Realistic or Modern &nbsp; hollywood arts: main (open!!)

º º code by ditto º º

natsukashii · May 25, 2021

Hunter Drake

What Hunter need Nickie to know, the reason he always told her she had him in her corner, was because that was the truth. It was because he loved her so much that, even though he wouldn't admit it to her, watching her doubt herself when all she had to do is remember that none of them mattered. What was between them and the fact that Hunter would be by her side no matter what, that was the only thing Nickie needed to know.

And if he had to say it a thousand times for her to know this was the gospel truth, he'd say it over nine-thousand times. He'd tell her every day if that's what it took.

But the minute he heard her say his name and tears flowed out, he knew something was wrong. There was always a gut feeling. There was always that gnawing pain that swirled around in his gut and rose up and pinches his lungs, squeezed his heart, tightened his throat, and made him silently curse. He hated that his words wouldn't have any effect on easing his girlfriend's mind.

When he heard her wailing like she did, Hunter got into the car.

Well, a part of him did. He had one leg in before she started to talk.

“Your fucking bitch of a friend— Ash.”

He couldn't lie. Hearing her call Ash a bitch to his face hurt a little. He was close to Ash and the two were like siblings. But he swallowed it and let her speak. Hunter knew there were times for him to talk, inw hich he always made sure to remind Nickie he was right there for her and there were times to listen.

Right now was the latter.

“I went to fucking help her— seriously fucking help her, Hunter— and— and— and instead of saying thanks, she— she fucking acted like it was something I was doing to fucking redeem myself or some shit, and she told me to—“

"What did she do, Nickie?" Was all Hunter could say.

“She told me to— to fuck off and leave her alone— and then I fucking yelled at her, because— because— because who the fuck?! Who the fuck does that?!”

Hunter had no reply. He didn't know what to say. Maybe he was still stuck on how Nickie insulted Ash, but he honestly didn't have any words because, really, he didn't know the full context of what went down between them.

"I'm sorry..." That seemed like an empty gesture, but at the moment, it was all that Hunter could manage.

And then that's when Nickie started to let it all out. Talking about the week. About how everyone was going after her and how just about everything shitty that happened to Nickie was weighing on her. He heard the pain in her voice, the way her voice cracked just trying to get it all out. It broke Hunter inside and out. Here he was, half sitting on his knee, feeling it getting sore and he couldn't do a damn thing to help his girlfriend as she spilled her guts out to him.

And that hurt him. It hurt him more than anything in the world. More than all of the times he couldn't get people to back the fuck off of Nickie on Twitter. More than when he failed to make her smile. Or when he did, it didn't last long. Hunter felt sick and he was close to shedidng his own tears. He wanted to beat up every single last one of them. He wanted to ask Ash what the hell was up and what the hell happened.

But then he centered on Nickie, looking at her face as she continued to speak.

And then she said his name again, bringing his attention fully on her.

"…why am I like this…?”

"Like what?" An instinctive response came. Hunter never felt more helpless than he did right now.

“You…you just told me you…you loved me, that you had an epiphany, like…that you…that I changed, like…that you love me. And…and…and I’m here, breaking down.”

Hunter blinked like a deer in headlights. He didn't even know where any of this was coming from and what more could he say. "I do love you!" He felt like he had to affirm that. "And you did change things for me!" Another confirmation of what he had said earlier.

But it didn't seem like it was helping, not one bit. Hunter wasn't an idiot. He was down from his high and he could see it. He noticed that Nickie wasn't buying his authenticity, because she, like a lot of people he knew, when they got lost in their head -- himself included -- could only see what the dark thoughts were telling them. And it made him just...helpless.

Helpless Hunter is what they should call him.

He wasn't a good boyfriend right now. Because, deep down, if he couldn't bring Nickie out of this darkness, how could he hope to make her happy in other ways?

No.

You can't think like that. She literally is telling you what she wants, Hunter Drake. Comfort your girlfriend! Comfort your girlfriend!

And so he did. Hunter got all the way in the car, arms reaching out about to attempt to hold her.

And then she said something that made him freeze.

“And…and I didn’t believe that you loved me…when you confessed to me Halloween--"

What?

Not only did Hunter freeze, but there were a few moments where everything else got blacked out. He heard her speak, but all he could focus on was that small, yet significant confession. She didn't believe you when you told her you loved her.

She didn't believe me..

How could she not believe me? He poured his heart out to her then. Was this because he didn't say it back to her all the way back at Dei's party? No, it couldn't be that, could it? If it was because he didn't say those three words when she did, then what was all of this time spent with her for? Did he waste all of his time trying to be the best friend she could have and the best boyfriend? Was them going to the bowling alley and having a hell of a time on their first date just pointless?

Was it for nothing?

Hunter felt his hands shaking and he retracted them to his person, balling them into fists in hopes he could stop the earthquake that was building inside him. Fury and heartbreak was setting in. And that mixture with a little confusion added was sending Hunter in a whirlwind of directions. Despite all of that, he still wanted to be that person that she could use as a crutch. He didn't care if that was toxic and problematic (acocrding to the peanut gallery). He didn't give two shits if everyone thought he was a simp. For her, he'd be anything she needed him to.

“Why are you still here…?”

Because I love you.

A thought that stayed for a few moments until he said it. "Because I love you."

“Why do you…why do you love me…?--"

Because you're the one for me.

Hunter's thoughts were oozing out and he said it with a clearer vindication. "Because you're the one for me."

But his head was still down, looking at his fists. They weren't shaking as much. This meant he was starting to come back around.

"--Because I believe you do now…but…why the hell…? Why…?”

There was the 'why' again...

Why does she keep asking him that? Isn't him still being here despite what she might think proof enough?

Hunter looked down at his hands, and opened his balled fists. His nails had dug so deep into his palm that there were deep, fingernail-shaped indents into his skin. Ten of them had small spots of blood in them and he just laughed. He didn't know why he was laughing right now. It wasn't like anything she said was funny or anything he thought meant he should have a cackle or two. But with how far gone she was in her head and how he was joining her, Hunter found humor in...well, maybe it was the whole situation. How all this time he thought she understood that he loved her. And even if she said she believed him now, the fact remained that there was doubt at one point.

Not like you didn't have your own moments of doubt.

And there it was. The epiphany coming back, but this time it was one of hindsight. He had his and then she did. Now she wanted to know what about her you loved.

And maybe his laughter came from not knowing the answer to that question. He looked at Nickie, a smile on his face but in his dark eyes, there was just as much confusion as there were remnants of silent tears that glistened down his face. "I know you want me to give you specific reasons, Nickie. I know that you want me to give you a bullet list of things about you and what you're all about, but honestly? You're right. I don't know you -- not really. But who cares!" Hunter's voice raised and he found himself chuckling after the fact. "Isn't that why we're in a relationship? To know each other better. Isn't that why we hung with each other almost every day since we met? Because we want to know how the other acts, what we're into, and just how...goofy we are behind closed doors? Or just small shit like that?"

He knew he was rambling and at some point, he knew that where he was going wasn't even an answer, but yolo!

"I can't tell you why I love you. There are things that are past being explained. All I know is I do. I love you more than any fucking sequence of words can spell out. And if it takes me to say it to you every day until you believe it, well.." He took her hands regardless if she was to pull away or not. "Then I'll do it." He squeezed them for emphasis. "I'll tell you I love you, Nickie Abrams. I'll say it over and over again, okay!?"

While he didn't mean to yell, maybe it was time for Hunter to take the in-her-face approach, since being sweet and romantic hasn't worked in his favor until now.

mood
Yolo! I'm being blunt for once!

location
HA Parking Lot → Old Blue

outfit
Lock-in Ready!

playing...
I Swear This Time I Mean It

by Mayday Parade

mentions
Nickie

interactions
Nickie

tags

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · May 25, 2021

dominicka abrams

have you heard?

Nickie studied Hunter’s face through the glaze of tears as she waited for a damn answer. Every time she blinked, she squeezed her eyelids tightly, and tears wrenched their ways out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She sniffled hard and tried to wipe them off of her tear-gummed cheeks in the deafening silence. Her slow heartbeat in her ears was a clock, pounding every second that passed by without him talking like a nail into her head and the sides of her eyes.

She felt angry impatience gripping at her throat, and she didn’t try to bite it back. She bit her lower lip, digging her teeth into the fragile skin, pressing so hard that she though it might bleed or some shit, and she ran her hand down her steering wheel and clawed her nails into the plush cover, trying to separate the elastic from the cushion with their sharpness.

Answer me. Answer me. Answer me.

And then, he laughed.

She blinked at him, and more tears escaped.

What the actual hell?

She was crying, and he was laughing.

But then, he looked at her, and he was smiling, and— and she could see tears running down his face, too, and she guiltily sunk her teeth deeper into her skin.

Shit.

“I know you want me to give you specific reasons, Nickie,” he said, and his deep voice made something in her feel small— pathetic.

Just him talking— not even his tone— made her feel pathetic, selfish, and— and needy for just asking that.

And childish.

“I know that you want me to give you a bullet list of things about you and what you’re all bout, but honestly? You’re right. I don’t know you— not really. But who cares!” Hunter was speaking louder now, and she flinched.

She wanted to cover her ears, not just because he was talking so loud, but also because—

Fuck, he was going to do all that I love you because I do bullshit, and she didn’t want to hear that.

Just give her a fucking reason— one fucking reason.

But his tears were rolling down his face, and she felt guilty for her anger again, so she pushed it back with a deep swallow.

"Isn't that why we're in a relationship?” Hunter asked. “To know each other better. Isn't that why we hung with each other almost every day since we met? Because we want to know how the other acts, what we're into, and just how...goofy we are behind closed doors? Or just small shit like that?"

Nickie let go of her lip. Two deep indentations from where her canines had dug into her skin glared at Hunter when she did, and she drew in a deep sniffle.

Shit.

“I don’t know, Hunter,” she admitted, in such a small, broken voice that he definitely couldn’t hear her.

The layer of wetness over her eyes thickened, and larger, burning tears fell from her eyes as she looked down at her lap.

Shit, shit, shit.

"I can't tell you why I love you,” he said, voice loud. “There are things that are past being explained. All I know is I do. I love you more than any fucking sequence of words can spell out. And if it takes me to say it to you every day until you believe it, well…”

He reached over and took her hands, and she tried to pull them away, but he insisted. She looked up at him with a glare.

"Then I'll do it."

He squeezed her hands.

"I'll tell you I love you, Nickie Abrams. I'll say it over and over again, okay!?" Hunter said, yelling.

Something about that set her off.

She didn’t fucking know.

Maybe it was the fact that he was yelling, when she’d already been yelled at enough tonight.

Maybe it was still him not answering her damn question.

Or maybe it was her fucking insecurities that got in the damn way of every single fucking thing.

But whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

She yanked her hands from him. “Can you just—?!” Nickie started in a loud voice, her eyes glaring as they leaked thick, scorching tears.

And then she stared at him, studying him.

Fuck, she loved him.

But now that she was closer, God— she wanted him away.

She didn’t—

She didn’t fucking want him around.

And yeah, she felt guilty for thinking that.

But it was the fucking truth— she couldn’t fucking handle this right now.

“Stop saying that!” she yelled, her voice breaking, but she kept going, even though her pitch was warmly and her voice went from being airy to being throaty to being hardly any fucking thing at all. “Hunter, goddamn it— stop fucking saying that!” She looked into his eyes with her blue, fury-filled gaze. “Oh my fucking God!” She slammed the side of her hand to her chest. “Are you even fucking hearing me?! I’m fucking shit, Hunter! You saying that you love me every fucking day— even for the rest of fucking eternity— isn’t going to do shit! It isn’t going to fucking make me believe you any more, or fucking make me stop doubting myself, or fucking do any shit!”

More tears sizzled from her eyes. “Hunter fucking Drake, look me in the fucking eyes!” Her voice was wild, and her eyes were desperate. “I love you— I love you with every single fucking bit of me, Hunter, every single fucking bit! But I don’t fucking know you, and you don’t fucking know me, and none of this shit— none of this shit— none of this shit is shit that you should— Jesus fucking Christ!”

She didn’t know what the hell she was saying, or why the hell she was saying it, or what good it was doing, but she was yelling with every bit of her, yelling until her throat felt like it was going to rip.

“Look me in the goddamn eyes, Hunter— look me in the eyes,” she demanded. “We’ve been in a relationship for one— for one fucking week, and for that fucking week, all I’ve felt is fucking shit! You know that, right?! You fucking realize that, right?! Is this fucking love?! Is this what fucking love is?!”

She looked at his hands, and she looked back up to her face. Her chest burned with rage, and her eyes read I fucking hate you. “Why don’t you go away?! Why don’t you fucking leave me?! You fucking should! Everyone fucking should! So why don’t you?! Give me a fucking straight answer— I don’t fucking know won’t fucking cut it! I'm sick and tired of hearing that— are you fucking dumb or fucking what?! Fucking answer me!”

mood
...

location
her suv

outfit
casual wear

playing...
letdown

by carter

mentions
n/a

interactions
hunter

tags

natsukashii

º º code by ditto º º

geminiy · May 25, 2021

Isabella Dupont

@bellaissima has set their status to:
worried, worried, worried

@bellaissima has set their outfit to:
comfy cozy

@bellaissima has set their location to:
the gym

@bellaissima has mentioned:
kelli

@bellaissima has interacted with:
avery

@bellaissima has tagged:
Xed

Bella had to remind herself to breathe normally and to not be weird around Naomi. Look, Bella didn’t like the whole ‘stan’ behaviour that a lot of people had towards their idols, it always felt strange to her. After all, even the most famous and influential people are still just people at the end of the day, so why treat them differently? Of course, Bella had to remind herself of that mindset while she was talking to Naomi who had apparently read her work.

Bella’s work.

Bella’s work in Bella’s private journal.

Bella’s private work in Bella’s private journal that was never intended for public consumption, much less with the audience of someone she admired.

Not only did Naomi read her work, which was terrifying enough in itself, but she had enjoyed it. Naomi had genuinely read Bella’s poems that were usually scrawled in the journal during bus rides and in quiet moments of hangouts with friends and had genuinely liked them. Bella wasn’t freaking out at all, no, no way, she was completely calm.

Luckily, before Bella could make any more of a fool of herself, Avery bounded up behind her and tapped her gently on her shoulder.

"Hello!" Avery spoke, his voice chipper and as bouncy as his step. "It's nice to see you again Bella. You look really pretty tonight."

Bella blinked a few times, crystal blue eyes widening with confusion at his sudden confidence. Avery didn’t really just call her pretty, nor did he know what the implications of calling someone pretty usually were. He definitely had just said it to be polite, nothing more, and Bella was clearly reading too much into it because of the sudden compliment.

“Oh,” Bella eventually spoke, awkwardly clearing her throat as she gave Avery a smile. “Thank you, you look lovely yourself, le mignon.”

Bella carefully tucked the journal in her hand under her arm before shaking Naomi’s hand politely.

“Thank you so much, again, for returning my journal.” Bella said sweetly, pulling her hand back from Naomi’s to rest it on her arm. “And I am glad I met you, you truly are an amazing person. I hope I will see you around.”

Turning to Avery, Bella opened her mouth to invite him to hang out but paused, lips still slightly parted while her eyes scanned his hair then down his neck to his slightly twisted shirt. Without asking, Bella got to work fixing the wrinkles in his shirt and adjusting his collar before moving onto his hair, fussing about like some sort of concerned mother.

“Avery, did you get stuck somewhere? Or did you fall?” She asked politely, her fingers brushing through the remaining tufts of hair that sat out of place atop his head. Fixing his sleeves, Bella looked down at the scratched palms of his hand, flipping his hand over in hers so that she could examine the injury. “A fight? Did you fight someone? Are you okay?”

Bella paused, carefully dropping Avery’s hands from hers as she took a small step back.

“I apologize, Avery, I should have asked if it was okay for me to fix you up.” She apologized quickly, her hands immediately finding their way into the pockets of the fluffy white cardigan draped around her thin shoulders. “But my question still remains. Are you okay? You do not have to tell me how but at least tell me if you are okay?"

º º code by ditto º º

Xed · May 25, 2021

Avery Ohtani

She was blinking. Was that a good thing? That didn't seem like a good thing. You blinked when you were confused or tired. Had he said something weird? Were they not friends after all? He could feel the confidence he had mustered start to falter a little as he waited for her to reply, fingers rubbing the end of his shirt. His eyes flicked away briefly from Bella and they settled on a slightly taller girl standing behind her.

Oh. Maybe he had just interrupted something he shouldn't have. An important conversation or something of the sorts. Trying to read the room and figure things out was hard. It seemed like there were a hundred different possibilities for any single situation and he had no clue as to how to tell which was the right one.

"Oh,"

The clearing of her throat that accompanied the single word set his nerves even more on edge, and his fingers pressed together even harder. He'd messed up hadn't he?

And then she smiled, and that simple act helped him relax and ease the little bit of tension that was starting to build in his shoulders. A smile was always a good sign. Maybe he hadn't messed up after all but then what was the meaning of her earlier actions? The blinking and the little 'Oh' and the clearing of her throat. Maybe he had just startled her with the suddenness of his appearance or something.

“Thank you, you look lovely yourself, le mignon.”

Her response made his smile deepen. So he hadn't messed up after all. And she had returned the compliment, with a French word to end it off. Another thing to add to the growing list of questions he was building in his head. He ran through that mental checklist as Bella turned around to address the other girl she had been talking to earlier. Which question should he start from? The blinking? The 'Oh'? The meaning of the French term she used? It was so hard to choose.

Avery hadn't yet settled on an option when Bella returned her attention to him and opened her mouth then seemed to freeze in that position. Was something wrong again? Her eyes seemed to be scrutinizing him and he self consciously scratched the back of his neck. Was it something with his outfit? Had he not dressed right for the lock-in?

His mind was still racing through the possibilities when she silently reached out and started to fix the wrinkles in his shirt before adjusting the collar of shirt and then reaching up to settle his hair. He instinctively lowered himself a little so she could reach it more easily as a slight flush immediately warmed his cheeks. How embarrassing. In his excitement at having finally found the gym, he had completely forgotten to fix his appearance after the fall. Bella's touch was gentle as she fixed his appearance for him. She really was so kind and pretty, almost like an angel.

“Avery, did you get stuck somewhere? Or did you fall?” She asked politely, her fingers brushing through the remaining tufts of hair that sat out of place atop his head. Fixing his sleeves, Bella looked down at the scratched palms of his hand, flipping his hand over in hers so that she could examine the injury. “A fight? Did you fight someone? Are you okay?”

"No!" He corrected immediately, panic flashing briefly in his eyes. "I didn't fight anyone. I could never do that." Avery added, voice dropping back to it's usual softer levels. Fights were bad, they were also scary and sad, and people got hurt. He would never want to hurt someone like that and the thought of Bella thinking that he might made him anxious. Was that how he appeared to her? The kind of person who would get into fights with others? He didn't want a reputation like that stuck to his name.

He had indeed gotten stuck though, there was a long moment when he was climbing in through that window that he had gotten stuck trying to figure out how to get down and then the issue had been settled when he'd simply fallen off the ledge, thankfully into the school. But he was okay! Nothing broken or sprained, the little aches that he'd felt all over his body were already starting to fade and her hands were soft to the touch. It felt almost comforting in a way but also made him more self conscious of the roughness of his own hands, especially after he scratched them up in that fall.

“I apologize, Avery, I should have asked if it was okay for me to fix you up.” She apologized quickly, her hands immediately finding their way into the pockets of the fluffy white cardigan draped around her thin shoulders.

The sudden withdrawal of her hands made him acutely aware of their absence and the warmth they had held. He didn't have long to ponder on it thought because Bella wasn't done talking.

“But my question still remains. Are you okay? You do not have to tell me how but at least tell me if you are okay?"

You do not have to tell me. That was something he had heard a lot from Bella, especially whenever his past and the kidnapping got brought up. He was okay though, with telling people and everything. He wanted to tell people. Wasn't that how you got closer and made friends? By sharing your stories and what you had with others? Getting to know each other better. That couldn't happen if he didn't tell people about himself and what he was thinking could it?

"I'm okay Bella." He said, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face. "I just had a bit of a fall when I climbed in through the window earlier as part of the freshman tradition." Speaking of which he had to remember to thank the kind senior, Dalton, who had informed him about it later. He felt a little sheepish at the admission of his clumsy entrance into the school, and rubbed the back of his neck again. "Looks like I was the only one who messed up the landing though. Everyone else looks great." Or they had just remembered to tidy themselves up if they had fallen or they weren't freshmen.

"Oh um I brought some snacks and stuff." Avery pulled off his backpack and set it on the floor, rummaging through its contents. "Do you want some? I brought quite a few different flavors oh and um," he paused as he looked up at Bella, while the hand he'd stuck in the bag moved to free itself along with what it had grabbed. "I noticed you seemed to like flowers the other day when you moved in, and I uh got you a little something as a nice to meet you gift." Picking for Bella had been easier, which was relative since making decisions was hard and he had nearly bought everything in the shop. But at least he had something to go off of, it had been much harder trying to pick something out for Kelli and his roommate whom he was still getting to know.

"Here," he held out the gift for her, a box that held a small, pink flower pin he had spotted at a shop. "I hope you like it, but um if you don't then you don't have to take it." It would sadden him if she refused, but it could happen, after all he had seen shows where people didn't like gifts, though he couldn't really understand why, and he could also have been completely mistaken in his assumption that she liked flowers, or she could dislike pins. He hoped she'd accept it though.

mood
hopeful, a little nervous

location
the gym

outfit
casual and comfy

playing...
song title here

by artist here

mentions
Kelli, Dalton, Zeph

interactions
Bella

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · May 26, 2021

Zeph Evermore

Sorry, they were--

Mischief?

Zeph wanted to know what "mischief" entailed although, following the events of last weekend, he could make a fairly educated guess. It would probably be illegal, although hopefully not as illegal as stealing bubbles, or it would be dangerous, such as hanging upside from a balcony while hoping it wouldn't give out and cause you to fall and break your neck or something. Yep. Or it would be a type of mischief Zeph had yet to experience.

A mixture of both.

He was trying to smile -- he really was -- but it was getting harder to maintain the easygoing air that he thought he had, but that he most definitely didn't. Look, it was hard to not allow your apprehension to bleed into every aspect of your body language, especially when you were as bad at hiding your true emotions as Zeph was.

It was something he was working on.

Of course, neither Charlie or Lin seemed to pick up on the subtle, general apprehension, or if they did, they were choosing not to make any kind of comment regarding it. Instead, the two were back and forth with the energy of a million Energizer bunnies and suddenly they were racing and--

Before Zeph could fully register anything that was happening, Charlie and Lin were gone and he was left in the dust.

He blinked after them for a moment.

Had they forgotten that there was literally an elevator that let out basically right next to the lit classroom? And that it was barely more than a few feet away from where he currently stood.

Scratching his head, Zeph shrugged and turned around. He walked towards the elevator and pressed the button to go up before stepping back while he waited for it to rise. After a moment, the doors opened up with a little ding, and Zeph was met with the uncomfortable site of a couple making out in the elevator.

Eww.

Oh well, he had places to be.

He stepped into the elevator, making sure to stay near the buttons as he pressed in the floor he wanted, and then he stood there and tried to drown out the sound of the couple that had not paused or tried to slow down their make out session despite the, well, new company they had in the elevator.

A little rude.

The elevator dinged again and the doors slid open on the floor. He stepped out and paused for a moment when he didn't hear Charlie or Lin's voices yet, but he figured perhaps he was just early. Surely, he hadn't misheard, and he wasn't in the wrong place. So... he started towards the classroom.

Zeph headed in and flicked on the lights. He peeked around a bit the unfamiliar classroom and then his heavy steps carried him over to one of the desks. He slid into the seat and leaned back in the chair -- you know, in the way that they always told kids not to do because it was "dangerous" and you were "going to hurt yourself."

All dumb if you asked him.

As he kicked his feet up on the table, he almost toppled backwards and he had to catch his balance. His heart thudded with the sudden thrill as he settled into the seat to wait for his companions.

Eventually, he heard their loud footsteps, and then...

Charlie and Lin slammed into the doorframe. He listened while they bickered for a moment, and then Charlie stepped into the classroom, followed by Lin.

“Zeph how the hell are you already here?” Charlie groaned as she tossed herself onto a nearby desk.

He gave a little smirk and laced his hands together behind his head. "Well..." he started, but he was cut off by her continuing to speak.

“Wait…” she continued. “Dude, Big Man, we both lost. We, Lin Kay and Charlie Howell, are frickin losers to Mr Evermore. I am so-” Charlie paused. “The elevator. You took the damn elevator! That’s why you don’t look tired, you took the elevator! I call shenanigans on Zeph the Cheater!”

"You guys never said no elevator," was Zeph's only response, because to be honest... he really could care less if he was considered the winner of this pitiful little race or not.

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
Lost Boys

by Ocean Park Standoff

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lin, Charlie

tags

º º code by ditto º º

geminiy · May 26, 2021

Genevieve Johannes

@genjohanne has set their status to:
what a lie, what a lie, what a lie

@genjohanne has set their outfit to:
that 70's show (now featuring that 70's shirt)

@genjohanne has set their location to:
hell, probably

@genjohanne has mentioned:
n/a

@genjohanne has interacted with:
Landon, Evie (twitter), Mike, Callum, Jace

@genjohanne has tagged:
gh0stwriter jasmyn ohdittoh hery Winona

Everything had been perfect. Gen was happy, Landon was happy, the world was calm and quiet for a change. Just two people who cared about each other sharing a quiet moment away from the bitter world that bore in and threatened to ruin the peace. Gen cherished moments like that, a strange trait for a woman who enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the busy world around her. But there was something about being with one person with whom she shared a deep connection was almost euphoric.

And just like that, her happiness was gone.

At first, Gen stood in complete shock two people entered the room, her arms scrambling to cover her expose chest while her eyes scanned the ground for her shirt, or Landon’s shirt, or fucking anything to cover herself up. Her mind raced with all the possibilities of what was going to happen, each scenario going from worse to worst.

Gen didn’t need blackmail. She didn’t need anything else for someone to hold over her. She didn’t need some snot nosed freshman with the audacity to try and fuck with her to have information that could ruin her life. She didn’t need anyone to tell Evie before she was ready. Somewhere beyond the ringing of Gen’s thoughts in her ears and the pounding of her heart against her ribs, a familiar voice spoke and the door to the room slammed. Through the glass, Gen caught a glimpse of Evie storming away. Then she looked at the person who had entered with her, her heart stopping in her chest. She had been bare in front of Mike before but never had she felt more exposed.

And just like that, her day went from bad to worse.

Fingers finally grabbing onto a shirt, which was luckily her own, Gen turned her back on the people who had entered to tug it on over her frame, using her other foot to kick her bra somewhere underneath a desk. Her throat ran dry as her mind instantly scrambled to try and figure out what the fuck she was going to do to rectify the situation, long nimble fingers quickly doing the tie in the front of her shirt to keep it closed and her chest safe from the unwanted gaze of the people before her.

“What the fuck are you all doing here?” Gen managed, eyes flitting from person to person as her mind grappled with the weight of the situation. “Seriously, the door was closed, you absolute imbeciles! What the fuck were you thinking just barging in here like it’s some fucking show on demand, get the fuck out! Get out! GET OUT, NOW!”

Gen screamed at the top of her lungs, vocal chords painfully shredding in her throat as she stormed towards the three intruders, her hands shoving them back towards the door in harsh movements while Jace was already at the fumbling with the knob. For once, he was a smart boy. Rage was an understatement as to what Gen was feeling, blood running like molton through her veins. Of course it was Mike, of course it was Callum, of course it was Jace. It just had to be one of the very people she was trying to forget, it just had to be someone who would’ve done anything to get back at her for the shit she had said in defence of her loved ones, it just had to be someone who she had a horrible history with.

“Fucking move,” Gen snapped while she shoved Callum aside as she walked to the door that, for some reason, was still firmly locked.

Fingers grasped the knob as she pushed Jace out of her way, her hand tightening its grip while she twisted. It didn’t move. Instead, Gen shook and jiggled the doorknob as hard as she could, throwing her full body weight into trying to open the door.

The knob still didn’t move and just like that, somehow the whole thing got worse.

“It’s locked.”

The obvious fell from Gen’s lips as her fingers began to tremble against the cold brass of the doorknob. Panic began to well up in Gen’s chest, the fear of losing Evie crushing her lungs in a vice grip. The walls of the now locked room began closing in around her, ceiling falling down atop her head. Her hands twisted into the roots of the hair on each side of her head as she walked back to the centre of the room where Landon still stood, lips trembling as Gen looked up at him with glazed over eyes.

“Evie,” was all Gen could manage. “I have to call Evie. I have to call her, I have to talk to her.”

No one else in the room mattered. Fuck Landon, fuck Mike, fuck Callum, fuck Jace, none of them mattered. She couldn’t lose Evie. She could lose everyone else in the room but she couldn’t lose Evie. Life wasn’t life without her by her side and this? Gen wasn’t sure if there was any coming back.

Gen located her phone on the other side of the room, fingers tapping out a message before she could even think about what she was saying. Gen never cried, she made a habit of stopping herself before the dampness could tip over the edge of her lower eyelids, but the fear had engulfed her to the point where she couldn't feel the tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. There wasn’t a damn thing she could say or do to make it better.

“Evie, please pick up. Come on Eves, please pick up.”

Evie, please come back .

Her pleas meant nothing, Gen’s pathetic begging and bargaining going unanswered with nothing but words dripping in hurt and hatred from her best… ex-best friend, Gen now assumed. Her lungs were beginning to squeeze shut, breath becoming ragged as it fell from her dry lips as tears dripped from her cheeks onto the screen in her hands.

1 NEW MESSAGE: @SinClaire
yeah, maybe you didn't. maybe neither of you did but it still happened. i'm not coming back to fucking talk. i don't want anything to do with either of you. enjoy whatever the hell you two have going on.

Gen’s hands tightened around the phone, the bottom of her cheek pooling with blood from her teeth working the tender flesh to shreds with her panic. She paced as she typed a message and deleted it as fast as it had been written, words unable to flow from her fingertips with any sense of coherence. This was what Gen had been afraid of, this is the reaction that had plagued her with guilt long before it happened.

The phone flew from Gen’s hands to the wall in front of her, a sickening CRACK filling the silent classroom. Shards of glass fell to the floor, the pitiful text tone alerting a new message crackling out upon impact. The casing bounced off the tile a few times before settling into an array of broken glass and plastic. Gen looked down at her hands, a deep cut slashed through her palm. The phone had been broken long before she had thrown it.

Slowly, Gen turned to face the trio, face sunken and eyes puffy from tears. She couldn’t speak, there weren’t any words that she could say to express herself. A pounding pain settled into the base of her skull, the gleam of feral rage replaced with desperation.

“That’s it.” Gen finally managed, voice raw and raspy from the earlier shouting. “I’m taking each of you out, one by fucking one.” Gen’s eyes scanned the group, jaw tightening. “I don’t know why the fuck any of you are here but now, you are all dead bitches walking. Let’s start with...” Finally her gaze settled on one person, the scrawny blond of her fucking nightmares caught in the crosshairs. “You, Jason.”

Why Jace? He was easy. He was weak, pathetic even. Gen hated him. Now, he had ruined her. Gen took a few steps towards Jace, hands balling into fists at her sides.

All Gen could hope for is that someone would hold her back.

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · May 26, 2021

Ashton West

He was saying one thing, but Ash couldn't say that she believed a single word that exited his mouth.

Like... he... said... that she didn't ruin anything, but if tonight's events were anything to go by, if his birthday was anything to bring up, if fucking Halloween could be counted, or the fair, or Homecoming, or literally any event that Ash decided to attend could be counted, than it just... proved... that he was fucking wrong. And either he was really stupid and had yet to piece two and two together, or he was trying to spare her feelings.

Either way, he was incorrect.

Past experience told her that she ruined not anything, but everything.

But it was fine, because at some point, she'd learned to bear the burden that was fucking everything up for everybody every time you opened your goddamn mouth and she'd learned how to handle it and how to come back from it. Tonight was nothing but a minor blip -- by Monday, she'd be back to normal. Eventually, she'd get around to getting like... to giving really good apologies or something, and she'd get Cal to forgive her, and life would return back to a bumpy normalcy until she fucked something else up, and it was...

It was an endless, painful cycle.

But Ash was used to it.

“I came looking for you,” he said. “I…wanted to see you.”

She looked over at him, her gaze searching his for any hint of a lie, but she couldn't find any. Then again, she was kind of stupid and tended to not pick up on, like, anything, obviously, because she was a selfish bitch. So even if there had been the hint of a lie somewhere in his expression, she probably wouldn't have seen it.

Her eyes shifted back down when she caught the movement of his hand out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she shifted farther away from him, more as a subconscious movement than something that she did knowingly. She glanced back at him, however, as he continued to speak.

“I wanted to see if…you were…okay. I was scared that you—“

Fuck, fuck. Now to add to the rest of the guilt of her night, she had the guilt of making her boyfriend feel... whatever he was feeling. Upset? Worried? Like it clearly had to be something along those lines, did it not? But it was just... she couldn't understand why someone would be worried about her, least of all Trevor.

Like yeah, they were dating, but it just...

She hesitated, and then she pulled one hand away from its position against her stomach (the one that she hadn't managed to dumbly cut on the broken glass, of course) and her fingers lightly touched his hand for a moment, the feeling of his warm skin a stark contrast to the chill of hers, and then she weaved her fingers through his and gave his hand a small squeeze, her thumb brushing across his hand.

“This sounds…I just...”

Her gaze was on his, but his own was focused on the bottle of vodka while she listened to him speak.

“I’m…uhm. When I get alone, I tend to hurt myself.”

What?

Her expression briefly twisted into one of confused worry until he continued.

“Not in— not in that way, but… I panicked.”

Okay, well, she had no idea in what way he meant.

Now, he did look at her, and she tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but her trembling lips fell flat within seconds. “I thought you were— my instincts said that something bad had happened, and…and yeah, now I found you piss drunk alone in a room, and…” A small, untimely smile came onto his face. “Looks like I’m too late to do much help.”

"I'm not... I'm not that that drunk yet..." she mumbled, her words slurring together more when she tried to deny the whole being super drunk thing. "Don't... stop, there's not... like, there's not much or... whatever you could've done, 'cause you don't just..." she lifted her free hand up, weakly making a fist and half-heartedly punching the air in front of her before she dropped her hand into her lap. "And if you... I mean, it wouldn't... not of changed... anything..."

“Next time, call me,” he mumbled. “I…didn’t…even…think you…”

Think I what?

She looked towards him, waiting for some kind of answer, waiting for him to finish that thought, but instead he just--

“So…what…happened?” he asked slowly. “If you— if you want to say.”

He held the bottle out for her, and she didn't hesitate in reaching over to grab it. She pressed the cold glass against her chest for a moment, her gaze focusing back on the floor but not... like... really focusing on anything. Like she was staring in that direction, but Ash wasn't seeing anything.

She brought the bottle to her lips, taking a sip of the all too familiar liquid that had long ago lost the old, familiar burn as it slid down her throat. It still made her stomach do her somersaults, and she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, her lungs shaking as she struggled to keep it down, her eyes squeezing shut while she did so. After a moment, she brought her hand with the bottle away from her mouth, and she pressed the cool glass against her chest, her arm pressing it as close to her as she could get, her gaze once again focusing on nothing.

"Umm... yeah, I mean, yeah..." she started to speak, but realized that she had no idea what to say or even where to begin. But hey, at some point he'd said that he wanted her to talk to him, and now was... as good of a time to start that as any, so she tried again.

"I... I tried to, like... apologize to Cal, 'cause he was mad after all of the... whatever stuff last weekend, and he was ummm... he was already mad at me, because like..." her eyes rolled up for a moment and she looked towards the ceiling, her cheeks filling with air for a moment before she exhaled slowly, and continued speaking, "I didn't uhh... I wasn't there when he, uhh... when he broke up with his boyfriend, because I was like... I was like kind of... like it was Homecoming night, so I was umm... like... making out with this guy on his couch, yeah..."

She looked towards Trevor, her eyebrows drawing together seriously for a moment. "That guy was you, so... yeah, don't get jealous or whatever."

Ash hesitated in her story to take another sip of the vodka, but this time it went down a lot easier and didn't cause nearly the panic in her stomach that the previous swallow had. As she pressed the vodka bottle against her chest, she seemed to gain enough liquid courage, at least momentarily, to continue her story.

"Anyway, so he was all like... 'look at me, your apologies are nothing and you're a shit person and fuck you, and no one's going to trust you like me and... and... you piece of shit, never talk to me again," the words were still burned her in her brain more or less, and she sniffled as she tried to recount what he'd said. She could feel hot tears starting to go down her cheeks again, and it wasn't like there was anything she could do to prevent them.

"Like, okay whatever, not like my mom's called me that every day of my life or whatever," Ash tried to make some kind of joke, but it inevitably fell flat. "Not really... she never did that... her words of choice are, like, worthless bitch or whatever, I don't really listen anymore."

That was a lie, but Trevor didn't know that.

She brought the bottle to her lips again and took another sip. She wondered how much it would take before she just...

"Basically same thing with uhh..." she paused briefly, coughing at the burning in her throat, and pressed her hand against her mouth until the feeling subsided, and then she finished weaving her horrid little tale; "Nickie, she was all like... 'you're not a good person, and you're all selfish, and disgusting, and blah, blah, blah..." Ash shook her head. "I uhh... that one was my fault, I... like... snapped at her, but I'm umm... I'm waiting for Hunter to message me and yell at me, so... I guess that'll be... the third or fourth I'm called a shit person or whatever tonight, I don't know, I... I kinda lost count..."

One more sip from the bottle of vodka, and now her vision was starting to feel crossed, so she squeezed her eyes shut, the bottle resting between her legs on the chair with her hand still wrapped tightly around the neck of it.

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
Secrets

by We Three

mentions
N/A

interactions
Trevor

tags

º º code by ditto º º

0k_mang0 · May 26, 2021

MOOD:
friend search adventure

OUTFIT:
Jacket & shirt
sweatpants & shoes
INFO

LOCATION:
school hallway

WITH:
Nate, Oates, then Chanel

MENTION:
Mikaela, Magnolia
ACTIVITY

Winona , @mogy, Soap
TAGS

cappie

"Trail mix? Pfft, who needs that when you've got 133 lbs of pure Oates right here?

“Aw, I know, bro, but I can’t get myself to eat your adowable face. That would be cannibalism, which isn’t illegal in the States for some odd reason.” Cappie reached out for Oates and playfully pinched his round cheekbone like a sweet ol’ grandmother to a baby, because it was, indeed, an adowable, pinchable face.

Once the keys fell in his hand, Cappie gave him a grateful, trustworthy grin. Sure, he knew Nate was reluctant to hand over the keys, but at least it was done without pestering him any further.

“Super kosher of you. Thanks, man. I don’t even have to try bribing you with my vape pen. Y’know what? I’ll let you borrow it, anyway. It’s very calming, real easy to use.” He took out what looked like a conspicuous small, flat pencil box from his backpack, and set it in Nate’s palm. A film coworker generously gave it to Cappie, to help him relax while dealing with jet lag. He had smoked weed a few times with friends before, but other than that, he rarely ever did it. He didn’t use the vape pen much either unless he couldn’t get himself to relax sooner. Right now, Nate looked like he needed it more than Cappie tonight.

“Also, N, I would be the forever single friend who lives in a tricked-out car named Lola. Not on a couch, at least not all the time.”

As Oates jokingly pestered him about ditching the guys for a girl, Cappie glanced down at his hiking boots with a small coy smile. Maybe helping someone find their drunk friend did seem a bit much to other people. Some would even assume he might have a hidden agenda to help Chanel since he was a single guy—even Chanel had questioned his motives a few times.

“Actually, Nate, my friend is a girl, last time I checked—not what you’re thinking, Oatmeal,” he said as a subtle warning to Oates not to interject with an innuendo. (Well, Cappie most likely would’ve done the same thing.) “I’m just gonna help look for her friend with her. That’s it. Now, I bid you two adieu.”

A second later, as if on cue, the sound of sharp, determined taps from rather very expensive shoes began echoing in the hall and approaching in his direction. After a lazy farewell salute to the boys, Cappie spun on his heel, hands comfortably tucked in the pockets of his baby blue jacket, and walked over to Chanel Clairmont.

"So... did the trail mix work, or did you use your natural charm to get the keys?"

“Already interested in my natural charms before our first triple date? That’s quite bold of you,” he quipped. He knew she wasn’t flirting with him, but whenever she (or anyone) made these sort of sarcastic comments, he had to tease her back with his own sarcasm. Albeit with a slightly flirty undertone sometimes, but he often made his own remarks as a jest. Nothing serious or malicious intended, not all the time, anyway.

“So, I couldn’t get any more info from Mikaela,” Cappie recalled his recent Twitter activity, “but she did mention pretty trees… which still isn’t specific.”

Outside with a nice breeze and some pretty trees. Overlooking the clumsy typos, this was literally all that Mikaela tweeted about her location. Not a lot to go on. She could be anywhere around the school. Heck, she and Maggie could be inside the building already by the time Cappie and Chanel would head outside.

“Maybe she’s at the other school building entrance,” he suggested. “On the opposite side of the building from where you probably came from. It has a bit more trees than the other entrances, I guess.”

code by valen t.

hery · May 26, 2021

MOOD: on the warpath

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics

MENTIONS:
Charlie
INT:
Winona (Adriane)
tags

TL;DR no
tl;dr

Chas Marino

"I don't snore, you bitch," Chas scoffed, waving his hand in her face, "And I trust you, obviously. It's just easier this way. I don't see why I should waste my time spelling everything out for you because of your nosy, slow-witted model brain. Just do what I say."

That seemed to be enough of an explanation to satisfy Chas but, as always, Adriane had to make it a grand point that she wasn't just his minion. Whatever. She should be as indignant as she wanted, but the fact was that the only people who really valued her at Hollywood Arts were Chas and the brainless nematodes who wanted a cheap fuck out of her. And, nine times out of then, a cheap fuck is what they got. For such a cold and selfish girl, she really did aim to please.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Chas crossed his arms, peering left, right, forward, and back to keep watch for prying eyes. "Fine. Whatever. If you must know, Adriane, I know admin should have our school internet logins on file in the principal's office. We simply need to go get those credentials for my own purposes," he explained, speaking and gesturing slowly as though he was talking to a five-year-old.

"Now, I could normally get into the office at any hour thanks to the key the principal entrusted me and only me with thanks to my position as student body president, but, you know... It's safer this way. I don't do risks. I figured you'd be best for the case given your predisposition toward risking a case of chlamydia with a new guy every Tuesday, Friday, Sunday, and the occasional Monday."

He scanned the area for other people once more, grimacing slightly as he thought about how crude it was to be doing his own dirty work. "As for the reason, I need to put this whole 'toothless Chas got beaten up by Charlie' issue to rest. I'm sick of it and, quite honestly, my life would be better without having to hear her name or be reminded of my involvement with her every time I log onto the internet." He shook his head, laughing cruelly. "She thinks we've reconciled. Honestly, the hardest part of all this was biting my tongue around that imp every time she dared melt down over my misfortune."

He shook his head disapprovingly, beginning to feel his frustration boiling over. The whole situation was ludicrous. How dare she make Chas think for even a second that he was better off apologizing, holding in his derisive witticisms and sacrificing a fragment of his confidence. Charlie had crossed a line, and the two of them were still reaping the consequences.

"I don't think you fully comprehend how much I'd like to ruin her," he confessed, turning red in the face, "I had to get a dental implant because of her. The last thing I needed was more ammunition for all my critics to spit back at me every day in a different format. I let her take me down! Wasn't that obvious? It's in the fucking video! I offered no resistance, because it'll go down in court records one day that she assaulted me."

His eyes grew wild with fury, the fire inside stoked by every blazing lump of resentment and shame nestled in his soul. "I got outed that day and what did she do? She had a mental breakdown because I wanted to be left alone and kept out of the public eye. Who is the whiny bitch to disregard the request of me, someone actually experienced with handling PR scandals? You know, I'm still working overtime just to make this fiasco up to my family. That video set me back months in getting a special feature on Mother's show. I need that girl reduced to ash drifting in the wind."

Finally satisfied, he turned back around to face forward. "And that's it. There's your answer," he finished coldly, continuing his heavy-footed, hurried walk to the office. Although he still maintained the amble of an uptight businesswoman tardy to a board meeting, his steps now carried a heavier trace of vigor and unstable, hyper-directed anger. All Chas could picture was Charlie ahead, the full force of his body charging toward the one thing that would erase her from his high-strung thoughts.

It didn't matter what exactly she did or why she did it, nor what the situation was at present. Charlie's happiness was a blight when all Chas could pile his insecurities and problems on was her. The girl had infiltrated his family issues, she'd managed to belittle his massive ego, and she'd gone as far as to insult his intelligence to the point so laughable all he could do was sob or punch a wall. Did she really think everything would be okay just because she felt "bad" and they "made up"? In what way did that absolve her of the dent she'd caused in Chas' fragile—albeit inflated—sense of self-importance?

Tch.

Upon arriving to the office with or without Adriane (he'd been far too riled up to even check if she'd followed), Chas apprehensively pushed open the door. It hadn't been closed all the way, and whoever had come before had clearly left without much of a thought for locking up on a Friday. What administrator leaves their door unlocked and their file cabinets slightly ajar? And these shelves are horribly organized. He trudged over to a space in a shelf somewhat covered by two lopsided files. To an amateur it may have merely appeared a coincidence, but in all his dirt-digging days, Chas could tell the principal must have taken someone's information home for review.

Gritting his teeth with intense judgment, Chas turned around removed the files from the ever-so-slightly opened cabinet, stacking them neatly then returning them to sit in a far more orderly fashion. Had the principal left in a rush, perhaps? He didn't expect the ugly hag to have any sort of a hot date on a Friday night.

Now, it was time to get to business. "Help me find where all the passwords are stored," Chas commanded, peering from the other side of the desk to lock eyes with Adriane, "I'm going to sabotage something logged in as Charlie. The goal is maximum administrative action required on her end." His eyes drifted down to the desktop sitting neatly on the well-polished piece of furniture, and he shuddered realizing it was the same Dalbergia wood as the furnishings in his father's study. The two seemed to have their horridly uncultured taste in expensive wood in common.

"Now's your chance to laugh at my pettiness, by the way. Get it out now before I suspect you of treachery and turn this into a solo operation," the writer stated into the silent air, straining his arms to reach a box at the top of a bookcase.

code by valen t.

gh0stwriter · May 26, 2021

Lydia Fox

That look. That momentary look of panic when she gripped his arm and the realization that he had not outsmarted her was worth it. Payment for his services? Guess she’d have to owe him one. That was their arrangement anyway. Favor for favor. Task for task. Tit for tat. It worked for them. Besides, doing anything out of the kindness of their hearts would be out of character and blur the lines that had been sharply drawn. She couldn’t have that.

She watched him emerge with a pleased smirk across her face. Sure, he was planning on getting in the pool anyway and sure, this in no way was justice for her ruined outfit. That would come later. When he least expected it. Lydia always loved surprises when they weren’t happening to her. The fact that her spare clothes were in the locker room boded well. Meant she could wash this chlorine out of her hair and off her body before she enjoyed the rest of the night.

“Damn Fox, look at what you’ve done.”

The fact that he seemed unbothered both amused and infuriated her. Always so calm and collected. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Kirby. You’re used to wardrobe changes, yes?” She said, keeping her tone level and even. Her eyes never left him as she admired the way the shirt clung to his body. She’ll say it again --there was no harm in looking. How far was he going to take this little charade? Lydia Fox did not like to lose and knew that, while Dalton was a formidable opponent, she’d clearly had better resolve.

At least the water was warm. Or maybe it was something else? She eyed him as he made his way over-- making sure to give her a show. And he had succeeded. She definitely wasn’t complaining. Their eyes met as he held his shirt in his hand and leaned in. The disgusting sound of the shirt colliding with the ground echoed. She rolled her eyes at the look of pure smugness on his face. So. Fucking. Cocky.

He was playing a dangerous game. They both were. She wasn’t naive enough to think she was innocent. But how far could they realistically take this?

“About your outfit, I’m really sorry,”

The sincerity in his voice said otherwise. And she wasn’t all that broken up about it. Her closet made Cher Horowitz’ look like a supply closet. But he thought she was upset and that’s all that mattered. “I can tell. You look positively wracked with guilt..” She said softly as she tilted her head up at him.

Boss? At least he knew his place. She smirked. Genuinely, which was hard to do. The proximity wasn’t lost on her. Neither was the fact that it was becoming quite the habit. Closeness. Teasing. Dangling the fruit just enough to both feel like they had some power. Like they were in control.

"how should I make it up to you for those preciously expensive Manolo Blahniks of yours?"

She smiled and matched the mischievous glint in his eyes. “You sure you’re up for the challenge?” She said as she leaned in. Her body just centimeters from his. “Cause it’s gonna be rough.” She whispered as she bit her lip playfully. Two could play this game indeed.

Your move, Kirby.

mood
furious with a chance of amusment

location
the pool

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Kiss the Girl

by The Little Mermaid

mentions
NA

interactions
Dalton

tags

Xed

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · May 26, 2021

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

do it, no balls

Everything was a race to Lin— the competition never stopped.

Duh, it was. What kinda ship did you think he was running here, luhmao? When you were a winner like Lindsay motherfucking Kay, bitch, you took every opportunity to kick ass— especially when the ass to kick was Charlie Howell’s.

My girlfriend’s gonna be a rotten egg cheeeeck, gang gang, luhmao.

He tore down the hallway, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, his arms pedaling and then reaching out to rip open the door to the stairwell so hard that it slammed against the brick wall behind it. He gave it an extra kick to make the most noise possible as he passed it— ‘cuz more noise equalled more fun, duh— and then he clobbered up the stairs, skipping every other step.

He turned sharply when he reached the door to the hall that the lit room was on, and he slammed his shoulder into the door’s push bar.

“Home stretch, bay-beeee!” he cheered to himself beneath his breath as his feet hit the flooring.

He immediately spotted a girl on the opposite end of the hall, and Lin’s grin immediately spread wider with determination as he pushed his shoulders won further.

“You’re going down, Kay!” Charlie yelled.

“No, you!” he called back, his strides growing longer as he set his eyes on the doorframe to the lit classroom.

Piece of motherfucking cake!

WHACK!

He slapped his palm into the cold, metal frame with a triumphant cackle, just as a hand slapped beneath his.

No, but his was totally first— duh.

Ess-em-aych.

“Looooooser,” he taunted with another laugh, and he put an L to his forehead. “Loser, loser, looo-ser!” he sang.

Breathlessly, he put his hands on his hips and slouched his shoulders, heaving his shoulders and trying to regain his ability to breathe normally.

His face, however, beamed at Charlie, and he raised an eyebrow triumphantly.

Well, well, wellllll.

“No way,” Charlie huffed, scowling up at Lin. “No, you’re totally gonna go all ‘oh haha I won Charles luhmao’ on me—“

Well, duh, ‘cuz he did.

“— and I totally won.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a laugh.

“And hey, I totally ran here all this way with a huge ass bag on my back which makes me faster and stronger like that one Kanye West song.”

Nope, nope, nope. She obviously didn’t win. Luhmao, not to Lindsay Kay.

The evidence didn’t lie, ess-em-aych. C’mon, suck it up, King Charles— it was still honorable to lose to the best, luhmao. At least you put up a good fight.

‘course, Charlie was always a sore loser when it came to losing to him. She never liked to admit her losses. Ess-em-aych, it was really a shame, luhmao.

“I touched the opposite side of the door frame from me, clearly I was faster,” she said.

“You wish, you wish, you wiiish,” Lin taunted, poking a finger at her. “Luhmao, I touched it first, and you just don’t wanna admit it, Eggy Girl. Eggy, eggy, eggyyyy, luhmao!” He held up a fist to his mouth as if he were talking into a microphone as he continued. “Miss Howell, how does it feel to be Losey Loser McEggypants? Does it feel rotten?” He dissolved into laughter, clapping his hands like it was the funniest joke that he’d ever told. He looked up to see her heading into the lit room, and he turned to follow her, continuing to poke at the air in front of her. “You f—“

“Zeph how the hell are you already here?” Charlie asked, and Lin blinked, his smile frozen on his face as he stepped behind Charlie.

Huh?

What, what, what, what, what, what, what?

“No fucking way,” Lin breathed.

There Zeph was, chilling in a chair, smirking.

“Well…,” Zeph said slowly.

“Wait…,” Charlie started. “Dude, Big Man, we both lost.”

“Nuh-uh,” Lin said immediately, crossing his arms and setting his brows low. “Nuh-uh.” He shook his head insistently, glaring at Zeph. “Nuh-uh, nuh-uh.”

“We, Lin Kay and Charlie Howell, are frickin losers to Mr Evermore,” she continued.

“Fuck no, we are not.” Lin looked at Zeph, brows knit. “There is no way that you— nuh-uh!” he huffed.

“I am so—”

She paused, and Lin looked over at her.

“The elevator,” she said. “You took the damn elevator!”

“Hey!” Lin exclaimed quickly, looking back over at Zeph. “Hey!”

“That’s why you don’t look tired, you took the elevator!” Charlie said. “I call shenanigans on Zeph the Cheater!”

"You guys never said no elevator," Zeph said.

“Ess-em-aych, Zephy,” Lin said, stepping past Charlie and walking into the room. “Ess-em-aych, Zephy,” he repeated, shaking his head as an as your father, I’m very disappointed look came onto his face. He came to a stop in front of the desk that Zeph was sitting at, and he threw himself on top of it, sitting on his knees. He placed his palms on the table and slowly rotated himself to face Zeph, and then he leaned forward so that his face was inches from his best bros.

“Zephy, Zeph, Zobin…Mister Beaver Ass Prophet,” he started in a mumble, shaking his head. He widened his eyes as big as they could go. “Look me in the eyes, man-bro-loserpants,” he said, cracking a grin at his teasing insult. “I know you don’t know the rules of bettiquette, so I’m not going to hold this one against you, but—“ He reached out and put his palms on his shoulders. “Rule number uno, dos, and tres— that’s one, two, and three, bee-tee-dubs…” Lin held up one finger, then two, then three, bouncing his hand with each in silence as he nodded to make sure that Zeph was comprehending before he replaced his hand on his shoulder. “…is that you can’t use elevators in footraces. Duh.” Lin scoffed, cackling, lightly bouncing his forehead off of Zeph’s to emphasize his point. “I mean, that’s the basics.”

He sat back on the stable, placing his palms behind himself and leaning his weight onto them. The desk tilted forwards at the weight, as if it was going to topple over, but that didn’t seem to faze Lin. “It’s like, there are some things you just can’t do, bro: shove ten loaves of bread under your shirt in a Walmart and write it off as my boobs are just swelling to the person at the beepy monitor things—“ He put cupped one hand beneath his left pec and mimicked a squeeze. “— because then you’ll have to take your titties out and let the bread fall and everyone loses…” He dropped his hand back to the desk, continuing his list. “…order McNuggets at a Kentucky Fried Chicken and ask where your Happy Meal box is, ‘cuz they’ll be like ‘sorry, we don’t serve those here’ and those lameasses don’t appreciate when you say, ‘well sucks, get some’…” He rolled his eyes. “…and you can’t use an elevator in a footrace,” he concluded. “It's all basic knowledge, ess-em-aych."

The grin spreading across his face betrayed that he was really only saying those things to confuse the kid.

"You get that?” He reached out and thumped Zeph’s forehead lightly with his forefinger, then dissolved into laughter, launching himself off of the table and dropping down onto all fours in the floor.

He kicked his legs back hard enough to propel them into the air, and momentarily, he did a handstand— yeah, just casually, luhmao. He walked a couple of steps with his hands, and then dropped his feet down and stood up.

That way was a lot easier than just putting his feet on the ground.

And also a lot more badass.

Duh.

He put his hands on his hips and walked up to Charlie. “Luhmao, aight, now that we got that settled and we know that I’m the winner, luhmao…” He stretched his arms all the way out, opening his palms and wiggling his fingers excitedly, the grin on his face wide. “Gimme, Charlie— gimme, gimme, gimme.” He stopped wiggling his fingers for a moment and looked up from the bag to Charlie’s face.

“You know what we’re doing, right?” he whispered to her, and then he leaned closer so he could talk in her ear. “We’re trashing this shiiiiit!” he said, and he leaned back from her to cackle loudly. “Let’s go, let’s go!” He was bouncing on his heels, a telltale sign that he was only going to get wilder from here.

(You think this is wild, though? You should see him with some sugar in him— Lin right now looks like a docile fawn in comparison.)

mood
tldr im the winner now lets TRASH SOME SHIT

location
the school

outfit
lookin fly as always

playing...
all i do is win

by dj khaled

mentions
n/a

interactions
zeph & charlie

tags

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · May 26, 2021

trevor callaghan

feckin' fuck off

Her fingers hesitantly intertwined with his, and he looked down at their twisted hands, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. Her skin was too warm— too warm that it nearly made him shiver. And for once, now that their hands were laced, he didn’t think of “how right it felt” or “how nice her hand fit in his” or any shit like that. He just felt relief wash over him in a quick, rapidly-dissipating wave, breathed out another short breath, and hoped that she kept at least somewhat open to him, that his next moves wouldn’t slam the doors and make her shut him out.

All he could do was hope; he was hardly thinking right now.

“I’m not…I’m not that that drunk yet,” said the that that drunk girl beside him.

“Likely story,” he said sarcastically, though the sarcasm was lost in the forced steadiness of his voice. “And I’m not that that suspicious of that assertion— not in tha slightest.”

“Don’t…stop, there’s not…like…there’s not much or…whatever you could’ve done, ‘cause you don’t just…” Ash lifted a fist and weakly punched the air before dropping her hand down into her lap. “And if you…I mean, it wouldn’t…not of changed…anything…”

He looked at her, expression wrought with worry. Had he just heard what she’d said? Yes. Had any of it registered with him? Not in the slightest. The sounds from her mouth, slurred together, were jumbled inside of his head, and he tried to untangle them, his brows knitting together in focus.

And then, it registered, but it was too late for him to say anything, and she took the bottle from him and drank, and he watched her throat move as she forced the alcohol down. She pressed a hand against her mouth, and he held out his hands in an I’ve got you, as if that would help in any sort of way.

Fucking hell, he shouldn’t’ve given her that bottle back.

Her brown eyes were glazed and unfocused, and a veil of tears reflected shadowy versions of the objects around them, and she clutched the bottle as if her life depended on it.

It didn’t depend on it, and she was going to drink the damn thing down if he didn’t do something about it.

“Ummm…yeah, I mean, yeah…,” she said, and he supposed that she was going to answer her question, so his worried eyes flicked up from the bottle to her face. “I…I tried to, like…apologize to Cal, 'cause he was mad after all of the...whatever stuff last weekend, and he was ummm...he was already mad at me, because like…” She looked up to the ceiling, puffing her cheeks for a moment before exhaling slowly. "I didn't uhh...I wasn't there when he, uhh...when he broke up with his boyfriend, because I was like...I was like kind of...like it was Homecoming night, so I was umm...like... making out with this guy on his couch, yeah..."

She gave him a serious look. "That guy was you, so...yeah, don't get jealous or whatever."

“No shit,” he said instinctively, and then he gave a soft laugh to show her that, no, he didn’t mean it harshly.

She took another sip of the drink.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. He felt his mouth growing drier, somehow, and he considered the best way to get that thing the fuck away from her.

"Anyway, so he was all like...’look at me, your apologies are nothing and you're a shit person and fuck you, and no one's going to trust you like me and...and..you piece of shit, never talk to me again’.”

The more she spoke, the deeper-knitted his eyes grew, and his lips curled up in a scowl of disgust. The acid in his chest boiled over and dribbled to his stomach, and he felt a sudden, vengeful rage. He clenched his jaw for a moment.

She sniffled. A tear beaded and glistened down her cheek.

His jaw slowly unclenched as it registered that she— oh fuck, she was crying.

His head throbbed.

Jesus fecking Christ, now’s not the time.

He tried to suppress his headache by clenching his jaw.

His eyes studied the room quickly. C’mon, c’mon, he thought as he searched for one thing in particular, but then she started speaking again, and he turned his attention..

"Like, okay whatever, not like my mom's called me that every day of my life or whatever,” Ash said, and Trevor’s eyes flicked to her.

He blinked.

What.

"Not really...she never did that...her words of choice are, like, worthless bitch or whatever, I don't really listen anymore,” she said.

As she brought the bottle up to her lips, Trevor’s immediate thoughts slipped out again: “God Almighty, your mom is a bitch.”

Well, she was.

"Basically same thing with uhh..." She paused, coughing, and he held his hands up again. He brought one hand to her shoulder, leaning closer to make sure that she was okay just as she pressed her hand to her mouth. It slowly sank down, but he remained closely-leaned to her, waiting for her to continue with a serious, deeply-worried, heavily-invested demeanor. "Nickie, she was all like... ‘you're not a good person, and you're all selfish, and disgusting, and blah, blah, blah…”

Pardon, they…what?

She shook her head. "I uhh...that one was my fault, I...like...snapped at her, but I'm umm...I'm waiting for Hunter to message me and yell at me, so...I guess that'll be…the third or fourth I'm called a shit person or whatever tonight, I don't know, I...I kinda lost count..."

She brought the bottle to her lips one more time, and then she squeezed her eyes shut, but Trevor was still trying to wrap his head around everything that she had said.

Callum, then Nickie, and now she was waiting on Hunter.

And apparently her mom did it, too.

He blinked, studied her again.

Looking at her with all of this new knowledge, she looked…he could…

She was suffering.

He tucked his lower lip in, his eyes looking around the room as he somewhat awkwardly rubbed his thumb on her shoulder. Finally, his eyes caught on what he was looking for on the teacher’s desk, and he quickly stood and damn near ran to get it.

But then, he turned around, and he saw her crying and hugging the bottle, and he couldn’t just rush back over.

Each step he took was cautious, as if he were walking to avoid landmines; every limb of his was shaking, and hie breathing was shallow.

He lowered himself into the seat beside her, and then he held it up for her with a small, hopeful look on his face: a seafoam-green box of dollar store tissues, yet unopened.

It was lame, he knew, that his only response to that was to— to run and get something and not to…oh, fuck, what else was he supposed to do?

The only thing that Trevor knew to do— the only thing that he felt that he could do in that moment— was be the props man. Was to hand her a box of tissues. Was to say nothing.

His survival instincts were trying to tell him: sometimes, he just needed to shut the fuck up.

“I’ll trade ya,” he said, holding his hand out for the bottle as he held the box of tissues at chest-level for her. “You collect: box of tissues, which is…probably not the best quality, but it’s at least something; I collect…” He glanced at the bottle, then back up to her face. “Voooodkaaa?” He shook his head. “I don’t fecking know what it is. I think that’s what it is.“ He shook his open palm at the bottle. “Whatever it is you’re holding. I think it’s a fair trade.” He gave the box a small shake. “Look, the box is even brand new. Tantilizin’. Titilatin’. I’m sure you could make a wish on the box or something, too— if that would convince ya to take it. And…an’ I’ll even throw in, uh…”

Improvisation was never his strong suit.

His head throbbed in a boooo, you stink!.

“I’ll throw in a…uh…I’ve got a penny feckin’ somewhere or something or whatever, I’m sure,” he said, giving up on finding something clever with a slight grumble.

He was too on edge to think about…anything.

He paused a beat, and then he managed a very, very, very small smile, and he reached out to rub a tear off of her cheek. Sadly, he wasn’t the most dextrous, so he also poked his pinky at her ear accidentally. He cringed, breathing out a shallow, sorry sigh, his eyes studying her face to make sure that he hadn’t hurt her or anything. “Whoops,” he muttered. “I’m, uh…well, not the greatest at these things…”

He trailed off, frowning slightly as his eyes focused on a strand of hair gummed up in her dried tears, and he tucked it behind her ear. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I just figured that was buggin’ you.”

He was not good at comforting, as all of his roommates could attest too. Often, he made it worse— unintentionally, but still.

He wasn’t exactly the most comfortable presence. He was on edge, and he was worried, and he had so many questions that he wanted answered. He didn’t know what to do, or what to say, or what to think.

But…fuck it.

Fuck all of that.

Something inside of him cared about Ash, and that something was telling him to do his damn best.

And he was doing his damn best, even if…that…wasn’t…much.

mood
...

location
a classroom

outfit
something casual

playing...
the funeral

by band of horses

mentions
n/a

interactions
ash

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · May 26, 2021

Adriane Holloway

She waited impatiently, ignoring Chas' cutting remarks that honestly didn't do much to scathe her. Oh go ahead, call her a whore again. It was unoriginal, and it wasn't something that she was ashamed of. Like basically everything else that Chas barked at her, these words also fell flat and left her unimpressed by her best friend's petty choice of insult.

Eventually, he finally gave her what she wanted -- that being an answer to why they were breaking into the principal's office. Something that felt petty and childish, like... more along the lines of the kind of dangerous act she would've participated in back in her middle school days. Not now, because what could even be gained from the principal's office? Other students' records? Literally that was so boring.

He spoke again, and her cold eyes watched him, waiting for the explanation.

And the instant Charlie's name left his mouth, Adriane didn't need a single other reasoning behind it or explanation. She understood exactly what he was being petty over.

Chas had to be kidding.

He wanted to break into the principal's office and ruin Charlie Howell over... what? Her knocking his tooth out and the endless, petty teasing that he received following that incident? Was he not aware that no matter what he did to Charlie, it wasn't going to solve a single thing? The teasing would continue, and it would continue even more with the way that he threw such huge tantrums over it. But hey, it wasn't her battle to fight or give advice on.

"Alright," she said with a breathy sigh. "Fine, I'll help you break in."

What? She didn't have anything better to do with her night.

And of course, it might come as such a total surprise, but Adriane really was an absolutely amazing friend and it would just be so wrong of her to not agree to go along with Chas on his silly little revenge journey. Her heels clicked against the tile with a new sense of purpose, until they arrived at the office. Adriane closed the door with a soft click after her, and then glanced around. An eyebrow tilted up slightly as she surveyed the room, and the slight mess of drawers and files. With how pristine and well-kept the rest of the school was, it was a bit of a shock to see anything imperfect.

"Help me find where all the passwords are stored," Chas ordered, "I'm going to sabotage something logged in as Charlie. The goal is maximum administrative action required on her end."

She rolled her eyes, but stepped towards the nearest filing cabinet to start searching.

"Now's your chance to laugh at my pettiness, by the way. Get it out now before I suspect you of treachery and turn this into a solo operation."

"I'm not going to laugh," Adriane responded without looking back at Chas. Instead, she was flipping through the first drawer's folders and files, searching for what they needed. Her tone was monotone, naturally, as she continued to speak, and she let out a breathy sigh. "Charlie Howell and her disgusting little boyfriend are blights on humanity. They both repeatedly texted me earlier from their accounts and alt accounts to... I can't even remember. Lin wanted me to give the details of how I made that little boy cry and when I refused and blocked him, he set his girlfriend on me like the rabid attack dog she is."

She closed the filing cabinet drawer, careful not to let it slam shut and creating too much noise, and then she crouched down to start picking through the next drawer.

"Personally, I think it is a bit petty, and if it was anyone else, I may tease you for it. But Charlie deserves whatever's coming for her." She finished explaining as she finished up picking through the second drawer, and closed that one as well. Another breathy sigh, followed by a final string of words. "Nothing over here."

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

gh0stwriter · May 26, 2021

Landon Sinclaire

Why did things feel right with the wrong people? He hadn’t lied when he had said he’d been down this road before. He was no stranger to complicated relationships, but didn’t that mean they were worth pursuing? Especially when it made sense and despite the fact that it was his sister’s best friend...he and Gen...they made sense. Maybe it wouldn’t work out. Maybe it was doomed for failure, but his relationship with Gen was something he kept close. Valued. More than most things in his life. There was never any judgement. Never any concern that he wouldn’t be understood. It was easy. It was nice.

Was.

Past tense.

Gen saw them first and he followed suit— hopping up quickly. Zipping up his fly as she scrambled to cover her boobs. They didn’t need this. The rumor mill was hot this week. And itching for something like this to get out. He’d hoped it was freshman. Easily persuaded to keep their secret for fear of disappearing at the hands of one Gen Johannes.

Hope was not enough. Not today at least. He saw Mike first. And couldn’t help but relish as he watched his usual dickish expression turn cold. Almost as if something actually bothered him about finding he and Gen together. The fucking nerve of this guy. He narrowed his eyes as they drifted to the second intruder. Jace fucking West. His best friend— former best friend. Great. This was all he fucking needed right now.

“Did we miss a...party?”

God he hated that pocket-sized waste of space. In usual Landon fashion, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to make a snide remark to Mike that would inevitably end in one of their notorious insult matches. It would be grand. Mike would call him ‘Landong’ and he would reply that Mike shops in the dumpster outside Babies R Us. And today should be no different.

Should being the operative word.

He saw Evie and Callum follow behind. Like a deer caught in the headlights, he was stunned. Unable to speak. Not that Evie gave either one of them the chance. She bolted. Rightfully so. And his heart sank into his stomach. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He fucked up. He royally fucked up. He undeniably fucked up. Okay, he didn’t think it was that bad, but Evie was not as laid back as he was.

“What the fuck are you all doing here?”

This wasn’t going to end well. It never did when Gen was upset. And upset was the understatement of the year. They had both hurt Evie. And not hurt as in ‘accidently’ pushing her down the stairs when he was give. Like legit hurt. Relationship ending hurt. Landon was safe. Right? He was her brother. She couldn’t phase him out. But Gen wasn’t so lucky. And it wasn’t her fault. He’d pursued her. Maybe it started out cause she was his sister’s hot friend. Then it was because it was against the rules. And then...they became friends. Relied on each other. And made each other feel safe. Wanted.

Regardless, he had made the first move. He could take most of the brunt cause, again, he was family and she couldn’t turn her back on family. Gen screamed. She had them handled. He quietly knelt down and picked up his discarded shirt and held it quietly in his hand. It was best to just let Gen do her thing. When the dust settled, he’d intervene if needed.

“It’s locked.”

The look on Gen’s face said it all. Shit. He moved quickly toward the door and nudged Mike’s shoulder in the process. It wasn’t intentional, but he also didn’t give a fuck. They had to be wrong. He jiggled the handle. Nothing. He put his weight into it. Nothing. He pulled out his phone. Maybe she wasn’t mad still. Hopefully optimistic borderlining on stupid, but he had to hope. The fact that he sent a singular ‘Hi” was an indication that he and Evie had never been in a legitimate fight. But it was a start. And she responded, so...prog--

Evelyn Sinclaire has blocked Landon Sinclaire.

Okay. He did not see that coming. (according to all the rpers, he should have) But he didn’t. At least he was pretty. She blocked him. Cut off communication. This wasn’t good. No matter how much he’d fucked up, cause let’s be honest, it was always him— but not the point. They always hashed it out. Always. He always made it better. How was he supposed to do that if she wasn’t talking to him?

His attention went back to Gen. He knew how much Evie mattered to her. How much their friendship mattered and he’d fucked that up. Cause he was horny. He sighed. He wanted to comfort her but also valued his life. She wasn’t ready. He startled as the phone flew across the room. Guess her and Evie’s conversation went about as well as his did. Bet she still didn’t block her though.

Concerned washed over him as he saw the blood pooling in Gen’s palm. “You’re bleeding.” He said ignoring the risk and taking her hand gently in his and pressed his shirt against the cut. “Look…” he started softly.

“That’s it.”

Okay. Still not the time. He stepped back when she had a firm grip on his shirt and let Gen continue. She wasn’t finished. She needed someone to blame and unfortunately for the three stooges standing before him: they were about to deal with hurricane Gen. Normally, he’d find this incredibly sexy but given the circumstances, he didn’t think flirting with Gen was appropriate. He could read the room.

“Maybe someone should call for a rescue. I have a feeling one or all of you are gonna need one.” He said as he stayed by Gen in case she needed anything. She called out Jace. Arguably the weakest target. Landon would have started with the strongest but maybe she wanted to build up to it

mood
blocked

location
somewhere in the school

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Figure Me Out

by The Summer Set

mentions
See below (Callum barely cause he is irrelevant)

interactions
Gen, Evie, Mike, Jace and Callum

tags

hery

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · May 26, 2021

Ashton West

At some point during the recollection of tonight's events, Ash had started to shutdown. She wasn't aware of this fact, of course, except that everything started to feel... distant. She could feel Trevor's presence beside her, she could feel when he touched her shoulder, but it all... felt... numbed. Dull. Ash barely registered his comments, barely registered anything else that was going on. It was like... being plunged under water -- like trying to talk, trying to breathe, trying to experience everything underwater. It didn't feel right.

Her lungs constricted, her breathing grew a little shallower, a little more shaky.

The only thing that didn't feel distant and drawn far out was the bottle of vodka that she pulled closer to her, her fingers pressed tightly against the glass.

Trevor stood up, and she half-expected this to be it. He'd walk out now and leave her here, and that would be fine. Ash wouldn't be upset by his actions.

Instead, he came back after a while, taking his seat beside her again.

“I’ll trade ya,” he said, hand held something out in his hand. “You collect: box of tissues, which is…probably not the best quality, but it’s at least something; I collect… Voooodkaaa?”

Her gaze shifted to look at what was clenched in his hand, confirming that it was indeed a box of tissues that he was presenting to her. For a moment, her eyes lifted up to meet his, a dumb smile on her face as her head lulled back to its original position, her gaze situated on the ground in front of her.

“I don’t fecking know what it is. I think that’s what it is.“ He shook his open palm at the bottle, and she shifted it farther away from him. “Whatever it is you’re holding. I think it’s a fair trade.” He gave the box a small shake, as if she was a child that was so easily persuaded. “Look, the box is even brand new. Tantilizin’. Titilatin’. I’m sure you could make a wish on the box or something, too— if that would convince ya to take it. And…an’ I’ll even throw in, uh…”

Probably nothing worthwhile, because she'd made her previous trade offer known, and he'd said no to it, so what made him think that she'd say yes to tissues?

“I’ll throw in a…uh…I’ve got a penny feckin’ somewhere or something or whatever, I’m sure,” he said.

Ash didn't respond right away. Her gaze was still focused unevenly on the floor, her head spinning for a moment. She needed some kind of clarity, so she closed her eyes, but the darkness created by that wasn't much better. Honestly, she... Ash didn't know anymore, actually. She didn't know what she wanted, she didn't know what she needed, she didn't know what to feel, what to think, because the perfect script of what to do and how to act had kind of failed her, and now Ash just... didn't... she just... she didn't fucking know.

She wasn't about to trade the vodka for a penny and a box of tissues, though.

He reached over to dry a tear from her cheek and although it was a nice gesture, his finger poking against her ear caused her to flinch away instead, her nose scrunching up for a brief moment before her expression relaxed again to its... basic, numb current default.

Again, his hand moved back to brush her hair over her ear, and this time she didn't flinch, but she didn't react. He was speaking, but his words were falling on deaf ears. Like she knew he was talking, she could hear him, and if she focused hard enough, Ash was sure that she would be able to understand what he was trying to say. But she couldn't bring herself to do that, she couldn't really bring herself to do much of anything.

"No," she mumbled, the word feeling heavy in her dry mouth as she leveled her shaky gaze onto the Kleenex box. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment and when she reopened them, she was actually able to focus on the box in his hand. "No trade," she said again, her words slurring a bit, while her grip on the bottle tightened. "I... no."

"Vodka for... for weed," she repeated her earlier offer. "I'm not... I'm drunk not stupid, I don't just like... want something 'cause it's shiny." Her words were a little colder than she had intended but then again, Ash wasn't really intending anything at this moment. There was little filter, little anything else.

And maybe a little part of her was afraid that he'd try and just take the bottle of vodka, so she pushed herself up from the chair, her figure swaying for a moment as the world spun around her, before she was able to catch her balance. And then, with equally unsteady steps, she stumbled back towards the wall where she'd previously been seated, her shoulder catching her weight against it.

She turned so that her back was against the wall, and she sank down until she was seated again on the ground, her back against the wall, and her knees drawn up towards her chest, with the bottle of vodka against her chest as usual.

"Vodka for weed or uhh... I don't know, shrooms or something, I don't know," she said again. Anything, at this point, that could try and make her feel numb.

To add some clarity to her own kind (ignoring the fact that alcohol kind of had the total opposite effect on a person), she took another sip from the bottle of vodka before setting it down next to her. She drew her knees closer to her, and crossed her arms over her stomach.

"You said, uhh... you said..." she started, pausing momentarily to try and search for the write words, "oh you said, said uhh... oh, that you hurt yourself when you're... alone," she was enunciating all the wrong words, trying to keep her train of thought rolling. "Why? Is it like... is it like on Halloween when you were like... you kept being all like... trying to bang your head against walls and stuff, is it like... like that?"

Half of her wanted to know, half of her wanted to try and turn the conversation from him trying to steal her vodka.

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
Cough Syrup

by Young The Giant

mentions
N/A

interactions
Trevor

tags

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · May 26, 2021

MICHAEL K. REID

asshole supreme

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Mike didn’t look over at Evie. His eyes were staring straight ahead, focused on…the fucking scene in front of him.

The door slammed.

Mike didn’t flinch.

"They w-were hooking up," West stammered, and Mike clenched his jaw, tearing his eyes away from the Gen and Landon to glare at him.

“You don’t fucking say, Piss Boy,” he growled, boring holes into the boy with his eyes. “Never woulda guessed, in a million fucking years, that Landon fucking Sinclaire and Genevieve fucking Johannes— two of the biggest whores, shirtless, alone in the floor of a big room, all caked in sweat and oozing desperation would’ve been fucking.” He punched West in the shoulder, much harder than a nudge. “Thanks for fucking alerting me.”

“What the fuck are you all doing here?” Gen demanded, and Mike looked at her.

In his rush of bewilderment and anger, a grin came onto his face. He opened his mouth to say, Well, right now, we’re waiting for some kind of freak out, and Piss Baby’s crying because he’s seeing some tits— not that hard to guess, but he wasn’t even able to start before, yeah, the freak out commenced.

“Seriously, the door was closed, you absolute imbeciles!” Gen yelled. “What the fuck were you thinking just barging in here like it’s some fucking show on demand, get the fuck out! Get out! GET OUT, NOW!”

“Oh, don’t worry. If you’re asking for some kind of payment for your show, I’m sure I could dig up a couple of dollars,” Mike said with no hesitation with a forced calmness. “Though I don’t understand the point— Dickface’s sister back there—“ He jabbed a finger at the slammed door casually, as if he wasn’t flipping out internally. “— is probably going to let everyone in the school know about this incident, so there’s no point in even trying to hide it now. Why don’t you throw the doors open, put up one of those flashing signs? Label it Freak Show, charge a couple of pennies for entry so everyone can stare at this fucking desolation.”

Mike let out a soft, short chuckle, just as he heard some jiggling on the door.

He turned to West, crossing his arms. “What, you can’t even open a fucking door without help? Fuck, you’re pathetic.”

Get us out, fucking bitch— before I lose it.

He clenched his jaw tighter with every feeble tug at the handle.

“It…it— it— it— locked!” he concluded with a whine.

Mike gave him a firm, angry shove. “No, you fucking shit— you’re just too—“

“Mind letting us out?”

Mike looked to West’s anemic runningmate for crowns of the most disgusting human beings in the fucking world.

“You two have a key to the door or something we need, I’m assuming?” Richards asked.

“It isn’t locked, you fucking idiot—“ He gave West another harsh shove in the direction of the door. “Bitch here is just too fucking weak to get that shit open.”

“Fucking move,” Gen snapped, and she shoved the before iron supplements model to the side.

“Can’t even open the fucking door right,” Mike hissed at West beneath his breath, giving him another shove. “No wonder you’re the family disappointment.”

Mike was fucking pissed, okay? And West was there.

(Tale as old as time, huh? Reminiscent of good old freshman and sophomore year, yeah?)

He heard the handle jiggling again, and he looked over to her.

Could she not open a fucking door, either?

“It’s locked,” Gen said.

Was everyone around him fucking dumb and fucking weak?

He rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Bullshit. It’s only locked if you fucking locked it,” Mike grunted. He took a step towards her, reaching out for the handle. “L—“

Someone nudged his shoulder, and he glared up at them.

No, not just someone— someone.

Mike tightened his jaw, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white and gritting his teeth together.

He was so pissed that he couldn’t talk— just glare at him— at Dickface. At that son of a bitch.

Fucking Landon.

Landon, jiggling the doorknob.

Landon, seemingly coming to the same damn fucking conclusion as everyone else.

Mike was past pissed right now.

“What the fuck?!” He growled, and he shoved Landon aside, pushing much harder than he had to. “Let me at that shit, since none of you can even open a fucking door right.”

Mike’s large hand found the knob, which was warm from being passed around like Gen’s body.

(Yeah, that fucking comment was necessary.)

He jerked as hard as he could on the handle, and the metal thing gave a few, strained dtt-dtt-dtts as it wiggled in the doorframe. He slammed his shoulder repeatedly into the door.

“Bullshit! Fucking bullshit!” he growled, and he kept slamming his shoulder into the door.

Fucking let me out, fucking let me out, fucking let me the fuck out.

I’m going to lose my shit, I’m going to lose my shit, I’m going to lose my shit.

There will be fucking blood, there will be fucking blood, there will be.

Fucking.

Blood.

He slammed the side of his fist into the door, and he banged his forehead against it and held it there. His shoulders heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

He squeezed his eyes shut, baring his teeth.

“Damn it,” Mike hissed through his teeth. “Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it.” As he continued to speak, his words grew in intensity. “Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it.” Foamy spit flew and hit on the door. “Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it— GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

His last words were a hissed yell, throaty and muffled by his teeth clenched so tightly that they threatened to break.

He slammed his fist on the door again, turning to face everyone else.

His eyes burned like a bull who had just seen a red cape. His whole body was tense and ready to fight.

His heavy breathing was the only sound in the silence— or maybe that was just because he was deafened by the ringing in his ears.

His dark eyes found Landon’s form, which was surprisingly fucking casual for a situation as this.

What did you want to happen here, dickhead? Mike tried to glare into him. What, did you just want to have a fucking lovey-dovey romantic moment? What, did you think that you were going to have a nice fucking night, alone here with your sister’s best friend— with the girl that I’m fucking? What the fuck did you think? Did you think you were going to be happy? Did we rip that away from you?

Why the hell are you so calm? Did you fucking want this? Did you fucking expect this?

Yeah, you’re so soft. Yeah, you’re so intelligent.

Yeah.

You’re so goddamn fucking mature.

Suffer— fucking suffer.

Do some shit so I can laugh at you.

Do some shit— show some fucking regret.

Something— do fucking SOMETHING.

Someone’s phone slammed into a wall, and it gave a CRACK, breaking Mike’s immersion.

He looked to the person— the girl— fucking Genevieve fucking Johannes.

She looked so ungraceful— very fucking pitiful— but she wasn’t the one who he wanted to see fucking suffer.

And now, she was fucking bleeding.

Mike clenched his jaw tighter.

“You’re bleeding,” said the tall dickface.

No fucking shit.

Oh, what a gentle fucking giant Landon was!

Oh, he cared so fucking much!

Oh, he was so fucking impressive!

Oh, oh, oh! Look how fucking calm he is in the midst of when he should be panicking— when he should be flipping the fuck out!

Nothing could fucking faze him!

Oh, it was so fucking romantic that Mike was going to fucking vomit!

Give me a fucking break.

Was Landon trying to impress her?

What the fuck was he doing?

“That’s it,” Gen said, and Mike looked to her again. Her voice was raspy.

He rolled his eyes.

What more did the bitch have to say?

“I’m taking each of you out, one by fucking one.”

Ha.

Mike cracked a grin.

She studied them, trying to seem intimidating when she was really like a toy chihuahua in a cage— nothing scary in the slightest. “I don’t know why the fuck any of you are here but now, you are all dead bitches walking. Let’s start with…you, Jason.”

“You’re so scary,” Mike drawled sarcastically, stepping closer to her. “What, you’re going to take us? You’ve already taken two of us tonight, and the other two— well, you aren’t their type. I’m sure they could take each other, though.” He scoffed, crossing his arms. “But yeah, you have fun with that. Rip his guts out, and take his balls while you’re at it— if he has any. They won’t be useful, but it would be some proof that they at least existed,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.

“Maybe someone should call for a rescue,” piped the dickhead whose opinion was never wanted, needed, or asked for, but who always felt the need to say some shit. “I have a feeling one or all of you are gonna need one.”

Mike looked to him— to Landon, eyes blazing.

A ball of emotions— of all sorts of fucking emotions— rose in the back of his throat.

He stepped closer to him, approaching him slowly.

Every step felt heavy.

Blood, blood, blood.

“One of us should call for rescue?” Mike breathed in disbelief. “One of us.” He let out a laugh. “Oh, that’s fucking rich.”

He was now just inches from his chest, and he looked up at him. “That’s fucking weird…huh…” He put a finger on his chin. “Yeah, say, tell me…” A wide, grin spread across his face. “Why do I get the feeling that that should be you calling?”

In one, quick motion, Mike reared back and drove his fist and all of his rage into Landon’s gut.

Blood.

Blood.

Fucking.

Blood.

mood
...

location
the school

outfit
a t-shirt and jeans. casual, you know

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly

mentions
evie

interactions
the bitch, the family disappointment, the "before iron supplements" model, and dickface sinclaire

tags

gh0stwriter

hery

[/i]

º º code by ditto º º

Soap · May 26, 2021

Juliette Jameson
"Five feet away please, I can't be seen with an embarrassment.”

@QueenJules has set their status to:
I have a boyfriend. sorry not sorry.

@QueenJules has set their outfit to:
Me looking cute AF. Duh.

@QueenJules has interacted with:
Damien, Dorian

@QueenJules has mentioned:
Felix, Chas, Javi

@QueenJules has tagged:

jasmyn

For who knows what reason, Damien here was still intent on speaking to JJ. But before he could get a few words out someone else spoke and the voice alone had brought a smile to her face.

"You weren't kidding about being bothered by idiots, huh?"

Sue her, Juliette liked her boyfriend. Maybe she hated his timing habits but at least he showed up.

"I wasn't, but at least I have someone to suffer with me now."

Juliette said with a tug Dorian's arm, placing it around her shoulder and glancing up at him with one of those sickeningly sweet smiles.

"You're really bad with timing." Look, Juliette was brutal when need-be. But puppy-love was puppy-love or whatever. And that's not to say she was moving as fast as Nickie was with her disgusting boyfriend, but...

well, look at him.

She almost forgot that Damien was even there in the first place. She hated to be one of those girls who were like, 'I have a boyfriend' but like... she actually had a boyfriend, and Damien literally didn't know how to take no for an answer, and while like, she would've appreciated it if he was a little bit hotter, this is just... borderline creepy. Yeah, Slutter was a borderline creep.

Like Javi.

This school really knew how to pick em' huh?

There was a reason they weren't dating anyone and another why they went after everyone in the whole school and couldn't even land one of them.

Although they were kinda new weren't they?

Ah, being new. It was honestly really easy to fit in, sure, there was all the questions of how she got thrown in the middle of the semester, why they made an exception or whatever, but without revealing the actual reason, JJ had explained she was simply that good that they had to let her in. But other than that, Juliette was practically a shoe-in for this school... so, how the hell were Damien and Javi even here?

What talents did they even possess?

The talent to be an absolute jackass?

"I'll find someone else that wants to be broadcast on television."

These words had taken her out of the trance that was Dorian Harlow.

So, everyone knew JJ's biggest weakness.

Attention.

And being on TV was literally the jackpot of that, plus, she'd have bragging rights with Chas because he thinks it's so special he appears on some soap with his mother.

(Yeah, she knows it's a interview thing, but still.)

JJ was a lot of things, she wasn't very book-smart, street smart or whatever, but she knew people. There was genuinely no way that Slutter had the power to get her on television, but now she's curious. So, of course, she had to ask.

"Wait. How?"

She wasn't listening to Felix and Damien when they were rambling on and on about whatever the hell they were. Wasn't it a project or something? How did a project get her on TV? Maybe he was just lying to get her attention?

It wouldn't be the first time a guy lied to her.

Juliette tilted her head, clearly contemplating giving Damien the time of day, because what would he know? He did show stuff, yeah, but behind the scenes or something you know? It was like.... whoever was working lights. Of course they were desperately needed and the show couldn't go on without them, but they had zero power and the dancer always gets the credit-- in shorter terms.

Nobody really gave a shit.

"Actually, Dorian's been on TV before. I don't think I've ever seen you on television, have you, babe?"

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · May 26, 2021

trevor callaghan

feckin' fuck off

(tw: discussion of harmful behavior to oneself and some things that tend towards suicidality)

“I’m not…I’m drunk not stupid,” she said coldly, and his head throbbed.

Trevor’s frazzled, adrenaline-pumped nerves were wearing thin.

He was in the same damn headspace as he had been on homecoming night, when he saw Charlie beating the everloving shite out of Chas, except this time, it was going on for too long— so long that he couldn’t really handle it— and he had no idea how to fix the problem now that he’d gotten to it.

There was no way to keep this girl from knocking out her own tooth— or not a way that he could see.

Haha, it was funny.

All of this thinking, right after he’d thought, Oh, I’m goin’ ta try. I’m goin’ ta try, even if it isn’t tha best, because I’m goin’ ta help.

Great goin’, Sean.

That only went so far, and that so far’s end seemed to be near.

Though, at least he was aware that it was near— and he was going to take his time to get there.

“I don’t just like…want something ‘cause it’s shiny.”

I never said that.

He sighed, blinking.

Deep breaths.

She’s drunk.

Don’t have a feckin’ aneurysm.

That.

Right.

She stood, and his head throbbed with concern. He reached out protectively as she swayed and tried to catch her balance, and then she stumbled over to the wall, practically falling down into it.

He grimaced, and he stood as he watched her sink down to the floor.

She curled into a ball.

When she spoke, he could barely understand her. “Vodka for weed or uhh...I don't know, shrooms or something, I don't know.” She took another swig from the bottle, then sat it beside herself.

He began to approach, his footsteps still slow and careful.

He felt like he was walking on fecking glass.

“You said, uhh…you said…,” she started as he dropped his back against the wall. He slowly began to sink down it. “Oh you said, said uhh…” He reached the floor and seated himself beside the bottle, and he started to move his legs to fold them beneath himself.

“Oh, that you hurt yourself when you’re…alone.”

He froze.

What?

Oh God, what had he said?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Oh, Christ, no.

Had he really said that?

Had that slipped out unbeknownst to him?

He’d forgotten that he’d—

Oh, Christ. Oh, feckin’ merciful God Almighty.

He started folding his legs again, shaking his head dismissively. “Uh, yeah,” he said, attempting to get her to stop talking about it.

“Why?” she asked.

He looked over at her. “Why what,” he stated rather than asked.

“Is it like…is it like on Halloween when you were like…you kept being all like…trying to bang your head against walls and stuff, is that like…like that?”

Trevor stared at her for another moment, unsure of what to say.

He continued on his tangent from before. Maybe this question was her payback for that. “Fine, we don’t have ta trade,” he said, setting the box of tissues down beside the bottle on the cold floor. “We have a deal already. No, I’m not giving you weed or any kind of drugs.”

Especially not feckin’ shrooms.

“But you’re sharing with me,” he said. “It’s part of our deal, remember? Now, give it her.”

Of course, there was no giving it. He just picked it up and took a long drink from it, cringing.

God, he hated vodka.

He looked over to her, but she was obviously still wanting an answer to her question.

Which he didn’t want to answer.

He didn’t want to say anything about that.

But…

Well, she was still talking to him.

He guessed, to keep it going, he’d have to answer.

“Uh…,” he started, but he realized that he didn’t really know how to…

Well.

“Yeah, kinda,” he said, with a soft sigh. “But hurt myself makes it sound, like…uh…”

He didn’t want to say what it sounded like, either.

“Yeah,” he repeated. “Head-against-the-wall-type stuff, yeah. I’m…well, it’s…relief. I also tend to, uh…hit…walls…an’ things…an’ hurt myself an’ do more damage to myself than tha wall an’ it gets all messy an’ I…”

Drink.

He sighed softly, obeying his instinct to drink instead of talking for a moment.

It burned going down.

At this rate, he was going to be piss drunk, too.

He continued with a sigh, looking at the bottle. “You know, it’s just…when…everything gets to be too much, I just want to lie down in a road and hail a taxi to come and take me out of my misery.” He looked over at her with a slight, awkward smile, and he shifted.

He hated talking about this.

Or, well…he just found out that he hated doing it. It wasn’t like he’d ever told anyone about it before.

And then he realized how it sounded, and he quickly said, “Not that I’m suicidal.”

That’d mean he had something wrong— he had nothing wrong.

“I just want to die when I’m alone,” he said breezily— and then he realized how that sounded, too. “But not—…”

Nevermind.

He took another long drink from the bottle, squeezing his eyes at the sting.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and finished with a sigh. “But yeah. I bang my head against a wall.”

All there is to it.

He paused, and he looked over at her.

Though probably not even a full beat had passed, he felt a pressing need to change the subject before she asked questions.

“I didn’t mean ta piss you off,” he said.

Oh, great way to avoid a fight, Trevor.

“You’re just snottin’,” he explained quickly. “I figured that tissues would help, an’ tha penny was just for some extra convincin’. There’s no need—…”

He stopped himself short.

He needed to shut up.

Looking at the wall opposite them, Trevor took another quick drink from the bottle, and he sat it down on the other side of himself, where Ash couldn’t reach it.

In the silence, the guilt wore on him more— which made his head throb more.

Jesus Christ.

“How…long…?” he asked slowly, and then he looked over at Ash again. “How long were…you alone?”

mood
...

location
a classroom

outfit
something casual

playing...
the funeral

by band of horses

mentions
n/a

interactions
ash

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · May 27, 2021

Jace West

He was gonna die.

HE WAS GOING TO FREAKING DIE.

Jace was now locked in a room with literally people that just plain probably wanted him buried in a casket swallowed by the ground, and then they'd pee on his grave, and dance on it, and probably spit on it, and then he'd be in the casket under ground, rotting to-- well, not to death, because he was already dead, but rotting and his rotting body would be shedding tears except he was dead so the tears were probably actually just the spit that soaked through the ground and--

Oh god oh heck oh god oh heck he couldn't breathe he was going to DIE.

“What, you can’t even open a fucking door without help? Fuck, you’re pathetic.” Mike said.

"Mind letting us out? You two have a key to the door or something we need, I'm assuming?" Callum asked which was the only logical question that Jace had heard all night, and he looked towards his ghostly friend with a hopeful look. Yes, yes, yes, maybe someone did and then they could get out and he could just--

Run for his freaking life.

His balls, actually, were more at risk than anything else he felt. And he kind of liked those so--

Let him the FUCK OUT.

Oh fuck now he'd cus--

HE DID IT AGAIN.

The taste of soap burned his mouth and made the entire experience all that much worse.

“It isn’t locked, you fucking idiot—“ Mike gave Jace another harsh shove in the direction of the door. “Bitch here is just too fucking weak to get that shit open.”

Naturally, Jace's reply to that was a small squeak.

Manly.

Jace would've glared at him, but he was still panicking, and he gave the handle another hopeless jiggle to try and gain him access out of this absolute hellhole but again it just--

Nothing.

"Fucking move," came Gen's voice behind him and Jace thought his blood might just turn to straight ice right there and he might just die. Or faint. Fainting sounded about right.

“Can’t even open the fucking door right,” Mike hissed at Jace again and shoved him again. “No wonder you’re the family disappointment.”

Ow ow ow.

No, Jace's shoulder didn't hurt.

No, Jace wasn't struggling to hold back tears as he shuffled his way away from Mike and rubbed at his arm.

And then came Gen's shove, and Jace went stumbling away from the door. Away from salvation. He started scooting his way back towards Callum, hoping that his taller but far willowier friend might be able to help him from the onslaught of repeated, rough shoves.

Gen came to the same conclusion that Jace had, which was that it was locked.

And then Landon.

(Again, realizing it was locked.)

And then Mike, whose harsh voice made Jace involuntarily flinch. Call it uhh... muscle memory from times long past. Or so Jace had thought long past, but evidently weren't as long past as he had wanted, as his now sore arm was a good example of how it wasn't... ya know.

“That’s it.” Gen said. “I’m taking each of you out, one by fucking one.”

Yep, here it came, his FUCKING DEATH.

Her eyes started to scan the group, like a lioness looking for its prey, and Jace tried to shrink away and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Maybe he could find a nice table or desk to hide under while he fumbled with his phone and tried to get people to come rescue them wel--

“I don’t know why the fuck any of you are here but now, you are all dead bitches walking. Let’s start with... You, Jason.”

Normally, the issuance of his birth name would be met with a "it's Jace, not Jason."

But instead, well, this was a special circumstance...

So it was just met with a loud scream followed by one Jace West ducking to hide behind Callum, his taller and lankier friend that most certainly would protect him from Gen, and that Gen certainly wouldn't try to go through in order to get to Jace. No, no, see, this was truly the greatest idea ever--

"HELP," he screeched, although surely no one would hear him locked away in here, and now Mike was punching Landon, which meant that there was no chance of salvation, and no no no no no--

"Why-- why-- why-- me?" he cried, his voice cracking as he peeked around Callum. "I-I didn't even d-d-d-d-o anything! Inno-innocent by-by-by-stander!" His words sounded like that of a broken record and he was damn near close to tears. His arm was sore, and his throat was dry, and-- and-- and--

Oh god he was going to faint and DIE.

(He left everything to Dorian. Thanks.)

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
insecure

by Jace West, duh

mentions
Dorian

interactions
Landon, Gen, Mike, Callum

tags

gh0stwriter