noise dept.
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Mike Driver
oozey mess
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NASA
blake kathryn
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Claire Keane
@theartofmadeline
RMH
Xuebing Du
Jules of Nature
Today's Document
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Janaina Medeiros
hello vonnie
ojovivo
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@gh0stofchicago
I'm still trying to understand how it happened, but I'm here.
In 1989.
My family and I encountered a spirit last week that sent us into the past - and I don't know why. My chest hurts. I keep seeing her.
She's alive, but I feel like I'm being haunted. Like the universe is playing one big joke on me.
My foolish heart longs to let her in again - but I'm still tending to the burns she left behind.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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How are your hands feeling? They’ve gotten pretty banged up recently…
Thatsforme to know.
What’s your favorite kind of pop tart?
I dontrreally like sweet food.
What does Gary think?
Hardto tell.
Why do you think that?
She defnitely suspects. I hear her tlking to Gary sometimes.
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Do you think your mom will find out?
M sure she lready knows.
Do you usually solve your anger with violence?
No, it jsut usuualy works for me.
Are you drunk?
Aliyttle bit.
Well. At least your outfit looked nice
Mmmit was kind of itchy.
Mel thinks you look hot when you punch people btw. Just some knowledge for you
Mayrbe i should doit more often. There's plenty ofpeople I can think pf who deserve it.
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Mel is drunk off her ass right now
Mmm, maybe I should follow her lead.
How do you feel now that the secret’s out?
I'm not really the one affected by it.
have you checked in on her since the party?
Yes.
Heard Mel got her teeth knocked out. Are you two okay?
I don't really think you should be asking about me. I hope Mel's okay - I bandaged her up and all, but...
How was the party?
Lets just say I'm not going to another one any time soon.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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The house party is crowded, and buzzing with life. The air is sticky, and the place reeks of alcohol. Nobody knows who the host is, and nobody really cares. All that matters to most of the kids in attendance, is that there’s alcohol, music, and good bud.
Including Melody, who, clad in a crimson velvet dress and a leather jacket, finds herself dragging Phoebe around akin to a purse puppy as she drinks a bottle of beer a little too quickly. She turns to Phoebe, whose arm she has her own wrapped around, grinning at her. “So, how ‘bout it, kitty? What do you think?”
The environment is certainly not one Phoebe has been in before. The popular folk surrounding them, jocks and cheerleaders, gawk at the show Melody is putting on. More so, the little pet that she’s brought with her as the main attraction. Melody is used to eyes prying into her, but tonight she doesn’t notice. Piercing eyes are not as bright as Phoebe is, so she isn’t looking at anybody else other than her.
@rebelflames, who else?
Phoebe's holding an untouched cup of punch in her unoccupied hand, the smell of whatever was used to spike it hits the back of her throat and makes her stomach twist. She's wearing a white turtleneck under a half-buttoned black collared shirt, the fabric around her neck nearly as suffocating as the party itself. She looks at Melody, beaming up at her, half-lidded eyes and bright red dress. Mel seems almost like her anchor to reality as her mind floats through the choked air. "I think..." She starts, her mouth quirking up into a ghost of a smile. "I don't really belong here." She can feel the eyes on her, she's a stranger in a strange land. "But I'm having fun." It's not a lie, but if Melody weren't here, it would be.
Melody's anchor to this reality is nonexistent, as she throws her head back and takes another swig of her alcohol. Nothing can hold her down. She's a free spirit, after all. Or, maybe, she's constantly out of her own mind. Who can say? Her hips idly sway to the music as she looks at Phoebe. Her doe eyes focus on Phoebe, swallowing before grinning once more. "None of us really belong here, Pheebs." Melody glances around the room, the people's eyes boring into them hardly registering amidst the smoke fog and the idle chatter. "We're all just pretending that we do. Now-- C'mon!" Melody pulls at Phoebe's arm, "Let's walk 'round! See what's what, n' who's who!"
Phoebe wants to swallow her pride the second Melody's eyes meet hers, the second her arm tugs at her own. Her face feels warm, her heart pounds against her chest.
It's dangerous.
“Okay.” She breathes out. She nearly considers finally taking a drink from the cup in her hand, but when the strong smell hits her again, she grimaces and abandons it on a nearby table.
“We can do that.” Phoebe tries not to listen to her mind as she glances at the other partygoers through the corner of her eye.
Melody smirks, pulling Phoebe forward through the crowd. Melody exchanges playful greetings with other partygoers, all while pulling Phoebe around like a stray. Melody hardly realizes how close they are as she pulls her way through the place, taking a swig of her alcohol every few minutes. She can only be brave enough to be with Phoebe with a belly warm from alcohol. Melody's eyes end up zeroing in on a mistletoe clumsily hung over a fireplace. It's tradition, for couples to kiss under the mistletoe, right? Melody turns to Phoebe, smirk widening into a lopsided grin. "Pheeeeebsss...." She coos, placing her near empty bottle down on the floor and taking both of Phoebe's hands. She steps in front of Phoebe, leading them underneath the mistletoe. "Youuuu know the tradition, dontcha?" Melody asks, glancing up at the greenery and then back down to Phoebe. She pulls at Phoebe's shirt collar, "We're supposed to kiss now.." Without warning, Melody's lips are on Phoebe's, in a kiss desperately clumsier than what Melody imagined. It's real. Drunk actions are sober wishes, after all.
Phoebe freezes, red hot blood turning ice cold as their lips meet, she didn't want it to happen like this. “Mel,” she whispers, pulling away. “You're drunk.” Her face isn't angry, nor sad. Just concerned. Her dark blue eyes as stormy as the swirling sea, thoughts being thrown about like guilty sailors.
She puts a gentle hand on her leather sleeve, almost like she's afraid. Afraid for Melody, mostly.
“Are you okay?” She leans in a little closer, trying to search her face. Her attention is turned to the tens of prying eyes she can feel burning holes through her very soul.
“Do you…” she swallows, trying to push down her heart in her throat. “Do you want me to take you home? I can-”
Melody’s hands keep a shaky hold on Phoebe’s shoulders, unfocused eyes blinking dumbly at Phoebe. That is, until Melody takes a minute to look around. She takes it in, studying the prying eyes and the sound of whispering. Melody’s eyes widen, and her hands fly up and off of Phoebe, as if her touch burns. “I didn’t mean to, w-wait-“ Melody rasps, glancing around at the kids around her, less so the audience. “Shit.” Melody grits, eyes flicking around for an exit. “Yeah. Yeah, we sh’ld - g-go. Fuck!” And, with that, Melody steps away, looking down at her shoes and hoping Phoebe will follow as she flies off, like a phoenix.
That would be too easy of an ending, though, wouldn’t it? Phoebe and Melody walking away, with only a slight stain on their reputations? Hah! Nope. Not in the cards, I’m afraid. Somebody Melody knows, steps forward, whistling lowly. Maybe one of Melody’s exes, maybe not. Either way, the words he says are vile. “Ahh, turnin’ Mel into a little dyke, huh?” He taunts, laughing a dry laugh with no real humor in it. “I betcha would want Mel, huh? Social rejects need some kinda saving grace, and I bet you saw ‘er and thought you were saved. Who do you think you are, walking into this party like you deserve to be here?”
Phoebe squares her shoulders and stops slouching as soon as the sleazy guy steps in her way - she's not exactly in the mood to fight, but she hoped her height and her strength would at least intimidate the guy into stopping. She can feel the disdain in her body, the biting remarks at the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't say anything. They want a reaction. She won't give them the satisfaction. “I don't think I deserve to be here.” She replies calmly, expression stoic. “That's why I'm leaving.” She tries to push him forward and out of her way, but pauses when she feels a hand collide with her shoulder.
It's Melody's hand, held in leather. She gently pushes Phoebe aside, and winds her fist back, throwing a punch right into the man's eye. She stands in front of Phoebe, drunkenly wobbling in place as her fists remain clenched. "Y'fucked with th' wrong one of us. If ya' got problems wif' th' way I- I act--.. Fight-" Melody glances around the room, something quick and nervous, before swallowing her pride and standing taller. "Fight me 'bout it. N-not her." This scrawny, scruffy douchebag stares Melody down, "Wh-- I don't punch girls. The girl yer' seeing is hardly woman 'nuff to c-" They're cut off by another sharp blow to the nose, a crack echoing across the quiet house party. "What the FUCK happened t--to not punching girls? You seemed so EAGER to punch m'girl n- and-- an' now y-you're- pissing yourself trying to punch me? Fight me, bitch!-" The music stops, people are staring, and Melody is at the center of it all. She feels... like a star. It's vindicating to be looked at this way. She smirks, but it's quickly wiped off her face when she takes a blow to the jaw. Her teeth catch onto his knuckles, breaking one of her teeth and sending it out of her mouth. Blood trickles down from her mouth, but even then, she doesn't back down. She coughs a little, doe eyes half-lidded as she stares him down. "Pussy. Fucking pussy. You're-- you're such a cunt!" Melody hisses, moving her body to be in front of Phoebe. He takes another step forward, only for his fist to be caught before he can swing it, and Melody twisting his wrist. "Where's that smart mouth now, huh!? Speak up! C'mon! Can't talk cuz-- cuz' you're bleeding all over like a little bitch?!"
Blood dripped onto the carpet, 70s beige tinted dark red, Melody was adamant to win this fight, but nearly too drunk to keep her eyes open - Phoebe didn't know when her body started to move, when her mouth started to move, or when her hand balled into a fist. Bone collided with bone, and then they were gone. Phoebe's hand stung as she checked to see if anything was wrong with Mel besides the obvious - the alcohol concerned her - the dull hum of the fluorescents above them in the pharmacy filling her similarly noisy mind. She couldn't tell if she'd been looking for seconds or hours when she stepped back. When they were out again, Phoebe gestured for Mel to sit on a nearby stoop, which she then knelt in front of, setting down a heavy plastic shopping bag. She was silent as she patched Melody up, giving her some gauze to bite down on and ignoring her own hand. "I'll make it up to you." Phoebe rasped as she dusted off her knees and offered Mel her hand. "What do you say about grabbing something to eat?"
The house party is crowded, and buzzing with life. The air is sticky, and the place reeks of alcohol. Nobody knows who the host is, and nobody really cares. All that matters to most of the kids in attendance, is that there’s alcohol, music, and good bud.
Including Melody, who, clad in a crimson velvet dress and a leather jacket, finds herself dragging Phoebe around akin to a purse puppy as she drinks a bottle of beer a little too quickly. She turns to Phoebe, whose arm she has her own wrapped around, grinning at her. “So, how ‘bout it, kitty? What do you think?”
The environment is certainly not one Phoebe has been in before. The popular folk surrounding them, jocks and cheerleaders, gawk at the show Melody is putting on. More so, the little pet that she’s brought with her as the main attraction. Melody is used to eyes prying into her, but tonight she doesn’t notice. Piercing eyes are not as bright as Phoebe is, so she isn’t looking at anybody else other than her.
@rebelflames, who else?
Phoebe's holding an untouched cup of punch in her unoccupied hand, the smell of whatever was used to spike it hits the back of her throat and makes her stomach twist. She's wearing a white turtleneck under a half-buttoned black collared shirt, the fabric around her neck nearly as suffocating as the party itself. She looks at Melody, beaming up at her, half-lidded eyes and bright red dress. Mel seems almost like her anchor to reality as her mind floats through the choked air. "I think..." She starts, her mouth quirking up into a ghost of a smile. "I don't really belong here." She can feel the eyes on her, she's a stranger in a strange land. "But I'm having fun." It's not a lie, but if Melody weren't here, it would be.
Melody's anchor to this reality is nonexistent, as she throws her head back and takes another swig of her alcohol. Nothing can hold her down. She's a free spirit, after all. Or, maybe, she's constantly out of her own mind. Who can say? Her hips idly sway to the music as she looks at Phoebe. Her doe eyes focus on Phoebe, swallowing before grinning once more. "None of us really belong here, Pheebs." Melody glances around the room, the people's eyes boring into them hardly registering amidst the smoke fog and the idle chatter. "We're all just pretending that we do. Now-- C'mon!" Melody pulls at Phoebe's arm, "Let's walk 'round! See what's what, n' who's who!"
Phoebe wants to swallow her pride the second Melody's eyes meet hers, the second her arm tugs at her own. Her face feels warm, her heart pounds against her chest.
It's dangerous.
“Okay.” She breathes out. She nearly considers finally taking a drink from the cup in her hand, but when the strong smell hits her again, she grimaces and abandons it on a nearby table.
“We can do that.” Phoebe tries not to listen to her mind as she glances at the other partygoers through the corner of her eye.
Melody smirks, pulling Phoebe forward through the crowd. Melody exchanges playful greetings with other partygoers, all while pulling Phoebe around like a stray. Melody hardly realizes how close they are as she pulls her way through the place, taking a swig of her alcohol every few minutes. She can only be brave enough to be with Phoebe with a belly warm from alcohol. Melody's eyes end up zeroing in on a mistletoe clumsily hung over a fireplace. It's tradition, for couples to kiss under the mistletoe, right? Melody turns to Phoebe, smirk widening into a lopsided grin. "Pheeeeebsss...." She coos, placing her near empty bottle down on the floor and taking both of Phoebe's hands. She steps in front of Phoebe, leading them underneath the mistletoe. "Youuuu know the tradition, dontcha?" Melody asks, glancing up at the greenery and then back down to Phoebe. She pulls at Phoebe's shirt collar, "We're supposed to kiss now.." Without warning, Melody's lips are on Phoebe's, in a kiss desperately clumsier than what Melody imagined. It's real. Drunk actions are sober wishes, after all.
Phoebe freezes, red hot blood turning ice cold as their lips meet, she didn't want it to happen like this. “Mel,” she whispers, pulling away. “You're drunk.” Her face isn't angry, nor sad. Just concerned. Her dark blue eyes as stormy as the swirling sea, thoughts being thrown about like guilty sailors.
She puts a gentle hand on her leather sleeve, almost like she's afraid. Afraid for Melody, mostly.
“Are you okay?” She leans in a little closer, trying to search her face. Her attention is turned to the tens of prying eyes she can feel burning holes through her very soul.
“Do you…” she swallows, trying to push down her heart in her throat. “Do you want me to take you home? I can-”
Melody’s hands keep a shaky hold on Phoebe’s shoulders, unfocused eyes blinking dumbly at Phoebe. That is, until Melody takes a minute to look around. She takes it in, studying the prying eyes and the sound of whispering. Melody’s eyes widen, and her hands fly up and off of Phoebe, as if her touch burns. “I didn’t mean to, w-wait-“ Melody rasps, glancing around at the kids around her, less so the audience. “Shit.” Melody grits, eyes flicking around for an exit. “Yeah. Yeah, we sh’ld - g-go. Fuck!” And, with that, Melody steps away, looking down at her shoes and hoping Phoebe will follow as she flies off, like a phoenix.
That would be too easy of an ending, though, wouldn’t it? Phoebe and Melody walking away, with only a slight stain on their reputations? Hah! Nope. Not in the cards, I’m afraid. Somebody Melody knows, steps forward, whistling lowly. Maybe one of Melody’s exes, maybe not. Either way, the words he says are vile. “Ahh, turnin’ Mel into a little dyke, huh?” He taunts, laughing a dry laugh with no real humor in it. “I betcha would want Mel, huh? Social rejects need some kinda saving grace, and I bet you saw ‘er and thought you were saved. Who do you think you are, walking into this party like you deserve to be here?”
Phoebe squares her shoulders and stops slouching as soon as the sleazy guy steps in her way - she's not exactly in the mood to fight, but she hoped her height and her strength would at least intimidate the guy into stopping. She can feel the disdain in her body, the biting remarks at the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't say anything. They want a reaction. She won't give them the satisfaction. “I don't think I deserve to be here.” She replies calmly, expression stoic. “That's why I'm leaving.” She tries to push him forward and out of her way, but pauses when she feels a hand collide with her shoulder.
