came to these types of things? Alex is used to writing scenes like this down on paper, not acting them out.

And if this was a script? Anyone would be able to guess what would happen next. "Yeah, I don't think you'd have too much trouble with that." She said, a smile playing on her lips, clearly amused at oneself to be so... desperate? willing? she couldn't find the right word, but it was almost embarrassing how easily Naomi had Alex wrapped around her finger in the matter of minutes. "My girl though, I think she's got yours beat." She didn't mean it as in... her girl.

Alex isn't possessive, especially not over a girl she'd just met.

Or... at all.

She was never really the jealous type.

Although if another someone had come up and gotten Naomi's attention for the night, it wouldn't exactly be the greatest feeling.

"Naomi's sweet enough to put up with my dumb vegetable facts. She's gorgeous, and not to mention the personality, I haven't met a girl with a personality that strong enough to get my heart to stutter at least six times in one night. She's just..." Alex let out a breath that'd turned into the smallest whistle, momentarily turning her attention to the water as she continued.

"She's somethin'."

A voice had startled her from behind and before she knew it, there was a guy that weighed over three-hundred pounds built on muscle alone and took a running leap for the pool, causing Alex to narrowly avoid clashing into him by leaning into Naomi, shielding her eyes from the water splash as the guy landed with an... oddly loud boom.

Ouch.

"I really don't get why people see the point in--" Alex glanced away from the pool and back towards Naomi, her smile fading as she noticed how little space that was between her and Naomi, and just like that, the heart stutters were back and she was practically living a scene she was almost positive she'd wrote before.

What happened next, you ask?

"Uh, diving... where they're not supposed to..." Her words trailed off and she didn't even give a care in the world to try and make sense of whatever the hell she just said. Her attention was focused on Naomi and her entrancing gaze, but Alex found her own gaze wandering to her lips.

Drunk idiots like that guy over there, dove into whatever crazy situation they could because they knew it'd either wake them up, allow them that moment of drunken fun they felt like they owed themselves after drinking a whole bottle of tequila by themselves, or give them a shock of excitement that they so badly craved because their life was inherently so boring. Wasn't it funny how Alex wanted to take that dive? And no, she didn't mean the pool.

No, she shouldn't.

For all she knew Naomi didn't eve--

Oh, fuck it.

Before she had a chance to overthink it and miss the moment that was obviously right in front of her, the brunette pressed her lips to Naomi's, fluttering her eyes shut just as quickly as their lips touched.

It was a sweet kiss.

Not that it wasn't some kindergarten kiss neither, Alex had put every once of tension she'd felt around Naomi since the fair, since movie night, and throughout all the ultimately flattering but forward flirting Alex would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about this more than few times.

A hand was gently placed on Naomi's cheek and she deepened the kiss, finding it oh-so-simple to ignore her surroundings. The music, conversations and the splashing of the pool around them were nothing but white noise.

And that. See, that was how Alex would close a scene.
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. Simone. Jared. Gen.

@SinClaire has tagged:
Winona Winona Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202 natsukashii natsukashii geminiy geminiy

Evie smirked as Jared made the comment on her being unable to resist the urge to fix his collar and then questioned if she'd done the same to Nate. "Well, you want something done right you do it yourself," she teased with a quick wink. Her attentioned turned to Simone as she offered a compliment and the brunette looked her over as well. "The same can be said for yourself, luv" she replied.

She opened her mouth to toss out another compliment when she was distracted by Nate being shoved aside like a rag doll. Who the hell thought they could just walk around pushing her friends? "What the he-" she started, instinct kicking in to be ready to go off on the culprit. That was until her eyes landed on Gen, of course, and she felt the annoyance leave as quickly as it had come over her.

The hurt in her eyes was a clear indication to Evie that she'd found Liv. Unfortunately, it also meant that interaction had crashed and burend, just like Evie had warned. This was not the time for an "I told you so" though. Gen needed her not a lecture. She needed to get her ex and Mike and all that bullshit off her mind.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore. Please. Just get me drunk. I don’t wanna remember this.”

Now Evie had never been the best when it came to dealing with her own issues but under different circumstances she would've snapped to the fact that alcohol was not what Gen needed. Maybe she would've talked her friend into retreated to the room where they could talk and eat whatever junk food they wanted. Or taken it upon herself to kick everyone out and cut the party short. Hell, she would have done anything else than suggest more partying.

Right now was a different story though. She assumed that the best way to deal with your problems was to add more liquor and ignore they even existed. She waas notorious for shoving aside the idea of comfort and advice, trading it off for anything else. Deny feelings, have sex, drink, smoke, do anything to just pretend you were fine. That's how Evie handled coping half the time. Well, that or getting petty revenge. Yeah, she knew it wasn't healthy but she did it anyway and drunk Evelyn especially didn't think twice about it.

Evie took the bottle and poured herself a shot, her eyes flickering to Gen as she held it up. "Problems are for tomorrow. Tonight we drink until we don't remember our own names. Yeah?" she said, wiping the tear from Gen's cheek so no one else would see it. After downing the shot, she wrapped one arm around Gen and looked over to Jared. "Get us started then! You know us, the stronger the better," she replied.

A few moments later they were halfway into a full fledged game and Evie would be lying if she said she wasn't a drunk. The girl could handle her liqour but Tequila always did get to her quicker. Was she winning the game? Could you even win a game like this? She didn't really know. It was her first time playing. Evie felt like she was winning though. After all, her goal was to get fucked up and here she was.

"Do I drink when I make it? I'm taking a shot anyway," she said forgetting the rules for the millionth time. She picked up the shot glasses and poured whatever was in the bottle. Were they still drinking Tequila? Who knows. "Another shot in honor of the baddest bitch we all know," she looked over to Gen who she assumed to be having a better time now. "To you, Miss Genevieve," she said, her accent becoming noticabley thicker.
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:
"Life is much more fun in the fast lane..."
Josephine Bennett

@JosieCat has set status to:
"How many drinks have I had?"

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

@JosieCat has set location to:
Party.

@JosieCat has interacted with:
Gus. Jan. Eli. Ash. Trev.

@JosieCat has tagged:
@sunshineysoul geminiy geminiy Winona Winona ohdittoh ohdittoh
In all honesty, Josie should not be here with Gus right now. They were both dealing with their own shit and they were clearly not set to be good influences to each other. Jo knew that she should've stuck with Lucky when she came here. As much as she pretended to hate his overbearing ways, which she did sometimes, he kept her from being too stupid. At the very least, he made sure she was good. Well, as long as he wasn't on her level of fucked up anyway.

Jo knew the second that she opened her phone it was a bad idea. Someone really should take the device away. Lucky would've. Probably would've saved her from what she was about to do. When Saint's Twitter caught her eye, she couldn't help herself. Why had he come here? From what she had heard, he hadn't been to many parties since their break up and the one time they finally both step out they just had to run into each other. Just her damn luck, right?

It was like Jo couldn't help but gravitate towards him even when she wasn't trying to. Yeah, the relationship was toxic and when things were bad it was like a damn category five hurricane but when they were good they were so good. They would actually sit and talk about random stuff, about life, and just connect. She'd never had that with someone so maybe it was why she ignored all the red flags.

Maybe she was clingling to a fantasy but it was one she couldn't pull herself away from. Even now it sometimes crept up on her and she found herself reminiscing. That was the alcohol talking though, not her. It had to be. Why else would she be nostolgic about a guy who had hurt her like he did?

Saint had cheated and then stranded her at that party as if she was nothing. No one. As a matter of fact, he'd made it seem like she was overreacting or being crazy that night. She should hate him for that. Avoid him at all costs. Sadly, her will to scroll past his Twitter dms was non-existent and her fingers tapped away at the screen forming a message as well as her blurred vision would allow.

It had started off as a simple drunk texting but it quickly escalated and she would be lying to say his words didn't cut her. Josie was probably poking too much, reading into the things he was saying when sober her would know better. Why was she doing this to herself? Jo knew Saint better than to try and put her own version of words in between the lines of what he was saying but she couldn't think straight right now.

Why would I have thought about you...? Unlike you, I don’t waste my time hung up on my ex.

Ouch.
...? I don’t act like people don’t matter to me...you just don’t matter to me.

Ouch again.

Somehow the conversation shifted and honestly, it took an unexpected turn when he offered her a ride home. She was probably stupid to agree but part of her couldn't say no. What the hell was wrong with her? Oh well. She didn't have the brainpower to think into it too much now.

Her next DMS went out to Trevor who she soon realized was in the backyard with Ash, Eli, and...that new girl... She couldn't remember her name but she knew it was a month. Oh, wait! June, right? No. No. January! That was it. Jo told Trev she would come to get him especially when he expressed that he needed to smoke. "Here. I'm gonna go save Trev. It's only right since this blunt is from his stash," she told Gus with a laugh as she stood up slowly.

By some miracle, she made her way over without falling, though she did stumble the entire way over. The small specks started to become bigger shadows the closer she got until finally, she reached them. "Ash, Eli, great to see you guys. Amazing party! Jan-u....ary, is it!? Nice to meet you!" she announced, slurring her words just slightly and not really paying mind to the fact that she could be interrupting conversations.

"Trevvvy! My birthday twin!!!" she said loudly, her eyes darting in his direction. "I'm soooo sorry but I need to steal my sister for a moment. We have organs to discuss. I'm on the lookout for a spleen," she said the last part in a loud whisper. "Thank you for understandinggggg," she added quickly, sending a wink their way and looping her arm in with Trevor's mostly so she wouldn't fall. "You're welcome," she teased her friend once they were far enough from the group, or at least what she thought was far enough in her drunken state. It definitely wasn't far enough.
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:
Oates Oates
" podcasts, amirite? "

@bigO has set their status to:
tall and spooky, AND EXCITED

@bigO has set their outfit to:
costume

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

@bigO has interacted with:
kian, kelli, ronnie

mogy mogy has mentioned:
hery hery , ohdittoh ohdittoh , geminiy geminiy
😎
😎
The hug-fest was now over, and no matter how good hugging and getting hugged felt, talking to people was undoubtingly so much better—it was like some sort of a brain hug, all warm and fuzzy, especially if the people talking found a topic they were all passionate for. Luckily for the little reunion quartet, Oates could talk about literally anything, and since the other three were surely speaking about something before Oates so rudely interrupted them, that was always something they could go back to if another topic didn't arise. However, that didn't need to be the case as the nice ginger girl spoke.

The boy turned around from facing Kian and looked at the girl as she introduced herself and offered her hand for a handshake. "Well, Ronnie, I'm Oates...as you might've noticed from the whole, uh, thing." The sentence acted a decrescendo in joy as he realized she must have already known what his name was from either both Kian and Kelli saying it, or, if she was legally deaf or something, from him literally saying his name like 13 times, not even a minute before. Excitement really turned Oates into the dumbest nicest guy one would ever meet, but hey...excited Oates was much better than the rare drunk Oates or the myth that was angry Oates, so the girl was probably very lucky to have witnessed this Oates as a first impression.

"Of course she is, she's Kelli. I mean, come on, look at her, haha." He smiled, gesturing at the girl in Kian's clothes next to him. If there was one thing Kelli could do, that was dance, and Oates was certain in that. As a matter of fact, just like Kian mentioned, the two learned how to dance together, and Oates definitely wasn't the worst dancer, which meant Kelli wasn't one either. Nevertheless, however, even though Oates should've already gotten accustomed to contortionists of the dance department making their bodies do weird things all the time, every time it was even mentioned and he was forced to imagine it in his head, he shivered. The same thing happened here, though he, of course, didn't make it a big deal, comically making a disgusted face and waving his hand in disagreement. "Yuck!"

"Yeah, all the time. All the rich people make parties all the time, like almost every other week." Oates answered and the brain hug seemingly started to happen with all the four brains hugging, but, sadly, it was interrupted by Kian asking if his legs were blue. Of course, blue legs were never a good thing—unless one was a Smurf—so Oates turned around to completely face Kian once again, leaned forward, looking at the boy's legs. As one would expect, the costume Oates had on was pretty darn hard to maneuver in because of its leather and high heeled boot aspect, however, it, at least, didn't restrict the blood flow to his freaking legs.

While Kian's legs didn't exactly look blue, they were pretty pale, which was probably why the boy excused himself, but before Oates knew it, both Kelli and Ronnie were also leaving his side, going to explore the rest of the party. It was, of course, their right and something expected of them, but he still didn't like waiting, which he was now forced to do until Kian came back.

"Have fun, girls! And we're definitely having a dance-off!" He exclaimed as they went away, leaning onto a wall, eventually though occasionally glancing at the room he noticed Kian go in, anticipating the boy coming back sometime soon.

As one WAP radio remix went by, and then another, and then another, however, Oates got tired of expecting Kian to come out, even if Cardi B was the one coloring the background of his main character moment that was waiting for a guy to untighten his skirt. It was just a couple of buttons, so how hard could it have been, anyway?

He wouldn't usually go into the room if the guy had been a stranger, but this was Kian, so it was hardly a stranger. Never mind that, Oates still didn't want to disrespect anyone's privacy, which was why he knocked on the wooden door after making his way to them, realizing only after his fifth or sixth knock that the music was probably too loud for Kian to hear the knocking.

"I'm coming in!" He prompted, putting one of his hands on his eyes before he made his way into the bedroom, closing the door, stopping the waterfall of loud music entering the room.

"Is it safe?"
º º code by dildo º º
 
Hold On | Chord Overstreet
Lucky DuBois
"Life's a bitch. That's all I got."


He couldn’t catch a fucking break.

Daniel Mattias Cooper chose tonight to finally listen to him? To not be the bumbling moron that he’d grown up with. The boy who hated silence and filled it with whatever random thought went through his head. And there were millions over the years.

But no.

Tonight, Danny had abided by Lucky’s wishes and kept quiet. Let Lucky alone to process what he had just said.

Fucking asshole.

Didn’t he know that Lucky’s mantra had changed? Distraction. That was what tonight was supposed to be about. It was about getting drunk. High. Doing anything and everything to keep his mind off the feelings he so desperately wanted to forget.

He missed his dad. He missed the phone calls and the text messages. The constant reminder that his father was alive and well and attempting to make amends for the 100th time.

He was going to give in eventually. He always did. That was the plan. Why couldn’t his dad just stick to the plan? He swallowed hard and took another swig of the tequila. If Danny didn’t open his mouth soon, he was going to start swinging. Maybe Danny had picked up some skills over the years and would actually be a worthy opponent. Doubtful, but it’d still feel fucking better than the way he was feeling right now.

“I fucking hate Halloween.”

THANK GOD! The mute finally spoke. Lucky huffed out a small laugh and glanced over at the other boy. That was an understatement. But it was a short-lived moment. A momentary lapse that made Lucky forget that Danny had abandoned him. Made him forget that the last few years he was alone. He took another drink from the bottle and found the familiar spot on the wall across from him.

“The liquor’s good, but that’s about it.”

He smirked as he grabbed the bottle back from Danny. “Yes...it is.” He said as he took another drink. The alcohol not nearly doing enough to drown his sorrows. But the small, but pointless conversation was a slight distraction. One that he was willing to continue as long as Danny was able to.

“It’s fucking hot in here.”

He looked over at the other boy and rolled his eyes. “It’s not hot. You’re just anxious.” He stated matter of factly. Danny didn’t handle these types of situations well. He never did. “But at least you’re not wearing spandex.” He said motioning to his ensemble. “Talk about being hot.”

| mood: TBD | mentions: N/A | interactions: Danny | tags: @Kio.exe |
º º code by ditto º º
 

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


@zeph.evermore has set their status to:
searching for... pikachu

@zeph.evermore has interacted with:
Stella

@zeph.evermore has mentioned:
Lin

@zeph.evermore has tagged:
Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202 ​
He was a little surprised by his typically not-touchy best friend's hug, but then it clicked that this was a party and Stella usually partied kind of hard, which meant that she was undoubtedly drunk. His theory was proven true when Stella held up the water bottle and admitted to sobering up, which just earned a chuckle from Zeph.

"Good," he said. "Wouldn't want you puking in the Uber on the way home." Zeph teased.

"Lin was great -- Lin is great," Zeph started gushing about his new friend after Stella asked. "He's so fun. He bought so much candy -- do you want some? I don't think he'd care if I gave you some. We've got eighty bags of Ring Pops," -- a bit of an over exaggeration, but the poor boy was excited -- "anyway, anyway, so we ate a bunch of candy, right? And then Lin was all 'dare me to do this luhmao' and I was all 'alright' and anyway, we kept going until Lin was like 'let's hang upside down from this banister and drink this soda,' and I was all 'oh no, I'm going to die.' But guess what? I didn't die and I won."

Thanks to Lin hitting a petty Amy in the head with a bottle cap, but Zeph didn't actually know that part.

"Anyway, it ended with him running through the party in his underwear. It was fun." He finished off his story as if the entire thing had been no big deal.

After he finished his story, Stella started... apologizing to him? What? He looked down at her, his eyebrows knitting together in curiosity until she explained herself, and then his expression relaxed once more. Oh. Oh... Yeah... yeah, right, that... he was thankful for the darkness of the current room they were in because it hid the faint blush that was reddening his cheeks.

"Yeah, 'course I'll forgive you," Zeph responded with a lighthearted chuckle. "I wasn't mad at you or anything, I was just..." he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I guess I was just confused about why you ran off so fast, but it's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm not upset or anything." Zeph promised her -- and he wasn't. Why would he be?

"Come on," he said with a tilt of his head. "You wanna get out of here? It's getting kind of late."
º º code by ditto º º
 
Genevieve Johannes
@genjohanne has set their status to:
bitches ain't shit

@genjohanne has set their outfit to:
disheveled

@genjohanne has set their location to:
the living room

@genjohanne has mentioned:
the competition winners (charlie, lin, trevor, amy, jo, gus, ash, lucky, eli, jan, liv, mike, ronnie, oates)

@genjohanne has interacted with:
evie, nate, simone, jared, mike, adriane

@genjohanne has tagged:
jasmyn jasmyn Winona Winona ohdittoh ohdittoh and a lot of others but I'm lazy
Genevieve hated drinking games. They felt juvenile and pointless and like a waste of good alcohol. Normally at parties, Gen would scoff at the idea of playing some sort of drinking game, instead opting to sit on the sidelines and enjoy her drink while she laughed at the drunken stupidity of her friends. She much preferred being a sort of fly-on-the-wall type of person instead of directly in the action. There was a lot someone could learn by simple observation of intoxicated peers and Gen was never one to miss that opportunity.

But at this party, with her head throbbing inside her skull and her chest squeezing tight, Gen didn’t care. As soon as Jared suggested the drinking game, Gen instantly volunteered herself as a contender. She gave little care to the rules or to the notion of winning, instead opting to drink as much as possible. She was done with feeling things for the night and unless she was planning to take one of the many partygoers up on their offering of party drugs, the only way to numb herself to her emotions was through alcohol.

It wasn’t until the music and voices had blended together and the room started spinning and blurring around the edges of her vision that Gen felt sufficiently fucked up. If it wasn’t for the pressing demand to announce the winners of the costume contest that she had hyped up all week, Gen likely would have just kept drinking until she passed out cold somewhere in the house. But after a handful of people had asked her mid-game, Gen sighed and took her final shot.

“I’ll be back.” Gen spoke, her speech slurred and unclear as she placed the bottle down on the table.

Making her way to the living room where she had set up a platform, Gen grabbed the microphone and the card with the winners on it from beside the speaker and turned off the music. Once people had begun looking her way, Gen forced the smile onto her face.

“Good evening, everyone. I hope you’re enjoying the party! Excuse my little interruption but I am here to announce the winners of the costume contest.” Gen announced, attempting to keep herself from swaying or laughing out of turn. Opening the card, Gen squinted slightly as the blue ink swam against the white background. Eventually, she began to understand what it said. “Turns out we have multiple ties. For the group section, we have a tie between the Scooby Gang, consisting of Amy, Charlie, Lin, and Trevor, and the Han Solo and Princess Leia duo of Josie and Gus. In second place, we have the Spidey Squad. For the solos, the winner is…”

Gen’s mouth ran dry at the name written in clear penmanship across the top. Blinking a few times, Gen forced herself to speak the names.

“The winner is Livanna. In second place, we have a three way tie between Ronnie, Oates, and Mike.” Gen read before lowering the mic, the excitement from her voice draining as she continued to speak. “I, uh.. Where are the prizes?” Gen asked herself as she looked around for the prizes she had collected. As she was looking around the room, her eyes settled on a pair of people in the corner. Her blood began to boil in her veins at the sight of the duo, her hand gripping the mic with a white knuckles. Fuck the prizes, she didn’t really care about them, not now with business to attend to. “Congratulations, you win bragging rights or clout or what the fuck ever. Have a good night and be out of my house by 1am or I’m dragging you out.”

Gen roughly placed the mic down, some of the feedback echoing through the speakers. Reaching out to crank the music dial, Gen looked back to the people she had spotted like an apex predator stalking its weak prey. Mike and Adriane. A wild smirk appeared on her smudged lips, her eyes glinting with anger as she gracefully stepped off the platform. Pushing through groups of partiers who had gone back to their drinking and dancing since her announcement, Gen pulled herself to a stop in front of the pair.

“Well, if it isn’t the 2-cent whore of the evening.” Gen spat, the grin still on her face as she looked down at Mike and Adriane. “I’ll leave you two to guess who is who, a fun little game if you will.”

Gen turned directly to Adriane, her hand reaching out to grip her thin shoulder, nails ever so slightly digging into her skin. “ I do hope you’ve been enjoying the party, though I did say we weren’t allowing dogs onto the premises. Yet you’re here Adriane with no master in sight! I really should have specified no flea-ridden strays. Bad for publicity, you know?” Gen giggled, her grip never loosening as she moved to place herself between Adriane and Mike. “You showing up here is quite bold. The ever powerful Adriane humbling herself to show up to the Johannes residence since we are such low individuals. Charity work, is it? How cute. Unfortunately, I don’t think Evie could have made you any more repulsive even though she did beat your ass. Maybe we’ll get a reenactment!”

Gen then turned to Mike, moving Adriane out of the way with a bit of a shove. Never once did the gleaming smirk leave her face nor the vicious look in her eyes.

“And you.” Gen spat, not even bothering to say Mike’s name. “We need to talk. Now. That is if little Adriane over here is okay with me stealing you. I wouldn’t want to upset Her Highbitch.”

º º code by ditto º º
 

Hunter Drake
How are you feeling?
hunter drake boyfriend mode activated
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
Sometimes the universe had funny ways of giving you what you wanted, but only at the pace it wanted you to receive it.

As his hand kept stroking Nickie's in a gentle caress, Hunter kept his eyes locked on hers for as long as he could, wanting to find any form of an answer to what he just said in the way she looked at him. But, of course, the only thing he found himself doing was feeling his throat tighten up from the anticipation. At the same time, his stomach repeatedly tossing and turning like anxiety and panic was having a disagreement with his heartbeat increasing its rhythm the longer the silence remained.

Until it didn't.

When he saw her lips move, part of the activity in his throat to the bottomless pit of his stomach ceased almost immediately after one final wave of a tight inhale. Hunter had never paid more attention to Nickie Abrams than he did right now. And he found it just a little strange that he was like this compared to how everyone else saw him, but fuck them. Nickie was all that mattered right now.

A few moments passed and, though he saw Nickie's lips move, the only thing he heard was what he assumed was a temporary difficulty to speak, because he knew her more than he probably thought he would have a few weeks ago. Or he liked to think he did. Regardless, he knew she could speak her mind, but right now it appeared like she was struggling. And Hunter understood that. Hell, with everything that seemed to happen tonight between them, he wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to speak anymore. They made a lot of progress today. She asked what they were and he answered. No need to--

And then without warning, Nickie lunged him into a hug. He was caught off guard, so his response to it wasn't immediate, but as he eased into the comfort of her arms, he wrapped them around her waist and looking into her eyes, smiling in the way he did when he was genuinely happy.

“I wanna be your girlfriend,”

Those words went in one end and just...repeated. In an echo and he smiled wider than before. And he just thought about those words and how this was actually happening. Not that he never thought about it coming to this point. Of course, he thought about it and of course, Hunter wanted this for them. But everything was happening so fast, maybe it had less to do with him wanting it and more about how he didn't have time to adjust to this new amazing reality that was his life.

“Will…will you be my boyfriend?”

Yes, he thought as she pulled from the hug, and then his mind focused on her.

Hunter shut out all thoughts of Chas and Dei probably fighting on his shoulder as the Devil and Eviler Devil, fighting with each other about how Hunter was making a huge mistake getting into a relationship and/or settling. But Hunter didn't care. It wasn't that he didn't respect their opinions of him or anything like that, but from where he sat -- and right now, that was literal -- Nickie's opinion of him was the only one he wanted to hear and as she commented about how much she loved him, he found himself saying the following just moments after she said what she said.

“Can we make this official?”

"Yes!"

And as he realized how immediate that came across, he coughed and dialed it back a few nobs. "Yes to all of it." He was still happy and his tone reflected that, but it wouldn't come across as so desperate. Hunter kept caressing her hand, feeling a certain comfort in her soft skin. "So, should we set up a date, then? I mean, I don't necessarily have the most experience with relationships, but I know that you can't be official without a first date." He laughed and smiled. "What'cha think?"








º º code by ditto º º​
 

Adriane Holloway
"I want to live, not merely survive."

@omg_adriane has set their status to:
the audacity of this bitch

@omg_adriane has set their outfit to:
catwoman? yes

@omg_adriane has interacted with:
Mike, Gen, Landon, Seb

@omg_adriane has mentioned:
Chas

@omg_adriane has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh geminiy geminiy gh0stwriter gh0stwriter LowkeyLovingLoki LowkeyLovingLoki ​
Mike should be thanking the universe for looking over him because Adriane had been mere seconds away from ending the asshole's life. Mere. Fucking. Seconds.

Not only did Mike the Dick have the audacity to insult her, but he pulled out his phone. Like seriously? Fuck him -- but also eww, no, because who knew what kind of diseases the dumpster rat was carrying. Adriane's eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly (seriously, wrinkles were a big no thank you) as she brought her cup to her lips, swallowing the last of the liquid. He put his phone down after a bit and then started speaking again, but his words grated against her nerves.

He should consider himself lucky that the woman of the hour, the party's lovely hostess and Queen Bitch, decided to pay the two of them a visit.

On a normal day, Adriane probably would've snapped back at Gen with equal vitriol, especially when she so rudely grabbed hold of Adriane's shoulder and dug her nails in and went off to give her half-hearted insults. Well. If Gen hadn't looked like as if she'd been hit by a bus and then backed over by said bus, Adriane might've had more to say. Her lips twitched into a faint smirk.

Adriane rolled her eyes and let out a breathy sigh. "Honestly, if you're going to throw a party, at least try to look better than the whore on the corner. I really thought you were better than this." Her tone, as always, was monotone and she doubted that Gen even heard her with her back to Adriane. The fucking audacity -- what a bitch.

She had better things to do, so Adriane wasted no time in setting her cup down and pushing away from the drinks table. Adriane started walking off, planning on putting as much distance as possible between herself and those two... But two people at the other end of the drinks caught her attention.

"Sebastian," Adriane greeted as she walked up to them, painting a fake smile on her face. Her voice dripped with warmth and fake honey that, from anyone else, probably would've sounded well... warm and welcoming. But from Adriane? It just sounded patronizing. "Shoo, little dog. I think I heard your master calling."

Obviously, she was talking about Chas -- and yes, that was Adriane being nice.

Now, she turned her attention to... Oh what the fuck, was he Buddy the Elf? What the fuck. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to put him in such a hideous costume? Adriane could barely even maintain looking at him with how utterly ridiculous he looked.

However, she managed to keep a faint smile -- you know, the kind that you could barely distinguish because eww, smiling caused wrinkles.

"Landon," she purred, "enjoying the party?"
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:
TREVOR CALLAGHAN
@callaghansome has set his status to:
Saved by the bell-- er, Bennett.

@callaghandsome 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.

@callaghandsome 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.

@callaghandsome has mentioned:
N/A

@callaghandsome has interacted with:
Ash, Jan, Eli, and Jo

@callaghandsome has tagged:
Winona Winona @sunshineysoul geminiy geminiy jasmyn jasmyn

@callaghandsome has written a tl;dr:
Trevor walks with Jo to the pool and asks for weed.
✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐
✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑
✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐
✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑
✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎
✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑
✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐
✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑
✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎
✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑✑
✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐
There were several levels of I’m so fucked that you could be at, and Trevor was at the lowest possible level, aptly dubbed “someone, hurry up and end my mortal suffering before I fuck off and do it myself”.

He supposed that this much came with fighting with your girlfriend over petty shite that shouldn’t get under your skin in the first place, bitching about her telling her best friend about your secret relationship, and then coming face-to-face with said best friend such a short amount of time afterward.

Yeah, Trevor was that level of in over his head, and he couldn’t get himself out.

Thus, when he spotted his roommate and best friend stumbling across the grass to him, her teetering figure threatening to fall at any moment, he couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief— just a little one.

Salvation. Oh, how sweet.

It wasn’t death, but it would do.

“Jo,” he whispered beneath his breath, glancing at Ash and then back at Eli and trying to act as if he didn’t notice her. He swayed slightly. He gave a smile, slightly more relaxed than it had been before. “I, ahm—“

“Ash, Eli, great to see you guys.”

Trevor had never been so glad to be cut off.

He looked at Jo, trying to conceal his relief as she continued to speak in her slurred voice. A bit of resentment rose when he realized that he could be that level of happy-fucked-up if she’dn’t taken his weed, but it quickly subsided and gave way to the relief again.

"Trevvvy! My birthday twin!!!" Jo’s eyes went to him, and he met her gaze. "I'm soooo sorry but I need to steal my sister for a moment. We have organs to discuss.”

“O-…” He cleared his throat. “Organs,” Trevor said as enthusiastically as he could, though it came out a bit meekly.

“I’m on the lookout for a spleen," she whispered loudly.

“Spleen…,” he tried to agree, giving a shaky smile.

Well, it might have been death.

…eh.

It would be at the hands of Jo, anyway.

Better than engaging in this fecking conversation.

But what the hell was she on about…?

”Thank you for understanding.” She looped her arm in Trevor’s, pulling him away from the group, and Trevor looked at her, brows knit, as they stumbled across the grass— to no place in particular, it seemed. "You're welcome," she added.

“Huh…?” was Trevor’s only response.

He stumbled with her to the in-ground pool near the corner of the house, acting as a (very unsteady) steadier for his cross-faded friend. Sean the sherpa.

(That was good. Write that down.)

(Actually, no. That was terrible. Don’t give them ideas.)

“Ya come here ta make it up ta make up stealin’ my stash up ta me?” he asked, trying to sound grumpy. The relief drowned the grumpiness out. “Ya ca—“

His foot slipped on the concrete beside the pool, and he yelled “shite!” as he fell back onto his butt. He winced, whining an “ow, ow, ow, ow” as he looked up at Jo. “Let’s…sit…here,” he said, trying to play it off as if he’d meant to sit there.

He crossed his legs, grimacing as his joints popped and cracked. He muttered a few unintelligible, very slurred words beneath his breath. Finally, he looked at Jo again. “Well, ya saved me...so there's t'at. Princess Lyla to tha rescue,” he said unenthusiastically. “Don’t start makin' out wit’ yer twin an’ we’ll be good,” he kidded lightly, putting his palms out behind himself.

He sighed softly. Well...he'd been spared from that hell...

But he still felt like shite.

You know what would fix that...?

He looked over at Jo, and then dug in with the most pressing question:

“Ya got any of my shite left?”

Oh, yeah, and he had to add...

"Ah, yeah, thanks. Fer savin' my arse..."

There.

"Now, weed?"
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:
nickie abrams
you've just gotta keep on, keep on.​
How are you feeling?
Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg
What are you wearing?
Peace! Love! I fucking need both.
Where are you?
Gen's place.
Did you mention anyone?
Nope.
Who are you talking to?
Hunter.
And, like, who are tagging, exactly?
natsukashii natsukashii
Can I get a tl;dr?
Nickie asks to be official with Hunter.
“Yes!”

Hunter’s quick, excited answer startled Nickie, and her eyes widened, her lizard brain causing her a moment of panic. Her quick-beating heart did not slow down when she realized, after an instant, that he wasn’t in pain or anything, though; in fact, it quickened more, and a tear fell from Nickie’s eyes before she could even figure it out. She moved her hand from Hunter’s neck to clasp it over her mouth.

“Yes to all of it.”

“Hunter,” she breathed.

This couldn’t be real. Quick— pinch her. She had to be dreaming.

She lowered her hand, closing her eyes as more tears escaped, and a laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh my God!” she whispered. “No way…”

No way, no way, no way that this could be real.

She’d just come and puked in a toilet because she lied that she believed that Hunter loved her.

And now, here she was, lying some more, just to get her way— just to have him…be…her…

Boyfriend! He was her boyfriend!

She loved him so much that it hurt.

She opened her eyes as he caressed her hand. “Hunter!” she repeated excitedly, smiling happily.

She didn’t know what else to say— there was so much to say and so little. There were no words that could express how she felt, and so eshe couldn’t even try.

“So, should we set up a date, then?”

At the word date, her heart palpitated.

“I mean, I don’t necessarily have the most experience with relationships, but I know that you can’t be official without a first date.”

Oh, right, right, right, right…they’d spent so much time together, but they hadn’t ever went on a date date…that was weird, wasn’t it.

Oh my God, he was asking her on a date— oh my God!

“What’cha think?”

She laughed happily. “Oh my God! Hunter, Hunter, Hunter! Yes!” She reached out and pulled him into another hug, tears falling from her cheeks and onto his neck. “Yes, yes, yes!” She kissed his cheek. “Yes!” she whispered again.

Yes!

She pulled back, smiling brightly at him. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

She couldn’t get any real words out.

She stood from the toilet, only to reach out and hug him again, burrowing her ear into his chest as she hugged him tightly.

“Oh my God, oh my God!”

She was crying and sniffling and probably looked a whole mess, thanks to runny makeup, but she didn’t care.

She was Hunter’s girlfriend, and Hunter was her boyfriend, and no matter how many lies this was built on, she could overlook it—

Because this was all that she wanted.

She was selfish. She wasn't worth his time. She was a whiny whore who did nothing but lie and ruin and fuck things up.

But she was going to let herself have this.

Just this once.
º º code by ditto º º​
 
♔ MICHAEL REID ♔
"aren't i fucking angelic?"
@reiditandweep has set his status to:
[ Mike Reid is offline ]

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

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

@reiditandweep has mentioned:
N/A.

@reiditandweep has interacted with:
Adriane and Gen— yeah, the two biggest bitches.

@reiditandweep has tagged:
Winona Winona geminiy geminiy

@reiditandweep has written a tl;dr:
Mike insults Adriane some more, fights with Gen on Twitter, and then goes into a room with Gen...ya know, to have a niiiice chat.
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
Michael Reid wasn’t really too much of a fan of “self-control” or whatever bullshit name was given to the “talent” of suppressing your feelings and letting consequences dictate what you did. He exercised it often, so he could say it from experience: self-control was overrated. People who were O So Holy tried to insist that “oh, if you do that now, then you’re just going to have a mess to clean up later”, but they didn’t take into account the catharsis that came with shattering some glass, splintering some bones, or slamming your fist into the faces of bitches who deserved worse than Hell.

Had he lived to regret shit that he did? Sure. See figure one: him telling that redheaded simp to fuck off at homecoming. He’d felt a pain in his neck from the fucking second that he did it. In the moment, though, did it alleviate the burning rage inside of him? That was a solid “hell yeah”.

Self-control was fucking overrated, and Adriane seemed to be under the impression that Mike had some kind of loyalty to this concept.

If she kept this bullshit up, she’d know the truth in milliseconds flat.

The proud anger burning in Adriane’s eyes showed that she obviously thought that she could handle him. Mike’s grin spread as he anticipated her reply, his hand tightening around his cup as he prepared it to do some physical retaliation.

His phone was buzzing like crazy in his pocket. “You know, that look on your face right now?” He grabbed the end of his phone, holding it up to check the screen, the shit-eating grin on his face maintained as he stared at Adriane. “I’ll be seeing it in my dreams tonight, babe.” His eyes flicked down to his phone screen to see a long series of emojis that Liv had sent. He sent out some kind of dumb response to them that he immediately forgot the text of and looked back up at Adriane. “There’s just something about seeing you seething that gets me all fucking hot and bothered, ya know?” he teased jackassishly. His eyes moved back to his phone screen.

The grin on his face faltered.

Well, shit. Apparently his forgettable words had prompted Liv to bring up their hookup— though not name it.

There was no point in beating around the bush, because Gen was already starting with her desmans of “what did that mean” or whatever the fuck, and Mike was sick and fucking tired, just in general.

And so, Liv said it.

Whooptie fucking doo. The cat was out of the bag.

Then Gen was flipping the fuck out on him.

Whatever.

He gave short, non-wordy responses. He wasn’t going to fucking bite back like she wanted him to.

If she wanted to have that shit, she’d have to talk to him in person. He was busy dealing with trying not to punch the bitch beside him.

Of course, the bitch kept pressing and pressing and pressing until he had to say something, because she wouldn’t fucking shut the hell up.

So, he fucked her ex-girlfriend the night that she left town. What the fuck was wrong with that?

Did she not understand that he didn’t fucking care about her feelings?

There were two sides to every coin.

There were two fucking sides to every coin.

Nothing was as simple as it seemed.

She didn’t seem to fucking grasp it.

She didn’t know shit. She literally didn’t know shit.

Evie and Eli jumped down his fucking throat, too, and they started barking commands at him, like anything that they said was going to make him turn away.

Whatever. He finally just decided that it wasn’t fucking worth it.

Eyes burning, he looked up at Adriane. “You don’t have anything else to say, bitch?” he asked shortly, not even bothering to fake a grin. His eyes dripped acid.

He was one word away— any word away— from losing his fucking shit.

“Well, if it isn’t the two-cent whore of the evening.”

A voice came, seemingly out of nowhere, its spat words obviously directed at him and the bitch beside him.

He turned his head, knowing who the voice belonged to.

When he saw the girl before him, with her makeup smudged and the look in her eyes a mix of angry and dead, he felt some kind of pride swell in his chest.

Oh, fuck, would you look at that. He’d destroyed the bitch. Where was his medal? Where was his recognition, huh? Who was getting this on camera? Snap, snap, snap.

She wasn’t so high and mighty now, was she?

Capture this moment. Secure it in your fucking memories: the night that Michael K. Reid made a wreck of Genevieve Johannes.

Never forget it, either. Never fucking forget it.

“I’ll leave you two to guess who is who, a fun little game if you will.”

“Go away,” he said. A grin spread across his face, the vein in his forehead a sure-fire sign that he was close to being unable to restrain himself. “Can’t you see that the rebounds are talking?”

Gen turned to Adriane, grabbing onto her shoulder. “I do hope you’ve been enjoying the party, though I did say we weren’t allowing dogs onto the premises. Yet you’re here, Adriane, with no master in sight! I really should have specified no flea-ridden strays. Bad for publicity, you know?” She gave an obviously-forced giggle and moved to stand between Adriane and Mike.

He took a step away, clenching his jaw. Did she never fucking shut up?

Even if she was coming for Adriane, he knew that he was next, and he didn’t want to fucking hear it.

When he'd said for her to come and talk to him in person, he hadn't meant come with your head up your fucking ass and berate me, mommy. Then again, Gen seemed to think that she was the only one who deserved anyone’s time of the day, because she was right all of the time, because she was the victim in all of this shit, because other people couldn’t have fucking problems, and because she was just generally above everyone else.

Right, yeah, he forgot that. Gen was the only one allowed to have feelings. Gen was the only one allowed to be a wreck. Sorry, he’d forgotten all of his learnings. Spank him— he’s been such a bad fucking boy.

“You showing up here is quite bold. The ever-powerful Adriane humbling herself to show up to the Johannes residence, since we are such low individuals. Charity work, is it? How cute. Unfortunately, I don’t think Evie could have made you any more repulsive even though she did beat your ass. Maybe we’ll get a reenactment!”

Gen finally turned to Mike. Her gaze collided with his own, the smirk on her face causing his grin to widen.

“And you.” The bitch didn’t even say his name. Fucking coward. “We need to talk. Now. That is, if little Adriane over here is okay with me stealing you. I wouldn’t want to upset Her Highbitch.”

Adriane sighed before he could respond, and she had better been thanking her lucky fucking stars that he wasn’t beside her right now, or she’d have her face through the drink table. "Honestly, if you're going to throw a party, at least try to look better than the whore on the corner. I really thought you were better than this."

And then the bitch ran away.

Mike let out a chuckle, clenching his jaw tightly. “Should’ve known that she couldn’t take the fucking heat. The iron-deficient toll-free slut’s got less bite than a centenarian who misplaced her fucking dentures,” he laughed beneath his breath as his eyes followed her retreating figure.

He looked back at Gen, noting her bare feet before meeting her eyes, his sharp gaze parrying with hers. “So, you finally decided to show up, huh?” He made a gesture to her get-up, putting his cup down to give a single, snide clap of his hands. “I didn’t think that you would. Congratulations on surprising me with the bare fucking minimum.” He dropped his hands, crossing his arms. “Now, let’s see if you’re really a woman of your word, huh? C’mon, show me—“ He held his arms out, nodding down at his crotch. “Rip my balls off with your bare hands, babe,” he demeaned, dropping his arms.

There wasn't any time to think of what he was saying or what he was feeling.

He was one second away from losing his fucking shit.

He began to walk off, expecting her to follow, making his way through the crowds of people to the stairs. “Be careful, now,” he warned patronizingly. “You could step on some glass and hurt yourself, babe, and then what would we do without the second incarnation of Christ to kiss the ass of?”

He turned into a random door, pushing open the door and letting Gen in before shutting it behind himself and turning the lock.

They seemed to be in the study, which was entirely empty, thankfully.

He crossed his arms, swaggering slowly across the carpeted floor to the center of the room. “I assumed that you want some privacy before you start crying. Don’t thank me. Call me considerate, or just conscientious.” He gave an angry, cocky snicker, bowing slightly and looking up at Gen. “Bad bitches break down behind closed doors, am I right?”

He laughed slightly. “So, now that we’re alone, you want the details of what happened, or you want to just imagine it? Would telling you every excruciating detail help you any? The look in her gorgeous, drunken eyes when she saw my bare chest? The way her hands...well.” He grinned. “Look, I’m trying to be helpful— so which is it, huh?”

He walked over to the desk. “Go ahead, Genevieve,” he began, pushing the things at the edge of the desk back and setting himself where they had been. “Go on.” He flicked his hand a couple of times in a shoo motion. “Tell me how wrong I am for what I did to you. How what I did hurt you so, so, so, so, so badly, even though I didn’t think of you at all. Tell me how the world revolves around you in as many words as possible. C’mon, waste my time. Try to make me feel like shit. Try to make me feel guilty so that you won’t have to anymore. Go on, go on. Tell me what a piece of shit I am.” He gave a laugh. “Or, better yet, tell me to go jack off into a pool of my tears or whatever.” He held a finger up, mocking as if he’d had a revelation. “Ooh, or jump off a bridge.” He brought his finger to his chin, tapping on it and looking up, pretending to think. “Die in a ditch...shove a pole so far up my ass that it protrudes through my head…jump off of a building…hurl myself into an active volcano…” He laughed, shrugging. “Hm, your options are really endless, babe.”

He gave her a laugh, not breaking eye contact as he stood from the edge of the desk. "I wanna see if anything you say is anything I haven't heard before.” He moved slowly to the chair behind the desk, purposefully taking as much time as possible to move. "After all, you are the Genevieve Johannes. Anyone who crosses you is as good as dead, they say. Your enemies might as well off themselves rather than have to live beneath your wrath, and you seem to have named me your enemy now— which, I mean, I wouldn't be jealous if my ex got a better fuck than I'd ever given them, and just a few hours after I'd departed, but I guess that's just me."

He sunk himself down into the chair, shifting until his back rested straight against the back. He patted the armrests. "Comfy chair," he commented breezily. "Wonder how much it costs..."

He met her gaze over the desk, letting out a chuckle at her expression. “Oh, come on, babe— I don't hear much from you." The shit-eating grin on his face spread wider as he lowered his brows. "C'mon— I wanna hear all of the creative words you have for the best fucking rebound a whore's lonely, suffering, stray, abandoned ex could ask for."
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:
Genevieve Johannes
@genjohanne has set their status to:
it is all in good fun, dearest

@genjohanne has set their outfit to:
disheveled

@genjohanne has set their location to:
the office

@genjohanne has mentioned:
adriane, liv

@genjohanne has interacted with:
mike

@genjohanne has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh
Gen burst out in laughter as soon as Adriane turned around and scurried off like a wounded dog with her tail between her legs. She was pathetic, a true waste of a spot at Hollywood Arts. If Mike wasn’t standing there, Gen would’ve gone after her just to piss her off, just to get some snarky comment from her mouth, anything to give Gen the go-ahead to be a total bitch. But Mike was there making stupid comments about ‘the rebounds talking’ and unfortunately, Genevieve came to the conclusion the little shrimp would have to wait. She had bigger fish to fry.

“Should’ve known that she couldn’t take the fucking heat. The iron-deficient toll-free slut’s got less bite than a centenarian whose lost her fucking dentures.”

Looking over her shoulder at Mike, smile still on her face, Gen chuckled in tandem with the boy as her hands moved to rest on her hips.

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page about the pathetic bitch.” Gen spoke calmly, her voice steadying with each word as the rage mingled with the alcohol in her blood. “Unfortunately, you really don’t have much place to talk. Running around here like a lost little boy, how cute. No one’s impressed, Reid, so stop pretending you’re any better than her or myself.”

Gen studied the boy with each word that fell from her lips, her gaze sharp and unwavering. Mike’s jaw was clenching, his voice straining as he spoke whatever stupid insult he thought made him sound cool. Poor boy thought he was in control with his shallow little “insults” and crude comments in a weak attempt to seem big and tough. Yet Gen was not budging, the professional smile still on her lips and her demeanour, although clearly influenced by the alcohol, remained unwavering.

Mike began to run his mouth and Gen only stood silently, listening to every sentence as if she was a lawyer, bundling up critical words into bullets for later use. What did he think he was going to achieve? Did he want to make her cry? See her bow down and kiss his feet? Apologize? As if she’d ever do anything of the sort, especially not to Michael fucking Reid.

“I didn’t think that you would. Congratulations on surprising me with the bare fucking minimum.” Mike said, causing Gen to playfully bat her eyelashes as a soft giggle left her mouth. A retort was on the tip of her tongue, her own wit burning away at the inside of her mouth in a desperate plea for release, but Gen didn’t say a word outside of her laugh. She was the one in control of the conversation without saying a damn word, no matter what little Reid thought.

Another patronizing comment about some bullshit regarding Gen’s bare feet later, Mike had begun to walk away. Gen contemplated not following him with the full knowledge that there was no way he was letting this conversation go. And hell, if the conversation had to happen, why not fight him every step of the way? Besides, Gen knew words were useless against the walking mouth that was Mike. She knew the best way to get under his skin was to simply do nothing.

Curiosity is one hell of a drug because although Gen’s plan to remain completely still had been absolutely genius, she found herself following after him. She cared little about hurting herself or keeping pace with him, instead stopping along the way to greet partygoers and to change the song thumping through the speakers. Perhaps Mike would think she was stalling or perhaps he already knew her angle. Either way, Gen was content.

Stepping into the office, Gen walked past Mike as he closed the door, the lock twisting shut with a satisfying click. The office was quiet, lights off from Gen’s angry departure from Liv earlier in the evening. Who would have thought that the family office would see so much emotion in one evening? Gen wasn’t in control with Liv, she never had been and never could be, but Mike was a different story. In the time that Gen had known Mike, he had been little more than a toy. Sure, a toy that she may have considered a friend, but a toy nonetheless. He was emotionless, cold, brash. Gen found it funny to pick at him, crawling under his skin and learning what made him tick.

In true Mike fashion, there was little room for Gen to speak. He immediately began to rant and rave, carrying on and on about how Gen should tell him he was horrible and describing all the fanciful ways that he should off himself. He moved slowly, his movements seeming to be calculated and careful, before sitting down in the chair behind the desk. Gen remained in the middle of the room, enjoying the darkness of the room illuminated only by the streetlights outside. Even with the asshole of the year with her in the office, Gen finally felt somewhat at peace.

“Oh, come on, babe— I don't hear much from you." Mike spoke with a horrible grin on his face as if he was urging Gen to react. Of course he would want her to react, the sick little fucker probably got off on it. "C'mon— I wanna hear all of the creative words you have for the best fucking rebound a whore's lonely, suffering, stray, abandoned ex could ask for."

Gen didn’t speak for a moment, the drowned out sound of the party overriding the buzz of the silence that lingered in the office. There was a very obvious way that she could react. She could blow up at him as she had been thinking all evening. Sure, there would be some satisfaction in laying him flat, but the feeling would be short lived. Mike didn’t respond to words, he certainly didn’t care about insults, and there was nothing Gen could say that would even make a dent in the hollowness of his heart.

Fuck it. The night was bad enough. Why not have a little bit of fun before she burned him alive?

“Let’s have a drink, shall we?” Gen spoke sweetly, moving to one of the oak bookshelves lining the wall. Moving a thick volume off the shelf, Gen pulled out a crystal bottle with a dark liquid within it. Grabbing two matching crystal glasses off the alcohol cart in the corner of the room, Gen moved over to the desk. Placing the two cups down carefully, Gen pulled off the stopper with an audible pop before swirling the alcohol inside. “I hope you like whiskey. I was gifted this bottle in Paris last winter by a fan while I was in town for a shoot. I like to save it for special occasions.”

Pouring two even cups of whiskey, Gen replaced the stopper and handed a glass to Mike. Raising her glass she clinked it against Mike’s, just hard enough to make sure that some of the liquid from her glass spilled over into his in true ‘cheers’ etiquette. Glass in one hand, Gen replaced the bottle of whiskey and the book back onto the shelf before taking a sip of the whiskey in her glass, sighing in satisfaction.

“Enjoy it, Michael,” Gen purred as she sauntered over to the desk, flicking the lamp on with nimble fingers, “that drink in your cup is probably worth more than you are.”

Gen took another sip as she walked to the large bay window, looking outside into the crowded street. Cars were pulled up onto curbs, a few stray pedestrians walking purse-sized dogs down the empty spaces. From the window, the glisten of the Los Angeles skyline could be seen past the crests of overly expensive roofs.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it? Los Angeles, I mean.” Gen said whimsically as her eyes traced the skyline in the distance. She kept her back to Mike as her empty hand reached to her right, delicate fingers tracing the silk curtains hanging carefully down the side of the window. “To think, all of those buildings are home to so many different workplaces and homes and shopping centres and bars that contain people with lives as complex and unique as our own. It is odd how meaningless everything is in the grand scheme of things, how tiny we all are in comparison to the people around us. Whenever things become somewhat overwhelming, or I need to feel connected to the world around me, I like to remind myself that nothing really matters unless you make it matter. It is humbling.”

Gen moved her head slightly so that she could see out of the corner of her eye, noting that Mike was still in the office chair. The smile was gone from her face, a genuine expression of interest and focus on her face. This was all a game. Was she mad at Mike for sleeping with Liv? Absolutely. But the main anger did not sit with him, it didn’t even sit with Liv. It sat within herself, guilt and shame having eaten away at any inhibitions Gen had left.

One more sip of the whiskey on her lips, Gen placed the cup down and reached up to grab both curtains. In one swift moment Gen pulled them closed, her fingers carefully tying the strings closed so that they wouldn’t be blown open. Picking up her glass again, Gen turned to Mike.

“Have you noticed that since you decided to come in here for this little conversation that you are the only one talking about any wrongdoings? I only wished to talk, Michael. The fact that you feel guilt about what happened or the desire to launch yourself into a pool of burning lava is not relevant in this moment.” Gen continued, finally getting to the main event. Nodding to the curtains, Gen smiled warmly. “You said bad bitches break down behind closed doors. I would hate to ruin my little reputation by someone on the street seeing me break down and beg at your mighty feet for forgiveness.”

Gen began to walk towards Mike, her eyes never leaving his. As she got closer, Gen reached around Mike and placed her glass onto the desktop, her hand carefully brushing against his arm as she moved. Still standing over the sitting boy, Gen took the top of the chair and carefully spun Mike around so that he was sitting facing the entrance of the room and normally at the desk. Now standing behind him, Gen’s nails traced the intricate stitching of the leather office chair, lowering herself so that she was just above Mike’s head.

“This is nice, isn’t it? This set was custom made for my parents as payment for a photoshoot they did quite a few years ago. Everything is handmade and the chair itself is made with some of the finest Italian leather on the market. Fitting for a room of such prestige.” Gen explained, her hands falling down the sides of the back of the chair. “This set is a display of influence, of status. Most professionals would kill to have such a set to sit at. Unfortunately, both of my parents hate it. They say that the physical possessions used to flex power is simply an attempt to make yourself seem more in charge than they are. They rarely come in here other than to get books from the shelf. It truly is a shame that no one uses it anymore.”

Lowering herself more so that she was right beside Mike’s face, she looked over to him as her hair fell over her shoulders.

“But of course you would like it, Michael. Anything to make yourself seem big and tough and professional. The obsession with material possessions is a sign of feeling inferior to others in your field. It is a desire to prove your worth, usually because you have a difficult time feeling adequate in comparison to others with similar skills and life experiences.”

Gen moved closer, her hand moving to the desk to brace herself as her other hand left the back of the chair, her cold fingers finding the back of Mike’s neck. Carefully, her fingers danced across his skin as a glint of power sparkled in Gen’s dark eyes.

“But why would you need that? After all, you are clearly so big and tough and powerful already. You don’t feel threatened by anyone, do you? The world was crafted for Michael Reid, laid out like a red carpet at your feet.” Gen giggled, her breath finally making contact with the skin just below Mike’s ear. “Imagine what you could do if the world only gave you a chance. You could be great, you could have the power that you think of while sitting at this desk.”

Gen’s hand continued up the back of Mike’s neck, her fingers tangling in his dark hair.

“Unfortunately, you are just as pathetic and useless as Adriane. You pretend that you’re in control because you crave the power. You act all tough and cool because you know deep down that you’re nothing to anyone.” Gen purred as her teeth carefully scraped the bottom of Mike’s earlobe in a playful nip. Her grasp on Mike’s hair tightened as she slowly began to pull him back so that he was looking up at her. “What a shame. You want to play with the professionals and you’re nothing more than the grunt that sucks off the manager under his desk for a scrap of exposure. What a fucking disappointment you are.”

In one swift movement, Gen shot her hand forward. With a decent amount of force, Mike’s face met the desktop, Gen’s manicured fingers still laced in his hair. Releasing her grasp with trailing fingers down the back of his neck, Gen moved from Mike’s side to around the other side of the table without a worry as to what damage she had caused. Carefully hopping up onto the table, Gen swung her legs over the table. With one foot finding the bottom edge of the chair, she shoved Mike back with a push as the chair swirled around a few times with the movement. By the time Mike steadied himself to look at her, Gen was sitting like a perfect lady on the edge of the desk with crossed legs and crystal glass of whiskey in her hand.

“I have no spare time or energy to waste on you, Michael. The satisfaction you’d receive from me degrading your humiliation-loving ass would only get you off. ” Gen spoke matter-of-factly, her foot tapping the air softly as she grinned at Mike. “But you did say I should come and talk to you in person. So here I am. Run your mouth if you want, pretend that you’re so much better than me if that floats your little boat, but you’re the one who brought me in here. You’re the one who spoke so poorly of themselves. It seems to me that there isn’t anything I could say that you haven’t told yourself anyhow.”

Gen pushed her hair back from her face, taking another sip of the whiskey. Carefully placing the glass down beside her, Gen laced her fingers together in her lap as she looked back to Mike. He was just where she wanted him.

“You were the one who brought me in here, Michael.” She purred, a smirk of victory on her smudged lips. “You’re the one who slinked off from the main party and closed the door to this office. You’re the one who locked it tight. So do tell me, Michael, what are you so eager to say that you don’t feel comfortable expressing in earshot of others? What has got you so fucking worked up that you felt the need to lock the door? What things have you told yourself would happen during this conversation? Will I cry? Will I bow? Will I have some crazy psycho bitch breakdown? Do enlighten me, Michael. You brought me in here to talk, so let’s get to it, shall we?”

º º code by ditto º º
 
♔ MICHAEL REID ♔
"aren't i fucking angelic?"
@reiditandweep has set his status to:
[ Mike Reid is offline ]

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

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

@reiditandweep has mentioned:
N/A.

@reiditandweep has interacted with:
Gen.

@reiditandweep has tagged:
geminiy geminiy

@reiditandweep has written a tl;dr:
Mike engages in a...conversation with Gen.
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁✁
Michael fucking hated dead air. In the absence of motion, in the absence of noise, in the absence of nonsense and confusion, he didn’t ever really know what to do. Call him impatient, irrational, or whatever have you, but he couldn’t fucking take waiting and beating around the bush. It was wholly pointless, and it was tiring, and it was honestly fucking cowardly. If you couldn’t come right out and say the shit that was on your mind, then you needed to get the hell out of this conversation. There was no point in “playing games” or whatever the hell. At least say something. At least move the conversation somewhere. Keep your tongue in your cheek or whatever the hell you had to do.

His eyes studied the girl as he waited for her response, his eyes prodding her to fucking say something, the grin on his face growing toothier the longer that he had to wait.

Finally, she made her way to one of the bookshelves on the wall. “Let’s have a drink, shall we?” she said, her voice dripping sweetness that he knew was a fucking mask.

That was pissing him off, too. Her face smile, the confidence in her motion as if she hadn’t broken down, the way that she moved as if she was still so high and mighty.

She shuffled several things around, and his eyes followed her figure, working his jaw. As her hand retrieved a glass bottle with a dark liquid inside, he let out a huff of air from his now, shaking his head slightly.

Oh, she was really going to try to get him drunk or something? Propose a toast, say “here’s to you fucking my night up, here’s to me acting like it’s alright”?

Well, he could fucking celebrate that, if that was what she was saying.

She made her way to the desk, two glasses in her hand that she’d grabbed from some kinda cart in the corner of the room, and she sat the glasses down and popped open the bottle’s top. “I hope you like whiskey,” she said. “I was gifted this bottle in Paris last winter by a fan while I was in town for a shoot. I like to save it for special occasions.”

Special occasions? What, was he supposed to be flattered by that? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

The girl poured the glasses equally full and held one out for him to take. He glanced up at her face as he took it, giving her a nod as if to thank her.

He held his cup up. “Cheers, yeah?” he asked impishly as she clinked her class against his. He looked at the liquid within his glass for a moment.

Fuck it, bottoms up.

He took a long sip of his drink as she departed from the desk once again, and then he lowered it, clasping it in his left hand as he leaned against the left side of the chair, his face falling into a neutral expression.

Well, if she was going to play the “let’s drag this out as long as fucking possible to assert my so-called dominance and try to scare the shit out of a guy who could literally care fucking less” game, at least he got some liquor out of it. It wasn’t like he was a connoisseur of fine alcohol or anything, but hey, it was liquor, and it didn’t taste like total shit, so that was something.

“Enjoy it, Michael.” She made her way over to the desk, flicking on the lamp. Light flooded the previously-darkened room, and he blinked a moment to let his eyes adjust. “That drink in your cup is probably worth more than you are.”

God, there was nothing more he loved than poor jokes, you know? He fuuuucking loved them.

He took another long drink from his glass, breathing in the scent of the drink, though it burned his nose slightly.

She was standing at the window now, though he didn’t turn to look at her or anything. “It is beautiful, isn’t it? Los Angeles, I mean.”

Beautiful. Sure, this place was fucking beautiful.

What’d they say about this place?

Hollywood: where dreams are made.

Hollywood: where stars are born.

Hollywood: where you go if you’re so fucked that this is your last shot before you die in a ditch with a needle in your arm.

He brought the glass to his lips again, though he didn’t tip it up to drink.

“To think, all of those buildings are home to so many different workplaces and homes and shopping centers and bars that contain people with lives as complex and unique as our own. It is odd how meaningless everything is in the grand scheme of things, how tiny we all are in comparison to the people around us. Whenever things become somewhat overwhelming, or I need to feel connected to the world around me, I like to remind myself that nothing really matters unless you make it matter. It is humbling.”

Humbling, huh?

What, knowing that other people existed was humbling? Knowing that there was world out there besides your own— that was humbling?

He forgot how fucking privileged the girl was. Out of the womb with a silver spoon in her mouth, life served to her on a silver platter by bowing servants and butlers. A whole life of promise out in front of her, and so much money that she could walk on the backs of others without having to look down. So much money that she never had to have her steps falter, that she never had to care, that she never had to look around herself and be aware, because she was rich enough that any holes that she dug could be covered up in seconds flat.

She didn’t know muck. She didn’t know scum. She didn’t know Hell.

Guess that was humbling for her, and who was he to take that away from her, huh? What was he, just some…short, broke bastard who humped the legs of power and hung around like a flea on the back of a dog? Yeah, that seemed like it, didn’t it?

He tipped his glass up, deciding to say “fuck it” and drain it.

It was nice knowing it.

He heard the soft sound of glass against something had, and then there a whoosh and the light from behind him suddenly disappeared, the only light of the room now the yellow light of the lamp on the desk.

He looked at lamp, listening to the noises of movement behind him as he studied it, noticing nothing in particular and thinking nothing in particular as his eyes turned over the steel stand, the eggshell-colored lampshade, and the odd, bent form of it all.

“Have you noticed that since you decided to come in here for this little conversation that you are the only one talking about any wrongdoings?” Her voice was louder now, as if she’d turned from the windows to him, and he looked over at her to see that his assumption was true. The light from the table cast a yellow haze over her front, the small details of her face like the creases beside her nose lightly shadowed. “I only wished to talk, Michael.”

Oh, bullshit.

He knew where this was headed: she was going to try and play it like he was the one who wanted this, like she was the saint, like she was the innocent one in all of this shit.

Yeah, right.

“The fact that you feel guilt about what happened or the desire to launch yourself into a pool of burning lava is not relevant in this moment.”

Sarcasm, bitch. My tongue’s in my cheek. It's called a joke. Look it the fuck up.

She nodded to the curtains, giving him a falsely warm smile. “You said bad bitches break down behind closed doors. I would hate to ruin my little reputation by someone on the street seeing me break down and beg at your mighty feet for forgiveness.”

He watched her, his eyes studying her motions before returning to her eyes. She was approaching him. Her arm reached behind him, then slinked across his arm until she grabbed the top of the chair, turning him to face the door.

She was over his head now. Ha, look at that fucking symbolism, right? Look how fucking clever she thought she was— that she had anything to fucking hold over his head.

“This is nice, isn’t it? This set was custom made for my parents as payment for a photoshoot they did quite a few years ago. Everything is handmade and the chair itself is made with some of the finest Italian leather on the market. Fitting for a room of such prestige. This set is a display of influence, of status. Most professionals would kill to have such a set to sit at. Unfortunately, both of my parents hate it. They say that the physical possessions used to flex power is simply an attempt to make yourself seem more in charge than they are. They rarely come in here other than to get books from the shelf. It truly is a shame that no one uses it anymore.”

Translation: look at how rich I am. Look at how rich I am. Look at how rich I am— c’mon, look, look, look. You really have the fucking balls to stand up to me when I’m so rich? When I’m so powerful? Huh? Do you, bitch boy? Now, go on. Admit that you’re wrong, beg at my feet. C’mon, time’s ticking. C’monnn. Pleeaaaase. I need it to stroke my fucking ego. C’mon.

She moved, and now she was beside his face. He looked over at her, brows low.

“But of course you would like it, Michael. Anything to make yourself seem big and tough and professional. The obsession with material possessions is a sign of feeling inferior to others in your field. It is a desire to prove your worth, usually because you have a difficult time feeling adequate in comparison to others with similar skills and life experiences.”

Oh, we fucking loved that, didn’t we? Oh, we fucking ate that up— people making abrupt fucking assumptions from next to fucking nothing because “oh, shit, doesn’t that make me feel sooo powerful and look sooo cool and doesn’t that hit you sooo hard because it’s sooo totally fucking accurate”?

That was all that tonight fucking was, wasn’t it? People making hasty assumptions of his character. People making hasty assumptions of his status. People making hasty assumptions of his feeling and his thought processes and his future and his motivations and all of that shit, because they were so desperate to prove themselves better than him in any fucking capacity, which meant that they obviously saw him as a threat.

Ha, he should’ve mounted that on his wall, shouldn’t he’ve? Genevieve Johannes is fucking jealous of widdle owd me, uwu, right in Cra-Z-Art markers on some beer box cardboard because that was obviously the best that he could fucking get, stuck onto his cracking, peeling walls with a broken blue thumbtack that he’d found in the dumpster that was bent but, hey, at least worked?

Her cold hands moved from the desk to the back of his neck, and his skin pricked up, his jaw clenching as he tried to ignore the stimulation.

“But why would you need that?” She was right next to his ear, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “After all, you are clearly so big and tough and powerful already. You don’t feel threatened by anyone, do you? The world was crafted for Michael Reid, laid out like a red carpet at your feet.” She forced a giggle, the warm breath at the bottom of his ear making him clench his jaw further. “Imagine what you could do if the world only gave you a chance. You could be great, you could have the power that you think of while sitting at this desk.”

What kind of fucking game did she think she was playing and fucking winning, huh? Uwu, I can make you squirm, so, uwu, bow to me, u-fucking-wu?

Her fingers were in his hair, and he drew in a deep breath.

Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. That’s not what the task at hand is, dickwad.

“Unfortunately, you are just as pathetic and useless as Adriane.” Her breath against his ear followed by its sudden absence left his skin even colder than it had been before. “You pretend that you’re in control because you crave the power. You act all tough and cool because you know deep down that you’re nothing to anyone.” She scraped her teeth against the bottom of his earlobe, and he swallowed.

Shit, shit, shit.

She grasped his hair tightly, and he tried not to wince as she tugged him to look up at her. He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. “What a shame. You want to play with the professionals and you’re nothing more than the grunt that sucks off the manager under his desk for a scrap of exposure. What a fucking disappointment you are.”

In the next instant, before Mike could bite back, she slammed his face into the top of the desk. The collision made him wince, pain shooting through his cheek at the impact before quickly subsiding.

What the fuck was that?!

His body tensed up, his jaw clenching.

He was so fucking angry that he couldn’t even react.

Her fingers moved down is neck and off of his hair, and he rested on the desk for a moment, not raising up and not looking at her as he felt her move away from him.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

He slowly lifted his head up, letting out a long breath.

Fucking calm.

She was trying to play a game or some shit like that.

Who would he be to slam her pretty little face down on the desk in retaliation, huh?

She perched herself on the edge of the table now, and then she reached back and shoved his chair back.

He rolled his eyes, then returned his gaze to her.

Oh, didn’t she just look the fucking picture of perfection, now? Her golden skin, her black hair reflecting the yellow light, the liquid within the glass in her hand a shadow, her slight form shadowing the desk— fucking gorgeous, right? He should fucking surrender it all here, huh?

Oh, yes, Queen, I’ve been a bad fucking boy.

That’s what she expected, huh?

“I have no spare time or energy to waste on you, Michael. The satisfaction you’d receive from me degrading your humiliation-loving ass would only get you off.” She spoke as if she knew what the hell she was saying, as if what she was saying was true, as if that would get him to believe it or agree with it or whatever the hell she wanted him to do. She grinned at him, and he glared back. “But you did say I should come and talk to you in person. So here I am. Run your mouth if you want, pretend that you’re so much better than me if that floats your little boat, but you’re the one who brought me in here. You’re the one who spoke so poorly of themselves. It seems to me that there isn’t anything I could say that you haven’t told yourself anyhow.”

There it was. What did he say? She was going to try to turn this around on him.

Manipulation. Oh, yeah, because that would fucking work. Oh, yeah, convince him that this was his idea, that this was all because of him, because she was so above that, because she would never never stoop so low as to— gasp— fucking want to have a conversation in a room alone with him. It wasn’t like that was her fucking idea or anything— no, nothing of the sort.

Fucking God. She was so predictable that he couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

She took another sip of her drink, placing it down beside her before looking back at him. The look in her face said that she thought that she had him right where she wanted him to be.

“You were the one who brought me in here, Michael.” Her voice was proud— fucking victorious. “You’re the one who slinked off from the main party and closed the door to this office. You’re the one who locked it tight. So do tell me, Michael, what are you so eager to say that you don’t feel comfortable expressing in earshot of others? What has got you so fucking worked up that you felt the need to lock the door? What things have you told yourself would happen during this conversation? Will I cry? Will I bow? Will I have some crazy psycho bitch breakdown? Do enlighten me, Michael. You brought me in here to talk, so let’s get to it, shall we?”

He couldn’t help it— he burst out laughing.

Rich. This was all so fucking rich.

He shook his head, breathing in a deep breath and suddenly calming himself. “Oh, yeah, you’re right, this was my idea,” he laughed, grinning.

He pushed up from the chair, and it rolled back at the weight.

He swaggered a step, putting his full weight onto each floor before he moved onto the next step. “This is what I planned, you know. Thanks for giving me my due credit. See, I knew what was going to happen— you know, I’m a fucking mastermind, right?” He laughed, shaking his head. “This was all that I expected, coming here with you.” He held his arms out from himself, giving a mocking bow and grinning at her. “I wanted you to come here with me because I wanted you to come yell at me for something that I forgot happened until, what, a little while ago? Thirty minutes ago? Ten minutes ago? See, I already forgot— but hell yeah. Oh, shit, yeah, you got me pegged.”

He came to a stop in front of her, looking up into her eyes. What, was this supposed to be intimidating?

“You know me,” he said, lowering his voice. “Michael Reid, player. Michael Reid, deadbeat dad in the making. Michael Reid, the failure you could call from the very start. Michael Reid, the whore you don’t even have to refer to by name for him to stick his dick into you.” He cracked a wide grin, moving closer to her. “Michael Reid, the asshole with no feelings, the one who thinks he’s better than everyone else, the one with an ego so big that it rivals even Genevieve Johannes’, huh?”

He picked up her glass, posing it between his fingers. “I'm predictable,” he commented, looking down and studying the rim. “Boring. Bland. A record on repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat…” He sat the glass down, looking up at Gen. “…repeat,” he finished.

He lifted himself to sit beside her on the desk, trying to mimic her posture despite the discomfort of it. “You know me so, so well. What else can I say? There's nothing else to say, really, right?” He grinned at her. “I’m a dog— I’m a fucking dog. You know what dogs do.”

He barked a laugh, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “They act on instinct. They act on instinct, and all that their instincts tell them is to look out for me, me, me, me, me.” He looked over at Gen again, the warm light casting a dark shadow across the half of his face that wasn’t to it. “They fight for power, fight to be at the top, fuck whatever moves, have such a confidence in themselves no matter how small they are, get jealous so easily, and the worst part?”

He grinned at her. “They don’t even know that they’re fucking dogs. They don't even fucking know.”

He let out another laugh. “Actually, I think that that looks more like you than me, Genevieve. At least I know what the hell I am, but you..” He trialed off, then let out a chuckle. “Miss Perfect.” He looked her over, laughing softly. “What, you’ve got it all, you know. The body, the money, the brains, the venom. Who doesn’t wanna be you, amiright? You’ve got the perfect life, you’ve got nothing to fear— anything you want, you nap your fingers and have. I wanna be you, don’t I? I mean, look at me.” He gestured to himself, scoffing and laughing softly. “I mean, what have I got that can even compare, huh? I mean, there’s no way I have anything that you don’t, you know?”

He laughed. “Oh! Shit! Right, right, right. I forget that sometimes.” He leaned closer to her. “Little old me doesn’t deserve to be graced with your presence, do I?”

He shook his head, standing up. “I didn’t come in here to just sit here and talk with my tongue in my fucking cheek, Genevieve,” he said, finally dropping the act. “I don’t like to fuck around. You want to play me? Con-fucking-gratulations. You failed, but you can at least get a participation trophy, right? You tried, there you go.” He laughed, shaking his head and turning to her. “You said that you had shit to say, and even if you’re trying to play me into saying that this was all my idea, we both know the fucking truth. You can’t get out of this one.”

He leaned closer to her. “Drop the bullshit,” he said in a low voice. “You’ve got shit to say. Now say it.” He leaned to her side, speaking with his lips beside her right ear.

“Tick fucking tock,” he murmured. “Time’s wasting, and I’ve got downtrodden chicks to fuck the shit out of.”

He lowered his voice to a whisper, letting out a soft snicker.

“Chop chop. I haven’t got all night.”
º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:
Cool Kids by Echosmith
Jace West
"Who am I to tell me who I am?"

"Good game."

Was that intentional sarcasm from his new friend, or was Jace just imagining something that simply wasn't there? It was hard to tell when the young guy had a habit of overthinking and overlooking into every little thing that was directed at him. At some point, he'd started to automatically hear needless venom dripping from any words that were directed at him -- Jace didn't necessarily hear anything and just assume that it was uhh... it was like... that it was nice.

Even nice words, he always assumed, had some hidden sharp edge designed to stab into him.

Plus, it hadn't even been a real game -- Jace got hit in the eye and then he lost the ping pong ball and really, there was no way that Callum hadn't meant his words not in some kind of sarcastic manner. And while Jace was piecing together this narration and overthinking of his friend's words, he watched as Callum started drinking the tequila from every. Single. Cup.

"Aren't you uhh... aren't you supposed to umm... like... wait ten minutes or something between shots...?" Jace asked sheepishly. His hand went to the back of his head to rub uncomfortably at the back of his neck. "And I uhh... I'm pretty sure you only need like... umm... four or something to uhh... to get like... drunk. Are you umm... you're not gonna puke or something, right?"

Jace was not in the business of holding back hair while someone lost the contents of their stomach in a bathroom. Nope. He'd stand by his new friend through most anything, but when it came to puking, well, that's where Jace drew the line. He'd peace out of there and take off for his home quicker than Callum's sluggish eyes would be able to blink.

"You wanna go wash your eye?"

He was actually about to part his lips and tell Callum that yes, he'd like to wash the germs and alcohol from his eyeball because who knew what kind of eye diseases he could possibly get from the harsh connection of the filth-ridden ball with his eye? But before Jace's lips could fully part and he could utter out a stumbling explanation that would pretty much just surmise to "yeah, I'd like to," Callum spoke again.

"Dainty... You're real a real fragile kid, Captain Anime."

Well ouch.

Why not just hit him in the eye with another ping pong ball? That probably would've hurt less than the rude words of Callum -- even if those rude words were still the kindest words that Jace had heard. Awkwardly, uncomfortably, he cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes. He kicked absently at the floor. His fingers started to tap against his sides.

He wasn't...

What did that even me?

"I, uh, I... no, I don't need to uhh... need to wash out my eye because I'm not uhh... I'm not dainty." As he spoke, Jace tried to make his voice sound deeper than it naturally was -- because, you know, deeper voices were cooler. And in Jace's mind, he sounded really cool, but in all reality, he sounded like a prepubescent teenager trying desperately to impress those around him.

Was it working?

Absolutely freaking not.

"Do you wanna uhh... wanna get more of the alcohol?" Jace kept up with that horrid sounding voice of his and apparently, he forgot about his previous attempts to use the ping pong table for support as he leaned one hand against it and started to put his weight on it... only to have the table start to buckle under his weight and Jace had to quickly catch himself and put the table back up.

Awkward.

No, no, sorry, just uhh... a uhh... a minor hiccup in the coolness that was Jace B. West.

(And no, the B wasn't for Bitch).
| mentions: N/A | interactions: Callum | tags: hery hery |
º º code by ditto º º
 
Shut Up and Dance | Walk the Moon
Landon Sinclaire
"The Better Sinclaire."


Either his night was getting better or the alcohol was finally kicking in.

It was the latter.

It had to be. Sebastian was decent company, but he could tell that the guy missed his boyfriend and that made him wildly unattractive. Any person that thought Chas Marino was a catch or worth anything had to have something wrong with them. Landon glanced over at Seb and gave a warm smile as he poured the liquor into their cups. Maybe it was daddy issues or his parents didn’t love him enough as a child. Regardless, it was a shame cause Sebastian Osario was fucking beautiful.

But the mission had been accomplished. Chas was surely off on his own pondering all of the various possibilities that could be occurring during this little interaction. And as small as Chas was, it made Landon’s night a little better knowing that Chas was miserable. The way that dude talked about him and his sister, the prick deserved everything he got.

“Hey, have you seen Callum and Oates?”

He shook his as he finished up the drinks. “Did Callum even show?” He said as he handed one to Seb and took a sip of his own. “Doesn’t seem like his kind of thing.” He stated nonchalantly. He took another sip and scanned the crowd. “A lot of angels out there tonight. I don’t know if I could spot them.” He said as he glanced over at the slightly shorter boy. “But at least I got a cute one.” He said with a wink.

“Sebastian”

Like nails on a chalkboard, Landon’s eyes glanced to his intruder. Was it everyone’s goal to ruin his night this evening? Had Evie set this up on purpose or had this all been just cruel fate hellbent on ensuring his night remained shitty? He inhaled a deep breath and took in Adriane’s costume. Catwoman. How cliche and uninspired. Not that he expected much from her. Expecting Adriane Holloway to have an original thought was like expecting pigs to fly.

She looked hot. He’d give her that. You don’t get to become a plastic at Hollywood Arts unless you have a certain look. But slap that costume on anyone with a decent body and it’s nothing special. Just like Adriane Holloway. But he could be cordial. He’d already pissed off Evie once tonight. Or was it twice? He’d lost track at this point.

“Landon,” she purred, “enjoying the party?”

He brought his drink to his lips as he eyed Adriane, a small smirk forming on his lips. “I was.” He said, the pleasant look remained on his face. “And yourself?” He said, noticing the fading bruise on her face. The gift his sister had given her the night of the fair. “Keeping yourself out of trouble? No more cat fights, I hope?” He said with a smirk.


| mood: Meeeeeeeeowwww | mentions: Evie, Chas | interactions: Adriane & Seb | tags: Winona Winona LowkeyLovingLoki LowkeyLovingLoki |
º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: emo hours

OUTFIT: black shorts

LOCATION: the johannes mansion (office)COMMENT]



--------don't type anything after this comment--------



[/COMMENT]
basics
MENTIONS:
n/a

INT:
@Kio.exe (Kane)
natsukashii natsukashii (Corey)
jasmyn jasmyn (Maddie)
gh0stwriter gh0stwriter (Lucky)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Javier Cervantes
Javi ground his teeth as Maddie refuted his ranting and raving, his eyes growing wild with fury and astonishment for the girl who he'd finally broken. It was almost satisfying seeing her lose her cool now that she wasn't acting like they were old chums. It was more of an insult to read her concerned words over DMs, thinking she could play Javi for a fool once more.

Even so, his satisfaction only took him so far when Maddie was standing there in front of him, suddenly claiming he was the fuckup, denying his right to hold this grudge for the rest of time. Javier had made countless stupid mistakes and hurt many people, but never did he lie through his teeth with some horseshit "well-meaning" façade. He glared at the girl with cold, lifeless eyes in a vigorous attempt to veil the hurt and disbelief welling up inside. "It's not the alcohol," he growled with surprising vocal clarity, each word more contemptuous and pronounced than the last, "Maybe you're the asshole."

The curly-haired boy offered no sympathy to his ex-friend as she ran off, staring daggers into her and her date's head. Fuck her tears. And fuck her victim-playing bullshit. Maddie didn't get to be felt sorry for after the way she left him to drown by himself all that time ago. Well, this time Javi was pulling the life preserver and he'd never give it back.

To anyone.

Although he wasn't looking, Corey received just as much time with Javi's evil eye on his back. Javier could do nothing but resent his good guy shtick, especially after it left him wondering what in the hell Maddie saw in him that she didn't in Javi. He began to wonder if her mother knew about him, despite the fact that he was likely just a friend. The two were lucky Javi hadn't noticed their handholding in his state—he was out for emotional blood and, if he was lucky, he could run into Corey out back. Alone.

Javier's chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched the two unwanted guests fade into the crowd. Several moments after they were out of sight, he finally released his scowl, turning his attention to the lump in his throat. He squeezed his tear-stricken eyes shut, the stinging in his eyes doubly painful now that he realized he was starting to cry in front of Kane.

He reached his left hand to his eyes, rubbing them with his knuckle. His knuckle became drenched in the tears just barely contained behind his eyes, and he wiped it on the side of his costume. "FUCKING SHIT!" he shouted hoarsely, ruing the increasing tightness in his throat. Still sitting up on the couch, he turned and punched the cushion as hard as he could, converting his sadness into raw force.

"God damn it..." he whimpered, dropping his shoulders as the adrenaline from his argument began to subside. He averted his gaze from Kane, positive his cheeks were red despite the sparse amount of tears he'd allowed himself to shed. He was no better than Corey, ducking his head and ignoring confrontation at the moment he felt uncomfortable. What a fucking weakling he'd become, letting Maddie sink her hooks into his head all over again.

Because he still fucking cared. After all this time.

Why did I do that... He'd tried to ask himself out loud, but the very unwanted lump in his throat blocked all of the words from leaving his mouth. He didn't want to hurt Maddie. More so, he didn't want her to hurt him. Why did she have to open all this up again? Why couldn't she just go enjoy her party with her stupid Arthur the aardvark boyfriend? God, Javi wanted to punch something, but all of his strength had been sapped by the clouds hanging over his head.

Shaking his head and heaving a sigh, Javi removed his yellow dress, leaving him shirtless and clad in only socks, underwear, and, thankfully, a pair of black athletic shorts. "Fuck this. I'm partying," he muttered, tossing the dress and his keys on a stupefied Kane's lap, "You can go home. I'll get a ride." Kane didn't want to be there in the first place anyway. It was a stupid idea coming with just a friend anyway. And now he'd embarrassed himself in front of goddamn baby Kane Blackmore.

He faced the boy's direction for a few moments, regretting the decision he was about to make, walking away from the one person at this place who promised he could be himself around him. But Javi wasn't ready. He was an overemotional chickenshit, hanging his head like a lost puppy. He waited just one beat more, a part of himself pleading Kane to say something. To tell him not to go, even if everything in his words and language suggested he'd be yelled at for even daring to contradict him. There was no winning.

"See you later, Kane."

With that, the muscled boy turned around and harshly elbowed through the crowd, a dark, intimidating look pasted onto his face as though it was completely at rest. He avoided any looks he may have gotten due to his exposed torso, although being drunk at a party shirtless wasn't the most outlandish thing in the world anyway. He headed upstairs, putting as much distance between himself and everyone else as he could. He'd get to party in time, but first, he had to find the bathroom and make sure his face wasn't red, puffy, and tear-stained like a Sarah Paulson character.

Rather roughly, he pushed open a door down the hall, fingers crossed whatever it was, it had a sink and a mirror. As another symptom of his shitty luck, there was Lucky, seeing off a downtrodden Danny storming out of the room. He looked back at the dark-haired boy as he bumped his shoulder, then forward to Lucky.

"Did you fuck up or was it him?" he queried in a low tone, looking Lucky in the eyes and hoping he'd assume Javier's red eyes were from the pen he'd hit earlier and not the brief spell of crying he'd just endured. The boy in front of him seemed to be out of patience. That was something he could relate to.

He pointed to the bottle of alcohol in Lucky's hand, then requested flatly, "Mind sharing?" Even if it destroyed his stomach, the sobering feeling of fight or flight Maddie had given him would be banished by his swift return to insobriety. With a smirk, he added, "Distract me from wallowing, would ya? Or are you gonna be all serious and shit too?" The hypocrisy was astounding, but all would be forgotten with just a few more sips...
code by valen t.
 
Reader mode
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 3 (members: 0, guests: 3)

Similar threads

Qwertycakes
Realistic or Modern Viva Las Vegas! || Main
big city crime drama
Replies
2
Views
119
.Curious.Nat.
.Curious.Nat.
Arkangel
Fantasy Lightbringer: Embers of Finality
academy closed fantasy
Replies
7
Views
219
Pilgrim59
Pilgrim59
CHUUYAS_HAT
Fandom Walk Without Stars - OPEN
blood fandom fights
Replies
2
Views
53
CHUUYAS_HAT
CHUUYAS_HAT
Morbuskid
Fantasy 1924: New Avion [Open] (IC)
1920s action drama
Replies
0
Views
94
Morbuskid
Morbuskid
The A-Train
Fandom Shin Megami Tensei; Ruins of the Old Gods
action adventure demons
Replies
1
Views
39
GotClanked
GotClanked
Back
Top