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

[hery]

MOOD: dork shit

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school

basics

MENTIONS:
Alex, Javi, Lydia, Avery, Bella

INT:
Winona (Ava)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Angel Cervantes

"Ghosts? Really?" Angel echoed, a little excited his hypothetical joke was actually coming to fruition, "I mean, okay! I'm down." He smiled wide, shooting Ava a finger gun back. Hunting for ghosts would be just like LARPing, which was also one of those things Angel had wanted to get into but didn't have the (a) confidence and (b) connections to get into.

"You can actually just make your own Ouija board with a pencil and paper. There's no ghost rules against it," the gigantic nerd boy replied, "If I were you, I'd have just gone ahead and talked to the ghosts anyway. Just like regular people, not all of them are bad, you know?" He pursed his lips trying to think of an example other than Casper, but regardless, he had a point.

"I think you should tell Alex to keep a more open mind, but also forgive her for being unsure about it because she probably has some spiritual reason too, maybe!" he squeaked, hardly knowing enough about the model to make an assessment anywhere near proper, "Either way, I know a few prayers, so I usually feel pretty safe if I think I'm dealing with a ghost. Speaking of which, is it kinda chilly or is it just me?" He smiled, joking but not really. It actually was sort of cold. Was the A/C off at night? That would make sense.

Oh. Ava actually wanted to build a fort after all? Well, okay. She seemed kind of above that kiddish stuff, and Angel was surprised the idea wasn't outright rejected in the first place. Maybe the redhead was being nice about his questionable suggestions. She gave off a tough exterior, but Angel knew better than to rely on outward appearances. After all, at first glance, no one would believe Javi bawled at Toy Story every time without fail as a kid. Angel figured it was the same thing. Maybe she and his brother could have made good friends?

No. Angel knew better than to bring up his brother again that night. Not after Adriane. He shuddered thinking about... them... together. Yuck. So... eugh...

"Who knows? Maybe we could ghostproof the fort too for added effect," he suggested, "We could grab a bunch of salt packets from the cafeteria and make a perimeter out of it. Think they have any garlic back there, too?"

He felt a wave of nervousness sweep over his body as a cold sweat drenched his palms. There Ava went again being way too intimidating and scarier than necessary. "I don't see why the fort can't take visitors, not if we structure it big enough. We have all night," he countered, pushing open the door to the library and letting the girl in first, "We could let them stay in the fort's experimentation room and run Stanford Prison Experiment slash sci-fi Fallout vault tests on them. At least, not the Lit kids we like. We'll spare some of the nice ones like Lydia or Avery or Bella."

He shrugged as Ava mentioned blankets, scanning the library and partially tuning her out as he surveyed their prospective building blocks. Then, as he thought it over, his eyes widened to plates and he jerked his head to give her a look of immense alarm. "Wait, were we supposed to bring blankets!?" he exclaimed with a groan, "I just assumed we'd be up all night!"

Oh, great. Here's to a night of broken backs. Not like Angel really needed it these days with his utter lack of a spine. What ever happened to his glory days as a kid? He and Javi used to be kings of the block... Sigh, how far the artist had fallen. Quite literally; he was known for being clumsy and always ripping his shirt crawling through chain link fences and the like. Angel was never cut out for the bad boy life in that way.

code by valen t.

 

[Winona]

Ava Sanders

Step aside, Juliette Jameson. Ava had a new favorite person in the school, and his name was Angel Cervantes. Err... that might've been a bit of an overstatement, but instead of dismissing her ghost thing as weird, and instead of doing some shit like just... like insulting her fucking clothes or whatever it was that JJ tended to do when they hung out, he actually was rolling along with the punches and shit.

Plus he was down for ghost hunting. Really, that had been the tipping point for Ava. No one ever wanted to hunt ghosts (nor did Ava, really), and it was just... look, she didn't want to go to dumb fucking parties and drink and fuck things. She wanted to explore rundown buildings in hopes of pissing off some ghosts, ya know?

"You can actually just make your own Ouija board with a pencil and paper. There's no ghost rules against it," Angel explained, "If I were you, I'd have just gone ahead and talked to the ghosts anyway. Just like regular people, not all of them are bad, you know?"

Well yeah, maybe, but Ouija boards were fucking cool. But she didn't know you could just make one yourself and suddenly, Ava felt... like she was fucking failing the whole creepy thing, right? Like that should've been something she knew -- that you could just fucking... make your own Ouija board whenever the fuck you wanted, and yet she didn't.

"You gotta help me make one," Ava replied immediately. Hey, Alex wouldn't be able to say shit if it was doodled on a piece of paper. Ava could just uhh... say it was like... a school project... or... something...? Yeah. Yeah she'd write it off, convince Alex that it wasn't a real Ouija board. Easy peasy.

Maybe she could just make a shit ton of Ouija boards and have a whole wall of just Ouija boards in her bedroom.

That would be fucking cool.

Could she just make her whole wall into one?

Angel was unknowingly opening up an entire world of possibilities.

She was so caught up in her thoughts about Ouija boards on fucking walls and shit that she was only half-listening as Angel continued talking about uhh... whatever it was. She nodded her head, offering little "yeahs" here and there to give the impression that she was actually communicating with him and not just off in her own little world.

Ava needed to take a note about making your own Ouija board, actually. It would make a decent fucking... something or another for a story at some point.

"We could let them stay in the fort's experimentation room and run Stanford Prison Experiment slash sci-fi Fallout vault tests on them. At least, not the Lit kids we like. We'll spare some of the nice ones like Lydia or Avery or Bella."

Now that she fucking paid attention to. She blinked over at her companion for a moment, and then a grin spread across her face.

Yeah, this kid was really competing with JJ for being fucking cool in Ava's eyes.

"I like it," she responded with a nod of her head. "I don't know what kinda tests and shit we'd run, but uhh... it'll be fine. Like a fucking quarantine room or some shit. Gotta protect ourselves from the zombie apocalypse and don't wanna let anyone in that might risk that, ya know? Or..." her eyebrows drew together for a moment. "What if we started the zombie apocalypse? You know, experimentations gone wrong and shit. Imagine they trace the zombie apocalypse and end of the world back to a blanket and table fort located in a library at a high school."

Now that would be something.

That's what she'd want to go down in history for.

Er...

Well, anyway.

They arrived at the library, and Angel held the door open for her. She stepped through and like how she felt most fucking libraries were like, this one was fucking chilly as fuck. Seriously, libraries needed to learn how to properly regulate their usage of air conditioning, because the North Pole atmosphere was getting old.

"Wait, were we supposed to bring blankets!?" he exclaimed with a groan, "I just assumed we'd be up all night!"

She glanced back over her shoulder at him, letting out a snort of amusement and a shake of her head. "Well yeah," Ava responded. "It's kind of a... pick whatever the fuck you wanna do, ya know? If you wanna stay up all night, go right ahead. I brought a blanket 'cause I wasn't really sure." She explained with a nod of her head. "Plus I definitely knew I was gonna be involved in fort building, so... I subconsciously brought my blanket to help with that."

That was a joke, although she wasn't sure that the somewhat dense boy would pick up on that.

Ava stepped further into the library, peeking around to check for any students, before she spun on her heel to face Angel. "Alright, good news, soldier, no need to make an experimentation room in the fort quite yet. No one in here quite yet." She said, and then glanced at the tables, and then back towards Angel.

It had been fucking years since she'd made a fort.

"Uhh... what're you thinking for the fort? Are we stacking tables or...?"

mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit

playing...
Bad Reputation

by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Angel

tags
hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[natsukashii]

Hunter Drake

Why was I laughing? Why was I yelling?

That and more plagued Hunter’s mind like a broken record, screeching over and over again on the record player that was his mind. He had no words for why he yelled at her. He had no justifiable reason for why, of all things he could have done in response to what was so-obviously Nickie desperately wanting an answer from him, he had just laughed like he would if he had been told a really shitty joke. To make matters worse, he didn’t even answer her.

And that’s what set her off.

And that’s what made his stomach sink in on itself like he had just been punched in the gut.

And that’s why he said nothing as Nickie again yelled at him, furiously mind you.

He felt absolutely helpless and that’s where the broken record came into play. Every second that Nickie threw his words, the same ones he meant with all of his heart, back at him like a bad combo of Magic Cylinder from Yu-Gi-Oh and the reverse Uno card, his heart sank as low as he felt right now.

Nothing he had said got through to her. It had zero effect. The way that he felt for her, god even if he didn’t know her like she said, that shouldn’t have changed anything, right? If she loved him as much as he did her, if Nickie had believed that he loved her like she said she did, then they shouldn’t be fighting like this.

Right?

Right.

So why was this happening? Why was she looking at him like she wanted to punch him? Why, out of everything she could be saying to him, why did it seem like she wanted him gone?

“—It isn’t going to fucking make me believe you any more—”

She’s right.

“You’re right….,” Hunter said under a low breath, gritting his teeth together, molars against molars, almost grunts escaping through the resistance going on inside -- a resistance of not wanting to scream right now.

Because that’s what it felt like for Hunter right now. That’s what he was feeling. The broken record, the punch in the gut, his heart in the abyss — all of it was piling up. The thoughts in his head and the angel and devil on his shoulder were all telling him to do something.

“I love you with every single fucking bit of me, Hunter, every single fucking bit!”

Hunter heard her, but all he could think and all he could say was —“No you don’t.” —

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! —”

And again, all he could focus on was her tone. With the way she looked at him and just how...angry Nickie was at him. And for what? Because he cared too much about her? Did it really matter that they didn’t know each other? Was that so instrumental to being in a relationship with someone? They were in high school for God’s sake! Knowing each other and getting into relationships in an intelligent way was at least five years off.

Hunter was angry now. Son of a bitch, he was angry. His cheeks felt hot with red and he kept blinking over and over. “Goddamnit!” He cursed and cursed some more through gritted teeth.

And as she went to speak, saying something about leaving. PArt of him was still so focused on everything else that she said that, as Nickie leaned forward, which Hunter couldn’t tell ya if it was because she was trying to push him or just an involuntary response to the intensity of her words (which Hunter heard some of), but an impulse kicked it.

And then Hunter felt his legs buckle.

And then he saw everything in slow motion.

And then Hunter’s ass hit the cold pavement of the parking lot, looking up at the stars for a few moments as an uncomfortable pain set in. It was after that he saw Old Blue and the sight of Nickie looking at him from an elevated point-of-view. At that same moment, he heard words that just made him snap.

”Fucking answer me!”

”Fine!”

Hunter could feel every inch of his body heat up, contrasting the cool breeze hitting him. It was a rush that was working for him in the worst of ways. He walked closer to the passenger side, eyes red and strained with a mixture of both exhaustion and the remnants of unshed tears still lodged on the corner of his eyes. His lips quivered as if he didn’t know what he wanted to say, but in the moment, he just let the words spill out.

“You want me to leave? Fine! I’m leaving!”

And that was the last thing that Hunter said. No see you later. No waiting for her to respond.

He just slammed the door shut, grabbed his duffel bag, and took off towards the closest building he could find.

And somewhere, even if he was hurting beyond belief, the only thing Hunter Drake could think was how badly he loved her and just how he would do anything to fix things.

He just didn’t know how when all he saw was red.

mood
Yolo! I'm being blunt for once!

location
HA Parking Lot → Old Blue

outfit
Lock-in Ready!

playing...
Without U I Wanna Be Dead

by brake and Kellin Quinn​

mentions
Nickie

interactions
Nickie

tags
ohdittoh

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

felix rian emmerson

pleasure's all mine

Ah, the gym. The good ol’ gymnasium. With its ever-present overhangin’ stench of teenaged body odor that was so strong that it nearly made ya tear up, shiny floors that the coaches flipped out about you walkin’ on with anything other than squeaky clean sneakers, and sterile lights overhead that kinda made the place seem like it was from a hospital, the Hollywood Arts gym was probably one of the nicest things about it. Y’know, HA was a big, bougie arts school, but they certainly didn’t deprive their sports teams of nice facilities, too.

Now, it was packed with all kinds of sorts of kids. Felix recognized a majority of the faces— he got around, y’know, and he had a lotta connections— but there were still very many that he’d never seen a day in his life. Most of those people looked to be of the younger variety, though, so it was very likely that they were freshman, which was a variety of people that Felix didn’t particularly care to associate much with.

I mean, nothin’ against them. A lotta them just didn’t know what deodorant was yet. They’d all learn in time, he was sure.

Anyway, Felix made his way up the crowded bleachers, hand touchin’ lightly on the railing beside the stairs. A light grin rested on his face as he scanned for any free seats, and— bingo— he found one right on the third row.

“Pardon me,” he said, pushin’ gently past some probably-freshmen as he made his way to the seat. He dropped down, and he slung the backpack on his back onto his lap. He moved his legs apart and dropped it down into the space beneath his feet, and he casually began to dig through it.

“Is breaking the rules also too much for you?” said a voice beside him. “Or are you just taking a rest of vandalizing the school?”

He looked up, eyebrows raised, and his eyes caught on a friendly, familiar face.

His grin spread wider on his face. “Maeve!” he said cheerfully, leanin’ back up and takin’ his hands from his backpack. He chuckled lightly. “You know vandalism isn’t my style. I much prefer to watch other people make their bad decisions and sit back and relax, y’know?”

“Okay, my comedy skills are terrible I guess that’s why my talent is dancing.” Maeve gave a small laugh.

“I’ve heard worse,” Felix said encouragingly. “I mean, if you think that’s bad, you should hear my repertoire. Ahem.” He put his hand to his throat and gave another clear of his throat: “Ahem.” He folded his hands, sittin’ up straight and feignin’ pride about the incomin’ joke. “Say, what do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?” he asked, and he paused a beat. “Sofishticated,” he laughed, and then he held up a finger. “Or, or, how about this’n? Ahem. Did you hear the rumor about butter? No? Well, I won’t say— I don’t wanna spread it.”

Okay, but that one was a good bad one.

He laughed for a moment at his own jokes, and then scooted aside, pattin’ beside himself. “Hey, c’mon, have a seat.”

“But how you been?” asked his friend. “It’s been quite some time since the last time we spoke.”

“It really has. Ain’t that a cryin’ shame?” He shook his head, frownin’ slightly to show his disappointment in that fact. He looked back down at his backpack, and he picked it up. He dropped it in his lap again and began to go through it again. “I’ve been doin’ good, doin’ good. Not much’s really happened. I mean, came back from filmin’ a couple of weeks ago, just startin’ to get moved back into my condo. Got a roommate, though.” He looked over at Maeve, cockin’ his head at her. “Mikaela Ainsley. Dunno if you know her. She’s in the music department. Anyway, she’s nice. Great to have as a roommate.” He went back to lookin’ through his backpack. “It’s weird bein’ back in this place after so long, y’know? Or…” He chuckled. “Well, six months might not be that long, but it felt like forever.”

Finally, his hand found what he was lookin’ for, and he slowly pulled it outta the bag: a shiny steel flask. It was kinda small, but eh, it was what was inside that counted.

“There we are,” he said, grinnin’, and he twisted off the cap to take a swift swig of it. He swallowed hard to get it down, and he gave a soft “ah”. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then looked over at Maeve. “Here.” He held it out for her. “You want some?” he asked.

He sat back a little bit, droppin’ his bag to the floor again. “But yeah, that’s just about all that happened,” he said, finishin’ what he was sayin’ before. He cocked his head at her again. “Now’s your turn to give me an update. How’ve you been, Miss Ackerman?”

mood
catchin' up

location
the gym

outfit
somethin' casual

playing...
take a slice

by glass animals​

mentions
n/a

interactions
maeve

tags
Stardust Galaxy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Isabella Dupont

@bellaissima has set their status to:
living life

@bellaissima has set their outfit to:
comfy cozy

@bellaissima has set their location to:
the gym

@bellaissima has mentioned:
n/a

@bellaissima has interacted with:
Avery, Kelli, Casey, Cami

@bellaissima has tagged:
Xed ohdittoh Winona jasmyn

"No! I didn't fight anyone. I could never do that."

A wave of relief washed over Bella with Avery’s words, a long breathy sigh falling from her lips. The last thing the poor guy needed was an enemy much less an enemy that was willing to rough him up, albeit not too badly. Ruffled up hair and a few scrapes of the palm was hardly anything in comparison to what Bella had heard went on amongst the student body filled with bubbles of pure anger issues. Nevertheless, it was enough to make her worry.

Still, Bella couldn’t help the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that ate away at her whenever she was around Avery. She hadn’t pried much into his history, nor did she want to bring up the topic if it wasn’t brought up by Avery himself, but Bella knew enough to feel some sort of obligation to protect him. Perhaps it was because they had lived very different lives yet still managed to share some of the same pain. Where Avery had been sheltered, Bella had been thrown to the wolves. Where Avery knew too little, Bella knew too much.

There had been many times that Bella had stopped to think about her own past since she had met the boy, conflicted on if she would rather be in her shoes or his. Sure, it would be terrifying to not know what is going on and to then be thrust into a school filled with people who were going to take advantage of that fact, but ignorance could be pure bliss.

"I'm okay Bella." Avery spoke, his voice pulling Bella out of her own head. Right, he was okay, there wasn’t anything for her to worry about. They could just be chill and move on with their evening. "I just had a bit of a fall when I climbed in through the window earlier as part of the freshman tradition. Looks like I was the only one who messed up the landing though. Everyone else looks great."

Change of plans: Bella was going to kill whoever told him that.

Anger settled into a hot ball in Bella’s chest, though she masked her emotions well. This wasn’t the first time that she had seen someone take advantage of Avery nor, she assumed, would it be the last. Regardless of frequency, each time she heard about a similar situation with Avery, Bella felt nothing but disgust towards the perpetrators. How could someone be so needlessly cruel? Luckily, before Bella could voice these concerns, Avery kept talking.

"Oh um I brought some snacks and stuff. Do you want some?” Avery explained as he opened his backpack, nimble hand reaching within the bag in search of some undeclared item. “I brought quite a few different flavors oh and um,"Avery paused, redirecting his attention up to Bella as he pulled his arm free of the bag. "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."

Bella took the small velveteen box that was outstretched to her delicately in her fingers, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. He hadn’t genuinely gotten her a gift, had he? She wasn’t exactly used to getting gifts from the people that she knew much less from people to whom she was still a practical stranger to.

"Here, I hope you like it, but um if you don't then you don't have to take it."

Carefully Bella slid her fingernail under the small brass latch and popped it open, the velveteen lid lifting away to reveal a beautiful pin with a delicate pink flower at the top. Removing the pin, Bella held it up to the light with a soft smile on her lips.

“Un myosotis,” Bella mused aloud while she turned the pin ever so slightly so that the ceramic petals could catch in the light. “Also known as a Forget-Me-Not flower. They are symbolic flowers that often represent dedication, connection, fidelity, and true love. It is said that the flower got its name after a German man found them along the riverbank that his wife drowned in. He said that the flowers were sent to him as a way to remember his wife, thus the name of the Forget-Me-Not.”

Bella admired the pin closely, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t seen those flowers since her time in Paris when she had grown them on a balcony garden with her father. Despite the name, the flower before had been a harsh reminder of a time she would have rather forgotten. But at that moment, the meaning had changed. Friendship, hope, new beginnings.

“It is beautiful,” she spoke softly, pulling out a part of her cardigan to carefully thread the pin through the fabric. With the pin secured in place, Bella hopped up onto the tips of her toes and placed a soft kiss on Avery’s cheek. “Thank you, le mon chéri, I love it. You didn’t have to get me anything though, I didn’t do anything to deserve a gift.”

Bella’s voice faded, dropping her gaze away. Sentiment. There was always a reason for sentiment, selflessness wasn’t something Bella knew. So what was his reason?

“You should come with me,” Bella forced herself to speak to stop from completely overthinking the situation. Avery was just being nice, no ulterior motives. “I’m sure Kelli wouldn’t mind you joining in our fun.”

Although her words came off as a suggestion, Bella didn’t really give Avery a chance to respond. She carefully grabbed Avery’s bag and placed it over one shoulder while her arm looped through his, gracefully tugging Avery along as she walked over to where Kelli was standing. She wasn’t alone as Bella had left her, finding company with two blondes who looked rather familiar, though from where she couldn’t decide. Instead, Bella concerned herself with the fact that Kelli looked completely frozen in place as if she had a charge of electricity through her.

“Kelli? Are you okay?” Bella asked, reaching out to touch Kelli’s arm carefully. Now in front of the two unknown individuals, Bella dropped her arm from Avery’s and softly snapped before extending a hand in greeting. “Ah, you are Casey and Camille, oui? It is a pleasure to meet you both, I am Bella Dupont. I believe we spoke online.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
hype hype hype

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
sunflowers & denim

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
lit classroom

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
n/a

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Lin & Zeph

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
ohdittoh Winona

Oh. Fuck. Yes.

Charlie had been around Lin long enough to know that ‘mischief’ never really means just ‘mischief’. Usually it was something fun, albeit also often something illegal or at the very minimum something that would earn them a slap on the wrist. But at the end of the day, you couldn’t get in trouble if you couldn’t get caught and last Charlie checked, there were no cameras in classrooms.

Checkmate.

The promise of classroom trashing, an age-old ritual for every student without a stick up their ass during lock-in, was enough for Charlie to forget the whole race (and Zeph’s blatant cheating) as well as all the shit that had been plaguing her mind for the past week. So, without much more of a prompt, Charlie hopped off the desk and pulled her bag out onto the tabletop.

“Alrighty,” Charlie began with a wide, goofy grin. Ripping open the zipper, Charlie turned the backpack upside down and gave it a few good shakes. Snacks and silly string cans clattered onto the table top, a few dropping to the floor with loud metallic clings. “We’ve got snacks, we’ve got silly string, we’ve got an entire classroom at our disposal. Oh! I also forgot that I brought this, ya know, in case of emergency.”

Reaching further into the bag, Charlie unzipped an inner pocket and began pulling out Ziploc bags filled with goop of various neon colours. Along with the bags, Charlie pulled out a bunch of sponges and paint brushes.

“Car paint, non-toxic and water-removable as requested by one Trevor Callaghan.” Charlie laughed, dropping the bags carefully down onto the table. “Leftovers from when we painted Rachel for Halloween. I promised Trev and Amy that I was throwing it out, they don’t need to know that I kept it for, uh, safe-keeping. Yeah, I was keeping the paint safe.”

Grabbing two cans of silly spray, Charlie passed one to Lin and carefully tossed the other to Zeph.

“Ground rules: don’t fuck with technology unless it’s reversable and don’t screw up the textbooks because those things are expensive.” Charlie continued, pulling her denim jacket off and tossing it over the back of the chair. Turning to Zeph, Charlie smirked and clapped her hands down onto the desktop. “Zephy, would you do the honours of taking the first hit?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Ashton West

TW: Some mention of suicidal thoughts

She hadn't expected him to follow her over to the wall, or to take a place beside her, and Ash just... she didn't get it, and she wasn't sure what part of her wasn't getting it. Like she couldn't quite piece together why he was still here and, had she been a little less drunk, she would've been embarrassed beyond belief that he saw her like this at all.

Her head was throbbing, and she closed her eyes to try and suffocate the damn thing.

When he began to speak, to answer a question that Ash hardly remembered asking, she turned her head to look over at him, her gaze opening to study the side of his face again.

“Fine, we don’t have ta trade,” he said, setting the box of tissues down beside the bottle, and her lazy gaze moved down to the box momentarily. “We have a deal already. No, I’m not giving you weed or any kind of drugs.”

Damn it.

Yeah like whatever, it was probably better if she didn't have it -- she understood that -- but it was still really unfair.

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

Dumb, but she also didn't protest against it as he picked the bottle up from the space between them.

“Yeah, kinda,” he started. “But hurt myself makes it sound, like…uh…”

Any kind of want for drugs, or opinions over how unfair he was being, or even thoughts of the vodka temporarily disappeared as he started to speak again. She listened as well as she could, of course that was a touch harder given how decreased her attention span currently was. Basically, it took all of her focus to listen to him and process what he was saying.

“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…”

She turned her head away from him. She unraveled her arms from around her waist, and instead pressed her fingers against each other, before tightly weaving her fingers together. Her thumb brushed lightly against her mildly injured (and not at all a sign of her instability, Xed) palm.

"I don't... I don't like that..." Ash mumbled. "When people... when people get that angry, I don't... I just don't get it." To her, it was scary. It made her pulse quicken, it made her head hurt, and it made her breath catch in her throat in shallow breaths -- like, witnessing it, not actually doing it.

Her eyebrows drew together, a small frown coming onto her face.

“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 Ash met his gaze with a slight frown.

Why was he smiling?

“Not that I’m suicidal.”

Could've fooled her with that explanation.

“I just want to die when I’m alone,” he said breezily. “But not—…”

Oh god.

Did he--

Did he not realize how he was sounding right now?

Her eyebrows drew together, her fingernails starting to dig into the skin on her hands.

“But yeah. I bang my head against a wall.”

"Don't," she responded. "Don't..." she trailed off, shaking her head, unsure of how else to respond to all of that. This was the type of thing for sober Ash to try and handle, not for mildly drunk Ash.

She turned her head away again and seemed to become aware of her nails pressing into her skin. Her grip was released, and she untangled her fingers.

There was silence, and she didn't know quite what to do.

Her hand reached out for the bottle of vodka, but was met with nothing but air before dropping to the cool floor. She glanced over to see the bottle still in his hand, and let out a small huff of annoyed air.

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

Huh?

“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—…”

"Stop," she said, "I'm not mad at you."

She just didn't necessarily want tissues in exchange for the vodka, but it was a nice thought.

As if to prove this point, but really just because she needed something to do with her hands, she reached forward and dragged the tissue box closer to her as he started to speak again.

“How…long…?” he asked slowly, and a quick glance in his direction let her know that he was looking at her. “How long were…you alone?”

At first, Ash didn't respond. She busied herself with the tissue box and trying to open it with one hand. Her fingernail picked at the cardboard at the top -- and not because she was drunk enough that she couldn't figure out how to open it, but simply because it gave her something to do and to try and distract from the question at hand.

"You think these are the really, uhh... really nice tissues? The lotion-y ones or... umm... or whatever they are?"

She stopped procrastinating and peeled the cardboard away, dropping it to the floor beside the tissue box. Ash pulled out one of the tissues, and gave a little disappointed shake of her head.

"The cheap tissues," she grumbled.

Ash turned away from Trevor to wipe the snot from her nose because like, fucking eww, and tossed the dirty tissue into the trash can that sat nearby before she leaned back against the wall once more. She brought her sleeve up to rub at her now mostly dry eyes. She undoubtedly looked like a mess and a half, so the fact that Trevor was still here implied that he did care about her apart from just thinking she was hot.

She crossed one arm over her stomach, and then brought her other hand to rest on the top of the tissue box. Not because she needed another one, but because she needed something to touch, and someone had so rudely moved her bottle of vodka, so now she was stuck with just... her fingernail picking at the corner of the tissue box.

"I don't... I don't really know..." she started, finally answering his question. "I uhh... I don't even know like... like what time it is, I uhh..." Ash sighed. "Got here... nine... ish, hung with umm... Hunter for a few, and then I... I tried apologizing to Cal, and then I like... I yelled at Nickie, and then I ummm... I came... here, so however... however long that would make it..." She finished explaining, before turning to look at Trevor again.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Why?"

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
ohdittoh

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

dominicka abrams

have you heard?

Nickie’s hand gripped Hunter’s seat as she leaned closer to him, her nails threatening to bust the leather.

Every part of her burned and stung. Her ears were ringing, and her head felt as though it were full of static.

He fell out, his backside hitting the pavement, and she leaned further over to stare at him, pathetic on the asphalt.

Nickie’s ears were scorching, and her cheeks felt like they were emitting some kind of heat, hot enough to burn everything around her.

“Fine!” he yelled, and she stared at him.

“Fine, what?” she demanded, leaning further over. “Fine what, Hunter?!” she yelled again.

She stared at him, shoulders heaving as she tried to catch her breath from the yelling. High pitched ringing filled her ears. Her nostrils were flared wide, and her lips, quivering, were parted. A couple of fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

The arm of the hand that gripped the seat of Hunter’s began to shake as she waited for an answer.

It felt like centuries long, the silence between them.

Another tear leaked out.

“Fine. What. Hunter,” she growled through teeth grit so hard that they might shatter.

He stood, walking closer to the passenger side.

His eyes were red. She could see tears in them.

Her heart froze, and everything stopped shaking for a second.

The ringing grew louder.

“You want me to leave?” he said.

“No, no, no,” Nickie breathed quickly. “No, don’t leave me, don’t—“

“Fine! I’m leaving!”

“No!” Nickie whispered, reaching out for him as two tears wrenched themselves from her eyes.

But the door was slamming, and his figure was retreating outside the window.

She climbed over the console, desperately gripping for the door handle as her eyes focused on the blurry, retreating figure. Her nails scratched on the mushy plastic of the door cover, but she didn’t find the fucking handle. She slammed her fist against the window lock, looking down at the door finally instead of through the window.

Her hands were shaking so bad that it still took her another couple of excruciatingly long seconds to grab the metal and rip the door open.

She spilled out onto the asphalt. She tried to put her palms out to catch her fall, but they slipped, and she scraped her chin against the hard surface. It drew blood, and she let out a whimper, squeezing her eyes shut as more tears spilled out.

“Hunter!” she screamed, her voice cracking on the er and reaching unbelievable heights. She put a bloodied hand to her throat as she shoved herself off of the ground, sobbing, swallowing a wad of saliva that scratched and burned her inflamed throat going down. “Hunter!” she screamed again, but it was airy.

But she didn’t know how it sounded. She could hardly hear anything over the deafening ringing in her ears.

Running into the world of blurs, Nickie’s feet hit weakly against the pavement, pathetic in their form despite the passion of their owner. Her lungs burned, and one of her ankles smarted. She stumbled into a vehicle, grimacing and letting out another whimper as her side collided with the mirror.

Another scream ripped her throat as she rushed onto the sidewalk outside of the school: “Hunter!” She stopped, standing, looking around herself, panting heavily as her racing, panicked pulse thudded in the bleeding scrapes on her palms and the underside of her chin.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere. No stretching figures bore any resemblance to him.

Inside. He had to be inside.

Shoving past people who may as well have been pieces of paper, Nickie clawed her way through the crowd around the door, her eyes searching the bleary images around her for Hunter. Her fast footsteps were unsteady as she looked around her and made her way down the hallway.

But she didn’t see him. Nowhere she looked did she see him.

She tucked a hand over her crying eyes, rushing towards the bathroom.

Dtt, dtt, dtt.

The soles of her shoes made echoes in the empty bathroom, the other other noise her shallow, shuddering breaths. Each hit was a blow to her ears, and she moved her hand from her eyes to shove it into her ear and plug it.

She slammed into the large stall at the end of the row, slamming the door shut. It threatened to bounce back open as her shaking fingers struggled to find the grip to lock it. She only barely managed to grab it, and she shoved it harshly to the left. It gave a loud crack as if something were breaking, and she flinched.

She glanced over at the toilet. Now that she was closer to one, her stomach was turning in knots, and her face and stomach warmed. She clutched her stomach as it turned in a painful knot, dropping to her knees. She took her hand from her ear to break her fall, hissing at the pain that the wound on her palm shot through her.

Weakly, she crawled towards the toilet, and she gagged, turning her head down into the bowl. Her shoulders heaved, and she vomited, tears clawing their ways out of her eyes as she squeezed her eyelids shut. Her hands gripped at the side of the bowl, her nails trying to dig it, but it was fucking porcelain, so there wasn’t much to grip.

For a minute that crawled into an eternity, Nickie lay hunkered over the toilet, the sounds of her rhythmic, pathetic retching filling the air, the pauses in the measures of pained noise cushioned by desperate gasps for air.

And then, after a few dry heaves, she sat back on her heels, looking up towards the ceiling light as tears poured from her eyes. She took a shaky breath and coughed, bringing a hand up to wipe her cracked lips as the other tugged the lever and let the toilet flush.

Her throat stung, and she squeezed her crying eyes shut, shaking her head as her wobbling, unsteady hands found the waistband of her leggings. She blindly felt for the object that she’d placed there, and she yanked it out, hardly grimacing at the pain that the snapping elastic caused as it dug into her skin.

Her phone.

She turned her back to the toilet, the back of her shoulders against the bowl as she tried to steady her hands enough to look at the unfocused form of her phone screen. She pressed her thumb into the home button, and her screen grew black for a second before a purple and blue flashing line came onto her screen, along with the words, What’s up?

“Call Hunter,” she said, but her voice was so mangled and warbly that the phone continued to listen. “Call…Hunter,” she repeated, blinking hard.

Sorry, I didn’t catch that, came the words onto her screen.

She shook her head. “Call Hunter!” she whispered desperately when the phone prompted her. “Call—“

Sorry, I didn’t understand what you said.

She shook her head again, squeezing her eyes shut for a second. Her shoulders shook with sobs, and then she opened her eyes again, tapping at her screen.

With her pinky, she typed in her passcode, but her fingers were so shaky that she missed the buttons. Her phone buzzed, telling her that she’d gotten it incorrect, and she tried again and again. After the third time, she managed to type it in correctly.

She tapped her contacts and typed in the first three letters of his name, struggling to keep sobs down as she did. On the third letter, his contact became the first at the top, and she tapped it, and then pressed call.

As the phone rang, she tucked her cracked lip in and bit it as hard as she could. This time, her teeth drew blood, but she didn’t care.

Each brr… grated on her ears and made her flinch and squeeze her eyes shut. She dug her palms at the hard floor of the bathroom. They seemed to have stopped bleeding by now, but it still hurt to do, so she pressed even harder.

“We’re sorry, but the person you—“

“No,” Nickie breathed, and she held her breath as she pressed the button to call him again.

Brr…

She stared at the bathroom door as she waited this time, letting the metallic taste of blood from the last call’s lip biting to register in her mouth. She held completely still, breathing in shaky, too-shallow breaths.

“We’re—”

“No.” She pressed the button to call him again.

Brr…

“We—”

“No!” Nickie screamed, her throat and ears feeling as though they were going to bleed at that noise, and she threw her phone at the ground. It let out a loud crack!, but she didn’t look down at it.

Instead, she folded her hands around her legs, pressing her head between her knees, and she let the sobs overtake her.

Too late.

Nickie always realized what she was doing too late, and she always regretted it too late.

She might have wanted him to leave, but she didn't mean it.

And now, she'd gotten just what she had wanted.

She was entirely, completely, utterly alone.

Looking to her left through fuzzy eyes, Nickie weakly reached out for her phone, slowly dragging it back over to herself. When she picked it up, the screen lit up, but it was cracked, the image of her phone background divided into several pieces radiating from the upper left corner.

Crying, she opened her phone and went into her messages, tapping the top one— Hunter's— and she typed out three words, pressing send before she could take them back:

I love u

mood
...

location
the floor of the last stall of the bathroom

outfit
casual wear

playing...
letdown

by carter​

mentions
n/a

interactions
hunter

tags
natsukashii

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Genevieve Johannes

@genjohanne has set their status to:
tell me what I want to know, Jason

@genjohanne has set their outfit to:
who cares rn

@genjohanne has set their location to:
locked classroom

@genjohanne has mentioned:
Evie

@genjohanne has interacted with:
Landon, Mike, Callum, Jace

@genjohanne has tagged:
gh0stwriter ohdittoh hery Winona

This wasn’t happening. No, it was all some sort of sick twisted nightmare that Gen would surely awaken from with the world around her normal once more. She wasn’t fighting with Evie, she wasn’t trapped in a room with Callum and Jace, she wasn’t being faced down by Mike, she wasn’t experiencing the likely death of one of the most important relationships in her life.

No, none of it was real, just some bad dream.

The blood dripping down her palm, however, was real. The glass sparkling on the floor from her shattered phone was real. The harsh words dripping like venom from Mike’s mouth was real. The look of cornered prey in Jace’s eyes was real. Even Genevieve wasn’t fucked up enough to imagine the suffering of so many people.

“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. Though I don’t understand the point— Dickface’s sister back there 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’s words sliced through Gen’s stomach, her mind devoid of any quick-witted response that she always had up her sleeve. All she could do was look at the three boys in front of her, pathetically blinking through the salty tears in her eyes. She knew damn well there was nothing she could do to fix things, nor was there any way that she was going to be able to deescalate the situation. Genevive Johannes was fucking useless.

Someone took her hand, pressing cloth to the cut in her palm. A hiss of pain bubbled out of Gen’s chest as her opposite hand instinctively grabbed onto the person’s wrist, nails digging into the sensitive flesh as she pulled the hand away.

“I don’t need your damn help.” Gen snapped, recoiling at the bitter tone in her voice that sounded alien in her ears.

She knew that Landon was only trying to help, none of this was his fault. He hadn’t invited the fucking Three Stooges into the room, he hadn’t been the one to cut her hand or make her head throb against the inside of her skull. He was just trying to help. Slowly, Gen’s grip on Landon’s wrist relaxed until she convinced herself to fully let him go.

“But thank you, though.” Gen added in a tone barely above a whisper, taking the shirt from him to apply to the gash.

The following events happened so quickly that Gen didn’t even have time to keep up. She could hear voices, each of them deep and filled with rage, arguing back to each other somewhere in the room behind Gen. The ringing in her ears made it impossible to make out what they were saying so instead, Gen focused on what she could make out. She could see Callum and Jace in front of her, though their faces were blurred through the tears trickling over her lower lashline.

Then, she could hear a scream, a fucking scream, that Gen instantly knew was Jace’s. She couldn’t even find it within her internal monologue to call him a whiny baby bitch. Pathetic.

"Why-- why-- why-- me? I-I didn't even d-d-d-d-o anything! Inno-innocent by-by-by-stander!” Jace stammered, his cowardly figure quivering behind Callum’s lanky body.

“Because, you’re always fucking around when my life goes to shit, Jason.” Gen spat as she took a few more steps towards the duo, each movement pushing them further against the locked door at their backs. “Because you’re the only person here who’s gonna tell me the real reason why you and your little fucking friend, Callum, here are in this room right now.”

"No one cares about your boobs, Gen." Callum spoke up, pulling Gen’s glare to him from Jace’s forever shrinking figure, "I don't want anything to do with this and we're not your problem. And Landon, you're probably next too. Begging Big Sis for forgiveness should be the last of your priorities right now."

“You’re not my problem, huh? Well last I checked, I sure as fuck didn’t invite you in here.” Gen laughed though each giggle was cracked and met with a reciprocating sob. The whole situation was just plain idiotic and she was going to find out what was happening. “And ever since you so rudely interrupted my very private moment, my life has gone to shit. So yeah, you are my problem and I don’t leave shit unsolved.”

"He's the one who brought us here," Callum continued, his voice monotone and unwavering. Gen wasn’t about to openly compliment him but she had to have an inkling of respect for him. After all, he was being used as a meat shield and hadn’t even seemed to bat an eyelash at it. "He kept going door to door calling out for you. And he forced us to come along. Evie's the one who locked us all in. Jace and I just stood by the door. We didn't even touch anything."

Gen paused to listen to him, stepping away from the pair and turning her back to them. Breathe, she needed to breathe. Gen’s entire body had gone numb, the trembling of her frame masked by the whole-body ache that had taken over. She looked at the phone on the floor as she thought about what to say, chuckling softly to herself at the sight of the shattered glass.

“Callum Richards,” Gen purred out the name, looking over shoulder so that she could see Callum and Jace behind her in her peripheral vision. “Just how fucking stupid do you believe I am? Mike hates both of you and from the look on little West’s face there behind you, there was a damn good reason that he was coming to get me.”

Spinning around on her heels, Gen walked straight over to Callum and glared slightly up at him. Callum wouldn’t tell her anything, she knew that already. There was too much water under their bridge in order for him to even slightly want to help Gen out. Hell, Gen was convinced that the fucker was probably enjoying seeing her in pain. No, talking to his smug ass would be useless.

With a quick elbow to Callum’s side, Gen barged around him and stormed right into Jace. Her forearm pressed into his chest as he was forced backwards into the wall. The tears had stopped flowing down her cheeks, her breath had somewhat levelled out. She was beyond the point of crying, beyond the point of hopeless wondering. Now, she was going to get the job done.

“So, Jason, you’re going to tell me what happened out there.” Gen declared, trying to avoid paying attention to any little whimpers or quivers that came from the blond. “Because you can’t lie to me, Jason. No no, I’ve known you far too long for you to be able to pull that over on me. You’ve got tells, don’t you know? And right now, the biggest tell that something happened is the fact that you look like you’re about to fucking piss yourself from fear, isn’t that right? That certainly means you know something.” Gen pressed her weight further into Jace’s chest, shooting a smile over at Callum. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll be with you in a second.”

Turning her attention back to Jace, she grabbed his hand with her opposite arm and looked at his fingers. He was going to talk one way or another and the time for civilness was over.

“So, Jace. Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Gen asked quietly, ignoring the crashing and grunting of the two guys fighting behind her. She’d deal with them later. For now, she simply lifted Jace’s hand and ran a nail along his index finger. “Because I’ve heard it is near impossible to be a guitarist with ten broken fingers and I’m sure that Landon would just love to lend me a hand in figuring out what happened.” Gen dropped his hand and released her pressure on Jace’s chest, stepping back enough to put a few inches of space between them. “Start talking. Now.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

trevor callaghan

feckin' fuck off

Ash’s hand tried at opening the tissue box, and Trevor fixed his eyes on her picking hand, his posture frozen. He worked his jaw slightly, though probably not enough that anyone else would be able to notice. With his eyes, he tried to press her hand to hurry up and fecking open the thing, because it was stressing him the hell out.

He was tempted to just snatch it up and open it himself.

His head throbbed, and he grit his teeth. She still didn’t have it open.

Just use your other hand.

“You think these are the really, uhh…really nice tissues?” she asked. His eyes flicked up to her face, but not really long enough to focus on her eyes— just enough to see her, process her, and go back to staring at the nerve-grating pick-pick-picking that she was doing with her fingernail. “The lotion-y ones or…umm…or whatever they are?”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” he said kind of shortly, because he really didn’t know what else to say.

Finally, she ripped open the top, and he broke his eye contact, breathing out a soft breath from his nostrils in relief.

Jesus Christ, it took you long enough, he thought, and the brain in his skull throbbed in agreement.

She pulled out one of the tissues, and then she shook her head. “The cheap tissues,” she grumbled.

“Oh. Well, they’re all we’ve got. Sorry we don’t have premium tissues at hand,” he kidded, but then he realized how short he sounded, so he laughed breezily. “Kidding,” he assured, giving a shake of his head. “At least they’re somethin’, right? I mean, they’re puttin’ up their best attempt.” He gave her a small smile. “Might not be the best of best attempts, but it’s somethin’.”

She turned away to blow her nose, and then she tossed the tissue into a trash can. She leaned back against the wall, and he turned his head away from her, peering at the row of desks in front of them but not really looking at them or studying them in any way.

His head was throbbing too fecking hard to do that.

He drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. He picked the bottle up, holding its neck and setting its bottom on his thigh. It’d cooled off now, and he could feel the cold bottle through his jeans. He leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. His lips parted as he breathed out another sigh.

It was quiet in the room. He could hear the air conditioner, which wasn’t pleasant for his frazzled nerves, but…hey, at least there wasn’t crying.

Trevor was far from an optimist, but it could be worse right now.

In the nearly-total-silence, he caught a moment to think, which was really the first moment that he’d been able to think since he’d been sent into a panic. Now that he knew that Ash wasn’t dying (that hard, anyway), and now that he’d sat down with her, and now that he’d gotten the drink away from her, his mind was clearing up.

Sadly, there wasn’t much thinking that he wanted to do— or could do without pain. His head was hurting so bad from the stress now that he was coming down from the adrenaline that it hurt him worse to think.

He brought the bottle up to his lips, opening his eyes slowly as he poured more into his mouth. He let it sit for a moment.

It burned his tongue, but that was a brief distraction from the pounding in his head.

He grimaced, forcing it down his throat.

Plas-tered, plas-tered, plas-tered, his instincts seemed to be cheering.

Hell no, hell no, hell no, called his sense in response.

Head hurts, head hurts, head hurts, called his body, which sent his instincts back to their cheering: plas-tered, plas-tered, plas-tered.

He reached a hand up to hold his head, holding back a groan of pain.

"I don’t…,” Ash started, and he looked over at her. “I don't really know…”

She was finally answering his question.

“You don’t know?” Trevor asked, repeating her words like her answer was suddenly going to change by him doing so.

"I uhh…I don't even know like…like what time it is, I uhh…”

He glanced around the room for a clock, because he wasn’t sure either, but he didn’t find one.

She sighed, and he followed suit, looking over at her face with a soft sigh.

"Got here…nine…ish,” she continued, “hung with umm…Hunter for a few, and then I…I tried apologizing to Cal, and then I like…I yelled at Nickie, and then I ummm…I came….here, so however…however long that would make it…”

She turned her head to look at him, her brows pulling together. "Why?” she asked.

“Good question,” Trevor said, looking at the row of desks in front of them again.

Because I wanted to know what I was doing while you were in here suffering.

Because I wanted to think about how little I thought about you in that moment.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

“I dunno,” he said, and he took a quick drink from the bottle. “I just…wanted ta see.”

That was a lie, but it wasn’t an obvious one.

It went quiet for a moment, and Trevor studied the bottle in his hands.

“Hey, Ash,” he started, and then he stopped for a long moment, running his thumb around the lip of the bottle. “If you could go any place in the world or in the galaxy or just…anywhere.” He looked over at her. “If you could go anywhere, right now— no cost ta worry about, no…logistics, no nothin’…where would you go?”

What the hell, Trevor?

He blinked at his words.

His head throbbed.

Seriously…what the actual feckin’ hell?

But he gave her a small smile.

“I just wanna know,” he explained.

Was that it?

mood
...

location
a classroom

outfit
something casual

playing...
the funeral

by band of horses​

mentions
n/a

interactions
ash

tags
Winona

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Stardust Galaxy]

It was nice to have someone that was excited to see her after all this time, and she was happy to see Felix again, or maybe the guy was glad that he didn't have to be surrounded by strangers and had someone to talk to, because if it was her, then she would also be happy to have a friend to have a conversation with. Maeve let out a small chuckle as Felix admitted he wasn't into breaking the rules just for a rush of adrenaline "It isn't mine either, don't get me wrong I'm pretty sure there's more than one that would think we are just plain but I'm not risking my stay this early, but either way, we are both here so does that make us troublemakers? Troublemakers that don't want to get into trouble, I would call us lame troublemakers" she said jokingly.

Maeve got a little bit curious as the guy made a whole preparation just to tell a joke, maybe it was a common thing between actors, to do all that prep just to say something, just as Felix delivered his jokes couldn't hide her laugh, she wasn't sure if she was laughing because they were terrible or because the guy seemed really proud of his jokes "Listen, I'm not saying your comedic skills are terrible, but if I were you I'll stick to melodramas instead, I feel they fit you more"

The girl took a seat next to the place motioned by Felix, she was relieved, not that she didn't mind standing up, but she didn't want to be an intruder, what if he was waiting for someone and she was just being an annoyance, but it seemed that wasn't the case, “It really has. Ain’t that a cryin’ shame?” she listened as the guy replied to her question and she let out a small chuckle "It really was I'm pretty sure you missed having someone to boost your ego once in a while" she replied jokingly.

“I’ve been doin’ good, doin’ good. Not much’s really happened. I mean, came back from filmin’ a couple of weeks ago, just startin’ to get moved back into my condo. Got a roommate, though.” the guy said "It seems you have been busy, I'm glad for you after all you are doing what you love, oh so you finally move out, I guess that's kind of exciting, I still have another year left on the dorms, I mean is not terrible I like my roommates, but I think everyone just wants to get out of them" Maeve replied feeling a little bit jealous, knowing that she could have been in the same place of moving out if she didn't have to repeat her sophomore year.

“Mikaela Ainsley. Dunno if you know her. She’s in the music department. Anyway, she’s nice. Great to have as a roommate.” Felix added "I have heard of her, she plays the piano, right? To be honest, I can't really keep up with all the things the people in the music department does so I'm pretty sure I'm confusing her, but either way, I'm glad you have a good roommate" the girl replied as she fidgeted with the hem of the cardigan she was wearing ad it was when the next statement of Felix took her by surprise “It’s weird bein’ back in this place after so long, y’know? Or…Well, six months might not be that long, but it felt like forever.” the boy said with a chuckle "You tell me, this place really does feels completely odd even if it still looks the same from the last time I was here"

Maeve was curious to know what have Felix found out in his bag as it seemed that he found the most precious treasure in the world, she saw how the guy frank from the flask, it didn't need a lot of thinking to know that the liquid inside of it wasn't water or juice as he offered it to her, it wasn't like Maeve was petrified of seeing him drink, and it wasn't like she wasn't strange to drink either, well if the two glasses of cider that she was allowed in the family gatherings counted as drinking, two glasses that she could only have as her relatives talk for hours, she would have rejected it, but they were supposed to break the rules and maybe drinking at school count as one, so she took the flask from his hand and had a sip from it, she made a disgusted face after the taste of what was inside of the flask, and she was pretty sure it wasn't cider "What is this? And how you can like something like this?" Maeve asked concerned wondering if his taste buds worked correctly.

“Now’s your turn to give me an update. How’ve you been, Miss Ackerman?” he asked as it seemed he was really waiting for an answer, she took another sip of the flask, because that occasion really deserved to do it "I guess I have been better? To be honest, I can't really tell, I mean I'm back so that's good and I can dance again, but I have to repeat my sophomore year, had to go undergo surgery because I put too much pressure on myself so that made me leave even before the past school year ended, I probably mess up more than one friendship because of things I said and regret and I'm still trying to figure out how to fix them. I feel like a total stranger because I don't really know where I belong since I'm seeing all the people that were in my original grade move on and I have to adapt to new people and making sure I don't mess up again" She admitted, probably saying more than she should. And even Felix didn't want to know all about the drama that Maeve was going through inside her head "I'm sorry, I must sound really petty right now, I just trying to figure out everything that's going on" she added with a sigh.

Location: gym | Mood: I need to shut up
Outift: Here | Interactions: Felix ( ohdittoh )

Maeve Anneliese Ackerman

Code by Stardust Galaxy​

 

[gh0stwriter]

Landon Sinclaire

He tried to ignore it.

Ignore him.

“What the fuck?!”

He stumbled as Mike shoved him from the door.

Strike One.

He took a deep breath. It was no use getting upset. He had more important things to worry about than Mikro’s fragile ego. And with Gen on the verge of Hulking out and killing them all and Jace bordering on soiling himself...calm was the best choice.

“Bullshit! Fucking bullshit!”

The satisfaction of watching Mike struggle against the door— reminiscent of David and Goliath— only...Goliath won this time around. It was fleeting. His mind still on Evie. Still on Gen. Determined to figure out a way to fix this. To fix them.

He couldn’t do that from here, but his list of people to call all currently hated him or were inside this room. His social circle really was dwindling. Not the point. He hated being stuck. Being here. With Mike. With Jace. Reminders that he picked shitty friends. Made shitty choices.

He rolled his eyes as Mike continued his quest to NOT get the door open. The dude was gonna have a heart attack or pass out if he didn’t take a breath. Not that he’d cry any tears over the loss of his former best friend. Well, tears of fucking joy maybe.

Their eyes met.

He wouldn’t be that fucking stupid.

Was he actually staring him down? Trying to put the blame on him?

Fucking typical.

God forbid he blame himself. He was the one barging in here and acting like Landon just took his favorite toy away.

He hadn’t seen Mike upset like this. He’d proudly gotten under his skin many times, but this. This was different. Actually, he had seen him this upset before. The day their friendship came to a crashing halt. Literally.

Best fucking day if his life.

He glared at Mike. Upset, babro? Upset over Gen? That fucking upset that Gen could possibly have interest in actually having an orgasm.

Maybe he was upset that he just discovered sex was more than just two pumps and you’re out.

Fucking pathetic twat.

Sorry, Mikey. Unlike you, he knew how to please a woman. Yet Mike stood there. Stared him down. The fucking arrogance. The bastard never did have a clue.

Make a move. Only two strikes left Mikey Boy.

Landon moved toward Gen when Mike stepped closer. Not a wise choice, Reid. Gen could hold her own, but regardless he felt protective. Unwilling to let Mike infect anything else. Smug bastard.

“You've already taken two of us tonight, and the other two— well, you aren’t their type.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. A moment where he thought Mike was talking about something else. His eyes met Gen’s briefly as he realized what he’d meant. She’d been with Mike. Tonight. Before they met up. Before they talked. Before she’d told him that Landon meant more to her than just a random hook-up.

Mike had fucked Gen.

Mike and Gen fucked.

Mike and Gen fucked today.

That realization hit him like a ton of bricks and his eyes darted away hers. Hurt. Anger. Confusion. Jealousy. He focused on Mike. The pain in his chest heated up to a roaring boil at the sight go him. His fists clenched at his sides.

Strike Two, Dickbag.

Mike addressed him. His jaw tightened. Give him a reason. Please give him a reason. Please fucking give him a reason. Not like he didn’t already have one. Mike almost got him kicked out of school plus he was an ass. He’d be doing a service.

Everywhere he went. Mike was there. Digging at him. Belittling him. For what? What satisfaction did Mike gain?

Jace’s cries for help and Callum’s shitty explanations were merely in the distance now. He couldn’t care less. Besides, Gen could handle them. Would handle them. But Mike-- the gargoyle-looking fuck that stood before him looking like he just smelled shit, but realized it wasn’t shit, but his own pungeant odor. Landon would handle him. If it came to it, of course.

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

Mike moved and his eyes followed. But he remained still. Unwilling to make a move unless he had to. Mike really was a fucking moron. It hadn’t been a threat. It’d been a warning. Anecdotal at best. Gen was on the warpath and they were locked in. Best to get assistance getting out, yeah?

Fucking tool.

“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?”

It happened too fast. Mike was too quick. He felt the wind being knocked out of him as Mike’s fist collided with his stomach. He groaned as he stumbled back and caught himself on a nearby desk. Despite Mike’s extremely short stature, he knew how to pack a punch.

Once he caught his breath, his head rose. Eyes locked on Mike’s. Had this been what it was building up to? The verbal spars. The constant disdain. He was fine with it. No use crying over the past. He needed to look forward and, right now, all he saw was red.

Strike Three, Mother Fucker.

Landon charged at Mike and tackled him to the ground. He gripped the other boy’s shirt tightly—steadying him as he pulled back and brought his fist down across Mike’s face.

mood
blocked

location
somewhere in the school

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
It's Going Down For Real

by Flo Rida​

mentions
See below (Callum is still irrelevant)

interactions
Gen, Evie, Mike, Jace and Callum

tags
geminiy jasmyn ohdittoh Winona hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

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  how he's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  very good he likes it when he's so smart
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what he's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  basic hoodie and jeans

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where he's at...

  
  
  
  

  locker room
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Xed (Dalton), gh0stwriter (Lydia)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

beel

batshit crazy drug addict

Felix didn't matter anymore, nor did the social niceties of listening to one when they spoke keep Beelzebub in the conversation any longer than that ziplock bag with the goods touched the palm of his hand. It would be nice to say that sort of behavior wasn't the bleached man's usual, but it would also be as false as the grin that rested on Felix's face. Probably.

Before the taller boy had turned around to face his customer, or well, friend, as he liked to put it, the bleached man was already sitting on one of the locker room benches looking for any sign of dirt or something similar on the shrooms given to him. He wasn't going to make a rookie mistake like consuming them if they had been dirty—who'd want to eat cow poop? Maybe Camille, but definitely not Beelzebub.

Luckily, they were clean, and pop went one into the boy's mouth, a smile following behind, ignoring the taste he'd already been accustomed to. He did say these were his favorite of all the substances. While the background story wasn't entirely true, it was the message that counted, not that anybody particularly cared, especially not Felix, who had already been out of the room by the time some effects of the drugs took place. For someone claiming he was a friend of Beelzebub's, he sure got the hell out of there quickly. Pussyboy.

The white checkered tiles of the locker room floor soon took some twisted shape of a chessboard, and for some reason that was hilarious to the man sitting on the bench, his feet now in a criss-cross position as the world around him seemingly vibrated. Giggles after giggles erupted from the room, but nobody outside seemed to care. Good. His eyes focused on the white queen on the board, and it was at that moment he knew he had taken just enough shrooms to be able to live through the night with lungs full of air.

Hey, talking about lungs full of air, it was after some time, nobody knew how long, that Beelzebub actually stopped his giggles, traversing one of the many hallways of the school, and his ears walked over to the pool area, or the close vicinity, hearing clearly somebody speaking and swimming. Usually, ears couldn't walk, but he was mommy's special little boy, and, now, of course, he had to go over and investigate what it was his ears were so eager to check out—otherwise, they would yell at him, and he didn't want that to happen again.

"One step. Two steps. Three steps..."

He counted trying to walk in a straight line, eventually reaching the red door that, by the sign on them, led to the pool. No way. This school had a swimming pool? The fuck. Why wasn't Beelzebub aware of this fact? Maybe if he had been, he would have come from Arizona sooner. Maybe he would've already drowned, and it was for the better that his person wasn't aware of such a thing that was the school pool.

He opened the doors slowly, not wanting to disturb whoever it was that had already discovered the pool, but it turned out to just be Dalton. He was actually friends with Beelzebub if you didn't know. Just some information for you, haha.

"Cannonball!"

He yelled out after taking off his premium Beelzebub hoodie, and jumping into the pool, clearly catching the attention of Dalton and his lady friend.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ohdittoh]

felix rian emmerson

pleasure's all mine

Felix laughed heartily at Maeve’s disgusted expression upon her drinkin’ from his flask. “Not a fan?” he asked, smilin’ and holdin’ his hand out for the object again.

“What is this?” she questioned as he took the metal flask from her. “And how can you like something like this?”

“Nothin’ much,” Felix answered. His smile, which was a bit rarer than his toothy grin, was fadin’ back into its grin state— it had a good run. He lifted the small opening of the thing to his lips and tilted up again, swallowin’ the dark liquid inside with a soft grunt. “It’s straight liquor— it’s not the most flavorful thing. I suppose it’s an acquired taste, but it grows on you, really. Besides, you’re never really after it for its flavor.” He chuckled. He offered it to her once again. “The more you drink it, the more you’ll like it— ‘less you don’t want to share, which means there’s more for me.”

She took the flask back and took another sip from it, and he chuckled. “Have at it,” he said, wavin’ his hand. “Drink as much as you’d like. Night’s young, flask’s full.”

To his question, Maeve answered, “I guess I have been better?”

He chuckled. “Oh, right.” He’d heard about her injury. His brows knit sympathetically. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“To be honest, I can’t really tell,” she said. “I mean I’m back so that’s good and I can dance again, but I have to repeat my sophomore year, had to undergo surgery because I put too much pressure on myself so that made me leave even before the past school year ended, I probably mess up more than one friendship because of things I said and regret and I’m still trying to figure out how to fix them. I feel like a total stranger because I don’t really know where I belong since I’m seeing all the people that were in my original grade move on and I have to adapt to new people and making sure I don’t mess up again.”

“I can imagine.” He shook his head, frownin’ slightly. “That’s gotta suck. Bein’ stuck in the dorms another year doesn’t sound fun, either, but, I mean, not bein’ able to be around the people you’re used to must feel like you’re not even goin’ to the same school. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, I must sound really petty right now,” she said. “I just trying to figure out everything that’s going on.”

“Oh, no, I get it. You don’t sound petty at all.” He waved his hand, dismissin’ that thought of hers. “It sounds kinda like you’ve been holdin' that back. I can’t even think of how hard it’d be to keep all that stress in. Must really wear on you.” He gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “That’s what I asked for— ‘cuz I wanted to know how you were doin’. Wouldn’t’ve asked if I just wanted to hear that you were okay, y’know?”

He paused his speech a moment as he slid off his jacket. He dropped it behind himself on the bleachers, then looked to her again. “So I’m curious. I’m sure you probably don’t want to hear more questions about your injury, so if you don’t wanna answer, I completely understand, but…how do you plan to go about the Arts Fest, now that you’ve gone through your surgery? Is that gonna change anything about it?”

mood
catchin' up

location
the gym

outfit
somethin' casual

playing...
take a slice

by glass animals​

mentions
n/a

interactions
maeve

tags
Stardust Galaxy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[mogy]

• .
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• 
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  how he's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  eeeek
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what he's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  soft jacket, soft shirt and some jeans on them bi**h

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where he's at...

  
  
  
  

  lock-in baby
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Winona (Nate)
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

oates

his boyfriend's boyfriend

Silence? No.

Oates had far too much of that since he went back to dating Callum, and Nate wouldn't make Oates bathe in even more, not because he wasn't a mean person, but because the curly-haired boy most certainly wouldn't allow him to. Even if he had to talk to himself, a whole monologue even Hamlet would be envious of, the boy was ready to perform for the audience of one. And you surely couldn't have blamed him; he was more than eager to talk his ass off until his tongue ached because when else was he going to?

"So."

He stopped his waving as he turned to face Nate, just like the taller boy did when Cappie left.

"Do you want to make out?"

Obviously, he was just joking, and the white boy smile showcasing all of his white teeth had, once again, made that plainly obvious—like a dandelion in a field of poppy flowers.

"I'm just kidding. That's cheating."

He stated, manly giggles following.

"But no, seriously, if you want to make out we can."

He said, a bit more serious tone leaving his lips this time around.

"Just kidding, again."

Laughter erupted from the boy, and hopefully, Nate thought it was also funny, because, well, the whole purpose was to maybe make the other boy just a tad bit more relaxed.

After all, Oates knew that whenever he and Nate didn't see each other for some time, the taller boy became just a bit more encased in his own shell and that it always took something to break him out of it. Maybe that shell still hadn't been broken from the summer break, but that was because of everything that had been happening around the two in the few months they've been back. Luckily for Nate, the curly-haired bundle of pure joy was like a drill just waiting to make that shell nothing but history, and the night was just starting out—watch out Nathan Woods.

"No, but seriously seriously this time, haha, how are you dude? What's been happening in the world of the one and only, Mr. Woods? Obviously, you have a girlfriend, but other than that amazing fact. Painted anything cool lately?"

He asked one question after another, just piling them on, confusing even himself a little bit.

"Ooh, you know what we should do? We should have like a dance battle in the dancing studio!"

Finger guns decided to make an appearance. And, hey, Oates, that wasn't a shabby idea, but whatever made you think that the one and only Mr. Woods was going to agree?

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Winona]

Zeph Evermore

Again, it should be made clear that Zeph really could care less one way or another when it came to winning the stupid race. He hadn't even wanted to race (nor had he felt particularly a big part of it given how he just... rode the elevator up), but... well, he'd kind of forgotten that he was interacting with Charlie and Lin, and that Charlie and Lin tended to take their races very seriously. Almost too seriously, like it was a life or death situation.

Especially Lin.

“Zephy, Zeph, Zobin…Mister Beaver Ass Prophet,” he started in a mumble, shaking his head.

"Please don't call me that," Zeph replied quietly, but his words were from a combination of just how quiet his voice was, but also from Lin still being on his little tangent about cheating and proper betiquette.

Zeph was, after all, still just an apprentice in the art.

Lin started to go over the rules of betiquette again, but Zeph was hardly listening because well... despite the fact that Lin was several inches shorter than him, he was almost intimidating as he made his way to Zeph. Soon, his hands had come to rest on Zeph's shoulder, and was it just hot in here, or was Zeph sweating actual bullets because he was feeling a touch nervous? His eyes were glued to Lin's as he listened to his friend continue to speak.

“…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.”

They had never specified that it was a footrace, but Zeph decided not to argue such a fact. Instead, he rubbed at his forehead, that was a little hurt from the whole head bump thing that Lin had done, and Zeph kind of found himself hoping that that wasn't going to become a constant thing.

If it was, he was going to need to invest in a helmet.

As Lin leaned away from him and went onto a conversation about bread, Zeph smiled and shook his head as he brought his feet back down from the table to land on the ground.

Surely, he was kidding about this story.

...

Surely.

But as Zeph was starting to learn, most of what Lin said that he had done (or what he wanted to do) wasn't just playful teasing, but the straight, honest truth.

"You get that?” Lin asked, and then reached over and thunked Zeph straight in the forehead.

If this forehead torture was going to continue, his forehead was going to be red before the night was halfway over.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Zeph said with a laugh, as his friend... launched himself onto the floor. Zeph smiled and shook his head as he pushed himself up from the chair, his hand going back to rub at his somewhat sore forehead as he crossed the short distance over to where Charlie was currently sorting through her backpack.

It was strange -- how doing this... kind of stuff... wasn't something that Zeph had ever seen himself doing. He was a good kid, a color in the lines type of fella, and doing... this... stuff, it was like... Zeph felt like it wasn't him doing it. Almost. Like he'd somehow managed to exit his body during the time that the crimes occurred, almost so that he wasn't weighed down by the extreme guilt, and so he couldn't be found red-handed.

It was just times like these, as he looked at the cans of spray, that he thought about how disappointed his mother would be.

So as he listened to Charlie talk about the washable car paint, and as she pulled out the cans of silly string, there was a dull thump in his ears that was making it kind of hard to listen. Kind of hard to follow. Like... Zeph didn't really know how to explain it, except that it all... just felt... like someone else that was making these decisions. That was still standing here, that carefully caught the can of silly string that Charlie tossed to him.

He turned the cool can over in his hands, looking over the colorful illustration on the front.

“Zephy, would you do the honours of taking the first hit?”

H--

Huh?

He lifted his head and looked towards Charlie, blinking for a solid few seconds as her words chipped their way through that thumping in his ears, and he blinked at her, and then looked over at Lin, and blinked at him.

His gaze turned back to Charlie, and he gave a wavering smile.

"Y-yeah, I... yeah, it'd be my honor."

How did one even commit crime?

Unsure of what to do exactly, he popped the top off of the can and glanced around. His gaze settled back on the chair and the table that he'd previously been seated at, the one that he'd been relaxing in when Lin and Charlie had first entered the room, and he aimed his spray can of silly string at it, and...

He pressed the nozzle, colorful pink silly string shooting out to tangle itself over the chair.

Zeph knew that the school planned for this type of stuff.

That they planned for students to trash the place, that cleanup crews would come by in the morning, that no one would ever know that it was him. That no one would ever know Zeph had done this, except Charlie and Lin.

But still, the guilt was there, settling in his stomach, and growing as it went to tangle with the guilty from the previous weekend's travesty of events. You know, the whole stealing bubbles thing.

He lifted his finger from the nozzle, dropping the can back to his side, and glanced back at Charlie and Lin, forcing a huge grin back onto his face.

"Great idea, Charlie," he said, and then he aimed the silly string can at Lin, pressed the nozzle, and doused his friend in the sticky stringy mess.

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
ohdittoh geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Nathan Woods

And then, there were two.

Nathan's worst enemy: one-on-one interactions. They were something that he'd never been particularly skilled at, or... well... at least when he was relatively sober, as he was now. His hand itched to reach into his pocket and revel with the joint that he knew he had awaiting him, but he kept his hands firmly clasped together, his eyes on Oates, a little, pursed lip smile on his face following Cappie's departure.

"So." Oates said as he turned back to Nate. "Do you want to make out?"

Wh--

What?!

Nate was taken aback by the question, which was surely a joke, but one that didn't quite sit right with him. For a long moment, all he could do was stare directly back at Oates as not a single word fell from his lips, or even came to his mind of what he should say, or how to respond to that particular comment because--

What?

Even in a joking manner, Nate had never been asked by another boy if he wanted to make out, except for maybe Mike, and if this was just a taste of the rest of the night...

The joint was sounding really good right now.

"I'm just kidding. That's cheating." He stated, manly giggles following. "But no, seriously, if you want to make out we can."

"Just kidding, again."

Oates was laughing, so Nate copied suite and laughed along with him. It wasn't like the joke was that big of a deal, but Nate... didn't know... how to build off of that joke and start a conversation.

Luckily, Oates seemed to be aware of that fact, and he wasted no time in trying to drill through Nate's awkward walls as he desperately tried to come up with something. Nate listened with all of the enthralled enthusiasm of a... like... a toddler that had just seen something shiny, a slight chuckle leaving his lips as Oates started asking about him and if he'd... what? If he'd painted anything recently?

"Uh, yeah, mostly just small doodles," Nate responded. He reached a hand up to run it through his dark hair, smoothing it down. "Been bouncing ideas around about what to do for the Arts Festival. Need to get started on that soon..." he trailed off, his voice taking on a small bit of a mumble near the end.

And then, Oates proposed perhaps the weirdest thing that Nate had ever been asked.

Had he just--

Had he just suggested what Nate thought he'd just suggested?

Had Oates really suggested that Nate, the quiet, lumbering visuals student, come down to the dance studio and partake in a dance battle? And sure, no one was probably going to see them unless someone stumbled into the studio by mistake, but the very idea of being in public... dancing... presumably like an idiot whilst he was sober, was something so... so far-fetched, that all Nate could do for a solid few (what felt like) minutes was stare directly at Oates.

He was waiting for the haha, just kidding that had accompanied his earlier joke, except--

Except Oates didn't offer that kind of refuge.

Nate continued to stare.

How--

What was he even supposed to say as a response to that?

"I..." his mouth felt dry, but then he managed a faint smile. He pressed his palms against his knees as he pushed himself up from his seat and into a standing position. Now, he smiled down at the slim dancer, and before Nate could second guess his words... before Nate could take back this horrible, definite mistake of an idea--

"Sure... yeah, that... that sounds... great," his words trailed apart, trickling out of his mouth slowly, each one feeling as if it was taking the effort of pulling out a tooth. "Lead the way?"

mood
friends? check. weed? needed.

location
somewhere in the school

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Figure Me Out

by The Summer Set​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Oates

tags
mogy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Ashton West

Weird.

She looked away from Trevor, her lips pursing together as her gaze settled unevenly on her knees. Finally, she felt herself... like... she felt normal again, save for the minor intoxication.

Like, her haphazard breathing had returned to its steady nature. Her head wasn't throbbing, her stomach wasn't roiling like a stormy sea, her lungs didn't feel like they were being squeezed in a vice. Even her thoughts, previously static-filtered and uneven, had returned to some level of calmness, save for the filmy... like... filmy minor intoxication that still made her thoughts a little muddled, and made her words feel heavy when they came out.

Her fingernail kept picking at the edge of the tissue box when Trevor answered her question, which didn't really do much to answer her question. Like, she supposed it was an answer, but it wasn't exactly... it wasn't really a like... the kind of answer that made her feel settled and as if she could close that chapter. It was the kind of answer that made more questions come into her thoughts, and that made her want to second guess his words.

“I just…wanted ta see.”

That didn't make any sense. So she'd sated his curiosity by having to relive the last... however long? Because he simply wanted to know? It just... it made so little sense to her, but she didn't want to start some kind of fight, so she said nothing. Instead, she released the tissue box and folded her hand in on her lap.

She tried to steady her vision on her knees, but she couldn't get past the blurriness without giving herself a headache, so she finally leaned her head back against the wall with a shaky sigh and stared at the wall across from them.

“Hey, Ash,” he started, and she turned her head again to look at him. He didn't speak for a long moment, his finger moving around the edge of the bottle, and her dark eyes settled on it for a moment. She wanted to reach out and take it back, but well.... Ash recognized that that probably wouldn't be the best of moves.

Her eyes drifted back to his face.

“If you could go any place in the world or in the galaxy or just…anywhere.” He looked over at her, and she met his gaze. “If you could go anywhere, right now— no cost ta worry about, no…logistics, no nothin’…where would you go?”

"Huh?" was her immediate response, eyebrows drawing together at the randomness of the question.

“I just wanna know,” he explained.

For a solid few beats of her tired heart, she just stared at Trevor, thinking over his question. Normally, she'd be able to respond without hesitating, without thinking. She'd have an answer right on her tongue, and she'd be able to weave the tale of why she wanted to without thinking about it, and she'd laugh and make some dumb joke, and then she'd turn the question back around, and it would all... be... good.

But right now? Well... she wasn't sure.

Her mouth felt dry as she finally parted her lips to speak.

"I uhh... anywhere in the galaxy?" She echoed. "Usually I'd say umm... the moon, 'cause like... I don't know, I think it'd just... it'd just be cool to stand there and see all the stars and..." she shrugged her shoulders, not having an answer for that reasoning aside from that, and then she turned her head to look down at her hands once again.

"But umm... home," she responded, nodding her head for a few beats before she stopped because the rocking about of her head was kind of making the headache start to return. "Not... not back to Eli and Gen's, even though I guess that's... that's my home now, but ummm..." her eyebrows drew together, her lips pursing together. "I wanna go back home to New York, I just... I dunno, everything felt easy there. But not just... not just there, I'd uhh..."

The pensiveness of her expression lifted as she continued to speak, a bittersweet light coming to her eyes, her lips forming from the pursed lip frown into a soft, reminiscent smile.

"So umm... there was this little like... ice cream parlor, diner like place back home," she started to explain, and she paused for a moment to swallow a lump that was starting to form in her throat, even as her lips drew back into a slightly brighter grin. "I uhh... I had this friend and before I moved here, when I was like... when I was there and when I was like... when I was upset or whatever, he'd umm... he'd show up at my house, and he'd take me there, because I dunno like... I guess his mom had kinda told him that milkshakes made everything better, so I'd... I'd go there."

She nodded her head again, as if she was agreeing with her own sentiment.

As the memory faded away from her thoughts, so did the smile that had briefly resided on her face. She turned her head back to look at Trevor and away from her fingers that had twisted back together.

"What about you?" She asked, her eyes searching his face for a moment before her gaze settled on his eyes. "Same question -- if you could go just like... anywhere, where would it be?"

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
ohdittoh

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

MICHAEL K. REID

asshole supreme

Mike watched Landon stumble back, but all he saw was red. All he felt was red. He clenched his fist, rolling his knuckles.

What’re you going to do, bitch?

He could hear piss boy screeching, his dead-brained zombie of a “friend” droning some emotionless response, and Gen probably threatening them both, but none of their words were noises that he could understand right now.

He was too focused on Landon, watching him move, waiting for him to fucking retaliate or something. He was hunkered over, catching himself on a desk.

“What, fuckhead?” Mike growled in a low voice, so quiet that Landon couldn’t hear, so quiet that even he could hardly hear. His breaths were anticipatory shudders.

Mike had a reputation of taking situations and twisting them so that he came out on top. Sure, fine, he’d admit that. Congrats, did you want a medal for getting him to admit that he was kind of underhanded? Where he was from, he had to be to get anywhere. Fuck, that was a big part of why he was here.

So yeah, he was really doing Dickface Sinclaire a favor by waiting. If this were any other person, he’d lay into them while they were down, so much that they couldn’t get up. But this was Landon he was talking about, in this fucking situation, in this fucking room that they were trapped in.

Oh, Michael, you’ve gone fucking soft— no.

It was just going to be even more cathartic to destroy him completely, with no accusation of playing dirty.

He clenched his jaw, gnashing his teeth, as he watched Landon’s head rise. His eyes locked on his, and it was like Mike could see the cogs turning in the sad fuck’s empty head.

“Come at me,” he muttered, “slut.”

And then, in a rush, Mike was on the ground, and Landon was on top of him, gripping his shirt.

Instinctively, Mike’s eyes had squeezed shut, and as he opened them, a fist collided with his chin.

Blood exploded from his lower lip.

Shit, not my face, Mike thought, bringing his hands up to grapple with Landon’s shoulders.

That bitch would fucking pay for that blow.

Oh well.

Hope it isn’t too deep, or you’ll have to pay damages, Dickface.

He managed to get Landon off just a few inches from himself with one arm, and he wrenched his other hand between them until his palm was flat against his chest. “Well,” Mike started in a hissing voice, speaking through his teeth, his vocal rumble mostly absent, “I was starting to think that you weren’t going to make any—“

As hard as he could, he gave him a shove, and he brought his knee, even with Landon’s stomach, up to provide a sort of block.

“— moves,” he continued, “but I seriously think that that’s so overdone. A tackle? Cliche. Oh, look, the two over-aggressive assholes are face-to-face, and with this arises the tension of their past friendship.” As he spoke quickly through his teeth, he made shoves with his hands and his knee, but none were major. Blood and spittle flew as he talked, but he paid no mind to it. They were all just small adjustments, lining up what he was going to do. “Oh, shit, what’re they gonna do now? What’re they gonna do now? Kiss? Make out? Confess their undying love? Fuck on the floor? Oh, it was him all along! Bet bestie number one is getting really horny from just having been discovered with his secret lover and having his sister storm out on him, huh?”

He pushed his knee outward and shoved his palm flat against Landon’s shoulder, moving him up just enough to make his next move.

“Give me a break,” Mike hissed. “I don’t do rehashings.”

He wrapped his other knee around Landon’s leg and pulled as hard as he could towards him, trying to make him lose his balance so that he’d fall onto the floor, and he gripped his shoulder.

If they turned and he’d done it right, then Mike’d be on top, and he’d have the upper hand.

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
Winona geminiy gh0stwriter hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

do it, no balls

“Alrighty,” Charlie started, grinning widely.

Luhmao, Charlie started— like that one song: IIIIIIIII’m comin’ out so you better get this Charlie started.

He should record that, luhmao! It’d sell like fucking hot cakes. It’d fucking slap.

(Your response should obviously have been hell yeah, Lin, do it, no balls. Duh. Ess-em-aych, what was he even paying you for if you didn’t know that? Ess-em-aych.)

She ripped open the backpack, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the holy grail of lock-in trashing supplies before she turned them out on the table.

Lin watched excitedly as the mouth-watering snacks and glittering cans of glory aptly titled silly string clattered against the table.

(Bee-tee-dubs: when he dies, bury him with silly string so he can raise hell in Heaven, luhmao. “Ayo, Saint Peter”— chhhhhhh! Got ‘emmmmmm, luhmao!)

“We’ve got snacks, we’ve got silly string, we’ve got an entire classroom at our disposal,” Charlie said.

Snatching up a small bag of low-fat potato chips, Lin cackled happily. “We’re gonna make this lit room liiiiiit!” he said, holding up a peace sign and then waving it over his eyes, making soft nnts nnts nnts noises as he had a mini dance party before he ripped open the bag of chips in his hand and stuck a widely-spread, open-palmed hand down into the bag.

“Oh!” Charlie said as his hand came out of the bag with what must have been a half of its contents.

Several chips threatened to spill out, and he lifted his hand up and crouched his head. He tucked his lips in over his teeth and grabbed a chip between his skin-covered teeth, looking at Charlie as he lowered his hand and moved his head. “Uuurt?” Lin asked, which said in the non-muffled, non-chip-between-the-tucked-in-lips way was what?

“I also forgot that I brought this, ya know, in case of energy,” she said.

“Uuurt? Uuurt, uuurt, uuurt?” Lin repeated, and then he stuck his tongue to the back of the chip and moved it into his mouth so that he could eat it. Crunching the chip loudly, he brought his other hand to cup beneath his chip-filled hand, clutching the chip bag between the knuckles of his forefinger and middle finger. He swallowed the chip in his mouth, opened the nearly-leaking hand, and bent his neck down, opening his mouth as wide as it could go and shoving as many chips in as he could.

Crunching down on the chips in his mouth, Lin lifted his neck to see a sight straight outta his best dreams: his girlfriend, holding up several Ziploc bags of neon-colored paint, some sponges, and some paintbrushes.

His face immediately lit up. He held his non-chip-filled fist in the air and waved it. The chip bag dropped to the ground in the process, but Lin didn’t seem to mind. “Eh eaah!” he drawled with his mouth full, continuing to chew his chips. (Of course he was saying, “Hell yeah!” Ess-em-aych. You didn’t know that? Pssssht. Loser, luhmao. Keep up.)

“Car paint, non-toxic and water-removable as requested by one Trevor Callaghan,” Charlie laughed, dropping the bags on the table.

Lin rolled his eyes, finishing up his chewing and swallowing so he could let out a cackle. “Laaaaame,” he said, grinning toothily. “A lil’ bit of toxicity never hurt anyone, ess-em-aych. Where’s the fun in that, ess-em-aych?” He shoved the rest of the chips in his hand in his mouth, and he uttered another sentence with his mouth full: “Uur eehthee uuh ee-ah.”

(Don’t ask what he said there. Ess-em-aych, your audacity tonight. Wow.)

“Leftovers from when we painted Rachel for Halloween,” Charlie continued over Lin’s crunching. “I promised Trev and Amy that I was throwing it out, they don’t need to know that I kept it for, uh, safe-keeping. Yeah, I was keeping the paint safe.”

Lin swallowed the rest of his chips as Charlie offered him the silly string. “Fucking genius,” he complimented, taking the spray as his grin returned, this time much wider than it had been before.

“Ground rules: don’t fuck with technology unless it’s reversible and don’t screw up the textbooks because those things are expensive,” Charlie said, taking off her jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair.

“Laaaame!” Lin whined, sagging his arms dramatically. “C’mon— just one spray to Shakespeare! Pleaaaase!” He clutched his hands together, pooching out his lip and putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “Please! Pleasepleasepleaaase! Just a squirt to that textbook— old guy’s been dead for centuries, he won’t care! C’monnnn!”

But Charlie turned to Zeph, and Lin huffed, pouting and dropping his hands. He bent down to pick up his half-eaten bag of chips and tossed it on the table that the jacketed chair was at. Ess-em-aych, what was the point of rules? They were no fun.

He crossed his arms sullenly, watching as Charlie clapped her hands down on the desktop. “Zephy, would you do the honours of taking the first hit?”

“Pffffffffhahahaha!” Lin burst out laughing, his sullen demeanor breaking suddenly as he clutched his hands to his stomach. “Luhmao! Fuck! That’s— pffffffft!” Lin stood up straight, looking at the blinking boy, who looked back at him. Lin shook his head, gesturing towards the string in Zeph’s hand. “Nonono, I insist,” Lin snickered. “Do it, bro, luhmao— kick us off!”

This was gonna be riiiiich!

“Do it, no balls,” he ushered. “Go on, c’mon, c’mon, do iiiiit. Do it, do it, do it!” Lin chanted, holding his fists out in front of himself, one clutching his can of silly spray, and giving them soft shakes to the beat of his chanting.

“Y-yeah, I…yeah, it’d be my honor,” said Zeph.

Lin cackled again, reaching out to give Zeph a slap on the shoulder. “Go onnnn, go onnn, goooo onnnnn-n-n-n-n,” he said tauntingly as his friend popped the top off of the can and looked around. “Are you scaaaaared?” he teased, prodding him. “Huh, huh, huh? It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay— scaredy cat.”

Finally, Zeph pressed his finger down on the nozzle and sprayed silly string all over a random chair.

Lin laughed, giving him another slap on the shoulder. “Good job!” he encouraged. “Not too shab-ayyyy.”

Zeph looked at Lin and Charlie, a huge grin on his face. “Great idea, Charlie,” he said, and then—

BITCH.

THE AUDACITY.

Lin gasped dramatically as Zeph aimed the silly string at him.

“Hey, wait!” Lin started, but it was too late— Zeph’s finger pressed down on the nozzle, and Lin was starting to be doused by silly spray.

“Stahp!” he said, waving his hands and swatting at his friend, turning in circles.

Yeah, it was a necessary reaction, ess-em-aych— the AUDACITY!

Lin set his face in determination, whipping off the cap to the can. “You’re going down for that, Lieutenant Evermore!” he said, and he held out the can of spray.

But he didn’t aim it at Zeph.

Of course not— what kinda ship did you think he was running here, ess-em-aych?

No, he aimed it at his girlfriend.

Pressing down hard on the nozzle with one hand, Lin cackled happily, shaking the hand holding the can wildly as the other felt blindly on the desk for a bag of paint. After a second of spraying, he took off running around the classroom, throwing his silly spray at a random desk as his hand ripped open the bag. It let out a satisfying whtt, and he reached his hand, scooping out some paint as he made a lap around to Zeph.

“Take that!” Lin laughed triumphantly, and he threw the handful right at Zeph’s face.

mood
YOU ARE ALL GOING DOWN

location
the school

outfit
lookin fly as always

playing...
all i do is win

by dj khaled​

mentions
n/a

interactions
zeph & charlie

tags
Winona geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Kian Phelan

@lockandkian has set their status to:
who even cares anymore

@lockandkian has set their outfit to:
clooth

@lockandkian has set their location to:
music room

@lockandkian has mentioned:
Oates, Kelli, Damien, Felix

@lockandkian has interacted with:
Javi, Lucky

@lockandkian has tagged:
hery gh0stwriter

[slight tw: drug abuse / overdose]
Kian had sworn that he was done with it all: the partying, the binges, the drugs. He had promised himself that he never would touch the shit again, looked his parents and little sister dead in the eye and swore on his life that there would never be another day of his life that he lost to some stupid fucking high. Rehab had worked wonders on the teenage boy not but a few months before, so Kian was confident that he could keep his promises.

What rehab hadn’t taught him, however, was that the life they depicted within those overly calm walls filled with doctors and support staff was hardly what reality was. They failed to mention to him how readily available his favourite party poisons would be to him. They failed to tell him that at the end of the day, the people that he trusted most wouldn’t be there for him when shit hit the fan. Hell, they forgot to tell him that the people he cared about the most would be his own downfall.

Maybe that’s why Kian saw no issue with going to Josephine’s party, why using again for the first time in well over a year came with a warm comforting feeling rather than the nagging guilt and dread he had once felt. Besides, one out of control night of partying for some random girl’s birthday wasn’t going to set him all the way back. It was just one hit, just one drink, just one joint, he was going to be fine.

Kian awoke the next morning unable to remember the night before, a cocktail of alcohol and vomit caked onto his shirt. There was a girl in his room, someone that he recognized from the party but couldn’t remember the name of, who he quickly deduced he hadn’t slept with. Other than the two of them, Kian was alone. His face was hot to the touch, mouth dry as if it were filled to the brim with cotton. As he sat up, every muscle in his body screamed in agony and begged for relief. So, without much thought, Kian reached into his pocket and used the remainder of whatever the hell Felix had given him from the night before, falling back asleep within minutes.

By the time Friday had rolled around, Kian had remembered how to fake sobriety. It was in the walk, the way he talked and presented himself, in the way he pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes from years upon years of experience. No one was any the wiser to the fact that Kian hadn’t been sober in days, not even Kelli. Kian honestly didn’t feel that bad about it all. He just needed time to cool down from the whole Oates situation and then he’d stop using, it wasn’t an actual long-term issue.

Lock-in had also been a mistake. From the second he got there, Kian had regretted ever showing up. What had he even been expecting? Oates didn’t want to see him, Felix was likely off doing business, Damien was pissing him off, Kelli was off with her friends, so who the hell was he even supposed to be hanging out with? He was alone and, in his opinion, fucking pitiful.

As quickly as he had arrived, dropping his stuff off in the music room before exploring for somewhere to smoke, Kian had decided to leave. His bed and the packet underneath his pillow were calling to him, not some stupid event where he would spend his evening alone and sober. So off he went to the music room where he had previously dropped his stuff, eyes buried in his phone as his thumbs furiously tapped away at the screen. Fucking Damien had his coke so now he had to go buy more before he left.

Without much thought or concern for who else may be in the room, Kian burst into the room and made a beeline for the back of the music room. There were voices echoing the ends of an argument, though Kian didn’t bother much to put faces to the noise until he turned around and was faced with two people that he didn’t quite recognize.

“Shiiiiiiiiit.” Kian droned on, his hazel eyes flickering between the two boys. Guitar case in one hand and bag in the other, Kian awkwardly shifted the weight onto his other foot. “Sorry if I interrupted something.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Soap]

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  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  Amused, annoyed, slightly angry
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what she's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  Nellie-ish

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where she's at...

  
  
  
  

  somewhere with a breeze
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Cappie, Mikaela, Maggie @0k_mang0 Kitsune2202 Xed
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Chanel Clairmont

Visuals~ 17 ~ Actress

Cappie was someone who returned Chanel’s banter without getting offended, and that alone had already make him tolerable. It typically wasn’t hard for Chanel to get along with people— at least, in the real world. Hollywood Arts was full of brainless, attention hungry, egotistical children who aimed to be a ‘star.’ That’s how it seemed anyway, a few weeks in and Nellie already had an... acquaintance who disliked her so much anything that was said set the hothead off.

Models. They were insufferable.

Yes, yes, depending on the person. But most of them had believed they own simply because they smoldered for a photo. Granted, they knew what they were doing in photoshoots. experience in reality, social cues, and their own IQ is where they fell short.

“I'm nothing if not bold, I--"

Chanel's stopped herself mid sentence, furrowing her brows in slight confusion but clear curiosity was written all over her face.

"--Our 'first' triple date? Did you expect there to be another?”

So, the whole... triplet date that Casey had arranged, had somehow gotten Cappie as her partenaire. Of course, she was led to believe that the idea itself was Cappie’s and not her brother’s. Assuming that the choice would’ve been up to her, she accepted. But apparently Casey had asked and that’s how Cappie came up with the idea in the first place. Although, at least she wouldn’t have to suffer through it with somebody completely daft. Her brother's taste in people was... extremely questionable.

“I doubt they would’ve gone through the entrance. Mikaela’s always felt the need to... explore.” Chanel could’ve just decided to sit back while Mikaela was out with god knows who doing god knows what. Without taking up the responsibility formally, she always felt like she was at fault for her siblings messes.

Casey was a different story and a train wreck at times, but most of his issues could’ve been avoided too. They had the keys, they just needed to find them. With the very little information they have, they could be anywhere, anywhere outside that is. So, completely knocking out the main entrance. There was quite a few exits around the school which meant they had to start looking.

Chanel, without warning strode through the hallways expecting Cappie to follow.

--

It didn't take long before they ended up at their fifth stop, the sound of laughter had been a dead indicator to where they were hiding and Chanel was already annoyed with the whole 'adventure' that Mikaela had driven her on. She caught a glimpse of the two through the window of the door, once Cappie unlocked in, Chanel already set into action with a roll of her eyes and an incredibly heavy sigh.

"Whatever happened to, 'I'm not drunk?' Hmm?" She gestured towards Mikaela, who was laughing her ass off, clearly intoxicated.

"Do you know the circles I had to do around this school? I learned more tonight than what my designated tour guide showed me." It was a bit difficult not to transfer her glare to Mikaela's little friend near her, but she'd rather not cause any drama tonight. At least, anymore than there already was.

"As you can see, I got help, if it wasn't for Cappie you two would probably be locked out all night."

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[geminiy]

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
weeeeeee are the championssss my frriiiiieeeeend

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
sunflowers & denim ( + a fuck tonne of paint and silly string)

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
the lit classroom

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
n/a

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Zeph & Lin

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
Winona ohdittoh

From the panicked look on Zeph’s face when Charlie asked him to do the honours of beginning the trashing of the classroom, she was nearly certain that he was just going to chicken out and leave. It was very obvious that he wasn’t used to the general sort of mischief that she and Lin usually got into which further led her to wonder just how the two were still friends. Realistically, it seemed like they had very little in common outside of being friendly and boyish in their personalities. At first, Charlie had thought it was because that Zeph mellowed Lin out a bit. But now with the three of them hanging out in the room together, Charlie was convinced that Zeph was struggling to keep up.

Nonetheless, his attitude perked right up as he sprayed the chair and desk combo that he had previously been kicking his feet up at before turning around and spraying Lin, who had previously been speedily working his way through Charlie’s snack pile, directly in the face. Charlie burst out laughing as strings of neon coloured spray rained down upon Lin’s hair and shoulders, dousing him in bright ropes of colour.

“OUUUUCH!” Charlie exclaimed loudly, fake gasping as her hand clasped over her mouth. “Betrayed by your own friend. That’s gotta hurt, Big Ma-”

Before Charlie could even finish her taunt, cold tendrils of silly spray found splattered against her face before falling to the tiled floor below with a quick shake of her head. Blinking a few times to make sure that none of the contents had gotten in her eyes, Charlie readjusted her stance and made eye contact with Zeph. In one foul swoop, Charlie flipped the desk in front of her and threw herself to the ground to avoid the intense splatters of paint. Her efforts were rather pointless though, the paint and silly string still finding its way onto her clothes and hair. Fuck it, she didn’t care.

“Zeph!” Charlie called out from around the table, her hand reaching out of cover to grab a few of the smaller bags of paint. Flipping over desks as she went, Charlie went towards Zeph with paint still in hand, her chest heaving with laughter by the time she got to the boy. “We’ll never be able to take Linny out on our own. Well, I might, but you’re totally gonna get creamed. I propose a truce.”

Charlie nodded to the cans of silly spray beside Zeph as she began opening small holes in the bags of paint, creating little grenades of colour that she stacked into a neat pile behind an overturned desk.

“On my count, you blast that dude with the silly string. I’ll flank ‘im and whip these his way. He won’t ever see us comin’.” Charlie explained with a devious smirk, her nimble fingers performing military gestures as if she was commanding an army. “One, two..”

Without even saying three, Charlie leaped over one of the desks and made her way across the room, slipping rather smoothly across the paint and string covered floor. By the time she reached the other side of the room, she was even more covered in who knows what at that point. Readying her aim, Charlie whipped a bag of paint at Lin’s back which exploded with a loud POP! against his shirt.

“Watch your six, Terminator.” Charlie giggled, dodging attacks as she continued to whip bags of paint in Lin’s direction.

The paint on her clothes and shoes left streaks of colour against the stark white walls, small handprints slapped onto tabletops that had previously been boring and bland. The more they moved, the more the colour spread until it seemed that there was no surface left untouched by the colourful chaos. Unfortunately, Charlie’s stock of paint bombs were getting low with a few having exploded in the pockets of her dress while she had been running.

Time to play Zeph for the cheater he was.

“Zeph!” Charlie yelled, mimicking a panicked tone so that she could gain Zeph’s attention. Taking the final three paint bags in her hand, Charlie leaped out from over a short shelf and whipped the final bags in Zeph’s direction. “FUCK THE TRUCE! GET PLAYED, BITCH!”

Charlie skidded to a halt in the middle of the room, arms dripping with paint in time with the heaving of her chest. A wide gleaming grin was plastered onto her face as she looked between Zeph and Lin with triumphant hands on her hips as if she had won the battle.

Wait.

Between Zeph and Lin.

Charlie’s eyes widened as she realized her mistake.

“Oh shite.” She muttered, frozen in place.

All she could hope was that they too had run out of materials. Otherwise, she was about to become an art piece that Art Attack would be proud of.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Jace West

He'd like to say that he was following everything that was going on amongst his classmates in the room, but Jace had no idea what was happening. At some point, the logical side of his brain had shut off, and his brain was just in panic, panic, panic mode, and Jace was pretty sure he was going to faint. He felt light-headed as Callum dragged him away from the safety of being behind his best friend, and he felt dizzy as Gen's gaze settled on him.

He was going to faint and collapse and really that might be for the best right now. Surely Gen wouldn't beat him to a bloody pulp if he was totally unconscious.

Ahahahahaha he wasn't okay someone please send help.

His lungs were rattling, his blue eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was pretty sure he was shaking. Callum's words -- him trying to reason with an unreasonable Gen -- were falling on deaf ears. Mike and Landon to the right of them fighting was nothing but a faint, blurry image that he couldn't comprehend. That he couldn't begin to try and decode, because he was like a deer stuck in the headlights right now, and the car coming at him was Gen.

Hopefully the impact would be quick.

That was totally optimistic thinking, however, because Jace knew that would be anything but. Gen would make sure that he felt every ounce of pain that she decided to inflict upon him, and Jace's weak little form wouldn't be able to do anything. He really should've listened to his dad and done football instead of learning the guitar. Maybe then he'd have actual muscles instead of the twig-like appendages he called arms.

He was trying to breathe and trying to focus on the background music that he'd almost forgotten was playing in his ear. But with how far gone he was, there was no way that the little notes and song playing in his ear would do anything to help him from having a full-blown panic attack.

A hand had reached down and gripped his lungs, and now it was punching his heart, and he brought a hand up to absently rub at his chest as if that would cause the pain to disperse.

And then moving with the graceful deadliness of a panther, Gen had crossed the distance still separating them and elbowed Callum in the side, which moved away the only protective barrier that had held strong between predator and prey. Her arm slammed into his chest, and Jace was at her mercy as he stumbled backwards with Gen pressing her arm over his chest, until he could feel the cold wall slam against his back.

He was shaking like a leaf in fall clinging to its branch, his arms and hands plastered against the wall, his fingers pressing deeply into the drywall. His skin had paled considerably, taking on an almost sickly white hue, and he was fairly certain he was sweating up a storm for no apparent reason.

“So, Jason, you’re going to tell me what happened out there.” Gen's dark eyes had captured Jace in her predatory stare, and he could feel the end drawing near.

Yep. This was where he died.

“Because you can’t lie to me, Jason. No no, I’ve known you far too long for you to be able to pull that over on me. You’ve got tells, don’t you know? And right now, the biggest tell that something happened is the fact that you look like you’re about to fucking piss yourself from fear, isn’t that right? That certainly means you know something.” As Gen pressed further into his chest, he could feel the last of his oxygen leaving in a shaky gasp. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll be with you in a second.” She smiled at Callum.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to will his lungs to begin their process once again, and tried to will his legs -- which were shaking like mad -- to keep holding him upright.

Gen was right, she was right, she was so freaking right, and he could feel his thin resolve already starting to crack.

Her fingers gripping his hand made his eyes open back up, and his gaze darted down from his fingers to her face, and back and forth and back and forth and back and--

You get it.

“So, Jace. Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Gen asked quietly. “Because I’ve heard it is near impossible to be a guitarist with ten broken fingers and I’m sure that Landon would just love to lend me a hand in figuring out what happened.”

His mom would kill him if he couldn't play the guitar, and then he wouldn't be able to attend the Arts Festival because he'd have no fingers, and then he'd fail that, and then he'd end up being expelled from the school for failing, and then he'd have to move back to New York City because he'd have nowhere to go out here, and then he'd end up living in his old bedroom, and then he'd get a job doing something dumb like... like... trying to teach kids how to play instruments or something, and Jace wasn't even good with instruments, and if he had no fingers he wouldn't even be able to feed himself, and his mom would probably have to feed him, but she'd probably refuse because it was gross, so then he'd either have to starve to death or eat his food off of a bowl like a dog, and then his little bit of dignity would be gone and--

She dropped his hand and the pressure on his chest released. A deep, shuddering breath entered his lungs at rapid speed and for a moment, he held the oxygen in his aching lungs, before he exhaled slowly. His breathing started to return to its normal rhythm, albeit far shakier than it had been before.

She stepped back from him.

“Start talking. Now.”

"Cal-- Cal-- Cal--" he was stuttering, and he didn't want to out his best friend, but he really needed his fingers. Jace's hands slid behind his back and he pressed them protectively between his back and the wall. "He... h-h-he yelled at... at... at A-Ash, and she... she kind... she kind of r-r-ran off a-a-all... crying, a-a-and Evie saw and... and, and... and said she was gon-gon-gonna get you, and I... I..."

His throat was getting choked up, like the hand that had been gripping his lungs had moved up to clench around his throat, and he could feel hot, pathetic tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I didn't... I d-d-d-didn't want her, t-t-too, but... w-w-e followed and... and... and..."

He stopped talking.

There wasn't much else to say.

Hopefully she'd only break two of his fingers so he could still play guitar.

Although Gen had never been known for her niceness, so he found himself shrinking even more before her gaze, his body preemptively tensing as it awaited whatever physical punishment she wanted to dole out on him.

God he was glad he was a senior. If he survived this? He was never coming back to another school function.

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 geminiy ohdittoh hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[jasmyn]

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  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  just happy to be here!
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what she's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  too much? not enough?

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where she's at...

  
  
  
  

  school gym
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  casey ( Winona ) kelli ( ohdittoh ) bella ( geminiy ) avery ( Xed )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Camille Clairmont

dancing queen ~ 17 ~ junior

The Clairmont Triplets had always been close which wasn't a surprise given the circumstances. Growing up traveling the world with your pop star parents, spending most of your free time on the tour buses and backstage, various family vacations, etc. It kinda meant that your siblings were your best friends and Cami, for one, loved that.

It was easy for her to get along with both siblings and her parents often called her the middleman when it came to fights. Though sometimes she would side with one or use her being treated like the baby (despite being the oldest) to her advantage. While Cami always had her own personality, in a weird way she was also a mix of Chanel and Casey. Sugar and spice respectively.

Whether it was playing dress-up and shopping sprees with her sister or water balloon fights and mischief with her brother. Cami was able to bounce back and forth pretty easily. This is why she could've gone either way when it came to the lock-in but she didn't even get a chance to decide because clearly Casey wanted her to tag along with him and Chanel wasn't really protesting it.

"C'mon, let's go find something fun to do. Like... like... a food fight. Do they do food fights? Man, you know what would be cool? Every break into song."

"Like high school musical?" she questioned with a laugh as he reached out for Cami's arm to drag her along. He turned back to call out to Nellie about something but she hadn't really heard since she was too busy thinking of all the ways she and Casey could dominate in their first food fight.

Well, first if you didn't include the triplet's 8th birthday party when she and Casey got into the cake before they got the whole birthday song bit. To be fair they only ate half of it. Where did the other half go? Well, let's just say people were cleaning cake out of their hair for weeks following that party.

Once they reached the inside of the school, Casey let go of her arm but she still followed closely, not really fond of the idea that she might get stuck alone somewhere in the crowd. It wasn't that she would freak out if they lost each other or something but she just would rather not, okay? Honestly had no clue where he was taking her but truth be told, she didn't think he did either. Likely they were just wandering around until they stumbled on something mildly interesting knowing Casey.

"Gym!" his voice sounded out just loudly enough for her to hear it over the chatter in hallways as he got the bright idea. "Aha, see, Cami, we hit the jackpot. The jackpot of people to talk to and befriend, ya know?" he added which caused her to perk up.

He was still talking about how she should trust him and something else about a carrier pigeon or an owl, some kind of bird talk that she didn't really understand. He was headed right for a smaller girl and clearly, he didn't see her but before Camille could get out more than just his name, he had already run right into her.

"Good going, Sese. How are we gonna make friends when you're bulldozing over people?" she rolled her eyes though her tone was somewhat playful as he apologized to the younger girl. Cami didn't even get a chance to say much else before the very energetic stranger realized who he was and started to fangirl over it. The last thing her brother needed was a bigger head than he already had but it was too late now.

“I’m Kelli!” she tried again. “Kelli Phelan— huge fan of your whole family!”

Just when Cami thought the girl's freak out was coming to an end, her bright eyes flicked over to Camille and she gasped once again before continuing on. Good thing Chanel wasn't here or she would've eaten this poor girl for breakfast just for being too excited to see them.

“You’re so— you’re so pretty in person, Camille— oh my gosh, oh my gosh! You’re such an— oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” She held her other hand out for Cami to shake. “I’m Kelli Phelan— you’re— wow! I’m— wow! Wow!”

"Thank you, Kelli. They need to make you the official welcome committee if you are always this peppy," she smiled, shaking the girl's hand before turning her attention to their new additions. "Bella, yes. I think I remember you. You're the one who duped my brother with your french. I am sorry that he couldn't even manage to keep up by using Google translate. I'd say he's usually a lot more clever but I don't like to lie," she said with a laugh nudging her brother teasingly.

The boy standing beside Bella was unfamiliar to her and he seemed kinda quiet so she offered her hand to him, the smile still spread on her face. New experiences and new friends. Now is their time, right? "Cami Clairmont. It's nice to meet you too, uh..." she trailed off as she waited for him to introduce himself.

♡coded by uxie♡