its_theclimb: (pos: huge hopeful eyes)
With the exception of one (disappointingly muddy) class, today Miley was having a typical afternoon, with nice weather and not a lot going on. So she was entertaining herself with reading Hannah Montana concert reviews -- a usual favorite pastime of hers, since they were only ever overwhelmingly positive -- when suddenly her zPhone buzzed with a text from Lilly. But before she could read it, her phone was ringing -- Lilly again -- so she just answered it.

"Hey, Lil, what's up?"

What she was met with was possibly the most piercing shriek of all time. But a happy one. Like some really prolonged squeeing. Miley briefly entertained the possibility that Lilly had found that one really nice review from the kid in Arkansas, then dismissed the possibility as she realized what it had to be.

"Is it--?"

"Standford admissions letters!" Lilly shrieked.

Miley's eyes went huge. "Hang on," she said, and dashed with really impressive speed down the stairs to the mailbox, where she extracted -- a bright manila envelope with Standford's insignia on it. Pressing it to her chest, she raced back up the stairs, squeeing at the top of her lungs all the way there.

"Okay," she panted into the phone as she grabbed it back up off the desk. "Open them on three. Ready? One -- two --"

THREE! )

[[door and post open, la]]
its_theclimb: (hannah: mm idea)
As Miley knew well by now after four years of pop stardom, doing concerts every night -- even with the occasional break for dinner with the boyfriend or having friends come backstage -- was exhausting, especially during a time that was supposedly her winter break.

But it was pretty fun anyway. And without having just done a full week of concerts, Miley wouldn't've had the leeway (or the pouting practice) necessary to encourage her makeup artist, Fermaine, to give her friend a makeover.

So. With an hour to go until tonight's showtime, Miley-as-Hannah lay on her back on a couch backstage and texted Lilly, wondering when she would just get here already, then prodded the dressing room door with her shoe.

"Jooooono," she called. "Are you done yet?" 

[[For he who isn't blue right now, and NFB for distance!]]
its_theclimb: (hannah: mm idea)
As Miley knew well by now after four years of pop stardom, doing concerts every night -- even with the occasional break for dinner with the boyfriend or having friends come backstage -- was exhausting, especially during a time that was supposedly her winter break.

But it was pretty fun anyway. And without having just done a full week of concerts, Miley wouldn't've had the leeway (or the pouting practice) necessary to encourage her makeup artist, Fermaine, to give her friend a makeover.

So. With an hour to go until tonight's showtime, Miley-as-Hannah lay on her back on a couch backstage and texted Lilly, wondering when she would just get here already, then prodded the dressing room door with her shoe.

"Jooooono," she called. "Are you done yet?" 

[[For he who isn't blue right now, and NFB for distance!]]
its_theclimb: (hannah: plane)
Generally speaking, Miley liked being anonymous when she wasn't dressed up as Hannah. People were usually pretty nice to her,  she didn't get badgered about autographs... it was a good system.

Other times? She felt like being a bit more noticed. Like at the airport.

Of course, Hannah Montana wasn't a real person, so she couldn't very well buy her a plane ticket. However, Miley could saunter on in with a pink glittery carry-on, get through security and everything requiring photo identification, and breeze into the ladies' room near the gate to change. And then if Hannah Montana happened to emerge, well, it wasn't like there were cameras in here, right?

Ooh. Miley squinted up to check. Well, if there were, she couldn't see any.

With that, she made her way back out into the terminal, and was promptly accosted by some little girls asking her to sign their backpacks. Which she did, gladly, before boarding the plane and flopping into her first-class seat for a tremendously comfortable next six hours.

Ah, it was good to be (almost) home.

[[And today we learn exactly how OCD I am. Yes, I looked up a real flight number. Don't you judge me. NFB/NFI.]]
its_theclimb: (hannah: plane)
Generally speaking, Miley liked being anonymous when she wasn't dressed up as Hannah. People were usually pretty nice to her,  she didn't get badgered about autographs... it was a good system.

Other times? She felt like being a bit more noticed. Like at the airport.

Of course, Hannah Montana wasn't a real person, so she couldn't very well buy her a plane ticket. However, Miley could saunter on in with a pink glittery carry-on, get through security and everything requiring photo identification, and breeze into the ladies' room near the gate to change. And then if Hannah Montana happened to emerge, well, it wasn't like there were cameras in here, right?

Ooh. Miley squinted up to check. Well, if there were, she couldn't see any.

With that, she made her way back out into the terminal, and was promptly accosted by some little girls asking her to sign their backpacks. Which she did, gladly, before boarding the plane and flopping into her first-class seat for a tremendously comfortable next six hours.

Ah, it was good to be (almost) home.

[[And today we learn exactly how OCD I am. Yes, I looked up a real flight number. Don't you judge me. NFB/NFI.]]
its_theclimb: (neg: DADDY. i'm FRUSTRATED.)
An exhausted-looking Miley was somehow managing to wheel two suitcases, a garment bag and a makeup case, all with her cell phone pressed to her ear. Don't ask her how.

"Jackson, I CAN'T," she insisted into the phone. "I'm telling you, we can't trust her. And what if she blows it? My life would be over."

Cue some angry ranting from Jackson, which caused Miley to huff, stop walking, hold the phone away from her ear and bend down to pick up her fallen garment bag. "See what you made me do?" she complained. "Because of you, I dropped my brand-new Valentino dress." Granted, it was shielded from the elements in a double garment bag, but complaining was what she did. It was practically an art at this point.

Jackson clearly didn't care, and Miley sighed and resumed wheeling her bags. Next time, she was totally getting a limo to the dorm.

[[Open if you want to catch her on her way back to the dorm, sure! Phone conversation NFB, please!]]
its_theclimb: (neg: DADDY. i'm FRUSTRATED.)
An exhausted-looking Miley was somehow managing to wheel two suitcases, a garment bag and a makeup case, all with her cell phone pressed to her ear. Don't ask her how.

"Jackson, I CAN'T," she insisted into the phone. "I'm telling you, we can't trust her. And what if she blows it? My life would be over."

Cue some angry ranting from Jackson, which caused Miley to huff, stop walking, hold the phone away from her ear and bend down to pick up her fallen garment bag. "See what you made me do?" she complained. "Because of you, I dropped my brand-new Valentino dress." Granted, it was shielded from the elements in a double garment bag, but complaining was what she did. It was practically an art at this point.

Jackson clearly didn't care, and Miley sighed and resumed wheeling her bags. Next time, she was totally getting a limo to the dorm.

[[Open if you want to catch her on her way back to the dorm, sure! Phone conversation NFB, please!]]
its_theclimb: (bfflz: omg i missed you hug)

Miley tried to stay on top of her scheduled appearances most of the time. You know, she did her best. But sometimes by the time her phone vibrated to signal that she had a flight out of Paris to an awards show in four hours, she was completely unprepared.

Fortunately, figuring out the portal situation wasn’t the hard part. Her dad paid Vida the big bucks for a reason, and that reason had a lot to do with her ability to take just about any challenge in stride, wacky or otherwise. So, garment bag over one arm, Miley hopped into a very expensive portal on the causeway and promptly found herself in a cushy first-class seat on a flight headed for Nashville.

She could get used to this.

From the airport, she was shuttled by limo to her hotel. Upon swiping her key card and tipping the bellman, Miley opened the door to discover – 

“Oh my god, Lilly?!” she shrieked.

“Hi!” Lilly squealed, dashing forward to hug her best friend. 

They shrieked and hugged for a full minute before Miley pulled back in amazement. “But – but how are you – ” 

She was cut off by someone’s voice coming from the adjoining room. “DAD, DO WE HAVE ANY FOOT CREAM?” 

Miley raised her eyebrows. 

“Jackson called,” Lilly admitted. “And Atlanta’s not too far, so I got my mom to send me up by train for the day!” 

“Thanks, Jackson!” Miley called through the wall. 

“You owe me!” came his response. 

After looking at Lilly and bursting out into mutual giggles, Miley flopped down on one of the enormous beds,  shimmering pink makeup bag strewn next to her. 

“So,” Lilly said after a minute, a look of mischevious consideration on her face. “What are you gonna wear? You have to look cuter than Taylor, or else people will feel bad for her when you beat her to Best Female Artist again.” 

And Miley was right back up again. 

“So, I was thinking this yellow dress I got in Paris, but maybe it doesn’t work with the – ” 

“You were in Paris?” Lilly cut her off, clearly amazed. 

“Yeah!” 

“JEALOUS!”

And it continued like that for the rest of the day.

[[NFB/NFI for distance! Nope, as far as I know, there’s no actual awards show tonight, but Miley’s a few months in the future so she gets magical futuristic CMA awards.]]

its_theclimb: (bfflz: omg i missed you hug)

Miley tried to stay on top of her scheduled appearances most of the time. You know, she did her best. But sometimes by the time her phone vibrated to signal that she had a flight out of Paris to an awards show in four hours, she was completely unprepared.

Fortunately, figuring out the portal situation wasn’t the hard part. Her dad paid Vida the big bucks for a reason, and that reason had a lot to do with her ability to take just about any challenge in stride, wacky or otherwise. So, garment bag over one arm, Miley hopped into a very expensive portal on the causeway and promptly found herself in a cushy first-class seat on a flight headed for Nashville.

She could get used to this.

From the airport, she was shuttled by limo to her hotel. Upon swiping her key card and tipping the bellman, Miley opened the door to discover – 

“Oh my god, Lilly?!” she shrieked.

“Hi!” Lilly squealed, dashing forward to hug her best friend. 

They shrieked and hugged for a full minute before Miley pulled back in amazement. “But – but how are you – ” 

She was cut off by someone’s voice coming from the adjoining room. “DAD, DO WE HAVE ANY FOOT CREAM?” 

Miley raised her eyebrows. 

“Jackson called,” Lilly admitted. “And Atlanta’s not too far, so I got my mom to send me up by train for the day!” 

“Thanks, Jackson!” Miley called through the wall. 

“You owe me!” came his response. 

After looking at Lilly and bursting out into mutual giggles, Miley flopped down on one of the enormous beds,  shimmering pink makeup bag strewn next to her. 

“So,” Lilly said after a minute, a look of mischevious consideration on her face. “What are you gonna wear? You have to look cuter than Taylor, or else people will feel bad for her when you beat her to Best Female Artist again.” 

And Miley was right back up again. 

“So, I was thinking this yellow dress I got in Paris, but maybe it doesn’t work with the – ” 

“You were in Paris?” Lilly cut her off, clearly amazed. 

“Yeah!” 

“JEALOUS!”

And it continued like that for the rest of the day.

[[NFB/NFI for distance! Nope, as far as I know, there’s no actual awards show tonight, but Miley’s a few months in the future so she gets magical futuristic CMA awards.]]

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