#yatesevent003

[dcrbyalbright]

“Boo!” Darby shouted at the person passing by her, popping out from where she had hidden in a supply closet to finish a line in private. She was covered in dried fake blood, her white slip dress clinging to her frame. “Sorry. couldn’t resist. Anyways, you seen any ghosts around here? I’m thinking about becoming like that woman who wedded a dead pirate ghost. Feel like spirit sex would be wild,” she said, serious expression on her face. She licked her finger, lapping a bit of the fake blood off. “You want to taste it? It’s corn syrup and food coloring.”

[anitangel]

"Okay so, boom, red lipstick. Boom, cat eye. Boom, perfectly curled hair." Anita observed herself in a smudged mirror of the hotel lobby, speaking absentmindedly to a group of eager Hastings freshmen. "The point is to have the ghosts respect you, then they don't fuck with you," she shook out the curls in her hair, long nails gently scratching her scalp. Her best case scenario was that she always looked like she had just had sex; slightly worn out lipstick, one too many buttons undone, hair purposefully slightly messy. Turning around to face the group of younger girls, she clicked her tongue, making exaggerated hand gestures as she spoke to them. "Just remember you need to scare the ghosts before they scare you. They smell fear. Now fuck off to your rooms, this isn't a fucking Ted Talk, I'm tired." As the group dispersed, Anita padded her way over to an ornate looking couch in the lobby, spread her whole body out on it like it was her home. "God, I love The Stanley. What if we did a real-life remake of The Shining?"

[felixlcsser]

Fixing his collar up so that it hid the hickey he had gotten earlier from Jade, Fitz was chugging straight from a bottle of whiskey as he left his hotel room, weaving through the crowd of rowdy students that lined the halls. A girl dressed as a bumblebee nearly impaled him with the large stinger sticking off her backside. Swerving to avoid her, Fitz bumped into someone else, nearly choking on his whiskey as he accidentally spilled it dow the person he had bumped into. “Shit - whoops! Sorry. Jackie nearly poked my eye out with that thing,” he apologized, flashing them a grin. “Can I make it up to you? Give you head? My first born son? A bump of something?” he asked, wiping whiskey off of his plastic coat. A Patrick Bateman costume turned out to be perfect for cleaning up party spills. 

[romeosokolav]

(OOC: if anyone fucking dares to match the length of this starter i will scream. do not do that. under any circumstances. i can’t keep this up. i’m just a girl.)

With Romeo, the thought usually ended up much better than the execution. Truth be told, he often got enough satisfaction telling people what he was going to do that when the time came to do it, he usually had little drive left. Also, dressing up as the Axe-Man of New Orleans proved more difficult than he thought. In a desperate attempt to throw an outfit together, Romeo sprinted to a hardware store about fifteen minutes before closing, bought a real axe, realized you couldn’t bring an actual weapon to a university-sponsored party––or anywhere, really––pre-gamed too generously, and ended up pulling on a white dress shirt and staining it with red food coloring. He ended up looking more like Patrick Bateman’s less adept cousin who would surely be arrested out of pure incompetence. But his hair looked fine. 

Leaning over the edge of the bar, he was mid-way through securing another free cocktail from the forty-year-old bartender who had abandoned all subtlety when she asked him what his room number was when he felt someone stumble into his shoulder. “Woah! You were this close to involuntary manslaughter. I’m like... you know that guy in Spongebob...” He trailed off, comically deep in thought. “The one that goes, ‘I was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms. At night, I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep’––that’s me.” On impulse, he took his drink and whipped it across the room a la this vine and pulled an expression of feigned shock. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you just did that. Bringer of mayhem. Please spare me, papa!”

[elliealdenkamp]

just go, just pull him aside of something. just—go, already! the internal pep talk spun through ellie’s head as she made her way down the staircase, fingertips gliding along the railing. she’d been wanting to talk to felix since what’d happened, but something nagged at her, telling her that he probably needed space. that, if that weren’t the case he would’ve reached out, right? but she couldn’t wait it out anymore—she didn’t want to. so, as casually as she could, she approached him from behind once she’d spotted him in a chair near the fireplace. bending over, the girl lightly tapped his shoulder with a pointer finger. “tag.” that was it. standing back up, ellie began walking backwards. “you’re it.”

@felixlcsser

[leoalcrights]

Sitting atop a wine-colored velvet chair beside a table covered in fine white cloth, Leo sat cross-legged and tracing her index finger along the rim of her glass. Watching her peers dressed in extravagant costumes, she tossed her hair feathered a la Farrah Fawcett over her shoulder, and cocked her head to the side. Leo chewed the inside of her cheek, a signal that the girl was deep in thought, but only a few would recognize the significance of that action. “Do you think,” she began, not bothering to even glance at the person sitting by her, “the costumes serve any purpose? Like, I feel like… I think that it’s easy to tell who’s in which society, you know?” Slightly tipsy, she reached her arm out and pointed out a girl dressed in a spectacularly jeweled shift dress and a feather atop her head, “Calloway. You can tell by the dress and the costume choice.” Her gaze shifted, and she narrowed her eyes to get a closer view, “And that’s... a Hastings. Pablo Picasso. Do I even have to explain?”

[yateshq]

Fright Night, aka the Stanley Retreat, was created to foster unity and harmony between the societies, right? Well, the founders thought it would be a lovely idea if each hotel room was randomized. That’s right, you don’t get to pick your roommates in Colorado. They’re assigned to you. Please find your rooming assignments below: 

Room 1:

Henrietta Peters

Brennan Kingston

Elizabeth Aldenkamp

Elias Salvatore

Room 2:

Carmen Peck

Bones Cunningham

Liviana Alvarez

Malcolm Smith

Room 3:

Aisling Warren

Aurora Clark

Florian Henneberg

Syre Salinger

Darby Albright

Room 4:

Bowie Lesser

Stanley Peters

Shelby Carrigan

Tanner Isaacs

Room 5:

Eleanor Albright

Charles Kennedy

Genevieve Maxwell

Romeo Sokolov

Darcy Woodrow

Room 6:

Juliette Barnett

Ophelia Sokolov

Francesca Wilde

Jade Vassar

Fitz Montgomery

Room 7

Sawyer Maxwell

Felix Lesser

Anita de Jesus

Malaki Collier

Room 8

Valentina Lucas

Kristine Navarro

Harrison Hadlee

Cordelia Stone

[intcthewilde]

( + 1 notification from Instagram ) @runwilde you may gaze at her reflection in still waters of the lake, but don't look at her directly or death will be your fate... (obligatory mirror selfie as medusa) 🐍🐍

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@elizabethaldenkamp: cause of death: frankie was too goddamn beautiful 😫

@runwilde: @elizabethaldenkamp 💗💗💗