• • • wanderlust of

[vorfreude]

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Ivan stumbled towards the idling coach bus, his feet almost moving on its own accord. He may or may not have had a little too much at the bar tonight—having lost count on his ninth drink. Or was it his fifteenth? Whatever. “This is great!” his speech slurred, combined with the thick Russian accent slipping out, his words were nearly incomprehensible. “Fvck this s**t”, he grumbled angrily at the now-dirtied red rug at his feet. Ivan threw in an obscene gesture for good measure. That’ll show it. Stupid rug.

The short flight of steps of the vehicle proved to be an even harder task than the monster rug. Thankfully, Ivan made it into a seat near the middle of the bus unscathed. His head lulled against the window to his right as a pained groan escaped from his lips. “Bus driver! What are you doing?!” he yelled heatedly, “I can get you fired, you know! Fat sack of diet coke and McDonald's salads.” Another groan.

Images from the awards show had probably made their way on to the Internet. He didn’t doubt the fact that images of his beet red, starry-eyed face were already printed out and ready to be tacked on to the walls of man-starved preteens. Ha! They were probably making rounds on the Beehive website too. He would regret it later—those horrible, unflattering pictures—but now he was too inebriated to care. Ivan was numb.

It was a good numb though. He was hella ready to party some more.

"Hey lesbian chick. Don't you dare sit within five feet of me..." He shot a look at Jillian. Both of them has had some beef in the past. Ivan having written a blog post about women that happened to feature the redhead. It wasn't even that bad. He had just said that Jillian was borderline "man" with her tomboyish way and would, therefore, not be attractive in any straight guy's eyes. Okay. He had linked her Beehive profile page too. Cue the Ivan-Jillian shitstorm of 2013. What had started off as bickering back and forth evolved into full-blown "fanwars", if you will. Fans on both sides leaving nasty comments and trying to get their pages and content suspended. Things have calmed down a bit now, but there's still bad blood between the pair.


TIME SKIP

His head had cleared quite a bit by the time the group arrived at the London home. It was impressive, but nothing he hadn't seen when he was still dating you-know-who. While some of the others were still in awe at the sheer size of the place, Ivan made his way on to the first floor and went straight to the fridge. Hey. A way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right? He nodded his head in satisfaction, but his face was quickly pulled into a grimace. The motion threatened to start a full-blown alcohol-induced headache. "We have some alcohol in the fridge!" he hollered out at the other honeybees. "Get your asses up here, so we can get this ******** party started, you govniuk."*

The russian blogger headed towards the spacious living room much difficulty as he was trying to carry as many bottles of alcohol as he can in his arms. Ivan dropped them onto the rug gracelessly. What was up with all the rugs today? Out to get him and s**t.


govniuk = shithead


goodnight burrito

[vorfreude]

info

ooc: voice claim & outfit in line underneath image
/// quickly proofread bc i am dumb and too excited - excuse any mistakes pls and ty

goodnight burrito

FELL DOWN FROM THE SKY. HALO ROUND HIS HEAD.

Theodore stared at the dance floor and flashy strobe lights enviously—he really wanted to stride over to it and start pulling out all the moves from his ‘bag of awesome’, but the floor was practically empty now. Too embarrassing of a feat even for someone like him. Also the fact that he was well aware of the nickname “octodad reincarnate” bestowed upon him by his loyal subscribers after a dancing vlog gone horribly wrong. The video is still up, but he had vowed to never click on or mention it ever again. Every time the memory is dragged forth to his consciousness, he grimaces—which occurs whenever he has a near uncontrollable desire to dance. It’s more often than not and it scares him a little. Perhaps it’s his calling: he had probably died a dancer in his past life, so now history was destined to repeat itself.

Since the after party was coming to a close already and there was no point on lamenting over not being able to dance that night, Theodore turned his attention to finding someone he knew so he wouldn’t stick out like a loser—that is, even more so than he already does. There were popular honeybees here and everyone seemed to know each other, while he was the guy who made gaming videos and who had barely hit ten thousand subscribers. He was truly lucky. ”W-Winter!” he stuttered to control the volume of his voice, trying not to attract more uncalled-for eyeballs and camera lenses. ”Over here.” He light jogged towards her.

You see, Theodore and Winter has had this ”thing” going for a little over half a year now. It had started off as a legitimate long distance relationship over the internet—as cringe worthy as it maybe—but has since turned into a huge inside joke for the pair. No, they’re not really together anymore, but they still put up the act just for their fans and shippers alike. And it’s actually quite entertaining.

”Come on. The party’s ending.” He dragged her away from the thinning crowd. Curious onlookers snapped away with their smartphones as they made their way towards the coach bus with hands still clasped together. Might as well continue the act—the show must go on! ”Oh! Be careful there.” The redhead stumbled slightly in her heels. He had changed out of the atrocious potato sack called his suit into more comfortable clothes as soon as the show and party had died down. Really. Nobody should ever let him pick out his own clothes. Life lesson #53 achieved.


⋆ ⋆ ⋆

He threw a discreet, wary look at the loud drunk seated a couple of rows behind him. 'Ivan the Terrible' he liked to call him. Theodore had never directly interacted with the Russian, but based on the lavish, hedonistic lifestyle seen in his images—which were uploaded on a thirty minute interval!—he could already predict that they would definitely not make a good pair of friends or even colleagues for that matter. Ivan was just too wild for him. There were a couple others whom he recognized thanks to the popular section on Beehive's main page as well as a few he did not. No worries, they'll get the chance to interact with being metaphorically locked in the Beehive housing facility for two weeks. As traditional Britons might say: marvelous.

Hopefully the ride to their destination would be peaceful, but Theodore doubted it. Not with the angry and drunk—never a good combination anywhere—Russian stepping on everybody's' toes. The night was going to be one hell of an adventure.


⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The German stared in awe at the furnishing of the home. He hadn't expected the interior to be this much more grandiose than the outside. Theodore had spent the early half of his life in a decently-sized home on the outskirts of Berlin and later, a cramped, but cozy apartment in the the heart of the capital. Anything was better than the couch-bed he had back at home though. Since his roommate-and-best friend shelled out more money to pay the rent, he was granted access to a bedroom. Thank God he wouldn't need to share a bed or sleep on the floor. From the e-mail he had received weeks prior, he was paired up with a fellow named 'Neo'. Or something. Hope he's not a heavy snorer.

He began to inspect the house, leaving Winter at the door because he was neck deep in a vat of curiosity and amazement by the time he caught sight of the spacious media room. Dream come true! Overwhelmed was an understatement. "Get your asses up here, so we can get this ******** party started, you govniuk." Theodore had no idea what the last word the energetic blogger had slurred meant, but it was probably something vulgar since he had been uttering terrible things to nearly everyone throughout the ride. He, himself, had been called some variants of obscenities in both English and his mother tongue. He had ignored it, of course. Wouldn't want to be the unfortunate piñata to Ivan's bat aka his fists (and legions of fangirls and fanboys).

Theodore sat nervously cross-legged across from Ivan when he reached the living room; the table would provide some safety barrier, right?! "Introduce yourselves. Blah. Blah. Blah. You dickwads know how to play truth or dare?" He watched as Ivan
scanned the group, "If you don't then..." he didn't finish, but it was obvious that it would've been another insult. Theodore's
heart thumped quickly in his ears, hands becoming clammy. Who knew a mere game could mimic the symptoms of a heart
attack? Haha. "I...I think I'm going to pass..." he wheezed. A panic attack now? In front of everyone? His shaking hand wiped
his brow, knocking his glasses slightly askew. 'Control yourself, Theodore Heinrich Kaufmann. You're a grown man for fvcks sake.
BREATHE.'


end

[foxxtastic]

Bailey felt a bit awkward throughout the ceremony and then the after party. She'd worn a dress to look fancy and formal, but she felt out of place when she saw that everyone else looked decidedly more relaxed and less formal than she. Figured. Those that were dressed more formally seemed far more comfortable in the clothing. She'd twirled the ends of her hair between her fingers nervously and looked around, watching the ceremony through quiet eyes and hoping that she didn't trip up on herself. That would just be an absolute disaster and exactly what she needed. She was used to tripping over herself - it happened more often that she would have liked to admit, but hey, what were you to do? The other Honey Bees seemed to have no problem walking around and not tripping over themselves.

Thank god that she had elected to wear a pair of flats instead of heels. She was convinced that if she even so much as attempted to look at a pair of heels, she'd break something. And it was probably an accurate assumption, too.

Bailey snapped pictures throughout the night, posting them up on her Instagram feed and, by association, her Beehive blog. She promised her followers she would get back to posting her regular video-game related content once these two weeks were over, but in the mean time enjoy the pictures she snapped from her time in London. And, really, London was absolutely beautiful. Practically on the other side of the world from the little Canadian island she currently lived on, it was quite the journey to get here. Oh how she wished she could have come from Europe instead. Maybe then she wouldn't be feeling jet-lagged as all hell right now.

Once the awards show was over and done with and the after party had begun, Bailey kept mostly to herself. She saw a couple of people that she recognized from the site, but not many. She tended to keep the people she followed to a low number and limited to those who played video games, much like herself. She saw Theo, of course, the guy who was really getting up and started with his channel and the video game world. She'd have said hello to him if he wasn't with another red-headed girl. Bailey couldn't remember her name, but she knew that she and Leo had a thing of some sort going on. So instead, Bailey kind of kept to herself throughout the night, feeling awkward and hoping that she didn't trip up on herself. Which was an impossible wish.


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they finally made it to the house, Bailey was ready for a very long nap. She hadn't been able to sleep on the plane here, and the time difference was making her feel screwy. Those who were from Europe were lucky bastards, she decided. Honestly, the entire ride back to the house they would be staying at for the next couple of weeks while the show aired was…awkward and kind of tense. There was this royal a*****e who didn't give two shits and a ******** about anything or anyone but only himself. Bailey made a mental note to ignore and avoid him as much as possible. He seemed intimidating and, to top it off, she didn't really get along with or like being around people who were totally full of themselves.

Upon arriving at the house, Bailey was surprised by the extravagance of it. She'd known it would be huge, but this place was bigger than she'd ever seen before. Her own apartment back home in Victoria looked like a damn closet by comparison, and it was a good sized apartment. Bailey followed everyone up the steps and through the front door, breaking away from the group as she began to wander, avoiding the living room where she'd seen the - was he Russian? - arrogant blogger go up. As she walked through the halls, peeking her head into the bedrooms and other rooms, she could hear him yelling things. 'Does he have to be that loud? I hope he's not that loud when I'm trying to sleep…' she thought to herself.

It was then that she found the media room. Immediately, her eyes lit up and a grin formed on her face at her find. Giant television, game systems, various other entertainment devices. This was heaven and she didn't even care that she'd died. Screw sleeping in her bed, she was going to end up sleeping in the media room until they had to drag her out at the end of their stay. She had no idea what the other people in the house were doing, but Bailey was going to sit right here and enjoy the media room for a while longer.

[flat chestnut]

Wiping her sweaty palms against the side of her black jumpsuit, Leven let out a soft breath. The award show had ended not long ago and a few minutes back, she was full of smiles and looking around for very familiar faces. Some she had known where as others she had no clue as they waved to her, feeling slightly bad about that. Now, currently being at the award shows after party, she hung around the wall and held onto her drink, taking a small sip of it every time someone walked by her. As the time ticked on, she grew more anxious by the seconds. Leven knew that they'd be heading onto a bus soon and going to the house. She knew that some of her friends would be there but she couldn't help but think about the strangers as well. The faces she barely knew and the same ones that she scrolled past on the Beehive popular page.

She was freaking out.

Tapping her fingers against the glass Leven let out breath and put down the glass and headed towards the bathrooms. Inside, she looked around, kneeling and looking under the stall doors for high heels and beautiful shoes. As she did, a woman exited the stall. Instantly, Leven's eyes widened and she tried to play it off cool, placing her hand by her eye, "L-lost my contact," she said with a weak smile. She watched the woman give her a once over before turning to the sink and washing her hands, Leven moving out of the way as she exited. 'How embarrassing'. Knowing that there was no one left in the bathroom, the blonde moved towards the sink and ran her fingers through her hair and eyed herself in the mirror. During the duration of the night, the only thing that seemed to need a refresher was her lipstick. Pulling the wine colour lipstick out of her clutch she reapplied and stopped, pressing her lips together and then looking around, taking a deep breath she smiled to herself.

"Hi! My names Leven," Sighing she shook her head, "Hey, I'm Leven," She reached up and quickly rubbed her temples, "What am I doing?" she mumbled to herself. Leven really didn't need to ask herself that, knowing that she spoke to herself in the mirror very often, usually to practice what she was going to say or do. She had a stutter which was very noticeable around strangers, or when she normally talks. Often, when she knew she was about to do something, she liked to practice before hand. It came in handy when it came to meet-ups or anything public. Leven was used to the small talk, introducing herself and asking small questions, but thinking about living with a bunch of people made her anxious, worrying about saying the wrong thing or someone thinking she was different because of her stutter. Beehive was easy and it seemed easy because she usually was in a room alone and not with a bunch of strangers. Plus, with her friends they either didn't mind or she was very comfortable and doesn't think too hard about her words.

"Breathe Leven, breathe," shaking her hands she checked herself once more, adjusting her jumpsuit and fixing her hair. Nodding to herself in the mirror she turned and out the exit she went.


▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇

The ride to the house was somewhat of a challenge for Leven, she mainly did breathing exercises to herself by the window seat and taking a nap before arriving at the house. Seeing the house for the first time, it was alot nicer than her apartment in LA, that was for sure. She could hear one of the house mates yelling for them all to come up, Leven let out a quick breath, her grip hardening onto her clutch and headed towards the living room. From what she knew, her bags were already in her room waiting and she'd be rooming with a girl by the name of Selma. Leven wasn't very familiar with her, not knowing anything about her except when she got the email that they were rooming together and quickly found her profile.

From what she saw, there were two gentlemen already there. Her heels clicked as she headed over to one of the couches, butterflies flying around in the pit of her stomach. Sitting down, she picked up on something along the lines of truth or dare and started to introduce herself, "He-" but stopped abruptly looking to her side at the sound of someone panicing, "Are you okay?" Getting up and out of her seat and squatting down to him, "I'll get you some w-water," Leven quickly clicked her way down the hall and towards the kitchen where she opened up the fridge and grabbed a water bottle. Fast walking back to the living room, the echoing of her heels bouncing off the walls. She untightened the cap and handed it over, "T-this should help," she said giving a sympathetic smile. Oh how she knew exactly how he felt, instead of sitting back on the couch she sat down beside him and tucked her legs underneath her, giving him a small smile.


vorfreude

OOC: hope this isn't crap!

[Goodnight Burrito]

Neo ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. A few people ahead of him in line was an elderly British woman who was stuttering through a phrasebook trying to figure out what was going on. The worker who was attempting to help her looked new and utterly at a loss. Now, Neo's spoken English wasn't the best, and he normally avoided situations like this, but he had been on three flights already today, and he was fed up. Neo tapped the shoulder of the person in front of him, "Verskoning, danksy. Ek praat Engels," the person nodded and soon everyone in front of him moved out of the way so Neo could tap the elderly woman on the shoulder. "Hullo, I help?" The lady nodded rapidly and Neo gave a small smile. Her gratitude made it worth it. The worker quickly explained the situation at hand to Neo in Afrikaans. "Ah, okay. There is mix up with your seats. You need to see woman at thee desk," Neo pointed her in the correct direction and she thanked him profusely, shaking his hand and giving him a hard candy before shuffling off. A few people smiled at him and he returned to his place in line, which was now moving quickly. If he had been in the Capetown or Johannesburg airport there would not be a problem with a language barrier. In his home town of Capetown English was spoken quite fluently by many, though at home with his family he spoke Afrikaans. But this airport was small and isolated, used by the very local, not much English would be spoken. He hopped there would be someone who spoke the language to help the lady, but Neo had to put the thought of the old woman from his mind. He had to get through airport security.





Neo placed his empty glass on a passing waiters platter with a mummer of thanks. His head pounded and all he really wanted was a smoke, but he had a bus to catch. Neo wondered in the direction of the coach, dodging around people who might want to talk to him. When he wasn't slightly intoxicated and jet lagged, he didn't like conversation, and now that he was, Neo wanted to avoid making a fool out of himself. Once on the bus, Neo crossed his thickly tattooed arms in front of his chest nd rested his head on the glass.





By the time the bus parked, Neo nearly ran off the bus. Once off, he snuffled towards the door, and lit a cigarette. He inhaled and exhaled. "Hallelujah," he muttered to himself and tilted his head back to look up at the sky. He sucked another breath in, listening to the man Ivan yelling inside the house. A small red headed girl stood near the door and smiled shyly at him. He smiled back, holding out his pack to him, which she shook her head at. "No thank you," she said quietly. "I'm Winter."

"Neo." He took another drag. "Nice to meet." She smiled again, and turned to the door, probably to look for the man who had been holding her hand before. Neo dropped the butt under his boot and followed the small one inside. He snorted at the thought of 'truth or dare'. As a child his little sister would play the game with her friends. Neo was the eldest in the house, and it almost reminded him of home where he was the eldest of 6 children. But he introduced himself none the less. "Neo..." Neo looked at the boy sitting on the couch with a pretty blond handing him water. "You are okay, yes? And you are named Theodore, am I right? I believe we are ... what is the slang... Roomies?"

space

vorfreude

ooc; wow! actual real life crap