all or nothing.

'Cause I just wanna swing like Sinatra Singing like I can't stop 'Cause I could never rock like a Rolling Stone I just wanna live like the ones before, yeah And maybe I could play guitar like Hendrix Or save the world or end it And then maybe they'll remember me when I'm gone That's all I could ever want That's all I want

[carter-constantine]

moontuners·:

Latelt, she had gotten a strange habit of roaming the library in the dark, once everyone had decided it was time to call it a night and head back to their dorms. That was when the library felt hers and hers alone. She would head to the library around seven pm everyday to study once her classes were done and she would just stay. It wasn’t something she planned, it would just happed. There was something about the library that called to her, being surrounded by books felt somewhat comforting. More comforting than being left alone with her own thoughts — those would be waiting for her when she got back to he dorm, until then, she had the library.

She was putting back some of the books she had read over the past hour or so when she noticed how large her shadow was, caused by one of the lamps that stood somewhere behind her. Luna moved her head to the side, and so did her shadow, she tiddled her head to the left this time, and again, so did her shadow. As tall as a gigant, she thought. She was ready to go back to the table where she had set her things when another shadow joined in next to hers. If she hadn’t covered her mouth she would’ve screamed, instead what came out was an agitated gasp. “Jesus fucking christ! What the—” She exclaimed turning to face them. “You don’t do that to people, asshole!”

Carter wanted quiet, but they also wanted a change of scenery that offered them no distractions. It was time to pull an all nighter to finish their project for their music composition class. Just them, some headphones, and their laptop. Naturally, they doubted they’d find anyone else there at night. There was probably some conspiracy theory about the ghost of Steven watching over everyone in the library and making sure they were taking their studies seriously. Even in death, he’s Mr. Perfect. No surprise there. Headphones playing Radiohead on low, they cracked open the door and made their way into the library.

It was slightly cold in the library, dim fluorescent lights shining down like a poor excuse for sunlight, and the smell of yellowed pages wafted in the air. Not exactly Carter’s usual place to inhabit, but maybe they needed something new. And with the presence of words from so many brilliant minds accompanying them, how could they not find a little extra inspiration for their project? Their optimism only lasted so long, however. The nagging of the other inhabitant echoed throughout the library. They flinched, stunned for a moment before their surprise dissolved into irritation. “Do what? It’s not exactly my fault that you’re easily startled. Sorry for not wearing noisy jewelry or combat boots with chains on them or a fucking bell.”

[carter-constantine]

yvestrivedi·:

“I have never reached the level of sexual tension I have with the registrar office email address and the temptation to write my withdrawal from university,” Yves said, scrolling through his college profile, staring defeatedly at his average. “Think it’s too late to make profit on social media? How hard is it to go viral really?”

Carter furrowed his brows, plopping down on their couch with a slice of pizza. “Kind of insulted. Kind of thought there was something between us, Yves. Now you’re gonna leave me? Leave… our child?” He paused, a solemn expression gracing his face. “I forgot to tell you. I’m pregnant.” A small smile found its way on his lips as he got up and patted his roommate’s shoulder. “So, we’ll study together or something. It’ll work out, dude.” Sucking his breath in through clenched teeth, he scrunched his nose at the mention of going viral. “Depends. Do you care about your reputation or your future?”

[carter-constantine]

ilka-jollenbeck·:

@pyrrhicstarts·

Ilka leaned just a little closer to her laptop as she typed the name ‘Angel Beaumont’ into Google and awaited results. She selected the article displayed at the top of the list and clicked ‘yes’ when the pop-up asked her if she’d like to translate the page into German.

She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath as she stared at the screen in front of her, reading, for the first time, about how one of her fellow students at Thales University had been named as a suspect, the first suspect, in fact, in a murder case. Beste Freunde. She read the phrase and it sent a chill up her spine. The victim and the suspect had been best friends, perhaps even more than that by the sounds of things. She wondered what had happened between the pair.

While her thoughts were wholly consumed by Steven Walker and Angel Beaumont, the appearance of another student into the small courtyard where she had parked herself in the afternoon sunlight startled Ilka. “Fuck,” she cursed as she jumped in her seat, quickly shutting the lid of her laptop. “Sorry- not you,” she insisted, “Not at you, I mean,” she corrected herself, since the other student had clearly been the cause of her reaction, she just didn’t want them to think she had meant anything by it. “Hey- do you mind helping me with something?” she asked, a moment later, “Do you know this….local20 app?” she asked, wiggling her phone, “It’s not available to my Apple account- do you have it? Can I see it?”

Carter had been obsessing over this half written song for weeks. Their inspiration was clogged. Like hair in a shower drain. Soggy, dead, and of no use to absolutely anyone. After agonizing over the creative block for what felt like centuries, they finally decided to find somewhere quiet and peaceful. The courtyard came to mind. There was one close by, hardly ever inhabited save a few students passing time between classes. And bonus, it was outside.

Finally reaching their destination, Carter tucked their notebook under their armpit and lifted their hands in sarcastic surrender at the greeting they received. As the other fumbled with her explanation, their expression softened. “Thought you might have been one of my ex’s for a minute. Not unusual to get that kind of reaction,” they joked, settling down on a separate bench nearby. It was time to focus. Their pen was in hand, ready to ink the notebook paper until the other spoke to them again. “Hmm?” they asked halfheartedly at the question. Their luck to get stuck with someone so eager to have a conversation. “I’ve… never heard of it, actually. Is it a news app or something?” As the other continued to ask questions, they rose from their bench and fetched their phone from their jean jacket. This person clearly wasn’t gonna give up. “I don’t have it, but you can look to see if it’s on mine, I guess,” they offered, handing their phone to her.

[carter-constantine]

texts: open

dakota: a customer accused me of trying to poison her today. remind me why i haven't quit yet???

carter: bc then you lose the option to poison her for real

carter: or at least slip a laxative in her drink

carter: if she accuses you, just say it’s sorbitol. a natural sweetener that gives some people upset stomach.

[carter-constantine]

lytachatto·:

“Every semester, my electives have kicked my ass the most,” Lyta complained, flicking through her notes while very obviously not retaining any of it. “Is there a trick to choosing that I’m missing?”

“Probably because you’re not picking stuff you’re interested in,” Carter suggested, sliding into the seat beside her. They munched a crisp bite out of the apple they were holding before settling their attention on the notes. “What class is this?”

[carter-constantine]

✉ texts: open

casper: so i think i just turned in my original score instead of my business analysis report on accident

casper: you think i can say it's meant to show how you feel while looking at the data i collected?

carter: can you not re-submit?

[carter-constantine]

sinclairmilos·:

His head was killing him. It wasn’t anything new, he was used to the never ending headaches by now, it was the combination of his non-existent sleeping schedule and whatever narcotics were still in his bloodstream to blame. If he managed to not fall asleep during his first class today would be considered a big win.

He still had about ten minutes before he had to go in and find is seat in the class, he fumbled inside the pockets of his coat for his box of cigarettes. He brought one up to lips when he realized something, something that would’ve been obvious to anyone else. What exactly was his first class today? International Fiction? No, that was on fridays. Composition? That was on mondays, and today was monday, right? 

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself. Milo rubbed his face with one of his hands. He wasn’t as bothered by not knowing the day, as he was by the fact that his morning smoke would know be interrupted by his not knowing. Sure he could still smoke, but without something occupying his mind? Not likely now. He digged his hand back into his pocket for his lighter when he heard footsteps coming his way. “Hey, what day is it?” He asked without really caring who it was.

To put it simply, Carter was hungover. Partying was cyclical for him. He’d obsess over his music, obsess over his grades, and then, when he’d worn himself out, it was time to forget his responsibilities completely and potentially create problems for himself that were to be dealt with later. That was the way he’d always been with everything. All or nothing. Either every breath he took was dedicated to whatever was preoccupying his mind at that time, or he blocked it out completely. If there was grey to be found in the way he lived his life, he was almost certain he’d never find it.

Even with his aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes, the sun was offensive. Not only for the light it emitted, but also for the mood it gave off. Today felt like heavy rain, the kind that makes you feel like a wet dog when you walked into a building, and Carter believed that the world should reflect that. His internal monologue was interrupted by another’s voice. Suppressing the groan that threatened to erupt in his throat at the thought of talking to anyone in that very moment, Carter instead frowned. “Do you… not have a phone? Usually they can tell you that.” Fishing his iPhone out of his oversized jean jacket, he pressed the side button. “Tuesday.”

[carter-constantine]

opulcnts·:

˙✧* without looking up from their phone, vi scrunched their nose with disgust, shaking their head before giving a glance up to the person in front of them. “just fucking read them yourself?” sighing, they look back down. “also why’d you have to describe snot like that. why are you even describing snot to me ??” they gag at the thought; kids had really never been something vi liked, despite how much they seemed to like them. “read it yourself though. it won’t be complicated. or you could put them through google translate and let the soft sounds of an animatronic computer voice lull you to sleep while reading… whatever that’s for.”

Carter rolled his eyes back into his head. “What’s the point if I’m not retaining anything? Me failing this test leads down a slippery slope. If I fail, my expectations will adjust to my mediocrity. I will continue to fail and fail until I lose my scholarship. After I lose my scholarship, I’ll have to drop out. When I drop out, I’ll have no place to live. And then, I’ll have to resort to playing music on the sidewalk for loose change just to eat off the value menu. Do you really want to be responsible for me being homeless? Can you handle that on your conscience?” He raised his eyebrows at the other as if he’d just made a completely valid point. A small smirk found its way on his lips. “I’m an artist. I aim to create a visual.” As high strung as Carter could be in certain circumstances, the person in front of him seemed to be uptight when it came to… well, everything. Or at least when it came to Carter. “Music theory,” he clarified, glancing down to re-read a portion of the text he’d highlighted earlier. “Though I guess there wouldn’t be much difference between the droning of Google Translate and you.”

[carter-constantine]

Onyx polished nails tapped impatiently on the table as Carter made an effort to skim the required reading he’d neglected the night before, having opted instead to spent his time editing and re-editing a new song. Granted, it wasn’t likely there’d be a pop quiz, but it was important to maintain his grades for his scholarship. Letting out a slow sigh, he glanced up at the person across from him. “Think it’s time to file a missing person’s report for my brain. Or my sanity. Care to read my notes to me like an elementary school teacher reads ‘The Hungry Caterpillar’ to a bunch of kids with frog legs hanging out their noses?”

[carter-constantine]

(tyler young / demiguy ) CARTER CONSTANTINE is 22 years old and is a JUNIOR at thales university. HE/THEY is majoring in MUSIC and is known for being THE MELOPHILE as HE/THEY can be PASSIONATE and CREATIVE as well as INTENSE and OBSESSIVE. every time i see HIM/THEM, HE/THEY reminds me of CHIPPED BLACK NAIL POLISH ORNAMENTING CALLOUSED FINGERTIPS, LILAC TINTED UNDER EYES UNDERNEATH JET BLACK EYELINER, A LIVELY STAGE PRESENCE THAT UNDERCUTS HIS NORMALLY SULLEN DEMEANOR.

Background:

Grew up with his mother and twin brother, Cameron, in Marietta, Ohio. Dad died when he was 8.

His mother, Dianne, was obsessed with appearances. She wanted to prove that she was a successful single mother, so she put a lot of pressure on her kids to maintain that appearance. Carter and his brother were expected to pick up a sport, maintain good grades, and fit comfortably into a “golden boy” image.

From an early age, the stark differences in the two siblings personalities were apparent. Where Cameron was charismatic, great at soccer, and able to find his place amongst anyone, Carter was shy, artistic, and slow to warm up. Naturally, their mother favored Cameron.

Carter found refuge in music, and at age 14, he asked his mother if he could have guitar lessons. She refused, stating the reason as “Cameron needs new cleats for soccer, and I can’t afford both”. In response, Carter found a job at a local record store, saved up the money for a guitar, and taught himself over the internet.

Music eclipsed everything. Through music, he finally felt understood. Nirvana, Placebo, EDEN, Three Days Grace, Mayday Parade, My Chemical Romance, David Bowie, Foo Fighters, Radiohead, Ben Harper, Elliot Smith and many more made him feel less alone.

Music also helped him come to terms with his complicated relationship with gender. He’d never fully identified with the male experience but never felt entirely feminine either. Frontmen like Kurt Cobain, Gerard Way, and David Bowie helped mold the formerly narrow view of who he had to be, and later, he found the label demiguy resonated with him most.

He spent his high school years studying to get good grades, practicing his music, perfecting his songwriting prowess, and practicing his band instrument (alto saxophone) because he was determined to leave home. If asked to describe home, he’d just offer a blank stare and say “suffocating”.

He received a scholarship to Thales university and was all too happy to pack up and move somewhere else.

Currently in (former member) Worm’s band singing, playing guitar, and songwriting.

Personality:

Sagittarius sun, Pisces moon, Capricorn rising. ISFP. 4w3.

Generally comes across as kind of dry, sullen, and sarcastic. He may come off cold or distant to those he doesn’t know well as he’s naturally kind of distrusting.

Prone to emotional outbursts, especially when it comes to his musical image/legacy, relationships, etc. Not afraid to make a scene in public.

Super intense when it comes to music. Usually looks tired because he frequently stays up all night popping adderall to finish a song.

Loves parties because he sees them as an opportunity to numb all the emotions he often feels consumed by.

Kind of reckless but dismisses dumb choices he makes as “inspiration”.

Petty. If someone breaks his heart, he’ll write a song about them, immediately find a gig, pretend to make amends by inviting them to the gig, and then play the song at the gig just so they have to hear him.

Overall, just emo and chaotic tbh.

Wanted Connections:

Exes (bisexual, biromantic), brotps, party buddies, someone who lets him geek out about music without judgement, maybe someone he tutors?, hookups, rivals, enemies, roommates, a muse, crush (unrequited or otherwise), a levelheaded friend who tries to talk sense into him, etc.

[perths]

Tyler Young by Connor Franta 

[garboing]

Gregory Peck in Gentleman’s Agreement, 1947 | Elia Kazan.

[pickleston]

[reprisedpiece]

That’s one of the great things about music. You sing a song to 85,000 people and they’ll sing it back for 85,000 different reasons.

Dave Grohl ((the most beautiful quote I’ve read and it was said by a true legend))

[myunknowncherryblossom]