#andrehcrris

[jadcwest]

jade west post-show social media.

featuring a bade baby. (captions for instagram under the cut)

Scissorluv: babe’s getting inked again and i’m here to document the process

Scissorluv: causing trouble since 2008

Scissorluv: get the older vega drunk and suddenly she isn’t so fucking bad

Scissorluv: rockrobster has gone full hipster. the end of times is near.

Scissorluv: squad goals est. 2010 #tbt

Scissorluv: highkey in love with my husband gotbeck okay, ladies? back off. mine.

Scissorluv: there’s no one else i’d rather be annoyed by than happycat

Scissorluv: gigs gigs gigs gigs

Scissorluv: #tbt to our second christmas as boyfriend and girlfriend. this is so cute i might vomit

Scissorluv: I AM IN NEW YORK AND THIS IS TOO COOL TO ACT LIKE IDC

Scissorluv: Should be embarrassed by this 8th grade #wbw with happycat but I sadly am not.

Scissorluv: Long time no selfie. Hello Instagram.

[beckolivcr-blog]

❝yeah, it’s just because i’m super awesome.❞ beck grins as he says it, holding out the freshly printed, perfectly stapled booklet of sheet music that was destroyed the day before, in what some may call a ‘freak accident’.  ❝no need to freak, bro, you’re gonna ace that assignment.❞

-- - @andrehcrris

[beckolivcr-blog]

You bet he's been getting sushi and saying nothing. Amount of shit he puts up with from you two he deserves it

first of all how dare you jade and i are basically your parents and we deserve some respect

           ( @andrehcrris + @jadclyn )

[leftoverfear]

      ❛   andré!   ❜    she cheered,   one arm wrapping around his shoulders as the other held onto a bag of miscellaneous snacks.    holding it up,   her grin widened.    ❛   guess who’s got a bag full of snacks   &   is ready to spend the night with her favorite guy?    SPOILER ALERT!   it’s me.   ❜  

                          ✩   closed group verse starter    |    @andrehcrris

[beckolivcr-blog]

-- - @andrehcrris ( cont. )

his head is pounding, and the muscles in his stomach keep spasming underneath his fingers, and he’s not sure whether to let himself hyperventilate or try and laugh the whole thing off.  his free hand is clenching and unclenching against andre’s leg, though, and he has a chance to wonder if it’s not as bad is it could be, because at least andre’s here.  and then he throws up again.

❝i hate this.❞ it comes out kind of muffled, and a little bit defeated, and beck’s not apologizing for that.  he probably deserves it.

[beckolivcr-blog]

♫

symbology - it’s not a date ( @andrehcrris​ )

oneyou eat lunch together every day, and there’s always a group around you.  you sit side by side and you talk about nothing and everything, and you pretend your gaze doesn’t linger on him, and he pretends not to notice.  today it’s just you and him, and you eat from each other’s lunches and act like it’s normal to gaze at each like lovers in a bad romance novel.  afterwards your friends join you again, and you go back to how it was before.  dates don’t happen in high school quads.

twoit’s four am and you’re both lying on the floor, surrounded by sheet music, and laughing at nothing in particular.  class starts in four hours, and you should sleep, and he should go home, but neither of you wants to move.  your hands brush once or twice, and you both pull away because it’s easier than twining your fingers together and wondering what comes next.  the room is too hot, and you are too tired, and you fall asleep three feet away from each other, and your hands stay separated.  dates don’t happen on rv floors.

threeyou’re a good dancer, but it’s hard to practice salsa moves by yourself, so he steps in and now you have a guide.  it doesn’t matter that you’re doing this for your girlfriend, and it doesn’t matter that he’s inches from you, and it doesn’t matter that the music is passionate and you move in perfect synchronization.  the dip is a travesty, proportions all wrong, and you separate and laugh it off and hope the blush creeping up your face isn’t visible.  dates don’t happen in classrooms.

fouryou drive for six hours together to somewhere away from the city ( and your friends and your family and your school and your lives ) and the lights.  the field stretches out forever, and you park your truck in the middle of it, climb onto the hood together and trace pictures across the stars.  it’s one of the few times you get drunk together, and harmonies swell through vocal chords and the crawls from the pores of your skin and the universe is whole and beautiful and you don’t look at him and he doesn’t look at you and that’s fine.  dates don’t happen in farmer’s fields.

fivehe is warm against you and the only sounds in the room are quiet breathing and pages turning, and you let him sleep.  there is a muffled silence pressed to the walls, and it doesn’t deserve to be broken.  you understand, by now, the solid weight of trust, and you carry it like atlas carries the world, because it is the heaviest thing in the world but it is your burden, and you carry it because you must.  sleep is when he looks truly peaceful, and who are you to touch that? and besides, dates don’t happen in libraries.

– – – –

onehe holds you and you curl into him and you think maybe you’re crying but maybe it doesn’t matter, because he brushes away the tears and curses out your parents for you, and he kisses your forehead, and then your eyes, and then your lips, and maybe that’s what they meant when they wrote about fireworks and butterflies, and it should be shocking but it isn’t, and it should be wrong but it isn’t, and it should be more special but it isn’t.  dates, it turns out, can happen anywhere at all.  even parking lots.

[beckolivcr-blog]

--- - @andrehcrris

he’s supposed to be driving andre home he knows.  he’s already waiting in the truck, and he should have started it up and pulled around by now, but beck can’t seem to work up the effort it’ll take to move.  his head is pressed to the top of the steering wheel, and one arm is twined around his stomach loosely, loathe to press too hard to the bruise he knows is already forming there.  he has the distinct feeling that he won’t be talking to tori for a few days after this - she’s the reason they were all on brain squeezers in the first place.  

he really, really should be moving.  alright, one, two - and it doesn’t really work.  the effort it takes trying to straighten up makes him dizzy, and he fumbles with the door, getting it open enough to throw up onto the pavement.  he waits a few moments to make sure his stomach is settled ( actually, that’ll probably take a little longer ) and closes the door again, moving gingerly.  finally, finally, he starts the truck up, pulls out slowly and brings it around to the front of the studio.  raising his hand seems like a bad idea, so he settles for a vaguely beckoning head tilt directed towards andre.  he’ll probably understand.