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

[Stardust Galaxy]

Maeve did take notice that Tilly looked like a deer in the headlights when she asked her if something was bothering her and how her soul went back to her body when she made the assumption that it was because of the Arts Festival, sure Maeve thought that there was more than the other girl cared to show or say out loud or maybe Maeve was just reading too much into the situation.

Now the sadness that Tilly was showing changed into a worried expression or that's what Maeve noticed. Did she asked the wrong and opened Pandora Box one thing for sure that Maeve wanted wasn't to add more things to Tilly that would make her overthink everything, Maeve didn't have a lot of information about what Tilly project was she was only hoping it wasn't a sensitive subject, after all, everyone wanted to do something great for the Festival and the expectations that everyone set to themselves sometimes they were more destructive than they wanted to admit.

It wasn't a secret that every one a certain degree wanted to outshine the other and while healthy competition was always good the need to be perfect and show everyone how skill and talented all the time sometimes mess up with someone's confidence did Tilly felt that way? Maeve for sure that the girl was talented but that was at the eyes of an outsider would someone more knowledgeable hurt her feelings? She was only hoping that wasn't the case.

"You caught me!" Tilly admitted "I'm so behind and I also kinda need to find someone to animate a short part in the beginning. If I don't..well, I don't know. I guess I could try my hand at it, but I was never good with anything technology-related." So that was what was bothering her, and it was a comprehensible worry, time didn't stop and it almost seemed as if it was moving faster. Maeve wished that she could have helped the girl, but if Tilly wasn't as tech-savvy as she admitted Maeve was sure she was less of help especially on the field that she was struggling.

I also kinda need to find someone to animate a short part in the beginning that part was stuck on her head, wait! She needed an animation... and that equals Felix's friend, Damien! "Oh! I know someone that could help you! Well, my friend Felix knows him, you know the guy who is a couple of inches taller than me, blonde hair with blue eyes from the visual department? That's a terrible description but that doesn't matter right now, anyways he has this friend called Damien I think most people called him by his last name Slater, he is an animator I haven't seen his work before, but Felix says he is talented so I'll trust his judgment. I'm pretty sure you can ask him for help!"

Maeve wasn't sure if Damien was the best option after all she had never seen how the guy worked but it was the only one that she could think of, maybe she should give her a quick rundown on what kind of person he kind of was or at least in Maeve's perspective "I have talked to him before he is not a bad person let's just say he is... Uhm... peculiar But not in a bad way! If you message him I'm pretty sure two things would happen he either is going to try and convince you to hang out together, it would be at random times, you can be talking to him about what you had for lunch and he would be like "cool, want to hang out"So far he doesn't like a bad guy so if you are interested go for it. If not you can easily tell him you are busy and that you will hang out once the Arts Festival is over and he is going to believe it"

"The second thing that could happen is that he might start talking a lot about his friend Kian, well, not talking more like ranting about him, so just let him rant and agree with everything he says about his friend and how annoying he is even if most of their arguments sounds more like two kids bickering each other. I think if you do that he wouldn't be reluctant to help you. I'm sure you will need to pay him, but I doubt he is the type that would scam someone. I guess that's all I have to offer in my guide for Damien Slater" she said with a small chuckle.

Maeve smiled as Tilly explained how baking was a way to remind her of her family, it was quite endearing the way the girl saw things, maybe she would call her parents when she had some free time after her classes were over "I could definitely eat the whole tray, I'm starving I forget to grab a snack before I came back for classes after I practiced so iI could easily eat as much as I could" she said with a chuckle "What if we buy something to drink and eat them outside, the weather is super nice and we could catch up in other things, what do you think?"

Location: school hallway | Mood: good ideas only
Outift: Here | Interactions: Tilly ( natsukashii )

Maeve Anneliese Ackerman

Code by Stardust Galaxy​

 

[geminiy]

Ezra Gray

@EZGoing has set their status to:
let the games begin

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

@EZGoing has set their location to:
the pottery studio

@EZGoing has mentioned:
n/a

@EZGoing has interacted with:
Auguste & Tori

@EZGoing has tagged:
qunqun & ohdittoh

There was very little that Ezra Gray loved more than pottery. To him, the craft was both familiar and endless all at once, bringing him comfort along with the infinite amount of objects he could create from a simple lump of brown clay. He loved the way his hands melded with the medium, the way his entire body leaned into the art, the fire of the kiln gracing his cheeks as he inspected each piece with rigor, the smiles on the faces of satisfied customers or onlookers that brought his pieces home as the newest addition to a mantle or bookcase.

Pottery was one of the two loves of Ezra’s life. The second is another simple hobby, though this hobby is occasionally more rewarding and far less work. Because as much as Ezra loves pottery and sculpting, he loves flirting and teasing just as much, if not more.

It came as a bit of a surprise to Ezra when Auggie, whom he had known to be quiet and more reserved on his outward emotions and desires, slipped comfortably right into the game Ezra had set up. Mixing business and pleasure is an addictive cocktail and Auguste was clearly an excellent bartender. Who knew the rather introverted boy could be so fucking entertaining?

“Aww, all work and no play? What happened to ‘Ohhhh Auggie I want to get to know you on a personal level’?”

Ezra pushed his weight forward into the clay, careful fingers drifting up the sides of the sculpture to form gentle ridges in the otherwise smooth surface. “Who says this isn’t getting to know you personally, hmm?”

There were certainly more private aspects of his newest acquaintances that Ezra was going to attempt to discover but for now, the playful banter would have to do. Already Auguste was opening up and Ezra was certain it wouldn’t be too long before the dancer finally lightened up and let go. As lovely as the guy seemed to be, Ezra had come to the conclusion that he needed a nice long relaxation session to get that abnormally large chip off of his shoulder.

“Though, I must say, we have to get you into the dance studio, yeah? I think it would be fun.” Auguste teased from beside Ezra. The artist cringed, his back straightening as he wiped a forearm up his forehead. “And the workaholics have to branch out with some of the new skills at some point.”

“I’ve already told you, friend, I don’t dance. I have a reputation to protect and I am certain watching an oversized artist stumble around a fancy little dance studio isn’t going to help me at all.” Ezra laughed warmly as he turned back to his piece. “I’m sorry, but if you want me to dance, you’re going to have to get me really drunk. Unfortunately for you, I also don’t happen to drink very often and the dancing I am talking about usually involves me taking off my clothes and-”

The smallest of movements caught Ezra’s attention out of the corner of his eye. He paused for a moment, hands still working over the clay, as he attempted to figure out what he was going to do about their little guest. Slowly, Ezra turned his head just enough to get a decent look at the small figure in the doorway. As soon as the girl came into focus, Ezra’s face broke out into a wide, brilliant smirk.

“Enjoying the show, Nineteen?” Ezra asked, the wheel in front of him slowly halting as he stood up from his seat. “Honestly,” he continued as he turned to face Tori, “I think I should start charging. What do you think, Auguste? We could make a small fortune off of little eavesdroppers like Nineteen.”

Ezra didn’t bother to wait for a response, instead sauntering across the room with his dirtied hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and a lazy grin on his face. Pausing in front of Tori, Ezra looked down at her lips and nodded towards them, gently placing a finger under her chin and tilting her head to look up at him.

“What brings you to the studio, Nineteen?” Ezra asked politely, his thumb gently flicking across the bottom of her chin as he pulled his hand back. “Did you come for lessons or do you just make a habit of watching shirtless men in pottery studios work? The objectification is painful, Nineteen, it really is.” Another laugh rumbled out from Ezra’s chest as the smirk and the facade fell away. “Unfortunately for you, if you’re here for lessons, I’m afraid Auguste already has me booked for today. But, I have some excellent deals on more,” Ezra’s eyes scanned Tori from head to foot and back up again, “private and hands-on lessons at the apartment. I got a new wheel and everything for this very occasion, you know.”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Nathan Woods

In his drug-induced state, Nate couldn't quite figure out why Trevor seemed so panicked and kept sending him weird looks. Like he was trying to communicate something -- or why he looked as if he was about to faint or die. Or why he kept repeating everything that Nate was saying, which just earned an annoyed side glare from Nate.

Plus the little fucker had again agreed that Evie was hot, which was certainly not lost on Nate. Yes, he knew that Evie was hot, but that didn't mean he wanted that repeated back to him every opportunity it was rewarded by fucking Trevor. Or anyone, for that matter.

“What blind date?” Cappie asked. “Anything happened at the fair for you, Mr. Callaghan?” Cappie offered the diminishing blunt back to Trevor before he continued to speak. “By the way, Trev, I wanna thank you,” he said, “for looking after Ash at the lock-in. It’s nice knowing there was someone there for her when she was dealing with shit, and me and Eli couldn’t be nearby at the time. Means a lot to me.”

Oh.

Oh now it all was starting to make sense.

Of course -- Cappie lived in the mansion with the twins and Ash. They were all... buddy buddy or some shit, which explained Trevor's sudden fearful apprehension at Cap's arrival. Probably thought the dude was coming to rough him up, threaten him or some shit if he dared to fuck with her.

Ha.

That made Nate, who again was fairly high at this point, chuckle.

After a series of ohs that were uttered by his less attractive lunchtime weed buddy, Trevor accepted the thanks from Cappie, and then started to talk again.

Nate assume that Trevor would be spinning the conversation as far away from his totally not girlfriend that he could -- to avoid getting his ass beat, of course. But instead, he seemed to do the opposite, and as he started talking about the fair date, Nate had to look down at Trevor with eyebrows drawn together.

“The fair date... I was forced to go. Charlie’s orders,” he started, “It was with Ash, but it wasn’t anything.” Trevor explained rather quickly as he handed the joint over to Nate. “We bonded. Over the wheel.”

“The…uh…ya know, that big fecking wheel thing…?” Watching Trevor flounder for the word was fucking hilarious. “Ferris. The Ferris wheels…those are…those are right fecking neat, aren’t they? One time, I spent seventy bucks riding the thing around and around. Then I ran out of money.” And then Trevor looked towards Nate with evident panic in his dark eyes. “Those...are…are…neat, huh, Nate?”

Now, there were two ways that Nate could really go here.

The good, friendly route would be to just... allow the conversation to spin completely away from the date. To assist Trevor and allow the conversation to spin to Ferris wheels and other dumb fair shit. And then his little friend would be happy, there would be no more panic from the skinny stoner beside him...

But Trevor had also called his girlfriend fucking hot at least twenty times today, despite several warnings. Fuck, even fucking with him about the spank bank shit hadn't been enough to get Trevor to fucking stop, because he'd again called Evie hot (ignoring the fact that it was Trevor dumbly agreeing with Nate).

He brought the diminishing joint to his lips, taking a hit from it and exhaling slowly as his lips curled back into an easygoing smile. His dark gaze first looked towards Cappie, and then he smiled down at Trevor.

"They are real fucking neat," he agreed as he held the joint out in front of him to whoever the fuck wanted it. "Great for making out. First time I got to second base was on a Ferris wheel." That was a lie, but the way Nate delivered it didn't make it sound like a lie, and clearly he was just trying to fuck more with Trevor. "Bet you 'bonded,'" -- he added extra inflection on this word, along with doing a little quotation thing with his fingers as he said it -- "real well on the wheel."

"Seventy bucks on a Ferris wheel seems like a bit of a waste, though. Don't you think, Cap?" He asked. "You can get all your making out done in one or two loops if you're fast enough. I mean, that's the only reason anyone really rides a Ferris wheel, right? To get cozy with a hot chick?"

Yeah, call his girlfriend hot again and see what the fuck happened, Trevor.

mood
weeeeed

location
parking lot

outfit
omg clothes

playing...
Ho Hey

by The Lumineers​

mentions
Evie

interactions
Trevor, Cappie

tags
ohdittoh 0k_mang0

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Charlie Howell

@howedoyoudo has set their status to:
never fuck with the charles miester (name pending approval)

@howedoyoudo has set their outfit to:
school casual

@howedoyoudo has set their location to:
hallway

@howedoyoudo has mentioned:
n/a

@howedoyoudo has interacted with:
Dalton

@howedoyoudo has tagged:
Xed

Look, theoretically Charlie and Dalton could have just gone to the Dean or a counsellor or literally any of the hoard of educational professionals that were employed by the school and gotten the dumbass suspended for what she was doing. Hell, her entire lesson plan spelled out ‘M-I-S-C-O-N-D-U-C-T’ in nice big bold letters. But going to admin would mean paperwork and interviews and talking to people and blah buh blah buh blah buh blah. Boring, boring, boring.

Not nearly as fun as watching a teacher shit her overly expensive pants.

Man, Charlie couldn’t wait to see the look of pure terror and ‘holy fuckery’ on Ms Bitchkins’s face when she burst in there and called her on her entire bullshit of a teaching degree. Like seriously, did she think that she could get away with fucking over a student like that and then blaming said student for their failures due to your entire incompetency? Get a grip, Ms Bitchkins, you fucked with the wrong tutor.

No, that sounded really lame, we’re never saying that again.

Charlie waited with shallow breaths outside the door, her slim body pressed to the manicured brick as she struggled to listen in. Dalton was doing well, he barely even faltered when Charlie had kicked his ass into the room. It took every ounce of self-control that the blonde had in her not to just burst in there guns a-blazin’ and ruin that whole lady’s day. But she knew she needed to wait and let Dalton really get her going before she could hop in and get the party started.

So, for the first time ever, Charlie waited.

And waited.

And waited.

What the fuck was taking Dalton so long to get her pissed off? Did that woman have, like, no emotions or some shit?

She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

What was being served in the cafeteria for lunch? Charlie could only hope it was those really good wraps they made last Monday, those things were damn good. And that salad, damn that was a good salad. She’d split her desert with Lin and Amy, obviously, the portions were way too big and…

Oh fuck why was it sorta quiet in there? Was Dalton actually still t-

Shit.

Charlie composed herself, reaching her palms up to smooth the hair down a bit on the crown of her head. At last, my dear friends, it was go time.

With a rather dramatic push, Charlie walked through the doorway and instantly began looking around for a textbook that was never going to be there. Honestly, if music fell through the cracks, Charlie definitely had a backup career in acting. The girl was going all in, man, with her looking and her humming to herself and her aloof energy, Charlie really should’ve considered a career change.

Wait, shit, she was there for a reason. Eyes on the prize, Charles, eyes on the prize.

“Oh, uh, sorry for interrupting, Ms Jenkins.” She apologized sheepishly, nodding to a desk that was beside her. “I thought I forgot my physics textbook here this morning but I guess I left it somewhere else.”

Behind the desk, Ms Jenkins glared at Charlie and leaned back in her seat. “I do believe I was having a conversation before you,” she paused with pursed lips, “arrived in my classroom, Miss Howell. Good afternoon.”

A devious smile pulled onto Charlie’s face. Like fuck she was about to leave.

“Oh? Is that what you call that? Because I sorta overheard some stuff at my locker coming from your classroom and if I wasn’t mistaken and,” Charlie raised her hands dramatically, “you can tell me if I’m wrong here, but it sure as hell sounded to me like you were telling ol’ Dolly boy here that you were gonna fail him on purpose.”

Ms Jenkins’s face dropped, lips parting gently as she slammed her hands onto her desk.

“Miss Howell, I will not have these accusations in my classroom. You are a student, not a teacher, you have no right to say things like that.” She spoke rapidly. Charlie wondered if that bitch of a woman had ever been told that she has a rather unsightly vein that pops in her forehead when she gets mad. “Mr Kirby’s academic struggles do not involve you, Miss Howell.” Once again, Ms Jenkins nodded to the door. “Good afternoon, Miss Howell.”

With a small jump, Charlie hoisted herself up onto Ms Jenkin’s desk and flopped down on a pile of papers, legs crossed neatly beneath her. If you needed more proof that Charlie should be an actress, look no further than the fact that Charlie was not, in fact, laughing at the flabbergasted look of pure shock and terror on Ms Jenkins’s face at her sudden move.

“You know, I do think this is a good afternoon. I’ve spent my morning tutoring Mr Kirby, so I very much think that his academics are my concern. Educator and educatee support and all that jazz.” Charlie continued without batting an eyelash, pitching her voice to sound more like the teacher on Dalton’s name. “Not that I would expect you to be able to care about your students’ academic standings. I mean, you must sit pretty comfortably here at Hollywood Arts, and academic standing isn’t really something we’re known for. Who cares about a lousy science class when you have the next Beyonce or Leo DiCaprio in your class, right?”

Looking over her shoulder, Charlie smiled warmly at Dalton and patted his shoulder before looking back to the teacher in front of her.

“Anyways, it just so happens that Dalton here has shown me the material you’ve supplied him and oh boy oh boy, Ms Jenkins, you really are a fuckin’ horrible teacher, huh?” A bright laugh erupted from Charlie’s lips. “Seriously, dude, it’s almost funny. I mean come on, I took this class over the summer in a compressed format and even that had more content than this. You’re setting him up to fail. How you still have a fucking job, I don’t know.”

The vein in Ms Jenkins’s head popped again, her pale face turning redder and redder by the second.

“Miss Howell, that is enough! How dare you talk about me like that in my classroom? I should have you suspended, no, expelled for talking like that to a teacher!” Ms Jenkins ranted and raved. In one rough movement, the woman stood from her desk and slammed her hands down once more, only spurring Charlie to laugh more.

“Oh, Ms J, you gotta give me a sec, man, I can’t breathe!” Charlie giggled as she dramatically held her sides. “A teacher? Yeah fucking right, you’re not shit. You’re a money hungry sociopath who wants to see talented young people like Dalton fail because you get off on it. Seriously, it’s pathetic.”

Ms Jenkins refused to speak another word, instead reaching for the black phone on the wall.

“You can go ahead and send me down to the office all you want, Ms Bitchkins. I’m sure they’d love to hear about how much you love wasting budget and fucking over students who pay very good money to come here.” Charlie leaned back slightly, putting the weight of her torso onto her hands: a very casual look for someone so bold. “I can also guarantee that they’re gonna love the special on berating and insulting your students, too, that one is a personal favourite of mine. Oh and for an encore, I can tell them all about how you’re trying to homewreck poor Mr Weaver. Poor dude can barely escape without getting fuckin’ harrassed by you. We wanted to learn chemistry and well you two… You just don’t have anything. But by all means, I’m sure the school would love to hear how you try to fuck him in front of a room of minors and…”

“Miss Howell that is enough!”

Just like that, the last nerve was struck as the phone was slammed back onto the receiver.

Check. Fucking. Mate.

“Where did you hear all of this?” Ms Jenkins asked, her voice threaded with fear in place of anger.

Charlie shrugged and hopped off the desk. Reaching into the top drawer, she fished out one of those really nasty dollar store candies and popped one into her mouth, leaving the plastic wrapper on the desk.

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, Jenkins.” Charlie crossed her arms and smirked. “I suggest you give me what I want before I get you fucking fired and blacklisted. And you know I’m not joking when I threaten. Historically, teachers that piss me off get the fucking sack. Do you wanna be next?”

A silence filled the room. The ball was in Jenkins’s court, all Charlie had to do was wait for the play.

“What, exactly, do you want from me? The test date is not movable, Mr Kirby does not deserve that luxury.” Charlie bit her lip to refrain from laughing. There was a tremble in Ms Jenkins's voice.

“No, what Mr Kirby doesn’t deserve is your bullshit attitude. You wrote the damn test, you can move it. Here is what I propose and what will be happenin’.” Charlie hopped back up onto the desk and pulled out a pad of paper and a Bic pen, handing them to the woman in front of her. “You’re gonna give Kirby an extension of three weeks from tomorrow on the test. You’re also gonna give him all the materials, lesson plans, and extra help you have on hand to help prepare him for that test. During the three week period, you will make a request to transfer him to Mr Weaver’s class this period. Dalton will write the test and he’ll be out of your hair and then we won’t have to deal with any of this shit again. It’s a win-win-win, don’t you think?”

Another pause. Charlie clasped her hands together in her lap and crunched down through the candy.

Damn, those things tasted like chalk.

“Fine.” Ms Jenkins eventually said, back still turned to the pair of students. “If you promise not to say anything…”

“We won’t say jack-diddly-shit, teach. Scout’s honour and all that jazz.” Charlie confirmed with a three finger raise. Was that the Boy Scout salute or the Hunger Games? Ms Jenkins sighed heavily and leaned against the windowsill.

“Very well. You have three weeks tomorrow.”

Charlie stood up and patted the woman on the back.

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” Charlie spoke plainly. Turning back to Dalton, she motioned for the taller boy to follow her out of the room. Standing at the doorway, Charlie turned back and waved sweetly. “Good afternoon, Ms Jenkins.”

Safely out in the hallway and, more importantly, out of earshot from Bitchkins, Charlie turned to Dalton and slammed her hands into his in one hell of a dramatic high five.

“Dude, did you see her face?! Bitch was about to piss herself!” Charlie laughed loudly as she braced herself on the wall for stability. “Great work in there, dude. You’ve got a knack for getting old women pissed off and red in the face. You should quit your day job and pursue this full time!”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[qunqun]

MOOD:
... it's fine, everything's fine.

OUTFIT:
Something comfy sans a jacket

LOCATION:
School

basics

MENTIONS:




INT:
Ez geminiy
Tori ohdittoh

tags

TL;DR:
Nope

tl;dr

Auguste

Auguste immediately regretted his decision to try to divert attention away from pottery - clay, walls, it sent shivers down his spine - by trying his hand at teasing right back.

Contrary to popular belief (a popular belief he cultivated thank you), he did in fact know how to tease and joke. It’s just that… well. Auguste’s best friend from France was kind of like Ezra in a way. Always joking and teasing. Equally flirtatious but never to Auguste. Religious parents and all that nonsense. Deep internalized homophobia in that one.

It was also why he generally tried to keep his own sexuality rather on the quiet side. If his friend’s parents learned, they wouldn’t let Auguste over at their house anymore. And really, that had been one of his few safe places away from all the other bullshit he had to deal with.

Then the other people had found out and began blackmailing him and it turned into this whole big mess and frankly Auguste just didn’t feel the need to ever deal with that ever again.

But the socialization with his friend had really prepared him for Ezra, he knew the rhythm of the game they played like the back of his hand. Ez says something witty, Auguste matches with his own wit. Ez gets too close and Auguste deflects with something even more tantalizing. Or, Auguste gets oddly defensive about something he doesn’t care about, and sends Ez on a little goose chase in a circle trying to get the answer out of him. It was a careful dance of not giving too much away, teasing, making sure that the other knew it was all jokes, making sure the other didn’t know how fucked everything actually was.

It just had a little bit of a different angle to it, that was all. With flirting. That is to say, Ezra being the flirtatious one, and Auguste being the one deflecting it easily. Usually it’d been the other way around, the flirting had been another manner of deflection for Auguste. But the rhythm and the cadence he knew well.

Of course, Auguste didn’t know Ez nearly as well as he did his best friend. But.. well, playing with fire was a little bit fun every now and then. And part of him wanted to trust Ezra just a little bit. Just enough.

He slowly put his hands on the clay, trying to mimic his fellow giant. Something was… forming. And it didn’t look…

Okay the walls weren’t being caked in clay. Which was a step up from what Auguste thought would happen. But it certainly wasn’t anything particularly pretty to look at, it was pretty clear the dancer had absolutely no idea what the fuck he was doing.

“I thought we have been over this, it is not a very fancy studio, just a bunch of the lights and mirrors.” Auguste said with a roll of his eyes. “Besides, being flexible helps in other areas, does it not?”

Well, he was already down the rabbit hole (hopeless struggle) of trying to match his newfound acquaintance blow for blow. Might as well throw that out there…

Y’know what, if the name of the game with Ez was “throw all caution to the wind” then he might as well just go headfirst into the deep end. He’d stuck his toe in and tested the waters long enough. Raise the stakes a bit in their game, see what he does with it.

“As for the strip show…” Auguste paused his creative endeavor (failure), his head tilting. Scarred lips turning into a sly grin. “I believe that the phrase in English is ‘I show you mine if you show me y-’” Dropped mid-sentence.

His companion’s eyes had focused on something behind him. Auguste turned, saw a girl standing at the doorway, the smile immediately dropping from his face into the stony wall he put up when around people he didn’t know.

RUN.

He stood slowly, careful not to hit his head against anything that might be dangling. Wishing that he hadn’t tied his hair back so that he had something to hide behind. He followed, a few paces behind Ez, standing in the room behind him… Looming just a little bit ominously.

”We could make a small fortune…”

“Right… with our so terribly exciting conversations.” Auguste said dryly as he looked at the girl. Looked familiar. Nickname also sounded familiar. His brow creased just a little bit as he tried to unravel the little puzzle.

Well, it was one of Ez’s friends (hopefully, it’d be awkward if she was just some random girl) so it had to be safe, right?

code by valen t.

 

[hery]

MOOD: dag nabbit

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: vp's office

basics

MENTIONS:
Maddie, Angel

INT:
Winona (Ash, Jace)
@jasmichelle (Dorian)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Javier Cervantes

tw: blood ouchie violence

Javi curled his lip in disgust at Jace’s pathetic display, meeting Ash’s eyes with a look of pity for the scrawny dipshits she had to deal with on the daily. He gained a sick satisfaction watching the crybaby’s sister turn on him, letting out a laugh despite the serious look on Ash’s face. Couldn’t she enjoy this at least a little? The fact that Jace and Dorian thought they were anything more than shit under Javi’s heel was comedy of the finest caliber.

In an almost impressive feat of stupidity, Ash's emasculated little—despite being older and taller than the aforementioned disaster blonde—brother stepped forth, wildly waving a finger in the air. Was he trying to express his dick size or something? Drunk with an excess of adrenaline and rashness, Javi snorted in laughter. He plunged his head forward, then took a large bite out of the air like a snapping turtle. A dark, bestial shadow covered his face as he repositioned his head, missing Jace's finger by mere centimeters.

A shrill, whiny voice assaulted Javi's face, and he stared back with inattentive amusement. "Fu... fuck you. Y-you don't k-know anything, s-she started it." Everyone looked at Ash, who had turned to stone on all levels except physical. Javi's half-enraged, half-exhilarated features softened for a brief second, and his lips parted ever so slightly so as to offer her some form of reassurance. However, in the interest of not losing momentum, he turned back to her brother.

"Don't care." Without missing a beat, the bassist seized hold of Hollywood Arts' favorite piss pariah, then promptly kneed him in the stomach. The kid had to have been hooked up to a bike pump if he had any wind in him after that. He released another thunderous cackle, but his loud, unpleasant voice was cut off by a sudden grunt escaping from the very same throat.

In the time he'd spent toying with Jace, Dorian had managed to regain his hostile fervor, knocking Javi in the face with an unforeseen amount of strength. That wasn't to say the actor was in any way weak, but up until that point, Javi had been mostly underestimating him on the account of his comparably skinnier frame. A small spatter of red escaped his left nostril, which released an undeniably shameful trail of sticky, gushing blood.

Instantly, he clenched his teeth, then let out a low, ticked-off growl. A hand reached for his nose, cupping it as relentless, thin red seeped through the gaps in his fingers. "You're fucking dead," he spat, eyes narrowed and peering upward at the smug, audacious prick of a teenager.

The hall seemed to sit in silence for a few seconds, entrenched in Javi's palpable fury. One could cut it with a knife, and it wasn't hard to read it off of his face as the light in his eyes stagnated. He straightened up, then removed his hand from his face to reveal a less than charming, bloodied chin.

Drops of the red fluid dripped at an accelerated rate on the floor, a consequence insignificant to Javi. Staring straight on at Dorian, all he could picture was the most badass way to beat him to a pulp and claim his rightful victory. With a hopeless sort of hope, he imagined the ways he would admit he was wrong about Javier and justify the tears he'd shed over his vile sister, a girl so repulsive she occupied Javi's thoughts like a festering plague.

He deemed no string of words necessary for conveying just how much he'd make Dorian regret every choice he'd made in his life. He cracked his knuckles, one by one, holding the boy's gaze hostage. Stubborn as ever, he didn't allow himself to be bullied into eye contact. The two stared each other down, head on, minds on the same page in the most twisted sense possible.

There was hell to pay, and their greeting at The Devil's door wouldn't be pleasant.

Javi sped forward, closing the minimal distance between himself and Dorian, driving a fist into his face all in one motion. He threw another fist, but it wasn't met without resistance. The two exchanged painful blows, the only sound on Javi's mind the heavy, rugged breathing leaving their mouths. He was strained, but he could outlast the other boy. It didn't take an expert to tell; Dorian's reflexes gradually slowed, leaving him susceptible to a swift strike.

The sound of flesh being struck rang throughout the air, quickly followed by another bout of silence. The two boys readied themselves for the next round, but a stern voice cut through the air.

"Boys!"

"Wh—huh?" Javi whipped around, facing a determinedly marching teacher marching forward twelve o'clock down the hall. "Did someone fucking narc...?"

He couldn't recall much of what happened between that and the end of their walk to the office, where the three boys had been dumped off to face the vice principal and Javi's newest disciplinarian in a long line of other school administrators. He could somewhat remember the crowd clearing, his eyes landing on Ash. She had a look on her face he hadn't seen before, her tense smile sending the drug dealer's heart sinking all the way to China.

The rescue had been a bust.

He also remembered being shortly escorted to the washroom to clean his face, grumbling about not needing a chaperone to use a bathroom sink. When he'd come back to the office, it was obvious Dorian and Jace had been weaving their own vindictive, grossly inaccurate tale. He slouched down into a chair on the far side of the other two, hands in his pockets and a sullen, indignant expression on his face.

To his side, Dorian sat in silence, probably pleased with himself and his stupid ability to please vain adults. He was willing to bet a hefty sum of cash and weed that he was going to get expelled and the other two would get off scot-free, because that's how things always worked for Javi. At some points in his life, he had to laugh at the people in his life who repudiated him for being a delinquent.

Jace, on the other hand, was crying, which should have been expected. However, Javi's mind wasn't there. It wasn't even funny anymore. The entire scenario just pissed him off. The curly-haired boy would never regret punching the two when he had the chance, but the release of it came with its drawbacks.

"You're such a fucking loser, man," he scoffed, shaking his head side to side with more pity than actual disdain, "Get a grip. Lift your chin up." It almost pissed him off how pathetic he was, but at this level of exhaustion, all Javier could muster was a half-hearted breath bordering a chuckle. He shouldn't have even come close to laughing at all. None of it was amusing. It was all just fucking stupid.

Javi heaved a defeated sigh, drooping his head and relaxing his shoulders. His eyes were trained on the floor, his brows furrowed with residual anger. Guess you were right, Dad. This is Angel's kind of place. I would never have lasted at this shithole.

An exasperated, serious voice came from the vice principal, recapping for Javi what had been discussed in the few minutes he was away at the bathroom. He was even graced with a recap of what had transpired, neatly and conveniently tailored to the school's pristine image and Dorian and Jace's excellent storytelling skills. This would go down in official records, he was told, so any account Javi would offer would need to be accurate and to the point.

Yeah, yeah, this wasn't his first rodeo.

He explained how Jace shoved him in the hall, then screamed at "some girl" out of nowhere, all while the actor dorkwad visibly grilled her. He went on to articulate the sequence of punches thrown, clarifying that while he had not thrown the first (at Dorian—the real contender), he certainly threw the most and that sticking with his values was something to be proud of.

After omitting most of Javi's tangents and statements on Dorian and Jace's fragile strengths, the vice principal gathered the various paperwork on the desk and stacked it in a small pile. Clasping two aging hands together, Big V.P. stated that, as per the maximum time defined by the California Department of Education, Javi and Dorian would be suspended for five consecutive school days effective immediately. Jace would receive a lesser punishment, if at all, which Javi crossed his arms and rolled his eyes at.

Hey, a week off is a week off.

He glanced at a sniffling Jace to the side, rolling his eyes to an even greater extent, if at all possible. "Aren't you eighteen? No one's going to respect you if you keep pulling this shit." He looked back at the vice principal. "Can someone get this kid some tissues?" Seriously, what kind of establishment were they running these days?

"And," V.P. continued, while Javi cocked an eyebrow, "While admin looks over this case, your privilege of performing at the Winter Arts Festival has been revoked, Javier. I hope you come to understand my decision in your mandatory counseling appointments every Tuesday indefinitely." Quite understandably, Javi's jaw dropped, yet he was too stunned to immediately protest. The vice principal made note of this, and moved forward. "Counseling will be encouraged and potentially assigned to the two of you as well. This is all based on district guidelines, so there may be room for adjustment."

Catching his ability to speak, Javi cried, "Why aren't they banned? Why is it just me!?" Before allowing the slew of obvious answers to flood his ears, he slammed a fist onto the desk. "This is bullshit!"

code by valen t.

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

So Howell’s excessive love of talking had some use after all. Never in his life had Dalton been more grateful to see someone or hear their voice, not that Howell would ever hear that from him. There was some saying out there about what was it the smaller the size the bigger the bark or something like that. Whatever, he couldn’t really remember, but either way it certainly seemed to apply here. For every line that dear old Ms Jenkins tossed out, thumb – Charlie Howell had one to match.

The look of pure shock that spread across the woman’s face when Howell hopped up onto her desk and sat there was just gold. Watching her face scrunch up and turn red with rage as it contorted with every word Howell said made the whole excursion and the hassle that had come with it well worth it.

As Howell continued her war of words with Ms Jenkins, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, then patted his shoulder. He blinked as she turned back around to face Ms Jenkins, glancing briefly at his shoulder before returning his gaze to the two women in front of him.

Was she trying to reassure him? One of those, “I’ve got this handled, leave it to me” moments? A soft snort escaped him as he watched them, the tiniest smile forming on the edge of his lips.

How curious this all was, him relying on tiny old Howell to help him out. When was the last time something like that had happened, with anyone?

The traces of the smile faded and the softness that flickered in his features vanished as he made himself comfortable, leaning against a nearby piece of furniture.

Well, one off experiences like this every once in a while brought about their own entertainment, like seeing his lovely prof, vein’s all popping and absolutely losing her cool while Howell laughed away like a little mad scientist. She definitely popped out of Dexter’s Laboratory, no doubt about it.

Dalton had to hand it to her, she had a talent for pushing the woman’s buttons and it looked like this show was about to wrap itself up.

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” Charlie spoke plainly. Turning back to Dalton, she motioned for the taller boy to follow her out of the room. Standing at the doorway, Charlie turned back and waved sweetly. “Good afternoon, Ms Jenkins.”

Good. Ha. The old croon would probably have nightmares about this for weeks. What a little devil she was.

Once they were far removed from Prof Bitch’s territory, Charlie turned around and slammed her hands into his.

Well someone was pumped. His palms would probably stay red for a little while yet given that she probably just threw her whole body weight into that high five.

“Dude did you see her face?! Bitch was about to piss herself!” Charlie laughed loudly as she braced herself on the wall for stability. “Great work in there, dude. You’ve got a knack for getting old women pissed off and red in the face. You should quit your day job and pursue this full time!”

Quit his day job and pursue pissing off old woman as a career? Dalton cocked an eyebrow and snorted at her words.

“I think you mean yourself there Howell, old Bitchkins couldn’t wait to be rid of you. Looks like that high five scrambled your brain cells.” He ruffled her hair again as he spoke. Yeah, yeah, she’d warned him not to do that again earlier, but she didn’t really expect him to listen and behave like a good student who did as he was told now did she?

Even if she helped him to not only get the necessary documents to study for the test, but also an extension and a transfer to the much more tolerable Mr Weaver’s class, he wasn’t going to behave as desired unfortunately.

“There. That should fix it.” He lifted his hand with a smirk and stepped out of the way, a small chuckle escaping him as he did. “But yeah, the look on her face was priceless. Not bad Howell. Not bad at all.”

...​

Thanks to Howell’s assistance with the whole Bitchkins Saga, the rest of Dalton’s day hadn’t been as awful as he had initially expected when he had stepped out of the woman’s class that morning. He had gotten a call from Vogue telling him he got one of the spots on their internship which had left Simpclaire in denial then pissed her off to no end. It was entertaining to see and had put him in a jolly good mood.

At least until he got a text from the old man about the arts fest. Turned out fucking Slater couldn’t keep his trap shut and had told them all about it and now the ‘parents’ were coming down to the event and sticking their nose where it didn’t fucking belong. Fuck.

There was probably a dent in the old door of his apartment from when he had kicked it open earlier but whatever, he was moving out soon anyways. If there were any delays that kept him from moving into the new place on the date the landlord told him, he was going to flip.

The door to the roof flew open with an unceremonious bang. His current apartment could be suffocating as hell at times and he wasn’t going to stay cooped up in there. He was moving out soon, but he’d have to pay for a lot more than a tiny dent in the door if he stayed inside because he was going to get even more pissed and probably break more stuff.

He didn’t want that ‘family’ of his to have anything to do with him nor did he want anything to do with them but here Damien was fucking screwing everything up. If it got out that they were related because of George or Miranda, he was going to kill him. Did the universe hate him that fucking much? Sticking a pest like Slater in his life. Fuck.

He kicked a stray can of beer lying on the ground, at which point he realised, he wasn’t alone and company was in his spot.

Great.

Dalton took a step towards the man – no boy, then paused. Had he seen him somewhere? Oh fuck it, who cared if he had, the guy was in his spot. Whoever this guy was, he could claim it once he had moved out which unfortunately for them both, hadn’t happened yet.

“Move.” He said gruffly. “That’s my spot.”

mood
Move

location
Rooftop

outfit
outfit

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
Slater, Evie

interactions
Charlie, you will see

tags
geminiy

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

Victoria Sterling​

Tori would’ve been completely content to keep standing there, admiring Ezra muscles and handiwork (equally, by the way — she was admiring them both completely equally, with absolutely no favor shown towards those muscles, no matter how…toned and — no matter how whatever they were, Jeez), with no disturbances for, like, a maximum of five minutes. She wouldn’t bother anything; she’d just stand in the doorway and no one had to even know she was there. She’d watch for a minute or two more, then she’d just…ya know, run off to go back to her work. She’d only come here to make sure of Ez’s safety, seriously, Jeez.

Look, what was so wrong with the girl admiring the artist’s work? Listen: sure, the artist was hot and shirtless or whatever, but…she was watching him sculpt, not just gawking at him.

Even if it kind of looked that way.

And even if her eyes kept trailing back to staring at the muscles of his forearms and back instead of on the pot he was forming.

She zoned out, mesmerized by the image of it all, the twirling wheel and the hands around the hunk of clay that wasn’t much of a hunk of clay anymore and the shirtless boy forming a pot from it with a seeming calculatedness, not paying attention to any of the conversation he was holding with the boy who, yeah, turned out to be not a murderer or something, whew, bullet dodged. (She was serious — that was a concern…totally was.)

But then a hair flopped into her face, and she reached up to brush it out of her face.

Bad idea to move more when you were trying to be inconspicuous.

“Enjoying the show, Nineteen?” The call pulled her out of her zone as the wheel came to a stop.

Her eyes widened, and she froze.

FUCK, HE SAW ME.

She could die. She could keel over and die right here. She could feel her face heating up to a boil.

Fight or flight was in full swing, but her first thought was just, Don’t move. Don’t move.

Which, granted, wasn’t fighting or flight-ing, but freezing was also an understandable response when you pretty much got caught drooling over a boy doing pottery.

Wait, no, she, uh — she meant drooling over the pottery. The very-hot-boy-but-don’t-mention-that-factoid was just there and just happened to be sculpting and happened to be the feature of the room that she’d focused much of her attention on.

No, Tori. No panicking. She brushed the hair away from her face, trying to look away from Ezra as she crossed her arms back. Be cool. You’ve got this.

But when her eyes moved back to him and he was just there looking at her, she couldn’t help but stammer out a rushed response that was hardly intelligible. “I — uhhhh, ha, well you see, you — I’m just — well…“

“Honestly,” he continued as he turned to face Tori, and oh my God, he had abs — like full on fucking abs, “I think I should start charging. What do you think, Auguste? We could make a small fortune off of little eavesdroppers like Nineteen.”

“Right…with our so terribly exciting conversations,” said the other boy in the room.

Auguste? Tori moved her head to look around Ez, and her lips pressed into a flat line.

Oh, so it was Auguste, the dancer guy. Not exactly murderer material, as she’d figured the person with Ez would be, but her point remained that Ez could have still been in imminent danger. (Yes, actually. Seriously.) She gave Auguste a small wave to apologize, though there was no way that he knew what she’d been thinking. Sorry, guy.

Her eyes moved back to — ignore the abs, ignore the abs — Ezra, and she stammered, “I —“ No, confidence, Tori. She shook her head, clearing her throat and giving a soft laugh. “Pff, sorry, Twenty-Nine,” she said, voice wavery beneath her forced confidence as she aggressively shoved her handbag behind herself, “but I’m fresh out of…”

Ezra shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and grinned lazily, starting to saunter over.

“…pocket…”

Oh. Oh, shit. Oh, actual shit.

HE’S COMING OVER.

When he came to a stop in front of her, the last word of her last sentence smushed with all of the words of her next one. “…changehellosirwhatareyoudoing?”

He looked down at her face — her lips, actually — and she moved her head back slightly, her face heating up even further and her eyes flicking downward.

He was so close, and her face was so hot that she was pretty sure that he could feel the heat emanating from her cheeks.

Also — listen, she usually wished that she was just slightly taller, but right now, she was just about eye-level with his pecs, and she didn’t know whether to thank her parents for the shorter genes or curse them.

(Also, he was so tall. Like…Jeeze Louise, she…look, you would feel intimidated, too.)

And then, Ezra put a finger under her chin.

His hand.

On her chin.

I repeat: his hand.

On her chin.

And tilted her head to look up at him.

And now she had to look at him.

This wasn’t fair. This seriously was not fair.

Her mouth went dry, her eyes widening.

HE’S LOOKING AT ME.

AND HE’S SHIRTLESS.

AND HE’S GOT HIS FINGER ON MY CHIN.

“What brings you to the studio, Nineteen?” he asked in a polite voice.

His voice.

“I —“ She started to stammer.

REMAIN. CALM.

His thumb flicked across the bottom of her chin as he pulled his hand back, and she stared at him, wide-eyed and not a single bit flustered. She — she was still, like, super cool about this, even with her red face and stunned expression.

“Did you come for lessons,” he said, “or do you just make a habit of watching shirtless men in pottery studios work?”

“Uhhh…” She lifted a hand in an attempt to discreetly touch where he’d touched, staring dumbly at his face. She tried to play it off like she was just brushing a hair from her face. “Uh. I. Do I make a…” And then his words actually registered, and she let out a nervous laugh, quickly shaking her head. “No! No, no. No, no. No. I just —“

“The objectification is painful, Nineteen, it really is.” He laughed again.

His laugh…

Okay, okay, okay, fine. Fine, fine, fine, this was her retracting all previous statements about Ezra’s kinda hot-ness. This was the only time — the only time — you were ever going to hear her admit this, so effing savor it:

Ezra was hot. Like, very, very, very.

She tried to remain cool, swallowing the nervous lump in her throat. Remain. Calm. Victoria. “Well maybe,” she started, smiling as confidently as she could, “I just came to watch the pot, not the potter. Did you consider that, Twenty-Nine? Ya know…” Her eyes moved to the mostly-unformed pot on the wheel. “Damn, that’s one sexy…pot.” She looked back at Ezra. “Ten out of ten, would not smash.”

Holy shit, what was she doing?

His smirk and facade fell away. “Unfortunately for you,” Ezra continued, “if you’re here for lessons, I’m afraid Auguste already has me booked for today. But, I have some excellent deals on more…” His eyes scanned her from head to foot, and she felt herself freeze up again. Composure, composure, com-po-sure. “…private and hands-on lessons at the apartment. I got a new wheel and everything for this very occasion, you know.”

He —

Ezra —

Oh my God.

Oh my God, he was actually…

No.

What?

No.

No.

No, Tori could handle this. Deep breath — in through the nose, out through the mouth. Ignore her blush. Ignore her quickly-pattering heart. Ignore those abs. Just remain composed. Like always.

Yeah. Like always.

“Uh…huh…,” she said slowly, giving him a skeptical look.

Look at her. Tori, the unflusterable.

But also…how the fuck was she supposed to respond to that?

No wait, she had this.

“Tsk.” She clicked her tongue, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Twenty-Nine, Twenty-Nine, Twenty-Nine…” She shook her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d seriously think you were trying to get me alone again.” She smiled. “Would that private session be free of charge or twice the cost? Asking for a friend.”

That was.

That was not.

That was not what she meant to say.

That came out just…all kinds of wrong.

1) She got the innuendo, and he wasn’t a gigolo, and even if he was she had no interest in soliciting him.

2) Just NO. Like, yes, obviously he was hot — fine, she would admit it just this second time — but Tori had more composure than to be charmed by his sexy, manly…

Testosterone-pumped…

OhmyGodhe’ssohot.

But no. No, no. She was calm. Calm, composed. Poised, elegant.

And also she really did not mean to say that.

“I — I mean…,” she stammered quickly, shaking her head. She laughed nervously, swallowing hard. “I just —“

She had no idea.

Change the subject, change the subject.

“Okay, wait, a new wheel for this very occasion?” she asked. “Psh, so what you’re telling me —“ She pointed her finger at her chest. “— is you…” She pointed a finger at ohGodthoseabs, and then laughed, flopping her palm up and looking towards the ceiling. “…had a vision of this happening and me accepting…?” She eyed his face again skeptically, and then laughed. “Yeah, I think that was more like a dream, Twenty-Nine, but nice try.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “I bet that’s what you say to all the other ’little eavesdroppers’ that decide to poke their heads in, too, but I’m actually a little harder to charm than your typical gawker. Better luck next time, Mr. Gray.”

She glanced back at the pot. “I’m assuming that’s an Arts Fest thing, right?” she asked, walking around him and further into the room, just to spare herself from embarrassment. (No, this wasn’t her admitting that she was just embarrassing herself.) “Regardless…Jeez, you made it look so easy, Twenty-Nine.” She stooped over to get a closer look at it, glancing awkwardly up at Auguste and giving him a tight smile before going back to studying the thing. She stared at it for a long moment, amazed at the work-in-progress. “I took an art class freshman year or something and tried to make an elephant. Or at least, ya know, that was the original aim,” she laughed. “But I ended up just rolling it into a snake and calling it a day.” She rolled her eyes, looking back at Ez.

“I think I smashed it at the end of the project or something to make a statement that ‘art is fleeting’ or something. So I’m basically…uh…insert famous pottery genius’ name here.” She laughed. “Be glad I’m more focused on my writing, or I’d be giving you a serious run for your money, Ezra. Maybe me staying out of the competition is enough of a payment that I don’t have to tip you for the…er…’show’ I got,” she teased. “I’m a girl of many talents — a jack of all trades and also a master of them,” she said proudly, but she laughed because, yeah, obviously that wasn’t true and that was maybe a bit too big of a lie.

He could believe it, though, and she wouldn’t complain.

(No, she was not trying to impress him. Seriously, where did you get those ideas?! Jeez.)

She laughed, walking back over to Ezra. She forced her eyes to stay on his face which, granted, in the context still made her face heat up. “Speaking of, uhm, Arts Fest projects,” Tori said, snatching the segue as soon as she saw it, “I just came to see what you and Auguste over there were doing in here, so I should probably get back to the project that you two so rudely distracted me from.” She tried to give him a stern look, but she really couldn’t help but smile and laugh again.

She reached up with a fist and gave his shoulder a gentle nudge with it. “I’ll see you around, Twenty-Nine — though not at a, what, private, hands-on ‘pottery’ lesson. Save that for all of the other nosy procrastinators who stop by to slobber over your abs, won’t you?” she laughed, and then she quickly added, “Not that I was slobbering over them. Obviously.” She scoffed. “I’m classier than that.”

She gave him another smile, but it shied a bit as she spoke. “But do text me or something, ya know.” Her voice wasn’t as confident as she’d planned. “Now that you’re back, I don’t want to fall out of, uh, contact again. You should have my number or whatever, so…yeah.”

What? They were friends, you know. Was that such a crime? No, it wasn't, so shush.

mood
pottery? more like hottery — i’ll go now

location
the doorway of some art room

outfit
white & grey

playing...
be nice to me

by the front bottoms​

mentions
n/a

interactions
ez & auggie

tags
geminiy qunqun

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

L

Football bleachers

T

after school

W

@AkuTheWolfOkami

Amy
And
Remi

Collab Post

Amy had probably the most emotional day of her life outside of the whole cheating thing. Actually no, this topped that only because while she is not as emotionally destroyed from it...it has been literally drama, fighting, and pressure from 8am to the end of the school day. Even going back home briefly wasn't enough to clear her head because the drama was on her phone. Twitter was the devil she was certain of that now. She sighed heavily grabbing the chain off her night stand and looking at it a moment. Was she ready to have this talk? Was she emotionally or even mentally ready for this?

No...but she already agreed.

She cared about Remi a lot. She always had, but taking this step...with everything that's happened? It was scary to say the least. First of all Remi was friends with Dei...even though she wasn't sure how they were fairing more recently. What if birds of a feather really do flock together? After all Saint was Dei's friend and he cheated on Josie, and Chas is a dick, and Hunter isn't as bad as the rest of them she knows he's not innocent. Was it naïve to think Remi was the one good seed of the bunch? She'd made the mistake of thinking Dei was different and look where that got her.

Standing here wondering alone wouldn't answer her questions or ease her doubts. They had to talk, it was the only way. She got an Uber back to school because she wasn't about to make Trev drive her again. She showed up to the football field and sat in the bleachers waiting for practice to end because of course she didn't make it before it could start. It felt weird being here and not waiting for Dei. She never used to come before dating him, and hasn't been since they broke up. She wondered if people would talk. Like she's a homie hopper or just dating the football team (even if her first boyfriend disproves all that). She knew it didn't take much for rumors to fly.

Her eyes scanned the field looking for him as her fingers fiddled with the chain. It really was nice, she should've worn it more.

---

Practice was...it was a lot. Remi had thought today was going to be a good one for him, but that spiraled relatively quickly when to his surprise his old friend Kordei had made his return. Thanks for the heads-up coach. Though I guess there would be no reason for the coach to assume having one of their better players back would be a problem. Yet - the tension during practice and the blow up between the two after was not at all what he had on his mind as a good practice. It also made the conversation he needed to have with Amy all the more...he couldn't even think of the word for it.

He had his head low and gripped the helmet by its face mask in his right hand as he walked across the field aimlessly. He was zoned out, thinking of how the day went from great to awful. He didn't really let anyone see him break a sweat, but Kordei was his boy and knew exactly how to get to him. Though he took the girl he had been longing for then broke her heart. Where was the manual for how to handle that in the bro code? He wasn't sure it was and the thought sent a surge of anger through him as he smacked his helmet with his opposite hand and cast a glance out to the sky.

He muttered several curse words in kreyol, before someone in the distance on the bleachers caught his eyes. When he was able to figure out who it was, more curse words in kreyol escaped his mouth. Right. She was bringing his chain. Not only that, he had said they would talk about it more. He took a deep breath trying to compose himself. He could do this.

He jogged over to the bleachers where she was with his helmet still in his hand, stepping up on the aluminum chairs his cleats clicking against the metal, "Hey Amy."

---

Amy noticed one of the figures coming towards her and knew that it had to be him even before he took off his helmet. She took a deep breath trying to calm her nerves, and not look as scared as she felt on the inside. This should be a good talk right? Today had been the worst, but this should in theory be a nice end. The worst part should've been if they were talking about IF there were feelings, but they didn't have to do that. He liked her and she liked him...so that was good.

"Hey Remi." She smiled back up at him softly. She held up the chain in her hand, "Special delivery, just for you." She giggled a bit nervously though she tried to hide it. Amy was always a lady of her word after all. She patted the seat beside herself, "Wanna sit with me for a bit? Is Practice over?" She chimed curiously as she glanced at his helmet then back at him. If it wasn't she didn't mind waiting for him.

She had two reasons to not beat around the bush. One Kayla was waiting on her to go watch anime, but also the longer this was drawn out the more nervous she would be. The more nervous she was then the more she'd want to nope out of the whole situation which wouldn't be fair to him.

---

Remi looked her over for a bit, trying to judge how he should handle the situation but nodded and reached out when she presented the chain. He grabbed it gently from her before sitting next to her where she patted. He looked over the chain for a second and looked at its condition. It was just as he left it, the golden piece of jewelry sparkling in the light. He glanced out to the field in front of him, watching the rest of the players disperse and head to either the locker room or wherever they were headed.

Her energy and the way things had transpired a few minutes ago with Dei had made him less confident about this then he was initially. He took a deep breath and glanced to it. He unhooked it and reached around Amy's shoulders, and hooked it around her neck before lowering his hands to his lap, "I've wanted to do that for years."

Yeah, she had worn his chain before, but it had never been in that kind of way. He couldn't find his words right now, but he sure could find his actions.

---

Why was this so nerve wreaking? She blamed twitter. If she hadn't spent all day upset about what people said on twitter this would be a very sweet and exciting moment. He was right...Hunter was right. Amy needed to learn how to let go. She needed to let go of all the things she couldn't control like what people thought of her, what people thought of her friends, and most of all let go of whatever she and Dei had. Whatever it wasn't to him and whatever it was for her. While she refused to buy into the notion it was old news and she should get over it because what? A month had passed? Nope she would not forgive and forget that easily...but she could start to let go of the pain from it.

When he took the chain in hand she expected him to just pocket it, but what he did instead surprised her. He placed it around her neck and a faint blush spread across her cheeks at the action. This was the first time he'd put it on her for obvious reasons. She looked down at it with a soft smile lifting it gently with her fingertips before glancing back at him, "I'll wear it all the time", she chimed happily.

It was symbolic and she adored it, she adored him. She knew they'd come here to talk things out, but actions seemed to be the best bet right now. She lowered the chain to rest around her and reached over with her hand to hold his as she scooted a bit closer and leaned her head on his shoulder as she looked out at the field as well. "We should do more of what we want then." She hummed. There was a sense of peace as she rested her head on him for a bit. A peace she rarely got with anyone else. She felt a lot of things good and bad in her past relationships but safe and warm like this? Never. Nate was contentment. He was a comfort zone she was used to, but shallow waters. Dei was exciting adrenaline and lime light, but too fast and too furious.

"What do you want?" She asked him simply even though she knew it wasn't a simple question at all. To be honest she didn't even know how she'd answer it completely.

---

Remi smiled when she seemed to accept it and mentioned that she would wear it all of the time. Of course the plan was still to get one for her, one that symbolized how he felt about her, but this was still a big deal for him. Though he moved a lot thanks to his parent's careers, he resonated most with southern culture. In Atlanta, putting a chain on a girl meant she was yours. He knew it was similar in other places around the country, but he for sure knew that was how it worked in the south.

When she leaned her on his shoulder- his heart seemed to stop. He had thought about this moment since freshman year, even when he was with Nickie. He always wondered how he would feel when it happened. How it would feel to have her close to him. How it would feel for her to touch him in more than just a friendly way. And it was more than he could imagine. His heart was stopped and racing all at the same time.

"We definitely should do more of what we want," he agreed closing his eyes a bit before resting his head on top of hers. Everything felt perfect at the moment, and he almost didn't want to ruin it by talking. He knew they would have to at some point though, but for the moment he just wanted to enjoy it.

"What do you want"

It was such a simple question, but all the same one that seemed to have a complicated answer, "I want you. I want to go to sleep knowing you're mine, and wake up knowing the same thing. I've wanted to be with you for a while now."

---

Hearing his words tied her stomach in knots and her cheeks burned bright. How was he able to just say things like that? He was so bold, and it always surprised her even though it shouldn't. For a lyricist she was not so great with in the heat of the moment words. All she could think about in her scrambled brain was how was she feeling. She had to let that rule because logic? Logic was out the window right now especially being so close to him.

She bit her lip lightly taking a breath, "I do to...but I wanna do this right too." She spoke softly. What was right? She had no idea. All she knew was she was too emotionally tied up in things right now to be able to give an honest solid answer to that. "I've rushed without thinking before and I don't wanna do that again." She looked up at him with apologetic eyes, "I want this. I want you. I just. Can we take it slow?" She asked.

She didn't want to admit it but even though she trusted Remi, she was still scared. Scared that she couldn't trust herself, that she couldn't trust her judgment. The insecurities that Dei had left in his wake were still strong, and she hated admitting it. Still scared that maybe she really was just going to be some other guys place holder for someone better. "The Ball is coming up! We can go to that as a date." She suggested. She'd offer sooner but she knew everyone (herself included) would be busy till the Arts fest was over.

---

He stared out across the field when she dropped the but. But. But was never good. As she continued to explain he nodded slowly, understanding what she meant. It made sense. If a therapist was here. If Remi's therapist was here, he'd tell Amy to do the same thing. Even if it didn't make sense, he respected Amy's wants and desires. He cared about her so her well-being was always at the forefront of his mind.

"Slow is fine. I've waited a long time for this. If waiting longer means making making sure it works, then that's fine." he let his words roll out with no thought, because they were his genuine thoughts. His genuine emotions. He didn't want to mess this up. He messed up with Nickie by letting his emotions from everywhere else affect how he treated her. He didn't mean to do that, but she wasn't exactly the forgiving type. He vowed he wouldn't make that mistake again...especially not with Amy. So if slow is what it needed to be, then so be it.

He blinked a few times before realizing that she mentioned the ball. Right. He hadn't had the chance to tell her. "I'll be in Haiti during the ball. My mom is supposed to be having something celebrating her achievements or something. I don't know."

---

She understood it was hard to hear. After all she'd wanted it for a long time too, she just never expected it to happen. She never imagined herself to be the type of girl he'd wanna be with like that...like this. She swallowed hard hoping he really did understand where she was coming from. She couldn't risk messing things up with him, and losing him. Not even just romantically but as her friend. She wanted to make sure that no matter what happened from this point forward he'd still stay in her life.

"Thank you." She replied genuinely grateful.

She pressed her lips together a moment at his response, "O-oh that's ok then. We can hang out another time. I'll just go with a friend." She replied thinking on who that would even be now. Charlie had Lin and Trevor technically had Ash. She imagined Josie would go with her own close friends. She supposed she had time to think about that later. She leaned back a bit to look at him, "Just promise we'll spend some time together before you leave?" She raised his hand she'd been holding up to her cheek leaning into it with a grin, "I mean can you say no to a face like this?" She giggled playfully finally feeling herself start to relax.

Sure they wouldn't have that moment, but if he meant what he said, she was sure they'd have plenty others in the future. While she couldn't say it aloud. She considered herself from this point forward, to be his.

---

He could sense she was a little disappointed, but he couldn't do anything about it. Family, especially his mother was very big to him. So though he wanted to go to the ball with her, he knew he wouldn't be able to, "It really sucks you can't come with me though." He let a smile play on his lips as he let out a slow exhale. For better or for worse, things had been decided. For now, at least. So he would leave things alone at well enough for now.

Actually, this was a relief compared to what it could have been. He had feelings for Leonia, but they had never had the chance to develop to more than just childhood friends especially with her absence the last year, or this could have been a much harder situation. But, Leonia didn't even look at him like that so how it all came out was very simple. He was focused on Amy. He didn't have anyone else to worry about.

He looked to her when she told him to promise that they'd spend time together before he left and he smiled. When she raised his hand to her cheek he listened to her speak before leaning forward and pressing his lips against her gently before pulling away and shrugged, "I'll see what I can do. Of course we'll spend time together."

---

This was good right? They liked each other, they were going to give it a try, but they weren't rushing it. This was probably how healthy relationships start anyways. Slow, steady, and actually being 100% sure. She wanted to believe in herself and in them. Hearing him say he wishes she could be there made her heart soar. The smile that graced his lips, and the look in his eyes all just helped melt her heart.

Moving on felt better knowing he was going to be with her through it somehow. Not that her other friends hadn't tried to help but they were all also wrapped up in their own things, so she couldn't really add her own problems all the time.

If her face wasn't already red as a tomato is certainly was now as he pressed his lips against her. She playfully hit his chest when he shrugged saying he'll see what he could do, but the giant smile radiating from her the whole while made it obvious she wasn't mad or anything. "Ok." She giggled before standing up, "Well I've gotta go find Kayla. I probably shouldn't keep her waiting any longer." She placed her hands on his shoulders and place a light but lingering kiss on his forehead before whispering, "I'll talk to you later my heart." She looked back into his eyes for a moment wanting to commit this moment to memory. Lifting her right hand to gently caress his cheek with her thumb a moment. With that she finally released him and walked off the belchers waving bye heading towards the parking lot feeling a lot better then she has in over a month.

Mentions: Kordei, Leonia, Nate

© pasta

 

[Winona]

Jace West

He was dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

Jace had never been sent to the office.

Yeah, yeah, such a surprise.

But he hadn't. Jace had always stuck to the straight and narrow, mostly because it was hard to get into trouble when you were consistently locked away in your room. Ash was the troublemaker of the West siblings (which wasn't saying much seeing as how the worst that Ash had done was, what? Sneak a boy into her bedroom? Get caught underage drinking? Caught with weed once or twice? So bad.), and Jace was the good one -- the one that you could always count on. He got his homework done. He never missed curfew. He never got disciplined or reprimanded.

The few times that he'd been attacked had never ended with him being walked down to the office, because Jace was good at biting his tongue and keeping any bullying to himself.

It was with misty eyes that Jace sat in the vice principal's office, his scrawny shoulders slouched down, his gaze glued to the desk in front of him. Naturally, when asked for a description of the events that had transpired, Jace did his best to keep his wavering voice steady and stop himself from stuttering over his words. He relayed what had happened to the best of his knowledge, which was Jace trying to speak to his sister and Dorian when Javi had come out of nowhere and attacked him like the raging maniac that he clearly was.

Their sentences were laid out -- Javi and Dorian were suspended for five days (which didn't seem fair for Dorian), and Jace would be suspended for... two. Even that measly amount of days was enough to make Jace's head swim, and he thought he might faint at the idea that his mom would know.

His mom was going to be called and Jace was going to be in trouble.

He felt sick to his stomach.

"Aren't you eighteen? No one's going to respect you if you keep pulling this shit." Javi said to his right. "Can someone get this kid some tissues?"

"L-leave me alo... alone," Jace grumbled and sniffed before bringing a sleeve up to dry the tears that were still gathering in his eyes, and then said tissue was used under his nose. Disgusting.

Listen.

He was freaking terrified of his mother, and just the idea that she was going to know and was going to kill him was enough to scare Jace. Plus there was no doubt they'd be calling Dorian's parents, too, and Jace knew that it would be a similar situation with his mother. Hell, the two of them were probably going to get tag teamed killed by their mothers.

And then the vice principal started to speak again, and Jace was prepared for whatever he might add onto their punishments... except that he didn't add anything to Jace or Dorian's.

It was only Javi's.

He wasn't allowed to perform at the Arts Festival.

"Why aren't they banned? Why is it just me!?" Javi yelled before slamming a fist into the desk. "This is bullshit!"

Jace had been trying to bite back a smug smile, but Javi's anger just fueled the grin on his face as he glared over at Javi. "Because, because... y-you attacked us. You... you deserve to be banned." His words, although not as stutter filled as usual, still wavered as he spoke.

mood
NONONONONONONONO

location
hall

outfit
like just a sweater and jeans

playing...
pity party

by lovelytheband​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Dorian, Javi

tags
@jasmichelle hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Kitsune2202]

Charming as the Devil
Jared Darrington

@He.went.2.Jared has set their status to:
Back to the grind. Now what do we have here?

@He.went.2.Jared has set their outfit to:
Casual

@He.went.2.Jared has set their location to:
School Hallway

@He.went.2.Jared has mentioned:
Maddie, Gen, Mike, Evie

@He.went.2.Jared has interacted with:
Adri ( Winona ) Saint ( ohdittoh )

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Adri's quick and resounding response was expected. He knew her well enough to know she'd decline, but he still put it out for appearance sake. Truth be told he was a little curious what a date like that would even look like or who she would even bring to something like that. However his curiosity didn't outweigh the headache he knew he'd have if she were to actually agree. Truth be told the one grace from his dates with Maddie was the fact they were private.

Ok sure the point was to be seen and pictures taken of them and blah, blah, blah...but their conversations? No one really got close enough to eavesdrop on them so they could talk about whatever they wanted so long as their facial expressions looked the part. Having to put up the mask even in private conversation with Maddie would be irritating to say the least. They deserved that much realness didn't they?

"Offers always on the table." He smirked a glint of his usual mischief in his eyes, but only for a moment as his attention went to Saint.

Jared appreciated Saint demeanor. While most might find it to be distant, or inattentive, he knew otherwise. Saint paid attention, he just knew how to mind his business. That's how you live a stress free life. People around here were always so eager to butt into peoples lives under the claim of "friendship" instead of what it really was which was...they where nosey. They wanted to be on the inside. No one could just let things be between the people it needed to be between.

What's a school or Hollywood without drama? Boring. He preferred boring but these were future trash reality tv show casts, so they might as well get their practice in early he supposed.

“No,” Saint answered, giving his head a slight shake to emphasize his answer. His lips pressed into a line. “The pool is thinning out…at least, the good options are. Everyone that’s worth anything is already dating someone or has no interest in dating at all…so no, not really.”

His answer was fair. Truth be told if it wasn't for this whole stunt he wouldn't be dating Maddie even if she was a decent contender. If Jared actually sat down and wrote down all the ACTUAL contenders he'd give a chance if the opportunity presented itself...it'd be a small list. Maybe three girls? All of whom he already considered himself decently close to.

He had extremely high standards, and knew anyone he brought home would have to meet not only his but his families. Good head on their shoulders, intelligent, beautiful, preferably a good family name, the works. Also of course he had to get along with them. No the trickiest standard would have to be the fact that for anything serious? It'd have to be someone he could show the real Jared. The nitty gritty, the cut throat, the cunning. Someone who could handle if not match his endless ambition no matter the cost without trying to soften his blade.

However he respectfully concluded that such perfection probably didn't exists. For now? That's fine.

As the topic switched up to the Arts festival he let out an inwardly sigh of relief. Talk of relationships and what not where not his forte, and considering everything happening currently it was largely embellished. Any opportunity to keep Adri's heat off of himself he'd gladly take. Not that talking about the Festival was any more entertaining because it certainly wasn't. It was just as dry a topic in his opinion but considering the company he was in not surprising.

Not to say he didn't enjoy his time with the two people before him, but talking wasn't really something they just sat around and did. Prior to know he wasn't even sure Saint and Adri had any sort of connection at all. A pleasant surprise for future reference, but it didn't make this encounter any easier to get through.

He was surprised at Adri's answer. Not only was she working with Evie, but she was basically leaving it ALL to her. Sure he'd almost done the same thing with Gen and Mike, but that was different. This wasn't Jared chosen profession he was putting on the line like her. It seemed a bit unlike her to be so trusting, but he supposed that spoke to how talented Evie was which he was proud to think about.

"I wouldn't say stupid. It was a risk, but still a calculated risk. Stupid would be putting in the hands of some nobody freshman or something. If this works out you did the least amount of work for hopefully an amazing grade." He shrugged. It was a good strategy when you really think about it. She was smart enough to trust someone who would put their all into it regardless, and had the talent to get the desired results still.

As she passed it onto being his turn to explain himself he responded nonchalant as ever. "It's going well. I'm launching a new line. I'm still having to work with the designers for the female side of the line since that doesn't come as naturally to me." He shrugged. He figured he would talk about his own personal project rather then the one he was helping Gen and Mike with simply because he knew more about it. Not to mention he didn't want to chance the conversation leaning into what was going on with the other two. While he knew Saint didn't care, Adri's interest might be peeked simply since the two typically don't always get along. He wasn't much of a gossip as much as he did like having intel on people.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask Saint what he was doing he felt his phone buzz in his hand. It was one of the designers he was talking about earlier sending him sample pictures for reference. He made a face scrutinizing it since he wasn't thrilled about the colors. He quickly replied before looking up, "Speaking of the project I should go find Gen and Mike to talk about our joint piece." With that he pocket his phone sharply, "I'll see you both around, can't wait to see your results." He flashed his signature charming smile in Adri's direction and a nod in Saint's before walking off.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[hery]

MOOD: lordy lord lord

OUTFIT: clothes

LOCATION: vp's office

basics

MENTIONS:
Angel

INT:
Winona (Jace)
@jasmichelle (Dorian)

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Javier Cervantes

It was with sad, teary eyes that Jace whimpered, "L-leave me alo... alone." Javi, in all his disgust and frustration, somehow felt a twinge of pity for the pathetic boy. He wiped his tears with a sleeve, reminding Javi of all the times he'd accidentally hit his little brother too hard when they were little. That wasn't to say he felt bad beating up on such an obviously easy target, but he was still a painful sight to see.

He peered at Dorian with eyes that seemed to indicate he wasn't sure what to say. All he could think was "Does he put up with this baby every day?" In a way, it was a just punishment to be subjected to playing a part in Jace's problematic lifestyle.

The hoodie-clad teenager sunk back into his chair once the energy in the room died down; there was no use in shouting at the vice principal, the district's glorified mediator. His face and sitting position was reminiscent of an angry grade schooler on timeout, stewing in a shoddily-restrained rage. Did anyone even have an answer to his earlier question? Why was he the only one being punished so severely?

"Because, because... y-you attacked us. You... you deserve to be banned." Javi wanted to leap out of his seat and wipe that smug grin off Jace's face. He was getting too bold for a weeping little loser mere feet away from the recipient of his insults.

The muscular boy straightened in his chair, then shot the other two boys a contemptuous glare. He raised a fist halfway into the air before his resolve petered out and he dropped his arm, loosening the tight fist. "You're a fucking joke," he sneered over the authoritative protests of the vice principal, "Grow up. When everyone whose toes you stepped on comes back for you, you best believe they'll do it when you have no one around protecting you." The vice principal shot Javi a disapproving look and raised a hand, shutting him up, then glanced at Jace with raised eyebrows so as to credit the angered musician for making a point. "Shit always makes its way back," he added, sneaking a sideways glance at Dorian.

He stood up, despite missing permission to leave, keeping his eyes trained on Jace. "And don't let the world catch you crying over nothing all the time. If you can't suck it up, you'll never make it in the real world." That was advice Javi was working on too, a shortcoming of his Dorian likely knew well. "And you'll stay a fucking loser your whole life." Rather gracelessly, he threw open the door to the office, then walked out without hesitation. Now was the time to go home, take a nap, and deal with the consequences later.

code by valen t.

 

[0k_mang0]

MOOD:
just chilli—wait, what?

OUTFIT:
here
​

INFO

LOCATION:
trevor's van

WITH:
nate, trevor

MENTION:
Ash​

ACTIVITY

Winona , ohdittoh

TAGS

cappie

“It was with Ash.”

What?

Cappie raised his eyebrow curiously. Was Trevor talking about the same aforementioned Ash? To be fair, the name was quite common, and the school had a handful of students who’d go by said name occasionally, so Cappie wasn’t certain exactly which “Ash” was being referred to. He didn’t want to jump to a conclusion yet either.

He half-followed the rest of the conversation after that statement to his blind date question, half-absorbed by his own thoughts, until Nate said his name.

"Seventy bucks on a Ferris wheel seems like a bit of a waste, though. Don't you think, Cap?"

“Eh… true. Seventy’s a bit much,” Cappie murmured, leaning against the van on one shoulder.

"You can get all your making out done in one or two loops if you're fast enough. I mean, that's the only reason anyone really rides a Ferris wheel, right? To get cozy with a hot chick?"

“I’d pick someplace a little more sanitary than a Ferris wheel for Second base,” he quipped. However, his comment came out sounding a little distracted as he processed the idea and probability of Ash West and Trevor Callaghan—someone like Trevor—going on a date at the fair. Or dating at all.

(Despite being a casual baseball fan, Cappie didn’t really understand the First-to-Third-Base expression outside the sport. The meanings of them seemed to change whenever someone brought them up, and they often sounded confusing or inconsistent to him. “Homerun” was pretty obvious, but the rest, Cappie just pretended he knew, as long as nobody, like, asked him for details.)

By no means did Cappie have something against the non-mafia-killer Irishman. It’s just that… Well, Ash’s taste in guys has always been somewhat… questionable. Perhaps a little unpredictable. In middle school, she dated a boy that turned out to be a shallow douche bag—thank goodness she didn’t stay with that for long.

Honestly, Cappie couldn’t tell what Ash was into most of the time, or how she was doing with whoever she was dating. The latter part always worried him. Her recent relationship ended because she thought her then-what’s-his-name-boyfriend was cheating on her, and it turns out, he wasn’t. (Maybe that one hit had affected him just a tad, since he couldn’t remember Ash’s recent ex-boyfriend at the moment.)

“Wait, so... d’you mean you went on a date with Ashley ‘Ash’ F. from the Lit department or the senior Ashley ‘Ash’ K. from Visuals?” Cappie asked Trevor. “If you’re talking about Ash West, then that’d be interesting,” he perceived curiously, “Cuz I don’t think she’s ever mentioned to me about going on a blind date at the fair. I should go ask her about that in our class together later.”

And no. He was not implicating any accusation or doubts. Hopefully, Trevor wasn’t paranoid enough to misheard and believe otherwise.

code by valen t.

 

[gh0stwriter]

Lydia Fox

The question wasn’t revolutionary. She wasn’t breaking journalistic ground. But that wasn’t the point. In her experience, questions like this got two types of responses: either they answered with some bullshit response or they go off on some tangent that resulted in them answering the question without even realizing it.

Given the fact that Lin had the emotional range of a chihuahua on crack, she knew what she was in for. Did the eye roll at her question tip her off? No. She knew she wasn’t going to get an honest moment from him the second she asked him, but she was desperate. Plus, there was always a chance that he’d slip up and give her something she actually found interesting.

“Eh, guess…uhh…” This was off to a great start. She took a deep breath as she straightened out her posture and did her best to seem interested. But if ‘Ehs and Uhs’ were gonna overpopulate his response, she was going to have to do a lot of embellishing to make this interview newsworthy.

“I gotta have everything perfect, y’know.” Boring. Why did she expect anything less? Lin always hid from any actual emotion. Throw a ‘luhmao’ into any conversation and you get the annoying future frat boy she witnessed before him. “Like, can’t make any kinda mistakes ‘else someone will, like, immediately point them out online. Gotta kinda keep everything about you on tip-top shape all the time. It’s really exhausting. Like, people are always watching you, ya know.”

She did know. All to well. She knew. But this was just a bullshit response he was spoon feeding her. Like she was an idiot and would lap it up. She didn’t know why she even bothered.

“I mean, I don’t really mind it, though. It’s part’a Hollywood, people watching you and waiting for you to mess up so they can replace you or just so they can have some new kinda drama, and I’m used to it. It scares a lotta people of, but not Lin.” He laughed proudly.

If her eyes weren’t attached to her, they wouldn’t have rolled off her head and onto the floor. She tried, okay. She kept a neutral smile on her face. Acted as gracious as she could. But if he didn’t give her something…she was going to lose it. Sure, this is exactly what the dean wanted. This was the kind of stuff the board lived for. Just enough to seem truthful, but not enough to really express the true pressures Hollywood Arts places on their students.

“But, uh…” She perked up as the permagrin Lin’s face displayed faded away. “It can also be, uh…really stressful, too.” Duh. This industry wasn’t meant to be easy. And even as she thought that…even as she internally invalidated Lin’s feelings…she also understood. It was stressful. So. Fucking. Stressful. Especially when your parents were in the industry. And while she knew he was just regurgitating Ricky’s words for her, she also knew that there was some truth behind them.

“I, uh, guess I balance it all by kinda…I’unno.” He laughed half-heartedly, putting a finger to his chin again. “Like, performing is a big part of what I do here, I mean. Balancing having to work on my music until it’s, like, flawless or whatever…it’s part’a life. That’s, like, my everyday struggle. But I guess the answer that’s probably best or something is just, like…I try not to spend all of my time —“ (Or really any of it.) “— practicing and obsessing over my, like, work or whatever. Ya gotta have some time to let loose. Can’t be too much or too little, ya know.”

She choked back a yawn. Just when she thought she might get something real. Just when she thought that maybe Lin would cut the bullshit and have a real moment with her. That he’d be honest. That she’d get some amazing inside look at the inner workings of one of HA’s elite. But this was Lin after all. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he did believe everything his father spewed at him. It’s not like it’s easy deviating from parental opinions.

Hell, if she’d done that, her and Lin’s relationship might be completely different right now instead of…whatever it was they had going on. Hate. Loathing. Complete and utter disregard for the other’s well being or happiness. But that was the HA way. You had to be on top. That meant you looked out for yourself and everyone else came last.

“This what you meant by making my dad happy with this interview?” Her eyes met his as she was drawn back from her own thoughts. Was this what she meant? Eh. It checked the boxes. It’d take her thirty minutes to write up. “This is boring as shit.” He wasn’t wrong. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” Her eyes searched his. She wanted to respond, but her instinct told her that he was on the verge. That she might actually get to witness an honest moment from the young musician.

“Tl;dr, put down whatever you think my jackass dad would wanna hear and go away. I don’t wanna talk about the fucking Arts Fest anymore.”

She remained quiet. Neutral. Controlled her breathing. She wanted to be smug. She wanted to plaster a big smirk on her face and call Lin on his bullshit, but the obvious irritation met that she was striking a nerve. That she had touched on something real. Something that bothered him and that meant he could break at any moment.

She would feel bad. If they were still friends. If they were still…whatever it was they were. But they weren’t. And she definitely didn’t feel bad for forcing him to think about this. She didn’t feel bad for using his strained relationship with his father against him. Lin would do the same. So, she didn’t feel bad. Not at all.

“’s all I’ve heard about for the past three effing months,” he mumbled tiredly. “Since school started, all I’ve heard from Dylan and Pricky and all’a those Hollywood assholes is that this is some kinda monumental show of my talent or whatever the hell. That it’s gotta be perfect or som’n’. I’m sick’a hearing about it.” He sighed deeply. “Like, I fucking get it. It’s junior year and I’ve done jack shit for my career, but it’s not like I never fucking try, and it’s not like this isn’t going to be fucking amazing, so they can shut the hell up. The more they push, the more I just wanna say fuck it and strip naked on the stage. Shake my ass and get kicked out of the school or fucking whatever. Justin Bieber level breakdown. It’s one more ’Lindsay’ away.” He mocked his dad’s voice at the word Lindsay, a look of bitter resentment coming onto his face.

Okay, maybe she felt a little bad. Like so small, you couldn’t even see it on a microscope. It’s not like she still cared about Lin. Or cared about anything that was going on in his life but she could relate…and sometimes that was enough.

“You think if I bleached my hair and did an Instagram live of me tattooing ’l-m-a-o’ on my stomach, they’d spontaneously combust? Oh, shiiiit, or if I, like, fucking stole some kinda car, went and did donuts in their yards?” She rolled her eyes playfully as a small chuckle escaped her lips. She wasn’t expecting that, which, given Lin’s unpredictability, she should have expected it. “On behalf of women everywhere, I beg you to reconsider.”

"How fucking funny would their expressions be? Shit, I'd kill to see that!" He wasn’t wrong. She often thought about defying her parents. Hell, she and Lin had bonded for things exactly like this. They’d sit and discuss all the ways they could piss off their parents. Lin usually followed through. Lydia…well…she never quite made it passed the planning stage…if you don’t count Lin that is…but that was over before it began. Her parents didn’t approve. And so…she didn’t approve. It was just the way it was.

“Kinda makes me wanna do it, just to hear their fucking reactions. They’d be so goddamn pissed!” Her smile grew at his excitement. His smile was…at times…when he wasn’t being a complete ass or insufferable…contagious. And this felt reminiscent of old times before all the bullshit. Before everything got too complicated. Before she chose her parents’ want over what she wanted. Their eyes met and she smiled…a genuine smile. Maybe one of the only genuine smiles she’s displayed in a while.

“Fuck.”

Well. That was short-lived.

“Delete that recording," he commanded. He looked back over at her. There was a slight desperation in his gaze, mostly masked by the irritated look. "I’ll do your stupid interview or whatever, but just delete that."

Her smile faded.

Her eyes dropped.

The usual tension returned.

It was fine. She wasn’t enjoying these last few moments. Nope.

She had heard his request. And he had a right to be nervous. His response was honest. It was raw. And it was gonna piss off HA and his dad. It was perfect. Exactly what Lydia was hoping for. She didn’t owe him anything. He made the choice for their relationship to be what it was. He choice to walk away from their friendship. Okay, so she skipped out on the chance to be his girlfriend cause her parents didn’t think he was good enough, but…they could of stayed friends.

She didn’t owe him anything..

She took a deep breath as she grabbed her phone. It was slow. Not on purpose, but she was debating. If it was anyone else. It wouldn’t be a question. She stopped the recording and stared intently at her phone. He knew he was being recorded. It was in her right as a journalist to use the information given to write the story. A story that might garner attention. Make enemies. But it’d be worth it. It’d be a story worth telling.

It was settled.

Sorry, Lin.

“Look..” She inhaled deeply as she lifted her gaze to meet his.

Fuck.

Wrong move.

Sure, he was masking his desperation with his usual arrogance, but Lydia saw through it. She always had.

“Fine.” She tapped her phone and looked away. “Deleted.” She slid off the desk and stood up. Her arms crossed against her chest. Maybe it was the lingering nostalgia that made her do it. Maybe it was the fastest way out of that room. Focusing on the past did nothing but cause problems. It’s why she rarely did it. “You owe me.” She said as she met his eyes once more.

She’d probably never collect, but, it was good to establish that a favor was owed. Her eyes lingered on his longer than she liked. “I got enough to work with. No reason dragging this out any longer than it has to be.” She wanted out. Wanted away. She’d already compromised her journalistic integrity for what? To make a boy she used to like happy? Pathetic.

“I’ll make sure Ricky will be super proud.” She said sarcastically with a small smirk as she headed toward the door and exited the room. This time she got the last word. So…it was a win?

mood
pissed

location
the school parking lot

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Kiss the Girl

by The Little Mermaid​

mentions
Evie, Dalton, Angel

interactions
Lin

tags

ohdittoh

º º code by ditto º º

 

[gh0stwriter]

Lucky DuBois

Let’s recap.

AM rooftop vodka with Ash.

Punched Callum.

Shopped with Mags and Josie.

Two out of three positive interactions usually constituted a good day in Lucky’s book. But today was not a good day.

I know what you’re thinking. The fight made his day bad. You’d be wrong.

So fucking wrong.

After his altercation with Callum, he, Mags and Josie all ditched the rest of the day. Josie and Mags needed to go shopping and Lucky needed to appease his conscience

It didn’t work.

He could barely look at her. And she was hooking up with Saint. And knowing Josie, she was going to catch feelings again. Saint didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her. But Josie was always so inviting. She only saw the good in people and always stayed upbeat and positive.

How she and Lucky were friends baffled him. They were so different. But it worked. It always worked. And despite Lucky’s aversion to having too many attachments, Josie stuck around. Maybe it was the older brother complex. Maybe he enjoyed her company…at least he used to. Now, he just felt like shit every time he was around her. And he should. He betrayed her. He did the unforgivable.

Thankfully, she was more excited about the vodka and weed than to talk. Made things slightly easier. Though, she hogged the vodka AND the weed which was typical Josie behavior but as long as she didn’t want to talk, then he was fine with it. He could always pick more up later. But being sober lately bad it’s drawbacks.

The shopping trip was a success. And by success, he got out of there as quickly as humanly possible. And went about the rest of his day. Rehearsal. All good times. All the distraction needed.

He took a deep breath as he stood on the roof of his apartment building. Rooftops were his thing. Even though he wasn’t the biggest fan of heights, there was something about looking out at the skyline and seeing all the lights and buildings in the distance. It reminded him of New York. And it was quiet and peaceful. And no one bothered him.

The bang of the rooftop door echoed through the air. His eyes closed as he inhaled a deep breath. Did the universe do this on purpose? He was beginning to think Karma was a real thing and she was a raging bitch.

But he stayed still. Hoping whoever it was would catch the hint and skedaddle.

.“Move.” He said gruffly. “That’s my spot.”

Did he really think that was gonna work? A smirk formed on his face. Guess someone was looking for a fight and at this point he was happy to oblige. He turned around and leaned back against the edge as he sized up his intruder.

He could take him.

“Well, I’m already nice and cozy right here. So why don’t you go find another spot. There’s a good one over there next to the bird shit.” He pointed toward the other side of the building. “But playground rules state I was here first and…” he glanced around “…I don’t see your name anywhere.”

He stayed cool. Calm. Collected. Difficult since he was sober. His eyes narrowed in on the taller boy. He was a student. Recognized him. “Aren’t you that guy that simps for Evie?”

mood
fight or flightlocation
rooftop

outfit
clothes duh

playing...
Had Some Drinks

by Two Feet​

mentions
Mags, Josie

interactions
Daltontags
hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Jace West

When Javi lifted his hand, Jace had instinctively flinched away, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair he was seated in. He didn't have it in him to try and avoid the punch this time, nor did he really have it in him to argue back. At some point, you had to accept that perhaps you did deserve the punches that were being tossed at you -- quite literally in this aspect.

But no punch came.

Instead, Javi berated him, but Jace had grown accustomed to ignoring that. To shutting down to the point that the roar of people's harsh words fell on deaf ears. His fingers, now relaxed, tapped absentmindedly against the armrests as he stared at the desk in front of him until Javi finally stormed out and slammed the door after him.

Good riddance, jerkface.

After a little more conversation with the vice principal, Dorian and Jace were released. So he headed to his locker, packed up his things, and then headed to the music room to grab his guitar before he headed out to his car to head home. He didn't offer any apologies to Dorian, or any thanks, but that was more out of pure embarrassment that he had to rely on his best friends so often to defend himself when he couldn't.

Dorian, Alex, Landon, Callum, even Maggie...

Everyone jumped to his defense so readily, and for what?

He did just mouth off and again, for what?

It's not like he ever won when he did, because it wasn't like anyone was ever going to be on his side -- save for the handful of friends that he'd somehow managed to collect over the years, but even that amount of known people was pitiful for an eighteen-year-old... right? Not that he didn't appreciate his friends, but... he also knew that it was only a matter of time before things grew awkward, they realized he was kind of a bad person, and they disappeared.

Heck, he'd expected Landon to do just that, and he was still surprised that Landon hadn't left.

(It should be noted that the only person he didn't think would ever leave was Dorian, and perhaps this was why he seemed to worship the very ground that Dorian walked on.)

Normally, Jace felt a little bit of relaxation when he was driving. He was in his familiar car, he would have the music pumping over the stereo system, and he could relax and just be himself. There was no one here watching his every move, there was no one here to judge him, or to shove him, or to threaten him.

It was different, though, when it felt as if the songs playing were going to be his last.

The Funeral started playing through his speakers, and he found that to be rather fitting.

Once he got home, he headed up to his apartment and went about his normal after school activities, despite it being so early in the day. He placed his guitar back in its appropriate spot on his stand. He dropped his backpack next to his desk and then he just...

Sat.

He sat down at his desk, and he stared out the large glass window that reminded him of his bedroom back home in New York, and he just waited with his phone sitting on his desk.

Eventually, the dreaded phone call arrived, and he stared down at the phone screen for a while at the name.

Mom.

With numb fingers, he reached forward and picked up the phone. He pressed the answer button, and he brought it up to his ear and, with a heavy sigh, he greeted his mother with a simple "hello?"

"What is wrong with you?" his mother's voice hissed through the speaker. "Getting into a fight? What did you do to deserve it this time, Jace? Did you mouth off again? I can't believe you'd be dumb enough to get into a fight -- and dragging poor Dorian into it with you? Jace, what is wrong with you? Are you stupid? After everything that your father and I have done for you, after everything we've sacrificed so that you can live in LA and attend that school, and this is how you repay us? I hardly even know who you are anymore."

The berating continued and Jace shut down. He stared numbly out the window, until his mother's insults fell on deaf ears and eventually, she ran out of fuel and came to a stop. That's how it worked with her, after all. You just had to let her run out of steam -- shut up and listen, and eventually she'd stop.

"I'm sorry." He said when there was finally a lull in the conversation.

"Sorry doesn't cut it."

Silence.

"We're visiting for the Arts Festival. I'll see you then, Jace."

Before he could respond, there was a click on the other end.

He placed his phone back down on the desk and stared out the window for a couple more minutes. His blurry gaze traveled back down to the top of his desk and he considered writing some music. Working on his Arts Festival project or something of the sort, except for once... he had no motivation.

So he pushed himself up on numb legs, trudged the short distance to his bed (and the destroyed anti-spooning wall, except Jace didn't even care about that right now), and he collapsed on top of the bed.

mood
......

location
office > his apartment

outfit
like just a sweater and jeans

playing...
pity party

by lovelytheband​

mentions
N/A

interactions
Dorian, Ash, Javi

tags
@jasmichelle Winona hery

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Isabella Dupont

@bellaissima has set their status to:
can we just get this over with?

@bellaissima has set their outfit to:
cherry pie

@bellaissima has set their location to:
the music room

@bellaissima has mentioned:
n/a

@bellaissima has interacted with:
Avery & Casey

@bellaissima has tagged:
Xed & Winona

Most people would feel guilty about snapping at a friend or being rather rude to a near-stranger but not Bella.

The small girl had a temper that rivalled her mother’s with the same sharp tongue and lack of regret at the occasionally cruel comments. Unlike her mother, however, it took a great deal to set Bella off and warrant that reaction. How could she feel guilty about someone else’s wrongdoing?

Avery was proving to be a difficult friend. He was a lovely person, all friendly and warm and bubbly, but completely inexperienced with the world. Bella tried to be patient, she really did, but remaining calm and level headed was a serious challenge around Avery. He felt like the kind of person Bella needed to protect, someone with very few people genuinely on his side to love and support him. Maybe Bella simply wasn’t ready to take on that sort of responsibility, maybe that was why she was so damn frustrated with him.

“How did you know I smoked a candle with some seniors earlier?” Avery asked. Bella’s jaw dropped slightly, blinking a few times in complete and utter confusion. “Did you see us?”

Opening her mouth to respond, Bella hardly had time to speak before Avery continued again.

“Also, is kissing people on the cheek to thank someone offensive?”

What the fuck was she supposed to say to that? Was there even an appropriate response to such a question? Bella had never dealt with someone like Avery before. She anticipated that using a softer, more relaxed tone would work in her favour but honestly, given the level of frustration and anger boiling in her core, Avery was going to get the bluntest Bella possible… No pun intended.

“It was not a candle, Avery, it was weed. I can smell it on your clothes and I can see it in your eyes. Someone tricked you into smoking it.” Bella had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Who would’ve thought that the same girl that ran from drugs would be the same person trying to protect her friends from it? “And some people do not find the sentiment of kissing someone on the cheek as a thank you appropriate. Typically, that is done towards friends or someone you are attracted to, not complete strangers. Did you kiss the person who-” Bella cut herself off with a shake of her head. “Nevermind. Look, just try to avoid them from now on. The last thing you need is to get hooked on a drug that you did not even know you were smoking. Seigneur.”

Turning into the music room, Bella sighed heavily. Great, just fucking wonderful: Casey was already there. Honestly, Bella had half been hoping that the older boy had gotten the message and was going to decline her invitation for working together. After all, he and Bella were not exactly friends, nor did they frequently get along. Bella had extended the offer because she was annoyed, not because she had meant it. She made a quick mental note to never, ever be vague with Casey ever again. This was the first and last time they would be working together.

"Hi, hi, hi. Take a seat. Or, or, or, actually, uhh..." Casey spoke quickly. Bella silently wondered how much caffeine the musician had consumed that day, if any at all. As Casey went to grab the stool, Avery’s voice broke through the temporary silence beside her.

“What are we here for by the way?”

Bella sighed, reaching up to rub a few smooth circles on her temple. “We are here to work on our performance for Art Fest. Casey ever so rudely stole my journal and has decided he would like to ‘improve’,” Bella spoke plainly, throwing in some heavy air quotes around the word ‘improve’, “my poetry by adding music. As if it needs it.” She finished with a scoff.

"Bella, sit here," Casey directed as he grabbed his guitar. "Aight, gimme the poem and then wa-- well, listen as I make it sound real, real good."

Bella had no intention of sitting, instead taking Avery’s arm and guiding him to the stool. He needed to sit far more than she did.

Pulling the journal out from her backpack, Bella flipped through the pages silently as she searched for an appropriate poem to put to music. This one was too soft, that one was too heavy, the other too personal. Page after page after page, Bella was stuck trying to find a good poem to use. It wasn’t until she flipped to a half-empty page with some messily scrawled words on it that she made the decision. Bella barely recognized her own handwriting or the foreign doodles in the margins but she recognized the initials hidden within the poem, instantly understanding who she had written the song about.

So deep, your DNA's being messed with my touch
Can't beat us
So real, fueling the fire until we combust
Can't touch us
It don't matter, be combative or sweet cherry pie
It don't matter just as long as I get all you tonight
I can take you out
We can kill some time
Got nothing but love for you, fall more in love every day
My valentine​

Bella’s fingers tightened around the journal, teeth grinding together to the point of pain. She had written this poem about someone who she made the executive decision never to see again, a person that she had considered herself to have been in love with. In one smooth motion, Bella ripped the page from her journal and placed it down onto the music stand in front of her.

That poem just held bad memories, maybe the music could change the meaning. Besides, the poem itself just sounded like some dumb lovestrucken teenager, Casey and Avery would never have to know it was written about a real person. So, with a blue pen and significantly neater handwriting, Bella rewrote the words onto a fresh piece of paper and handed a copy to Avery and another to Casey.

“Here,” Bella sighed, “it is not finished and it needs to be edited but this is the best one I have.”

Pulling over another stool, Bella settled herself in front of both boys and began humming slightly along to the original rhythm of the poem. As much as she hated to even think about it, perhaps this poem would feel better with music.

“Well, do you want to get started?”

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

Lin watched her, his blue eyes narrowed and his heart beating tensely in his chest as he waited to see what she was going to do. Lydia was a bitch, and a bitch from his past at that. She knew she was thinking that she didn’t owe him shit, probably because of some kinda bullshit he’d done in the past or something. Yadda yadda yadda, she was still salty about being cut off or some shit like that. Lin got it. Well, he didn’t really — since, ya know, him not having anything to do with her was what she made it clear she wanted — but he knew that was what she was thinking.

But this shit? Everything she’d just heard?

Ricky would slaughter him if he knew.

No luhmao there — Lin was being dead fucking serious. His dad would kill him. He could kiss Hollywood Arts goodbye if she released that, as well as any chance to get in his dad’s good graces. That’d be it. Finito. Lin out.

Not to mention, that was some shit he hadn’t told anyone else. Sure, Zeph and Charlie knew bits and pieces, but he liked to keep things private. Keep his business away from them, because it wasn’t big shit or anything. If they knew about it, they’d hate him, too, or at least think he was a liar or some shit like that.

He had too much to lose with this, and he’d given Lydia the match to burn down his life as he knew it.

“Look…,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his.

Lin set his brows low, scowling lightly at her in an attempt to hide the desperation in his eyes.

Probably didn’t work. She knew him — Lin, sans all of the bullshit. She knew him better than…probably fucking anyone.

Especially now.

“Fine,” she said, and she tapped her phone and looked away. “Deleted.”

A wave of relief washed over him, and he grunted a soft, “Thanks.”

She didn’t really deserve the thanks, but…still, thanks for not fucking ruining his life, he guessed, luhmao.

(Legit.)

She slid off the desk and stood up with her arms crossed her chest. “You owe me.” She met his gaze again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He held up his palm, cackling and rolling his eyes. The fear had made him looser, in a way. He grinned at her. “I’ll make a Lydia altar and pray to it every day, luhmao. Or make you some cookies or som’n’.”

When his words settled, the air was tense, and he shifted in his seat. Lin never really got uncozy, but this was one of those moments. Er, not uncozy, luhmao. But there was just something hanging over them. She was still looking at him, and his eyes flicked away. He cleared his throat, starting to talk when he had nothing to say, just to fill the silence. “Uh…”

“I got enough to work with,” she said. “No reason dragging this out any longer than it has to be.”

“Luhmao, yeah, you right.” He pushed up from his seat, laughing softly. He gave the chair a shove, and it clanged against the bottom of the desk.

“I’ll make sure Ricky will be super proud.” Her voice was sarcastic, and she gave him a small smirk and walked out of the room.

He stared after her, his eyes fixed on where she’d just left. For a moment, he just stood there, confused.

But, eh, Lin didn’t do good with confusion. Too much to think about hurt his brain, luhmao.

He was just pretty sure he didn’t, like, hate-hate Lydia now.

Maybe mildly disliked.

Disliked?

Eh.

Eh, she existed.

She was still a bitch, but he didn’t…hate her anymore, he guessed.

Shrug. Too much to think about, luhmao.

He shook his head, grinning to himself as he dismissed the question marks hovering around his head, and he made to the door to shut it — but not before he peeked his head out into the hallway.

And whaddoya know, luhmao? Looked like he was going from one bitch to the next, because there was Hunter Drakey Poo.

Ever the advantageous, Lindsay couldn’t pass up the opportunity to do some “being an annoying little fuck” to a schmuck that deserved it, luhmao.

“Hunty!” Lin called, approaching the boy, a wide grin on his face. He noticed the relative downness of the guy, and he knit his brows in mock sympathy. “Awww, does Chas’ bitch baby need his tiddymilk? You look like you’re gonna cryyy or some shit, luhmao. You gonna cry? You’re gonna cryyyy, luhmao. Cry, cry, cry — do it, no balls, luhmao.”

mood
annoying shit time lmao

location
the hallway outside the music room

outfit
lookin normal for once

playing...
all i do is win

by dj khaled​

mentions
charlie, zeph, & chas

interactions
lydia & hunter

tags
gh0stwriter natsukashii

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Xed]

Dalton Kirby

Everyone was just itching for a fight with him nowadays it seemed. Instead of moving as he asked, the little intruder stayed put and told him to go find a different spot.

Like fuck he was going to that. This was his spot, had been since he’d moved in. He wasn’t going to change spots just some wisecracking young bloke who didn’t know better had come a few minutes earlier and decided to sit there or something.

“Doesn’t matter. Move.” He repeated.

Seriously, not difficult to do.

Of course, the boy clearly didn’t get the message.

“Aren’t you that guy that simps for Evie?”

No. Like fuck he simped for her.

“Wrong guy. That would be Woods.”

Was Simpclaire going around telling everyone that he had an obsession over her? Was that why everyone seemed to take his words as a joke nowadays? Because Simpclaire was so bloody insistent that he had an obsession over her that she was telling everyone the same? Fucking hell. Just because they’d hooked up several times in the past and he found some fun in getting under her skin did not mean he had a fucking obsession over her.

All he wanted was to come up here and take his usual spot on the roof to try and relax a little after a shitty ass day and the worst fucking news he had in weeks but nope. Instead of a nice quiet night on the roof, he was stuck with some punk who wouldn’t listen and had just called him Simpclaire’s simp. Ha! What a joke!

Him? Dalton Kirby, simping for her? He’d never simp for anyone let alone her.

For a brief moment, Dalton stared at the unwanted intruder and considered picking him up and throwing him halfway across the roof so he could have his spot. But then…

Whatever. Fuck it. He wasn’t in the mood. He came up here to feel better, improve his shitty mood, not make it worse. Whoever this punk was ought to consider himself very lucky.

Without a word, Dalton plopped down next to the chap. He would compromise today but if the guy said or did anything stupid, he would punch him. Best case scenario, he’d keep his mouth shut for however long they were going to end up sharing the roof.

Though…

“Where the fuck did you hear such rubbish anyway? Is that the tune Simpclaire’s singing to the public nowadays?”

If he was going to have to share his spot, he might as well find that out. Most times he couldn’t care less what people said or did but if she was telling everyone he was a simp for her and that was causing people to take him less seriously and think it fine to disregard his words or something, then it was a problem that needed settling.

As he waited for the boy’s answer, he spotted an unopened bottle of alcohol sitting next to him and scooped it up. There were no cigarettes in any of the drawers downstairs in his apartment (largely because he didn't really smoke to begin with), and he hadn't stocked up on alcohol lately because he was supposed to move. Getting drunk hadn't been in the plans for tonight's rooftop trip but nothing ever went to plan nowadays.

"Consider this the toll fee for taking up half my spot." He told the other boy as he cracked open the bottle and took a swig. Nice to see that he wasn't dealing with half-assed shit like the drinks he'd taken from those underclassmen at lock-in.

At least the wind was nice and the air was cooling even if he had to share it with unwanted company. He really couldn’t move out of this place soon enough. Unlike his current place his new room wouldn't suffocate him like a sauna.

Come to think of it. He’d never seen this guy here before. Not that he paid his neighbours any attention, but his face would have been at least somewhat recognisable if he had seen him around before. Not to mention he was a HA student…

Ah hell if he cared who this guy was.

He set the bottle down on the other side, away from the chap it belonged to.

Hanging around Lydia and helping her out with her little information digs was rubbing off on him. He was going to turn into a sleuth at this rate, and he had absolutely no interest in being one.

“As soon as you’re done with whatever it is you came up here for, you should leave. The roof ain’t for little kids like you.”

The guy could have been his age for all he knew, but whether he was or not was irrelevant. Besides, he was never the type to play nice anyways.

mood
Whatever

location
Rooftop

outfit
outfit

playing...
song title here

by artist here​

mentions
Evie, Lydia, Nate

interactions
Lucky

tags
gh0stwriter

º º code by ditto º º

 

[geminiy]

Kian Phelan

@lockandkian has set their status to:
I wanna go to warrrrrrrrrrrrrr

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

@lockandkian has set their location to:
the visual art classroom

@lockandkian has mentioned:
n/a

@lockandkian has interacted with:
Damien & Felix

@lockandkian has tagged:
Winona & ohdittoh

Ah, the love and support of friendship. What sort of feeling could top it?

Kian was convinced that no other friends could top his own. Sure the trio was far from perfect and yeah, they were actually kinda toxic to each other, but Kian knew he could count on them to be there for him when he needed it. Like seriously, Fesus and Damien saved him from certain doom, that had to prove how much they loved him.

"Working on Arts Fest stuff, so you need to go the fuck away," Damien snapped as Kian reclined further into his chair. Ah yes, friendship, it was simply dripping from his short comrade."Get out of my chair. I gotta work on animating shit. Go fucking annoy Felix or some shit. Help him with his voice acting. I dunno. Just get the fuck away from me."

“Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut I came here to see you so I’m gonna stay here, me thinks.” Kian laughed warmly, wiggling around like a bird trying to get comfy in a nest. “So, hello Damein, how was your morning? Did you remember to eat breakfast? What about lunch? Do you have lunch? Oh and what are you working on? This looks cool, man, I really wanna see it when you’re done. What does this button d-”

RIP!

Kian yelped as the chair started moving beneath him. Grappling onto the desk, Kian wrapped his legs around the chair and remained half seated as he fought for chair dominance. What the fuck was Damien doing? Finders keepers, bro, and clearly Kian had found the chair empty. Kian had to applaud Damein though, the dude was getting a bit stronger, maybe he had listened to Kian’s workout advice.

“Fellas, guys, boys.” Fesus spoke from behind the brawling pair. “It…it feels like not so long ago…” He sniffled. “The three’a us, we were best friends. We were all asses to each other, but…damn it, I could feel the love. I could feel the…the warmth, ya know. I knew, in the future, we were all gonna move into some commune together…start life anew, y’know…” Kian’s face fell. Were they not, in fact, still best friends? This right here, the Great Chair Battle of 2020, was the epitome of friendship. “And now…this is what it’s come to…? Damien, you want…you want poor Kian to simply ‘get the fuck away from you’? And Kian…oh, Kian… Wow…just…wow.”

The chair battle would have to wait. Instantaneously, Kian hopped up off the chair and proceeded to trip over the leg, bracing himself on the table once more before taking a few rapid steps towards Felix. With another tight hug wrapping around Felix’s torso, Kian grabbed Felix’s head and bent it down to rest on his chest.

“You poor, poor soul. Come here, Papa Kiki’s got you.” Kian comforted with a few shhhh’s and a couple of strokes of his hair. Shooting a rather nasty glance over at Damien, Kian dramatically shook his head. “Look at what you’re doing to the family, Dame. Seriously, you’ve made Fesus cry. Look at him,” Kian grabbed Felix’s cheeks and smushed them together before slightly jerking his head to make him look at Damien, “the poor dude’s crying. Every time Fesus cries, a puppy dies. Is that what you like? Dead puppies? You fucking sociopath. Now you’re ruining the family and the puppies. For SHAME, Damien. For SHAME.”

“A wedge has come between us,” Felix said with a shake of his head as Kian released him from his grasp. “I mean… It just…it hurts my heart. Can’t we all just…be friends? Get along? Or is Fesus doomed to a fate of being caught between a slut and a guitarist for the rest of eternity?”

Kian clutched at his chest, throwing in a bottom lip quiver for added dramatic effect. “Oh no, Fesus my sweet boy, you will be saved from this pain. Damien just can’t admit he loves us, that’s all. Dude needs therapy but you, my dear, you need family more than anything. What can we do to make it better, Fesus? Oh please tell me so I can fix it, I can’t stand seeing you so distraught.”

Finally, with the dramatic act clearly over, Felix pulled away and returned back to his normal, shit disturbing self.

“Now, look: y’all either quit fightin’, or I’m just gonna have to find a way for you two to settle this dilemma,” Felix said in a strangely stern tone. Maybe Fesus wasn’t the right name for him. Felix Daddy? Delix? Faddy? Hehe, like fatty. Get it? Like a fat ass? Badum tsss, Kian’s clearly a comedian. “Y’all want that?”

Kian clasped his hands together and waited for Felix to continue, silently pleading for him to fix this fake scenario filled with tension between the pair. Without saying much more, Felix set up a small rolling table and two chairs, motioning for the boys to sit down.

“Now, ya know what I suggest to settle this? To keep me outta this, because it truly hurts my heart to be caught in the middle, and to find the true, rightful owner of that chair?” Felix asked with a satisfied smile.

“Sorry for hurting you, Fesus.” Kian mumbled softly, his eyes looking down to his shoes.

“A good ol’ fashioned arm-wrestling match. Either that, or the chair can be cut in half…or, ya know. One’a you could just…give up the chair?” Felix laughed before returning back to his expression of pure hurt and emotion. “Any way ya wanna do it, but get it done. I can’t stand any more of this… This…this…this rift, just tearin’ us apart.”

Kian instantly hopped into the chair and smacked the table top a few times for good measure. There was no way Damien could win, Kian was far stronger than him, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that Kian absolutely loves arm wrestling. A chance to flex his strength and to prove Damien wrong? Fuck to the yes.

“Alright my man, lay it on me.” Kian said as he wiggled his fingers and placed the other non-wrestling arm behind his back. “We battle for our family’s honour like real men. We do this for Fesus, bless his poor innocent soul.”

With their hands clasped together, the battle began. Okay, maybe Kian had been ever so slightly too cocky. Damien was stronger than he looked and Kian was fatigued from climbing the side of the school. With each push to one side, the other person managed to push them back. A constant war of give and take roared on the table, giving way to one of the coolest, most tough, most badass looking arm wrestles ever.

“Dude, you’re fucking cheating!” Kian grumbled as his tongue stuck out through his lips in concentration. “Stop lifting your elbow, man, it’s annoying.”

Kian pushed harder, eventually standing slightly to put more pressure down onto the table. The battle continued, the boys fighting it out until somehow (definitely not Kian accidentally kicking the wheels of the table, definitely not) the table slipped from under them and Kian, who practically had his entire weight pressed onto the table top, shot forwards into Damien, sending them both sprawling on the ground.

Was he about to admit that it was his fault? Absolutely fucking not.

“What the hell, dude?” Kian grumbled, sitting up slightly. Oh lovely, he was sitting on Damien’s stomach. “This is some kinky shit right here, dude. I can’t believe you threw the battle just so that I would be on top. You gotta get this horniness under control.”

Place your bets folks! Will Kian:
A) Get his ass kicked for saying that;
B) Kick Damien’s ass in self defence;
C) Bitch brawl right there on the art floor;
D) All of the above

Find out on the next episode of: The Three Hollywood Arts Stooges Take on the World.

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

trevor callaghan​

Nate looked at Cappie, and then smiled down at Trevor.

And Trevor felt the pit of dread grow in his stomach.

Being best friends with the likes of Charlie Howell made that expression all too familiar to him.

It was the advantageous ”I’m digging your hole deeper for you, thank me later” expression.

Trevor.

Was going.

To fecking.

Die.

He was going to die a young, hot, budding screenwriter superstar, and they were going to have to hold his shite in a museum and say, ”He was taken far too fast from this world.”

And then Charlie and Jo would desecrate his van post-mortem.

Feckfeckfeckfeckfeck.

“Thy are real fucking neat,” Nate said. “Great for making out. First time I got to second base was on a Ferris wheel.”

“No!” Trevor interjected quickly. Wait, that sounded too…insistent. “No,” he laughed, trying to be more casual. “Worst place for making out. Zero out of ten.”

(This implied that he knew how making out on a Ferris wheel was, but he didn’t realize the implications in this moment.)

“Bet you ‘bonded’ —“ Nate bounced quote mark at the word bonded. “— real well on the wheel.”

“No,” Trevor said again. “No, no. My hand did not — no. No. Our mouths were separated.” He smiled over at Cappie, nodding. “They were,” he insisted, though Cappie did not express any disbelief.

“Seventy bucks on a Ferris wheel seems like a bit of a waste, though,” Nate said. “Don’t you think, Cap?”

“Eh…true. Seventy’s a bit much,” Cappie agreed.

Trevor glared at Nate. “It was to escape my —“

“You can get all your making out done in one or two loops if you’re fast enough,” Nate continued. “I mean, that’s the only reason anyone really rides a Ferris wheel, right? To get cozy with a hot chick?”

“Nononono,” Trevor said. “No, no, no.”

“I’d pick someplace a little more sanitary than a Ferris wheel for second base,” Cappie commented.

“Yes,” Trevor agreed, looking at Nate again. “Yeah, second base isn’t for Ferris wheels — or for any public place. Whatsoever. Whatsoever.”

Now that that was done…

Trevor looked at Cappie, breathing in a sharp breath to start talking about another subject, but the other boy got to talking first. “Wait, so...d’you mean you went on a date with Ashley ‘Ash’ F. from the Lit department or the senior Ashley ‘Ash’ K. from Visuals? If you’re talking about Ash West, then that’d be interesting,. ‘Cuz I don’t think she’s ever mentioned to me about going on a blind date at the fair. I should go ask her about that in our class together later.”

Trevor swallowed.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

A pointed question.

A direct question.

Did you go on a date with Ash?

He felt beads of cold sweat starting at his forehead.

He swallowed hard again, blinking, a nervous smile twinging onto his lips.

“I…”

Oh shite.

Oh shite.

“Ya see…”

Panic button panic button panic button panic button.

He was dead.

He was dead.

Find a way out find a way out find a way out.

“Hahaha,” Trevor laughed. “Oh, wow,” he said, “come to think of it, I’ve, ah, I’ve got, ah, I’ve got — there’s this book?” Yes. “Yeah, this book. The library ordered it, and I, ah, am just now rememberin’ that I’ve, ya know, I’ve got to go get it.” He reached over to the handle on his side of the van, sliding the door open until it clicked back in its spot. He looked between Nate and Cappie. “You two enjoy yourselves,” he said as casually as he could. “I’ll see ya both around later.”

Moving easily, he stepped out of the van and onto the pavement. He gave one last wave —

And then slammed his door shut, ducked his head, and scurried back towards the school.

In his (high) panic, he wasn’t thinking that he was leaving his precious van in the hands of, well, Nathan Woods and a complete stranger.

He was just thinking, Damn, Trevor, ya did a great fecking job evading that situation. A + +.

mood


location
not rachel

outfit
something casual

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

by glaive​

mentions
charlie, jo, & ash

interactions
nate & cappie

tags
Winona 0k_mang0

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Winona]

Nathan Woods

There was something about watching the tiny little pedo driver freak out over the simplest of things that really brought a smile to Nate's face. Eventually, Trevor took off in an awkward way -- saying something about some kind of book that he needed to get from the library or whatever lame excuse he had come up with, and leaving the van door wide open for Nate and Cappie.

Normally, Nate would've just closed the van door and gone on his merry way.

Taking one last hit from the joint, Nate dropped the last little bit to the ground and put it out with the heel of his shoe. He then brushed his hands together and leaned into the back of the van, leaning forward to unlock the driver's seat door before popping it open. While he did so, he started talking to Cappie.

"Evie's convinced he has a spank bank of her somewhere," he explained as he hopped into the driver's seat, leaving the door wide open. "Well, I kinda convinced her by accident. Told her he kept calling her hot even when I asked him to stop. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, ya know what I mean?"

He popped over the center console and started to rummage through it, but there wasn't much in there -- baby wipes, way too much hand sanitizer, some Band-Aids, a few Kleenex packs, and--

Oh, condoms.

Well, Nate could use those. So he grabbed them out and pocketed them.

"Anyway, promised her I'd look around the van. Make sure he wasn't hiding any pictures of her. He gave me permission to double check, 'course."

He closed the center console and leaned farther into the van so that he could reach over and pop down the glove compartment. Not much of interest in there, either. Axe body spray, hairbrush (still wrapped but also what the fuck? Why?), a journal which -- when Nate flipped through -- he was disappointed to see absolutely nothing of interest. A Nirvana CD, which was kind of a surprise to Nate. Didn't seem like Trevor's type of music. Loose pens, blah, blah, nothing else of--

Oh, what was this?

He grabbed the picture out and sure enough, just as he thought. A middle school Trevor with a couple of old people that Nate had to assume were his grandparents -- and naturally, Nate had to also pocket that photo, which he oh so secretively slid into the pocket of his jacket.

He shut the glove department and then hopped back out of the van but hey, he was nice. So he locked up the van before he closed the driver's seat door and pulled the back door closed.

Nate turned back to Cappie, a casual smile on his face.

"He went on a date with Ash. Your Ash. It was all he was talking about a while ago. Oh boohoo, date." Nate gave a shrug of his shoulders, and then reached forward and patted Cappie's shoulder. "Anyway, see ya around. Gotta go get some eyedrops from my locker. Try and clear up the," he gestured to the redness in his dry eyes, "ya know? Before class. McMillan's already suspicious and shit, so... catch ya around."

And with that, the smug boy headed towards the school.

mood
weeeeed

location
parking lot

outfit
omg clothes

playing...
Ho Hey

by The Lumineers​

mentions
Evie

interactions
Trevor, Cappie

tags
ohdittoh 0k_mang0

º º code by ditto º º

 

[natsukashii]

HUNTER DRAKE

Out of all people he could have run into, Lindsey Kay was the last person Hunter wanted to deal with right now.

It wasn’t as though he flat out hated Lin. He found him extremely obnoxious and annoying. And he knew that wasn’t a fault on Lin as a person; it was just his personality. But for obvious reasons, mainly because he was Saint Charlie's partner in crime and everyone knew how he felt about the Lollipop Guild’s Guildmaster. But something about Lin hit differently in all the wrong ways. He wasn’t just obnoxious because he wanted to stand out -- or maybe he was. Hunter didn’t know him well enough to make that call, but whenever he opened his mouth, regardless if he saw him in person or lurked on Twitter, he was an idiot of the highest order.

“Hunty!”

God, couldn’t he pick something less cringe?

Hunter knew the answer to that.

This was Lindsey Kay. He was cringe incarnate.

Hunter didn’t bother greeting him nor entertaining Lindsey’s attempt at trying to get under his skin. Of course, it worked. He mentioned Chas and was taunting Hunter, but he wasn’t going to bite. Not only did he not have the time to waste on him, he really didn’t feel like it. Between being dumped by Nickie and now the fucking waste of human flesh trying to get a rise out of him, he had very limited mental energy and he’d rather put that to good use like maybe finishing the arrangement for his Arts Fest performance.

So he just walked past Lin, ignoring everything he said, only saying “I don’t have time for this” as he brushed past him, shoving his shoulder into Lin’s intentionally, which moved him enough out of his way so that Hunter could proceed to the Music room where he had intended to go before Lindsey decided to buzz around him.

now playing...Addicted to Bad Decisions by Emery

mood: Go away

location: Trying to go to class

outfit: Sup?

mentions: Charlie, Chas, Nickie

interactions: Lin

tags: ohdittoh

º º code by ditto º º

 

[ohdittoh]

LINDSAY MORGAN KAY

Hunter paused for a moment, and Lin’s grin widened. What was he gonna do, huh? Lin tried to guess, making an internal bet. He had options, luhmao. Either Hunter was: a) gonna cry, b) gonna threaten to sue him like his god would, c) shit himself or something, d) start foaming at the mouth, or e) all of the above. Lin was kinda hoping for the first or even the last one, but he bet himself a Zebra Cake that he was gonna do d or some shit like that. Bor-ing, but entertaining enough, luhmao. He had to manage his expectations.

But Hunter instead just walked past him, saying, “I don’t have time for this,” and giving Lin’s shoulder a shove.

“Hey!” Lin whined, reaching up and grabbing ahold of his shoulder. He rubbed it, frowning deeply. His brows knit low.

Oh, c’mon, was he not gonna give more than that? Not even a little “fuck off, Lin” that showed that he was irritated or something? Just nothing?

C’mon, luhmao, seriously — throw him more of a bone here, ess-em-aych. He was here for entertainment, not for you to respond fucking rationally, luhmao. Give him more to work with.

“Tittybaby,” he called, “wait up!” He rushed to catch up with Hunter, walking by his side. The other boy had a couple of inches on him, so he had to grin up at him. He gave him an impish nudge with his elbow, biting his lower lip and making an ”uhn?” noise behind his teeth.

Lin knew how to get a rise out of people. It was what he lived for, luhmao. All you had to do was pester them relentlessly, and even the toughest, most hard-skinned people would crack, luhmao.

Hefting a sigh, he flopped the back of his hand against his forehead. He let out a melodramatic groan. “Ohhhh, Hunty Pooo…the world’s waiting for your tears, so why won’t you give it to ‘em, man? Ess-em-aych, dude.” He laughed, dropping the disappointed facade to grin up at Hunter again. “C’mon, I know ya got it in you!” He gave him two patronizing thumbs up. “Chas-es-bitch! Chas-es-bitch!” he chanted, clenching his thumbs into fists and pumping them to the beat of his taunting. “C’mon, cry or some shit! Let it out, luhmao! C’mon, c’mon, do it. Do it, do it, do it.”

mood
annoying shit time lmao

location
the hallway outside the music room

outfit
lookin normal for once

playing...
all i do is win

by dj khaled​

mentions
chas

interactions
hunter

tags
natsukashii

º º code by ditto º º

 

[Soap]

Juliette Jameson
"I can't help it if I eavesdrop, I have ears, bitch.”

@QueenJules has set their status to:
Hunter Drake is the human equivalent to sewage. Change my mind.

@QueenJules has set their outfit to:
Comfy but sexy bc,,, obvi I can pull it off.

@QueenJules has interacted with:
Nickie

@QueenJules has mentioned:
Hunter, Chas, Nathan,

@QueenJules has tagged:
ohdittoh​

There was only so much Juliette could do. It was as if Nickie didn’t want to be helped in the first place and just wallow in her tears about the world’s most whiniest little boy. It didn’t make much sense to her, but then again Nickie never made much sense to anyone.

“I’m sick and t-tired of…crying all the time, goddamn it,”

How do you think I feel watching you cry all the time? It’s getting a little old.

In Nickie’s defense, not that JJ was defending anything— this was probably only the secondish time she’d seen Nickie cry. Not counting their childhood.

It was just unsettling. People crying in general had made Juliette feel uncomfortable. Unless she caused the tears, then she felt some sort of satisfaction knowing that she had that kind of power over someone.

They probably deserved it, too.

The point here being, Jules can’t ‘fix’ Nickie if she isn’t allowing herself to be fixed.

Like, look at her.

“Yeah…yeah, JJ, I — I, like, shouldn’t be…ca-caught up on him. He’s a piece of shit — he’s just like everyone else said he was and I just ignored them…”

Bad move on your part, yeah.

“Because I thought, like…he was someone like me or whatever the fuck. ‘Misunderstood outcast’ or some shit like that…and I know that’s not who he is or who I am. We both fucking deserve to be outcasts or whatever the hell.”

“No, that’s who he is.” Juliette clarified.

Fucking Jace West was more likable than Hunter Drake. And anyone who disagreed was on some type of crack cocaine.

“But can you relax? You outed somebody, you’re not fucking Hitler. This whole school is hypocrites when they probably would’ve done the same thing.”

Well, maybe a total of five of them would’ve.

But they all acted like they knew Chas personally. The guy was a bitch. Plain and simple. Well, yeah he still didn’t deserve that, but shit happens. It wasn’t like it was a big deal.

Being gay was cool now or whatever, wasn’t it? Like, everyone was at the very least bisexual in someway. If nobody could tell that Chas was gay before that, they were fucking blind.

“Just don’t do it again? Like?”

Nickie glossed over the fact that JJ said anything, and continued on her own sad love life.

“But I can’t just fucking act like what we had didn’t exist. Him doing this…or I guess just being whoever he is doesn’t, like, reverse all of those moments we had…and, like, I’m so fucking dumb for this, but I don’t — I don’t think I can fucking hate him!”

‘I don’t think I can fucking hate him.’

“I think, you really need like, a psychologist or something because you’re seriously making me think you need a mental hospital right now. I’ll hate him enough for the both of us. You don’t think you can fucking hate him?! You— don’t— he’s so fucking hateable, Nickie!”

Naturally, this didn’t make her feel any better. But they were way past that by now.

“Damn it! I can’t…”

“When I was alone, he was there. I know you were fucking there, too, but you’ve always been there. You’re fucking family, JJ, you’re stuck with me. And — and — and I don’t fucking know. I guess him being there…made me feel special. Because when boys pay me attention, or go out of their way to do shit for me? I don’t know. Just…just something in me makes me latch onto them — because I’m a clingy, dumb whore whose smarts are all in the books and that’s fucking it.”

JJ was quiet this time around. She genuinely had no comment to make. The statement didn’t make her uncomfortable or anything, it just… bothered her. Maybe everyone was just like that? Nickie was focused too much on the details and not her own emotions.

Or, maybe she was too focused on her emotions. Oh, who the hell knew? Nickie was an enigma. And as much as Juliette wanted to figure her out—

(Spoiler alert: she didn’t.)

She couldn’t.

“I want to get over him. I seriously fucking do — but JJ, I don’t fucking know how. I’ve tried my whole fucking life to stop crying over what people say and do to me — and over fucking boys —“ Like Evie always told her. “— but I can’t! I want to — to move on from shit, but I fucking can’t.”

For a moment, Nickie just cried.

Juliette shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze and pursing her lips.

Nickie glanced up, and JJ didn’t look her way until she broke the silence.

“Just…what the hell am I supposed to do?”

…

A few seconds passed and JJ crossed her arms, mulling it over.

Okay, fine.

“Get up.” She ordered.

“Get up.” She ordered, and Juliette complied, the older woman took a hold of her shoulders and turned her towards the vanity.

Juliette placed her hands on Nickie’s shoulders once she hopped off the counter, facing her towards the mirror.

A tissue was wiped roughly underneath Jules’s eyes. Smudging away the mascara stains.

“Look at yourself.”

Juliette didn’t say anything, instead swallowing the lump in her throat, trying not to wince at the soreness in her throat, as she took in her reflection.

The frizzy, unbrushed hair. The makeup stains underneath her eyes, white lines that washed away two single, thin strips of foundation from her tears, irritated, swollen eyes.

She looked…

“Pathetic.”

“Look at yourself.” JJ told Nickie, clenching her jaw and staring at her cousin through the reflection.

The brunette reached into the little blue bag and was met with only one tissue left.

Jules began to wipe gently underneath Nickie’s eyes.

“It’s pathetic, Nick.” Despite her words, they were said with a much softer tone.

“This is what we’re gonna do,” she started, setting the makeup wipe to the side and taking out a few products out of her bag.

The compact opened with ease and Jules caught her own reflection, hesitating for a moment before taking the brush and dabbing it into the pink powder.

“You’re going to stop crying.”

Juliette brushed the blush onto her cheekbones generously, bringing some kind of color back to the girl’s face.

“And we’re going to pretend like he doesn’t exist.”

Smearing a dot of concealer onto her ring finger, Jules began to dab at the bags that developed under her eyes.

“I don’t want to hear that you can’t, or you love him, or how much you miss him, you’re not going to acknowledge any of that. I don’t care if it’s the truth.”

She twisted the tube of mascara and turned Nickie to face her. “Blink.” She said, brushing the product through her lashes.

She threw the makeup back into her bag, and brought out the lip gloss. Adjusting Nickie by the chin to look up at her as she applied the red color to her lips.

“If it isn’t? Then, you’re going to lie to yourself until you believe it.”

A hand was placed under her chin, and was turned to face the older woman with almost piercing resemblance to her. The same icy blue eyes, the nose, the way her lips curved.

“This behavior? Juliette, it's unacceptable. You’re in tears over a boy, a relationship that you didn’t even want in the first place. And now you have the audacity to cry? How do I know you’re not the reason this happened?”

“Mom, he fucking cheated on me! That’s not my fault! What did you want me to do?! Forgive him?”

“You should’ve. You know how important this is.”

“I can’t forgive him.”

“You can, and you will.”

Jules gestured towards the mirror, spinning Nickie in that direction for the last time.

“In the words of your aunt, and my mother— you can, and you will.”

Funny how that almost seemed motivational in a different context.

º º code by ditto º º