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

geminiy · Jun 23, 2021

Ezra Gray

@EZGoing has set their status to:
wink wink

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

@EZGoing has set their location to:
outside the film studio

@EZGoing has mentioned:
n/a

@EZGoing has interacted with:
Auguste & Chas

@EZGoing has tagged:
qunqun hery

Ezra loved toying with individuals who possessed extreme amounts of fake authority which is precisely why, no matter how much Chas ranted and raved and ordered and yelled, Ezra couldn’t wipe the smirk from his face. Little Marino was quite possibly one of the most insufferable assholes that Ezra had ever had the pleasure of acquainting himself with and he certainly kept up the act that he had very publicly vowed to have.

Unfortunately, while others could believe that the bossiness and the anger and the extremities was a part of Chas’ authentic self, Ezra much preferred to believe that it was, as he had just stated, all an act. Every act must end and hell, Ezra was making sure that he would be around for when the curtains pulled closed and the peering eyes of the audience were pulled away to reveal the truth behind the angry director.

"No. If I'm letting you stay as Ezra's assistant, I'm your boss. It's the chain of command around here."

Ezra’s sculpted jaw turned to allow him to peer over his shoulder at the boy behind him, a wolfish grin tugging the dimples out onto his cheeks.

“Oh, is that so?” He asked through a deep laugh. “How sweet that you think I’m here for you at all. We’ve been over this, Chas.” Ezra continued as he walked to his work station, entirely unphased by the situation. With a delicate grasp, Ezra picked one of the prop guns off of the table and held it up to the light, thumb brushing along the detailing he had done the day before. “I’m here as your equal, a private contractor if you will. I am not here to be bossed around by anyone so if that is your objective, I will be more than happy to leave and take my work I’ve done with me. Furthermore, Auguste is here for me and no one else. He does not and will not answer to you.”

Chas continued to talk and thus, Ezra continued to ignore him. While a rant about missing blueprints or diagrams or something of the sort (once again, Ezra was hardly paying attention even though he was certain that he was being blamed for whatever mishap had occurred) echoed through the studio, Ezra reached over and grabbed a small set of pliers and carefully snipped away the excess plastic edging, small shavings of gunmetal grey fluttering to the ground.

"...must have moved it. Go find it. And go grab coffee from the staff lounge. Now go, assistant! Out of my sight! I have private matters to discuss with your lesser superior."

Ezra’s arm shot out, pliers still in his grasp, to block Auguste from leaving as his eyes continued to scan the gun. “I do believe Auguste has a name that deserves to be used. He also, as I previously stated, is not your ‘assistant’. He’s here to help me and nothing more.”

Slowly, Ezra lowered his arm from in front of Auguste to flip the pliers into the air, grabbing them with his opposite hand and placing them carefully into the toolbelt he had pulled them from. Flipping open a large binder of paint swatches, Ezra flicked through the pages and stopped on a sheet with multiple different shades of grey.

“I’m thinking I will go with a more smokey or pebble grey,” Ezra thought aloud, “but I am also partial to a charcoal for the detailing and weathering. Plastic isn’t my usual medium so I’m afraid of the paint running or becoming needlessly streaky upon application. What do you think, Auguste: pebble or charcoal?”

Holding both swatches up to the dancer, Ezra looked over at Chas and allowed his smirk to falter as he looked the smaller boy over. No, he wasn’t content with the frustration yet. Ezra would simply have to continue to evade.

Turning on his heel and leaving the paint swatches with Auguste, Ezra pulled out a few background clay pieces he had thrown together and laid them out on the table. He took his sweet time looking them over, each piece getting his pure undivided attention as he scanned for cracks or bubbles. Raising a hand, Ezra waved over Auguste and indicated the rough edges around the mouth of a vase.

“Would you be able to sand this down for me?” Ezra asked politely as he grabbed a specific grit of sandpaper. “Here,” he said, placing the sandpaper in Auguste’s hand, “you have to be gentle with the clay, otherwise it could crack. These pieces are sturdy enough but go easy, like this.”

Flipping Auguste’s hand over, Ezra placed his own hand on top of it and forced both hands to move in the gentle circular motion that he had become so accustomed to performing over the years.

“Once the roughness is gone, you can look over the other pieces and look for the same thing. You’re looking for ridges, bumps, jagged pieces, unevenness. I’m sure someone so analytical as yourself can manage that.” Ezra instructed clearly with a gentle pat on Auguste’s back. His blue eyes looked over at Chas before gently rolling to look back at the dancer. “Excuse me for a moment, clearly someone can’t handle speaking publicly.”

With a playful wink, Ezra walked away from the table and directly past Chas, his hands tucked in his front pockets with the sides of his open button down fluttering at his side. Shoving the door to the studio open with his hip, Ezra stepped through the door and held it open for Chas, only allowing it to quietly shut behind him. Leaning against the wall nestled behind the door, Ezra pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed them over his chest.

“You just couldn’t wait to get me alone, hm? You certainly need to work on your manners, asking a guy nicely for some private time goes a lot further than your weak attempts at bossing me around.” Ezra teased with a grin. “Now, what is this ever so pressing private matter you needed to discuss with me?”

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Kitsune2202 · Jun 23, 2021

"Goddess of Chaos"
Magnolia Darrington

@Rebel.lia.on has set their status to:
Let's find something to get into.

@Rebel.lia.on has set their outfit to:
Crop tops = life

@Rebel.lia.on has set their location to:
School (cafeteria)

@Rebel.lia.on has mentioned:
Mikaela

@Rebel.lia.on has interacted with:
Josie (@jasmichelle )

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

Magnolia couldn't help but laugh at her friend's sentiment. It was true two weeks was like an eternity for them now. However she was grateful that Josie wasn't like some girls...well ones she's seen on T.V. drama's and Insta memes that are extremely clingy and feel like if they don't talk everyday then they aren't friends. She's never personally befriended someone like that, but there are so many representations out there of them they have to exist right? Either way she was counting her blessings that it didn't matter if it was two days or two weeks, they'd always fall right back in rhythm with one another.

"I couldn't agree more." She hummed taking another bite of her donut. "Mm these are pretty good I should grab another pair before we head out." She grinned.

Maggie didn't actually have a license. She had a fake one made, and she technically knew how to drive...but she never saw the need to get a real one. She usually never wound up in the same place she started when she goes out and usually (especially if it's a weekend) would have a hard time re-tracing her steps to figure out where said car would be left at in that process. Not to mention she knows how dangerous it is to be under the influence of anything and drive, and she'd never want someone else's blood on her hands due to her recklessness. So it was best that she never owns a car, and if she's never going to own a car she doesn't need a license.

Driving Jared's car would be the exception because she doesn't foresee anything crazy happening from dress shopping, but in the event it does...it's Jared's car who cares. He's got like three of them because he loves excess luxury. Also any opportunity to get on his nerves is one she'd gladly participate in.

Maggie looked over the outfit and smirked, "Mrs. Washington is just jealous she couldn't even dream of rocking that top as well as you do. I for one love it. I'mma have to get one like it in fact." She giggled with a smile. "But hey lucky for me she spends all her time looking for you I can sneak on in without being dress coded. Now getting through first period is a different story." She laughed. Her first period teacher was always making her put on a jacket during their class since he already knew dress coding her was pointless. Turns out she's better off in class then in the office...if she even makes it that far because at that point roaming the school is more interesting.

"Oh, sooooo, how was the lock-in? Do anything worth talking about?"

Maggie simply shook her head at Jo's question. It had been a decent ight but nothing exciting, "I helped Mikaela lock out some couple, but other then that I just roamed while being a bit tipsy." She hummed finishing off her donut finally. "What about you? I'm sure you found a way to have some fun." She smirked with a playful nudge. To be honest Maggie loved hearing Josie's stories. They were always entertaining for better or for worse. She always hoped for better, but that wasn't how life works. "Skinny dipping? Damn I knew I should've gone to the pool." She laughed. "Until what...?" She asked curiously knowing there had to be a juicier end to a story that starts off with skinny dipping.

"Should we start heading to the car before everyone starts heading to class?" She hummed looking around a moment. It was still pretty early and people were just hanging about. But they'd probably be more noticeable if they are headed to the parking lot after everyone is already heading to first period. Especially since this school seemed to think 6 min. passing periods are enough to get anywhere. Maggie never rushed to class, it was pointless to get all hot and bothered to what? Miss roll call? She was never super tardy just maybe a min. or two since she walked to class. Not speed walk, not jog, not find short cuts...walked like a normal human being should walk anywhere.

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Kitsune2202 · Jun 23, 2021

Dangerously Soft
Amethyst Jones

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their status to:
Where can the good girls go to hide away~

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their outfit to:
Body lookin like Milk

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their location to:
School (Music room)

@If.U.Seek.Amy has mentioned:
Evie

@If.U.Seek.Amy has interacted with:
Kian ( geminiy )

♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗

Amy was grateful that she didn't seem to be interrupting anything he was doing, and actually was being very kind about the whole thing despite how awkward she was. Running into people like him reminded her that not everyone in the world, or even in this school had the biggest attitudes in the universe. For better or for worse there were just so many people here with such bold and down right stubborn personalities that it was hard not to feel like you had to step on egg-shells just to get by. To go a single day without having someone go off on you, or get in some meaningless fight on twitter, or risk getting exposed for something you didn't even think was that bad. It was exhausting.

She hated to imagine if this was really just a miniature version of what the rest of their lives would be like if they actually make it big in their respective fields. Always holding your breath wondering when and how the shoe will drop. If she didn't absolutely love music she'd consider giving it all up to go back to IT. Some days when she was feeling especially down she still did.

She quickly had to shake such thoughts from her head because for all the terrible people running around here, she'd also met some really great ones, that she'd never give up for anything in the world. Music and friendship...so long as she had that here, she'd always tough it out somehow.

Amy's smile brightened when he mentioned having a charger even though he hadn't seen her friends. To be honest it was quite the stretch he even knew them since she's pretty sure they've interacted about as much as she had with him. While she did feel like they were definitely more well known around the school then her, that didn't mean everyone knew or remembered them. In fact weather it was true or not Amy still very much felt like a nobody in this place. Sure she knew a lot of people, but that was just because she was a friendly person. How many people actually cared about her existence and being here was a much smaller circle. Most people probably didn't even know her by name just 'Dei's Ex' and there were probably even less people who realized her full name wasn't Amy. However this wasn't something she's done much to correct so she can't really blame anyone but herself.

"I'd appreciate it. Thank you!" She chimed softly. She followed him to the music room while she was pretty familiar with herself. She always seemed to wind back up here when she was feeling down. She smiled as he gave her his charger and checked the tip to make sure it'd fit. "Perfect! You're awesome." She hummed as she bent down to plug it into the nearest outlet. Her ears perks up as he began to speak up again.

Was he offering to hear her out to comfort her? That was very sweet, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to burden another person with her woes other then the people she already had. Especially not a stranger. However he seemed sincere, and she always had felt she was a decent judge of character (she's not but the girl can have her delusions). "Are you sure?" She asked hesitantly. "I wouldn't wanna get you somehow mixed up in my drama." She sighed. "While a listening ear would be really nice, I don't think I really need advice. What's done has been done after all so there's not really much of an option for me." She giggled nervously twirling the tips of her hair around her finger taking a seat on the floor. "I am grateful for the offer nonetheless."

It wouldn't be so hard to talk about it her drama didn't include one of the self proclaimed bitches of the school. However this might also be the best time since according to twitter she's got much bigger problems on her hand now. Amy wished she could say she felt bad for the girl...but karma is the bitch of the universe and you get what you sew. You don't care about other people, it makes it hard for the universe to give you people who care about you. Was that a spiteful way of thinking? Probably. Did She care? For the first time in her entire life...No, not at all.

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gh0stwriter · Jun 23, 2021

Lucky DuBois

This was probably a bad idea.

It wasn’t a new thought. Every idea he’d had lately seemed to only make things worse. But Ash was safe. Not in the warm, ooey gooey way, but he’d yet to screw it up. They were good. Friends. As much as he’d let them be. And when they hung out, he could forget about the other bullshit. The drama.

Did he miss his other friends? As much as he could, but things. They made it complicated. He could barely even look Josie in the eyes. Maggie was being weird. Dorian had JJ. He had Javi and Kian but that was new. And he wasn’t sure where it would go. This was why he didn’t like to get close to anyone. It just made everything harder.

"Me?" The light and casualness of the conversation was welcomed. "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." He smirked, “OH yeah?” He played along. “You’ve been holding out on me, Blair.” They continued down the hall. "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." He chuckled. “You know, I’m not sure they’d believe me. You play the good girl act so well.” He teased.

It wasn’t a lie. Ash was a decent human being. She didn’t see it. But others did. Those that knew her. Not that he was an Ash expert, but, like he’s said before, he was good at reading people. And the truth was, he’d end up being the bad influence. Case and point -- day drinking.

"So it's all like... used alcohol? From like people you don't know?"

“Gross. No. I only grabbed the unopened bottles.” He rolled his eyes. Did she think he was a savage? Sure, maybe after a few drinks he wouldn’t really care where the liquor was coming from, but that initial sip was not going to be out of a bottle he didn’t know where it came from. He unscrewed the lid of the vodka and took a swig from the bottle as he watched her take in the scenery and ponder the...apparently difficult question he had posed.

"I don't really know," He titled his head in an amused way. Was he really such a mystery? He was reserved. Closed off. Didn’t share, but he didn’t see himself as some unsolvable mystery. Not for someone smart. "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." He chuckled. Hey, it was something.

“Awe..,” he placed a hand over his heart in a faux bashful manner. “That might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said about me.” He said playfully as he held the bottle out for her and took a spot next to her on the side of the roof. He gazed over at her and smiled. “Do you think they’ll etch that on my epitaph?” He held his hand out.

“Lucky DuBois. Not a dick.” He chuckled. “You sure know how to compliment a guy.” He smiled as he stared back at the ground.

"So... I thought you said that you didn't really, like, drink," And back to reality. He sighed. Figured it would come at some point. He wasn’t sure if she or Dorian would be the first to ask, but it was a fair question. But it was loaded. And Lucky didn’t like sharing. "I mean, you drank at the Halloween party, but everyone drinks at parties, so whatever. But... secret stash at the school?"

Okay, yeah. Secret stash at school was bad. But like, it wasn’t like he snuck up on the roof everyday to get wasted. It was a back up plan for when things got to be…too much.

"What changed?"

He shrugged. He didn’t want to lie. But he also couldn’t face the truth. He was a mess. “I don’t know.” He glanced over at her. “Sometimes…life just gets…you know?” He huffed out a small laugh. Did that really answer the question? He felt that it did.

“I mean. You get it, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t be up here. With me. Instead of with your other friends.” He grabbed the bottle back from her and took another swig. “Do you ever feel like you just can’t do anything right? Like no matter how hard you try, you just end up fucking shit up?” He sighed.

Feelings.

They were a bitch. And the fact that he was even being the least bit vulnerable made him cringe. Made him ready himself for judgement cause maybe it was just him. Maybe he was damaged. Maybe everyone else knew what the fuck they were doing and he was the outlier.

mood
to rebel or not to rebellocation
rooftop

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Had Some Drinks

by Two Feet

mentions
n-a

interactions
Ash rtags

Winona

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ohdittoh · Jun 23, 2021

Victoria Sterling

Victoria had realized her mistake far too late, it seemed, and now she had yet another regret review at midnight as she lay awake and waited for the melatonin to kick in: picking an effing school day on accident.

Yeah, okay, look. Sure, logic said that, like, if Christmas was a Friday, then three days before it would be a week day, but in her defense, dates were not her strong suit, okay? There was a reason why she used a calendar — but she’d looked at it only after the fact.

Okay, maybe it was just that logic wasn’t her strong suit — but it was also that Mikaela was way too fucking eager to make Tori as uncomfortable as possible on this excursion they were having, and her chomping at the bit to trap Tori in the situation that she’d accidentally suggested — ya know, skipping school like the fucking delinquents did — said more about Mikky than it did Tori, in Tori’s not-so-humble opinion.

“The twenty second sounds perfect,” Mikaela chimed before Tori could find another date. She reached over and put a hand over Tori’s screen, and Tori looked up at her, wide-eyed, her mouth slightly agape. “We’ll go with that.”

“Hey!” Tori started, her voice raised and nearly desperate. When she realized how she sounded, she cleared her throat and shook her head, setting her face sternly. “Hey, look. There’s, like…” She laughed somewhat nervously. “There’re plenty of other days that I could fit this in on that wouldn’t mean me skipping school, Mikky. I’m almost one-hundred percent sure that your record does not need another absence on it, and I’m not going to let you blame your expulsion or whatever on me.”

Nice save.

She rolled her eyes, quickly trying to pull her phone back. “Here, let me find—“

“There,” Mikaela said, tapping and adding the date to the calendar. “All penned in.”

Tori stared at her phone screen, the tension in her arms from trying to wrench the phone out of Mik’s hand slowly growing slack. There, in blue, was the event, marked an all-day thing: amusement park date. “Oh…” She moved her eyes to Mik, her brows knitting in indignation. “…my God.” She let out a huff. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.”

“We go on the twenty-second of December,” Mikaela said. Her voice was somewhat proud, and Tori could read: no, she wasn’t kidding; Mik was dead serious. Mik moved her hand off of Tori’s phone and raised a finger. Tori glared at her fingertip. “First thing in the morning. One full day of fun at the amusement park. I’ve already forwarded you the date so don’t turn around and tell me you can’t make it cause you’re busy or anything.”

“I—“ Tori started in protest, but then she cut herself off with a huff. She looked down at her phone screen again, staring at the date. “Oh my God,” she muttered. She threw a hand up, clicking her phone off and shoving it back in her pocket with her other hand.

Fine, was that what Mik wanted? It was what Mik was going to get. Tori was going to, like, “prove herself” or whatever, and also prove Mik wrong that she knew how to have a more fun time than Tori did. Tori was going to just be miserable the whole time, and Mik was going to regret ever dragging her along.

She agreed to the thoughts in her head with a solid, huffy nod, and her green eyes moved back to Mikaela. “Fine,” Tori said, crossing her arms. “Fine. But I have to take Beth to school. I can’t just, like, abandon her. I’m her ride.” That’d give her more time to mentally prepare. “Plus, like, she cannot know that I’m skipping.” Tori held up a finger, as if to scold Mik, and then she ran a hand through her hair. “Beth would totally rat me out to my parents, and then Mom would kill me.”

Okay, so maybe Beth wouldn’t be a narc. Tori didn’t know. But look, she couldn’t risk it. Her dad wouldn’t give a shit, seeing as he was the actually cool one who seemed to pretty much understand everything that Tori thought or did, but her mom? Yeah, no. The woman seemed to look for every flaw in Tori that she could find as was — oh, the perks of being Mumsie's least favorite — and she didn’t need another reason to scold her.

Or worse, like, a reason to threaten to pull her from the school or something.

Tori sighed softly. “But…you can ride with me to school that day or whatever and we can go after that.” She reached over and picked up her empty Coke can. Pressing one palm against the top and the other against the bottom, she crushed it in her hands. She cursed beneath her breath as dark liquid dripped onto her palms and left pants leg. She shook her hand to get the soda off, making a sound of disgust, and then she looked over at Mikaela and sighed. She was looking at her phone, so Tori doubted that she had heard what she’d said or was listening now, but that didn’t stop her from continuing.

“I’m driving, ‘kay?” Tori said. “I absolutely do not trust you to get us there in one piece. My little Subaru gets good gas mileage, too, so there’s no point in arguing that. Plus, you owe me, since we’re going on a fucking school day. This is going to ruin my perfect attendance record — I hope you’re happy.”

Tori absolutely did not have a perfect attendance record. She’d been bedridden with all kinds of sicknesses throughout her years, and that screwed up her record, okay? It wasn’t her fault.

And literally, no, she wasn’t a hypochondriac — her immune system was shit.

And she was also a little bit of a hypochondriac.

Okay, look, to be fair, every time she looked online, she got told that her sniffles were a sign of cancer, so could you really blame her?

But Mik didn’t know that, and what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her and would also make it easier for Tori to get the upper hand in this situation.

“Fucking amusement park on a school day…,” Tori sighed deeply. “We’re going to get arrested. I swear to God, if we get arrested, it’s all your fault. I’m going to die in prison, Mik. I’m literally too young and too pretty. They’re going to eat me fucking alive. Maybe even literally. Some of the bitches in prison are, like, fucking tough, I’ve heard. Oh God…you’re so going to owe me.”

Tori was absolutely not being dramatic. All of this shit followed logically. First, they skipped and went to the amusement park; next, they were rotting in prison, living beneath the looming threat of being torn limb-from-limb and made into Tori-and-Mik stew.

“Are you even listening?” she huffed at Mikaela, and then she clicked the button on her own phone to take a glance at the time. She let out a soft sigh. Breakfast had gone on a little longer than usual, and it was cutting into her writing time.

“Ugh…,” she groaned.

Mik looked up at Tori. “I should probably get a move on,” she said.

“Yeah, me, too,” Tori sighed, setting the crushed Coke can atop her empty plate and doing the same with the crumpled napkins surrounding it.

“I was supposed to be on set five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, and there’s no way I’m going to get that short story done and ready to read and finish that anthology…” Tori ran a hand through her hair. “I spent too much time here bitching at you.” She rolled her eyes. “And it didn’t even do any good.”

“Shall we get going then?” Mik asked. “I’m sure you have places to be as well given your busy schedule, right?”

Tori gave a long sigh, dragging herself up from the table. She knew that Mik meant it as a joke, but she rolled her eyes. “Don’t say it that way — you’re literally right. I’ve got better things to do than futile insist that this outing is going to be lame and scold you for making me miss school for it.” She breathed out a long sigh.

It seemed as though Mik wasn’t going to pick up her own litter, so Tori did her the gracious favor of picking it up for her. She double-owed her. Tori decided against grabbing the half-empty paper mug of coffee — it’d be a waste just to toss it, even if Mik acted like it was poison. She walked over to the trash can and dropped the trash into it, then walked back to the table, slinging her designer purse over her shoulder and picking up its backpack, which hung over the back of her seat.

Mikaela was waiting away a few steps away from the table, so Tori picked up her coffee as a favor, smiling to herself.

Okay, look.

So the more she thought about the outing, the more she considered, hey, maybe it won’t be so bad.

Hard maybe, but…

Like, there was a slight chance that Tori would enjoy it.

Emphasis on slight, but there was a chance.

“I can’t wait for the twenty-second!” Mikaela shouted, grinning and throwing her hands in the air.

“Hey, shhh!” Tori said, holding a finger up to her lips. “Don’t announce it to the whole world!”

“It’s going to be epic.” Mikaela looked genuinely excited.

Tori couldn’t help but smile — and then she tried to press the smile to her face. Right, she was supposed to be more reluctant. She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. If you say so,” she laughed.

As they made their way down the hallway together, the girls chattered, and Tori maintained her stance on the matter — kinda-feigned reluctance and all. Finally, they came to a stop at the room where Mikaela wanted to film.

Tori held out the coffee cup for Mikaela. “Here’s your Kryptonite, Superman,” she teased. “Drink up — no reason to let it go to waste. Plus, I think you’re going to need the energy to deal with…” She glanced around her shoulders, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t listening, and then she finished, “Princess Chas Marinapoleon.”

She grinned, and she reached out for a hug, giving Mikaela’s shoulders a good, firm squeeze. “Good luck,” she said before pulling back. She held one bicep tightly. “Don’t let me down or you’ll owe me — like, triple time.” She held up three fingers and gave her a stern look. She jabbed them teasingly into Mikaela’s chest. Her expression dissolved into a smile. “Now go get ‘em, Tiger,” she said, and she laughed.

She watched Mikaela walk into the room, and then she turned to head somewhere to write. However, she just so happened to spot a table right outside of the room that they were filming in — one that looked just perfect for writing.

No, this was not an “easy way to helicopter mom her friend on set”. It was just, like, a conveniently-placed spot for her to write, okay?

She sat down at the table, smiling to herself, and she pulled out her laptop, totally not straining her ears to hear the goings-on within the room beside her.

mood
ugh. yeah. well, you owe me when i go to prison.

location
outside of the room where everyone's filming

outfit
white & grey

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms

mentions
beth & chas

interactions
mikaela

tags

Xed

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gh0stwriter · Jun 23, 2021

Landon Sinclaire

This was going well.

He had Mike right where he wanted him. That smug, stupid look he plastered on his face all the time was gone. He’d gotten to him. That was the goal right? Who could scratch through the surface enough to garner any type of reaction? His own smug smirk never left his face as his eyes bored into Mike’s.

He’d won. And now, the inevitable blows would come. He stopped expecting anything a long time ago. Whatever friendship they had was long gone.

Mike grinned.

Landon’s eyes shifted to the grin on Mike’s face. His previous feelings of victory dashed. Piece of shit wasn’t done.

And he was tired.

So fucking tired.

“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.

He glared down at the other boy. Was he right? He wanted him to be. He wanted to hate Mike. Maybe that would make everything…easier. Maybe it would give him closure. Put everything in perspective.

“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?”

To be honest, he still didn’t know what he had done. What he’d done that made Mike hate him so much. He’d just snapped. Almost cost him his place in this school. But he never got an explanation. Not that he’d ever get one.

“Best friends,” is that what they were? Landon had thought so, but Mike had never really classified things. It got in the way of his macho douche routine. “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 brow furrowed as the grin slipped from Mike’s face. “So why don't you just stay out of my fucking way, huh?"

Cause you started it, bitch. Like he always did. He could never just leave him be. Had to stick his finger in the wound and twist it around to make sure he remembered just how much Mike could hurt him.

"You don't want to fucking fight me.”

You don’t know 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?"

Fucking tell?

What the actual fuck?

“You have no idea what I want.” His voice cracked momentarily.

Fucking prick had no idea what Landon wanted. Not anymore. Not after everything.

This piece of shit actually thought he still had an insight into the inner workings of his brain.

He huffed out a frustrated laugh. His smug smirk long gone. Replaced with a vacant expression.

He’d lost everything.

Evie.

Gen.

Mike.

"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."

The desperate sound in Mike’s voice raised his brow. His eyes met his as he searched them. He contemplated his next move. His fist still clenched at his side, ready to throw a well-deserved punch.

A second wave of rage rose up.

How fucking dare he act like Landon was the one that started it. That he was the one who made the first move. That Mike just wanted civility. Just wanted to be left alone.

How dare he act hurt. Defeated. As if this wasn’t all Mike’s fault in the first place. They were here. In the boys bathroom ready to beat the other into a bloody mess on the floor because of Mike.

Ass.

His eyes narrowed as he inhaled deeply. He didn’t get to tell him what to do. Not anymore.

So punch him.

He wanted to.

He should. The fucking scrunched face fuck with Jack-o-lantern eyebrows deserved it.

Punch him.

He wanted to.

He wanted to so fucking badly. His eyes almost pleading Mike to give him a reason. But instead, he looked at him with a look that matched his own.

Defeat.

Desperation.

Exhaustion.

Punch. Him.

And without hesitation, Landon closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Mike’s desperately.

Not exactly what he was going for, but here we are.

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

ohdittoh

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jun 23, 2021

MICHAEL K. REID

Mike’s muscles were tense, his eyes bearing the warning don’t test me and his lips set in a way that added a please. His chest was burning, his nostrils were burning. His heart was pumping acid through his veins to a racing tempo. Some beats caught up in his throat as he watched the small movements of Landon’s face, readied himself for some quick action and teetered on the edge of acting on his own.

Buhbumpbuhbumpbuhbump. He could hear his pulse in his ears. Buhbumpbuhbumpbuhbump. And Landon’s breath, he could hear, too, shaky. He was restraining himself, too. And Mike’s own breath that was growing ragged with anticipation, Mike could hear as well. This were the only sounds that filled the empty bathroom.

He tried to read Landon’s thoughts in his eyes, tried to grasp what page he was on, tried to see his movements before they happened so he could react quickly — so that he could win the fight that he was sure was about to fucking break out.

Mike’d accepted it. Looking into Landon’s eyes, he’d accepted that he was going to have to beat him into a bloody pulp, even if that meant that his own face was going to wind up bloodied before his photoshoot. Internally, he sent a preemptive, backhanded apology to Gen: Sorry for giving the fuckface what was coming to him and finishing up the job that I started the lock-in. Sorry for giving him what he fucking deserved.

But Landon would have to make the first move, and so far, he wasn’t moving.

And so, they were locked in a tense silence. The next move made would snap this, snap the stance that they held, bring this all either to a dramatic climax or send it all tumbling down.

Buhbump.

Landon’s eyes narrowed. Hazel. Angry. Furious. Vengeful.

Buhbump.

He was taking too long.

Make your fucking move.

Mike clenched his fist.

Buhbump.

Landon drew in a deep inhale.

Something shifted in Landon’s eyes — to quick for Mike to read it.

Mike’s brows began to knit, and he drew in a breath, began to his mouth to speak—

And Landon’s lips pressed desperately against his.

Mike’s body froze.

His heart stopped, and then gave a loud buhbump.

Buhbump.

Buhbump.

He couldn’t move for a moment, couldn’t think.

Landon kissed him.

His blood was frozen in his veins.

His heart was pumping nothing, just loudly banging on his ears.

Buhbump.

Buhbump.

Buh—

Mike’s hands found Landon’s shoulders.

And he gave him a firm shove back.

And then he stared at Landon for a moment.

Stared at the boy who had just kissed him.

His eyes were wide.

Shocked.

Not angry.

Not really anything beyond confused.

Stunned.

Buhbump.

He slowly raised a hand to his lips, touching them vaguely.

Buhbump.

“What the fuck?” he whispered beneath his breath, and when he’d voiced that, his blood seemed to start circulating again.

Circulating with its anger, its vitriol.

But now, there was some confusion, some other emotion in there, something that made his face and his fists screw up again, his lips curling in disgust and his fingers curling into a fist.

And he said it louder, louder for Landon to hear: “What the actual fuck?!”

His voice was on the edge of cracking, warbled at the end. He was confused, and angry, and there was also something else, something fucking unreadable even to Michael himself.

And he asked again, “What was that shit, huh?!”

His eyes finally lifted to Landon’s face, bore into his eyes for a second with all of their disgust, and then he let out a laugh, a laugh like a bark. It echoed through the bathroom.

He stepped towards Landon again, holding his palms out from his chest. “Is that some kind of joke? Or were you fucking begging for something, huh?!” His voice was harsh, his questions demanding, but it was doubtful that any answer that Landon gave would serve to do anything. “Was it some kind of — some kinda ’come back to me, Mike’? ‘I’m so fucking lonely, everyone fucking hates me, let me kiss it fucking better’, huh?” He gave him a shove. “What the hell, you want me to dry-hump you in the fucking boy’s bathroom — huh? Some shit like that?”

He stepped back from Landon, turning his head away from him. “What the fuck?” he asked, looking down. “What is this shit?” His shoulders were heaving, his breathing ragged despite the fact that nothing was happening. His pulse had quickened — his heart was pumping overtime. He lifted his burning eyes to Landon. “You think this is funny?” he asked in a low voice, and then he grit his teeth, speaking louder. “Are you that fucking stupid?! That fucking desperate?” He was walking towards him again. “Think this will solve your problems, huh?! Solve my issues with you?! That that’d do fucking anything?!”

By the end of his speaking, he was yelling, and then, he stared at Landon, face intense with emotion. He said nothing for a moment — did nothing for a moment, and then he asked lowly, “You know what?”

His eyes searched Landon’s face again, and then he repeated, “You know what?” And then he answered: “Fuck you.”

And he stepped away, started towards the door, but he kept his eyes trained on Landon. “I never want to see your fucking face again,” he said. “Never fucking again. You watch it—” He placed his palm on the door. “Next time, I won’t just threaten to beat your ass.” He pushed the door open, and then he promised, “I’ll fucking do it.”

With that, he walked out into the hall, leaving Landon alone to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do.

Stand there for fucking ever. Never move from that fucking spot. Jerk off in the bathroom stall over Mike’s harsh words like the fucking masochist he was.

Drown himself in the sink.

Whatever the fuck he wanted to do.

Mike didn’t give a shit.

He touched absently at his lips as he walked, clenching his jaw, his shoulders rising and falling with ragged breaths.

Fuck Landon Sinclaire.

Fuck him.

Fuck.

Him.

mood
...

location
wherever

outfit
something casual

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly

mentions
n/a

interactions
landon

tags

gh0stwriter

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 23, 2021

Zeph Evermore

There was something that seemed to pass through Spencer's eyes when Zeph passed him the phone, and for a moment, his head tilted to the side, eyebrows drawing together in a question... but then he just shook it off. If it was something, he could always inquire about it after their dance. Plus, it wasn't exactly his place to start asking questions, was it? It wasn't as if Zeph and Spencer were friends -- they hardly knew each other.

So he tried to focus on the music as the song started up again, and then they started moving through the motions again. The dance went more fluidly than it had before, and he was pleased with how the change in the moves turned out. As in, he didn't find it to be as much of a hindrance as he had thought it previously would be. A little smile was on his lips as they came to the end of the song, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

Was he exhausted? Of freaking course -- he'd been working for hours and had yet to take a break, but he knew that the instant he sat down, he wasn't getting back up for a while. So he didn't pause to take that break, instead, he smiled down at Maeve before glancing over at Spencer.

"That went great, right?" He asked, still trying to catch his breath as he walked back over to Spencer. He held a hand out for his phone, right as a little message popped up on his screen from Stella. "Thanks," he said absently to Spencer as he clicked out of the video to go check the text from Stella.

Lunch...?

Oh fuck, had he forgotten to text her back?

Quickly, he exchanged a couple messages with Stella (obviously apologizing for his lapse in thought), and then he looked back up at his companions after she'd agreed to lunch. He totally saved it. And he'd make it up to her because yeah, of course he felt some level of guilt over forgetting to reply to her.

"Thanks for the help, Spencer," he said again, and then he looked back at his phone as he opened up the video and started to play it, his gaze scrutinizing it.

Was he done working?

No. He was never really done.

mood
not good enough

location
one of those practice dance rooms

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

playing...
We Like It

by Computer Games

mentions
N/A

interactions
Maeve, Spencer

tags

Xed

Stardust Galaxy

º º code by ditto º º

qunqun · Jun 23, 2021

MOOD:
Warm n Fuzzy

OUTFIT:
Something comfy sans a jacket

LOCATION:
School
basics

MENTIONS: INT: Ez geminiy Chas hery
tags

TL;DR:
Nope
tl;dr

Auguste

Auguste was minding his own business, following Ez like the good assistant he was, when Chas suddenly stepped between the two and Auguste stopped on a dime, trying to avoid touching Chas like he was a plague carrier.

Was he scared of hurting Chas by accident? Maybe a little bit. Hurting someone - even someone as objectively disliked as Chas - was a slippery slope back to where he started. And where he started… no never again. Maybe that made him a bit of a pushover in other people’s eyes. But, he couldn’t be bothered to care. He needed freedom from his own hangups before he could worry about what other people thought of him.

“It’s the chain of command around here.”

Auguste was already beginning to formulate his rebuttal against that, after all, his understanding of the situation was ALEX being the one in charge here, Ez saved him from having to reply to that one, luckily.

And then from Chas’s lips came a deluge of requests. For someone that didn’t want him here a second ago, the smaller director really did have a load of requests to fulfill. Probably should ask someone actually qualified to work a camera or do lighting though, he had no idea how to do any of that.

However, his mother’s training said that when someone gives you a list of demands, you follow it. So, the list of demands lined up in Auguste’s head fairly quickly - completely unwelcome to him - as he listened with a stony expression

1. Set up a camera (How was he going to do that? No clue.)
2. Arranging lighting (What. It was going to look like shit. Chas should hire someone actually qualified for this.)
3. Find a diagram for the scene (Probably would lead into one and two. Still definitely outside his unpaid assistant job description.)
4. Go grab a coffee (Finally something he could do. Black for Chas, Cinnamon for Ez. He remembered stuff like that. The tiny details.)

And then he was dismissed like a servant, and quite frankly he resented that. Especially from Chas of all people… though it was mostly expected. Still, he was really here to help Ez and he opened his mouth, with three rebuttals:

A. Chas could go shove it because Ez was his boss
B. He had no idea how to do at least ¾ of the tasks he’d been assigned so couldn’t Chas find literally anyone even remotely more qualified with the “vast amount of resources” Chas had at his fingertips.
C. If it was a private conversation with Ez which Chas wanted, he could always just briefly ask Auguste to leave the room. No need to grandstand with this ridiculous list of demands.

And before Auguste could find a way to actually articulate any of that in English, Ez interjected once more (Auguste was rather surprised by the arm barring him from exiting, it was a nice touch). Auguste’s mouth curled into a similar wolf-like grin at the insistence to use his name.

Ez led him over to a table (again before Auguste could get a word out, but frankly he was too entertained right now to even care), showed him two different greys, and asked him to pick one. Auguste gave Ez a little side-eye. Okay, they were playing the “Focus on Auguste in order to make Chas more frustrated that things outside of his control are happening” game. He could play that game.

“Eh… I think we’ve already established my love of the abalone.” Auguste joked. “But I will consider this choice with the immense seriousness...”

As Auguste analyzed the greys, he looked over to what Ez was doing, focusing on the clay pieces as he came to his conclusion.

“I think the charcoal would be more suitable, especially if this is a new medium… Go with the thing you are most comfortable using, no?” Auguste said simply as he was handed sandpaper.

Ez’s hands were now guiding his hands in a very gently circular motion around the clay… He did ask for pottery lessons. Okay. He tried to not feel too warm and fuzzy at the touch. The pat on his back also made him feel all nice and warm on the inside…

God he needed more positive reinforcement, that was a thing to talk about the therapist when he had money again.

He gave a little grin at Ez’s wink and began trying his best at sanding, putting his earbuds back in to resume listening to Aretha Franklin.

He was completely aware that he’d been given a menial job in order to distract him from whatever was going on with Chas and Ez at the moment, but a detail-oriented task that he personally found very calming and required a lot of delicate repetitive movement? Yeah, it was right up his alley. He was pretty happy with the situation he’d found himself in.

code by valen t.

Winona · Jun 23, 2021

Ashton West

The conversation had turned from light-hearted, easy, playful, teasing -- all of those good, like, warm feelings to one that was... not uncomfortable, but like... more serious than the conversation had previously been. Her lips had turned down into a small frown and for a moment, while he spoke, she just stared down at the glass bottle of vodka in her hands. Her fingernail picked absently at the corner of the sticker.

She brought the bottle up to her lips, taking a mouthful, and she didn't swallow at first -- instead, she let the liquid burn and scald the inside of her mouth before she swallowed, a grimace forming on her face while she waited for the feeling to pass as she brought the bottle back down to rest against her lap.

Her fingernail returned to picking at the sticker.

“I don’t know.” He glanced over at her, and she glanced over at him to meet his gaze, and she tried to give a hesitant smile. “Sometimes…life just gets…you know?”

Yeah, she got that.

Life got to be too much, too hard, when it like... felt as if there was nothing you could do that wouldn't end in flames. In people screaming, and yelling, and hurt, so she just like... didn't do anything. You just didn't step out of the lines, and you take easy, careful steps, just in case the cracking ice under your feet broke apart completely and sent you plunging into the icy depths. Yeah, she could get it.

She always felt like that.

The bottle was brought back up to her lips, and she took another sip.

So much for "just lightly buzzed" or whatever she'd said before.

Ash held the bottle back out to him.

“I mean. You get it, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t be up here. With me. Instead of with your other friends.” He grabbed the bottle back from her. “Do you ever feel like you just can’t do anything right? Like no matter how hard you try, you just end up fucking shit up?”

Her head tilted slightly to the side. With nothing to occupy her hands, her fingers clasped together for a moment, but that just stressed her out more, so she brought her hands to rest on either side of her on the ledge. Her fingers tapped lightly against the concrete.

Literally every day.

"Okay well," she started and looked towards him, a genuine smile on her face. "I'm not, like... up here because of that or whatever. We're friends. I like, like, hanging out with you or whatever. If I didn't, then I would've just been like 'no, let's rehearse' so then, like, I could get away from you faster." Ash gave a light laugh, and she leaned over to elbow him in the side playfully before straightening back up.

It was a joke, obviously, well like... it wasn't a joke, because it was true. She did enjoy hanging out with him. Like, Ash hung out with a lot of people, but there was something so... easy about hanging out with him. She almost always felt like she was tiptoeing around broken glass when she was speaking others, like any misplaced step would leave her injured, and yet with him? Yeah, she didn't really have that fear.

Then again, she hadn't had that feeling with like... Callum or Hunter, and look how that had turned out. So maybe she should have that feeling, because Lucky was literally one misplaced sentence from turning on her just like they had.

At least it wouldn't hurt quite as much.

Lucky was a friend, but he hadn't become a fixture in her life where, like... losing him would feel like a part of her had been ripped out by force.

Her smile faltered.

Her gaze focused on a spot nowhere in particular on the roof.

"I mean, yeah," she said, finally answering his question with a laugh. The momentary downtrodden look? Gone. She was smiling, and there was that normal cheerful, breezy tone to her voice. "Like, not to brag or whatever, but I'm basically the Queen of Fucking Things Up," she explained as she looked away from that spot on the roof to look over at Lucky. She was still smiling, even if she felt anything but happy. "Exhibit A: lock-in. Exhibit B? My last relationship." She shrugged, as if all of it was really no big deal, even though it felt anything but.

Well, both relationships.

Exhibit C? My current relationship.

She rubbed her fingers against the concrete, pressing harder and harder against the stone until it started to hurt. Her smile fell and she looked at the ground in front of her once, her teeth lightly digging into her bottom up.

"It's... hard when it feels like everyone's, like, watching and kind of like... waiting for you to fuck up, just so they can laugh in your face and be all like... 'haha, I was right,' and blah, blah, blah..." she shrugged, a half-hearted smile returning to her face as she looked back over at Lucky. "This place sucks, but you kinda get used to it pretty quickly."

Aka: you found ways to deal with the stress.

Ash held her hand out for the vodka and, once the all too familiar bottle was back in her hand, she took another sip and then brought it back down, setting it in the space between herself and Lucky.

mood
lol morning vodka

location
hallway or something idk

outfit
omg great oufits

playing...
I Don't Know Why

by NOTD

mentions
Hunter, Callum

interactions
Lucky

tags

gh0stwriter

º º code by ditto º º

PenguinFox · Jun 24, 2021

MOOD: Excited and Bored

OUTFIT: Navy blue zip up hoodie, black skinny jeans, royal blue high top converse on left foot, maroon high top converse on right foot

LOCATION: School Courtyard
basics

MENTIONS:
AkuTheWolfOkami
INT:
tags

TL;DR Stoked to finally be recovered, Newt waits for Kayla in the courtyard
tl;dr

Newt

I look good today; self care, green hair. Looking cute today.

Long fingers rapidly tapped on black skinny jeans to a quick beat as Corey Newton weaved his way through the halls. His mismatched maroon and royal blue converse squeaking with the occasional twirl around someone. A casual and gleeful smirk rested on his face. It felt great to finally be out of that awful sling. While he had multiple talents that had caught the attention of his mother's business partner, who was paying for his tuition, what Newt was most passionate about was drumming. There was something special about being able to focus his energy into a rhythm, something exhilarating about the kickdrum forcing his heart to follow a pace. In short it felt like he had his freedom back and he couldn't be more ecstatic about it.

For the past several weeks Newt hadn't been very socially active. It wasn't a common occurrence by any means, but he was embarrassed by something stupid he did. It wouldn't have been such a big deal if he wasn't in a very noticeable sling because of it. People tended to ask what happened when they saw someone in a sling or cast and Newt didn't really want to have to continue to recap the story or make up a likely scenario. The truth was that he had fractured his collarbone jumping off of the Johannes' roof. He was aiming for the pool but...he did not stick the landing. That wasn't exactly a proud story to tell, would've been much cooler if he had gotten in a car accident, or been on a rollercoaster that went off the rails or something like that. So in his best attempt to not be a laughing stock he laid as low as possible. He hated missing out on all the fun and action and felt incredibly lost but he really didn't want to take the risk. He was kept somewhat up to date with the going-ons by his friends, but it wasn't the same as being present for them.

Newt made his way to his locker, mind wandering as was typical for him. After three failures to get his locker open he caved and checked his phone for the combination. He always had a weird paranoia about writing that kind of stuff down. What if someone were to find that information? Granted he didn't have anything of value in his locker but that didn't stop the paranoia. His older sister was very insistent on Newt starting to write things down more however. Before this school year started she had sat him down and had a very serious conversation about how important this opportunity was. He needed to do well if he wanted to continue going here, and he needed to remember important things to do well. Once in his locker was open he grabbed two of the redbulls from the twenty four pack he kept in there and the sticks he had desperately been missing. Newt had a newfound admiration for Def Leppard's drummer now that he had firsthand experienced what it was like- well sort of. From there he checked his phone. He had developed a habit of putting his random thoughts on twitter. Sometimes he thought they were funny and if it made someone smile then he was happy.

Through twitter Newt was reminded of the very important project he had somehow forgotten. A small sense of panic rose in his chest but he was used to procrastinating and still getting things done so he wasn't too worried. He just hoped that Kayla didn't hate him for forgetting. Newt had a lot of respect for Kayla. He knew that his short attention span was annoying to most people, even those closest to him could get frustrated from time to time, but Kayla never seemed to care. At least not that he had seen. Plus Newt highly respected anyone who could produce music. They may have been a bit of an odd duo, but to be fair any duo containing Newt was automatically at least a little odd.

The partners had decided to meet up in the courtyard to discuss their Arts Fest project, which was rapidly approaching. Newt was mostly just excited to have a partner. With major projects it really helped focus his mind to have someone depending on him; it made him more likely to do the work. Screwing up his own work was fine, but he'd feel absolutely terrible if he screwed up and someone else suffered consequences for it. Additionally Newt was looking forward to someone who viewed music...a little more professionally than he did.

Sitting on a bench in the courtyard, Newt opened one of his energy drinks and downed half of it in a few sips. It had gotten to the point in his life that only copious amounts of caffeine could effect him, and even then he still had the ability to go straight to bed afterwards. It wasn't a great addiction to have, but hey there were worse things to depend on right? He sent a text to Kayla saying he had arrived at their agreed upon meeting spot and then pulled out his drumsticks from his backpack's side pocket. He closed his eyes and he focused on the birds for a moment before tapping his foot on an imaginary bass pedal. There wasn't any audible sound but Newt could hear the beat he was making in his mind. His hands followed suit and played the rest of the drumset in his mind. It started off as a random beat he was improvising then turned into one of his go to favorites; Enter Sandman. It was one of the first songs he learned and always held a special place for him. He knew it by heart and could play it anywhere, anytime; especially when he had nothing else to do but wait for someone.

code by valen t.

geminiy · Jun 24, 2021

Genevieve Johannes

@genjohanne has set their status to:
well fuck

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

@genjohanne has set their location to:
school hallway

@genjohanne has mentioned:
Evie & Landon

@genjohanne has interacted with:
Luciana & Mike

@genjohanne has tagged:
Stardust Galaxy ohdittoh

Luciana’s words should have hurt, the brutal honesty should have cut through Gen like a knife. Any normal person would have felt the burn, would have retaliated in some capacity. But all Genevieve could do was sit and listen like an idiot, silently tracing the rim of her coffee cup as she listened to the younger plastic’s words.

Perhaps it was the logic that kept Gen from simply getting up and walking away in a fit of anger. Luci was right, the whole situation was an absolute clusterfuck on all sides. Gen still blamed herself for most of it, it was impossible not to, but hearing someone else validate what she was feeling without trying to sugar coat it in an attempt to spare her feelings was a refreshing change. So many people had taken immediate sides, trying to comfort Gen and stroke her ego or siding with Evie and tearing down Gen without any true knowledge of the situation. Gen didn’t deserve the comfort but she also certainly didn’t deserve the random people throwing their opinions around as if they knew what they were talking about.

The more Luci talked, the more Gen relaxed back into her seat and the more her body began to ache with fatigue. God, she was exhausted and fuck, she was done with all of the Evie/Landon bullshit. So, Gen couldn’t help but smile for just a second as Luci swiftly accepted Gen’s topic change.

"The job was awesome, everyone was so professional, it was an eye-opening experience. I was in charge of the whole wardrobe for one of the secondary characters, but I did help with the rest of the cast. It was so refreshing to finally be able to work on a filming set with real actors, don't get me wrong I don't have a problem working with models too, you are a delight to work with, but there's more than one model here that I sometimes wish I could strangle" Luciana explained with a soft laugh. "But now that I'm back I really need to catch up with everything that I miss in class, especially my project for the Arts Festival. How's yours coming along by the way. Let me know if you need help I'll try to lend you a hand if I'm not extremely busy"

Gen leaned back into her seat, shifting her weight slightly in the chair as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it because I was afraid that you weren’t going to like them. I worked with that crew a while back for some big SFX competition. It was really fun from a modelling perspective but honestly, they were sorta a bit overbearing. Clearly they weren’t with you though because I really doubt that you would hold your tongue if they talked shit and they had nothing but praise to sing of you.” Gen lifted the coffee cup to her lips, taking a deep sip. “I cannot say I’m surprised though. Your work was incredible, they sent me photos of some of the things you had done. Honestly, dear, you astonish me every day.”

A loud bell rang overhead causing Gen to jump slightly in her seat. Tapping her phone’s screen, she mumbled a soft ‘shit’ under her breath as she slid off the chair and onto her feet. “Sorry to cut this short, darling, but class is about to start. We should meet up sometime this week, celebration dinner’s on me.”

With a wink and a charismatic wave, Gen turned on her heels and made her way out of the classroom. Safely out into the now bustling crowd of the hallway, her face fell back to the tired expression it had been in when Luciana had still arrived. All she had to do was to get through the day, how hard could that be?

──────────── ❖ ────────────

The answer to her previous question: very.

Morning classes had been awful, stupid Calculus followed by Business in the Fashion Industry. As if Gen needed help with networking or finding business deals or creating a brand for herself, she had already had that shit on lock since she was a child. And calculus, who needed that shit to strut a runway and conquer a company? It was pathetic, really.

To top it all off, she still hadn’t talked much to Evie outside of defending her on Twitter from some stupid lowlife nobody. Mix the guilt and the anger and the frustration and the exhaustion all together and the result was one very moody, very pissed off Genevieve. Things were already going poorly when Gen opened her bag to grab her car keys and wallet when a long strip of metal and leather clambered to the bottom of her locker. Scooping it up with her graceful fingers, Gen groaned at the sight. Fucking Michael’s belt, dumbass had forgotten it at her house.

Gently tossing the belt onto her shoulder and grabbing her belongings, Gen slammed her locker door shut and began to make her way down the hallway. She hadn’t much talked to Mike since the whole lock-in blowup, nor did she think that she had any reason to. Any remnants of whatever relationship they had going on before that was effectively smashed to pieces so why would she put effort into a companionship that was already dead when she could, instead, add him to the list of lost friends?

Gen made her way over to Mike, pulling the belt off of her shoulder and flipping it in half in her hand. “I think you forgot this, the morning…” Gen paused, deciding not to finish her sentence. She really didn’t need to, the words ‘of lock-in’ were obvious enough. With a sigh, Gen let go of whatever remaining strength she had left and simply placed the belt gently in Mike’s hands. “Figured you’d want it back. No point in me having it.”

Mission accomplished. Pulling her keys out of her pocket, Gen gave a weak nod of goodbye to Mike and began to walk past him as the guilt and shame gnawed away at the inside of her chest.

º º code by ditto º º

geminiy · Jun 25, 2021

Kian Phelan

@lockandkian has set their status to:
I have amazing ideasssssssss

@lockandkian has set their outfit to:
colour in kian's closet? never heard of it

@lockandkian has set their location to:
you'll see

@lockandkian has mentioned:
n/a

@lockandkian has interacted with:
Amy, Felix, Damien

@lockandkian has tagged:
Kitsune2202 ohdittoh Winona

Yikes. Just… Yikes.

Look, Kian wasn’t good at this whole comforting thing, it was definitely one of his major downfalls. Kelli had always been the friendly therapist of the house, Kian was more of a distract and conquer rather than confront and solve sorta fellow. So no, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to sit and listen to Amy being all upset and alone. He was going to because he wasn’t a shitty person and clearly the poor girl needed a hug but if she was expecting some half-decent advice or some solid comfort, she would have to go elsewhere.

“Uh, yeah.” Kian eventually spoke, cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment as he realized that he had thought the ‘okay’ but hadn’t actually verbalized it. Fuck, he hated when his mouth and his brain didn’t cooperate. “I mean, I’m down,” Kian quickly corrected out of fear of sounding rude, “tell me what’s on your mind, sugar pie?”

Sugar pie… What sort of stupid ass nickname was that? Was he working at the bingo hall now? Or driving his kids to soccer practice? No, sugar pie was worse than soccer mom Kian, it was a whole new brand of ‘what the fuck’.

With a sigh, Kian sunk into his seat and crossed one leg over the other, knee encompassed with his clasped fingers. What? If he was gonna play Dr Phil he was gonna act the damn part. If only he could grow a moustache…

✩══════════════════✩

The rest of his morning was spent either talking to Amy or ruminating on what the poor girl was going through. Kian felt bad about everything that was going on with her, even worse that there was absolutely jackshit he could do about it. What else could he do besides sit there and pull some stupid ‘there there’ shit? Even that would be a low, careless blow from Kian (besides, it never worked. Who seriously uses ‘there there’ as a comfort method?). So, instead of saying anything or pretending like he knew what the fuck he was doing, he simply sat there and listened and made a mental note to keep an eye out for her in his travels.

In his travels? What is he, a fucking Skyrim character? Get a grip, Kian.

Anyways, first period came and went in a blur, Kian’s fingers and wrists burning from nearly two hours of straight practice. Luckily, his free second period arrived in no time like a beautiful ray of practiceless sunshine.

Should he spend his spare time working on his Art Fest project or catching up on that stupid English essay that he was like three weeks behind on? Yeah, he definitely should have. Was he instead going to go figure out a way to bug Damien? Abso-fuckin-lutely.

Look, don’t get all judgey on Kian, him bugging Damien was how he displays affection. You shoulda seen the one time when Damien showed up at Kian’s concert and…

Okay no, nevermind. Damien would kill Kian if he told that story and the dude was already on thin ice.

Moving on.

Kian pulled his phone out as he was walking to his locker, a goofy grin slopped onto his face as the words swam across his phone screen. A message was out to Damien before Kian could really recognize what he was typing and…

Hold on, did that little shit just say no to Kian coming to pay a visit?

“You bastard.” Kian groaned under his breath. Of course he would say no, Damien didn’t want to admit that he liked Kian so if he said yes to hanging out, he’d admit defeat. Stupid little emotionally unavailable dickhead. “Be that way.”

Shoving his things into his locker, Kian pondered what to do. He too could admit defeat and just go work on his Art Fest project or something else worthwhile. But then again, when did Kian ever do anything smart or actually useful with his time? Intelligence wasn’t exactly a big selling point for the guitarist but boy oh boy, was he stubborn.

Kian began to formulate a plan, a rather genius plan if you ask him. It was quite simple, really:
1) Ask Felix to bitch slap Damien (optional) ✔
2) Get Felix to unlock the door
2.1) Get Felix to unlock the window ✔
3) Climb the side of the building and break into the art room ✔
4) Prosper ✔

So, with the confidence of an overly stupid child (which, let’s be honest, is about as mature as Kian was going to get), Kian made his way outside and sized up the building in front of him.

The Hollywood Arts building was big, almost comically tall and fancy looking. Kian was convinced that most of the budget went into keeping the windows all squeaky clean, the bright California sunshine making it difficult to see inside the rooms. Lucky for Kian, he was an expert explorer and within no time, he figured out which window led to the visual art room where Damien and Felix would be located.

Onto step… 3? Yeah, step 3. Kian hadn’t exactly taken into account the height of the building or the fact that the building was on the second fucking floor when he devised his genius plan. He wasn’t going to give up or take Damien’s stupid offer of unlocking the door. No, Kian was going to persevere and climb… Okay, he wasn’t sure what he was going to climb but whatever he was going to climb was going to get climbed like Mount Everest.

You may find yourself asking ‘don’t people die on Mount Everest like all the time’? You are correct, they just drop like flies up there. Kian swallowed as he looked up at the window, praying that they wouldn’t have to use his corpse as some sort of trail marker.

Drainpipes are beautiful creatures, nice and straight and usually accessible from the ground. Sure, it was located on the opposite wall that Kian needed to climb but unless he was going to wall jump like a Mario brother, that was his best chance. Testing his weight against the metal with a firm tug (and a little screech when the metal crackled in response but you didn’t hear that from me), Kian fixed his grasp around the edge and began to pull himself up.

“And we’re climbin’,” Kian mumbled to himself with a heavy breath, “and we’re climbin’, and we’re climbin’, and we’re still climbin’, and we’re still climbin’, and we’re still climbin’, and I’m killing the fucking arcitecht of this school, and we’re still climbin’.”

Carefully, Kian reached over to the concrete lip that ran along the windows of the second floor. Swinging his legs over, Kian’s body moved from the drainpipe to the wall. Torso smacking into the wall as he dangled low to avoid being seen, Kian grunted as he smacked into the surface with a stupid amount of momentum. Using his legs as leverage, Kian began to shimmy along the ledge as his arms burned in protest of the exercise.

Four more windows...

Three more windows...

Two more windows…

One more window…

Bingo.

Hoisting himself up slightly, Kian went to push open the window, his face paling at the lack of movement.

Oh fuck.

Felix hadn’t unlocked the window.

Pulling himself up so that his torso was above the ledge, Kian peered into the classroom. Thankfully, the two boys that he had come to bother were sitting right next to the window. So, with a balled up hand, Kian pounded on the window as sweat dripped down his brow and to his eyes.

“Lemme innnnnnnn!” Kian semi-yelled from the other side of the glass, pressing his nose to the surface as his feet scraped against the wall below him. Stupidly, Kian looked down to check his footing and instead found himself growing faint at the height between him and the ground. Pounding again on the window with a racing heart and shaking arms, Kian glared into the room and continued to beg. “Lemmeinlemmeinlemmein.”

Remember how he said that he had had a genius idea? Yeah, please don’t cite that at his funeral.

º º code by ditto º º

gh0stwriter · Jun 25, 2021

Lucky DuBois

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

His gaze fell to the ground. Why? Why did he feel the need to open up? Why did he feel the need to do anything other than just rehearse?

Cause he was stupid. That’s why.

This is why he didn’t share his feelings. This is why he didn’t share what he was thinking. This is why he didn’t share anything. Cause then you get that look. That fucking look. Like they are watching one of those sad kid cancer commercials and they wanna change the channel but they feel too bad doing it so they just sit through the whole damn thing.

They tilt their head. They fidget with their hands. They feign interest, outrage and concern and they want to help, but they don’t. The commercial ends and they go back to their lives trying to guess who the fuck is singing under that mask.

The truth was. No one cared. Not really. And if they did, Lucky didn’t let them…not fully. So why the fuck now? With Ash of all people, had he decided to display the tiniest bit of vulnerability?

See above. If you don’t feel like scrolling: it’s cause he’s stupid.

"Okay well," His grip on the side of the roof tightened. This was the moment of truth and he wasn't excited about "I'm not, like... up here because of that or whatever. We're friends. I like, like, hanging out with you or whatever. If I didn't, then I would've just been like 'no, let's rehearse' so then, like, I could get away from you faster." He huffed out a laugh as her elbow jabbed him softly. Finally gaining enough courage to return her gaze.

That wasn’t really the question. Not the one that mattered. He knew Ash liked to be around him. Not because of any other reason than she was Ash West. She could have asked anyone to be her partner and they would have said yes. So, her affinity for him was not in question. It was whether or not she'd answer the real question. The one both of them tried to avoid like the plague, with pity…or…well he didn’t ever get another option so…

He took another swig of vodka. She said lightly buzzed. He made no such promises. "I mean, yeah," his head perked up as he looked over at her. "Like, not to brag or whatever, but I'm basically the Queen of Fucking Things Up," he pointed at himself with a smirk. “Meet the king.” He said with a soft chuckle as their eyes met.

It was bittersweet. Cause obviously neither one of them was happy, but this is what you did right? You played the part. You powered through it. "Exhibit A: lock-in. Exhibit B? My last relationship."

He sighed. Lock-In. Did she deserve what she got? No. And his gut felt that whatever happened with her last relationship had been similar. But she didn’t need to be told that she was wrong. He’d hate it if someone tried to invalidate his feelings like that.

"It's... hard when it feels like everyone's, like, watching and kind of like... waiting for you to fuck up, just so they can laugh in your face and be all like... 'haha, I was right,' and blah, blah, blah..." Hard was an understatement. Unbearable was more like it. Her eyes met his again and he returned her weak smile. “This place sucks, but you kinda get used to it pretty quickly."

Lucky chuckled softly. It did. And she was right. You figured out your place real quick. Who your friends were. Who your enemies were. He took a deep breath as he handed her the vodka and found his favorite spot on the ground.

“You do get used to this place sucking.” He reached back for the vodka as he looked out at nothing in particular. He took a larger swig as he let the bottle dangle between his fingers. Exhaling as he looked over at Ash.

“At least the company doesn’t suck.” He said as he leaned over and nudged her softly a smile plastered on his face and held out the bottle for her. “For what it’s worth, I like hanging out with you or whatever too.” He leaned back against the wall and took another deep breath willing the alcohol to take affect.

mood
to rebel or not to rebellocation
rooftop

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Had Some Drinks

by Two Feet

mentions
n-a

interactions
Ash rtags

Winona

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 25, 2021

Damien Slater

You know who was actually a really good, decent fucking friend even if he'd never admit it aloud? Fucking Felix. Felix was a good fucking friend, because here he was, listening to Slater bitch away while he bled from his face, and it was all actually quite cathartic. Fuck, Slater's boiling rage was starting to die down.

He was feeling calm even.

Until his phone buzzed.

He picked it up, turning it on to look at who was fucking texting him.

Fucking Kian.

Fuck that drug addict piece of shit.

After exchanging a handful of heated DMs with Slater repeatedly explaining just how much he didn't want to see Kian's shitty little face, he tossed his phone down on the computer desk with a huff as he crossed his arms over his chest. His nose scrunched up in annoyance momentarily before, well, it throbbed painfully because ya know... clogged with dried blood and shit, so he relaxed his face, although he kept his eyebrows creased together.

And then the mother fucker--

The fucking--

The fucking unwanted piece of shit.

There was a knock on the window and Slater turned in his seat to look over.

He had to do a double take, because surely there was no fucking way that he was seeing what he actually thought he was seeing. Surely, the fucking dumb ass was not dangling from the window, pathetically screaming "lemme innnn" like the little weak ass bitch baby that he fucking was.

Slater had to look away and then he looked back.

Yep. Still there, still dangling.

He looked back at Felix.

"Let's push him?" He suggested, and then let out a casual laugh to let Felix know that he was kidding... before the laughter and the playful smile kind of fell away and his expression turned serious again. "No, but seriously -- it would just look like an accident or some shit. Listen, the little fucker has been pissing me off all fucking day. I'm not fucking letting him in here." He explained as he brought his feet back down to the ground and stood up.

He dropped the bloody tissue that he'd been dabbing at his nose to the ground along with the others, and then he marched over to the window. Slater's hands went down to rest on the windowsill and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool glass as he glared down at Kian.

Fucking asshat.

With a stupid fucking hat.

Who the fuck wore a frog hat?

A dark grin spread across his face.

"Looks like you're struggling there, buddy," he called through the glass. "Hope you're having fun dangling, fuckhead, 'cause you're gonna be there until someone else sees you."

Would Slater let him in?

....

Maybe eventually.

But there was no way in absolute fucking hell that he was going to let him in now. It was the principal of the matter or some shit -- and Slater wanted to watch Kian struggle for a bit before he would allow him to come in.

"Do a flip when you fall, motherfucker!" He yelled. "Or start fucking begging and maybe I'll let you in."

mood
fuck you, what the fuck, and fuck me

location
classroom

outfit
ah yes, yesterday's clothes

playing...
Sex for Breakfast

by Life Of Dillon

mentions
N/A

interactions
Felix, Kian

tags

ohdittoh

geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

geminiy · Jun 25, 2021

Isabella Dupont

@bellaissima has set their status to:
si jolie

@bellaissima has set their outfit to:
cherry pie

@bellaissima has set their location to:
hallway

@bellaissima has mentioned:
n/a

@bellaissima has interacted with:
Kelli, Beth, Casey

@bellaissima has tagged:
ohdittoh Winona

Kelli and Beth’s tour had helped if Bella squinted really really hard. She was appreciative for the help and even more so for the company, but if anything the tour had left Bella feeling more confused than when she had started. Hollywood Arts was massive and absolutely terrifying on it’s own but paired with a tour guide who was just as lost as Bella was and another tour guide who hardly seemed interested in actually guiding, the whole situation just got… overwhelming.

Nonetheless, Bella gave both girls a quick hug and a peck on the cheek as they exited the fashion studios, a soft smile on Bella’s lips even after having abandoned the floppy hat (that she considered taking, would anyone really miss it?) on a table by the door.

“Thank you so much for your help, belles.” Bella spoke sweetly, rocking slightly on her toes. “I had a really wonderful time with both of you and your help was greatly appreciated.”

The bell rang overhead, metal clanging against metal screeching in Bella’s ears. Her hands clenched into fists at her side as her face cringed at the sound, Bella’s entire body tensing at the scream of the bell. She hated sounds like that, loud and startling and metallic against her eardrums. Bella assumed that she would get used to it in time, or at least learn to ignore it.

“I, um…” Bella forced herself to speak, her mouth dry and her teeth habitually gnawing on the inside of her cheek. “Thank you again. I should be going to class now, though. I hope to see you both around campus!”

With one final wave, Bella turned tail and began to make her way towards her class. Wait, was it that way? Or was it back the way she came? Audibly groaning, Bella rubbed her temples. So much for figuring the place out.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Bella had successfully survived her morning without any further mishaps, mostly due to the fact that her morning classes were almost all in the same hallway. At least the school seemed to be laid out to keep the departments all located in one area and even for Bella, it was nearly impossible to get lost in exactly one hallway.

What Bella did not seem to manage, however, was keeping her journal in her sight. Bella hadn’t noticed the fact that her backpack had a hole in the bottom of it until she got to her locker and her pencil case ever so lovingly slipped right out the bottom and onto her foot.

“Putain de merde.” Bella cursed softly as she scooped the pencil case off of the floor and shoved it into her locker. The more she shoved onto the shelves and the emptier her bag became, the more aware she was that once again, her journal was absolutely nowhere to be found.

Clearly the stupid thing had a vendetta against her, the journal having escaped her grasp more than once in her pitifully short stint at Hollywood Arts. Lock-in had been bad enough with one of Bella’s literary idols finding her work but now, who knows who could have it? Bella couldn’t stand the thought of people reading her work without permission, the words on the page feeling like an in-depth interview of her innermost thoughts. Surely if someone found it, which they likely had already, they wouldn’t be courteous enough to not read the contents.

“Excuse me, pardon, sorry.” Bella mumbled as she pushed through the crowd, her eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the leatherbound journal. Every embarrassing worst-case scenario ran through Bella’s head as she walked and searched and…

Walked directly into someone, apparently.

“Je suis tellement désolé, mon ami!” Bella rushed as she steadied herself, blinking a few times as she regained her balance. As her eyes adjusted from the search to the person in front of her, her gaze travelled from the person’s hand that was clasping her journal and the face of the boy in front of her. How absolutely lovely that he of all people found it. “What are you doing with my journal, Casey?”

º º code by ditto º º

Winona · Jun 25, 2021

Ashton West

She watched as he slid to the ground, her soft gaze watching his movements. There was this little part of her that had expected him to, like, leave or something, because no matter how much she'd tried to play off what she'd said as breezy and light, Ash knew that her words had been... anything but that. They'd been sour, put a damper on an already obviously rough time for Lucky, and there was a little speck of guilt deep in the pit of her stomach.

Not that like, if he'd headed for the door and been all like "sorry, listen, I forgot that I got something to do, bye," like... she wouldn't have been offended or surprised or anything. Like Ash would've understood why, and she'd have just hung out on top of the roof for a while longer before heading to her next class.

So yeah, it was a pleasant surprise that he was still freaking here.

“You do get used to this place sucking.” He said, and she gave another half-hearted smile.

Sure, Ash had said that first -- she'd spoken those words, but she didn't... know how much she believed her own words. Sure, she'd learned how to deal with the stress more or less, but she hadn't gotten used to the whole thing. And Ash had literally been under a spotlight for... what? Damn near her whole life? And she was pretty sure that she'd never one hundred percent get used to that, or to how much she hated like...

Everything.

That was harsh. She'd released songs, made music videos, been in a few commercials and shows, she got stopped in public on occasion to sign autographs. Like that all should've been stuff that she was super thrilled about, because she was basically living the dream, right?

It was selfish of her to think anything else.

Her expression had turned downwards, her lips pursed together when Lucky started speaking again.

“At least the company doesn’t suck.” He said, and she smiled as she took the bottle back. “For what it’s worth, I like hanging out with you or whatever too.”

"Oh my god, that's so sweet," she responded with a little laugh and a grin. Although her tone had a joking edge to it, it was sweet to hear. Even if it was just a reutterance of her own words, and even if she kind of knew that he had to like hanging out with her on some level, it was still like... it was nice to have that kind of reassurance, in a way. Like she wasn't a total bother that would be better off just fucking off.

She took one last swig of the alcohol, and then pushed away from the ledge. At first, the alcohol seemed to hit her all at once and the sudden pushing to stand made her head stand. So for what felt like a long moment, she just stood there, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

Ash looked down at the boy beside her and held her hand out to him. "C'mon, rehearsal's almost over, and like, I'm not about to miss class." She said -- as if she'd never been late to class or skipped or whatever -- and helped pull him to his feet before she passed the bottle of vodka back to him.

She picked her backpack up from the ground, pulling it back on before she wandered over to wait by the rooftop door for Lucky. And then ya know, she followed after him as they headed back down to ground level and back out into the familiar hallways of the school.

Before heading off, she paused. Her lips parted slightly, and then she lightly bit her lip before she smiled over at Lucky.

"Alright, so... today's practice was, like, a total bust, so... like, tonight." She raised a finger to point at him, as if that would somehow be intimidating and get her this is serious business attitude across. "Nonstop practice or whatever until we sound like... really, really good."

She was like half kidding, because there was only so much polishing on a song that you could do before it just became redundant practicing. Ash had the whole thing memorized -- like, she'd studied the lyrics enough that she'd had the song playing through in her dreams, which had just been freaking weird. And it wasn't like Lucky was forgetting anything, but there was so much more -- or it felt like there was -- and it just...

Her parents were coming to see it, and she wanted it to be like perfect for her mother.

"Thanks, though," she said, her smile softening and her hand dropping back to her side. "I kinda, like... I kinda had a really good time with you, like it was fun, so..." There was a brief moment of pause, and then Ash stepped forward and gave him a quick hug before stepping back. "I'll uhh... see you later."

And with that, and a little wave goodbye, she turned on her heel and started walking away. Naturally, with nothing to do while she walked, she ended up pulling her phone from her pocket and checking like... Twitter and other stuff. You know, just trying to look busy while she headed towards her next class.

Morning vodka had seemed like a really bad idea at first but now, like... yeah, no, it had been a great idea. Because she actually felt great. Like smiley, happy, like she wasn't walking ice.

Vodka plus school definitely mixed.

mood
it's actually a good day

location
hallway or something idk

outfit
omg great oufits

playing...
I Don't Know Why

by NOTD

mentions
N/A

interactions
Lucky

tags

gh0stwriter

º º code by ditto º º

hery · Jun 25, 2021

MOOD: loving the leadership position

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics

MENTIONS:
Landon, Mikaela, Alex
INT:
geminiy (Ezra)
qunqun (Auguste)
tags

TL;DR no
tl;dr

Chas Marino

Chas had only shut his mouth to give Ezra a subtle, but frustrated scowl. The tall artist went on about his so-called "justified" insubordination and his uninvited guest's total loyalty to himself only. It was astounding to be in the presence of a guy with the audacity to bring some unqualified nobody to a closed filming and then get defensive when that nobody was only allowed to stay on the director's conditions. Conditions which meant answering to Chas and Chas alone.

His gaze darted to the ground as Ezra carelessly let gray, plastic shavings sprinkle downward. He could feel his blood pressure rising watching the easily-avoidable mess being made. It was near impossible to wrap his head around the boy's nonchalance toward the unkempt atmosphere, yet it was even more difficult not to grab a broom and spend the day cleaning up. But, alas, he was director, and directors are above janitorial tasks.

If that wasn't enough of a shock to Chas' system, Ezra defiantly extended an arm to block Auguste's path, right as he was going to actually make himself useful for the first time. Was this sabotage?

"I do believe Auguste has a name that deserves to be used. He also, as I previously stated, is not your ‘assistant’. He’s here to help me and nothing more."

No, he wasn't, however, in the interest of time, Chas allowed his firm stance to give just a little. "Fine, Auguste with an 'e''," he spat with an offensively terrible French accent, "Hinder the production. Go be the clay maniac's lackey. I'm sure his menial labor will be far more titillating and fulfilling to someone as artistically adept as yourself." He crossed his arms rolled his eyes as he flipped his pliers in the air like a certified showoff. The smug act needed to go, like, yesterday.

“I’m thinking I will go with a more smokey or pebble grey, but I am also partial to a charcoal for the detailing and weathering. Plastic isn’t my usual medium so I’m afraid of the paint running or becoming needlessly streaky upon application. What do you think, Auguste: pebble or charcoal?”

"Cha—" Ezra snuck a glance back at him after his question, but turned and led Auguste away before he could finish his thought, "Hey! Hello! Charcoal!" No reply. "The answer is charcoal!" he called out, falling into an awkward silence as his input was brushed aside. He let out a low, exasperated breath, waiting with visible impatience as the ungracefully tall dancer received an arts and crafts lesson.

Immediately as Auguste also advocated for charcoal, Chas spoke up, "I said that first! Is nobody listening?"

“Excuse me for a moment, clearly someone can’t handle speaking publicly," Ezra said to Auguste, and Chas had to wonder if the guy had a magic button that turned him invisible every time he looked away. It was an uncomfortable, unusual feeling getting no respect and, worse, having hardly anything he said acknowledged by the others. Even when people decided not to follow his commands, they at least had the courtesy to verbally defy him. The casual disregarding grated his nerves doubly worse.

Arms still crossed, he followed him out the door, which at the very least had been held open for him. At least he had that ounce of proper respect going for him.

“You just couldn’t wait to get me alone, hm? You certainly need to work on your manners, asking a guy nicely for some private time goes a lot further than your weak attempts at bossing me around.”

"Get over yourself," Chas huffed, idly running a hand through the hair the boy across from him had ruined just minutes ago, "Be glad I had the courtesy to take this outside."

“Now, what is this ever so pressing private matter you needed to discuss with me?”

His eyes widened, an outraged shock surging through his body. It was hard to tell whether Ezra was being oblivious on purpose or not, but Chas was getting sick of it nonetheless. There wasn't a chance a guy as self-proclaimed perceptive as himself hadn't read the room prior.

"Care to explain what the hell all that was?" he scoffed, "Where do you get off humiliating me like that in front of everybody every chance you get? I looked like a moron back there!" Each word was pointed with attitude and emphasis, however he kept his voice low in an effort to limit his dismay to only the nearby area. Auguste didn't seem the type to eavesdrop, anyway. He didn't have the balls.

"Yeah, okay, I can maybe take you undermining my authority and being a blatant pervert every five seconds, but ignoring me? Disregarding my obviously qualified input? And then questioning my ability to speak in public? Get a grip, you narcissist!" His face scrunched up again, his cheeks flushing a bright red. "Yeah, we get it. This production needs you. I asked you to come here. That doesn't make you some half-assed philanthropist. I was almost grateful you've been showing up, but..."

He raised his hands into the air in a mix of defeat and consternation. "Now you're making eyes at Landon and Auguste in the filming area? And that workspace..." He fake gagged. It was almost as hideous as Evie's latest cashmere endeavor. "Everything is out of control. Everything is moved out of place, the lead actors are clearly not off-book, and... what the hell, Alex is this late, again?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, having given himself a headache with his whiny voice. "How did I let myself get suckered into this? This leadership role's going to take years off my lifespan."

He collected himself enough to put his serious, stone-cold business face back on. "The point of me telling you all this is simply to ask why it's such an ordeal just to get a single person to actually listen to anything I have to say. You don't have to like me, but god damn, I'm the only one here with years of experience directing and managing the stage. What's so hard? What did I do wrong?" His eyes widened even more, imploring Ezra for a response that wouldn't tick him off and send him on the warpath for the fifth rehearsal in a row. "Do I need to shove a drill in everyone's frontal lobes to get some damn respect and a black light roast coffee around here?"

code by valen t.

Kitsune2202 · Jun 25, 2021

Dangerously Soft
Amethyst Jones

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their status to:
Where can the good girls go to hide away~

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their outfit to:
Body lookin like Milk

@If.U.Seek.Amy has set their location to:
School

@If.U.Seek.Amy has mentioned:
A lot of people

@If.U.Seek.Amy has interacted with:
Kian ( geminiy ) Ava ( Winona )

♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗

Amy wasn't sure if he actually wanted to hear her complaints or if he was like herself and just too kind for his own good. She giggled a bit as he called her sugar pie of all things and decided that she'd vent a little bit at least. She wouldn't go into details or name names because that was unnecessary. Especially considering some of the things if he didn't already know who she was talking about then that was in his best interest.

Since despite what Evie might think or say she didn't actually want to keep rehashing the same thing over and over again. She didn't want to constantly feel like the victim. If she had she'd have ran her mouth to the public two months ago and milked this bullshit for all the free publicity it would've given her. But that also would've hurt his and her reputation in the process. She'd heard about people losing their sponsors and job opportunities over scandals like this.

Was Evie talented enough to bounce back from it. Probably. Did Amy want that on her conscious under the chance she might not? Of course not! She'd done her a favor by keeping her mouth shut this long. And the only people who she talked to about it where fellow students here, so it wasn't made into as big of a deal as it could've been. But of course like with almost every act of kindness it's spat back in her face.

Speaking of acts of kindness midway through talking with Kian of course twitter goes off and of course it's Evie and Nate. First she has to find out that Trevor shoved Cal, and had to defend him against Nate returning the favor until Cal finally admitted to why it happened. Which she already knew there was more to the story because who hits someone over a squeaky locker? That was a dumb excuse. What was weirder was Evie actually sided with her. Did they speak to each other or acknowledge it? Of course not, that'd have been too weird. To be fair they were not agreeing for the same reasons. Amy was defending Trevor, and she was defending Ash because Cal yelling at Ash was the cause.

Anytime Ash was around, or talks of Ash came up she felt nervous. It was weird keeping a secret cause well Amy was a terrible liar and everyone knew it. So if she can't lie her go-to is to just say nothing at all. So Amy hasn't really spoken much to Ash since Trevor told her. Ash doesn't seem to have noticed, so she figures she's doing a pretty good job of not looking like she is actively avoiding her. She was just glad Trevor is actually Ash's friend in everyone else's eyes so no one questioned why he would be that mad.

She also got to find out that Charlie punched Hunter in the balls and face...because who knows. Hunter was claiming he did nothing wrong, but he also admitting to peeing in the supply closest she was inside of and Amy would definitely consider that punchable behavior especially if any of it got on her. Like why? With ALL the restrooms in the school why piss in a closest. She also was curious why Charlie was in a closest but that was a conversation for another day.

Her morning couldn't just end there tho. NOPE! Then Evie and Nate decided to say Trevor had a spank bank dedicated to Evie in his room, locker, or van which is RIDICULOUS. Saying they weren't "spreading rumors" but literally saying it to whoever popped online. So of course Amy had to try and handle that situation. The only good thing would be if Evie kept her word and they got $50 out of it. Look Amy was not about to give up free money. Even Trevor understood. Blocking Trevor cause she's uncomfortable. Fine that is perfectly within her right, but saying things like that with zero proof was not ok in her book.

It was really hard as you can tell to focus on Kian with all this drama so early in the morning, but she was appreciative of his patience with her because the cherry on top was the the entrance of a stranger who tried to defend her by pissing off and being sexist to everyone else. Should she have said something? Yes. Did she? No because well...she was angry there was no sugar coated way to put it. She was upset at the way Nate, Evie, and now Gen were talking to her. She was angry that they were such hypocrites, and felt like they were trying to keep her shut up and in her place. She couldn't stand it and in a lapse of judgment let her anger take the wheel. A call that lead to of course yet another fight with Charlie. Especially after Charlie and the guy got into it in the DM's resulting in him calling her out her name. She stopped talking to the guy of course at that point, but the damage had been done.

God it was getting tiresome. By the time this was in full swing however it was time for her to peace out from chilling with Kian. She smiled and thanked him for listening to her rant, and for being there for her. Random acts of kindness from basic strangers was nice but she wanted her friends. She was fighting back tears as she walked to her actual first period. Once she was there it proved pointless since her mind couldn't be further from the lesson. All she could think about was her rage, and Charlie, and how truly dejected she felt. She wound up messaging Trev and that made her feel a bit better. He was going to take her home after lunch because fuck this place, and fuck this day. She'd figure out a way to get back to school after 7th because she told Remi she'd get him his chain and the last thing she needed was yet another friend upset with her.

The next few periods flew by in a hazy blur of frustration, anger, depression, self loathing, and fear all wrapped up in the box called her brain with a messy bow called social media. Why she thought it'd be a good idea to hop on after all that on her way to lunch? Who knows. Maybe she really does despise her sense of sanity that much? Maybe deep down she felt she deserved this. She couldn't pin point it, she just knew she wanted an escape and her friend Kayla provided it. Well...for a moment. Of course Charlie popped on, and was upset. It was understandable for her to be though. Amy had yet to apologize and was trying to hang out with someone else. Amy didn't quite see it the same, but after having time to stew in her thoughts and actions over the first half of the day she did try to apologize to her.

What started off as an apology turned into a full blown break down to her. God she was tired. She was tired of feeling like this, she was tired of having to hide that she felt like this, she was tired of everyone treating her like her role was to just sit still look pretty and smile. Like she wasn't human too! Like she didn't have a wide range of emotions that were sometimes hard to control too! Like she wasn't allowed to make mistakes, but everyone else could! Evie could be forgiven for screwing her over, but she couldn't be forgiven for being mad about it? It's old to them because they weren't the ones who were betrayed, they weren't the ones stabbed in the back, they are the ones who felt like they'd been ripped at the seams. Something inside her broke that night, and she doesn't know how to fix it. No one knows how to help her mend a crushed spirit. But because they don't wanna talk about it she is supposed to just shut up and never speak of it again. Because it'll appease their guilty conscious she is supposed to suffer in silence and coke on her pain.

She was sick of doing what everyone else wanted from her at the expense of herself. Was Any of this Charlie's fault? Of course not. Charlie wasn't the one who hurt her, or talked down to her or anything. Charlie just got the short end of the stick for being the one in her DM's when she was feeling low and THAT wasn't fair. It wasn't Charlie's fault Amy tried to hide it all within herself, to please everyone else. So with a heavy heart she apologized. She didn't want Charlie to leave, in fact that was the last thing on earth she wanted. She'd pack up her things and leave before she'd let Charlie leave. Where would she go? Unsure. Worse case scenario she'd leave this place completely and go back to her parents. She didn't want these dreams of musical grandeur if Charlie wasn't going to be their to share them with her.

Luckily Charlie seemed to accept her apology finally. They agreed to stop fighting like this...but how? She wasn't even sure WHY they kept fighting like this. Miscommunication? Stubbornness? Pride? All of the above? How do you fix that?

Still uneasy about it she sent Kayla a quick message about the change of plans from her place to Kayla's just to be on the safe side. Even if Charlie really was going to be with Dalton tonight she didn't wanna chance it in case she was working on something else.

Before she knew it her body on auto pilot while lost in these thoughts took her through the lunch line only grabbing a loaded baked potato and some chips. on her tray. She needed an escape or a way to vent before going to see Trev. She needed to get out all this pent up aggression, and there was no one better for the job then her friend Ava. Amy loved hanging out with Ava because she was so different from most people. and not in that 'pick me' or 'quirky girl' trend different. She actually was different and was one of the people she knew she could totally geek out with. Not to mention the girl was amazing at video games. One of the only people who could actually beat her.

She made her way over to where she knew she'd be letting a grin curl onto her face when she saw the red-head. "So I'm feeling like chaos and destruction today. Wanna join me?" She chimed sitting down and pulling out her switch.

º º code by ditto º º

ohdittoh · Jun 25, 2021

MICHAEL K. REID

The fucker had kissed him.

All morning, Michael couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Landon had the fucking nerve to kiss me on the fucking lips.

Hey, so question, writers of whatever this hellscape of a teen drama he was on: was this the part where he was supposed to confess his undying love for the sloth-faced-and-brained fucking wannabe? This the part where he deduced that — oh shiiit — his burning hatred was actually a fiery, passionate love for the guy who looked like an offshoot of Chernobyl — fucking plot twist? Was this what it’d been fucking building up to? What happened next, huh? Did they make sweet, sweet love in the moldy janitor’s closet? After all, there was nothing like bleach to get you all horned up and ready to go, right?

Hey, writers, now that you were listening: go fuck yourselves. Do something with your miserable lives and leave Mike the fuck out of this. He didn’t want Landon — didn’t ever want to see that fucker’s face ever again. Never even wanted to hear his name fucking mentioned, either, come to think of it.

Actually, before you fucked yourselves, dear writers, would you be total babes and just…wipe Landon off the face of the earth? Clear him from the history books? Write him off in some freak accident? ”We regret to inform you that Landon ‘Someone Get Me a Rabies Shot’ Sinclaire has been killed oh-so-tragically shot and killed by a t-shirt gun — poor dickhead, even that much of a punch was too much for him. Rest in peace.” That type shit? Hey, look, if you did that, Mike’d…give you an autograph? A kiss? A, what, a fucking cut from his paycheck? Whatever it took, okay, and he’d even throw in the added bonus of showing up and feigning tears at the funeral. You wanted a eulogy? He’d give you a eulogy — a nice, heartfelt one, just for you all being such sweethearts. It’d go something like:

“Landon Sinclaire…” (He’d throw in a sniffle here, wipe his eyes — ya know, make the whole thing really convincing.) “He may have been duller than a block of wood — in all forms of the word — but he was….my friend at one point.” (Sniffle, sniffle.) “E—…even after I beat his ass…I still cared soooo fucking deeply for him. From the depths of my heart, I—“

You got the point.

So what did you say? Did we have deal?

If your answer was no, the fucking yourselves may resume. No thanks for your time, jackasses.

Now, it was lunch. Mike usually didn’t do a ton during lunch — it was usually just him doing more work, seeing as he didn’t keep many people as his company and Woods was usually off doing he-didn’t-really-care-what. He’d forced himself to think that he was in a good mood — “positive thinking” was bullshit, but whatever — and he planned to do more of the same nothing today to keep that “positive” momentum going.

Ya know. He’d grabbed a salad from the cafeteria, gave the cafeteria workers a few wink-winks (look, there was no point in not trying to get a discount by flirting with them, okay?), downed the thing, and as of this moment, he was making his way down the hallway to do…well, really whatever the hell he felt like doing. Probably working on preparing more for his solo shoot next week, since that was a major thing. Though…Michael hated procrastination — it never got shit done — which meant that most of his work had already been completed.

Double-edged sword, as they said.

He made his way down the hallway, idly working his jaw and considering what else he could really even do with his personal project. He was coming up empty right now — it was pretty much done, besides the actual shoot itself. Some random underclassman was sewing his clothes for it or whatever. The most that Mike could really do was bully that kid into hurrying his ass up, even though that girl was just putting on the final touches anyway.

Whatever.

Look, Mike was just trying to occupy himself, keep himself from getting into a fucked situation again.

But — whaddoya know? God/the Universe/whoever was laughing behind their computer screen right now still had it fucking out for him, apparently. Psh, Mike forgot — it was wayyy too much to ask to just be left the fuck alone for a minute! Damn it, thanks for reminding him.

The reminder came in the form of the only, the Queen of Fucked Situations — Miss Genevieve Johannes herself — making her way down the hallway. Say it with him, class: “Nothing good ever comes along with Genevieve fucking Johannes.”

Were they collaborating on an Arts Fest project? Yeah. Were they still fuckbuddies? Well, if they wanted to be — but here was the thing: Mike and Gen hadn’t said a damn word to one another since the lock-in.

“So what better day than today”, huh? Was that what you were thinking?

Hey, maybe you should shut up for once? Keep those thoughts to yourself?

Anyway, she held…what a belt? Why’d she have a belt?

He didn’t have to wonder long — whether he was thankful or unthankful for this fact, he was still debating.

She came to a stop in front of him, pulled the belt off of her shoulder, and flipped it in half in her hand.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Coming in hot?” he asked. A smirk flicked across his face. “I’ve been a good boy, Gen. No need to pull that on me.”

So was his greeting — a self-depriciating-if-you-squint joke, a casual remark as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them.

“I think,” Gen started, “you forgot this, the morning…” She trailed off, but Mike knew what she’d meant.

Of lock-in.

Haha.

Fate was fucking cruel — it was sitting this hugeass blinking sign right outside of the glaring fault line of whatever the hell their relationship was and screaming, ”Hey! Hey, you’re forgetting something!”

To that, he said: do you shut the hell up?

“Oh, yeah,” Mike said dully. He gave a small chuckle, holding his hands out, and she gently placed it in his hand. No snark, no really anything.

“Figured you’d want it back,” Gen said. She sounded tired, done. Bet all that shit with Evie’d torn her up or something. “No point in me having it.”

Gen gave a nod for a goodbye, and she started to walk away.

Mike looked down at the belt in his hand.

Blink-blink-blink.

“Hey! Hey, you’re forgetting something!”

His neck pinched.

Not much running he could keep doing from there problems, now was there?

He turned around slowly, looking after Gen.

He was about to fucking regret this. He felt it.

“Hey,” Mike said softly, though he doubted she could hear him. He took a few quick steps to catch up with her, and then he reached out to tap her shoulder. “Gen, wait up.” He walked to stand in front of her, grinning slightly.

What the fuck was he doing?

What the fuck am I doing?

His grin sagged as he tried to think of something, and then he said, “I've been meaning to ask you about our project. Y'know, we’ve got two, three weeks? And, as you said, we've gotta have practice before we do the performance. Not to mention, our shoot to go along with it.” He inclined his head slightly, rubbing his neck. "Can't exactly happen if we don't speak to each other until the day of, yeah?"

No ”hey, how are you doing? How have you been doing?" None of that shit. That wasn’t his style.

This unspoken, "let's put this behind us so we don't have to address it"? That was more like it.

“You,” he decided to add, “look like you need some sort of..." He bounced his head as he looked for the word, and then he gave a slight sigh, managing a small grin again. "Distraction. And I'm pretty sure that I'm criminally understating it, huh?”

mood
...

location
wherever

outfit
something casual

playing...
drunk face

by machine gun kelly

mentions
landon & evie

interactions
gen

tags

geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

AkuTheWolfOkami · Jun 25, 2021

.
.
.
.

how she's feeling...

depressed, tired, and frustrated.
what she's wearing...

https://i.imgur.com/r51rDMO.png
jacket, grey sweats, black graphic t, black dallas mavs fitted cap, chains, bottom grill, watch, oreo 4 jordans
https://i.imgur.com/r51rDMO.png
where she's at...

downtown loft on the way to school
in the conversation...

PenguinFox

Kaash

depression

Kayla had chosen this loft for the view. It overlooked downtown LA and it was spacy enough for her mother to visit if she chose to. That was Chizoba's only demand in signing the lease for her child. An empty gesture to try and show some semblance of a normal relationship. She'd never vist. Not Kaash's loft at least. She had been to LA several times since her daughter transplanted there. The only time she ever saw her were for photo ops to make their family look normal.

Normal. A joke.

She leaned forward resting her forehead on the glass of the window she dubbed 'big arse windows'. They did basically come from the floor to the ceiling afterall, and seemed to make up most of her walls in her loft. The window was cool to the touch, something that soothed the growing headache she was having.

Kaash was...stressed. Her stress triggered her depression. Her depression meant she was a recluse. Her reclusion meant though she was supposed to be in class, she was in her home taking a slow hit from the self-rolled cigar. No- it was not tobacco that filled this homemade cigar.

She moved away from her window, dropping the cigar off in an ash tray as she moved towards her phone. It was a quick glance at twitter - a few quick interactions - and she had set up a meeting to tackle on the main culprit for her stress.

Her Project

It was abit of a catch 22 too. She was stressed because of her project because she had a creative block, but she had a creative block because she was stressed. It was ridiculous if you asked her and if it wasn't for her partner on the project being a procrastinator she might have been more stressed because she was ruining someone else's project too. Instead she scraped up what energy she had and got on twitter to remind her partner that time was running short and they needed to get it done.

Her hope was maybe he could inspire her and breakdown that mental wall that was preventing her from creating. She doubted it, but it was worth the shot.

There was a long exagerrated sigh as she sat in front of her music desk as she liked to call it. It was where she had speakers set up, a keyboard, a monitor, mic, etc etc anything neede to create her music. She reached her strong arm out to grab the cigar she had dumped off and picked it up, placing it in her mouth. She used her off hand to scramble for the lighter on her desk, before sparking it up to relight the stress reliever between her lips. There was a slight inhale as she looked through her phone again back on twitter and by the time she was done, she had made a friend date with Amy to watch one of her favorite anime. Well, the new version. She was glad to have made the rendezvous occur at Amy's because as she looked over her loft.....the mess was not inviting.

At least she THOUGHT until she had started to get ready to leave and Amy dm'ed her. Oh boy. She really wanted to say let's just reschedule, because her depression did not want to ler her clean, but her friend was going through it and she wanted to take her mind off of everything. It was a quick swipe on her phone to check her secondary account, aka her 'allowance' account and when she noticed she was way under budget for the month (probably thanks to her depression keeping her from going out) so she just sent a text to her cleaning lady to come today while she was at school. It was at least two more weeks until she was supposed to be here, but she could afford it so she didn't mind.

Once she was dressed - she checked her phone to find Newt's text that he had made it to the spot, and Kaash nodded to herself, grabbing her bookbag and heading out down to the parking garage. She tossed her bag into her 64 impala before getting in and starting the loud motor. She turned up the volume to the car, some Big Sean blasting through the speakers as she pulled out of the garage. It wasn't too long before she was at the school, parking in the student lot and stepping out of the car. She kneeled down to wipe a scuff off of her chrome wheels, before nodding to herself and move towards the meetup spot.

When she spotted him on the bench having himself a concert she smiled approaching slowly, before giving him a slight head nod,

"Yo, Newt. What's good my boy?"

♡coded by uxie♡

ohdittoh · Jun 25, 2021

felix rian emmerson

Felix was just sittin’ here, listenin’ to his friend bitch and gettin’ all woozy from the sight of — hot hell, he didn’t know that a person could bleed so long. Jeez Louise. Now, there were probably more enjoyable things that the boy coulda been doin’ — actually, he knew for sure that there were more enjoyable things that he coulda been doin’, ones that didn’t involve the sight of alla that blood — but he felt somewhat obligated to sit here and hear Damien’s bitchin’. Ya know, ‘cuz friendship. He also really had nothin’ better to do. Every so often, Felix would nod, express his sympathy, and then he’d go quiet again. That was kinda the way that conversations like this tended to go. That was about it.

Welp, and then Slater picked up his phone, and he started tip-tappin’ away, and Felix kinda stared at a hand-drawn map of Los Angeles on the wall — and then Felix’s phone buzzed, and it was Kian.

Wantin’, uh…wantin’ Felix to bitch-slap Slater.

Felix glanced over at his bleedin’ bud.

Now, there were some times in your life that you were trapped between two difficult decisions. Whichever route you chose to take would decide your fate, ya know. That kinda stuff. No goin’ back or whatever.

An’ now, Felix felt as though he was caught there, right between two options:

1) Maintain this happy, cheerful, wonderful, beautiful friendship with good ol’ Slutman. Be able to look back at the good times they’d had with a thankful tear in his eye. Hell, grow old with this friend of his. Not in the romantic way or nothin’, just in the way of…godfatherin’ his children or somethin’.

2) Get two dollars.

Was this friendship worth damagin’ over two bucks? This…lovin’, carin’ bromance between the Slut and Fefe…a bitch-slap could send it all tumblin’ d—

$2 will suffice.

He was about to click his phone off when Kian made another request: unlock the window before he stopped by.

Weird request. Felix texted that he’d do it, but he really had no intention of doin’ it, ya know.

(And also, he had no intention of actually bitch-slappin’ Slater. Did you appreciate his theatrics, though?)

Felix put his phone face down on the table beside his propped-up feet, restin’ his arms behind his head again and grinnin’ vaguely. Beside him, Slater threw down his phone, huffin’ and crossin’ his arms again. Felix could discern the cause — Kian, obviously — but he played blissful unawareness.

And then: knock, knock, knock!

Felix glanced at the window to his left, and then looked back at—

Hold up.

His eyes bounced back to the window.

“Lemme innnnnnnn!” came a muffled yell from behind the glass.

Yep, there was no mistakin’ it — there was Kian, danglin’ right outside the window. He banged on the window again, cryin’ out his lil’ “lemme in”s again.

Felix slowly looked over to Slater.

Slater was lookin’ right back at him.

“You seein’ what I’m seein’?” Felix asked.

“Let’s push him?” Slater suggested.

“You got the funds to cover up a homicide an’ the guts to do it?” Felix kidded.

Slater laughed, his face turnin’ serious again. “No, but seriously — it would just look like an accident or some shit.”

Felix snickered, then shook his head. “How about we don’t?”

“Listen, the little fucker has been pissing me off all fucking day. I’m not fucking letting him in here.” Slater stood, and Felix’s eyes followed him before he reluctantly decided that he couldn’t just keep ignorin’ his poor ol’ danglin’ friend. He looked to the face of the boy holdin’ onto the window, offerin’ an apologetic grin as they approached before fallin’ behind Slater.

Slater reached him first. “Do a flip when you fall, motherfucker!” he yelled, grinnin’. Felix glanced over his shoulder, and he gave him a nudge, a subtle warning of don’t yell that Slater 1) probably wouldn’t get and 2) probably wouldn’t take.

Look, the last thing he should be doin’ is, uh, well, either option that he saw as viable. Lettin’ one of his best friends in through a window wasn’t a good look, but neither was sittin’ idly by and watchin’ his other best friend threaten to murder him — in a yell no less. He glanced over his shoulder both ways, and then looked at Kian as Slater continued to taunt him.

Kian owed him for what he was about to do — that was all Felix had to say.

He let out a soft sigh, steppin’ out from behind Slater and stoopin’ to the window lock. He tried to be casual about it so as not to alert Slater immediately, but, uh, the thing was a bit more stubborn than he figured it would be.

Probably for good reason — they didn’t want kids letting random kids into the classroom through it, obviously. Made sense.

Because it was taking more than just a little pop to get the thing open, Felix was now tasked with explainin’ himself. Gruntin’ with effort, he cocked a grin at Slater, and he chuckled softly. “Raincheck on murderin’ Kiki?” he said. “I don’t wanna have to— nn— be called in for a witness when you’re on trial. It’d be a pain in my assshit, they had to have fuckin’ Gorilla Glued these locks down.” He looked at Kian, and he held up a finger, mouthin’, “One sec,” and then he reached his other hand around to assist with his yankin’.

Finally, the levers lockin' the door gave way, lettin’ out a couple of loud pops as they flipped. Felix grinned. He had a career in locksmithin' if actin’ didn’t work out.

Or burglarizin'. Depended on your outlook.

“Alriiight,” he drawled, reachin' for the corners of the window. “Let’s get you—“

“Boys?” came a voice from the door.

He whipped around, his heart jumpin’ in surprise.

In the doorway stood Ms. Lancaster, arms crossed, lips pursed. “Everything alright in here?”

His face fell, and he raised up from the windowsill. “Shit,” he said beneath his breath.

Now, he wasn’t here to toot his own horn, but Felix did have to say: because of his line of work — rather, lines of work — he was good at a lil’ somethin’ called improvisation. Takin’ lemons, makin’ ‘em into lemonade, so to speak. And it just so happened, there was a lemon nearby. Now, this lemon was green, and it was a sheet, and—

Okay, droppin’ the metaphor. It was a greenscreen.

Now this greenscreen wasn’t just any greenscreen — no, this greenscreen was hangin’ on a rack with wheels.

What did wheels do? Roll.

So what did Felix do? Well, he used what he was given and improvised the best solution.

Grabbin’ the greenscreen, Felix put on a grin. “Oh, uh…” Casually walkin’ backwards and givin’ Slater a solid bump of the hip to get him out of the way just in time, he rolled the greenscreen riiiight in front of the window, managin' to cover up Kian before Slater’s absence in front of him revealed his location.

He dusted his hands off, puttin’ them on his hips. “Whew…,” he said dramatically, liftin’ a hand to his head. He looked over at Slater. “That took way too much effort, didn’t it?” he asked, carryin’ — wink — on — wink — a conversation that they were havin’ before — wink. “I mean, who woulda thought that haulin’ that big thing would take so much effort? Thanks for cheerin' me on.”

Cheerin’. That’d suffice as an explanation for the yells, at least.

He shook his head, chucklin', and he looked at the teacher. “Slater was just askin’ me to stand in front of this. We’re, uh, takin’ some reference photos for his art.”

“Is that so?” she asked. She sounded skeptical. “I heard some tapping on the window. Banging, actually.”

“What?!” Felix asked, feignin’ alarm. He shook his head. “No, no. It’s birds,” he lied casually. “Birds.” He repeated it louder, hopin’ that Kian would get the memo to play bird. “Yeaaaaah, them birds’s really makin’ a, uh, racket out there, but the show must go on, ya know.” He chuckled. “You know how it is in the biz.”

“Birds…uh-huh.” She narrowed her eyes. “Well…if that’s the case…”

Felix nodded.

She smiled, though it was obvious that she was still suspicious. Judgin’ by the stuff in her hand, she was only buyin’ the story because she had other places to be. She looked over at Slater, raisin’ her eyebrow, silently askin’ for his explanation before she looked back between the two.

“Alright. Well, you boys behave yourselves,” she said, lettin’ out a soft sigh and givin’ them a smile before turnin’ and leavin’.

Felix breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, puttin’ a hand on his chest and lookin’ over at Slater. He narrowed his eyes. “I blame you,” he half-kidded, and then he laughed.

And then he realized — wait, Kian’s still hangin’.

“Hell,” Felix muttered, and the turned around, partin’ the middle of the green curtains that hung from the rack to peek through to Kian.

He gave him a toothy grin. “Hello again. Needin' some help there, Tweety Bird?”

mood
workin' hard, teach! don't mind the birds. they go wild over the slut man.

location
the school

outfit
somethin' casual

playing...
take a slice

by glass animals

mentions
n/a

interactions
slater & kian

tags

Winona

geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

hery · Jun 26, 2021

MOOD: tea.

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: school
basics

MENTIONS:
Hunter, Chas

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

TL;DR no
tl;dr

Veronica Crosby

Ronnie's only source of courage was the fact that she wasn't facing Nickie alone. Even if Liv was clearly feeling off in some way, it helped to know that someone else agreed with her in at least a partial capacity. It also helped to be confident in her words when she was essentially the sole self-proclaimed Hunter expert at Hollywood Arts. Sure, Nickie got to put her hands all over him or whatever because they were dating, but that didn't mean she knew.

Ronnie knew. It didn't take much effort to learn the boy's favorite color, favorite food, general routine, and three digits of his phone number. It should have been obvious how deeply she cared for him, yet none of that seemed to go appreciated. Nickie's venomous, retaliating attitude was enough proof of how much of a threat she was to her own relationship. They didn't belong together...

How many times did Ronnie have to say it?

She stared right back at the dark-haired girl, refusing to let her resolve slip as a finger was jabbed at her. Nickie couldn't scream, she couldn't punch, nor could she do anything else drastic in the middle of a crowded hall. She cared too much about her appearance for that. They both did.

“Hey, Ronnie?”

The redhead's heart skipped a beat. Why the sudden change in tone?

A moment of suffocating silence passed, and then another, and Ronnie came to the realization that she had no idea how to reply to those harmless two words. She wasn't, like, socially awkward or anything, but the fact that Nickie's words were harmless... threw her off. Not when she could still feel a ghost of the sensation of the singer's fingertip on her skin.

"Uh, what—"

And just like that, her arm was now in Nickie's grasp. She looked down at the arm, then up at her with a face giving away her bewilderment. Before Ronnie had a chance to speak, she continued.

“Come with me. I, uh, need to talk to you, okay?”

It wasn't like she had much of a choice, seeing that they were now attached. She couldn't possibly think of anything that could be said between the two of them that Liv couldn't hear, especially considering Liv and Nickie seemed to have more to talk about than herself and Nickie. She gave Liv an apprehensive glance. "I'll talk to you later."

“Have a nice day or whatever, Liv,” Nickie forced out before leading Ronnie away from the scene. Something about this felt bad. Like, really bad. Like, future crime scene bad. Ronnie's confidence slowly waned as the girls' catty acts faded and the dust settled. She hadn't really thought this far, and now that she was all alone with Nickie, she could feel her heart shrinking away.

She looked back at Liv once more before Nickie finally let her arm go, not that her grip was particularly strong anyway. Without even thinking, she followed behind the dark-haired girl, completely forgetting her own free will. “I’ll, like, buy you a Coke or whatever.”

Uh, I actually don't drink cola...

"Thanks."

More walking. Time passing. Was the end of the hallway stretching away from them? “I, like…”

Ronnie offered no response, nor any aid to Nickie's obviously faltering speech. She was kicking herself for being scared, but it was hard to ease her fear when she wasn't exactly sure what she was afraid of. Nickie obviously wasn't going to punch her. She wasn't the type, nor was her behavior any indication of ill will or violence. Even so, the bizarre energy was more alarming than it should have been. It had even managed to shut Ronnie up, if only for a couple minutes.

Once they'd settled near an empty stretch in the hall, she released a breath.

“You were acting like you knew so much about Hunter. Fucking tell me — what is it?"

Oh, it was an act.

"I, uh, I don't really—"

"I don’t have time to mince words, like…” She jabbed at her chest again, this time with a greater amount of force and speed, as though the last one was lacking a sort of direction. “What makes you think that you know so fucking much more about him than I do, Veronica?”

Her palms felt like they'd been dipped in ice water as she anxiously fiddled with her fingers. She kept her eyes up, though her rapidly beating heart was screaming to curl up on the floor like a folding chair. "It's just, I don't know if I'm allowed to say..." she reasoned, a wave of guilt settling over her at the memory of her private conversation with Liv, one of the only times she'd seen the girl show any amount of seriousness.

"You know, I don't, like, dislike you or anything. Even after all that stupid competitive stuff over boys." No, resent is a better word. "I don't know why you won't take my word for it, but..." She bit her lip, struggling to force out any words beyond that. Nickie had a reputation for having a big mouth. She didn't really deserve all that much sympathy, either. Still, she was clearly struggling over this.

Ronnie leaned in close, a little afraid her nose was going to get bitten off. Even in a hall devoid of any visible eavesdroppers, it was tradition to lean in for a piping hot round of gossip. "Hunter didn't tell you?" she whispered, pretending she hadn't just found out about Hunter's misdeeds in the past couple weeks, "He and Liv have, like, history."

She leaned back, but still looked over her shoulder every so often. "I wasn't lying when I said you weren't exempt from being cast aside. He must get it from Chas, probably." And then, the big reveal. "It was a whole thing, apparently. They were real close. Then, Hunter took Liv's v-card and skedaddled. Not even a proper 'Thanks-for-the-Experience'."

She frowned, her retelling bumming her out a bit. "And just like that, they don't know each other anymore. Liv was miserable. Think you at the Homecoming game, but, like, ten times worse."

code by valen t.

Xed · Jun 26, 2021

Dalton Kirby

Well this was certainly turning out to be one hell of a surprise.

Sure, he had agreed to let Charlie Howell tutor him, mostly because he was desperate and didn’t have much in the way of options, but he had expected this entire tutoring session to be a painfully irritating affair.

Translation, not at all what was happening at the moment.

Nope, he had imagined Howell would take several jabs at him, rub his failed test and inability to understand any of Bitch Jenkins’ class in his face. Be an ass to him basically.

He supposed given how much effort she had put into those long ass speeches and the whole dance earlier about wanting to genuinely help and the promises to keep his poor grades a secret, that her taking his side and calling Professor Bitch a stupid teacher who was fucking up her job shouldn’t be a surprise but well…he was used to expecting the worst out of people. To being attacked by others when the opening presented itself.

Not…this.

And then came a threat to break his face and a dig at his looks.

Heh.

Now this, this was what he was used to.

Dalton leaned back and watched as Charlie went through the documents, twirling a pen in his hand as he waited.

She wasn’t going to take an eternity going through them like she had taken an eternity to get to her points earlier was she?

Because if that was the case, desperate or not, he was firing her and she could take her act to someone else with time to waste.

“Honestly, man,”

Here it comes.

“I have no fucking clue what she wants from you.”

Hmm?

The pen came to a stop in Dalton’s hand as he stared at her, eyes raised.

“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.”

Was she really?

Pfft. Hear that Professor Bitch? Not his fucking fault.

A sliver of a smirk crossed his face as he listened to her rant.

Oh this was hilarious. Awful news for him in regards to the test tomorrow which was an absolute no go because come hell or high water he was going to pass the damn thing, but listening to Charlie Howell bitch about his chem professor was so damn satisfying and completely unexpected.

…Ok so she had surprised him a little earlier… but that was before she had seen any of the notes or class papers and to be perfectly honest, Dalton expected Charlie to start acting all high and mighty and rub his inability to understand them once she had a look.

How can you be so stupid to not understand something so simple?

This kind of stuff is easy. Pure basics.

You’re even dumber than you look.

Insults of that variety.

Instead he got “Your professor is a moron and her notes are the worst, it’s like she wants you to fail”, not in those exact words but close enough.

He wouldn’t have cared less if she had insulted him as expected, not in the least. The words he had thrown at her earlier basically said as much and he was no stranger to insults and the like. But this response? Her matching sentiment that Professor Bitch was a Bitch and the worst teacher in existence? (Not exactly what she said but close enough.) It was…nice.

Even if it wasn’t in the least bit helpful in regards to tomorrow. He’d welcome a rage session about his teacher any time, but not at the moment and with how much Howell had talked thus far, the last thing he needed was for her to go off on a tangent about something he already knew full well.

It was almost like her mouth was on fire or she had some word quota that she absolutely had to fill for the day or something.

“I really don’t know…”

Well fuck.

Let it be known that he had never heard more ominous words.

“I can guess at what you’re supposed to know but I don’t know if that will help much.”

He took that back. That last sentence was worse.

“Even Hollywood’s resident tutoring genius can’t figure out what to do? What a surprise, though I suppose I should have expected as much with Bitch Jenkins.” He spat bitterly.

That’s right. Honorifics were out the window now and sarcasm would probably make its exit too once he got even crankier which, the way things were going? Wouldn’t take long at all.

Next to him Howell started making a renewed effort towards fulfilling her “number of words spoken” quota for the day and he hoped for everyone’s sake that she chose what she said wisely. If the pen in his hand that now hung by his side could talk, it would probably scream as much from the death grip it had itself locked in.

“I could guess…”

An eyebrow flicked up. Might as well cover the whole damn syllabus then.

“Or I could go chew out your teacher for being entirely incompetent”

What a lovely little thought, he was so fucking touched.

“and raid her shit to see what you’re supposed to be doing.”

Yeah go ahead and do that why don’t – wait.

Dalton blinked and straightened himself a little in his seat as he turned to look at Charlie.

What?

“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.”

A smirk formed on his face as her words sank in.

“Well colour me surprised. And they say I’m the incorrigible student round these parts.”

Charlie Howell was really behaving in the most unexpected ways today. Not that he thought she was a perfect little goody too shoes or that he wasn’t aware of her bite or anything, just, the way everything had played out thus far was not anywhere close to what he had expected.

“I suppose we’re done with the library for now then.”

Dalton rose from his seat as he spoke, gathering the syllabus and his class notes to deposit back into his bag. No reason to leave it lying out in the open.

“It can wait until after our little appointment with a certain…professor in her office.”

Leaving the bag by the seat, he started to make his way out of the library, ruffling Howell’s hair as he walked pass her to signal for to follow.

If Howell was expecting this to be a solo trip or made any comments about how his hulking size would make it harder for them to finish this operation covertly and unnoticed, then it would be in her best interest to get rid of those thoughts quick, because he wasn’t leaving his fate in her tiny little hands.

Besides, he had no idea how much of this sort of mischief making and trouble she got into, but he had plenty of experience sneaking in and out of places from all the times he had accompanied Lydia on her little business trips.

“I’m sure this would be the perfect job for someone of your size.” Dalton remarked snarkily as he took long, lazy strides out of the library and down the hallway in search of his dear old teacher’s office.

Could he do without the snarky remarks? Probably, but then, that just wasn’t his style and he had behaved himself well enough the past few minutes so more than long enough.

mood
time for a detour

location
library > hallway

outfit
outfit

playing...
song title here

by artist here

mentions
Lydia

interactions
Charlie

tags

geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

Xed · Jun 26, 2021

Mikaela Ainsley

“Fine,” Tori said, crossing her arms.

Acceptance was good. This was great.

Well it wasn’t like Mikaela was going to give her dear friend any other options even if she had stuck to her guns and refused to go along.

“But I have to take Beth to school. I can’t just, like, abandon her.”

Abandon her.

Mikaela bit her lip.

If only everyone would abandon her.

Everything would be so much easier.

“I’m her ride. Plus, like, she cannot know that I’m skipping.”

Tori’s words summoned Mikaela’s cheeky smile back to her face.

“Beth would totally rat me out to my parents, and then Mom would kill me.”

Really Tori could be so dramatic, though given how uptight the girl could be sometimes, it wouldn’t surprise her if her mom really killed her for skipping one day of school to go out and play. Now if she would put that imagination to use the right way on their little excursion that would be the icing on the cake.

“But…you can ride with me to school that day or whatever and we can go after that. I’m driving kay?”

Boooooo.

“I absolutely do not trust you to get us there in one piece.”

Oh come on, she was not that terrible.

The definition of terrible here being completely relative but hey, it wasn’t like she was going to run every red light and she only went a little over the speed limit on some roads.

…Fine, so she wasn’t good either but still, totally uncalled for.

“Plus you me, since we’re going on a fucking school day. This is going to ruin my perfect attendance record – I hope you’re happy.”

If you listened to Tori talk, you’d think Mikaela just ruined some prized award or something. It was just an attendance record for pete’s sake! But the way Tori talked about it made it sound like some massive make or break deal for her career.

No one was going to hold it over her head or refuse to hire her just because she missed on day of school. Really, as fun as she could be when she got this dramatic, at times it could also be rather exhausting to deal with.

Like seriously, now she had moved on to talking about getting arrested for going to an amusement park. …Ok, she was probably talking about getting arrested for what they would do at the amusement park, but still didn’t change her point about how dramatic Tori could get. It was almost like she was having a full-blown meltdown.

Oh god, please let her have the energy to deal with her if she got like this on the twenty-second. Or at least, a ton of alcohol available at the amusement park to consume or drugs in her back pocket. If she had the energy to deal with Tori that day, it would be fun to just tease and mess with her, if she didn’t, Mikaela was going to be completely drained and that was not the goal.

“Are you even listening?” Tori huffed.

Kind of, sorta, not really? She’d caught bits and pieces here and there while fiddling with her phone. Tori wasn’t the only busy one around here after all.

No sooner had Mikaela let out her shout of excitement, Tori immediately moved to hush her.

Right, right, couldn’t let Beth find out their little secret now could they? Ooops.

The conversation, bickering, banter, whatever you wanted to call it, about their newly scheduled trip continued right up until they arrived outside the room where the filming was supposed to take place. At least that’s where she was sure the filming was supposed to take place.

Tori held out the coffee cup for Mikaela. “Here’s your Kryptonite, Superman,” she teased.

“Ugh,” Mikaela crinkled her nose in disgust as she reluctantly took the drink from Tori. “Sometimes I think you hate me and you’re trying to poison me.”

That was a page right out of Tori’s little playbook on the art of being dramatic, and a complete joke of course.

“Drink up — no reason to let it go to waste. Plus, I think you’re going to need the energy to deal with…” She glanced around her shoulders, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t listening, and then she finished, “Princess Chas Marinapoleon.”

Princess Chas Marinapoleon!

She –

Tori –

Pfft. Hahahahahaha!

Her sides hurt. She really was trying to get her killed wasn’t she? The little minx. Mikaela wanted nothing more than to just howl with laughter, but she had to suppress herself and keep to a chuckle because Princess Chas Marinapoleon could very well be on the other side of the door and him hearing her laughing away like a mad woman was only going to make filming more painful.

“You really are pulling out all the stops to get me killed aren’t you?” She asked teasingly as she returned Tori’s hug.

“You got it mom.” Mikaela replied with a cheekily little eye roll. “I’ll do my very best and you better do the same or I’ll want answers. See ya!”

And with that little exchange finished, Mikaela disappeared inside the room and… bingo! It was the right one after all.

Go her!

Plus one for team Mikaela!

And from the look of things she wasn’t the last one to arrive either because one very tall giant movie love interest was noticeably absent and from what she could tell, Alex wasn’t there either, though it was entirely possible that she was in a corner somewhere or behind some props or something.

Instead there were a couple of ridiculously tall strangers and Princess Marinapoleon himself who looked like a dwarf next to them. She probably ought to erase that nickname from her head before she accidentally said it aloud and got her head put on the chopping block or something.

Though honestly speaking that probably wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“Where’s our leading man and extraordinary scriptwriter, dear director?” Probably not what she should have led off with after arriving late but well, apology or not Chas would likely rip a new one into her anyways.

mood
Your star has arrived

location
the studio

outfit
outfit

playing...
song title here

by artist here

mentions
Beth, Alex

interactions
Tori, Chas, Ezra, Auguste

tags

ohdittoh

qunqun

hery

geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

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

v tired

One Thousand Club

One Thousand Club

Junior Member

still kicking :)

Junior Member

still kicking :)

No, I don't have too many characters.

Give me your herbs, worm.

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The one an' only

v tired

v tired

Junior Member

No, I don't have too many characters.

v tired

No, I don't have too many characters.

the fool

One Thousand Club

still kicking :)

The Shape-shifting Master of Goatees and Darkness

still kicking :)

the fool

Running Wild

Running Wild

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