#class:starter

[obsessedwithao3]

Our teacher:I have an announcement to make

Classmates & me:all shift awkwardly in our chairs

Random classmate: You're pregnant?

Everyone:starts laughing

Teacher waits a bit and then says: we're going to(place pretty far from school)once Easter ends

Entire class:starts screaming in joy

[juniperalexander-blog]

caffeine was quite an addiction for someone as educationally invested as juniper. if she was seen without a coffee cup on campus it was cause for concern, and you should proceed with caution. especially when she was in the back of the starbucks queue. 

it was early enough that students would start to groggily make their way to the cafe’s and lecture halls, usually in sweatpants and the shirts from the day before. however, anybody with half a brain cell knew that juniper alexander could not be caught dead without a bare minimum of mascara and moisturizer. she stood in the back of the line, absentmindedly playing with the end of her side braided hair and glancing over the others in the cafe, people watching being her favorite thing to do to pass the time in moments like these. 

[viclinists]

open starter.

– IT’S ONE DAY LATER. it’s one day after the masquerade and she’s having that dream again. it’s the same as it always is, only this time, the killer is in a mask, and she’s still running as fast as she can. in these dreams, she’s always running, and she wakes up in her bed in a cold sweat, panting. 

this time, she doesn’t wake up in her bed. 

she wakes up just outside the east wing, and for a moment, her nightmare seems real and she can’t stop herself from screaming because for a moment, she’s certain that she’s going to be killed, that this is it, and that these are her very last breaths. and then she catches it – it’s that nightmare again, and it takes a moment to calm herself down, catch her breath, and remind herself that everything’s fine. clad in only her underwear and t-shirt with dark circles under her eyes, no one would believe that this was a nighttime stroll. so, when she hears the footsteps of someone who probably heard her yell, she knows that there’s no point in lying entirely. 

“sorry, i was just – sleepwalking,” she mutters, “i’m fine, i’m leaving.” 

[masonhcrrison]

open starter !!

some people hated studying, keeping a nose in a book for hours and imprinting words into your mind with hopes that you’ll pass a test by the skin of your teeth. but not mason, he actually thrived off of this, the pressure to succeed that he had placed on himself. he had booked a study room, windows surrounding him and giving a gorgeous view of the storm that had decided to grace scotland that day. the desk in before him was scattered in papers, chicken scratch notes and open textbooks, pages worn from turning them over and over again. 

a knock on the door caught mason off guard, he wasn’t expecting anybody to try and bother him when he was elbow deep in work like this. but whoever it was probably had a good reason, at least he hoped. “it’s open!” he spoke loud enough for his visitor to hear over a crack of thunder from outside, not looking up at his book just yet. he still had to make sure that whoever was here was worth taking his precious time. 

[emmaawoodss-blog]

“Oh – A guy at the coffee shop in the town decided to harass me into giving him my phone number so I decided to give him your number. I don’t know what’s worse, him or the fact that I know your number by heart. Either way, I hope he enjoys sweet-talking his way into your heart instead of mine. You can thank me later.”

[laurelmattison]

Laurel loved giving campus tours, it was one of the few things that had carried over from her old life to her new life. She smiled as she said goodbye to a nice family that had stayed after the tour to ask questions, walking backwards--a habit she picked up from being a tour guide. Laurel was usually quite good at it, until today, when she found herself walking right back into someone, stumbling. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

[higgiins]

zephyr looked like a disaster.  he knew.  did he regret what he did? no. but this was one of the few times that he didn’t appreciate the stares -- because he didn’t want to explain why he got the bruises perched on his face.  he was sat outside one of his classes, waiting for the class before his to be released to he could go to his seat.  out of the corner of his eye, he watched feet approach him as he stared blankly down at his phone.  he wasn’t fooling anyone -- the screen was still dark. 

“yes, i’m okay, and i’d rather you didn’t ask, ‘what happened.’“ he said bluntly, finally looking up at the other.  his black eye had gone down to the point where the swelling was gone, but the black and blue ring still sat prominently around his eye socket.  the bruise from pierce was also present, the rest of the bruises lay hidden under his shirt.

[aiinsworths]

                  he didn’t want to be here. the music was FAR too loud for his headache-ridden, alcohol-laced brain, and even then, his heart just wasn’t in it to socialize with people. after greeting and chatting with the cromwells, he decided that it was ENOUGH for the night, at least for now. he needed some air. parker chose to use the sides of the room to try and make his escape, not wanting to draw attention to himself as he moved through the crowed. “shit, sorry!” he called out above the music as his shoulder barreled into someone – he swore the damned mask made things a lot fucking harder, and right on cue, the DELICATE black ribbon that held it gently bridged on his nose came undone, revealing his identity (not that it was particularly concealed well in the first place). “listen … um, if anyone asks, you didn’t see me, yeah?”

[margaret-vanzin-blog]

“You might not want to go out there alone.” Whoever had attacked Florence was still out there. Even just the thought of it made Maggie’s heart sink, thoroughly nauseated. And the police-- hadn’t they thought the knife was the same one that Quentin’s murderer used? Maggie tried to quell the trembling in her hands. “I-- I won’t tell you what to do, but-- wouldn’t it be best if everyone makes sure they’re always two-by-two?” she suggested tentatively. “Just in case...”

[elizcvclencic]

this whole event was, you know, nice and probably could’ve been a lot of fun if it wasn’t a fundraiser for a memorial for quentin. early that night she put her game face on,  a perfectly filled lipstick smile and friendly eyes, and decided to get everything over with early, hitting all the important rounds like anyone she was going to see once the whole night, people she’d have to get back to after a drink or two, and finally the cromwells. 

eliza managed to make it through that meeting with a hug and a brief ‘how’re you doing’ before she was off to her own devices. now she was standing by one of the tables, cup in hand of what was definitely spiked punch. her pursed lips drifted into a smile once she realized someone had come up to her. 

“don’t you look nice.”

[chernyaevs]

the event was, misha figured, less for him and more for the society. it wasn’t a negative thing in his perspective, he didn’t enjoy ‘masquerades’ nearly as much as other people, but it did hinder him quite bored and feeling useless. he escorted himself and his gloom outdoors, where he sat with his chin in his palms on a row of stone steps. it hadn’t occurred to him he might have attracted company with his stance, well, until he did. “did they serve any pierogis yet? or does the society not like communist food?”

[rcvelers]

– YOU CAN RIDE BIKES ON CAMPUS. but not indoors. there’s bike racks outside for that. bike racks that paige has conveniently ignored as she barrels up the west wing, shouting, “get out of the way!” it’s in part because she’s late to class, but this isn’t the first time she’s done this – it’s just fun. there’s something about it that just feels wrong that makes it laughable.

she parks her bike at the handicap elevator, but not without almost hitting someone, fishing the keys out of her jacket pocket. “yeah, i know, the elevator’s only for imperium fucks or kids with broken legs, but uh,” she puts a finger to her lips, “don’t tell anyone, okay?” after all, what is she supposed to do? carry her bike up the STAIRS?

[piercekingsley]

it was probably morbid, but pierce couldn’t help but reiterating the thought of how he was glad it was quentin and not him. he was dialing down his obvious distaste for the other boy in the midst of everything, or at least he was trying to. the way his face showed exactly what he was thinking when he heard people mourn over someone he couldn’t stand could’ve very well indicted suspicion. another thing he was glad for, lissa being the one who was causing suspicion, framed or not it didn’t really matter to him.

pierce didn’t look over his shoulder when he heard someone enter the common area. before he permitted any words to be said, he interjected with his hand as he gazed out one of the windows. ❝ do you think i’m a bad listener? because i don’t know how many times i’ve been told that lately. ❞ he continued his inner monologue to himself thinking: a likely psychology major downfall. someone dumping their unwanted spew of thoughts on him, even if he extended the offer, not realizing they actually would. clearly they were the inconsiderate ones.

[viclinists]

– SHE’D CALLED HOME TODAY. what if i came back? she’d said. what, and fall behind on your studies? they’d said. odette hadn’t any intention of going home, she’d just wanted to see what they would say. it was funny how predictable they’d become. after calling, she realizes how late it is. almost midnight. trance-like, she gets dressed and sneaks out the back, not entirely sure what she’s looking for. clues? maybe. a killer? hopefully not. trouble? probably. 

wandering the grounds alone is better than lying in her bed alone, and for a moment, she’s able to put herself in quentin’s shoes. for him, it had been just another night, just another walk, just like now. had he been going somewhere? eyes drift towards the east wing when she trips over her feet. she cries out in surprise, which is enough to draw the attention of one of the officers guarding the crime scene near the east wing.

“hey! stop right there!” he calls. whether by instinct or sheer stupidity, odette runs in the opposite direction. funnily enough, her first thought is that she doesn’t want detention – not about being arrested. as she’s running, she takes a sharp turn, crashing headfirst into the person around the corner. “fuck, watch where you’re going,” she gasps, her panic keeping her from processing who it is, “and run.” and she takes off again.

[juniperalexander-blog]

(( open starter !! set after her father’s funeral -- tw for sudden death due to illness, as well as mentions of mental illness. ))

one week had passed. a week had gone by since juniper had heard daniel’s voice -- her father’s voice. a week since she had smiled genuinely, a week since her father gregory had spoken more than a few mumbled words, a week since her entire world had fallen apart. 

she had left ashcroft for a total of thirty eight hours and fourty three minutes ( of course she had counted ), dealing with most of the funeral over the phone. gregory could barely stand, his soulmate was gone from this world before anybody could say goodbye. june’s soft side, the one that came from her birth mother and daniel, told her to stay home. take care of him, take the summer off--instead she had him schedule hours with a therapist and got him on anti-depressants. that was the selfish side of her, the bitch that didn’t want to deal with the grief herself and so she couldn’t even help her last living family member deal with it. 

she had arrived back to her dorm shortly after the funeral with parker in tow, who kept june company in her dorm until they fell asleep. while warren had offered to give her a break, have her take it easy, she declined as gracefully as she could. that was her new routine--ignore until it boiled over. the next morning she got herself together. curling her hair, painting on her signature red lip, concealing the purple under her eyes. daniel wouldn’t want to see you like this, she thought. she had to put on a brave face, finish the semester, take care of her dad from afar. anything else was at the bottom of her list.

juniper walked into the coffee shop, having not been in the building in days and yet it felt like it had changed. she had decided to wear her father’s old ashcroft shirt, an old faded logo splashed on the gray fabric. she repeated her new mantra to herself as she stood in the line: ignore the stares, bite back at anybody who starts to ask questions, and don’t you dare fucking cry.

[emmaawoodss-blog]

her week home to london was everything she needed right now. to be reminded that there is a world outside the campus grounds and to be wrapped up in the arms of her parents couldn’t be described as anything short of perfect. emma felt inspired again -- a stream of new ideas for her portfolio for her class taking up most of emma’s thoughts. 

one thing she remembered to bring back from london with her was a guitar her father gifted to emma for her sixteenth birthday. as soon as she had the time she naturally gravitated towards the music room ( the sound of her acoustic always sounded better there ) and hoped that she hadn’t lost her touch because it had been months since she last played. 

sitting down on a stool, tuning the guitar before finally taking a breath and began playing the chords to sia’s ‘elastic heart’ and finally, began singing the words. near the end of the song, the abrupt sound of the classroom door opening cut her off and she immediately stopped. “ uh, hi there. didn’t think anybody would be passing by this late. “