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Realistic or Modern rose-colored glasses
- Thread starter laburnum gold
- Start date
-
- Tags
- closed mystery school supernatural
laburnum gold
you know ;)
THE BEGINNING.
— orientation
— iris, spring hall, 3rd floor, common room
— iris, spring hall, 3rd floor, common room
Though ICU paraded its intimate and specialized education, it was hard to reconcile that with the student body of under one thousand people - the only way the school could achieve the things they did. From the dorm room windows, you can only see curious packs of freshmen wandering around the housing quad.
This doesn't make a lot of sense; you know there are people on campus. When you drove up the road yesterday, you saw them - perhaps all of them - on the porches of their 19th-century houses. They looked like college students, laughing, drinking whiteclaws at 2PM, playing indiscernible music. Sometimes, you'd lock eyes with one of them and they'd still, looking for a moment less young adult and more animal predator, only for that feeling to dissipate with a cheerful wave.
The only interactions you've had so far have been limited to the people in the hall, and even then, just glimpses of them moving boxes into their rooms. You've had some conversations with the roommate, but nothing concrete yet. But even still, you haven't seen any upperclassmen since you moved in. You know you probably will during orientation, though.
Your phone pings with a message from your RA in the hall group chat. An amendment: you haven't seen any upperclassmen besides Duke Ingram who helped with move-in last night. His message:
1.30 common room for orientation introduction bullshit
hope you ate already but if you haven't, i have eggs and toast
venmo duke-ing $3 if you want any
The common room on the far end of the hall isn't anything lavish. On the left, a grouping of three-seaters and armchairs around a long coffee table. There are boxes of crayons, scissors, and construction paper laying on top. It looks a lot more like a kindergarten craft day than college orientation.
On the right, a kitchenette already in use with paper plates, an open egg carton, and a bag of bread on the counter. Duke has his body turned toward the entrance to greet everyone, but his attention is divided between the frying pan on the stove and scrolling through his phone.
Duke seems half awake still honestly, and it's 1 in the afternoon. It's hard to tell if he's tired because of preparing for the beginning of the year or if that sort of exhaustion is settled into his bones. He still manages to smile up at people when they come in, gesturing towards the sofas and it's welcoming if not polite.
His eyes linger on the poster board on the table, and his face scrunches up with distaste. You get the feeling he doesn't care for whatever orientation bonding activities he's being forced to do. Hopefully, all of you can just get past this awkward first part and move onto the fun part of college.
This doesn't make a lot of sense; you know there are people on campus. When you drove up the road yesterday, you saw them - perhaps all of them - on the porches of their 19th-century houses. They looked like college students, laughing, drinking whiteclaws at 2PM, playing indiscernible music. Sometimes, you'd lock eyes with one of them and they'd still, looking for a moment less young adult and more animal predator, only for that feeling to dissipate with a cheerful wave.
The only interactions you've had so far have been limited to the people in the hall, and even then, just glimpses of them moving boxes into their rooms. You've had some conversations with the roommate, but nothing concrete yet. But even still, you haven't seen any upperclassmen since you moved in. You know you probably will during orientation, though.
Your phone pings with a message from your RA in the hall group chat. An amendment: you haven't seen any upperclassmen besides Duke Ingram who helped with move-in last night. His message:
1.30 common room for orientation introduction bullshit
hope you ate already but if you haven't, i have eggs and toast
venmo duke-ing $3 if you want any
The common room on the far end of the hall isn't anything lavish. On the left, a grouping of three-seaters and armchairs around a long coffee table. There are boxes of crayons, scissors, and construction paper laying on top. It looks a lot more like a kindergarten craft day than college orientation.
On the right, a kitchenette already in use with paper plates, an open egg carton, and a bag of bread on the counter. Duke has his body turned toward the entrance to greet everyone, but his attention is divided between the frying pan on the stove and scrolling through his phone.
Duke seems half awake still honestly, and it's 1 in the afternoon. It's hard to tell if he's tired because of preparing for the beginning of the year or if that sort of exhaustion is settled into his bones. He still manages to smile up at people when they come in, gesturing towards the sofas and it's welcoming if not polite.
His eyes linger on the poster board on the table, and his face scrunches up with distaste. You get the feeling he doesn't care for whatever orientation bonding activities he's being forced to do. Hopefully, all of you can just get past this awkward first part and move onto the fun part of college.
RykeMyers
Anna ou-!
LAUREN
code by yousmelldead
sidekicker
. . .
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X X X
tagged: everyone // mentions: lauren, duke // loc. common room
tagged: everyone // mentions: lauren, duke // loc. common room
Having her own dorm room wasn't something Marcy had been expecting, but maybe having 'no roommate at all' was a better option than having some loud, obnoxious, or nosy one; and based on first glances at the others in her hall... there were a few dorm mates that looked like they could fit that exact description.
In a way, it did almost feel like some kind of uncomfortable joke - she arrived solo, and was now going to be living solo. Her twin had said once that she would be a 'room mate's worst nightmare' and now look at her, living alone. A roommate of herself. Could be another potential sign from him that she needed to write down later.
Her cell dinged with a message from the hallway's group chat, and mere minutes later, she venmo-ed Duke six bucks, with the comment: 'left a three dollar tip for ya. do you guys have apricot jam?'
After not receiving a message for several minutes after, she sent another message: "jk about the apricot jam. any jam is cool."
She pulled herself up and off her beanbag chair, and slipped on some high top converse before casting a quick look-over around her tiny, under decorated, lonely looking room. Maybe a fishbowl or something could help give this room... some life? Maybe a plant? A damn rock would probably even help. She decided to make a quick social media dip on her phone before heading out.
-
The Common Room doors were open, and upon entering, the smell of eggs wafted through the air. Marcy gave a casual quip greeting to Duke, and a nod of acknowledgment to the blonde chick seated in the room.
She threw a piece of bread into the toaster and held out a paper plate for Duke to plop some eggs on. "Thanks, Mr. RA. I was starved." she commented, with a small grin. She happened to glance over her shoulder only to notice the other person in the room looking up from their phone to make a not so subtle look at their RA. Marcy held back an eye roll.
Once her plate had what she wanted on it, and her toast was jellied up, (with apricot jam that they did end up actually having) she pushed herself away from the counter and edged her way casually towards the chairs, deciding to stand instead of sit.
She gave the blonde another once-over, writing her off as someone she didn't immediately recognize; but then taking notice of the rather obvious and risque length of her dress. Marcy slowly brought her eyes back up to the fellow freshman's face, before taking a bit of her toast. "Don't think I met you yesterday." She finished chewing and licked apricot jam off the side of her lip, before adding,"I'm Marcy."
In a way, it did almost feel like some kind of uncomfortable joke - she arrived solo, and was now going to be living solo. Her twin had said once that she would be a 'room mate's worst nightmare' and now look at her, living alone. A roommate of herself. Could be another potential sign from him that she needed to write down later.
Her cell dinged with a message from the hallway's group chat, and mere minutes later, she venmo-ed Duke six bucks, with the comment: 'left a three dollar tip for ya. do you guys have apricot jam?'
After not receiving a message for several minutes after, she sent another message: "jk about the apricot jam. any jam is cool."
She pulled herself up and off her beanbag chair, and slipped on some high top converse before casting a quick look-over around her tiny, under decorated, lonely looking room. Maybe a fishbowl or something could help give this room... some life? Maybe a plant? A damn rock would probably even help. She decided to make a quick social media dip on her phone before heading out.
-
The Common Room doors were open, and upon entering, the smell of eggs wafted through the air. Marcy gave a casual quip greeting to Duke, and a nod of acknowledgment to the blonde chick seated in the room.
She threw a piece of bread into the toaster and held out a paper plate for Duke to plop some eggs on. "Thanks, Mr. RA. I was starved." she commented, with a small grin. She happened to glance over her shoulder only to notice the other person in the room looking up from their phone to make a not so subtle look at their RA. Marcy held back an eye roll.
Once her plate had what she wanted on it, and her toast was jellied up, (with apricot jam that they did end up actually having) she pushed herself away from the counter and edged her way casually towards the chairs, deciding to stand instead of sit.
She gave the blonde another once-over, writing her off as someone she didn't immediately recognize; but then taking notice of the rather obvious and risque length of her dress. Marcy slowly brought her eyes back up to the fellow freshman's face, before taking a bit of her toast. "Don't think I met you yesterday." She finished chewing and licked apricot jam off the side of her lip, before adding,"I'm Marcy."
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idiot
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥.
code by yousmelldead
MOLLY HART.
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Feyrie
𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠
“I look perfect as always.”
Sylvester admired his perfect proportions that could be seen from the full body mirror that was installed in his dorm room. He flipped his head slightly in order to show his appreciation for himself. It could have seen in its full effect had his hair been slightly longer, but nonetheless- his every movement was imbued with grace and beauty. He smoothed out any creases that could be seen on his clothes. How embarrassing would it have been if he came out in that manner. No! No! That simply wouldn’t do! Sylvester would never allow such catastrophic event to occur. He would rather die than go out looking like an embarrassment.
He twirled his body, having no trouble at all moving with the three-inch heels that he was wearing which made him even taller than he already is. Sylvester just knew how he had chosen the right fabric when he created this ensemble just for today. The fabric just simply clung to his body and delightfully emphasized his supple ass. No doubt he was going to turn heads no matter where he goes. Although today may have been simple orientation but this was still the first official meeting he’s going to have with his fellow freshmen and the rest of the school. This meant to state that he shouldn’t hold himself back and go all out. He reached out to his dresser where a black bunny ears headband was waiting to be adorned on his perfectly styled that spoke - MESSY BUT SEXY. In order to tie his look together, he reached for his favorite red bold lipstick smacking his lips a few times to make sure it sticks. He smiled wildly then to check if any lipstick stain were ever to get into his teeth to remove it.
When he was done admiring himself just one last time with the mirror. He made it seem as though it was physically painful in forcing himself to extract his gaze away from the vision that is himself on the mirror. He clicked his tongue, quite annoyed while surveying his room. It can be said that his room was one of the better ones these year considering he was the only one staying in the room compared to many who are forced to share. When he had gotten the news that he didn’t have a roommate, he quickly made plans to renovate the extra space for room for his walk-in closet and workshop. Although, now looking at it- he still found it rather- small, squinting his eyes as there are still boxes that he has yet to finish unboxed.
No matter. His high heels clicking as he made plans to leave his room, picking up his phone where the group chat was opened. One of the latest messages came from their RA, Duke. He’d already plan to go to the common room and basically check the state of his cooking. Sylvester was very particular about his diet and quality of his food. He couldn’t just let anything enter his mouth after all- what if it was actually trash and affected his good looks? A modern tragedy. He laments.
Speaking of tragedy, it was time to do all the poor unfortunate souls a favor and basically bless them with his presence. Without any regard for privacy or courtesy or both, he would slam the door open and make himself at home acting very overly-familiar with them. “Hello! My Darlings!” He greeted as his hands would slither to their waists without them knowing. He would even steal a kiss or two on anywhere on their faces, much preferring to opt either on their cheeks or on their lips (if they were so lucky or unlucky depending on their perspective). “The day is so beautiful isn’t it!” He chirped, bright and cheery. Far too energetic than what a normal human being should have. “Of course-“ he pauses for dramatic flair “It is only beautiful since you’ve been graced by my wonderful existence!” He narcissisticly exclaimed without any hint of shame. “Oh!” He gasps, “I’ve only come to give you my greetings and I know you must terribly be sad to see me go but there are also others that I know must be wanting to see me as well.” He pulled a white handkerchief and carefully dabbed it on his eyes despite not having any tears. “I know you all will be very excitedly in seeing me very soon during the orientation. Don’t worry,” he comforts them, “I’m terribly excited to see me too.” Sylvester was shoving words to their mouth and didn’t bother listening to any complaints or any words they were saying at all- completely blocking them out. “Anyway, toodles!” With a click of his heels as he gave them a flying kiss paired with a wink, he came in through like a storm and left just like one too. Not aware or caring for the repercussions he has made to the poor people.
He hadn’t take long at all to reach the common room with his long legs. Just as he has done earlier, he opened the door with a bang without much regard on breaking school property “WASSUP BITCHES!” He greeted, feeling rather playful- getting all excited after meeting new people allowing them the opportunity to be blessed in seeing his beauty (in person). He dragged an empty chair to give him more space then suddenly slapped one leg upwards as though emphasize how long exactly they were before crossing them together. He glances at the food prepared, quirking an eyebrow before deciding that he was good right now. “Babe,” he called out to Duke although they were probably acquaintances at best. “Does the school really work you that hard? Your skin’s horrible.” He can’t help but sigh, the more he looks at their RA. “How pitiful for you.” He shakes his head while clicking his tongue. He couldn’t imagine suffering the same fate- of bad skin.
location
everywhere and also nowhere
mood
"My beauty is a sin."
outfit
White Suit, Black Heels, Black Bunny Ears and Red Bold Lipstick
tags
@/everyone
laburnum gold
coded by natasha.
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Queen.
silly little tragedy
Walking from the nearest gas station proved to be exactly as taxing as Soraya's captain obvious intuition expected. The only thing she had to show for her hundreds of steps was an enormous cup of lite lemonade that kinda tasted like horse shit and lead. Still, she sipped away with a bounce in her step as she fantasized how the afternoon would go, after this whole mandatory orientation of course.
The clouds streaked overhead sculpted into inconceivable shapes by the gusts blown about, causing Sora to repeatedly flash her ass beneath the short shirt she wore above her favorite fishnets. Whoever was behind her owed her money for the show.
Her hair was loose, fallen to the small of her back in lazy pink waves, accents of orange speckled here and there. Her gait was rather hasty - a habit she'd picked up over the months after seeking to shed extra calories. Despite the innately open nature of her speech, she was never eager to spill the beans about her eating disorder. The PTSD? Sure! The anxiety? She'd gush about the horrors. But something about her food intake, or lack thereof, was immensely personal. Deep down, she knew exactly why it was that such an ailment plagued her. In her case, it was self-prescribed treatment for what she assumed was deserved.
After entering the school-grounds, she revised the message on her phone one more time. Orientation. Right. She knew where that was.
Just before slipping inside the rendezvous room, Soraya popped a vyvanse and dry swallowed after a failed attempt at harvesting lemonade from her empty drink. It wasn't her prescription, but that wasn't the point.
The room was only sparsely populated, characters of extraordinary difference looking tired, preoccupied, and cautious. The RA, Duke Ingram, offered up a wave upon sight of the female with her hand clenched around a cup only now classified as trash. She tossed it with a grin, lifting her fingers at Duke before pulling herself onto a table and crossing her legs. They swung beneath her as she sighed through the nostrils. Soraya felt up the inside of her pockets (mhm, a skirt with pockets! such a rare, incredible blessing) until she felt the frigid and smooth surface of the glass figurine she'd crafted two years ago. It was small enough to fit in her palm; a yellow kangaroo, with an orange kangaroo baby nestled within its pouch. She felt nothing when she looked at it now. It had lost its novelty, and become an unneeded weight in her pocket.
Yet casting it into a dark drawer seemed too cruel a fate for it, so she kept it close. It represented her mother and baby sister, as you could likely have concluded. It used to drag her mood down the drain to study it over and over, night after night. But by now, it was just another thing she'd crafted. Was that recovery, or sociopathy? Both made her uneasy.
The clouds streaked overhead sculpted into inconceivable shapes by the gusts blown about, causing Sora to repeatedly flash her ass beneath the short shirt she wore above her favorite fishnets. Whoever was behind her owed her money for the show.
Her hair was loose, fallen to the small of her back in lazy pink waves, accents of orange speckled here and there. Her gait was rather hasty - a habit she'd picked up over the months after seeking to shed extra calories. Despite the innately open nature of her speech, she was never eager to spill the beans about her eating disorder. The PTSD? Sure! The anxiety? She'd gush about the horrors. But something about her food intake, or lack thereof, was immensely personal. Deep down, she knew exactly why it was that such an ailment plagued her. In her case, it was self-prescribed treatment for what she assumed was deserved.
After entering the school-grounds, she revised the message on her phone one more time. Orientation. Right. She knew where that was.
Just before slipping inside the rendezvous room, Soraya popped a vyvanse and dry swallowed after a failed attempt at harvesting lemonade from her empty drink. It wasn't her prescription, but that wasn't the point.
The room was only sparsely populated, characters of extraordinary difference looking tired, preoccupied, and cautious. The RA, Duke Ingram, offered up a wave upon sight of the female with her hand clenched around a cup only now classified as trash. She tossed it with a grin, lifting her fingers at Duke before pulling herself onto a table and crossing her legs. They swung beneath her as she sighed through the nostrils. Soraya felt up the inside of her pockets (mhm, a skirt with pockets! such a rare, incredible blessing) until she felt the frigid and smooth surface of the glass figurine she'd crafted two years ago. It was small enough to fit in her palm; a yellow kangaroo, with an orange kangaroo baby nestled within its pouch. She felt nothing when she looked at it now. It had lost its novelty, and become an unneeded weight in her pocket.
Yet casting it into a dark drawer seemed too cruel a fate for it, so she kept it close. It represented her mother and baby sister, as you could likely have concluded. It used to drag her mood down the drain to study it over and over, night after night. But by now, it was just another thing she'd crafted. Was that recovery, or sociopathy? Both made her uneasy.
coded by natasha.
uginati
New Member
Hattie Carson.
Hattie Carson had never been late before in her entire life.
Never, ever.
Punctuality had been drilled into her head ever since she was in kindergarten, the importance of good first impressions and making strong connections and all of the things her mother had tried to instill in her. It had worked. Stuck to her like glue and she’d obsessed over meeting every expectation with flying colors.
But today, she knew she was already failing.
She hadn’t expected being so far away from home to be so…odd. Homesickness wasn’t something she ever thought she’d believe in, but looking outside her window and seeing an expanse of strangers instead of the comfort of her backyard made her feel…hollow. Like her chest had caved in and there was nothing but a gaping hole where her heart used to be.
That sounded so dramatic when she thought about it more, like she was waxing poetic when she should have been focusing on the good parts of being away from home. That was hard when her mother wasn’t calling or texting her like she’d promised, though. The last message she’d received was a “I’ll call you later this week. Promise!” And then radio silence.
She was busy. Like always.
Hattie stuffed her phone in her pocket, tired of seeing an empty lockscreen, “Mom” or “Olive” nowhere to be seen. Loneliness was her worst fear, and now she had it in spades.
Her chest felt tight when she left her dorm room, barely bothering to say anything to her roommate, though she supposed she should remedy that after the day was said and done. Good first impressions and all that. But right now, every tick of the watch on her wrist reminded her that she was almost late, and if she didn’t get things in gear now she’d hate herself for the next year.
The text from Duke, the RA, had promised breakfast but Hattie couldn’t have the toast and she didn’t even like eggs. Whatever, with the way her anxiety was twisting her stomach in knots, she didn’t think she could stomach anything anyway.
Hattie stuffed her hands into her pockets, a nervous tick her mother had tried coaching her out of, “come on, Hattie. Head up. Shoulders back. Stop fidgeting with your pockets.” And then she’d mumble something in Russian and Hattie could never understand it because languages never came easy. Hattie took a deep breath, her lungs burning with the effort, but it made her hands shake a little less. She nodded in Duke’s direction when she passed him, relieved that he looked distracted, his face in his phone and the eggs he had in the pan on the stove looked like they were somewhat burnt. Not worth three dollars. She looked around the room, feeling butterflies in her chest—the kind with razor-sharp wings that seemed to cut up her insides when they moved. She tensed. She noticed a myriad of people she’d be somewhat interested in speaking too—a blonde whose dress was hiked up far enough for Hattie’s cheeks to flush red from the sight of it. Another girl with pinkish-orange hair and an aesthetic she’d never seen before from the safety of her prep school.
Deep breaths.
1, 2, 3.
Hattie turned her attention back to the floor, and found her seat with a sigh.
This was going to be a long day.
followingnorth
at least the wall will change
Charlie Zhang
locations: multiple // tags: none
Charlie walked into the common room at twelve thirty-four on the clock, only to very rapidly realize that orientation was at one thirty.
Oh god. She'd spent the last half hour pacing anxiously in her room for nothing.
On her way back to her room, she tripped over her own foot while thinking very intently about how much she wanted to sink into the floor with mortification, and tumbled and rolled until she was flat on her back in the middle of the hallway. Then she started thinking about how much college costed, and really, was a lifetime of utter shame and debt worth the piece of paper?
Charlie laid there for another minute or so, and then got up and quietly let herself back into her room.
"Please tell me no one saw me," she chanted under her breath, and crumpled onto her bed. So, all in all: not a great day.
Somehow, the thought of not actually attending the orientation didn't cross her mind until it was one thirty-one and she had stepped into the common room with enough dread to power a small country.
She hadn't paid Duke for food because she'd already eaten, but now she wished she had, just for something to do other than bounce her knee frantically and try not to make direct eye contact with anyone in the room.
One way or another, this was going to be...interesting.
Oh god. She'd spent the last half hour pacing anxiously in her room for nothing.
On her way back to her room, she tripped over her own foot while thinking very intently about how much she wanted to sink into the floor with mortification, and tumbled and rolled until she was flat on her back in the middle of the hallway. Then she started thinking about how much college costed, and really, was a lifetime of utter shame and debt worth the piece of paper?
Charlie laid there for another minute or so, and then got up and quietly let herself back into her room.
"Please tell me no one saw me," she chanted under her breath, and crumpled onto her bed. So, all in all: not a great day.
Somehow, the thought of not actually attending the orientation didn't cross her mind until it was one thirty-one and she had stepped into the common room with enough dread to power a small country.
She hadn't paid Duke for food because she'd already eaten, but now she wished she had, just for something to do other than bounce her knee frantically and try not to make direct eye contact with anyone in the room.
One way or another, this was going to be...interesting.
shapeshifter
broke b
camilla rossi
code by yousmelldead
Fatima Khatri
the attorney
So the day has finally arrived… Who-- do tell, would be the first for Fatima to threaten to send to court?
Fatima was standing with her fierce gaze fixed onto the entrance of ICU, she was constantly fiddling with her phone as if someone were to call her at any moment. Not to be misinterpreted, Fatima was not nervous—no, she does not get nervous, according to her own words. She was only simply attempting to push down any complaints that were giving rise to suspicions in the depths of her mind. The school was as dull and depressing as she originally thought, which brought up the question of why her sister so-desperately wished to attend the prestigious university. Fatima had more than a couple of things to critique this school about but in the face of her prideful mother and disappointed sister, how could she bring attention to these logical evaluations? Fatima sighed, though it sounded more like an exasperated groan. Now was not the time to chip away at her own sanity, she needed the majority of it to deal with whatever events could take place.
The attorney-to-be strode into ICU, making her way towards her hall and glancing down at her phone from time to time. She could not help but slightly jump when she felt that familiar buzz of an incoming message.
Ah, it was Madura. Fatima truly felt pity for her poor sister, and here she was attending Madura’s dream school with a hesitant heart. In theory, Fatima should be more than happy to be granted the opportunity to enroll in such a school. However, seeing her sister’s poor attempts at hiding her clear distress was enough to prevent that from happening. At least she was still upholding the expectations to be a good big sister to Fatima, and that is all she could really ask for. Fatima took the time to stop in the middle of the hallway, moving a few inches to the right or left, depending on who wanted to push by her to get to their own dorm room. Her right thumb danced across the phone screen, making the occasional mistake which autocorrect was obliged to fix almost immediately.
She knew how slow her sister could be at responding to texts, therefore Fatima promptly resumed her pace towards her designated dorm room. She did risk a couple cautious glances at her hallmates, already judging them based on their appearances or any audible hints she could receive from their voices. Once Fatima stepped into the dorm, she froze mid-way, seeing the baggage of what seemed to be her roommate. Though she didn’t exactly know where her roommate could be, the importance of that appealed less to her.
She began unpacking her things on her side of the room, making sure to properly fold her clothes and place items in their locations.
_ _ _ _ _
Her stay at ICU had only lasted about a day before Fatima was already contently investigating and lurking around the library of the university. The extensive collection of books they had brought more than enough joy to Fatima and soon she was doubting some of the critiques she made about the school. Another buzz went off within her coat pocket and she reached in. She searched for her phone amidst the folded info papers, forms she will never fill out despite the promises she made to the ones handing them out, and random paper clips. It was most likely Madura again, the girl would not stop bothering her little sister since the time she arrived at ICU. To Fatima, it felt as if Madura was trying to live her dream through her sister, asking for pictures of every aspect of the campus as if she were there herself. She would even go as far as to facetime her, but Fatima would gladly reject that offer.
Her brown eyes lit up slightly upon seeing that the message was from the RA, reminding everyone about the meeting. Right… social interaction… Fatima did her best trying to avoid others, but it was time to put to use her nonexistent social skills. This was college as well, in high school she had an easier time being an introvert until Demetria spawned in out of nowhere. In fact, Fatima might have at least some people skills she acquired from the popular girl. Yet, she highly doubted the supposed-proficiency she had in those skills would be high enough for her to actually make a friend.
Fatima would rather eat rocks than eat whatever horrid food they were serving at the group; someone might have poisoned it for all she knew. And so, she was avid to prepare her own lunch before her inevitable doom.
Upon arriving to the common room, Fatima took a good look at the ones who had already settled into the couches and lounge areas. She could already feel the imminent clashing of ideals and personality traits as soon as she finished scouting out potential acquaintances. Nonetheless, this was a time for alliance-forging. After nodding briefly in acknowledgment to Duke, who seemed to be too preoccupied with his phone and cooking, she reexamined her choices of who to sit with first. If anything, speaking with her roommate would be the best course of action. After all, Fatima was going to spend her entire freshmen year with this girl.
“Make sure to smile, Fatima. Smile. Not frown, not… uh, whatever that was that you did before. Smile! Like this, see.”
Demetria’s cheerful voice was already echoing through Fatima’s mind and she felt as if Demetria was walking in alongside her. Maybe she should at least try to put Demetria’s valuable advice to use.
She looked more like a robot closing in on a target than a human being wanting to make friends. Fatima did not even bother to sit down in one of the chairs, she only leaned awkwardly against them. “Greetings… Soraya.” Fatima said as she stretched her mouth into what she thought was a smile and welcoming look, when in all actuality, it was more of a pained expression. Yes, the best way to make friends, resemble an alien from outer space attempting to adapt to Earth’s customs. Wonderful, Fatima.
coded by natasha.
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timshel
𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙨𝙩
no-eyed-girl
🍩✧･ﾟ: *
code by yousmelldead
ISAAC VARGAS
Keira Winston
Golden State of Mind
Amber
code by yousmelldead
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laburnum gold
you know ;)
ORIENTATION.
— duke ingram
— iris, spring hall, 3rd floor, common room
— iris, spring hall, 3rd floor, common room
Duke grins at his venmo notifications. He hadn't actually meant it when he sent the message out. Not entirely anyway. He's completely willing to pocket his residents' money, though, and makes sure to remember who paid him off.
The counter fills up with plates of toast and eggs by the time he's done preparing it all. It's not enough for everyone in the hall, but he's just here to provide something to occupy themselves with before convocation. Loading up his arms with the plates, he turns and places things down on the empty edges of the table.
"You didn't actually have to pay me, so take what you want," Duke says. His voice is low, a little raspy. It sounds like he's not one to talk much. After he's placed plastic utensils down within people's easy reach, he straightens up at the head of the table. Absentmindedly, he stretches his shoulders and in the quiet hum of the whirring air conditioning, it's easy to hear the crack of his bones. He tacks on, "No refunds, though, sorry."
He slides the bills back to the shy girl quietly. He doesn't deal with cash.
Taking in the dozen people under his watch, he can't help but be dismayed. Nothing on them, though he pointedly doesn't look at bunny ears or short skirt. RA's were required to put up with people's bullshit. Duke can barely manage his own.
"So, we have some things to do for... an hour and a half, Jesus Christ." His phone is open to everything he's supposed to do with them before he drops them off for a tour, and he can't help but let out a snort at the list. "Sorry, sorry," he laughs out, "this whole thing is like elementary school."
He points at the materials on the table. "That's supposed to become your vision board for the year. Arts and crafts what you want freshman year to look like and we'll, shit, hang it up or something."
He squints at his phone again. "Wait, ice breakers first, sorry. 'Pair up and tell each other your names, pronouns, intended major, where you're from, and a fun fact.' Yikes, okay, whatever."
As he puts his phone down to organize everyone, his home screen lights up with a notification. It's easily readable to anyone nearby. The contact name says Mary Shelley. The message:
meet u in 15
; )
Duke hurriedly slides his phone into his pocket. He cracks the fingers on his left hand in succession. Small popping sounds for every second he deliberates. Laughing haltingly, he says, "Oops, so, uh, you guys can just group up, draw some vodka handles, say hi. You're adults, I trust you. This doesn't have to take that long, so do what you want and I'll just be over here."
He went over to lean against the counters, phone already out, and furiously texting back whoever he's nicknamed the author of Frankenstein.
The counter fills up with plates of toast and eggs by the time he's done preparing it all. It's not enough for everyone in the hall, but he's just here to provide something to occupy themselves with before convocation. Loading up his arms with the plates, he turns and places things down on the empty edges of the table.
"You didn't actually have to pay me, so take what you want," Duke says. His voice is low, a little raspy. It sounds like he's not one to talk much. After he's placed plastic utensils down within people's easy reach, he straightens up at the head of the table. Absentmindedly, he stretches his shoulders and in the quiet hum of the whirring air conditioning, it's easy to hear the crack of his bones. He tacks on, "No refunds, though, sorry."
He slides the bills back to the shy girl quietly. He doesn't deal with cash.
Taking in the dozen people under his watch, he can't help but be dismayed. Nothing on them, though he pointedly doesn't look at bunny ears or short skirt. RA's were required to put up with people's bullshit. Duke can barely manage his own.
"So, we have some things to do for... an hour and a half, Jesus Christ." His phone is open to everything he's supposed to do with them before he drops them off for a tour, and he can't help but let out a snort at the list. "Sorry, sorry," he laughs out, "this whole thing is like elementary school."
He points at the materials on the table. "That's supposed to become your vision board for the year. Arts and crafts what you want freshman year to look like and we'll, shit, hang it up or something."
He squints at his phone again. "Wait, ice breakers first, sorry. 'Pair up and tell each other your names, pronouns, intended major, where you're from, and a fun fact.' Yikes, okay, whatever."
As he puts his phone down to organize everyone, his home screen lights up with a notification. It's easily readable to anyone nearby. The contact name says Mary Shelley. The message:
meet u in 15
; )
Duke hurriedly slides his phone into his pocket. He cracks the fingers on his left hand in succession. Small popping sounds for every second he deliberates. Laughing haltingly, he says, "Oops, so, uh, you guys can just group up, draw some vodka handles, say hi. You're adults, I trust you. This doesn't have to take that long, so do what you want and I'll just be over here."
He went over to lean against the counters, phone already out, and furiously texting back whoever he's nicknamed the author of Frankenstein.
Queen.
silly little tragedy
SORAYA
code by yousmelldead
RykeMyers
Anna ou-!
LAUREN
code by yousmelldead
sidekicker
. . .
x X X XX X X X X X X X X X x . X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
X X X
tagged: everyone // mentions: lauren // loc. common room
tagged: everyone // mentions: lauren // loc. common room
Within the next ten or so minutes, the rest of her fellow hall-mates seemed to one by one make their entrances - some super subtle, like the doe eyed blonde girl who Marcy for some reason couldn't help but throw a few curious glances at; and then, the more... flamboyant entrances. High heels, and bunny ears? Interesting choice.
Marcy took a finishing bite of her toast, and drew her eyes back at Lauren's introduction. "Well, Lauren. Since you declared so nicely, sure."
The instructions from their rather disinterested and distracted RA were simple - introduce yourself, do a little arts n' crafts, make nice with someone. Basic ice breaker activities that everyone had been doing since age seven.
Clearly the same for this Lauren, as her response seemed practiced and easy. Someone who seemed way too used to introducing themselves.
"Political Science, huh? Super cool." She folded her paper plate upon itself, still with eggs inside that were too overcooked for her liking, and crumpled it into somewhat of a ball. "Your parents must be big name... What about your fun fact?"
Marcy was good at playing it cool, pretending to be unruffled when she was, in fact, probably ruffled. So when her partner drawled out 'have great stamina' as a response, Marcy was more close to the 'probably ruffled' side than she would've liked.
'Great stamina?? Was that an actual athletic quip, or did she mean it in the suggestive... Lauren's sudden octave change made it obvious.
But Marcy wasn't going to let some attractive, green eyed, 'shrimp-on-the-barbie' freshman get her flustered. Especially on her first official day.
"Wow, that fun fact is really fun." she sarcastically responded, breaking eye contact only to shoot her paper plate ball into a trash can maybe ten feet away. "I should've used that as my fact too, since no stamina matches that of a swimmers. But who am I to doubt you?" A smidge of a smirk threatened to crack her nonchalant expression, before returning to her regular, seemingly relaxed stance and diving in to the 'ice breaker' exercise.
"Anyways, my major is undecided. Lived in the U.S of A pretty much most of my life, but was born in Ontario, Canada. Uhh, let's see. Fun fact about me is I'm - " she thankfully caught herself before she finished that sentence.
'-an identical twin.' That would've been an easy fun fact, and a fun fact she'd used before. In the past. When she actually had a living identical twin to be a twin of.
That fact wasn't so fun anymore.
"I'm... pretty durable, as a person. Gotta keep in top-notch shape when you're as serious of an athlete as me."
She felt a pause creeping up, so she quickly moved along the subject. Off the coffee table, she picked up a light blue piece of poster paper and a random hand full of sharpie markers. Marcy nodded along for Lauren to follow her to the kitchen counter. "Anyways, let's get this third grader exercise over with, yeah? Also, hope it's cool we're using the light blue poster board." she wrote down her name on the right side of the poster, and drew a line down the middle. "Your side, and my side."
On her own side of the poster, she immediately colored in a dark blue rectangle that took up the majority of the space. Towards the bottom of her corner, she scribbled a red '4.0!!!' and circled it a bunch of times. Then pondered what the hell else to add... Artistic creativity had always seemed to be something that the young athlete sorely lacked.
Marcy took a finishing bite of her toast, and drew her eyes back at Lauren's introduction. "Well, Lauren. Since you declared so nicely, sure."
The instructions from their rather disinterested and distracted RA were simple - introduce yourself, do a little arts n' crafts, make nice with someone. Basic ice breaker activities that everyone had been doing since age seven.
Clearly the same for this Lauren, as her response seemed practiced and easy. Someone who seemed way too used to introducing themselves.
"Political Science, huh? Super cool." She folded her paper plate upon itself, still with eggs inside that were too overcooked for her liking, and crumpled it into somewhat of a ball. "Your parents must be big name... What about your fun fact?"
Marcy was good at playing it cool, pretending to be unruffled when she was, in fact, probably ruffled. So when her partner drawled out 'have great stamina' as a response, Marcy was more close to the 'probably ruffled' side than she would've liked.
'Great stamina?? Was that an actual athletic quip, or did she mean it in the suggestive... Lauren's sudden octave change made it obvious.
But Marcy wasn't going to let some attractive, green eyed, 'shrimp-on-the-barbie' freshman get her flustered. Especially on her first official day.
"Wow, that fun fact is really fun." she sarcastically responded, breaking eye contact only to shoot her paper plate ball into a trash can maybe ten feet away. "I should've used that as my fact too, since no stamina matches that of a swimmers. But who am I to doubt you?" A smidge of a smirk threatened to crack her nonchalant expression, before returning to her regular, seemingly relaxed stance and diving in to the 'ice breaker' exercise.
"Anyways, my major is undecided. Lived in the U.S of A pretty much most of my life, but was born in Ontario, Canada. Uhh, let's see. Fun fact about me is I'm - " she thankfully caught herself before she finished that sentence.
'-an identical twin.' That would've been an easy fun fact, and a fun fact she'd used before. In the past. When she actually had a living identical twin to be a twin of.
That fact wasn't so fun anymore.
"I'm... pretty durable, as a person. Gotta keep in top-notch shape when you're as serious of an athlete as me."
She felt a pause creeping up, so she quickly moved along the subject. Off the coffee table, she picked up a light blue piece of poster paper and a random hand full of sharpie markers. Marcy nodded along for Lauren to follow her to the kitchen counter. "Anyways, let's get this third grader exercise over with, yeah? Also, hope it's cool we're using the light blue poster board." she wrote down her name on the right side of the poster, and drew a line down the middle. "Your side, and my side."
On her own side of the poster, she immediately colored in a dark blue rectangle that took up the majority of the space. Towards the bottom of her corner, she scribbled a red '4.0!!!' and circled it a bunch of times. Then pondered what the hell else to add... Artistic creativity had always seemed to be something that the young athlete sorely lacked.
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shapeshifter
broke b
coded by weldherwings
timshel
𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙨𝙩
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