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 Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:36 am
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September 30th
Dear Diary,
A couple of months ago, my aunt surprised me with a backstage pass to my favorite band, String Me Along, concert, which she has never done before considering the fact that she manages them. Maybe it's because I was getting older, the wonderful age of eighteen, that she finally realized that I am not a baby anymore. YEAH. THAT'S RIGHT, AUNT SARAH!
It's been quite a while since SMAs rise to fame completely took the world by storm with their alternative music: from Europe to Asia, people were screaming their names. Already touring for their fifth album, with a new one coming up soon. I was so psyched because out of a million other girls out there in the world, I was lucky enough to actually interact with them... No. With High, their lead singer. High is like the epitome of perfect. From his looks to his voice, he was just amazing.
No doubt, I got to meet him. He told me I was cute! It was the happiest moment of my life! I swear I swooned in his muscular arms. Things happened that night; things I am not particularly proud of, nor Aunt Sarah would be proud of either. Just as my aunt surprised me with my backstage pass, my doctor surprised me with a positive pregnancy test.
I am not ready to be a mother. I am only eighteen for crying out loud! I told High too, I even got the courage to call the number he saved on my phone. It took three months for me to call him since our first meeting, and what do I get on the other line? A bunch of giggling fan girls, and a very annoyed High. I don't really remember how the much of the conversation went, since the sound of my heartbeat filled my ears, but what was clear to me was High's insistence on the child not being his. How could it not be his? I was a virgin before him! god, he infuriates me!
He never cared at all. He just wanted a piece of a** for the night, and I was naive enough to fall for it. How stupid can I get. Obviously, pretty stupid.
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:39 am
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:40 am
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C H A R A C T E R S:
YummyBiscuits Name: High Clark
Age: 23
Appearance: loveme
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 176 lbs
Personality: High is normally an aloof and happy person. He keeps a smile on his face, and tries to make people around him happy. That's the reason he gives the reporters for making music in the first place. All of High's friends find him to be a pretty nice guy, the kind of person you'd miss if he was gone, left, or whatever. Pretty amazing right?
The truth is, High has some serious issues. The drinking and drug abuse, which people assume to stem from a bad case of Party-boy syndrome, is a way for High to get away from his pretty harsh past, and hide behind the idea he's famous, and loved now. High is pretty ******** up when you get down to it. Something of an a*****e too.
Hobbies: High is a serious drinker. Even during his highschool days, he drank much to much. Otherwise, High is almost always in the studio, pumping out more and more music.
History:
High Clark was born in Manchester, England, to a small family. What happened during his life in England isn't known to the public, other than High ended up moving to America when he was 8 to live with relatives.
What High found there was less than love. An abusive uncle, a helpless aunt, and evil-minded cousins. This time for High was absolutely horrible, forcing him into the streets, and the life of that at the same time. High experienced bouts of self-harm, suicide attempts, etc.
When High entered High school, things seemed normal. Eventually, he would form the band known today as " String Me Along. " Later in life, this band would become extremely popular, for it's metal-themed tunes, screaming vocals, and deep undertoned bass. Few bands ever experienced this sort of fame.
High led the band as it's singer, and got his happy place. Still, he experienced troubles inside, never letting other people in.
Currently, High and the Band have dropped down to stay in New York City while their album makes it way around. They are sort of taking a break.
About four months ago, High was hanging out after a small underground-show, and had some girls brought back. OF these girls, he and the rest of the guys took their pick, and did the nasty.
It was High's dumb luck that the chick got pregnant. ******** him, right?
tanqela name: Phoebe Valentine
age: 18
appearance: nothing special
height: five feet four inches
weight: one hunded and five pounds
personality Phoebe is like any other teenaged girl in the world: easily swayed and likely to instantanously fall in love with popular idols. She is shy around new people, and quite loquacious in a familiar crowd. More times than not, the young lady tends to blend in with the background rather than become the center of attention. There was something about being the center of attention that repulsed her sometimes, although being a teen, her conceit does get the best of her, even though her looks are only average. The girl is nothing special, and she knows it too.
She's fairly normal; Innocence is intermingled with her devilish charm and clever insight, but really, that's nothing special. It's common sense, which she prides herself on. Phoebe thinks logically, and outwardly, which is what most people call word vomit.
hobbies: The lady likes to do what all of the other girls do, not because she has too, but she wants to: spending hours everyday on tumblr reblogging what she liked, chatting on facebook, pictures on instagram and tweets on twitter. Phoebe liked fantasizing about High Clark, the lead singer of String Me Along, and how wonderful life would be if they were together. Obviously, she doesn't anymore. Ever since she found out she was pregnant, she took on new hobbies like researching general topics about motherhood, spending more and more time in recluse.
history: Phoebe lives with her dad's single sister, who focuses more on her work than anything else, understandable because she's managing one of the most popular bands since they debuted. The girl was left in the care of her Aunt at thirteen because it was a better alternative for her freelance journalist parents to leave her in the care of someone they trusted than to spend thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to some snooty boarding school. It was all a matter of convinience for them. The teen didn't care anyway, as her Aunt already acted like her second mother.
Being in her last year of highschool, Phoebe has adopted a common senior year student lifestyle, cramming and procrastinating until the last minute. She passes doing the bear minimum, so why bother going to infinity and beyond with her studies? The girl didn't have a dream career to try and reach, nor did she believe she was ever going to. Living life day by day: home, school, home. That was her life. Humdrum and boring. Never once did she feel she was going to escape the reality that she faced in front of her.
It all changed when she was introduced to her rock hero. They had sex. The end? No, the casual one night stand turned into a surprise from hell, as she finds out she's carrying a little nudger inside her. It was some sick, twisted joke. Many times she pinched herself to see if she was only dreaming, but that only resulted in a sore spot on her skin. This was her actual reality. Phoebe was going to be one of those pregnant, teenage girls on TV; one of those girls she used to mock. Damn it.
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:42 am
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★ ᎵᏂᎤҽᏏҽ ᏤᎺᏝҽᏁᎿᎥᏁҽ ★
"This is what makes us girls
We all look for heaven and we put our love first
Somethin' that we'd die for, it's our curse
Don't cry about it, don't cry about it
This is what makes us girls
We don't stick together 'cause we put our love first
Don't cry about him, don't cry about him
It's all gonna happen"
A small ray of sunshine peeked from behind her heavy, brown colored curtains and gradually pouring in light as the sun rose from the East. It introduced itself, like a gentleman would, into the overly cluttered room of a still sleeping teenage girl: clothes strewn all over the light beige carpeted floor leaving barely anything in the closet, makeup all over a crowded boudoir, a large mirror to its right, along with a basket full of hair paraphernalia and papers littered on a table with an Apple computer. The bed which held the girl so earnestly, itself was askew; it lacked a comforter, which rested on the floor with the clothing and out of four pillows only one remained on the bed, underneath the teen's head. A small bedside table adorned the room, and was probably the only thing untouched by the clutter. On it was an alarm clock, showing that it was almost ten a.m, an iPhone and a cute, pink diary which had a matching pen.
At 1O a.m. on the dot, the girl's phone vibrates wildly on the glass top of the bedside table. A reluctant hand reaches over and takes the phone from its place.
With one eye barely opened, the young girl looks at the one who disturbed her peaceful slumber. It was her Aunt. Oh god... What does she want...? She thought the dismal thought, but she answered it anyway.
"Hello?" The girl says holding the phone to her ear, her voice was raspy, a sign of her just waking up, which her aunt immediately pointed out. It seems the call was about their commemorative brunch, or whatever the hell the woman called it. It was a reminder, her aunt obviously knew that the teen would forget, like she always does.
"You better show up, Phoebe." Her aunt said before she hung up. Was that a threat? It sounded like it. Anyway, it was brunch and it was free. Knowing Aunt Sarah, it was going to be held at one of those fancy schmancy restaurants, all artsy and stuff. Phoebe gave a disgruntled moan. This meant that she would have to get ready, and if she wanted to look good by the time of their meeting, which was in T minus one hour and thirty minutes, sparing thirty minutes for the commute to the restaurant, she'd have to get ready now.
With slow, sloth-like movement, Phoebe got herself out of bed and made her way to the closet, pulling out a bright blue, figure hugging, one shoulder dress, along with a large, wool sweater. Next thing to find would be stockings, which were conveniently placed on top of her full body mirror next to her vanity.
Quickly, she undressed, slipped on her dress stockings, squeezed into her dress and checked herself in the mirror. Her hand lingered over her slightly protruding stomach and suddenly all of the happenings the night before rushed to her head. Why did it have to be her? Out of all the girls who were backstage that night, why her? Why him? The flashbacks sped through her mind like lightning. The ordeal was regretful, especially with His insistence that he wasn't the father. The thought made her want to upchuck--Oh no, wait! She did have to vomit, and into her trashcan it went, the maid would pick up the trash anyway, no worries for her. The beauties of being pregnant. Whoopie! To get the taste out of her mouth, she took out the mini tooth brush thingy that she bought a few days ago, knowing full well that these episodes were going to happen again and more frequently too.
Once done with her oral routine, she plugged in her straightening iron and worked on her makeup. The brunette didn't put on much; it was only to cover her whole face with foundation, rid of redness with concealer, highlight her eyes with precise blending of eye shadow, line her eyes with the black eyeliner, as well as curling and coating her lashes with mascara. See? Not much of a beauty routine. To top it all off, a clear coat of lip gloss. It wasn't like Phoebe needed to impress anyone, but she was going out in public, the public of New York City, meaning people would be judging her and she'd rather they judge her on her attempt at looking normal than her abusive to the eyes ugliness.
By the time she finished with her makeup, her hair straightener was ready to be used. With expert twisting and hand movements, her messy bed hair turned into carelessly tousled waves, the rage this season. Phoebe switched off the iron and grabbed a scrunchy from a large pile on her boudoir. She tied up the upper half of her hair in a messy bun and her hairstyle was done.
A quick glance at the clock, she was ready before her one hour and thirty minutes of getting ready was over. Cool s**t. She had thirty five minutes to make her way to her aunt's chosen restaurant. Phoebe put on her sweater, grabbed her phone and a random bag off the floor and made her way outside the house.
Her phone clicked and vibrated in her hand, which means that this was her aunt texting her the address. The teen hailed a cab and tried to read the name of the French Cafe to the driver, but miserably failing to pronounce it right, she gave up and just showed him the text.
Now she was on her merry way. Go Pheebs!
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:43 am
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YummyBiscuits ✝ High ✝ Clark ✝
________________✝________________  Just as many others in the city were waking up, one man was nearing the time for his own sleep. Many other people, waking up right then, were happy for the new day. There were others though; people from a different world entirely. A ore fabulous world, made of glitz, glammer, and drugs. A hidden world, underground. It was the music scene, with it's twisting and turning ways. A literal meat grinder. You went in soft, and you came out either hard, or mush. It destroyed people.
Thankfully, the members of String Me Along were nowhere near that dark time. Like the young adults they were, the music scene seemed right for them. They enjoyed it, and took full advantage of what huge wads of cash could get a decent-looking guy.
High, Mark, Danny Rey, Christoff, and Devin. The five guys were all hunkered down in a condo, music pouring out in droves, before being reflected back by the selectively soundproof walls. A true artist never listened to their own music, and these guys abide by the immortal rule. Screaming vocals tunneled their way through the huge condo, while each guy did his thing in his own room. They shared the music, but they didn't share what they were doing.
High laughed harshly, before coughing hard. He sat up suddenly, tossing his mane of platinum dyed hair into the air. It's messy curls and twists caught on some of the necklaces he wore, pulling them up harshly. High coughed and coughed, before clearing the smoke from his lungs. A cigarette smoked idly in his hand, while he gently palmed a glass filled partly with dark liquid. The girls around high, three of them, all looked on in seeming worry. What if the super star died right there!? They wouldn't be able to handle something like that. High gave another cough, before smiling, and leaning back. A blonde leaned lavishly against High, letting her hand trail up his leather-panted thigh. " Are you ok baby? " She breathed into his ear, letting her breath tickle. High gave a chuckle. " Of course I am. I ain't gonna let some smoke kill me. " His voice was deep, almost gravelly. It was the sort of thing that made women just drop their panties. It really helped the music too; with such a voice, it was hard to call High out on anything bad with his music.
High and the girls sat around talking for a while more. They did what any other rockstar and his crew of women would do. We won't get into gory details of course. The other guys took part, and hell if he was gonna turn that sort of fun down.
About an hour later, High looked up from his bed. He laid naked, covered only by sheets. Same with the girls. His phone was going off, and by this point, the music from earlier had winded down to some simple bluesy tunes. Faint vocals could be heard. High gave a grunt, before rolling on top of a girl. She giggled in delight, thinking more fun was gonna be had. She gripped at high's back, scratching the red flesh. High ignored her. It wasn't that hard. She was a nobody, and the only reason she was here was her body. It was used up as of this moment, so she was useless. High messed with the phone for a minute, before putting the phone to his ear. A voice could be heard on the other side. The oh-so-faithful band manager, Janet Valentine. Something of a b***h, but nevertheless pretty cool. " You better be there High. I'm not even kidding. " She seethed into the phone before hanging up. What in the world? High gave a gasp of surprise.
He rolled back over, and the blonde gave a deep groan of dissatisfaction. To bad for her High didn't give a hoot.
He thought, and thought hard. Where was he supposed to be?! It came to him a few minutes later. Oh hell! The freaking brunch thing! Janet had said something about an executive from the label wanting to talk, so High had to go along to represent the band. The other members laughed, and turned away. He had a feeling something was up, but pushed the worry away.
In a flash, High got up, grumbling and moaning. This was messed up. He had to stay up longer now, and freaking eat. He was half-drunk, and had to deal with this. He was a freaking rockstar, someone important. He shouldn't have this on his plate. High waded across the messy room, finding bits and pieces of clothing. He found his pants, but couldn't find the shirt. One of the girls must be sleeping on it. He didn't care enough to go and grab it, since they were sleeping, and he was leaving. He dug around some dirty clothes, and found an old one. A pretty thin shirt, with a weird skull on the front. It's arm and shoulder was torn all to hell, so high grabbed a piece of cloth and wrapped it around his arm. He pulled on a scarf to complete the look, before buckling his pants. High gave a last look to the girls, giving a chuckle. One of the aides would get them up before he got home, send them on their way with gifts of all sorts, and make them leave, forcefully if need be. It was what had happened over and over.
High made his way down to the ground floor, and got into one of his limos. The driver asked where they were going, and high gave the name of the little frenchie cafe. There were so many in new york, it was almost crazy. " Chatteu' De' Iff' bro. " High chanted, pulling the name out of his a**. The driver turned, and angled the car to leave. " Wake me when we get there. " High said, before closing his eyes and letting himself drift off into a semi-sleep. |
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:44 am
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★ ᎵᏂᎤҽᏏҽ ᏤᎺᏝҽᏁᎿᎥᏁҽ ★
"This is what makes us girls
We all look for heaven and we put our love first
Somethin' that we'd die for, it's our curse
Don't cry about it, don't cry about it
This is what makes us girls
We don't stick together 'cause we put our love first
Don't cry about him, don't cry about him
It's all gonna happen"
Phoebe watched out the window of the vehicle, her mind racing with whatever the hell teenage girls think about-- no--what pregnant teens think about: their life going down the drain and all. It was a nice thought and it was all the girl needed today. Obviously, this breakfast thing would include her Aunt bitching about her accident, as she often referred to it as. Sadly, she also knew about the fact that it was one of the boys she was managing that knocked up her niece. The young lady felt quite nervous for what was to come and her tremulous fingers, which she tried so hard to control by tightening her hands into fists until they turned white, just revealed her anxiety. The sun made the buildings look like they were sparkling. Was that normal in pregnancy? Delusion? Maybe her sanity was slipping as well, along with the nearing due date of her child, its father would obviously not want anything to do with it, so now it was her responsibility. It was always the girl's responsibility in the end.
The taxi passed the colorful buildings with extreme speed, probably way past the legal limit, the cab drivers in New York were known for their piss and adrenaline inducing driving. s**t, they drove worse than those Asian women. But at the same time, they drove way better than Phoebe ever could. The car was moving fast, just like her thoughts. Yeah, looking out was probably the deepest way to express her current mood.
Finally, Phoebe arrived to her destination with about ten minutes to spare. She opened the heavy, worn out taxi door, digging through her purse rustling up some bills and whatnot, hoping it'd cover the fare, but with no luck, the girl was forced to use her Aunt's emergency debit card. This seemed to be a reason to use it, since twenty five dollars and thirteen cents, ain't gonna cut the cost, which was the look the driver gave her. An awkward giggle left Phoebe's lips as she hurried out of the vehicle and slammed the door as hard as possible. As soon as the door closed, the man drove away as furiously as before.
With reluctant footsteps, the teen made her way into the Cafe insert-amazing-can't-read-French-title-here and was greeted by smiles by the front desk man. "Table for one, madamoiselle?" The man said with a thick, French accent. Any other day, Phoebe would have found it incredibly sexy, but not now. She was kind of tired of men for the moment. The girl shook her head slowly.
"No," She giggled a little giggle. "I am here for a reservation? Sarah Valentine?" Phoebe gave out her aunt's name, knowing full well that her Aunt would schedule this brunch ahead of time like she always did everything which made her so capable doing her jo--
"I'm sorry, no. We do not have a reservation for Sarah Valentine." The French man spoke in his nasally voice, disrupting her thoughts.
At that moment, the girl started to panic in the inside. Dear god, did she go into the wrong place? Wrong directions? What if she had to walk to where the cafe really was? What was she going to do? She might get kidnapped or something. Oh god... Suddenly, a light bulb flashed in the girl's head.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I meant Janet Valentine." Phoebe composed herself inside, but she was ready to hit the panic button in her brain anytime. She watched him with vigilant eyes, as his skinny fingers flipped through and quick eyes perused the sea of names inside the book in front of him.
"OH, Oui. Come this way, please." Phoebe exhaled deeply once he said the words. She didn't even know she was holding her breath until that moment in time. god, she could have died. Aunt Sarah was going to be chastised by not telling her what pseudonym she was using for the day; however, it was quite odd that her Aunt would use her managerial name, and not her normal Sarah. The girl couldn't grasp a reason why, so she left it to whatever.
The man lead her to a secluded table for two and even held the seat for her as she awkwardly sat down. He placed a shiny menu, covered with a leather folder like those expensive restaurants always do. "May I start you off with a drink?" The man spoke to her in English, as it was obvious by the way she flipped through the menu with a frustrated look on her face that she didn't understand French and by the way she pointed to their signature cappuccino as if it was a new found species of monkey. He simply gave her a nod and walked away.
Phoebe was utterly mortified. She felt so illiterate, sitting in the middle of a fancy cafe and not having her aunt or a translator to help her with the dishes. The girl didn't even think google translate could help her.
"Where are you, Aunt Sarah?" Pheebs fidgeted with the buttons on her sweater. It was weird being at this cafe alone, she could feel eyes on her scrutinizing her for being lonely. With a sigh, she eased into her seat, she'd have to get used to it... The way the baby was growing, the teen will get more cold looks her way.
Let them look! Her mind said rebelliously.
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:46 am
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YummyBiscuits ✝ High ✝ Clark ✝
________________✝________________ A gentle push on the shoulder woke High up from a dream. It had been a nice dream too. One of those sex dreams, and with one of the many girls High had spent his wonderful time with. High remembered bits and pieces, but he couldn't remember the name of the girl. It was rare that High did remember a name, ever. But this one was special. Her face was special. He should remember it...
Her body shifted under his uncomfortably, and suddenly, her stomach began protruding far out. Oh god, it was turning into a nightmare! Her brown hair suddenly turned into snakes, and claws raked own his back. Fresh blood welled up, and High groaned in his sleep. Who was this girl? He should remember. The nightmare was a mixture of fear and misery. Her stomach became rounder, before a hand pushed from inside. What? What even? What was happening? The nightmare ended with the sullen tapping on his shoulder. " Mr. Clark we have arrived. Mr. Clark? " A voice urged, before high opened his eyes.
Where was he? Oh right, the car. something about a brunch. High gurgled, before pushing himself from the seat, and out of the car. The driver smiled lightly, dipping his head. " Call me when you are ready to be picked up, sir. " He would say, before getting in the car, and driving off. High was left in front of the French cafe, all fancy and s**t. He groaned. Executives my a**.
High walked in, and a fancy waiter stood, directing people around. When High walked up, the man smiled. Obviously, his music was more widespread than even he knew. " Yeah, Yeah. Uhh... Got Janet Valentine up there? " High said slowly. His voice was scratchy with the sleep, forcing High to clear his throat. Might as well sound good, and not half-drunk to a fan. As if he cared, really. " Yes. Right this way, Monsieur. " The Waiter said. His accent was heavy with french. Obviously this was a legit cafe, and not one of those fake pawn-offs people try to pass off. Starbucks and other places would pale compared to here, and High chuckled with the thought. Still, the guy's voice was sorta nasty. The nasally tone in which the frenchman said his english made High wrinkle his nose as he chuckled, and was lead to where he had to sit.
High walked behind the waiter, not paying much attention. His phone went off, and high scrambled to answer it, before he sat down. He didn't want to appear unprofessional. He looked at the name. Janet. High grumbled. She could be so stressy sometimes. He answered the phone, setting it against his ear. " Now you are going to sit there, and enjoy that brunch with Her. " Janet seethed into his ear. Her anger, her irritation, it was almost dripping from the phone. High widened his eyes. What could that mean? He wondered, as Janet ended the call, and he was sent to his seat. Suddenly, it clicked.
Right in front of him, sat the girl. THE girl. The one related to Janet, and the one he had knocked up. Was this some sort of revenge?! High felt his throat lock up for a second, as anxiety gripped him like a vice. s**t, this was gonna be pure hell. High looked her over. She was still nothing special, someone unremarkable. A wallflower even. Why had he even ******** her!? High groaned deeply, and walked the remaining feet to his chair. " Uhh, Hey. " He said. His voice was still deep and scratchy from his car-sleep, and he cleared his throat again.
s**t s**t s**t. |
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:47 am
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★ ᎵᏂᎤҽᏏҽ ᏤᎺᏝҽᏁᎿᎥᏁҽ ★
"This is what makes us girls
We all look for heaven and we put our love first
Somethin' that we'd die for, it's our curse
Don't cry about it, don't cry about it
This is what makes us girls
We don't stick together 'cause we put our love first
Don't cry about him, don't cry about him
It's all gonna happen"
With a glance down at her phone, Phoebe checked the time. She was getting impatient and the tapping of nails on the table just made her even more finicky than before. The teen sighed in exasperation. Her Aunt was never this late, ever. From the time on her phone Sarah was fashionably late, a habit not exercised by the woman. Pheebs couldn't help but worry for her aunt's safety. Her aunt is always punctual and the word tardy didn't exist in her internal dictionary, so this feat is unbelievable, no, it's impossible. Her hands were tremulous once more as she fidgeted to call her father's sister. Before the girl could even press the call button, the dimly lit screen came to life, and showed that she had received a text: "Oh, baby, can't make it! So, I invited a friend of mine to join you. See you at home! xoxo" Phoebe groaned in dismay, not because her Aunt Sarah bailed, but because Aunt Sarah didn't have friends; she had acquaintances... It was all wrong.
The girl reread the message, analyzing the diction and whatnot. She was flabbergasted, who could this friend be? Suddenly, as if a God sent sign, the cafe roared with excitement: the women squealed and practically swooned out of their seats, the men were just as excited and the kids stood up to see what the hullabaloo was all about, but with a smile pasted on their faces when they did find out. Phoebe was quite baffled, and didn't really understand what was going on, but she stayed quiet and seated. What else could she do? She's not one to join the crowd anyway, but out of curiosity, she lifted her eyes to the door, watching vigilantly. The dark brown pupils dilated at what they saw; Platinum blonde hair and an angular face that even the statue of Adonis would envy.
"Oh my god..." Phoebe could feel her soul leaving her and her body growing cold, like she was dead. The teenager couldn't even get a hold of her senses; she couldn't breath, she couldn't think, she couldn't even comprehend his presence. Maybe this was one of her illusions? The phantasmagorical events that ensued in her pregnant brain, if that was even possible... Or maybe she was high?
The latter seemed more plausible in Phoebe's mind currently. It was way better than knowing that her sanity was slipping slowly. This thought made the girl chuckle to herself, whether it was real or not, High wouldn't even be in the same vicinity as her it was impossible. He was probably on a date with one of those little sluts, who still opened their legs for a one night stand with one of the most popular men since the band's debut, beckoning him to join in pleasure with them. Then again, Phoebe was no different. She lusted for the man, as did many of the other women. Although, never in the way it ended up that night. All she wanted was a hug, but High took it to the next level and thought she was up to ********.
Phoebe looked up at where High was, just to look and found him being lead by the waiter to her table. The French man's face noted Phoebe, and gave her a wink as if to congratulate her on her date, if it's that's what High is even referred to. As the rockstar sat down at her table, Phoebe could feel the lurid glares again. She was getting goosebumps. These people were ruthless, and it made her think about the phrase "if looks could kill", she would seriously have suffered a hundred deaths at that moment.
Above all the stares on her, High's seemed like the most intense of them all. The teen could feel the blood rushing to her face, showing her mortification. Out of all the wayward people that her aunt could set her up with, the one who knocked her up was the main contender. Phoebe could feel all of the emotion rushing to her at once: all of the grief, the pain, regret, and with a little ray of happiness, they came to her. The girl couldn't hate the man, no. That was the last thing she wanted. Hate was too strong a word to describe her relationship to him; it was more disappointment than anything, but obviously, she can't do much next to this untouchable man.
Phoebe's heart was beating so loud in her ears. She was scared the man could hear it being so close in proximity with her and all. god, she wanted to cry, it was the best choice to do now, but the stupid one. It'll be like she wanted to start some drama with him. The young woman couldn't do that, even if he was giving her one of those disgusted looks, she couldn't raise hell. Pheebs should feel lucky that he was even there.
Her aunt knew. She knew and she invited him. What is Aunt Sarah planning now?
The girl opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was embarassing. "H-hi..." Phoebe tried again, but her voice trailed off. She wasn't ready for any of this: the pregnancy, the man surrounded with infamy, this intervention, and everything else. It was so overwhelming.
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:48 am
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YummyBiscuits ✝ High ✝ Clark ✝
________________✝________________ High was somewhat pleased with the wonderous arrival people gave him. He was a ******** rockstar. Famous, gorgeous. He was on a pedestal compared to these normal people. They rose, some shouting his name, others clamoring towards the table. They all wanted a piece of the famous man. High was made for this sort of thing. Attention. He was famous, and they weren't. A smile crossed his face before he realized what was happening.
High sighed deeply as he settled into the chair, and waiters came over to stop the normals from causing harm. They were of course concerned for High's safety. These people were going to be jealous of the girl he was with. If anything happened to the Lead Singer of a super popular band, they were gonna be sued out of house and home. This left High and Pheobe alone, for all intents and purposes. The had a small level of privacy, the noise ensured that just as much as the waiters pushing people away. He knew soon enough that it would all settle down, and the paparazzi would arrive to snatch pictures. High could almost see the headline. " High's New Squeeze? Read the story to find out! "
High looked across the small table, frowning lightly. Even with the frown, he was dashingly attractive. A one in a million combination of looks. Piercing icy eyes, with a thin brow line. His nose was small and straight, helping bring attention to the general area of his high cheekbones. His lips were larger than the average males, and even with the frown of dissatisfaction he wore now, it did nothing to deter from his beauty. The color of High's skin was a mixture between a tanned complexion and a pasty white, giving him an air of healthiness. To top it all off, his almost platinum colored hair, styled in a sweet undercut, made him look angelic. No wonder Phoebe had dropped her panties, much like any of these other women would in a heartbeat. high knew it, and flaunted his beauty. Men wanted to be him, and women wanted him. Even the men wanted him, really.
He heard her say something. She was so quiet, he could hardly hear her. " What did you say? " He asked, voice trailing off just loud enough to be heard. Deep,yet at the same time slightly raspy. The sexy voice god's boasted. High's ice-blue eyes scanned the girl. Why the hell was she being shy now? They had freaking ******** for gods sake. There was nothing to be shy about. Rolling his eyes, High set both arms on the table, and put his chin his left hand. This was going to be awkward for her, and boring as hell for him. Blah blah blah, baby baby baby. Like he had NEVER heard that before. The only thing that made this one special was that she was Janet's Niece! " ******** you... " High thought sullenly to himself, as he looked over her face in silence. It was disgusting almost. She was nothing special, and she was starting to show the onset of pregnancy. Nowhere near the wondrous glow a woman in the prime gave off, but the dull ache and pain of the growing parasite in her belly. That was just as disgusting as her attitude right now. High had to fight not to let the disgust show on his face. The frown was enough.
" So, Was this your idea? " High asked in an exasperated tone. He didn't know the girl enough to know if she would, but nevertheless, High had a suspicion this was all her idea. He wouldn't put it past her. She could push Janet to do something like that. It was so unfair.
So what if it was all his fault she was pregnant! She was the one who opened her own damned legs. High couldn't be blamed for going on and doing her. If she was such a fan as to let High have his way, too bad. If she got pregnant, High had no reason to be blamed. This was all her fault as far as High was concerned. |
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:49 am
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★ ᎵᏂᎤҽᏏҽ ᏤᎺᏝҽᏁᎿᎥᏁҽ ★
"This is what makes us girls
We all look for heaven and we put our love first
Somethin' that we'd die for, it's our curse
Don't cry about it, don't cry about it
This is what makes us girls
We all stick together 'cause we put our love first
Don't cry about him, don't cry about him
It's all gonna happen"
From the intense consciousness of being the object of severe and universal, one way or another being the ******** buddy with one of the most famous people on Earth for the moment, observation, Phoebe tried to grasp her own thoughts. Scrutiny by the masses wasn't her thing, and it wasn't going to do well in her favor either. She could already hear them whispering about how she's a slut and the synonymous words that go along with the word. It wasn't a very pleasant idea that she had of her looming future, then again, her future would be anything but wonderful with the child in her stomach detrimental to her mental health as well as it's father doing just as much damage on her fragile heart. The girl couldn't even ask for a normal, happy family, due to the fact that she'll never find happiness in this particular setting.
Phoebe Valentine was not a person of interest, and she kept it that way. The girl stayed behind the shadow of her Aunt, no, she basked in it. Pheebs didn't like drama. It wasn't her. She liked being normal and average, since she doesn't like the focus on her. Actually, she felt like Hester Prynne from the Scarlet Letter in this ordeal; however, lacked the strong volition of the character. But Hester's sin was her sin, although she was nowhere near marriage, having a child out of wedlock was a sin in itself, and the girl committed it. Sucks to suck.
If it makes any difference, Phoebe was quite taken by the man sitting in front of her. He made her heart skip beats, and just the sound of his voice made her heart stop beating. The name of his band only correlated to the feelings that she experienced with him, she actually felt like she was being strung along by this man and was manipulated into letting him do things. This fact mortified her... Why was she even thinking these things? It didn't make sense. High Clark was the first guy she fell in love with and still held a tight grip on her heart, even with him pushing her away, she couldn't help but follow. Call the teen a masochist, but if following her heart is important, then for her, she is surely doing the right thing.
"I'm sorry." Phoebe said firmer than she did before, but making sure that her voice wasn't swallowed up by the noise around them. A flourish of frustration showed on her ruddy face, as she realized she was being condescended by the star; he didn't even hide the fact that he was insulting her. What kind of egotistical b*****d does that? Oh yeah, High Clark. High mother ******** Clark. The man looked at her as if she were just a pile of unwanted garbage at the side of the street. Then again, she was ugly.
High's caustic glare only brought her flaws to mind. There was nothing sexually appealing about her neither was she beautiful. Phoebe was Phoebe, all awkward and normal. This is also one of the reasons the man didn't want her: she wasn't one of those blondes with big tits, and are nice and proportional all over, and she could never be one, no matter how hard she wishes. It was life. It made her embarrassed with herself that she was even speaking with this godlike man. Who wouldn't? His looks were far more superior than hers, there would be no competition, so why rub it in?
When High asked if Phoebe had anything to do with Aunt Sarah's plan, she immediately shook her head. "I thought I was here for a brunch with my Aunt..." Her voice trailed off once she found High's eyes on her. "She texted me a while ago that she was sending a friend over to keep me company." Not until all the words left her mouth did Phoebe regret everything she was saying. It made it seem like it was her doing, that she wanted him to be there or something.
If any truth were to come out during this event, it would be Phoebe's intention of letting High off the hook. She was eighteen anyway; she shouldn't even be living with her Aunt! She could live by herself, use up her college fund to fund her life for a while, find a job, or something. Phoebe could do it. Yeah, she totally can.
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:51 am
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YummyBiscuits ✝ High ✝ Clark ✝
________________✝________________ High sat nonchalantly playing with his hair for a minute. His long fingered hand twirled around in the platinum colored hair, whilst he simply stared at Pheebs. His hair was messy, curly, and matted with lack of showering. Still, it smelt and looked superb. Other men's hair, the clean cut and dainty work they had done, looked like s**t beside High's own. Then again, everything about other men couldn't really compare to High's pure majesty.
High only paid half-attention to Phoebe. His ears caught what she said, even above the din and dank of the still roiling crowd, but his eyes were no longer on her. He scanned the crowd with a bored expression, picking out hotties and notties with hardly a care in the world. I mean, why would he give a s**t about some little date Janet decided to set up? It was obviously some sort of revenge play the woman had set up. High felt stupid for even falling for the trick in the first place. High caught sight of a cute redhead to the left behind Phoebe. Luscious, curling locks of orange hair. the dress she wore, obviously in the faux-french style, outlined the curve of her hips and waist with a light airy feel. For a ginger, the pale skin was nightly shown off with the blue color. The neckline pointed down, showing ample amounts of cleavage. Even High was surprised with how smoking she was. Like every other patron, she wanted High, and the steamy look in her eyes sent the thought through the breach in between them created by the waiters.
He let out a chuckle before turning his attention back to the pregnant chick in front of him. Compared to the red-head, she was so... average. It didn't look like she tried that hard in getting ready, whatsoever. High's getting ready ritual was much the same, but at least he made it look decent. She just looked bad. Her makeup was done pretty well, but it didn't add an exotic charm. The redhead had that charm. The contrasting color of the dress and hair made her seem some sort of flower, begging to be placed in a vase like some sort of trophy. Phoebe, on the other hand, wore a blue dress and a sweater. The stockings on her legs, which High saw in a passing glance, didn't show off the possible beauty her body possessed. She was like the girl who would be hot if only she tried. And she didn't try, so it peeved High off. When he forced Pheebs to look into his eyes again, they were still filled with some sort of disgust.
High sighed, and dropped his head onto the table for a moment. He squeezed his eyes shut, and groaned deeply. Janet was such a b***h sometimes! throw a girl who obviously loves the sex-maniac, and they end up ********. When she ends up pregnant, it's ALWAYS his fault. The entire family pissed him off. " Of course it's Janet's idea. You're to much of a p***y to do this yourself. " High pushed his head back up, and frowned deeply. Instead of disgust, there was a calm anger present in his eyes. Wrath even. " Well, I'm no good at keeping company. Only good for a few things, you know that. " high said, casting a singular, almost momentary glance to the girl's belly. His kid was growing in there. This was another thing to separate High from the average man. The average guy, upon hearing of a growing child, would drop their s**t to be there. High, frankly, didn't give a flying ********. He didn't like the kid farther than he could throw it. " We don't wanna be here. I think we should leave. "
High turned in his seat. " You make me look bad, anyways. " |
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:52 am
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★ ᎵᏂᎤҽᏏҽ ᏤᎺᏝҽᏁᎿᎥᏁҽ ★
"This is what makes us girls
We all look for heaven and we put our love first
Somethin' that we'd die for, it's our curse
Don't cry about it, don't cry about it
This is what makes us girls
We all stick together 'cause we put our love first
Don't cry about him, don't cry about him
It's all gonna happen"
Like most human beings, Phoebe Valentine had a breaking point. Unlike many females her age, the girl had a massive area saved for contumely in her heart. But still, every woman has a breaking point and the man sitting before her was a few hair-like threads away from making her the angriest b***h alive. Valentine women had a tendency to give as much s**t as they take, and as observed by many, they could take lots of it. Phoebe was no exception. Behind her meek persona, she had the Valentine blood running through her veins. She might not have looked like her ancestors due to her mother's genes, but she was every bit a part of their brood of temperamental women.
Why was High looking at her with such disgust? What did she do that made him not like her? Other than being normal, what the ******** did she do to raise the wrath of this well known man? Phoebe knew that she wasn't exactly innocent from blame, neither was she fully guilty of their current dilemma, so why did he look upon her with such disdain? It was unfair. It was he who came onto her, was it not? So why? High was being cruel. It was unfair; yes, life is unfair, but couldn't he decrease his pride and ego for once to try and sympathize with her? Of course not.
She wasn't a slut. Phoebe Valentine is not a whore nor did she act like one. One cannot blame the girl for being caught in the heat of the moment, it is an instinctual thing for a human to do, was it not? The animalistic instinct beckons to do the nasty. Why? Because humans are wired that way. To react with such disgust on the subject of reproduction would be calling out sex as humanity's fault. YEAH. ******** YOU HUMANITY. Did High not understand it? No, he wouldn't since he was locked up in his own world of personal contempt. His vanity far more superior and embarrassing for women.
"Shut up." Phoebe said inaudibly as she listened to High's words. Taunting her. Patronizing her. ******** his thoughts. ******** him, oh wait, she already did. He needed to hear what she needed to say, and not his own voice. "Shut up." She said once more and louder this time.
This man disgusted her as she disgusted him. Phoebe couldn't even recall her past feelings for him anymore. He was nothing like she thought he'd be. He trampled all over her feelings as if they were nothing, but sand beneath his feet. There is only so much patronization a person can endure before their sanity snaps. This was the turning point. The teen could be independent from the child's father. No rules were stated about having to put up with this kind of crap, now where there? Yeah, didn't think so.
"No. You can stay here and contemplate on your actions. I'm leaving." The girl was barely aware of what she was doing, but if she were to seriously raise this child, then she needed to release all of the negative influences in her life. This fact was on one of the books she read about motherhood and this was the first step. She didn't need a man in her life. Phoebe never had one before High, so why should it change for him? The teen stood up and excused herself from the table much to the horror and pleasure for the bitches surrounding the table.
Obviously Phoebe knew that attracting attention while with the rockstar would draw more drama than she needed in her teenage life, but she'll be yesterday's news by the time tomorrow rolls by, so what was the point?
Once outside the cafe, she could feel the confidence in herself fly away with the passing wind. Phoebe could feel the tears forming, and rolling down her cheeks. god, her life sucked a**. Crying was the last thing she wanted to do after her daring display, but she couldn't help it. It was too much to bear for just one girl.
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:54 am
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YummyBiscuits ✝ High ✝ Clark ✝
________________✝________________ Shut up? Shut up?! She really told him, him of all people, to actually shut up? Who did she think she was? Phoebe wasn't anyone special. She was a half-decent looking girl that spread her legs. Just because she had a kid in her belly didn't mean anything. She was no one special before, and she was no one special now. High, on the other hand, had men and women alike fawning for his attention, even a stray glance their way. Phoebe had no leverage to tell him to shut up. High brought his eyebrows into a line as he scowled, his anger more than evident. His blue eyes almost burned. " I won't have a ******** slut tell me to shut up. " High spat out, before watching her stand and walk off. " Have fun with that ******** kid! " He shouted back after her.
Suddenly, the crown went silent. High Clark, with a kid? What in the world was happening? The crowd resumed their noise a moment later, shouting questions, obscenities. " High is my man! " Some woman even shouted above the din, inciting a smile from high's lips. He would attract all sorts of news, and Janet would be more than pissed at him. It was all her fault though, no way she could blame High. Anyways, it was going to be yesterdays news soon enough, and no one would give a ******** stood up a moment later, and watched as Phoebe was led out of the cafe by one of the waiters, to make sure she wasn't hurt by the lunatic fans. High scoffed, and turned just as she walked out. High could have sworn he saw her eyes glinting with the beginnings of tears. He didn't care. He hoped she cried. It was a lot for a teenager, but whatever. She had to grow the hell up one day. Soon, this would be a story she told about how shitty a person the kid's father was.
High walked over to the redhead he saw earlier. She looked surprised for a moment, the excitement of a superstar even noticing her plain to see in the brown eyes. " Hey sweetheart. " High whispered, his voice much deeper than before. Attraction caused a males voice to naturally deepen slightly, and show the masculinity a male possessed. Her eyes turned steamy the second the words left his lips. High pulled out a pen, and grabbed her hand without asking. " Call this number... " He said slowly, beginning to write the note on her hand in looping writing. " And we can meet up. " High winked, and offered a smile before just turning away.
He walked out of the cafe, led by some more waiters. They were acting as pretty sweet bodyguards, He had to admit. High exited the cafe, and looked back slowly. High chuckled, before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and set one in his mouth slowly, before lighting it. He pulled in a slow drag of smoke into his lungs, before looking around. He caught sight of Pheebs, and chuckled again. Stupid b***h thought she was special. High walked away with a smile pasted on his face. |
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:56 am
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Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:57 am
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★ ᎵᏂᎤҽᏏҽ ᏤᎺᏝҽᏁᎿᎥᏁҽ ★
"This is what makes us girls
We all look for heaven and we put our love first
Somethin' that we'd die for, it's our curse
Don't cry about it, don't cry about it
This is what makes us girls
We all stick together 'cause we put our love first
Don't cry about him, don't cry about him
It's all gonna happen"
When in an intimate school setting, rumors spread as quick as a wildfire during the summer. It's an inevitable fact that almost everyone in the school will know of the current gossip by the end of the day. Private school's are a teenage girl's worst enemy: the uniforms, the snotty rich kids, the unbearably slow torture of everyone knowing the 'secret'. Day after day, the fact still remains that they taunt you silently with their eyes, the careless whispers from ear to ear as one passes by. It's not a wonderful feeling. It's as if the girl is picked apart to the bone by unrelenting vultures. With lurid glares sent her way, Phoebe once a wallflower was plucked from her garden and placed on the ugliest flowerpot in the garden for the world to see. Her life was merciless now.
She could feel them all staring at her and her growing child. She could hear their jests at her back. The sneers on their faces made her more uncomfortable with each passing week. It has been almost four weeks that her affair, if it can be really called that, with High was uncovered by the media. The public suffered from mass hysteria; their High Clark was stolen by some b***h who should know her place in the social hierarchy. Most people in the world knew about her and her problem, but instead of comforting her, they sent ignominious comments her way. They hated her. They really did.
Phoebe was not normal anymore. The world knew her as a slut, and it echoed in the confines of her school. She didn't turn out like yesterday's news at all, as she thought she would. Her name lasted for a month on the papers. Paparazzi were stalking her now, and obviously they were invasive of her privacy. Her Aunt couldn't do anything to help her niece. Aunt Sarah didn't want it to end up like last time, the most helpful advice the lady gave to her brother's child was "Pheebs, don't believe them". They weren't enough. Her own parents didn't give a ******** that their daughter was infamous for being the unlucky one night stand of a rock star, and having his kid as a bonus.
The girl felt as if the whole world hated her and she was on the pillory for them to point at. There was really no one she could turn to. High was the mountebank of the media, and obviously they believed him. They adored the man like she once did.
Being known as a slut, degraded her reputation. Many boys approached her and all for the wrong reasons. They wanted the chance to ******** the girl that mighty sex-god High Clark ********. They were curious on why the venerable man chose such a homely girl, and thought that she was a beast in bed which is why. Phoebe's only remonstrance to their stubborn advances was to quickly excuse herself from their presence. She didn't need that much heated up testosterone after her. She didn't want them. No, she didn't.
Pregnancy, or the public shame didn't even compare to the gradually increasing stress on her senior year. Her exams were looming. Her tests and homework were half forgotten. Her grades suffered. The teen couldn't even concentrate anymore. There was too much going on. She was overwhelmed and this wasn't good for the baby.
Nowadays, Phoebe's sanity decreased. She had her fetus in her uterus, her only companion during restless nights trying to cram for important tests and oncoming exams. The girl couldn't keep up with it at all, and in turn she would lie awake late at night, talking to her child. It was the only time she had to relax. A few days after her meeting with High, her aunt suggested adoption for the child, but Phoebe wouldn't allow it. She was its mother and obviously she would care for it. No one else.
The beauties of being pregnant and all, Phoebe found herself in the nurse's office more and more. But it was getting to be more than just the regular upchucking now, she could feel massive cramps on her abdomen. It was almost unbearable, but the nurse was quite helpful, being a teen mom herself at Pheeb's age and knew what she was actually talking about. But what struck the young girl the most was the woman's earnest compassion towards her, like she seriously cared. It was nice. For once in the span of a month, Phoebe felt like she belonged somewhere.
Today, the girl once again left for the infirmary to puke her stomach out and of course it would be gross as ********.
"I'll be in the bathroom." Phoebe dismissed herself from the nurse, who was filling out paperwork at her table. The cramps were back and even worse than before, it was unbearable. These were different than period cramps, they were more severe. Phoebe felt liquid running down her leg, and when she looked down the girl could see blood. The teen shrieked and burst out of the bathroom. "I'm bleeding!" She said hysterically.
As an immediate response, the helpful nurse dialed 911 and once done with stating their problem, she turned to Phoebe, who was sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm calling your aunt, " Lady nurse stated, while patting Phoebe's back.
"My baby... My baby..." Phoebe said in between sobs. The girl was panicked. As a maternal instict, she didn't want to lose her child to a miscarriage. What kind of mother would?
[ooc: yeh. kill me. this sucked, yo] |
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