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

Reader mode
Characters
Here
MOOD:
Perpetually nervous

OUTFIT:
Dark blue long sleeve Henley t-shirt and brown cargo pants

LOCATION:
Retreating
basics
MENTIONS:
Clem


INT:

tags
TL;DR:
Nope
tl;dr
Auguste

Silence. Resounding silence. Auguste's feet shuffled back and forth as he tried to quell the panic in his chest, pushing dark hair from his face. Between the fluttering in his chest of panic at social interaction, and the grumbling of his stomach, he resolved to do the very smart thing: run away. He gave the girl a smile with all teeth. A very fake and forced smile that looked more like maybe he was going to backhand her rather than what he did do: which was slowly back away from her and speed off. Vending machine it was.

He went up to one and slotted in a few ones to get a bag of cheetos. That was scary. This place was awful. Why did he decide to come here again? The panicked fluttering was now crawling up his throat. Hair fell into his eyes. He continued to eat his small bag of cheetos. It was empty now. To socialize or not to socialize. That was the question. Well, the more he wandered the empty halls, the more likely it was that he might run into a couple of horny teenagers doing the thing that horny teenagers do…. So… He reluctantly stood up, and began making his way back to the practice room to continue hiding from the world.

The looming spectre of death began making his way back to where he’d first started, the dark hair obscuring his face as he walked. Hunched over in order to keep his head from hitting door frames. Truly, the grim reaper ready to collect whatever soul he stumbled upon… The effect was cheapened a bit by the bright red Cheeto bag, but it usually kept the sane from bothering him… Being a hermit was tough work sometimes. He reentered the practice room and went back to the guitar, aimlessly plucking at a few of the strings.
code by valen t.
 
MOOD:
just chilling, single & don't wanna mingle

OUTFIT:
Jacket & shirt
sweatpants & shoes
​
INFO
LOCATION:
somewhere at school idk

WITH:
Nate, Oates

MENTION:
Gen, Ash, Eli, Trevor​
ACTIVITY
Winona Winona , mogy mogy
TAGS
cappie
Cappie was looking down at the notebook on his knee, waiting to hear Nate’s reply to his question about the film’s plot so he could write annotations under the “Ideas to Avoid” section. But when Nate didn’t answer right away, he looked up and noticed him noticing Oates strolling toward them. Cappie smiled and let out a good-humored chuckle at his former roommate’s minor blunder.

"Socialism! Wait... I mean socializing. Yeah, that's the word."

“Careful, Oatmeal. That word alone could draw out any hidden Republicans nearby and make them go into a frenzy. Don’t want that happening.” Were there any Republicans in Los Angeles? Eh, who knows. Cappie rarely paid much attention to that stuff.

While watching Nate receiving a bromance hug, Cappie bit his lips and covered his mouth casually to stifle chortle. The way Nate awkwardly reacted was amusing, like the concept of a warm, welcoming hug was an alien concept to him. And he couldn’t be angry at Oates, because Oates was Oates.

Anyway, resuming their Arts Festival-related topic with Woody...

Friends but not not friends..."

“So, Trevor’s more like a Lit acquaintance. Got ‘cha.” As he scribbled down Random stoner character in his notebook, Cappie wondered why he and Nate didn’t hang out much, Well, he had a tiny feeling that Gen wouldn’t want him to be too friendly to Nate, not that Cap cared what she thought of his friends or acquaintances. One reason, Cappie had his own things to do. Another, Nathan Woods didn’t seem like much of a social butterfly. Possibly socially awkward, Cappie suspected and sympathized. He used to be like that, too—everything prior to 5th Grade was a real bitch before he started hanging out with Ash, Eli, and who knows how many people he knew from New York City.

Before Cappie could say something to Oates, or possibly another comment related to Nate’s personal life, the company decided to switch the spotlight on him.

”Does Cappie have some new love he'd like to brag to his bros about?"

"You got a girlfriend or anything?"

“What, no, wow, Cap, how’d you know Lando had a girlfriend recently? Okay, I’m just gonna assume you guys knew already. Let’s talk about me for a bit.” He closed his notebook, and for 3 long seconds, he pretended to ponder his next response. He even rubbed his chin, subtly parodying his own deep thinking. “Nope. Nothing going on in my love life. What a shame.”

No, he wasn’t ashamed or anything about being single. Occasional hook-ups happened, but this year, he wanted to focus on school and building his career in the film industry. Or that was what he kept telling himself. Cappie had nothing against relationships. They just weren’t for him. He'd portrayed a boyfriend role in skits and plays a few times, but actually being a real boyfriend to a real girl? Nah, seems like too much work. Plus, who’d want to date a weird, LEGO-building-loving dork like Cappie?

“But really, guys, I’m not seeing anyone. No interest in anyone, whatsoever,” he said nonchalantly.
code by valen t.
 



















oates



his boyfriend's boyfriend












Aww... Callum.

Oates didn't want to talk about him, and that was painfully clear from his face—the smile was still there, but almost as if it had been dowsed in disappointment. Come on, there were many things more exciting. As stated previously, he adored his boyfriend, but he also had enough of him for now. It was like Cal had been everywhere, and frankly, it was getting boring. Luckily for the curly-haired boy, the conversation didn't remain on the topic of the particular skinny white dude and moved on to Trevor and some kind of movie he was making. If Nate was going to be in it, Oates was definitely hooked to watch, even if it had been a horror movie with no actual storyline. Hollywood liked to produce those, didn't they?

Politeness didn't lack when it came to Oates, and he listened to each said word leaving Nate's mouth with carefully placed eye contact before the attention had been put onto Cappie.

The gossip was hot, scolding even, and you couldn't blame the curly-haired boy for wanting to hear all about his friend's new potential girlfriend. He knew just how much Cappie deserved somebody who would be there for him through thick and thin if that was what the boy wanted for himself in this time of his life. If not, that was okay too, Oates didn't judge. Not everybody was like him and depended entirely on romantic relationships before anything else.

The excitement Oates felt right now, however, could also be sensed in the air with the vibrations of faint conversations happening everywhere around the three guys. He loved being social, or just being around people he had a chance to talk to.

"That's very good, though."
Oates praised.
"You have more time for school and yourself and whatever hobby you want to pursue—being single sounds pretty dope if you ask me."
Kind of ironic after the statement said previously, but hey, that was Oates for you.
"Nate and I, we can't relate. We're always busy, busy, busy. Well, I don't know about this guy here since he's very new to the whole relationship thing."
Oates patted Nate's back before continuing.
"...but I say so because I definitely feel more and more like a housewife with each passing day."


"That'd be a fun show: The Real Housewives of Hollywood Arts. I'd binge it."
It wasn't a conversation with Oates without some rambling, but let the boy be, he was obviously excited.
"Hey, maybe Trevor can do that instead of the stoner film. I think there is real money in it."
He chuckled.











































♡coded by uxie♡
 






Nathan Woods


There was something different about hearing the fact that he was in a relationship spoken aloud by Oates that made Nate's head swim a bit. He gave a weak smile in Oates' direction, although the words still rattled about in Nate's brain. He felt light-headed -- the way that Oates made it sound was like being a relationship was some kind of prison with no escape. Like everything Nate did now had to be in relation to Evie.

As if being single meant freedom to do and pursue new hobbies, but being in a relationship was some kind of ball and chain type of thing. Like he was stuck forever and Nate didn't like that, and he already wanted out.

Well not out out but...

Being in a relationship kind of felt like walls were closing in on him from around all sides, and that eventually he'd just been totally crushed between the walls, but he was sure that's how relationships felt to everyone. It was just that the speed of the walls closed slower for some people than others.

"Yeah, yeah, Oates is right." Nate admitted with a little shake of his head. His face had paled a bit as the conversation had continued on, but now some color was returning to his features. "Single life's the way to go. No one to report to, no one to get in fights over, no one to tell you who to talk to and..." he let out a little sigh as he remembered back to his single days -- you know, his single days of only a week ago.

His pallid complexion faded and the feeling of being crushed disappeared as the conversation shifted away from relationships and what not and instead, shifted back to the better conversation at hand. The Arts Festival -- and, more importantly, the movie that his not friend was doing. A faint smile was on Nate's face as he looked at Oates as his friend went into some rattling tale about his own idea for a movie.

The Real Housewives of Hollywood Arts.

"Oh I could see that -- starring Oates Oates," Nate said with a nod of his head and a small chuckle. "I'll run the idea by him, see what he thinks. Tell him I got the whole cast and everything: Oates Oates as the lead, Callum as the husband or some shit, uhh... Cap as the forever single friend that lives on the couch or something. I'll be the stoner mailman. Idea would totally sell."




mood
friends? check. weed? needed.

location
somewhere in the school

outfit
clothes duh





playing...
Figure Me Out
by The Summer Set​




mentions
Callum, Evie

interactions
Cappie, Oates

tags
0k_mang0 0k_mang0 mogy mogy


º º code by ditto º º
 



















josephine bennett



the wild card ~ 17 ~ junior












Jo didn't need to look or even hear his voice to know who she had run into. She had seen that same, boring keychain plenty of times. A meaningless piece of rubber he'd gotten from somewhere she couldn't recall right now. It was one of those dumb things people handed out like pens and those sleeves for your drinks or whatever with the company name on it. She never understood why he put it on his keys and of course, she had tried to get him to replace it once before for something better but no luck.

It was on one of their "dates" if you would call it that. Josie had been wanting to go to the zoo for weeks and she finally talked him into going with her. It was actually a decent day where they didn't argue over stupid things and just enjoyed being together. At least, she had enjoyed it. They got shaved ice at one of the little stands, watched the workers feed the seals and she convinced him to stop in the gift shop before they left.

There was a dangly, silver keychain at the checkout counter with a cute blue giraffe on it, her favorite animal. Jo told him it would look much better than the weird rubber tag he had but he said he didn't need another and it was pointless. Josie being Josie bought it anyway and left it in the cupholder of his car when he'd dropped her off at home that night. She was hoping he'd see it and replace the other one anyway but she never did see it on his keys so she assumed he'd thrown it out but never brought it up because it was sure to start an argument that was also pointless.

As her eyes locked onto the keys, it almost made her sad to think about but soon they were being scooped up by Saint and her eyes moved from the ground up to him. His dark brown eyes met her own for a brief moment as he greeted her before he moved to introduce himself to Tilly. His introduction hinted at the gentleman that hid beneath the asshole that was Saint Taylor. When you met him, he seemed like he was kind and he was but he was also dismissive and always thought he was right even when he was so clearly not. You wouldn't be able to see that within the first ten seconds of meeting him though.

Of course, Tilly had already heard quite a bit about him so she was fully aware of this. She was one of Jo's closest friends and so Jo had told her all about the rollercoaster of a relationship they had and how it had crashed and burned with him cheating. Till knew the whole story. Well, as much of the story as Jo was willing to share. In reality, the only one who knew the entire story of Jo and Saint's end outside of them was Lucky. After all, he had been the one to basically come to her rescue for lack of better words.

No one knew about the heated argument, the drunk exchange of very hurtful words they had shared which resulted in her ex abandoning her at that party. Had Josie been sober she would've called Charlie to come and get her. But drunk and alone in unfamiliar territory..sad and hurt...that Jo only knew one person who wouldn't judge or lecture her and it was Lucky.

It wasn't the first time he'd had to care for her when she was a mess but it was different. This time it wasn't just because she was drunk or high, she wasn't just having a good time and went a little overboard, she was heartbroken too. Lucky had told her that he'd kick Saint's ass and she knew he was serious because he tried to get the address out of her phone so he could do so but she'd convinced him not to.

All she wanted at that moment was to forget him and forget that she cared and to just avoid him forever. Which she had succeeded at doing up until recently anyway. It was strange though because, despite all of it, Jo didn't hate him. Sure, she had moments where she was sad or angry but she could never bring herself to actually hate him.

Snapping out of her trance, she took his hand as it extended in her direction and jumped back onto her feet before reaching for the duffle bag. "Saint. I'm sorry. Til and I were talking about breaking into the pool to go skinny dipping later because it sounds really fun so why not and I just wasn't paying-" she stopped herself from finishing the sentence when she noticed she was rambling. "Sorry," she added again with a half chuckle.

His next words caught her off guard not mostly because she hadn't heard it from him in a long time and it made her instinctively run her free hand through her hair. It was a tell-tale sign of nervousness from the usually very chill girl. "You look good too. I mean, you always do but..." she trailed.

"Anyway, did you just get here?" she asked curiously.











































♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:
MOOD: ggggggg

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics
MENTIONS:
Mike

INT:
Winona Winona (Zeph)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Veronica Crosby
"I was drunk! I was drunk!" is what Ronnie longed to brush the issue off with. Yeah, she'd fucked up. And then she proceeded to let everything sit in its fucked-upness and pull problems out of thin air because something just felt a tad too off.

She'd been correct in ascertaining earlier that the problem was the way she and Zeph left things off, but she came to that conclusion out of all the wrong reasons. She was so hyper-aware of Zeph's presence not because he was following her or trying to get her attention... it was actually the opposite.

She wanted his. Not in a romantic way (God, no), she simply knew she had a moral obligation to talk to him after everything. Had they just cleared the air right away, Ronnie wouldn't have had to feel the guilt that welled up inside her as Zeph relayed his heartbreaking side of the story.

Suddenly, as Ronnie strolled down the hall day by day with Kelli, she began to see Zeph's face more and more. Every corner she turned and every guy seated at the nearest lunch table was always Zeph, the boy who she'd cried on, then kissed, then left without an explanation. Her shame haunted her, inhabiting the kind, tall boy until it was all Ronnie could see when she met his soft, unjustly beaten-down gaze.

"The last time we talked was, what, Homecoming afterparty when you started sobbing because Mike insulted you? And I was there, yeah? I was there to try and tell you that it wasn't true, tell you that it was all alright, and..."

The light in her eyes had nearly completely vanished by the time Zeph trailed off. "And then I kissed you and ran away," she added with a sigh, making a point to keep the volume of her voice from lowering. Zeph's tale of avoidance and unrequited attraction was almost entirely on the mark, save for a few minor details that left Ronnie scratching her head. It didn't feel like the right time to correct him, but if the redhead had learned one thing in the past month, it wasn't to leave a billion things unaddressed merely out of misplaced fear.

"I didn't mean to call you a stalker," she protested, sheepishly looking to the side, "I just, you know, maybe I sort of avoided you on purpose and got freaked out when I realized I couldn't just, like, erase you from my mind." She winced. It was so painful to have to deliver that message to Zeph.

"I didn't know what to do with myself after that. I mean, did you? You didn't have to go and..." She fiddled with her hands, trying to formulate an alternative to the words she honestly meant. "Zeph, I didn't ask you to put yourself in harm's way for me. And now you can see I don't deserve it, so look where we are now."

She shook her head, dropping her arms to her sides. "I was afraid of facing the consequences of leading you on and I was too ashamed to even think about it. Mike really, really hurt me that night. Like, so bad. And I wanted to stay mad at him, because it made sense why I should have held a grudge."

She widened her eyes, pleading with a silent expression for Zeph to hear her out. "But he was so... sorry. And I was taken aback, because it's literally Mike Reid. He was like this embarrassed little dog and I could tell he was trying so hard to make it up to me and just me. It was kind of ugly, but I couldn't just erase the way I've crushed on him for so long. He's, like, really hot."

She giggled, feeling a bit of her usual self returning. "And I really don't think he meant all the things he said about me that night. He told me himself that he'd exaggerated and he was taking out his frustrations and... you know. All that stuff." What more was there to say? Ronnie wasn't going to call him a liar, and he was literally offering her the one thing she'd been dreaming about for the past year since starting high school: a date with a smoking hot bad boy.

So, yeah, maybe she'd chosen Mike over Zeph. It wasn't like she could have predicted that Mike would proceed to send Zeph to the nurse's office that very day.

"I just want you to understand that the last thing I wanted was to hurt you or make you feel unwanted. I totally do want you... as a friend." The girl smiled brightly and folded her hands behind her back , swaying side to side. "So... can I try to make it up to you? I owe you, like, twenty favors." She winked. "Pretty please? Don't stay mad—I mean, hurt."

She laughed it off, as always. "I bet no one's sold out the vending machines yet tonight, so if you wanted anything, we gotta go now."
code by valen t.
 
MOOD: social king!!!!!!

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics
MENTIONS:
Lydia, Javi

INT:
Winona Winona (Ava)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Angel Cervantes
"Uh, well, no," Angel replied, although the idea of a guide for talking to strangers was definitely something he would have made use of if it was at his disposal, "But I don't usually go to these things alone. My friend Lydia usually accompanies me and stuff." He laughed pitifully to himself, knowing how childish he must have sounded. It wasn't surprising how often he'd been mistaken for an underclassman, even after being at Hollywood Arts from freshman to junior year. Javi's arrival as his older brother in the same class was sure to exacerbate the issue further... what a headache.

His back instinctively straightened as the word "look" left the redhead's lips. It was a long-time habit he'd developed thanks to living in such a militaristic household, even though his earnestness had earned him one too many critical peers. Angel hated calling them bullies. That just sounds sad and Angel wasn't sad. Well, intrinsically sad. His emotional state in the moment was completely separate.

Some of the timidity and worry disappeared from Angel's face once Ava made her offer, and he had to restrain himself from appearing too giddy about it. A small smile reached across his cheeks, and he took the girl's hand. His handshake was surprisingly firm, if not a bit too over-the-top strong. The only thing more deeply-ingrained than his posture was his automatic instinct to crush every hand he shook like a middle-aged businessman.

"Really?" he said, as though Ava was going to change her mind immediately, "That would be great. Thank you. If you're not too busy, of course." Idiot! She just said she doesn't have anything to do! "I'm, uhhhh, Angel." Best to leave out the last name for now. It seemed like everyone in the school already knew Javier after just a month. Even after two years, Angel had managed to make a remarkably lighter impression than his hot-headed older brother.

"I'm here in the Visuals Department," he added, scratching the back of his head, "Uh, I guess that was already obvious, heheh..."

He laughed nervously at Ava's last comment; she made it impossible to tell whether or not she was joking, but Angel was pretty sure she was given the fact that there were probably no accessible water balloons at the school anyway... hopefully. "You're funny," he remarked, unable to contain the stupid grin plastered onto his face. Here he was making a friend after such a crappy interaction. Maybe the H.A. social scene isn't such a bad thing after all.

Out of a sudden concern that he was being too boring, Angel came up with an idea. "Did you wanna, um, uh... I can't really remember what the appropriate thing to do at the Lock-in is, but..." He cleared his throat. Get to the point, get to the point! "What if we went and, like, hunted for ghosts behind one of the stages? I totally bet a stage light has fallen and broken someone's head or something and now they're haunting the joint."

Angel laughed perhaps a bit too hard at his own joke. "Just kidding. You wanna play 'Guess Which Locker the Rotten Smell is Coming From'? Or we could go build a fort out of tables and chairs in the library."
code by valen t.
 








Dalton leaned against the desk as he waited for Lydia to finish, busying himself with idle thoughts. Like how he wouldn’t come back to this city after he graduated, not unless it was for work, not while that ‘family’ of his was still living here. Speaking of which, there was that fucking stupid ‘family dinner’ the stepbitch wanted him to come to. The fact that her shitty son had been the one to message him about it just pissed him off even more.

He clenched his fist.

His father knew he detested the brat. He made no secret of his displeasure and there had been more than enough fights for even him to know, busy as George Kirby was sucking up to people in the name of doing his job. Yet the old man hadn’t messaged him about the family dinner his second wife wanted, he’d tasked Bloody Slutter to do it instead.

The thought made his blood boil.

He was sick of his father’s attempts to get them to get along. Of his pathetic attempts to still try and play happy family after all these years.

Had he not learnt anything from the time when his first wife left him? Abandoned them? Fuck. He didn’t need this shit. Not tonight. Tonight was supposed to be fun. Fuck.

“You want a cookie for being able to read, Kirby?”

No, he didn’t. He hated sweet stuff. Despised it. He didn’t want a fucking cookie and Lydia’s voice just felt all kinds of patronizing now that his mood was ruined by some stupid fucking idle thoughts. Damn them.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna impress me.”

Normally he would have a snarky comeback for this. A poke for her prod, but now? He wasn’t in the mood to play their games. He was mad. About his runaway thoughts. About his family.

His father and his failure to learn. Clinging to a fantasy that had broken everything the first time.

His mother and her abandonment.

Her abandonment of him.

The son she never wanted.

That she could never love.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Go the fuck away.

Get the fuck out of my brain.

He bit back the responses that filled his head. If he answered Lydia in his present shitty mood, it was going to make things worse, his night would really be ruined, and those people had ruined enough in his life.

Dalton shut his eyes and summoned all the patience and self-control he had in him to not lash out at Lydia. Tonight was supposed to be fun. It was going to be fun. The thing that would improve his shitty mood not worsen it.

Fun.

“Alright, Watson, where to next?” She asked as she made her way to the door. “Please tell me it involves booze cause that’s the only way I’m gonna make it through this night.”

He pushed off the desk hard, nearly shifting it from its place as he followed Lydia to the door and opened it, repeating the world like a mantra in his head as he stepped outside.

He was going to need some booze too at this rate. He hadn’t brought any though. Why hadn’t he brought any? Fuck. They’d just take another person’s booze then.

It was H.A, and a lock in no less. Someone definitely brought booze and they were just gonna have to give it up. Until he found someone with booze though, he needed something else to improve his mood.

Something fun.

Where could they go? Classrooms, the roof, gym, pool, studios–

The pool.

A small smile lit up his face.

The pool was excellent.

“Follow me Sherlock. I know just the place.”

Already he could fill his mood starting to lift as he made his way down the halls towards the pool.

It was no ocean, he sure as hell couldn’t surf on it, but it was still water, and he liked swimming almost as much as he liked surfing.

And before any of you idiots start psychoanalysing, no, it wasn’t because water was calming or any of that shit.

He just liked it. Plain and simple.

Plus talk of surfing was reminding him of the conversation he had had with one Evelyn Sinclaire. Namely about her inability to surf which, it was funny to watch her insist that she could, and a certain vogue internship he had applied for.

The smile turned into a smirk as he rounded a corner, glancing over his shoulder at Lydia.

“Don’t fall behind now Fox.”

Contrary to what Simpclaire liked to say, he wasn’t obsessed with her. Him hooking up with her a few times and happening to find it fun to get under her skin did not equate to obsession.

That was a certain red headed stalker’s thing, not his. So, he actually hadn’t known that she had applied or that she was interested in it until she came flying into his DMs about it. Hard as she seemed to find that to believe.

He’d applied because the pay was good, as were the conditions and opportunities. The fact that Simpclaire had gone for the same internship and his application had gotten a rise out of her was just an unexpected bonus.

He wasn’t as passionate about modelling as most of the other plastics in fact, to be honest, he didn’t have strong feelings about it either way, but passion and love for your work wasn’t necessary for one to do well.

Case in point, himself.

He was good at his work, an excellent model, and while Simpclaire had the family name and a nice portfolio of her own to back her application which was an added challenge to him getting the internship, he would never have applied if he didn’t think he could get it.

Picking losing battles? Some people might be into that, not him.

The buzz of his phone in his pocket interrupted Dalton’s thoughts and he pulled it out to see messages from Javier freaking Cervantes. His brow creased into a frown as he scrolled through them.

Seriously what was wrong with the guy? He enjoyed annoying or upsetting others himself, but Javier Cervantes? The guy was a fucking nuisance. He was also a moron missing a brain.

Dalton moved to toss the phone back into his pocket, but the device was still buzzing away.

Fuck. No, he was not doing this, not now, not later.

Dalton jammed out a reply in agitation before blocking the ass and shoving his phone back into his pocket.

Better.

He slowed mid stride as he caught sight of a couple of younger students standing along the corridor with some beers in their hands.

Things really were getting better.

Reaching out, he snatched two bottles from them as he passed by.

“Hey that’s – ”

“Toll fee.” He interrupted, fixing them with a cold glare that dared them to protest further as he continued down the hall, never breaking stride. The students, whichever year or department they were for said nothing more as he disappeared off, slowing only to pass one of the bottles to Lydia.

The benefits of being tall, strong and having the reputation of an asshole ladies and gentlemen.

“I have no idea if this is third rate crap or actually something decent, but booze is booze.” He pulled the tab off as they neared their destination. Hopefully most of the idiots were gathered in the classrooms or the gym and few of them would be at the pool at the moment. He’d rather have less nuisances to clear out so he could have fun and really enjoy himself.

What greeted him as the pool came into a view was a sight for sore eyes. The place was empty, surprisingly so, but he wasn’t objecting.

“Here we are Sherlock.” He waved his hand out in front of him, smirking. He didn’t know if the pool was Lydia’s idea of fun, but it certainly was his. What sort of fun might one be able to find at the pool might you ask? Well, that you’d have to stick around to find out.

“Since you were saying the year was turning out to be extremely boring, I thought I’d try my hand at being a gentleman tonight and changing that.” A devilish grin crossed his face as he set the beer bottle down before shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to the side. His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly to reveal a hint of the muscle that lay beneath before he paused and smirked at her. He let go of the fabric, allowing the material to fall back in place as he walked over to Lydia.

“Look at me, nearly forgetting the rule that every gentleman follows. I really am not cut out for stuff like this but for you my lady, I shall try my best,” His voice held that playfully sarcastic edge as he came to a stop in front of her, pausing to look her in the eyes, that devilish grin still playing on his lips. “With that said, ladies first.”

And then he pushed her fully clothed into the water.



Dalton Kirby



mood:
something wicked this way comes

outfit:
casual

location:
the pool

mentions:
Slater, Evie, Javier, Ronnie

interactions:
Lydia

tags:
gh0stwriter gh0stwriter


º º code by ditto º º
 






Zeph Evermore


The words that she spoke hurt Zeph a bit more than he'd like to admit. There was just... something... about listening to her explain her side of the story that made it impossible for him to just... totally brush her off. It was impossible to villainize someone when you were reminded that they were just human. When they were standing right in front of you, and you could hear the pain and regret in every spoken word.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to continue to hate the tiny redhead before him, but... Zeph really couldn't. He couldn't... it wasn't her fault that the fight had happened between himself and Mike. It wasn't her fault, and to continue to blame her for something out of her control was childish and immature, and Zeph was anything but childish and immature.

"It's... it's fine, Ronnie." His tone sounded more defeated than he would've liked, and he tried to counter it with a wavering smile. She asked him about getting snacks, and part of Zeph wanted to agree to that -- maybe Lin could wait a little longer, and Zeph could go hangout with Ronnie for a few minutes. At the very least, that would show her that he uhh... he wasn't mad, and that he had forgiven her, right?

.... But then there was the whole having a girlfriend that really didn't like Ronnie thing...

And he really, really wanted to go hangout with Lin...

"That sounds great, Ronnie, really." He said with a nod of his head and a grin. "But I ahh... I actually kind of promised, uhh... promised Lin that I'd fine him when I got here, and... ya know..." he pointed a finger behind him as he started to take a couple steps back. Awkwardly, his hands dropped down and patted awkwardly at the sides of his legs as his lips pursed together and he gave another awkward nod of his head.

"So, I should... probably... go find him, but it was uhh... it was ummm... great, Ronnie, really." He gave a hesitant smile, lifting one hand up to give her an awkward little wave goodbye. "Later, though, yeah? Maybe this week or something we could uhh.... we could hangout or... something..."

Which was weird in and of itself because, even prior to The Kiss, Ronnie had never really wanted to hang around Zeph. Heck, that whole little ordeal had done more for their friendship than anything else had before, so he was kind of internally scratching his head in confusion as to why she suddenly felt the need to patch together and already basically non-existent friendship.

"Umm... bye," he said one final time, as if his prior words and actions hadn't made it clear enough that he was leaving.

And then, he turned on his heel and started away as fast as he could.

The more distance that he put between himself and Ronnie... the more Zeph was able to clear his thoughts. At first, there had been a certain unsettling feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach for leaving her like that. Briefly, he had a bit of a what if situation going on in his head, and he considered turning back and asking her if the snacks were still on -- even offer to pay for them as an apology for leaving her high and dry so easily just a few minutes before.

But then... he heard certain, familiar whooping hollers, and the guilt and the thoughts of turning back were pinched out like a candle flame between two fingers. The unsettled expression was replaced by a wider, brighter smile, and his pace quickened even more as he sped up to catch up to his friend -- and soon, he did.... or, rather, he came to a bit of a halt as he saw Lin riding his bike through the hallway in Zeph's direction along with--

Stella?

Well. Seemed that if he'd wanted to find his best friend, he should've just stuck with his girlfriend.




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
Lost Boys
by Ocean Park Standoff​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Ronnie, Lin, Stella

tags
hery hery ohdittoh ohdittoh Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202


º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:






felix rian emmerson
pleasure's all mine


Now, Felix liked to think of himself as a good person. Y’know, in the cliche, “all people’ve got some kinda good in ‘em” kinda way, but also in the “I’m more of a good person than a bad one” kinda way. He didn’t have a big head or nothin’, but he didn’t think you really had to strain your neck to see the good in him. Felix got it— he really did. He was the guy who supported people’s vices, nursed their bad habits, and encouraged their addictions; it was part of his side hustle, and it was in the name of the game. Just because he did his job as a plug well didn’t mean nothin’, y’know? He gave a portion of most of his checks to charity when he filmed things, typically for the cancer kiddos. He didn’t like to see people upset and he tried to help the people who he saw who were. He did everything in his power to satisfy the people ‘round him, and he tried to be supportive.

Even so, there was a line to his benevolence, and that line was drawn at “people tryin’ to lower his prices”…though Felix wouldn’t really call it a line to his benevolence.

Look at it this was: Felix was a businessman at heart, and that always trumped being a “good person”. He saw his actions when it came to his business as morally ambiguous at best. He had to keep his business runnin’, no matter what, and it was nothin’ personal. He had to keep his feelings outta it.

So, when this Beelzebub fella held out some money— some pocket change, really— Felix chuckled softly and looked at him in confusion.

See, there was a relationship between seller and customer in a capitalistic society. The seller said that the customer needed this much money to purchase this product that was worth that much money, and the customer came to buy it with that amount of money. It was simple and easy, and it worked like cogs in a machine. Now, this relationship— this…ecological balance, so to say— couldn’t really be maintained if 1) the seller charged too much for the product, because that wasn’t fair to the customer, or 2) the customer came to buy it with too little money, because that wasn’t fair to the seller. This principle was so ingrained in society— and in Felix, as a member of the high class— that…well, he couldn’t believe that Beelzebub was really doin’ this kinda thing.

Felix returned Beelzebub’s wide grin. Certainly, Beelzebub was putting the charm on, but Felix had his own, and he was resilient enough not to let that blow him down.

“So you give Beelzebub the shrooms? I would love that,” Beelzebub said. “And you can got o bed knowing you did a really good deed today. I don’t know, but if I was a drug dealer, some good morals before bed would be just what I need.”

The bleach-haired boy held out his hand for the shrooms, and Felix chuckled, shakin’ his head and pullin’ the bag away.

“You’re killin’ me, Mr. Beelzebub,” Felix laughed. He crossed his arms in a half-jokin’ way, partly tryin’ to feign stubbornness but also tryin’ to convey that there was truth behind what he was about to say. “You can’t be comin’ to me with them kinda pennies, bud. My stuff is high quality. I have the lowest prices around, but my shit is good shit.” He shook his head. “You gotta be kiddin’ me, bud— and, if you aren’t…heh. Well, looks like you an’ me have some negotiatin’ to do.”

He dropped his arms, grippin’ the bag loosely in his hands. “You see…” He pushed a hand to his chest to convey his genuineness. “If I accepted your offerin’ for my goods, then…well, wouldn’t that make you think that I was just willin’ to give this away? And, after that, wouldn’t you figure that it’s just because it’s weak and is no better than them Walmart portabellas?” He shook his head dismissively. “See, that’s just ridiculous. I can’t be acceptin’ that kinda price. As much as I’d love to help you out, you gotta understand that this is a two-way deal. I’m not tryin’ to take advantage of you like that Javier guy would, though." His grin broadened, and he held up his hand, tryin' to show his honesty. "I mean, I am willin’ to negotiate," he clarified. "I just can’t accept that, bud."

He lowered his hand, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. "And, if I do, then…heh. Well, you’ll be indebted to me.”




mood
; )

location
the school

outfit
somethin' casual





playing...
take a slice
by glass animals​




mentions
n/a

interactions
beel

tags
mogy mogy


º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: mission: im-prada-ble

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics
MENTIONS:
Evie, Lydia, Precious
INT:
Winona Winona (Adriane)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Chas Marino
A wicked smile stretched upon the corners of the short Italian’s lips. “Don’t even get me started on van-driving serial killers,” he remarked, shaking his head, “I’ve already had enough of that for a lifetime. Although, the real killer is Evie’s shoddy mascara application. You’d think it was applied with Lydia’s brittle chin hairs.” Ahhhh, it felt so refreshing. Chas could feel his vitality being restored by every ounce of attitude dripping from his voice. He just couldn’t wrap his head around how his plain-as-bread critics could ever frown upon an activity as positively jubilant as dissing his peers.

His grin widened as Adriane showed interest in his devious plans. She was such a faithful crony. Now, she’d have been perfect had her lips been sewn shut and a few inches were taken off her legs... and if she was a little less pretty. No matter; Chas was no stranger to charity, coming from a rich, showy family that reveled in the self-righteousness they gained from donating to choice foundations.

“I wasn’t going to give you a choice anyway,” he stated smugly, “Whatever dick appointment you had scheduled would fall flat—erm, flaccid—compared to what I have in store.” Okay, it felt a little dirty stooping to the level of the riffraff’s sex jokes, but he supposed it was fitting when socializing with the town whore. And that was saying something given the H.A. student body’s promiscuous reputation.

“Simply put, I have a few loose ends to tie up,” he explained, nodding his head in the direction of the hallway, “We’re heading to the principal’s office. What good purpose does this idiotic Lock-in serve other than to get an unsupervised glance at confidential school records?” He held his chin between his fingers. “Well, it’s actually credentials I need. I’ll explain later if I feel you’ve earned it.”

With that, Chas began his trek out of the gym and into the hall/labyrinth of Los Angeles’ crown jewel of high schools. When the scheming teenager had a mission in mind, his walk always reflected it. His footsteps were hurried and heavy, oozing purpose with every echoed clack of his shoe heels.

“If anybody asks where we’re going, tell them we’re going to the washroom to fix your bird’s nest hair. I’m counting on you to serve as an additional pair of eyes and ears for this operation.” No, he was not at all counting on the bimbo to be of any use behind being an extra body. Still, he thought it kind to impart a feeling of importance into the girl who so devoutly adored him. Plus, as attention-grabbing and awe-inspiring as Chas’ appearance was, Adriane’s stupidly, freakishly tall stature granted by her heels allowed her to serve as an excellent decoy if need be. And, in dire situations, a scapegoat.

Fingers crossed Chas wouldn’t have to expend a pawn this early in the game.

“Before we enter the head honcho’s lair, I need you to know we’re breaking laws beyond your petty dress code violations. Stay vigilant and take this very seriously if you value your handbag collection.” He turned around, staring down Adriane with Medusa’s own stony glare. “It would be a shame if Precious were to find itself locked in a closet with your gaudy stash of Hermès sacks. Then again, they’re all practically burlap anyway.”
code by valen t.
 
MOOD:
just chilling, single & don't wanna mingle

OUTFIT:
Jacket & shirt
sweatpants & shoes
​
INFO
LOCATION:
somewhere at school, hallway?

WITH:
Nate, Oates

MENTION:
Eli, Chanel​
ACTIVITY
Winona Winona , mogy mogy , Soap Soap (because i wrote 4 paragraphs about a certain character)
TAGS
cappie
Wow, they were really selling the point of the high school bachelor lifestyle. Especially Nate, with his pensive sigh from listing several perks of being single. He almost sounded like he was regretting being in a relationship, and it had only been one week so far. Or maybe Cappie was just imagining things.

“I think you dorks are forgetting something.” (He meant to call them “dorks” in a sort of affectionate way.) “Especially you, Woody.” Cappie lightly punched Nate’s broad shoulder playfully. Ouch. His deltoids were more solid than he initially thought—adding a mental note to ask what Nate’s workout set is later. “You guys don’t have to put much work into, like, figuring out who to hook up with all the time. Because, y’know, you’re dating someone already. Easy choice,” he remarked. “Plus, none of your friends are trying to set you up with anyone whenever they get the chance to.”

Several days ago on Twitter, Eli tried nudging the idea of him to date Chanel Clairmont, a new Visuals classmate in the same acting program as Cappie. Cappie started texting her just to contribute a friendly, platonic welcome to Hollywood Arts because almost everyone was being weird to her and her siblings, and since then, some of his friends wouldn’t stop teasing him about it.

Though he appreciated his best bro performing his wingman duties, Cappie felt the idea was being nudged a bit too much. First of all, Chanel was new to Hollywood Arts and Cap hardly knew her. Second, it was on public Twitter, and honestly, he may have felt a tad embarrassed. He wasn’t actively seeking to get into the dating scene right now. Nobody even asked him why didn’t want to date—well, a couple of people kind of did, but Cappie wasn’t sure if they would understand if he was being seriously honest, so he deflected the Cappie way. No, he was not intimidated by Chanel or anyone like her.

Again, a weird, LEGO-building, childish dork? He was pretty sure that was far from her type. And she was not his. Sure, Chanel was physically attractive—Cappie wasn’t blind to notice that—but her egotistical ice queen persona wasn’t exactly a major turn-on for him.

His phone chimed with a new message, and—speak of the devil—her name appeared on the screen. Again. Usually, Cappie would send a DM to her first after she was involved in some social media drama, whether it was a stressful Twitter fight with Gen or a hormonal punk acting creepy to her. This time, neither situation was the current reason for her DM'ing him tonight.

Ever the exuberant conversationalist, Oates went from talking about dating to The Real Housewives of Hollywood Arts. For a moment, Cappie raised his brow as he considered that hilarious idea to be an interesting optional idea for a skit, whether for the Art Festival or a future satire video project.

“Hey, Nate, you still have the school keys on you?” Cappie asked after texting a quick reply to a certain blonde ice queen. “I need to borrow them for a little while. Gotta help a friend find her most likely drunk friend that might be somewhere just outside the building. I don’t want her to worry too long. I can trade you with something for the keys if you want.”

He started unzipping a small pocket from his backpack.

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but you kinda already ate all my trail mix. Sorry I don’t have any more to spare for you, Oates.”

code by valen t.
 



















oates



his boyfriend's boyfriend












There actually was a lot of truth resting behind Cap's words, but maybe Oates felt it just because of his constant need to be in a relationship. Ever since he knew about himself, was he crushing on some random guy, or was he in a committed relationship. The whole hooking-up thing was never something he had been interested in, so a relationship was the thing left, and luckily he was in a happy one at the moment—somewhat happy, ignoring the happenings of the homecoming game. And neither Rome, nor Nate, nor Cappie were trying to find him a new boyfriend, so that was also something he hadn't related with, but he definitely knew how annoying it can be, and he didn't envy Cappie because of it.

"Oh, that's more of a sitcom, but... it works."
He admitted to Nate, in the end, satisfied. It didn't take any time for him to continue.
"Cap is definitely Joey because of the bachelor life, I'm Chandler because of the queer, and you can be Ross because he's with Rachel."
Rachel was Oates' least favorite character—there was something about her crudeness and obliviousness to other people's feelings that he just didn't vibe with whatsoever.

As the conversation moved, it became more and more apparent that Cappie was about to leave or was thinking of doing so. Not that the curly-haired boy was ready to make him stay so the bro trio wouldn't fall apart, but more that he wanted just a tad bit more time to catch up with his friend. This was why he didn't really focus on the first bunch of his sentences, but on the last one; the one that actually referred to him.

"Trail mix? Pfft, who needs that when you've got 133 lbs of pure Oates right here?"
He scoffed with an assured smile, pointing his thumbs at himself like every dude who wanted to show off his muscles, though that really hadn't been the curly-haired boy's intention. And not that it had anything to do with anything, but his muscles were on point. Perfect dancer material.
"Wait, are you really going to leave your buds for some girl's drunk friend? And here I thought we meant something to you... For shame."
He joked, making it blatantly clear that what was said had been so with the goal of satire.
"But thinking about it, didn't you just say you were cruising the single wave? Seems an awful lot to do for a girl when you're goin' solo."
Again, satire, the smile on the boy's face making that so very clear.











































♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:




































  • how he's feeling...



    very good he likes it when he's so smart

















beel



batshit crazy drug addict












Pffft... Trust me, we all get it, Felix: you're simply not like other girls. You're a natural blonde and can actually do math... Why don't you mention that you also own a gym membership that you use and actually have a real driver's license to rub it in Beel's face?

Fuck you, Felix Emmerson, you and your drugs. And fuck your branded jeans and shirt. Beelzebub despised rich people like this. Like, just let poor people use your drugs; it really wouldn't be that hard. It wasn't like the bleached man didn't offer at least half of the needed cash, yet the blonde bitch in front of him was acting as if he had committed fraud or something similar—going on a whole tangent about how the transaction can't go on under those circumstances, to which Beel could only listen and pretend to give a crap while desperately trying not to roll his eyes out of his head. It was borderline brat behavior, but at least he didn't look like Ugly Camille.

Well...

...you had to excuse the little bleached man. He was basically on his period, but that could've easily been chlamydia; he wasn't really sure. Oh, and he was fucking SOBER. GIVE HIM THE FREAKING DRUGS NOW, FELIX!

That was all basically what had been going on around in his head as the taller man's voice echoed around the empty locker room, only faint sounds of other people managing to get to them through the red closed doors. A cosine of emotions with every said sentence that moved in unison with the probability of those shrooms ending up in Beelzebub's small little tummy. It was like a Breaking Bad ride in Disneyworld, which, thinking about it, would actually be pretty cool. Maybe the bleached little man could go on it if the night actually went in his direction for once. Poor little him could never catch a break. :
(

Hopefully, Felix could've seen the sheer desperation hiding behind an everlasting smirk on Beel's face. Probably not. At least he--

Wait, what was that?

What did he say?

Did he possibly say "debt"?

That was like Beelzebub's favorite word, "plum pudding" being a very close second.

Why?

Well, because being in debt meant not having to pay right then and there, and, most importantly of all, it became a problem for another Beelzebub who wasn't him. It was, in one word, perfect.

"Okay. Debt it is. I'll pay you back. I always pay people back, you know, because I am such an awesome individual in this capitalistic society. Though, you know, if you wanted to contribute to the fall of capitalism, you could always give drugs away for free. Honestly, I would be happy to take them off your hands for you. Such a burden, for such a charitable young man, never is an issue, I must admit."
'This Charming Man' was a song written about Beelzebub Woods, no cap. Felix Emmerson should be able to confirm just by this one interaction, no doubt.

"Las drogas, por favor."
He said, once again putting his hands forward. Hey, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking Beelzebub won't pay Felix back, but you're wrong. He will. Maybe. We will see.

Find out next time in "This shitshow Winona likes to call a roleplay".











































♡coded by uxie♡
 
Charlie Howell
@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
let the party begin

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
2nd floor

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
sunflowers & denim

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
Lin

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Trevor

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh
Charlie’s nose scrunched up as Trevor ruffled her hair, leaving her to angrily swat away his hands with a suppressed giggle. That was how things were supposed to be: relaxed, playful, connected. Everything felt at ease as the tension slowly lifted from the duo. For once, Charlie wasn’t actively worrying or feeling upset or wondering when the next hammer was going to drop. For once, she was happy.

Trevor began to make his way down the stairs and Charlie simply assumed that he was going to go off and do whatever the hell he did at lock-ins, probably smoke the joint he had snuffed out during their conversation. In their three years of friendship, Charlie hadn’t ever spent much time with Trev at lock-ins. She usually spent her time with Amy or Jo, seeing as Trev usually ran off to who-knows-where after a few minutes of socialization.

“Uh…actually..., what do you say we do with ourselves?” Trevor spoke, pulling Charlie out of her thoughts. “Or do you have people to be and places to meet? If you don’t wanna hang around me, I seriously won’t be offended.”

“Hell no, I’d much rather hang with you.” Charlie laughed softly with a gentle shake of her head, picking the guitar case up off of the ground. “Well actually, I have to meet up with Lin at some point. I managed to skillfully acquire the keys to the storage building so we’re gonna go check that out. Buuuuut, I think he’s off with Zeph or something right now so we’ve got time.”

Charlie hopped up onto the railing, steadying the guitar case on her lap with one hand as the other braced her body on the thin metal railing.

“Besides, there’s always time for you, no matter what. Just try and keep up.”

With a strong push, Charlie went sliding quickly down the railing, the laugh booming from her chest ricocheting off the light grey walls of the stairwell. The ending of the rail came as a surprise causing her to jump off sooner than expected and stumble slightly as her feet found the ground below her. Adjusting the guitar case in her hand, Charlie pushed the door open to the second floor hallway with her hip and stepped into the hall.

“So,” Charlie spoke quickly, rocking up on her toes, “what do you wanna do? I think they left the caf unlocked so we could go raid that. Orrrr we could go and cause havoc somewhere?”

º º code by ditto º º
 
MOOD: he is an amazing bro

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: music room
basics
MENTIONS:
Beel, Angel, Nickie, Callum, Gen, Trevor

INT:
gh0stwriter gh0stwriter (Lucky)
tags
TL;DR no
tl;dr
Javier Cervantes
Ahhhhh, FUCK. FUCK YEAH.

That felt fucking GOOD.

Javi wiped his nose, then dusted the conspicuous white powder off his car's console—

Just kidding. It may come as a surprise that not only had Javier not ingested any illicit substances all day that Saturday, but he'd also managed to leave the majority of his "stuff" at home save for a few on-the-go necessities. Granted, it was plenty more than any normal person would ever carry in their vehicle and enough to indict Javi on more drug charges than cells in his brain, but it was a significant enough of a disparity to make a difference.

The guy was lucky not to have been pulled over yet, especially with how reckless his driving tended to be. Although, some may say that the best drivers can afford to bend traffic laws a teensy bit if they know what they're doing. In fact, Javi almost felt a little naked with nothing more than a baggie of blunts (notwithstanding a few psychedelics) tucked in the glove compartment.

Speaking of naked, it was about time for Javi to put some pants on and get out of the car. He'd been parked outside the school for so long he was beginning to think that ol' Beelzebub's brain was too fried to recall where they'd agreed to meet for their exchange. Unless... Javi made that up? Had they ever actually agreed to meet?

It didn't matter. Javier had already fully intended to attend the Lock-in. His hope was that an event as daring as this would weed out the lameasses and the snitches; see: Angel Joseph Cervantes. With a little luck, maybe some actual mischief would go down beyond breaking the bro code or getting into a fistfight or whatever Hollywood Artsians these days got into. At this point, anything beat arguing and bothering people in their DMs with his feet kicked up on the dash, the aroma of McDonald's fries wafting through the air.

Slipping on his pair of jeans, the gentle breeze sweeping across Javier's lower half subsided, leaving his legs feeling hot and suffocated. It was just one of the many downsides of being absolutely shredded, he supposed, which offered him a little extra solace in these trying times.

He headed out of the beaten-up sedan, making double-sure to lock it this time before heading into the school through the gym. Now, not only was Javi a keen listener, but he was a master planner. While exchanging messages with Lucky (bitching about JJ and Dorian, but that's a story for another night), he'd managed to happen upon some info suggesting that his prior hookup was situated somewhere people play music.

Lucky had mentioned he was practicing music somewhere at school. Easy-peasy, although it begged the question, "Why break into your school after hours just to do the same thing you do during class?" God, some people really were set in their ways. That already seemed to be apparent enough with Fucky Lucky Dubois, who had a nasty habit of insulting Javier's intelligence at least once every five minutes or so whenever they spoke. Clearly his fellow musician was into it, as he had yet to block him like everybody else. Had they been bonded by the whole Twitter blowout from the other day?

Javi stopped in his tracks once he remembered how he and Lucky had been exposed to the school not one week ago. Javi didn't give much of a shit who people knew he slept with, and actually took a little pride in it. However, Lucky was a deeply private guy. Maybe it had something to do with him being formerly closeted, but who was to say? On the bright side, he now had way more prospective hookup options open to him now. Who could stand to miss their chance making sweet, sensual love with Trevor Callaghan?

All jokes aside, people like Nickie, Callum, Gen, and the rest of the entire student body had sharply struck a nerve, even for emotional Javi's standards. He'd done what he thought was his absolute best keeping things under wraps and preserving Lucky's wishes for privacy, but their nosy peers and that damn video spread about by ThirsTea did them no favors.

Had everyone at Hollywood Arts lost their fucking mind? Everyone seemed to love pointing their fingers at Javi, whose only goal was to keep the entire school from knowing that Lucky was a fruity, dick-loving prick (which he is, by the way, if you weren't sure). Gen especially seemed to relish the notion that Javier was the sole proprietor of all the blame, as though he asked for everybody to mercilessly probe those involved for answers.

He didn't even care about the fucking vomit and the stupid ass photos. If that was it, he'd have come clean in the first place. It made sense at the time hiding things, because of timing and association and... and... well, Javi didn't really know where anything was going, but it just felt fucking right, okay? Maybe the denial would have worked to keep things under wraps had the school's internet gossip blog not invaded their privacy with its rumormongering. Even further, had the Johanneses not installed fucking psycho stalker cameras in their own home, maybe the whole thing would have been less complicated in the first place. Way to make a giant deal and attract attention to a private hookup, Gen. Way to go.

Oh, well. It was over and not so much Javi's problem anymore beyond a few disgruntled Johanneses and a hefty bill.

That's all.

Therefore, it felt appropriate to be hanging around Lucky again, and the other boy didn't seem to have an issue with it when Javi was buying him ice cream and calling him papi chulo. He picked up the pace lumbering down the hall with his hands in his pockets, stopping only to listen in to the music room. It was a nice ass music room too, and one downside to going to a richie school was that the door and walls were great at containing sound. It made sense for a performing arts school, but it was a detriment when Javi was making an attempt at listening in to Lucky's private musical matters. A part of him secretly wished for a love song addressed to him; maybe it was still on the way? Lucky did have a funny way of showing his affection after all, and it wouldn't have surprised Javi if his special serenade came a little late.

He swung the door open, a cheeky grin plastered onto his face as his mocha brown eyes zeroed in on his Irish best pal. "Surprise, gorgeous," he squawked, shutting the door behind him. He stalked over toward Lucky, stretching and yawning in a manner so comfortable one would think he had just walked through the door of his own apartment. "I knew you'd be all lonely and shit," he sneered, peering at the scribblings in his classmate's hands, "What're you writing? Don't tell me you're busy right now."

He flashed his trademark overconfident smirk, practically lunging forward and wrapping an arm around Lucky's shoulders. "Writing me a 'thank you' for the best sex of your life?" he offered playfully, unable to suppress his own dimwitted cackling, "All you have to do is ask now, mi diablito. I'm at your service 'til the end of time. Anything to, uh, to..."

Javi's irritating cockiness began to lose momentum as he faltered. "Uh, sorry for fucking you over on Twitter. You know all I wanna do is, like, help an' shit, but it's just not in my nature to keep my mouth shut, man. It's just not." He shook his head, internally scolding himself. "I've been thinkin' about it a lot. Halloween was a crazy fuckin' night, right? You're chill with me talking about all that, yeah? Or are you still, like, torn up an' shit about it?" He lifted his hands from Lucky's shoulders and into the air as though lowering his guard. "I mean, I'm cool either way. All good here."
code by valen t.
 
Last edited:






Adriane Holloway


It was just like Chas to have every other remark out of his puffy mouth be an insult or dig at someone. Not that Adriane had any room to talk or to complain about her best friend's choice of words. After all, Adriane had been brutally attacked just a few weeks prior thanks to a certain bitch just because she'd said a few cutting remarks -- although Adriane had considered them to be less cutting, more... hmmm...

Constructive criticism.

Chas continued to blather on. The sound of his voice could only be compared to that of a yappy Chihuahua. You know, the ones that were consistently under foot, and given how Adriane had to look down at Chas to see him, well... he shared more in common with Chihuahuas than just his headache-inducing bitching.

She fell into step next to Chas as they started down one of the halls in the large school. Her own steps were sure and purposeful, her long strides clearly the reason that Chas' own steps were so annoyingly frantic and hurried. He kind of resembled a small toddler that was on a mission.

"Let me get this straight," Adriane started. She brought a hand up to examine her nails for a moment, her eyebrows creasing together momentarily when she noticed a spot of dirt under one of her nails. She set about cleaning it out with another of her fingernails and, after her fingers were returned to the same level of perfection that the rest of her was, she dropped her hand back to her side and continued to speak.

"You want me to go along with you on a petty little adventure where I could get into serious trouble, and yet you refuse to tell me what it is I'm putting my neck on the line for?" She asked, her ice cold tone coupled with a roll of her eyes and a sigh of disbelief.

"Honestly, Chas, you would think that at this point, you would learn to trust me. After all, I haven't tried to smother you in your sleep despite the fact that you snore so loudly that the walls practically shake."

Adriane came to an abrupt stop then, and leaned back on one leg. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she stared down at Chas with an indignant look. She took a quick glance around, but there was no one nearby, so her gaze came to rest back on Chas once more.

"I'm not going any farther until you tell me exactly what it is you need in the office."

And Adriane, of course, knew that Chas would have no choice but to answer her. To give her exactly what she wanted, which was just a rhyme and a reason as to why he needed to do something that, if caught, could easily ruin both of them. Adriane had no issue putting herself on the line for Chas (or a good deal of people because, well, she honestly just didn't care one way or another), but she just wanted to know the reason behind it.

Consider it a healthy curiosity.

He'd have to answer her because no one else in this school would have his back, save for maybe that little sophomore that worshipped Chas like a god. But with less than two braincells to rub together, he wasn't the kind of crony that one would want for anything that held this kind of dangerous weight.




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
song title
by artist​




mentions
mentions mentions mentions

interactions
interactions interactions interactions

tags
tags tags tags


º º code by ditto º º
 






Jace West


His eyes were burning in his... eye... holes--

Sockets. Eye sockets.

See his eyes were burning so heavily from stepping into the room after Mike and Evie while stumbling over his words and trying to come up with a million and one reasons of why they shouldn't go find Gen that clearly the eye burning had burned straight through his sockets and set his brain on fire and now he like... he basically had like... he basically had just lost about the only few facts that he actually knew and now his thoughts were turning into run-on sentences and--

Look away look away lookawaylookaway.

Oh look, a bug on the ceiling. What was that? A fly?

He risked a glance over, but again was met with the topless forms of Gen and Landon, and again he diverted his gaze up. Why did he not just rush back out as any normal person would do? Well... to be perfectly honest, the entire thing was just so out there that Jace was struck with no idea of how to properly react. Kind of a deer in the headlights sort of reaction, although Gen and Landon should've been the deer and he should've been the headlights in this current scenario.

Of course, all of the slow motion build up seemed to come to a head when Evie's voice split the silence.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" spilled from her lips, and then Evie turned swiftly on her heel and charged out of the room while slamming the door shut after her. That little action seemed to set the room back to normal speed, and Jace's brain (which had clearly been previously fried by the gross vision that was Gen's boobs) started rotating its rusty cogs once again.

Mike was clearly distraught over this current new arrangement, as could be heard by his stupid utterance of “Did we miss a…party?” when clearly, clearly, it had been a little more than a party. Even Jace could tell that.

Or maybe Mike was just stupid.

Damn, if only he was this cutting with his remarks vocally. Everyone would fear him.

"They w-were hooking up," he said as an answer to Mike's question, and hey, look at that, he only stumbled over one of his words.

With his gaze still diverted, he set his feet in motion to follow after Evie. He started towards the door that led to salvation, and gave a tilt of his head towards Cal. "C-c'mon, let's... let's go have fun," he mumbled, his words less stutter-filled, but still wavering.

He hurried towards the door, not eager to be witness to whatever was about to happen. His fingers closed around the door handle... and he pulle--

He pull--

What?

Scratching his head with his free hand, Jace then attempted to twist the handle and push the door, but it had the same effect.

As in, there was no effect.

As in, the door wasn't freaking opening.

Jace brought his shoulder against the door, pushing against it with all of his thin guy might, but it wouldn't budge. So then he started to pull on it, straining and leaning his weight backwards against the door handle in an attempt to get it to open.

NONONONONONONONONONONO.

"It... it-- it-- it--" he sounded like a broken record.

"Locked!" his voice was whiny and nasally as he finally let go of the door handle with a look of defeat.

It was locked. Stuck. So now, here Jace was, stuck in a room with the girl that endlessly tortured him, the guy that retired from endlessly torturing him, his ex-BFF, and his new BFF.

Jace would say that it sounded like the start to a bad joke, but really, it sounded like the start to absolute hell.




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
insecure

by Jace West, duh​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Evie, Landon, Gen, Mike, Callum

tags
jasmyn jasmyn gh0stwriter gh0stwriter geminiy geminiy ohdittoh ohdittoh hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 






Nathan Woods


It was all fun and games between the boys until Cap asked for the keys. For a moment, Nate hesitated -- after all, he'd stolen those fair and fucking square. And, well, he'd already told off a handful of people that had tried begging him for the keys. However, well... it was Cappie, and although he might not have known the other boy super well, Nate did know him well enough to know that he was going to fuck around with the keys or some shit.

Like, Nate knew that he wouldn't just be abusing the privilege of holding the keys to the entire fucking school -- but at the same time, how would he when they had already broken into the school?

Nate sighed heavily, as if the act of handing the keys over to Cappie was a huge fucking issue for him or some shit. He shifted backwards, his hand sliding into his front left pocket as he fished around for the keys. Lighter, joint-- oh hey, he didn't actually need Trevor's. He'd forgotten he'd come prepared, although he shouldn't have been surprised by that. Most of Nate's jeans had a half-smoked joint resting in them, and he'd admit to having washed a joint in his pockets on more than one occasion. It was always a fucking mess.

His fingers closed around the warm metal and he pulled out the key chain. He readjusted back to his previous somewhat slouched position, and held the keys out to Cappie.

"Knock yourself out, man," he said. "Just don't let anyone else take these, you got it? Don't wanna have to hunt 'em down or some shit." He dropped the keys into Cap's hand, bidding his friend a small farewell as Oates spoke up.

Nate scoffed at Oates' remark. "C'mon, he never said it was for a girl." But Oates had to be right -- it had to be a girl. Nate never would've looked for some fucking girl's friend if he wasn't, well, you know... looking to get something in return, if you know what he meant. Wink wink.

Fuck, Nate wasn't even sure he'd go hunting down his own drunk friends. Bastards got themselves into that kind of fucking mess. They could get themselves out of it. Well, that's what his family used to press into him when he'd still been living at home and had gotten drunk a time or two and called to see if they'd drive him home.

Kind of embarrassing looking back at it now. Imagine calling your parents asking for a ride home and having to admit the reason was because you were blackout drunk.

Embarrassing.

"Come back after you find 'em," Nate said, before he turned to look at Oates.

Well.

Uh...

Huh.

Nate wasn't so good at the one-on-one conversation.




mood
friends? check. weed? needed.

location
somewhere in the school

outfit
clothes duh





playing...
Figure Me Out
by The Summer Set​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Cappie, Oates

tags
0k_mang0 0k_mang0 mogy mogy


º º code by ditto º º
 






LINDSAY MORGAN KAY
do it, no balls


Lin was a blur of motion.

One hand holding his yellow jacket, Lin steered his flame-painted bicycle with one hand. His butt hovered over the black, memory foam seat and then bounced off of the right or the left side of it as he pressed all of his weight down into each pedal. Every time he rounded a corner, the bicycle leaned dangerously to the right as the wheels struggled for traction on the polished floors, but Lin just jerked his body hard in the opposite direction to make sure it stayed standing.

Lin’s laughter filled the air as he went, alongside the squeaks of the turns he made and whoops of excitement. It was as if he had entirely forgotten that he was in a race and was instead just along for a joyride.

‘course, that wasn’t the case— he was beating ass right now, luhmao.

He set his eyes on a small, blue, printer-copied poster— one’a those ones promoting the Winter Arts Fest— that hung on the quickly-approaching wall at the end of the hallway, and he shifted his weight a little bit to the right, a wide grin coming across his face.

“Hey Lin,” he whispered breathlessly, and then he answered himself: “Hey, what?”

“Betcha a box of sour worms that you can’t snatch that off before you turn— without breaking your wrist.”

Lin cackled, shaking his head dismissively. “Aight, bet,” he muttered, and then he came upon the wall.

Throwing the arm holding his jacket out as quickly as possible, he gripped at the poster while his arm yanked harshly on the handlebars to turn the corner and his body pushed the opposite direction to keep from toppling over.

RIP!

Lin’s eyes bulged for a second before he laughed in victory, putting his hand, now with the crumpled Arts Fest paper in it, back on his jacket to keep it steady, and his bike unsteadily sat back into its racing pace.

Lin cheered, “Hell yeeaaaaaaah!” as he sped up for the last spurt, and then— like it was nothiiiiing— he reached the runway.

He slammed his brakes, his bike bouncing a couple of times before stopping. He dropped down his left leg and winded-ly yelled, “I fuckin’ won! Boo-fucking-yahhhh!” He did an aggressive pelvic thrust, and then threw his jacket and the poster down— though the poster more floated than fell.

Victoriously, Lin pumped his fists, and he let out another loud yell: “Boooooooom!”

Finally, he looked up from his victory-ing to see—

“Zeph!” Lin said, a grin of nearly childlike excitement coming onto the boy’s face. He quickly hopped off of his bike, dropping it to the ground, and he ran up to him, throwing his arms around his torso and tucking his head into the crook of his neck, making deep, fake sniffles and letting out soft, phony sobs. “It’s been fifty damn years!” he said weepingly, and he pulled back his head back look his bro in the face, though his arms remained tightly wrapped around the area beneath Zeph’s elbows. “Come, give Momma a kiss!” he weeped, and then he dissolved into laughter, letting go and covering his face. “Ew! Ew, nevermind! Forget I said that, luhmao!”

He looked over at Zeph again, and he put his hands on his hips. “I’m glad I finally found you, luhmoa. Or did our—“ He put two fingers on each of his temples with a laugh. “— team Zephlin— that’s our name, bee-tee-dubbs— did our team Zephlin powers make you know telepathically that I was kicking some ass right now?”

He heard a noise, and he followed it down to the girl that he was racing— the loooooser— quickly approaching on her skates. “Yo, Stelly-Steeeeell!” Lin greeted with a toothy grin and a big wave. “Glad for you to finally join us, luhmao!” he said when she came to a stop, and then he wiggled his butt. “How’s it feel to get your ass beaaaaten? Luhmaooooo!” He held up his hands, flopping his wrists dismissively. “Good race, good race—“ He pointed finger guns at her. “And you loooost!” he boasted.

He put a hand on her shoulder, laughing. “It’s alright— don’t cry, luhmao. You can have my sock and that coin as a consolation prize,” he said in his most benevolent, yo-I-might-as-well-be-the-pope— or-the-dope-pope voice. He picked up his jacket and tied it around his waist.

He laughed again, and then he walked back over to Zeph and threw his arms around his waist. “I’ll catcha later, Stella,” Lin said, and he pointed up at Zeph. “Me and your boyfriend are gonna go. Duuueces.”

With that, Lin moved his arm to hang off of Zeph’s shoulders, hoisted his bike back up and grabbed the handlebars so that he could walk with it, and tugged both of them off.

“I was wondering where you were, bro,” Lin said as he made his way down the hallway and back toward the lockers, where his spoils were. “I kept racing myself, luhmao, and, duh, I won, but I was like, ‘I wish I had my Zephy-poo to hang out with,’ luhmaooo.”

Lin chattered away for the next bit as they made their way back to his locker, and then he opened his locker up, shoved in the clown nose and the two-dollar bill— “my loooot, luhmao”, as he told Zeph— and then looked back at his friend.

“Yooo, bee-are-bee,” he said, and then he settled on his bike and tore off again.

Of course, within the next couple of minutes, Lin came back, running on foot.

“Sorry, had to put Richard back on his rack, luhmao,” he said. Though he was a bit winded, there was on real sign that he’d just raced and then ran again.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and then grinned widely at Zeph. “I was just aboutta be like ‘whaddoyou wanna do’, but then I remembered how much your ideas kinda sucked, luhmao,” he laughed. “So whaddoyou say we go exploringgg?” he asked.

The mischievous glint in his eye said, Yeah, no, exploring is definitely not all there is to it.




mood
BOOOOOOYAH

location
the school

outfit
lookin fly as always





playing...
all i do is win
by dj khaled​




mentions
n/a

interactions
stella & zeph

tags
Kitsune2202 Kitsune2202 Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 
Tilly Phoenix
"Dreaming like I paint: with my heart."
@Til2Morrow has set their status to:
Mom, can you come pick me up? I’m scared

@Til2Morrow has set their outfit to:
Am I cute?

@Til2Morrow has set their location to:
At school

@Til2Morrow has mentioned:
Josie, Saint

@Til2Morrow has interacted with:
Josie and Saint

@Til2Morrow has tagged:
jasmyn jasmyn ohdittoh ohdittoh
For as long as she could remember, Tilly hated uncomfortable situations. It didn’t matter if she knew the person she was tossed into an interaction with or not, the fact remained that she handled them poorly. And this wasn’t a case of her not being able to carry herself in a matter that wouldn’t be weird on her end, but rather Tilly often shut down altogether.

And when she found herself taking Saint’s hand, shaking it with as much strength that came with a drifting feather being pulled by a breeze. She smiled instinctively, chuckling nervously when he told her he didn’t recognize her until he did.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m Tilly!” She said as if not even registering that he probably knew that

Wait no, he just said he didn’t know her name. But she knew who he was. Being Josie’s friend, she knew exactly who Saint Taylor was.

Thus why Tilly found herself a bundle of nerves. What made it worse was that Saint didn’t just walk away. Why didn’t he walk away? Why did he have to comment about how cute Josie looked?

Internally, she began breaking down because, even though she wasn’t necessarily the one he had broken up with, which no duh, Tilly often found herself feeling for her friends. It was a blessing and a curse, both of which she’d rather not have right now.

She reamined painfully silent both during the exchanges that Saint gave to Josie but also when Josie was talking.

There it was again, she thought when Josie mentioned skinny dipping. She couldn’t control the slight change of color on her cheeks. The mere thought made her blush, but it was also interesting.

But back onto Josie complimenting Saint looking good too. A look of worry came over her face, knowing exactly how dangerous this kind of talk was.

Should I say something? I don’t want to leave her alone..

She spent close to ten seconds contemplating this and in the end, Tilly just chose the path not spoken. But she still looked between Josie and Saint like an outside party who both had a place in the conversation and who also felt like they didn’t belong.

But, of course, Tilly wasn’t the type to leave her friend alone with her ex.

No matter how badly she wanted to escape this uncomfortable hell.

º º code by ditto º º
 






trevor callaghan
feckin' fuck off


“You’d rather hang with me?” Trevor asked, and his heart warmed more than he cared to admit at that.

Speaking truthfully, there were countless times— several times just this past week— that Trevor considered dropping off the face of the earth, holing up in some one-room apartment that costed three times as much as Jo’s black market organs, and never talking to anyone ever again, fully giving into the “holed-up writer with agoraphobia” stereotype, sans the agoraphobia. Talking to people was hard. Maintaining relationships was harder. Avoiding fights and saying the right things and doing the right things and trying not to piss everyone off was a feckin’ Herculean task. It stressed him out, put him on edge, and damn near killed him most of the time.

But then, every time that he thought about leaving and going and doing all of that, there would be something— just one thing— that would keep him around, that would keep him from becoming a shut-in.

Knowing that people cared about him.

Shut up. He wasn’t soft.

It was…just…nice.

And then, Charlie slid down the bannister, and his dad friend instincts kicked in, and he called out, “Charlie!” His voice was written with concern. You’re going to hurt yourself!

But he was smiling.

Today— tonight— these past five minutes? They were the first times that he’d genuinely smiled all week.

It felt nice.

Trevor scurried down the stairs, past the used condom and some candy wrappers and someone’s library card, trying to stifle his smile and then just giving up and letting the thing stretch out across his face.

Of course, Trevor was not physically apt enough to be doing that, so he reached the bottom entirely out of breath, with somewhat-aching legs and lungs that were already starting to burn.

“So,” Charlie asked, “what do you wanna do? I think they left the car unlocked so we could go raid that. Orrrr we could go and cause havoc somewhere?”

Trevor shook his head disapprovingly, though his smile made all attempts at his grumpiness fall flat on their faces. “No havoc,” he said— though he knew that much was unavoidable with Charlie Howell. “But raidin’ tha cafeteria? Count me in.”

• • • • •​

Trevor discarded the last of his trash into the can outside of the door, wiping his mouth contentedly. “You have tha best ideas,” he admitted to Charlie. “Really.” He sighed happily.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was getting later than he figured that it was, and he let out a less happy sigh. “I think I should get goin’ now. You mentioned hangin’ with yer boyfriend.” He smiled. “Don’t wanna hold you up from that.”

He looked around. It was risky business, looking like he was having a good time out in a fairly public place such as this, but he figured, ehhh, fuck it. He couldn’t be unhappy to suit them or happy to suit them, anyway.

He put an arm around Charlie, giving her a side-hug, and he leaned his head down on hers for a second. “Don’t get yerself hurt, don’t damage any property,” he began, and then he let go of her shoulder, making his face serious and putting up two fingers. He added a third one, a fourth one, a fifth one, and added in all of the fingers of his other hand as he continued. “Don’t do anything that could get you arrested, don’t vandalize anything, don’t swipe anyone’s possessions, don’t go into dark places alone, don’t eat anything suspicious, don’t drink anything suspicious, don’t trust any food that Crack Kid gives you because it’s probably laced with drugs, and let me know if he does anything to upset you.” He took a step back. “Oh, and—“ He broke into a smile again. “Have fun. But be safe first.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, and I’d advise against goin’ back into tha stairwell if you think, ‘Oh, I’m gonna get ta smashin’.’ Seems like a popular spot for that, an’ I know yer opposition to orgies,” he teased.

He reached down to ruffle her hair a last time. “Catch ya later,” he said, and then he waved goodbye and made his way down the hallway.

A contented smile on his face, Trevor knew exactly where he was going: to the bathroom to smoke down his joint.

(Again, two-track mind.)

He made his way past person after person, laser-focused on his weed.

“Did you see Ash West?”

Trevor slowed his steps as he overheard someone mentioning his girlfriend, his curiosity peaked.

Oh? What was she doing on this fine ni—

“I bet you she was on her way to break down. She was full on sprint mode, and she looked like a ghost.”

Trevor glanced back at the two girls, gossiping carelessly about his girlfriend.

He felt a pit in his stomach, though.

He felt like— he felt like that was true.

The color drained from his face.

“Why?”

“Fuck if I know. I saw Evie, that angry midget, Ash’s brother, and one of the weird, thin male cheerleaders storming by here a bit ago. I figure that it had something to do with that.”

“What?” Trevor asked aloud, before he could think.

The two girls’ eyes flicked to him, and their lips curled up judgmentally. One’s eyes looked back t the other girls’, and she continued talking. “So, like—“

“No, what,” Trevor said, walking closer to them.

His body was tensing up again, and his heart was thudding out of his chest.

Babumpbabumpbabump.

“What do you mean, what?” said one of the girls. She spoke to him as if she was disgusted with his very presence.

“Can you just answer me?” he asked aggressively. “What are you saying happened to Ash?”

She gave him a once-over. “Why do you—“

“Just tell me,” Trevor interrupted.

“Fine. Weirdo.” She rolled her eyes. “Ash just, like, took off by here. Running. Super weird.”

No, no, no.

“Where did she go?” he asked, voice strained.

“Fuck if I know. That way, though.” The girl pointed in the directions of the classrooms.

Trevor couldn’t even muster a thank you— he just took off, walking as fast as he could without running, in the direction of the classrooms.

It was like his survival instincts had kicked in. Cymbals rang in his ears, and his breathing was quickening. His heart was beating so fast that he thought that he was going to have a heart attack, but he wasn’t thinking about that, wasn’t thinking about any of it—

Just Ash— find Ash.

His hands pulled and tugged on the door handles of the classrooms. Those that opened, he looked inside, his eyes scanning the rooms in just seconds, and then speeding up with each subsequent room. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find when he opened one, but he knew who he was looking for—

Ash.

His hand ripped open another door, and he stuck his head inside to scan the room—

And his eyes immediately caught on a figure, crumpled on the floor, clutching a bottle like a teddy bear.

His world banged different colors. He could see his rapid pulse in his vision and hear his heart beating in his ears. His throat went dry, and his nostrils burned, but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t process what he was seeing.

And the pit in his stomach grew.

He felt like he was going to faint.

Every part of him was shaking. His hands, his fingers, his legs, his knees.

He tried to swallow, but there was nothing to swallow.

He took a step inside of the room, cautiously closing the door behind him.

And he stood for a moment, looking at Ash, heart panging with— with every emotion every single, rapid beat.

And then he weakly spoke up: “Ash?”




mood
...

location
a classroom

outfit
something casual





playing...
the funeral
by band of horses​




mentions
jo, lin, jace, callum, evie, & mike

interactions
charlie, some npcs, & ash

tags
geminiy geminiy Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:






Ava Sanders


She'd figured Angel was pretty fucking lame. He kind of just radiated lame energy, right? Like no one had ever looked at Angel and gone "Wow, that dude seems pretty cool," and like yeah, Ava could tell that from less than thirty seconds of interaction with the guy. The whole "kicked puppy" thing that he had going on after being -- what was it he'd said? -- yelled at by some hot model because he'd drawn her? Yeah, that really leaned itself towards either lame as fuck or creeper in the making and Ava was kind of leaning towards it being the first option for Angel.

Ava was thankful when he passed on her water balloon idea -- because it would've been awkward as fuck to laugh and have to explain that that was all a joke and that she actually had zero interest in pursuing anything of the sort. The last thing she needed was a bunch of plastic witches banshee screaming at her because their faces were melting from the water (the melting obviously being their makeup, not their actual skin).

And then, Angel made up for his obvious lameness. For a moment, Ava thought to herself that perhaps you couldn't judge a book by its cover, and perhaps Angel wasn't as fucking lame as she'd first made him out to be.

"What if we went and, like, hunted for ghosts behind one of the stages? I totally bet a stage light has fallen and broken someone's head or something and now they're haunting the joint."

That right there was music to her ears. Ava would love nothing more than to be able to do just that, and she was about to voice just how much she loved the idea of hunting for ghosts, when Angel continued to speak, and his next words crushed her small moment of hope and reminded her that her previous assessment had been correct.

He was fucking lame.

"Just kidding. You wanna play 'Guess Which Locker the Rotten Smell is Coming From'? Or we could go build a fort out of tables and chairs in the library."

First idea? Lame and just gross. Second idea? La--

Actually.

Actually that wasn't the worst of ideas, and Ava squinted her pale eyes at him for a moment. Her lips twisted into a small frown as she tried to consider if she was willing to do something like... be caught making a fort out of tables and chairs in the library with some dude who would clearly take her reputation. Like, if she was caught doing that, she'd probably never be dragged back out of the trenches of lameness.

Oh no. What ever would she do without the respect of her fellow peers?

(That was sarcasm in case you were too dense to notice.)

"Ghosts would be cooler," she responded, and pointed a finger gun at him. "I used to have one of those cool Ouija boards so I could, ya know, commune with the dead and shit. But I live with Alex and she was all 'omg there will be no demon summoning in my apartment,'" -- Ava did her best to mimic Alex's voice, but to be honest, it was super high and super shrill, so it was more of a mockery -- "and like, how boring, ya know? Like what's a house without its resident ghost or demon to push shit over and fuck with stuff? But whatever." Ava shrugged.

"She threw my Ouija board out. Threw it out! Like it was trash!" She rolled her eyes, clearly mildly peeved at the whole thing, except nothing tended to get under Ava's skin for long, so she was quickly over it.

"But uhh... I guess that instead of ghost hunting, we could... you know... build a fort." Ava tried to keep her tone in a way that didn't let on that she actually thought it was a fairly fun idea.

She gestured with a tilt of her head for Angel to start walking with her, and she started towards the library.

"Plus, there shouldn't be anyone in the library. Like no one wants to hangout around books-- well, I guess the other lit kids might, but we'll just kick them out if there's anyone in there." She decided with a sure nod of her head. She glanced at her companion. "Think we could steal people's blankets and shit? Forts gotta have cover."




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
Bad Reputation
by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Angel

tags
hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 






felix rian emmerson
pleasure's all mine


“Okay. Debt it is. I’ll pay you back,” said Beelzebub, and Felix’s grin broadened. Now they were cookin’ with bacon grease.

Over the years— well, “over the two years that he’d been doin’ this” was probably the better way to put it— Felix’d had several people choose the I’ll go in debt to you option, and then they would keep bein’ like “put it on my tab, put it on my tab, put it on my tab”. Now, you might be thinkin’, “Well, Felix, idn't that kinda dumb, for you to keep lettin’ people take advantage of you like that? I thought you were a businessman,” and that would be a valid assessment if that was all there was to the story. It’d be dumb to let people keep takin’ and keep takin’ and keep takin’ until it was far more than they could pay back. There had to be some kinda cutoff or something— I mean, shouldn’t there be?

However, there was something to note about Felix, something that a lot of people tended to forget:

He always got his payback, one way or another.

As you said yourself, he was a businessman— and the son of a political figure. “Sleazebag” got tossed around a lot, too, but he preferred more polite terms, since, well…sleaze wasn’t the best thing for his image.

“I always pay people back, you know, because I am such an awesome individual in this capitalistic society,” Beelzebub continued. “Though, you know, if you want to contribute to the fall of capitalism, you could always give drugs away for free. Honestly, I would be happy to take them off your hands for you. Such a burden, for such a charitable young man, never an issue, I must admit.”

Felix chuckled at that. “Hard pass on the downfall of capitalism, bud,” he responded, takin’ his money and pocketin’ it. “I’ll let you know if I ever want to dish any contribution to that, though. Give ya a ring on the phone.”

“Las drogas, por favor,” Beelzebub said, holdin’ his hand out.

Felix eyed his hand for a moment, tryin’ to assess whether or not he could trust him to pay him back, and then looked up to Beelzebub’s face, because he realized that he didn’t trust anyone and he didn’t need to trust him to get something outta him.

With a nod, Felix sat the bag in Beelzebub’s hand. “It’s a pleasure doin’ business with you, Mr. Beelzebub.”

He made his way back over to his backpack. “And, hey, any time you need anything, you just let me know. I’ve got all kinds of wares, if that’s what you’re lookin’ for, and I’m competent with conversation.” He chuckled. “Might not have the most invigoratin’ things to talk about, but I’ll talk a lot about them. I tend to talk several miles a minute, but if you’re fine with that, then we might even consider ourselves a friendship.” He grinned over at him, liftin’ the backpack to tote it over to the locker. “I don’t like to think of the people who buy from me as customers, and I don’t like to know them as just customers. We’re friends and-or cozy acquaintances, and you just happen to buy from me, ya know?”

He locked his locker tightly and checked the lock, and then turned back around to Beelzebub. He held out his hand once more. “Again, pleased to meet you,” he said, shakin’ his hand, and then he gave one last grin and a nod before he said, “Have a good night,” and made his way out of the locker room.




mood
; )

location
the school

outfit
somethin' casual





playing...
take a slice
by glass animals​




mentions
n/a

interactions
beel

tags
mogy mogy


º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:
Charlie Howell
@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
hype hype hype

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
sunflowers & denim

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
by the lockers

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
n/a

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Lin & Zeph

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
ohdittoh ohdittoh Winona Winona
Raiding the cafeteria had been an excellent idea, quite possibly the best idea Charlie had had in a long time. Lock-in was cool and all but busting into the cafeteria to steal all the food that the lunch ladies of doom kept from them on a day to day basis was just absolutely genius. Plus, their little late night snack escapades was the first time in a while that Charlie and Trevor had hung out by themselves which, in itself, was lovely.

After their bountiful hunt, Trev and Charlie had decided to split off to go their separate ways for the evening. Charlie had promised Lin that they were going to hang at some point and she was certain that the joint in Trev’s pocket was enticing enough to end their impromptu hang session. Before splitting off however, the final sign of normalcy in their friendship had returned: Trev had given Charlie the big brother speech.

“Don’t get yerself hurt, don’t damage any property. Don’t do anything that could get you arrested, don’t vandalize anything, don’t swipe anyone’s possessions, don’t go into dark places alone, don’t eat anything suspicious, don’t drink anything suspicious, don’t trust any food that Crack Kid gives you because it’s probably laced with drugs, and let me know if he does anything to upset you. Oh, and have fun. But be safe first. Oh, and I’d advise against goin’ back into tha stairwell if you think, ‘Oh, I’m gonna get ta smashin’.’ Seems like a popular spot for that, an’ I know yer opposition to orgies,”

Charlie always found Trevor’s little ‘I’m clearly the brother figure you need right now to stay safe’ speeches kind of ironic. Charlie was impulsive and enjoyed the mischievous side of life but she had never really put herself in a situation where she was in any sort of real danger whereas Trevor had gotten himself into more pickles than a damn Vlasic factory. Trev never listened to his own advice but hey, the saying ‘do as I say, not as I do’ should be Trev’s life motto. Besides, the sentiment was sweet so Charlie often went along with it.

“Yeah yeah, I got it. Don’t do anything that’ll land me in the slammer, in rehab, or in a hospital.” Charlie groaned dramatically, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as she threw on her most dramatic pout. “I’ll do my best. Scout’s honour or whatever. You have fun too and maybe take your own advice for once.”

Charlie gave Trevor a quick hug and a ruffle of his hair before picking up her bag, now filled with the best treats and delicacies the cafeteria kitchen had to offer, and stepping a few paces away.

“Catch ya on the flip side, Sean!”

Off Charlie went to find Lin, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder as she offered a content grin to the familiar faces that passed. Things were finally starting to go back to normal after the whole Chas fight thing and now back in Trevor’s good graces, Charlie was quite happy with life for a change. It was exhausting constantly fighting the uphill battle that was the student body of Hollywood Arts but it was moments like that, just Charlie and the people she cared about hanging out and living life together, that made everything worth it.

Turning down another hallway, Charlie spotted two familiar figures chatting by a set of lockers tucked between two classrooms. Playful smirk falling onto her lips, Charlie quietly bounded up behind Lin and launched herself onto his back, arms wrapping around his shoulder as she slung her backpack over Lin and into Zeph’s chest.

“Heya strangers,” Charlie greeted, placing a quick peck on Lin’s cheek. “Sorry if I interrupted the broment, I could feel the chemistry all the way up on the third floor. I think you’ll forgive me though because I come bearing gifts.” Hopping down off of Lin’s back, Charlie took her backpack from Zeph and opened it wide to reveal the abundance of snacks from the cafeteria, silly string, and other various items she had brought inside. “Figured you two would be up to some sort of mischief and could use the extra material.”

º º code by ditto º º
 
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