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

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josephine bennett



the wild card ~ 17 ~ junior












Josie's face lit up a little more whenever Saint seemed to take her suggestion of naming his cow. He repeated her last choice, Milkshake, and she nodded excitedly. "Milkshake is perfect. Better than like Betsy or Helga or something like that," she said as if those names were ever even on the table.

When Eli walked up and Jo explained their plans to him, she wasn't sure what she really expected. After all, he was her cousin's ex-boyfriend so despite them both being super friendly people, they weren't exactly friends. That would be weird. Of course, Jo didn't have anything against him there was just no way they would ever become bffs or anything. Still, it was Josie so her invitation had been more on impulse than logic as most of her ideas typically were.

“I, uh, see the thing is,” Eli stammered, eyes darting back and forth between Saint and Jo. “I’m actually leaving now but I totally appreciate the offer but the thing is that I can’t swim and that I would just drown and that sorta takes all the fun out of skinny dipping because nothing says hot like a dead body..."

Honestly, Jo couldn't tell if she had made him nervous or if he really couldn't swim but she offered a shrug as he disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived to their circle. -- “I think that you nearly killed the guy with your suggestion…,” Saint said, causing a grin to break out across her face. "Some people just can't hang, I guess," she replied with a smirk.

“From the sound of things, if the suggestion hadn’t killed him, then going through with it would have. It seems you really dodged a bullet…or a body, be as it may.”

Josie couldn't help but laugh at his words, almost as if there was an inside joke that only her brain understood. If she was with Trevor or Charlie or maybe even on Twitter she'd have tossed out a comment of her own about how she really could've used Eli's liver or kidney for her collection of organs. Of course, she didn't mean it because she wasn't some maniac but it was still funny. At least to her.

As Tilly's phone went off and she excused herself to take the call, Jo raised a brow. She had never heard Tilly's mother before but she was pretty sure that the woman wasn't British. "Huh... The more you know," she shrugged. Was Tilly British? Where was her accent? Wait, wasn't she Bostonian? Bostonish? Whatever you would call that. Josie was pulled from her thoughts whenever Saint mentioned it just being the two of them, looking around to realized Tilly had already vanished into the darkness. Guess they would catch up later.

If she had looked back over to Saint a second later than she did she would've missed the way his hand shouts out towards her. She'd almost felt the urge to follow suit, to place her hand in his and let him lead the way through the school crowd as she had done plenty of times. It was so easy to want to fall back into a routine when it came to Saint and sometimes she hated that. But then his hand dropped and the memories that had started to flood her mind faded so she followed him into the school and through the hallways without her hand wrapped up in his.

Before she knew it they had already managed to arrive at the pool and she rushed in as he held the door open. "This is gonna be so much fu-" her bright smile soon disappeared, a frown replacing it when she saw all the people already there. It wasn't that Jo was too shy to strip down and go ahead with her plan but she was sober so it wasn't likely. Plus, she knew that Saint wasn't up for that either, and let's face it, skinny dipping alone wasn't as much fun.

It had nothing to do with her looking forward to being alone with him after Tilly's sudden departure from the group. Nope.

Saint's words kinda caught her off-guard and she spun around to face him, curiosity shining through her big, brown eyes when he said he had a plan. As mentioned early Jo was known for her wild-card nights so she had never hesitated to come up with a plan B when she needed to. The party must go on and all that! It felt kinda odd to be on the other end and have someone else be the one with the idea but it was also refreshing to be surprised by what they would do next.

The fact that Saint was the one leading that adventure honestly made it even better. It wasn't in his nature to be chaotic like Jo was. In fact, they were total opposites in nearly every single way and maybe that's what balanced things out. He brought out different parts of her and vice versa. "Lead the way, good sir. Adventure awaits!" she laughed a little, following his steps down the hallway.

“You probably don’t come in here often…if at all,” as he paused, her eyes scanned the room with wonder. He wasn't wrong. Jo had never had reason to come into the art room unless she was meeting Tilly before lunch or when she'd dropped in during their time as a couple to get a peek at one of his pieces. “I find it rather comfortable, though…” Jo watched carefully as he made his way around and pulled things out of their place. “…and the best thing about it is that I know where everything is.”

Walking over to where he was, she could see that he'd found a box of balloons, and her curious mind overflowed with the possibilities of what they could do with them. Then, to her astonishment, he began to fill them up one by one with colorful paints and setting each one aside gently before moving on to the next until he was convinced he'd filled just enough.

"For you…,” he said, offering her the ballon. “I thought it would be something that you’d enjoy it.” he added.

Jo couldn't decide if the fact that he knew her so well was a good or bad thing. If it drove her crazy or made her feel...special. He had managed to recall all these small details about her and always shrugged it off as if it wasn't a big deal but it was to her. The way he often referred to her as Josephine when no one else did, how he'd gifted her a ring for her birthday that she'd only mentioned once before, he recalled every turn it took to get from her house to his, and that she preferred strawberry jelly over grape. For a girl who often wondered why she wasn't good enough...all of the little things mattered.

By the time her eyes left the balloon to look back up to him he had already moved from her to the desk at the head of the room and sat down. Maybe it was too naive of her to assume he'd join in but Saint had managed to surprise her before so maybe she was hoping today was one of those days. "Hey! This is no time for sitting ducks or whatever. Are you really going to break my wildcard fun streak by sitting this one out?" she teased. "Where is the fun in staying on the sidelines," she added.

For the first time in a long time, she saw a real smile find it's way onto his face and flashed one to match as he got up and grabbed a balloon of his own from the heap. “You’re the expert here…what do you say we do with these?” he asked.

Good question.

Scanning the room, Jo's eyes landed on a collection of canvases of all different sizes and she got an idea of her own. The dark-haired girl set her balloon back into the pile and walked over to grabbed a tarp, spreading it out onto the floor as if it would actually do any good in preventing the paint from getting, well everywhere. Hey, at least she tried, right? Once that was done, she pulled a pair of large canvases from the pile and situated them onto the two easels that were set up nearby. "Hope you don't mind ruining those clothes," she motioned to the outfit he had on as she faced him again.

This was gonna be messy.

Jo wasted no time in grabbing one of the balloons again and aiming it straight ahead, allowing it to fly from her fingertips and hit the white cloth with a loud splat. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Jo said to Saint, encouraging him to take his own shot at one of the canvases. The various colors splashed back onto her shoes and left her face littered with specks of bright blues, and greens, almost resembling freckles as she threw a few more. Just as she was about to toss another a smirk tugged at her lips and she got a new idea.

Without warning or even a hint of hesitation, Josie threw one of the balloons in Saint's direction. It burst as soon as it hit him, the yellow paint covering his arm and shirt sleeve. "Would you believe me if I said it slipped?" she joked, the amusement in her tone obvious. Saint had never been one for childish games such as this so Jo had assumed she was safe. She didn't even have time to react before the balloon that had been in his hand only seconds earlier hit her thigh causing her to let out a squeal. "Hey!" she called out.

A couple of balloons later and laughter filled the air as Jo called a truce, taking a step towards him with her empty hands raised in a show of surrender. The tarp beneath them had become a slippery mess though and as her foot hit a slick spot she fell forward and right into him for the second time that night.

One truly had to wonder how someone lacking even a tiny bit of grace was a dancer...yet here was Josie.











































♡coded by uxie♡
 






Simone Gutierrez


"Me? Drunk?"

Okay, maybe Simone Gutierrez was a little more than just happy to see Alex. But that didn’t mean what she said wasn’t true. If she was guilty of anything, it was that she could have phrased it in a less obvious way. She wasn’t even doing anything to hide the fact that she found Alex hot -- sexy even. And she wasn’t doing anything to care about hiding it, because yeah! Simone might see her as someone who she could have a lot of fun with, but there was Naomi to consider.

And...maybe Simone just didn’t care?

Yeah, maybe that’s why SImone didn’t really care and why she wanted to get herself buzzed enough to where she wouldn’t feel guilty about doing what she was thinking of doing.

“Y’know, maybe you have a diabolical plan here? Get me drunk, ask me a ton of questions and then boom, you use all of them against me like some... evil Spanish princess.”

“Princess, huh? I like that..”

The freedom that her Simone Special allowed only made Simone act more unhinged and she didn’t realize it, but at some point, during the silence, Simone’s hand was tracing along Alex’s wrist, each of her long fingers dancing until they locked with Alex’s.

Smiling, Simone moved as close to Alex as she could. Somewhere in her chest, she felt her heart beat at a rapid pace and every inch of her body was overcome with a warmth she’d felt before, but not in a while. It was the kind of warmth that always came when she was nervous and the way she found herself hesitating, focusing on Alex’s features: her eyes, the way her cheeks seemed to shine in the artificial lighting of the kitchen, and the way her lips had curled slightly into a smile.

“That’d make for an interesting play, y’know.”

“Y-eah..” Simone breathily said, moments away from doing something she couldn’t take back.






mood
Warm. Very warm.

location
Hollywood Arts Cafeteria (Kitchen)

outfit
*hot sizzle noises*





playing...
Royal
by Dounia​




mentions


interactions
Alex

tags
Soap Soap


º º code by ditto º º
 






Elizabeth Sterling


Beth had turned and walked towards the edge of the roof. Her pale gaze traveled down across the courtyard that stretched out around the school before she looked back at Spencer to try and gauge his reaction. Like, Beth understood that the roof of a building wasn't exactly the most interesting of places to check out.

So she was slightly taken aback by his general reaction -- by that weird awestruck look in his eyes, as if Beth had just shown him something just totally magical and majestic. Like she'd just presented to him that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, or like... oh whatever, you get the gist.

“It’s breath taking,” he breathed. “Not the story I was expecting to come out of this place but I suppose I can see why. The view does make for a rather romantic setting though I doubt the elements help to convey that same ambience. Definitely worth the climb to get here though. Thanks for showing me this Beth.”

She shrugged before sitting on the edge of the roof. She brought one leg up to rest on the wall with her and she loosely wrapped her arms around it.

"Not a big deal," Beth responded casually. She gestured with a tilt of her head for Spencer to come join her.

“Let’s keep this place a secret between us and not tell my brother about it.” Spencer responded, and Beth couldn't help but let out a small snort of laughter at that.

"Deal," she stated, "although if he's actually, like, got any game, he's probably going to find out about it."

Oh yeah, she totally didn't think Ezra was all that charming, although she'd only seen him in action with her sister, and Tori wasn't exactly, well, the greatest to showcase your cunning flirtatious skills. Like, Beth loved her sister (yeah, yeah, shut up about it), but that didn't mean she didn't want to just slap some sense into her sister once in a while.

"Alright, so like, we've got all night to finish the grand tour, so..." Beth waved her hand at him. "Start talking, Ho-- Spencer," no, she hadn't almost called him Hotter Gray, shut up, "Tori obviously never talked about you guys, and I was still in middle school the first time you guys visited, so like..." she gestured with her hand again, this time a little more impatiently. "You know -- start talking. Tell me about yourself or whatever. What do you like to do? Ever killed a man? Gone skydiving? Maybe even get up and show me a little dance or something."

She was joking about that last part, clearly, although she also wouldn't object because like, well, she could probably make fun of him or something if he did start dancing.

Look.

Beth was bored. The lock-in was just starting, and there was no way that she was going to sleep at the school. Because like for one, only losers actually slept at lock-ins. And for two, like, eww, imagine sleeping on the floor or whatever of the school. She didn't care how nice or how clean it might be -- she wasn't about to do that.

So they had the entire night, and well, Beth was known for being curious. And since clearly, she was going to be Spencer's first friend at this new school, she totally had to get to know everything about him.

Duh.




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
Good Girl
by Julian Moon​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Spencer

tags
@Xed


º º code by ditto º º
 






trevor callaghan
feckin' fuck off


Trevor Callaghan was cynical, pessimistic, and just generally negative. He was a headache to be around, and he had a headache when he was around anyone else. By his grandmother and his peers— and by himself, many times— he’d been told that he was intolerable, unpersonable, and a misery to be around. He was neurotic. He was uptight. He was always on the edge, and he was always one step away from snapping, shutting down, or some combination of the two.

Yadda, yada, yada, get a therapist, blah, blah, blah, go fuck yourself.

He’d heard all of this shite before, and he recognized most of it, though admittedly not all the time.

When he’d told Ash that he was bad medicine— that he wasn’t a good person, that this was probably the biggest mistake of her life— she didn’t listen. She’d dismissed it, and she’d wanted to get with him, anyway.

He still didn’t understand that. He still didn’t understand why she was with him. And he still felt like he was one step away— one wrong move, one selfish action, one unthought shift— from breaking the whole thing, from sending them both tumbling down. He was clumsy with relationships, clumsy with people, clumsy with everything.

But she didn’t seem to care.

His brain sent off warning signs, said that she was one step away from being stolen away by someone else, and he often considered that that was right, often got pissed at the other boys who flirted with her, often got pissed at her for saying things like flirtation back or for just not stopping them, but…

Right now, he was kissing her, and she was kissing him, and her arms were around his neck, and his hands rested on her sides, and they were in the living room of his apartment, and everything else felt so far away, and thoughts and worries and who Trevor was and what Trevor might do and what the other boys wanted and what Ash wanted with him exactly were miles and cities and lightyears away. They were the only two people in an empty apartment, and that apartment might as well have been his whole world in that moment.

And then, she broke away, and she studied his face, and he studied her, and he felt a kind of drop. “I…,” she began, and then she laughed. “I, like, a…month ago or…or whatever, if someone told me that i’d be dating you, I…I wouldn’t have believed them.”

He inclined his head, feeling a slight sting.

But he couldn’t say he blamed her. See: the first paragraph. See: literally everything he’d done up to this point.

But then she quickly started to talk again, almost as if to take that back, like she’d said something wrong. “Not because, like…you, because like, I didn’t think you’d ever want to, but I ummm…”

She moved her hands from around his neck and laid them against his chest, which gave a thud in response. “I’m just…I’m glad— like, that I have you, and just…all of this.”

“I’m glad for you, too,” he said. “And that you…put up with me.” He laughed slightly, but it was the damn truth.

She dropped her hands, taking a couple steps back and smiling slightly. Her bottom teeth bit into her bottom lip.

For the first time of the night, she’s so hot crossed his mind.

She was.

Totally the opposite of how she was about an hour ago— or was it longer? Or was it shorter?

Feck the time— point was, she was hot.

Very hot.


“So…,” she said, “we’ve got your whole apartment to ourselves. Do you wanna just go to sleep, or…? Is there anything you want to do first?”

That was probably not the best question to ask him.

The whole apartment to themselves, they’d just made out, and what did he want to do?

It wasn’t that difficult to figure; this was Trevor Callaghan we were talking about, and it was Trevor Callaghan that she was talking to— and a tipsy Trevor Callaghan at that.

He gave a shrug, trying to play it off casually, though it was probably obvious what he wanted to do— or, at least obvious to everyone except the girl in front of him. “It’s entirely up to you, darlin’. What do you want to do?” He bent down to take off his shoes, and he walked to place them by the door. He walked towards her again and offered his hand to her. “You’ve had a long night, and I’m sure you’re tired,” he continued. “I wouldn’t be offended if ya just wanted to sleep or something.”

He started towards his room, continuing. “It’s been a long night in general already…but I’m awake if you are, an’…I’m asleep if you are,” he said. He turned into his room, flicking on the light to reveal his obsessively neat room. He made his way to the bed, seating himself on it, and he gestured for her to sit beside him. “This bed’s all yours if you’d like to sleep,” he said.

And then his smile pressed into a cheeky grin. “Or…like you said, we are alone. An’ I’m…slightly tipsy, an’ you’re surely past that.” He reached out for her, placing his hand on hers and studying her face for a moment. “An’…ya know, bedrooms could serve more than one purpose.”

His eyes caught on her lips, then moved up to her eyes. For a moment, he just held eye contact, seeing if she caught what he was saying. “If you’d like,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling as he leaned further in, “we could explore the options.”

If it wasn’t obvious what he wanted before, his lips pressing against hers once again made it even the more clearer.

After all, Trevor had a two-track mind: sex and weed. What more did you expect from him?

He moved back slightly after the kiss, the question in his eyes the same one as before: what do you want to do?

He moved further away, realizing that, yeah, probably seemed like he was too into it. "Sleepin' also sounds grand," he said. "You could keep the bed." He patted it. "Nice, firm mattress, complete with nice, comfortable springs, perfect fer alla yer dream-catchin' needs. Entirely up ta you what happens."

Good job, Trevor.




mood
beyond nice

location
the apartment

outfit
something casual





playing...
the funeral
by band of horses​




mentions
n/a

interactions
ash

tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:






saint andrew taylor
live & let live


Saint felt a smile playing at his lips again as he watched his gir—

No.

Saint felt a smile playing at his lips again as he watched his ex-girlfriend spot the canvases on the back wall.

He knew that she would know just the thing to do; she never stopped running out of ideas.

She sat her ballon down on the pile and walked over to a tarp. She spread it on the floor, and he watched, considering whether she needed his help or not. Before he fully decided one way or the other, she seemed to be done putting down the preventative measures that would most likely prevent nothing, and she pulled a pair of large canvases from the pile. She sat them down on two nearby easels, and then turned to him. “Hope you don’t mind ruining those clothes,” she said, gesturing to him.

He glanced down at his outfit, and then he looked up at her again, expression stoic. “That’s what I wore these for…,” he said. It wasn’t a lie, either; he never really put too much effort into his appearance, mostly because he himself was an artist, and he carried supplies around with himself. He expected his clothes to be dirtied by paint or clay or any variety of art supplies any time he did anything, so in a way, he did suppose that he wore the clothes for the purpose of getting them covered with art supplies.

She grabbed a balloon and aimed it at a canvas.

Splat!

The ballon hit in the center, spreading blue as it exploded.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Jo asked, and he looked over at her to see her eagerly waiting for him to join in.

Fine, he’d do it.

His corners twinged at a smile as he picked up a balloon and threw it at the canvas. When it exploded with its own splat!, his face broke into a smile, and he bent down to pick up another one.

Saint was known to become fully enamored with his art to the point that he nearly became a piece of it himself whilst he worked on it. In the same way, whenever he and Josephine were alone— at least when they were together— he was often enamored with whatever they were doing together.

That was, when they were doing something; when they weren’t, they argued and they fought and they raised their voices, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now, and neither did she seem to be.

This was the way that he lost track of time with her. This was the way that he lost track of himself with her. He just followed her lead like she was his art, and he let her take him wherever she wanted to go.

And then—

Jo smirked, and a balloon— splat!— hit Saint in the chest.

He blinked, and he slowly looked down at his arm.

It dripped with yellow paint.

Huh.

He stared for a moment, and then he said calmly, “Oh…you hit me.”

“Would you believe me if I said it slipped?” she joked, voice amused.

Saint slowly looked up, a casual expression on his face, and he shifted the ballon in his hand.

In a surprisingly quick motion, Saint tossed a balloon at Jo and— splat! It hit her thigh.

“Hey!” she called out.

“Payback,” he stated stoically, and he picked up another ballon. His lips played at a smile. “I expect an apology, or—“

But another balloon splatted against him, and it took a shorter amount of time to register, and then he threw one back.

A couple balloons down of that, and Jo was laughing, and he was almost smiling. She called a truce, and she took a step towards him, raising her arms in surrender.

They were both covered with paint— Saint especially, as Jo moved much faster than he did. Beneath them, the paint-covered tarp showed the colors of their brief war.

Her foot seemed to catch on a slick spot, though, and she fell forward and right into him.

He looked down at her after he did. “You okay…?” he asked slowly, putting his arm on hers to help her steady herself, but his hand lingered, and he found himself studying her paint-splattered face.

It is often said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Saint doubted that that saying was meant to be applied to exes who seemed to run into each other frequently, but he was sure that it applied here.

When he was looking down at her now, he didn’t see what he’d saw when they were dating— or, well, in the “bad moments” of them dating. He didn’t see a girl with reckless abandon who didn’t care anything about his opinion but seemed to care oh so much about what he had to do...but he did see a girl, carefree, who didn’t give a damn about anything, and…it was different. He didn’t know how it was different, but it was.

It was like, in the moment, he saw a more perfect version of who she was. He could blame it on distance, or he could blame it on the night, or he could blame it on whatever he wanted to, but…

She was, in that moment, like her own piece of art, and he admired her for a moment.

Josephine Bennett, the wild card. The total opposite of Saint Taylor, the "uncaring asshole", as he was often so affectionately referred to.

They did work so well together.

He lifted his calloused hand to rub a bit of paint off of her nose. “Huh…it seems like we painted ourselves more than we did the canvases…but I can’t say I mind too much,” he said, and his face finally cracked into a brief smile as he chuckled.

And then, before he could truly register what he was doing, Saint was stooping down, and he pressed his lips against Josephine’s, his hand finding her hip—

Just like old times.




mood
paint

location
the art room

outfit
casual





playing...
god's plan (drake cover)
by our last night​




mentions
n/a

interactions
jo

tags
jasmyn jasmyn


º º code by ditto º º
 






Nathan Woods


With one last glance towards the door to make sure that there was no one there (and a quick glance around the dance room in general to make sure that there were no hidden cameras), Nate took to copying Oates' stretching. Of course the dude knew how to stretch. Have you seen his biceps? Yeah, he didn't just wake up with those guns one day, baby. Nope, it had taken months of hard work to get to this point.

"And don't worry, I'll go easy on you because I presume it's your first time dancing in front of somebody, yeah?" Oates asked, and Nate just let out a small, unenthused chuckle.

"Yeah, pretty much," he replied. "Dancing in general. Other than slow dancing with chicks, but that's easy." You just put your hands on her hips and kind of swayed from side to side in a really slow circle. It was dumb. It was simple. But it was easy as fuck, and Nate had never bothered going further than that.

Music in general wasn't something that he was super... into. Sure, he listened to some, but mostly instrumental shit. Nate wasn't really into songs with lyrics or what have you -- there was just something about hearing other people's voices that tended to give him a headache. When he was alone, he wanted to be alone. He didn't want some fucker's voice in his ears wailing about tractors (he got enough of that from his older brother).

So his awkward shuffle really just put the nail in the coffin. Nate even went as far as to slide his hands into his pockets, as if that somehow made any fucking sense. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately since it put him out of his misery), Oates seemed to get fed up with his whole really bad, really awkward dancing -- if you could even consider what he was doing to be dancing -- and had him stop.

And then Oates gave him perhaps the dumbest fucking suggestion.

He wanted him... to... yell?

To think of something that made him angry and yell?

Nate blinked at Oates.

There wasn't really anything that truly pissed Nate off enough to yell. Sure, he hated Chas. Despised Dei. Had mommy and daddy issues. He got annoyed when he couldn't pay his bills, and he got pissed on occasion when he ran out of paint in the middle of something.

But even Nate's version of "pissed" was incredibly subdued compared to most people. Everything was more of a minor inconvenience, but none of it was enough to piss him off enough to just fucking yell.

So he blinked at Oates again, and then he shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't got anything," he responded. "Nothing to let go of. Nothing bothering me."

That was because Nate let go of shit the instant it started bothering him. He didn't hold onto anything long enough to let it fester and become an actual issue. That's why he only had minor inconveniences -- because the instance that something took a step up from minor inconvenience, Nate dropped it before he could be burned.

"Sorry...?" he offered with another shrug, his apology sounding more like a question than anything else because he wasn't sure what to say, and he wasn't sure how to respond.




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 mogy


º º code by ditto º º
 






Ashton West


Sometimes, there were aspects of Trevor's personality that Ash knew. Ash had acknowledged. Ash had grown to either like or, at the very least, tolerate. All the little things that made Trevor Trevor, and she more or less forgot about a lot of these things... but there were moments when they just kind of slapped her in the face.

Like right now.

He could be so dense.

That, or she was too cryptic or something.

“It’s entirely up to you, darlin’. What do you want to do?”

He really had a habit of deflecting from answering her questions by spinning them back on her, especially when they happened to be about what to do.

She leaned back against the wall to kick off her own shoes, and kind of just pushed them out of the way as he walked towards her and held his hand out.

“You’ve had a long night, and I’m sure you’re tired,” he continued as she took his hand. “I wouldn’t be offended if ya just wanted to sleep or something.”

Ash followed after him down the narrow hallway. Obviously, she knew where his room was thanks to the whole... you know, Homecoming debacle, and it was a little strange to think that like... she was going back to the exact same room to sleep again, just this time with the accompaniment of Trevor.

“It’s been a long night in general already…but I’m awake if you are, an’…I’m asleep if you are,” he said, and she couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh as he spoke.

She dropped his hand as they got to his room and he flicked on the light. The room hadn't changed a bit -- it was still meticulously clean, with everything put away, not a speck of dust. She paused in the doorway, her hand resting against the doorframe as he took a seat on the bed.

“This bed’s all yours if you’d like to sleep,” he said, as if he hadn't made that already clear.

Ash rolled her eyes as she stepped into the room and sat down on the bed beside him with her legs tucked underneath her so she was facing him.

“Or…like you said, we are alone. An’ I’m…slightly tipsy, an’ you’re surely past that.” He reached out for her, placing his hand on hers and studying her face for a moment. “An’…ya know, bedrooms could serve more than one purpose.”

She took it back. Maybe he wasn't as dense as she had originally thought, and her smile widened.

“If you’d like,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling as he leaned further in, and her heart gave a solid couple nervous thuds in her chest as he did so, “we could explore the options.”

And then he was kissing her again, and she decided that yeah, maybe he wasn't all that dense.

And then he pulled away.

But he didn't just pull away -- he like full on moved away from her, and the smile that had been on her face was replaced by a frustrated frown.

"Sleepin' also sounds grand," he said. "You could keep the bed." He patted it. "Nice, firm mattress, complete with nice, comfortable springs, perfect fer alla yer dream-catchin' needs. Entirely up ta you what happens."

At first, Ash didn't say anything. She just closed her eyes and for a few moments, she just sat there, eyes closed, trying to piece together how the self-proclaimed fuck boy in front of her ever actually got laid. And then she wondered if perhaps all of his comments about "oh yeah, slept with nine girls in one week" were, in fact, just made up tales because surely, surely, there was no way Trevor had ever been that lucky.

Her eyes opened back up and she sighed. "Oh yeah, perfect bed for sleeping," she said in agreement, giving a little nod of her head.

"But..." she started and leaned towards him. Her eyes traveled down to his lips, and she bit her lip as her gaze traveled back up to his. "I was thinking we could maybe, I don't know... explore those other options."

And then she pressed her lips against his, and her hand moved down to the bottom of his shirt...

And before it could go any farther, she broke the kiss and pulled away. "But, I don't know," she started with a little roll of her eyes as she moved away from him to the other side of the bed and flopped down. "You just talked up how good the bed is for sleeping, and it's just so late..."

She looked back up at him, and her lips curled back into a smile. "Kidding," she said and reached out to gently grab his arm and pull him towards her.




mood
.......

location
the classroom

outfit
idk a hoodie and jeans





playing...
Gasoline
by Alice Lee​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Trevor

tags
ohdittoh ohdittoh


º º code by ditto º º
 




































  • how she's feeling...



    A little more calm

















Chanel Clairmont



Visuals ~ 17 ~ Actress













So, she just so happened to forget the terms of their deal.

As if Chanel actually forgets anything— look, she saw the opportunity, she wanted to take it. But it seemed as though Cappie wasn’t about to fall for her whole... ‘Tell me because you’re the reason why we’re stuck outsidein Genevieve Johannes, parents’ car.’ He was unfortunately smarter than that. Which is fine. Chanel always enjoyed a challenge, nothing was fun when it was too easy.

The girl sighed in defeat, glancing over at him with somewhat of an amused glare.

Although changing deciding to tamper with their deal didn’t sound tempting. Nickname privileges was enough, the last thing Chanel wanted to do was throw in some unnecessary info about herself.

She was just a private person. Nothing wrong with that— and she stands by it. Point here being, Chanel was not about to let their deal become much more infuriating to lose. Which, she wasn’t. Of course.

Chanel was unexplainably talented at almost everything. She was a fast learner.

Maybe not so much a people person, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too “Just them? I figured Genevieve would’ve known, too. You mentioned you’ve known her long, so.” She found herself curious on whoever ‘Ash West’ was but she wasn’t going to pry.

An ex, a friend, a girlfriend.

Although it was less likely they were dating considering he was asked the question if he was single at least two, to three times already on social media.

For somebody who didn’t date, his name sure got passed around quite often.

Maybe it was a curse of being one of those guys. You know, the one people tell their friends about because he’s ‘genuinely a good guy.’

Not that she’d argue with that statement just yet, Chanel believed you never see someone’s true colors until it actually matters enough to notice them.

The blonde placed both of her hands in her lap, quite literally twiddling her thumbs.

Her hands came to a sudden stop as Cappie spoke.

“Why did you message me about Maggie and Mikaela? You could’ve just said you don’t want my help and call another friend to join you. I wouldn't mind.”

Hm.

Chanel stood quiet for a moment, narrowing her eyes slightly in his direction before gazing out the window. What was the reason?

Of course, there was the obvious one. That seemed like the easiest choice.

“You had access to the keys,” She said, her attention getting caught on a flickering street lamp that had reminded her all-too-much of a scene she’d shot a few months back.

There was another option, too.

“And...”

Chanel took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose before turning to face him.

“Perhaps, I enjoy your company more than most.”

Well, it was true. Of course being ‘new’ didn’t come with many friends, but even then, so far Chanel hasn’t had the greatest interactions with the greatest of people. It wasn’t as though she’d blame most of it on the students at HA.

She’s never had much luck in the friend department. Chanel’s been used countless times for fame, attention, you name it.

Bottom line?

Friends were overrated.











































♡coded by uxie♡
 






trevor callaghan
feckin' fuck off


For a few moments, Ash closed her eyes, and Trevor felt the dropping feeling that— fuck— it’d be another night that went by that he still hadn’t had sex with his own girlfriend. Come on, seriously? He got if she was tired, but…come on.

He looked at the ceiling, cursing himself inwardly. Damn, feck, shit, shite, God.

Great going, dumbarse.

It seemed his “charm drunk girls” skills were waning.

He should’ve had more alcohol. More confidence, and less…

He heard her sigh, and he looked over at her, a totally-not-obviously-forced smile on his face. He blinked a few quick times, acting as though he was listening. “Oh yeah, perfect bed for sleeping,” she said, nodding.

“Haha, yeah,” he agreed. “Very good. Very nice.”

Yeah, it was you who told her that.

He looked away, his smile fading from his face, and he rolled his eyes at himself.

Plans? Soiled. Night? Sexless. Him? Sad.

At least he has tiss—

“But…,” she started, and she leaned towards him.

He looked over at her, brows twitching upward. “Hm…?”

Her eyes moved to his lips, and she bit down on her lip as she looked back at him. “I was thinking we could maybe, I don’t know…explore those other options.”

FUCK YES.

Okay, so take it back— Trevor still fucking had it.

Soccer Mom Sean? Pussy Slayer Sean was more like it.

Plans? Back on. Night? Sexed up. Him? Salacious.

He’d wanted to do this for so fucking long— and finally, she wasn’t rejecting his offer.

And maybe it was because she was drunk, but eh. That was the only reason why he ever really had sex, anyway— he was well aware.

Her lips pressed to his, and he kissed back eagerly, and her hand was moving to the bottom of his shirt, and—

Then she fecking broke away. “But, I don’t know,” she said, rolling her eyes and moving away from him. She flopped down on the other side of the bed. “You just talked up how good the bed is for sleeping, and it’s just so late…”

He blinked at her.

Blink.

Blink.

She looked back at him, and she smiled.

He smiled back, forcing a laugh. “Ahahah…”

End me.

“Kidding,” she said, and then she pulled him towards her—

ACTUALLY, CANCEL THE ENDING.

And as he kissed the first girl who he’d kissed in this room in over a month— two months?— he couldn’t help but inwardly pump his fist.

Fuck it, tonight was now the best night fucking ever.

Ignore that Halloween happened. Ignore that Homecoming happened.

Pussy Slayer Sean was back the fuck at it— for real this time.

• • • • •​

Before Trevor continued, he had to preface it by saying:

1) No, he was not a virgin before they came into his room.

2) No, in spite of the rumors, he did not “cream himself” at the touch of a girl— or even at the touch of Ash specifically.

3) No, he had only fantasized about this three or four times. Or maybe ten. No more than twenty. Thirty? No, wait…okay, first off, who the hell counted the frequency of their fantasies about one particular person— or just in general? He wasn’t a weir— he wasn’t that kind of a weirdo, okay? Come to think of it, this point was moot— forget that he even started this number, he—

Ahem.

Now, with that out of the way…

Holy.

Fecking.

Fucking.

Shit.

That was just about all there was to it.

Once it was all said and done, he could forget about the rest of the night— about the whole “breakdown, intense migraine, spitting in a child’s face” thing. This all kind of overrode it.

Actually, he could also overlook the bad week, the fight at Halloween…yeah, everything.

It was all fine, perfect, grand, and dandy.

God…

Sex with Ash…

…

Anyway.

Uhhh, now that that was over with…

…

Here came the really awkward part…

…

Of what exactly…

…

To do…

Thankfully, the bed was large enough to hold two people comfortably. Much better than freshman year.

Shoutout to the dorms’ twins and all of the sights that they had seen— and he didn’t just mean the Great Flu of Halloween 2019.

He stared at the ceiling, not really doing or thinking anything besides that— yes— good and nice— sex good— yep.

(No thoughts, head empty pretty much summed him up— but he tended to get this way.)

“Hey…,” he started finally, “uh…do you want…me…here?”

He propped himself up on his elbow, looking over at Ash. He just kind of…looked at her for a solid second. He didn’t really study her or admire her or think. He just kind of…looked.

And then he realized: wait…that was a weird way to say that.

“I mean, I could take the, uh…take tha couch,” he clarified slowly. “It’d probably be more comfortable for you.” He raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “Or I could…stay…here?”

What a lovely job he was doing.

...but he supposed it didn't matter as much, now that that was over with.

...ha.

Hahaha.

Never thought he'd be here, did you?

Well, fecking suck it, all'o' ya.




mood
beyond nice

location
the apartment

outfit
something casual





playing...
the funeral
by band of horses​




mentions
n/a

interactions
ash

tags
Winona Winona


º º code by ditto º º
 






Zeph Evermore


Oh, okay, okay. Past? Not a thing to ask about, and Zeph was fine with that. He made a little mental note not to ask about it because, well, the last thing he wanted to do was make someone uncomfortable. And it wasn't like this wasn't something that he couldn't get behind.

Zeph's own past? His home life? His family? Something that he tended to skip away from in conversation or attempt to steer away from, especially following his mother getting sick... and then with her death this past summer... yeah, it just wasn't something that he particularly wanted to dwell on.

He hated the pitying looks directed at him.

He hated when people would start apologizing for it, or try to offer some kind of solace because there just... there just wasn't. Not a lot of people understood, and even the ones that understood what it was like to have a dead parent, like... they didn't generally understand what it was like to watch your parent slowly decline over years. They didn't understand what it was like to have them snatched from you, and have a weird bittersweet mixture of feelings. Relief, because their pain was over, but gutted, because your pain was just starting.

But hey, that was all so far in the past and Zeph was... totally... moving on from it. Sure, it was still sombering to think about that kind of stuff but like... he was doing better. Really.

So he refused to let somber thoughts of his dead mother ruin his night.

Auguste stood up and approached him, and he watched as he pressed a hand against the wet paint on his clothes. Curious, Zeph pushed himself up to his feet and peeked curiously at Auguste as he pressed his hand against a desk. A smile broke out on Zeph's face, and he gave an approving nod of his head.

"Proud of you, son," he said with a joking laugh.

And then Auguste turned towards him and threatened to... paint his face.

Zeph laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, dude," he said and gestured to the paint splatters that were already across his face. "I think I've had enough of that tonight. I should've gone and jumped in the pool, though. Made all the water colorful, ya know?"




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
Lost Boys
by Ocean Park Standoff​




mentions
Lin <3

interactions
Auguste

tags
qunqun qunqun


º º code by ditto º º
 

Alejandra Cortez
"It's the job that's never started that takes longest to finish.”

@Realex has set their status to:
Eye on the ball.

@Realex has set their outfit to:
Lock in attire?

@Realex has interacted with:
Simone

@Realex has mentioned:
Naomi

@Realex has tagged:
natsukashii natsukashii​

Simone sometimes was... entirely too much for the aspiring playwright. A few flirty comments, holding gazes, a handbrush— Alex always labeled it as a slight tease, banter, and so forth.

“Princess, huh? I like that...”

Alex leaned a hand onto the counter Simone was propped up on, with an amused smile and a roll of her eyes.

She was going to reply, and her mouth opened to do so but shut immediately after she realized Simone’s hand was on top of hers.

The brunette traced downwards of Alex’s wrist and to her hand. And Alex found it hard to say much of anything right about now.

This felt like much more than a tease, and the heat on her cheeks were minimal compared to the fire that started to build everywhere else.

Simone leaned closer, and Alex caught much more than the scent of alcohol. Her perfume had been strong enough but Alex couldn’t make it out. Something... rosey, flower-ish, it wasn’t something too simple nor was it as strong as most. But it was enticing enough to want to get closer.

“Y-yeah...”

Simone’s breath could be felt on Alex’s own skin, and her previous smile had gradually faltered as her heart began to pound in her chest.

Alex didn’t know what she was doing.

She wasn’t aware that her gaze kept falling to Simone’s lips and back to her dark eyes.

No, she didn’t think that absentmindedly brushing her free hand against Simone’s leg would have any consequence.

And no, Alex had absolutely no idea that she was completely frozen as Simone leaned in impossibly closer to her.

Because maybe, just maybe— Alex was more than willing to kiss the intoxicatingly gorgeous girl in front of her.

Their lips were almost inches apart and the only thing Alex’s mind was on, is how long it was taking to close the distance.

Ding!

The buzzing in her back pocket and ringtone combined was enough to make Alex flinch away from Simone at the sudden sound, swallowing hard she avoided Simone’s gaze long enough to pull her phone out of her pocket.

“I— um, sorry, it’s...”

Alex gestured towards her phone and her heart sank at the contact name.

“... Naomi. She’s uh, going home early or something... so...”

Oh god. God, she was so stupid. What was she even doing?

Alex couldn’t be upset about the fact that she wasn’t going to spend time with Naomi— because she just had—

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

Trying to convince herself of that had only eased away some of the guilt that was starting to set in.

Alex rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, sending a quick message back before pocketing her phone once again.

“I... uh, should finish adapting the script.” A nervous chuckle escaped her lips as she glanced up from the floor to meet Simone’s gaze, just to avoid it entirely afterwards.

“It isn’t gonna write itself, y’know?”
º º code by ditto º º
 






Ashton West


Okay, so...

Well.

That happened.

Yeah, she sounded super enthused about the whole thing.

Her plans for the night had been far, far from what the night had actually provided with her, and she had to admit that like... even if the rest of her night had been terrible, this was a decent way to end it. Not how she'd thought her first time with Trevor would be (not that she'd ever actually thought about the idea of sleeping with Trevor, so the fact that it had just happened was kind of throwing her off, too) -- like, she expected there to be less crying and drinking beforehand.

And, like, look, it had been great.

It was just... weird for her, in a way.

Like yeah, Trevor was her boyfriend. They'd been dating for a while now (like, what, barely two weeks?), and she'd had feelings for him before that.

It was just that the entire thing felt almost surreal. Like, the last time she'd had sex was literally with a guy where their relationship had evolved from a "if we're still together" to a "when we're married" type of deal.

(That was with Nico, in case you didn't get that.)

It just felt weird.

She had totally moved on from Nico and harbored no remaining feelings, however, so just... don't even start to think that she hadn't. She was totally over it, and she had moved on with Trevor, and she was happy with Trevor, and everything in the world felt alright now.

Of course, there was silence now, and Ash didn't know what to say, so she had just been staring up at the ceiling. However, when he started to talk, she turned her head to look over at him.

“Hey…,” he started finally, “uh…do you want…me…here?”

She blinked at him.

What?

Like obviously, she did just sleep with him.

He propped himself up on his elbow to look at her, and she pressed her lips together.

“I mean, I could take the, uh…take tha couch,” he clarified slowly. “It’d probably be more comfortable for you. Or I could…stay…here?”

Oh.

Oh.

Okay now it made more sense what he was trying to say, but she was still confused by his question. Like, who had sex with someone and then just--

Alright, well, half the school.

Who had sex with their significant other and then just left?

"I... yeah, I want you here," she said, her confused expression relaxing into a smile. "I'll be, like... more comfortable with you here, so..." she trailed off when she realized that she didn't know what else to say, because this very conversation just felt like... awkward to her.

Sometimes, she kind of forgot that Trevor had zero experience with the whole dating thing -- and it really showed on occasion. Tonight's entire... everything being an example of that.

But, well, she kind of hated sleeping alone. So like yeah, she was going to jump on the opportunity to sleep with Trevor -- even if it was just for one night because of the whole... secret thing, which just felt all the more ridiculous following them having sex.... but at the same time, she didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they were right.

(Looking at you, Evelyn.)

"Promise," she added as she propped herself up to press a quick, gentle kiss to his lips. "So ummm... goodnight?" She said, her tone a little awkward, so she added a small laugh to try and lighten the awkward air that was permeating the room around them before she laid back down.

The newness of this entire experience was just... a lot to her.




mood
.......

location
the classroom

outfit
idk a hoodie and jeans





playing...
Gasoline
by Alice Lee​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Trevor

tags
ohdittoh ohdittoh


º º code by ditto º º
 

Livanna Moore
"...”

@Livieeee has mentioned:
...

@Livieeee has mentioned:
N/A

@Livieeee has mentioned:
Gen, Evie, Nate

@Livieeee has mentioned:
...

@Livieeee has mentioned:
...​

Liv's week was filled with what if's.

After the whole conversation with Gen, she didn't know where they stood. She said that she couldn't do this while Liv was... well, partying a little too hard.

She didn't agree.

At all.

Livanna Moore was not an addict. Gen had created her to seem like this big user when in reality she didn't even use that much.

Really, she didn't.

Before Gen left she was fine. She stopped for a while, it wasn't a big deal.

Liv was genuinely okay. Then... Gen left and Liv didn't really see a point to dwell in the hurt, so... she went out a little.

She hung out with some people.

Those people had drugs. She was only being polite.

She was only having fun.

It was just fun.

But Gen didn't understand that. Gen thought that Liv loved drugs more than her and that was... that was not true. And the fact that she thought it had made Liv feel... terrible.

It'd been a total of... 50 something hours without use. Sure, it was a little hard to get some sleep. Yeah, she stared at the ceiling until seven am this morning. But that's just because her mind wouldn't stop running. Her body hurt as if it was sore, Liv was starting to feel legitimately sick but that didn't matter.

This was a chance. A real chance.

A chance that everything would go back to how it was.

A chance that she'd be happy again, y'know?

There was always these little moments where Liv would laugh, yell, dance, bounce around with the most brightest smile there could be, but she wasn't really happy. Nobody was really happy.

Unless they had a reason to.

Gen used to be her reason. So, of course she's going to try. Why wouldn't she?

She was under the bleachers on the football field, laying down on the artificial grass, completely alone. Listening to the sounds of nothing. Slight crickets could be heard in the distance, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights that lit the field, not much could be heard besides her own shaky breaths.

Liv tried a little, y'know? She texted a few people, but nobody was really interested in hanging out with her.

That was okay.

It was fine, really.

Maybe it's because she overshares sometimes. Maybe she's just a tad overdramatic. Maybe she's just a little annoying, too difficult to handle at a time where nobody really had the energy to put up with her.

Liv rubbed at her eyes.

Eyes that currently looked a little too red, undereye bags that were there from slight lack of sleep and the amount of time spent crying over a few messages. Messages that she kept re-reading.
we need to be done.

we need... we are done.

i just don’t want to lose you.

you don't want to lose me so much that you're fucking using and partying and doing everything to push us apart. you don't want to lose me so much that you can't just let this go and move on with your life and get better for you. this is killing me liv, please just stop

Why?

Who knows.

Maybe she liked the way it hurt her a little more every time.

Was that too depressing?

Maybe because she needed to keep reading the same thing over and over to get it through her thick skull because Liv was just so stupid that she couldn't understand that when a girl leaves you and runs to another country, it means she doesn't want anything to do with you. That no matter what she says, no matter all the 'promises' and the sweet nothings, the slow dances, the dependability that she'd always pick you up when you're down.

Somehow, she'd always choose someone else over you.

Did she mean to?

Probably not.

She slept with Mike after their whole argument on Halloween. Yeah, apparently Gen slept with Mike too after chewing Liv out for sleeping with him the night she left all those months ago.

So, she was angry.

She needed an outlet.

So was it revenge?

Was it just to make herself feel better?

Liv closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

Mike slipped off his shirt in one tug, looking down onto the bed to reveal a half-naked Gen, welcoming him with a smile.

A genuine smile.

Her eyes opened immediately after her brain decided to torture her with mental images and thoughts of things that made her feel sick to her stomach. The thought of it made Liv's body was on fire and she wasn't sure if that was just regular body aches or her own emotions taking a physical toll on her. She sniffled, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

Bzzzt.

Her phone buzzed and Livanna lifted it quickly in a desperate manner and slight belief that it might be Gen.

It's funny how... pathetic she seemed sometimes.

But no, it was Nate replying to her about Evie's situation.

She was upset about something, and he told her it wasn't a good time to tell her that the two had slept together.

They've slept together quite a few times, it wasn't anything special. They were just there for each other when they needed it. But it was the day before they were... official or something. Liv has no idea. She doesn't really know anything but the extreme guilt that keeps setting in at the very thought of them being all... happy, and coupley.

It could've been jealousy.

Or fear.

Fear that Evie's gonna find out.

Call her a whore.

A slut.

Someone who... 'needed to fill a hole.'

Haha.

That was a real quote. Not by Evie though.

She wondered what it was like to let go. You know? Besides sleeping with a few people, taking a few pills and keeping to herself to feel better. She wanted to know what it was like to snap on someone-- and that's not to say Liv has never done it before. Everyone's done it at some point.

But she wanted to know, what it felt like to want to hurt someone intentionally.

... You know?

To say those words, do those things.

Deliberately hurt them.

Her glassy eyes focused on the message that came through.

I don't think I trust you not to run to Gen telling her what I say and I don't want Evie pissed at me for spreading rumors

well, that shouldn't be a problem.

right?

Liv was doing as she asked.

Stopping.

Staying away.
gen and i aren't talking rn.

She didn't have a problem replying, typing a message back and waiting for his response.

It was just something she wasn't expecting to read.
Oh then you probably don't even care that Evie found her and Landon fucking

Or maybe she should by this point, huh? Maybe she should realize that this is how it was always going to be. Right? Because no matter how many times Liv thought she was doing okay, or helping, or trying to get better, nothing was ever enough. No apologies mattered except if it was her own.

Did she have a right to be mad?

Because she was fucking pissed.

So. fucking. incredibly. aggravated.

A tear fell.

Another and another.

Liv just couldn't stop after that.

"How could--"

What?

Just what?

Her voice broke, shaking her head in the shock that she was talking to herself.

"I-" Her chest heaved, Liv had a hard time catching her breath before wiping her eyes, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself enough to stop the tears, to breathe long enough to say the words she was repeating in her head over and over.

"IhateherIhateherIhateherIhateherIhate--"

Her voice sounded heavy, ragged, hurt. But before she could say anything more tears had already started to flow again and the fact that she'd started to cry again after trying so hard to stop, it sparked a different kind of... anger?

A different kind of hurt.

"I fucking hate her!" She sobbed, attempting to exclaim the words but she couldn't catch her breath long enough to scream it without it coming out as a choked sob.

The sad part was she fucking didn't.
__

She was going to get better for her.

It didn't matter that Gen said that Liv needed to get better for herself and not her.

But... she was getting better for herself, getting better for Gen had automatically meant Liv was getting better for herself. She... depended on her. That was the plan.

'When you're clean, we can talk.'

Can we? Can we actually talk or will you tell me you love me just to go off and sleep with somebody else again?

If everyone else can be hypocritical, why couldn't she?

Why the hell should she 'get better' if there was no reason to get better?

Livanna was great. Amazing. She didn't have to get better because there was nothing wrong with her in the first place.

Nothing.

"Hey!" She plastered a smile, putting her hands in her pockets and closing the classroom door-- a classroom that was entirely empty, and kinda had to be for reasons like this. He held out the small bag and Livanna accepted with a half-hearted grin.

Taking two out, popping it into her mouth and swallowing without an once of water.

They were quite small, anyway.

She bit her lip, glancing around the room. "So, I didn't actually bring any money..." She lied.

There was a fifty dollar bill in her back pocket. But... he didn't have to know that.

Livanna glanced up at him, into his light eyes. This wasn't really about attraction. He was... decent. But like most of the people she slept with, she didn't really find them to be... well, like her.

Sex was just sex, though. If everyone else is okay with it. Why shouldn't she be? That's something she'd told herself more than a few times.

Being used for something felt better than being there for nothing.

She didn't have to say anything, there was a certain heat in her gaze.

Although to some, it may look more like a plead than anything. But before he could figure that out, Livanna gently pushed him back onto the teacher's desk and connected her lips with his. Unbuttoning his shirt and barely giving herself time to catch up on what she was doing, lifting the hem of her own shirt and flinging it to the side.

Not like that mattered, though.

Liv knew what she was doing.

Hurting someone intentionally.

It wasn't her ex.

It wasn't him.

Connect the dots.
º º code by ditto º º
 






felix rian emmerson
pleasure's all mine


Felix was drunk.

It wasn’t his proudest moment, drinkin’ anything more than a few sips whilst around people. He knew what tended to happen when he drank, and he knew that it wasn’t the best idea to use alcohol to do anything more than loosen up. Things tended to get...well, stupid and fairly reckless.

Felix thought that he had enough self-control not to let himself get carried away, even with a full flask in hand. He was generally good at keepin’ himself under wraps.

But…between himself and Maeve, the flask was emptied, and he didn’t realize until he tried to take a final sip that it was all gone— which made him laugh, of course, because everything was funnier with a little (or a lot) of alcohol in the bloodstream.

As he finished up another long-winded, heavily-slurred, blatantly-obviously-not-true tale that had been interrupted by several nonsequitous tangents, he laughed loudly, straight from his chest. Somewhere between sip number one and sip number “just one sip”, his polite chuckles had given way to hearty, loud, nearly booming laughter, and his stories had gone from fairly believable to “I actually own on a private island— would love to have you sometime”. Felix’s light, playful nature had only become more playful and less calculated, and his subtle attempts impressiveness had faded into fairly obvious tries, unbeknownst to him.

Oh, and his audacity didn’t only stop at the stories he told— he was also layin’ on the flirtation thick. Maeve was a cute girl, and she was somehow even cuter with the booze.

His phone buzzed just as he was about to begin the next totally-not-a-story story, and he pulled it from his phone.

Looked like tonight might have been a decent business night, too, on top of everything else.

“Shit, looks like duty calls,” he slurred, and he looked over at Maeve with a large, lopsided grin. “Guess that’s my cue to go, Maeve. Damn shame it is to leave a girl as pretty as you on a night like this, but...” He sighed, standin’ and laughin’ slightly as he world tipped about for a few seconds. “It kinda looks like I’m needed elsewhere. Sorry to dip so suddenly.” He gave her a shrug and an apologetic knit of the eyebrows before reaching out and offerin’ her a one-armed hug. “Hey, see ya around— we should hang out more. Don’t let me lose track of ya again.” He pointed a finger at her in mock accusation, and then laughed a boomin’ laugh. “I enjoyed tonight, and I’m sure you’n I could enjoy another night together.” He gave her a wink, cockin’ another grin. “Maybe a place with less noise, less people, and more privacy, huh? I’d love to get to know you better, y’know.”

He threw his backpack over his shoulder, giving her a final wave before walkin’ away— though his walkin’ was more like staggerin’. He found an empty classroom, and he texted his customer the room number, sat down atop a table, and pulled the empty flask from his pocket, tryin’ to milk the last drop from it to occupy his time, his nose scrunchin’ each time he came up empty. “‘monnn,” he groaned, finally just sittin’ the metal container beside himself and takin’ off his backpack.

I should’ve brought more to drink, he thought in the moment.

Just as his hand found the stuff he needed, the door opened. Tonight was really a night of great timing.

“Hey!” piped the familiar customer, and Felix looked up at her as the door shut.

“Liv, always a pleasure,” he greeted, grinnin’ widely and holdin’ the bag out for her. “This is waitin’ up for you.” He crossed his arms, waiting patiently for his payment.

She took the drugs and swallowed them dry.

He laughed, his eyebrows flicking together. “One of those nights, huh?” His speech was slurred, but at least it was mildly intelligible. He held out his hand and cocked an eyebrow. “Now, for me...?”

She bit her lip, looking around the room. “So, I didn’t actually bring any money...”

Felix’s brows shifted upward, and he stared at her for a moment, grin frozen on his face. She’d already taken the drugs. Not much he could do— and she was a return customer.

She looked up at him with her dark, pretty eyes, and he raised an eyebrow again. “‘uh?” he asked curiously. “You needin’ something else, Miss Moore...?”

And then, he actually met her gaze, and even with his inhibited perception, he could see a certain look— uh, the look, hungry and nearly desperate.

But before it could fully register and before he had a chance to respond, she pushed him back against the teacher’s desk, and she kissed him, and he was kinda just confused at first before he understood what was goin’ on— before he realized oh, she’s kissin’ me, oh, she’s unbuttonin’ my shirt, oh, we’re about to fuck on a teacher’s desk.

And then he got the memo, and he chuckled drunkenly, his hands and lips finally startin’ respond, followin’ Liv’s lead.

Had he ever thought about having sex with Liv before? Never. Was he one much for hookups? Not particularly. Did he ever accept sex as a form of payment? Absolutely not. On any other day, would he think that maybe— maybe— this wasn’t a great idea, since she was in obvious distress? Yeah, and he’d tell her “you can pay me later, have a nice day”, smile politely, and leave.

So what the hell was he doing?

Well, havin’ sex with Livanna Moore on a teacher’s desk. Beyond that, he was too drunk to think about it now.

Thinkin’ was a job for tomorrow.

For now, tonight, he’d get carried away with his customer who was more or less a stranger, and he’d not think a damn thing about it.




mood
...

location
a classroom

outfit
...





playing...
take a slice
by glass animals​




mentions
n/a

interactions
maeve & liv

tags
Stardust Galaxy Stardust Galaxy Soap Soap


º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:




































  • how he's feeling...



    very good he likes it when he's so smart

















beel



batshit crazy drug addict












The door of the janitor's closet had been rather thin, and while a sober person would've heard and understood that Dalton had been talking to somebody on the other side of the door, Beel had no time to listen to the angered man talk about what he could only presume was the stock market. Why else would Dalton have been so angry at Beel that he would lock him inside the closet and leave him all alone to wait in the dark? Obviously, he had lost a large amount of his inheritance and now he had to go and move away to his grandmother's place all the way in the United Kingdom. And we all knew grandma Kirby was a bit demented and didn't know how to cook anything other than underwhelming, basically raw, pea soup. Poor Dalton.

Beel felt kind of bad for him, even considering the circumstances. The bleached man could almost see the way the elderly lady looked, with all of her wrinkles and uncombed hair, but that hallucination was obviously the shrooms.

Oh, the shrooms!

That was exactly what Beel was going to do to pass the time!

He still had some left in the bag because he knew something like this was bound to have happened at one point, but as he tried to reach them he remembered that the small room hadn't been the only confine he'd been stuck in and that his hands had also been tied while in his mouth rested some sweaty cloth that smelled even worse than Dalton did after sex. Thank God Beel saved the ember beauty from that scent. It still wreaked havoc and resided in Beelzebub's worst nightmares which were also wet dreams.

Talking about wet, it was about time he got out of the pants and shirt that were getting kind of cold right about now.

Oh.

Right.

He was still tied.

Was he going to die? Was this actually an episode of Criminal Minds? Beel always wanted to be an actor. But this seemed rather real...

He was starting to freak out a little because the particles of the dark started weirdly rubbing against his skin and he didn't like it. Not one bit. It felt like what it would feel kissing Betty White, which is coincidentally exactly what Dalton's grandma looked like.

WAIT! EW!

It wasn't the dark which was kissing the bleached man—it was a horny janitor's-closet version of Betty White!

All the bleached man could do was wiggle around until falling onto his knees and then laying back into some cleaning supplies while Betty White positioned herself on him.

Thankfully, Dalton opened the closet door to pick up his grandma, but Beel guessed the smelly boy fell inside the closet, turning his grandma to dust. Has he already started losing weight because of the pea soup?? Weird.

Beel murmured something, but once again did he forget the cloth resting inside of his clean mouth. Typical Beel, haha. He laughed at himself before Dalton started screaming at Dalton to open the door.

Yeah, that confused the bleached man a little bit, or well, a lot. But he was still trying to come to his senses since the Betty White incident.

"You found me! Good job. But you're not Dalton."
He spoke when his mouth was finally free of the smelly costume fabric thing. It didn't take long for him to stand up, after managing to get his balance to do so with his hands tied.

"Maybe you can also untie my hands unless you're into this kind of stuff."
He said, putting forward his hands, tied.

It hadn't been long before he could finally stretch as much as he wanted. Well, as much as he wanted until he touched the bunch of rolls of toilet paper resting on one of the shelves.

More and more did this guy seem familiar, and that was when his eyes adjusted once again to the darkness that surrounded him so he could see the guy in front of him really was not Dalton, but actually Damien!

"Damien! It is you! I knew it was you, I could feel it in my guts!"
He had been ecstatic.
"Do you think we can get out of here or..."


He didn't really know if Dalton was going to be nice enough to let them go or not, but for some reason was Beel asking the question he was:

"If not, we can always play Betty White and Beelzebub Woods. It's a fun game. If you want, that is."












































♡coded by uxie♡
 






Damien Slater


The little blonde boy in front of him was kind of fucking strange. It wasn't even that he'd done much or said much, but he just had the look of a fucking strange little dude. Damien gave a kind of awkward little half smile -- like, you know, lips kind of drawn back so his teeth were showing as he listened to him speak.

"You found me! Good job. But you're not Dalton." The dude said.

What...?

Part of Damien wanted to ask Beel why the fuck Dalton had such an issue with him and had locked him up in the closet, but hey, it was Dalton. Dalton would probably tie someone up and toss them in a closet or some shit just because he was bored. The fucking sadist.

"Maybe you can also untie my hands unless you're into this kind of stuff." He said.

No, he wasn't into that kind of shit... mostly.

Don't fucking worry about it.

But he did as the dude asked, and he started trying to untie the dude's hands, but it was kind of fucking hard and he quietly cursed Dalton in his head as he leaned further in, squinting down at the other boy's hands. How the-- where the fuck did Dalton learn to tie a knot? A couple breathy "fucks" were grumbled under his breath until he finally managed to get the knot loose and could untie the blonde dude.

"Damien! It is you! I knew it was you, I could feel it in my guts!" He had been ecstatic. "Do you think we can get out of here or..."

Wait--

Damien paused, blinking at the blonde dude, and then it clicked in his head and--

"Beel." He said.

The little blonde dude and him had talked and shit on Twitter once, and the kid always seemed like he was high on fucking drugs, so... he was kind of right up Slater's alley.

"Already tried," Slater replied as he walked back over to the door, rapping his hand against the wooden door before he reached down and jiggled the handle. He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. "Someone's gonna have to let us the fuck out. Door isn't budging."

And the only people I got to ask, I'm pissed at.

Fuck Kian and Felix.

(Felix hadn't actually done much, but really, Damien was just mad at everyone right now.)

"If not, we can always play Betty White and Beelzebub Woods. It's a fun game. If you want, that is."

Bet--

What?

Slater's confused expression -- eyebrows drawn together, his lips slightly parted in a what the fuck? type of look said everything that needed to be said. Why the fuck was he talking about Betty White, and why out of everyone in this goddamn school did Slater have to get locked up with this fucking weirdo?

As if things may have changed, Damien gripped the doorknob and tried to shake it open again, but the effect was the same as it had been every time he'd tried before.

Fucking nothing.

Door locked.

Well, who knew how long it would be until they were freed from this fucking pit of hell?

So fine, he'd fucking bite.

"What's the Betty White and Beelzebub Woods game?" He asked, and his tone couldn't have been more disinterested.

Instead of answering Slater like a fucking NORMAL HUMAN BEING WOULD with his fucking words, Beel answered him in a totally different way. A totally unexpected way.

His lips pressed against Damien's.

At first, Damien didn't know how to react.

Making out in a janitor's closet to the stench of bleach and mildew.

So fucking hot.

But...

Well, nothing passed the time quite like this shit, you know?

So he started kissing the weird little blonde dude back.

And Slater officially hit an all new low: fucking a drug addict in a janitor's closet.




mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
DONTTRUSTME
by 3OH!3​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Beel

tags
mogy mogy


º º code by ditto º º
 
ayo slight trigger warning for a brief mention of suicide​
MOOD:
Perpetually nervous

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

LOCATION:
Music room
basics
MENTIONS:




INT:
Zeph @Winona
tags
TL;DR:
Nope
tl;dr
Auguste

Auguste seemed taken aback by the “Proud of you, Son.” but recovered quickly. He wasn’t expecting the rush of warmth and the fuzzy feeling of being actually proud of himself and wow wasn’t that depressing. When was the last time someone told him they’d been proud of him? A solid never?

There was a vague fuzzy memory from a long time ago, a man putting his hand on Auguste’s shoulder after he did his first straight line of chaînés without getting dizzy, telling his son that he was proud of him to be following in his old man’s footsteps. He’d been happy back then. And he’d thought his father had been happy. Maybe he had been, at the time at least. A part of Auguste hoped he'd been happy, at least.

But of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up to Zeph. Zeph had just been going along with the joke, after all. No need to bring down the mood with “the last time anyone told me that they were proud of me without ulterior motives was when I was seven, the night before my father killed himself.” It might’ve been a bit of a bummer.

Auguste shrugged. “Your loss. I think you would rock the-the glasses, moustache with goatee look, though.” Auguste joked as he sat down in front of Zeph as his friend joked about going into the pool.

“I guess, but that would be harder to clean up than the classroom, no?” He mused mostly to himself. He shook his head just a little bit. “No matter, I wouldn’t go there though. I hear that there was group trying to go skinny dipping in the pool… I don’t know about you but I have no intention of seeing a person’s….” A vague hand gesture to get his point across. “Tonight.”

“Perhaps though, you go to wash off? I think that perhaps it might be for the best, considering how you are…” And then Auguste completely blanked on the word in English. He had to do another vague hand gesture to the paint smeared upon the wall to compensate. “with the paint.” He finished, hoping that Zeph would get the point he was trying to get across.
code by valen t.
 






Tilly Phoenix


There was a mixture of embarrassment and utter glee that made itself home on Tilly's face. And it was all because of one Elias Johannes.

Where did she even begin? The way he could always make her laugh astounded her because it literally didn't take much. Whether it was a corny joke, a horrible accent, or even those little things such as that video of him rocking it stripper style. It honestly didn't matter because he had this magical gift of being able to make her smile under any circumstance. That was something Tilly always loved about Eli. He was like the older brother who contrasted Gen so much. Gen, who protected her and looked out for her, Eli was the same but he...he did it in a way that always made her want to die from cackling too much.

But now? Now, he had truly outdone himself. And she was in awe of the lengths he'd go to save her from a horribly uncomfortable situation.

Sure, she adored Josie and Saint wasn't as bad as Josie made him out to be, but the thought of them wanting her to go skinny dipping with her was, if she had to be honest with herself, not something she wanted to do. But thankfully for her, Eli came to her rescue.

But really? Even now, as she remained somewhat hunched over the passenger side window, he couldn't help himself.

“You’ve hurt your poor mummy, Tilly dearest.”

Immediately, she giggled from cheek to cheek, her pearly whites showing and her cheeks scrunched up to her eyes in the way a lot of people had said Tilly looked absolutely adorable when she smiled like that.

How could she now with her mummy here being the source of her joy? "I'm so sorry, mummy!"

“Glad you caught on though. I was afraid my incredible accent was going to throw you off.”

"It almost did, but there's no hiding your voice!" She giggled some more as Eli came around and wrapped her up into a big bear hug.

And she was lifted off the ground. Tilly wasn't a short girl, but compared to Eli and especially his larger size, he was able to do it almost effortlessly. And even though she had a less-than-impressive physique, she embraced the hug for as long as it lasted, returning it by squeezing onto Eli as tight as she could.

When she was set back down and as she fixed her bucket hat, which had been shifted somewhat to the left due to Yogi Bear here giving her his best hug, she shrugged at his comment about her toothbrush. "No worries at all! I always bring extras."

“So, it’s been a minute since we last hung out. How’ve you been?”

"Oh, I've been, uh.." Tilly only hesitated as she readjusted her outfit and rolled her shoulders a bit to loosen up her tense joints. "I've been pretty good!" That was half-true. IF she was being honest, not being able to see her boyfriend was weighing on her, but Tilly had to accept what she couldn't control, no matter how pooey it made her feel.

“I mean, it hasn’t been long enough for you to suddenly be super into skinny dipping so I hope I wasn’t out of line trying to get you out of there. You looked real uncomfortable.”

"Oh, you certainly weren't out of line, that's for sure!" She admitted rather quickly. "I mean, I love Josie, but I totally didn't want to do what they wanted to. I just, uhm, didn't have the heart to tell her, you know?" She nervously confessed, her smile reflecting just how terrible she was at truly speaking her mind when was feeling pressured. And had Eli not found them when he did, she might've gone through with it without saying a single word against doing it.

“I was just about to head out but if you don’t have any other plans, I am so down to hang. No sweat if you’re busy though.”

She had been deep in her momentary thoughts but she clued in when Eli had started to speak and whether it was just her natural response or what, she nodded. "Yeah!" A few seconds of silence passed and she coughed. "I mean, I'm not busy and I don't really have any plans. Maybe we can get a milkshake or something? Honestly, I've been craving an ice cream sundae with all the fixings."

Tilly had been locked in that unbearable, rock-in-a-hard-place situation for so long - or if it wasn't long, then it felt like an eternity - that she had forgotten that she didn't eat before coming to the Lock-In. And maybe it was her old traditional upbringing, but eating an actual dinner this late didn't feel right in her mind, yet her inner child was wanting to be rebellious and just splurge in some ice cream and nuts and syrup and sprinkles.

She was drooling just thinking about it.

"I mean, if that's okay with you! I know this pretty awesome ice cream parlor not far from here. It's all organic and so many different flavors of ice cream!" For a moment, her eyes lit up, her inner-child taking control just for a few seconds. "I promise you'll love it, Eli! I'll even pay if it helps sway your mind in any way!"





mood
Free at last!

location
Various areas of the Hollywood Arts Parking Lot

outfit
Am I cute?





playing...
Airplane Mode
by Dounia​




mentions
Her crappy boyfriend, Josie, Saint, Gen (briefly), Eli

interactions
Eli

tags
geminiy geminiy


º º code by ditto º º
 






Simone Gutierrez


At the exact moment that both of them knew was going to change things between them, which it was difficult to say whether or not if it would've been a positive or negative change, but at the time that Simone had given herself fully to what was happening, the glass-shattering sound that brought her out of it also served as a firm reminder that this just wasn't meant to be.

She shook her head a few times and immediately hopped off the countertop. Simone stepped back a few feet, feeling her head getting hotter and hotter but for all the wrong reasons. She ended up grabbing that cup of hers and just drank until nothing was left in it.

And then she poured herself some more.

“I— um, sorry, it’s...”

She heard Alex speak, but she just drank. She hoped the alcohol would ease whatever uneasy warmth was consuming her, but it wasn't.

Goddamn it!

She cursed a few times into her second serving that was nearly got.

God, her throat burned.

“... Naomi. She’s uh, going home early or something... so...”

Of course, it was Naomi. Fucking Naomi Elizondo.

God, why was the sound of her name filling her with so much rage? And why in the hell did it bother her so much that this -- whatever this was between them -- why did it bother her so much that Naomi's text was the punch in the gut that she didn't know she needed?

“I... uh, should finish adapting the script.”

"Yeah, T-that's a good idea." She didn't know what she was agreeing with if she was being honest, but Simone looked up at Alex if just to see her face before she no doubt had to leave. She caught that Alex couldn't even meet her halfway.

“It isn’t gonna write itself, y’know?”

She nodded absentmindedly. "Then, you should go. I mean, you shouldn't keep Naomi waiting."

Why on earth she said that, Simone had no idea. She hated how she felt right now. She hated that Naomi texted her. She hated that she had problems with the fact that Naomi texted her, but above everything else, she hated that she couldn't figure out why all of these feelings were coming to the surface and just...

"Don't worry about the mess. I'll clean it up." She offered Alex a smile.

If she looked at her, that is.






mood
The actual fuck is happening?

location
Hollywood Arts Cafeteria (Kitchen)

outfit
*hot sizzle noises*





playing...
Royal
by Dounia​




mentions
Alex, Naomi

interactions
Alex

tags
Soap Soap


º º code by ditto º º
 
Last edited:




































  • how she's feeling...



    annoyed, amused and just a tad bitchy

















evelyn sinclaire



the fashionista ~ 18 ~ senior












If someone were to stumble into the restroom right about now, they would probably feel like they had just slipped into some alternate universe; one lacking the petty insult-filled catfight and where Nickie and Evie didn't absolutely despise one another. It might seem weird now but if you knew the history between them then it really wasn't all that strange. In fact, with their past friendship in full view, it made sense that they could so easily slip back into the gossip girl session with each other when there was no one else around to see or hear.

Back during Evie's sophomore year, she had met Nickie, who at the time was still a bright-eyed freshman new to Hollywood Arts and all the drama that came with it. It's hard to explain but Evie instantly took a liking to the girl. There was a sort of firey side to her that Evie wanted to pull that out more; teach the girl to be confident and not let anyone walk all over her. Honestly, there was a lot of potential for Nickie in her mind. So, Evelyn took the new girl under her wing.

The two actually became pretty close rather quickly; hanging out during and after school, ranting about all the latest drama together. Evie really did feel like Nickie was kind of like the little sister she never had. It didn't last long though. By the end of Evie's sophomore year, things had gotten rocky between them and all the little things, the petty comments, the tough love, started to stack up against their friendship. Then came the whole jealousy thing which of course circled around none other than Kordei Grant. Go figure, right?

Nickie and Dei had some sort of flirty thing going on but it never became anything more as far as Evie was aware and eventually, Dei started to show less interest in Nickie and more in Evie. It caused a lot of passive-aggressiveness between them and at this point, their friendship was already nearing an end which made the whole wardrobe malfunction the final straw. Nickie was pretty set on the fact that Evelyn was out to get her and had done it on purpose or whatever and Evie didn't care to feed into her victim complex. Over time, the foundation of their relationship cracked and then it turned to dust with no hope of fixing it. Not that either of them tried.

Despite all of the drama, Evie and Nickie sat here almost as if they were friends again. If Evie was honest, Nickie had always been one of her favorite people to swap tea with when they were close. Somehow the girl always seemed to know everything about everyone and she was eager to share. Besides being a great storyteller herself, she also was a great audience when you had news to share. Fully immersed and hanging on every word, tossing out comments that let you know she was fascinated by the content you were giving her.

Maybe that was why Evie explained the whole Gen and Landon fiasco instead of just keeping it to herself. She just wanted to scream, to tell someone and Nickie was there. She was there and Evie knew she would actually listen without being all "you're being a dramatic bitch about it" or whatever. Of course, she would never admit that out loud. As far as Nickie needed to know they just happened to be in the restroom at the same time, the words slipped out and that was all there was to it.

“But oh my God, that has to really suck for you. Did they, like…legit not say anything to you? Like, no signs or anything? Nothing even kind of suspicious?” Nickie cocked her head slightly. -- "Nope. Nothing. I mean, they made a few comments on Twitter that I thought was off but I asked and they said there was nothing to it. I just believed they wouldn't lie so, that's on me. Rule number one, Nick, never trust someone one-hundred percent. You'll regret it." Evie shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest as she pushed herself off of the sink.

When Evie mentioned how she fully expected Nickie to blast the news on Twitter, her ex-friend seemed to get offended. “I’m not, like, a total fucking bitch. I’m not gonna do that.” Of course, she would do that. If there was one thing that Evie knew about Nickie it was that the younger girl loved having secrets to spill. This wasn't much of a secret if you asked her, not one she cared to keep anyway. It's not like Gen and Landon cared about her in any of this. “I only tell people’s shit if it’s interesting,” she explained very matter-of-factly," Nickie added with a grin.

This time a smirk formed on Evie's face at the words and she rolled her eyes, not because she was annoyed but because the comment genuinely amused her. "Fair enough," Evie replied with a scoff that nearly resembled a laugh. “Plus, if I said that, everyone’d wanna know why I knew, and then everyone would find out that I yelled at my boyfriend because he said he loved me, more or less."

So, she was crying because of the Chas worshiper? Shocker.

"Haven't I ever told you that crying over boys is ridiculous? No matter the reason," Evie rolled her eyes. Crying over boys was pathetic and Evie for one had sworn that she never would be that girl. Even after Dei, she opted for being petty over crying about it. Why would she? It was a high school relationship and no matter how hurt she was, though she was more angry than sad, she refused to be a sobbing mess.

Her green eyes followed Nickie as she moved to the mirrors to get a look at herself, clearly appalled with what she saw which wasn't surprising since she did look like a trainwreck. --“Holy shit, I look like hell." She looked over at Evie’s reflection in the long mirror...“Don’t comment about that, either. I still look better than any time you styled me.” They both knew that was a lie but Evie decided against making a comment.

“I’m going to ask you two things, so, like…here’s your opportunity to tear me to fucking shreds if you want to, but…one…” She sighed. “Have I always been this goddamn…pathetic?” The self-loathing was obvious in her words causing Evie to raise a brow. “And, before you answer that, question two: do you, like…have any makeup on you?”

Evie could've said yes. It might've made her feel better in some twisted way to say it and see the look on Nickie's face. Something about the way Nickie asked though, something about being alone without anyone who could quote her next words...it made Evie soft for a brief second and she shook her head. "No. You weren't," she breathed, moving to stand beside the girl rather than behind her.

"People only see you as pathetic because you let yourself be seen that way." she shrugged, digging around in her purse at the next question. She pulled out a travel-sized pack of makeup wipes and mascara, handing both off to Nickie. "Your constant need for attention and approval reeks of desperation. People see right through you," she said simply.

Watching for a moment as Nickie scrambled to fix her makeup, attempting to get rid of any evidence of a breakdown, Evie sighed. "Look, you gotta ask yourself if you wanna be a Jenny Humphrey or a Blair Waldorf? A doormat who lets everything and everyone controls her or a bad bitch that demands respect? Pick one," Evie added, leaning against the sink again as Nickie attempted to fix her makeup.

"You can keep that," she motioned to the makeup resting on the sink. "You need it more than I do. Stop selling yourself short. It doesn't really suit you," her words were genuine, though her tone might suggest it were an insult anyway. With that she spun around on her heels and headed for the door, unlocking it and slipping out of the restroom without another word. Evie seriously had to get out of there before it turned into some weird "lets be friends again" thing.

At first, Evie had been wandering the hallway with no particular destination in mind but after her text exchange with Nate, that change. Changing direction, she made her way towards a staircase that would take her up to the exit for the roof of the school, exactly where she'd told him to meet her. He mentioned having half a joint and honestly, a joint and being around him felt like exactly what she needed right about now.

Apparently, the universe had other plans though because just as she rounded the corner into a less crowded hallway, she heard a crash and her eyes darted towards the closed door she was sure it had come from. The principal's office? Talk about interesting. Maybe she should've learned from earlier mistakes but then she wouldn't be Evelyn Sinclaire. Instead, she walked over, peering into the window to see Chas and Adriane clearly getting into what looked like files or something.

Without thinking much, Evie lifted her phone and snapped a few photos through the window before moving out of view before they could turn around and spot her. The sound was muffled so she could only make out a few words of what they were saying. Something about Charlie and having a plan. So, Chas was trying to get revenge? Probably still embarrassed that the blonde had knocked one of his teeth out at a public party.

Evie pushed the door open just as it seemed Chas walked towards it and a smirk tugged at her lips. "Going through files in the principal's office...after hours? Seems a little suspicious, don't you think?" she said, her voice laced with amusement. Evie already knew she'd caught them red-handed in some sort of scheme and that alone gave her satisfaction. Come on, dirt on Chas? She did tell him that she didn't need to dig for it because it would eventually land in her lap. She might not know exactly what he was doing just yet but he didn't know that for sure and that was enough for her. For now.

"The sidekick look works for you, Adri. Very fitting," she added sarcastically, her eyes flicking over to her fellow plastic.











































♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:






Adriane Holloway


Oh my god, Adriane was going to faint at the very idea that Chas trusted her! Oh my god!

She rolled her eyes.

The way he said it implied that this was some kind of amazing thing and she should just be absolutely thrilled over the idea that he would trust her -- as if he had anyone else to trust. Who else would he have dragged along in here? Hunter? Sure, the little boy had his head up Chas' ass, but he barely had two braincells to rub together. Having him accompany Chas would've just, well... it would've ruined whatever little scheme he was thinking up. Hunter would no doubt run his mouth to that little loud-mouthed bitch of a girlfriend and she would've spread it in no time.

So honestly, Chas should be thankful that he had Adriane in his life -- not the other way around.

"We're done here." Chas said, and slammed the binder into her arms.

Part of her considered using the hefty binder to knock Chas out, but she bit her tongue and took in a deep, calming breath. Nope... nope, nope, nope, she wasn't going to do that. She wasn't going to knock him out, and she was going to fight back the urge to strangle him.

Instead, she turned and carefully set the binder back in its place on the shelf -- since she could actually reach it without any help from a chair. And oh, look at that! She was even able to do it without dragging down half of the shelf with her! It was almost as if she was competent than her tiny, whiny little companion.

And being the lovely, super nice and thoughtful bitch that she was, Adriane even set about helping clean up the papers and binders and put them away with him.

It was as she placed the last binder on one of the shelves that Chas had knocked down that she heard the door to the office open and, for the first time that night (or perhaps for the entirety of the school year), she felt her blood turn to ice, and she felt her heart seize to stop in her chest.

She paused, hands still pressed against the binder, and turned to see who had interrupted them.

Evelyn Sinclaire.

"Going through files in the principal's office...after hours? Seems a little suspicious, don't you think?" she said.

Fucking bitch.

Adriane finished placing the binder on the shelf, and then she turned to face Evie. She leaned on one hip, her arms crossing over her chest, her ice-blue eyes narrowing at the other girl.

"The sidekick look works for you, Adri. Very fitting," she added.

"Thanks," she replied breathily, her voice as monotone as always. "I saw you totally pulling off being Gen's little bitch so I figured I'd give the whole sidekick thing a little try myself.



mood
mood mood mood

location
location location location

outfit
outfit outfit outfit





playing...
Fuck You
by Lily Allen​




mentions
N/A

interactions
Chas

tags
hery hery


º º code by ditto º º
 
school day
  • Index
    • Ezra Gray
    @EZGoing has set their status to:
    Mood

    @EZGoing has set their outfit to:
    dilf energy, probably

    @EZGoing has set their location to:
    the school parking lot

    @EZGoing has mentioned:
    tori, spencer, alex, chas

    @EZGoing has interacted with:
    auguste

    @EZGoing has tagged:
    qunqun qunqun
    Catching up with Tori had been lovely if Ezra kept the fact that he had forgotten her name a handful of times. Look, the poor guy just sucked with names, okay? Everything else about her and what she had been saying was imprinted in his memory just fine but her name just wasn’t sticking for some reason, so he decided that Nineteen would just have to do.

    Most of the lock-in had been spent with Tori, filling in the gaps caused by so much lost time. The interaction would have been awkward if it wasn’t for the sound of his car radio filling the silence whenever it fell. Tori was a lovely girl, she really was, and Ezra enjoyed spending time with her. But catching up with her after so long apart felt strange. Sure, they had a prior connection, but they had only known each other for a few weeks before Ezra and Spencer had returned to New Zealand. How does someone catch up with another person when, realistically, they were still getting to know each other when he departed?

    It was also difficult for Ezra to answer the questions about why he left and what he had been doing. He, of course, had designed himself a lengthy story about why he had left (financial hardship, their parents’ business had gone sideways and Hollywood Arts was just too difficult to afford without making the situation worse) and what he had been doing while he was gone (working on his art, of course, what else would an artist be doing in his spare time?) and why he had returned. All he could hope was that Spencer wasn’t about to start telling everyone the truth. The very last thing Ezra wanted people to know was that the true reason they had left was because their baby sister had almost died, that wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs.

    The following weeks were rather bland, days spent in school while his evenings were spent planning elaborate pieces for the upcoming Art Fest. Ezra was hardly interested in working with anyone other than himself, other people were far too controlling and manipulative. However, somehow Ezra found himself agreeing to work for Alex on her film the day after lock-in. How he was convinced to help was indiscernible but honestly, Ezra was sort of looking forward to working on a big project. Plus, hanging around and seeing his skills on Chas in person was certain to be entertaining all on its own.

    Ezra spent a fair amount of time prior to the date of filming looking over the notes that he had been sent and drawing up design concepts, spending many late nights in the small office space of the apartment that he shared with Spencer. Ezra had convinced himself that, once again, he had taken on far too much work. That was Ezra though: taking on more than he could chew just so he didn’t have the opportunity to stop.

    The day of filming eventually rolled around, leading Ezra to arrive at school early with a large mug of coffee in hand. Leaning back against his car, Ezra looked through his notes and design concepts as he watched the sun crest the glistening Los Angeles skyline ahead. It wasn’t until a tall, dark haired figure interrupted his line of sight that he was pulled from his thoughts.

    “Hey!” Ezra called out, whistling sharply in greeting as he leaned further back into the car. “You’re blocking my light here, Auguste. And to think you weren’t even going to say hello to me.” Ezra pressed his hand to his chest in feigned pain, smirk tugging the dimples out onto his pale cheeks. “I’m hurt, friend, I really am.”

    º º code by ditto º º
     
  • Index
    • Genevieve Johannes
    @genjohanne has set their status to:
    please let me hide

    @genjohanne has set their outfit to:
    casual and depressed tbh

    @genjohanne has set their location to:
    the fashion workshop

    @genjohanne has mentioned:
    n/a

    @genjohanne has interacted with:
    n/a

    @genjohanne has tagged:
    Stardust Galaxy Stardust Galaxy

    There was no amount of scrubbing that made Gen feel clean, no amount of crying that satiated the constant ache in her chest, no amount of hiding that could pull the prying gazes of her peers away from her. Genevieve Johannes was a fucking disgrace, that much had been fact for a very long time, but now everyone had the proof. She was nothing more than a backstabbing traitor, someone who didn’t deserve the few people who still stood unwavering at her side.

    But she would lose them, too, in time. Genevieve always loses everyone. In the list of people she had lost in the past week, there was not a damn situation that wasn’t her fault. Gen couldn’t even blame breaking everything off with Liv on anyone but herself.

    Each time Gen set foot in the halls of Hollywood Arts, she could feel the eyes following her movements, voices whispering as the entire student body of the school watched the crown slip from her head in live time. Normally, this sort of attention would be flattering, one big giant appreciation of the beauty of controversy. But this situation, although positive in the fact that she could now be open about Landon, it was more bitter than sweet.

    She had betrayed Evie time and time again, she had zero right to be upset about the situation. Gen knew the consequences of her actions from the first second she touched Landon, she knew the consequences every time she cracked a smile and told Evie that nothing was happening. Gen was well aware of what she was doing, so how could the consequences she had spent so much time thinking about hurt so fucking much?

    The two weeks following lock-in passed in a blur, Gen’s entire mind numbed from the experience. She took the long routes in the hallways to avoid Landon, kept her head down in class to avoid Mike, kept her mouth shut to stop the drama from spreading. None of it mattered, though, because the damage was already done. That much was obvious as soon as Gen stepped into her fashion design class and saw Evie’s things on a desk far across the room, away from where they had previously sat together. Far away from Gen.

    Fuck, Gen wished she could apologize. She wished she could take it all back so that she never even so much as looked at Landon, so that none of this would happen. No hookup or fling or whatever the hell he was to Gen was worth losing her best friend over.

    Landon also wasn’t helping the whole situation with his bravado and tough guy act. Gen was trying to keep her cool with him because really, at the end of the day he was only trying to help. But it frustrated Gen to no end, all the loyalty and the sympathy to her. She was in the fucking wrong, she was the one who screwed up, the one who had betrayed her best friend. More than anything though, Gen was angry at the very blatant fact that one day, be it sooner or later, Landon and Evie would make up. There was no such guarantee for Gen.

    The alarm clock screeched beside Gen’s head, forcing her eyes open. Her entire body fought against the weight of the blankets strung across her body and the enticing embrace of the pillow underneath her head. Instead, she forced a sad smile onto her face. No one could see her suffering, no one could see the tears or the fatigue or the hollowness. That just wouldn’t be her.

    “Another day, another dollar.” She mumbled to herself as she pulled herself out of bed.

    ———————❖———————​

    Stepping into the school was a painful experience. The entire place felt foreign and cold, the warmth replaced with discomfort that Gen wanted nothing more than to hide from. There was nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Gen simply had to face the world she had created for herself, no backing out now.

    Walking down the hall to her locker, Gen threw her things haphazardly in her locker before turning tail and heading straight into one of the fashion workshops. Normally, she would spend her morning hunting down her friends and catching up on the prior evening’s drama but there wasn’t anyone she wanted to see, no one that was going to really be there for her anyhow. So, she simply slid into a seat and pulled out her journal.

    At least if she was working, people would leave her the fuck alone.

    º º code by ditto º º
     






    Zeph Evermore


    One thing to note about the sophomore was that when it came to his craft? When it came to dance?

    Zeph had to have it perfect. It had to be streamlined, there couldn't be any mistakes, it had to look freaking good and he couldn't afford to make any kind of mistakes. Now, normally, when it was a dance that he was doing by himself, this wasn't much of an issue -- because he could practice way without having to have his partner with him, and it was only himself that he had to worry about for aiming at perfection.

    However, when he was forced to work with someone else, Zeph could often become a bit... overbearing and pushy.

    Look, he blamed this whole thing on it being the Arts Festival. Like, the Arts Festival was huge. There would be talent scouts and... and... representatives from Stardom would be there, and Zeph just... he needed it to be perfect. Because if it wasn't perfect, then there was every chance that they would fail. Get a big fat F, fail the entire school year, and then they'd be sent back to their homes and Zeph didn't want to return to Australia.

    His partner was great, though. Maeve. They were actually kind of friends -- like, he'd met her his freshman year, and they'd grown kind of close... except that when she left HA due to her injury, Zeph was going through the stuff with his mom, so they'd kind of fallen out of touch. He'd still tried to text her to check in on her, but he hadn't been super consistent -- but now with her back at Hollywood Arts? Well, he couldn't've been more thrilled.

    Now if they could just perfect this dance...

    Especially when they barely had two weeks left to get it perfect, and now that Zeph was kind of feeling the pressure and like it was all in crunch time, he was getting kind of frustrated.

    The dance had more or less taken over his life for the last couple of weeks. He hadn't really done much else -- he hadn't really hung out with Stella, and even his studying was starting to tank because everything that he had, every spare minute he had, he'd been putting into practicing his part of the dance. Tweaking things. Trying to make it look perfect.

    Which was why he'd ended up asking a new dancer to the school, Spencer, if he'd watch Zeph and Maeve practice and kind of give them his opinion. A fresh pair of eyes meant a lot, and he felt like they needed it.

    So as they came to the end of the dance, Zeph looked towards Spencer with expectant eyes. His chest was heaving with heavy breaths from it (and, well, he'd been at the school long before classes had started for the day so he could practice -- so by this point, he was pretty much beat).

    "Well?" He asked, his breathing starting to return to a normal level. "What do you think?" He absently rubbed at his nose and then placed his hands on his hips. "Rough, right? Not polished."

    Those were his own opinions, anyway, his own critiques, and he glanced down at Maeve with a hesitant smile before looking back expectantly towards Spencer.




    mood
    not good enough

    location
    one of those practice dance rooms

    outfit
    probably something casual because ya know, he's dancing





    playing...
    We Like It
    by Computer Games​




    mentions
    N/A

    interactions
    Maeve, Spencer

    tags
    @Xed Stardust Galaxy Stardust Galaxy


    º º code by ditto º º
     






    Jace West


    Now, it undoubtedly came as no surprise that Jace was a bit of a meticulous fella. He liked his things to be how he wanted them and he heavily disliked other people invading his space, or moving his things, or touching his things, or just in general, existing in the same space as him. It was part of the reason that he had (totally not thrown a tantrum) convinced his parents to allow him to live -- alone -- in a studio apartment in LA for his final year of high school instead of having to co-exist beside his sister. Yep. One hundred percent was due to him liking to be alone.

    Okay, part of it may have also been because she always had shitty boyfriends and he hated having them coming to the apartment, and then her friends also scared him, but seriously -- the biggest part was definitely due to him wanting to be completely, totally alone.

    The lock-in had been a disaster, but that wasn't the part that Jace was really, truly upset about. Sure, it had sucked to be dragged into that room, and then pushed to tears by how freaking scary Gen was, and it had sucked to pay all of his money to stupid Charlie and Lindsay as he climbed out the window (and his pant leg got stuck on the side of the window, so he'd fallen out), but those weren't the worst parts of it.

    No, no.

    Not even letting Callum down had been bad.

    Well it had been bad, but it wasn't the worst outcome.

    The worst outcome had been Landon needing a place to stay and, with nowhere to go, he'd ended up living with Jace, inside of his tiny studio apartment that was designed for one person. One person. Not one person and a freaking six foot six oaf of a man.

    Jace was trying to keep to himself, of course, but he wasn't the type of person that liked living with others. He wasn't the type of person that liked hanging with people, so having someone always around was... downright killing his sanity. And not just his sanity, but also his creative... flowing... ness.

    See?! He couldn't even narrate in his head correctly!

    Anyway, it was bad because there were just a little over two weeks until the Arts Festival and you know how far Jace was in his whole song for the Arts Fest?

    Barely freaking anywhere, that's where.

    Unfortunately, he wasn't able to focus too much on today because here he was. At school. Having to squeeze his way through the crowds on his way to whatever class he had next. In one ear, per usual, was an earbud playing soft music to try and get those creative juices flowing so he could actually finish his song.

    Under his breath, he was flipping between whispering lyric ideas to see how they sounded (so far... not good) and quietly offering fifth grade cusses at people that bumped into his shoulders or whoever else might've crossed his mind.

    And as he walked, he was again reminded of the stupid lock-in.

    "Stupid... freaking... flipping Landon," he hissed to no one in particular, his eyebrows drawn together with a brooding, angry look on his face. "Stupid Gen and stupid, stupid horny Mike... flipping stupid."

    Yes, he was going to blame all of them for his current predicament of dumb Landon living with him -- and sure, Mike might have not directly been someone that had caused it, but Mike had been there. And Mike was kind of a jerk, and Jace's shoulder had hurt from all the shoving around, so...

    He was added to Jace's list of insults.




    mood
    grrrrr

    location
    stupid hallway

    outfit
    like just a sweater and jeans





    playing...
    pity party
    by lovelytheband​




    mentions
    Landon

    interactions
    N/A

    tags
    N/A


    º º code by ditto º º
     
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