Citrus Posted August 10, 2017 Author Posted August 10, 2017 sorry I'm a broke bitch without internet right now girls </3
Buddy! Posted August 10, 2017 Posted August 10, 2017 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3XwJj4dDu8&t=2s I wrote a play, I hope you all enjoy xoxo. 10 pages sorry bout it https://docs.google.com/document/d/1EBSskmly6YblbCSZumA8xm5LFt7m_ZKmN532jUnygkw/edit?usp=sharing And I made some character looks. They're all based on their "feast" looks. Top: MoonChild Bottom: Citrus (how fitting) Top: Faye Bottom left: Dame Bottom right: Chanel Top: Drip Bottom: Noah Top: Stone Bottom: Jesus (hihi) And Aciid dead last
Citrus Posted August 10, 2017 Author Posted August 10, 2017 Just now, Buddy! said: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3XwJj4dDu8&t=2s like, these just show up as white boxes for me. RIP Dunkin, I'm never coming back
Kylie Jenner Posted August 10, 2017 Posted August 10, 2017 (The outfit for this performance) I should have realised that no matter how much you polish a turd, it’ll still be ****. Now, I sit backstage desperately reciting the words to the song that I pray will save me from elimination. I’ve been here before; shaking like a leaf but strong despite it all. I sent Melanoma packing that week but this time I am against stone – I hope that his body-ody-ody can’t save him this time. The other girls are flocking to Noah to congratulate her on her win but I isolate myself from them. I need to get my head in the game, I need them to remember my name and I need to prove to them that I still have what it takes to be ATRL’s Next Drag Superstar. Touching up my makeup in the mirror, I put my headpiece on and head out onto the main stage as a weakened woman who is ready to be empowered. I’m taller and longer than usual in this outfit but it’s for the dramatics. They’ve seen my vulnerability before, I figure that I need to put on a performance that expresses my versatility. I love to tell stories because it gets messages across in the most beautiful way. Those stories can be telling whatever they want – the past, the present, the future. Standing beside Stone, the lights go down and song comes up. Do What U Want by Lady Gaga; an anthem. In my eyes, at least. HUH OH YEAH YEAH HUH OH WHOA WOA OH I mime the lyrics, patrolling the stage in time with the thick beat of the song as I tower over Stone. A hand in my hip, I look in control and strong. I I FEEL GOOD I WALK ALONE BUT THEN I TRIP OVER MYSELF AND I FALL, I I STAND UP AND THEN I’M OK BUT THEN YOU PRINT SOME **** THAT MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM I spin on my heels, facing the judges form the side of the stage. I give an intense smile showing how good I really feel – it’s the lights, the cameras and the action that this lip sync is about to deliver. On the second line, I go back to walking up and down the runway before literally acting out the lyrics; I fall to my knees but quickly rise, brushing my shoulder off to show them that I am truly unbothered. I lift my left arm – the hand in a point – it is directed to Stone and I look crazy when I lip sync the final line of the verse. SO DO WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY DO WHAT YOU WANT, DON’T STOP, LET’S PARTY DO WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY DO WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY! I look down at myself, head still in my cage. I look at my body in disgust – so long, so ugly. My hands cover my chest and hips, pelvis thrusting to the beat of the music. My head tilts backwards as if I can’t bring myself to look, but it quickly comes back up when the first part of the chorus ends. WRITE WHAT YOU WANT SAY WHAT YOU WANT ‘BOUT ME IF YOU’RE WONDERING KNOW THAT I’M NOT SORRY I begin to beg the judges, hands coming together to plead them as if my life depends on it. I suppose in some ways it does – my life in the competition is at stake and I am not ready to give it up so soon. My eyes are wide and peeled, they frantically dart from judge to judge before I turn towards Stone and the safe queens before doing the same to them. I don’t care what they say about me anymore, I’m over it. I just want to stay and prove my worth. DO WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY! Raising a hand to my head, I look down to Stone with an expression of pain. I plead, wanting him to take my body. Suddenly, I fall to the ground, pulling my extended leg off. My actual foot has been painted to look like muscles and tendons, and of course, blood. I take the leg in my arms and roll it towards Stone. Crazy eyes, head in a tizz, I am stuck in the song and feeling the power of the lyrics and my own performance. YOU CAN’T HAVE MY HEART AND YOU WON’T USE MY MIND BUT DO WHAT YOU WANT (WITH MY BODY) Shaking my head quickly and repeatedly, my bloodied hands move to my heart that is caged by my outfit. I protect it, defending it because it is mine and it will only ever be mine. My heart is in this competition and if they want to rip it out and throw it back to the countryside, they can think again. I can offer them more, if they need it, I can offer them a different body part. My face lights up as I lip sync ‘do what you want with my body’ because I figure, they can. DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY Here, I take the second leg off, twisting it and pulling it before it clicks off. Blood pours onto the main stage again – it’s not my job to clear it up. Legless and torn, I shake and tremble as if I am in immense pain. The leg finds itself in my arms again before I throw it towards the judges. It’s a gesture; they can take that, they can take that and not me because I don’t want to leave, no, I’m not leaving, I don’t want to and I’m not ready. It is that simple. YOU CAN’T STOP MY VOICE CAUSE YOU DON’T OWN MY LIFE BUT I become a creature. It’s like one of those zombies from The Walking Dead that has no legs and just.. drags itself around… that is what I do. The pool of fake blood is smeared across the stage as I crawl around. I flip onto my back, putting my heart and soul into miming the words of the chorus. DO WHAT YOU WANT (WITH MY BODY) I pull myself over to Stone, my costume quickly becoming covered in blood. It doesn’t bother me – not if this performance is what will save me from elimination and send her packing. I remove the arm with the pointed finger, leaving it pointing towards Stone as my real hand is revealed. It is painted to look like flesh and bone. DO WHAT YOU WANT (WITH MY BODY) Dragging myself towards the exit of the stage, I fling my fourth and final limb off to the safe queens before crawling back to the front and centre of the stage, propping myself up as I stare directly to the judges. It’s a plea, but I’m not vulnerable or weak. I’m showing them what I am, and how no matter how much they want to take or chip away, I’ll just keep coming back. WORLD, HELP ME NOW WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY BODY! I look side to side, my movement becoming more and more fluid like the fake blood that sits on my initial side of the main stage. Limbs tethered and muscles withered, I put my energy into the words of the song as my fragile and zombie-like hands lift the decorative cage of my head which reveals a large wound as if my throat has been slit. Blood oozes from it, and when the final line of the song is lip synced, I tumble back as if I have died. If they eliminate me, then so be it. Their words cannot kill what is already dead. (A short story to show a skill that the competition hasn't asked for yet) Roses, lilies, pansies - none of them can withstand what I can. I often wonder if it'd be simpler to life the life they do: to live and to die with the changing seasons, kissing goodbye the world as it fades into the cracking plains we call home. No one cares enough to remember them, and no one makes an effort to change that fact. Countless journeys to and fro a crumbling grave; I'm the only flower which has been able to withstand grief's hurricane of pure emotion. It's raw and gritty, it slips between your teeth and leaves a rotten taste in your mouth. There's no colour to it, either. Not that I can sense. It's all just bleak, a metallic wasteland, a scale of black to white and chalk to coal. Emotion is the fire which burns the bridges I'd built to connect myself to the present, and so I find myself falling in reverse, retracing my steps to cement my being in the past. Untying the done, desperately trying to clean the slate of all wrong. And so, endless wishes to forget become the moments I regret most. Spurred on by the grim realisation of reality's ignorance: they’ll want to forget her. They’ll want me to forget her. But I can’t. I won’t. This is my titanium promise to her, now, after all this time. And despite her hand-me-down dress tearing at the seams when I try to slip it on, and the once untouched bed she lay is now disturbed by the cat - I force myself to remember what it was like. Bliss: a heaven on Earth made so by the presence of a human demon, stuck in the thick of an eternal battle against right and wrong, against frailty and strength. A feigned hostility against us was defence she needed to breathe, something I couldn't see in life. But in death, this was changed. Thick smog was lifted, I spun in the non-existence of rumour and was finally awake. Phantom girl arisen, daunting footsteps took me to an estranged reflection in which I found a stranger in the glass. Dull eyes, dull hair—I am fully eclipsed by my sister, yet I do not flinch in the darkness or withdraw myself from the shadow as I hide my emotion under lock and key. Wilting like flowers placed at the foot of her grave, dry skeletal fingers are the roots to a greying tree. This forest doesn't feel like home any more. It's fallen to the warriors invaded, time and worry have taken our ground in one fell swoop. We're ruined, by name and by nature. A glance at my cousin and I'm reminded of my sister, and everything different despite being bound by blood; a shot of my cousin and I see a mirror of my petite frame but all else is obscured by a poison mist which forces me to run. I run to my brother; I see my mother's light and my father's dark—I see treachery and treason and heartbreak—something we all have in common. Because now, there is no room for worshippers or the holy. A once childish naivety has been replaced with a realistic approach to life. No curtain to hide the hurt, no blurs to ease the ache. I sit among the crows and make love to the sky with a body composed of despair and debris, and simply gaze over life, as rotten as it is, knowing my place is not with them. I find myself in the night's melodies, spreading my wings to the beat like a bird set free. I fly between the winds and the rain, taking an onslaught of pain and beauty from the elements. Coldness is what strikes me first. It crawls between the cracks of my skin and flows through the valleys like a river of brutality. Simplistic in all honesty; simplistic like a bruise to the head which sees a kingdom fall from a fake grace. Cold hands, cold heart with holes through which black blood flows. And I deny any claims of being a bitch. It's not that, it's so much more. Deeper than treasure at the sea bed; I've been through things, I've seen things, I've been there, I've done it and I've bought the raggedy t-shirt. Dirt on my blouses and grass stains on my trousers; yet I wear these pieces with pride. My protection, my walls to prevent the tide coming in and adding salt to my wounds. An essence of familiarity, but still fading nevertheless. These roots wilt slightly with the ground's toxicity caused by naive weeping. A bowing head and a weakening grip are the only signs I show along with reservation. More fragile than a glass ballerina that would shatter if it were to feel one breath—I am like wind-chimes in a tropical gale. Failing to press cheek to cheek, too scared to see eye to eye. Yet comfort is found in the forest floor. I count the remaining petals of a frayed yesteryear. The seasons were harsh on our name; two found themselves caught in the limbo with no escape, and so were pulled into non-existence by Death. All that remains are scarred echoes of voices and places and moments we shared, dawn to dust and start to end. Hollow eyes watched as the murders took place. Helplessness was first and apathy came second. Endlessly looping back to square one: the only flower which has been able to withstand grief's hurricane of pure emotion. But there's a drought in my heart, and hope has finally run dry. (Because I haven't embarrassed myself enough in this competition) https://clyp.it/vbvbydys#
Buddy! Posted August 10, 2017 Posted August 10, 2017 Kylie re-drawing a look from Chanel (the designer) Came out good tho lol
Citrus Posted August 10, 2017 Author Posted August 10, 2017 whew y'all are the best. love you both xo
Citrus Posted August 10, 2017 Author Posted August 10, 2017 2 minutes ago, DripDrip said: Wow shook you both did amazing the season of the lip syncs
Buddy! Posted August 10, 2017 Posted August 10, 2017 Hope yall actually read the play because almost everyone left is involved
Kylie Jenner Posted August 10, 2017 Posted August 10, 2017 2 minutes ago, Buddy! said: Kylie re-drawing a look from Chanel (the designer) Came out good tho lol I know right
Kylie Jenner Posted August 10, 2017 Posted August 10, 2017 Just now, Alena said: @Kylie Jenner im bald sis
Citrus Posted August 10, 2017 Author Posted August 10, 2017 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Episode 8 - Buy Buy Birdie Elimination + Comeback Ladies, I have made my decision. ____________________________________________________________ Spoiler Colleen, Stone, as this season's resident fashion queen, you have turned it out and upside down, and this lip sync, you showed us a side of yourself that we haven't seen before in this competition. Thank you for everything you served this season, and may you keep serving for years to come. Although this week wilted, I know you will bloom in the House of Rose. Now, _____________________________________________________________________________________________________ My Friendly Five, you are only two challenges away from the- wait, what? We have to bring someone back? Can we like, not? Ugh, whatever, Chanel, just keep sucking. Without further ado, please welcome back: Spoiler Melanoma @talent Well, looks like you're all three challenges away from the crown. But hey, that's three more challenges to prove that you deserve it. Can I get an amen? Now let the music play!
talent Posted August 10, 2017 Posted August 10, 2017 thank you SO MUCH im so ecstatic to be back in and i HOPE i dont disappoint sorry to my sister @Alena who truly also deserved this and the other girls as well
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