((Demetri warning))
What the hell was this trash they were playing?
Of course Demetri should have expected the entire night to drown in overly-loud, fake-drums nonsense. The worse half of GHHS seemed autistic-tier intent on proving that Demetri's own generation was the shame that kept him up late at night cringing. If it wasn't liberal shill nine-thousand gender bullshit dredged straight out of Tumblr it was listening to music produced by illegals still fresh and salty from the Rio Grande.
((Demetri Fustcher continued from somewhere far away from mr. right))
Demetri had kept his head down since hashtag-Swiftball. Fontaine had a Pizzagate's worth of deep state apparatus in the halls of GHHS, and Demetri wouldn't have been surprised at all if 'win on a technicality' became a witch hunt of rumors and hysteria. Yeah sure, it was Demetri's fault that Fontaine couldn't be a decent human being for two seconds without flying into an off-the wall rage for no discernible reason. It was whatever. Anyone worth Demetri's time and energy wasn't orbiting around that hair-dye drinking trash heap anyways. He could safely ignore the rest.
Demetri's nose would probably heal at some point, realign out of the triple chromosome shit it looked like now.
Unless they were in Yearbook, but Demetri had tried to keep problems outside of the club door from spilling in. Trusting his peers to be grown ups had at least kind of worked sometimes. Like, thank fucking god for the more rational folks like Kelly and Mercy. The more time passed, the more Demetri got along in this whole 'growing up' business, he was becoming increasingly aware and damn thankful for women who weren't blowjob-mouth foghorns of drama and immaturity. They were the rare breed of double X-chromosome he could stake his wavering future hope in humanity on.
Otherwise this school was reduced to all salty Conman supporters somehow still crying about the elections, all the way down to the dredges.
But he wasn't going to get himself all worked up about it.
Demetri was modestly cucked (a light seasoning of cheese to his spaghetti) because he was coming to prom in a friend group, which was precisely the type of prom 'date' you had when you were the guy going on r/braincels and unironically shooting up a school several years later. Which wasn't Demetri, of course. He had some modicum of standards, revenge was a fucking stupid concept. You got the girl by getting better at living life, not getting better at ending it. He pretty much had it all figured out by now, anyways. He just had to focus on things one step at a time. U. of Memphis, math undergrad, half-scholarships and some loans. Far away from Chattanooga, and hopefully a better crowd where every tiny little thing he said wasn't the lib-tears apocalypse.
His legacy here was going to be Yearbook, ultimately. Assuming there wasn't already a hundred-member Discord set up and dedicated to boycotting yearbook because of his name. News alert, assholes, not buying yearbook meant you were also biting your thumbs at your own friend's hard work and effort. Why? Because, Demetri happened to be an understanding and conciliatory leader who worked across the aisle and put aside personal differences and got shit done. Put a fucking thinking emoji on that, damn Dem 'Elizabeth Warren is totally a native american right fellow gender-neutrals??!??!1!!' cucks.
Here he was, against one wall of the building lobby, just outside the main hall where the throbbing beats of incompetently music rattled his spine. Yearbook club had worked together to land a good sponsorship, they had professional equipment Demetri couldn't even pronounce the name of (not made in America, fucking hell), lighting worthy of stadium concerts, all the family-friendly props and costumes one could possibly ignore out of sheer embarrassment. Free to end up in the planned prom page spreads, or a modest fee for personal copies to be delivered next week in school. Demetri had wrestled for this project for a while, it was his brain-child. And, he was probably going to be rewarded for his efforts by nobody showing up and his entire club mocking him for the wasted money and effort.
At the very least, he had gotten a message from Mercy: she'd be breaking off from the group in a bit to help him run the photo booth for a while. He hadn't actually seen her yet because he'd been busy setting up- AKA, he was the loser doing all the work while the rest of the Yearbook squad pretended they knew what good music was- and... fucking hell, it was entirely possible this was going to be one of the last days he'd see her. He wasn't going to get all worked up about it or anything, but like. Thinking about it got a bit hard at times.
But in a more poetic way. He wasn't about to get all hysterical when he saw her or anything.
Mercy Me
Yearbook-run Photo Booth
Mercy Me
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Shockingly? Mercy was having a good time.
Sure, the stag group had been her idea in the first place, and people had seemed into it, and dates were totally overrated but- there was always that moment, when she had an idea like that. Even if people were going along with it, she always wondered if there wasn't some ulterior motive of pity or irony.
But that had all passed. Everyone was having fun, prom was a hit even if the theme was weird (if they wanted it to look like a rave, they sure weren't playing rave music, but whatever), and Mercy happily took some of the credit for the fact that her friends were enjoying themselves in the setup she'd come up with.
Also, her dress was super cute. Light pink with that lace detailing all up the bodice, a halter top that showed off just enough of her back to feel daring but not get her in trouble. The ribbon-trim skirt fanned out when she twirled and made her feel like a silly princess. It was great, and she only felt a little foolish doing it.
It wasn't all fun and games, though. She had business to attend to, in the form of helping everyone preserve their memories of whatever they wore to prom night that would be laughably out of style in five years. Pictures last forever, even when you bury them in the back of the photo album in the top shelf of your closet.
Mercy finally excused herself from the crowded dance floor, took a detour to the refreshments table to down some water (she didn't trust the punch, even at an event filled with teachers who were supposed to be keeping an eye on things), and then weaved her way along the edges of the main hall until she reached the door to the lobby.
Fanning herself with one hand as she finally emerged, she waved to Demetri with the other. "How's it looking?"
Sure, the stag group had been her idea in the first place, and people had seemed into it, and dates were totally overrated but- there was always that moment, when she had an idea like that. Even if people were going along with it, she always wondered if there wasn't some ulterior motive of pity or irony.
But that had all passed. Everyone was having fun, prom was a hit even if the theme was weird (if they wanted it to look like a rave, they sure weren't playing rave music, but whatever), and Mercy happily took some of the credit for the fact that her friends were enjoying themselves in the setup she'd come up with.
Also, her dress was super cute. Light pink with that lace detailing all up the bodice, a halter top that showed off just enough of her back to feel daring but not get her in trouble. The ribbon-trim skirt fanned out when she twirled and made her feel like a silly princess. It was great, and she only felt a little foolish doing it.
It wasn't all fun and games, though. She had business to attend to, in the form of helping everyone preserve their memories of whatever they wore to prom night that would be laughably out of style in five years. Pictures last forever, even when you bury them in the back of the photo album in the top shelf of your closet.
Mercy finally excused herself from the crowded dance floor, took a detour to the refreshments table to down some water (she didn't trust the punch, even at an event filled with teachers who were supposed to be keeping an eye on things), and then weaved her way along the edges of the main hall until she reached the door to the lobby.
Fanning herself with one hand as she finally emerged, she waved to Demetri with the other. "How's it looking?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Ignoring Demetri's one-man, forever alone, pity and irony party?
Mercy was cute. She was always cute, that was kind of her thing in terms of aesthetic grounding, but she was cute. Cute as, say, that shitty bubblegum Asian music she listened to sometimes. He found her eyes pretty quickly, but from what he could glimpse without feeling awkward that he was staring at a friend the dress was probably a good idea? Seemed like the sort of thing that one could have... he didn't know, actually. Gotten married in if it was white- or maybe that was a shit metaphor- or been mistaken for a foofy-ass cake in- or maybe that was actually an accidental insult? It was a girly as fuck dress. He was pretty sure that was a good thing, far as his male understanding of women's fashion went.
Demetri's own suit was from his dad's closet. Velvety- the word for dark hue, probably- red jacket that was a bit too big and hung off his shoulders, because ol' Carl had been a football player in his glory days. Starched-up white polo and black slacks. Fuck anyone who called it cheesy or outdated. Demetri was honestly a bit proud, because what self-respecting son wouldn't be? He was finally bearing his father's torch, even if he was doing it as a date-less loser.
"You're looking like you've got to fight off dudes on the dance floor," Demetri quipped. He didn't know, with Mercy. She was definitely dateable but the way she talked about it sometimes she didn't really see things objectively. It was pretty shitty, Demetri thought sometimes. One of the few actually decent women out there and she had some kinda unfathomable mental hangup that stole her happiness and opportunities from her. He had half a mind to just talk some sense into her one of these days, but he figured it wasn't his place or something like that.
Demetri shrugged, picking at the pockets of his suit jacket. His shrug was a bit of a smile, tired but at least there. More than Demetri could say for some of the Senior kids quarantined for senior-itis, he was actually still trying, even when his tryharding was barely wanted by anyone.
He turned to the booth, piled up as it was with still un-arranged piles of fabrics, masks, assorted equipment. The cameras, at least, were segregated and protected on their own separate table. "At this point we hopefully got set up early enough that people will actually know we're here," he called out, a bit loud even when she was close enough for them to be louder than the background 'music'. Just to be sure.
Mercy was cute. She was always cute, that was kind of her thing in terms of aesthetic grounding, but she was cute. Cute as, say, that shitty bubblegum Asian music she listened to sometimes. He found her eyes pretty quickly, but from what he could glimpse without feeling awkward that he was staring at a friend the dress was probably a good idea? Seemed like the sort of thing that one could have... he didn't know, actually. Gotten married in if it was white- or maybe that was a shit metaphor- or been mistaken for a foofy-ass cake in- or maybe that was actually an accidental insult? It was a girly as fuck dress. He was pretty sure that was a good thing, far as his male understanding of women's fashion went.
Demetri's own suit was from his dad's closet. Velvety- the word for dark hue, probably- red jacket that was a bit too big and hung off his shoulders, because ol' Carl had been a football player in his glory days. Starched-up white polo and black slacks. Fuck anyone who called it cheesy or outdated. Demetri was honestly a bit proud, because what self-respecting son wouldn't be? He was finally bearing his father's torch, even if he was doing it as a date-less loser.
"You're looking like you've got to fight off dudes on the dance floor," Demetri quipped. He didn't know, with Mercy. She was definitely dateable but the way she talked about it sometimes she didn't really see things objectively. It was pretty shitty, Demetri thought sometimes. One of the few actually decent women out there and she had some kinda unfathomable mental hangup that stole her happiness and opportunities from her. He had half a mind to just talk some sense into her one of these days, but he figured it wasn't his place or something like that.
Demetri shrugged, picking at the pockets of his suit jacket. His shrug was a bit of a smile, tired but at least there. More than Demetri could say for some of the Senior kids quarantined for senior-itis, he was actually still trying, even when his tryharding was barely wanted by anyone.
He turned to the booth, piled up as it was with still un-arranged piles of fabrics, masks, assorted equipment. The cameras, at least, were segregated and protected on their own separate table. "At this point we hopefully got set up early enough that people will actually know we're here," he called out, a bit loud even when she was close enough for them to be louder than the background 'music'. Just to be sure.
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((Luca Thomas continued from Booking a Date))
Luca had come around to the dress that she and her mother had finally settled on by the time the night came. It was a deep, dark purple, and made of velvet. In the slightly dimmed lights of the venue, it looked only a hair lighter than black as it swirled around her feet. Not only did it make her look kind of like she was floating around, it also meant that people couldn't see her feet, so she would be mercifully spared from wearing heels, which was bound to end in disaster. She'd felt weird with having her shoulders and arms exposed originally, it had made her feel like she was going to attract too much attention, but she'd gotten used to it after a while. It was kind of like a basketball jersey.
She'd originally wanted a lighter colour, something pastel and bright, but the opportunity to pair up matching outfits between her and Jackson had been too good to give up. As good as she thought Jackson would have looked in a light blue suit and a salmon shirt, her Mom's horrified expression at the suggestion had said it all, so she relented. Trusting Mom there had been a good idea, too, he looked so refined in that tux.
She couldn't wait to get a picture of the two of them together, and the yearbook booth hadn't been hard to find, so she'd dragged Jackson here before going inside to the dancefloor. She wasn't sure how well her makeup would last if she started sweating, she wasn't used to wearing this much, and she wanted to capture herself at peak good looking before something inevitably went wrong. At least she hoped this was the yearbook place, and not some art project thing she was interrupting. Mercy was involved in the yearbook project, but she didn't know the guy who seemed to be in charge of the camera at all.
"Hey Mercy, is this the yearbook-booth-thing for photos?"
Luca had come around to the dress that she and her mother had finally settled on by the time the night came. It was a deep, dark purple, and made of velvet. In the slightly dimmed lights of the venue, it looked only a hair lighter than black as it swirled around her feet. Not only did it make her look kind of like she was floating around, it also meant that people couldn't see her feet, so she would be mercifully spared from wearing heels, which was bound to end in disaster. She'd felt weird with having her shoulders and arms exposed originally, it had made her feel like she was going to attract too much attention, but she'd gotten used to it after a while. It was kind of like a basketball jersey.
She'd originally wanted a lighter colour, something pastel and bright, but the opportunity to pair up matching outfits between her and Jackson had been too good to give up. As good as she thought Jackson would have looked in a light blue suit and a salmon shirt, her Mom's horrified expression at the suggestion had said it all, so she relented. Trusting Mom there had been a good idea, too, he looked so refined in that tux.
She couldn't wait to get a picture of the two of them together, and the yearbook booth hadn't been hard to find, so she'd dragged Jackson here before going inside to the dancefloor. She wasn't sure how well her makeup would last if she started sweating, she wasn't used to wearing this much, and she wanted to capture herself at peak good looking before something inevitably went wrong. At least she hoped this was the yearbook place, and not some art project thing she was interrupting. Mercy was involved in the yearbook project, but she didn't know the guy who seemed to be in charge of the camera at all.
"Hey Mercy, is this the yearbook-booth-thing for photos?"
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[Jackson Sullivan Continued from Booking a Date]
Jackson was doing his best to keep his face’s color under control. Ever since seeing Luca in her dress he’d felt the heat on his face at absolute max capacity, and now that they’d actually arrived at prom, he was just doing his best to survive the night. Luca looked like a goddamn model all dolled up, and Jackson’s heart-rate was suffering dearly because of it. His nerves were completely shot, and he found himself fiddling with the collar of his white dress shirt for the hundredth time since he put it on. It’s not as if it was too tight or anything, If anything, the tux he was wearing was one of the most comfortable things he’d ever worn. It felt as if it was made exactly for his body; Luca’s mom really was a miracle worker. However, because it fit so well, he was mind-numbingly embarrassed and it was making him feel uncomfortable anyway.
He couldn’t deny that he looked great, The tux was a dark plum color both in jacket and pants, and it paired extraordinarily well with Luca’s velvet purple dress. The pants were tight to his body, but the fabric had enough give that he wasn’t worried about bending the wrong way and accidentally ripping the expensive material. The shirt was stark white, as white as he’d ever seen any shirt, and it fit his torso like a second skin. It was so sheer he wasn’t even able to wear an undershirt, Luca’s mom basically forbade him from doing so. Around his neck was a very thin black satin tie, clipped neatly to his shirt with a silver tie clip, and in lieu of a belt he wore thin black suspenders. On his feet were very comfortable black suede slip-on loafers, and they looked like something he’s never be able to afford in his wildest dreams. They were very comfortable though, and they mercifully had a small heel to them that boosted him up an inch or two so Luca didn’t tower over him too badly. All in all, he looked like a completely different person. He’d even shaved his stubble off and had his mom help him style his hair so he didn’t look like a complete mess. This was very new to him and he felt like he was walking on eggshells. He just didn’t want to disappoint Luca.
The minute the duo arrived at prom, Luca dragged him over to where it looked like the Yearbook’s photo booth was being set up. Jackson had already accepted his fate. His mom and dad already made him promise to take lots of pictures, and even gave him money to make sure and get the professional photos for them to have at home. When he told them about prom, they were so excited and happy that he was going. Honestly, all the hubbub about prom had kept his household relatively calm and happy the past few weeks, so he couldn’t really complain. His mom’s face when he came downstairs fully dressed had made his day; she looked so happy, and had even started crying. His dad told him he was proud of him, and then ruined the mood by embarrassing the hell out of him by slipping him a small box of condoms when his mom wasn’t looking as a ‘just in case’. Where had his father even GOTTEN a box of condoms in the first damn place?! Even just thinking about that now had Jackson turning redder than a tomato. Luca was just a friend anyway. There wasn’t going to be anything even remotely like that going on.
Right?
Right.
Jackson allowed himself to follow Luca over to the booth and smiled awkwardly at Mercy who was one of the people manning it it seemed. He looked over and saw Demetri was the other yearbook-staffer running the booth. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He didn’t really have anything against the kid, even if he had heard some not-so-great stuff. But everyone had their flaws, himself included, so who was he to judge. He just stood next to Luca and waited until she was ready.
Jackson was doing his best to keep his face’s color under control. Ever since seeing Luca in her dress he’d felt the heat on his face at absolute max capacity, and now that they’d actually arrived at prom, he was just doing his best to survive the night. Luca looked like a goddamn model all dolled up, and Jackson’s heart-rate was suffering dearly because of it. His nerves were completely shot, and he found himself fiddling with the collar of his white dress shirt for the hundredth time since he put it on. It’s not as if it was too tight or anything, If anything, the tux he was wearing was one of the most comfortable things he’d ever worn. It felt as if it was made exactly for his body; Luca’s mom really was a miracle worker. However, because it fit so well, he was mind-numbingly embarrassed and it was making him feel uncomfortable anyway.
He couldn’t deny that he looked great, The tux was a dark plum color both in jacket and pants, and it paired extraordinarily well with Luca’s velvet purple dress. The pants were tight to his body, but the fabric had enough give that he wasn’t worried about bending the wrong way and accidentally ripping the expensive material. The shirt was stark white, as white as he’d ever seen any shirt, and it fit his torso like a second skin. It was so sheer he wasn’t even able to wear an undershirt, Luca’s mom basically forbade him from doing so. Around his neck was a very thin black satin tie, clipped neatly to his shirt with a silver tie clip, and in lieu of a belt he wore thin black suspenders. On his feet were very comfortable black suede slip-on loafers, and they looked like something he’s never be able to afford in his wildest dreams. They were very comfortable though, and they mercifully had a small heel to them that boosted him up an inch or two so Luca didn’t tower over him too badly. All in all, he looked like a completely different person. He’d even shaved his stubble off and had his mom help him style his hair so he didn’t look like a complete mess. This was very new to him and he felt like he was walking on eggshells. He just didn’t want to disappoint Luca.
The minute the duo arrived at prom, Luca dragged him over to where it looked like the Yearbook’s photo booth was being set up. Jackson had already accepted his fate. His mom and dad already made him promise to take lots of pictures, and even gave him money to make sure and get the professional photos for them to have at home. When he told them about prom, they were so excited and happy that he was going. Honestly, all the hubbub about prom had kept his household relatively calm and happy the past few weeks, so he couldn’t really complain. His mom’s face when he came downstairs fully dressed had made his day; she looked so happy, and had even started crying. His dad told him he was proud of him, and then ruined the mood by embarrassing the hell out of him by slipping him a small box of condoms when his mom wasn’t looking as a ‘just in case’. Where had his father even GOTTEN a box of condoms in the first damn place?! Even just thinking about that now had Jackson turning redder than a tomato. Luca was just a friend anyway. There wasn’t going to be anything even remotely like that going on.
Right?
Right.
Jackson allowed himself to follow Luca over to the booth and smiled awkwardly at Mercy who was one of the people manning it it seemed. He looked over and saw Demetri was the other yearbook-staffer running the booth. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He didn’t really have anything against the kid, even if he had heard some not-so-great stuff. But everyone had their flaws, himself included, so who was he to judge. He just stood next to Luca and waited until she was ready.
"Yeah, everything looks good," Mercy said as she reached Demetri's side. "You been out here all alone the whole time, though? All work and no play?"
She more or less knew already. Even after all the prep everyone went through to get together as a group, he was still hanging around out here all by his lonesome. They'd gone round and round about this kind of thing before, Mercy and Demetri, but she'd accepted on some level that social graces weren't and probably never would be his greatest strength. It was stuff like hanging out by himself while the rest of the class partied it up, not even really making an effort to act like he wanted to be here for the same reasons as everyone else, that got him the less kind part of his reputation. That and his hideous choice in guy friends. Mercy knew that Demetri thought those meninist guys or whatever the heck they were calling themselves now were harmless and funny, and he'd never been receptive to anyone (Mercy) pointing out that they (she) thought it was a bad influence. Demetri always had the potential to be better than he was, but he usually didn't seem interested.
But anyway, tonight wasn't a night to sit around thinking mean thoughts about her friends. Even if specific friends were sometimes kinda dumb and clueless. She hoped that her comments hadn't come off as too prodding.
Fortunately, a distraction arrived before Mercy could begin second-guessing herself. She spun at the sound of the voices and put her smile back on. "Hey, Luca, Jackson! Things should be all set up for pictures, yeah. You guys are our first customers."
Dang, they looked cute together. That dark purple was a great color on both of them. Just another reason it was for the best that Mercy didn't have a date; she didn't know of any guys who would be willing to match her color scheme exactly.
She more or less knew already. Even after all the prep everyone went through to get together as a group, he was still hanging around out here all by his lonesome. They'd gone round and round about this kind of thing before, Mercy and Demetri, but she'd accepted on some level that social graces weren't and probably never would be his greatest strength. It was stuff like hanging out by himself while the rest of the class partied it up, not even really making an effort to act like he wanted to be here for the same reasons as everyone else, that got him the less kind part of his reputation. That and his hideous choice in guy friends. Mercy knew that Demetri thought those meninist guys or whatever the heck they were calling themselves now were harmless and funny, and he'd never been receptive to anyone (Mercy) pointing out that they (she) thought it was a bad influence. Demetri always had the potential to be better than he was, but he usually didn't seem interested.
But anyway, tonight wasn't a night to sit around thinking mean thoughts about her friends. Even if specific friends were sometimes kinda dumb and clueless. She hoped that her comments hadn't come off as too prodding.
Fortunately, a distraction arrived before Mercy could begin second-guessing herself. She spun at the sound of the voices and put her smile back on. "Hey, Luca, Jackson! Things should be all set up for pictures, yeah. You guys are our first customers."
Dang, they looked cute together. That dark purple was a great color on both of them. Just another reason it was for the best that Mercy didn't have a date; she didn't know of any guys who would be willing to match her color scheme exactly.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
"Yeah!" Demetri puffed up his chest a bit at that- or maybe: felt it, but didn't actually pull it off without the requisite pec mass- and was defiantly proud. Of course he was all work, what sort of man got far in this life without putting the hours in? Like the 'lonely' part really mattered, all that incel stuff aside. One of the big problems with his generation, he was pretty sure, all the entitlement and shit. Like, he and Mercy went on and on about this, ran it around and around, though sometimes he really felt like he couldn't see her point? His friends were shit, sure, but that was the point. Couldn't be a shitposter without the 'shit' part, logically. Demetri heard people approaching, some girl was asking Mercy something. Mercy was already handling the PR stuff. Shit, good thing she was here. Saving him from spaghetti-vomit mistakes yet to happen, and all that.
"Glad someone's here for me, at least."
He hadn't intended to let it slip out that dismissive or bitter.
He had the Nikon carefully gripped in both hands. Fore against the shutter, thumb wrapped against the back against the view. He accidentally fumbled turning it on, the bulb piece slid up with a dry and robotic click. Whoops, also, fuck.
Turning around he found two vaguely familiar faces. He'd covered events for both of them earlier this year, though he didn't know the girl by name. The dude- Jackson something- was a Klingon face, but Mrs. Prescott had mentioned once, he had like, deep thoughts or something. Sort of dude he probably needed to be in on the loop with. Girl, he'd always wondered what her ancestral history was. She didn't look quite all Americana, just an off-the-cuff observation.
"What's up, guys?" Demetri tried to wear a smile too, though it felt kinda crooked splattered like it was over his cheeks. He probably looked constipated. 'Oh shit' moment, right there. "How's prom treating ya both?" He held up the camera for show, appraising their potential first customers through it, rather than with his own two eyes.
"Glad someone's here for me, at least."
He hadn't intended to let it slip out that dismissive or bitter.
He had the Nikon carefully gripped in both hands. Fore against the shutter, thumb wrapped against the back against the view. He accidentally fumbled turning it on, the bulb piece slid up with a dry and robotic click. Whoops, also, fuck.
Turning around he found two vaguely familiar faces. He'd covered events for both of them earlier this year, though he didn't know the girl by name. The dude- Jackson something- was a Klingon face, but Mrs. Prescott had mentioned once, he had like, deep thoughts or something. Sort of dude he probably needed to be in on the loop with. Girl, he'd always wondered what her ancestral history was. She didn't look quite all Americana, just an off-the-cuff observation.
"What's up, guys?" Demetri tried to wear a smile too, though it felt kinda crooked splattered like it was over his cheeks. He probably looked constipated. 'Oh shit' moment, right there. "How's prom treating ya both?" He held up the camera for show, appraising their potential first customers through it, rather than with his own two eyes.
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Luca metaphorically wiped her brow as Mercy let them know they were in the right place, and as ahead of the crowd as she'd hoped, all with the same chill attitude she always seemed to have. She froze for a split second as the camera in Demetri's hand jumped, looking shocked as the flash bulb came up, as she waited for a flash that never came. She'd thought for a moment that he was trying to take a picture of the two of them all 'casual', which would have inevitably left her looking like a mess - but now he was trying to just greet them normally, so that was nice.
"Good! Good." she replied "Just uh, thought you were taking a picture a moment ago when the camera did all the stuff" she added with a laugh, waving the hand that wasn't holding on to Jackson's around in front of, her in lieu of attempting to describe the action. Best to explain that sort of thing, she didn't want her cameraman getting the wrong impression of what she thought of him, after all.
"Good! Good." she replied "Just uh, thought you were taking a picture a moment ago when the camera did all the stuff" she added with a laugh, waving the hand that wasn't holding on to Jackson's around in front of, her in lieu of attempting to describe the action. Best to explain that sort of thing, she didn't want her cameraman getting the wrong impression of what she thought of him, after all.
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
Jackson smiled awkwardly as Mercy greeted them. Luca was way more excited than he was to get these photos taken. Not that he didn’t want some nice pictures to remember the event, but he was just a bundle of nervousness and anxiety right now, and he felt like he was going to be way too stiff. Of course, the fact that Luca’s hand was wrapped around his own was not exactly helping him relax. If anything that was the prime contributor to his issues. Even so, he did his best to not look as anxious as he felt, even if he did feel like he was sweating buckets at the moment. Demetri lifted the camera as if he was going to take a picture, but he was just miming it as he greeted them. Luca responded a bit awkwardly and it made him smile a bit. At least he wasn’t the only one way out of his element here. He squeezed her hand slightly, trying to be reassuring, and looked over the set-up for the booth.
“So how does this work? Do we need to use the props and stuff? Some of it’s a bit silly, don’t you think?” He chuckled a bit and turned to Luca. “But hey, whatever you wanna do I’m all for it. You’re the captain of this ship.”
“So how does this work? Do we need to use the props and stuff? Some of it’s a bit silly, don’t you think?” He chuckled a bit and turned to Luca. “But hey, whatever you wanna do I’m all for it. You’re the captain of this ship.”
Demetri's comment wasn't quite lost in the shuffle, nor did Mercy purposefully ignore it, but it slipped beneath the new, rising chatter of this interaction and was swept away.
If you'd put yourself out there more, people might want to be around you more, was the tune of what Mercy could have said, but honestly, it was prom night. She'd let it slide. If she didn't start an argument, maybe Demetri wouldn't stew, and he'd actually have something like a good time.
Instead, she also graciously overlooked his gaffe with the camera and kept her focus on Luca and Jackson. "The props are optional." She picked up a glowstick bracelet and absently twirled it around her finger. Yep, she could just see one of these breaking and ruining Luca's beautiful dress. Not a good way to start or end the night. "You guys can do a formal or silly one, or both, whatever you want. There's order forms around somewhere, too..." She glanced around, but the stack of papers didn't immediately catch her eye, so she shrugged and turned back.
"Whatever, we'll find them. If you guys are going to want your pictures printed out and sent to you, you can fill one of those out."
If you'd put yourself out there more, people might want to be around you more, was the tune of what Mercy could have said, but honestly, it was prom night. She'd let it slide. If she didn't start an argument, maybe Demetri wouldn't stew, and he'd actually have something like a good time.
Instead, she also graciously overlooked his gaffe with the camera and kept her focus on Luca and Jackson. "The props are optional." She picked up a glowstick bracelet and absently twirled it around her finger. Yep, she could just see one of these breaking and ruining Luca's beautiful dress. Not a good way to start or end the night. "You guys can do a formal or silly one, or both, whatever you want. There's order forms around somewhere, too..." She glanced around, but the stack of papers didn't immediately catch her eye, so she shrugged and turned back.
"Whatever, we'll find them. If you guys are going to want your pictures printed out and sent to you, you can fill one of those out."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
And, the follow up song was also ass. Less rap crap, more plain crap. Demetri was thinking, well, he'd accidentally avoided the shitty mosh to decidedly un-moshable songs by posting himself out here for the better half of the evening. Sidelined from the thronging masses of overweight shrieking whale girls bumping up some Richter scale shit there in the room over. Mercy was doing herself a favor, being out here.
"I'll find them..." Crap, Demetri forgot the 'when' he'd intended to code somewhere into that sentence. Left him to shuffle to one of the tables crowded with silhouettes barely distinguishable in the dim venue light, to shuffle his fingers in a dance as fucking awkward as one involving his feet would have been. The camera was conscientiously kept close, kept in a strong grip as it was waffled about. No papercuts, so he was probably just feeling up the props... how many damn hats had the drama department donated? "Somewhere..."
Awkward half-minute passed, and Demetri shrugged it off with a half-hearted smile, turning back to his audience just in time to remember they existed.
"Like Mercy said. Anyways, if you've already ordered a Yearbook a photo package is free. And if you haven't, y'know. Good time as any to invest in your priceless memories of McClellan's class. Right?" Damn great sales pitch, right there. As in, damn straight at least a few of the more libcuck kids wouldn't have gotten that it had been a fucking joke, just like all the other jokes they failed to ever get.
He was staring at the customer girl's exposed shoulders. Fuck. He was now staring at knot of the dude's tie. Fuck. Mercy was already established as no-go. Left the floor and all it's magnificently non-existent detailing.
"I'll find them..." Crap, Demetri forgot the 'when' he'd intended to code somewhere into that sentence. Left him to shuffle to one of the tables crowded with silhouettes barely distinguishable in the dim venue light, to shuffle his fingers in a dance as fucking awkward as one involving his feet would have been. The camera was conscientiously kept close, kept in a strong grip as it was waffled about. No papercuts, so he was probably just feeling up the props... how many damn hats had the drama department donated? "Somewhere..."
Awkward half-minute passed, and Demetri shrugged it off with a half-hearted smile, turning back to his audience just in time to remember they existed.
"Like Mercy said. Anyways, if you've already ordered a Yearbook a photo package is free. And if you haven't, y'know. Good time as any to invest in your priceless memories of McClellan's class. Right?" Damn great sales pitch, right there. As in, damn straight at least a few of the more libcuck kids wouldn't have gotten that it had been a fucking joke, just like all the other jokes they failed to ever get.
He was staring at the customer girl's exposed shoulders. Fuck. He was now staring at knot of the dude's tie. Fuck. Mercy was already established as no-go. Left the floor and all it's magnificently non-existent detailing.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
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Primrosette
- Posts: 1033
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 am
- Location: In the Dark Abyss
((Drew Woods continued from apomakrysmenophobia))
Now what am I supposed to do?!
Drew was now feeling very awkward beside Cecil and all he could think was that he was not as handsome as Cecil and he knew that it shouldn't bother him that his date was more hotter than him. But he knew that it did bother him and he didn't want to admit that he was a little jealous of Cecil. Why was he making himself feel like this? He wanted to have such a good time with Cecil and he hoped that Cecil liked how he looked. He was really self-conscious about how he looked in front of the guy that he was very desperate to impress. He was wearing a black tuxedo, with a buttoned-up blue shirt, a pair of black sneakers, a blue tie and some gold glitter on his hands. He really wanted to know what Cecil thought about how he had dressed up for prom.
He found himself not wanting to ask and he stared over at the booth. Oh, that would be so perfect for them to do. "Hey, Cecil. Wouldn't that be fun to do?" He asked in a hopeful manner and he really wanted Cecil to have a great time with him. Maybe they could date for real after this! Oh, but then more people would know about his sexuality and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet.
Now what am I supposed to do?!
Drew was now feeling very awkward beside Cecil and all he could think was that he was not as handsome as Cecil and he knew that it shouldn't bother him that his date was more hotter than him. But he knew that it did bother him and he didn't want to admit that he was a little jealous of Cecil. Why was he making himself feel like this? He wanted to have such a good time with Cecil and he hoped that Cecil liked how he looked. He was really self-conscious about how he looked in front of the guy that he was very desperate to impress. He was wearing a black tuxedo, with a buttoned-up blue shirt, a pair of black sneakers, a blue tie and some gold glitter on his hands. He really wanted to know what Cecil thought about how he had dressed up for prom.
He found himself not wanting to ask and he stared over at the booth. Oh, that would be so perfect for them to do. "Hey, Cecil. Wouldn't that be fun to do?" He asked in a hopeful manner and he really wanted Cecil to have a great time with him. Maybe they could date for real after this! Oh, but then more people would know about his sexuality and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet.
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 533
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:50 pm
- Location: Where I need to be
Luca nodded as she considered the plethora of options in front of her. The yearbook hadn't been something that had been a maybe, her parents making sure she asked about it as soon as possible so they could get the copy - It was the sort of thing relatives and friends were gathered around to talk about every year over Christmas. She was getting a little too old for it, or at least, she felt like she was, but they loved it, and there was a part of her that didn't mind being told how grown up she looked. So she was happy to play along with it.
Still, she could have her own fun with it.
She reached over and took the glowing circle from Mercy with her right hand, reaching a finger under mid-twirl and flicking it up, giving her a friendly smile as she continued the twirling a few circles more before placing it on top of Jackson's head. The pale, yellow circle sitting on his head for just a moment like she'd hoped, before it sunk into the mop of his hair, promptly falling down his face and coming to rest on his nose.
She couldn't help but giggle a little, leaving a moment of mirth before she began to apologise, not wanting him to feel like she was laughing at him of course.
"Su-Sorry! I heh - uh - just wanted to see what you'd look like and..." she tried, trailing off into wordless oblivion as her thoughts failed her.
Still, she could have her own fun with it.
She reached over and took the glowing circle from Mercy with her right hand, reaching a finger under mid-twirl and flicking it up, giving her a friendly smile as she continued the twirling a few circles more before placing it on top of Jackson's head. The pale, yellow circle sitting on his head for just a moment like she'd hoped, before it sunk into the mop of his hair, promptly falling down his face and coming to rest on his nose.
She couldn't help but giggle a little, leaving a moment of mirth before she began to apologise, not wanting him to feel like she was laughing at him of course.
"Su-Sorry! I heh - uh - just wanted to see what you'd look like and..." she tried, trailing off into wordless oblivion as her thoughts failed her.
Criticism or thoughts on my writing are welcome and appreciated - always looking to improve! Feel free to poke me on Discord or via PM.
Jackson listened along to Mercy and Demetri’s explanations on how the photo packages worked. His parents had already shelled out the money to get a yearbook for his senior year, so he supposed getting pictures was the least he could do so his mom would have something to put in a frame and remember tonight with. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind having a few copies himself to take with him to college next year. This was a pretty important night after all. Yeah, in the grand scheme of life prom wasn’t the biggest deal, but at their age, it was one of the biggest milestones for them to cross, graduation being a close second in that regard. It would be nice to have something to look back on.
Luca took the glow stick bracelet from Mercy, and after playing with it for a second, took it upon herself to place the small yellow ring on Jackson’s head. He looked at her incredulously, a silly smile on his face as he felt the ring sink down into his hair, and slide down his face to rest on his nose. Luca immediately started to giggle incessantly, and he figured he must have looked pretty ridiculous. For just a moment his head started to fill up with negative thoughts, but he pushed them all away and plucked the glow stick from his head, smoothing his hair back out with his free hand. Luca started to apologize, and she let her words trail off as she looked at him worriedly. He sighed and grabbed her hand again, sliding the glowing bracelet on to her wrist. He looked up at her and smiled.
“There we go. It looks much better on you.” He cheesed out a hearty grin, attempting to set her mind at ease. Looking over to where the props were set up, he grabbed a pair of oversized bright yellow glasses and put them on his face. He turned to her and chuckled.
“These are more my speed. What do you think?” He attempted to strike a silly pose, and he figured he must look completely awkward and ridiculous, but it was okay. If he could get Luca to smile it would be worth it.
Luca took the glow stick bracelet from Mercy, and after playing with it for a second, took it upon herself to place the small yellow ring on Jackson’s head. He looked at her incredulously, a silly smile on his face as he felt the ring sink down into his hair, and slide down his face to rest on his nose. Luca immediately started to giggle incessantly, and he figured he must have looked pretty ridiculous. For just a moment his head started to fill up with negative thoughts, but he pushed them all away and plucked the glow stick from his head, smoothing his hair back out with his free hand. Luca started to apologize, and she let her words trail off as she looked at him worriedly. He sighed and grabbed her hand again, sliding the glowing bracelet on to her wrist. He looked up at her and smiled.
“There we go. It looks much better on you.” He cheesed out a hearty grin, attempting to set her mind at ease. Looking over to where the props were set up, he grabbed a pair of oversized bright yellow glasses and put them on his face. He turned to her and chuckled.
“These are more my speed. What do you think?” He attempted to strike a silly pose, and he figured he must look completely awkward and ridiculous, but it was okay. If he could get Luca to smile it would be worth it.
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LeslieFranc
- Posts: 188
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 11:22 pm
((Cecil Salazar-Loveless continued from apomakrysmenophobia))
The phrase “clothes make the man” was something Cecil’s mother had emphasized a lot of times, often with a very indulgent and happy tone of voice as she would excitedly dress him up and make him try out different formal wears until they both finally decide the one perfect for the party that they were going. Mom always loved a more classic look on him, while his grandparents would settle for nothing less than that. Ma never had much interest in what he should properly wear, but she simply loves it when he decides to wear something more unconventional. Of course, he grew to have his own preference and find his own style that allowed him the confidence to present himself in public.
He already had something in mind even before since he was already planning on attending prom anyway, but then Drew asked him to be his date, and so that means he had to step it up. Not that he’s highly concerned about impressing Drew, but it’s only normal to want to make more of an effort, right?
Cecil never really asked his moms to help out with what he’s going to wear, but they were very enthusiastic to do it anyway, especially when he mentioned having a prom date. Mom thought he should go “more formal,” (”More than usual prom-kind of formal, you mean?”) and Ma wasn’t much help by telling him to try to go “less stage costume’ (”I refuse to be embarrassed by what you are implying, please don’t.”) They were right of course, but he still felt some offense and a little bit of shame, especially from Ma’s teasing comment, and while he felt bad for even thinking about it, it really has been awhile since Cecil considered doing the exact opposite of what they said just to mess with them.
In the end, he went with a royal blue three-piece tuxedo over a black dress shirt with a gold collar, decorated with a thin gold trouser chain and small chain tassel brooch. He continued on the gold trend with the accessories with the cufflinks and jewelry. He admittedly went on a more minimalist route with the latter, or it might get too gaudy. Blue, black and gold. He matches well with what Drew’s wearing, too.
Speaking of his date, it seems like Drew also had some more casual and eccentric decisions on his attire, namely the sneakers and gold glitter. Is the glitter for the theme? Does that count?
Cecil might have asked him about it just to start a conversation. Drew’s nervous energy now made him uneasy again though. He’s still unsure on what conclusion he’s supposed to make with him. A closer relationship is definitely what he wants, but whether my own questionable emotional intelligence could smoothly handle the rest of the night or not is up for debate. Cecil just kept contemplating on how to go around Drew’s constant and not-so discreetly anxious attention and came up with a blank. It’s not like he’s completely indifferent towards him, but the only things he knew about him was that he likes him and he’s really skittish.
He supposes that means he has to try finding something else about him that’s attractive.
With that decision in mind, he was planning to ask some questions about him when Drew himself took the initiative. His eyes followed the direction where Drew was pointing at and landed at the photo booth the Yearbook club had worked on. Huh.
His first instinct was to immediately go over there and offer help to run the booth, in spite of the perpetual urge to avoid Demetri whenever he sees him as well as the fact that he’s supposed to enjoy the night with Drew. He also saw Mercy entertaining a couple he assumes wants a photo. That’s what he’d probably be doing if it weren’t for Drew, so perhaps all is good. Or not? But he should still do what he can, right? Or is that just his guilt for not being able to do something for his club?
“Sure, let’s go.” So he smiled at Drew and grabbed his arm, leading the way. “You planning to buy a copy?”
His own parents would also want a copy anyway.
When they’ve reached the photo booth, Cecil presented a polite smile with a “Hey.” to his fellow club members once they notice the two of them. He looks curiously at the couple whom he’s unfamiliar with. Shouldn’t take long, right? he thought as he glanced at Drew.
The phrase “clothes make the man” was something Cecil’s mother had emphasized a lot of times, often with a very indulgent and happy tone of voice as she would excitedly dress him up and make him try out different formal wears until they both finally decide the one perfect for the party that they were going. Mom always loved a more classic look on him, while his grandparents would settle for nothing less than that. Ma never had much interest in what he should properly wear, but she simply loves it when he decides to wear something more unconventional. Of course, he grew to have his own preference and find his own style that allowed him the confidence to present himself in public.
He already had something in mind even before since he was already planning on attending prom anyway, but then Drew asked him to be his date, and so that means he had to step it up. Not that he’s highly concerned about impressing Drew, but it’s only normal to want to make more of an effort, right?
Cecil never really asked his moms to help out with what he’s going to wear, but they were very enthusiastic to do it anyway, especially when he mentioned having a prom date. Mom thought he should go “more formal,” (”More than usual prom-kind of formal, you mean?”) and Ma wasn’t much help by telling him to try to go “less stage costume’ (”I refuse to be embarrassed by what you are implying, please don’t.”) They were right of course, but he still felt some offense and a little bit of shame, especially from Ma’s teasing comment, and while he felt bad for even thinking about it, it really has been awhile since Cecil considered doing the exact opposite of what they said just to mess with them.
In the end, he went with a royal blue three-piece tuxedo over a black dress shirt with a gold collar, decorated with a thin gold trouser chain and small chain tassel brooch. He continued on the gold trend with the accessories with the cufflinks and jewelry. He admittedly went on a more minimalist route with the latter, or it might get too gaudy. Blue, black and gold. He matches well with what Drew’s wearing, too.
Speaking of his date, it seems like Drew also had some more casual and eccentric decisions on his attire, namely the sneakers and gold glitter. Is the glitter for the theme? Does that count?
Cecil might have asked him about it just to start a conversation. Drew’s nervous energy now made him uneasy again though. He’s still unsure on what conclusion he’s supposed to make with him. A closer relationship is definitely what he wants, but whether my own questionable emotional intelligence could smoothly handle the rest of the night or not is up for debate. Cecil just kept contemplating on how to go around Drew’s constant and not-so discreetly anxious attention and came up with a blank. It’s not like he’s completely indifferent towards him, but the only things he knew about him was that he likes him and he’s really skittish.
He supposes that means he has to try finding something else about him that’s attractive.
With that decision in mind, he was planning to ask some questions about him when Drew himself took the initiative. His eyes followed the direction where Drew was pointing at and landed at the photo booth the Yearbook club had worked on. Huh.
His first instinct was to immediately go over there and offer help to run the booth, in spite of the perpetual urge to avoid Demetri whenever he sees him as well as the fact that he’s supposed to enjoy the night with Drew. He also saw Mercy entertaining a couple he assumes wants a photo. That’s what he’d probably be doing if it weren’t for Drew, so perhaps all is good. Or not? But he should still do what he can, right? Or is that just his guilt for not being able to do something for his club?
“Sure, let’s go.” So he smiled at Drew and grabbed his arm, leading the way. “You planning to buy a copy?”
His own parents would also want a copy anyway.
When they’ve reached the photo booth, Cecil presented a polite smile with a “Hey.” to his fellow club members once they notice the two of them. He looks curiously at the couple whom he’s unfamiliar with. Shouldn’t take long, right? he thought as he glanced at Drew.
