mamma mia !! // HERE I GO AGAIN !

multi-muse descriptive roleplay account by ayre // and i can dance with you honey, if you think it's funny, but does your mother know that you're out?

[hencethosetears]

bad habit // @ofplanetsloved

oh, roger was drunk. clearly. drunk off of the alcohol, off of the kiss, off of the feeling of mark’s hands and lips and - 

a voice in his head was screaming at him. but that was nothing new. voices in his head screamed more than they whispered. it was wrong, and he knew it was wrong for so many reasons. roger was positive. mark was dating maureen. roger was a recovering addict and could barely make himself get up in the morning, he’d seen the dark and gritty parts of the rock ‘n roll world, and that's something he wanted mark to have no part in. and maybe it made him a bad person, but he didn’t care at all.

he felt mark’s hands make their way to his forearms, trailing over his track marks, and part of him practically felt mark’s mind going a million miles an hour. 

roger smiled a bit, settling into the kiss, and then - 

nothing.

it took a moment for the words to register in his mind, but when they did all he could do was bite his lip, and take a step back.

“you’re serious?”

he tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down, suddenly very aware of the exposed track marks.

“is this a game to you?” he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat - roger doesn’t cry - “why did you kiss me if you were just-” he blinked a couple times - not in front of mark - and his voice began to rise “don’t play with my feelings - you’re just as bad as maureen!” 

roger caught himself, and took a couple more steps away, leaning against the wall and hoping, praying, that mark didn’t see his watery eyes or hear the hitch in his breath.

[hencethosetears]

@fedtodeath

there weren't many things will knew with utmost certainty. he knew that his world was confined to jingletown and the 7/11 parking lot. he knew that he, johnny, and tunny usually hung out on saturday nights, doing fuckall and getting touchy enough to the point that will had to tell himself everything was purely platonic between him and johnny. he also knew that johnny always chose the worst characters to main in whatever game they were playing.  eyes darting between the screen and the half empty can of beer beside him, will watched as johnny scrolled through the character selection list for what felt like the hundredth time that night - and they hadn't even started the game of smash. "are you done?" will asked, resting one hand on his controller and fucking up his perpetually messy fro with the other, "i'd like it if we could play before the night ends." it usually wasn't just will and johnny. alone. tunny was usually there, but he was out with his girlfriend tonight. will had never even met her, but he could practically picture her. she was probably blonde. pretty. not much older than them but probably much more interesting. tunny had mentioned her name once or twice- amanda. not that will was jealous. or angry. or anything like that. he just had trouble being alone with johnny- even when they acted like they always had, wrestling and being way too physical. because lately, when they were wrestling, and johnny's fingertips would graze against will's back, a shiver would find its way down his spine, distracting him and usually giving johnny almost an advantage when they were wrestling. so. no. being alone with johnny wasn't the most ideal for him.

[hencethosetears]

will: what number am i thinking of?

johnny, smoking a blunt: 420?

will: what? of course not. i'm not that immature. tunny, guess. and be serious about it.

tunny: is it 69?

will: yeah it's 69

[am-a-disappointment]

"but when he comes, they don't know how to go"

[homecoming]

dear will: it sucks that you are not here. 

[key-change]

[hencethosetears]

stoner central // @liabilitty

he probably did smell like weed. rather it was him smoking it or someone around him smoking it was up for interpretation. but lucas wasn't a druggie, per se. he preferred the term independent entrepreneur or a home remedist. his friends just called him a stoner, which. wasn't untrue. but still.  rockstars were religious figures. and his gods were billie joe armstrong and patti smith.  you really can tell a lot about someone by their music taste. he didn't even mean to start the conversation either. he didn't know that “hey, i like your shirt,” would end up turning into “but have you heard king for a day? he's a-” which somehow, led them here. "i mean- yeah. alice cooper made it. i don't like crediting him because he voted for bush." a beat. "that sounds dumb, doesn't it? i don't know. hell, even johnny-" he lowered his voice, as if swearing would be the thing to get him kicked out of the library, "-fucking rotten thought trump wasn't racist." lucas always wanted to talk. just about anything. he could probably sit and chat for hours about this. he couldn't play any instruments, and can barely hold a tune, but that never stopped him from trying to absorb all the knowledge about rock music he could.  "it would make sense for me to have a book, wouldn't it?" he looked around, and leaned to the side, swiping the nearest book off the shelf. "which is why i have this..." he looked down, and then looked back up, "complete guide to a california vacation." 

good job rebekah, you’ve just befriended an idiot.

[hencethosetears]

new muse, new tags

[hencethosetears]

bad habit // @liabilitty

when he was seventeen, roger shot up drugs for the first time. he had sat in a dingy, damp basement party, pressed behind the old couch with a beautiful stranger that had the prettiest brown eyes he had ever seen. the stranger helped him tie a lace from his boots around the top of his arm, and gently, gently, held his hand as roger injected the needle into his exposed vein. the initial sting had hurt, obviously, but the rush of euphoria he felt quickly outweighed the prick of pain. a feeling of warmth had overtaken him, and with a lazy smile, the beautiful stranger whispered to him - “now you’re a real rockstar.”

roger thought would never feel anything better than the first time he shot up drugs, but it seemed he was wrong.

because, for all his practiced confidence, and all his asshole-ish behavior, roger still got light-headed when someone he liked kissed first. chapped lips pressed to his own (lips that were totally not carefully brushed over with the most neutral shade of angel’s lip gloss) never failed to make him feel as if he could fly.

when someone kissed first, roger could let himself rest, even if it was only for a brief moment. he could let himself feel the warmth he used to feel. he could let the tingling warmth spread throughout his body, all the way to the tips of his fingers.

mark was... not the best kisser, not by a long shot. but all the pent up feelings, all the late nights where he stole a glance over his shoulder and gazed at mark, watching as the stress disappeared from his beautiful face while he slept, all of that went away. and it went out through the kiss. 

he was in love, he realized. he was in love. with mark. with everything about him. with his eyes, his lips, his words, his hair, his manner, his awkward laugh, his hands- fuck, where were his hands?

he took one of mark’s hands in his own, guiding it to rest on his cheek. there we go. were they not kissing, and were he not so caught up in the moment, he’d break off to make a joke about where mark should put his hands. 

instead, he shifted his weight forward, letting his eyes flutter shut as he parted his lips the smallest bit. another invitation. an invitation to keep the fire burning.

[hencethosetears]

starter for @liabilitty

the public library was too damn quiet for lucas to deal with. even at st. cecilias, there was always some kind of noise in the background of whatever he was doing, but people seemed to follow the rules of silence to the extreme at public libraries, and he hated it. he didn't read much. the assigned readings at school bored him half to death, and the school library never had what he wanted. he couldn’t give less of a shit about the censored, parent and preacher approved books at school. he wanted to read about the rockstars, not the religious figures. it was a disgusting kind of fascination he had with the rockstars who went off the deep end, pouring over the lives of motley crue and marking the pages that were far too dirty for even him to read under the desk in class. lucas wanted to marvel at the antics of jimi hendrix, wanted to feel the explosion of the 90's punk rock movement in his heart, not doze off attempting to understand whatever the HELL martin luther was talking about. "yeah, janis joplin was really cool, i love her music. i mean, she literally shaped classic rock," he said in a hushed tone, still locked in the conversation with the girl- rebekah, he thinks her name was -in the library he'd been talking to for the past, what, thirty minutes? "but patti smith basically invented punk."

[ofplanetsloved-deactivated20210]

open starter from ilse neumann

wild nights– WILD NIGHTS!

she dragged the others hand out the door, a train of her meadow green dress trailing around her, spinning around her ankles. persephone had nothing on her connection to the earth, dirt curling under her toes– she had forgotten her shoes again, silly mistake. “have you ever seen a live performance piece?” she asked, reading street names. “this one is about the circle of life– WOMB TO GRAVE! you have to come see it with me.”

[hencethosetears]

how wendla WISHED to! she wished she could say yes, without a shadow of a doubt, for she has missed ilse immensely. “oh, my mama would never if she heard what it was about-!” and yet, it was so hard to refuse. for if ilse was persephone, then wendla must be one of the graces! perhaps thalia of good cheer, for wendla could simply not hide her smile around the wild girl. “actually, i feel i shall tell my mother im at anna’s- oh, i must come with you, ilse! do they take KINDLY to strangers like me?”

[hencethosetears]

— ❛ NO VISIONS OF THE FUTURE . . .                                                                                                     . . . 𝘚𝘖 𝘓𝘖𝘚𝘛 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘈𝘓𝘖𝘕𝘌  ❜

like for a starter from PRINCESS MARY from GREAT COMET

[hencethosetears]

— ❛ 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 . . .                                                                       . . . 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙎 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝙊𝙊𝙉𝙇𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏  ❜

like for a starter from WENDLA BERGMANN from SPRING AWAKENING

[hencethosetears]

— ❛ 𝐼 𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝑂𝑂𝐷𝑆 . . .                                                          . . . 𝐵𝐸𝐶𝐴𝑈𝑆𝐸 𝐼 𝑊𝐴𝑁𝑇𝐸𝐷 𝑇𝑂 𝐿𝐼𝑉𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝐿𝐼𝐵𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐿𝑌  ❜

like for a starter from NEIL PERRY from DEAD POETS SOCIETY

[hencethosetears]

— ❛ 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙂𝙊𝘿 𝙈𝘼𝘿𝙀 𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙎𝙀 . . .                                                                                                    . . . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 ! ❜

like for a starter from CARRIE WHITE from CARRIE

[hencethosetears]

— ❛ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 . . .                                                                                                             . . . 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑫𝑰𝑬𝑺 ❜

like for a starter from ROGER DAVIS from RENT

[hencethosetears]

— ❛ 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐘'𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 . . .                                                                                                   . . . 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝐺𝐸𝑇 𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝑆𝐻𝐼𝑇 ❜

like for a starter from LUCAS CARTER from BARE: A POP OPERA