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

º º code by ditto º º

geminiy · Jun 18, 2021

Ezra Gray

@EZGoing has set their status to:
all work, no play aparently

@EZGoing has set their outfit to:
dilf energy, probably (shirtless + open button down bc he's a whore)

@EZGoing has set their location to:
the studio

@EZGoing has mentioned:
n/a

@EZGoing has interacted with:
Auggie & Chas

@EZGoing has tagged:
qunqun hery

To Ezra, all of this harmless flirtation and subtle glances and perfectly timed touches were just a game. None of it meant anything if Auguste didn’t want it to; that was the beauty of constantly operating in the gray zone, blurring all the lines to leave everything he does up to personal interpretation. What some people may seem as a friendly compliment others may view as an overly intrusive assessment of their personality or an intentional flirt. Ezra simply couldn’t be the bad guy if everything he did had no true intention.

Auguste, due to that very feature of Ezra, was a difficult person for the artist to associate with. Auguste seemed just as likely as Ezra was to evade the point, to deflect questions with vulnerable answers, to shift the conversation for personal favour. He was a difficult boy to read, even more difficult to fluster and get inside his head. Auguste was not like the other people Ezra had taken a liking to in his brief stint at Hollywood Arts, far more difficult and frustrating, and perhaps that’s exactly why Ezra had made it his mission to get through to him.

“You know, you talk to me about being the, eh, workaholic when you really take on this much, somewhat last minute for little reason, yeah?” Auguste spoke from behind Ezra as he began to rifle through the assortment of paint brushes and tools that sat in a rather unorganized heap.

“Yes yes, I am aware that I am a raging hypocrite.” Ezra chuckled softly in response. “Do as I say and not as I do, you know?”

Plucking a few brushes out of the messy bin, Ezra tossed them onto the work table at the back of the room and began to gather his materials he would need. Buckets of paint were pulled from the shelves, specially curated palettes spread out on the wooden surface. His work area was a warzone of chaos but to Ezra, it was perfect.

“So is this the dress code now?” Auguste asked as Ezra looked down at his semi-exposed torso. “If I knew this, I would’ve brought my dance uniform... Given Chas even more reason to kick me out on sight.”

Once again, the smirk returned to Ezra’s lips as he grabbed a stack of unframed canvases off of a chair before offering the seat to his friend-turned-assistant. “I can almost guarantee that Mr. Director will still try to kick you out as soon as he gets here. Luckily for you, I don’t particularly care if he wants you here or not. You’ll be staying as long as you’d like to.” Ezra looked over his shoulder, blue eyes tracing Auguste from head to toe and back up again. “But by all means, don’t stay dressed on my account. Freedom of expression and all that dandy stuff.”

As Ezra considered setting up his things, he listened to Auguste talk about the studio. He’d heard many tales from Spencer, enough of them being fancy horror stories spooky enough to deter Ezra from ever considering dance as a valid pathway. Auguste talked about the formality with a strange sort of comfort, though how anyone could enjoy such a place was beyond Ezra.

“How can it feel like home if what you know is so perfect and pristine?” Ezra found himself asking without much thought as to what implications a question like that may have. “I can’t stand things being all organized and tidy. My mom has this habit of keeping the house just chaotic enough that it feels intentional but not dirty. We’ve always been one of those families that never had much organization, things always seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. That’s why my work stations look like this, I guess.”

Carefully, Ezra picked up a large bin filled with various props and accents that he had made or updated for the film. With a soft grunt, the box was lifted onto the table and the lid removed to reveal the contents inside. Ezra tapped the side of the box as he turned back to Auguste, thigh pressed to the side of the table.

“To work already, hmm? What have I told you about all work and no play, Auguste?” Ezra teased with a wink. “And here I thought we were just gonna sit here and get to know each other personally until someone showed up.” Ezra walked over to Auguste, looking down at him and brushing a hand through Auguste’s dark hair. “How very disap-”

"Alex? Where the hell is everybody?"

Ezra rolled his eyes, stepping back to create space between himself and the dancer. “But alas, duty calls.” He noted with a breathy laugh. Moments later, the tarp that sectioned off the workspace fluttered to the side to reveal a rather angry looking Chas. His eyes looked between the boys as Ezra pushed the sides of his shirt away from his hips so that his hands could find his belt loops.

"What's he doing here? This is a private shooting," Chas instantly began to rant and rave. Before Ezra even had a chance to respond, the small boy in front of him continued. "And cover your torso! What have I told you about getting it on in the filming room?"

Ezra shook his head as he readjusted his stance. “Relax, darling, Auguste is here to play assistant for the day.” He attempted to explain, though he was certain that his words would fall on deafened ears. They always did when it came to Chas. “As for the shirt situation? I’m not about to cover one of my nicer shirts with clay dust and paint for your little project. You get me in this or you don’t get me at all.” Ezra reached a hand out to rest on Chas’s shoulder, squeezing slightly as he smiled. “And we both know how much you want and need me.”

Releasing his grip, Ezra turned back to the shelf that sat against the back wall and stretched upwards to grab a bucket of various tools. Ezra dumped the tools onto the table, sorting them by size and function and shape. Why was Chas still standing there, didn’t he have a job to do?

"You need to leave. Now.”

A warm laugh escaped Ezra’s lips. “Seems you’re going green with envy, Chas.” Ezra taunted with a satisfied smirk. “Auguste isn’t going anywhere unless you want me to go with him. Which,” Ezra continued, brushing the dust onto his pants as he turned to catch up with Chas, “is fine in my books. I can get out of here and Auguste and I can go have some real fun. I’m sure you don’t need sets or props or backdrops or…” Ezra’s voice trailed off as he stepped in front of Chas. “Oh wait, you do need all those things!” With a playful ruffle of Chas’s hair, Ezra looked over the significantly smaller boy to Auguste. “Hey, Auggie! Mr. Director is cool with you staying.” Looking down at Chas once more, Ezra smiled warmly and walked past him back to the room. “We’d better get to work then, hmm?”

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geminiy · Jun 19, 2021

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
feeling smart , might berate a teacher later idk

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
school casual

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
the library

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
n/a

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Dalton

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
Xed

This whole tutoring situation was still rather strange to Charlie. Dalton wasn’t a horrible person to be around, even if he was admittedly rather difficult to get along with, so being with him in itself wasn’t strange. No, it was the casual vulnerability and okayness of the situation on Dalton’s behalf that was strange. Charlie found herself wondering why he was so easy to persuade or why he wasn’t more defensive about her offer. Moreover, she was confused as to why he didn’t very openly hate her. Dalton and Lydia seemed to be good friends, if not best friends, so surely he had heard all the things that Lydia had to say about her.

Fuck it, this wasn’t the time or place for curiosity. Charlie was doing a job and she had to be professional. The status of their acquaintance could be pondered later.

“Well aren’t I lucky to have the best damn tutor this side of Hollywood then? Because thanks to Professor Bitch, I have no time.”

Charlie shook her head as her fingers laced together to become a rest for her chin. “What a bitch move. Honestly, you should take it up with admin. I’m sure they’d love to hear that a teacher is full on fucking up her job. Regardless of how stupid your teacher is, I’ve got you. This stuff really isn’t too difficult, you should be able to understand it if you are simply taught the right way.”

Charlie looked at the person in front of her for a second, trying to figure out what he was thinking. She was, of course, no mind reader but it would have been a lovely feature to have in that moment. Dalton looked so relaxed, so laid back and carefree in comparison to some of the other people Charlie had last minute tutored. Was it confidence or lack of care that he was exhibiting?

“And don’t worry thu– Howell.” Charlie’s eyes narrowed at the near-drop of the nickname. “If, for some unfortunate reason we ever end up having to go somewhere together again, I’ll make sure to just pick you up and throw you over my shoulder instead. Much more efficient.”

With a loud scoff, Charlie leaned back into her seat and crossed her legs underneath her. “Keep fucking dreaming, Kirby.” She spoke bluntly. “If you pick me up, I’m breaking your fucking face. Who knows, though, it may be an upgrade. Some chicks probably dig the mysterious, busted up face sorta thing.”

What? Charlie could be professional and still have fun. It would be out of character of her to not tease or attempt to poke holes in his whole ‘I’m a tough cool guy’ facade. Please, that personality was sooooooooo 2013 Tumblr.

Finally getting to work, Dalton handed Charlie the syllabus that he was provided. Her eyes began to scan the page, her lower lip habitually catching between her teeth as her eyebrows scrunched together. As she read the words, Charlie wondered how people like Dalton’s chemistry teacher could be so massively incompitent. Seriously, was there no requirement on teacher’s college?

“I don’t care if you decide to run your mouth or scream it to the whole world so long as I pass the test tomorrow. I’m not embarrassed about this either, but you are starting to–” Charlie’s eyes darted up from the page to Dalton, her back straightening at the tone of his voice. Right, she had tried to comfort him. Fuck her, apparently, she was clearly overstepping by trying to be some sort of friend. If Dalton just wanted a tutor that only gave a fuck about chemistry, so be it. “Fuck it. Let’s just get started. Organic chem’s a bitch, so that’s probably what the test tomorrow will cover.”

Charlie looked back down at the syllabus, middle finger tracing the lines of words.

“Honestly, man, I have no fucking clue what she wants from you. I mean clearly the test is on orgo but that’s a really broad subject, as you probably know.” Charlie spoke her thoughts as she spread the sheet down onto the table. “Like first of all, there’s like fifty spelling and grammatical errors on this thing, though I really wouldn’t expect much more from a science teacher. But come on, this syllabus doesn’t even contain chapters to study or practice material. What good’s a fucking syllabus if it just says ‘Week 9: Organic Chemistry’? Dumb bitch, this entire class is organic and biochemistry. Way to be specific.”

With a heavy sigh, Charlie sunk into her chair. For the first time ever in her tutoring career, she had absolutely no clue where to start. What was she supposed to do with a few shittily worded phrases with no actual meaning? There wasn’t anything to work off of, no guide to make it clear what Dalton was supposed to be understanding.

“I really don’t know…” Charlie mumbled to herself as she stared a hole into the page, hoping that the longer she looked that perhaps a hidden meaning would appear. Looking up at Dalton, Charlie shrugged. “I can guess at what you’re supposed to know but I don’t know if that will help much.” A sudden idea popped into Charlie’s head, her face brightening slightly. Yeah, this was not going to be a wonderful idea, but it would probably work. “I could guess… Or I could go chew out your teacher for being entirely incompitent and raid her shit to see what you’re supposed to be doing. I’m not about to ask nicely because what she’s doing to you is such a fucking dick move that she doesn’t deserve politeness.”

º º code by ditto º º

hery · Jun 19, 2021

MOOD: tea??

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics

MENTIONS:
Hunter, Gen, Ash

INT:
@Soap (Liv)
ohdittoh (Nickie)
tags

TL;DR no
tl;dr

Veronica Crosby

It was kind of Liv to let Ronnie keep gabbing about her weekend and her opinions and the stick of gum she'd found in her pocket and... well, just about everything else. It was also a bit disappointing, in a way. The senior's subdued energy wasn't so off-putting, but it still went against Ronnie's expectations.

She didn't dwell on it long before moving on to the latest gossip, which Liv seemed to take to more than anything else she'd rambled on about.

“Nickie isn’t all bad. She apologized for murdering Jasquisha, y’know.”

Uh. What? Just how many chapters had Ronnie missed?

"No, no, she's not, like, the worst, but, you know..." She shrugged her shoulders with the hope that it would mean something. She sucked at explaining herself comprehensibly. "And, like, Hunter's the 'bad boy' type, so he probably likes girls that piss people off, but, like..." It was hard to explain. Maybe it wasn't just Ronnie's poor communication skills. "I dunno. I mean, I don't dislike her and stuff. They just won't last. There's no way Hunter's still got eyes for Nickie after all the trouble she's caused him."

"Plus, Hunter? Ronnie, he just isn’t… the boyfriend type. That’s not his style. Nickie should be the one ditching him, not the inevitable way around.”

Ronnie suppressed a sigh. Liv was right; he wasn't the type of guy you bring home to your parents, nor would he ever comply in doing so. But, if he was gonna play boyfriend, why pick Nickie? What made her so special?

Why couldn't Ronnie be special?

Before she could put her thoughts into words that would probably be poorly-understood, Nickie made her presence known.

“Livanna, Veronica.”

She was listening!?

Her short-lived smile struck fear into Ronnie, who paled at the very notion of negative confrontation. She mustered up a nervous smile of her own, then squeaked out a breathy "Heyyy, Nickie!"

“Care to tell me why you’ve got mine and my boyfriend’s names in your mouths when you don’t know a single thing about either one of us?"

Ronnie winced, finding it near impossible to meet the angered girl's gaze. She wasn't sorry about anything she said considering she meant it all, but she was sorry to get caught. Probably meeting the exact expectations Nickie had for her, the redhead's trap was glued shut.

How did she respond to that? Was this the start of an actual fight?

"Like, what the actual fuck? Don't you have, like...better things to do than spread whatever false shit you're thinking about my relationship, Liv?"

"I'm the one who brought it up!" she protested without a second's hesitation, "Liv—"

"I know, like, you're still hung up on Gen and you're all sad that whatever the hell that failed, but, like...seriously? There's no need to project. Hunter and I are fucking meant for each other."

She gritted her teeth at that last part. Who was gonna tell her?

The dumbstruck girl looked over to Liv, guiltily awaiting her response. What was all that Gen business about anyway? She'd only heard a smidgeon of the whole affair from Liv herself, but made an effort not to pry. That wasn't the friendly thing to do.

But. Not shying away from an opportunity to hear all the hot goss was fair game.

"Like, what the fuck? Can't you two, like, just not be jealous and shut your traps about us?"

"Nick, we're not trying to, like, attack you," she explained, straightening up a bit, "No one wants to see you get your heart broken is all. Do you, like, honestly see Hunter staying after everything that's happened? Do you think that's the kind of guy he is?"

She shook her head. She wasn't even trying to hurt Nickie at this point. If there was anyone who believed absolutely everything that came out of their mouth, it was Ronnie. Worse, she found it impossible to ever shut up. "And the way he went off on Ash, his, like, supposed best friend on Twitter? What makes you think you're safe?"

Ronnie was safe. If she was with Hunter, she'd have known what to say.

But she wasn't going to spill all her boy secrets to Nickie. That would put her at a disadvantage.

code by valen t.

geminiy · Jun 19, 2021

Isabella Dupont

@bellaissima has set their status to:
mama Bella is concerned

@bellaissima has set their outfit to:
clothes bc I’m lazy and on mobile

@bellaissima has set their location to:
the dance studio

@bellaissima has mentioned:
n/a

@bellaissima has interacted with:
Kelli & Beth

@bellaissima has tagged:
Winona ohdittoh

Bella couldn’t help but breathe a gentle sigh of relief when Beth seemed to take over their tour, or lack thereof. Bella really hadn’t been expecting much from the tour, she found it so much more simple to simply explore and learn on her own accord. Still, she was grateful for the time Kelli and Beth were taking out of their day to help her out. And at the end of the day, even if Bella was constantly going to get lost in the labyrinth of halls at Hollywood Arts, it came as a comfort to know that she wasn’t the only misplaced fish in that pond.

At Beth’s suggestion, the three girls made their way over to the dance rooms. As soon as they stepped through the doors, Bella stiffened with discomfort. There were too many mirrors that mimicked her reflection, too many pristine surfaces that would make one wrong object look horribly out of place. Bella hadn’t been in a studio since she was forced to take ballet classes with her elder sister, Jackie, in a failed attempt to make the older girl more feminine. From Bella’s recollection of the whole situation, seeing as she was only four or five when she took the classes, the entire time she was absolutely and thoroughly miserable.

“This school is freaking hugeungous! How much do you think it cost? Probably a lot a lot.” Kelli spoke rapidly, causing a warm smile to appear on Bella’s face and leaving her to wonder if Kelli had ever been told that she was adorable when she rambled. “My old school wasn’t this big. Everything about this place is gigantic. Everything about LA, too. I mean, before I came here, I thought a thousand people was a lotta people, but now I kinda think is that it? Healdsburg is, uh…teeny-tiny compared to here. It’s freaking wack! I never thought that I’d think that eleven-thousand was something small. Then again, I never really thought I’d be here of all places. Dangity-ditty-hotty-smokin’-damn, this place is…wow.”

Bella, of course, had little time to respond before they were being whisked away into a studio. It was wonderful to see Kelli so excited about the school, her energy far more enthralling than most of the boring people that plagued the school. To be fair, Bella found herself constantly captivated by Kelli’s bubbling aura. She was different from most of the people Bella had associated with in the past and, although it was incredibly surprising, Kelli’s presence had a habit of becoming a refreshing light in the dark.

“This place is…” Bella began as she mentally searched for the right words. “Very fancy. Dance studios always have this very professional feeling about them but this,” Bella continued as she gestured to the room around her, “is really quite next level. I cannot help but feel quite out of place.”

Kelli began to bound off, clearly wanting to show off her skills. Leg extended for a pirouette, the momentum proved to be too much as Kelli tumbled to the ground with a rather outrageous thud! Bella’s hand flew up to her mouth as she softly gasped, rushing to take a few steps towards the girl before she hopped up off the ground with an announcement that she was okay.

“Are you certain you’re okay? You fell quite hard.” Bella rushed as she helped to straighten out Kelli’s now-twisted shirt. Bella had a habit of fussing about her friends, a habit lovingly passed down from her sister to herself. All Bella could hope was that she wasn’t entirely annoying Kelli. “I will have to stop by during your practice sometime. It would be wonderful to see you in your element, I can imagine that you’re an amazing dancer.” Bella complimented as she took Kelli’s hand, giving her a playful spin before turning to Beth.

Bella couldn’t quite tell what she thought of Beth yet. Beth felt familiar, sharing a striking resemblence to the people Bella had been acquainted with back in France. She seemed nice enough and lacked that level of manipulation that Bella had become used to from her friends. Still, it was the feeling of risk and rebellion that seemed to radiate from the ginger that left Bella cautious.

“So, where to next, Madam Tour Guide?” Bella asked as she looped her arm through Kelli’s as she had before. “It will have to be somewhere pretty fascinating to beat the studio.”

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geminiy · Jun 19, 2021

Elias Johannes

@elithegreat has set their status to:
don't be awkward, just try to be normal thanks

@elithegreat has set their outfit to:
quick post so no

@elithegreat has set their location to:
dance studio

@elithegreat has mentioned:
Evie, JJ

@elithegreat has interacted with:
Cami

@elithegreat has tagged:
jasmyn

Eli found his cheeks flushing slighty at Cami’s presence. He was so used to having the studio to himself in the morning, so used to being able to try new moves out without the watchful gaze of his peers that Cami being there sort of rattled him. Everything Eli had just been trying was purely experimental for the upcoming competition, he had no idea if the move even looked good or made sense. All he could hope was that he didn’t look entirely incompitent in front of Cami.

“I'm doing lovely, thanks for asking, kind sir.” Cami greeted with a curtsey, earning her a soft giggle from the older dancer. "Don't worry. I promise I'm not here to steal your moves. You have to teach me that last one though, it was insane,"

Reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck in a bashful move, Eli smiled warmly and bounced slightly in place to pull the acid from his already aching muscles. Damn, he really needed to take it easier.

“Go ahead and steal them, you’d probably perform them better than I do.” Eli laughed as he placed his hands on his hips. “But no, not for Art Fest. I’ve got a competition happening out of town in a few weeks. I didn’t even know I was doing it, my coach signed me up last minute so I’m throwing together parts of a few older routines to make the solo I’m doing.”

Eli took a few strides to the corner of the room to grab his water, taking a few needy gulps before putting the item back down on the long oak bench. A few beads of sweat were wiped from his face with the hem of his shirt as his breath began to even out from the exertion. Eli then paused to watch Cami dance, arms crossed lazily over his chest and a prideful grin on his lips as he realized that she was attempting to mimick the moves he had done. Clearly it didn’t look stupid, Eli would be sure to keep the move in the routine.

"Do you focus the weight on the balls of your feet or the heels when you do that last spin?" Cami asked after she stumbled slightly on the spin.

“Neither, actually.” Eli said as he made his way over to Cami. “It’s more in the…” Eli cringed slightly. Fricking Evie had ruined his passion for including certain movements in his dances. “Hips. I put more weight into my hips and lower back to keep my balance so the movement becomes more crisp and fluid. Then, the power for the turn comes from my core and back instead of my legs. I tend to do a lot of flips and heavy leg work later so I’ve adjusted the way I turn to save some of my energy. May I?”

With a slow outreach, Eli placed his hands on the tops of Cami’s hips and pressed down slightly, just enough to cause her to feel the pressure. “If you put your support there, you end up being more stable. It doesn’t work if you’re planning on doing fancy footwork or anything because then you need the power in your legs rather than your hips and core, but it works well for most dances.”

Eli’s hands trailed down to his hands, eyes widening slightly as he realized he hadn’t removed his hands from Cami’s hips the entire time he was talking. Quickly, Eli pulled his hands back and tucked them into his pockets, taking an awkward step away from the girl. Way to be creepy, Elias, this is a new low for you. Instead of continuing to be overly strange, Eli turned away from Cami and gave himself a bit of room. Carefully dictating the counts in his head, Eli performed the last section of his dance that included the spin as a demonstration.

“See? All in the hips. It takes some getting used to but you’ll get there with practice, I’m sure of it.” Eli continued, completely avoiding the whole awkward hip touching situation. “Have you decided if you’re performing at the Art Fest yet? I’d love to see the dance you have together if you are, maybe I can pick up some inspiration from you for my solo.” Eli adjusted his stance so that his weight was on his left leg. “I’d offer to show you mine but unfortunately, I’m not soloing this year and I think JJ would have my head if she found out I was showing people our dance. I don’t think she has anything to worry about though, we look damn good together and I really doubt I could find another partner that meshes with me as well as she does. JJ’s a phenomenal dancer, she really is.”

º º code by ditto º º

qunqun · Jun 19, 2021

MOOD:
Oh nooo Ez can't flirt with me anymore how terrible, shucks.

OUTFIT:
Something comfy sans a jacket

LOCATION:
School
basics

MENTIONS: INT: Ez geminiy Chas hery
tags

TL;DR:
Nope
tl;dr

Auguste

Auguste sat down at the chair Ezra offered. He listened to Ezra’s musing about his household with a careful thoughtfulness

“I think you misunderstand, mon frere. These two.. Work spaces are home in their own way.” Auguste offered diplomatically. “Though I do have to admit that my mother….” His eyes unfocused from Ez for a second, glazing over as multiple memories ran through his head of her shouting at him and throwing things at his head because Rule Number 3 was that the house had to be clean and tidy by the time she came home from the hospital.

“She was, eh, on the strict side. No TV, and she likes the house to be clean when she come home.” He offered, equally politely, his eyes fixating back onto Ez, trying to ignore his trained instinct to clean the area around him of clutter and sawdust.

He followed Ez’s movements with his eyes, Ezra’s approach as he teased.

“So you want to get to know me then.” Auguste said wryly, all habitual instincts to clean completely forgotten as the fellow giant started running a hand through his hair. Another clever little grin was pulling at his lips, which completely faded back to his usual stony features when he heard another voice calling, his head sharply turning to the direction of the new voice.

Chas was here. Wonderful. He watched the tarp get pulled aside for the director. Huh. Taller than what he was expecting. He gave the senior a little lazy wave from where he was seated.
“Bonjour-” He managed to get out before Chas began his demands.

”What have I told you about getting it on in the filming room?” The angry teenager fumed.

Auguste let out a small snort at the idea. As if. Ez just kind of played around with everyone. Meant absolutely nothing. (He was purposefully ignoring the fact that Ez was flirting with everyone half-seriously and half-jokingly and therefore probably on some degree was being serious with hooking up, he was aware that that was a possibility, thank you. He just hadn’t made up his mind about how serious HE was about the flirtation. Even then, he required a sandwich or something first. He wasn't that lonely, thank you.).

Auguste made no motion to get up at Chas’s demand for him to leave. He figured, at least, that Ez would have it covered. And he watched the conversation ping back and forth like a very interesting match of tennis with an unwavering stony expression.

”Hey, Auggie! Mr. Director is cool with you staying.” Auguste raised an eyebrow at the nickname. His scarred lips drawing back in a slow, lazy grin.

“Oui, how fortunate.” He said, standing to meet his fellow giant as he stretched out his back once more.

“No room for play, how terrible.” Auguste remarked in a sarcastic drawl, following Ez’s movements with his eyes. “What would you like for me to do first, boss?”

code by valen t.

hery · Jun 20, 2021

MOOD: mentally sassy tbh

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics

MENTIONS:
Ash, Jace
INT:
ohdittoh (Trevor)
tags

TL;DR no
tl;dr

Callum Richards

He was angry. Why? Callum barely knew the guy. They'd never spoken before, at least not any times he could recall. Was Trevor even his name? The one thing he was actually interested in knowing about the boy whose locker was apparently adjacent to his own was whether or not he was actually beating on an inanimate object in public.

“No, I wasn’t. Why the hell would I do that?”

Callum sighed internally. He should have expected that.

"Sounded like it," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders, forfeiting the monumental undertaking that would be pulling a confession out of him. He was slouching and his hands were tucked into his pockets. It was slightly more comfortable than letting his arms dangle about and the hall was unbearably cold, at least by his own standards.

Had he taken his iron pill that day?

That didn't matter. The irishman's rage was building, and Callum surmised that if he was just about anybody else, he'd have feared for his life. Trevor seemed the type to carry a switchblade. Then again, people always seemed like the worst versions of themselves to Callum. He supposed he had a knack for finding the negatives in life.

Well, too bad for him. Callum had faulty blood. It wasn't worth draining.

Actually, in this state, Trevor was doing him a disservice. Please, by all means, cut him open. Save him the trouble of one more unpleasant conversation he didn't ask for. People seemed to be really fond of those lately.

“You seem like the one with a problem here, not me,” he said, making a rather disdainful face. Was that the universal wuss' way of throwing a left hook? Curling their lip? If so, Callum felt very threatened.

Very.

"Enlighten me. You're the one who grabbed my attention."

“Don’t think you and I’ve ever spoken directly before. I’m Trevor. Callaghan.”

I know. You're one of the friends Ash has replaced me with. Can't say she didn't pick a pretty apt candidate to take my place.

"And you’re Callum Richards.”

The one and only.

"That's not the problem, is it?"

The junior slammed his locker's door. Callum blinked. What a way to punctuate your words. He almost admired the lack of self-awareness it took to be in Trevor's shoes. He didn't really know the guy that well—if at all—and he already got the sense that he tended to get ahead of himself when he was agitated. Agitated, might he add, for reasons that still had yet to be revealed.

“I know you."

"I think you're mistaken," he said, shaking his head "no".

“You’re the pathetic bastard that Ash West cry at the Lock-in."

True. Fair point.

"Tell me."

"Tell you."

"Did ya feel better about yourself after you did it? Is that why you did that? Or was it just for the hell of it?”

Callum shrugged again. He wasn't sure how exactly to respond to that, not because he was vexed or taken aback, but because it was such an odd question to ask a guy at seven something in the morning. "I guess."

He stared back at Trevor expectantly and cocked an eyebrow. For someone who valued his own time so little, he had a bad habit of cutting conversations short with his lack of engagement. So, maybe it was a good habit. It's in the pale, blue eyes of the beholder, if you will.

It was silent for another second or so. Did he really expect more or was time just moving extra slow for Callum? "But wasn't that the point? To cut a toxic influence out of my life and feel better?" His dead stare of intensity persisted, leaving him to wonder when the last time he even blinked was.

Ah, right. When Trevor shut his locker.

Was there anything else he could occupy his mind with instead of all this incessant drama?

"She came up to me. I basically told her not to when we last texted." Then came a third shrug, which he was almost too tired to bother with at all. "Why does it matter? Aren't you her friend now? She's over me."

There wasn't a whole lot to say on the matter, but the pale dancer went out on a limb to explain for Trevor since he seemed to be taking such an interest. Either he was playing White Knight or just always secretly really had it out for Callum. "But it's fine. I have Jace now. I'm pretty over it too," he added matter-of-factly. Had an outsider just tuned it, it almost would have sounded like two guys having a polite conversation while catching up.

That thought itself almost made him smile with amusement, but he resisted it. He didn't need Trevor getting pissier.

code by valen t.

Xed · Jun 20, 2021

Mikaela Ainsley

It was a good thing taking that huge swig of coffee hadn’t incapacitated her too long and she was able to state her timeframe before Tori could finish her sentence, because from the sound of what she had been saying before she got caught off, she was going to suggest a date several months away.

Well not today. A cup of coffee wasn’t going to throw a wrench in her plans. She already had more than enough reasons to hate the drink, didn’t need to add to the list.

Crisis, averted. Though it would have been nice if she had remembered what the mug contained in the first place and avoided drinking it as well.

At least Tori couldn’t pick a date that was more than two months away or something.

“So your birthday is…the 30th…so…how about…December…?” Mikaela watched as Tori sat there, hand on her chin, thinking.

Ugh she was being so slow, and patience was not Mikaela’s strong suit.

“Twenty second?” And of course the date she picked was more than a month away.

Double ugh.

Sure she told her to pick any date from now until her birthday but the twenty-second was so damn far away and…

Mikaela paused as she looked at her phone calendar while Tori continued to talk in the background.

What do you know, a school day.

“Wait, shit, shit.” Mikaela looked up to see Tori waving her hand dismissively and she smiled.

Looked like their resident model student had figured out what day it was too.

“That’s a school day. Some…other…time, then,”

Oh no you don’t.

“The twenty second sounds perfect.” She chimed in, reaching over, to put a hand over her friend’s phone. ”We’ll go with that.”

There was no need to search for any other dates now or given what Tori had said about having school all the way up to Christmas Eve…well, she might end up selecting the twenty-ninth or the thirtieth even, and waiting that long?

Not an option, besides if she was going to have to wait for at least a month, then getting by the book Tori to skip school in addition to everything else was a fun and much needed bonus.

It was about time that Little Miss ‘Wild and experienced without breaking any rules’ learned to break some.

Mikaela used her free hand to add it to the calendar and...

“There. All penned in. We go on the twenty-second of December,” she pulled back the hand that she had used to cover Tori’s phone and raised a pointed finger, “first thing in the morning. One full day of fun at the amusement park.” A smile crossed her face as she dropped the hand and kept her phone away.

“I’ve already forwarded you the date so don’t turn around and tell me that you can’t make it cause you’re busy or anything.”

Inside her pocket, her phone buzzed, and a frown crossed her face as she pulled it back out to check.

Ooops. It was way past the time she was supposed to show up for the filming.

She was going to get chewed out at this rate and there was only so much yelling her head could take before it felt like exploding.

“I should probably get a move on. I was supposed to be on set…” ten “five minutes ago.” Which meant she was going to be at least thirty minutes late because she definitely wasn’t running over. It’d make her head hurt too much and it definitely wasn't worth that. “Shall we get going then?”

Mikaela cocked her head at the hallway as she rose from the table. “I’m sure you have places to be as well given your busy schedule, right?”

Hey, just because she had accomplished her objective of getting Tori to join her on an adventure didn't mean the teasing jabs were going to stop.

Girl's got to have her fun alright?

As she moved to grab her bag, her eyes fell on the half empty mug of coffee and her face twisted into a look of disdain.

Remind her to never order that ever again please.

Shaking her head, she stepped away from the table, waiting for Tori to join her before starting to make her way down the hall.

“I can’t wait for the twenty-second!” Mikaela shouted grinning as she threw her arms into the air. “It’s going to be epic.”

She was already counting down the days.

Now then, how on earth was she going to get through a day of filming with Chas ‘Fussy as Hell’ Marino? Because unfortunately for her, getting high or drunk on set with him around was not an option.

mood
HA! I win! 22nd here we come!

location
table in the hallway

outfit
outfit

playing...
song title here

by artist here

mentions
Chas

interactions
Tori

tags

º º code by ditto º º

hery · Jun 21, 2021

MOOD: loving the leadership position

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics

MENTIONS:
n/a
INT:
geminiy (Ezra)
qunqun (Auguste)
tags

TL;DR no
tl;dr

Chas Marino

God, how tall people got him angry. It was like they thought they owned the place. Like they had something special Chas didn't. You don't get to treat a guy like garbage because he's nine to eleven inches shorter than you. It's cruel, it's unfair, and it shows how desperate some people are for power and self-worth.

Well, Chas saw through the shit. Even if it took being a half inch shorter (allegedly) than Michael fucking Reid of all people.

“Relax, darling, Auguste is here to play assistant for the day.”

The artist was on thin ice. But, he knew that. Hell, he seemed to get off on it. "Darling? You're hilarious," he snarled with a curled lip and narrowed eyes, magnifying the irony of their exchange. His eyes flicked over to the aforementioned dancer, and he considered just moving on as though he was invisible. So far in their limited acquaintance, Chas had found him relatively easy to ignore next to louder personalities.

“As for the shirt situation? I’m not about to cover one of my nicer shirts with clay dust and paint for your little project. You get me in this or you don’t get me at all.”

"Do you know who you're—"

Without warning, Ezra set his hand on Chas' shoulder, earning him a nasty, indignant glare. It didn't seem to have the same effect while having to look all the way up at his smug set designer, but if he had any sense he'd get the message. “And we both know how much you want and need me.”

He made no effort to brush Ezra's hand off his shoulder, opting to stand still and bathe in his silent rage. As such, he had no comments regarding the artist's utterance, considering his head was so far up his ass that he hadn't a chance to hear any of Chas' reason. It seemed he'd deluded himself into believing he wasn't replaceable.

Which, at this stage, he wasn't, but that wasn't fair to hold over a stressed, overworked director's head.

He winced as Ezra dumped more tools onto his workstation, and if he was feeling just an ounce more neurotic, he'd have grabbed them all by the fistful and shoved them back into a container. "How can you possibly focus in this mess?" he criticized, stepping over to inspect a nearby table. He ran a finger through the thick coating of clay dust with overwhelming disgust. He turned back and stepped between them, arms crossed.

“Seems you’re going green with envy, Chas.”

"You're repulsive. Get away."

“Auguste isn’t going anywhere unless you want me to go with him. Which,” Ezra continued, while Chas' face scrunched up, overflowing with discomposure, “is fine in my books. I can get out of here and Auguste and I can go have some real fun. I’m sure you don’t need sets or props or backdrops or…”

If it was somehow possible, Chas' arms crossed even tighter, and he began to twitch. His red-faced fury was halted only by his shut lips, which were paralyzed by Ezra's endless, cocky jabbering. The shorter boy would have given anything not to have been looking up as opposed to staring straight forward at the source of his frustration.

As mentioned earlier, it wasn't fair.

“Oh wait, you do need all those things!” The artist ruffled Chas' hair, dismantling the work his hairspray had done in maintaining his styled hair.

"AUUGH! STOP!" he snapped, raising his arms and stepping backward in defense. None of this was funny. Where he got off thinking this whole thing was a joke was beyond the angered boy, but either way, it had thrown him right onto the tip of his wit's end. "Get over yourself!"

Despite all his resistance, Chas resigned to his project's doomed fate, responding to Ezra and Auguste's little comments with only a half-hearted glare.

“We’d better get to work then, hmm?”

You don't say!

“What would you like for me to do first, boss?”

Chas swiftly raised his index finger to stop Auguste's line of thinking in its tracks. "No. If I'm letting you stay as Ezra's assistant, I'm your boss. It's the chain of command around here." Clapping his hands together, he joined Ezra where he was standing, then opened the tarp entrance. "Before you get ahead of yourself and break something, you're setting up the camera and arranging the lighting. There should have been a diagram for this scene on that bench over there, but someone," he pointed a thumb towards the back, glancing at Ezra, "must have moved it. Go find it. And go grab coffee from the staff lounge."

Before he got carried away and started piling on more commands, he flicked his wrist with an extended arm. "Now go, assistant! Out of my sight! I have private matters to discuss with your lesser superior." He looked to his side, offering Ezra a contemptuous stare.

code by valen t.

ohdittoh · Jun 21, 2021

trevor callaghan

Callum was seemingly just…completely fecking unfazed.

He was casual, uninterested, as if he were nearly proud of what he’d done.

He shrugged, and he responded to Trevor’s rhetorical question — to which there was no good answer, by the way — with the worst possible answer: a breezy “I guess”.

”I guess” was the response that you had to ”what do you do if you don’t know the answer to a question?”

“I guess” was the response that you had to ”did you have a nice day at school, honey?”

“I guess” was the response that you had to ”does Mexican food sound good for lunch?”

”I guess was not the fecking response that you had to “did you make a girl try and drink herself to death in the middle of the science room on a night that was supposed to be nothing but fecking lovely?”

Trevor blinked, taken aback by the audacity of this anemic bastard.

Callum cocked an eyebrow, seemingly expecting a response.

Trevor let out a long sigh, his brows knitting tighter, and he tried to collect his disgusted, confused thoughts.

Callum spoke again. “But wasn’t that the point?”

Trevor cocked his head. “What?”

“To cut a toxic influence out of my life and feel better?” Callum’s eyes were eerily unblinking. What was he, a walking corpse? “She came up to me. I basically told her not to when we last texted.” He gave another shrug. “Why does it matter? Aren’t you her friend now? She’s over me.”

“What…?” Trevor asked again. He was still trying to compute this — to wrap his head around this whole situation.

“But it’s fine,” Callum added matter-of-factly. “I have Jace now. I’m pretty over it, too.”

Trevor swore that Callum was repressing some kind of smug smile at the end of that sentence.

Trevor was already pissed. He’d said that. He’d admitted that.

But there was nothing that pissed him off more than arrogant, pretentious assholes who thought that they owned the world. That thought that they could treat anyone however they liked with no consequences.

Chas fecking Marino.

Adriane fecking Holloway.

Lucky fecking DuBois.

Hunter fecking Drake.

And now, Callum fecking Richards was being added to that list.

Trevor felt himself practically shaking with anger. He breathed in sharply, but he couldn’t collect his thoughts enough to speak by the time that he’d drawn the air in, so he let it out, closing his eyes.

In front of him was an anemic emo kid who thought that he was the shit because…what, he’d become friends with Jace and told Ash to fuck off? Something like that?

An anemic emo kid who thought he was the shit for making Ash a total fucking wreck lock-in night.

God, fuck. This hurt his head.

And boiled his fucking blood.

He lifted a hand to his head and opened his eyes again, looking at Callum with simmering fury in his eyes. “Let me get this straight,” he said in as calm of a voice that he could muster. His expression was still ridden with disgust and confusion. “You think you were justified and that it doesn’t mean anything because…what, Ash has other friends?” He cocked his head, his brows pulling together again in scrutiny. “Because Ash isn’t killing herself in this moment over the loss of your friendship that I’m sure was oh-so-meaningful to you in which you treated her so well and got no doubt only shitty treatment in return, it meant nothing…?”

Trevor crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He gripped the insides of his elbows tightly. His face relaxed, and he let out a soft chuckle. When he spoke, his voice was casual, but it had the edge of hardly-restrained anger. “You don’t need to make any sort of apology, you don’t need to show any kind of remorse, and you surely don’t need to feel any kind of remorse, amiright? After all, it’s not like Ash valued you and your opinion to the point that she wanted to come and talk to you at the lock-in. It’s not like she put any effort into your relationship.” He shrugged. “It’s not like she was so destroyed by your emotionless bitchfit at the lock-in that she drank down a whole bottle in the middle of the science room floor or anything.”

He dropped his arms. “Oh, wait. It is. That’s literally what happened.” Trevor let out another soft, disgusted chuckle. “I guess you were too busy making friends with her older brother and bonding over the resentment of being unlovable to notice that your words and actions have fecking consequences. You closed your eyes and acted like everything had no effect on her, you ignored what she was going through, and you justified it in your head — told yourself that she fecking asked for it when she was fecking trying to be a friend to you. And for…what? Catharsis? Retribution for a mistake that she’d made or some shite, since you’re so holy and pure?”

Trevor took a step closer to Callum, moving into his personal space, and he said flatly, “You’re disgusting. Are you in denial about that, too?”

mood
fuck you

location
the locker

outfit
something casual

playing...
i wanna slam my head against the wall

by glaive

mentions
ash, chas, adriane, hunter, & lucky

interactions
callum

tags

hery

º º code by ditto º º

gh0stwriter · Jun 22, 2021

Landon Sinclaire

His grin stood its ground. He refused to let Mike know that anything he had to say meant anything. It didn’t. It one hundred percent had zero effect on Landon’s day. Though the other boy tried hard. He could dish it out, poorly, but Mike couldn’t take it. Always acting as if he had some civic duty to be an asshole. If he didn’t do it, no one else would.

Pathetic.

“Intimidating?” He raised his eyebrows mischievously as he awaited Mike’s inevitable comeback. Usually much more lame than his own, but he tried. Failed, but Mike always tried to come back with a zinger. “Yeah, sure, you got it right.” He held his hand to his chest and looked away feigning humility. “Awwww…you’re so sweet.” He said as he rolled his eyes to meet Mike’s.

“When have you ever been wrong, huh? You know I’ve always wanted you, Landon— especially since I beat your ass that first time and you jetted off to film your mock us text and play celebrity.”

Better than staying behind and living in a roach motel, jackass. His eyes hardened as Mike continued. His fists clenched, doing his best to keep himself from reacting.

“How could you figure that me beating you ass was just me wanting to pound it, huh? Something in the way I told you to fuck off? Something about how I said for you to go eat shit and drown in a pool of your own jizz? Or is it the fact that I hate you…”

Those words stung more than he’d like. His grin wavered and his eyes softened just enough to show a flash of hurt.

It had nothing to do with Mike. Fuck no it didn’t. It had been an emotional couple of weeks. He hadn’t talked to his sister. She hated him. That was what this was about. It had absolutely fucking nothing to do with his former best friend loathing him.

The feeling was mutual.

“You and me, Landon. It’s just you and me.” Please don’t remind him. He regained his composure quickly. Thankfully Mike didn’t know when to stop. And like all villains and their monologues, it would be his downfall. “Alone in the boy’s bathroom. If this was a movie, you know what they’d ask next, right…?”

He sighed and looked away as if uninterested. “I’m all ears, Mikro.” The more he talked the easier it was to get back to rage. To remember that he hated Mike. Remember why he hated Mike.

“Do they fuck, do they fight, do they make out, do they have a deep, heartfelt conversation and decide to put their differences aside, or does it just end here, all so fucking anticlimactic because one’s a jackass and the other one’s a fucking pussy who betrayed his sister, fucked his relationship with ‘Mama Plastic’ up, and is living with a bitch that you piss on in exchange for housing?”

Options.

Options were always good.

Regular or curly fries?

Shorts or pants?

Top or bottom?

Options. He loved them. And usually, there were more than just two. Made decision making slightly tougher, but who didn’t like a challenge.

But the options presented. The options that Mike had presented twice now weren’t quite as robust as little Mikey would have you believe.

There were only two. Two viable options that made any sense.

Option 1: Leave. Admit defeat.

His gaze followed Mike’s closely as he moved further into the bathroom. “That I beat your ass again.” Landon huffed out a laugh. Cheap punches and nut shots does not entail a beating. But Mike usually liked to live in his own tiny, tiny bubble. “And I think my answer’s the fucking best, don’t you?”

Option 2: Kick Mike Reid’s ass. Here and now.

He cracked his knuckles as he straightened out his posture. Even attempting to get on the same level as Mike was bad for the back. The grin returned to his face as his eyes locked on Mike’s. He stepped toward him. He wasn’t gonna back down.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” He mused. Annoyed. “‘Mama Plastic’?” He shook his head. “The cheap shot at Lock-In. The overdramatic speech.” He laughed. “Mikey. Mikey. Mikey. Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, but let’s face it, nothing is.” He said the distance between them getting less and less.

“You think you were more than just a free trial that you cancel before the time is up cause it’s apparent that it...” he eyed him up and down. “…has nothing to offer?” He smirked as he stepped up to Mike and gave a soft shrug. “You’re pathetic.” He placed a hand on the wall behind Mike and leaned in.

He hated him. Maybe that was what surprised him the most. That two friends that were inseparable and hung out all the time could devolve into this. “Let’s get this over with.” He took a deep breath as he searched Mike’s eyes.

“Ding. Ding. Bitch. Round 2.” His fist clenched and readied for the coming fight.

This was probably a bad idea. But he was done with Mike’s bullshit. And they weren’t leaving there until he other boy figured that out.

mood
ready for a fight

location
school bathroom

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
the final countdown
by europe

mentions
Evie, gen

interactions
mayor of munchkinland

tags

º º code by ditto º º

gh0stwriter · Jun 22, 2021

Lucky DuBois

The Arts Festival was nearly here.

The most important performance in his career. The performance that could get him representation. The performance that could get him an album deal. Studio time. An actual career in music.

Fuck off. He’s got vodka.

Look, he was still going to rehearse. And it wasn’t like the end of the world to miss one rehearsal. Even though they were definitely going to still rehearse and not get distracted by the many shots of vodka they were going to take.

Alright, he barely recognized himself, too. But leave the judgements to him. He was judging himself enough. This wasn’t Lucky. At least the Lucky he was used to. But he was used to having an ex-alcoholic dad incessantly call him. He was used to not being out. He was used to not sleeping with his best friend’s ex-boyfriend. He was used to not caring about anything.

He was used to a lot of things. And none of them seemed to pan out. Things changed. No matter how fucking hard you tried to keep them the same. It was inevitable. Like a storm, change came in to shit on your day.

So fuck it.

Maybe that was today’s mantra:

Fuck. It.

It was a good mantra. Universal. Anyone could relate and apply it to their life. He wasn’t quite sure what ‘IT’ meant for him at the moment but he was sure that he didn’t want to think about it. Dwell on it. Obsess over it.

No.

He just wanted to forget it. And vodka was the answer. He looked to Ash as she contemplated his query. He knew the answer. But he needed to hear her say the word. Then he was just being a supportive friend. Cause you can’t let a friend drink alone. It’s rude. And Lucky ~~(as all the HA rpers will tell you)~~ is never rude.

“Okay,” he smiled as his eyes met hers. “But, like, not tipsy. Like…lightly…buzzed. Like two shots and that’s it. And we still have to practice the song, like, at least once or something.”

He sighed. “They warned me about you.” He said a serious tone in his voice. “Said you’d be a bad influence. Corrupt me. And look at us now.” He said as a small smirk formed. “You convincing me to ditch and drink alcohol. Like a scene straight out of ‘Reefer Madness.’” He chuckled as he nudged her playfully.

“Follow me.” He nodded toward the hallway and she followed suit. They had to be somewhat discreet. They couldn’t afford to get caught and in trouble. Plus, he didn’t want the rest of the kids to know about his hiding spot.

He waited until the coast was clear and held the stairwell door open for her as they slid in unnoticed. They made their way up a few flights of stairs before reaching the roof access. He opened the door for and waited for her to pass before stepping out and placing a pen in the door to keep it from locking behind them.

“Here we are.” He said motioning to the whole lotta nothing. It was a decent view of Hollywood but nothing to write home about. But it was quiet. And private. And there was liquor.

“You know,” his head perked up as he made his way over to a small panel on the side of the building. “I didn’t really take you, like for a whole…’let’s get drunk at school before ten am’ type. I gotta say, you keep on surprising me.” He smiled slightly.

“I’m full of surprises, Blair.” He said as he knocked on the side of the junction box and it opened revealing several bottles of booze. “Courtesy of the many drunk and forgetful Lock-In attendees.” He reached in and grabbed the vodka before turning his attention back on her.

“But now I’m intrigued.” He tilted his head. “What did you take me for?”

mood
to rebel or not to rebellocation
rooftop

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Had Some Drinks

by Two Feet

mentions
n-a

interactions
Ash rtags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 22, 2021

Elizabeth Sterling

The dance room looked about how Beth had expected it to -- simple floors, giant mirror, nothing much that really caught her eye. It seemed that even years later, the general feel of dance rooms hadn't changed from when she was a little girl and had taken a single ballet class before deciding that it was simply too boring. Or, perhaps, it hadn't been too boring but rather, too much work and Beth hadn't been willing to put in the time.

The girl could be really lazy.

Her gaze moved across the room until it came to settle on Bella and Kelli. By now, Bella had looped her arm back through Kelli's, which Beth had taken to mean that she was ready to go. She didn't quite understand the whole looping your arm through someone else's schtick, but alas, Beth wasn't here to judge anyone else. Plus it wasn't as if it was annoying or anything of the sort -- rather, it was almost endearing.

“So, where to next, Madam Tour Guide?” Bella asked. “It will have to be somewhere pretty fascinating to beat the studio.”

Before Kelli could speak up, Beth decided to take over -- mostly as a way to save the other girl, who obviously didn't know the school super well yet, from being forced to struggle through yet another room that she hardly understood the purpose of. Nope, Beth would take this one -- plus she had a place in mind.

"Well," Beth started as she crossed towards the door of the dance studio. She turned on her heel, a mischievous smile on her face as she started to speak again. "It seems we're visiting all the studios on this little tour," she continued and lifted a hand up, lifting a finger as she lifted the different departments; "we've done lit, dance, which means the text one on our list..." she trailed off, her grin broadening as she held up three fingers, and then dropped her hand back to her side. "The answer is plastics. Their costume... fashion-y room isn't super far away from here. So we can just sneak in, poke around a little bit, and be on our merry way... or stay for a little and try some stuff on."

She shrugged her shoulders as she walked out of the studio, holding the door open for Kelli and Bella. "It'll be fun, trust me. And no one will even know we're there," unless someone were to walk into the room, but Beth was like... twenty percent sure that wouldn't happen, "oh! And I saw this really pretty necklace one time and... yeah, it's just cool in there. Everything's so pretty and there's just so much."

Beth decided to leave out the part where she'd stolen the necklace.

She led them through the winding hallways, small talk occupying their time until they came to the doors of the costume room. Beth gave a quick glance around, but there was no one nearby (not that that would've stopped her, anyway -- she would've come up with some excuse if asked why they had entered the room), and then she pulled the door open and allowed Kelli and Bella to enter before stepping through after them.

Beth's fingers found the light switch and she flicked it on, and after a moment, lights lit up the room and the racks of overly expensive clothing.

"See? Like, look at some of this," she said as she stepped forward and took a coat down from one of the racks -- the fur thing was absolutely huge. "I don't get fashion," she said with a giggle, "like... this kind of thing, anyway. Could you imagine wearing this down the street? Well, like, not here because it's hot."

mood
happy, i guess

location
in front of some lockers

outfit
just imagine something cute, man

playing...
It's Still Cool If You Don't

by Briston Maroney

mentions
N/A

interactions
Kelli, Bella

tags

geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

Xed · Jun 22, 2021

Avery Ohtani

“Possible…?” Saint repeated. “It’s more than possible…it’s actually fairly easy. Adriane could do it without even harming herself.” He looked at the girl. “She’s certainly done it before…she knows how to minimize blood spatter, I’m sure.”

At this point, most people would have recognised those words for exactly what they were, but…

“Whoa…”

Avery with his doe eyed look of wonder and easily distracted brain focused purely on how awesome that fact sounded, while forgetting about everything else. That and the growing struggle to coherently pool together everything he was registering and the thoughts that formed in his head did not help at all.

And then it clicked, like a fog that suddenly lifted.

“But then that would hurt the person she uses it on.”

Avery was hard at work, trying to get the candle to smoke just like Adriane had asked him to when a hand reached down and picked up the candle, then plucked the lighter from his hand.

“Ah, your hand –”

His hand reflexively followed, but his movements were slow, and it was quickly out of his reach as he looked up to see Saint standing above him.

“I had confidence that you at least knew how to light something on fire.”

Huh? Wasn’t that how you did it?

“You see like the type to put your hand on a stove because you forget that it’s hot, though. I doubt that you can even feed yourself…so we should’ve expected as much from you.”

Avery frowned, and tilted his head to the side as he listened.

Couldn’t…feed himself…?

What did Saint mean by that?

He could feed himself perfectly fine, ever since he was a kid.

He mastered use of his utensils early on and no one had spoon fed him anything ever since.

“Here.” Saint held the candle out to him.

“Put your lips to the not-lit end…breathe in. You’ve done it before. Don’t drop it this time…or you’ll just have to pick it up again and pay us more.”

So…the same as what he did earlier?

"Of course," Adriane added onto Saint's words, and she tried to keep her voice as perky as possible. Heck, there was even a slight smile on her face.

How had she known what he was thinking? Was she psychic? A mind reader? Were they more than just fairy tales? A real mind reader. Wow.

"There's also a fee for us going so far out of our way to help you learn how to smoke. I'll be waiting for payment on that, too. And the lighter rental fee."

Oh more money. Right. Good thing he hadn’t put his wallet away yet.

Avery fumbled with it yet again as he rose unsteadily to his feet. For some reasons his fingers felt even clumsier and more uncoordinated than usual. Was he that nervous about interacting with such gorgeous individuals? He was doing good so far? Right?

“Um how much are the fees?” He asked, as his fingers tried to catch hold of the edges of the notes sticking out of the mouth of his wallet. “Is this much enough?”

He swallowed as he held the amount out towards Adriane. His wallet was practically empty now so hopefully that was enough to cover the fees she mentioned.

One he handed over the money, Avery walked over to Saint and took the candle from him.

It was on its way over to his lips when Avery stopped and blinked.

Ah! He’d nearly forgotten. He had to thank Saint for correcting his mistake.

“Thank you Saint!” He reached up to give Saint a kiss on the cheek, but a combination of unsteady legs and suddenly clumsy movements had him missing his target and kissing the boy elsewhere instead.

There! Now that he had properly thanked Saint, it was time to get around to smoking this candle. Let’s see…between the lips, breathe and…don’t drop it.

Right, don’t drop.

Now, how was he able to so calmly focus on putting the candle between his lips after that botched thank you kiss like nothing went wrong?

Because he didn’t realise anything had gone wrong.

Candle secured between his lips, he took a breath and again the coughing fits hit him, and he was barely able to keep the candle from dropping onto the ground again.

He really wasn’t suited for this candle smoking business, but they had asked him to finish smoking it so it wouldn’t go to waste, so he at least had to try, and fast.

At this point, he’d already taken up quite a bit of their time and he didn’t want to keep them from their other engagements just because he had been slow, and so Avery foolishly went as quickly as he could in an attempt to smoke it faster.

After several more huffs and coughing fits, Avery had his hands on his knees as he wheezed.

Despite his attempts to go as quickly as he possibly could, the candle just didn’t seem to be going down that much and his throat was burning.

He couldn’t do this. There was just no way.

“I’m sorry.” Avery said, voice cracking between uneven breaths.

“I really...wanted to but...don’t think…I can finish smoking…it.”

Drops of tears were forming in the corners of his eyes from a mix of the coughing fits and the sadness that was beginning to take over him.

They were going to be disappointed with him, weren’t they? All he had to do was finish smoking the candle as they asked but he couldn’t even do that. And after they had so kindly given it to him and taught him and everything and he just…

Of course he’d be the one to fail such a simple task.

mood
I'm sorry I didn't mean to, I really wanted to, but I just, I can't.

location
outside

outfit
preppy school boy

playing...
song title here

by artist here

mentions
N/A

interactions
Adriane, Saint

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 22, 2021

Ashton West

Day drinking and like, avoiding rehearsal wasn't... really... her thing. Clearly, Ash was a good kid. A good girl or whatever. She didn't step out of line, she didn't do things that could typically get her directly in trouble, or at least like... well because like, underage drinking could get her in trouble or whatever, but she just... she didn't step out of line at places like school, where any misstep could end with her in detention or suspension or anything else.

And yet here she was, agreeing to go with Lucky and blow off rehearsal for the day. Her teeth lightly bit into her bottom lip, her free hand gripping the strap of her backpack. She hadn't even had a chance to drop her stuff off at her locker, and she was already sneaking off to drink.

In the morning.

Oh god.

“They warned me about you.” He said a serious tone in his voice. “Said you’d be a bad influence. Corrupt me. And look at us now. You convincing me to ditch and drink alcohol. Like a scene straight out of ‘Reefer Madness.’”

She let out a small gasp, her hand letting go of her backpack to lay across her chest. "Me?" Ash echoed, and then gave a light laugh as he nudged her. "Oh yeah, sorry. I, like, totally forgot to mention that I'm actually like a really, really like... cool bad person. Like total bad girl energy." Although she was trying to keep a serious expression as she joked, she couldn't help it as her lips curled up into a grin. "Hey, you should tell, like, Evie, Eli, Cap, Gen. Like none of them believe that I'm like a super bad influence, so if you could kinda tell them that I was right, that'd be great."

Yes, she vaguely recalled that oh so hurtful Twitter conversation.

She followed after him as they headed towards his super secret stop. Of course, along the way, she found herself waving or saying hello to people that she recognized, which happened to be... most people that they passed. What could she say? Ash was a social butterfly.

And then they made it to the stairwell door, and she gave him a small thanks as he held the door open for her, and again when they reached the access to the roof.

"Here we are," he said, and Ash smiled.

Obviously, Ash had been on the roof before, so there was nothing new here. It had been a while since she'd been out there, of course, but it was still the same as she remembered. Okay view, cold gray stone everywhere.

She slipped her backpack off and dropped it next to the door.

He popped open the junction box, and her eyebrows drew up in surprise to see that it was full of freaking alcohol. “Courtesy of the many drunk and forgetful Lock-In attendees.” He explained as he grabbed out a bottle of vodka.

"So it's all like... used alcohol? From like people you don't know?" Wasn't that, like, the perfect recipe to get diseases or something? It just didn't exactly scream sanitary, but... Ash wasn't the kind of person to turn down any alcohol, least of all vodka, so she quickly got over her initial disgust.

“But now I’m intrigued.” He tilted his head. “What did you take me for?”

Well.

That was a hard question.

Because Ash didn't really know how to answer it.

A soft smile curled the edges of her lips, and she gave a little shrug, and then started towards the edge of the roof, and she set her hot chocolate down on the ledge before she turned around and leaned back, her hands pressed against the cool concrete to hold her upright.

For a moment, she studied him, her lips pursed together in thought, and then she gave a final shrug.

"I don't really know," she said, a heavy sigh escaping her lips as she her head tilted slightly to the side -- as if that might help her dislodge her convoluted thoughts and make sense of them. "Like... I don't know, you're different than what I thought you were going to be like when we first met. But like, I thought you were going to be a total dick, so it's kind of a good thing that you're not that. Like, not a dick."

Smooth.

She held her hand out for the bottle. "So... I thought you said that you didn't really, like, drink," she started, and sure there could've been more subtle ways to approach this subject, but well... it was easier to just be more blatant. "I mean, you drank at the Halloween party, but everyone drinks at parties, so whatever. But... secret stash at the school?"

There was some kind of question in there, some kind of concern. Ash just wasn't always the greatest at making it clear that she was concerned or that she was asking.

"What changed?"

mood
happy, good, amazing, totally great

location
hallway or something idk

outfit
omg great oufits

playing...
I Don't Know Why

by NOTD

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lucky

tags

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jun 22, 2021

MICHAEL K. REID

Mike had always been one for bathroom brawls. It was a given for bullies, wasn’t it? A little cliche box that they had to tick: beats asses in the boy’s bathroom. He crossed that box several times, checked it, initialed inside of it, licked it, stamped it, and mailed it back to himself. To him, it was a badge of honor that he wore with pride. Of course, to most others, it was a warning to just not venture into the bathroom any time that Mike said that he has to take a whiz unless you want to have a dental extraction courtesy of his knuckles.

Mike couldn’t even try to count the number of fights that he’d gotten into in the bathroom, though more of those fights had happened back in his middle school years, seeing as he didn’t have a career that relied on keeping his face pretty at all times. Shocker, busted lips and black eyes didn’t really make you the most photogenic. ‘course, he could still make it hot, but a photoshoot modeling jorts for a department store probably wanted something less revolutionary than “bloodied hot boy”. Fuck them for not being fashion-forward, you know. Regardless, he’d mostly restrained himself these past three, nearly four years, thanks to his need to keep his scholarship.

That said, he was often tempted to resort back to his old ways.

Evermore was first, with him looking down at Mike like he was a fucking toddler. Oh yeah, so mature was the boy who fucking simped for Veronica Crosby. Yeah, Mike obviously didn’t take that, so Evermore’s head had collided with the sink. Had Mike felt guilty immediately after? Sure, yeah. But the guilt subsided eventually, and now he was honestly glad that he took that opportunity to put that cocky sonuvabitch in his place, ya know. Just like the good old days.

Next had been West — ya know, the whole bullying session this morning. To be fair, his bullying of West was a thing when he was at Hollywood Arts, so it wasn’t as old of a habit as the bashing heads into sinks. Sophomore year felt like fucking ages ago, and Mike’d changed a lot since then, but it was only two years ago, ya know. Mike’d away from bullying the whiny chihuahua for one reason or another. Just felt kinda unmotivated to do it. Didn’t really have a reason to take his anger out on the bitch with a piss kink. But this morning, he’d gone back to his old routine with that, giving him a punch, a few shoves, and a lot of antagonistic comments. It was fun to see him suffer — see the pathetic bastard get what was coming to him. Did Mike need a reason for it? No. That was also just like the good old days.

And now, it looked like he was going to return to his habit of kicking ass in bathrooms once more, all thanks to the freak of nature in front of him, who decided that it’d look badass to..crack his knuckles like a fucking cartoon delinquent? Yeah, no, that only worked when Mike did it.

Then again, everything that Landon did was a cheap imitation of something that someone else had already done seven thousand times better than he ever had the capacity to do. Mike guessed that it came from being the unloved sibling. Mommy didn’t hug him enough or some shit, so he tried to imitate other, actually likable people in a weak attempt to siphon the attention they got.

Cute, huh? He was coming for West’s title of “Daddy’s little disappointment” — yeah, he stooped so low as to try and steal a title from Piss Kink West. Desperate much?

The grin spread across Landon’s face.

Mike chuckled. Landon really thought he was the shit, huh? Grinning when he was obviously set up to fucking lose?

Landon took a step towards Mike, and Mike set his shoulders back. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Landon asked. His voice was annoyed.

Mike cocked up an eyebrow. “Huh? This convo, you mean? It’s about kicking your ass?” Mike snickered. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“‘Mama Plastic’?” Landon asked.

Mike blinked. “Huh?”

What the fuck was Landon getting at, huh?

Landon shook his head. “The cheap shot at Lock-In. The overdramatic speech.” He gave a laugh. “Mikey. Mikey. Mikey.”

Mike instinctively tensed up, gritting his teeth.

Don’t fucking call me that.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Landon said, “but let’s face it, nothing is.”

Jealousy.

That was fucking hilarious.

Jealous.

What the fuck would Mike be jealous of?

Landon was growing closer.

Something burned in Mike’s chest.

“Jealous?” Mike asked aloud. His voice was dry. He barked a laugh. “Jealous,” he repeated, and then he cocked his head, putting a finger on his chin. “Oh, okay, so…you think…I’m jealous of…?” He pointed at Landon, and then pretended to take a book from his back pocket. He grabbed an imaginary pen, uncapped it, and opened his eyes wide. He forced a brightness on his voice. “C’mon, lay it on me! I have to know!”

Landon continued. “You think you were more than just a free trial that you cancel before the time is up cause it’s apparent that it...” He eyed Mike up and down. “…has nothing to offer?”

Mike dropped his arms, gritting his teeth.

Jealous.

“I’m not fucking jealous of you,” Mike said casually, laughing breezily. He tried to mask the anger that burned inside of him.

Jealous.

Why the fuck would he be jealous?

Jealous of Landon?

Of all fucking people?

“Gen and I are fuckbuddies, Landon.” His eyes looked up into Landon’s face. “I know it’s a big word — hard to get through your head. I’ll spell it out for you: f-u-c-k-b-u-d-d-i-e-s. We don’t see anything in each other except for sex. That’s what we offer each other, and that’s all we are. I’ve got fucking nothing to be jealous of. She can do whatever the hell she wants, including you. Hard to grasp?”

By the time he finished speaking, his anger had seeped through his voice to the point of palpability, and he crossed his arms again. “You think that you’re something special?” Mike asked. “You think that you pose any kind of fucking threat to me? That you faze me? That you intimidate me? That I care a single fucking ounce about you?” He laughed. “Get a fucking grip, Fuckface — no one gives a shit about you.”

Landon smirked, stepping up to Mike, and then he gave a shrug. “You’re pathetic.”

Mike’s brows knit together. “Pa—“

His words dropped away as Landon’s hand slapped against the wall beside Mike.

The burning in Mike’s chest picked up, and he could feel his blood pumping in his throat.

Being this close to Landon, all of his rage — all of his fucking everything — was coming to the surface, vengeful, begging to be unleashed.

Landon leaned in.

Mike breathed in deeply, bringing himself to look into Landon’s face.

To think, Mike actually gave a shit about this fuckhead at one point in his life, huh?

Nothing but rage was left. Nothing but fucking hatred.

Mike hated him.

“The fuck do you want?” Mike hissed through grit teeth, voice low. “You want to get your face beaten in? You gonna start begging for it? You a fucking masochist?”

“Let’s get this over with,” Landon said, taking a deep breath, and his eyes met Mike’s.

Locked in a battle of the glares, Mike tried to keep back everything that was rising in his chest.

Hatred.

Rage.

Something else, too.

He tried to keep it down.

Tried to repress it.

He couldn’t get into a fucking fight.

He couldn’t actually get into a fucking fight before a shoot.

“Ding. Ding. Bitch,” Landon said. “Round 2.” Landon’s fist clenched.

Mike stared at him, looked into his dark eyes.

Fuck.

Jealous?

Jealous?

Ding, ding, bitch, round two.

Mike clenched his jaw, working it, and he sat in the tense silence for a moment, looking into Landon’s face.

This fucking rang a bell, didn’t it? Didn’t this call back to something?

Fuck deja vu.

Mike gave a chuckle. His brown eyes found Landon’s again.

If Landon really wanted to fucking fight him, he’d’ve punched him by now. Mike? Yeah, he really wanted to punch the bitch in front of him, but he had a photoshoot at lunch.

So it looked like that wasn’t a fucking option, now, was it?

Mike grinned. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “You really fucking hate me, don’t you? You really fucking resent me for…what, exactly, huh? Beating your ass at the project showcase last year? What happened before that? Ever fucking coming into your life?” Mike chuckled. His words dripped with vitriol. “And now, you think that I’m jealous of you. You actually think I give a fuck about what you do. You actually think I’ve still got some form of, what?”

He barked a laugh, looking up into Landon’s face, which was way too fucking close. “Best friends,” he said. “That was what we were, weren’t we? And now, you could go fucking die and I wouldn’t give a shit — and you feel the same towards me, huh?” His grin dropped from his face. “So why don't you just stay out of my fucking way, huh?"

He breathed in a deep breath. "You don't want to fucking fight me. I can fucking tell. If you wanted to fight, you and I would be bleeding by now. As much as I'd love to beat your ass, I've got to keep my face intact, okay?" He let out the long breath, rolling his shoulders. "I came in here to take a piss and leave. I don't want to fucking talk to you right now, or really fucking ever. After lock-in, I never wanted to see your face again."

Ever.

"So Landon," Mike said, his chest burning, his voice on the edge of something, "fuck off, get out of my fucking face, and stay out of my fucking way."

His voice, though he'd never admit it, sounded almost desperate.

Like, I really don't want to fight you again.

I really don't want to see you again.

Please.

Leave me the fuck alone.

mood
...

location
the bathroom

outfit
something casual

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly

mentions
gen, zeph, & jace

interactions
landon

tags

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jun 22, 2021

saint andrew taylor

The boy in front of them seemed to have an endless supply of cash stored inside his wallet, and Saint took note of this. It was a piece of information that would probably be useless in the future, but it never hurt to keep in mind who had the money and who didn’t in case he came across hard times. He would never mug anyone, but it was nice to know, in any case, he supposed.

Avery took the joint from Saint and began to lift it to his lips, but he stopped short of inhaling from it. Saint stared at the child, trying to gauge what thoughts were running through his head — or, more correctly, what thought, seeing as the boy most likely lacked the ability to form more than one thought at a time.

Avery soon gave Saint the answer to his curiosity aloud, looking at him and saying, “Thank you Saint!” He reached up towards Saint’s face before Saint could really register what was happening. He seemed to stumble, and the boy’s lips collided with Saint’s lower lip and chin.

Saint blinked.

The small boy had just kissed him…on a lip, no less.

That was rather revolting.

He could have at least asked first.

Saint breathed out a long sigh, watching the other boy put the joint between his lips.

“You’re…welcome…?” he said slowly, just as the boy began to hack.

And then the joint fell to the ground again.

Avery continued to hack, and Saint bent down to pick up the joint again.

“I’m sorry,” managed Avery. “I really…wanted to but…don’t think…I can finish smoking…it.”

Saint noticed tears in the boy’s eyes, and he glanced over at Adriane.

“He can’t finish,” Saint said, “but I don’t think that’s acceptable, do you…?” He looked over at Avery. “After the trouble that you’ve caused us…you can’t even do what we ask you to…? Money can’t pay back everything.”

Saint held up the joint, his eyes shifting to Adriane again. “If he can’t handle it, then there’s no possible way that we can accept any sort of apology, even in form of payment, right…? After he’s been so rude to us, there’s no reason for us to show him any mercy.” To Avery: “Not only did you drop our joint the first time, but you kissed both Adriane and I — myself, on the lips — and asked if we were a couple which is…unacceptable behavior. You’ve dropped it a second time, and you think that we’re going to accept an ‘I’m sorry’…?”

Was he antagonizing the kid? Certainly. Did he feel bad for him? Admittedly, he did feel little bit bad for the kid, now that he was threatening to cry. Crying people always did activate some sort of empathy from Saint, regardless of who they were or what the situation surrounding them was. Did that stop him from antagonizing him? Absolutely not.

It was mildly cathartic, to be frank, to terrorize a child for a bit. Not that Saint had any stress to be relieved, but…the Josephine situation was a bit stressful.

mood
weed

location
outside the school, beside the parking lot

outfit
flowers

playing...
god's plan (drake cover)

by our last night

mentions
n/a

interactions
adriane & avery

tags

Xed

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jun 22, 2021

dominicka abrams

Nickie was already done with this conversation.

“Conversation” — that was a stretch. It seemed more like a bash less about her and her boyfriend.

In this moment, she forgot everything about the difficulties with her and her boyfriend. She was on the defensive.

Everything that Ronnie was saying? Well, it was the fucking wrong thing.

“Nick, we’re not trying to, like, attack you,” Ronnie said, straightening her posture a bit. “No one wants to see you get your heart broken is all.”

Nickie rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair and blowing out a sigh. Yeah, because Ronnie cared so much about her. Ronnie cared so fucking much about Nickie’s wellbeing.

News flash: Nickie knew basically no one gave a flying fuck about her. One or two people did, if you really stretched it. She didn’t spend most lunch periods alone for no reason. Ronnie didn’t give a shit about her.

“Do you, like, honestly see Hunter staying after everything that’s happened?” Ronnie asked. “Do you think that’s the kind of guy he is?”

Nickie laughed. It was funny that she was saying that — oh so fucking rich. “What the actual fuck?” She laughed again, and then her face screwed up, betraying her offense. She crossed her arms again. “After what’s happened, Ronnie?” Nickie squinted her eyes at her. “After…literally what? After people, like…spread fucking rumors about us? Is that what you mean?” Her mind conveniently struck the fight at the lock-in from the record for the time being. “Look, none of that shit?” Nickie cocked her head, scrunching her nose up. “Was my fault, okay? Literally fucking none of it. People decided to be fucking petty or whatever. So, like, obviously he’s going to stay with me — I haven’t done shit.”

She scoffed. “And, like, what the hell do you mean, ‘the kind of guy he is’? You think you know him, Ronnie?” Just because you want to suck his dick doesn’t mean that you know a single fucking thing about him. Nickie smiled. “Sweetie, the answer is—“ She dropped her smile. “You don’t know shit about him.” She jabbed a finger at her. “He’s literally my boyfriend. I know him. Don’t act like you know anything about him that I fucking don’t, okay?”

Ronnie shook her head. “And the way he went off on Ash, his, like, supposed best friend on Twitter? What makes you think you’re safe?”

Nickie scowled at Ronnie. Her heart throbbed, protesting before she could even form words.

Ronnie was talking out of her ass and trying to hurt Nickie because she was jealous. That was fucking it. There was no merit to what she was saying.

Still, as Nickie struggled to gather her words, she couldn’t help but feel a small ache, a little ”but what if?”. She sighed, pressing a hand to her quickly-beating heart, and she looked tiredly between Liv and Ronnie.

But what if?

She rolled her eyes.

Good fucking God, this was terrible — but what if Ronnie did know something?

Nickie couldn’t stomach that thought.

Her eyes finally settled back on Ronnie. “Hey, Ronnie?” Nickie said, and then she reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “Come with me. I, uh, need to talk to you, okay?” She looked back at Liv, and she sighed softly. “Have a nice day or whatever, Liv,” she said, because she felt like that was enough of an apology for lashing out at her first thing.

Nickie started to drag Ronnie away. “I’ll, like, buy you a Coke or whatever.” She dropped her arm, running a hand through her hair as she made her way down to the vending machine, Ronnie in tow. “I, like…”

But she trailed off. She kept her eyes forward, and she didn’t speak until they reached the vending machine by the home ec room. The hallway was entirely empty, and Nickie leaned back against the machine.

She crossed her arms and glared at Ronnie. “You were acting like you knew so much about Hunter. Fucking tell me — what is it? I don’t have time to mince words, like…” She dropped her arms, stepping closer to Ronnie, and she jabbed a finger at her chest accusatorially. “What makes you think that you know so fucking much more about him than I do, Veronica?”

mood
wt actual f

location
old blue (her suv)

outfit
casual

playing...
oh god

by mothica

mentions
hunter

interactions
liv & ronnie

tags
@Soap

hery

º º code by ditto º º

Stardust Galaxy · Jun 22, 2021

As soon as those words left Maeve's mouth, they were dismissed by Zeph "No, no, you're not holding me back," Zeph said, giving a quick shake of his head. "We can try it Spencer's way, see how it works, see how it looks." was he trying to minimize that they were in trouble, no that didn't sound like Zeph, he most likely meant his words and Maeve gave him a small smile, she was glad that he wasn't feeling annoyed for being partnered with her, the least she could do was to try, no not try, make it work for both of them.

"You are really helping us a lot Spencer, thank you for this. It's always great to have an extra opinion" She reassured the guy. Maeve saw how Zeph handed his phone to Spencer so they could record them, that was for sure a good idea at least that way they could have a vision of what they were struggling with. "Let's ah... let's run through it a few more times. I'm supposed to see Stella, but ah... she can wait. I guess." Zeph said, and with that Maeve felt like she was making things worse, if only she wasn't struggling then Zeph would be on time to see his girlfriend. Why was she ruining everything?

Zeph words really hit hard on Maeve's mind, just a couple of months she put dance over everything else her usual phrases like "I can't go, I'm busy" or "Sorry, I won't make it I need to practice" sounded on her head, she pushed people she cared about her and that she appreciated just because of her selfishness, sure she loved dancing and wanted to become a ballerina more than anything but that mentality of only caring about dancing instead of finding a balance between her passion and the people she cared about, if only she had known the importance of being with people that care about you when you were feeling too stressed out she wouldn't have ended on an operating room and she wouldn't have hurt people that were really important to her, because words hurt more than the actual blade of a knife.

But Zeph wasn't her and he knew what he was doing, she couldn't meddle and someone's relationship and be like "No you need to go to see your girlfriend even if it's just a minute because sooner or later you are going to regret it" but Maeve wasn't in any position to order Zeph around, she knew how passionate he was about this duet and just like her she wanted it to be perfect so she could let it slide this time, still she thought that Zeph was not doing the right decision. Would Spencer say something or did he have the same mindset as Zeph? Was she too emotional from all the stress due to the duet and that's why she was trying to focus on something else?

Maeve took a deep breath as she decided to stop worrying about everything else, she needed to get back to that time where she wasn't overthinking everything where dance was the thing that made her more than happy, she went to her starting position as the music started to fill the entire room, Maeve just let herself do what she knew and practiced, dancing with Zeph was nice, she trust him as a duet partner and knew both of them had each other backs.

When the sequence that they were struggling were the next moves Maeve decided to let go, for one to not worry about her injury or being perfect only, she just wanted to enjoy her danicng again, was she perfect, no? But she felt it was better than the last time. once the music stopped playing, Maeve fel tired and her breathing was heavy but she felt that there was in improvement but still it wasn't where they suppossed to be "I feel like we did better this time, still we struggle a little bit but I think there was some improvement" She said to Zeph as she tried to recover her breath "Did the video came out fine?"

Location: dance practice room | Mood: we can do this, right?
Outift: Here | Interactions: Zeph (

Winona ) Spencer (

Xed )

Maeve Anneliese Ackerman

Code by Stardust Galaxy

ohdittoh · Jun 22, 2021

kellian phelan

Kelli dusted herself off, giving a light giggle and a dismissive wave of her hand as Bella asked if she was okay. “Yeah, I’m fi— oop.” She stopped herself short of finishing that as Bella rushed to straighten out her shirt. Kelli laughed softly. “Oh, thank you!” she said gratefully. “I didn’t notice it was crooked.” Kelli smiled at Bella and stepped back from her. “Mucho gracias!”

That was the wrong language, and she’d probably said it wrong, but Kelli didn’t know the French words for ”thank you”. She really only knew “oui”, “monsieur”, “mademoiselle”, “chat”, and “baguette”.

“I will have to stop by during your practice sometime,” said Bella. “It would be wonderful to see you in your element, I can imagine you’re an amazing dancer.” Bella took her hand, and Kelli laughed as Bella gave her a spin.

She stumbled a step once the spin was over, and she laughed, pulling her hand from Bella’s. “Thanks! Yeah, you two should totally come give me a peep whenever.” She gave her best shimmy, as if it were a preview of what was in store when they came to see her. “I’m not that wonderful, but my dance partner is really friggin’ dope. She makes my dancing look better than it actually is — kinda distracts, y’know,” she laughed somewhat shyly.

It was true. Jo’s moves were always somehow better than hers, but Kelli still gave it her all.

Bella turned to Beth. “So, where to next, Madam Tour Guide?” She looped her arm through Kelli’s again, and Kelli beamed at her. “It will have to be somewhere pretty fascinating to beat the studio.”

“Well,” Beth started, walking towards the door. She turned on her hell, smiling. “It seems we’re visiting all the studios on this little tour.” She raised up a hand and held up a finger for each item of the list: “We’ve done lit, dance, which means the next one on our list…” She held up a third finger, her grin widening.

Kelli cocked her head, nodding for Beth to continue, braised raised with curiosity.

Beth dropped her hand. “The answer is plastics.”

“Ooh!” Kelli gasped. She’d always wanted to go there.

“Their costume…fashion-y room isn’t super far from here,” Beth continued, “so we can just sneak in, poke around a little bit, and be on our merry way…or stay for a little and try some stuff on.”

Kelli’s eyes lit up, a bright smile coming onto her face. “Woah…friggin’ dope. Yeah, yes, let’s go.”

Beth gave a casual shrug and began to walk out of the studio. She held the door open for Kelli and Bella, and Kelli gave her a smile and a “thanks!” in return.

“It’ll be fun, trust me,” said Beth as she started walking. Kelli followed behind her, her arm still looped with Bella’s. “And no one will even know we’re there. Oh! And I saw this really pretty necklace one time and…yeah, it’s just cool in there. Everything’s so pretty and there’s just so much.”

Kelli wowed in amazement again, and then the wowing dissolved into her chattering about always wanting to get into fashion but never being good at it, and then her complimenting Bella and Beth again, and then that switched to more conversation where Kelli wasn’t endlessly talking about pretty much nothing, and by the time that was over, they’d reached the costume room.

Beth took a quick glance around, and then she pulled open the door. Kelli looked at Bella excitedly before taking a step in. Beth followed after and flicked on the lights, and then—

“Holy sweet peas, Bethman!” Kelli gasped in amazement. She looked around, taking in the racks of expensive clothing with wide eyes. “This is — woaaaaaaahly fudge.” She shook her head, blinking a few times. She rubbed her eyes to see if the vision in front of her eyes changed, but nope, the bougie clothes were all still there.

“See? Like, look at some of this.” Beth stepped forward and took a fur coat from one of the racks. Kelli hoped it was faux fur. The hippie mom in her wanted to look away from the thing just in case it wasn’t. “I don’t get fashion,” Beth giggled. “Like…this kind of thing, anyway. Could you imagine wearing this down the street? Well, like, not here because it’s hot.”

Kelli laughed softly, shaking her head and turning to the racks to look for a jacket that 1) wasn’t fur and 2) wasn’t leather. It proved harder than she thought. “I don’t get fashion either,” she agreed, giggling. “It’s, uh, zoooom. Way, way over my head.” She pulled a green, sequin-y jacket out, and she held it out in front of her with a laugh. “Agh! You’d be fricking blinding people if you went outside in this.” She slipped it over her shoulders, giving a shrug and a laugh before looking over at Bella. She scrunched up her nose and put a thumb on her chin, cocking her head to the left and tot he right as if sizing her up for a design.

She then turned to the rack and picked up a big, floppy, purple hat from the top of it. With a smile, she walked to Bella, setting the huge thing on her head with a cheerful laugh. “There. I think that suits you, madam,” she said, putting on her best fashion snob accent before dissolving into giggles.

mood
fashion!

location
the costume room

outfit
casual

playing...
apple pie

by the scary jokes

mentions
n/a

interactions
bella & beth

tags

geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jun 22, 2021

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

His head bobbing aggressively to the tune of the song he was humming offkey, his hands positioned as though holding a large guitar, and his butt giving a sharp jiggle every so often as he strutted down the hallway, Lindsay made his way towards the practice rooms, his brows set low in frustration.

Fucking Lydia with her dumb fucking “you’re a disappointment” fucking dumb fucking shit, fuck her.

And fuck his dad, too. Fucking Pricky with his fucking rat face fucking wanting Lin to fucking practice even though it's never fucking going to be good enough for him. Fucker.

He began to sing beneath his breath as he passed the lockers, his feet slapping on the ground to the tempo of the tune. “You better run, you better do what you can…” He huffed, frowning and turning into another hallway. “Don’t wanna see no blood…don’t be a…macho man.” He gave a small thrust, starting to snap his fingers. “You wanna be tough, better do what you can...” He kicked at a trash can, and it dropped to its side with a thump!. He let out a soft chuckle. “So beat it — but you wanna be bad, so—“

Here, he whipped around the corner, picking up the speed of his strutting as he came closer and closer to his destination. He looked around, abruptly stopping his singing. He walked to the center of the empty hallway, and then, in an offkey scream, he started to belt the chorus: “Just beat iiiiit!” He pumped his fist in the air. “Beat iiiit!” He kicked, punching the air and finally breaking out into a grin. “No one wants to be defeated!” He gave another thrust, and then he started to walk again, his speed double the time that he was singing, his fist clenched to his lips as if it were a microphone. Periodically, he jumped up to slap the flags hanging by some doorways or ripped at posters on the wall. “Shoooowin’ how funky and strong is your fight! It doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right — just beat it — beat it! Just beat it — beat it! Just beat it — beat it! Just beat it — beat it!”

At each ”beat it!”, Lin squealed in falsetto and slammed a fist into his chest, and when he reached the final one, he gave a spin and turned into the hallway with the music rooms.

He was just kinda letting the frustration out, a la an offkey rendition of Michael Jackson’s 1982 hit song, “Beat It’.

Grinning and cackling to himself, he started on the next verse, crooning loudly, “They're out to get you, better leave while you can.” His hand found the handle of a random classroom door, and he whipped it open. “Don't wanna be a boy, you wanna…” He walked into the room, stepping a few steps into it. “Be a…hol’ up.”

He stopped short of continuing as his eyes caught on a boy in the corner, holding a guitar much like the one in the case slung over Lin’s back, ‘cept this boy looked like a little itty bitty baby trying to hold it.

Jace. The West. Jacey Poo. Jacey Wacey. Worstie Westie, luhmao.

Hey, come to think of it, Lin hadn’t seen him aaaaall along.

Not since the, uhhh, whatchamacallit.

The fuckin’—

Lock-in. Lock-in, luhmao, that was it.

Ya know, the one where he made his sister cry.

He looked, like, really uninjured for having done that—

Luhmaoooo.

Waiiiit.

Lin laughed softly, an idea popping into his head.

A goood idea, too.

Ya know, a good way to serve justice, luhmao.

You thinkin' what he's thinkin'?

Hehehehehe.

Luhmao, this was gonna be great.

“Yoooo,” Lin greeted, holding up a peace sign and taking his guitar case off of his back. He sat the case on a table and walked up to Jace. “Hey,” he started, trying to get his attention. “Hey, hey. Hey. Hey, hey. Heyheyheyheyhey. Hey.”

He leaned down to be eye-level with the sitting boy. “Hey. Hey. Heyyyy,” he whispered, and then he waved in front of Jace’s face.

When Jace looked at him, Lin’s grin spread wider.

“Heyyyyy, Jacey Pooooooooooo,” he cooed, “luhmao!” He reached out and gave his head a pat, and then he said, “Hey, I got something I wanna do. Wanna know? Huh? Huhuhuhuhuhuh? Do you? Do you, luhmao?” Lin crossed his arms, closing his eyes proudly, and he gave a nod. “‘course you do. You’re thinking, ‘Hey, Lin, I want you to tell me. Enlighten me, Master Luhmao’, luhmao.”

Lin peeked open an eye and grinned. “Fiiiine,” he said. He waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, I’ll tell.”

And then he dropped his eyes to Jace, uncrossing his arms and balling up a fist. “I wanna punch you,” he said, “so here ya go.”

Slam!

“Punch!” he called as his fist collided with Jace’s face.

He cackled proudly, stepping back and rubbing his knuckle as he made his way over to his guitar again. “Aight, Lin out,” he said, holding up a peace sign and slipping his guitar back over his back.

He casually slammed the door, laughed, and started to walk to check if another room was open as he began to whistle his version of “Beat It” one again, as if he’d done nothing at all back there.

He hit his fist into his palm, reliving the moment, and he paused his whistling to laugh triumphantly to himself.

“Punch,” he repeated to himself in a whisper, grinning.

Luhmao, that was fucking wicked.

That was for you, Ashy.

And also just ‘cuz Pee Boy’s a lil’ bitch, luhmao.

mood
BEAT IIIT BEAT IIIT

location
the school

outfit
lookin normal for once

playing...
all i do is win

by dj khaled

mentions
lydia & ash

interactions
jace

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 22, 2021

Jace West

His stomach still flipping hurt from Mike's fist, and he'd probably have a bruised abdomen in a couple days. It kind of reminded him of back in middle school, when it felt as if all of the boys had thought that punching each other in the stomach would give them abs, and suddenly all the guys were walking around with bruised abdomens and complaining about the pain. Eventually, as all fads did, it passed and the punching subsided.

Kind of like the fad of Mike punching Jace had passed.

Or so he thought it had.

After Mike had exited the room, Jace's weak legs had taken him stumbling backwards until his back had collided with a wall, and then he'd sunk down to the ground. His legs were stretched out in front of him, and the guitar rested on his lap. In his ear, the earbud that had yet to be dislodged still played along with a little tune, but Jace couldn't really hear it. Well, he could, but he wasn't listening. Absently, he plucked it out of his ear and slid it into the pocket of his jeans, and then he relaxed against the wall, with his legs shaking and his trembling fingers plucking at the guitar strings.

It wasn't that Jace was hurt by Mike's actions (well, physically he was), and it wasn't as if it was anything new to him. Jace was used to being the butt of the joke -- heck, he'd been the target of jokes since he could barely walk. Even in preschool, he could remember being shoved around and pushed about and ignored.

Heck, he remembered sitting in their preschool circle thing for story time or whatever, and he'd sat by the wall, and everyone else had huddled up six or so feet away from him. He hadn't thought much about it -- he'd been, what? Four at the time? -- until the teachers had drawn attention to it, and tried to encourage the unwilling students to sit near Jace, and then his ears had heated up and his cheeks had reddened in embarrassment.

He'd grown a lot better about fading into the background after that, or so he thought he had, but it was kind of hard to fade into the backdrop when your sister was doing the absolute opposite. It was also hard not to notice your own shortcomings when that same little sister was excelling at everything she tried and doing it ten times better than Jace could ever hope to achieve. Like... it wasn't that he didn't mind the lack of focus on him, or this or that, it was just...

It was harder when the spotlight was always so focused on someone you knew you could never be.

The door to the music room creaked open, and Jace's heart picked up speed again before he could even tell who it was... and then he thought it might pound right out of his chest when he saw who it was.

Lindsay "Rabid Beaver" Kay.

“Yoooo,” Lin greeted, and Jace hesitantly gave a wave of his hand. He sat the case on a table and walked up to Jace. “Hey,” he started. “Hey, hey. Hey. Hey, hey. Heyheyheyheyhey. Hey.”

"Hi...?" He mumbled, his voice nearly cracking at the end of the little greeting. He was frozen in place, one hand gripping the neck of his guitar while his other hand nervously plucked at the strings.

“Hey. Hey. Heyyyy,” he whispered, and then he waved in front of Jace’s face.

Why was he whispering? Why was he acting as if Jace didn't know he was there? What was he doing?

Panic, panic, panic.

“Heyyyyy, Jacey Pooooooooooo,” he cooed, “luhmao!” He reached out and gave his head a pat, and then he said, “Hey, I got something I wanna do. Wanna know? Huh? Huhuhuhuhuhuh? Do you? Do you, luhmao?” Lin crossed his arms, closing his eyes proudly, and he gave a nod. “‘course you do. You’re thinking, ‘Hey, Lin, I want you to tell me. Enlighten me, Master Luhmao’, luhmao.”

Clearly, Lin was no mind reader because that was not at all what Jace was thinking.

His thoughts were more along the path of why can't I catch a break today?

And then, Lin finally relented to tell Jace what he wanted to tell him, even though Jace didn't want to know.

His hand balled into a fist.

Jace's eyes widened.

“I wanna punch you,” he said, “so here ya go.”

Wh--

And there it was, a solid punch straight to his nose that slammed Jace's head back against the wall. He let out a cry and brought his hands up to cradle his nose, and he could feel tears gathering in his eyes as a natural reaction.

“Aight, Lin out,” the freaking psychotic beaver boy said, and the next thing Jace heard was the slamming of the music room door.

For a long while, he just sat there, holding his nose. His fingers pulled away, trembling, and he looked down at his hands at droplets of blood trailed down to the tip of his nose and dripped into his hands. His eyes grew bleary with tears, and soon the smears of blood were stained with tears.

He wiped the blood on his shirt -- a nice light blue, so yeah, the blood looked freaking great -- and then pushed himself up onto trembling legs. He fixed his guitar so that it was resting on his back, and then he grabbed his satchel and pulled it over his neck, and then Jace headed out of the music room.

His stop? The bathroom, obviously, as he continued to press his sleeve periodically against his nose to try and staunch the flow of blood.

And being the invisible boy he was, no one paused to ask what had happened. No one even really glanced in his direction, even as blood stained his clothes and smeared his face.

Just Jace's luck that he was only invisible when he didn't want to be.

mood
SOSHELP

location
music room

outfit
like just a sweater and jeans

playing...
pity party

by lovelytheband

mentions
Mike

interactions
Rabid Beaver Boi

tags

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 22, 2021

Adriane Holloway

She brought a hand up to press over her mouth as she tried to stifle a yawn.

A yawn because she'd grown bored with their current task. Because bullying a child really only provided entertainment for so long before everything that they could suggest to him, and all of his subsequent reactions, simply became repetitive. Repetitive and so very, very boring.

He was smoking the blunt, coughing and hacking away, and Adriane found herself regretting the challenge that she'd set the little boy up with. It had seemed fun to her in the beginning -- subjecting him to a high when he had obviously never experienced it before, except that Adriane then realized that she would've much rather been able to enjoy the joint instead of wasting it on him. As in being high would've been better than this stupid little game.

Eventually, the sputtering boy gave up -- which Adriane had expected to happen. After all, like, could you actually imagine him being able to smoke the entire joint? Ha. Even Adriane -- or, better yet, Saint -- wouldn't've been able to handle such a task. But she'd wanted to watch him fail.

She really thought it would be more rewarding, but it wasn't.

Disgusting little rat.

She wished he'd passed out or something. Cried more tears than the faint few that she could see.

“He can’t finish,” Saint said, “but I don’t think that’s acceptable, do you…?” He looked over at Avery. “After the trouble that you’ve caused us…you can’t even do what we ask you to…? Money can’t pay back everything.”

She glanced over at Saint, and then allowed her cold gaze to settle back on Avery once again.

“If he can’t handle it, then there’s no possible way that we can accept any sort of apology, even in form of payment, right…? After he’s been so rude to us, there’s no reason for us to show him any mercy.”

"Agreed," she said with a breathless sigh before Saint started to address the boy again.

“Not only did you drop our joint the first time, but you kissed both Adriane and I — myself, on the lips — and asked if we were a couple which is…unacceptable behavior. You’ve dropped it a second time, and you think that we’re going to accept an ‘I’m sorry’…?”

"Honestly, apologies at this point are just going to be insulting to us and just how nice and forgiving we've been to you so far," Adriane picked up from where Saint had trailed off -- although it was hard to tell when he'd trailed off, and when he was just speaking slowly. He was kind of like that sloth from Zootopia. Flash or whatever.

"I don't know how Saint is feeling, but I'm feeling a bit forgiving today," she continued, "so I'm willing to let you off with a warning for now... although you're still going to owe both of us, of course. She brought a delicate, manicured finger to tap against her chin. "I'm almost thinking... such as, you'd owe us both a favor. One for us to cash in sometime in the future, because no amount of money is going to cover for the disrespect you've shown us today."

Also she didn't have a lot of other ideas, and her patience was already pushed to the max with him -- really, she needed a break from Avery.

mood
die

location
outside

outfit
something hot, stylish, and probably barely school appropriate

playing...
Fuck You

by Lily Allen

mentions
N/A

interactions
Saint, Avery

tags