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

[Winona]

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

@zeph.evermore has set their status to:
hypeee

@zeph.evermore has interacted with:
Lin

@zeph.evermore has mentioned:
N/A

@zeph.evermore has tagged:
ohdittoh ​

There was a little nervous flutter in the pit of Zeph’s stomach – not because he necessarily thought that anything bad was going to happen on his adventure with Lindsay, but because he was nervous about appearing like… cool. Could he actually keep up with his new friend’s antics and frankly hyperactive attitude? Or would he falter and fall short and then Lin would move onto the next best person who could keep up with him?

Perhaps a little dramatic, but alas.

Per usual of their little friendship (and because Zeph obviously didn’t know the layout of Lin’s home), he trailed after his buddy on their adventure up to… what was it? Serena? Yeah, that’s what her name was – Mitsubishi’s dog sitter.

Zeph remained quiet and off to the side, only offering a small smile and a little polite nod of his head when Serena glanced in his direction.

After all was said and done, Lin was – naturally – already speeding away. Zeph went to take off after him – especially when Lin’s words were sent as a challenge – but Serena’s voice stopped him.

“Make sure Crack Kid doesn’t run into the street again. I know I won’t have to be the one to call his mom this time, but…you don’t want to deal with her.”

Again?

Before he could ask her anything, however, the door was being slammed shut and Zeph was left with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Had Lin run into the street before and… and… and been hit by a car or something at some point? Is that what she was referring to? How did someone do that and then it still be a potential issue of them doing it again? Better yet, who ran into the street?!

But he had… he had promised himself that he would… go with the flow…

So Zeph tried to shove whatever little worries he might have about his friend into the back of his head. Somewhere that he wouldn’t really think too much on them so that he could more on the here and now. And, with a lighthearted grin that was only partially forced, Zeph took off down the stairs after Lin and he even took them two at a time.

Way to live on the edge.

If Zeph was being completely honest, he’d even forgotten about the feather boa and the unicorn hat atop his head in his hastiness to catch up with Lin – that is, until the boa flew up into his face and a feather flew into his mouth and caused Zeph to start choking.

“Yoooo!” Lin called as Zeph came to a stop near him, followed by cheerings of “Egg boy!”

Normally, Zeph may have been a little annoyed by this, but as he hacked up the green feather into his hand and looked into disgust at it, well… naturally, Zeph’s feelings and thoughts were in a completely different place altogether as his lips turned up.
He looked around for a trash can to drop said soggy feather into but saw nothing so instead, he just super inconspicuously and nonchalantly dropped it to the ground beside him. Woooops. They’d never know it was him.

“From here, we head to the dolla store, eh?” Lin asked.

Zeph nodded his head, his breathing still a little labored from the quick departure from Serena’s apartment.

He went to walk out of the gate after Lin, except Lin had let the gate go so it had closed and locked once more. Well. With a slight downturn of his lips, Zeph took to fiddling with the stupid lock until he managed to open it and was able to exit through the gate to meet his buddy.

“Aight, aight, aight— I know the way, just come with meeee,” Lin said happily.

Zeph gave a slight smile and followed after Lin, falling into step beside his super, super cool buddy, but, as they started to walk and cars started to pass, Zeph started to become a little, uhh… self-conscious about the way that the two boys looked. The last thing he needed was a ridiculous picture of him posted somewhere on the internet, dressed as he was.

And then, a brief moment of panic washed over Zeph. He rapidly started patting at his pockets until he hit his wallet, and he let out a small breath of relief. Imagine showing up to the store to buy bubble wands and stuff and having no money. How embarrassing would that’ve been?

He glanced down at Lin before turning his gaze ahead once again. “So…” he cleared his throat while he tried to think of something to say to try and strike conversation between himself and his new friend. Ya know, he probably could’ve said just about anything and the nicknamed Crack Kid would’ve just totally run with it, but that didn’t occur to Zeph.

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

…

He did not.

He did.

Oh fuck.

Zeph cleared his throat again.

“You go to the Dollar Store often?” Again, dumb thing to say and an absolute waste of trying to speak, but alas – one couldn’t take back their words. “Is that where you got all the cool shit in your room – like all the Hotwheels? Bro, do you know how cool it would be if we could like… blow balloons with Hotwheels in them.” Was that cool or just dumb? Zeph was asking for a friend. “Dude we should get some guns – but not like Nerf guns. The ones with the little…” he made a trigger with his finger, trying to think of what they were called. “Ya know, the ones that go pew, pew, pew, or something. Like they got the little round and they go pew.”

Zeph may have been struggling.

And then, it was like a breakthrough. A light bulb went over his head and Zeph dropped his pew pew hand back to his side. “Dude…” he said, his voice a low whisper as the idea hit him. “We should go play paintball sometime. Destroy the competition. Zephlin would be the best paintball team to ever exist out there.”

Kind of.

Zeph was a bit clumsy, believe it or not.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

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

@JaceOfHearts has set their status to:
uhhhh...

@JaceOfHearts has interacted with:
Landon

@JaceOfHearts has mentioned:
N/A

@JaceOfHearts has tagged:
gh0stwriter ​

Jace West was a simple enough guy. After departing from the party, he'd gone home, changed out of his ridiculous pirate outfit, and had prepared to crash in his bed. But instead of sleeping, he'd laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his heart pounding so hard from residue... something or another from the party. Nerves, maybe? Who really knew. Either way, he'd laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

Well, mostly dark. Jace didn't like going outside, but Jace liked the feeling of the outside. So his studio apartment was located on the very end of this particular complex so the entire wall was nothing but windows. Sure, he had curtains that darkened the entire room if he so chose, but Jace hardly ever chose to do that. He liked the sunlight filtering in and, at night such as now, the mixture of moonlight and streetlights that illuminated his otherwise dark home.

He was sure that his love of this had some deep-rooted thing in reminding him of home. His bedroom back in their New York house had been epic. Spacious, with huge windows facing out into their small yard. The walls had been painted a bright yellow (naturally). The entire room had easily been twice the size of his current home, which had provided some issues when deciding what to bring with him.

Jace had to give up his grand piano for a boring old keyboard. Cut down his guitar collection from... uh... look, he'd lost count at around twenty. Jace was a massive hoarder of guitars, and he had pictures of the ones still stuck back in New York on his phone to admire from time to time. Anyway, he'd had to reduce his collection to a single acoustic (one that had special semblance as it was his first guitar) and an electric. His drum set? Also left at home, and there had been no smaller version that Jace was able to fit into the cramped confines of his apartment.

(His parents had told him it was a ridiculous idea to get rid of his couch and tiny table to bring the drums.)

So Jace, in the middle of the night, had climbed out of his bed and taken back to his desk to start working on his music. He flipped on his desk lamp and stared down at the notebook that he'd left strewn out after his conversation with his parents. He stared down at the lyrics scribbled messily across the paper of the song that his mother had told him was absolutely wretched, and a frown pursed his lips together.

Jace ripped the paper out, crumpling it up, and tossed it into the overflowing waste basket beside him.

And he set to work writing a new song.

Now, you would think that with Jace's desk situated against the wall closest to these windows so he cast his gaze to the side and look out, he'd have a better idea of time passing. Especially as the moon fell from the sky and the sun started to rise, casting its golden rays across the land. But Jace didn't budge from his seat at his desk -- he kept scribbling away. His elbow rested on the desk, one hand brushed through his hair with his head leaned against said hand to support himself. His other hand was scribbling notes and doodles, all with Jace trying to come up with something.

His current lyrics and notes and little scribbles made little sense to him, let alone to anyone that might peek at them.

And so, that’s how he remained until his phone buzzed. Jace jumped in his seat, startled out of his deep trance. His eyebrows furrowed together to check who it was from, only to see a text from Landon saying that he’d be there in a few minutes.

Jace blinked at his phone.

He started to come out of the thoughtful reverie that had occupied his time for the last… apparently several hours as he checked the time.

Well, shoot.

Today he actually had a decent excuse to avoid hanging out with Landon, except that Landon’s lack of warning didn’t give Jace a very good chance to, well, tell him no or lace together some elaborate excuse as to why he was unable to hangout.

Granted, he would just give the actual excuse which was “I didn’t sleep at all last night” which wasn’t even an exaggeration or a lie! Not that Landon would probably believe that he wasn’t lying, but that was beside the point.

With a few utterances of… well, not curse words because Jace really wasn’t much of a potty mouth (you say the f-word once in front of your mom and end up with a mouthful of liquid soap while she lectures you and you kind of learn to watch your language), so it was more along the lines of repeatedly whispering a mixture of “fudge” and “shoot” under his breath.

He hopped out of his seat, quickly heading over to his closet and popping over the doors. In record time, Jace had managed to exchange his pajamas (which were hastily tossed back into his disaster of a closet) for a pair of jeans and a sweater that clung to his thin frame and really just showed off how absolutely puny and lanky the boy was.

Jace didn’t really know what else to do with himself until Landon showed up, so he sauntered back over to his desk, collapsing into the chair, and peered out the window at the cars and little people while the rusty gears in his brain groaned and struggled.

His mind was still on the song.

“Rise and shine, West. Your favorite person has returned.” Landon’s voice rang out as he just walked in immediately after knocking.

Why even bother knocking if you were just going to ignore proper door etiquette? Huh? Yeah, that’s what he thought. Just don’t.

“Favorite person is a bit of an overstatement,” Jace mumbled as he turned in his chair (obviously it was one of those fancy spinny ones with the wheels and everything) to watch Landon make his way into the apartment. “My favorite person is Dorian if I had to choose… or myself if that’s an option.” Did he fail to understand that was a joke?

Yep.

Did he return that by trying to make a joke about himself?

Yep.

Because clearly Jace wasn’t even his own favorite person.

“One disgusting, iced caramel macchiato with nonfat milk for you.” He said.

Oh good. Jace wasn’t a huge fan of coffee, but the caffeine this early in the morning was going to be welcomed – especially given the fact that he’d accidentally pulled an all-nighter. So he turned towards the beverage, wrapping both of his hands around the chilled cup, and bringing it up to his lips to take a sip.

It tasted tolerable.

Perfect.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, setting the drink back down beside his work. Jace’s gaze focused back on the notebook in front of him, his shoulders drooping and his posture naturally hunched over and slouching as he scanned the mess of scribbles.

Yep. He still had nothing.

"I’m still trying to get the taste of freezer burn out of my mouth from last night’s hook up.”

“Did you make out with a refrigerator?” Jace asked, one eyebrow tilting up quizzically as he looked back over at Landon for a moment. Look, Jace was mostly joking – there was only a small part of him that truly thought Landon was horny enough to make out with a fridge.

"How've you been, buddy?"

Jace looked away from Landon once more to gaze down at his notebook. “Wretched,” he replied, his voice monotone as he tried to piece together something that sounded decent. “I wrote a song, and uhh… well… my mom, she uhh…” so far, he’d actually done good a lack of stuttering and mumbling – mostly because Jace tended to be better with his words when he was in small settings or with people that he actually liked – but it came back as the stress came on.

“I-I sent her the, uhh… a uhh..” he cleared his throat, his lips pursing together for a moment. “Like a ummm… a demo… thing, and she uhh… she said it ummm… was real bad, so I am… I am…” he tapped the paper in front of him with a finger. “T-trying to wri… write… something that’ll… that’ll… I-I really, really need to uhh…”

His hands gestured around him, as if that would help him speak.

“Stardom,” he stated, as if that would make what he need to do any more obvious. “I need to uh… they’re coming, to the umm… ya know… and I need to uhh… impress them so I can like… get signed and do… do this…” he tapped the notebook again for emphasis, “f-forever…”

He left out that extra little part – that little if I don’t get signed and I fail at this, I will never succeed at anything else because I’m horrible at anything that isn’t music, and even music I’m only decent at, but that wasn’t a thought that needed to be tacked on.

Jace stared blankly down at the paper, and then he turned in his seat to look back at Landon again. “I have a uhh… like a ummm… a uhhh…” his eyebrows creased together, a finger coming up to tap the side of his head as if that would give him what he needed. “Tune… thing… that I’m… I-I think sounds okay, but umm… yeah…”

He cleared his throat.

“W-what about you? How was uhh… the uhh… the movie?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

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

@Fire&Ash has set their status to:
actually good for once

@Fire&Ash has interacted with:
Trevor

@Fire&Ash has mentioned:
N/A

@Fire&Ash has tagged:
ohdittoh ​

Was she always this tense? She didn’t necessarily think that she was – but Ash had a habit of not recognizing little things like that.

But she knew that she never felt this tense around, like, Eli and Gen and Cap, but they were also probably a bad example. They were like… her family. Then again, she usually felt more tense around her actual family – so, again, bad example. But either way, no matter who she was trying to compare this situation to, she knew that she didn’t typically feel this on edge around on other people.

And so, her eyes searched Trevor’s face, her teeth lightly biting into her bottom lip as she waited for some kind of response from him. Look, she’d given him the opportunity to suggest something for them to do, and he’d passed it onto her. Ash was, like, literally the most indecisive person that she knew and he should’ve—

Well, he shouldn’t have known – that was unfair – because he hardly knew her and Ash knew that that was true. He hardly knew her, and she hardly knew him.

Hence why last night’s… everything… hadn’t been something she had expected to happen.

So she relaxed when Trevor agreed to it – again, she’d given him the chance to pick something else, so… really, if he hadn’t wanted to watch a movie, it was on him for refusing to throw any ideas into the ring.

“I’m sure we got some popcorn or somethin’,” he suggested. “I’m a master of the art of microwavin’ popcorn, in fact. They call me Gordon Ramsean. I’m kinda a big deal.”

She let out a small laugh. God, he was weird. “I think I’ll pass today,” she replied. “I, uhh… rough night,” Ash code for I puked – a lot, “and my stomach… like, kinda, uhh… kinda hurts. So I’m just, like, not eating today.” Ash explained.

Ash leaned away from him while he grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

And the whole debacle probably would’ve been a little funny had her head not already hurt from her hangover. She winced, pressing her hands over her ears to try and stop the sound from worsening the pounding in her head, although it did little to help.

Finally, after way too much struggling, Trevor was able to lower the volume and her hands fell away from her ears. The throbbing in her head was still strong, but at least she wasn’t having to listen to the blaring of some dumb knife.

“Technology, amiright?” he said.

Ash glanced back at him from the TV. She just let out another laugh with a slight shake of her head, and then resumed her position against his side.

“TV’s a bitch sometimes, ya get it,” he laughed and passed her the remote, which Ash reluctantly took. “Bah, whatever,” he chuckled softly. “Pick som’n’, an’ I’ll watch it wit’ ya.”

He lowered his arm around her shoulders, and Ash peered down at the buttons of the remote to try and hide the redness that grew faintly in her cheeks. She glanced back over at him as he continued speaking, however, and a faint smile spread across her face.

“We’ll… bond over this.” His eyes met hers, and the faint smile on her face grew slightly. “Ya know… or somethin’ sappy like that.”

“That was very sappy,” she said with a small laugh. Ash leaned over, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before settling back into her spot leaned against him. “Sappy, but sweet.” She added before looking down at the remote once more.

“Are you sure you want me to pick the movie? Like, it’s your birthday.” Ash asked. There was absolutely no way that they had the same taste in movies – Trevor probably liked… like umm… uhh… okay, well, she had absolutely no idea what type of movies he might like, but she highly doubted he was interested in the same type of movies as her. Like, most people in general – or, at least, most guys – weren’t interested in the whole chick flick type of movies, which was exactly what Ash loved watching more than anything. Surprise, surprise.

“Like… if I’m picking, it’s going to be like… The Notebook.” She warned him. “Like, I started watching it last night with…” Ash trailed off and pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth for a moment before she picked back up where she left off. “With Eli,” – only half a lie because she was supposed to watch a movie with him – “and friends,” – also not a lie – “well, like, Jan was supposed to watch with us, but we, uhh… kinda like… like, she was supposed to stay the night, but we got in a fight so Eli made her go home.”

As was proper Ash fashion, she brushed right past this – as she did most things – and spoke in a tone of voice as if it was no big deal. As if getting into a petty argument with your best friend’s… uhh… well, not girlfriend, but Ash wasn’t really sure what to call her – romantic interest? Whatever it was, anyway, as if getting into a petty argument with such a person was no big deal.

“So, The Notebook?” She asked to spin the conversation away from her speaking too much about, like, you know… last night. The unimportant stuff.

So, much easier than her boyfriend had, Ash managed to deftly click through the different menus until she’d pulled it up – and without having to smack the remote. Or, like, you know… pull up a million useless things.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

[

I'm still young, wasting my youth
I'll grow up next summer

M O O D : pissed, but casual.

O U T F I T : his own clothes now

L O C A T I O N : the gym

M E N T I O N S : nate

I N T E R A C T I O N S : gen

T A G S : geminiy

​

Michael really couldn’t catch a fucking break.

He’d been sitting on the couch that he figured had once been yellow (but who fucking knew, because it looked more like it was a dark brown now), scanning the notes that he’d scrawled in pen on one of the crumpled and folded pages of the green, nearly full spiral-bound notebook that he did nearly all of his writing in. His head still kinda ached, but the nap had somewhat helped. He’d texted Nate after he’d woken up, just to find out that he’d had a shitty night, too, so having someone to suffer with him made him feel kind of better. There was also the fact that Nate had agreed to going out to the beach and getting drunk tonight and skipping school tomorrow, so the fact that he had something to look forward to eased it a bit more. The piece of ice that he’d dropped down the back of his shirt to wake himself up had left an odd stain on the middle of the back of his grey t-shirt, but the wet spot was the least of his concerns.

Most of what had gotten Mike to Hollywood Arts and just to the point he was in his life was his unwavering dedication to his craft. The scholarship that he had was highly coveted and competitive, and he knew that hundreds of people would kill for his spot in this program— fuck, he’d gotten a few messages from those threatening to kill for it. He had to be a hard worker to get it— there was no way that he would’ve gotten it otherwise. People liked to discredit him and downplay it, but the fact that he was still here didn’t lie.

Even so, Mike was super fucking late with starting the work on his Arts Fest project.

This year was going by too fucking fast and way too fucking slow, both at the same time. Last thing Mike knew, he was watching last year’s seniors graduate, and then, suddenly, there he was, trying to figure out what the meanings of the half-cursive scribbles on the paper titled Senior Arts Festival Shit were and only managing to piss himself off at his past self’s inability to write a full fucking sentence legibly.

Was it so fucking hard, Mike of two weeks ago? Was it?

All he was getting from this was that he was doing some kind of show with Gen, maybe a photobook of his own, and…sip it? What the fuck was that word?

He let out a long sigh. “So that’s an S,” he mumbled. “Is that a…what the fuck is that?” He tilted the paper, as if a different angle could help him interpret the random squiggle beside the random squiggle. “Is that a fucking R…?”

Fuck it. If he couldn’t read it, it wasn’t important.

With a sigh, he looked at the ancient, dusty clock on the wall above the table his 90s television rested on.

If he headed to the school right now, it was early enough that he could have his whole plan for his solo shit made up and given to his people by the end of the day and still get home at a reasonable time. It would take up his whole fucking free day, but it would be enough to make up for all of the missed time he’d had.

Plan for the day:

1. Go to the school.

2. Do his work shit.

3. Come home eventually.

4. Pick up Nate.

5. Drink the night away.

Sounded like a plan.

He needed a distraction.

He sighed again, standing and tucking the pen he’d been idly tapping against the coffee-stained notebook page behind his ear as he closed his book. Tucking the notebook under his arm, he began to walk back to his room to grab what he needed before he left.

And that was when he had been interrupted by three pounds on his door that he knew could mean literally nothing fucking good.

Bang, bang, bang.

Mike’s body tensed up, and he stopped in his tracks. “The fuck is it now?” he muttered beneath his breath, glancing at the door through the corner of his eye.

Mike knew better than to act like he hadn’t heard the knocks. He’d been living here for over a year now. You think he hadn’t tried that shit before? Last time he did it, the guy dug his crusty masterkey out of his greasy asspocket, slipped it into the banged-up lock, and broke in on his own.

Mumbling curse words beneath his breath, Mike walked to the door, his hand finding the lock and turning it before twisting and pulling the knob.

He leaned his elbow beside the door as he pulled it open, peering up at the figure in his doorway.

The tall, neck-bearded man, with his broad shoulders, protruding stomach, severe underbite, and beady, shit-brown eyes that peered down at Mike through grey, rectangular glasses that were far too small for his ovular face, was dressed in the same, wrinkled, unfitted, disgusting suit as always, though Mike could spot the outline of another odd, yellow-ish stain on the part of the white undershirt that pooched out beneath the brown jacket’s straining buttons. Mike doubted that he’d washed it since the last time that he’d seen him. The man’s greasy brown hair was black with gel and slicked nearly flat on top of his head.

“What are you doing here?” Mike asked, trying not to sound irritated and not caring that he failed. As much as he usually treated adults with respect, this shithead deserved none of it, anyway. “It’s not time for rent.”

“Your ceiling light,” the man said, his nasally, lisped voice grating on Mike’s ears. “Have you fixed it?”

“Which ceiling light, Sid?” He didn’t have time for this shit right now. “You mean, my bathroom light that I complained about to you half a year about?”

Sid’s lips curled into a smile, and the sight of his crooked, yellowed teeth made Mike cringe. “That’s the one.”

Mike sighed a long sigh. “What about it?”

“Have you fixed it?” repeated the large man.

“I mean, why are you asking?” Mike narrowed his eyes at him.

Sid let out a soft chuckle. “I have a tenant who’s considering this room…that’s all.”

The bastard was playing this game again— the old oohhhhh shiiiit, someone else wants this room, so you better fix it and do my job for meeeee routine. It happened all of the fucking time. It was one of those classics— never got old, ya know? Fresh every time.

“Do you?” Mike said.

“Yes,” said the man, though it was obviously a fucking lie, “and they’re offering me more than you’re even—“

“Well, tell them that they can have this piece of shit,” he interrupted. “The landlord can’t even fix the damn utilities like he said in the agreement I signed, it smells like shit and cigarettes all of the time, and the view I get is just a shitty one of the parking lot.”

The man stared at Mike for a second, his smile falling as anger burned in his eyes.

“Well? Why aren’t you calling them?” Mike asked, tapping his palm against the back of his door as a little chop-chop, I have places to be.

“Look,” the man said finally, putting on another smile. “I’ll be back for rent next weekend, because I know that you won’t come to my office to hand it in. By then, please have your light fixed. Thank you.”

With that, he turned on his heel, and Mike watched him walk away.

What a bastard. What did he think he was obtaining? Mike put up with his shitty ass— he obviously didn’t have enough money to make any repairs of any kind. No one really lived in these apartments except for druggies and people down on their luck, and none of those people were vying for these apartments so much that they’d offer to pay enough to warrant the landlord kicking him out or whatever he wanted Mike to assume was going to happen by his vague, terribly-told lie. It was just the fact that Sid trying to get Mike to fix the shit that he agreed to repair for him, then getting pissed when he didn’t or when he bit back.

Sue him, sue him! Actual professional people don’t talk like that was probably what anyone hearing would say, but, if you said that, then you obviously hadn’t been in any situation like the one that Mike was in. He was too poor to sue, or even consider suing, and shitting fucking people took advantage of that fact.

He was just getting more and more pissed off just thinking about it.

Yet another person who thinks that they can walk all over me— who thinks they can make me be what they want me to be and make me do what they want me to do. Someone who thinks I’m fucking putty.

Jesus, fuck, he really could not catch a fucking break, could he?

He slammed his door, untucking the notebook from beneath his arm and staring at the green cover.

Alright, new plan:

1. Go to the school.

2. Lift and shit. Punch some bags. Let it out.

3. Do his work shit.

4. Come home eventually.

5. Pick up Nate.

6. Drink the night away.

There. That was more like it.

Mike tromped back to his room. Grabbing his phone and backpack from his bedroom and shoving the notebook down in one of his bag’s pockets, he sighed deeply. Shoving a few more items into his bag (including an extra pair of clothes), he made his way back up front. After shoving his socked feet in his shoes, he went to the bathroom to check his appearance.

Good enough.

He looked hot all of the time.

He doubted that anyone would be at the school’s gym or in the plastics area, anyway.

Soon enough, he arrived at the school, his clunker clunking as he parked it in a random spot near the gym and wheezing as he shut it off. A quick swipe of his ID, and he was pushing through the back of the building near the gym, hyper-focused on getting to the punching bag.

The first thing that he noticed was the blaring music. It was loud and bass-heavy, and he looked around, confused.

And then he saw her— the last fucking person that he wanted to see.

Yup. What were the fucking odds?

There was Genevieve Johannes, running on the treadmill.

Look at her go.

Mike sighed softly, shooting a glance her way before looking away.

Whatever. She could work out here, he could work out here. There was room for plenty of people. The place was huge. All he had to do was ignore her, and it would be like she wasn’t even here.

He made his way over to the weights near the treadmill, letting out a long sigh.

His eyes caught on hers again as he lifted up, weights in hand.

“Hey, Gen,” he gave casually as he walked away, though his tone was uninterested and grunt-ish, “can I help you?”

MICHAEL K. REID

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

[

TAKE ME TO YOUR BEST FRIEND'S HOUSE
ROLL AROUND THIS ROUNDABOUT, OH YEAH

M O O D : gogogo

O U T F I T : spot the drip lmao

L O C A T I O N : outside

M E N T I O N S : n/a

I N T E R A C T I O N S : zephyyyyy

T A G S : Winona

​

Usually, when Lin traveled, he traveled alone, and he liked to get jiggy with it. He brought his headphones— the green ones with the frog eyes on top sometimes, but also sometimes the pink ones with the frog eyes on top, ‘cuz some days he was feeling really wi-wi-wi-wild luhmao— and he put those on top of his head.

As soon as they were covering his ears, somebody had to come and get ‘im, ‘cuz he was dancin’ like a striiippeeer, luhmao.

He walked a lot of places on the weekends, because he had a figure to keep up, duh. Ya know, he worked out during the week’s study periods, ‘cuz abs were hard for him to get and prolly were easy for him to lose or some shit like that, even though he hadn’t really lost them since he started getting them. He liked looking jacked, luhmao, so he didn’t want to lose them, so he kept working out.

Plus, his manager told him to, but fuck them, luhmao. He wasn’t gonna do anything just ‘cuz they told him to.

Anyway, when he walked, he liked to dance a lot and hop a lot. He had this little game with himself where he would jump from the center of one square to the center of the next one without hitting the cracks.

Did he bet himself? Duh.

Lin fucking owed Lin a solid fifty bucks, too, ess-em-aych.

He needed to pay up soon, ess-em-aych.

His debt was piling up.

Now, though, he wasn’t alone, and he didn’t have his headphones on his head. Instead, he was walking with Zeph, and he had a blue shark hat and three feather boas around his neck, which he was fucking rocking, by the way.

But this also wasn’t just aaaaaany trip to the stoooore—

They were gonna shoplift some shit, luhmao!

Could he get a hell yeah?

Hell yeah!

Thank youuuu, Lin in the back!

He shook his butt a little bit between steps as he walked, avoiding the cracks.

You stepped on the crack and you broke your momma’s back. Duh. Everyone knew that.

And Lin wasn’t a mom-back-breaker, ess-em-aych.

“So…,” came Zeph’s voice from above him, and Lin did a hopscotch-like maneuver in which he hopped onto one foot and then onto two, then onto one foot and then onto two, then onto one foot and then onto two, laughing softly to himself.

“Soooooo…,” Lin mocked, snickering to himself.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” said the taller boy.

Lin looked up at Zeph, his brows knitting in genuine confusion for a moment.

“You go to the dollar store often?”

A grin spread across Lin’s face.

Oh, that poor thing…

Luhmao— it was fucking hilarious.

He really was like a lil’ kid, luhmao.

“Is that where you got all the cool shit in your room— like all the Hot Wheels?” Zeph asked.

“Oh, those things?” Lin asked, flicking his wrist dismissively with a laugh, as if it was no big deal. “Oh, they’re nothing. You should see my actual wheels.” He crossed his arms, then dissolved into laughter. “Luhmaooo, nah. I didn’t get those from the dollar store. The dollar store’s Hot Wheels aren’t real hot wheels. They’re…Lukewarm Wheels, at best, luhmaooo.” He shrugged. “Except, ya know, when you tie ‘em to roman candles and light the fuze.” He grinned. “And then they’re Blazing Wheels, luhmao. That’s the only thing that dollar store Hot Wheels are good for, though, ‘cuz their models look all ugly. The headlights are always stickers, though, so, when I do wanna get one, I get it and just rip off the stickers when I get tired of it and stick them to my forehead. And then I go to the parking lot behind Daniels’ Boutique and whip out the lighter and some fireworks and kablowey, skrr, blam, pop, ya know?” He balled his fists up and then flayed out his fingers, as if his hands were exploding, and he dissolved into laughter.

Lin was much easier to follow without seven hundred pounds of sugar in him, but that didn’t mean that he was easy to follow.

“Bro,” Zeph said, “do you know how cool it would be if we could like…blow balloons with Hot Wheels in them.”

Lin’s eyes lit up at the idea, his grin broadening. He put on his best infomercial voice, lowering the pitch of his voice and holding a fist to his chest, moving his head erratically and choppily. “Hot Wheels? More like Not Wheels— we’re floating, bitches. No wheels necessary.” He heightened his voice, maintaining the posture. “Tee-em!” he sang, and then he dissolved into laughter, dropping his posture and slinking his arms. “I dunno how that would work, but yeahhhh, hella cool!” Lin agreed. “And when you popped them, you gotta just fucking book it— but you could pop them over the people who you hate’s heads and kill two birds with one stone, luhmaooo— you could take ‘em out and get a dopeass car from it, luhmao!”

“Dude.” Lin cocked his head back up at Zeph as his friend started another suggestion. “We should get some guns— but not like Nerf guns. The ones with the little…” He made a trigger with his finger. “Ya know, the ones that go pew, pew, pew, or something. Like they got the little round and they go pew.”

“You mean, you wanna get a fuckin’ glock?” Lin snorted.

Zeph’s face suddenly lit up, as if he’d found the word he was looking for. “Dude…,” he said, voice much lower than it had been. “We should go play paintball sometime. Destroy the competition. Zephlin would be the best paintball team to ever exist out there.”

The mischievous glint sparked again in Lin’s eyes at the suggestion, and he laughed excitedly, broad grin spread across his face. “Bro! Fuck yeah!” He nodded, giving a twirl as he walked. “I’m the fucking paintball master, man. I was at this one school once—“ He didn’t really remember where, luhmao— there were too many. “— and I came, like, riiiiiight before spring break. And I was the seeeeexy new kid, ya know, luhmao.” He tossed his cyan boa back over his shoulder for emphasis, batting his eyelashes with a laugh. “So of course all the girls wanted me, and they invited me along with them for a game of paintball with them on the Tuesday of break. Oh, it was eighth grade, so you know my boss ass self was ready to get that shit on. And, yeah, before you ask, I’ve always been this badass, luhmao.” He wiggled his shoulders, laughing happily. “Anyway, when we got there that day, we got all geared up, and, by the time it was over, I was totally paint free, and they all looked like fucking Da Vinci, except they had both of their ears.” He gave a sure nod, laughing happily. “Like, I had some pink on my ass, but that was an ass shot, ess-em-aych. Doesn’t count. Anyway, they got all salty. Except the girls on my team were all trying to get my number and stuff, luhmaoooo. It was cool. Fucking badass. I wanna do it again, luhmaooo.”

He gave another twirl, looking at Zeph. “No offense, bro, buuuut…I got something to ask you.” He stepped back a bit so he could grab Zeph’s shoulder with his hand and tug him lower, putting his elbow around his neck when he tugged him low. “You don’t get out a lot, do you, luhmao?” he laughed.

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

[

Guess I'm an eyesore, baby
I advise you look away

M O O D : ...welp.

O U T F I T : t-shirt & sweatpants

L O C A T I O N : the apartment

M E N T I O N S : n/a

I N T E R A C T I O N S : ash

T A G S : Winona

​

Trevor wasn’t sappy. He wasn’t squishy. He wasn’t soft and sensitive. He was a, uh…hardened…man of the, uh…streets and should have been viewed as such.

Man of the streets not as in a whore.

Wait, fuck. He was also a whore…

Where was he again?

Oh, right— look.

Sure, he grinned and his ears tinged red at her calling his words sappy, and the kiss on his cheek made his heart kind of beat in his throat, but he wasn’t sappy.

He was simply a victim to his girlfriend’s charm.

Charm?

…Uhm, maybe not charm.

…

Look, she was cute, alright?

…

He was very distracted right now.

(Could you blame him? She was cute.)

“Are you sure you want me to pick the movie?” Ash asked. “Like, it’s your birthday.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure. I mean, I did ask ya,” he chuckled softly.

“Like…if I’m picking, it’s going to be like…The Notebook.” She said it as if it were a warning. “Like, I started watching it last night with…with Eli and friends. Well, like, Jan was supposed to watch with us, but we, uhh…kinda, like…like, she was supposed to stay the night, but we got in a fight, so Eli made her go home.”

He felt like he wasn’t getting the whole story, but…fuck it.

He didn’t need to ruin the moment.

He could feel it teetering on the edge already.

Also, he didn't want to ruin his chances of getting some today.

Shite, you didn't hear that, actually.

“So, The Notebook?” she asked.

He laughed slightly. That was mildly cliche, was it not? Girlfriend makes boyfriend watch The Notebook. He’s reluctant at first, but he grows invested as the movie goes on, and he cries at the end.

Once again, Trevor had to iterate: he was a movie buff. The Notebook was a classic.

So, had he fulfilled his movie buff duties and watched it?

Yes.

…several times.

Don’t judge.

He had only cried the first two times, too, so it wasn’t even as if he were ashamed that he’d watched it.

“The Notebook,” he agreed, trying to play it off casually. “I can go grab ya some tissyas, too, to help ya out.”

He watched her click some random buttons on the remote, mildly impressed that she could navigate the damn thing. Look, it was impressive— it was a feckin’ hard thing to do, trust him.

“You said finish it…so ya haven’t seen it before?” he asked. “Not that I have, either.”

Why had he had to interject that? Not he looked all suspicious.

“Isn’t this…supposed to be some monumental moment in tha female development?” he asked. “Their first viewin’ of tha romantic classic that is 2004’s Tha Notebook starrin’ Ryan Goslin' and Rachel McAdams, produced by Mark Johnson, based off of Nicholas Sparks’ hit 1996 novel?”

He knew a lot of trivia about movies, okay?

Could he add 205 and 98 within a reasonable time frame off of the top of his head?

Perhaps not.

Could he tell you the square root of 64?

What the hell was a square root?

But could he tell you what studio produced an obscure seventies musical about casseroles?

Certainly.

What his brain chose to retain was feckin’ frustrating at points, but hey. At least he knew every celebrity cameo in that one movie that everyone had forgotten about from fifteen years ago.

“I dunno, they always go on about it in tv shows an’ stuff, don’t they?” he continued. “Isn’t it a…rite of passage?” Like yer period, but a movie?

He was trying. Really.

It was just weird and possibly mildly...creepy(?), and he would kick himself if he was hearing this...weird...ass...conversation without being heavily under the influence of his weed as he was. The "charm" he possessed was far from being charm (or being endearing in the slightest) unless both parties were either drunk, high, or both, and, in this case, one party was high while the other was hungover.

But he was trying. He deserved a medal for that.

Yes, this was him trying.

(Hence why most girls only found him even mildly attractive whilst heavily intoxicated.)

“How in tha hell’re ya doin’ that?” he questioned, voice tinged with awe as he chuckled at Ash’s remote-ing abilities. “Am I jus’ a feckin’…grandfather with technology?”

He did not feel emasculated in the slightest.

…

In the slightest.

TREVOR CALLAGHAN

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
...

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
who even cares

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
the local library

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
cole, amy, josie, trevor

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
n/a

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
n/a

Charlie couldn’t sleep. Her head had begun spinning from the exhaustion, her eyelids drooping shut without command. Her bed was an embracing shelter from the world outside her bedroom door that was gnawing at her heels, begging for her attention until the wee hours of the morning. Yet even despite the tiredness and general comfort she felt from the safety of her own room, Charlie’s mind refused to shut off long enough for her to fall asleep.

The events of the party played over and over in her head, flickering on a constant loop on the backs of her eyelids every single time her eyes shuttered closed. Cole’s sad eyes stared back at her from the darkness, the worry about Josie making its home in the pit of her stomach which lurched with every restless flip between the sheets, Trevor’s words echoing in her ears in perfect melody with the deafening silence, the panic about Chas and Seb lurking around every corner in her mind. There was no escape from her own thoughts that refused to cease their endless plaguging.

There were many times throughout the night that Charlie simply sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the bed wondering what she could do to make things all better. The fight with Trevor had been her fault, getting on Josie’s case had been her fault, not being able to comfort Cole had been her fault, the look of raw hurt and rage on Chas’ face was her fault. All of it was her fault. Yet no matter how many hours she spent racking her brain for any sort of solution to the issues she had caused, answers refused to present themselves. Instead, she found herself digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole that there was no escaping from. She was going in circles and coming up short every time, nothing to show for her endless worrying.

Eventually, Charlie had tired of staring at the same four walls of her bedroom and made herself comfortable on the balcony outside, a blanket wrapped around her thin torso. Los Angeles was oddly quiet at 4am, the only people bustling below being drunken party goers in disheveled costumes from Halloween get togethers or workers heading to jobs that began long before the sun rose beyond the skyscrapers. The twinkling of the city lights were slightly dulled as if the city itself was preparing to rest, ignorant to the sun that was eager to crest the sky in just a few short hours.

Charlie kept a close watch on the time ticking away on her phone. 5:10, 5:15, 5:20. Time was crawling slowly by, the city awakening with the sun’s pale glow on the horizon. 6am. Charlie sighed and shoved her phone into the pocket of her sweatpants and brushed some of the blonde hair away from her face. Trevor never got up before sunrise but if for some reason he did, Charlie wanted to be nowhere in sight. He’d made himself more than clear the night before: he didn’t want to see her at all today. Charlie had too much on her mind to fight back on the absurd request so instead, she simply obliged.

Throwing her books and laptop into her backpack, Charlie pulled on a quick outfit and readied herself for a day of studying and working. At least if she was busy she wouldn’t have the chance to think about Trevor and his stupid plans or Josie and her secret birthday bash or the party that was supposed to be happening or Amy getting caught up in the middle of all of the stupid drama. At least if she was busy, Charlie could turn her mind off and forget about the world for a few hours.

Charlie stepped out of her room and faltered a moment, staring down Trevor’s bedroom door as she slung her bag over her shoulder. A pang of emotion ripped through her chest, her eyebrows knitting together as she raised a hand to the doorknob. Part of her wanted to burst through the door and rip a strip off of him. The other more vocal part of her wanted to cry. Instead of doing either, Charlie was stuck with her fingers carefully on the brass knob as she leaned her head forwards to rest against the doorframe. She would only make it worse, that’s all she was good at, it seemed. Charlie closed her eyes, her hand dropping from the doorknob to her side.

“Happy birthday, Trev.” Charlie whispered even though she knew her friend wouldn’t be able to hear her, her forehead leaning against the doorframe as she listened inside the room. The faintest sounds of breathing could be heard through the closed door accompanied by the occasional snore. Well, at least he hadn’t decided to off himself or something.

Pushing on her shoes, Charlie silently exited the apartment and locked the door behind her. Habitually, Charlie checked the time again. 6:16am. She’d be long gone from the building before anyone else was awake, hiding amongst the labyrinth of bookcases at the local library with her nose in her chemistry textbook before anyone else had even contemplated leaving the apartment. Charlie had exactly one goal for the day: avoid everyone and that was exactly what she was going to do.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Elias Johannes

@elithegreat has set their status to:
stay professional, eli

@elithegreat has set their outfit to:
keepin' it casual

@elithegreat has set their location to:
the dance studio

@elithegreat has mentioned:
JJ, Jan

@elithegreat has interacted with:
n/a

@elithegreat has tagged:
sunshineysoul Soap

It was almost funny how often things ended up going the exact opposite way then what was originally planned in Eli’s life. The world had this sick habit of turning things around and slamming them in his face just as things were starting to get good.

The trend had begun when he was young after a rather bad knee injury that had him out of dance for close to six months. It continued on into middle school when he developed his very first crush that actually wanted to get with his friend. Ironically enough, history had repeated itself when he managed to score himself his first girlfriend who, surprise surprise, ditched him for his sister of all people. Then Charlie left just as their careers had begun to take off. Of course they reunited at Hollywood Arts where he promptly fucked everything up and both of them ended up getting hurt.

And now, in the most recent chain of screw-ups, was January fucking Quinten.

Everything had been going so well between the two of them. Eli finally felt Jan opening up to him, finally feeling her trust him the way he had wanted since they first met a month earlier. All the late night phone calls and text messages and glances and chats in the hallway had paid off and Eli had finally mustered up the courage to kiss her. But then, in true Elias Johannes fashion, everything had to go and get fucked up. Jan and Ash had gotten into an argument about who knows what, Eli was too mad to care about the specifics, and that had led to them getting into a fight as well. Instead of falling asleep to stupid movies on Netflix like he had wanted, Eli ended up fighting back and forth with Jan while Javier Cervantes was passed out on the couch he had done up for him and Jan while Ash and Gen were passed out elsewhere in the house.

Needless to say that Eli was not impressed with existence.

Dancing usually would’ve taken that stress right away. The studio was a sacred spot to the boy, a place that was meant only for him and his partners to be creative and to let everything out. It was supposed to be a place of positive energy, a place of comfort and tranquility. Instead, it had turned to a place of worry and anger. Eli was already worried enough about the Winter Arts Festival and not letting JJ down with their dance which he had been working on for weeks without Jan showing up to take photos. But his emotions had to be put aside. He had promised to help Jan with her project and he needed the photos for his work at the new studio. Professionalism had to come first.

Eli had left the house early that morning, stopping only to make breakfast and to check in on Ash and Gen to make sure they were okay. He knew that they had both had particularly rough nights in comparison to his own and if they didn’t both already have plans, Eli would’ve cancelled the meeting with JJ to help his sisters out. Maybe being busy was a good thing for them, it would let them both get their energy out. There would always be time to talk later.

The drive to the studio was peaceful with the windows all the way down and the music pumping carefree through the speakers. Eli had always enjoyed the early mornings, watching the world come alive before him as he anticipated all the good of the day ahead. He had to focus on the positive, there was no time to allow any of the stuff with Jan to interfere with his dancing. Dancing was his future and he’d be damned if anyone was going to get in the way of it.

Having booked the studio for the day, Eli smiled as he found his regular spot entirely empty. The less distractions the better in his opinion, especially when he was going into the day feeling absentminded. Tossing his bag down in the corner of the room, Eli hopped up on a chair to reach the sound system in the corner of the room. Flipping through his Spotify playlists, Eli selected the song that JJ had sent him a few weeks earlier: Breathe by Mako. Turning on the song on low, Eli began prepping the studio for the day ahead, singing along to the lyrics softly as he stretched out his limbs and began to warm up as he waited for JJ and Jan to show up.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Genevieve Johannes

@genjohanne has set their status to:
boys ain't shit

@genjohanne has set their outfit to:
get that gym on

@genjohanne has set their location to:
the school gym

@genjohanne has mentioned:
n/a

@genjohanne has interacted with:
Mike

@genjohanne has tagged:
ohdittoh

The burn in Gen’s muscles were more than welcome, her feet rhythmically finding the treadmill below her as she picked up the speed. The air against her face was calming as her legs began to burn with the incline of the machine, Gen forcing her lungs to steady as she continued her run. Her music was loud enough that it filled the room, the bass in time with her heartbeat and the bounce of her ponytail behind her. The more she ran, the more alive she felt.

For the first time that day, Gen felt normal. Even though she was stiff from the alcohol and her mind foggy from the restless night, Gen finally felt in tune with the world around her. Working out was a rather odd way to find comfort seeing as most people despise the activity but for Gen, her routine was the only stable thing in her life.

Picking up the speed once again, Gen reached back to pull her ponytail up into a bun as her legs worked away underneath her. Eventually, she began to become lost in her thoughts. With the Arts Festival coming up, Gen had a lot of work to do in preparation. Last year’s performance had been enough to get her an external contract with several magazines and runway shows and Gen was always looking for ways to one-up herself. Sure she was certain Mike would lower their ratings ever so slightly but now with Jared on board, Gen had a sort of second-wind about the whole prospect.

Carefully slowing the treadmill down, a person moving in the entryway caught Gen’s eye. Blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes, Gen got a clearer look at the person and immediately dreaded waking up that morning. Oh how lovely. Of all the people in fucking Los Angeles to show up to the school gym it had to be Michael fucking Reid. Just peachy. Perfect. Amazing.

Gen simply ignored him at first, finishing out her run in confidence. If Mike wanted to be there, fine, that was his prerogative. He wasn’t about to ruin a good workout and Gen sure as hell wasn’t going to back down just because he was there. The song on her playlist switched to one of her personal favourites, Deal with It, and a devious smirk appeared on her lips. How ironic that of all the songs on her playlist that that exact song would come on as Mike entered the room.

I don't need a man, I need a puppy
Allergic to you, every time you touch me
Emotional maturity for dummies
I don't have the time to pretend you're funny
I'm back and I'm better
I put that teddy bear you gave me in a blender
I drew a dick on all your sweatshirts

The treadmill stopped and Gen grabbed her water bottle and took a sip just in time for Mike to ask if he ‘could help her’. Gen visibly rolled her eyes with the bottle still to her lips, her breath slowing as she took a minute to shake the burn from her calves.

“Do I look like I need your help? If you’re gonna try to mansplain the gym to me, just fuck off, I’ve got a routine to do.” Gen retorted, pausing a moment to nod to the weights in Mike’s hands. “If anything, it looks like you need the help. Grunt much?”

Walking over to the pullup bar, Gen wiped her palms off on her leggings before stretching out her arms and shoulders. Gen was attempting to decide if she was going to continue ignoring Mike or if she was going to simply go back to doing what she does best: speaking her mind. Fuck it, what was the worst that could happen? He could get mad and snap at her? Boo fucking hoo.

“So, last night.” Gen spoke plainly, hopping up and grabbing the bar overhead. “I’ve gotta say, you were not nearly as good as you made yourself out to be. Handling your anger by fucking me to what? Prove a point? Rather pathetic if you ask me.”

Gen began doing her pullups, ankles linked below her as she raised and lowered herself in time with the music.

“Either way, I’m over it. I’m not about to be hung up about a situation involving a guy who can’t even make a girl finish.” Gen laughed openly, holding one of her ups for a moment before slowly lowering herself again. “So, what’s on the agenda for today, Reid? Are you going to angrily punch some walls or drink your liver into failure again?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: making buds

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: park

basics

MENTIONS:
n/a

INT:
Winona (Damien)
ohdittoh (Felix)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Javier Cervantes

Javi chuckled in response to Felix's assertion about Damien, glancing knowingly at the pill-popping boy. He was funny. Javi had to wonder if he talked a big game ironically or if he somehow meant everything he said and his cool factor just fell... flat. It came as no surprise to hear that Damien had been lying, although he was the least of Javi's worries in terms of deception. Felix unnerved him, and he couldn't exactly pinpoint why.

He laughed out loud—this time without a hint of superficiality—when Felix discounted the prospect of pimping, which he had to admit was one of his first thoughts. What would some filthy rich dickface need a side job for? He furrowed his brows at the idea that their businesses were similar, racking his brain for an explanation that made sense. "Bud"?

Surely he wouldn't involve himself in anything grossly illegal if he was a lobbyist's son. Getting mixed up in drug deals wasn't exactly the brightest idea for a boy not only of apparently vast influence and riches, but an assuredly bright future at Hollywood Arts. If Javi was a rich, talented heir, he'd have ran far away to live out his days partying at a beach villa or something.

His suspicions (albeit strange) were horrifyingly confirmed with Felix's revised introduction, calling him back to their blur of a conversation over the phone the night before. At the very least, his continued implications saved Javier the trouble of scouring through all of last night's texts for some answer. Still a little wary, he didn't immediately reach to shake his hand, instead offering a bewildered cock of the head.

He corrected himself and connected his hand with Felix's, shaking it with a firm grasp. "Then Sal-u-tations, Mr. Emm," he greeted easily with a sly wink, his other hand nestled in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“I’m your competition. It’s nice ta meetcha.”

Javier's cordial smile was just barely able to keep itself together as he suppressed his screaming frustration within. He squeezed Felix's hand with blistering power, causing a vein on his hand to pop out. His eyes darted between the two boys in front of him as they came together and, for a second, he started going through scenarios explaining how he might be royally screwed by this revelation. Damien seemed too dumb to work together with anyone, leading Javi to realize he really needed to stop randomly speculating.

"Color me impressed. You'd make a great spy or some shit," he stated, releasing his hand, "With all the deception and shit." This guy totally has the primo cartel goods the foreign governments probably distributed or something. Javi's own products were high quality in their own respects, but his sources weren't very... high caliber. Felix, on the other hand, could totally have a hit called on him in seconds. He didn't get his hands dirty. It was a fitting characteristic for this new Hollywood environment, but it pissed Javi off all the same.

"It's a big city, my friend. I mean no harm to your dealings." He raised a finger before either could reply. "But I'm no Palmer. I don't believe in lanes; it's just the business world we live in." The muscular boy flashed a cocky grin, tilting his head to the side. "Things change."

This little dickhead wasn't going to tell Javi what to do or how to conduct his business. It was his livelihood; what did this punk know? Damien's poorly-timed uselessness made it vastly more apparent how bizarre this population was if he was going to be considered one of the "bad boys" in any capacity. At least it beat nearly being shanked by guys from his old neighborhood for selling on the corner.

"Business good? No trouble? I bet you make a killing selling coke to the hot blondies from their convertibles. The Mafia Ken doll look suits the trade." Felix did look unnaturally put together, but Javi had to expect this if he was going to be attending school with a bunch of rich aspiring celebrities. "No wonder Slater here's your pal. You buy off him too?" he asked, turning his attention to the aforementioned pill popper.

code by valen t.

 

[ohdittoh]

[

I'm still young, wasting my youth
I'll grow up next summer

M O O D : rebuilding a slightly scorched bridge
(my mood while writing it: click)

O U T F I T : his own clothes now

L O C A T I O N : the ha gym

M E N T I O N S : n/a

I N T E R A C T I O N S : gen

T A G S : geminiy

​

What a fucking bitch.

Mike rolled his eyes at her bullshit, walking away to one of the benches with a weight in each hand. “How’d ya know I was gonna do that? I mean, I know misogyny is so on-brand for me, but I’d think you had some kind of psychic powers,” he drawled sarcastically, voice just as much of a grunt as it had been before, though it wasn’t due to the weights in his hand, as she so thought it to be. He let out a soft chuckle as he dropped onto the maroon leather. He grabbed the shoulders of his shirt, then retracted his arms into it, whipping it off in a singular motion and tossing it to his side. “Damn near impressive, Genevieve.”

As silence fell between the two, Mike sighed a deep breath and lifted the weights, standing to do bicep curls.

The air was fucking tense. They were holding two ends of a rope and tugging it two separate ways, pulling it tightly so that there was no slack at all.

He didn’t fucking care. Last time he cut the rope, they ended up with whatever the fuck last night was.

He heard footsteps, but he didn’t look around to see where the other person in the room was headed. It wasn’t like acknowledging her presence was a good idea in the first place; acknowledging it any more than he already had was an even worse idea.

His biceps burned, and he glanced down to watch the flexing of his muscles as he worked his arms.

The voice from the pull-up bars broke the silence with the worst fucking words that could have been said:

“So, last night.”

Fucking shit.

He knew that Gen had little resolve, but fucking come on. This is why they couldn’t have nice things.

Could she not have let the silence go on a bit longer? He was relishing in the tense silence. It was getting him all nice and excited, and she really had to go and squander it.

He looked up, his eyes focusing on some spot in front of himself, his face steady and neutral. He tried to focus on counting his curls.

Thirty…thirty-one…

“I’ve gotta say, you were not nearly as good as you made yourself out to be,” Gen said. “Handling your anger by fucking me to what? Prove a point? Rather pathetic, if you ask me.”

Yeah, but no one fucking asked you.

“Either way, I’m over it.” Obviously, she was bringing it up, so she wasn’t, but okay. “I’m not about to be hung up about a situation involving a guy who can’t even make a girl finish,” she laughed.

It was a different tune than she was singing last night, but, ya know, there was nothing quite like a girl who had breathed and moaned your name countless times the night before changing her mind and denying it after the fact to show some spite. It was like a little reward. A way to tell him that he’d done a good job, ya know— the bitch he fucked telling him that he fucking sucked because she didn’t want to admit that he’d made her feel better than she had in the past who-knew-how-long.

Fuck yeah, belittle me.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today, Reid?” Gen continued, in spite of her better interest. “Are you going to angrily punch some walls or drink your liver into failure again?”

Mike was silent for a moment. He’d fucking lost count of his curls, damn it. He slowed his curling for a moment, trying to remember where he’d left off.

Fuck it.

He lowered his weights with a long sigh, beginning to walk back over to the rack to clean them off, wiping his sweat on his forearm. After storing the weights on their rack, he went to the blue water canister and grabbed one of the Dixie cups from beside it, filling it up and draining it several times, his eyes focusing on a random benchpress in the distance

He could feel her waiting for an answer.

She’d just have to fucking wait.

With a eah of relief, he finished his…what, seventh refill or something like that? He sat the cup onto one of the tables beside the water station and made his way over to the towels, breathing slightly labored. (Yeah, the cup was disposable, but it was fucking wasteful to toss it away if he was just going to use it again.)

Patting his face with the towel before slinging it over his shoulders, Mike headed over to grab himself some of the red gloves hanging near the array of hanging orange bags.

As he walked past Gen again, he made eye contact with her.

He chuckled to himself, finally answering her question.

“Oh, ya know, it’s the usual,” he said casually. “I’m going to work my unimpressive muscles on all of the equipment in here, and then I’m going to head into the department and spend a couple of hours working on my monologue of how Genevieve Johannes is queen of all— oh, but only after I cry over the fact that my arts project is going to pale in comparison to hers. You know how it goes, babe.” He punched his red-gloved hands together, cocking a cheeky, momentary grin at her. “Gotta do my best to impress the people who haven’t realized I’m a little bitch yet.”

He approached one of the bags, and he got his stance.

Let it all out.

“Ya know,” he started, throwing a punch at the bag, “if you want to be a bitch about it, be my guest.” He let out a soft huh as he delivered a hard strike to the bag. He paused a long moment, punching. “I’m not here to be fucking passive-aggressive or even aggressive about it all. It’s a big waste of our time.” He continued to punch the bag as he spoke, his breathing and words becoming a bit stressed at his punches, odd words emphasized by the effort. There was another punch-filled pause. “A bigger waste of yours, frankly, since your words kinda fall on deaf ears.” He took a moment of pause to grab the sides of the bag and steady it again before giving it another hard strike. Another few beats as he laid on the orange bag. “I don’t hate you or anything, babe.” He delivered a big blow to the bag that sent it rattling backward on its chain, taking a few instants to pelt more punches at it. “In spite of whatever projection you’re doing, I really don’t hate you.” He wiped his brow with the back of his glove, sighed softly, and then continued his punching. “You’re a bitch, but I’ve known that. Hell, that’s part of why we get along. Like I said, I didn’t do shit against you. You might’ve taken it that way, but I didn’t do anything against you.”

It was fucking true.

Was she a total, demeaning, presumptuous bitch? Yeah. Had he resolved never to sleep with her? Yeah. Had he fucking slept with her? Yeah. Did he fucking regret it? Yeah.

Did he hate her? Only kind of, but not really.

“Fuck it, I hold grudges,” he said, his heavy breathing making the words a bit more breathy than usual. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he blinked it away. “We all fucking know that much. But that’s only when they deserve it, and, like I said, you’re a bitch, but that’s not a crime. If it was, everyone here would be fucking jailed.”

He ceased his punching, looking at the bag, his arms, eyes, and shoulders burning as he lowered his stance, panting and sweating profusely.

He did fucking feel better, actually.

He was just laying it all out there, just being fucking blunt. Just being fucking honest. His anger was pretty much out on that bag, and now…

Fuck, it all looked pretty fucking small.

What the hell was he doing, anyway? What the hell was this?

Dumb shit.

He shook his head at himself. Yeah.

He turned to look at Gen now, putting his hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. “Look, we were both drunk, you were in distress, I get it. You took what I did wrong, and that’s fine. I mean, fuck you for saying all that shit you did, but it’s not like that’s not shit that I haven’t heard before.” He began to remove his gloves, slowly walking over to where Gen was, a slow grin coming across his face. He leaned his elbow against the side of one of the ellipticals as he tied the gloves back together and draped them over his shoulder.

The gloves were coming off.

“I’ll be blunt with ya, babe,” he said. “At the end of the day, we both fucked up. We were each other’s mistakes, ya know. And what can ya do about it? What can I do about it? Not shit, babe.” He gave a shrug. “You and I’ve been good friends since…what, sophomore year? Known each other since freshman? Are we really gonna let that petty fuck ruin us— when it wasn’t even that bad of a time?” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t consider this an apology or anything. I’m not sorry for what happened. But, like I said, it wasn’t shit against you, and I don’t want you to take it that way, either.” He cocked a grin at her. “Besides, we’re kind of stuck with each other, aren’t we? Might as well build a fucking bridge and get over it, huh?”

He pushed off of the elliptical, making his way back over to the water. “Today, I’ve got work to do on my solo project, but, ya know, come to think of it, I need to work on that project you and I’ve got, too— ya know, the one that you invited Jared to join in on? Yeah, that one.” He filled up a cup of water, then drained it, looking back at Gen with his trademark grin on his face. He pulled another cup off of the stack, and he filled that one up, as well as his own. "So, here's my proposition: you and me..." He turned around, grinning at her, one cup in each hand. "We act like nothing ever happened last night. Kiss and make up, ya know. If we wanna forget it, then why not forget it, huh?"

He walked back up to Gen, grin broadening on his face. “There ya are, babe," he said, offering one of the cups to her. "Now...let’s have a toast.” He lifted his cup of water. “To having sudden amnesia regarding last night's fuck ups, and to making this Arts Fest kick ass, huh?”

MICHAEL K. REID

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

[

i sold some tickets to come see my downfall
it sold out in minutes, i saw friends in the front row

M O O D : greetin' and meetin'

O U T F I T : casual (you could call it business casual. get it? ...i'll see myself out.)

L O C A T I O N : a (insert sparkles emoji) park (insert sparkles emoji)

M E N T I O N S : n/a

I N T E R A C T I O N S : slater, javi

T A G S : Winona hery

​

Alrighty, just to be clear, Felix had never killed a guy.

Felix chuckled confusedly at Damien’s motion, blinkin’ at his companion.

Ben Palmer? Was he talkin’ about the guy who used to drive the ice cream truck in his neighborhood? The one who everyone called Benny Wonder because of the fact that he never took off his sunglasses or somethin’ like that? The one who got arrested for armed robbery of a shoe factory or somethin’ along those lines?

Yeah, no, as far as he knew, he’d never dealt in anythin’ like the same business as Felix was in. Besides, Felix was…what, thirteen? Fourteen? Somethin’ like that. He couldn’t’ve taken that dude out. He didn’t have the capacity to at that time—

Nor did he have it now, either. Ya know, that wasn’t his style. Peaceful coexistence was the way to go. There was room for everyone, as long as everyone did kinda stay in their own space, ya feel?

He looked to Javier, shakin' his head slightly, his crooked grin in the same spot as always and shinin' just as broadly as ever.

The grip on his hand was freakin’ iron, and Felix chuckled. Was he tryin’ to break his hand or somethin’?

Felix was tougher than that. Javi would have to try a bit harder than that if he wanted to do any kind of intimidatin'.

“Color me impressed,” said Javi, finally releasin’ his hand. “You’d make a great spy or some shit, with all that deception and shit.”

This guy said shit a lot. Did he need a shovel for all of it or somethin’?

“It’s a big city, my friend. I mean no harm to your dealings.”

Felix opened his mouth to respond, but Javi held up a finger before he could speak.

“But I’m no Palmer. I don’t believe in lanes; it’s just the business world we live in.” Javi flashed a cheeky grin. “Things change.”

Felix chuckled, shakin’ his slightly. This was all fine. He’d have time to learn, and he’d figure it out. “Look, bud,” Felix said, givin' him a nod, “you and me are on equal levels. I’m all for the free market, man! That's what I like to keep, ya know, everyone around here aware of. Free business, ya know, and you're free to go about and get whoever you want, but, ya know..." He shook his head, chucklin'. "Pretty much, I’ve got my people, and you’ve got yours, and, as long as you understand that, we're good, great, grand, amazin', fantabulous, splendorous, and everythin' in between, bud, ya feel me?" He reached out to pat Javi on the shoulder. "That’s all I’m sayin’.” His bright grin shone at him.

“Slater was just kiddin’ ‘bout Palmer, by the way,” he clarified with a chuckle. “I’m not one for threatenin' or...well, ya know, takin' people out. At least, not in that way, ha!" He shook his head. "You can take this any way ya want to, but this isn't a threat." He put a hand to his chin. "Maybe a warnin'?" He looked up, thinkin' for a moment before lookin' back at Javi with a sure nod. "Yeah, I'd say, probably a warnin', but..." He chuckled. "Ya know, not a threat, and there’s no deception here, either." He held his palm out in front of his chest, gesturin' to his body with a laugh. "This is who I am, bud! Ya get what ya see, as they see.” He gave him a soft chuckle. “You can take it or leave it, ya know?”

Javier spoke again. “Business good? No trouble? I bet you make a killing selling coke to the hot blondies from their convertibles. The Mafia Ken doll look suits the trade.”

Felix let out a light laugh, shakin’ his head again. This guy was really funny.

“I’ve got quite a…le’s see, wide range of clientele, I guess,” Felix said, “but you flatter me with your assessments, bud. Mafia Ken doll is a new one.” He chuckled, shakin’ his head again. “Are we talkin’ Godfather mob boss type more, or are you talkin’ the mafia from those weird crime shows, where they’ve got two brain cells between all of the members? Or am I tending more towards the Ken doll part of it?” Laughin’ lightly, he shook his head. “Kiddin’,” he added.

“No wonder Slater here’s your pal,” Javi continued, turnin’ to look at Slater. “You buy off him, too?”

Felix glanced over at Slater, and then back at Javi. “We’re not friends just ‘cuz of the drugs,” Felix said, chucklin’, ‘cuz he had to add that before Slater gave any answer of any kind.

Lookin’ back to Slater, Felix awaited his friend’s answer with a burnin’ curiosity as to what his answer was going to be.

felix rian emmerson

º º code by ditto º º

 

[sunshineysoul]

danielle howard

@beautyandthebeat has set their status to:
friendship !!!

@beautyandthebeat has set their outfit to:
hungOVER

@beautyandthebeat has set their location to:
bedroom

@beautyandthebeat has mentioned:
cole, charlie

@beautyandthebeat has interacted with:
kelli

@beautyandthebeat has tagged:
ohdittoh

@beautyandthebeat has written a tl;dr:
bondingggg

dani found herself giggling at kelli's little gestures, noticing her different quirks. she was such a bright and bubbly person, she reminded dani of a human incarnate of cotton candy or glitter or rainbows, or anything else stereotypically happy.

a lot of people might think that's tooth-rottening sweet, that kelli was just simply to peppy and happy, but not dani. see dani used to be like that, before the bullies and the hospitals, dani used to be a bubbly, outgoing, life-loving kid. somewhere along the path of life, dani lost the sparkle of life that radiated from kelli.

but, just being around kelli for a solid two seconds, dani felt genuinely happy. crazy right ? she just spent the night before and the morning slightly hating everything, regretting a one night stand, and wishing she never touched a cup of alcohol. and yet, a few hours later, enter kelli, and dani feels a twinge of real happiness.

these were the kind of friends dani wanted to make at HA. she knew that cole and charlie had told her that HA would chew her up and spit her out if she wasn't careful, but how bad could it be? they were making it through just fine, and now dani had successfully made a friend, all on her own. a very GOOD friend who was also a DANCER, so take that cole and charlie.

kelli's hand found dani's shoulder at the mention of her mom. she shot the brunette a big smile,

"yea, exactly! everything's going great!" another giggle went into the space as kelli described her "psychic guts of steel"

soon the giggles stopped, dani's face being frozen in confusion, and kelli asked about guidelines and rules and whatnot for the arts festival.

and the answer was

that dani didn't have a clue

"hm," she hummed, unfreezing to tap her pointer finger on her chin, she would've fidgeted with a pencil and tapped that on her chin, but her finger would have to do; as cheesy as it sounded. "you know, we really should've asked someone who isn't new to help us out on this" dani let out a small laugh before spinning her chair around to her desk, where her laptop sat.

"however, i've been looking at some really cool dance videos, and i bet there are a lot of cool moves that we could pull from this to make into some kind of routine, even if we don't perform together." dani's eyes widened as she realized there was an incredibly vital question she failed to ask kelli

"wait, i completely forgot- what style of dance do you do? because, i'm more contemporary slash hip-hop, but i heard there are a handful of ballet dancers as well; so which type of dance are you?"

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

[

oh, ain't it lovely, ain't it sweet
to be staring at my feet, when i see you on the street

M O O D : friends!

O U T F I T : cute

L O C A T I O N : dani's (and cole's) apartment

M E N T I O N S : oates, ronnie, cole

I N T E R A C T I O N S : dani

T A G S : sunshineysoul

​

Dani’s eyes read stumped-ness at Kelli’s question, and she felt her cheeks heat up slightly. “Sorry, I guess you’re in the same boat as me,” Kelli giggled in her soft voice, twirling the ring on her pinky.

“Hm,” Dani started, tapping her finger on her chin. “You know, we really should’ve asked someone who isn’t new to help us out on this.”

“Right?” Kelli laughed, shaking her head. “Oops…I didn’t even think of that.” She kicked her feet slightly, giggling in mild embarrassment. “Uhm, yeah, that would have been a good idea.”

Asking Dani to help and expecting her to know everything when she was even never than Kelli was was a pretty dumb thing to do…frick.

“However,” Dani’s voice came again, and Kelli turned her head toward her company, “I’ve been looking at some really cool dance videos, and I bet there are a lot of cool moves that we could pull from this to make into some kind of routine, even if we didn’t perform together.”

“Oooh,” Kelli said, her brows raising as she nodded.

Dani was so smart.

Kelli watched a lot of dance vids on her free time, too. So You Think You Can Dance? performances were the bomb-dot-com when it came to getting her inspired, but the moves she tried to steal were always ones that took more flexibility than she had, or more stability than she had, or…well, they were just too hard for her.

She bet that Dani could get some dopebutt moves for a brand spanking new routine from some vids, and Kelli could at least get some kind of idea of what to do, if nothing else.

Dani’s eyes widened. “Wait, I completely forgot— what style of dance do you do? Because I’m more contemporary slash hip-hop, but I heard that there are a handful of ballet dancers as well; so which type of dancer are you?”

“Oh!” Kelli gasped. She couldn’t believe that she’d forgotten. “Oh, right!” She laughed, kind of embarrassed, the pink on her cheeks spreading a bit further toward her nose. “Sorry, right.” She tapped her feet against the ground, twirling her pinky ring. “I’m, uhm…well…” Why was she struggling to speak? It was just a simple question. “I, uh…do dance,” she giggled, and then she realized that that was a kind of duh thing. She knocked her palm against her forehead with a laugh. “Duh, Kelli, right?” she scoffed at herself lightheartedly, her blush darkening as she dropped her hand. “Oh, but, uh, like, by that, I mean that I dance, kind of in general. I mostly do contemporary, though, and hip-hop. I did some ballet, too, but that was when I was itty bitty. I like more modern dance, definitely. It’s just, uhm…what’s the word…freer?” She cocked her head, looking up as she tried to determine if that was, in fact, the right word. She shook her head, smiling and giggling. “I’m…well, I just feel like there’s less restrictions and stuff. I got fussed at about my form a lot when I did ballet, and Oates kind of tried to help, but we were both not very good at it. Like, he was amazing, and he danced beautifully— so much better than me, because, I mean, it was effing gorg, and hella smooth and…just…dope— but our teacher didn’t like his, uh…technique or whatever when we did that kind of dancing, and I was like…’I can’t ever be that good!’” Kelli laughed. “Like, ‘if he’s that amazing at it, and I’m just…’” She stuck her tongue out, squeezing her eyes together. “‘Blegh at it, but he still gets chewed out, then…how can I be satisfied with my dancing?’” She smiled, laughing softly. “And she didn’t like mine either, so I kind of moved from ballet and classical dance to modern, and that’s…” She held her palm flat out and face down in front of her, wobbling it back and forth slightly in a so-so motion. “…more or less where I sit today.” She laughed softly, dropping her hand.

Oh wow, she had said a lot. She was talking too much again.

She giggled softly. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking down, her face heating up again. “I just mean, like…yeah, that’s what I do.” She shook her head, twirling the ring on her pinky.

How embarrassing.

With a soft laugh, she looked up at Dani, smiling softly. “So it looks like we’re kinda in the same vein— two red blood cells in the same aorta.” She laughed quietly, and then her smile faltered. “Sorry, that was weird,” she said quickly after realizing what she’d just said. She shook her head. “Uhm, so you said you had some videos? We could watch those? And, uh…” She gave a soft laugh. “I’m not exactly sure what we do, but I think that we…just…make our own routine and do it for the festival? I think that that was, uhm, what Ronnie said.” She touched at her sticker-ed phone in her pocket as she gasped softly. “Oh, I could call Ronnie if we needed help! She knows all of her stuff!” she suggested, but then she realized that that would probably be using up Ronnie’s work time, and she didn’t want to take that up. She looked down, stumped for a moment with her suggestions. “Or— oh, your brother? Do you think that he would know? I mean, I know that he’s music, but…maybe? I…I dunno,” Kelli laughed quietly. “We can just, uh…wing it, maybe? I think we can, uh, figure it out.”

Yeah! She was sure that they could.

(Or that, like, Dani could, and Kelli could support her in it.)

kellian phelan

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Genevieve Johannes

@genjohanne has set their status to:
this may hurt a bit...

@genjohanne has set their outfit to:
casual vibes

@genjohanne has set their location to:
Location

@genjohanne has mentioned:
n/a

@genjohanne has interacted with:
Mike

@genjohanne has tagged:
ohdittoh

Gen wasn’t surprised that Mike had once again begun ranting and raving though his tone was different, likely due to the expenditure of energy through the kettlebells in his hands. In fact, it was exactly what she had been wanting. Sure, toying with the boy was a great deal of fun but there had to be a time where some level of seriousness was passed between the two. He had expressed zero interest in opening himself up and actually speaking his mind originally but now, listening to him talk in pure frustration, Gen realised that she had pushed him just far enough to see behind the curtains.

Releasing her grip from the pullup bar overhead, Gen bounced on her toes slightly as she landed gracefully on the ground.

“Unimpressive?” Gen questioned under her breath as she laced her fingers together to stretch them out. “Who said that?”

Gen continued on with her routine completely unphased by the words steadily falling from Mike’s mouth. For once, Gen didn’t talk. Instead, she simply listened. Mike was an insufferable ass, everyone at Hollywood Arts knew that, but Gen could only assume that few chose to listen closely enough to hear the meaning behind his words. If he had simply wanted to insult her, he would have. There was enough ammunition against Genevieve to destroy her if he really wanted to. That only left a singular question to be posed: if he could ruin her, why didn’t he?

That question had gone unanswered for a long time. In her years of friendship with Mike, Gen never quite understood him. For a woman who prided herself in getting in the heads of her friends and enemies alike, Mike had always been a difficult person to read. There were too many layers of carefully placed assholery surrounding his innermost thoughts, too many defense mechanisms to keep her out. That was, perhaps, one of the reasons Gen enjoyed his company. He was impossible to understand and fuck, he absolutely infuriated her sometimes, but Gen saw something in him that was amusing. Yet hearing him talk as he wailed on the punching bag, Gen found herself the answer. Mike was a jerk, yes, be he seemed to actually care. In fact, in his ramblings, there was almost an apology.

Mike finished speaking, raising a cup of water for a toast to working together, and Gen couldn’t help but genuinely smile. Not her shit-eating ‘I’ve-got-you-cornered’ smirk or her half-assed ‘fuck off’ smile. No, it was a genuine smile. Standing up, Gen bypassed the cup and placed her hand on Mike’s arm, tilting her head slightly to one side.

“Now, was that so hard to say? Maybe if you had said this last night we could have actually enjoyed ourselves.” Gen said genuinely, patting Mike’s bicep with her fingertips before grabbing her bottle of water from beside her and downing its contents. “You know, you were right about what you said. I am a bitch and yeah, I hold grudges like nobody’s business. I don’t forgive you for what you did with Liv but you do have a point. We were technically broken up, you technically had every right to do what you did. I am, truthfully, more upset with her than you. But as you said: what can we do about it?”

Gen pulled the green cropped hoodie off her torso and used part of it to wipe the glistening sweat off her forehead before chucking it onto her gym bag in the corner of the room. Turning back to Mike, Gen placed her hands on her hips, the smile still on her face as she laughed softly.

“You know, Mike, we’re an odd pair.” Gen spoke plainly as she rifled through her bag in search for her smoothie stored somewhere within its depths. “You’re right, we’ve been friends for a fucking long time, yet I cannot understand why. I mean, we fight more often than not, and most of our friendship is based around me calling you a dick and you calling me a bitch. Not exactly the healthiest type of companionship we’ve got going on here, yet somehow it works. Here we are, two years later, still at each other's throats.”

Her hand found the smoothie bottle and freed it from the bottom of her bag along with a clean tee shirt which she flung loosely over her shoulder. Twisting the top off the bottle, Gen took a few sips and placed it down on the bench beside her.

“Maybe it’s because we’re far more alike than either one of us would like to admit. Maybe that’s why we’re still doing whatever the fuck this is. It’s kinda funny, actually, how stubborn we both are to still be standing here.” Gen laughed smoothly as she smiled at Mike. “Because the fact of the matter is that I’ve cut people off for less than what you’ve done to me and I to you. I’m not stuck with your sorry ass, Mike, I choose to be here. And we both know that you’ve chosen the same. You’ve had every opportunity to ditch my ass yet here you still are in all of your dickish glory and I in full bitch-mode. How middle school of us to play this little run-around game and pretend that we don’t actually enjoy each other’s company. We do put up quite the convincing act, hmm?”

Gen pulled the tee shirt over her torso and took another sip of her smoothie before grabbing her gym bag off the floor and houghing it over her shoulder.

“As you said, build the bridge and get over it. Just two fuckups against the world.” Gen joked, walking past Mike to the door of the gym. “We’ve got work to do, Reid. Get cleaned up, I’ll meet you at my car. I’ve booked out studio time at one of the places I work, we can get started there.” Gen paused for a moment, sizing up the boy as her signature smirk returned. “And by all means, the shirt is entirely optional. You may think your muscles are unimpressive but I certainly don’t.”

Gen pushed her way out of the gym and across the hall into the locker room. Changing out of her workout attire and into normal clothing, Gen fixed herself up and exited the locker room, swinging her keys playfully around her fingers as she made her way out of the school and to the parking lot. Gen couldn’t help but feel on edge as she made her way over to her car. Things were clearly not resolved between her and Mike, in fact she could only assume that whatever storm was headed their way had only just begun brewing. Playing with fire was bound to get her burned eventually but who was Genevieve to give up so easily? Stopping in front of her car, Gen leaned against the hood and waited for Mike, humming quietly to herself as she scrolled through her phone.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

[

I'm still young, wasting my youth
I'll grow up next summer

M O O D : please click

O U T F I T : his own clothes now

L O C A T I O N : the ha gym

M E N T I O N S : ryder, landon

I N T E R A C T I O N S : gen

T A G S : geminiy

​

Gen’s hand went to his arm rather than the cup, and a few, mildly patronizing words came from her smiling lips as she tapped her fingers on his bicep. Mike chuckled as he tilted his cup up to his lips, followed by the one that he’d filled for Gen.

More for him, he guessed.

As Gen’s hand left his arm, he slipped one paper cup into the other. He crushed them, then balled them up as best as he could before shoving them into the pocket of his shorts.

Her agreement made him chuckle. Yeah, he was right— of course he was. Hearing her admit it, for once, gave him a slight sense of triumph.

Slight, because he still kind of felt like shit about all of everything, but, hey, at least she’d said that he was right. Stroked his fragile ego.

She tossed her hoodie aside, and he grabbed the string of the gloves hanging from his shoulder, swinging them slightly as he looped the string around his middle finger and balled his fist to keep a good grip on them.

Gen began to describe the anomaly of a relationship that he and she had, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

Yeah, it was fucking weird, wasn’t it? Their relationship, that was. Mike didn’t really have this kind of relationship with many people. There was Ryder, and, when Landon and he had been friends, Landon. Mike was— or, in the case of the second of the first two, had been— close with them, too. They were friends who he could trust with his life, ya know.

But here Gen was, a pretty unremarkable relationship in his life, one that he’d never put any real effort into building, one that was like oh, yeah, we’re pretty good friends in the way that you were good friends with one of your colleagues, but they still had a relationship in the same vein as those others.

That was fucking weird, yeah. He'd give it that much. There was something different about it, but different felt like an understatement.

And also fucking juvenile.

There was no need to really look too deep into it. They were friends, regardless, ya know.

Mike began to walk toward the rack where the gloves hung as Gen continued. “Maybe it’s because we’re far more alike than either one of us would like to admit,” she mused. “Maybe that’s why we’re still doing whatever the fuck this is. It’s kinda funny, actually, how stubborn we both are to still be standing here.” Gen laughed, and he looked back to catch a smile that she sent his way. “Because the fact of the matter is that I’ve cut people off for less than what you’ve done to me and I to you.” Hanging the gloves on the rack and picking up a disinfectant wipe, Mike listened to Gen’s commentary. “I’m not stuck with your sorry ass, Mike, I choose to be here. And we both know that you’ve chosen the same. You’ve had every opportunity to ditch my ass, yet here you are, in all of your dickish glory, and I, in full bitch-mode. How middle school of us to play this little run-around game and pretend that we don’t actually enjoy each other’s company. We do put up quite the convincing act, hmm?”

Were they similar?

Fuck, maybe, actually, come to think of it. There had to be something that made them like this.

She was a bitch, he was an asshole. Both were plastics, and both were regarded with some degree of fear, albeit in different forms. They had cutting, sharp senses of humor that tended to be at the expense of others, and they weren’t afraid to crush others in their paths. These were the obvious things.

But there were some things beneath the surface that he could sense, too.

They’d both been hurt, too. Fuck it, they were both hurting, too.

It was some shit that he didn’t want to dig up right now, didn’t want to think about, and he resolutely tossed the disinfectant wipe into the trash can beneath the wipe with a chuckle, beginning to make his way over to the bench where he’d sat his backpack and shirt.

“We really are an ‘odd pair’,” he said, watching her move and toss her own bag over her shoulder. “Somehow friends in spite of…” He moved his neck about as he tried to find the right words, then chuckled when he couldn’t find them. “Whatever the fuck we’ve got going on, huh?” He cocked a grin at her, laughing. “You’re just unable to stay away, aren’t ya, babe?” he teased, shooting her a wink. “Guess I’m just that irresistible.”

He dropped onto the bench, grabbing his shirt and picking up his bag to look for the extra pair of clothes that he kept on himself. “This ‘act’ we’ve got going might be middle school of us,” he agreed, “but hey.” He looked up at her as he rifled through his bag. “Old habits die hard, huh?” His hand found the rough fabric, and he pulled the clothes out, throwing them beside himself. “Besides, a sudden switch of routines wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining, ya think? We gotta keep ‘em watching somehow, huh?”

We give each other shit, we take each other’s shit, and, at the end of the day, we hope it doesn’t blow up in our faces. Might be too late for the last bit now, but hey. It’s how it goes.

He stood with a chuckle as Gen approached the door. “Two fuckups against the world,” he echoed beneath his breath, shaking his head.

“We’ve got work to do, Reid. Get cleaned up, I’ll meet you at my car,” she said. “I’ve booked out studio time at one of the places I work. We can get started there.”

“Aye aye, mon capitan,” he joked, doing a two-finger salute. “Hear you loud and clear.”

She stopped by the door for a moment, and he caught her sizing him up, smirking. “And by all means, the shirt is entirely optional,” she commented, and Mike chuckled, his grin spreading wider on his face. “You may think your muscles are unimpressive but I certainly don’t.”

As she turned out, he laughed. “It was sarcasm, babe,” he called.

The door shut, and he grinned to himself. “You should know not to take anything I say completely seriously,” he chuckled, “if at all.”

He stood idly for a moment, not really thinking of anything and just kind of grinning to himself.

Alright, well, it looked like he had a slight change of plans for the rest of the day.

With a chuckle, he grabbed a couple of wipes from beside the bench, wiping it down.

As he went about doing his due diligence and cleaning all of the shit before going to take a brisk shower, Mike was caught in the odd feeling that…well, fuck, he didn’t know how to describe it.

Something was obviously not resolved, okay?

Shit like what happened didn’t go away just because he’d asked the other party to forget it. See: the Ronnie shitstorm, for one.

At the end of the day, he was still pissed. At the end of the day, he still regretted every last second of it.

At the end of the day, it was a mark against their relationship.

Ya know, they could try to ignore it, and he would try to ignore it, for the sake of his fucking sanity, but, at the end of the day, it still remained.

It was gonna blow back up, but he might as well just go along with it until then, huh? Nothing else to really do.

He sighed deeply, tugging on the change of clothes that he’d brought and shoving his sweaty clothes in the Walmart sack that he’d brought for them before heading to the door of the gym and exiting.

When he stepped out the doors, his eyes caught on Gen immediately. The car the she was leaning against was…fucking beautiful. Unsurprising, seeing as she was fucking loaded.

But holy shit, it was gorgeous. Couldn’t a man admire a gorgeous car? That was a gorgeous fucking car.

Then again, anything was compared to his fucking Camry that looked more like a set extra from the start of the film Wall-E.

“Hey, Gen,” he greeted with a grin, as if it was his first time seeing her for the day. “Did you miss me, babe?”

He grabbed the handle of the door, popping it open without invitation and setting his bag in the floorboard before sitting himself in the seat.

This seat. Goddamn. Was this fucking heaven? He could actually rest his weight in it without it squeaking. There were no random patches for gaping rips that had opened in the cushion, and the headrest was intact.

Oh, he fucking wished.

He rested his feet on top of his backpack, pulling the car door shut.

The bag had cost him two hundred bucks back in freshman year. Yeah, he knew that that was surprising for a douchebag who didn’t even want to buy another phone charger, but freshman year, he hadn’t really had to pay for anything. Housing? Nope, he had the dorms. Food? He ate in the caf and bummed breakfast and supper off of his roommate or one of his weaker-willed peers. That meant that he could spend all of his money on useless shit— nice clothes that he outgrew every couple of months, a few pairs of good shoes, and this fucking backpack, which he was now determined to wear until the already threadbare straps had fallen off so many times that he couldn’t even sew them back on.

Yeah, this bag’d seen some shit.

As Gen got in the driver’s side, Mike’s hand found the levers on the side of the passenger seat and tried not to seem to amazed by the fact that they actually did what they were supposed to do.

Fucking functioning vehicles. He fucking wished.

He grinned over at her. “You dreamt of this, didn’t you, babe?” he teased. “Being in a luxury vehicle, Michael Reid in your passenger seat...” He grabbed ahold of the (fucking not rusted) buckle and clicked it over himself, testing the elasticity of the seatbelt with a slight look of wonder.

He chuckled, putting his arms behind his head. “Alright, well,” he said, grinning at the half of his face that he could see in the rearview mirror, “where exactly are we headed, Johannes? Not some abandoned building so you can take out the competition, right?” he kidded, giving her one of his cheeky winks.

MICHAEL K. REID

º º code by ditto º º

 

[sunshineysoul]

ryder alistar

@rydeonme has set their status to:
i do be cookin tho

@rydeonme has set their outfit to:
casual weekend

@rydeonme has set their location to:
maggie's kitchen

@rydeonme has mentioned:
n/a

@rydeonme has interacted with:
maggie

@rydeonme has tagged:
@Kitsune2202

@rydeonme has written a tl;dr:
i'm a musician AND a chef, fight me

ryder's mouth turned up into a smirk when maggie mentioned the cold shower. again, ryder had hangovers down to a science. he himself had his fair share of hangovers, along with having to baby a handful of friends through a hangover, so yea, he knew the cold shower would work. they sucked, but ryder had grown used to the chill. he got in the habit of taking cold showers in the mornings, so it's not he was just going to subject his friends to that kind of torture without knowing how it felt.

mike called him crazy for voluntarily taking cold showers on a regular basis. truth be told? ryder was an adrenaline junkie. in case it wasn't clear before, he loved the rush of adrenaline he got whenever he did something risky or exciting. and somehow, the chill of some incredibly cold water hitting his bare body every morning was the closest ryder could get to a regular adrenaline rush.

it would also explain why ryder loved starting drama on twitter. oh, sorry, ryder doesn't like taking the blame for the drama. who would? no no, ryder's always saying that he's never done anything to spark drama, he makes sure to say that all he did was as a question, or say hello, and wait for everyone to jump to conclusions. ryder loved it. it was another way he got a regular adrenaline rush.

"i know what you mean, i'd never want to be with family over an HA party," he responded to maggie's comment about coming back to town early. ryder didn't know a whole lot about maggie's family, the most he knew was that her brother, jared, was kinda an ass. he hasn't had a lot of interaction with him, but he heard maggie make comments about him here and there, he knew enough.

if anyone understood fucked up families, it was ryder. being the son of a politician, who then remarried to another politician who had a drug dealer son? yea, ryder knew about fucked up families.

"fuck, i haven't thought about the arts festival yet, thanks for reminding me," he let out a nervous laugh. he didn't get nervous easily, he was a performing musician after all, he was never nervous. but the arts fest was a different story. it was one of the biggest events at HA, any time that agents from Stardom came to scout talent was a big deal. it was one of ryder's biggest dream to get signed with stardom records, so even if this wasn't his senior year, this performance had to be one of his best.

"touring? it was amazing! it was everything i imagined and more, dude," he stopped to take another bite, talking throw his chewing and swallowing. "recording my songs for an album was one thing, but getting to put together live arrangements? knowing that the audience is going to love whatever i put together? getting to meet hundreds of people that liked my music? it was AMAZING, i can't wait to go on a regional tour, but i gotta write some more songs before i do that."

ryder wasn't known to gush about anything, he tended to respond in short, curt, one sentences. but anything that had to do with music, specifically his music? he could talk about it for ages, whether he realized it or not.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[sunshineysoul]

january quinten

@jan.quin has set their status to:
"i don't wanna take up too much of your time..."

@jan.quin has set their outfit to:
something

@jan.quin has set their location to:
some special form of hell, made just for me
[ eli's studio ]

@jan.quin has mentioned:
stardom people, ash, twitter people

@jan.quin has interacted with:
eli

@jan.quin has tagged:
geminiy

@jan.quin has written a tl;dr:
i. am. professional.

jan sat there, back against the brick building, listening to whatever playlist she picked. she leaned her head against the wall, taking deep deep breaths, working on not freaking out. she even doubled up on her anxiety meds that morning, but they didn't feel like they were working at all.

maybe i need a new prescription, i would like to never ever have a repeat of last night.

she opened her phone, shooting her mom a quick text, letting her know they might need to set up an appointment to see if she needed new meds. she quickly closed her phone again, leaning her head against the wall again, trying to go back to trying to stay calm. she focused on her music, on the sun, the slight breeze, anything other than what she was there to do.

there were a lot of differences between california and arizona. for one, there were obviously a lot more buildings backed into cities and areas in california, whereas in arizona, everything was must more spread out; there was a lot more open space, much more long drives from metroplex to metroplex. but the biggest difference, that jan hadn't quite gotten used to, was the humidity.

thankfully, it was in the fall, the weather overall was a bit cooler, but in comparison to arizona? it was pretty warm. arizona had close to no humidity, the desert never retaining much water in the air, which meant that while the days got pretty hot, it made up for it in the night. when the sun went down, most of the heat would go away. that wasn't the case in california; jan remembered when her and her mom were moving into their new place there in hollywood, over the summer. man was it HOT, jan couldn't wait for the temperatures to drop even more. jan loved the cold, she loved a good excuse to curl up in some hoodies, blankets, sip on some hot chocolate by a christmas tree and watch some disney movies.

there she went, trying to escape her current reality once again.

she was pulled back into her current reality when she noticed a lot of twitter notifications popping up on her phone. there were a lot of names that were coming up that jan wasn't familiar with.

cade adams?

was she that out of the loop that there was a whole batch of HA students that she hadn't even heard of? well, one simple tweet response from ash answered her question. and boy was jan wrong. these weren't some other HA students, they were agents with stardom. you know stardom, the studio that ran the entire high school she currently attended, the studio that every senior at HA tried to get signed by, or build connections with in some form or fashion.

her nerves spiked again, especially when the woman named cade adams asked, directly, for a portfolio of her photography stuff. stuff probably wasn't the best way to explain herself, but cut her some slack, she was freaking out here.

she watched as all the stardom agents conversed with the other HA students, some students they liked, saying they showed promise and caught their eye for the better. or with some students, cough, chas, cough saying they caught their eye for bad reasons, already forming bad blood with them. after a few minutes, things died down, and it was kathrine, cade, and jan talking through twitter.

"your photography is amazing but the spark isn’t there"

jan reread cade's text to her over and over and over. her heart sunk further with each re-read. she continued to argue with cade and kathrine about her "passion" and her "spark" what the hell was that supposed to mean? how the hell were they supposed to see if someone was "passionate" about their work in photography. she captured images she loved, images she put together, how the hell did she not have passion in her series she submitted to HA to get in? jan never did anything she wasn't passionate about, why would she waste her time in photography, in this school, in a different state, if she wasn't passionate about it.

and and and... what the hell did they expect her to say?

"oh yea, i'm more passionate about music, but i auditioned for that department but they said i was awful and terrible, kinda like you guys are saying now, but they actually liked my photograph stuff, so yea i figured i'd do good in the visuals department instead of wasting my time in something i don't have a talent for"

is that what they wanted her to say? in front of everyone?

geez.. as if she wasn't on edge enough already.

her song ended, a moment of silence washing over her. in the moment of silence, she heard a faint thump of a beat. it was obvious that it was coming from inside the studio.

eli's inside.

her stomach did flips, she was terrified. it felt like she didn't even take a normal dose of her meds, let alone two doses. she felt just as nervous and anxious as she did the day before.

nope, push it down. today isn't about you. you can freak out in a few hours, but not right now.

right now, jan had to be professional. she had pictures to take, moments in time to capture forever. that didn't sound like someone who wasn't passionate about their craft did it, cade adams?

jan hoisted herself to her feet, throwing her backpack over her shoulder, and grabbing the suitcase that contained her equipment.

you got this jan, just be cool.

she tried the door again, which pulled open with ease, unlike the first time she tried it. she let the door close behind her, taking in the building for a moment. she remembered a few things from the pictures eli showed her last night. he was so excited to show her the pictures of his studio, so excited to share his passions with her.

and now? now she knew that he regretted ever showing her anything, ever having opened up to her, having ever agreed to help each other with this. she was positive he was wishing her project would crash and burn, along with her photography career, hoping she would up and leave HA for good.

was she right? probably not. but this was jan we're talking about.

she followed the sound of music to find the studio where eli was. she felt her heart drop again.

he looked pissed. and rightfully so, jan had been a bitch the night before. she knew it, he knew it, even ash knew it. even if she and ash were fine now, jan and eli were not.

this is probably one of the top five moments where i hate myself. for sure.

she picked a corner of the room, setting her things down and starting to put together her camera, lights, whatever else she needed.

what the hell do i say? do i say hi and act like everything's fine? do i try to talk to him about last night? no. gen said to wait until he talks to me about that. this is about being professional, i should say something, right?

"hey," her voice broke. no, for once, her voice wasn't breaking from crying, her throat was still incredibly sore from the meltdown she had the night before. she thanked her past self for packing some honey cough drops, reminding herself to pop one in her mouth before they got started. she cleared her throat, she really didn't want eli to think she was crying. that wasn't professional at all. "sorry," she motioned to her neck, "sore throat."

GREAT JOB JANUARY MICHELLE QUINTEN

THAT WAS NOT AWKWARD AT ALL

VERY PROUD OF YOU FOR THAT INTERACTION

WAY TO MAKE THINGS UNAWKWARD FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED.

shut up, jan.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: drivin a harddd bargain if i do say so myself

OUTFIT: jammies

LOCATION: oates' apartment

basics

MENTIONS:
n/a
INT:
@mogy (Oates)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Callum Richards

Callum gently squeezed Oates' hands, almost retracting them before allowing himself this one sliver of solace. The smooth touch of the other boy's palms came as far too much of a relief, reminding him once more the extent to which he'd taken Oates' kindness for granted. Neither knew how to express where they'd been and where they were going not as a couple, but as two individuals whose paths were doomed to intertwine. Callum depended on Oates with everything he had for better or for worse.

That being said, his dependence didn't come entirely from trust. He knew when to withhold certain feelings and information based on their necessity. Callum had always operated under the assumption that he knew what was right for himself and, if he offered Oates what he felt inclined to share, things would work out. Did the curly-haired boy ever come to recognize that the meager ration of trust Callum had placed in him was more than anybody else in the world sans his grandparents possessed?

"I know and I'm sorry," he reiterated, feeling both the despair and the hope for change storming inside, the pitying look in Oates' eyes sending all of his walls crashing down, "You know it was never your fault. This is something I need to figure out for myself, but I'm afraid I won't have it in me without your support." His mouth continued to move, but no words came out as his mind raced to catch up with what he was saying.

In time, he would come to believe his words. He knew them to be true, because they were exactly what Oates wanted to hear. In the absence of his own hope, Callum relied on his ex to hold out hope for him. "I'm a fucked up person, O. I've been like this for so long, it amazes me that you saw anything in me at all. And I can never begin to repay you for it." He squeezed Oates' hand to match the strength he too had been squeezing, projecting an ocean of regret pooling in his eyes. "Why do you think I've relied on you so heavily for the past two years? Did you need me to come out and say everything? I can, if it's what we need," he asked incredulously, letting out a few awe-struck laughs.

For the first time in ages, the tears in Oates' eyes had a different effect on him. Rather than growing irritated, he sympathized with the boy, surprised at himself for being able to manage such an unlikely feat. "You know neither of us have the answer to that," he replied defeatedly, shaking his head with pity, "But every instinct inside of me is telling me things are different now. I'm really, really ready to try, Oates. I mean it." He began to laugh softly, but with a newfound glow in his eyes. His smile lingered, spreading across his pale cheeks.

"All I need you to do is give me a chance. All those nights we spent together in silence still mean something, I'm telling you," he pleaded, lifting their hands in the air and shaking them lightly, "I was so terrified to get help, but if it's the best thing for us, I don't have a choice."

He leaned in a little, mustering up as much life in his ghoulish face as he could manage. "I can help you help me. Just trust me one more time."

code by valen t.

 

[sunshineysoul]

danielle howard

@beautyandthebeat has set their status to:
friendship !!!

@beautyandthebeat has set their outfit to:
hungOVER

@beautyandthebeat has set their location to:
bedroom

@beautyandthebeat has mentioned:
n/a

@beautyandthebeat has interacted with:
kelli

@beautyandthebeat has tagged:
ohdittoh

@beautyandthebeat has written a tl;dr:
bondingggg

"i couldn't imagine doing ballet," dani admitted, after kelli talked about how she started in ballet "first off, i couldn't ever dance around on my tip toes for that long, and secondly, i could never look that graceful." dani followed it up with another small laugh, but it was true. when she started getting into dance, her parents tried to get her into anything other than contemporary/hip-hop.

her parents had this pre-conceived notion that "hip-hop was bad", thought that it would turn their daughter into a slut. of course they never said that to her, directly, but she knew that's what they thought.

jokes on them, that isn't what turned me into a slut.

dani just wasn't getting into ballet, she never practiced, she tried to always come up with ways to get out of going into the studio for lessons. her parents were helpless and ended up giving up. she convinced them to give her a chance with hip-hop, and they immediately saw a change. between staying up late just to dance and wanting to live out of the studio, her parents hired builders to make her her own studio, away from the house, so the family could get some peace and quiet.

dancing wasn't just a form of exercise for dani anymore. once she got more into her lessons, it became an escape, a stress relief, a re-energizer, and so much more. she would've never guessed that flailing her limbs to the beat of whatever song was playing through the speakers. she fell in love with the craft. was this how cole felt about his music? sure, cole could express himself in lyrics and instruments, but there was something about dance that was so incredibly personal to dani.

sure, yelling at the top of her lungs into a field was cathartic when she was upset and of course jumping up and down helped show her excitement, but it never seemed to be enough. dani's emotions were always bigger than what she could express, she always felt like she was bottling up some left over emotions whenever she had outbursts of sadness or joy or anger or anything else. but when she danced? there was something about the physicality of it all.

throwing herself into a song, being able to physically express herself through movement? it was hard for her to explain to anyone. dani was never good with her words, she could never understand how people could write poems and songs and stories to express their emotions. to dani, words never helped. at least, not in terms of expressing herself.

she had tried. the journalling, the poetry, she even tried to write some form of a song. nothing ever worked out for her. by the time she was done, she still wanted to throw something. but when she danced? she always felt relief from whatever emotion she was feeling before. it was always a full proof way of expressing herself, even if others couldn't understand what she was trying to express.

"yea i agree, i feel like contemporary is waaaay freer than ballet. way too many rules to follow." dani rolled her eyes, remembering how much she hated going. to ballet practice, especially the ridiculous outfits.

kelli mentioned asking ronnie for help, dani thought that was kelli's roommate, trying to remember what she had seen from twitter interactions. it was a good idea, since ronnie had more experience than kelli and dani combined, although pretty much anyone had more experience than the girls.

"uhhh," dani was back to thinking mode when kelli brought up cole. "he might know some stuff, but probably not a lot on the dancing stuff. he hyperfocuses on his music and then he gets tunnel vision, he's not very helpful to anyone not in music." she laughed, remembering all the times she tried to ask her brother about the dance department at his fancy LA school over facetime, only getting one or two word responses because he was busy putting together new songs with his fancy looper he bought himself.

"anywho, lemme show you the videos i saved," she grabbed her laptop and plopped herself down next to kelli on her bed, pulling up youtube and searching for the videos she saved from different dance competitions and dance tv shows, etc.

this was going to be a fun couple of hours.

~~~~~~

it had been a fun few hours. dani even busted out a notebook to write down specifics she liked from different routines. whether it was certain dance moves, a specific way they moved with the music, even lighting and outfits, she wrote down.

an important thing to remember about danielle howard, she was normally an almost straight A student. she had a reputation of being a fantastic student, before she was introduced to alcohol and partying and hooking up. she was used to taking notes and remembering important details and studying. her brain figured this was no different, that dance was now a class she was taking and the winter arts festival was basically a midterm.

so yea, she was taking notes, whatever she felt was important or useful.

but like any youtube watching spree, the girls were led down a rabbit hole. after about an hour or so of watching dancing videos and clips, they got distracted by more videos in dani's recommended. it started out with "the hardest dancing roles in tv" and they somehow ended up with some dude selling houses for a dollar.

yea, the window of productivity had run out. but to be fair, the pair had proven to be pretty productive before they lost themselves down the rabbit hole.

"how long have we not been watching dancing videos, i feel like we went through a completely different dimension." dani stretched, yawning and rubbing her eyes. she couldn't believe how long they had been in her room, brainstorming, working through moves, and just staring at her laptop screen.

"i feel like we've got a good foundation to make some kind of routine, yea?"

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

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

@zeph.evermore has set their status to:
hypeee

@zeph.evermore has interacted with:
Lin

@zeph.evermore has mentioned:
N/A

@zeph.evermore has tagged:
ohdittoh ​

He listened in wide-eyed awe as Lin spoke – like a little kid that was just listening to the most interesting story of all time. And okay so, it really was an interesting story, alright? Or at least to Zeph, who’d actually never played paintball in his life, it was an interesting story. Everything that came out of Lin’s mouth was, to Zeph, interesting.

Kind of pitiful, really.

The poor guy didn’t have any of his own cool stories, though. Everything interesting that had had happened to Zeph had occurred when he was in elementary school – and that stuff was only cool when you were in elementary school. When you got older, you realized how incredibly lame all of it really was.

Except light up shoes. Zeph would love another pair of light up shoes.

Or the ones with the little wheels that his parents never let him have because they thought they were dangerous or something.

But imagine those plus lighting up.

He got distracted.

“No offense, bro, buuuut… I got something to ask you.” Lin said before he reached up, putting an arm around Zeph’s neck as he tugged the taller boy down to his level. “You don’t get out a lot, do you, luhmano?”

Was it really that obvious?

Zeph let out a little uncomfortable laugh before he shifted away, shrugging Lin’s arm off of his shoulders so that he could straighten back up – or, well, straighten up as much as he could, anyway. He still slouched slightly.

“Is it that obvious?” He asked, voicing in his inner question aloud. Again, Zeph tried out a small laugh as if it was no big deal, but he was kind of embarrassed at how obvious his general sticking home and not going out apparently was to other people. Was he really that painfully awkward? Were his awes of amazement at other’s adventures really that clear?

The answer was a painfully resounding yes and Zeph kind of wanted to shove his head into the ground like an ostrich out of pure embarrassment.

Look, it had never really been a matter of him not wanting to go out, so much as he couldn’t. Did you know how hard it was to try and hangout with your friends when you constantly had to pull the ol’ “can my little sisters tagalong?” card? He’d answer that for you – it was really freaking hard. And then they’d moved, and he hadn’t had to watch his sisters as much, but then he was in a new school, with new people, and no friends, and…

But these were all just really bad excuses, right? Like if Zeph had truly wanted to experience things in his life, he could’ve done so. There had been nothing stopping him. His grandparents, his dad, even his mother in her feeble voice had tried to convince him to go out with others, to try doing this or that, and he’d just…

Refused every time.

He’d wanted to spend as much time at home with his parents and his sisters just in the off chance that his mother would die and those would be the only handful of years that he had to remember her by. And of course, well… that off chance had become reality.

And now what did he have to show for his childhood?

Nothing but bland memories and a shattered heart.

“Nah, not really,” he continued speaking to try and answer Lin’s question. He kept his tone light and easy-going, as one naturally would in this kind of scenario. “Parents worked a lot, so I was just… home all the time with my little sisters.” He explained, and it was only half of a lie (Zeph was notoriously bad at lying), and his voice only wavered for a second.

Well, his dad was usually working a lot. That much was true.

His mom did work a lot.

Before… you know…

“Sorry, man.” Why was he apologizing? There wasn’t really anything to apologize for and yet here he was, and now a look of confusion passed over his face for a moment in a sort of what the hell is wrong with me? type of fashion.

Zeph was definitely nailing this first friendship hangout.

You know, one of his first friendship hangouts in general that weren’t with Stella… and now he had to wonder if he’d been this awkward at the fair and, if he had been, why the hell was Stella dating him?

He rubbed at the back of his neck, partially because the feather boas were irritating his skin a bit, and partially out of previously stated embarrassment.

“I uhh…” he chuckled. “I stay home… a… lot to practice and uhh… study for tests and stuff, ya know? So I guess I kinda just… forget… about going out.”

Another uncomfortable laugh because haha, he was totally appearing lame and there was no way that Lin would hangout with him after this.

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[Winona]

Damien Slater
"When you see my face, hope it gives you hell."

@damien.slayter has set their status to:
tfw he won't support your lies

@damien.slayter has interacted with:
Felix, Javi

@damien.slayter has mentioned:
N/A

@damien.slayter has tagged:
ohdittoh hery ​

Felix really fucking sucked.

Fake ass fucking friend…

What kind of guy called himself your friend and then went ahead and didn’t support the lies that you were so expertly spinning? This Javi dude had totally fucking bought the idea that Felix had killed a fucking man and that would’ve made him all “ahh I gotta watch myself so I don’t end up six feet underground,” but nooo. Felix just had to go and ruin it.

He cast a crossed glance in Felix’s direction, his arms crossing over his chest as he did so in a huff of annoyance. Lying was fun. Why couldn’t anyone just support him? Not Felix, not Kian… none of his so-called fucking friends.

Well… “friends.”

Friends under the right conditions, anyway.

Slater was still stuck in his own self-hurt, totally ignoring his stupid friend and his even stupider drug dealer, until he heard his name.

“No wonder Slater here’s your pal,” Javi said and turned to look at Slater. “You buy off him, too?”

Damien blinked, looking back towards Javi. He opened his mouth to speak again, and undoubtedly to try and spin something else that was either a full-on lie, or a lie with the faintest hint of truth, but stupid Felix had to open his mouth first.

“We’re not friends just ‘cuz of the drugs,” Felix said with a chuckle that grated Slater’s nerves.

Awwww….

Felix sucked the fun out of everything.

“Yeah, guess you could say we’re friends,” Slater grumbled. He dropped his arms away from their crossed position over his chest, his hands now sliding lazily back into the pockets of his jacket. His fingers curled around the drugs that he’d just purchased.

He kind of felt like a kid with a new toy – he wanted to leave so he could try them out now.

Sure, he already knew the effects of the drugs in his pocket, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t excited to use them. 

"He's my main dealer," Damien went on to explain -- this time being truthful. Hope you're fucking happy, Fefe. Bitch. "Well, I pretty much bought all of my shit off of him until he went away on some dumb movie thing and I thought I stocked up on enough shit to be good until he got back, but I ran out after the first coupld months and then I was like 'oh fuck, where am I gonna get more drugs?' and then I met you."

Look, look, Slater was supposed to like... well, the drugs had been there, and Slater soon learned that he had zero self-control. He thought he'd bought enough if he just rationed it over the six months of brutal loneliness away from his dealer, but as it unfortunately turned out, Slater had really said "fuck the rations and future me" and just done more every day than he normally did.

Anyway.

"And sure, you overcharge," -- again, Damien had noticed this -- "but you're kind of funny. Well, dumb. But dumb is funny, so here I am. Plus Felix just got back today, so ya know..." Slater gave a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"But we don't hangout outside of business, really. Felix here kind of cramps my style and really makes it hard to get laid when I go to parties and shit. The babyface makes everyone think I'm babysitting him or something."

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[Winona]

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

@Fire&Ash has set their status to:
actually good for once

@Fire&Ash has interacted with:
Trevor

@Fire&Ash has mentioned:
N/A

@Fire&Ash has tagged:
ohdittoh ​

She hadn’t expected her suggestion of what to watch to go by without a little pushback from Trevor, so him just casually agreeing to it earned a surprised glance from her. Yet again, she was reminded of how very little she knew about Trevor.

Because clearly, he was a huge fan of dumb, cliché, romantic movies.

(That was a joke, mind you. She didn’t really think that.)

In all reality, though, she'd expected some groaning or complaining from him. Not that he... normally complained about everything (she wasn't really sure if he did), but because this type of movie really didn't seem like his kind of thing. He was probably more into like... umm... you know, like uhh... look, she really didn't actually know. Normally she probably would've thought, like, superhero movies or something -- but after his passionate speech about his hatred of superheroes the night before, she knew that that wasn't going to be it. Either way, she didn't expect it to be these types of movies.

“You said finish it… so ya haven’t seen it before?” he asked. “Not that I have, either.”

People only said that when they had, in fact, seen the movie in question but were too embarrassed to admit that they’d seen it. Well, like, in the way that he’d said it – like his inflection or whatever – at the very least kind of made her think that.

And as he continued to speak, she became even more convinced that he’d seen this movie before.

“Isn’t this…supposed to be some monumental moment in tha female development?” he asked. “Their first viewin’ of tha romantic classic that is 2004’s Tha Notebook starrin’ Ryan Goslin' and Rachel McAdams, produced by Mark Johnson, based off of Nicholas Sparks’ hit 1996 novel?”

Look, why would he know so much about a movie that he insisted he’d never seen?

Ash looked away from the television screen to instead look at him, her lips curling back into an amused smile that just grew the more he continued speaking.

He was weird.

“I dunno, they always go on about it in tv shows an’ stuff, don’t they?” he continued. “Isn’t it a… rite of passage?”

“Right, totally is,” she said mockingly. “Yeah, we’re not actually allowed to get boobs until we’ve watched this movie at least three times and cried every time.”

“Anyway, I’ve tried to watch it, like, a few times but like… something always came up that stopped me from finishing it. Well, like, last night I guess I could’ve, but everyone fell asleep and I didn’t really want to watch a movie, anyway, so…” Ash shrugged, turning her attention back away from Trevor to look at the television screen again. "But how do you know so much about this movie if you've never seen it? Or do you just know that many really random facts about every movie?"

To reiterate of her plans the night before, Ash had wanted to drink herself to sleep and call it a night. You know, until Lucky finished off her vodka, and Javi accidentally messaged her, and everything else that had just gone poorly and ended with her not drinking herself to sleep.

“How in the hell’re ya doin’ that?” he questioned. “Am I jus’ a feckin’… grandfather with technology?”

“I guess so,” she said with a laugh. “I mean, it’s your TV. You should be able to use it better than me. Do you just… not use it?" She glanced back at him once again, and then back at the television screen as she started the movie and dropped the remote to the couch cushion beside her. "Like, what do you do if you don't watch TV? Do you just... like... do you really just write all the time?"

Like, Ash couldn't imagine doing music all the time. Granted, Jace did, so she knew that people could when they were really passionate about something. And it wasn't that she... wasn't... passionate about the music thing, it was just that uhh...

Alright, yeah, she wasn't super passionate about it. Working on her music wasn't the worst thing in the world, but it wasn't like it had ever been something that she really looked forward to -- it wasn't as bad as, like, pulling teeth, but it wasn't something that got her super excited to work on. So the idea of someone one hundred percent enjoying their passion and being able to do it without growing tired, well... she didn't get it.

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[ohdittoh]

kellian phelan

get down tonight

Kelli nodded, giving her friend a knowing look through her brows. “Oh, I totally get that— Kian’s that way, too,” Kelli said, smiling. “If I try to talk with him while he’s working out guitar stuff, he gives me really weird and kind of random responses,” she giggled, “or he just goes yeah to everything, like he’s talking on the phone with our parents.” She cupped her hand to her ear, as if she were talking into a cellphone. “How was your day?” Kelli said, puckering her lips as she spoke in her best adult voice. She dropped that expression, sagging her eyelids and smiling dopily. “Yeah,” she responded to her adult-voiced self’s question in a lowered voice. She giggled, shaking her head and dropping her hand. “Like that. Oh, wait, I remember— this one time, I asked him what he wanted me to make for dinner, and he responded with G Major.” She snickered at the memory. “So I just cooked him a Hot Pocket.”

(She’d burned it a little. She wasn’t the best chef, but her parents had left she and he alone when they went on vacation, and she wanted to be helpful. Kian had told her that it was the thought that counted, grinned, and eaten it anyway, but she’d heard it crunching really loud. She bought him pizza the rest of the week with her allowance.)

She shook her head when Dani moved to grab her laptop. “Ooh, yes, the videos,” Kelli said, scooting over for Dani to sit beside her.

Upon seeing her laptop, Kelli gasped. “Oh my gosh, I love your stickers!” Smiling brightly, she unbuttoned her overall’s pocket, pulling out her cellphone. She held it up for Dani to see, tapping the back with her fingernail. “We’re totally twinning! How dope is that?” She giggled, and then she realized— “Oh, right!” She shook her head. “Sorry, I get side-tracked a lot,” she apologized, her cheeks heating up. “Yeah, let’s get our danc…er, watching on!”

• • • • •​

Wowie. Dani really whipped out a whole notebook.

That was so dope. Dani had to be super smart or something. Kelli had never thought to write anything down like that, ever. Her ideas were kept on the ol’ noggin— and usually forgotten quickly thereafter.

That was probably why she’d flunked freshman history. Napoleon didn’t stick with her, sadly.

Work had been going well. They’d been watching some dopebutt videos for about an hour— maybe two (or maybe it was less, because Kelli didn’t really have a good sense of time)…

And then Kelli had pointed out one of the videos on the side.

“Todd the toad says hello?” she read aloud, giggling at the title. “Why is that suggested?” They were watching a Russian group of dancers— that wasn’t anything near related.

Dani’d clicked on it, and Kelli’d gasped excitedly. “Oh my gosh, do you think that he’s actually going to say hi?”

(He didn’t, by the way, but he did pop his head out of a hole to croak at the camera, and that was hella adorable, so Kelli didn’t wanna complain. He was an adorable little guy.)

And then that video had led them to a video of someone making a frog chair, which had a video suggested of someone making stained glass, which had a video suggested of someone who made glass out of candy, and then there was some dude who made a whole motorcycle out of chocolate, and then there was someone who could sing four notes at one time, and then there was some guy who was convinced that he was a reincarnation of Woody the Woodpecker, and then there was someone trying to explain how the pyramids weren’t made by Egyptian slaves or by aliens but instead by large anteater spirits, and then there was…

Somehow, they ended up at a video of a dude saying that he was selling houses for a buck. Of course, there was a catch to it, and the houses that he listed online were actually terribly scribbled renditions of their images that he mailed out.

And then, Dani noticed the time and shut the laptop.

Somehow, throughout this internet adventure, Kelli had ended up flopped onto her front with her chin propped up on her elbows.

She blinked hard, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands and yawning. She felt tired, even though she hadn’t done anything.

How long did we watch videos for…?

Dani asked her question aloud, and Kelli smiled slightly. “I dunno…,” she said, voice kinda groggy. She cleared her throat. “I feel like we started yesterday…wowie…”

“I feel like we’ve got a good foundation to make some kind of routine, yeah?” Dani asked.

Kelli lifted herself up off of her elbows, letting out soft grunts of effort as she shifted herself to sit crosslegged on the bed. “Oh, yeah! Definitely,” she agreed. She flung her wrists, mouthing an ow as they ached. “Plus, you got more notes down than I’ve ever taken in school combined, so, with your genius and those notes and my, uh…moral support, we can totally work something out!”

Like she said, she didn’t retain information well, and her ideas were kind of out of the window.

“Plus, we got to watch a dog dance the hula, so it was worth it even if we didn’t get anything! That trumps all of the puppy gifs that I’ve ever seen,” she said.

(Speaking of the videos that they watched, Kelli really wanted to remember the name of that toad video so that she could show Kian later. She could ask him to rate that out of ten. She wanted to know his thoughts.)

She hummed one of the pop songs that had played in the background of one of the videos beneath her breath (though she was very off-key), and then she felt a question pressing on her.

Slightly antsily, Kelli smiled over at Dani.

“Hey, Dani?” she asked. “I’m, uhm…can I use your restroom?”

mood
friendship!

location
dani's (and cole's!) apartment

outfit
cute

playing...
apple pie

by the scary jokes​

mentions
kian, cole

interactions
dani

tags
sunshineysoul

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[ohdittoh]

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

fuckin' hype

Lindsay Kay was an expert of identifying when people were uncomfy. From the way that Zeph had shrugged away from him and that laugh that he gave, Lin could tell that Zeph was uncozy—

Luhmao, and he knew that that meant that he had hit the nail on the head.

With an anticipatory grin, Lin looked to Zeph, holding back laughter preemptively as he awaited his confirmation.

“Is it that obvious?” Zeph asked— and Lin burst into laughter. His laughter gradually dissolved, though the grin didn’t leave his face as Zeph continued to speak and then kinda randomly apologized.

“I guess I kinda just…forgot…about going out,” Zeph finished. Lin looked over at his younger friend’s face.

Pfffffft!

Lin’s laughter flared up again, and he prodded Zeph in the bicep.

“Laaaaaame-ohhhh,” he teased impishly, “luhmao!” He put on a sing-song voice. “You’re such a fuckin’ lame-oh!”

He clutched his stomach. He was laughing so hard that he was getting winded.

He let out a little hoo, boy as his laughter subsided, and he looked over at Zeph, grinning widely. He walked closer to him, bumping into him with his butt and laughing. He wrapped his arm around Zeph’s, pouting in mock sympathy as he looked up into Zeph’s eyes, knitting his brows as he patted his pec “comfortingly”. “It’s alright,” Lin cooed, and then the grin broke out across his face. “I’m cool enough for both of us, luhmao.”

Laughing again, he gave Zeph a harsh, joking push and let go of his arm. “Plus, plus, plus,” Lin continued, “when you hang with me, my coolness makes you cooler.” He gestured casually at nothing in particular. “It’s a perk, luhmao— ask Charles.” He put his flattened palms on top of one another, then wiggled his arms as if they were a wave. “It’s like a drug. Cokayne, luhmao.” He paused a moment, his brows furrowing as he thought. “Or meth, ‘cuz couple of guys’ve lost their teeth ‘cuz of me, luhmaooo,” he concluded with a grin, and then he gave a shrug. “Or maybe it’s like nuclear fallout.”

Minus the cancer, duhhh. What kind of business did you think he was running here? This was a tight ship, ess-em-aych. No room for melanoma.

Lin wiggled his butt, hopping over another crack in the sidewalk. “In other words, you’re booooor-eeeeeeng eye-are-ell, luhmao?” Lin delivered his words in such a casual way that they didn’t sound judgmental in the slightest, despite the fact that the words themselves were pretty offensive. “I mean, props to you, luhmao. You’re an expert in Twitter hype, bro, so that’s decently cool. One point to Gryffindor. Ooh, and you’re the best fuckin’ wingman, too.” He put his hands on his hips. “I bet I would be a better wingman, but no one’s counting that, luhmaooo, ‘cuz I’m the best at everything, sooooo…” He shrugged slowly, and then laughed and dropped his shoulders. “You said you’d chant me on during sexy time, so that’s another point, and that’s juuuust enough to throw you over the edge of everyone else except for Charlie and me in terms of coolness, luhmao. ‘Cuz everyone here is lame as hell.” He shrugged again, and he flopped his arms off of his hips.

He lifted a forefinger, spinning around and stepping in front of Zeph to walk backwards in front of him. He wagged his finger at him, as if he were scolding him. “But now, I see it,” he said, slowly putting his arms up behind his head. “You’re just one of those seeecret lame-ohs, luhmaooo.” He shrugged, grinning toothily. He fell back in step beside Zeph. “Luhmao, I get it. I won’t expose your big secret. You don’t have to worry about that, luhmao.” He skipped a step. “You suck at bets, and you’re kinda a loser, but psssssssht, who fuckin’ cares?” He grinned over at Zeph. “You’re now Lindsay Kay’s brusband, bro, which means you’re getting that shit fixed starting yesterday, luhmao.”

He dropped his arms, gesturing to each article that Zeph wore as he spoke them. “That hat? Those boas?” He formed his hand into an ok sign. “Fuckin’ picturesque. Fuckin’ ace. The first step is looking dope— you got taht down. But now comes the real stuff, bro. The next step is to…” He slowly held his arms out in front of himself. He balled his hands into fists and very, very slowly put them on his hips, grinning into Zeph’s face the whole time, as if he were giving him a tutorial. “…strut that stuff.”

Lin looked straight ahead, wiggling his butt as he walked. “Add some swaggy swagger into your step,” he explained. “Get some of that hip action going, bro.” He shifted his hands onto his knees for a beat to stop and twerk for a moment with a quick nnts, nnts before replacing his fists on his hip. “Give a little twerk on occasion.” He spun around, chuckling. “Or a twirl, whatever you’re feeling.” He looked over at Zeph again, laughing happily. “You’re sexy, so show ‘em that. If they look, fuckin’ good, man! Let everyone else stare, bro.”

Lin slowly turned his head forward again. “And then, some advanced shit is throwing in some luhmaos for your laughter— or for dramatic effect, luhmao,” he explained, doing a few steps as if he were playing hopscotch again. “Or, like, if you’re kidding with someone or fucking with them or whatever, you throw in luhmaos, too. Luhmao is the universal, superior interjection, luhmaooo.”

Lin moved back in front of Zeph to walk backward again, dropping his fists from his hips with a laugh. “Boom. Basics down. Those are the first steps to being Lin level, luhmao.” He grinned. “Of course, ya know, you can’t be Lin level, and it’ll take a lot of practice to get anywhere near, luhmao.” He reached out to prod Zeph teasingly. “Winning shit is the next step, but there’s no waaaay you can do that, luhmaooo. Baby steps first.” He wiggled his butt, and then fell back in beside Zeph.

He walked for a few moments, beginning to whistle one of his own songs as he put his arms up behind his head.

Oh, and then he realized something, and he looked back over at Zeph. “Hold up, I don’t know anything about you, luhmao.” He let out a loud laugh. “All I know is you…ahem.” He put on an exaggerated Australian accent. “You put shrimp on tha barbie down there, mate.” He dissolved into laughter, dropping the accent and saying, in a very matter-of-fact voice, “You’re Aussie.”

Yeah, he’d said it as if Zeph hadn’t known it, luhmao. You could never be too sure.

“And you’re a fuckin’ giant,” he continued. “And you do the dancies.” There, he wiggled his butt again. “And you’re not into dudes.” He looked up, brows furrowing for an instant before he laughed and grinned. “And that’s it, luhmao.” He elbowed Zeph. “So gimme your life story or some shit. I wanna hear it.”

Grinning up at Zeph, Lin demanded, like a kid begging for a toy, “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

mood
laaaaaaaaame-o lmaoooooo

location
walking to tha dolla store

outfit
spot the drip lmao

playing...
tongue tied

by grouplove​

mentions
charles

interactions
zephy

tags
Winona

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