#beccabobecs

[residentbcdgirl-a]

♚ @beccabobecs

❝You look like you need a distraction and since it’s friday what better distraction is there than going to a party.❞ For anyone who knew better it looked like Faye had something up her sleeve from the smile that was on her face.

[wvckedschemes-a-blog]

@beccabobecs​

❝uh i’m sorry i didn’t realize you were going to be here. i can go.❞ he ran a hand over the back of his neck as he glanced between her and an escape route. ever since their breakup he had been avoiding her as much as possible.

[residentbcdgirl-a]

♛ @beccabobecs​

❝Looks like we’re going to be working together.❞ The professor had been the one to pair the students rather than letting them choose their own. He knew the professor wouldn’t pair him with anybody else even if he asked. A lesson in that you weren’t  always going to get to work with people you liked or didn’t have any issues with. Fletch had caught up to her after class, clearing his throat as he came to stand beside her.

[lockpup-archive-blog]

&. @beccabobecs​ | starter call.

   “are you for real?”

[kolhearted-archived]

( @beccabobecs ) « from my permanent starter call

                    FOR A THOUSAND-YEAR-OLD former -whatever, it had become ever-harder to say that the hard day he had had was worse than OTHERS in his very long life, but Kol was having a HELLACIOUSLY BAD DAY. What had started as a series of one souring of fortune after another had become an almost-laughable cacophony of What-Not-To-Do 101. By the early afternoon, any grace he carried had faded; any patience he had was used, and any humor he could have had had curdled to an irascible energy looking for a way to get out. He ( and his personal raincloud ) made their way to the only place in the city where the prying eyes of the ANCESTORS were made moot, and in the bar, he made a place for himself at a small table to the side, silently fuming, though the his face only betrayed a furrow in his brow and a tight – almost to being locked – jaw. He glanced over at a pair of wandering eyes, feeling them on him from when he had made his seat. “Welcome to New Orleans,” he said, lips curling into a soured faux-grin. “In case you were wondering, whatever brought you here was a mistake. Or if you were born here: leave.”