losers.png

like the brutal morning sun, it DAWNS on me — what have i done? saying sorry ain't as good as saying WHY, but it buys me a little more TIME. each fuck up that i make that makes you CRY. i'm as pathetic, as the reason why. in DESPERATION, all that you can do is ask me . . .

[loserspng]

✎ . . . a multimuse, dependent rpg blog for @campusloser written by kris.

mun : thirty+, pst, she / her roster : carter cortez . . . twenty5, team captain of the saint rivera titan's ice hockey team and a member of new directions. ( taylor zahkar perez ). micah de leon . . . twenty2, member of the cheerios!, student body government, and wellness club ( evan mock ). beau bristol . . . twenty5, member of film society, equestrian club,  and cloud appreciation club. ( tom holland )

[loserspng]

closed starter for @sing2you

the second he caught word from the cheerios about a rumored coup against the titans in glee, what else could he really do other than jab an icy cold knife in his teammate’s back? though his target was more personal, his blackmailer that initially brought him to glee, stella nasr. no, his opinion hadn’t changed on just how lame it was. especially after seeing the video of what a functioning show choir was supposed to look like. what started out as two 32 ounce big quench of blueberry blast reserved for the captain of the gleeks, had been swiftly reduced to just one. perhaps a gleek god was looking out for stella. or maybe they were looking out for him. either way, he hoped juniper ridley liao would use the slushy for good. upon arrival to the reserved practice room, he hears her naturally loud, loud voice from inside. would he have preferred something a little more public? maybe. but ideally the message would land the same. he hides the comedically large cup behind him as he steps inside, kicking the door behind him. “i brought you something to help chill you the hell out, stel.” he swings the cup around and tosses it from a considerable distance to avoid the splash zone. the icy goop lands right in the middle of net and he has to physically hold back from celebrating. “are we good on our little arrangement, or ...” he trails off, drinking whatever icy dregs are left behind in the cup.

[onwiththeshcw]

finally,  a  face  that  rhys  actually  wanted  to  see.  he'd  had  one  hell  of  a  start  to  the  weekend,  and  he  knew  carter  was  the  kind  of  person  he  could  blow  off  steam  with.  “bourbon,  straight  up,”  rhys  had  three  glasses  balanced  in  his  hands.  “one  for  you…”  he  handed  off  the  single  glass  to  carter,  “and  two  for  me.  cheers!”  he  clanked  his  glass  against  carter's  and  downed  it  in  one  gulp.  he  wasn't  super  far  out  from  his  concussion,  and  probably  still  should  not  have  been  drinking,  but  he  was  there  for  a  good  time,  not  a  long  time.  “so  who  am  i  wingmanning  for  you  tonight?  you  see  cece  here?” @loserspng

[loserspng]

as if they had never even fought, carter takes and sips the glass of bourbon after they cheers. his eyes go wide when rhys downs his in a single gulp. "whoa, maybe slow down and enjoy it?" the words sound a little pointed, but carter moves past it to take the second glass and pours half the contents in his own glass. "and not yet, i think she's still hiding from me," he trails off with narrowed eyes, scanning the room of partygoers. "are you sure you're good tonight? i thought bourbon was stuff rich people are supposed to, you know, savor."

[onwiththeshcw]

“i  styled  it  just  for  you,”  rhys  drawled,  running  his  fingers  through  the  curls  again.  truthfully,  he'd  ordered  a  dyson  and  it  came  with  a  diffuser  attachment.  he  would  take  that  secret  (as  well  as  his  love  of  carly  rae  jepsen)  to  his  grave.  when  carter  takes  a  seat,  rhys  shuffles  the  deck  one  more  time,  holding  it  out  for  carter  to  cut.  “you  ever  played  before?”  he  asks,  although  he'll  know  the  answer  to  that  question  soon  enough. he  starts  to  deal  out  the  cards,  a  seven  and  an  ace  for  carter  and  a  queen  for  him.  “insurance?”  he  asks,  as  he  peeks  under  the  card.  it's  not  an  ace,  so  no  blackjack  for  him.  “you  never  take  insurance.  it's  usually  a  scam.”  as  carter  speaks  about  halloween,  rhys  grimaces.  “what  makes  you  think  you've  given  her  the  ick?”  rhys  asks,  as  he  gestures  out  to  the  cards  as  a  dealer  would.  “eight  or  eighteen.  you  should  hit.  besides,  cecelia  clearly  likes  you.  as  much  as  she  can  like  a  person,  i  guess.  she  took  my  halloween  idea  and  transferred  it  to  you  two.” 

[loserspng]

a low hum of acknowledgment leaves the depths of carter's throat. truthfully his uncle had shown him how to play once when he was a kid. he only retained that the goal was to count to twenty one. seemed easy enough, right? "isn't all insurance a scam?" another oversimplification that goes over his head. he pauses to study the cards, counting in his head. "i've played once or twice," he finally admits. "beginner's luck totally still applies so i'll hit it -- just hit." he curses the glee club in his head. "she's probably icked out because she ditched me after the fight and went off with bianchi, but i guess you do have a point," he scratches his chin, still staring down at the cards. "i don't know, that makes it sound like she still likes you too, or she's trying to start a fight club," he shrugs, doubt swimming in his mind at the reassurance.

[whimsyhcrts]

"tell her the truth? the actual truth? micah, are you like .... insane? what makes you think she'll have any ounch of empathy for me? i've been keeping all of this shit a secret because i cared about my spot on the team that much," she confessed. it had been a selfish reason, one that she seemed to be regretting deeply over the last day or so. was a small taste of temporary popularity worth keeping her daughter's identity this hidden? "i don't know, i'm not sure i'm thinking straight right now. but, is any of this worth it? dealing with coach steele's constant bullshit? always walking on egg shells? it's torture."

[loserspng]

an excellent point that micah had no real counterargument for. when had he ever seen empathy from the coach? the sympathy was vouched for when the fake news had dropped about her grandmother. he unscrews the cap from the bottle and sighs. "the truth is out, so what else could she take from you? i guess you just have to ask yourself what do you want or just accept the decision has been made for you.” he sips from the water on the other side of the couch. “is it any worse than what you’re dealing with in glee anyway?”

[whimsyhcrts]

"are you sure you don't mind me having a sleepover at your dorm tonight?" savannah let out a giggle as she laid out on his bed. it sure had been a bit of a whirlwind the last few days, between the abrams house fire and getting demoted from the cheerios. still in the midst of securing an off campus apartment, she was thankful that she had people in her circle she could crash with. "honestly, just be lucky it wasn't the hummel house that got burnt to a crisp. it's just been drama central with all of my former dorm mates .... maybe you should help me forget about it?"

( closed starter for @loserspng )

[loserspng]

the bed frame creaks as carter settles on the edge of the mattress. it takes him a minute to finish typing out a text to his tutor with promises to meet up tomorrow morning. “i swear you’re good, sav. your entire dorm burned down,” he stresses, finally placing his phone on the nightstand. he moves to lift her legs and settles them in his lap, resting his hands on her thighs. “at least you have the chance to start over, find a better place, and hopefully chiller roommates,” he adds lightly with a soft squeeze. “you know i’m always happy to help.”

[oflos3rs]

𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴:   brooks' house,   @8:00PM.

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷:   [ 4 / 5 ]

   the party had been in full swing for all of ten minutes, which, in brooks' estimation, was plenty of time for things to start going wrong. case in point: the keg. somewhere between the first few people arriving and brooks deciding that he was, in fact, qualified to handle the keg himself, something had gone horribly sideways. beer was pooling around the base, the tap was refusing to cooperate, and brooks was crouched in front of the whole mess with one hand braced against the keg and the other fiddling uselessly with the nozzle. "okay." he muttered, mostly to himself. "this is not as complicated as everyone is making it out to be." another attempt. nothing. brooks squinted at the tap like it had personally offended him. "it's literally one job." he gave the nozzle another twist, only to get a thin sputter of beer that immediately splashed across his hand. he stared at it for a second before wiping his palm against the front of his shirt. then, sensing someone nearby, he glanced up. "hey." there was a brief pause as he looked between them and the increasingly questionable situation in front of him. "you know how to fix a keg, right?" he didn't wait for an answer before adding, with complete confidence: "because i definitely do. i'm just letting you have a turn."

[loserspng]

a keg was, unsurprisingly, on carter's wheelhouse of very limited expertise. once he learned how to do a keg stand, he had broken so many kegs in his freshman year that he was something short of a walking psa. plus, the perfect opportunity presented itself for carter to endorse a second set of hands on the ice. he nods at brooks, smiling along as if they hadn’t done this dance before. “is it my turn to fix it?” he asks rhetorically, squinting his eyes at the other. he bends at the knee to get a closer look on what he’s dealing with. “ah, i know what this is.” to reset what he calls spoutter, he turns two knobs until something hisses. “oh, uh, watch out, this part is kinda gross,” he warns as uses his empty cup to test the flow. he twists the nozzle and a fountain of foam quickly fills the cup until a steady flow of beer holds. a small mountain of sticky foam covers his shoes, but he takes the win. he reaches for some nearby paper towels to mop up the small mess. “if it breaks again then you can just bang on it until it works,” he shrugs, leaving the small mound of paper towels on the counter. abilene would be by to swipe them soon, he could feel it. “but if it holds all night then i kinda need a favor. so small, not at all a big deal.” he waves his arms around for emphasis.

[loserspng]

『 . . . ✎ 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✎ . . . 』

(﹙˓  ‍🎧  ˒﹚)          whoa,  did  you  just  hear  that  voice?  it's  so  recognizable  that  i  have  no  doubt  it's  beau  bristol.  i  don't  really  know  much  about  them,  but  i  heard  they're  a  twenty  five  year  old  creative  writing  major  in  their  third  year  of  study.  people  say  that  they're  humble  and  dependable,  but  rumor  has  it  that  they're  actually  reticent  and  stubborn,  so  i  guess  we'll  never  know  the  truth  unless  you  live  with  them in  off campus.  if  you  ask  me,  i  think  i'd  describe  them  as  the  late  bloomer,  but  their  spotify  wrapped  should  say  more  about  them,  in  which  the  boxer  by  simon  &  garfunkel, slow  burn  by  kacey  musgraves,  and  midnight  train  to  georgia  by  gladys  knight  & the  pips  are  amongst  their  most  played.  but  whatever,  i  wish  them  luck  on  their  endeavors  in  film  society,  equestrian  club,  and  cloud  appreciation  club   i  don't  know  how  they  have  time  for  all  of  that,  but  i  can't  wait  to  see  how  this  new  school  year  treats  them!    (  tom holland,  he / him,  bisexual  )      𝄞ˎˊ˗

🎤︎︎   ...   𝒃𝒊𝒐

( temp ! )

born and raised in fort valley, ga on his family farm. they grow mainly peaches and keep a few chickens and cows on their ten acres. the bristols are a pretty big family of seven with three boys and two girls. parents married at a pretty young age and expected the same for their children as is the norm in the south.

alongside his siblings, his childhood was split between being homeschooled and learning the ins and outs of the farm. with the farm having annual seasons for harvesting to the public, he found himself having fomo. eventually he asked to go to public school for his high school years in macon, ga. from there, he severely underestimated how different public school was and realized he was much more reserved than he knew. 

with his shyness, his teachers encouraged him to find a way to express himself freely without making so much noise. he finds solace in writing short stories about whatever is happening around him. some based on truth, some not. either way, an appreciation for storytelling blooms. a part of him thinks he wanted to branch out from his hometown, but he was misunderstood. and ofc his parents do not see the vision of his storytelling and pressure him to return back to the farm after graduation.

beau listens and starts working full time on the farm, but his curiosity persists. from word of mouth, he hears about saint rivera and applies with little hope. he adds an old story from high school and to everyone’s surprise, he gets accepted. it takes a while to convince his parents that it’s in his best interest to pursue whatever hell degree that lets him put his stories on screen.

he’s already starting his freshman year years behind, but he also takes a semester off every year just to go back home and help out. he also picks up a few classes in agriculture just to prove to his parents that it’s not a complete waste of his time. though saint rivera is unlike any other school he’s encountered, he has adjusted much better than his first round in high school.

 🎤︎︎  ...  𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔

 ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨name: beau bristol  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨age:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ twenty five  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨birthdate:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ july 31  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨astrological sign: leo  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨pronouns:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ he / him  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨hometown:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ fort valley, ga, usa.  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨sexuality:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ bisexual  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨orientation:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ biromantic  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨alignment:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ neutral good  relationship status: single

 🎤︎︎  ...   𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒚

⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨major:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ creative writing ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨year:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ third year extracurriculars: film society, equestrian club, and cloud appreciation club housing: off campus 

 🎤︎︎   ...   𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆

 ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨height: 5’ 8”  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨eyes:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ brown  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨hair:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ brown  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨scars:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ lost count around the age of ten  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨build:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ lean  ⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨⁨tattoos:⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩⁩ none

 

 🎤︎︎   ...  𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔

likes: being outdoors in any capacity, animals, having the overwhelming determination to walk anywhere, daydreaming, found families, murder mysteries dislikes: pressure, the term farmers tan, people watching, flawed characters, eavesdropping

 🎤︎︎  ...   𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

pls hold.

[sm0kesh0ws]

𝐖𝐇𝐎: indira kanneganti & micah de leon @loserspng

Indira spotted Micah roughly thirty feet away in the quad and immediately lit up like a Christmas tree. "Micah!" She exclaimed, waving both hands over her head to alert him. She hurried over, her infectious smile growing wider and wider with every step, practically running in his direction. "Oh my gosh! Hold on," she placed both of her hands on her thighs, heaving to catch her breath. "Con," huff. "Grat," huff. "Ulations." The dark-haired girl didn't even wait for him to ask what she meant before she threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug.

"Fiyero!" She pulled back, hands landing on his shoulders. "You're gonna be so good. Like, I can totally see it! You're like, so handsome and...." She trailed off, looking for a word, eyes narrowing. "Fiyero-y." Granted, she had only seen the movie once, but Micah for sure had a Jonathan Bailey thing going on. But just as excited as she was, her face then fell into a pout. "But," she sighed dramatically. "I'm sooooooooo sad Stella didn't get the lead. Like, I'm so happy for Mahayla, obviously!" One day she'll get her name right.

"We should celebrate! What are you doing for the rest of the day? Let's go do some shots!" Nobody tell her it's the middle of a school day.

[loserspng]

it's nearing the end of press week and micah had done mostly well on keeping a clean image. was he spread thinner than bobby kelmeckis's alleged bald spot? yes! but that was neither here nor there. he's deep in a social media black hole while leaving his last class of the day when he realizes the happiest person on campus is sprinting towards him. the idea to even met indira halfway doesn't occur to him until she's panting her congratulations. "oh my - thank you! just wait until i have fiyero hair!" he punctuates with a squeeze of his own. once they pull apart, he readjusts his fallen strap from his cheerios bag. "stella has won plenty, it's mckenna's turn to shine." he pauses. "probably. i don't know her that well actually." he makes a mildly sympathetic expression. "we'll see how she reads with clem, but i'm confident clem would have stage chemistry with a cardboard cutout." out the corner of his eye, he catches a camera likely filming b-roll for press week. he unzips his bag and peers inside. "shots?" he repeats in a louder tone. "i have some tumeric and ginger wellness shots, brought to us by nektar juice bar, juice for winners!" he beams just in case as he pulls out two small bottles. "they probably burn just the same."

[whimsyhcrts]

"i'm .... i honestly don't know? i feel like this shit just kind of came out of nowhere?" savannah admitted with a frustrated sigh. she had what seemed like barely five minutes to try to explain herself in the cheerios group chat before she was promptly booted from it. she knew coach steele was ruthless, but seriously? sav knew she was a good member of the team, so being kicked off from the squad was upsetting her more than she liked. entering into micah's door, her normally perfectly winged eyeliner was smudged across her face. looking like a hot mess, she at least knew that the boy wouldn't care about her apperance in the moment. "i doubt that she's ever going to let me back in. plus, all of you guys are probably just going to forget about me now that i'm on the outs."

[loserspng]

micah takes her hand and leads her through the dorm style apartment while she goes on. he sighs deeply before sinking into the couch. “first of all, no one is going to forget you, alright?” he begins. he lights a lavender scented candle that usually does nothing to calm him, but he hopes it’ll have an effect on sav. “second, i know it’s soon, but you could always just tell coach steele the truth. maybe deep, deep, deep down she’ll understand why you did it. and if she decides the rapport is ruined then, i don’t know, plant a glitter bomb in kelmeckis’s desk. just something to get back on her good side. the winning side.” he stands to run into the kitchen to grab drinks — bottled water and a bottle of limoncello from the freezer.

[hcngover]

aidan arches a curious eyebrow when micah incriminates himself. "oh, so you're admitting you've been spying on us? lettiing your friends do your dirty work? damn, traitor micah… you really have turned into a fullfledged cheerio," he lets out a quiet laugh, slipping his phone onto the mattress beside him. "and here i thought you woke up because you couldn't bear another second without looking at me," with a smirk curving his lips, aidan props himself up against the headboard, blue eyes drifting over micah, with an expression far too smug for someone sporting a hangover. "ouch…" he clicks his tongue dramatically at the mention of his role in the new directions. "you say that like my emotional support harmonies and body rolls haven't hard carried this club for years. once again giving your besties stella and julian all the credit, huh?" he teases as he reaches over, lightly poking against micah's shoulder. "it's so fucking funny when you act like you're above us now, traitor, especially when i distinctly remember a time when you were voluntarily wearing matching blazers and singing journey, unironically. speaking of bad decision making..." his grin stretches as he purposely inches closer. "i woke up in bed with a former new directions member. you're the cheerio who hooked up with a current member. objectively speaking, yours is the far more embarrassing headline." he gives micah a playful shove, sending him flopping back onto the bed, snickering as he gets on top of the other male, moving just enough to cage him in with one hand planted beside his head. for a moment, aidan just admires how sexy micah looks, body pinned under his, his blue eyes then drifting to the love bites littering his neck. no doubt his handywork, even though he can't say he fully remembers doing that. reaching out his hand, he gently runs two fingers down the tender marks, pressing lightly. "see? this is exactly why I can't take your anti-glee propaganda seriously. you've literally slept with the enemy, and you fucking loved it." that's right, the micah loving it part is the one thing he has a very distinct memory of. "you were fucking begging me to wreck your ass, pinky. your words, by the way. not mine."

[loserspng]

an embarrassing sound leaves micah’s throat when aidan presses on the tender marks. though hungover, his head is much more clear than it was last night and he refused to fall back in bed with him again. granted his position was a losing one already, but micah had to at least try and persevere. his lips part slightly when he lets out an offended scoff. “you’re making that up — all of it. no one enjoys swaying behind those spotlight hogging losers,” he accuses, already blocking the memories from his mind completely. his pink cheeks betray him and he reaches for a nearby pillow to swing up in aidan’s direction. “and fucking stop calling me that just because i upgraded from a catastrophe to something real.” he falls back against the bed, gripping the pillow and using it as a pathetic barrier. “your harmonies are pitchy, body rolls are as stiff as your stroke, and i would never have to beg you for anything because you’re easier than sully in heat — may he rest in peace.” he’s not sure how much sting his words hold when he lets aidan settle in between his legs. he stretches his neck, worsening the dull ache just under the skin. “and unlike glee, the cheerios have real buzz going on. we have press week starting tomorrow and you couldn’t show an ounce of self-restraint for one night?” obviously, it wasn’t completely aidan’s fault. in fact, it’s likely micah encouraged it. but aidan should be able to read micah’s mind at this point in their complicated relationship. it was really starting to become a nuisance. his own dark eyes bore into the other’s before he narrows them into slits. “stop looking at me like that, it’s not having the desired effect,” he tries to deadpan. “actually, just get off me — i have less than twenty fours to get ready for callbacks and monsieur bellamy-delacroix can be very dramatic, even to my standards.”

[onwiththeshcw]

tagging: @loserspng

location:  library, in the stacks. rhys wants to play cards.

if  you  had  told  rhys  that  his  new  favorite  person  would  be  carter  cortez  he  probably  would  have  laughed  in  your  face  and  then  thrown  a  drink  in  it.  his  fingers  were  itching,  and  rhys  had  his  telltale  deck  of  cards  shuffling  in  his  hands  as  he  sat  in  the  library.  supposedly  he  and  carter  were  going  to  talk  a  game  plan  to  deal  with  the  cecelia  drama  from  halloween.  rhys  didn't  like  being  made  into  a  fool,  and  there  had  been  plenty  of  that  on  halloween.  there  was  the  oliver  and  sullivan  of  it  all,  which  frankly  had  infuriated  him  more  than  the  carter  and  cecelia  of  it  all.  he  owed  someone--  he  couldn't  remember--  a  new  karaoke  machine,  and  that  was  that.  it  wasn't  like  money  was  an  issue,  but  he  hated  the  feeling  of  owing  somebody  something.  when  carter  slid  into  the  seat  across  from  him,  rhys  smirked,  running  a  hand  through  his  blonde  curls  not  unlike  a  peacock  trying  to  show  off  its  feathers.  and  maybe  he  was  trying  to  show  off  for  the  very  handsome  man  across  from  him.  and  what  of  it?

“we  can  talk  about  halloween,”  rhys  began,  as  he  shuffled  the  deck  again,  making  a  bridge  with  his  hands  and  letting  the  cards  fall  into  place.  “or  i  can  teach  you  how  to  play  blackjack.  or  both.  but  i  think  one  of  those  options  is  far  more  fun  than  the  other.”

[loserspng]

as carter's backpack slides off his shoulder along with his towering frame, he stares into rhys's curls as if noticing them for the first time, like, ever. "did you do something different with your hair?" he asks, flipping through a very quick and specific list in his head. he pulls off the sunglasses he’s wearing indoors to get a closer look. "it looks good today." truthfully, he never paid rhys close enough attention until the fight at the halloween party. and even though it the man sitting across from him was the drop that started the downpour of his own beat down, he still found himself wondering wwrut — what was rhys up to? ignorign the fact that they were hanging out in the library, he chalks up the new fondness to something strange in the vents at the urgent care clinic.

"there's no reason we can't do both." eventually he's able to look at rhys's face and reaches for the deck to cut the stack. “first thing, it was lame calling you out like that,” he admits, tapping the table for a deal. he remembers the shit talking vividly. “and i’m not just saying that because i caught an elbow to the face to end up looking like a raccoon.” he moves to lean against the table. “but i’m pretty positive i’ve icked her out, dude. and everyone knows there’s no way to come back from that.”

[hcngover]

if there is one thing julian devereux refuses to do, it is give a mediocre performance. regardless of the venue, regardless of the audience, and especially regardless of poor weather conditions. after the whole debacle with his rejected mj setlist, followed by him announcing his retirement era, julian knew he had to make an artistic statement on day one of the car wash fundraising event. he definitely wasn't going to let a little rain stop him from reminding the new directions of his superior talent, since democracy appears to have distracted them from that. baby, i'm a star. he genuinely couldn't think of a better song to help him achieve that goal. his voice rings powerfully across the parking lot, hitting every high note. his choreography unnecessarily complex, yet flawlessly executed, and somewhere during the second chorus, an actual audience begins to form. people waiting for their vehicles to be washed linger beneath their umbrellas, passing students slow their pace, and a handful even wander over to toss bills into the tip jar. ironically, the bad weather only improves the performance, as by the time he reaches the final chorus, julian is completely soaked, but somehow that only makes it feel even more theatrical. the standing ovation he receives by the end of his performance makes it all worthwhile. perhaps he didn't just need to remind the other members, but also himself, of how phenomenal he is. the past few days have been rough, and julian can't deny that he still feels disillusioned, uncertain of his place within the new directions. however, since he prides himself on being a professional, he makes sure not to let any of that show. especially not to one specific member standing in the audience, whom he had personally invited to come watch him. "oh, carter cortez. how extraordinary that you came," he finally acknowledges the hockey captain after purposely avoiding eye contact with him for a solid ten minutes. "i just finished performing for these lovely people, enriching their lives with my talent, as well as for my loyal haters, giving them another opportunity to cope and seethe. anyway..." he runs a hand through his dripping wet, freshly bleached locks. "...if you've been standing there staring at me for the entirety of the performance, i believe basic etiquette dictates that you leave a tip." ( @loserspng )

[loserspng]

as usual, it takes carter longer than necessary to process julian's monologue. today feels a little different. aside from the obvious change to the other's hair, the hockey player finds himself actually engrossed in the performance. sure there was an art to knocking a puck around on ice, but singing and dancing in the rain? impressive. from his corner of the lot, he scans the crowd slowly forming to catch any potential invitees. he learns nothing when his eyes continuously turn back to julian who is clearly in his element. now thoroughly annoyed when the other dodges him, he throws a single, damp one dollar bill in the tip jar. "you're asking me for money after slut shaming me for being sexy santa? and then proceed to ignore me after asking me to come to this thing?" his eyes trail up and down the other, pinching the wet shirt now clinging to him. "dude, this is pandering," he pauses to reiterate his point and refuses to look away. "and you need dry clothes," he decides for no particular reason. nevermind the fact that he also had conveniently forgotten his umbrella back in his dorm. he tugs the co-captain by the shirt to drag them around the corner where carter's perfectly clean car is parked. "it's from the rain," he offers without any prompt. maybe he had been through the fundraiser once or twice today all in the name of supporting the team. and his favorite blondes. he digs through the backseat of his suv where an extra set of clothes sit in his gym bag. "they're clean." he holds them out, but only for a moment before rescinding them. "you can have them after you tell me who you invited." his eyes drift to his hair. "and why you dyed your hair."

[loveyssun]

In ever the dramatic get-up (a black veil covering her face, a lacy black dress that stopped mid thigh, with cap sleeves) in ever the dramatic location (seriously, the grand hall of the Delta Delta Delta house reminded her of that stairwell in Titanic sometimes) Lovey Sun-Duffy was seething. The candlelit vigil had been her idea, the kind of scheme designed to sniff out smoke... There was a liar in their midst, and Lovey could smell their pants on fire from nearly a mile away! But every extra buzzing around the sorority house was giving her agita. 'Don't touch that!' 'Can you go do something else?' 'Move it, heathen!' She had had just about enough before the prayers had even began, and now that they were dwindling down - the chatter outweighing the concern - Lovey was beginning to question whether the vigil had even been worth the trouble in cracking Grandma Gate. Had she really just proved the campus was full of good people? Ugh. "You know, I don't even think her 'grandmother' is actually even sick." Lovey was talking to whoever would listen - looking for less of a conversation and more of an opportunity to bark. She crossed her arms over her chest; narrowed her eyes at the crowd that had gathered. At least she knew she could call together an event at a moment's notice. "And if I find out that I threw this whole vigil for a lady who, frankly, might not even exist?" She huffed.

"Oh, there's going to be hell to pay."

[loserspng]

dressed in a similar all black getup, micah pushes the sunglass on his face while he watches lovey scare away another nosy passerby. did he approve of savannah’s lie of disappearing to spend time with her daughter? not necessarily. but he loved his best friend dearly and would probably hide the body if she asked. he holds a delicate yet tasteful bouquet of baby breaths and white tulips. he bends at the knee to place the flowers near the numerous candles. “her grandmother is very much real, lovey,” he defends with a quiet huff before standing again. that much was technically true. at the very least, he could use the experience to fine tune his rendition of fiyero. he checks his phone for a reminder on the excuse savannah had used. “and she’s very much hurt,” is all he offers before pocketing his phone. elders have aches and pains all over, right? it’s another half truth that lands somewhere between tearful and empathetic. “it’s really nice you found the time to put all of this together, but you should probably stop huffing and scaring away supporters.”

[hcngover]

of all the things aidan had expected to come from his party, waking up next to micah had been the most satisfying. since he was aidan walsh, he wasn't particularly surprised his former situationship had ended up surrendering to his charms again, though admittedly, he couldn't fully remember how they'd ended up in bed together. too much whiskey, too many… other substances that were still wreaking havoc on his system, judging by the pounding in his head. entertaining nonetheless, that after all of their history, all the arguing, and all the pretending they were too different to like each other, here they were. he'd be lying if he said the outcome wasn't at least a little validating. believing that micah was still asleep, aidan carefully reaches for his phone on the nightstand, making sure not to disturb him. there were already dozens of notifications waiting. a few texts from people asking about the party, some photos he was definitely going to regret, as well as a bunch of messages from the new directions group chat. emergency rehearsal. aidan arches an eyebrow, reading through the lively discussion. apparently, another show choir has released some kind of viral video, complete with over-the-top choreography and enough production value to make julian crash out before the party had even ended. fantastic. aidan snorts, typing up half a reply when a small movement beside him catches his attention. "good morning," he says, his voice still rough from sleep. "or afternoon, depending on how generous we're being." distracted by how fast-paced the chat is, he doesn't immediately notice that the cheerleader has moved closer, glancing over his shoulder, until a soft chuckle makes him turn his head. "hey, traitor micah, this is classified show choir information," aidan scolds him playfully before quickly locking his phone. "don't tell me you're missing all of them as much as you've missed me." @loserspng

[loserspng]

moment he folded into his ex's bed again. right between his fifth drink and their loud, loud rendition of drunk in love. the irony of the song isn't lost on him at all. all the internal work he'd done to stay away from the actual devil had been undone with little resolve if he was being completely honest with himself. and staring at the ceiling for the past two hours has given him nothing but time to reflect. he should've left the penthouse hours ago, but something holds him place. not something, someone. if he could just get that someone to leave the wretched new directions then maybe he would feel a little less foolish for falling into bed so quickly. after all, who would be seduced by a gleek? he sighs to himself in the silence before rolling over in bed to face aidan. he looks too peaceful and it makes micah frown in disgust. he considers taking the pillow to fix that, but a phone buzzing on the nightstand rids the thought. he hesitates and watches aidan's form to see if he stirs. his nose crinkles when he does. micah flutters his eyes nearly shut and feigns sleep. he's not still for long when he watches aidan punch in his passcode. his new passcode. his head lifts from the pillow, annoyance clear on his face. "you know i hate being called that," he scoffs. his eyes openly leer at the screen, but his contacts are unforgivingly dry, making the words blurry. "if only i had friends on the squad and slumming it in glee," he rubs his eyes twice. "maybe then i'd have room to miss a man committed to swaying in the back of a show choir on the verge of extinction."

[loserspng]

closed starter for @whimsyhcrts as soon as he caught wind about the devastating cuts from the cheerios, micah dropped what he was doing to call his best friend, savannah. though he was hysterical at the news, he knew this was a potential outcome considering the microscope that was the press week for the cheerios. he paces in the small shared space of his living room dorm in berry while he waits for her stop by. there’s an array of snacks and a chilled bottle of something strong stored in the freezer just in case. expectedly, the door swings open and micah races to engulf the blonde in a tight hug. “savvy, how are you?” he pulls away to look at her properly. “i’m really sorry this happened even when you provided proof.” he sighs, shaking his head. “but we have to get you back on the team asap.”

[loserspng]

heart meme ( sav for carter )

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS (purely aesthetic appreciation of looks): 💗💗💗💗💗 FRIENDSHIP LEVEL(how close a friend they consider them): 💗💗💗 SEXUAL DESIRE (wanting to have sex with them): 💗💗💗💗💗 ROMANTIC INTENT (hoping for a romantic relationship):💗

💔 Non-existent 💗 Very low 💗💗 A little 💗💗💗 Hopeful 💗💗💗💗 High 💗💗💗💗💗 Maximum